#3+1

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Pay Attention

Synopsis: The 3 times everyone else knew you and Lando were in love with each other, and the 1 time you two actually admitted it

female driver reader x lando norris

A/N: for this one, reader is 22 and drives for mercedes with george. also, most of the story is told from lando’s pov because this originally started off as an entirely different 3+1 fic, and I don’t have the energy to fix it. and obviously, things like race results, driver lineups, ect will be changed to better fit the story

1-

Lando Norris knows Formula 1 is unpredictable. He knows you can’t tell what will happen during a race, nonetheless a season. But no matter how unpredictable the sport is, this was the most surprising part by far.

It’s barely been 10 years, but Lando feels like he’s known you forever. You two first met at the Karting World Championship in 2014, a race you were teammates with both him and Zhou Guanyu in. Even though he beat you to first place, your 14-year-old-self didn’t let that stop you from becoming best friends with him.

It was hard to keep track of each other when the two of you were traveling all over Europe to compete in different series, so Lando almost thought he’d never get to see you again. Until in 2020, when he heard talks of the most successful female driver yet making her way through the ranks.

Since you were announced as apart of the Mercedes driver line up in the beginning of 2022, you two have been attached at the hip. You both lived in Monaco and whenever you weren’t busy with media or team duties, you were together. Traveling, in the paddock, celebrating races; if you were there, so was Lando.

Fans were used to that fact and they usually expected it off the track, but not for races and track battles, so everyone was a bit surprised when you two placed P3 and P4 in Bahrain.

It was Round 1 of the 2023 season and even though everyone knows your results at Bahrain don’t dictate your entire season, Lando was still excited you were on the podium. He had qualified P6 behind George and yourself in P5 and P4, and with both Fernando’s Aston Martin and both Red Bulls in front of you, you weren’t expected to make it on the top steps.

Though after a few badly timed pit stops, Lando ended the race in P4, 5 seconds behind you in P3. Cheers rung out from around the grandstands as both the Mercedes and McLaren cars crossed the finish line. Your team garages were ecstatic, climbing the fence to meet you at the checkered flag and shouting congratulations through the radio.

Lando watched from behind as you steered your car into perc ferme alongside Max and Sergio and climbed out to celebrate with your team. It wasn’t P1, but it was a huge achievement to place so high so early in the season and it was obvious how proud everyone was of you.

He couldn’t help himself from leaving his car and engulfing you in a hug. You were both laughing and the Brit could practically hear your grin through it.

He couldn’t help himself from leaving his car and engulfing you in a hug. You were both laughing and the Brit could practically hear your grin through it.

“You did amazing! I’m so proud of you” He says, the words muffled through your helmets.

“Thanks, I wish you were gonna be up there with me, you deserve it” you say, looking up to the podium.

Lando smiles and he’s suddenly grateful his helmet is there to hide his blush. “Thanks. Don’t worry though, soon enough we’ll be up there with a 1-2”

“With me P1, I assume?”

Your eyes are playful underneath your helmet, and he laughs. “Yeah, we’ll see. Go celebrate with your team, Y/n. Don’t ditch me for the after party though!” He shouts as you walk over to your post-race interview, starting to laugh.

“I’d never ditch you!” You shout back over your shoulder, your helmet and balaclava coming off to reveal your grin.

Lando leaves to get weighed and meet his team back in the McLaren garage, keeping his head gear on because of the stupid smile he’s all too aware is still on his face. He was supposed to go to the media pen to finish up some race interviews before sitting down for the debrief with McLaren, but you were his best friend; he couldn’t miss your first podium of the season.

Lando, still clad in his orange race suit, arrives just as Max’s national anthem is playing. He probably should be paying at least a bit of attention to the winner, he’s one of Lando’s best mates after all, but then he saw you, grinning on the third step under the many bright lights of the street circuit, and he couldn’t look away.

He watched with his own smile as you opened your bottle of champagne and poured the majority of it on the Red Bull drivers, before downing the rest of it yourself. He’d wait until you came back to street level, where he’d be waiting for another hug and feeling the sticky champagne and bright grin against his neck.

You’d start talking about the race, the moments where you didn’t think you’d make it to the podium and how happy you’d be if you could get another one. You’ll ask about his race and tell him that next weekend, he’d better be up there beside you, no matter what.

And Lando will be next to you, like he always is, smiling and hanging on to every word you say because you’re happy, so he’s happy too.

What Lando would not realize is that each moment, from when he hugged you after you got out of your car to just then when you were walking through the paddock together, had been caught by multiple people, each one thinking the one thing you two had not yet realized.

“They’re so in love with each other”

2-

Lando Norris did not hate the Miami Grand Prix, at least not usually. But this time around, F1’s 2023 stop in Florida is one he could’ve gladly missed.

It was a double header weekend, and after coming off an extremely mediocre P9 finish in Azerbaijan, Lando was less than excited to spend 4 days in the hot sun in an even more mediocre car. There were so many unnecessary media obligations to go with the flashiness of Miami, and by Friday evening he was already looking forward to the flight back home.

The one thing that did brighten his day was you, who he also had dinner plans with after FP2. He let you distract him with whichever details about your life you had neglected to tell him before, let you get him excited for Sunday’s race again, and let you put him in a better mood.

You two were walking from the restaurant to Lando’s car, still talking and laughing as usual, when Lando asked to you come by his hotel after qualifying the next day.

“If both our qualifying are shit, we can get ice cream and mope together,” he posed jokingly, “and if it goes great, we can celebrate together as well”

But then you stop laughing and your tone changes. “Oh, sorry Lando, but I’m going out with Logan after qualifying; he’s gonna show me around Miami a bit. I’m sure he won’t mind if you come though? Do you want to?”

He pauses; Logan? “No it’s fine. I should probably be relaxing after tomorrow anyways, I think the heat’s getting to me a bit. You two have fun, though” He assures you, keeping a light-hearted tone to mask his distaste. 

Logan?

Lando didn’t have anything against Logan, he thought he was a nice guy with a lot of potential. But now he’s taking his best friend away from him and for what reason? You can see Miami any day, any time you want, and if you wanted to, you certainly didn’t need him as your guide.

But fine. Lando does not own you, you’re perfectly allowed to have your own friends, and if you wanted to have an evening out with Logan Sargeant, it was perfectly okay with Lando.

The Brit drove you back to your hotel before setting off to his own, and while you were his best friend and of course, delightful company, he couldn’t help but dwell on the sour taste left in his mouth. He didn’t know why this bothered him so much.

By the time Lando was back in his room, he was too tired to figure it why and decided it was a problem for Future Lando.

He woke up Saturday morning completely forgetting about the events of last night and instead focused on getting the best results possible today. He met up with his trainer for breakfast, left for the track, and joined his PR officer in the McLaren garage. She was escorting Lando to the media pen when he suddenly slowed.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” The woman took note of his tense figure, his hard-set eyes.

All because you were walking away from the media pen with Logan at your side, laughing and looking way too happy for his liking.

He felt the sourness this time. He felt it rise throughout his body and spread like wild fire. His only question was why.

Why were you laughing so much? Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he let any of this go? Why were you with Logan and not with him?

“Nothing,” the McLaren drives says. “let’s go” Lando never usually hurries to the media pen, but he didn’t want to look at you and Mr. American boy-next-door any longer.

He was asked questions and he gave answers, Lando just couldn’t tell you what any of them were. This was the problem Past Lando had left for him, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He ruled out anger; he didn’t feel mad, per se, more frustrated than angry. He wasn’t upset; he certainly didn’t feel sad. Possessiveness? He wasn’t usually possessive over his friends though, and you two weren’t dating or anything like that, so there was no real reason to feel protective. Still, Lando couldn’t shake the sourness, and was once again left without answers about you and his feelings.

It wasn’t hard to miss the Brit’s change in attitude, and it wasn’t something his friends were going to ignore.

“Are you okay, mate?” Carlos says, walking alongside him through the paddock after FP3. “You’ve been quiet all day”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just tired, I guess” Lando shrugs, not sure if he should tell the Ferrari driver.

“C’mon, you’re seriously not gonna tell me? It’ll make you feel better, trust me” Carlos pushed, and he hesitated before answering.

“I don’t know. I barely know what’s wrong myself” Carlos gives him a look, and he sighs before continuing.

“It’s just weird with Y/n lately. I don’t know but the entire weekend’s just been weird”

“Why? Because she’s hanging out with Logan?”

“How did you-”

“Lando, it’s not that hard to notice, and it’s not that hard to notice why you don’t like it” The Spaniard nudges him, looking at him with a mischievious glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You like Y/n, so you don’t like her hanging around with Logan” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What’re you talking about? I don’t like Y/n, she’s my best friend, that’s ridiculous” Lando makes a face. That makes no sense, of course I don’t have feelings for Y/n.

“Yeah, and the Haas is going to win tomorrow. Lando, I told you, you can trust me. Just admit it, cabrón”

“Admit what? I don’t like her, I told you that” Lando insists, because he doesn’t. There’s no way.

“Okay mate, whatever you say” Carlos says, putting his hands up in surrender and moving towards the Ferrari garage. “Let me know how that ‘not liking my best friend thing goes’”

Lando just shakes his head and sighs. Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about.

Qualifying turns out to be the thing Lando needs to get his mind off everything; he qualifies P6 with Oscar right behind him and confidence in his car for tomorrow. The man spends some extra time going over the data from today with the strategists and leaves the track just after sunset to head back to his hotel.

He wasn’t completely lying to you yesterday night; the heat was having a bit of an effect on him, and it was probably a good idea to relax and stay in for the night. He ordered something from room service that his trainer would approve of and took a shower before climbing into bed.

A knock on his door is the thing that stops Lando from falling asleep.

It’s past 10, no one should be knocking at his door, but that’s not good enough of a reason to ignore the person, so he gets up to answer it and should probably be more surprised that’s it you.

“Not here to collect team secrets for tomorrow, are you?�� Lando questions, jokingly.

“I don’t think we need anymore help beating you McLarens, thank you” You play along with a laugh.

“I’m offended. I hope you have an apology along to go with whatever that it” He gestures to the bag in your hands, and you nod.

