#❴ t ; can i walk you through a hypothetical? / prompts ❵ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

firstelevens · 9 months

Note

33 for Tyrone/Tandy from the new TS prompts list, please ⚜️

33. they'll judge it like they know about me and you

this is a Ty/Tandy entry from the Formula One AU, set around chapter 4 of the fic because I'm a sucker who can't walk away from things I love

“Tyrone fucking Johnson, do you even know how to answer a text message?!”

Ty startles, his head immediately whipping around towards the doors, where his very pissed off best-friend-and-maybe-more stands glaring at him.

He winces, scrambling to his feet as she stalks over. He vaguely notices Bucky’s surprise at Tandy’s entrance, but he’s too busy explaining himself to her to bother addressing Bucky’s confusion.

She looks furious, but by now Ty is fluent in the many moods of Tandy Bowen, and he can tell the difference between anger over something stupid he did and anger because she was worried about him. He still lets out a soft ‘oof’ when she throws her arms around him, but that’s more for show than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into her hair, squeezing her as tightly as she’s holding him. “The stupid charger didn’t work last night and my battery died in medical and I didn’t know how to tell Chase to tell you without making it obvious that…”

He feels her nod into his chest and makes the decision to ignore the slight tremble in her shoulders for now.

There’s a loud scrape of a chair against stone, and Ty is suddenly reminded that they have an audience as Bucky stands to leave.

He spares half a thought for how his and Tandy’s plan to keep their friendship under wraps is probably shot, but he can’t bring himself to care all that much right now. There had been a second today when his car was spinning out of control where all Ty had wanted to do was radio in a message to Tandy, just in case he wouldn’t be able to later. Then his car had smashed nose first into a barrier and fried his communications and it had gone from a practical concern to a hypothetical one.

It doesn’t change that he knew exactly what he would say to her if he had the chance. He just has to hope that she doesn’t bolt when he finally gets the words out of his mouth.

He’d had a hunch, but it becomes clear just how worried Tandy was when she pulls back to look at him with tears still in her eyes, huffing as she swipes them away. “They checked you over properly?” she asks, sniffling and looking annoyed about it. “No shortcuts so Victor could get around to lecturing you about wrecking the car?”

“No shortcuts,” says Ty. “And no lectures, either.”

She frowns. “Whatever. He’s still a dick.”

“You’re right,” he says with a laugh, “but I’m fine, T. I promise.”

He’s not surprised that this doesn’t seem to convince Tandy, who takes half a step back—Ty’s arms are still around her waist—and holds up a hand.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” says Ty. “The helmet did its job.”

Tandy is still frowning. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he says, “and so did the medics, and so did the doctor who came through after the medics, and so did Chase’s mom, who’s literally a neurologist.”

Tandy makes a face, but the corner of her mouth lifts a little. “Three opinions is definitely overkill, even for an overachiever like you.”

Ty smiles. “I had to be sure; I knew there was someone in my life who was going to want to triple check.”

“Well, whoever that is, they sound silly,” Tandy says, more to Ty’s shirt than to his face.

“Don’t call my best friend silly,” he says. “She beats up people who are mean to me.”

Tandy snorts, but she still hasn’t moved out of the circle of Ty’s arms, her hands resting flat against his chest.

When she’s quiet for a few long moments, Ty tells himself that it’s time to get what he wants to say off his chest. “Tandy,” he starts to say, “I wanted to–”

“I didn’t like it,” she says abruptly, cutting him off. Ty furrows his eyebrows, but she’s explaining herself before he can ask. “Seeing your car spin out like that. I didn’t– it felt like I couldn’t breathe, watching it happen. Like I couldn’t remember how.”

He finally moves his hands away from her waist, covering her hands with his where they rest over his heart. He wants to reassure her, but he also knows that if he starts talking, he’s as likely to spook her as anything else, and he really wants to know what she has to say.

“It was the worst,” she says, “and I’ve seen some pretty shitty things. I don’t know how people do it, all these spouses who come down to watch the races. I don’t get how you can watch that happen to someone and not hate every second that it could happen to the person you care about. I don’t think it would even be humanly possible if you had to watch something like that from the pit and not the stands.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Ty’s chest, but he tries to ignore it and hear the rest of what Tandy is saying. She’s his best friend before she’s anything else, and he owes her that.

Tandy takes a long, slow breath like she’s trying to steel herself for something. Ty doesn’t know what else to do, so he gives her hands a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

By some miracle, it works. She tilts her head up again so she’s looking him in the eye, and her voice shakes a little as she speaks.

“I was so sure that our plan was going to work out perfectly. That– that you could bide your time at Leone and then you could come to Scuda and it would all work out, but I can’t do it, Ty,” she says, and his heart cracks a little bit.

“It’s okay, Tandy,” he murmurs. “We’re okay. You’re my best friend and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

As facial expressions go, Ty is expecting to see sadness or acceptance or maybe irritation.

What he’s not expecting is to see Tandy’s big sad eyes go from tearful to completely baffled.

“Wait,” she says. “Wait, wait, wait. What?”

Ty furrows his eyebrows. “What, what? I just mean it’s okay, T. We’re friends and that’s plenty.”

She chooses this moment to finally step away from him, looking incredulous now. “Of course it is!” she says. “But I thought we were–”

“So did I!” says Ty, now just as confused as Tandy looks. “But then you said that you couldn’t do it, and I wanted to respect that.”

“Ty, oh my God, you have got to stop being so accommodating.”

“I know that’s not the lesson you want me to take away from a moment where I was trying to respect your wishes about something.”

Tandy crosses her arms. “Did you wait to hear my wishes before respecting them, or did you just jump right to being self-sacrificing?”

Ty presses his mouth shut. She may have a point, he realizes, and it’s also just unfair how cute she looks when she’s telling him how stupid he’s being.

She huffs. “I have to do everything myself around here, huh?”

“You do kind of have authority issues, so I’m not sure how well you’d take to someone else doing things for you.”

After a moment of pretending to think it over, she nods. “You might have a point.”

Ty shakes his head. “Tandy Bowen tells me I’m right and I don’t even have a working phone to record it.”

“I’ll buy you a tape recorder for your next birthday,” she says. He hasn’t missed the fact that she’s moved closer to him now, almost as near as she was when her hands were pressed over his heart.

“Tandy,” says Ty, because the suspense is ging to kill him. “What were you trying to say earlier?”

“When you and your hero complex were busy jumping to conclusions? That ‘earlier’?”

Ty narrows his eyes at her, but then a smile breaks across her face and he can’t help but give her one in response. “Yeah, that ‘earlier.’”

She takes another steadying breath before looking up to meet his eyes again. “What I was saying was that I don’t think I can do what we planned,” she says. “I don’t think I can be your engineer like we thought I could.”

It’s not what Ty expected to hear, but it still hurts. The entire time he’d been working towards a spot in Formula One, it had been his goal to drive on the track with Tandy in his ear. They would be unstoppable together; he was certain of that. He still is.

“I’m not trying to change your mind,” he says slowly, “but could you tell me why?”

At which point Ty is the recipient of one of the most classic faces that Tandy makes, lesson one in the textbook of the many moods of Tandy Bowen: she looks at him like he’s just asked a question with the most obvious answer in the world, and Ty has no idea what that’s supposed to be.

“Humor me, T.”

“Ty,” she says, and this time it’s Tandy putting her hands in his, “I can’t be your engineer because I’d be fucking terrible at it. Because every time I would tell any other driver to push through and overtake or speed up or drive on bald tires, I would tell you to make the safe choice. I can’t be your engineer because if it had to be a choice between you winning and me knowing that you weren’t going to get hurt, you’d never win a single race.”

Ty’s heart is hammering against his chest and making it very difficult for him to keep all of that banked up hope at bay. “Why?” he manages to ask.

“Because I might be reckless about everything else,” she says softly, “but I– I don’t want to be reckless with you.”

Her hands are shaking a little bit, but she doesn’t look away from him, and all Ty can think of is the hundred ways the world has broken both their hearts, and the fact that they’re still willing to risk that again for each other, and he just can’t be cautious anymore.

Ty pulls Tandy closer by their joined hands, tipping her chin up just a little. Tandy sees where he’s going like she always does and gets there first just because she can, dropping Ty’s hands so she can brace a hand against his jaw, pulling him down towards her. Like most places Tandy has drawn him to, he goes willingly.

Her lips curve up in a smile against his own, and when they break apart, they can’t stop laughing, something giddy filling the air between them.

“So it looks like we’re doing a really good job of keeping our friendship under wraps, huh?”

“We’re basically spies at this point,” says Ty. “The best way to avoid people accusing you and your best friend of a conflict of interest is to kiss them in a public place.”

Tandy looks back over her shoulder at the still-empty patio. “If they see us, they see us,” she says, with a decisive nod. “People talk anyway. Might as well give them something to talk about.”

“What happened to not being reckless?” laughs Ty.

“Some things are worth the risk,” Tandy says primly. Before Ty can feel too flattered about it, she adds, “And by ‘some things’, here I obviously mean ‘the chance to get into the WAGs group chat.’ They know everything.”

And Ty means to give her a flat look in response, he really does, but then he sees the pure delight in her face as she teases him, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to do anything except smile back at her when she looks at him like this.

#me yesterday: i'm gonna write SO MANY short fics #me today: [whatever this is]#tyrone x tandy #@ sam and bucky SOME OF US have our romantic resolutions QUICKLY and QUIETLY and IN THE MOONLIGHT like civilized people #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics #my fic #birdhapley #sesamestreep

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simon-x-billy · 1 year

Text

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: May

May Ch. 5: You look good. What happened?

May Prompt: Who Are You?

AN: I thought I’d already posted the May chapter?! Whoopsie. 🙊 Italy photos mine. Btw in case it was established too far back in the story for anybody but me to remember, the phrase ‘eye caterpillars’ = bushy eyebrows. 🐛 TW: Outdated references to hipsters. Use of bips. Irishisms. 2015. Picky eater. Fic rewrites. Utter lack of sex.

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Start: Jan || Prev: April || Next: June

————/-/————

May Chapter 5: You look good. What happened?

————/Billy/————

"You came!” I’ll admit I’m amazed to see Simon Lewis emerge from the depths of the Naples train station blinking at the full force of the Mediterranean sun. It was only just last night he decided to come back and here he appears before me less than 24 hours later. I pull the muppet in for some back-thumping. “What’d you do, y’madman? Drive straight to the airport?”

“Yeah, basically.” He’s grinning, and I can hear the giggle barely contained by his words. “Walked up and bought a ticket right there at the counter, just like in a movie. I am both a baller and a shot caller.”

Billy and the baller/shot-caller.

I can’t help but chortle. “Obviously.” Certo.

“It was iconic. Sexy. I am a sexy icon of bad-assery with balls and shots called. On two continents.” He holds up two fingers, unconsciously forming a symbol that could potentially be misconstrued in Italy. It definitely would be misconstrued back home. But no one’s paying us any mind.

“Look at your man now. Aren’t you just the sexiest Simon ever to have a bad ass.”

“I know, right?” He presents his fist. In a news announcer’s voice he announces, “We fist bump because we’re men, the moment calls for it, and the enthusiasm is infectious.”

“Em, Simon. I think you’re thinking out loud again.”

“Whatever. Don’t care. Too psyched to be here to berate myself for cringey habits.”

This fun Simon is a little different to the one I’ve been texting. He’s a bit more loquacious, this one. Less Hemingway and more, em, I dunno, Simon Lewis I suppose.

“And no more crying chibi Simon,” he declares, as if he needs to be very clear on this point. “I drowned him in the East River – purely figuratively, of course, but it does count. So he’s not along for the ride this time. He cannot steal my bad-ass thunder.”

I can’t help snorting, but before I can give him proper grief for his ass thunder, he stops me with his hand up. “No, no. Don’t bother. It’s true. I didn’t think that one through.”

Tossing his bags in the boot, I feel honor-bound to point out, “I never had you down as a murderer. Plot thickens.”

————/Simon/————

“So where to, mate?” Billy changes the subject to our more immediate, practical concerns.

“I don’t really care, as long as it’s not the hotel. I want to do something. Any thing will do, as long as we have to actively go do it.”

“Right,” he says.

“So where to, mate?” I ask in return.

“Sorrento. Nah-bip-bip-bip I’m not finished. The actual town of Sorrento — or at least the marina. That’s where dinner’ll be.”

“Aren’t you working?” I whip out my ol’ faithful suspicious-side-eye expression. Yeah it’s a predictable choice, but I’m suspicious, so I’m looking at him from the corner of my eye with suspicion. It’s how it’s done, how else am I supposed to do it?

“Nah, man. I took the night off. And anyway, pickin you up is a job all its own, innit,” he teases. He’s teasing.

“That’s all I am to you, a job, isn’t it.” I sniff back my hypothetical tears. “No, but seriously, thanks Billy. For the ride. And for taking the night off. Appreciate you, man.”

“Well, I figured you’re not likely to have a girl already. So it was safe to assume you’d be free for dinner. And I wanted to get you down to town. You can’t be eatin every meal at the hotel.”

“Don’t want to, anyway. I’m here to do it right this time,” I promise him.

Heaving a sigh of relief he says, “Thank Christ,” in the general skyward direction of God on high.

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Acourse, mate.”

“No really. Thanks, Billy.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

————/-/————

“Oh look, he’s back. Where’d you go?” Billy asks me with amusement. He’s amused.

Eloquently, I inquire, “Huh?”

“You disappeared. You do that a lot, mate.”

“Don’t you need an amulet for that?”

“Funny.” Apparently it’s not.

“Y’know, if I could have worked hit points into the books, I totally would have. It just wasn’t the right tone.” I put on a dreamy voice. “Not all dreams come true, Lewis, not all.”

“What are you on about?”

“Books. I write,” I qualify, just to clear up any confusion.

He turns to look at me (taking far too long without his eyes on the road in my opinion). What, is he trying to decide if I look authorly? “That's great, man,” he says. “Where’d you post them?”

“Post them?” Um. “Oh, you mean putting the chapters up online?”

Billy nods. I’m forced to assume I don’t look authorly.

“What kind of stories do you write?” he asks as he skirts a delivery truck driving in reverse down the middle of the road. I decide that it’s best to pretend it’s not actually happening and stare at the view instead.

“Paranormal Urban Fantasy. Never Suburban Fantasy, though, just so you know,” I offer. “I leave that to the experts. Write what you know, you know?”

He chuckles. One of those real ones, despite my not even remotely deserving it. “Cool man,” he says. “Send me a link.”

“Um, ok.” I mean, he could just google me, but whatever.

————/-/————

“All right, mate?” he asks.

“Yeah! Of course!” I say brightly (maybe a little too brightly). I look around me at the bustling noon hour in the center of Sorrento with only the tiniest hint of hesitation. Because, really, it’s just the tiniest hint of a town. He doesn’t notice my case of nerves, thank God. I could not be more embarrassing.

Sorrento; Marina Grande is at bottom right

“All right, then,” he says with a nod, followed by an arching eye caterpillar. “But hear this, Simon. If you get gelato before I get back, that’s it man, we’re not friends.”

“Wow. That’s a little extreme, Billy. On the upside, does that mean we’re BFFs forever if I wait for you?”

“That’s redundant,” he points out.

“What?!” I fix the pointy fucker with my very best shocked-and-offended face, and clutch my figurative pearls. “I am not redundant and I never will be. How dare you.” (The groaning you’re emitting from your throat is ok with me. Really.)

“Ah, go on man, that’s two forevers. It’s excessive, innit. Are yeh really expectin me to serve two consecutive life sentences of best-best friend-friend?”

“Yeah, ok. I’m good with that. We’ll be BFFs forever twice. Like Outkast – forever-ever.” I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, I am for reals.

“I give up,” he says, rolling his eyes. Which offends me. Because I’m the eye-roller. He’s the head-shaker. And he’s stealing my gig.

“So that means I can go ahead and get gelato without you? I mean, you said you give up.”

“Fucksake, Simon, but you’re a pain in my arse.”

“You love it,” I grin at him. “What’s gelato?”

“Fucksake, Simon!” He repeats (redundantly!) and commences the head shaking.

“And how do I find it?” I continue, undaunted.

“All right, look,” he sighs. “The tourist shops are up thatta way. Walk round, buy some shit. Then be back here by half twelve, and wait for me gettin off the bus.”

“Bus? I thought you were parking the car.”

He looks as though he’d like to strangle me.

“No, seriously,” I assure him. “I thought you were just parking the car.” I shoot him a combo of the I’m-about-to-get-in-trouble puppy face, and the but-you-love-me-anyway puppy face. It’s all in the eyes. Make ‘em huge and glisten. Works on Ma every time.

But not on Billy, it turns out. Tough crowd. Instead, he just laughs and laughs. Which is actually quite a thing to behold. And whoa, he’s just walked over and I’m being wrapped up in an actual hug. Like, a real one. Right now.

“I’m glad you’re here, mate,” he says warmly. “It’s good to see yeh.”

I don’t remember the last time somebody really hugged me. Apart from Ma, obviously. Certo. I kinda want another one. But he’s back in the car and pulling the old Mercedes out into traffic.

