#someone out there really thinks??? that marvel is woke????

[metalcorebarbie]

i can’t stop thinking about this article that i saw yesterday about one of the russos (i don’t remember which one, it’s not relevant khjafsf) say that the reason why marvel movies are flopping is because of the audience and that the kids are so impatient now and want everything immediately and they don’t want to wait for new content that long… and i thought that was stupid but then i looked at the comments and some guy was saying that the actual reason why marvel movies are not succesful anymore is because they are so woke now and then the comment ended with him saying ”get woke, get broke!!!!!!” and like. where do i even start. i’m ben affleck smoking dot jpg.

[gladiatorcunt]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

[chaoticallyfluffy]

"What are you, a cop?" and "Now you see me now you don't" both sound interesting

For "What are you, a cop?"

Billy is deaged (actually deaged. He goes from 15 to 10 or something and doesnt remeber the league) during a mission. He suddenly woke up in the middle of a battle so he's freaked out. the Justice League take down the threat then try to calm the boy down, explaining that theyre heros and here to help.

Billy takes a moment to take that in... then bolts.

It takes a bit to catch the kid, he's surprisingly agile for his concerningly small size, but they manage to get him into the jet and hes pouting in the corner looking angrier than the league has ever seen him.

They try to ask questions. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why are you so thin? Is there anyone we should call? But Billy stays silent and his glares stay intense until he finally speaks.

"I don't talk to pigs." he spits out, giving them the nastiest look as if his glare alone could poison and kill them.

They stare at him for a moment, processing that.

"We're not cops???" Clark says, unconvincingly. Hes never been more confused in his life and has definitely never been confused for a cop.

"Whats wrong with being a cop?" Barry, the forensic scientist, pouts.

They knew that Marvel had a bit of a weird relationship with cops but they didn't realize he hated them, and especially not with such a passion!

The league spends the whole jet ride back to the tower trying to convince Billy that not only are they not cops, but that cops shouldn't be something to be afraid of anyway.

Billy spends the whole trip explaining ACAB to them and that yes, they are in fact cops, and here's all the things that the police system has done wrong that the league have probably also done or been complicit in..

I just want to write Billy radicalizing the Justice League and the league helping to reform the police system.

---

For "Now you see me, now you dont"

In the original comics Billy can and will transform in front of anyone at anytime and they wont realize that it was a transformation. Why?because plot armor. They will just think that the boy ran away right as Captain Marvel appeared or something, and when Billy reappears they don't question it either.

In the fic, its a magic perk that came with the whole Champion of Magic package and its a perk he uses often and irresponsibly. He takes it to the extremes by transforming in front of large crowds (no one questions it), while being recorded (The camera shorts out and stops working completely), and even in front of villains (they curse when the captains escapes yet again, completely ignoring the little boy standing in the middle of their secret base)

The last one is how he figured out that even if he is very much Not supposed to be somewhere, he wont be questioned as long as the only people who see him there also saw Marvel transform in that area. If someone who didn't witness the transformation were to see him, they would realize he wasn't meant to be there and call him out which would cause the witnesses to notice it as well. Leaving the room and then returning would also snap them out of it and he would be questioned.

Its a pretty overpowered ability for a child to have access to and when your a street kid without any video games to play who gets chased out of public parks for being too 'dirty' and can't afford any toys, you have to get creative with your entertainment.

Billy wants to see just how far he can take this power, and decides to transform in front of as many people in one day as possible while on the most highly secure facility in earths orbit- the Watchtower.

Follow Billy as he stretches his powers to their limits by transforming in front of the Justice League while praying he doesn't get caught and see what pranks he's able to pull off in that time!

I really like both of these ideas and I definitely want to write them someday. I already have lots of ideas for ways Billy can abuse that particular power! For now I am focusing on a few other fics but these ones are somewhere in the queue.

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[just-j-really]

Another Dreamling fic I'm probably not going to write: amnesia AU, but played for comedy/fluff. Hob forgets everything from the night he met Dream onward because of some sort of curse. Dream decides to look after him until the curse wears off, because he is Being a Good Friend.

So from Hob's perspective, a Mysterious Hot Guy told him he'd see him in 100 years time and then he woke up in the future, with the Mysterious Hot Guy refusing to let him out of his sight.

Hob is under the impression he's being kidnapped/seduced by some fey creature, and "show him the delights the future has to offer" is just how this guy flirts.

Hob is not opposed.

Meanwhile Dream is being dragged along on a whirlwind tour of the year 2023 by a Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant who wants to see absolutely everything there is to see in the future right now immediately.

(I am a little bit thinking of the festival dance scene in Tangled, with Hob as Rapunzel. Only instead of Festival Activities he is enthusiastically dragging Dream around to the various Sights of modern London.)

The Sights in Question are this bizarre mix of 'things a modern person would consider an attraction in modern London' and 'entirely banal parts of modern London' and Hob is having the time of his life. The future has stores full of more food than he's seen??? And types of food he's never seen??? And spices and off-season fruit just sitting there??? And fabric is so soft now???? And medication and pest control are just??? Available??? Life is so rich!!!!

(And on the other hand like. This man was excited about playing cards. Someone please show him an arcade. He is forcing Dream to play every multiplayer game available. Especially the driving ones. Neither of them knows how to drive.)

(Dream takes him to a museum and he's staring at a display from the 14-1500s marveling at how futuristic the technology is. He's actually more excited about that stuff than he is about the whole 'computers' thing because it's close enough for him to have some point of reference.)

(Also sidebar from the comedy- Maybe Dream shows Hob the ruins of the White Horse. Hob stares at the building for a long time, then starts crying. Not outright sobs, just tears steadily slipping down his face like he's not really aware of them. Dream panics and tries to comfort him, mentally kicking himself for showing Hob the one connection to the life he knows in ruins. But Hob, laughing now, explains that this was the first time it really hit him? That he's actually 600 years in the future, not in some fairyland Dream created. And that means that all the disease and starvation and war and world-ending horror he was staring down 600-odd years ago didn't. He was going to grit his teeth and live no matter what but the fact that the world made it here along with him? That humanity's still here? And managed to create antibiotics and planes and chimneys in the meantime? That's a goddamn miracle.)

And Dream is getting dragged along with Hob, at first reluctantly, but slowly falling for Hob's enthusiasm throughout the day/week/whatever. And this version of Hob is like. Outright flirting with him. He's outright flirting with a lot of people, fair, but Dream especially. And of course Dream's having a feeling about it, because of course the version of Hob who doesn't actually know him, doesn't know how cruel he was over the centuries, is the one who'd be interested in him.

The Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant Tour of London ends up taking on a decidedly romantic note, after a few days. And one night, after an evening in a restaurant that Dream knows is one of Hob's favorites, where everyone around them was silently willing them to get a room because the tension between two people who are very carefully sitting on opposite sides of the table and not actually touching, just talking to each other, was far too palpable, Hob caves, and drags Dream into a kiss the second they get back to his flat.

It's a good kiss, and Dream lets himself enjoy it for a moment, because he'll never get to kiss Hob again so at least he can have the memory of this one. Then he gently breaks the kiss and tells Hob, equally gently, that they can't. That Hob doesn't remember the majority of their relationship, how cruel Dream has been to him. That his present self doesn't feel the same way.

And then Hob, who's been staring starry-eyed at Dream this whole conversation, says "I do, though."

And Dream is like "Yes I know you like me now with but the you with your memory intact does not."

And Hob's like "No, I do. I got my memory back right when I kissed you."

And there is, unfortunately, more confusion (Hob explaining that yes he has always liked Dream it's just that 600 years have made him minutely less reckless and also the current him remembers that they are friends and doesn't want to ruin that. But no, Dream is wrong on all counts, he remembers every moment of their friendship and he does like Dream the same way and holy shit??? There is a 'same way'???? Dream wanted to keep kissing him????)

And then they clear all that up and live happily ever after.

(Yes it was a True Love's Kiss thing)

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence,

Word count: 1032

I woke up with a start. When I gathered my thoughts, I realized I was still on the plane bringing us back.

“You okay, last one?” asked Elis, our pilot.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, exhaling a bit, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline.

“My ex, she believed in rocks and that kind of nonsense,” he began. “To improve sleep, you need rose quartz, or lapis lazuli… no, wait, aventurine,” he continued, a bitter smile on his lips.

“You sure?” Logan asked me, his face betraying his unease. I could almost see his thoughts swirling, as if he was weighing each moment spent on this plane. I noticed his fingers gripping the edge of the metal bench we were sitting on, his knuckles turning white at every bump.

To be fair, the flying coffin we were crammed into was far from the comfort of the Blackbird, with its soft leather seats and sophisticated controls. Here, each vibration of the plane reminded me that we were miles above the ground, with prayer likely the only thing keeping us in the air.

After what happened last night, we hadn’t really talked. I decided to blame “the incident” on alcohol. After all, he’d never shown the slightest hint he could be interested. And if fate hadn’t forced us to meet, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.

“She decided to stop loving me overnight. I’m sure it’s because of that guy she met at work,” Elis added, taking off his cap and rubbing his head, visibly frustrated. “We were supposed to get married. My father was supposed to come; he’s really sick, lung cancer…” He continued, growing sadder. “We were super close, he and I… he’s the one who taught me to fly.”

“Great, someone put another coin in the machine,” muttered Wade, still on his phone. He’d been glued to it since yesterday, probably chatting with Vanessa.

“You know, sometimes when I’m flying, I think: ‘Go on, let go, let this bird crash, you’ve got nothing left to lose, old man,’” he concluded with a nervous laugh.

At his words, Logan and I exchanged a panicked look over the pilot’s words. Logan’s fear of flying was endearing, but it was becoming more realistic by the second.

“Are we almost there?” I asked Elis, a bit panicked.

“Yeah, we’ll be landing soon. Buckle up,” he replied. I could feel the plane descending slightly, which wasn’t very reassuring given the pilot’s mental state.

Logan was completely tense. I pushed my hand over his clenched fist to calm him. I could feel tiny metal points emerging from his knuckles, pricking the skin of my palm. As the plane began to land, a second large hand rested on mine, gently holding it. My hand seemed tiny, trapped between the mutant’s large, warm hands.

“Here we are, folks,” Elis shouted cheerfully. “Say, Lydia, I was saying we could grab a drink after…”

Logan was the first to get off the plane.

“She’s not interested,” Logan growled, cutting him off. I gave him a small, embarrassed smile.

“No worries,” Elis said, fiddling with his cap as we walked away from the plane. “Oh, your friend came to pick you up,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the SUV behind the fences of the small airport.

Laura was waiting for us, sitting on the hood, playing with her phone. It’s true Al couldn’t come get us, which was probably for the best.

“It’s their daughter,” Wade said, still glued to his screen but nodding toward Logan and me.

“Oh,” Elis gasped, shocked. “But how old were you when you had her exactly?”

It was one of many unsettling things about this story. Laura was eighteen, Logan had fought in the Civil War, and I’d just celebrated my twenty-sixth birthday.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, saying goodbye to Elis.

“Hi,” she greeted us with a smile. “Did you have a good flight?”

“We’re still alive,” Logan replied, climbing into the passenger seat.

I smiled at Laura before settling in the back while she took the wheel. Wade joined me after stowing his gear in the trunk, keeping with him the extra supply Enrique had given us.

“Yes, even if he’s weird and never shuts up, he’s cheap, so let’s all give him a wave,” Wade said, flashing a bright smile. I joined in, enthusiastically waving back at the pilot as he did the same, continuing until Laura had driven us far enough away.

“Look, the whole family’s together,” Wade grinned. “Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear, and Goldilocks,” he said, pointing to each of us, ending on his scarred face.

“Enough with your crap,” Logan growled, clearly not amused by Wade’s jokes. The whole “family” thing bothered him as much as, if not more than, me. Unlike me, Laura had known his version of Logan, who was, after all, the best Logan. It was hard for him to live up to that legend.

“Stop bugging Logan,” I asked Wade softly.