“I do, but you’ll have to let me in first to get either” Your best friend moves aside to let you into his room and onto his couch.

“Seriously though, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just felt bad for ditching you today and figured I could make up for it with ice cream” You shrugged, opening up the bag and holding a container covered in frost.

“I appreciate the gesture Y/n, but we both know our trainers-” You cut him off. “Would kill us if we eat this, I know. That’s why I only bought one, so we could just share and have half. That way it’s not really eating an ice cream sundae, it’s just eating a scoop and a half”

“I like your thinking”

“That’s why you keep me around” You both smile, and Lando gets up to get two spoons.

“You don’t have to be sorry, by the way. It doesn’t bother me that you went out with Logan” He knows you must’ve felt really guilty, because you’re still wearing the clothes you wore in the paddock, meaning you went immediately from wherever Logan took you to straight to get the ice cream and come here, despite the fact you should be in bed and it would be chaos if someone found out you were here this late Saturday night.

He also knows you wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I know. I still felt bad though” You shrug, thanking him before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“Don’t be. Where’d he take you, anyway?” Lando questions. He knows that if he was talking about this any time else, he feel that sourness all over again. But there was no reason to if you were right here beside him.

“Nowhere special; we just walked around, shopped a bit, and stopped to get some food before we realized we should probably head back to our hotels”

“And aren’t you having the same realization now?” He asks, taking another spoon of ice cream.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried enough to the point where I’m actually gonna do it” You explain, and Lando laughs.

“So what? I’m stuck with you for the rest of the night then?”

“You say it like you don’t totally love the idea” You smile playfully.

“You’re right, I’d rather you here with me than anywhere else”

“Me too” The man misses your soft gaze and love-sick smile.

Truthfully, Lando just likes when you’re with him in general.

3-

It was the Austria GP and for the first time in a while, Lando Norris felt a little carefree. He had over two weeks to recover from Canada, the next round was his home race, and things were looking positive for Sunday. He was happy with racing, and he was happy with you too.

Ever since Miami, you two have been closer than usual; fans were used to seeing you guys always together, but this time, they really never saw you without seeing Lando, and Lando without seeing you. Both of you seemed oddly smiley recently and it didn’t go without notice. Even more than usual, it was like you and Lando were in your own weird little obliviously-in-love bubble that nothing could break through.

Maybe that was why you and Lando finished P4 and P5, each of you one place away from a repeat of Bahrain. It obviously wasn’t your best finishes you two have ever had, but it was good enough for there to be a celebration afterwards. The drivers you and Lando were closest to also finished high in the points, and before you knew it, you had agreed to attending the after-party happening in a few hours at the nearest club.

You put on some makeup, fixed your hair, changed into a beautiful outfit, and stuffed your purse with your essentials before you got a text from Lando telling you that he was outside. You insisted that you could drive yourself and he didn’t need to pick you up, but Lando persisted, saying that it was stupid to bring two cars incase you weren’t fit to drive at the end of the night, and had to leave your very expensive car on the street all night.

“You look gorgeous, it almost makes up for the ridiculous amount of time I’ve spent waiting here for you” Lando says with a smirk as you open the door to his car.

You roll your eyes through your blush. “It wasn’t that long. Besides, my room’s on a high floor, it was the elevator’s fault.” You reason, clicking your seatbelt into place before Lando pulls out of the hotel parking lot and onto the streets.

“Yeah sure, blame the machinery because it’s never your fault you’re late”

“It’s not!” You insist with a laugh. He hums sarcastically in response, turning on the radio and letting it fill the comfortable silence

The streets in front of the club are lined with dozens of high-end cars, so you and Lando are forced to park nearly a block away from the entrance. The bouncer lets the two of you in without hesitation, and even from outside, you can hear the bass from the speakers inside.

The interior is exactly how you expected it to be, colorful strobe lights from overhead, music that you have to shout to hear someone over, and a dance floor that’s packed to the brim with celebrities, drivers, and everyone in between.

You and Lando claim the nearest booth to the exit, and he leans in close enough to be audible. “I’m going to get us a few drinks, try and see if you can find a few people” You nod, and the two of you go off in different directions.

You manage to locate Alex, Lily, George, and Carmen in a booth together and after a few very loud greetings, manage your way through the mob again to find Lando and lead him back to your friends. You all start talking and laughing, placing bets on which drivers are going home with a mystery girl, which ones are going to get black-out drunk, and which ones are going to show off their embarrassingly bad drunk dance moves in front of everyone.

Drinks and shots get handed out, a few more drivers join your table, and soon enough, you and your group are somewhere between tipsy and drunk and are moving onto the already-packed dance floor. Lando moved up to the DJ, telling you he’d be back to dance soon, and left you with your fellow drivers and their girlfriends.

You spend a few hours dancing with the girls, giggling through your drinks, and wandering around the club in search for more friends. At the point where your vision starts to got a bit blurry and the music is making your head hurt, you feel a hand on your shoulder and a familiar voice in your ear.

“Hey stranger!” Lando shouts, turning you around to face him.

“Lando!” You call out loudly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “Missed you” Alcohol made you a bit affectionate.

“Only been gone an hour and a half, love” Even though you can’t see his face and you’re not at your sharpest, you know he’s got a dumb smirk on his face.

“Missed you too, though” He says, taking the drink out of your hand and taking a sip before wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Are you here to dance with me?” You pull back, looking into his eyes. His pupils aren’t dilated, so you know he’s sober and the designated driver for the night.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else” Even though everyone else around you is dancing at a fast, eager pace, you and Lando keep your arms wrapped around each other, bodies swaying softly, heads laying on each other’s shoulders.

Even with the flashing lights and booming music, you probably could’ve drowsed off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realize how much time has passed but at some point, Lando taps your arm and pulls away from you.

“Time to go home, I think” He says, placing his hands on your shoulders to get you to focus on him.

“You think?” You reply, both drowsy and a little drunk.

“I think so. I’m gonna see if anyone else needs a ride and say goodbye, then we’ll leave, okay?” Lando tells you, intertwining your hands together before leading you further onto the dancefloor.

The Brit finds the other drivers and does what he said before handing you your purse and guiding you out of the club, hands still held together. Your best friend hands you his jacket to wear and places his arm around your waist as the two of you walk back to the car.

You know that Lando will get you back to your hotel and to your room where he’ll take your heels off for you. You know he’ll place a glass of water and a few Aspirins’ on a nightstand for you and lay down underneath the duvet with you because he’s too tired to drive back to his own hotel.

You’ll know you two will fall asleep almost immediately, and wake up closer than you were laying last night. You know Lando will not mind doing any of this, will actually like it, because you don’t let him take care of you as much as he’d like.

You know all of these things and a lot of other stuff too, you just don’t know that the person you did it all with is the person you’re in love with, or that he’s in love with you too.

+ 1

Lando always appreciated the summer break after half a season of racing, but there was something special about this one that made him wish it would never end.

You, Lando, and a group of your mutual friends planned a week-long trip to an island in the Caribbean as ‘one last hurrah’ before you two had to fly to Zandervort for the second half of the season. It was your fourth day on the island, and even though every moment since you arrived has been filled with some sort of fun and exciting adventure, this was already your favorite day of the trip.

You and Lando had connecting rooms, ‘a complete coincidence’ as your friends had put it, and this morning, you two decided to take advantage of it and make breakfast together. You weren’t supposed to meet with the others until a few more hours, and you loved cooking with Lando, so shortly after you woke up you made the short journey into his room.

“Morning,” your best friend greeted you, clad in black sweats and an old T-shirt you’ve seen millions of times. “I bought pancake mix from the store in the lobby, but we can run out and get something else if you like?”

“No, it’s okay,” you insist, “pancakes are fine. Besides, I know you make the best ones.”

“I know, you must be so jealous” Lando smirks, grabbing a mixing bowl and pan from the hotel’s kitchenette cabinet.

“Totally. So what’s on our agenda today?” You say, moving around him to take ingredients from the fridge.

“Not much, actually. I think we’re just going to the beach and walk around the town a bit” You nod as you grab your phone and click on the shared playlist between yourself and Lando.

You let the music fill the comfortable silence as the two of you move around the small kitchen. It’s a beautiful and all-too domestic scene; the morning sun streaming through the windows, the soft music in the background, the way you both seamlessly know your way around the kitchen, how easy it was to work around each other. They’re the facts your mind notices too quickly, and it’s hard to stop your brain from thinking about a future where things could be like this everyday.

Within a few minutes, you each had a reasonably-sized stack of pancakes that you brought outside onto the balcony with you. You settle into the adjacent chairs that look out to the waves crashing onto the beach and deep blue ocean. It’s still early; this part of the island isn’t awake yet, and it’s easy to relax in the still quiet.

While you shooed away the image of the future like this, Lando welcomed it with open arms. He thought how effortless it would be to make a scene like this; a hotel room, an apartment in Monaco, a house in the UK, Lando would take either and all of them. As long as you came with it.

His mouth speaking before his brain can control it. “I wish it was like this forever” He blurts out.

“You don’t want to go back to racing?” You look over at him, eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t look back at you, keeps his eyes on the view in front of him instead.

“No, I do. I mean-” Lando pauses, thinks it over. He gets up from his chair to lean on the railing, his back facing you. This could ruin everything, he thinks. If he says it, he can’t go back, and nothing will be the same again.

He stops thinking.

“I mean with you. I honestly don’t care where we are; racing, on an island, whatever. We could be on another planet for all I care. As long as it’s just you and me, I think I could handle it” He finishes, feeling your presence next to him a few moments later, your shoulders brushing.

“Really?” You ask, eyes widened. You would’ve never thought he felt the same.

“Really. I’ve always felt that way” Then he’s looking you in that way, the way everyone’s been trying to explain to you for a while.

You don’t second-guess yourself when you put your hands around his face and press your lips onto his, and especially not when he starts moving his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, and you don’t think you’d be mad if this was your forever.

You two finally pull away from each other, and even though the waves on the beach are still the same waves and the ocean is still the same deep blue, you think that everything changed just a little bit.