OK, so…

I’ve got some alone time on my hands. I clap, all ready to go, but then I notice how weird I am and shove my hands in my pockets.

So I hang out on a park bench a bit and watch Billy get stuck in a traffic jam — while the drivers of two cars stop in the center of their respective lanes, for the express purpose of double kissing each others’ cheeks in greeting. I’ve just decided that I need to start an “Only In Italy” list. Which means I need a pad of paper and pencil. Don’t judge my medieval writing implements of choice.

————/-/————

The pencil and paper-finding mission takes over an hour, because I keep asking people for “llaves.” Which, it turns out, means keys. In Spanish. Dios mio, I suck at Italian.

I mean, can you blame me? I never bothered learning more, cuz I didn’t plan to come back anytime soon. Cuz, you know, painful. But then I realized I actually missed Italy. In all senses of the word, but most especially in the wistful, nostalgic sense of the word. And I guess that’s a pretty normal reaction when it comes to people thinking about their trips to Italy.

Plus, I actually know someone who lives here.

————/-/————

Ok, so I’m back where I’m supposed to wait for Billy.

I had hoped for an I heart Italy pen, but apparently that’s only a thing in the US. Here, it turns out they have taste.

And I still don’t know what gelato is. But at least now I do know how beautiful this town is. And how great the Italian people are. At trying not to laugh at you to spare your feelings.

While the entire city looks like burnished yellow gold when seen from a distance, up close there’s more variety. Like the chaotic good mix of blaringly bright tiled roofs. I’ve taken pictures of everything so I can practice my wistfully-nostalgic face again at a future date.

Chaotic good, no?

I’ve chosen a pretty cool spot for people-watching. Everywhere I look, life is happening there. Big, boisterous aliveness. It’s so weird. And also instantaneously addictive.

Ok, so:

Only In Italy

The sky turns lavender. I remember that from last time.

People park their cars at home and take a bus. (Ok, I suppose bridge and tunnel people do that, too. But the vibe is so much more ‘tiny Italian village’ here than in Brooklyn.)

There is only one road. The bus drives back and forth on the one road. For the entirety of this coastline, to get to any of the towns. No, seriously. I don’t think I’m adequately expressing this concept. (And my writer ego is taking a hit because of it.) From Naples (huge industrial port city) directly to Salerno (the next huge industrial port city wayyyyy down the coast), there is a big highway. But that highway doesn’t do shit for you if you want to see any of the seaside towns in-between. For every last one of the tiny towns lining the Bay of Naples, then down and around the whole Sorrentine Peninsula, and aaaall the way to the end of the Amalfi coastline, there is one road. One. Which means that anyone living in the town of, say, Sorrento, has one road – one road!!! – to get the fuck out of town. You either turn right, or you turn left. Your only way in, your only way out. That is nuts. Right? That’s nuts!

Locals have no problem with interrupting all traffic on that one road, by stopping their cars in the middle of their lane and getting out, just to double air kiss the oncoming driver who is now holding up traffic in the opposite direction. And no one (no one!!!) is offended by this. No one seems to realize they have a horn they can honk at precisely these moments. I am mentally horn-honking so hard rn.

Lines painted on the road are purely suggestions. Especially when there are cars idling in the middle of the road for cheek kissing purposes.

I don’t even know what to say about delivery trucks driving in reverse on the one road.

————/-/————

I look up from my Only In Italy list, startled by the squeal of the wheels on the bus trying to stop going round and round. And now I’m watching the bus disgorge a few tourists, a bunch of locals, and an Irishman.

You know, we really are an unlikely pair to form a friendship under unlikely circumstances. But I think I actually needed Billy in a way. I can be a pretty miopic guy, and Billy managed to pull me out of my tunnel vision, preoccupations, and woe-is-me’ing. And he’s done it more than once over the course of our acquaintance. All via text, which I find quite impressive. That is some potent friending.

I need to figure out how to thank him for that without making it weird. Cuz, I mean, things got pretty weird over the last several months, but neither of us is acting uncomfortable or hesitant now. He’s too laid back for that. There is one thing I can say without reservation: Billy Delaney is a good human being. A mensch, in other words.

I think I needed him in order to get over myself, and that is a bizarre thought.

“Look at the state of yeh. Writin away with your nose buried in a book, right where I left yeh. When you should be lookin about. Unbelievable you are, man.”

“My nose — which cannot write, by the way — is buried in a book precisely because I’ve been looking around. I’ve started an Only In Italy list. Submissions welcome.”

That earns me a Billy snort. Among the best snorts out there, actually, is a snort from Billy. How can he be so smooth yet still be such a dork? A dork who got lucky and grew into his – I surreptitiously look him up and down — well, his everything. Bastard.

And that’s not even why everybody loves him! He’s just a fuckin cool dude. Who likes people. And the whole Irish thing doesn’t hurt.

“So where to, man, where to?” he asks with a wide smile, interrupting my thoughts.

“I dunno. You’re the Italian. Let’s do Italian stuff. Like maybe get an overly caffeinated coffee beverage.”

“I am an Irishman, and you could be a tourist if you ever figure out how. You tourist first, and write about it after. Not during. How can you be so self-aware and so clueless?” Billy asks.

My breath catches in my heart. He thinks I’m self-aware?

“You think I’m self-aware?” I can tell I’ve got glistening eyes and they did it all on their own without prompting by my brain. I’d feel like king of the world if I was in Bushwick right now, and everyone within earshot heard him tell me I’m self-aware. And he doesn’t even know what kind of cred he’s just awarded me. “Thanks,” I hiccup.

“Why’re yeh lookin at me with love heart eyes? I just insulted you,” he asserts.

“Did you?”

“Called you clueless, didn’t I.”

Big, breathy sigh. “Didn’t notice. Don’t care. Can I hold your hand right now? We can go have a nice, romantic stroll thru the Italians. You can show me this gelato I’ve heard so much about.” I flutter my eyelashes, and take his hand in both of mine.

“Get off, you muppet,” he laughs, as he tries to extract his hand from my strong and persistent hand-holding.

Not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but a laughing Billy Delaney is something to see. His whole face splits into the widest grin and it lingers long after the laughing’s stopped.

“Oh my god, they are so hot together.” It’s a young woman’s voice coming from somewhere close by. “Oh my god, look at them.”

We both must share a brain because we both swivel to see who the hot people are. I mean, it’s the Medi/Tyrrhenian. It’s an innately sexy place, and people are just kinda generally super-hot here, and remarkably comfortable with being almost uncomfortably sexy.

“So unfair,” moans her friend. I agree completely.

Not finding the hotness they’re referring to, Billy and I both discreetly turn toward the shops to see who’s talking.

“Do you think we can turn them?” another female voice asks. They both dissolve into giggles.

I’m not spotting them. “Can you tell who-”

Billy says under his breath, “By the lemons.”

Guest starring: Two fangirls and lemons the size of your head.

As he and I both lock eyes with the girls, they spin into each other and start giggling as they stare at their phones comparing their stolen shots.

Billy’s caterpillars try to meet in the middle. “Aren’t they a little young to be lookin at us like-” he begins.

“Oh my god!” I stand bolt upright. “That’s where the gelato comes from!!! Billy. Billy, can we please, Billy? I will embarrass you if you don’t stand up immediately and show me which thing I should be pointing at when I ask for it.”

“How do you plan to embarrass me? What, you’ll start jumping up and down while clapping?” he challenges me.

In all seriousness I turn to him. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.” I give him an arched caterpillar of my own, attempting intimidation-and-impending-threat face.

The two girls are squealing to each other, hiding behind their hair.

“To the gelato man!” I point boldly and decisively. “Let’s do this.”

Billy’s caterpillars are trying for a second kiss, as he rises slowly. He’s distracted.

“Why are you not running at the gelato man with me?” I hold my hand out to him. His caterpillars have graduated to blatant frowning at the girls after another particularly sonic squeal.

“Come on, Billy. That’s got to be too young for you,” I tease. “I hope.”

“How could you even suggest-” Ladies and gents, I give you horrified-face, Billy Delaney style. I give him a playful push to reassure him I’m just teasing, and that snaps him out of whatever bizarro universe he was temporarily trapped in.

His eyes snap up to see me laughing at his surprised, blinking eyes. “Come on, sweetheart, buy me a gelato. Honey, you promised.”

Head shaking follows, of course. Certo. As we approach the stall, he keeps sneaking glances between the girls and me. “What the fuck, Simon?” he whispers, while surreptitiously watching them over my shoulder.

We’ve reached the gelato man. Billy offers to order. “What kind?”

“The biggest kind,” I shrug. He snorts and turns to the gelato man. I decide to put the girls out of their misery while Billy is focused on purchasing whatever it is.

“Oh my god, it’s him! It’s really him!” one of the girls hisses, then they look away quickly as their cheeks turn strawberry in mortification.

“Excuse me, um, sir?” the blonde girl squeaks, while progressing from strawberry straight to raspberry. It’s always endearing. I can’t help it. I know what it is to belong to a fandom. Like, being the fan, so I get it.

“Hi,” I approach, and awkwardly raise my hand in greeting.

“It’s really you,” the brunette whispers.

“I can be only one. Y’know, cuz, like, Highlander? No? Ok. Well, hi. I’m-”

“Simon is Simon,” whispers the brunette.

“The one, and the same. Both of us.” I am so embarrassing right now. But they are equally horrified at themselves. So, its a party.

“Can we have a picture?” They turn their pleading puppy eyes on me.

I have to admit, “Your puppy eye game is strong, girls. Practice, grasshoppers. Keep at it, and one day maybe you’ll be pro level like me.” This gets them giggling again. But they’re relaxing the adrenaline a bit.

By the time Billy returns with his booty, the three of us are comparing which of the puppy eye shots should go on Instagram first. I’ve already made my preferences for #2 known, and I’m ready to disengage.

I look up. “It’s ice cream?” I stand and give the girls hugs again.

“Thanks, Simon! We love you so much,” they sigh. Then, looking down at their phones they charge into the street, nearly walking right into an old lady carrying a salami so long that it’s an obscene parody of itself.

“Tag me!” I shout after them.

Mental note: “Only in Italy #7. Old Lady with huge salami that she didn’t buy at Katz’s.” Instead, she’s clearly coming from a shop with “Salumeria” over the door. A frickin salami store. I love this place and never want to leave.

“The deli?” Billy asks, shocking the shit out of me.

“How do you know about Katz’s?! Send a salami to your boy in the army? I’ll have what she’s having?”

“You talk in your sleep, mate,” he replies, straightfaced.

“But- I mean. Cuz like, we’ve never-” I stutter. Great. I’m stuttering.

He’s laughing at me. Which I’m ok with.

“Ow!” he barks, after I slap him in the arm. “Is this how you treat all your dates? Just shush.”

My mouth snaps shut. I am just as surprised about it as he is.

“On your first night in Italy – now don’t interrupt, your last trip never happened – I am honored to introduce you to, nay, expose you to the most Only In Italy thing for your list. The ‘passeggiata.’”

“The what now? Passage otta?”

“Close enough. La passeggiata happens every single night, tourist season or not. Big city or tiny village. Before dinner, everyone en masse decides to go for a walk in town. A lazy, amblin sort of people-watchin activity. Everywhere, the whole country. Late afternoon before dusk you stop and buy a gelato and eat it slowly while the world walks by.

“Passage otta,” I like the sound of that. In Manhattan we call that Times Square at 5pm. But without neon green milk-based product melting down your fingers. But then again, in Times Square you never know. “What the hell neon green thing did you buy me?”

“The biggest one,” he answers, passing it over with a bunch of napkins.

“Why is it the color of Mike Wazowski?” I demand in horror.

“Who?”

“Mike Wazowski! Mike Wazowski! Mike Wazowski. A triple Mike Wazowski: Bucket list, check.”

“Simon.”

“Mike Wazowski. But more importantly, why is it neon green? Doesn’t that mean it’s poisonous? Neon green is nature’s helpful way of warning us about impending doom. Like, did you know one tree frog contains enough poison to kill ten men?” Thanks, BBC. “So where do we go?” I ask.

“Let’s sit a spell over there. Ideal spot, really. Great view down the cliff to the Marina Grande on that side, and the high street shops over here.”

“The tiny tiny baby automobiles are sooooooo cute.”

“I’m partial to the Vespas,” he asserts.

“I want a tiny adorable Vespa so hard right now. Can we get a Vespa, Billy, please?” I plead. “But no, really. What’s with the green ice cream?”

“Simon. It is not ice cream. Say that within range of an Italian and you’re looking at prison I won’t know how to rescue you from.” He points at the cup. “Pistachio. One of the most iconic flavors. And a favorite of mine. Which means that if you hate it, which you won’t do, but if you do, this is a flavor I like enough to eat ‘the biggest one.’”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m a very thoughtful person,” he promises with a sly smirk, which I assume people find sexy. Cuz it kinda is.

I elbow him in the ribs and he giggles. Billy giggles? This is new information. It’s kinda musical, like an arpeggio up the scale. Now I’ve got do-re-mi-fa-so stuck in my head from Sound of Music. Gross.

But I like this, sitting here watching the passage of people as they make their nightly parade. This is why people live here. It’s that big, boisterous aliveness I was thinking about earlier.

“Only in Italy #8: People take walks, not for exercise or the subway.”

Billy Delaney sighs. It’s true. He just did. Then guess what he says next. “Fucksake this is romantic.”

“I know, right?” What, it is.

“First time out of the United States?” he asks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I feel like maybe I need to be offended.

“It just seems like, you know,” and he waives his hand at me as if that’s all the explanation necessary.

“I’ve been to other countries.”

“Oh yeah? Did it require leaving the North American continent?”

“Shut up. And stop laughing, you asshole,” I grouch at him, because I have been overseas — just not alone, is all. “But you know what you can talk about? How awesome and totally not ice cream this stuff is. It’s so creeeeeamy, and so light, and fresh, and not heavy at all, but still creeeeeeamy. And the Mike Wazowki flavor is really intense.”

“See? What’d I tell yeh?”

“Not much at all, actually,” I observe. He rewards me with the bark of a laugh.

After a few minutes watching la passeggiata in companionable silence, Billy prompts, “One thing I’ve been meaning to ask yeh. You talk a lot about writing. What’s that about?”

“I just love it. Never gets old. Hope it never does. But I can’t really see myself writing more than five or maybe six, tops. Tops,” I assure him.

“Five or six what?”

“Books.” Are we participating in the same conversation? “I’m late with the fourth because the fans want one featuring way more Simon Lewis with way more love story. And that can only be the case because the author, Simon Lewis, wrote himself into the story in the first place. There’s a hashtag for it #SimonIsSimon.” I heave a sigh as if the pressures of the world are far too much for little ol’ me to handle. Actually, “They get really into the whole #SimonIsSimon thing. People get tattoos! I’ve seen it online! Insane.”

“Simon is Simon,” he pauses. “Isn’t that a band?”

I shrug. “Could be. I guess.” I should look that up.

“So,” I continue, even though I’m already sick of the sound of my own voice. (I secretly fear that I might actually be kinda boring.) “Other Simon is this fictitious shoegazing hipster vampire, who lives in a book. Me Simon, is the author. It helps that we are a lovable dork,” I gesture at all of me to prove my point. “And in a love triangle. Dude. I even have my own #teamsimon. Which is super cute. It is also super weird, being a fan favorite.” Especially at the cons.

Billy sits forward. “Hang on, hold up. There’s a fan favourite?”

“Several fan favorites. All the main characters have their Big Moments in the series. Now I have to just suck it up and come up with the right romantic destiny for Other Simon. Cuz right now, there are two girls crushing on him. It just took until book 4 before I’m finally willing to let that happen.”

“Is this online somewhere? Like a blog or something?”

My first instinct is that he must be ‘taking my piss,’ or something gross like that, so I shoot him a glare. But now he looks so earnest that I feel like maybe we really aren’t in the same conversation.

I can feel my glare turning confused. My mother says this expression makes me look like I’m sucking lemons and don’t know why. She calls it Confused Sourpuss. I have yet to come up with a polite, respectful way to say, “Shut up, Ma.”

“Online? Well, yeah. I mean- There’s the fan wiki. But honestly, I’d just recommend starting with the blurbs on my website if you want to decide if it’s worth your time.”

Apparently Confused Sourpuss is not conducive to conversation. He stretches, and stands, then bumps my shoulder. “Come on, mate, let’s get outta here. Day’s marchin on, and you haven’t been down to the marina, yet. La passeggiata happens down there, too.”

————/-/————

No. I’m not afraid of heights. No, really. I’m not!

It’s more like I’m afraid of stairs. Especially stairs like these.

The Hell Stairs. Simon is overreacting.

Billy’s way ahead of me, because of course he is. Just trotting down them, every switchback. Meanwhile, I’m pretending I’m actually trotting when really I’m clinging to medieval stone walls rising vertically like the face of a cliff.

Sure, there are handrails. To keep you alive and all, but just like, one continuous wobbly pipe to hold onto all the way down. And there are at least 100 switchbacks. At least.

I guess it’s a tourist thing. “You have to take the stairs - at least do it once,” he said. “And it’s the fastest route down to the marina.”