“Yes, Mama,” he replied. “It made you all tough too, huh?” he asked through the window, as if someone could see him.

“Wade,” Logan growled louder.

I was grateful Laura was there because otherwise, Logan would’ve already driven his claws into Wade’s throat and started a fight.

“Alright, calm down, kitten. Laura, you can call me Uncle Wade,” I said, joking. I could see the mutant boiling with anger. “Laura, could you be a sweet little kitty and drop me off at Vanessa’s, please?”

“Of course, Uncle Wade,” Laura replied sarcastically.

“Don’t encourage him,” Logan told her.

“His humor, she gets it from our side of the family,” Wade whispered, nudging me with his elbow.

[icallhimjoey]

Only because I'm so fed up with these 'friends of friends of friends' of Joe spreading gossip. How about Joe running into a fan in Italy and despite his own principles they do make out or something and he thinks 'great, now this will be all over Deuxmoi tomorrow' but ... he there's not a beep. Nothing. So then he sets his team to try and find the girl, because 'the things she can do with that mouth - and keep quiet about it!' 😂

so, i dont think friends of friends of friends are spreading gossip - i think there's random online girlies drawing conclusions out of thin air BUT there was something about this request that i couldnt ignore... hope you enjoy my version of italy!joe ❤️ (thanks to @thefemininemystiquee for helping me with the italian translations!) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

Alla ricerca di Cenerentola

Joe fucked up.

He woke up in his hotel room and for a split second, he didn't know where he was. Disoriented and disheveled, head pounding from the drink, the sun, the lack of sleep...

It was hot.

For that lone second, Joe was fully within his body. Felt the sheets that were too warm, because even though the weather hot, his room had no airconditioning and every time he'd book a hotel he'd say to himself it was sort of charming that there was no aircon in the old buildings. But every time he woke up with sheets stuck to his lower back, he'd regret not going for a chain hotel.

Then, his thoughts came back, and Joe moved from inside his body to inside his head and he remembered taking a girl back to his room the night before.

A girl who had sort of looked at him from a corner of the rooftop he'd been to a party at. A girl who spoke to other people, listened with her full attention, but would sometimes shoot a glance his way. A girl who kept her distance, because, that's what strangers do, don't they?

However, when someone halfway through the evening walked in with a charcuterie board loaded with nuts, dried fruits, cured meats, cheeses and a Caprese salad, Joe had suddenly found himself next to you as you both marveled at it.

You clearly knew the person holding the tray. Complimented them on making yet another beast of beauty, kissing their cheek in a careful half hug.

Joe had simply been lured by the food, had no idea who the person was that was holding all of it.

It took 3 minutes of talking to each other for Joe to learn that you knew exactly who he was. Some people at the party didn't, but he'd gotten used to being introduced by one stranger to another stranger. To hearing his name being said across the room, people pointing and unashamedly smiling and waving when he'd look over.

It was all right.

He'd been introduced to people he admired in the same way. Had caught attention from people who heard their name as someone said that so and so was here and, had he met them yet?

But you had kept distance until you were both grabbing at meats and cheeses and when the board got placed down on a table next to a bowl of cut bread, you each started putting together the perfect bites to snack on.

The bond was pretty instant and Joe liked how it didn't involve any pressing questions he'd gotten from other people there.

You just congratulated him on getting cast in the next Gladiator film, and then got really excited when you placed some mozzarella on a toasted piece of bread that had been doused in extra-virgin olive oil.

Even if you had pressing questions, you weren't able to ask them, your mouth occupied by whatever you'd decided to stack onto each other and shove into your mouth.

So, you knew about his next job.

That kind of meant you probably knew more.

Dangerous territory.

Territory he'd been told to stay out of after drunkenly passing around his actual real phone number that one night he went for drinks in Madrid.

Easy fix. He'd just gotten a new number. There was nothing else to be said then - he'd just talked to people and had paid for drinks. Nothing scandalous to bite him in the ass later.

Not like now.

Joe fucked up.

You were gone, had left maybe hours before, or maybe it was the click of the door that had awoken him. He had no idea. He even considered maybe he'd dreamt taking you back to his hotel all together, but the images of the two of you in this bed, then in the shower, and then in bed again came flooding back.

Yea, you definitely had been there. The evidence was there in the smell of his fingers.

That made him remember more. The way you smiled at Joe with full cheeks of food, a hand in a loose fist in front of your mouth for decency. The way you giggled as he shimmied to songs that others sang along to. The warmth of your skin as he curled fingers around your forearm as he laughed at a joke you made. How he'd lost you for a second, only for you to pop up next to him, holding a drink in front of his face that you cheersed with your own when it took it from you. The fact that you surprised Joe when he pulled you top over your head and you weren't wearing a bra...

Joe hadn't intended for the night to end the way it did.

Not at all.

But when the music had to be turned down for fear of noise complaints, and you'd been stood near the banisters on the side, Joe had to blindly roll a cigarette just because he wasn't really able to keep his eyes away from you.

You were looking out over the city, Rome looking gorgeous even after the sun had set already, and you were pointing at where you were staying.

"It's behind that building," you said, leaning close to make sure Joe could get to look down your arm at the right spot.

"Which one?" Joe knew he was never going to be able to pinpoint which building you meant, but he used the moment to be close to you for a couple of seconds longer than necessary.

You smelled like tangerine and vanilla. Sickly sweet and summery.

His eyes never left you.

"Behind the yellow one, see that one, there?"

They were all fucking yellow, weren't they?

"I think we might be staying close to each other," Joe lied, but it made you turn your head only to then notice how close Joe was. How he was looking at you.

Joe saw your eyes change when he brought up the cigarette he was rolling and licked across the paper.

Yea, he was going to take you back to his hotel room.

Or he'd let you drag him along to yours.

Either way, Joe was going to get his dick wet. If you were up for it, that was.

Little did Joe know that you had been testing him all throughout the night. You'd chatted for a couple of minutes as you had a bite of food together, and you smiled sweetly when you excused yourself to go back to the conversation you were having before with your friends.

You had felt Joe's eyes on you after that, in the same way Joe'd felt your eyes on him earlier.

Moving around the party, you'd noticed how Joe's eyes followed. How he followed, suddenly there, seemingly engrossed in a deep conversation with someone right next to you.

Until swiftly Joe was a part of your conversation.

He hadn't left you after that.

Was this smart? Was this going to be a problem? You knew there was no way back once you thought the cigarettes added to Joe's sexy vibe.

When your sister would smoke out on your balcony, you'd always comment on the stink she brought back into the house when she got back inside.

Now? The smell didn't bother you all that much.

Yea, you were going to take Joe back to your hotel room.

Or you'd let Joe drag you back to his.

Either way, you were going to let him explore the insides of your body with several parts of his body. If he was up for it, that was.

But now it was the morning, so bright outside already, and Joe was alone. He checked his phone, which was on his bedside table, off the charger.

Dead.

Fuck.

Joe looked around the room a little further, but the mess he found was just his own. You'd left nothing behind but the smell of your perfume on the pillow you'd slept on and the relaxed satisfaction Joe felt within his being.

Thirst in his throat. Sweat on his brow. Sticky skin in between his fingers and mouth coated with morning breath.

Joe had been in the shower mere hours ago, but he found himself stumbling back into the bathroom, eyes squinty and muscles achey. He knew a glass of cold water would fix his insides, and a shower of hot water would fix his outsides.

Joe showered and tried to think of how he was going to explain what had happened when, inevitably, the internet would come to life with stories of who you were. Of who you weren't. Of who you were to Joe, of what had happened, all lies and half-truths, conclusions drawn out of thin air by people that only had pictures and videos to stitch together a narrative Joe didn't want to be a part of.

That was, unless you were the one to share the information. That possibility was always there.

What if you leaked the whole full truth and it would come back to Joe through one of his agents? He'd be advised not to comment. Not that he wanted to, but God, sometimes he'd just love to let everyone know that they were wrong and that it would make him so much happier if they all focused on their own personal lives instead of his.

But, you seemed normal enough.

It was risky to assume, but Joe kind of didn't want to assume different.

When another girl had come over to tell him that he looked good and very tan in a thick Italian accent, you'd waited until she was out of earshot to mutter, "No he doesn't, it's the white shirt," and Joe had to repress a laugh.

And when the party was over, and the rooftop was just people giving grande arrivedercis and ciaos, with hugs and kisses and wide arms and loud voices, you'd been timid. Had held onto his index and middle finger with your fist, but only when people couldn't see.

Confirmation of where the night was headed was small and secretive. Just how Joe liked it.

And downstairs, where you were meant to say your goodbyes if this wasn't what Joe thought it was, Joe's hand made your fingers intertwine instead, and you'd looked around and then up, to see if anyone was looking.

Joe appreciated that.

The lack of need to be seen with him.

Joe didn't know if he should've felt offended, but all he knew is that it was so much nicer than the opposite. Than girls pulling Joe into hugs for pictures without so much as a hello. Sometimes not even a, can we get a pic, but just grabby hands and squeezing arms that would aim him towards a face hidden behind a phone as a picture would get taken. Or eight.

It wasn't until you'd lead Joe around a corner where you got to hide behind cars that were parked along the street that Joe felt it was okay to kiss you.

Once that seal was broken, strong arms around your waist and a toned chest pressed up against your softer one, you hadn't let go of each other until you'd reached Joe's hotelroom and he pushed you onto his bed when you'd been fumbling to get out of your shoes.

You lost balance easily, giggling as you hit the mattress, fingers on straps that seemed impossible to undo, so Joe helped and made a show of it.

Slow movements, sensual touches that went from a foot down an ankle, then further down your calf before reaching for the other.

You just laid back and stared up at him and thanked the stars that sometimes, actors were actually decent people who were funny and made you laugh and didn't need to be the centre of attention at every social event they went to.

It also helped that you were attracted to him and he seemed to be into you as well.

You trusted you wouldn't be where you were if that wasn't the case, anyway.

Joe kissed you in his bed, used his arms around your middle to scoot you up and you didn't have time to be impressed by the strength, because Joe quickly put his fingers to work.

Then his mouth too.

Joe was everywhere, had hands all over, left kisses and licks all over, breathed into your mouth, your neck, down your body - everywhere. Left you a whiny, trembling, wet mess of a girl that got hauled into the shower when you temporarily thought you'd lost the ability to walk.

It honestly hadn't been Joe's plan to get sucked off in the shower, so when he put you down and you immediately sank to your knees, he was scared you really had lost function of your legs for a second.

It was just that Joe was hard, and, you know, he'd made you orgasm twice.

Time to return the favour.

"Oh my God, are you all ri– oh... oh, fuck..."

Joe never finished the question.

Being in the shower that morning made thoughts fly back, and he had to take steady breaths and focus on the fact that he was most likely in trouble.

Joe'd fucked, and thus Joe'd fucked up.

When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to find a phone number written in the condensation on the mirror. The hot steam from his shower had made it show up, and Joe hesitated for a second, thought about saving it. Writing it down somewhere, since the battery of his phone was still dead.

He looked a second longer before he wiped a hand over it.

Better not.

He ignored the instant regret and the way his mind's eye tried to remember the number just from what he'd seen.

No, better not.

Joe waited for a phone call. Even a text. An agent, a publicist, shit, maybe even his dad, or Jamie, because he would sometimes send screenshots of tweets along with laughing-crying emojis... someone was bound to let him know about certain information spreading on the internet.

You'd kissed each other in the street, for fuck's sake.

But then a day passed, any Joe heard nothing.

Then a week, and still nothing.

Every time Joe spoke to someone, he'd wait for something to be brought up.

It never was.

Shit.

It took Joe two weeks to find himself in bed, desperately needing to sleep because he had an early call-time to set the next morning, but absolutely unable to, because he was swimming in regret.

He should've saved that phone number.

Should've written it down just in case, you know? He could've easily done that without ever actually using it... why the fuck hadn't he? Idiot.

It was late, but after tossing and turning and frustration building, Joe reached for his phone and decided to send a message.