You’re still so close you could probably count his eyelashes if you wanted to, and you smile.

“I love you”

His smile mirrors yours the second after he hears it. “I love you too”

You two don’t really have to tell people; everyone figures it out within the first five minutes of being around both of you. Everyone teases you relentlessly, but internally, they’re just glad the two of you finally saw what’s been there all along.

i think this is really bad, so if u see it one moment and then don’t the next, it’s because I deleted it. i also never really know how to end these. anyways, a lando fic to make up for the time i’ve been gone. sorry about that btw, i got major imposter syndrome and the lack of f1 content makes for a lack of motivation. this is also my first ln4 fic, and i have no idea what to expect from it. hope u enjoyed tho 🫶

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts. 

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

[fruitcoops]

WAIT CAN WE HAVE THE FIRST TIME JAX SAW REGULUS CRY PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

(bonus points if they comfort him)

 Fic O'Ween Day 4: Dead End, or three times Regulus almost cried in front of his friends and one time he actually did. Thanks to @noots-fic-fests for compiling all these amazing submissions, and to @lumosinlove for a tragically beautiful Regulus <3 Jax, Kris, and Vanessa are OCs of mine!

TW for injury, and canon shitty treatment at the hands of the Snakes

I.

Regulus was really good at not crying. Not crying was the easiest thing in the world. Instead of letting himself get worked up until he spilled over, he could just…not do that. He could swallow it down. Choke it back. The problem was that once he started crying, he couldn’t stop, and since nobody would care either way, it wasn’t worth the effort and embarrassment. He was a grown man. He’d been through worse.

Worse than a B minus, at least.

He was pretty sure.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered mildly. “And yourself?”

Jax’s mouth turned down at the sides. “Uh, can’t complain. What’s…what’s going on?”

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to close the tab of his failure. “Preparing for the week.”

“Right.” Jax didn’t sound like they believed him. Unfortunate. He used to be a much better liar.

“I always do that.”

“I know.”

Odd. He hadn’t expected them to know his habits. It had only been three months.

“You seem—” Jax broke off, setting their bag down on the floor with an unusually delicate touch. They leaned against the edge of their desk and gave him a funny look. “Do you want to talk?”

Regulus’ gut twisted on reflex. “About what?”

It came out too harsh—they shrank back slightly, shoulders drooping, dark eyes flicking away. He should apologize. He should.

“What would you like to talk about?” he tried instead.

“Dunno.” That was another thing he was getting used to: the way people started speaking just to speak, to fill the silence. Jax rarely second-guessed their words. Even now, they shifted their weight from one hip to the other only once before beginning again. “I was at the gym this afternoon.”

A strange thing to note. He waited for them to continue; when they didn’t, he mustered an encouraging noise.

“So if you’re ever interested…”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well, I—if you’re interested—”

“Why would you want that?” What was it about college that made people so vague?

Jax gestured at him with one hand. “I don’t know! You’re in good shape, I guess I figured you were there anyways. And it seems dumb to go at different times when we live together.”

“But then we don’t have to argue for the shower.”

Regulus wasn’t always good at facial expressions, but even he could read the exasperation (though not irritation) in the set of Jax’s eyes and mouth. “I want to spend time with you,” they said bluntly. Kindly. Almost like Sirius, without his awkwardness. They tilted their head to look at him. “You don’t have to, but we haven’t had a lot of time to just hang out. I’m going for a shared hobby here, man.”

Hobby. Regulus didn’t recall the last time he worked out for fun. Never, probably. Running out his feelings on a treadmill made him less likely to curl up under his blankets in a screaming possum ball, but it wasn’t necessarily fun.

In his periphery, his computer screen dimmed. His heart went with it when he wiggled his computer mouse and the reminder of everything bad in the world glared back. “I don’t know if I can,” he said carefully. “I just failed out of English, so I should probably focus on that.”

“Wh—” Jax’s eyebrows shot toward their hairline before knitting in the middle. “How do you know that? It’s not the end of the semester.”

Regulus jerked his chin toward the screen. They followed his gaze. Looked back at him. Back to the computer. Back to Regulus.

“You’re looking at me like that explains everything,” they finally said.

“It’s a. Um.” Bitterness filled his mouth. “B minus.”

“And?”

Are you stupid? Regulus bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. “It’s a B minus,” he repeated. “And so they’re going to kick me out.”

Jax let out a long breath, as if they were holding many things back. Regulus didn’t like it when they did that. He’d feel much better if they just told him they pitied him outright. “That’s not…no, that’s not how that works. Reg, no professor will fail you out of their class because of a B minus.”

The part of his brain that had been running through various explanations when he inevitably slunk back to Sirius’ doorstep came to a sputtering standstill. “Excuse me?”

“Dude, that’s not even a failing grade.”

Something next to his lungs began to shake. “Explain, please.”

“A C is considered average. You’re above average. Do you know that?” Jax’s concern crept back into their face. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Average.

Above average.

He had been screamed at for above average. Lived in terror of doing his best and being found lacking for above average.

The fury was white-hot and all-consuming, and unexpected enough that he had to blink several times in quick succession to clear the burning from his eyes.

“Reg?”

“Excuse me,” he muttered. He tried to stand and found he couldn’t so much as twitch for fear of combustion.

“Hey.” Jax’s voice gentled. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kindness was the cruelest thing university could have given him. It was too-tight shoes and a necktie done just wrong on game day. Regulus felt his nostrils flare around a few deep breaths. A pulsing rod blazed just behind his eye. “You didn’t. Sorry. Yes, we should work out together sometime. Text me when you’re free.”

He stood on unsteady feet, left the dorm, and began to walk.

II.

“Don’t move, don’t move—”

“Shut the fuck up and do not touch me.”

The pain was overwhelming. Regulus’ temple throbbed from the force of squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel them all there, crowding him, closing in with their worry, holding their breath because he was angry and scared and angry because he was scared and scared because he was angry and in pain. And in pain.

He could work through pain. He had done it so many times.

Breathe. His chest didn’t hurt. His shoulders didn’t hurt. His stomach didn’t hurt. The throbbing below his waist could wait until he had taken a few deep breaths.

“Reg?”

Analyze. His leg was too hot and too cold at the same time. Everything below his left hip echoed his pulse, but his shin had a special kind of searing to it. His palms, too. Someone’s fingertips hovered at his pulse point and he twitched away. They stopped. They left him alone.

Do not cry.

The corners of his eyes were too wet in the gentle breeze.

Step Three: Do Not Cry.

“Reg, are you alright?” Kris’ reedy voice should have grated on him.

“I’m fine.” His voice wavered, but did not break. He unclenched his fists and flexed them, wincing at the sting of scraped skin. He took a sharp breath and wiggled his toes—no immediate pain. His leg muscles constricted when he told them to, relaxed when he breathed out.

Move on.

He went to bend his knee and immediately heard four people stumble over each other to stop him.

“You’re fine,” Jax said near his right ear. “But also, please don’t do that.”

Regulus opened one eye and frowned up at them. “Pick one.”

Jax hesitated a half-second longer than his patience. Regulus muttered a curse under his breath and sat up, grimacing at the carnage. The heels of his hands were trashed from the concrete; they would need full gauze, without a doubt. The gash running down his shin bled freely onto his (favorite) jeans and was beginning to seep out onto the ground. He sighed. “That’s not ideal.”

“Can we help?” Kris asked, all big eyes and bigger heart while he fiddled with the zipper of his first-aid kit. “I’d prefer to get a bandage on that before you move much, but we need to wash it out.”

Regulus tried to keep the judgement off his face. It seemed rude. “That’s not necessary,” he said. “But thanks. Pardon.”

Standing turned out to be a bad idea after all. The first bit of weight made his entire bad leg buckle and he narrowly missed crumpling on the ground for the second time in five minutes. Pain lanced up to his hip; Regulus dug his hands into the sidewalk to anchor himself, and when that only made it all hurt worse, settled for a handful of measured breaths.

The touch to his shoulder blade was featherlight. “Let me help,” Vanessa said softly.

Regulus hesitated. Better up than on the concrete, he supposed. He just—what if she couldn’t hold him?

She waited for him to nod before holding a hand out for him to take. Deadlift calluses and a firm grip reminded him just enough of Leo to not pull away when she braced her other hand behind his elbow and hoisted him upright, catching him when he swayed into her. “Easy,” she soothed. “Take your time.”

Regulus felt himself buffer, eyes fixed on her. Thick, dark hair drifted into her face in tiny wisps where it escaped her ponytail. She frowned down at the jagged rock that had cut into him like it personally wronged her.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The upset vanished from her round face when she looked up again; there was a light squeeze to his torso. He got his weight under him, and yet she didn’t let go. Vanessa’s hold didn’t falter as they limped their way down the sidewalk, supported on every step.

He caught Jax’s eye as they turned toward the engineering building and found them already smiling.

III.

It’s a dumb movie, anyway.

That’s what Regulus told himself, listening to Clare sniffle while Kris watched the screen in openmouthed horror next to him. Jax’s description had been vague at best—something about a house and balloons and an old man’s emotional support Boy Scout.

But here they were, five minutes in, with no sign of balloons, Boy Scouts, or emotional support to be found. Just utter devastation and the inevitable march of death in spite of overwhelming love.

Goddamn mailbox, he thought. This whole problem could have been avoided if those two didn’t love each other to the ends of the earth. Which, of course, only made him think of Sirius’ ability to love with his entire heart and he really hoped Remus didn’t die first because that would be such a nightmare for everyone involved and oh, god, Sirius was going to die someday and leave him there—

“I forgot about this part,” Jax whispered in the darkness of the dorm. Their voice was only just loud enough for Regulus to hear over the movie.

He exhaled, and was surprised by how shaky it sounded to his own ears. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” they said sympathetically. “Fuckin’ Pixar. Need a minute?”

Regulus shook his head.

“ ‘Kay.” They sat quietly for another few seconds. A shoulder pressed gently against his own. “Let me know if you do, though.”

+1:

On an unassuming Thursday in April, it happened. The hammer came down. The other shoe dropped. Regulus’ luck ran out, the final bits drip-drip-dripping out into the ether and leaving him in a dead end of his own making.