He said “marina,” and I pictured lazily strolling around, some restaurants, some shops, stop a couple times for too much caffeine. “Good sunset, too,” he promised. So I was all up for it, and now I’m breathing rapidly and sweating – for anxiety reasons, not physical exertion reasons.

It gets chillier the farther we descend.

This could actually be a really frickin cool setting for a scene with the vamps. Why climb the stairs when you can scale the old medieval walls, am I right?

Billy’s voice hits me, and I swear I almost jump out of my skin and die. And have an asthma attack. (Fuck Other Simon for not having asthma. Bastard.)

I have no idea what he’s just said, because the sound of his voice is bouncing unintelligibly off the walls.

Attempting not to be a Loud American is a major fail, because I’m shouting, “Buongiorno!” and, “Arrivaderci!” so I can listen to the echo ricochet. And it’s awesome how the faint sound of passing cars way below lends a sort of staticky background noise as it travels up the height.

Billy stops laughing at me and tries to muster the balls to shout. Irishmen. Feh. Sometimes it’s useful to be an American. Especially when absolute dickheadery is necessary. Good thing I’m here.

“Just shout something, already! We can pretend you’re American, if that makes you feel any better!” I shout down to him.

All I get is a thousand rebounding “What???”s in return.

When we finally get down to sea level and emerge from the Hell Stairs, we find our way over to the Marina Grande. I want to kiss the ground now that I’m back on it, but determine that it might cause some concern amongst passersby.

Billy looks grimly at me. “You, my friend, must prepare for some of the best seafood of your life. An orgasm on your tongue.”

Um, “Hey now. That’s a little too visual, thanks.”

“Just don’t go makin yourself sick with too much cappuccino.” He scratches at the five o’clock shadow on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Will it deter you if I threaten to get really mad at you if you ruin your appetite? Or are you more likely to get too much cappuccino just to spite me?”

I gasp. “You get me, Billy. You totally get me.” I wipe away my imaginary tears. “It’s so nice when someone totally understands me and everything about me. Come on, buddy. Bring it in,” I say with my arms outstretched for a hug.

He unceremoniously declines.

————/-/————

Billy knocks back the last of his cappuccino. I’m still only two sips into mine.

I feel like I might hate biscotti. They seem like a thing I would hate. Mine’s just staring at me from its plate, looking all rock-like, with pebbles of almonds and whatever greenish nuts get put in biscotti. Are you supposed to suck on them til they finally soften? Dunk ‘em? No thanks. I push them across the table at him.

“So what’s it like, trying to be an author?” he asks.

I’m kinda amazed that he’s remotely interested. But he still doesn’t seem to get it. “Um, I am.”

“You ‘am’ what?” he asks.

“An author. Like, a published one.” His caterpillars arch upward in a rather gratifying fashion. Even if that makes me an asshole, I’m still an asshole who just wants people to be impressed with how awesome I am at all times. Just because I’m not 15 anymore doesn’t mean I’m not 15 on the inside. Especially as I get older, but Other Simon stays the same age.

“What’s that like?”

“Um…” Now I kinda feel like I’d be dishonest if I let him continue to think in the wrong scale. “Ok, so I’m just going to level with you. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re really good.” He’s looking at me with fondness and with pity. That’s a pretty advanced level facial expression. And it’s infuriating.

“Billy? Don’t try to be nice, just shoosh.” Am I a terrible person for enjoying watching his trap swing shut?

“I am the author of three novels so far, in an open-ended supernatural urban fantasy series.”

“Hang on, hold up. How old are you?! You can’t be old enough to have written three whole novels.”

“Started writing the first one when I was 15.”

“Oh, right? That’s great man, really ambitious for a kid to have a big dream like that. And you’re still at it?”

“Billy, I swear to God. If you don’t stop prematurely trying to make me feel better I’m going to kick you in the shin. So yeah. Three books. That have been published. In roughly 30 languages.” I’m not really a fame whore, but I have to admit to enjoying watching his eyes bulge, his mouth purse, and his face turn pink. Now it has turned thoughtful.

“Did you- Wait. Did you write The Shadow Instruments?”

I grimace.

“My cousin loves those books! Has done since she was 15,” he declares.

“Sounds about right. I’ll sign a copy if you think she’d like that.” Then it hits me. “Ugh, I sound like such an asshole.” My red forehead feels cool against the marble table top where we’ve stopped to enjoy one of those overly caffeinated beverages they invented here.

He’s been silent a little too long.

Oh. That’s why. He’s googling me. I want to die. I’m leaving everything to my sister. My forehead returns to the table top. It’s less embarrassing there.

“Fuck me,” he says.

“No thanks,” I mumble. “We’ve only just met.”

“That’s not true,” he says absentmindedly, his attention still 99% focused on what he’s reading.

“It’s called artistic license. And you’ve only just met the new and improved Simon Lewis. Crying chibi Simon Lewis drowned the other day. Memorial donations go to the charity of your choice.”

“Huh?” Then he goes silent.

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with you being quiet. It’s unnatural. I don’t trust it.”

“Just thinking, that’s all,” he answers.

“You’re thinking thoughts. Great.”

“Do you narrate everything in your head? The way you talk it sounds like you’ve got a running commentary goin on up there. At all times.”

“Accurate.”

“Is that what makes you a good author?”

“Who says I’m a good author?”

“My formerly 15 year old cousin,” he says with a smirk. He’s smirking. Great.

“She would know,” I say, nodding. “Everybody loved the thought of a 15 year old writing about young people his own age. ‘Such an original voice,’ they said. ‘A breath of fresh air in a genre full of middle-aged women writing for tweens,’ they said. Nevermind that YA is not for tweens. They’d know that if they bothered to read one. My characters are underage killers! Of people and things! And when they get older, I’m going to make them swear. And maybe there’ll be sex scenes. I’ve been researching.”

“You had to do research for the sex scenes?” He looks disbelieving and confused. It’s very squinty.

“Well, they’re sorta…I dunno…I mean- cuz there’s kinda, like, these two boy-” Yeah, and that requires some research.

He’s not even listening. He’s back to googling. When he finally looks up again he says, “I’ll take that signed copy.”

————/Billy/————

The sound of doors openin makes me glance up at the cafe, and there is a proper stunner driftin out like an apparition. Actually, I see her more as a Mata Hari, in all her floatin, gauzy scarves she’s wearin as a cover up for her bikini. And they’re not doin a damn thing to cover her up. She looks Italian, all tanned olive skin and dark hair, but there’s just something different to her. In her manner maybe.

Her fingers are flashing big bits of rock, her eyes are hidden by absurdly oversized black sunglasses with a logo I’m supposed to recognize, and she’s sportin a huge black hat with a brim so wide, it’s a miracle she’s got a tan at all. If I could guess, she’s off one of them yachts out there in the deep waters beyond the marina.

And she’s makin straight for me. Hmmmm. What can I say? It happens.

“Simon Lewis,” she purrs.

Oh. Right.

“Sabina,” he answers drily. I must say I’m surprised. Seems Simon’s got some game.

He stands and they air kiss each other on both cheeks. “Now,” he says, gesturing outward as if he’s indicating all of Italy, “I get why you’re always kissing everybody.”

So she looks Italian, kisses like an Italian, but doesn’t sound at all Italian. It’s a weird accent I can’t quite identify. And I’ve a pretty good ear.

“Why are you in Italy?” she asks.

“Why are you?” Game on, Simon!

“Oh, you know how it always is,” she sighs in boredom. “I’ve got a couple gigs here and there.”

“On the Amalfi Coast?” he asks.

“Oh, you know,” she trails her fingertips along our table, “some people, some parties, Capri, Naples.”

I stand and pull out a chair, finally remembering my manners. “Will yeh join us?”

The way she pulls her sunglasses down her nose and scans me from top to toes, I’ve never felt so much like man meat — at least never with my clothes still on. “Hello,” she says. “Haven’t you got good eyes. And a good face. And-“

“Sabina, this is my BFF forever, Billy Delaney. He’s Irish,” Simon qualifies, as if that explains something. What’s that supposed to mean?

I hold out my hand, but she’s already turned all her attention back to Simon, giving him the same up and down appraisal as she’s done me. “You look good, Simon. What happened?” she asks.

I don’t think I’m takin much of a likin to her. Her compliments sound a mite like insults.

“Nevermind,” she cuts him off. “No time, they’re waiting,” she says, gesturing toward the marina. “You should come to my show this weekend in Naples,” she says, taking Simon’s new notebook and writing something inside.

“Is there a venue the right size for you guys?”

“No no. Not with the band. It’s just a tiny little gig I’ve got spinning at an underground club no one is supposed to know about. You know the ones. Come.”

“Maybe,” he says blandly. Stone Cold Simon Lewis, ladies and gents. Who knew?

Her eyes bounce back and forth between Simon and me. “Billy,” she says, dismissively. I don’t think a girl has ever spoken to me like that in my life. Before I can speak, she’s turning to Simon and kissing him full on the mouth. “Ciao, Simon,” she purrs again. Then she floats off in a swirl of gauze that barely covers her assets.

I don’t think I’ll be missin her company overmuch. And yet, as a consummate wingman I still find myself asking, “Why didn’t yeh get her number?”

“Oh, I already got her number,” he says. “And she already shot me down.”

————/Simon/————

Just a short walk beyond the marina, the restaurant is on the water. Literally. I can hear the sea sloshing peacefully against the foundations at our feet.

They’ve seated us at a table against a wall of windows that runs the entire length of the restaurant. Even if the food isn’t orgasmic the way Billy promised, I could sit here for hours just looking.

Billy sees the rapt expression on my face, and says quietly, “Just wait til you see the sunset.”

And suddenly we’re ordering. Billy has chosen some really unappealing stuff. But for me he immediately orders a lobster, and smiles to himself as if he knows something I don’t. Which is likely how to speak Italian. Or how to cook.

While we’re waiting on our Neapolitan style sardines (which I am really not looking forward to), Billy asks, “You wrote yourself into the book and y’didn’t let yourself get the girl? What’s the point, if you don’t win in the end?” He’s looking at me as though he’s never seen me before, or at least has never mistaken me for an amoeba before.

“Oh, we won in the end.” Pfft, did we. “Yes. Yes, we did. I am very proud of our having won that war, by the way. It was close, til Other Simon mans the fuck up. Vamps the fuck up, really. And oh my God does he. Big displays of courage. And facial tattoos. But whatever.”

“Right. Now stop speaking in inside references and get on with it, man.”

“Dude, don’t ask the impossible. I was born a hipster. You can’t just unhipster at the drop of a hat. Seriously, it’s a lifestyle.”

And yes, fictitious audience in my head, you might be shocked and dismayed to discover that hipsters actually do refer to themselves as hipsters. Out loud. Without irony.

“So yeah,” I continue. “We won in the end. And I kinda sorta got the girl. The wrong one. For like 5 seconds.”

The waiter appears with olives, bread for dipping in very expensive oil virginally pressed from local olives, and the Pinot Grigio Billy requested. He didn’t just choose the wine. He selected it. From roughly page nine in the wine portfolio. They didn’t call it a portfolio, but I feel like they should have. Sounds vaguely Italian and schmancier than ‘wine list.’ The waiter assures us that the sardines will be ready shortly.

————/-/————

Oh my god I can’t eat them, they have eyes. And tails, and everything in-between. And they’re way bigger than the tiny ones in tins they stick on Caesar salad back home. They’re, like, actual fish-sized, if a little smaller than the usual dinner fish. And there are like twelve of them. WTF?

“They’ve been gutted,” Billy says, seeing my horror. As if that’s reassuring. “And the bones are tiny — they just add a little crunch.”

“Ew, gross!”

He’s laughing at me. “Simon. When in Italy…”

“When in Italy you eat fish whole? I’m going home.”

“Pull it off the bone. It’s delicate, so it’ll be easy. Like me to do it?”

“Yes, please. Then you should eat it.”

Billy sighs, and along comes my old friend, the shaking head. I roll my eyes quietly to myself.

He’s whisked away my plate and started a very careful, not at all easy-looking minor surgery on a small fish. For my benefit. “Thanks,” I say warily, when he hands it to me. I try pushing it around my plate to make it look like I’m eating it. “Yum,” I say.

“Simon, just stick the little grubber in your mouth.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to eat this stuff? What’s a grubber?!”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Please?” he says. “For me?”

Oh my god, does that work on people? Yes, because it works on me.

“Wow. It’s actually good.” And now that I’ve tried it, for him, I stop trying it. Because I’m no less grossed out, just cuz it tastes good.

Unfortunately, there is still the meat of ten sardines still left sitting on the plate. Not my problem, “I’ll just enjoy my Pinot Grigio. Holy shit is it good.”

Oh no. The waiter is heading this way with a very concerned look on his face.

“You are not liking the dish?” …of fish, I want to end the sentence for him like Dr. Seuss. But “merp” comes out instead.

“No, no Tomaso,” says Billy. “It’s lovely. He’s just American.”

“Hey!” I shout at him in my head. In real life, I nod in agreement.

“Ah. Si si si, certo,” says Tomaso, as if that explains everything. Which it kinda does. “Soon I bring to you il piatto secondo,” he assures me.

“But that’s not what I ordered,” I whisper to Billy when Tomaso walks away.

Billy’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Second plate, that’s all, mate. Main course.”

My lobster arrives. Now this I know how to take apart and still want to eat it afterwards.

Guest starring: Mini fish and lobster. The sardines were awesome, btw. But there was freaking out about the ‘whole fish’ thing.

“Aw! They don’t debone the mini fish, but they’ll split the lobster? It’s the one thing I know how to eat with my hands, and they take that joy away from me? That is so not normal.”

Billy’s laughing. It’s a good sound. Makes me happy that he kinda seems to get me. And my humor. And he gets how to take me — with like a whole bunch of salt thrown over one’s shoulder.

“Respect the chef,” Billy says, raising his glass. “And to Poseidon, who gave us these frutti di mare. Fruits of the sea.”

We’re toasting-slash-praying to Poseidon now?

I pose the question, “Did you know that chicken of the sea is actually a fish?”

“Em…… Right, so it’s wise to toast Poseidon, mate. He has much power on this coastline. Ancient rocks full of Greek magic.”

But all rocks are ancient. Whatever. “Ok,” I raise my glass. “To the sea god. Also, are you like a closet mythological sea god fetishist?”

“Shut up and take a bite,” he commands. Frickin commands! I shiver.

I decide to play along and follow his command. “Oh my-“

“Stop there!”

Rude.

“Like wine, the very first taste is your first exposure to how the entire dish should taste at its very best.” Ohmygod he is so pretentious right now and I am loving it. “And with each bite, your mouth grows a little more accustomed to one or another part of the larger flavor, so that first bite is the fullness of what the chef intended you to experience. What do you taste?” he asks.

“Oh my god, Billy. Stage fright much? How am I supposed to follow that?”

“Simple question. What does it taste like?”

“Tomato…..that tastes really bright. Like sunshiney. Is that weird?

“That’s perfect. Keep going,” he encourages.

“But it’s not, like, tangy at all. It’s….velvety?”

He nods, “On the tongue.” It’s just a statement of fact, not sexy.

“And kinda more like a gravy. No, that’s totally wrong, cuz it’s not at all a gravy, but it is. I guess it’s rich. How can these tiny little tomatoes taste sunshiny and like gravy velvet.” I groan, “Why am I like this?”

“Nah, man. You’re just doin it right. What do you see on your plate?”

“There’s lobster. That’s part of the flavor, too, but not the loudest part. The silky sauce clings to every surface of the noodles. And these noodles are almost obscene. Who sells noodles like this?”

“Pasta, mate. And nobody sells it. The make it. Just saving you from unintentionally speaking inflaming remarks near a chef.”

“Thank you,” I nod. “It’s like you know me. Also, is it weird that I might have gotten a stiffie during all the food talk? Or maybe it’s the food itself….that you won’t let me eat.”

“Go on, man, go on,” he waves.

“Now you’re like, beckoning me to eat. Stop that. My dick is confused.”

Billy just says, “What did I tell you, mate? Next bite is the orgasm. You’ve already done the foreplay.”

“Stop it!”

He does. But, “You’re still smirking, so it’s like you’re still talking food porn.” Down, dick! Bad boy. Sit.

“Nah, man. You were the one talkin pornographic descriptions.”

“Oh, good,” I sigh a breath of relief. “So it was me that gave me wood, and not you. I’m less confused now.”

“It was four ingredients givin you a horn, man. Four total. What is visible on the plate and the oil in the pan at the start.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Apologies, Poseidon.

“Welcome to campania, the fertile, bountiful, fruitful.”

“Now my dick is confused by you being so over the top. Stop.” I take another bite and just roll the pasta around in my mouth. On my sophisticated palate. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” I jump. “No! Wait. I’ve dined and gone to heaven.”

Billy is groaning loudly, but not in an appealing, sexy way. More like a way reflecting his complete disbelief at the quality of my punmanship. He’s heaving a sigh, as if I’ve pained his brain and sprained his sterling image of me. Nah, he knows me well enough to lack illusions about the varying quality of my puns.

“Lord, Simon.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Billy snarfs wine out his nose. Which makes me feel both good and sorry for him. “FUCK, not again!!!” he moans, holding his napkin to his face, and rocking back and forth in his chair.