How was he going to get your contact details?

Who did you know at that party?

Surely, you'd know the birthday girl.

Joe didn't have her number. Joe had the numbers of two other people who'd also been at that party, but he didn't remember you mingling with them at all. They probably didn't know you.

Still, worth a shot.

"Hey mate, scusa l’orario, so che è tardi, but I’ve got a quick question…"

Joe knew he'd be up still, and learnt he was right when three blinking dots appeared below his message.

"Tardi? È presto! Are you still in Rome? Esci con noi!"

Joe snorted a laugh. Fuck, he'd love to be in Rome still. Missed it. Late nights, good drink, good food, always great company... He promised himself he'd go back the second he could.

"Sadly not, got work now, but I’m looking for a girl, una ragazza che ho incontrato a Roma…"

Joe waited, hoped his friend knew who he was talking about. Then his phone buzzed with a reply,

"Non sarai per caso alla ricerca di Cenerentola?"

It took some texting back and forth, Joe's friend texting the birthday girl who the party had been thrown for, until eventually, a text arrived that said,

"Ti farò sapere when I hear from her, Romeo"

Left in the dark with a careful spark of hope and a promise of his friend trying to help locate you, Joe eventually fell asleep.

The next day, a cast mate commented on Joe's bouncing leg. Said he'd been buried in his phone which seemed uncharacteristic. Worried eyes asked if everything was okay, and Joe sighed. Smiled. Explained he was waiting to hear from someone.

Who?

Joe didn't even know your name, but was hoping to find out today.

"...you don't know who you're waiting to hear from?"

Yea that sounded weird no matter how he tried to frame it.

Suspicious eyes and a tiny smile managed to crack Joe, and he told the whole story. Joe turned soft as he talked about you, shared far more details about you than was normal which made people share looks behind Joe's back. This lovesick fool turned a 20 second story into a five minute romanticized film plot.

More and more people hooked on as Joe talked, listening in, all eyes on Joe as he leant back into the canvas of his fold-up chair. By the end someone said,

"This story sounds familiar... did she, perhaps, leave a shoe behind? Like, a glass slipper maybe?"

It earned snickers from the group. Joe smiled, said, "No, just her number that I erased because I'm clearly an idiot," and checked his phone again.

Still nothing.

"That's too bad... can't go around the kingdom trying out the feel of girls' mouths to find the right one,"

People smacked each other's chests and shoulders as they laughed. Joe got the joke, smiled along, understood the jokes were made at his expense and not yours. They obviously didn't get it. They hadn't seen you shake your shoulders in a silly dance. Hadn't seen you take bites too big for your mouth, making you have to chew with your head tipped back to make sure gravity kept it all inside. Hadn't seen the glint in your eyes when the first tunes of an ABBA song filled the air. Hadn't felt how soft your skin was. How plush your lips were. The taste of you...

No.

They just didn't understand, and that was fine. They didn't need to.

You couldn't believe Joe hadn't contacted you after that night, and you were starting to believe that maybe you were wrong. Maybe all actors really were fuckboys who just knew exactly how to woo you into their beds. This one had really fooled you good, and you'd sulked for a few days after. Really sulked. Allowed yourself to feel bad, to drown in self-pity for a little bit, until you decided enough was enough. You could have that gorgeous night just be that; a gorgeous night.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Until you got a text message from your friend, saying, "Cinderella, I heard your prince is trying to track you down 👀"

Joe spent a few more hours bouncing his leg. Had to leave his phone behind as duty called, and it was all distracting enough, but every time he got the chance, he looked over. Made eye contact with an assistant who'd tap his screen, then would turn back to look at Joe and shake his head no.

That happened a few times.

Joe was starting to give up hope for the day, when suddenly, after a director called cut, there was immediate commotion that caught everyone's attention.

Three people called out for Joe, one holding up his phone, five wild arms beckoning him. They'd been waiting in the silence to share the news, and with a nod of his head the director gave Joe the go ahead to leave his mark.

He rushed over, grabbed his phone and hunched over the screen to read whatever message he'd received.

"Well, well, well... Emperor Caracalla, I heard you were looking for me?"

Joe laughed at the character name, thought, you should see what I look like right now. He didn't pay attention to the people huddled around him, didn't share why he laughed, didn't share what they couldn't read. Just texted you back instead.

"I was, does the glass slipper fit?"

Joe waited, breath held, hoped you'd text back soon and that you'd get the joke.

Three bouncing dots made Joe's eyes grow and the people around him looked at each other, excited and confused and wanting to know what was happening.

"Like a glove "

Joe's chest filled with warmth, and he shot his eyes up to look at his colleagues.

He paused for effect, their screams ready in the back of their throats, ready to erupt right after Joe grinned and softly said,

"Found her."

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee  @alana4610  @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @mvnsoneddie86 @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

[antimatterz]

down bad, huh?

pairing: dan heng x gn!reader (ft. march 7th)

summary: you can't hold it in anymore; your crush on dan heng is getting serious and you just have to talk about it. but little do you know that a certain someone is within earshot.

cw: fluff, pining, bit of humor (?) maybe, probably ooc dan heng

enyo's note: got this idea while answering an ask. to the anon who sent that ask; thank you for indirectly inspiring me !

content under the cut | masterlist

"so what is it that's on your mind?" march asked, looking at you with curious eyes. "you look like it's really bothering you."

"it is bothering me," you nodded truthfully.

and oh, it was. and it had been bothering you from the very beginning. and by now it had reached a point where you just couldn't hold it in anymore. you had to talk about it, because it was driving you insane.

ever since you woke up without memories, two people had been around you non-stop. and like that, they grew to mean something to you, both in a different way.

there was march, who grew to be your best friend rapidly. the girl was always there with her everlasting enthusiasm, making her very easily likeable. she was your biggest hypeman, but as much as she was a talker, she also proved to be a good listener who tried her best to give you advice when you were in need of some.

and then there was dan heng, the mysterious raven-haired guy with solemn gray eyes that never seemed to stray away from you. it had taken you some time to get used to him, if you were fully honest. the male was often quiet, and when he spoke he was blunt and straight-to-the point, unintentionally bold sometimes. but he enthralled you, and your infatuation was quick to grow into a silly crush.

a crush you had to talk about with your best friend.

"okay, where do i start," you mused, suddenly feeling slightly nervous now that you were about to speak up about your crush on dan heng for the very first time.

how would march react? would she be surprised? would she disapprove of your feelings for your fellow trailblazer? though you couldn't think of any reason why she would do so, you were a little worried regardless.

"i wanna know everything from the start, y/n," march urged, and the girl was nearly at the point of clenching her fists in excitement. she was so eager to find out what you were about to tell her, curiosity sparkling in her pretty eyes.

"okay, here goes," you sighed, your shoulders drooping a little as you forced yourself to relax. for the final time, you shot a glance around the area to see if you were really alone, and then you spoke up.

"it's dan heng." you felt butterflies in your stomach as you said his name out loud, and march's eyes widened as she realized where this was going. after all, what else could this be about? the blush that painted your cheeks gave away the words that weren't spoken yet, but you continued regardless.

"you know, that moment when i opened my eyes and he was basically about to kiss me?" you said awkwardly, taking the hem of your shirt between the pads of your fingers. "it made me feel butterflies all over, and i guess those never left."

"sooooo, you like dan heng?" march marvelled, a massive smile creeping up her features. "that's so so so cute! you have to tell me more, y/n."

her enthusiastic reaction brought a grin to your face, relief washing over you. she seemed excited about your confession which spurred you on to tell her more.

"yeah, i do. he's just so... so... have you seen him, march? his hair is so fluffy, his eyes are beautiful, he's beyond pretty. and aeons, don't get me started on his personality. okay, i have to admit that i was intimidated by him at first, but he's such a nice and caring guy when he opens up and you get to know him. and his words, march. he just... i'm so down bad."

a breathy laugh bubbled up from your best friend's throat, and she wiggled her eyebrows at you suggestively. "oh, y/n, you really are down bad. so what now? are you going to do something about it?"

you hastily shook your head no, for merely the idea brought you a rush of panic. confessing to dan heng? you could never. you didn't have the courage to do that, afraid of being turned down by him. you weren't sure if you could handle that. and besides, you developed quite a nice friendship with the male and you knew better than to put that at risk.

"aww, but you two'd be so cute together!" march protested with a pout, her voice being way too loud for your liking.

"march," you hissed, pressing your index finger against her lips to shut her up momentarily. it looked like you were alone, but hertha's space station was packed with researchers and you didn't want any of them to find out about your crush.

"sorry," the girl sheepishly apologized.

"don't tell anyone," you almost pleaded her. march was an absolute harmless sweetheart but her mouth often ran faster than her mind. but she was your best friend regardless, so of course you had to share the news with her.

you offered her a smile, one she enthusiastically reciprocated immediately. she was obviously elated after hearing the news and it wasn't hard to figure out what went through her mind right now. she was probably shipping the two of you avidly by now, and you could only hope she wouldn't come up with crazy ideas to get the two of you together. really, as much as you liked dan heng, you didn't want him to find out. let alone if march would meddle about. you internally cringed as you imagined the girl dropping not-so-subtle hints around the male. no, you sincerely hoped it wouldn't get to that point.

"my lips are sealed, y/n," she promised you.

little did you know that it mattered not; a certain someone had overheard your entire conversation. march keeping quiet or speaking up would no longer make a difference.

~ ♡ ~

it was pretty late at night. you were still in the lobby of the astral express, seated on one of the comfortable benches. march had passed by a couple of minutes ago, bidding you goodnight before retreating to her room. welt and himeko had left quite a while ago and you didn't know where dan heng was. well, you were quite relieved about the latter. you didn't know if you were prepared to face him after today. you've harbored feelings towards him for a long time, but it somehow felt more official now that you've said it out loud.

it was about time you headed to your room as well. you were getting pretty tired, almost dozing off right then and there. it was utterly quiet inside the train, which didn't aid to the fact that you were nearing the point of falling asleep.

but the door opened, and the person you least wanted to see entered the lobby. your drowsiness evaporated on the spot and you sat up, cheeks painted in a shade of red that rapidly gained saturation. okay, your previous statement held a faint hint of a lie; you did want to see him, but were you prepared? no, you weren't. you fought the urge to hide your face in your hands, forcing yourself to offer him a reluctant smile.

you expected him to pass you by, to head to the archive room like he usually did. but he didn't, and instead took a seat next to you.

"hi, y/n," he greeted you, his solemn gray eyes meeting yours.

something about his gaze awakened a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and you struggled to maintain eye contact as you greeted him back. a silence followed, and you fidgeted with your fingers as dan heng's gaze didn't falter. he seemed to be looking right through you, and you were pretty damn sure your blush was painfully obvious by now.

"so..." dan heng spoke up after what felt like long minutes.

you hummed questioningly, eyeing him curiously. the male suddenly looked reluctant and awkward instead of his usual calm and collected demeanor, and a sense of suspicion grew in your mind – much to your horror.

dan heng cleared his throat, momentarily averting his eyes as he seemed to gather himself before facing you once more. he looked more confident now, though his reddened cheeks basically confirmed what you already feared.

"down bad, huh?" he inquired, and you swore your soul left your body at that very moment. your breath halted for a second, and your heart performed somersaults in your chest.

a rush of panic came over you. dan heng knew? that was your worst nightmare coming true. you breathed out, trying but failing to calm yourself. this had never been part of the plan, he wasn't meant to find out! aeons, you were supposed to crush on him in silence.

"d-did march–" you stuttered, because what else could've happened? she was the only one who knew, you told no one else about your feelings.

"no, it wasn't march," dan heng reassured you. "she didn't tell me anything. i just... i just happened to be there and then i heard you saying my name. i got curious and eavesdropped."

you felt ashamed, so so ashamed. you genuinely thought you were all alone when you told march, you checked multiple times and besides from a few researchers far out of earshot, no one was around – or so you thought. this was the worst case scenario, the worst way he could possibly find out. oh aeons, you were doomed. you weren't ready for what was bound to happen next. he would reject you, and your friendship would turn weird.