In a way, it was inevitable.

“Holy shit,” Kris said, quiet and stunned and slower than Jax had ever heard him. His green eyes were blown wide; what had been a comfortable sprawl across his mattress for over an hour was now tense, the catch of breath before a scream. One airpod sat snug in his ear. His phone was lax in his hand and utterly innocent from Jax’s side of the room, save for Kris’ look of growing horror among his confusion.

“Kris?” they ventured. Kris remained silent. Jax’s pulse kicked. “What happened? Come on, man, that’s ominous as hell.”

“It’s Reg.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat and fell right into the canyon below. “What?”

“He’s—” Kris’ mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t…”

“Is he hurt?” Their phone was here somewhere, buried under their notebooks goddamnit their mother was right about the organizing bins— “Kris, is he hurt? What happened?”

“He’s famous.”

They stuttered to a stop with their hand buried in the mess of their backpack.

“I think—I think he is? Or was. Or something. Hey, did you know he played hockey?”

Jax stared at him, then shook their head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come see this.” Kris finally looked up, motioning them over with his head as if he couldn’t let go of the damn phone. “Come here, c’mere.”

“Are you seriously about to make me watch a Tik…”

“Regulus, do you have any comments on the rivalry being set up between you and your brother? Does it get in the way of your personal relationship with Sirius at all, being on the Lions and the Snakes?”

“My brother’s got a dirty game—”

Jax didn’t hear the next few words. They were a little too concerned with the sudden absence of the floor beneath their feet.

“—don’t endorse that sort of hockey.”

“And your personal relationship? How about Thanksgiving?”

“What personal relationship?”

Jax closed their eyes. It wasn’t enough.

“As far as I’m concerned, he might as well stay away with the rest of his pack of cubs—”

“Stop.”

Light music halted and left the room in the soft rattle of their ancient radiator.

“This isn’t—stop,” they repeated, though Kris had long since abandoned his phone on the sheers. His pale hands were pressed against his mouth. Jax felt their skin crawl. “This isn’t right. I’m not watching that.”

“He looks sick.”

“Yeah. Jesus, yeah.” Something was wrong in that video. Regulus’ bright, clever eyes were emptier than a scoured pot. A scrape marred his cheek. The violent green of his uniform—jersey, maybe? Or just a shirt?—washed him into a greyed-out version of himself. His hair was cropped harsh and short above his ears, hardly a curl in sight.

Someone was laughing in the background of the video. Jax didn’t like the way he looked at Regulus. There were too many cameras and microphones shoved into his space; Regulus wouldn’t like that, either.

“He doesn’t talk about his brother that way.”

“No,” Kris agreed in a murmur. “No, he doesn’t.”

Not that Regulus talked about his family often, but on the rare occasion it came up, Sirius was always the first one he mentioned. Jax had met him back in September—tall and broad and handsome, with a barking laugh and a voice that carried. Regulus gravitated to him like a magnet, though Jax wasn’t sure it was a conscious habit.

What personal relationship? He might as well stay away.

Kris was right. He did look sick in that video.

“Can you…” God, this felt wrong, but they had to know. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

Kris’ sideways glance made them swallow convulsively. Nevertheless, he picked up his phone.

Search: Regulus Black

Buzzfeed: NHL DROPOUT APPLIES TO…

ESPN: Regulus Black: Where Is He Now?

NHLWorld: Black Jerseys 70% Off—Everything Must…

Hockey Daily Magazine: Broken Contract and Rumors of Court!

#BlackBash

#RegulusBlack

#RegulusBlackSnakes

#BlackSlytherin

#BlackBrothers

#Playoffs2020

#AllStars2020

“Holy shit…”

NHLNews: Player Abuse in Sly…

#RegulusBlackCollege

#RegulusBlackSiriusBlack

@ hockeypalooza: I’m sorry but Regulus Black was the best player that team had ever…

@ slythlife: Black better not show his face in slyth ever again I stg

“When was that taken?”

Kris’ throat bobbed. He turned his phone off. “Last November.”

Jax pressed their fingers to their temples and let a sour breath out. This was too much. Too much. Their skull was going to implode. “Okay. Okay. Christ. Okay. Reg was famous, he left, he’s here now, it doesn’t matter.”

“We can’t tell him we know.” Kris stared into the middle distance—or, no, at Regulus’ bed. Always made, but a little wonky, like he was still figuring out how to do it right. A loose sock laid on the floor by one of his astrophysics books. “He doesn’t want us to know, or he would have said something. I’ve never heard him mention hockey. He said sports weren’t his thing.”

“He was a professional player.”

“For, what, half a season?” Kris’ lips pursed. “I’m not telling him we know. He left for a reason. Fine. That’s his business. He’ll say something when he’s—”

A key scraped against their door lock and Jax…Jax’s organs discovered the miracle of negative acceleration along the y-axis.

Regulus stepped in and slung his bag onto his desk chair. He opened his mouth to speak, saw them, and stopped. Stopped, like a deer staring down a Ford-F150. Every muscle primed and wound tight, as if someone had pressed ‘pause’ on the rotation of the world. His fingertip hovered in the handle-loop of his backpack.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Oh, no.”

And he left.

“Wait,” Kris called, far too weak and far too late. Jax’s brain refocused all in a rush—they both scrambled for the door, slipping on shoes and snatching wallets off whatever horizontal surface they called home.

“Shit, shit shit, shit,” Jax muttered. They shouldn’t have done this. They shouldn’t have looked. Kris was always right, always reasonable, never knee-jerk, so much better at this. They should have known better than to dig where they shouldn’t.

“I’ll check the library,” Kris said, jamming his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll—mother of fuck, this is not what I wanted. I’m deleting TikTok. And Google, fucking Google?”

Jax’s jaw throbbed with tooth-locking guilt. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have looked, I’m so sorry.”

“Abuse cases? Abuse cases.” Kris swore again and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fine. Alright. I’ve got the library. Text if you find him first. Holy shit.”

“I’m telling Vanessa to keep an eye out.”

“Good, yeah, whatever.”

Jax fought every urge to sprint down the hallway. Regulus was already long gone. Causing a scene wasn’t going to help. He probably wouldn’t come back to the apartment unless they found him first. Maybe ever. Oh, god, Jax would never forgive themselves if Reg left because they were a nosy little shit with no poker face.

For the first time, Jax wished NYU didn’t span a million city blocks. A fenced-in Ivy in the middle of nowhere would make them miserable, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to corner his flighty roommate when his hiding place wasn’t the entirety of New York City.

Well—well.

Regulus’ backpack was still in the dorm. He kept his wallet in the side pocket, zippered up tight. No MetroCard meant no subways. No student ID meant no twenty-story buildings to slip into. Regulus’ Ultra Panic Mode meant…nothing good, but at least he wouldn’t go far. Jax’s stomach twisted more than usual at the thought of him falling apart alone.

They shot off another text to Vanessa (whose string of ????? was the only correct response to their disaster of an initial message) and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

For a day with the potential to ruin a new and treasured portion of Jax’s life, it was quite beautiful out. The air was crisp and only reeked a little from the crusty hot dog stand down the block; the massive column sticking out of a manhole was missing its usual billow of subway steam and left the sky an unmarred blue above them. They were learning to like the spring on this coast. It was cold, sure, but if they wanted it to feel more like home, they would have gone to California. New York was their escape in every sense. They just—

They just really didn’t want to lose Regulus.

They hadn’t been sure what to make of him at first: so quiet, so reserved, every emotion leashed. But then he was kind and smart and funny in his weird way. He hadn’t fumbled a pronoun since the first day. He came home early from winter break, just so Jax and Vanessa wouldn’t be alone for their last holiday week after flights home fell through.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t like them. It was just that he was so very afraid of some looming shadow that had remained unnamed until that very afternoon. Jax couldn’t even blame him for it. If hockey made Regulus that ill, it was a small wonder he did everything in his power to leave it behind.

The bell of the narrow bookstore on 14th street chimed when they entered. The corner seat was unchanged, down to the burnt-orange cushion with a torn side seam. The rest of the shop vanished behind a massive chestnut shelf when they sat, folding their legs up. It was nice in here. Dim lights and a quiet heater. The owner had swapped out the winter candles for fresher springtime scents just a few weeks before.

“I never lied.”

“I know.” They stretched one leg out to roll the tension from their ankle. “You okay?”

“Non. How did you find out?”

His accent was thicker. Upset was etched in every angle in the corner of Jax’s vision. Shame wedged icy fingers between their ribs. “A video popped up on Kris’ TikTok feed. We shouldn’t have watched it.”

“I wouldn’t have told you.”

 “I figured.”

“I wasn’t—I was trying—” Regulus’ jaw ticked. His forehead furrowed as he picked at the laces of his shoes. “You have no idea what it was like. The way it got twisted up, I—and I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t leave.”

Don’t fucking cry.

“I couldn’t get out. Not until that game.” They saw him shake his head minutely. “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have tried.”

“What game?”

“The…” Regulus turned to look at them then, eyes narrowed. “What was in the video?”

My brother’s got a dirty game. What personal relationship?

“You were in a room. I don’t know, there was a lot of hockey stuff around. People had stuff all up in your face.” Jax brought a fingernail to their mouth and bit absently at it. “It was an interview, something about your brother.”

“Fuck.”

The quiet ferocity of it made their heart clench in surprise. Regulus tipped his head back against the cool window. The edges of his lips had gone white with tension and Jax had never felt such regret for honesty in their entire life.

“I hate that fucking video.” It came out hoarse. Jax’s belly went Gordian. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No, dude, I’m sorry. We should have scrolled past it. We should’ve—we should have waited for you to tell us.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t,” Jax said gently. “And that’s fine.”

Regulus’ mouth turned down at the corner. “I can be out by Saturday.”

In the throes of disbelief, all they could do was shake their head. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t bring a lot of stuff. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Reg, what are you talking about?”

An owl-eyed stare pinned Jax; intense, but not angry. They had been prepared for anger. Not…whatever this was. “Why are you here?” he asked carefully.