“Again?” I have to know.

“Red wine is not quite as bad as vodka.”

I pull back sharply and hiss in sympathy.

Who hisses in sympathy?! Kill me now. Someone. Please.

“Where was this vodka incident?” I have to know.

“In a minute. First, put some food in yer mouth,” Billy directs me.

“Yes, sir!” I wink at him. But then I’m back to the potential for an orgasm on my tongue. “Oh, my god. What the- How- How is it even better than my short term memory of it?” The food has rendered me incoherent. God, I hate it when other people are totally right. It’s a character flaw. Whatever. “I just want to roll it around on my tongue for the rest of time.”

“Have yeh tried that line with a girl?”

Oh my god, I think I’m blushing. He just made me blush! How old am I? “Pishhh,” is the entirety of my answer, because sometimes Yiddish speaks louder than words.

“Don’t be embarrassed, mate. An orgasm on yer tongue, yeah?”

“Oh my god,” is how brilliant at speaking I am right now. “Yes, I can feel my panties getting wet as we speak. Oh! And I’d like to bathe in this. Do you think they could arrange that? I’ve always wanted to bathe in pasta. And being that this is the best pasta on earth, I really do deserve the very best bathing experience, too.”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Simon.”

“Ouch! And yeah, baby. Come to daddy. You beautiful lobster, you.” I am not flying my fork around like an airplane at a fine dining establishment. But I did consider it. “Y’know it’s funny. It never occurred to me that there might be lobsters outside of Maine.”

Billy slumps (theatrically, I might add), then empties the rest of the bottle of wine into his glass.

————/Billy/————

“You cold?” Simon asks, then tosses the shirt he’s had tied round his waist at me. “You shivered.”

I must not have heard whatever he said next, cuz Simon is asking. “What?” And his eye caterpillars are creased together. Now he’s laughing. “You should see your face!” It’s said with humor, but I must have flinched. The smile has begun a decided slide as if gravity had something to do with it.

“Thanks, mate,” I manage, trying not to show how much that simple observation has affected me. Nobody ever notices stuff like that with me. Or actually pays attention after they ask how I am. I’m used to it. But here comes this lunatic in front of me, and he bothers to notice that I’m cold. I don’t know what to do with it. I am at a loss.

“Sure, whatever.” He leads us through the door and back to the street.

“Wait.” He’s stopped in his tracks. “We’re not going back up the hell stairs. No fucking way.”

I raise my hands and shrug, because yeah, “That was the plan.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. No fucking way.” He makes me watch him put his foot down.

“What, man, are you scared?”

“Yes!” he splutters.

“Don’t want to break a sweat? Or worried about a fall to yer death?”

“No and yes, in order. Asshole! And here I thought you were this big-hearted guy, but you’re just a tall, handsome, Irish, Mean Girl. I thought you were better than that, Billy.”

“I’m still stuck in the beginning part where you think I’m handsome?”

Simon gives me a dramatic shocked-horrified look.

Now this is the part where I start wondering again… “Theatre school, Simon. Admit it.”

“Dammit! You asshole,” he says, raising a finger to make his point.

“What did I do?” I demand. “Yeh needn’t be very embarrassed about the theatre school. It’s only really just a wee bit embarrassing. Just a wee bit,” he reiterates.

“You wish you went to theatre school,” he sneers.

“And there it is, ladies and gentleladies, the truth. Theatre school.” I’m laughing, I mean Jaysus, what else am I supposed to do with that?

He rolls his eyes. “Imagine you at theatre school. You’d prolly get a movie like the first thing you tried out for. That face, Jesus. Sometimes I kind of hate you. I mean, not like, a lot. Just enough to thumb my nose at God and say, ‘He could be better, y’know, God. Somewhere is a flaw, I know it.’”

Now he’s eyeballing me. “Your turn to look for it, God. I need a break.”

Now Simon is turning to me with a discomfiting curiosity. “Have you ever been shot down? Like by a girl.”

I’m speechless. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? It’s not like he wants to hear the truth. “What the fuck, Simon. What’re yeh on about? What’s gotten into yeh, man?”

“You’re avoiding, redirecting. That means you’ve never been shot down, have you?”

The good thing about this idiocy is that we’ve reached the stairs, and he still hasn’t noticed.

“I’ll tell yeh this, mate. Your girl, Sabina – she had no eyes for me, man. If I’d have tried it on with her, she’d’ve definitely shot me down. It was rather an emasculatin feelin, all told. I hope to never repeat it.”

He’s smiling and keeps climbing.

Until, “And you asshole! For making me climb these fucking stairs!”

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Start: Jan || Prev: April || Next: June wip!

————/-/————

#simon x billy #year of otp #year of otp 2023 #may chapter #chapter 6 #you look good what happened #robert sheehan #simon lewis #billy delaney #robert sheehan character fic #simon is simon #pin #pinned post

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awnterslder · 2 years

Text

... how much does your muse trust bucky, really ??? honestly ???

#:') only bc i was reading ...#and im always interested in how people talk about him when he's not there #just sb: do you trust bucky?#them: more than he trusts me ... so #and i !!!!!#❴ t ; ooc / answered ❵#❴ t ; can i walk you through a hypothetical? / prompts ❵#ig :')#sorry folks my brain is mega fuzzy rn

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

favorites.

an: something short and sweet for johnny t.

requested kiss challenge: spin the bottle kiss

pairing: johnny x reader | words: 1.5k |rating: 💙

sum: best friends who flirt nonstop leads to no one in the house believing the two of you are strictly friends. a game of spin the bottle leaves Johnny in his feelings when he’s not the one you kiss.

Friday. Family Night. 9 p.m.

The message was written on the whiteboard, posted on the refrigerator door. After realizing everyone was free at the same time—for the first time in weeks—Charlie had put out the request demand.

Friday morning, she sent out a gentle reminder text to the group chat.

📲 : Have your asses home by 8:30.

The unspoken rule of never upsetting Charlie brought everyone home on time. Showers were taken, food acquired, and a bonfire lit by the time the sun had set.

Three pizzas and half a case of Corona deep, you all have put the stresses of the week behind you.

Charlie stands on a rock, her cell phone recording. Jakes hasn’t even bothered to turn around to watch the action unfold. He’s focused on finishing his slice of pizza, his head shaking as you catch his eye. The newest addition to the house, Mike, is watching with a mixture of horror and admiration. Briggs sends Paige a wink as she proudly watches her dare unfold.

The only one missing from the group is Johnny.

The latest victim of the bottle, Johnny has stopped a nearby group of women, passing on the beach, in their tracks. Stripped, he walks towards the waves. The latest additions to his audience bring a grin to his lips.

“All the way in, J-Man!” Briggs calls as Johnny comes to a stop at the shoreline.

Johnny doesn’t need words of encouragement. He runs directly into the water. The cheers he gets become muffled as Johnny disappears beneath the surface of the darkened waves. Upon his return to the group, Johnny manages a quick bow before reaching for his discarded pile of clothes.

Charlie swipes them, prompting the smile on Johnny’s face to stretch into a grin.

“Stop being shy,” Charlie giggles as Johnny's eyes briefly drift to the camera. “Own your dare--”

“Charlie!” Tossing Johnny a nearby towel, Jakes rolls his eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Shut up, Jakes." Johnny allows Charlie one more view of his smile before he rolls his eyes. "You can’t say anything for someone who won’t even play with us.”

“I don’t have to,” Jakes smiles as he watches Johnny wrap the towel around his waist. Lifting the crust in his hand, he adds. “I supplied the food.”

Johnny kisses his teeth as he picks up his hoodie.

“Man, whatever. We’re supposed to be bonding with Mikey.”

“I don’t know how me seeing your ass is helping us bond, Johnny.”

“Awe,” Charlie giggles. The kiss she presses against his cheek causes Jakes to roll his eyes. “Don’t be jealous. It’s a great ass.”

“It is,” Paige teases as Johnny sends a wink her way.

Rubbing his palms together, Johnny takes his seat alongside Charlie before reaching forward. The empty beer bottle sits atop one of the pizza bottles, waiting to be spun. The rules are simple. You spin the bottle. You get to ask a simple question once the bottle stops spinning: truth or dare?

“Ya’ll ready?” Johnny’s eyes briefly pass over the circle before giving the bottle a spin.

You all watch as it spins, the bottle a blur, making it impossible to guess who its next victim will be. As the bottle begins to slow, it teeters towards Paige, who sits on your right, before rolling to a stop on you.

A smile finds Johnny’s lips as you pass Paige your drink.

“Alright, baby girl, what'll it be? Truth or dare?”

Despite the length of the game, this is your first time being asked the question. Everyone watches as you silently consider Johnny's question.

According to Mike, truth is the safest route to go. There aren’t many secrets left amongst you and your housemates. You beg to differ. There is one secret you would prefer to stay hidden. With that being the case, you only have one option.

“Alright, JT, dare,” the mischievous glint in Johnny’s eyes causes you to shake your head. “Go ahead, lay it on me.”

Johnny knows the rules. No dares can be repeated.

“Since skinny dipping is out,” Johnny’s gaze remains on you while his voice trails off. To no surprise, he leaves a dramatic pause. His hand strokes his chin as he considers the possibilities. “I dare you to...kiss your favorite person here.”

“Oh my goodness, Johnny!” Paige groans.

“What?” The wide, innocent brown eyes Johnny sends her way prompts Paige to toss her napkin towards him. “It could be anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“My favorite person?” You ask.

“Yep,” Johnny nods, watching as your eyes slowly scan the smiling faces of your friends.

“And I can kiss them anywhere I want?”

Johnny’s brow raises as he considers your question. He opens his mouth to speak, but Paige quickly drowns him out.

“Nope, you can’t add anything else, Johnny.”

Your eyes linger on Briggs. His gaze is playful as his bottle stops just short of his lips.

“Take it easy on me, sweetheart,” he grins. The widening of Johnny’s eyes causing him to add. “I’m down to give you free rein. Kiss me wherever you like.”

“Sorry, Pauly.” A smile finds your lips as you push yourself up. “I might have to catch you next time.”

Paul’s hand finds his heart, his eyes briefly closing as he sighs, “damn.”

You dust the sand off your shorts before stepping over the pizza box. There are only two people sitting before you. Despite the dare being his request, Johnny cannot suppress the butterflies that awaken as your gaze briefly studies him.

The smile on your lips grows as your gaze shifts to Charlie.

The rare sound of laughter drifts from Jakes as you settle on your knees before a smiling Charlie.

“Where do you want it, Miss. DeMarco?��

Charlie’s brow arches as her eyes drop to your lips. “Surprise me.”

You both share a soft smile as you take her face in your hands. The kiss you leave against her lips does not last longer than ten seconds, but it is enough to leave Johnny wide-eyed.

After a few more rounds, everyone decides to call it a night. A few hours of sleep will be needed for work tomorrow. You’re in the kitchen, seated on the island, preparing to bite into the last slice of pizza when Johnny swipes it.

“Hey! What the hell?”

Johnny ignores your widened gaze. He pauses, taking the largest bite he can before picking up the discarded beer bottle alongside you. Adding it to the trash bag in his hand, Johnny continues his execution of trash duty.

“Johnny, I was going to eat that?”

You shift, trying your best to catch sight of him as he rounds the island.

“I’m on kitchen duty,” his words come out muffled through a mouthful of pepperoni. “Whoever cleans up gets the last slice.”

Your nose scrunches. “Since when?”

Your question is met with the clanking of bottles as Johnny drops two more into the black trash bag.

“Since now.” Johnny takes a second bite before tying off the bag. “If I were your favorite person, I would’ve shared. But I'm not so...”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Johnny sits the bag by the back door before coming to a stop alongside you.

You watch as he takes his time finishing the slice of pizza. As he reaches the crust, Johnny glances up to find your arms crossed over your chest. The pout on your lips brings a grin to his.

“Want the last bite?” He offers the crust, narrowly avoiding the shove you send his way.

You shake your head, draining the last of your beer. Johnny silently nibbles on the crust in his hand, his mind trying the best way to ask the question.

You know it’s coming before your empty bottle can touch the countertop.

“I’m not jealous—so don’t take it that way,” Johnny starts as he pushes himself off his elbows.

“I don’t know why I would.”

“But I thought we were best friends—”

“Charlie’s my best friend too.”

The sweet smile on your lips causes Johnny’s eyes to narrow. “But who’s your best friend?”

“Johnny—” The giggle you release does little to ease his expression.

"What? I'm being serious."

"Yeah? So am I."

His expectant gaze remains as it dawns on you that Johnny is awaiting an answer to his question.

“I mean, say an OP went wrong, and you had to save one of us—”

“I would save both of you.”

The matter-of-fact tone in your voice causes Johnny to pause. He shakes his head.

“In this situation, you can’t—”

“In a hypothetical situation, I can’t do whatever I want?”

“No.”

“Fine, I’d save Charlie.” You respond. Johnny’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “She’s a way better shooter than me. I would need her to cover me. Then both of us could save you together.”

Johnny’s gaze drops to the empty bottle sitting on the counter. “That’s messed up.”

You tip the bottle forward as you take in the pout settling on his features. You point it towards him. Laying the bottle on the counter, you watch Johnny study it.

The corner of his lips turns up in a soft smile as you place a kiss against his cheek. You leave a second one for good measure.

“So, I am your favorite?” Johnny grins as you meet his gaze.

Your lips briefly meet his, the action leaving Johnny wide-eyed as you hop off the counter.

“Don’t tell Charlie,” you giggle as you head up the stairs.

rio/johnny tags: @kimljn @binooo98

main tags: @crowngold @cant-decide-at-this-moment @wiccanmetallicrose @themarkblues @gemini0410 @the-jer-bear @leahnicole1219 @abbiesthings @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @starrynite7114 @awkwardtayler @toni9 @queenbeered

@kaystacks17 @richonne4life @cocotheclown @oscars-wifeyyy @jennisdirtyimagines @sadeyesgf @ughdontbeboring @myakai13 @linziland13 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @rosieposie0624 @appropriate-writers-name @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @beiroviski @making-starsdance @seize-the-droid @chaneajoyyy@siempremamita @relaxing-najee @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @toni9

#may the queue be with you #johnny tuturro imagine #graceland imagine #manny montana imagine #johnny tuturro x reader

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waybrights · 3 years

Note

Maybe write soooommmeee Olympic au!!! Like some Sasha and Marcy friendship :D

IBBY!!!! this is bad so i'm hiding most of it under a read more but hehehe thank u for the prompt!!! i really enjoyed writing it even if i had to open 10 tabs just to get my grammar and spellings right sahdskadh i hope you and everyone else that reads this enjoys!! i hae to go and get ready for bed now hehehe

(it is also unedited so... yes there are mistakes and i'm very sorry abt them sakhdhd)

---

"what do you mean you don't like snow?" marcy asks one afternoon. the pair were sat on a bench overlooking an arena for a sport sasha couldn't name, the sunlight shining off the tightly packed snow but still doing nothing to warm her up.

she wasn't exactly sure why she was so far away from the ice rinks, but somehow marcy had convinced her to hop on a bus to god knows where just for a little adventure. it was fine at first, considering they were in a snowy country in the middle of winter, sasha wasn't very cold (sure she had about three layers on, but sometimes even that wasn't enough) and she found herself letting marcy drag her around the arena, rambling off every fact she knew about the sport that took place there - some kind of skiing if sasha had heard correctly.

but then a cold wind blew in, and sasha quickly started to regret not bringing warmer gloves and a proper winter coat. it didn't take very long before she was shivering and wishing that they were indoors somewhere. marcy, bless her heart, hadn't noticed right away, too into what she was talking about to notice sasha's sudden clingy-ness. however when she did notice, she spared no time in unzipping her coat and wrapping one arm around sasha's shoulder, pulling them even closer together. 'for warmth' marcy had insisted when she linked their hands together. sasha raised a brow, but was too cold to complain, so instead she tightened her grip and shuffled over to a bench.

sasha could hardly remember how their conversation started, but somehow they'd landed on the topic of snow and sasha's (very rational) distaste for it.

"i just don't like it," sasha shrugs, pulling her eyes away from the patch of light to blink at marcy.

"but you do a winter sport?"

"well, yeah, but i skate on ice, not snow."

"okay then," marcy shifts and a smile lights up her face at the thought of an upcoming debate, "how come you hate snow but you live in germany?"

snorting, sasha drops her head onto marcy's shoulder. "just because we get snow doesn't mean i have to like it," she huffs out a laugh, her breath forming a cloud by fer face. "besides, it's wet and cold, what's there to like?"

"it's pretty, sash," she replies, digging an elbow into sasha's ribs. "plus, it means we get off school," marcy sings.

"you get off school, i still have to go."

"what? why?"

"my mom makes me do lessons in between practices," sasha sighs, shuffling closer when another gust of wind sends chills down her spine.

"well, that sucks." the pair go silent for a few moments before marcy sits up with a gasp. "you should come back to the us with us afterwards! you can experience a proper sno wday!"

"would that even count if i'm still now in school? plus, i thought it like, never snowed in california."