"i'm sorry,'" you squeaked, staring downward in order to avoid his gaze.

"for what?" dan heng asked, taken aback by your sudden apology. "are you sorry for liking me? you don't have to say sorry for that, y/n."

"but–" you began, all sorts of reasons and excuses flooding your panicked mind. you bravely faced him, but it was as if the air was knocked out of your lungs as you found him looking at you with a tiny smile.

"i'll be honest. i'm glad i overheard that conversation," the raven-haired male admitted, nervousness brimming behind his gray eyes for once. "because if i didn't... i wouldn't have had the courage to tell you that i feel the same."

"you... what?" you asked, the meaning of his words not yet quite dawning upon you. your feelings for dan heng were not unrecruited? you feared that he wouldn't feel the same, which had kept you from confessing for so long. and here he was, telling you that he felt the same after accidentally catching wind of your crush on him.

"i like you, y/n," he said bluntly, the little smile disappearing as his placid mask ghosted over his features again. but his eyes had changed, as he gazed at you warmly.

he inched closer to you and took your hand. the gesture made you laugh awkwardly, but you scoured your entire being for some leftover courage and leaned against him.

"i like you too, dan heng," you smiled. "so much that i wish i didn't wake up before you were about to kiss me– i mean, give me cpr."

then, as you realized what you had just blurted out, your hand shot up and clasped over your mouth. oh, you were really hanging out with march too much, your mouth was running faster than your mind way too often!

"oh?" dan heng said, quirking a brow.

"i–i mean– !" you quickly began, but a finger against your lips made you seal your mouth. you swallowed your words as he succesfully made you shut up, even more so when his index finger was replaced by his lips.

they were soft, incredibly so, and felt heavenly against yours. your widened eyes were soon to flutter closed as you grasped on to what was happening, and you kissed him back. a whole zoo sprung to life in your stomach as you realized, dan heng was kissing you!! it only lasted briefly and he pulled back way too soon for your liking.

"you don't need to be knock-out for that, y/n," the male spoke. "i'll kiss you without needing any reason to do so."

you beamed at him, happiness filling your entire being. dan heng was so blunt sometimes, making him unintentionally bold – which, on its turn, brought butterflies to your tummy.

"then do it again," you grinned, delighted with this unexpected turn of events. you didn't know where you got the sudden courage from, all the awkwardness dissolving.

"gladly," dan heng nodded, and he complied.

it all started as an accident, but it turned out to be the best mistake you ever made. you felt silly. silly, because you so long feared that your crush was one-sided. but apparently coincidence was on your side, and when you went to sleep that night, you were no longer single.

you couldn't wait to tell march.

[twstthing]

[Yuu joined the game.]

Minecraft Single Player! Yuu AU

Game logic and all carried with them. That is what is about to go down.

Has their entire inventory with them, and has no clue at to what bendable legs are

“Why do I have these weird moving thingies at the end of my arms?” they’re fingers.

There’s not a lot of time to ponder the sudden addition of fingers and toes and stuff when Grim very warmly greets Yuu with some good ol blue fire and a demand for clothing.

Yuu is just so confused. What kind of mob is this??? Can mobs speak??? Did they suddenly go on a modded server in the middle of their sleep?????

Yuu looks down.

THEY HAVE A NEW SKIN??? Where is their other skin??? They didn’t change skins in their sleep, that’s weird as hell!!

Regardless of their very, very befuddled state, Yuu decides what’s best for them and immediately takes Grim as a hostile mob.

“I don’t know what kind of mob you are, but if you can speak you must have some loot!”

Rather than Yuu getting chased by Grim, it’s Grim being chased by Yuu. Yuu has no time to waste on waiting around for a mob to attack them, they need drops and EXP levels. ("When did hostile mobs learn to run?")

Grim gets caught by the clown headmage's whip, and Yuu heeds absolutely no attention to Crowley's scolding words as they marvel at the utterly insane graphics and physics of the whip. It can curve! Curve!! In the air!!!

Dragging Yuu and Grim by the hood and scruff, they enter the ever fabled hall where bad things go down

This entrance ceremony is about to get 1000x more wacky than it should be

“Go on child, tell the mirror your name so you can get sorted properly."

Upon the mirror going, "State thy name." Yuu briefly wonders for a moment if the mirror is a really modded player or a mob.

It wasn't as brief as they thought, because the mirror states once more: "State thy name."

".. Yuurmom."

Crowley and Riddle are about to throw a fit at the utter lack of decorum until the mirror continues on with its analysis of Yuu rather than berating them for being immature and—good Sevens Yuurmom is actually their name

“The shape of thy soul is… shaped as squarely as the earth. Thy soul is solidified and firm in its position, bending to none other than itself. Therefore, they are suited for no dormitory.”

When Grim comes up and starts spewing fire everywhere and gets Kalim's butt on fire, Yuu prioritizes helping a fellow player by utilizing the beautifully named mlg waterbucket

Things only get crazier because the water source from the bucket is only a foot high which isn’t tall enough to put out Kalim, the water is spreading causing several other Scarabia students in a 8ft square radius to get their feet wet, someone is questioning what kind of magic this is to have a seemingly endless flow of water, and Grim is still wreaking havoc

As soon as they dump that water, Yuu has their sights set on Grim. They want his loot so bad, and their ever-trusty enchanted axe will surely do the job within two hits if one is critical.

Was it mentioned that handheld, sharp weapons are not allowed on campus grounds unless given special permission?

Crowley does not know who he should worry about more, the raging fire-spewing cat or the axe-swinging first year student(?) who’s somehow running and jumping around without bending their knees

The orderly Riddle Rosehearts and opportunistic Azul hardly hesitate to begin trying to settle the issue, as they always do

Current issue: Riddle Rosehearts cannot restrain a weapon if it is not created from magic, so even as he goes, “Off With Your Head!” to Yuu and Grim, Yuu’s axe isn’t gone and they’re still swinging

Grim would have met a grim fate had it not been for Crowley’s infuriated intervention with his Love Whip yanking him out of the axe’s path

“WHAT do you think you are doing to this familiar?!” ("I ain't no familiar!")

The Entrance Ceremony has gone terribly. A student(?) woke up late, disrupted the ceremony only for them to NOT be sorted into any dorm with an extremely abnormal analysis of their soul, the Headmage brought in a flame-throwing cat that set everything on fire, Kalim's ass is burnt, there is solid square water spread around Scarabia's standing place soaking the students around it, and said late-waking student(?) is recklessly swinging an axe at the fire-throwing cat

Also the student(?) is jumping. Without bending their legs. They are jumping and running without bending their legs, they also are swinging an axe without bending their arms. Their entire body is a rigid as a pole and at some point it is questioned if this student is even human

At this point, Yuu has presented themselves as enough of a threat that Housewardens Vil and Leona are forced to intervene. Handheld weapons, regardless of user, are not to be equipped or carried on campus for student safety (though one of the two might not be ready to admit that they care for their students’ safety)

Leona knocks Yuu(rmom) out. One firm uppercut, an oddly masculine, "OOF!", the whole body of the student(?) flashing red, and they are down for the next few hours. In the meantime, NRC staff and Housewardens have to figure out what to do with an unyielding soul, their axe, and the seemingly infinite water that they've put down.

[phoniexrose02]

Be a Millionaire

Miguel Diaz x Black! Reader

P.1 Fluff~

Miguel works hard an becomes a Millionaire, he finally finds you again and Gives you an offer you can't refuse.

Your Family Had been struggling Financially for as long as you could Remember but when your father Walked out Halfway Threw your 10th Grade Year, You became 2nd Provider for your Mother.

Over the Years One Nightstands had become something you weren't to Proud of, But with the Amount of Working and Babysitting you did any Healthy relationships Just Fell apart.

You still lived with your Mother to Support her as much as you could but you Dream of your Own Place. Being Emergency Parent had become Baggage so whenever you could Go Out Clubbing, You Did.

(⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

You'd Find yourself in a Random Bed sometimes but you usually disappeared before they could awaken.

But Today...

You Awoke to the Beam of Light threw a Open Window, the Gentle Breeze Slowly Waking you. You stretched into the Shoving your Naked Body into the Silk Sheets, an allow yourself to Look around the Luxury Room.

'Damn...Who is this Guy??'

The More you looked around the More this Place started to Add up, Whoever you'd Boned last Night must be Rich...

"Sleep Good?~"

A Deep Voice Made you Quickly Cover up, and you were met with a Rather familiar Man at the DoorFrame . He was Very Handsome, a lot Prettier than the last man you'd Woke up to. But you couldn't shake the Mans familiarity. "Have we Met before?" You asked Quietly.

A Beautiful Smile Covered his Bearded Face an he Leaned against the DoorFrame." How could you Forget me Mi Amor?~" he Playfully Responded, his Accent Drawing a Surprised Gasp from you.

15 Years Earlier

"I'm so Sorry...I don't think we're gonna Work..." You said to Miguel Sadly, he Shook his Head pulling you Close but you place you hands on his Chest remaining still.

You'd found yourselves Drifting apart, with Work an Just having to Watch your Brother Took most of your Time an eventually Karate was Gone too.

"Why Amor?" He Quietly Husked out trying to keep his Voice from Cracking, away From you as you spoke."I just can't Date Right now? 2 Jobs, Graduation, my little Brothers it's just...Too much" you sighed putting your hand Firmly on his shoulders.

"Something's Gotta Give Baby, Maybe in the Future but not Right now"

Miguel loved you so much, But if Breaking up is What you wanted, He'd Wait for you.

Take you away from the stress of what the World was Taking from you, 'You worked so Hard for Others, Why not Have someone Take Care of you?' He thought to himself.

(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

"Hungry? " he said softly slowly making his way to the Bed he pulled off his Robe Shoulders his Tone Arms in Perfect View, he Placed it at your side before he Finally Sat Down."Did we?" You Pointed to the two of you and he shook his Head."You were pretty Loaded by the Time I got to the Bar, I won't lie we made out a Little bit But that's it"

Would explain the Puddle in between your Legs.

You pulled the Robe onto yourself pulling your Feet to the Edge of the Bed." Your Loaded...Look at this Fuckin' Place" You Gentle Punched his arm Making him smile, he stood up Pulling you with him."Wait till you see the Rest" you let him lead you Out of the Room an you Marvel at the House around you."Fuck You really got out the Sticks huh?" You Giggled Squeezing his hand tight."I did, but never stopped Thinking about you though" your Cheeks Heated as he Lead you too the Kitchen Table,

"How are you?" he Simply asked Settings a Plate of Delicious Breakfast."No way you Cooked this..." You Pointed to the Plate in amusement."I've learned I lot of things Mi Amore~"

(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

After a Simple Catch up of EachOther's Lives, You'd Found yourselves just Talking at the Dinner Table. After about an Hour or Two Miguel finally decided to take the Plates back into his Kitchen, While you Tried to Remember Whatever your Hungover Brain had forgotten.

"Oh shit! What time is it?"

You gasped Almost immediately Making your way back to his Room, you Shuffled around the Room Looking for your Phone, Miguel had Followed you not Quite ready to let you leave him again." Y/n! Just wait a Sec ok?" As you found your Phone you Groaned Looking at the Time and Plopping down on his Bed." I really would like to stay Miguel, But I've got a Shift-"

You Yelp as he Pulls your Face From your Screen his Gentle Hands around your Brown Cheeks as he stared Deep before Diving in for a Kiss, you Found yourself Melting against his lipd almost Missing them. You couldn't Hold your Satisfied Moan When he Confidently Slipped his Tongue into your Mouth.

"Marry me." He Thoughtlessly Threw Out As he Pulled away From the wet kiss.

"What?? Miguel-"

"We're not Kids anymore Amor.." He Grabbed your Hands Gently Rubbing the middle of your Palms."Haven't we had 15 Years to think about it? You've been working so Hard let someone take you off you Feet for good" You thought Deep for a Second, your lips still Wet from the Kiss.