“To apologize? Because Kris and I fucked up and you left before we could say anything?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jax insisted. “And clearly not enough people have apologized to you even once in your life, ‘cause it’s shitty when your secrets come out and it’s scary and so I’m here for you. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For this, and for all those assholes who made you play hockey when you were meant to be a space nerd.”

Of all the reactions to a sudden outburst Jax had expected, a trembling lower lip wasn’t one of them.

“Oh, god.” Panic pulsed in their chest. “Was that too much?”

“I hate that fucking video,” Regulus whispered, voice breaking. His eyes welled with tears. Jax’s tongue turned to lead in their mouth.

This couldn’t possibly be real. Not this. Not sitting in a hole-in-the-wall bookstore while Regulus took stuttering breaths around tears he didn’t seem to know how to handle. “Hey,” Jax said softly. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Regulus muttered angrily, scrubbing at his cheeks with shaking hands. “Fuck—merde, one second.”

“It’s okay.”

“Non, stop it.”

We’re doing this. We’re doing this. “Reg, it’s fine. Is this—is this alright?”

Regulus froze up at the tentative touch to his shoulder. Jax waited, heart in their throat, before Regulus gave a slight, pained nod and leaned ever so slightly into them. It was incredibly heartbreaking and also deeply weird, the way Jax supposed it would feel to pet a wild tiger in a zoo.

Worst of all, it made sense. The mottled skin of Regulus’ ankles. His careful silence, only broken in the presence of a few friends. He had hardly spoken unless spoken to until January. Jax had seen skates, just once, tucked in the corner of his closet behind his laundry bag.

They had chalked it up to the Canadian thing. One of their stupider moments, looking back.

“Please don’t leave.”

Regulus paused with his sleeve pressed below his nose. “Quoi?”

“It’s…” There was a dent in the hardwood beneath the toe of their sneaker. “I mean, you’re my best friend. So I’d like it if you stayed. If you want.”

The request felt too fragile. The wound, too raw. Would Regulus be angry that they asked?

“Why would you want that?” Regulus asked after several beats of empty air between them. He sounded mystified by the very thought.

“You’re my best friend.” The corners of their eyes stung. They gave Regulus a little pulse of pressure, the shadow of a hug. “I’d miss you if you left.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.”

A tear glimmered in the light as it fell from Regulus’ cheekbone to his jaw, where he brushed it on the sleeve of his shirt. The cuffs were stretched, like he’d been gripping them in iron hands; they matched the frayed hems of his hoodies in a rather sickening way. “I want to stay.”

“Thank god.”

A rueful smile pulled at Regulus’ mouth. “You know, you might be the first person who wanted me around.”

“That’s so…” There were no words. Literally nothing could encompass the fresh-scrape sting of each new layer of tragic backstory peeling away. “Is there any part of your life story that isn’t depressing as hell?”

“Probably not,” Regulus snorted.

He was warm under Jax’s palm. The shivering had stopped. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Merci.”

“Do you—”

“No.”

They nodded and mimed zipping their lips, and it made Regulus smile just a little, so it was worth it. He hadn’t pulled away from their one-handed hug yet. Jax counted that as a victory. It was sort of like washing a wound in the ocean: it stung like a bitch, but they were better for it in the end. Regulus’ wounds had been opened and reopened for nineteen years by uncaring hands. His cleanse was going to burn more than most. But even if gifts baffled him and kind words made him grimace and hugs were—whatever this was, Jax would be there. This time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

[tricks-tickles]

Poke, Pinch

honestly i had no idea what i was doing for the title so i just titled it what it was in google docs (shrug)

thank you to -anonymous- for the request =]

word count: 2496

pairing: Lee!Todoroki/Ler!Midoriya

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started with a poke.

After the sports festival, Midoriya and Todoroki had become tentatively closer, bordering on friends, in Todoroki's opinion. They didn’t hang out, per se, but they sat together at lunch and were an efficient team in Heroics. They got on surprisingly well, with Midoriya rambling on about heroes, or their school work, or whatever else was on his mind, and Todoroki listening attentively. Well, usually he was listening, but sometimes Midoriya would start to mumble and Todoroki’s attention would drift away from him, and onto whatever was gnawing at the back of his mind.

Today was particularly bad for this. Todoroki was preoccupied with the upcoming final exams, and it seemed Midoriya was affected too, his muttering taking on a more harried tone than usual. In fact, Todoroki didn’t even realize that he’d zoned out until a poke to his side drew him back. A completely innocent motion that, for reasons unbeknownst to Todoroki, sent a spark of electricity up his side, making him jump and flinch away. Midoriya blinked at him, hand still raised.

“Are you alright?” He asked, more bemused than concerned. 

“I’m… fine, sorry for zoning out. What were you saying?” He replied. Midoriya squinted at him, before launching back into the conversation.

It didn’t end there.

Heroics was an incredibly varied class. One week they’d be doing rescue simulations in the fake city of Ground Beta, then attempting stealth in the sprawling tunnels of Ground Gamma, or fighting robots with one hand tied behind their backs in the main gym. Each lesson was a new challenge, designed to prepare them for the eclectic life of a hero.

Today, they were put into pairs and given a small (fake) flash drive. The aim was to last five minutes in a fight, until their ‘backup’ arrived, without having the drive stolen by the other person. Todoroki had the good luck of being paired with Midoriya, who went first. He stashed the flash drive in one of the pockets of their P.E. uniforms, then fought on the defensive while Todoroki tried to pin him down to get the drive. Unfortunately, Midoriya was very slippery, and each time Todoroki managed to get him down he would twist so the drive was out of reach, forcing Todoroki to let him back up to try again. Eventually, just as Aizawa called out that there were 10 seconds remaining, he managed to unzip Midoriya’s pocket and finally retrieve the drive, which miraculously was still in one piece. 

Midoriya grinned, panting as he wiped his brow. “I almost had you.”

“Sure,” Todoroki said, clenching the drive in his hand. He’d seen how much trouble Midoriya had keeping his pockets away from Todoroki and decided to just hold on to the device until time was up. Aizawa gave them the go-ahead, and they went back into it. 

It was a tense few minutes. Midoriya kept his focus on Todoroki’s left hand while using his quirk to dodge the streams of ice bursting from his right one, always keeping right on his tail until there were 30 seconds remaining. Midoriya managed to pin him on his stomach and at this point he abandoned all strategy, solely focusing on keeping his hand tucked under him, far from Midoriya’s reach. Then, he felt something. A gentle pinch to his side, right under his ribs, made him gasp as the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Midoriya pinched him again, and this time his arm jolted to push him away. Each pinch caused his nerves to light up with alien sensations. Was this some weird aspect of Midoriya’s quirk he hadn’t noticed before? Either way, without realizing his hand had drifted into Midoriya’s reach, which he grabbed, prying Todoroki's fingers up and retrieving the drive in the last second. 

So, a draw, and a new weakness that Midoriya had discovered in him. Thankfully, it seemed to be limited to him only. 

Todoroki did not notice Yaoyorozu watching him curiously, from her own mat next to them.

Sometimes the exercises they did were team-building, but more often than not they were pitted against each other. Today in Heroics, they were to complete a sort of obstacle course, disguised as a sort of storage room in a warehouse. The class was put into ten pairs, where they would compete within each pair to see who could complete the course in the fastest time, by flipping a leaver at the end of the massive room. The course was split into five lanes, meaning half of the class would do the course, then the other half. Easy. The groups were random, with pairings like Uruaka with Aoyama, Midoriya with Bakugo (unlucky), and Todoroki with Yaoyorozu. 

There were no quirks allowed, which put them at roughly the same level, but Todoroki was confident in his ability to win the competition. They took their starting positions, then held still as they waited for Aizawa to give the word.

“Ready…” He drawled, 

“Set…” Todoroki tensed,

“Go.”

There was a flurry of movement, then the rest of his classmates vanished as they entered their lane. Todoroki took off, vaulting over a series of crates as they entered the thick of the course. Sliding under beams, climbing over debris, and swinging over massive pits. Todoroki internally scoffed, they hadn’t put much effort into making it seem like a realistic warehouse.

Throughout the race, Yaoyorozu had kept with him, till they were neck and neck at the finish. A great wall, with bump-outs to climb to the top (and a not-so-subtle mat at the bottom in case they fell). They both hit the wall at the same time, scaling to the top. Todoroki took the lead but soon realized that the wall didn’t go quite to the leaver. There was a gap, taller than him, but he likely could reach it if he stretched for it. So then it would be a case of winning through speed and height. He and Yaoyorozu were similar in height, but she had an inch or so on him which would mean a lot in this last task where the odds were so close. Balancing carefully on the last bump-outs (conspicuously larger than the rest so they could be stood on), he stretched up to reach the leaver. His fingers brushed the base of it. He sighed and stood as tall as he could, Yaoyorozu joining him only a foot or so away at her own leaver, but his focus was on reaching it. 

As she reached the last few bump-outs, she looked up, seeing Todoroki struggling to reach the leaver. Since he was only a little shorter than her, Yaoyorozu realized she likely wouldn’t make it in time. As she pulled herself up onto the platform, she ran over his weaknesses in her head, until she landed on one. Just an idea, something she’d seen a week or so ago. Carefully, she stretched up with one hand, and with the other reached across the gap between them to scribble her nails over his ribs. The results were immediate, and just what she needed. He doubled over, arms flying down to protect his ribs. She reached over a little more, wiggling her fingers against his stomach. Amazingly, he actually let out a short laugh, before stumbling backwards, and straight off of the platform, falling onto the mat below. She reached up again, standing on the very tips of her toes, and finally latched onto the leaver, yanking it down. The lights in their lane of the course flashed green, and she jumped down to meet him on the mat, offering Todoroki her hand.

Todoroki was ready to lie on the mat forever, wallowing over the fact that he just walked off the platform, but he accepted Yaoyorozu’s hand anyway. She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“I did what I had to,” She said sheepishly, “But sorry for tickling you, that was quite unprofessional.”

“It’s alright.” He said, but inside he was reeling. Tickling? Was that what those feelings were? He knew about tickling as an abstract concept but hadn’t realized that that was what was happening. He was ticklish. Suddenly, Todoroki felt the need to do some investigating. 