"i doesn't, but my family decided to move to alaska, so you can come with me! we'll invite anne too, obviously! you can both experience snow days!" and then she's off, planning out their hypothetical snow day to a t, even going so far as to make a timetable full of activities to do so they never got bored.

as she listened, sasha slowly started to warm up to the idea of snow, not because she'd suddenly fallen in love with the way it would leave her soaked after a walk home, or how it always snowed on days she got her hair to cooperate. but because of the girl sitting next to her and that infectious excitement that started to course through her at the very thought of spending a day with anne and marcy without the pressure of winning a medal on their shoulders.

#okay ibby #this is Bad but dsakhdkd its a sunday and i just wanted to write smth so hsakhd #but yes hsakdhk do enjoy!!#also this is just pure :) no bad stuff this time hehehe #love you loooooaaddsss <3 #you ask i answer #skibs scribbles #amphibia #sasha waybright #marcy wu #marie.txt #olympics au #marie writes

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kaes-wonderland · 3 years

Text

Hello! Welcome to my prompt list that I had to redo twice cause I accidentally hit the delete button instead of the edit button. It should really come with a warning instead of just doing it-

There is no specific theme/genre to this, just a bunch of strayed thoughts that my brain has blessed me with.

I’ll be using these for my writing whether it be a request, a help out, or for my own personal enjoyment! The ones that are crossed out are the ones that I’ve already done with a link to how I used it. Anything not crossed out is free to request on! You can use these to request for both oneshots headcanons, imagines, and even catch chats! Check out my Navi for more stuff, and let’s go.

“The reason I keep going is to become a better person to love you like nobody else has.”

“May I just say that you look dazzling today, and I love you so very much.”

I don’t like this world…but you make it worth the hardship.”

“You’re an oddball.” “And you’re so pretty.”

“You are so misunderstood…maybe I could be the the first to be able to understand you.”

“I’ve been craving that cake we had at our wedding…think we could make one?”

“Your cat hates me. It’s always throwing daggers at me.”

“Do you remember that thing you were telling me about? Well…surprise!”

“What a moron, I feel bad of their s/o…wait. That’s (name) and I’m that poor s/o!”

“Can we just stay in tonight and maybe order takeout? I don’t really feel like going out to eat tonight.”

“There’s room for one more underneath this blanket.”

“You see this? This is me, playing a song of sorrow on my tiny violin.”

“My do the stars shine awfully bright tonight.”

“Drop everything and take my hand.”

“Sometimes fictional characters are better than real life people.”

“Happy is a good look on you.”

“How can we make this work?” “Miracles can happen.”

“Hypothetically…what would happen if I fell in love this the enemy.”

“I got a new hoodie.” “We got a new hoodie.”

“Take my arm, I wanna walk you home.”

“Cuggles…”

“Why are you giving me your jacket?” “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“You can pay me in hugs, kisses, and head pats. Cuddles are your change.”

“If you don’t feel good, stay at my place tonight.”

“You were so sweet to help them, but now you have a black eye to deal with.”

“You are such a hypocrite…now we’re both sick.”

“You’re such an idiot.” “Like you’ve never got your tongue stuck to a frozen pole before.”

“I just came home from a grueling day of work, and it looks like Dorothy’s twister came through out kitchen. And I don’t think we’re in Oz Toto..”

“Your Cheshire grin is freaking me out, stop it.”

“Think fast, marry me?”

“Call me when you get hope.” “But I’m already home when I’m with you.”

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“You’re my standing ground, so let me be your pillar.”

“I’m so naïve…I keep falling for everyone’s false promises..”

“You’re like my personal body pillow.”

“You know I love you dearly…but you look like absolute garbage.”

“Would you—would you please do my makeup?”

“I’ll have you know! That’s—that is something I would totally do.”

“Just pretend to be my date.”

“No this it not a double date, we are just third and forth wheeling.”

“C’mere…sit on my lap while I finish up my work.”

“I like you, can I take you out on a date?”

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and looked too cute and peaceful to wake up ‘till now.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Is it weird that I wanna kiss you right now?”

“You’re pretty cute when you brag.”

“Please, I already have one baby to deal with, what makes you think I want another?”

“7 letter word to describe the person you love.” “P-E-R-F-E-C-T”

“Where are all those injuries come from??”

“You take care of everyone else, let me take care of you.”

“No, no—I have time—come talk to me.”

“Mine…you can afford to stay in my arms for a little bit longer.”

“Why get all bundled up when I can use you as my personal heater?”

“Let me treat you for once without you turning me down.”

“You smell nice and your warm…I like it.”

“Stop giving me that pouty look—I’m trying to be mad at you!”

“I don’t threaten to take away affections because I’d be punishing myself for nothing.”

“A special (name) massage should help you relax a bit.”

“Don’t be silly, I love to hear you ramble.”

“You are going to be the death of me…”

“I wanna go to the bookstore…if I buy you your favorite drink, will you go with me?”

“I…I was never read to as a kid.” “How about I read to you then?”

“Excuse me. I’ve been waiting all night to get these. I demand my morning kisses!”

“I can’t tell if my stomach hurts from being sick or you’re just giving me butterflies.”

“I find it hilarious that your dog third wheels us every time I’m over.”

“Catch me, I think I’m going to faint.”

“I’m a sucker for these idiots.”

“Remember the first day we met and I accidentally smacked you with my book? Well, I’m about to do it purposely.”

“You know, I honestly never thought I could steal someone like you from the dating world.”

“How many kids do you want?” “Zero. You and (other person) are enough.”

“I know it stings, but it’s your fault for getting hurt like this.”

“No, no—come back—your cool..”

“May I steal a quick kiss? Or would that make you feel uncomfortable?”

“It’s not your fault society has such high standards for us.”

“I’m so cold.” “Here, have one of your hoodies back.”

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but I think you have the wrong person.”

“What did I tell you about keeping your phone off?! Strictly not to!”

“I can’t help but worry about you!”

“If you’re tired, you can lean your head on my shoulder.”

“Just because I smile doesn’t mean there isn’t any hurt behind it.”

“I will protect them with my life.”

“What is this feeling?” “Collywobbles.”

“I know your taken, but could you possibly spare me a hug?”

“I have no more creativity…they sucked it all out of me..”

“I hate how they treat you…may I please say something?”

“Are you finally going to admit that you need me?”

“Don’t forget to take your medicine, love.”

“I’ve always wanted to share my umbrella with someone I cherish.”

“You have such an odd way of explaining things…but I find it delightful.”

“Y’know…I was so anxious the day we met, terrified that you were going to hate me. But look at us; getting married tomorrow.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my princess.”

“I’m fine, I know my boundaries, no worries.”

“Can I get you something to change into?”

“Promise you won’t get sick though…I refuse for you to get sick..”

“Locked out? C’mon, you’ll be staying at my place tonight.”

“You’re shivering, please, come inside.”

“Would you stop making those goofy faces so I can have a pure photo of you?”

“Shh, it’s alright; let it out. Everything’s still hear.”

“You are not, too heavy…please let me hold you.”

#fanfiction prompts #quote prompt #writing prompt #anime #writing #oneshots #headcanons #drabble #images #haikyuu!!#beastars #my prompts

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 3 years

Text

TROPED: JATP MASTER LIST

And for our encore, the Master List of all 53 (fifty-three!?) fanfics written for our FIRST Julie and the Phantoms TROPED event!! It was such a treat for us to see how a new fandom took on our prompts! We, here at TROPED, love it when our authors push the limits of what a trope can be, and this fandom kept us on our toes, and we loved every word! We hope you enjoy these trope bending, phantastic fics as much as we did!

New rockstar writers joined us for the first time for this event, which is the coolest thing for us! We love getting to see how different fandoms interpret our prompts and how you see these stories through the lens of different characters. We learned a lot about how to run an event this round, with new voices helping us to make TROPED better, which was so exciting. We came out of this event with new ideas, and we’re pumped for what’s next! We hope you’ll join us again soon ;)!

*Some summaries have been edited for length. Tumblr has a max post length. Who knew!

ROUND 1: ANGST FICS

The Tropes:

Character discovers they’re not human

Coffee Shop AU

Poorly Timed Confession

Character A catches Character B crying

————

the sky was gray and white and (cloudy) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: “I’ve got you,” Willie’s whispering over and over, panic creeping into his voice. “Alex, I’ve got you, okay? Come on, baby, come on, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay, I love you–”

Alex spits out what feels like a clot of blood and gives Willie a tired grin, probably looking completely insane.

“That’s pretty gay of you,” he says, just as his vision clouds over and he passes out.

Honey, You’re Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Luke works at a coffee shop, which is normal, quietly pines after his coworker, which is normal, and also occasionally steals people’s faces without really meaning to.

It’s probably that last part that moves him pretty solidly out of the “normal” territory.

But that’s fine, that’s totally cool.

He’s handling it super well.

You Can’t Value People Less Than a Good, Hot Cup of Bean Juice (It Just Seems Rude) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie gets a job at a coffee stand in the middle of nowhere.

It’ll help to pass the time, if nothing else.

And if there’s a cute guy who works the shift after her and sometimes leaves her ridiculously endearing messages on an ancient tape recorder?

Well, that’s just a bonus.

honest to god I’ll break your heart, tear you to pieces and rip you apart (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: the siren!Julie AU no one asked for

new instincts (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Reggie is fine with being the only human member of his band, Julie and the Phantoms (tell your friends!), just like he’s fine with being the only single member. It doesn’t make him feel lonely, and he’s only picking up more shifts at the coffee shop because he needs more money, not because he’s avoiding being alone. And picking up more shifts at the coffee shop is making the work easier! He’s only a little confused by the fact that he can now touch the espresso machine mid shift without burning himself… must be all of the experience.

you look like you’ve just seen a monster (is that what i look like to you?) (Rated T) [Bobby x Alex x Luke x Reggie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: it’s angsty tiefling bobby time, folks!

We Are Monsters, We Are Proud (Rated G) [Flynn x Carrie, Julie x Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Carrie finds herself at a college like no other in search of her dad and some answers. Julie’s not feeling good and maybe staring at roses wasn’t the best idea.

Monster College/Coffeeshop AU

sending forth their beautiful voice, and my heart was fain to listen (Rated G) [Julie x Carrie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Months after the death of her mom, Julie prepares to sing again and makes an upsetting discovery.

rise from the ashes (Rated M) [Alex x Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: At a time when everything was going wrong for Alex, the one bright spot in his life was the charming barista at the coffee shop he frequented. At least, it was the bright spot until everything went up in flames. All he could do was hope that they could rise from the ashes and figure things out together.

Siren’s Song (Rated T) [Ray x Rose] by hufflebibin

Summary: The Scopuli was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. Rose had taken the job straight out of school just looking to make a little extra money before the tour kicked off.

That was four years ago.

After a string of bad luck befalls Rose and the Petal Pushers, she can’t help but wonder if she is the problem. Or is there something more sinister at play?

Yellow (Rated T) [Julie & Reggie] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: Reggie just wanted to get some new guitar strings. A shapeshifter!Reggie au

Angels Like You (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @sunsetcurveofficial

Summary: Reggie is having a bit of a weird day. It gets worse when he figures out that it’s because he died in his sleep and has somehow been walking around as a ghost without realising it. Meeting Luke helps. Luke says he’s a fellow ghost, and there is something about him that Reggie just feels drawn to. Falling for him is the easiest thing Reggie has ever done, but Luke is a little more than he lets on, and it turns out that their story actually started long before Reggie thought it did.

look into my eyes (it’s where my demons hide) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hiding out from demons was never a desirable nightmare. Of course, Carrie would much prefer a run-for-my-life nightmare than actually running for her life. Having Flynn around is a very welcome soothing balm, though.

Bring All The Monsters Out To Play, Let All The Red Erase The Grey (Rated T) [Bobby & Reggie] by @kennysbirthday

Summary: Mythologicals, Reggie realised, were kind of like queer people. Sometimes your Token Human friend turns around one day and admits that actually, there was something they were suppressing all along, and they hadn’t realised.

–

Reggie’s final exam has been pushed forward at the most inconvenient time. Bobby is sick, Alex is missing, and now he needs to help a selkie get their ‘Happily-Ever-After’ in order to scrape a passing grade. Oh, and if his boss catches him handing out more free coffee, he’s gonna get fired.

————

ROUND 2: FLUFF FICS

The Tropes:

Exes

Time Loop AU

Camp Counselors

Prank Wars

————

Okay, Campers, Rise and Shine! (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: The Groundhog Day meets Gravity Falls meets Summer Camp meets The Author’s Own Distaste For Prank Wars AU that no one asked for. Ever. At all.

Starting To Forget (Just What Summer Ever Meant To You) (Not Rated) [Flynn x Carrie] by bi_magic

Summary: Last summer didn’t end on a positive note for Carrie Wilson - she and her girlfriend broke up on the last night of camp, and she’s been miserable since. But it seems that the universe is intent on having her fix that this summer. Even if that means she has to live through the same day over and over and over again until she does.

Creative B.S. Was No More, Was No Less (Look Around, You’re Gonna Miss What You Found) (Rated T) [Alex x Luke, Flynn x Reggie] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Alex and Luke go undercover on a mission to a summer camp in order to find a talisman that could endanger the camp and all the kids. While there, they bond with the kids and make peace with the fact that they broke up.

While Alex and Luke are away, Flynn accidentally fucks with time.

bitch but like romantically (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: or: flynn gets stuck in a time loop. {for troped jatp round 2}

down by the bay (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: Over time, Camp Phantom has simply become known as a selective summer camp: one that took only the kids that Caleb saw promise in. And Caleb wasn’t exactly lying. He really did take only the ones he saw promise in, he simply looked for different traits than others might.

For example, say, hypothetically, a boy who could see the future. Or, hypothetically, a girl who could interact with ghosts. Or, hypothetically, a boy who could summon objects to him with a simple thought. Or, and this is completely hypothetical mind you, a boy who could manipulate time.

Those might be some traits that Caleb saw promise in. Just, like, as examples.

Time will tell (But only if you do it right) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @malecacidd

Summary: Carrie had been acting a little off for a week or so, but Flynn was pretty much known for seeing something in nothing, and that was probably what they were doing then. If something was going on, Carrie would tell her eventually.

Who knew all it took was a little bit of miscommunication to mess up time itself?

and so it begins (Rated T) [Bobby x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. During this misadventure into the woods, he finds an egg shaped rock, an inhabited cabin that may or may not be riddled with signs, and something that might be magic. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to discover magic.

or, when they were thirteen years old, four boys met at camp carolling and eventually became a band that almost became something legendary. now, all four boys are coming back as counselors, three boys in one band and one boy in his own solo act.

so begins the reunion, though it doesn’t go how any of them imagine.

Porcupine Day (Rated T) [Bobby x Ray x Rose] by @wr0temyway0ut

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Trevor broke up with Ray and Rose and they’re… not fine, but managing. But when Trevor to adds insult to injury and buys the camp across the lake from the one they once owned together, the two camps become locked in a bitter rivalry. With neither side willing to set aside their pride and work out their issues, the universe decides to settle their fates itself.

Day After Day (After Day After Day) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by hufflebibin

Summary: When Alex met Willie just after their senior year of high school, they spent a wonderful three months dating before their relationship ended in a blaze of glory. Now, four years later, they meet again as counselors at a summer camp. The only problem? Alex keeps reliving their first day together. The day that Luke had declared “Prank Day.”

This is not how Alex pictured his summer going.

clocks move faster (it’s all we’re after) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @willexxmercer

Summary: Julie likes it when her friends are happy, so when she realizes she’s stuck in a time loop, she uses her knowledge to make sure everything works out for everyone… except she conveniently forgets to factor herself (and Luke) into the mix.

Touch of Magic (Not Rated) [Alex x Luke] by @williexmercer

Summary: When everything stands in Luke and Alex’s way of getting to be with the people they love, they have to repeat the day over and over until they can get the happily ever after that they want.

the play’s the thing (that goes wrong) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day for Macbeth, but not so for Alex and the production of Hamlet that he is directing and starring in. And while he’s stuck repeating the day of the performance over and over, mishaps of all kinds befall the cast.

anything, anything (for another run with you) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: the camp counselor/exes/prank war/time loop fic of your dreams (unless you read all of the other troped round 2 fics lmao)

there’s a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: ex-best friends Luke and Julie, working as camp counselors at rivaling camps, find themselves stuck in a time loop

the daughter of apollo (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: the JATP x Camp Half Blood AU that nobody asked for

maybe the world isn’t ending (maybe it’s been postponed) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: It’s the last day of camp and Julie has one more prank planned for Luke. He just doesn’t know what it is.

Here We Go Again (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @kybee1497

Summary: Julie blinked as she stared at the place Euterpe had disappeared. What did that even mean? What journey? Old places and lost faces? What was she talking about? But before she could dwell on the questions swirling around in her mind, the sky full of stars began to move, shifting in place and descending until they were all around her. Julie felt her feet leave the ground as she rose up and up. One star in particular was burning brighter than the others, growing bigger in front of her.

It grew and grew, until the light was blinding and Julie had to throw a hand up against the harsh light. She closed her eyes as the light surrounded her and then she was falling. Falling down, down, down.