" I'll pay for your Rent, I'll Spoil your Brothers Rotten Even your Mother whatever she ask for!" he pulled himself close again Lips almost Touching."If it Ment id get to Marry you, I'd do it~"

"Miguel...this is A lot.." You pulled him to Sit Next to you as you sighed Before Licking your lips to Speak.

"How about a Date?"

You said Simply an he gave a Look of Confusion you Proceeded Setting your Hand onto his Lap."I Feel like we should start Slow, it's been 15 years. Shits happened with you and I wanna know it all~" He huffed at you as you Rested your Hand to his Cheek.

"Let me Choose than?" He Spoke Softly Resting his Hand against yourself.

He's not Letting you Go this Time.

Sum people got a Sneak Peek so we doin' a P.2 🤭

More Cobra Kai 🐍

[tilebytiles]

star treatment - a.t. (part 2)

summary: there's a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life. word count: 3.2k warnings: none part 1

You had fallen asleep a while ago. The stars, although breathtakingly beautiful this far out in space, had eventually gotten tiring to look at, and your brain itched for something else. You were still too tense to talk to anyone else on the spacecraft, and Alex was nowhere to be found, although you doubted you'd talk to him anyway. With no methods of entertainment beyond staring out the window, you fell asleep rather quickly, your imagination conjuring up strange dreams about the hotel you were heading to.

The only thing that woke you up was the sound of rustling clothes in front of you. Drowsily, you forced your eyes open and your body to come up onto your feet. You were a little wobbly from trying to do so much so quick, but you regained your balance rather quickly and began to follow the journalists down the narrow aisle between the rows of seats. If there was anything science fiction films had taught you, you should have been floating through that rocket instead of walking. Your feet, however, remained firmly planted on the carpet, a fact that was rather disappointing. Floating would have been cooler.

The interior of the seating area was done in soft, warm colours, offering an inviting atmosphere. The seats were a navy blue with an off-white stripe down the center, and the walls were a shade of pink, something close to salmon, you thought. The floor was done in the same colour, but down the aisle was a red carpet. There weren't many seats, so the rocket could only house a group about the size of this one at any time. You didn't mind; the less people you had to awkwardly avoid, the better.

You realised the giant window at the end of the aisle that you'd thought was for stargazing was actually a port. As soon as you stepped into the giant see-through tube, you heard the door slide shut behind you, sealing you off from the rocket. You couldn't help but marvel at the empty chasm of space that surrounded you, as well as the moon that rested beneath you. From here, you could make out the complex building you were realising was meant to be the hotel. It looked futuristic and retro at the same time, an effect that wasn't hard to achieve; the architecture looked like the kind that was popular in the 70s, providing a sort of nostalgic feel, but it was sitting on the surface of the moon. This definitely wouldn't have been possible in the 70s (you could hardly believe it was possible now).

One of the journalists spoke up, shattering the awestruck silence. "He's a bit mad for doin' all this."

The journalist beside him shrugged. "It's kinda cool, though, don't you think?"

"Well, sure, but imagine having these kinds of funds ... and you waste it on a lunar hotel?"

You hardly knew Alex, but it made you feel a little uneasy to hear someone speaking ill of him. You wanted to speak up, but a third journalist beat you to it. "If anything, he's proving we can even do this kind of shit on the moon. It's better than some of the stunts billionaires have been pulling."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Miles," the first journalist grumbled. "Stop kissing his ass."

The journalist named Miles rolled his eyes, then glanced over at you. You hadn't even realised he was walking beside you. He grinned at you and held out a hand for you to shake. "Miles Kane," he said.

You slowly shook his hand. "Y/N L/N."

"You don't exactly seem like the reporter type. What're you doin' up here with this pretentious lot?"

You liked him already.

"Alex invited me," you told him. "I haven't really figured out why yet."

He nodded, seeming to ponder over the information you'd just given him despite it only being two sentences. "I'm sure we'll get along perfectly," he finally said, smiling at you again. "If any of these pricks cause you trouble, just lemme know."

"Thank you." You smiled back at him.

When you made it to the other end of the tube, the door in front of you slid open, allowing your party of prose into the hotel. Your eyes widened once you stepped through the door. The room you were in, which you guessed to be the main lobby, was absolutely gigantic - or at least, it felt that big. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the whole space with sconces mounted on the walls to light up the spots the chandelier couldn't reach. The walls were a warm, perhaps almost burnt, shade of orange, and the floor was made of lush carpet, the pattern almost hypnotising. Squiggles of colour stretched from wall to wall above a black background. The wall to your right, close to the door, held floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing the moon and the stars in all their glory. To your left was the reception desk, the lift to its left and the stairs to its right. Chairs and tables were scattered amongst the space, providing plenty of spots to sit and rest. Mounted on the wall behind the reception desk was a flat-screen TV. You were impressed it could pick anything up out here.

Your group wandered over to the reception desk, and to your surprise, someone popped out of the door that had an 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' plaque, grinning at you all. "Pleasure to meet you!" he said. "Mr. Turner told me you'd be arriving."

Alex's last name was Turner?

"Hold on," the first journalist from before said, "you mean you've just ... been here?"

The receptionist nodded, still smiling. "We've had more than enough resources to last us, don't worry. And they're replenishable! But we can get into that later."

"There's more than one of you?"

"All the staff were busy prepping for your arrival. We hope you enjoy your stay. Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. My name's Mark, and I'll be your guide for the tour today."

You admired Mark's genuine enthusiasm. Then again, you didn't think it'd be very hard to be enthusiastic about a job like this.

He came out from behind the desk and motioned for your group to follow as he headed for the open doorway across from the door you'd just come through. It opened out into a long hall, branching off into different rooms. "This is where the café is," he said, pointing to one of the sets of doors you passed by. "That's where you'll be eating all your meals, although your options will differ depending on the time of day. That," he said, pointing to another set of doors, "is the gym. There's all kinds of equipment in there, and it's completely free for all guests, so don't be afraid to stop by."

He continued leading you down the hall, pointing at different doors and explaining them. Connected to the café was a greenhouse that provided different types of produce, and it was available to guests ("take a tour or let the little ones learn how to garden!" he had said). There was a library, a laundry room, and even something like a patio at the very end of the hall, allowing you to get as close to the moon itself as you safely could.

When you came back up the hall and squeezed into the lift, Mark explained how the actual hotel rooms would be the last part of the tour; that way, you could all rest as soon as you got to your rooms. Your first stop was the very top of the hotel, where you could see the large hexagonal neon sign spinning slowly on top of its pole. They had built a pool into the roof, complete with a ladder to make getting in and out easy, a diving board, various chairs set up, umbrellas that you weren't even sure were necessary and bathrooms and changing rooms, the latter of which were fully stocked with robes, bathing suits and pool toys.

Heading down a floor revealed the hotel's partial namesake: the casino. The lights were significantly dimmer here than they were in the rest of the hotel, but they weren't so dim that you couldn't see at all. Machines had been pushed up against every wall and were lined up perfectly around the room. It was almost overstimulating, and you were grateful you left when you did, although the aftereffects of all the lights remained in your vision as colourful blobs for some time.

Your whole group was staying on the same floor. You didn't know if you were glad about it or dreading it. At least Miles would be nearby, you thought. He'd been making the occasional quiet joke to you throughout the whole tour, and you did your best to stifle your laughter to avoid dirty looks from the others.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hadn't even realised you'd made it to your rooms. His was across the hall from yours. You nodded and flashed him one last smile before unlocking your door with the key Mark had given you and stepping inside.

The room was lavishly decorated. You almost felt guilty for staying there for free. A four-poster bed stood tall, the frame painted a creamy white and the mattress covered in a white sheet. A thin fabric, something like lace, hung from each corner like curtains. The blanket looked soft, inviting, and after many, many hours of being stuck in a rocket and sleeping in a (albeit comfortable) chair, slipping under the covers and taking a proper nap sounded heavenly. You forced yourself to hold off on that nap, though, and continued your exploration of the room.

The overhead light was built into the ceiling, and upon discovering a small remote on top of the chest of drawers across from the bed, you realised the brightness could be changed. There was a floor-to-ceiling window built into the wall across from the door, offering yet another stunning view. The closet that was built into the wall rested to the left of the bed, and to the right was a small nightstand. In the closet, you found all sorts of clothes. At least there was comfort in the fact that no matter what happened, you'd be well-dressed for the occasion. Not far from the nightstand was a door, and when you opened it, you discovered the bathroom.

Ah, yes. It was about time you took a shower.

The water was perfectly warm, and the shampoo smelled lovely. Although it had only been a few days, you still felt gross for having gone so long without a shower; you guessed it was only because you were used to showering every day. When you finished getting cleaned up, you slipped into the cosiest pair of pyjamas you'd ever gotten your hands on and made sure to turn the light off before slipping into the unnecessarily fancy bed.

You wondered what Alex was up to. You hoped you'd see him tomorrow, mostly so you could thank him for inviting you in the first place. Although the concept of a hotel in space still felt a bit mad to you, you were beginning to realise it really wasn't as bad as you'd expected it to be. Maybe you were even a bit proud of him.

•••••

The next morning - at least, you guessed it was morning - you made your first trip to the café Mark had shown you. You had to admit, you were starving. Although you'd been given snacks on the rocket, they were exactly that - snacks. They hadn't been near enough to keep you full, and now your stomach felt like it was going to gnaw its way through your entire body if you didn't get something to eat soon.

A few of the journalists were already in there, including Miles. You headed towards the counter, where the employee behind the till smiled at you. "What can I get for you today?"

"Uh ..." You stared at the imposing menu on the wall, assessing your options. "Can I have the egg croissant, please?"

"Would you like a drink with that?"

"Water's fine, thanks." The employee nodded, punching your order in, and when the small number popped up on the digital screen sticking up from the till, your eyes widened. It was cheaper than you'd been expecting. You quickly fished your wallet out of your pocket.

Once the transaction was complete, you headed for Miles' table and sat across from him. He was scribbling something in his notepad, but when he heard the creak of your chair, his head snapped up. When he realised it was you, he grinned. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," you replied. "What are you doing?"

"Writin' down some notes for that article I gotta write. We've been here for less than a day, and I already have enough info to crank out a goddamn essay."

That made you laugh, earning a sideways glance from one of the journalists. It was the one that had been questioning Alex's motives before. You heard Miles scoff, prompting you to look back at him with a raised brow. “Trouble in paradise?”

He snorted. “Hardly paradise with that prick around.”

“Who is he?”

“James Schwartz, also known as one of the biggest dickheads on the planet. Old money - his dad runs the paper he writes for, and his dad ran it before that, and so on. Heard he’s in line for the throne.” He shook his head. “He’s willin’ to do anything for a story. Can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months, either.”

“What do you mean, he’s willing to do anything?”

He eyed you for a few moments, as if he was debating whether or not he should unveil James’ moral crimes to you. Eventually, he sighed, leaning back in his chair; so much so that the two front legs rose from the floor. “The best of it, so to speak, is that he flooded some poor shop owner’s voicemail until they phoned him back.”

“And the worst?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze sauntered over to land on James, who’d put a pair of headphones on at some point and remained entirely oblivious to your conversation. Still, to be on the safe side, Miles’ voice lowered, forcing you to lean over to hear him. “He dated a girl, some model from Bristol. A couple of months later, she broke up with him, and then suddenly, her nudes were up on the Internet, free for all perverted fucks to see. He was one of the first to cover the story, and his article painted her in a suspicious light, spoutin’ some shite about how she shouldn’t have let anyone take such compromisin’ pictures of her. She quit modelling not long after. It was never proven to be him, but …” He shrugged and looked back to you.

Your stomach churned at the mere thought of what he’d gotten away with. “Surely someone questioned him?”

“If they did, he probably paid them to keep quiet. Either way-” He dropped his pencil onto his notepad. “-I would stay away from him, if I were you.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” you mumbled.