The next day, Midoriya had invited him over to do some last-minute studying for the exams, seeing as they were only next week. He arrived at 12:55 pm and knocked on the door. It was opened by a woman, presumably Midoriya’s mother, who greeted him with a kind smile.

“Todoroki-kun! You’re early.”

“Oh. Sorry, Midoriya-san.” He said, bowing slightly. She waved his apologies away, inviting him inside. 

“It’s been quite a while since Izuku’s had a friend over, I’m just happy that U.A. has given him so many new opportunities.” She said, leading him into their living room where Midoriya was standing next to the sofa, scrolling on his phone. He looked up and beamed when he saw Todoroki. 

“You’re early,” He chastised, “You weren’t supposed to be here till 1:30!” Oops. Todoroki had remembered the time to be there as one o'clock, but he supposed it was better to be early than late.

They set up in Midoriya’s room, spreading out various books and laptops on his bed and the floor to revise for their exams. Midoriya’s mother brought in some snacks, and they spent a few hours working on their English, Japanese and Fundamental Heroics.

At 3 pm, Midoriya closed his laptop dramatically, 

“If I have to read another word in romaji, I’m going to drop dead on the spot.” He announced. They agreed to take a break, Midoriya going to the bathroom, and Todoroki helping himself to some rice crackers. 

When Midoriya came back, he cleared some of the books off the bed and sat down next to Todoroki.

“So… what did you think of training yesterday? Kacchan and I pulled the leaver at pretty much the same time and he ended up almost fighting Aizawa over who won, it was so awkward. I’ll bet you and Yaoyorozu got on a lot better.”

Todoroki hummed. “We also were very close, but she ended up knocking me off of the platform.” 

Midoriya laughed, “I wouldn’t expect that from her! How’d she manage it?” He asked.

Todoroki felt his face heat up, slightly.

“She, um, tickled me.” He said quickly, staring at his hands.

This made Midoriya laugh even louder. “Reheally? That’s pretty underhanded of her.” 

“She apologized. I’m not sure how she knew I was… ticklish when I didn’t.”

“Wait, you didn’t know? What did you think happened when I pinched you during training last week?” 

Todoroki shrugged, fidgeting. “I don’t know, I’d never been tickled before.”

Midoriya frowned, then made a noise of understanding.

“I guess that makes sense, with your family.” He said.

Todoroki felt a sort of tension settle over the room, and tried to figure out how to break it. 

“You know,” He started, “I don’t even know where I’m ticklish…” He trailed off, unsure if Midoriya would get the bait and unsure of what he was even trying to do. 

Midoriya perked up. “Well… I could help you find out?” 

Todoroki flushed.

“I- I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t mind.” He stammered, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed as he fought to avoid Midoriya’s eyes.

“Sure!” Midoriya said brightly, “Lie down.”

Now feeling suddenly nervous, Todoroki shifted until he was lying on Midoriya’s bed, head resting on his pillows.

“Now…” Midoriya settled next to him, his tone shifting into something more playful, “I already know you’re ticklish on your sides-” He punctuated this by gently wiggling his fingers against Todoroki’s sides, making him gasp, and twitch at the strange sensations. “-but what about your ribs?” He asked, his hands sliding up to gently scratch at the bones. This made Todoroki jerk towards his hands, his breathing going funny. 

“This- ah, this feels weheird.” 

“Hmm, I think you mean ticklish,” Midoriya said, drawing circles on Todoroki’s ribs while he thought about the next spot.

“How about I try your stomach?” He asked, smiling playfully.

“Sure,” Todoroki replied, feeling his face burn. He thought about using his quirk to cool himself down but didn’t trust himself not to freeze Midoriya’s sheets in his flustered state. Midoriya’s hands crawled slowly towards his stomach, and the feeling of anticipation made butterflies dance in his stomach.

“Midoriya!” He said.

“What?” Midoriya replied, his hands freezing in place.

“Just- hurry up,” He huffed, trying not to fidget.

“Oh!” Midoriya said. Then, “Glady.” He dove his fingers against Todoroki’s stomach, wiggling them lightly.

That caused a reaction. A startled laugh worked its way up Todoroki’s throat, and his hands flew up to stifle it, as those electric touches made him want both squirm away and move closer. 

“How does that feel?” Midoriya asked, half teasing, half sincere.

“Tihihicklhllihihish!” He cried, his giggles breaking through his hands. 

Midoriya beamed, scratching a little harder and fully grinning when Todoroki began to squirm, one hand fisting into his sheets and the other clamped over his lips to no avail as he laughed freely.

“Plehehehase!” His laugh was cute, surprisingly high-pitched, and a little desperate. Midoriya fought the urge not to ‘aww’ out loud.

“Please what?” Midoriya asked.

“Ihi dohon’t knohohow!”

Midoriya shot him a bemused look. “If you don’t know then why are you asking?”

He let his hands crawl around, grinning when Todoroki started to thrash as they floated over to his hips.

“Hmm,” Midoirya said, “I wonder if-” 

He jerked his hands down, squeezing Todoroki’s hips and laughing at the shout of laughter that escaped him. Todoroki bucked his hips, kicking his feet as the hand that had been feebly covering his mouth came up to cover his eyes.

“Ihihit’s sohoho bahahad!” He cried, “Mihihdorihiyaha, nohohoho!”

Usually, Midoriya was a merciful person, but today he felt like being a little cruel. He pushed Todoroki’s shirt up with one hand and then latched back onto his hips. Despite not knowing what was about to happen, Todoroki’s laughter became desperate as Midoriya leaned down, his lips touching Todoroki’s stomach. Then, he blew as hard as he could, drilling his thumbs into Todoroki’s hips. The effects were instantaneous. He squealed, his hands shooting down to push at Midoriya’s head as he squirmed uselessly underneath him.

“STOHOHOP! STOPSTOPSTOP PLEHEHEAHASE, IHIHIT’S TOHOHO MUHUHUCH!”

Finally, Midoriya leaned back, watching him with a satisfied grin.

Todoroki was panting, his cheeks flushed as he watched Midoriya through teary eyes. He pulled down his shirt, still giggling, and sat up.

“Thahat- that wahas, um, a lot.” He said.

Midoriya frowned, “Sorry if I got carried away, I’m just not used to seeing you smile or hearing you laugh.”

“It’s okay,” Todoroki replied, “I… didn’t mind. And I might not mind doing it again,” He trailed off into a mumble as he avoided Midoriya’s bright smile.

“Okay!” He said happily, “We can hang out as much as you like!”

Maybe, Todoroki thought, this whole thing wouldn’t be so bad.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi, Ro😌❤️I love the new hospital drabble😌❤️

And I also had a good laugh reading that Ari had a hard time trying to explain why he called her his wife in the hospital🤣🤣

Though... it couldn't be the only time that Ari sneaked behind her back and called her wife, no?👀👀👀 like he can be all possessive and claiming when he needs to be😩🤭

Warnings for some spice. I mean, whoops again, gang 🥵😩 I have no one to blame but myself. OH NO. THIS SUCKER IS GETTING THE MATURE LABEL. WC 1.2k

3 x Ari Faked It + the 1st x It Was Real, a terribly titled Bedrock and Blueprints drabble

1.

The hospital was a pretty special circumstance because the nurses weren't going to let him see you if he didn't lie, however, Ari becomes a bit notorious for not correcting anyone who calls you 'Mrs. Levinson.'

Your friends at the bar ask him how 'the misses' is doing when you're not around, and that very small thing usually brings a smile to his face. For a while, Ari thinks to himself that it's just the equivalent of saying 'your girl,' and he just moves on with the conversation.

2.

A reservation for a nice dinner he takes you to on your birthday is under his name, and the woman leads you to the table with a simple "right this way, Mister and Misses Levinson."

Since it's just the hostess walking you from point A to point B thirty feet away, Ari hardly thinks it's worth the time to explain that you two aren't married...and you don't mention that either.

That gets him thinking. Would you take his name?

The idea rattles around in his brain, popping up randomly in between bits of chatting, but he never says anything out loud.

Of course, Ari's in love with you and you're in love with Ari. He loves you and you love him, and he knows that. But you don't...discuss future things with him much because you're trying not to scare the chronic nomad off. It took enough nudging (and then straight-up fighting) to get him to move into a house he was already building for you for fuck's sake.

And yes, Ari is still the type of man who would panic and run to the bar with José and Dimitri if you started talking about wedding things like guest lists and themes and flowers. He's not there, and he doesn't enjoy that even if it's you. He simply isn't that man.

The idea though...

That idea of saying you are his wife is different. That's not a possession in the physical sense. He's never wanted much in the way of 'stuff,' and he didn't put much effort into keeping his family around once he joined the military. Marrying you would not be a big deal to him in terms of ownership.

Nope. What strikes Ari deep in his gut is that you'd claim him as your family, you might want him bound to you in that way, and you might be his permanent home.

Something about that makes Ari feral, and on the way home from your dinner, the instant he pulls his keys out of the ignition, Ari slides across the leather seat and pins you to the door with a hot and heavy kiss.

When you finally convince him it'll be more comfortable to exit the vehicle, he doesn't let you get far, hoisting you up against the side of the truck until your arms stretch over the lip of the flatbed. That shiny little skirt you wear gets pushed up to your waist, and Ari fucks you right there in the dark driveway.

Happy birthday to you indeed.

3.

Um, so then there's the time Ari will never, ever speak of to anyone other than you ever.

Maybe a month or two after you find out you're pregnant, Ari's boss's boss has a big party at a large corporate space the company just completed. The Big Boss's wife thinks you and Ari are married, and again, because it's an unnecessary conversation to have with someone you may never see after that night, you two nod and smile and move on.

There's so much drinking at the party which, of course, you can't partake in. It's not that you aren't having fun and meeting interesting people, but...

Let's put it this way: you are extremely horny during those months after the morning all-day sickness subsides, and Ari is not drinking in solidarity with you. What the hell else are you gonna do but find a random small room to pull your panties down just far enough for him to sink into you from behind? Is he supposed to stop himself from using one hand to support your faint baby bump? Is he gonna not use the other to furiously work your clit? Is he supposed to deny you two orgasms while he gets to watch you pinch at your bigger breasts from over your shoulder?