————

ROUND 3: CANONVERSE FICS

The Tropes:

Secret Places

Neighbors

First Kiss

Time Jump

————

Just say you won’t let go (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hey, Julie

You're the heart and soul 'round here, it's plain to see

in which Julie has a second chance with her boys, and then a third

we will fight to shine together (bright forever) (Rated G) [Bright Lighting Guy/Rob from the Orpheum] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: the rob/bright lighting guy fic literally nobody asked for but i wrote anyways. enjoy gays, bring ur tissues

what happened when (Rated G) [Alex/Luke] by @janaikam

Summary: Before Julie and the Phantoms, before the guys became ghosts, before Sunset Curve – they were Luke and Alex. Not 5 feet apart cause they’re totally gay.

who cares if one more light goes out? (in a sky of a million stars) (Rated T) [Ray/Rose] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: The first and the last time Ray ever kissed Rose.

we can forget the world (just you and me) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: “This was the first place I ever came out to someone,” Alex says, spinning around and taking in the tree house.

together we can take on the world (Rated G) [Alex/Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Alex Mercer meets Reggie Peters on October 8, 1983, which means that two days have passed since Reggie’s sixth birthday, because Reggie is a Libra according to the magazines that his mom reads when she gets Reggie to paint her toenails. He’s also just moved to Los Angeles, California from his hometown of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a small town in the mountains, and he’s told Alex Mercer about all of this in the three minutes that they’ve known each other, and he might be the loudest, most obnoxious boy that Alex has ever met, and he absolutely has to be Alex’s new best friend.

The Peters family moves in down the street from the Mercers in 1983, and so begins the rest of their lives.

Long Live (Can I start another life with you?) (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @smolfangirl

Summary: It’s all too much for one day: first a muffin, then more heartbeats. Julie just needs some time to think. If Luke runs after her to sit by her side so she doesn’t lose it, she won’t complain.

Except afterwards, he starts acting weird. Very weird. And months later, she’s tired of letting him keep his distance.

She can’t do this. Not right now. Not today.

She jumps back on her feet.

The excited grin falls from Luke’s face. She doesn’t try to catch it.

“I – I think this is too much. I need some time. Alone. Sorry.”

Then she runs. She runs past the calloused fingers reaching out to her. Past Reggie and the door, past carved pumpkins on porches and Cornelia Street.

She just runs.

Roses (Rated G) [Emily & Luke, Alex/Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: It becomes a sacred place she shares with her son. Mitch is usually off at work from dawn until six o’clock, but Emily’s working from home for now. She works as a florist’s shop right outside the neighborhood. So she brings home seeds and little flowers and other cuts from the store; she and Luke will spend hours out in the dirt, planting seeds and making mud pies and Luke will babble about whatever happened in daycare and make up stories about the different flowers.

Somewhere Only We Know (Rated T) [Nick/Carrie] by hufflebibin

Summary: A journey through Nick Danforth-Evan’s life as experienced in the safety of his backyard hide away.

The Itty Bitty Details (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @williexmercer & @futurearchaeologyprof

Summary: 5 times Willie knew Alex and one where Alex knew Willie

you’re the only one who makes me (my wildflower) (Rated T) [Bobby/Reggie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: The tree was Reggie’s safe space, and Bobby was his safe person. He could escape all his troubles there, except for one nagging thought - did he have feelings for his best friend?

Dying complicated things.

because i’ve known you so long, i know every cadence and what they mean (Rated G) [Alex & Julie, Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: the Juke 5+1 fic from Alex’s POV.

Someday (I’ll See You Again) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @kybee1497

Summary: They’re wrong. Alex, you are not a failure. You’re incredible. You’re smart. You’re funny, and the best friend I could ask for. You’re a wicked talented drummer and you have a beautiful voice. And more important than all of that, is that you’re you, Alex. And the you you are is wonderful, and lovable and perfect. If your parents can’t see that, that’s their own fault. But I swear, Alex. If you’re afraid of them, I need you to tell me. You have to be safe.” Willie’s voice had gone desperate by the end. Alex deserved to know how freaking amazing he was and the fact that his parents didn’t bother to tell him, and actively worked to tear him down instead, was infuriating.

But Willie also worried about him. He’d worried about Alex since the first time he heard Mr. Mercer shouting through the window, a worry that never really went away. Not with the way Alex automatically straightened up when his parents were mentioned, as if he could hear his dad lecturing him about appearances from miles away. Not with the way Alex looked when he was with them, perfectly pieced together and falling apart at the seams, eyes distant and shoulders tense. Willie was pretty sure he had worrying about Alex etched in his bones by this point.

The Energy Never Dies (Rated T) [Gen Fic] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Four moments across time in the loft of the Molina’s garage.

————

ROUND 4: FINAL!

Theme: Author’s Choice

Tropes:

Royalty AU

Soulmate AU

“Long Story Short…”

Author’s Choice

———

Look, Steal From the Rich. Do It. (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: A Julie and the Phantoms Star Wars AU that kind of looks into the ramifications of soul marks in a turbulent society, but mostly just focuses on the gang infiltrating a fancy Core World party.

take my heart (and take my hand) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: The stranger smiles. “I’m Willie,” he greets.

“Alex,” Alex nods back.

“Sir,” Willie says pointedly, and smirks up at him as he bows exaggeratedly.

“The word sir is coming out of your mouth directed at me, but I don’t feel like you just addressed me as a sir at all. And please, call me Alex.”

“My apologies,” Willie hums, straightening back up. And then, pointedly, he lowers himself back into the same bow and makes deliberate eye contact with Alex. “Sir.”

Alex blinks. “You’re not going to call me Alex, are you?”

“Absolutely not, Sir.”

the princess and the lord (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: a JATP x Princess Diaries 2 AU

Diamond in the Rough (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: The JATP Aladdin AU

Okay, So You’re Interrupting the Political Guy Again, So Think About That (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms meets The Goblin Emperor meets a soulmate AU meets the author’s stunning lack of what I assume is basic knowledge on how monarchies work.

i had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: luke gets hired by some noble to bring back the princess that was kidnapped by a dragon

born to be yours (Rated G) [Alex/Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: “Hello. It feels strange, resorting to notes like this, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I know you’re here, somewhere. At the ball. I’ve tried to find you for the past few nights. My parents always told me never to believe in looped days and soulmates, but I think this just proves that they were wrong.

My name is Willie. I don’t know how to find you, but sometimes I feel like I’m drawn to you. Like I can just sense you nearby. I don’t know if you’ll find this, but if you do, I’ll try to wait for you on the balcony.

Until we meet.”

our best days are yet unknown (Rated T) [Alex/Reggie/Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: When Prince Alexander of Sacuria meets his fiance, Prince William of Coterra, he’s astonished to discover that he recognizes his daemon. He recognizes it as one of the other shapes that his own daemon is able to take… as his soulmate. The only problem? Alex already has a soulmate: Reggie Peters, his childhood best friend. What should he do about finally meeting his second soulmate?

Panic and run away? Yeah, sure.

Little does he know he’s about to have a bigger problem than that…

————

Please take the time to read of all these incredible fics! Leave the authors some kudos/comments! They worked so hard this whole event. Thanks so much!

Just as a reminder, our non-anon collection is always open and we are always so excited to receive any submissions! The TROPED: JATP official collection has been CLOSED but if any of our prompts inspire you, please share your fics with us in our non-anon collection! Simple put ‘TROPED_Non_Anonymous’ where it asks for the collection name, and be sure to put what round you are writing for in your notes so we can be sure to tag it appropriately when we share! Also, just as a note, fics submitted to the non-anon collection do not have to follow the word limit and do not require the same strict adherence to the tropes, though we do ask that you comply with our other rules regarding no rape, incest, negativity, and things like that! Happy writing!

TROPED JATP AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_JATP_1

TROPED Non-Anon AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_Non_Anonymous

#troped: jatp #jatp fanfiction #troped: masterlist #julie and the phantoms #long post

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 2

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 2/2

Read chapter one on Tumblr.

Chapter two summary: Sam and Bucky talk after their date op in Germany.

“Four,” Bucky says.

Sam, plodding down the road beside him, turns to stare. His sidekick (and fuck him if Bucky’s thinking of Sam in the same terms) has his chin lifted, moving his gaze back and forth across the horizon in a slow sweep. With the lines of trees planted as windbreaks around the fields, they can’t see the highway from here. It could be nice, without the rushing noise of cars and trucks, if Bucky knew how to shut up. That sorta pout his mouth does when his face is in its sour resting position—that’s what Sam wants to see. Only because it means Bucky wouldn’t be talking and Sam could maybe find a few minutes of peace, some quiet in which to consider the Flag-Smashers they just fought.

“Four what?” he demands when Bucky doesn’t continue.

Can’t be hostiles. If Bucky had spotted anybody, he wouldn’t still be striding along, looking unconcerned. No, he’d be running flat-out towards their adversaries like the rash moron he’s always accusing Steve of having been. Trying to leave Sam in the dust until Sam kicked off and spread his wings.

“Four stars,” Bucky says, carefully, clearly, like that clears anything up.

“What are you doing? Rating our trip down the highway? That was a transport truck full of medicine and super-soldiers, not an Uber.”

Sam’s grinning to himself when Bucky turns his head to glare. Ah. So gratifying. Amends sound good in theory, but Bucky’s irritation is so much simpler in practice. Sam knows how to handle that. He’ll take the grouchy stewing post-mission over having to meet Bucky’s eyes across a table, the promised snapper dinner laid out in front of them. They haven’t gotten around to that yet.

“I’m not rating the ride,” Bucky says, “I’m rating our date.”

That trips Sam up, but just for a second.

“No, no, no, dates don’t end with me rescuing you from the underside of a truck.”

“You didn’t rescue me.”

“Man, those wheels would’ve turned you into ground beef,” Sam says with a snort.

“I doubt it. Fell two hundred feet without a parachute today and I’m fine.”

“You want a second opinion on that?”

Instead of watching Bucky’s scowl deepen at the joke, Sam sees his expression flatten out. It makes Sam narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What?” he prompts.

“You’re wrong,” Bucky states plainly.

“About what those wheels would do to you? We can test it when we’re back stateside if you want. I’ll requisition a truck.”

“Not about that.”

Sam’s looking closely, so he spots the smile. A curl at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He hopes, secretly, that Bucky is scanning the surroundings well enough for both of them, because Sam’s attention is homed in on this little sign of Bucky’s amusement.

“About the end of the date,” Bucky finally clarifies.

“Mission. The end of the mission, when I rescued you.”

“The end of the date, when I was on top of you.”

Something to throw with all his strength, that’s what Sam needs right now. Some physical outlet for how badly he wants to fling the creeping, seeking, aching things he’s feeling very far away from himself. He wonders if Steve ever just whipped the shield as hard as he could to vent his frustrations. It’s hot as hell out here under the sun and Sam can feel the dampness of his chest inside his suit, the sweat riding his spine.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, fine with the scent of manure and getting nothing but grass instead. Like inhaling the colour green. Smells like the field they landed in. Landed in and went barreling across until, yeah, Sam wound up on his back with Bucky above him, their arms fastened around each other like life preservers or umbilical cords or anything else tight and necessary for keeping people alive. Goddamn nose-to-nose. Over the phone, Sam could brush Bucky off. When he says this shit in person, Sam has nowhere to go, besides extending the wings and launching himself into the sky. But he doesn’t want to overreact (doesn’t want Bucky to see him overreact).

“You just calling it a date because you don’t have rules for those?” Sam asks, deflecting.

“My three rules, you mean?” Bucky asks. He loses the smile.

“Right.”

“They’re for… everything. Supposed to be a blanket rollout, not doing anything illegal or that’ll hurt anybody in any aspect of my life. I’m sure the rules go for dating too, though Dr. Raynor and I didn’t really talk about those specific circumstances.”

“I think you might’ve mostly stuck to those rules today. I don’t think we hurt those guys.”

“Maybe you didn’t—”

“Get over yourself.”

“You’re a rude date,” Bucky notes. He’s looking straight ahead. No, not looking, staring. Like he does.

“I didn’t even invite you,” Sam says, refusing to correct this bonehead again about what kind of outing this was. “You walked onto that plane.”

“You wanted me to come.”

“Didn’t need you.”

“Oh really?” Bucky challenges. Sam clenches his jaw as he avoids meeting Bucky’s gaze.

“Hey, I was still in the air while you were clinging to that truck like a toddler to their dad’s leg.”

“You were in the air, but for how long?” Bucky asks, halting and grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam shakes him off in annoyance but stops too. “Until the Flag-Smashers knocked you out or broke your wings like they broke Redwing. They were mopping the floor with you.”

“And it was so damn useful to have you there to be the other mop,” Sam says sarcastically.

“If you’d put me back on the truck instead of in the field, we mighta had a shot at them.”

Bucky’s hands go to his hips, his Vibranium arm gleaming in the sun. He’s going to have to say more about that White Wolf thing. Wondering where the hell Bucky’s sleeve went and refusing to ask, Sam crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“We had no shot. Not today, not without more information.”

“Information takes too long.”

“That’s what a successful op is,” Sam stresses, chopping the side of one hand into his opposite palm. “Intelligence gathering, corroboration, planning, execution. Information is what tells you to hang back instead of throwing yourself into a fight you’re not prepared enough to win.”

“We were already here. We couldn’t just let them leave.”

“Don’t worry about the hypotheticals now; them leaving is exactly what happened.”

“Unless Captain America has ’em on the ropes,” Bucky says deadpan.

“I hope they pushed him off the back of one of those trucks.”

“Were you thinking about that while we were up there with him?”

“At the time, I was thinking about pushing you off the back of the truck for getting us into that situation,” Sam explains, “that’s why I can picture it so clearly. See, Buck? I always have a plan.”

“Just like Steve.”

“No, not just like Steve.”

Sam pushes past Bucky to start walking again. After a couple steps, Bucky’s back at his side.

“You think the new guy had a plan?” he asks. “I don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Sure you do.”

“Are you trying to get me to talk now? Mr. ‘I’m not a words guy’? Fine,” Sam huffs, tired from everything inside him that’s pushing to get out rather than their leisurely walk down a country road. Even so, he walks faster, almost stomping, and Bucky has to lope up next to him to stay in step. “I don’t think he had a plan. I don’t think he could fasten that dumb helmet on his head without a direct order. I don’t think he and his partner found us on their own initiative.”

“They work pretty smoothly as a team though,” Bucky tosses out.

“That looked like familiarity, not the result of inspiring leadership on the part of the Captain.”

“And not as good as us.”

Sam sends Bucky poisonous side-eye.

“I’m not trying to lead you.”

“I don’t wanna be led,” Bucky replies. “We fight together better than they do and that’s with you pretending you hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend.” The comment is habit.

“All I’m saying is that it’s better. The two of us being out here doing this stuff together.”

“Especially with that dick waiting in the wings.”

Bucky stares at him long enough that Sam turns his head to stare back. When he does, Bucky glances away, but Sam knows where he was looking—at his back, where his wings are folded away.

“Waiting in the wings is a figure of speech,” he tells Bucky angrily.

“It’s perfect though. I always think of you as that dick in the wings.”

Sam exhales hard through his nose.

“I hope you don’t always think of me as anything.”

“I do. I always think of you.”

Freefall doesn’t jar Sam, no more than what he can remember it feeling like when he was a little kid and his dad would toss him into the air before catching him again. But what Bucky says changes the physics of his insides, the gravity all wrong with his organs. Heart plummeting then trying to sail straight up his throat like a balloon somebody just let go of.

Then Bucky adds, “You and that shield.”

“Drop it.”

He could just fly to the airport, leave Bucky here with plenty of time to think his stupid, shield-related thoughts. Maybe this smartass would have all the answers by the time he reached the plane, or Munich, if they went wheels-up without him. The truth is that the shield—and the Captain America persona—are on Sam’s mind just as much as they’re on Bucky��s, only he manages to keep those thoughts locked up tight. He has to make sure that shit’s contained, particularly if the new poster boy’s going to turn up like this. Sam doesn’t need that in his face.

As they walk, he glances at Bucky, who’s probably as aware of it as Sam is when Bucky gives him that stare. Blue as the sky overhead and heavy as a boulder. The realization that, although he didn’t mean to lead, Bucky followed him here, and continues to stick with him, is staggering. The pages of his mental photo album flip and he sees Steve crack a grin. It’s not like that, Sam tells that blond do-gooder, young in his memories. The only blond do-gooder who ever has or ever will look right with his arm threaded through the straps of the shield.

Maybe, maybe, this thing could work. Him and Bucky running ops, doing better at not getting their asses kicked in front of the government’s hand-picked hero. But Bucky’s gotta let that shit go. Since the Blip, Sam’s been trying to fly under the radar and that’s what he wants to continue doing. He doesn’t need to be showy, just effective; he doesn’t want to get dragged into some Cap vs. Cap contest, the inheritor against the upstart. If Bucky would take the time to think and listen, they could figure this out and be good. And do good. Understanding each other the way Sam wanted when he called Bucky up and they talked about Tunisia and rules and fish dinners. Bucky could make his jokes and, the next time, Sam could call his bluff. Show that gruff, rusty motherfucker what a real date looks like. What kind of team could they be? All kinds.