After your food had arrived and you’d satiated your hunger, Miles suggested heading up to the pool for a quick dip. You agreed, although considering you’d just eaten, you didn’t think you would actually do any swimming. This notion seemed a bit funny to him, and he even asked if you were chicken, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

Much to your delight, there were swimsuits in the dressing room, and you slipped into a black bikini on the off chance you hopped into the water. Wrapping yourself up in a plush white robe that had the hotel’s acronym embroidered into the left breast, you stepped out onto the pool deck. Miles was already in the pool, clad in a pair of black swim trunks and swimming from one end to the other, engaged in an intense race against himself. You plopped down onto one of the pool chairs and stretched your legs out, watching as Miles swam to the edge closest to you with a grin. “The water’s lovely.”

“I’d rather not get cramps,” you said, making him laugh. He playfully splashed water in your direction, spraying small droplets onto your calves and the chair beneath you. The water was cold against your skin.

You heard the entrance to the pool open, making you turn and look over your shoulder. Alex stood in the doorway, and when he saw you, he managed a small smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I was looking for Miles.” He glanced around you and spotted the man in question, who offered an enthusiastic wave that was akin to one from a child. “Mark said you’d be here.”

“You should come join me, Mr. Turner,” Miles replied, assuming an exaggerated air of pompousness. “Have you even tested your own pool?”

Alex seemed to genuinely consider that question for a few moments. His hands slid down into his pockets, and his lips pressed together before finally parting to form the words, “No, I haven’t.”

And with that, he found himself in swim trunks exactly like Miles’ less than a few minutes later. It was the first time you’d seen him in anything beyond his perfectly crisp suits, and it also offered you a chance to admire his physique. His abs were lightly defined, as were the muscles lining his arms; the veins in his forearms protruded, as if all they needed was a small push before bursting from his skin; his legs had about as much hair as you could have expected, and there was a light smattering of hair across his chest. Draped over his chest, sinking into the dips of his collarbones, was a thin gold chain, the same one you’d seen him wear a number of times at the café.

Miles whistled, snapping you out of the spell Alex’s body had put you under. “She’s oglin’ ya.”

“Am not!” you protested, glaring at him.

He only rolled his eyes. “There’s nothin’ wrong with admirin’.”

You didn’t say anything, only crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn’t like you needed to respond, though; the heat that spread across your cheeks like wildfire spoke volumes.

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself - which you did reluctantly - Alex had always caught your eye. You mostly attributed it to the mysterious aura that he was always shrouded in, brought into existence by how little he spoke, how much he kept to himself, and the documents he primarily occupied himself with. Even if you now knew what those documents had been for, there were still heaps of things that remained locked away from you. For fuck’s sake, you’d learned his last name from a complete stranger.

In some ways, his mystery was a siren call, coaxing you in for what you thought might be your untimely demise. If there was anything the piles of romance novels in your flat had taught you, it was that strange men- especially rich ones- shouldn’t ever be trusted with matters of the heart.

As Alex lowered himself into the pool, though, you let yourself ogle for a little while longer.

[crisis-starter]

Heya!

Back with another part!

Isabeau time!

This is the CIAS version of Bad Touch if that makes any sense.

I hope you enjoy!

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

The favor tree was always a marvel to Isabeau. A gargantuan tree, capable of granting wishes, or at least giving you hope. Faux hope or not, it always brought a smile to his face. He was tempted to wish for confidence in what he wanted to do. But, for the current situation, that felt selfish. So he wouldn’t wish that for now. After all, maybe he could muster the courage up himself with no help from some ethereal god! Plus, the change god was lazy. They wouldn’t really care about a silly confession, right? Wait, maybe thinking that may be considered a tad sacrilegious. Stop thinking about it, Isabeau.

Siffrin approached, holding an almost exhausted expression. Isabeau could tell that something was up. Siffrin, despite sleeping for a few hours, looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Isabeau saw Siffrin muster up a strange expression. Eyes closed, smile a little too wide. But still decided that this wasn’t going to worry him too much. Siffrin faced Isabeau and said, “Isa.” Isabeau decided to comment on the exhausted demeanor, but try not to be too mean, “Sif. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I get it.” State that he can relate! Good step! But it didn’t look like it did anything.

Try again! Maybe… a distraction? Isabeau looked at the favor tree with a bright smile, “Anyway, I was just looking at the Favor Tree! Isn’t this tree cool?” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. But he responded at least, “Yeah it is…” Isabeau replied, cheerfully, hoping it was contagious, “Glad you agree!” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. Something was wrong. Nothing was really working!

Siffrin spoke up again, “One could say it’s a pretty…” This tone… it was set up for a pun! Isabeau looked at Siffrin, ready for the laugh of a century, “Uh huh???” Isabeau always loved to hear Siffrin’s puns. Not only that, but their voice, their combat skill, the look in their eye when he spends time with everyone, everything, every tiny detail that someone might not notice right away… is it not understandable why Isabeau’s heart fluttered around the little rogue? And here came the punchline, “…TREE-mendous tree.” Isabeau ignored the unchanging mask in favor of uncontrollable laughter. Siffrin joined him!

Isabeau felt like grabbing Siffrin’s shoulder as he wound down, but stopped himself. Siffrin’s expression changed to something… odd. It looked like they yearned for something as they kept their eye on Isabeau’s hand. At the same time, it held some level of desperation. It made the fighter sad. He stopped himself, once he caught Siffrin’s gaze and remembering Odile’s warning. Siffrin looked back, clearly coming to some kind of conclusion.

A sharp pain started to develop in Isabeau’s head. Siffrin’s expression turned serious. This… perplexed Isabeau. So he tried to ask, “…Uh, Sif? Ah—“ Without a word, Siffrin grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to his level and…

What?

Wait.

What?

In shock, Isabeau pushed Siffrin back to process what on earth happened to cause the rogue to kiss him out of nowhere. Or, rather, the whole situation itself. The headache was getting worse, the air growing sickly sweet. He didn’t like it. But it took 2 seconds to find a second detail that triumphed over the change in the air. Siffrin expressed… horror. Complete and utter horror. But, seemingly, it wasn’t with Isabeau, it was with-

The headache stopped. The air changed. It was back to normal. Siffrin’s expression quickly changed to that smile from before. But for some reason, it was more unnerving and fake, “Hi Isa! I need to do the Favor Tree thing!” Still recovering from the shock regarding the kiss, Isabeau responded, “Oh! Sorry, I’m in your way then, aren’t I? I’ll get out of your hair, see you at the Clocktower!!!” As he witnessed Siffrin walk towards the tree, he called, somewhat quietly, “Sif?” Siffrin ignored him, Or maybe they didn’t hear. He sighed, then proceeded to walk towards the field in the north of Dormont.

He took a breath in, and out. Then he started to think. What about that first one? Start with the first weird expression. That expression he saw Siffrin had when Isabeau was about to touch him. Didn’t Siffrin have a problem with touch? If so, why did they react like that? Like they were waiting for it. Almost silently begging for it. Why?

Second issue: the air and the headache. Awfully convenient, them happening at the same time. Not convenient. That makes it sound good. Coincidental? Strange? It just felt the slightest bit like a bad omen. Was it Craft? If so, what kind? It felt like time was pushed back a few minutes, so it might be time craft. But wasn’t the use of time craft a death sentence? Then again, the King is using Time Craft just fine. Keep a pin on it just in case.

Third issue: the conclusion, and the sudden change to seriousness along with the actual kiss. It was impulsive, yes. What conclusion did Siffrin come to to warrant such an action? What happened to warrant such an expression? Did Isabeau do something wrong without realizing?

Fourth issue: Siffrin’s expression before time decided to… malfunction? Horror. Pure terror. The way they hugged themselves implied that they were horrified by themselves. Honestly, Isabeau would be very disgusted with himself if he did that but this… that was… he almost wanted there to exist a kind of craft that help someone read minds. It would be royally invasive and Isabeau might never use it because it’s rude at the very least. But it would still be nice to know exactly what he had to work with to make his friends (and crush) happy.

Hold on… Isabeau was forgetting something. The exhaustion… Siffrin wasn’t sluggish, but he did look a bit tired. Or maybe ‘a bit’ is an understatement. The laugh that Siffrin produced also sounded vaguely fake. Like the scene was practiced. And the fake smile after the time rewind thing? It just looked like they were… improvising.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd, running up to him in a panic before Siffrin arrived. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

Isabeau approached the meadow overlooking the House of Change. The sight of such a building being distorted so badly did not help alleviate the worry that filled his being. He sighed quietly, hoping to calm his nerves. Isabeau sincerely hoped that Siffrin would recover. Or at least things would get better soon.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Haha, I was going to post this last night.

But I just passed out before I finished editing.

Fair, it was 2:30 AM and I definitely should not have been awake.

I’m having a bit of trouble with Mirabelle’s so it might take me a bit.

Also uh…. This is not being posted in chronological order.

[melancholyshadow]

Hello! I couldn’t help but see your post about writing for COD men! If so, could you please do one that’s Price x reader where she takes a bullet for him? Angst and Fluff. Typical scenario I know, but there’s never enough Price. If that doesn’t work that’s okay too! Thank you!!

Desk Duty

pairing: john price x female!reader

word count: around 2.1k

content warnings: canon-level violence, injured!reader, mentions of someone getting shot, mentions of gun-shot wound, medical talk, kissing an authority figure.

an: hello! first off, thank you anon for this lovely request, hopefully you enjoy it, i am a bit rusty bc i have not written in forever. second off, to address the elephant in the room, i know this isn't marvel related, but i'm really into call of duty right now, and wanted to write for them instead. third of all, if you liked this piece, and want to request your own, my request are open! i am really only writing for cod men right now and maybe some select marvel people. thanks guys!!!!

You never understood the saying “It happened in slow motion.” 

This was real life, nothing happened in slow motion, that was physically impossible. 

Or so you thought. 

All five of you were pinned down, trapped in a warehouse, taking massive amounts of fire. The enemy was closing in fast, and you were vastly outnumbered. It was the five of you, and a couple Marines, that’s it. This was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill mission, no one expected it to go sideways. Especially not this bad. 

“Low on ammo, Captain!” Gaz yelled, tossing an empty magazine behind him. “Conserve. Wait till they get closer!” Price barked back. “Where is air support, sir?” You asked, as the both of you crouched down to reload. “Five minutes out, we just need to make it till then.” He explained, popping back up and firing towards the building across the way. Five minutes was a long time in combat, almost too long. 

When you had this much adrenaline pumping through your body, it was natural to get tunnel vision. Only able to focus on the thing standing right in front of you, and at the moment that was about twenty enemy soldiers. Except, they weren’t all in front of you. They were obviously more well-versed in the area than you guys were, so they knew about a door to the warehouse you didn’t.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw the sudden flood of light come from the door being ripped open. That’s when everything slowed way down. Three of them rushed inside, you were able to drop the first two, but the third one was too quick. And when his eyes landed on Price who was still facing towards the opposing building, you panicked. So, you did the first thing you could think of. 

Grabbing your Captain’s ‘oh shit’ strap on the back of his plate carrier, you pulled him to the ground and out of the line of fire. As you kneeled beside Price, the enemy’s gun repositioned on you and before you had time to raise your own weapon again, he fired. The bullet connected, causing you to fall back against the cold concrete. Just as quickly as you fell, you watched the enemy’s body fall to the same concrete. Price let two bullets rip, one into his leg and the other into his skull. You stared up at the ceiling, clutching your wound, trying to apply pressure. 

“Monarch is down!”

You woke up in the hospital two days later. 

Apparently you passed out from blood loss. 

It had been a tricky wound to treat in the field, so you had to wait for the air support to show up. 

It was difficult for you to remember everything leading up to you being injured. You don’t remember the actual impact or being carried to the helo. It was all hazy. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost had gone over the incident with you many times, but it just never really came back to you. Not that you were complaining. No one wants to remember getting shot.