He's not a monster, so, yeah, he does all those things. He hasn't gotten the chance to figure out how to propose for real, but it works as a really intense turn-on for you, apparently, to hear him praise you as 'Mrs. Levinson' even just once when he whispers for you to be quiet. He does not actually care if you stay quiet, for the record. He kinda just wants the excuse to say it. If he's not mistaken, that made you come pretty fucking hard. Noted.

All in all, he is very courteous of the space, makes sure none of his cum drips out of you before replacing your panties, wipes himself with his handkerchief then pockets it so there's no trash (or evidence), and other than your hands braced on the wall at some point, nothing was touched. Also, Ari thought it was maybe the hottest sex of his life.

He is not, however, going to tell anyone that.

+1.

Out of necessity, you two don't spend much money on your wedding. It's a small (we are talking intimately small) Jewish ceremony followed by a huge backyard party with friends. It seemed more important to purchase Ari his coveted grill instead of investing too much in the pomp of a wedding. (Additionally, you couldn't really spend on even a small wedding until after getting a car fit to transport a baby, so Ari sold his beloved truck--to José, thank goodness--and you bought a bigger vehicle with a backseat. You are reluctantly driving now, but it's mainly in case of emergencies. The ultimate plan is for Ari to buy the truck back from José since his friend is also saving for a nicer car himself. It's all very tidy.)

The grill though! Ari's ecstatic. Now he can cook all sorts of stuff for you and little Rachel, your daughter, named after Ari's mother. Rachel, of course, can't eat anything from the grill yet, but that just gives Ari time to master his skills.

If the ceremony had been bigger, you two would have had the yichud--a bit of time together alone before leaving with your guests--but Rachel wakes up from a completely dead sleep in José's arms to demand attention...and you've got to get home to start cooking.

So it turns out that Ari doesn't have any chance to really converse much with you until Rachel is busy being passed around the guests outside and the food is all served. Dimitri is entertaining everyone by leading in lawn games. Ari takes his moment to steal you away to the bedroom.

He's not emotional he's extremely emotional, but he makes sure the first time he ever calls you Mrs. Levinson for real is while tenderly making love on your wedding day.

Well, the first time on your wedding day because there are a few more times after your guests leave and Rachel is put to bed. Just saying.

Ya know, I have never written any 3+1 or 5+1 fics... Huh. Didn't realize that until now.

Still have zero chill and posted anyway. So sue me, I like reading people's reactions as soon as possible...

Hope you enjoyed this bit of spice, and thank you for reading!

[blackknight-100]

AU: Abhimanyu does not die: Fic II (kind of happy-ending?)

I'm not very sure what is happening here, so if the text looks weird, please forgive the formatting. Part I here.

1. Karna taps insistently on the side of Duryodhana’s chariot as Arjuna's son and – Surya curse them all – his nephew, barges into the chakravyuha.

“What?” Duryodhana snaps. “The boy!” Karna hisses back, just as waspish. “We can capture the boy and bargain with the Pandavas.” Duryodhana turns to him and sneers. “And why should I bargain with my dearest cousins? My army is greater, my commanders wiser, and my victory undoubted. I will not grovel before them.” Karna takes one deep breath, then another. ‘Calm now,’ he tells himself, ‘speak not thoughtlessly.’ “You have far more chance of winning than they do,” he acknowledges, after he is certain he will not lash out. “But war is unpredictable. And they will go down fighting. They will kill at least several of your peoples – your brothers, teacher, uncle and their sons. Even Lakshmana. We can avoid that and win just by taking Abhimanyu captive.” Duryodhana blinks thoughtfully at the young warrior who has, by now, lost his chariot. Kumara is running towards him, whether it is to fight or to catch up with him no one knows. Karna sighs ruefully. “Lakshmana,” he calls, “come here, child.” Kumara breaks course and comes over to him. Surya knows, Karna loves this boy. Duryodhana stares intensely at them, then turns to Guru Drona and commands, “Take the boy captive.”

2. It takes them half a day, and eight tested warriors to take down Abhimanyu. Karna looks at the spitfire youth and feels something that is not quite pride, but close enough. Jayadrath has miraculously managed to keep the Pandava brothers at bay, but he has also forgotten to let Yudhisthir in – and he gets a long tongue-lashing from Guru Drona when he reappears. ‘Yudhisthir would have made a strategically better captive,’ Karna reflects, when he settles down to guard Abhimanyu for the first prahar of the night. ‘At the very least, he would be less troublesome.’ For Abhimanyu had not ceased his rebellion when they had come off the field. As soon as he realised that they were taking him captive, he started trying to kill himself – first with a small blade hidden on his person, next by strangling himself with the tent rope, and finally by trying to hold his breath. It is as difficult a task to keep him alive as it was to capture him. After their paltry meal of rationed flatbread and pickle, Duryodhana sends an emissary to the Pandava camp. They return half a prahar later, and report that the Pandavas are willing to bargain. “They weren’t going to,” the messenger says, “but the Lady Draupadi refused to see her son dead, and Dwarkadheesh said that further war would not be in their favour.” Duryodhana smiles grimly, vindicated.

3. The first day of negotiation dawns cloudy and dull. Karna – who has no intention of ever being in the same room as Kunti again – volunteers to look after their charge. Duryodhana does not protest, but gives him a sharp look that makes it abundantly clear that they are going to talk about it later. Karna sighs. Abhimanyu is not a bad captive as long as he is not trying to send himself to an early pyre. He does not taunt unless taunted, and usually listens to whatever is asked of him, provided it is sensible. Karna gets bored of poking at him before the hour runs out. He is almost glad when Duryodhana rushes in a prahar later, seething with rage, until he realises he is coming for him. His friend hauls him up and off his feet by his shoulder, slams him against the tent pole (which shudders dangerously) and wraps two hands around his throat before he can even open his mouth. “Wha-" he begins, but Duryodhana shakes him by the neck, hard, and he falls quiet again. “When were you going to tell me?” Duryodhana demands, face close to his own. “Were you going to tell me at all?” “Tell you what?” Karna asks, concerned. He is not particularly afraid of Duryodhana, even now, but it is unlike his friend to throttle him, and alarm bells start ringing in his head. “DO NOT ACT INNOCENT,” he roars, “you… you…” Duryodhana flounders, and Karna? Karna knows. He feels something startlingly like betrayal. “The Dowager Empress said she wouldn’t tell,” he whispers, and Duryodhana shakes him even harder. “She didn’t,” Duryodhana says bitterly. “She got Uncle Vidura to do it.” ‘Of course,’ he thinks with a sinking heart, ‘of course.’

+1. Duryodhana comes to visit him on the second day of his… captivity? He is in a huge room in the guest wing of the Hastinapur palace, and while no one has told him he could not leave, Karna thought it was rather obvious. Duryodhana stands at the threshold and stares at him. Karna stares back wearily, thinks about his wife and sons, and prays for them. “Do you know what happened?” Duryodhana asks, almost kindly, and Karna shakes his head. “We were discussing about their surrender,” he tells him, moving forward to take a seat on the couch. “I said they had to go back to the forest, or some other place, that I would provide residence as long as they swore oaths to cease stirring up trouble for me. Bheema said he would rather fulfill his oath of breaking my thigh, and Aunt Kunti said she was unwilling to see anyone but the rightful king on the throne. I told her I was the rightful king. Uncle Vidura told us that you were.” Karna stares at him after the speech, watches as he picks a thread on couch-cushion. “I’m not,” he says. “Emperor Pandu could not have known of my existence, and Adhirath baba adopted me in all ceremony. I am no Kuru.” “And is Aunt Kunti not your mother?” Karna doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says instead, “Radha maa is my mother.” Duryodhana shakes his head wryly. “You did not tell me. They said you knew before the war. You made me look like a fool, Karna.” Karna’s eyes burn – 'so stupid'. “I didn’t think I needed to. You didn’t care before. I wanted to see you on the throne, and no matter what you think, I wasn’t going to betray you. I don’t want to be king of anything beyond what you have already given me.” “I know,” Duryodhana says, softer. He gets up from the couch, walks over to where Karna sits on the bed. “I’m giving back Indraprastha to the Pandavas, with the condition that Vrishsena becomes king after Yudhisthir.” Karna gapes foolishly at him. “What?” Duryodhana laughs. “You think I will let my enemies rule the neighbouring kingdom for generations? Pfft. Vrish is in our team, and their nephew. Let them put him there.” “You…” Karna begins, but then words fail him. Duryodhana rolls his eyes and tugs on his hand. “Come cousin,” he teases, “let’s go and put some ice on the bruises on your neck, and then you can go tell your brothers what we discussed.” Karna gets up, and follows him outside.

[robyns-imagines]

3+1 of Ron being told I love you.

1.

Ron watched as his mom moved around the kitchen on one of her good days, almost a dance as she prepared some spaghetti for them to eat. Father was out on a trip to sell his fishing gear, so Ron and his mom got to not walk on eggshells for a good 4 days.

“Baby? You wanna come and help?” Mom asked the 11 year old Ron.

Ron nodded, a small smile on his face. He walked over and started to help her with watching the pasta to make sure it didn’t boil over while his mom watched the beef to make sure it browned nicely, occasionally stirring it.

“Mom? I love you.” Ron whispered. His mom didn’t hear, due to her hearing loss that came with her sickness. He’s been trying to learn sign language for her, but it’s slow going since he can’t use it in front of Willy.

She didn’t say it back, but that’s ok. He thinks she loves him.

2.

Ron watched as his father was buried, and felt a tear slip down his face. He doesn’t really know how his dad died, it being hidden behind so many layers of repression and guilt. Or that’s how his doctor described it.

He watched as his father was slowly covered with dirt, and whispered “I love you…” to the casket. Nothing returned his words, only the faint sound of the wind.

3.

Ron grinned as his date, Samantha walked into her house, him walking her to her door like how his mom drilled into him. He leans up and gently kisses her cheek after asking if it was ok. She smiled as he does so, a gentle giggle escaping her lips.