“Are we even going the right way?” Bucky asks after a half-hour of silence.

“Yes,” Sam says firmly.

He actually hasn’t checked. After they untangled themselves in that field, he just started walking, too keyed up to establish their position. He wonders if the grass still shows their path, crushed where they rolled to a stop.

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

“Got any thoughts you wanna share?” Bucky asks. Sam frowns and steals a glance at him. “What? I told you I’ve been going to therapy. I know the importance of a healthy dialogue.”

Sam tries to force his mouth to keep curving down, but he really wants to smile. Bucky’s not the worst company and he is obviously capable of growth.

“A question,” he says.

“If it’s sarcastic, I’m not—”

“Four outta what?”

“What?”

“You said four stars,” Sam reminds him. “Is that four outta five or four outta ten?”

Bucky’s smile spreads slowly, smugly, and Sam rolls his eyes hard. He’s no more aggravated by Bucky than he is by his own need to know. ‘Four stars’ was an incomplete assessment! Typical.

“I hate you,” he says.

Still smiling away, Bucky sways into Sam as he walks, their arms brushing. Could be an accident.

But probably not.

#my writing #story update #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

The One with Jennifer Aniston- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by anonymous: Can you do a Tom x reader where the reader's mom is a celebrity and she's embarrassed about it? thx I love your work!

Prompt: Tom doesn’t understand why you don’t want him to meet your mother.

Word Count: 1400

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*gif is not mine*

~~~

“There’s my movie star!” You smiled as Tom flopped down on the couch, basically on top of you.

“Mhm,” He hummed, greeting you with a kiss. He wrapped an arm around your waist, cuddling you in close to his Spider-Man suit clad body, “How was your afternoon with your mum?”

“It was good. I’ve missed her.” You said, letting out a giggle when Tom gave you an eskimo kiss.

“Well, I missed you today.” He stated with a chuckle.

“I didn’t say I didn’t miss you too.” You laughed. A moment of comfortable silence overcame the two of you; well, mostly silence since Tom’s heavy breathing from a long day on set was quite audible.

“You know,” Tom started, deep in thought as his brown eyes stared into your own, “I still haven’t met your mum.”

“Oh, yeah, guess you haven’t.” You replied. You kissed him, in an attempt to change the subject.

“Don’t try to change the subject.” He said with a serious pout, making you let out a sigh of defeat.

Truthfully, there was one very good reason as to why you hadn’t introduced your secret boyfriend of six months to your mother, and that reason being she is Jennifer Aniston.

Growing up as the daughter of the ‘90s icon, you didn’t really notice the weight that your mother’s name had on normal people. To you, she wasn’t Rachel from Friends, she was your mother. You weren’t really hit with the whole concept of her being a “milf” until you started exploring the world of romance in high school. You were quick to discover that a lot of the guys who liked you were really interested in your mother- it just sucked. Once you hit college, you started going by the last name of “Annie” to help hide your true identity; you were tired of being second best to your own mother.

When you met Tom, you were guarded and thought he was just another one of those guys. You soon found out that he actually had no clue who your mother was. You knew he’d publicly announced your mom as his childhood celebrity crush before, and so you felt justified in keeping it from him. You’d tell him one day, but for now, you were comfortable with this secret.

“I just haven’t thought about it.” You shrugged in an attempt to play it off.

“What’s wrong with me meeting her? You always talk about how incredible she is.” He said. You bit your lip nervously at his question.

“I haven’t thought about it.” You repeated. You untangled yourself from his arms and stood up from the couch. You tried to distract yourself in the kitchen by getting yourself something to snack on. “Can we not talk about this now?”

“When can we talk about it?” Tom asked, sitting up as his voice grew more frustrated.

“Not right now.” You insisted, just wanting to push the secret off as much as possible.

“You say that every time. Is it such a bad thing that I want to meet your mother? You’ve met my extended family. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is I don’t want you to meet my mom.” You said flatly before storming off to the trailer’s bedroom, slamming the door beside you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let out a groan and put your head in your hands. Well, you guessed either this secret with your mother was ending or this secret relationship was ending. You loved Tom and he loved you- would him meeting your mother, meeting his childhood celebrity crush, really be that bad?

“Darling?” Tom’s came through the door, sounding like a beaten puppy. He knocked softly on the door, “Can I come in?” He waited a moment. When you didn’t respond, he let himself in and sat down beside you on the bed. He ran a soothing hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry, I just-” You sighed, lifting your head from your hands to look at him. Tom rested a hand on your cheek, smiling softly at you.

“I shouldn’t have pressed it. I love you, and if you don’t want me to meet your mother, then I’ll have to respect that.”

“I want you to meet her. I’m scared of when you do.” You confessed and he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Why would you be scared?” He asked, quietly.

“It-” You let out another sigh, taking a moment to figure out your phrasing, “It freaks a lot of guys out when they meet her.”

“I won’t freak out, I promise- if I meet her.” Tom added the hypothetical part, making you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I can see if she’s free tomorrow for brunch before her flight. I know it’s your day off.” Your words made Tom smile.

“As long as you want me to meet her.”

“I think it’s about time you do meet her.”

~~~

“Okay, promise me, promise me that you won’t freak out.” You repeated as Tom pulled the car into the brunch restaurant’s parking lot.

“I promise.” Tom laughed, kissing the back of your hand as his fingers were intertwined with yours.

“Just have to be sure.” You two made your way into the restaurant and were led through to a small, back garden area that only had a few tables- all of which were empty except for the one your mom was sitting at, and it already had three mimosas on the table, she knew exactly what you’d order. You had been walking in front of Tom, so when you two stopped at the table, you felt him freeze in recognition.

“Y/N!” She smiled, seeing you as if she hadn’t seen you just less than twenty four hours before. She got up to hug you, and you let go of Tom’s now slightly sweaty hand to hug her. She pulled away from you to look at your awestruck boyfriend, “And you must be Tom. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, y-yeah,” He laughed a little. You watched as your mom politely gave Tom a hug as well, before the three of you were seated. Tom took your hand under the table and you squeezed it reassuringly.

“So, Tom, this is my mom, Jennifer. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Tom.” You properly introduced them.

“When Y/N said not to freak out over meeting her mom, I gotta say I wasn’t expecting you.” Tom admitted sheepishly, trying to lessen the redness on his cheeks.

“I know. She never really tells anyone about me.” She teased, taking a sip of her mimosa.

“That’s because everyone has seen Friends.” You reminded her.

“From what I’ve heard, everyone’s seen Spider-Man, too. Props to you two for keeping this a secret for so long.”

The rest of brunch went well as Tom got more acquainted with your mom. He got more comfortable once the initial shock wore off, but you could still tell there was the same sort of “I just met Jennifer Aniston” awe to the whole situation.

“It was so nice to meet you.” Tom smiled, when brunch was finished and you all were splitting ways.

“It was nice to meet you, too. Take good care of my daughter.” Your mom replied with her usual bright smile as she gave him a farewell hug.

“I’ll miss you. Have a safe flight.” You said, giving her a tight hug.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” She pulled away from the hug and hurried off for her car, needing to catch her flight in time. Tom didn’t say anything more until the two of you got back into the car. He looked at you perplexed, his eyebrows raised and his jaw slacked.

“Jennifer Aniston is your mum?” He asked, emphasizing each word with an incredulous smile on his face.

“Now you see why I didn’t tell you. Once guys find out she’s my mom, they start treating me differently, like I’m second best.” You explained with a defeated sigh.

“Why would I treat you differently? Sure, my first celebrity crush was Rachel, but that was fifteen years ago. She’s not real. You’re my reality.” Tom reassured you, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you, that doesn’t change from you having a cool mum.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled as he leaned over the console to kiss you.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you.

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly.

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship.

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes.

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry.

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered.

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die.

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth.

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day.

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it?

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal.

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N.

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time.

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape.

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit.

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building.

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago.

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest.

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss.

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there.

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest.

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Sensitive There

A/N: My beta asked me if I was drunk when writing this.

My part for @kalesrebellion’s Bring On The Giggles challenge.

Prompts: front butt & cum gun

Summary: You and Dean get drunk, which leads to a new sexual experience.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: dirty talk, smut, nipple play, Sam being a cockblock, humping, excessive use of the word nipple, purposely written like that bc crack

A distantly familiar smell invaded your nostrils as soon as you entered the bar, but it was different; nothing like the lingering after current of alcohol that wafted through the air after a long day’s hunt. Dean had his arm on your shoulders as he and Sam talked way too excitedly about something that you didn't bother enough to pay attention to. Dear Chuck, that hunt truly drowned all your energy. Thankfully, the place with shining letters on the front door was only ten minutes away. You already felt your mood lift and a relaxed smile sneak onto your lips just for being here. What was a better way to lift your spirits than grossly excessive amounts of alcohol?

So, that is what not only you, but Sam and Dean did as well. Apparently, you weren't the only one sorely in need of a whiskey vacation. By noon, even Sam was drunk.

Fuck, how long had it been since you and the Winchesters got properly wasted? Not the daily beers or the occasional scotch, but really drunk, just for the sake of it.

‘’I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun.’’

You giggled at Dean, somehow finding his words exciting. Drunk flirting after a hunt was pretty much how you both ended together, mostly because you weren't soberly hearing his pick up lines.

Your chin rested on your hand as you leaned in. ‘’Yeah, babe? Where? On my chest? Or maybe right on my…’’

“Front butt,” Sam interjected, a proud grin on his lips for helping you to complete your sentence.

You and Dean turned to glare at the other person on the table, furrowed brows and slightly opened mouths in surprise. Who the fuck called a vagina that? Especially Sammy.

“What?”

“No, dude. You can't be serious? Front butt? Really?” Dean threw himself on the chair, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

Sam tried to defend himself. “I forgot the name!”

“Call it filet mignon!” Now it was your and Sam's turn to glance at him a questioning tilt of the eyes, confusion alit on your features.. Dean arched his eyebrows, wasn't it obvious? “Because it's delicious and made of beef.”

You sighed, pouring another glass of vodka with soda. “We really should talk about your weird psychosexual obsession with food.”

“Before you came along, he said that waitresses were his favorite because they smelled like burgers.” Dean slapped his brother's shoulder, exclaiming a dude! as if he had told you a secret. “What? You said!”

Whether it was because you knew Dean or the fact that your blood was slowly turning into alcohol, you weren't actually surprised by Sam's information.

You shrugged. “He got turned on when he saw me wearing his hotdog pajamas.”

“Can we focus on Sam calling your pussy a front butt?” Dean huffed, taking a sip of his whiskey. In an attempt to shift the focus, he smirked at Sammy. “Maybe you should try a guy, they are all butt.”

“And balls. And penis,” you added, sighing dramatically before placing your hand on Dean's thigh. “I like your penis.”

The eldest Winchester looked to his leg, pushing his tongue against his teeth. All the mental images suddenly coming to mind involved you and a bit more of alcohol were very welcoming to him and his big cum gun. He definitely wanted to shoot you. And hey, he was always good with aiming Dean could bet he could hit right in your hole.

Even a bit tipsy.

“Sam, stay here while we use the Impala.” He raised to his feet, pulling you with him. You giggled, pecking on neck only to gain a quiet moan in turn. His body was always so responsive to you.

Sammy, however, had another idea. He was completely oblivious to what you and Dean were up to. His brows knitted together along with a soft pout.

“What? You guys are just gonna leave me here? I want to go back to the motel too,” he said with a fragile tone, clearly sad about being left alone.

With a cocky smile upon his lips, Dean was quick to reply, “Unless you want see a front butt and a butt, I advise you to stay here until we come back.”

“But I want to go, too. I'm sleepy,” Sammy whined, and your heart ached a little. He just wanted to spend time with his big brother and you. Wasn't it adorable?

Not in a threesome way. That would be weird. Two brothers fucking the same girl was weird, especially when she dated one of them, but Sam and Dean were hot in so many different ways. One had a physique of a fucking professional athlete and the other had Greek beauty with rough hands. And Sam's hair was so long... Did he let the girls he was with pull his hair? All right, but threesome with brothers was a level of incest. Even if they always fought in sync, so hypothetically, fucking the same girl could be just as good.

You shook your head, trying to push this image away. You'd never consider this after sobering up.

Tipsy brain, stop. Drunk imagination was wild.

Maybe that is why that author told people to write drunk.

“You are drunk.” Dean's voice managed to take you away from that dark place of your mind where you could see nasty images very, very clearly.

Sam huffed, gesturing with slow exasperation. “So what? I can be two things.”

“Yeah, a bitch and a cockblock.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean!” You scoffed, but your boyfriend just shrugged, not feeling guilty. “Let's go to the motel, Sam.”

Fortunately, the motel was only two blocks far, which made it easier for the gang to walk and stumble there.

As soon as the door was open, Sam collapsed on the couch. Dean lost in the middle of the living room, his eyes searching everywhere to find the beds. They got a motel without beds? Well, at least there was a carpet on the floor. That could work.

He could use your butt as a pillow!

“Awesome!” Dean said to himself, turning around to find you. Sam snoring on the couch, check. A refrigerator that probably had some beers, check. He finally found you after a complete spin, seeing you against the door. Girlfriend pillow, check. “Y/N?”

“Sam and I got burritos while you were talking to the sheriff this morning. Mexican food, Dean.” Your voice was low and threatening, like you were telling a horror story. Dean gulped, knowing exactly what you meant. Glare lost on Sam's figure, you continued, “We've brought hell on us.”

As if he'd heard a calling, a farting sound echoed. And then another.

“It's starting... We have to run, Y/N.”

You didn't wait any further, immediately latching onto his hand and walking fast through the motel. Dean almost tipped on his feet, but he knew the mission was more important for the greater good — for his boner and your nose.

You slammed the door shut, waking up a scared Sam. You could hear him hit the floor with a loud thump, but you knew you had to save your oxygen while you still could.

“That one was lethal.” Dean rubbed his hands on his face, and you agreed, breathing fresh air in relief. He observed the room, surprise flickering across his features. “We have a bed.”

“Of course we do.” You plopped onto the mattress, looking at him with a sexy smile. “And we should use it.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “I couldn't agree more, sweetheart.”

Dean started to take his clothes off, and you bit your lower lip at the sight. When the black shirt was thrown on the other side of the bedroom, you started giggling. Dean arched his eyebrows. That wasn't the reaction he expected.

“Your nipples are funny,” you said, still grinning. Wait, were yours like this too? You threw your shirt away, happily already not wearing a bra. “My nipples are funny too. Nipple high five!”

You raised from the bed and touched your nipples with Dean's, who was watching with an adorable, confused face. As soon as your nipples brushed against each other, it was Dean's turn to whimper like a baby.

“Sweetheart, you know my nipples are sensitive.” He pulled away with a smile, uncharacteristically shy for him.

“I know, but what if it's a good thing?” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers as you led Dean to the bed. You felt light after all those drinks, and you could tell that Dean did, too. You both should have fun with that. “My clit is sensitive and I like when you touch me there.”

“What do you — “ You pushed him to lay on his back, soon jumping on top of him. “Woah, woman!” Dean's eyes were twinkling with much desire, or maybe he was just wasted — you couldn’t tell. Anyway, you would make sure to fulfill this necessity.

“Besides,” you said, running your hands across his chest, enjoying the view and the not so subtle way Dean's body reacted to your touch. His green eyes were glowing anxiously for your next step. “Cosmopolitan says that we should give men more nipple love, too.” You smiled, surrounded by some nasty ideas. You leaned in, allowing your tongue to circle the outline of his nipple before catching it with your lips.

Dean's eyes shut closed as he bit his lip, the sweet agony lighting him up like a comet. He gripped the sheets tightly in an attempt to compose himself. Your skilled tongue proceeded to swirl his nipple a bit, pressing the wet tip against it before sucking lightly.

This time, the Winchester couldn't help but exhale a needy moan. Fuck, was it supposed to feel so good? He loved to suck your boobs and imagine knocking you up to get cream from them like you did on his dick, but he never considered you playing with his chest.

Your hand found its way to his free nipple and started to rub it with your thumb, teasing the sensitive skin with a light blow before anything else. You already had gone a bit too fast on his other pinkened nipple for the simple fact of horniness. You could feel his nipple hardening against your finger, while you suck on his other one.

“Sweetheart, you are killing me.” His hold on the blanket tightened, his thick cock fighting to be free of his pants. You felt his cum gun getting ready to blow on your leg and adjusted yourself on top of him, sitting in his lap as you still worked on his breast. “Fuck.”

You pinched his nipple with your fingertips, gaining back a moan of pleasure. You moved your hips back and forth while riding him like a cowgirl, rubbing his erect dick with your wet pussy. You were both still clothed. Ultimately, you attempted to bite his nipple, and Dean groaned loudly, almost a scream. His huge hands knotted into your hair as he bucked his hips, pulling you closer to his chest. You kept exploring his arousement from that spot, scratching and sucking harder. You changed nipples, always caressing the lonely one. The faster you two went, the closer you got. Until your bodies went full YEE HAA and both of you reached liberation with a strong orgasm. His cum gun finally shot inside his pants, and you in yours.