After a week and a half in the hospital, a month of physical therapy, and another month of training and sparring with your teammates to get you back in shape, you were finally cleared for the field. It was a miracle that you were able to bounce back this fast, it usually took many months to recover fully from an injury like that, but you liked to think it was solely because of how stubborn you were. 

Everyone was super happy to have you back. Well, almost. There was only one more step you had to do: submit your medical release form to Price and have him approve it. You had only seen the Captain a few times, in passing, since the incident. It felt like he was avoiding you entirely, but you chalked it up to all the paperwork he was probably buried under right now, especially when a mission went that far south. 

You walked down the familiar hallway, Price's office was at the very end. Nervousness flooded your body with every step you took. What could you possibly be nervous about? Was it because you were afraid to face him for the first time in over two months? Of course not, he was the same Price he was during that mission. Were you nervous he wasn’t going to approve you for medical release? No, he had to approve it, hell, you saved his damn life. 

As you approached the door, you took a deep breath. You noticed a shake in your hand as you brought it up to knock on the door. Three loud racks echoed down the hallway. “Come in.” He called from the otherside of the door. You gripped the doorknob, turning it and pushed the door open with your shoulder. Price, as you suspected, was looking over a mountain of paperwork. His signature cap was discarded, and he was dressed in civilian clothes. He was in on his day off. 

“Hello.” You greeted him, closing the door behind you. “Sergeant.” A man of few words, as always, but his tone seemed different. “I hate to do this, but I have some more paperwork for you.” You said with an awkward chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s my medical release form.” You added.

“Set it there.” He pointed to the only clear space on his desk. His words sounded cold. After placing down the documents, you stood there for a few more seconds, seeing if he would say anything else. You know, ask how you were doing, or something, literally anything. But to no avail. 

So, you turned on your heels to walk out without another word. As you touched the doorknob, Price cleared his throat to speak, spiking some hope into your heart. “I’m putting you on desk duty.” Almost instantly, your stomach dropped past your toes. He said it so monotoned, no ounce of emotion in his voice.

For a few moments you were stunned, left speechless. But once that initial shock wore off, anger began to bubble up in your chest. You could feel the warmth overtaking every inch of your body and your chest began rising and falling irregularly.

“W-What? But I’ve been cleared for the field.” You tried to keep your tone even, unwavering as you slowly turned around to face him. He had finally looked up, head propped up on his palm. Like his tone, there was no legible emotion on his face. No anger, sadness, or guilt. “Desk duty until further notice.” This time it sounded dismissive, like the conversation was over. What is said is done. Clicking his pen twice, his eyes landed back on the report in front of him. 

“This is bullshit!” The words climbed up your throat before you could stop them. You could feel your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. Your words caught the Captain off guard, but he only showed it for a moment. Not once had you ever questioned Price, or his intentions. But this time was different, if he thought you were gonna take this lying down,  he was dead wrong. 

“I’d watch your tone, Sergeant.” He spoke at you more sternly than before, clearly agitated by your outburst. And what he said next only added insult to injury, literally, “After that stunt you pulled, you’re lucky I don’t reassign you.” He used his pen to point at you, reaffirming his statement. That’s when all the logic and camaraderie flew out the window.

“You mean the one where I saved your life?” You spoke with malice, like venom was dripping off your tongue. “God forbid, I interfere with you taking a bullet to the skull.” You scoffed. “Is that the stunt you’re referring to?” You mocked him, echoing the term ‘stunt,.' You were trying to get under his skin, whether you knew that at the moment or not.

The Captain was boiling, you could practically see the steam coming from his ears. As you open your mouth to further instigate the situation, he slams his fists down on his desk. He stands up quickly, his chair tumbled to the ground behind him. “Exactly that stunt!” He barks. You’re the one caught off guard this time. It was rare for the Captain to raise his voice outside the field. Especially to you. 

“You could have got yourself killed, soldier!” It only takes him a few steps to be in your face. You hold your ground even though you're terrified, you had never seen Price like this. “It’s in the job description, sir.” You rebutted between your teeth, adding the ‘sir’ to irk him more. It worked. “You were careless and clearly have no regard for your own life. You are a risk.” He spat. 

“I’d die for you, Captain. No if, ands, or buts, about it.” You said with a straight face. “ So, if that categorizes me as a ‘risk,’ so be it.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it, and you noticed. “Say it, Captain. You never have been one to hold his words back.” You pushed him, feeding on his anger. 

But all that anger seemed to be disintegrating. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone. Like your words flipped a switch inside him. He had this look on his face, like he was truly debating on his next words. “Say. It.” You demanded, necking craning upwards to look him in the eyes. His eyes fell closed, and a defeated huff passed his lips. 

“Having your blood on my hands is something I can’t handle…” His voice was hushed, and now his eyes refused to meet yours. That was the last thing you expected him to say. He has always kind of coddled you, he was very protective. You always thought maybe it was because you were the newest member of the Task Force, but now you’re thinking it’s for another reason. 

“W-What do you mean?” You asked, your mind went blank. All that anger was now mixed with a good dose of confusion. He didn’t speak, just ran his fingers through his hair, still avoiding eye contact. “Captain, look at me.” You uttered softly, and he didn’t listen. You’re not sure what overtook you in the moment, but your shaky hand reached towards his face.

“Please.” You begged, gripping his chin and forcing him to face you. When he didn’t pull away, you brought his face closer, your noses only inches apart. His eyes did finally flutter open, and you were greeted with a stoic, immersive shade of blue, you couldn’t look away. 

“Captain, I–” He didn’t let you finish your thought, cutting you off by leaning in closer, pressing his lips against yours. They were soft, softer than you ever imagined. Especially compared to the coarse hair of his mustache and beard against your face. You even picked up on the taste of smoke, he had smoked one of his cigars recently. 

All you could focus on at that moment was him. The way he placed your hands against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. It was racing, ramming against the inside of his chest.

How his rough, calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, further melding your lips together. The way he handled you said a lot. He kissed you like he was in distress, barely giving you time to breathe between the last and next kiss, not that you were doing much breathing anyways. He made your body feel like jelly, your knees barely able to carry your body weight, so you gripped his t-shirt, tight, trying to steady yourself. 

When he finally pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours. There was no talking, just heavy pants coming from the both of you. Did that really just happen? Was this a joke? You wanted to pinch yourself, wake yourself up from this dream. That’s when he spoke, breaking the silence, “‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He apologized, trying to create more distance between the two of you. 

Luckily, you still had a hold of his shirt, stopping him. “Respectfully, Captain, shut up.” You chuckled, which earned a small smile from him as well. “Is this why you avoided me for two and a half months?” You asked, snaking your arms around his neck. “If you think I’ve only had these feelings for you for two and a half months, you're more delusional than I thought, Sergeant.” He chuckled this time, placing his hands on your hips.

“So, the real question is, am I still on desk duty?”

[bagerfluff]

"I Saw An Angel"

Male Reader x Male Character

Hello, if you are reading this then, I don't know what happened.

I'm just a high school senior, I have more important things to worry about then what's been happening. But I finally snapped with what happened today.

I'm writing this right after it happened, I'm still in the same place thing happened.

The big oak tree right outside the school. I'm writing this on the back of my math homework.

Maybe I'm finally going insane.

But I need to tell someone about this, I need people to know what happened, even if they think I'm crazy. I'm getting a head of myself. You don't even know what happened.

Let me take you back to when it all started.

It started a few weeks ago, when I started having weird dreams.

I remember them like they really happened. It was always the same dream over and over again every night.

Like a broken record playing the same verse over and over. I was walking though the sky.

I could see the vast sky below me and the shimmering night sky above.

I felt like I was walking on clouds.

I never looked down in the dreams, but I could feel the clouds sink beneath my feet, but they were still strong enough to hold me up. I look around and saw temples straight out of ancient Greece.

They were massive, towering in size over me like the tallest skyscrapers, the only difference? These were able to go though the sky, not scrape it.

I never went in the builds, I only marveled at them while I heard people talk inside of them.

Well, it didn't sound like talking, but it did? It sounded like they were speaking another language.

Then I saw him.

I got so far away that I found myself in a vast space with nothing.

Only the clouds beneath me and the stars above me. I always walked the same path each dream.

Like I had somewhere to be, like I knew this is where I was meant to go.

Then I saw him.

A boy with wings. He had white wings that sprouted from his back.

He had on a robe that I read about in some ancient books about even more ancient civilizations.

I could see one of his wings, it sprouted under his shoulder blade.

The other side was covered by the robe. He had bright blonde hair.

I'm not kidding, his hair shined like the sun on the brightest days. Now, I knew I was gay.

I had found that out years ago, but, this boy just steeled that fact.

He was the most beautiful boy in the world, my heart is pounding just thinking about him.

I felt my face heat up in the dream when I saw him too.

I felt so happy when I saw him, like I knew that he was the one I love, that he was the only one I wanted and the only person I wanted to spend my life with.

But every time I took a step forward I woke up.

I sat straight up in my bed, breathing heavily with a red face.

At first, I thought it was a weird dream. I had just broken up with someone I had dated for a year.

Yet it happened again, and again, and again. Then I found myself thinking about the boy at every second of the day. I spaced out in every class, at lunch, at home.

My only thought was the boy with wings.

He was like an angel, up in the clouds with hair the shined like a halo and wings the could fly him anywhere. I had gotten used to the weird dreams and plaguing thoughts.

Until today.

I was just trying to get to my next class when something caught my eye. Just outside a window near the side of the school.

A big oak tree stood that was probably older then all of the people at the school.

It was him, the angel from my dream.

I had the dream so many times, day dreamed about him, thought about him so much that his image was burned into my brain. I knew it was him.

I wasn't even thinking as I rushed out of the school. I had ran to the tree, only a few yards from the angel. He looked the exact same as my dreams.

Blonde hair that glowed really bright, I mean so bright that I had a hard time looking at it for more then a few seconds. His body was thin, yet he had a little muscle definition.

His wings were folded behind him, covering most of his back and body and face.

I took a few steps forward at first. Thinking that I was going to wake up like this was a dream.

That's what it felt like. My heart was racing faster then ever, I wanted to run put to him and hold him in my arms. Bury my nose in his hair, fell his skin under my hands.

Stare into his eyes, during that moment, I somehow knew that his eyes were the most beautiful eyes ever, and I was right. I took another step forward and he turned around.

He turned slightly, so he his body was sideways but his head was turned towards me.

He looked at my with blue eyes, the most beautiful blue eyes in the world.

They were dark yet bright at the same time.

They looked like the ocean yet shined like stars in the sky.

I swore I could see individual stars in his eyes, as they swirled like the ocean.

He smiled when he saw me, I'm blushing just remembering the smile.

He looked so happy, his eyes closed when he smiled. He didn't show his teeth.

Yet I wanted to see that smiled for the rest of my life. I wanted to be the reason he smiled like that forever. His smile was small, a little teasing.

I loved it, I smiled when I saw it.

Then it hit me, like a brick launched out of a bazooka. I had just finished a class about history. They had talked about how some people believe in ethereal beings.

People with wings and a halo above their head that shined like the sun.

That lived in the clouds and watched people, that looked like the most perfect people.

I saw an angel.

I had had dreams about angel and I saw that angel.

By the time I realized that I had looked up and the angel was gone. I had ran to where they were standing but nothing was there. No foot prints, no notes, nothing.

Expect, a feather.

I picked up the feather, it's still in my pocket as of the time I'm writing this.

I, in fact, sat down against the tree and started writing this after the angel disappeared.

I still don't know what's happened or what's happening, I don't know why I feel so in love with his angel. I thought I knew what love was, but I was wrong.

I know I love this angel, I know I saw one.

So, I don't know what happened, I don't know why I'm writing this. I know whoever reads this is going to think I'm crazy and if my parents find out, I'm going to a mental hospital.

I don't care.

I know that the angel is watching over me, I'm excited to see him in my dream tonight. Maybe someone else knows what's happening, maybe this happened to someone else.

But all I know is, I saw an angel.

You looked up at the sky once you finished writing. You stared at the sun, which somehow looked less bright since you saw his bright halo like hair.

You looked down at the letter, you frowned and crumbled it in your hands. This was stupid, maybe you were crazy. You sighed and stood up.

Picking up your bag off the ground and putting the pen back in it. You threw the letter into a trash can beside the door to the school. You opened the door right as the bell rang.

Great, you skipped an entire class.

You shook your head and prepared for the questions you were going to get from everyone. Before you stepped in the school you looked towards the sky.

You had an itching feeling that someone was watching you. You smiled at that thought it was the angel. Maybe you were right, or maybe you just needed more sleep.

You went into the school, quickly forgetting the note.

Yet, outside the school. Someone with wings, blue eyes, and bright blonde hair picked up the letter out of the trash. He uncrumpled it and read it.

He smiled when he finished it, placing it in his robe pocket. He would make sure to visit you in your dreams, maybe he would see you in real life again too.

Maybe you two would become friends, talk to each other, maybe even before more then friends. Maybe you could call him the angel. Only time could tell, but for now.

You only saw an angel.

[differenteagletragedy]

Our Life Swap AU! A follow-up to Baxter, your best friend and childhood neighbor, confessing his love for yooooou :)

The first time you met Baxter was on the beach by your house. You were eight years old, on summer vacation with nothing to do, and a walk to the shore changed your life forever.

Now, 15 years later, you'd shared your very first kiss in the ocean after at least a decade of pining for each other.

Considering how long you'd waited to share your feelings, it just sort of made sense that once you did, everything else would quickly fall into place.

The next morning, you woke up in Baxter's bed instead of the one in the guest room. He was still sleeping, his arms wrapped tight around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. You didn't move -- you were perfectly content to lie there like that for the foreseeable future.

Eventually he stirred, pulling you even closer before his eyes opened. When he saw you there, he smiled.

"I love you," he said groggily, placing a kiss on your cheek.

You'd shared the words plenty of times with each other over the years, but soon after he'd kissed you the night before, he said them for the first time with new meaning. And since then, it seemed like he couldn't stop saying them.

After you told him that you loved him too, his smile widened. You thought he'd tell you that he loved you more, which was a fun little fight you'd gotten into a few times over the course of the night before, but he switched up the script this time.

"Marry me."

Your eyes widened, and you pulled back to look at him. He always teased you, and you didn't think he'd joke about something like that, but then again you'd only been together for about 12 hours.

"Shut up," you laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder. If he was just teasing, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself by taking it seriously.

He wasn't quite frozen after that, but you knew him well enough to see that he was surprised that the words had come out of his mouth. He didn't say anything, but he stared at you. You stared back, trying to figure out what to make of all this.

Finally, he settled back down next to you, never breaking his stare, and said, "I didn't quite mean to ask that question like this, I'd pictured something much more grand. But that is what I want. To marry you. And now that we're here like this, I'm having trouble imagining a more perfect place."

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he said, grinning once again. "In fact ..."

He pulled away from you and leaned over to his nightstand. After a moment of rummaging around, he grabbed something and laid back down.

When he showed you his hand, you saw he held a small black ring box.

You looked back up at him, and he opened the box, showing you the sparkly ring it held. You'd never talked to him about jewelry, not that you remembered, but it looked like something you'd pick out for yourself. It was beautiful.

Baxter could tell that you were having trouble finding words, so he decided to talk instead.

"I got this a while ago," he admitted. "It's been perhaps a year now? I started looking around before, in college, for what I thought suited you best, and shortly after I started working I found it." He paused, then quietly added, "I do understand that it may be a bit odd, to buy an engagement ring for someone you're not even dating, but --"

"It's wonderful," you told him, your desire to encourage him giving you back your voice. "I just can't believe ... you really thought about marrying me for that long?"

He smirked, gave you a quick kiss, then said "All my life."

You held your left hand to him, telling him, "Me too."

With an amount of reverence you didn't think you'd ever seen from him, he pulled the ring out of the box, kissed your hand, then slipped it on your finger.

He marveled at it a bit, lovingly stroking your hand and looking at the ring. You let him, savoring the sweet moment. Then, so quiet you barely heard him, he said, "It's strange."

"What is?"

"It's just that for most of my life, you've been my main source of happiness. My own personal ray of sunshine. Truth be told, in my most melancholy moments, I've wondered if I would have survived my parents' home if I hadn't known you were there, right across the street, my safe haven."

Your heart ached for what you knew he'd been through as a child, it always had. You let go of his hand to wrap your arms around him.

"What's strange is that you've always made me so incredibly happy," he continued, nuzzling against your neck. "Being with you has always been pure bliss. But now," he paused for another kiss, "I do believe I'm so happy I may burst."

"Aww, don't do that," you told him, stroking his hair. "If you burst then who will plan the wedding?"

He met your eyes, and a devilish grin appeared for the first time that morning.

"You're right," he said. "I do have several ideas for that."

[silli---lilli]

Sleepwalking

Simon and Johnny are alone on base and Simon sleepwalks, revealing some of his secrets

They were on mission, technically, but it had been a few days since they’d seen any action and from the info Price and Gaz had sent back from the field, it would be a few more.

Simon and Johnny had been alone in the small foreign barracks, and it was easy enough for them. No one on earth had said what both of them had been thinking. That it was just a little more than comradery, a little more than close friendship. Not even they had mentioned it as they crawled into the same bed. Not platonic, but not taking it too far. Leaving it questionably justifiable.

That particular night, however, they slept apart. Johnny knew why, but Simon would never have said it. His dreams often woke him on nights when the day before was particularly hard to wade through. Simon hated the quiet, and sitting on his hands, and he’d gotten lost in his mind again. So Johnny made sure he ate and gave him his space.

He walked through the base in darkness, making sure everything was locked up. Checking in again with Price. He eventually went and lay in his bed but he didn’t feel like sleep would find him any time soon. Something about that day with Ghost felt different. Not that it was unusual behavior in the Lieutenant, but that it felt different for Soap.

He’d always hated the way the man suffered, cringing at the dark stories of his past and marveling at the selflessness and kindness and forgiveness the man displayed in spite of it. He supposed these darker days were fair and called for in between the high energy, hyper-focused days they spent in the field.

But that day…meeting his eyes and hearing the lower, more tired register of his voice, Johnny realized how much the man meant to him. Really. Not just a crush or a respected superior. Johnny would have died for him long before feeling like this. This was a desperation to live, and for Simon to live, to exist in the world at the same time and in comfort and safety.

It made him think about quieter days off duty, and how relieved he was to have those days alone, and then suddenly, he didn’t want to have them alone at all.

He’d been in and out of sleep for a while when a noise caught his ear and he sat up, slowly to keep from making any noise. He could hear heavy feet and cabinets opening and closing. He wasn’t worried about intruders, he knew immediately that it was Ghost. He knew his footsteps.

Soap went and stood at his door, cracking it open. It was, however, strange that he was being so loud. Simon would never make that much noise knowing that Soap was in bed. He was notoriously careful to not disturb the others. Worried, Soap left his room and padded nearly silently down the hall.

Whatever Simon was doing, he hadn’t turned on any lights. As Soap neared, he could hear him speaking, every so often like he was having a conversation with someone. Sleepwalking. He’d mentioned it before, in passing, like a warning, and Soap hadn’t thought much of it. But he was thinking of it then and his heart clenched. He didn’t want Simon to suffer, and if nothing else it was completely humiliating to lose control of your body, even in sleep.

He neared the kitchen and Simon never looked in his direction. Never knew he was there. Soap stayed near the entrance to the hall, crossing his arms and leaning on the door frame. He knew he shouldn’t try to wake him. Not unless he was in danger. But Soap didn’t want to leave him alone, either.

“I told them I’d be back next Friday.” Simon took completely random items from the kitchen cabinet and carried them to a nearby table. “They never listen.”

He was quiet for a moment longer, stilling as though he were listening to the other person’s answer. Soap watched him, admiring how relaxed he looked.

“We should just drive together, yeah?”

Another pause. Still, he hadn’t acknowledged Soap’s existence.

“I can’t do everything for you, Tommy.” Simon’s voice was warm, almost affectionate. Soap was lost in that sound so it shocked him when Simon turned and faced him head on as though he’d known he was there the entire time. “You coming?”

Soap stayed completely still, knowing that even if Simon were in and out of consciousness it wouldn’t be good to scare or confuse him.

But Simon kept staring. “Come on, Tom, the food’s getting cold.” Soap still didn’t move and Simon shifted his weight on his feet, getting frustrated. “Today?”

Slowly, testing, Soap lowered his hands to his sides and straightened. He took one step forward and that seemed to satisfy Simon as he turned back toward the table and pulled out two chairs. Soap stopped again to see if Simon would move on with the dream, but he looked over his shoulder again to see if Soap was coming or not.

So, he went. Probably because he wasn’t sure what else to do, but a small part of him wanted to be whatever presence Simon was seeking.

“I haven’t seen them since I went to Mexico, Tommy.” Simon sighed. Soap just watched him, taking his seat and waiting for another cue. “I have so much to tell them.”

It was quiet for a moment, like Simon was listening again. Eventually he looked up, and Soap swore he looked directly into his eyes.

Soap stared back, searching their unusually unguarded depths. Simon wasn’t like this during the day. So open.

“Yes, but I can’t ask him to go with me.” He furrowed his brow slightly, quiet for another moment. “Because he’d say no, I think.”

“Who is it?” Soap heard himself ask and immediately bit his tongue so hard it hurt.

He could be there for Simon in that moment but he wasn’t going to take advantage of his state. But he watched, in darkness lit only by a few far off safety lights, a small smile across Simon’s face.

“He’s just a Sergeant.” He sat back, like he was proud of himself. “A scot, though, but I think I can overlook it.”

Soap felt butterflies roll in his stomach, mixed with emotion. His voice was quiet when he replied, unsure if Simon could hear him at all. “He’d go with you.”

Simon just nodded slowly, looking off into the distance. “He’d like you, Tommy. You’d get along.”

“I think you’re right.” Soap whispered. Simon was still looking into the distance but Soap was only looking at him.

He didn’t know what Simon thought he was talking with his brother about, but he was so casual, a simple conversation with someone he loved and trusted. Something he didn’t get to do often. But maybe, maybe Soap could give him a taste of that in his waking hours again. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go looking for it like this, in the middle of the night.

Simon stood and Soap blinked out of his own thoughts, watching him pick up what he’d carried to the table and haphazardly replacing them. Soap slowly stood to face him.

Simon just nodded and walked toward the hall Soap had come from. Soap followed him. A few steps down the hall, Simon turned and looked at him again.

“Maybe you should drive, then. I need to sleep.”

“Sure, Simon.” Soap answered, walking to catch up with him.

Simon’s room was the other direction. As they neared his, he reached for Simon’s arm and gently guided him inside.

Nothing else was said, Simon was still asleep, but he followed, and he climbed into bed behind whatever safe presence he’d felt in the middle of his vision.

Johnny wrapped him in his arms and held him there, still and warm, as he relaxed back into regular sleep. He clenched his eyes shut and willed himself to take every ounce of loneliness and deep, hollow sadness from the man he bent his body around.

Simon woke with his head on Johnny’s arm, the other draped over his waist. He hadn’t remembered seeking Johnny out the night before, but it didn’t surprise him. He’d gone to bed full of darkness and Johnny seemed to be the only presence on earth that could ease that. He should have followed him to bed in the first place.

He lay there a long time before the sun reached a decent height and Johnny stirred. Simon rolled over to face him. Blue eyes cracked, just barely. He laid a hand along Soap’s jaw and placed a single kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Breakfast.” He stated. Soap’s eyes were wider but he didn’t fight him as he stood.

Someone had fucked up the kitchen cabinets. He’d have to have a chat about that with Soap later. He needed to have a chat with Soap about quite a bit. And instead of making him nervous, it settled warm in his middle, much like it felt waking pressed against him. He heard his Sergeant’s feet in the hall, footsteps he’d know anywhere, and smiled.