You fell beside him on the bed, and Dean wrapped his arm around you to pull you closer. Both were breathless, sweaty, and incredibly sensitive because of the newfound pleasure. You laid your head on his strong shoulder, laughing softly before grabbing the blanket to clean your mess on his chest. You and Dean stayed like that for a few minutes, just catching your breath.

“That was intense.” He smirked at you, throwing his body on top of yours. “But now, I'm gonna shoot you with my cum gun. Gonna dirty your pretty mouth with my white juice. You won't be a veggie once you try my meat, sweetheart.”

Dean's Sweetheart: @akshi8278 (DEAN’S TAGLIST OPEN)

Hunter @demonhunterbarbie (ALL SPN WORKS TAGLIST OPEN)

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im-totally-not-an-alien · 4 years

Text

Final Fantasy 7 prompts # 34

1. Sephiroth makes Cloud have a full on mental breakdown and now he feels bad. On the other hand the blond is crying into his chest, and he's really not sure what to make of that.

2. Cloud Strife: King of the Chocobos

Yuffie wouldn't stop calling him that, particularly on the account that they were being followed be no less that nine chocobos. It doesn't help that it's mating season. Yuffie keeps telling him to flirt with them to get a free ride.

3. AVALANCHE giving Nanaki a bath, which somehow induces a water war

4. Protective Cloud looking out for Tifa. He somehow gets pulled into the "Bouncer" role

5. Vincent scaring off one of Clouds many stalkers (of which, Cloud is oblivious)

6. Tifa's wolf ring can call to/ summon Cloud in cases of emergencies via the wolf emblem on his pauldron. Kinda like a summon materia

7. I'm in love with the Commander Strife thing where he joins Shinra post time travel shenanigans and fixed everything.

So:

A. Commander Strife being babied by Genesis

B. Commander Strife becoming Zack and Clouds pseudo big brother

C. Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, Zack and Cloud try, and fail, to find out Commander Strifes first name.

D. Commander Strife babying the Infantrymen and looking out for them since few people in the company actually care about them.

E. Sephiroth and Commander Strife exploring the bond through the J-cells

F. Commander Strife is given a soft light blue sweater, "so he doesn't have to wear his uniform at the mall again"

G. Kunsel is obsessed with discovering Commander Strifes backstory. He has the corkboard with pictures and string and everything!

H. "Bold of you to assume I know what I'm doing." - Commander Strife

I. Someone vandalized six large walls within Shinras training facilities. Six whole beautiful and highly detailed paintings, each portraying one of the Commanders and one of the General. The last one was all of them together, standing side by side with thier swords at the ready.

The five people in question were so flattered that the investigation was halted and the paintings remained. The perpetrator(s?) was never caught.

J. Cadet Cloud sending home a picture of him and Commander Strife together, to his mom.

She couldn't help but laugh at the goofy faces they were making.

K. Commander Fair cackling madly as he sprinted down the corridors carrying a blushing Commander Strife while being chased by an enraged cake covered Reno.

....the troops decided that they saw nothing.

L. A picture at a holiday party with the four Commanders and the General, all with hot chocolate in hand and wearing a whipped cream mustache

M. Commander Strife just hands Zack a whistle and walks away.

Curious, Commander Fair blows the whistle, and is immediately swarmed by dogs.

N. Genesis drags Strife out on a spa day

O. The Commanders were all in a room when Zack started asking hypothetical questions about thigh high socks and stuff.

He questions how they keep them from sliding down.

Strife answers the question without thinking, and grumbled about how uncomfortable sagging thigh highs were.

===============================

He froze, jaw closing with an audible click and slowly looked behind him to see Genesis and Zack looking at him with an odd gleam in thier eyes.

"And pray tell, little bird," Genesis cooed with a overly sweet voice, "how would you know that?"

The blond panicked a little, "It's a long story."

Zack snuck up to his side and linked thier arms together, "A story that you will definitely be telling us...if you don't want any rumors!"

Cloud stared that them in disbelief, "You're blackmailing me?"

"Of course!" The redhead sang.

===============================

P. Cloud making Genesis a custom LOVELESS themed motorcycle as thanks for letting him cry on his shoulder. Literally.

Q. Everyone is in honeybee outfits. Reno snaps a picture, and runs for his life.

R. Commander Strife is confronted by a man who claims to be his father, which he knows is impossible for time traveler reasons.

He quickly realizes what the man wants when the guy demands a DNA test...after all, the science department has been practically foaming at the mouth, wanting a sample of his DNA.

S. Sephiroth never gave up on figuring out what the mysterious blonde was hiding. He becomes even more invested in his investigation when he hears him mention the Wutai princess by her first name. Suspicious.

T. While he was on the run with AVALANCHE, Strife had always slept with his group. Being the way he was he unconsciously sought out things that were both soft and firm to use as a pillow, which often lead him to sleeping on his team mates.

He wake with his head resting on Vincents chest, Barrets arm or Tifas abs and always, always, always, they would wake him gently by running thier fingers through his hair.

He missed them so much.

U. Vincent has rejoined the world, but refuses to fully rejoin the Turks. This doesn't stop them from throwing him a birthday party.

V. Vincent is commonly referred to as "Vincent the Vampire" and "My Valentine" by Zack and Genesis respectively.

W. Cloud met the chairman/ chairwoman for his fanclub and he realy wishes he didn't.

X. Commander Fair is forbidden from picking movies at movie night. Thats what he gets for bringing X-rated movies, Though the part that Strife didn't like was that everyone was trying to cover his eyes and ears. He wasn't a child!

Y. Commander Strife runs into younger Tifa and has to explain that no, he is not Cloud.

She doesn't believe him.

Z. Zack, Kunsel, and Sephiroth somehow wind up inside Commander Strifes head and decide to snoop. They find out everything and aren't sure how to proceed.

8. Time travel fix it, but from Kunsels perspective

9. Time travel fix it, but from Zacks point of view and he gets caught up in the madness

10. Time travel fix it, but from random SOLDIERS/ Turks point of view

11. Clouds mom goes back in time and takes her 13 year old son by the hand and, armed with only a few materia, marched into the ShinRa mansion and went strait to Vincent.

She gives the wide eyed Turk the tounge lashing of a lifetime. She becomes enraged however, after the former ShinRa spy gives her some flimsy excuse and slams his coffin closed. Long story short, she drags the man out by his cloak with her son close behind, fiddling with his small sword and glaring at the man as if daring him to do anything to his Ma.

Valentine is baffled.

12. Reno makes the wrong move and Cloud finally snaps, telling him exactly where he can shove his rod

13. Cloud is just so tired of being grossly hit on and sexually harassed. He starts coming up with one liners/ insults /refrances to combat the crude remarks.

Example:

Woman: How big is your ****?

Cloud: *said in the tone of those tootsiepop commercials* The world may never know.

14. Tifa gets turned into a frog, but doesn't turn back. Even when using maidens kisses and ensuna she remained an amphibian.

Aerith convinces Cloud to kiss Tifa, which he does, shyly on the cheek. She poofs back to her normal self and they both blush while the flower girl giggles.

No one even suspected that it was her doing.

15. Sephiroth revives and meets Cloud and Tifa's kids, who took one look at him and decided to latch onto his legs and demand his attention.

They also boldly declared him to be thier uncle/ the moon God, and tell him all about thier wierd family.

They told Sephiroth that he'd fit right in with AVALANCHE, to which he genuinely laughed at the irony of the situation.

#sephiroth #ff7 story prompts #Cloud strife #tifa lockhart #avalanche #SOLDIER #genesis rhapsodos #zack fair #angeal hewley #aerith gainsborough #ff7 #ff7 prompts #Reno #reno of the turks #vincent valentine #long post #loooooong post

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sashabarkov · 4 years

Note

S with JZX & NHS

S/19: Walking to their home through a storm. Also posted on AO3.

Set during the Cloud Recesses lectures. Contains a non-graphic appearance by Nie Huaisang’s library of smutty literature.

Nie Huaisang curses under his breath as he hurries down the path, hunching his shoulders to protect his precious books from the pounding rain. Gusu summers are wet enough that the storm shouldn’t have caught him off guard, but the morning had just been so clear and warm that he’d gotten complacent, heading out to the back hill to do some private reading on the sunwarmed rocks and maybe spot a few birds. The sky had given him less than five minutes’ warning between the first clouds rolling in and the rain pouring down, which with Cloud Recesses’ meandering paths and spread out buildings, wasn’t anywhere near enough time to get back to shelter.

In Qinghe, this wouldn’t be a problem, he thinks sourly as water runs down the back of his neck, sneaking through his hair and under his robes. The Unclean Realm may sprawl, but it sprawls like a hulking beast, haunches tucked under itself, ready to spring. The largest empty spaces are the training grounds and the gardens by the main family’s quarters, and those are all bordered by roofed walkways, to shelter under when the winter snow is gusting.

There’s a pavilion coming up on his left, if he remembers correctly; maybe he can take shelter there until the worst of the storm passes. He pushes himself into a sprint, gasping for breath as he hurtles down the path and rounds the corner—

There’s a person in the way.

Nie Huaisang wheezes as the collision knocks the wind out of him and throws him down onto the path, losing his grip on one of the books. The other person lands on top of it, but they scramble to their feet before Nie Huaisang can even get his breath back, hauling him up and dragging him bodily into the pavilion.

“Watch where you’re headed!” Jin Zixuan snaps, dumping him on one of the stone benches. There’s smudges of mud flecked across the front of his pale robes, the Sparks Amid Snow on his left shoulder stained with spots of dark brown, and the hand that isn’t locked around Nie Huaisang’s elbow is clutching the dropped book, bent open to an illustration halfway through.

“Sorry!” Nie Huaisang finally manages to catch his breath, leaning against the small table and setting down the two books that have survived his rainy mishap. “Sorry, ah, sorry, Jin-xiong, I didn’t see you there, but—you didn’t seem to see me either, right?” He lets out a nervous laugh.

Jin Zixuan huffs and rolls his eyes. “Careless,” he mutters, and then, “...are you alright? That was a rough landing.”

Nie Huaisang takes a moment to assess his body. A line of bruises is forming along the outside of his right leg, from knee to hip, and his elbow feels like he’s skinned it, but it’s nothing serious; around anyone else, he’d make a big fuss to get pampered, but there’s greater tragedies to bemoan right now. “I’m fine, but...”

He stares mournfully at his now-ruined book, crumpled and dripping in Jin Zixuan’s hand. It’s a new one, a cutsleeve volume devoted to a sordid tale of bondage and overstimulation, rare and exotic—such a shame that the pages are now likely soaked and the ink running. Jin Zixuan hasn’t seemed to realize he’s holding it yet.

Now that’s a thought; Nie Huaisang pulls out his fan to hide a smile. The sight of the haughty young master of Koi Tower holding a book of cutsleeve pornography, the clear illustrations of male pleasure spread out behind his fingers, is an amusing (and quite attractive) one, but he would like to find out if any part of the book is salvageable. “Ah... Jin-xiong... if you wouldn’t mind, could I have my book back?”

Jin Zixuan glances down at the volume—and then drops it like he’s been burned.

Nie Huaisang can’t help it; he bursts into laughter, cackling at the way Jin Zixuan stumbles back, eyes wide in shock, cheeks flushing bright red. “Why are you always carrying such things around in public?” the other boy hisses, glancing down at the offending literature once and then very determinedly looking everywhere but.

The book has, somehow, landed face up, open to the same page. If the illustrations have been damaged, then Nie Huaisang can’t tell from this distance; they’re just as easily discernable as they had been before the unfortunate rainstorm.

“Is this subject matter not to Jin-gongzi’s tastes?” he grins, reaching for his other books. “Don’t worry! This humble servant has a wide assortment of literature to satisfy all manner of desires and interests! With your arrangement over, it’s only natural to indulge your curiosity—”

He’s not expecting the hands that slam down on top of his own, pinning them (and his books) to the table. “You’re. In. Public!” the other boy bites out, his face less than three hands’ widths from Nie Huaisang’s own, and the panic brewing in his eyes makes Nie Huaisang cut his teasing short.

In the split second he has to choose a course of action, he makes note of three things. The first is that all of Jin Zixuan’s objections so far have not centered around the books themselves, but rather looking at then where other people could see. The second is that this is maybe the first time in five months of lectures that he’s seen Jin Zixuan without an entourage.

The third is that he quite likes the sensation of Jin Zixuan’s hands on his own.

“What if...” he says as the silence starts to stretch out for a litte too long, making the carefully calculated move to bite his lip a little when he pauses. It’s bait for a reaction, subtle enough to play off if it’s not appreciated, but judging by the way Jin Zixuan’s eyes flick downward, it’s working well enough. Very interesting. “Hypothetically speaking, of course, pure speculation, nothing more, but... what if we weren’t in public?”

“We?” Jin Zixuan blinks, clearly caught off guard by the implied invitation, but still letting it coax him away from his fears. To his credit, he manages to gather himself enough soldier on. “We’re still—anyone could see—”

“Yes, but what if we weren’t?” Nie Huaisang leans forward, up, peering coyly out from under his eyelashes as he brings them even closer together. His thigh protests lightly, but it’s it worth it for the way Jin Zixuan’s elegant throat works as the other boy swallows, thrown off by his proximity. “I wouldn’t tell. No one would know.”

He isn’t just talking about the books anymore.

Jin Zixuan’s grip has gone slack; Nie Huaisang easily slips one of his hands out from under the other boy’s and sets it on top—lightly, just a little pressure, a little warmth—enough to be thought-provoking. “Well?” he prompts.

Jin Zixuan glances around, making sure they’re still alone, and then lets go and takes a step back. He hesitates briefly as his boot brushes against the book still open on the floor, before bending to pick it up, carefully close it, and set it back on the table, all without looking. “You’re... wet,” he says slowly, as if he’s waiting for someone to yell at him for saying the wrong words, “and cold, and... with your low cultivation, you could easily get sick, so... it’s only right and proper for me to walk you back to your room. To make sure you get there safe. And dry. And without any more... books damaged. Right?”

Nie Huaisang beams and doesn’t even reach for his fan to hide it; he can give Jin Zixuan this much, as a reward. “That sounds perfect, Jin-xiong! Thank you, you’re so good!”

Jin Zixuan blushes again (very prettily, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion) and then steps out into the rain again, to where an umbrella has been lying discarded this whole time, sitting upside down at the spot where they’d collided. He picks it up and hurries back to the pavilion, brushing a little mud off the umbrella’s crown, and Nie Huaisang has the abrupt realization that the reason it had been left sitting there during their whole conversation is because Jin Zixuan had chosen to grab him and his book instead.

Despite the wind and his waterlogged robes, that thought makes him feel rather warm.

“Are you gonna get up, or is that beyond your level of cultivation too?” Jin Zixuan says, and then immediately grimaces, clearly regretting his words.

It’ll take a lot more to offend Nie Huaisang than that; he grins and stands, stowing his fan in his robes and gathering up his books. “How can I resist, when you ask so nicely?” he teases, just to watch Jin Zixuan blush again and look away hastily as he joins him.

The umbrella isn’t big enough for both of them, but as long as Nie Huaisang’s books are sheltered under it, he doesn’t really care. He’s already too soaked for it to make much of a difference, and his cultivation isn’t actually low enough for a little water and a stiff breeze to hurt him (no matter how often he may pretend otherwise). Still, it’s a stroke to his ego, the way Jin Zixuan lets him cling to his elbow and centers the umbrella over him, leaving one of his own arms unprotected, the mud-stained Sparks Amid Snow exposed to the pouring rain.

They don’t meet anyone on the walk, which is probably for the best, despite the part of Nie Huaisang that wants to show off just how much progress he has made on this new conquest (in just ten minutes, too!). In no time at all, they’re back to the covered walkways of Cloud Recesses’ most frequented areas, but even though the umbrella is no longer providing an excuse for closeness, Jin Zixuan doesn’t shake Nie Huaisang off, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t let go himself until they reach his rooms.

He opens the door and then pauses halfway through, pulling out his fan and tapping it to his chin as if he’d just had an idea. “Oh! It would be discourteous of me to not offer refreshments after you so kindly sheltered and guarded me on my perilous journey. Perhaps you could join me for some tea?”

Jin Zixuan doesn’t respond right away, frozen just outside, a variety of emotions flickering across his face. They’re mostly too fast for Nie Huaisang to read, but he manages to pick out a few—apprehension, nerves, and... something else, something deep-seeded, a fear he can barely see—

Oh.

Right.

This is a Jin he’s talking to. Someone who’s grown up in Koi Tower. Someone who has to deal with Jin Guangshan as a father.

“Hey,” he says, setting his fan down on the small shelf by the door, “you can say no at any time, alright? And so can I, to anything. Nothing’s gonna happen unless we both agree to it.”

Jin Zixuan slumps a little, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs, and steps inside.

Nie Huaisang smiles, and shuts the door behind him.

#and then they kiss #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #sangxuan #mine #fics #prompts #not gonna lie this was largely fueled by spite bc i saw someone say something mean about sangxuan #spite fic is a long and storied genre #jin zixuan: this stuff should be kept in the bedroom!! callout post for my dad!!#oatplant

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