Ron grinned at her and bid her a goodnight, and a good luck with work the next morning. Samantha grinned and said “goodnight Ronnie. Have a good day at work tomorrow.” She soon walked inside, and Ron started to walk back to his car, grinning as he thought of Samantha.

However once he got inside the car, he realized something. He looked back towards the house and whispered “I love you.” To the house where he could see Samantha greeting a tired terry jr through the window.

+1

Ron watched as terry jr ran at him, looking to be filled with relief at seeing his step father freeing him from the purple robed assholes. Ron grinned and gently hugged his son, whispering into his dark curls that looked so much like his mothers, “I love you terry jr.”

With an exhalation of pure relief at finally being safe once more, Terry looked Ron dead in the eyes, and whispered “I love you too dad…”

———

My gift for the @dndads-winter-gift-exchange! My gift is for @flyingpotstickers! I hope you enjoy bro!

[alidravana]

Title: You Can Never Have Too Many

Author: Alidravana

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Ship: Rooster/Hangman

Length/Rating: <1.4K, Teen

Tags: Supportive Friends, Supportive Boyfriend, Getting to Know Each Other, Family Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Bradley's Hawaiian Shirts, Suggestive Themes

Summary:

The three times Bradley's Hawaiian shirts were defended and the one time they didn't need to be.

My entry for Day 4 of the @flufftober: Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies.  Thanks to the wonderful @sugaredmayhem for editing!

Hope you all enjoy my first fic in the TGM fandom!

Please enjoy reading (here on A03)!

[em-writes-stuff]

Flufftober + Whumptober day 5

prompts used: x+1 (five times keegan and nyks fought each other and one time they fought together) + pinned down

1147 words

warnings: hunting, cursing, killing an animal

characters: nyks fyre, keegan quinn, olivia hoppins, lake colby, vaughn nolastname

~

1.

Vaughn stands between Keegan and Nyks, hands held out to keep them from going at each other’s throats there and then. “If you guys are going to fight, you’re going to do it properly.” 

Liv grabs Lake’s arm and digs her nails into its skin. “Do you think he’s serious?” Lake nods and sits down, pulling Liv with him. “Right, of course he is. He’s Vaughn. Do you think they’ll be alright?” 

It nods again and picks at the grass in front of him. Liv stares at the pair anxiously as Vaughn leads them to starting positions. Her fingers tap on Lake’s leg rhythmically and she bites on her inner cheek. 

“Ok both of you,” Vaughn says loud enough for both of them to hear, “I want a fair fight. Nothing that’ll seriously injure the other and no biting. Understood?” 

Keegan stares at Nyks across the field. They raise their arms in unison and run at each other. In perfect harmony, they meet in the middle of the field and each defends themself with such precision it seemed they’d been sparing forever. 

Keegan’s arm flies at her face and she blocks it just before it lands, she raises her foot to kick his ribcage and he tucks out of the way. Blow after blow, they meet each other in the middle, neither one landing a hit. 

Until Keegan knocks Nyks to the ground. 

She stares at him from the dirt, still coughing from the impact of the fall. Keegan’s foot hovers just above her chest and he stares at them, daring her to get up. 

“Fucking try it,” She snarls. 

He presses the toe of his shoe to her and before he can react, she’s grabbed his foot and twisted his leg. He loses his balance and falls to the ground next to her. 

She rolls over and straddles him, pinning his arms to his sides with their knees. She bends over him and almost touches their nose to his. “I win.” 

Vaughn pulls them off him and sets her down before offering his hand to Keegan. 

Keegan shakes the dirt out of his hair and points an accusing finger at Nyks, “That was a dirty move.” 

She shrugs and walks past him, hitting his shoulder with hers. “I didn’t hear Vaughn protesting.” 

2.

Liv shakes her head and exhales sharply, “I don’t know why you do that to him. It’s just making more trouble for you.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Nyks says. She pulls her newly-won cloak over their shoulders and smiles. “Then again, I never would have had a chance at even wearing this. And now it’s mine.” 

“Not so fast,” Keegan says from the doorway. “You cheated.” 

Nyks rolls her eyes and turns to him, “Do you really want to fight again? After I knocked you on your ass ten minutes ago?” 

“Nyks…” Liv warns quietly. “Maybe we just close the door for now?” 

“Yeah,” Keegan mocks. “Just close the door. Save yourself from any embarrassment.” 

Nyks scoffs and stands up. “You wish I would close this fucking door. Because that would give you an excuse to walk away. You’re a coward”

His nose wrinkles as her hand raises from their side. “Take that back.” 

Her finger jabs his chest and he falls back. “Make me.” 

“Ok!” Liv cheers, shooting up from the bed and pulling Nyks back into the room. “Keegan, it’s been great chatting, but we have a full day tomorrow, I’m sure you do too. Let’s just forget about this and…go to bed.” 

Keegan exhales loudly and nods, “Sure thing, Olivia. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Once he turns the corner, Liv closes the door and lets go of Nyks. “What the fuck?” 

They shrug and fall backward onto their bed, pulling a blanket up to her chin. Liv stares at them for a moment before rolling her eyes and sitting on her bed.

3.

Vaughn grumbles when Keegan and Nyks ignore another one of his subtle pushes to get them to work together. Instead of joining forces and hunting together to take twice as much meat home, they turned the hunting trip into a competition. 

Nyks carries enough rabbits to make a pair coats of and Keegan hauls a small doe behind him. Neither of them winning, since Nyks’ rabbits weigh nearly as much as Keegan’s deer; more if you ask them. 

“I’m beating you,” She taunts, swinging the rabbits over a tall tree branch and tying the end of the rope to a lower branch. “I lost the exact count, but there’s at least twenty rabbits here.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Keegan snaps. “Do you know how long it took to stalk this? To get in a position to shoot her? To actually track her down and tie her so I can haul her? There’s no way you’re winning.” 

“Be quiet you two,” Vaughn mutters. He slowly raises his hand to point at a sharp-toothed snaggle boar. “Or you’ll get us all killed.” 

+1.

“I’m gonna fucking kill it!” Keegan whispers to them, dropping the rope by his feet and wrapping his fingers around his hunting knife. 

Vaughn curses under his breath and pulls Nyks back, “You need to help him.” 

“Why can’t you?” She snaps. “I’ve done my fair share of saving his life.” 

“I need to stay back with the kill to make sure nothing takes it.” he presses a poison dart into her hand and pushes her forward. “Stick it in its nose and it’ll fall over in seconds.” 

She advances toward the boar and stops next to Keegan. 

“You need to distract it enough for me to jab this into its nose.” she says, opening her hand to show him the dart.

“What the fuck,” He says. “Making me do the dangerous part?” 

“I have to get close enough to get this small needle stuck in its nose. And you have the hard job?” The boar snorts, as if annoyed by their arguing. She nudges him forward and repositions the dart in her hand. “Let’s argue about this later.” 

Keegan charges at the boar, dagger raised high in the air with a roar. It barely nicks the boar’s thick skin, more effectively pissing it off than anything. He squeaks when the boar turns toward him and charges. Nyks kicks it in the back, almost stopping it for a second. 

The beast turns to face them and Keegan leaps onto it’s back, burying his dagger into the skin behind the boar’s head. 

“Now!” He shouts, twisting the blade in the boar’s flesh. 

Nyks rushes forward and sinks the dart into the boar’s nose. She holds onto it, waiting for the boar to fall over. When it does, she drags Keegan off of its back and pants against him. 

“You jumped on its back,” she says breathlessly. 

He shrugs and nods, “You stabbed the fucker in the nose.” 

[jamneuromain]

Thinking about this....

Probably how I imagine dear Stevie......

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

aaaaaaah, the 3+1!!!!!! baby Marion was the cutest, gosh. and badass physician Merlin, heck yeah!! fantastic fic!!!

(Referencing This Fic)

YAY!!! I'm so glad anon :D

I wasn't tooooo pleased with it at the end, but I went back and edited it this evening, just to correct mistakes and change the odd word, and I'm a lot happier now.

Next I'll be doing #32 from This List, so keep an eye out for sneak peeks!!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[where-the-tumbleweed-plays]

Tumbleweed needs everyone to know that I am his most cruel and heartless mother for decreasing the amount of food he gets due to him gaining a third again his body weight over the last year no that is not all fur Tumbleweed you are shaped like a pregnant sheep!

He has spent much of the day stomping from room to room while yelling his immense displeasure.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

David Tennant being a lifelong Doctor Who fan who was inspired by the show to act, becoming the Doctor and Ncuti Gatwa who watched David Tennant and was inspired to act, playing the Doctor opposite David’s Doctor is the most beautiful thing

[blackknight-100]

RAMAYAN AU: LAKSHMANA DIES

Or, a 3+1 fic in which each part is progressively longer than the last. Written for my beloved Govind dada, a belated Happy Birthday to you! <3

1.

Rama bent over Lakshmana and brushed away a stray strand of hair from his fair face. He dared not look at the sky. The young night was playing runaway. Beside him, King Sugriva sat still as a flame, barely daring to breathe. Rama felt a prick of shame at his impatient rudeness, but it flickered out almost immediately.

Sushena was swaying back and forth, twirling a blade of grass with nimble fingers, frowning at the ever-darkening night. A low gong sounded. Nal sniffled, and Neel looked at his twin, alarmed. Rama wrapped his calloused hands around his brother’s pale, cooling body and clung to it like he clung to his hopes. The last prahar of the night had begun.

2.

Dawn came with the news of Hanuman’s return. Rama could see the darker parts of the encampment without even squinting. The sky had started to brighten significantly by the time Hanuman dumped the huge mountain on the shore with a bang.  A cloud of sand blew up like a desert-storm. Waving a hand in front of his face, Sushena rushed up the rocky slope astonishingly fast for someone his age. Rama covered Lakshmana’s face with the edge of his saffron angavastra, trying to shield him from the dust.

Ten minutes later, the old healer found the Sanjeevani and Hanuman flew Sushena down. Nal rushed to bring the mortar and pestle, but the Vaidya was already crushing the leaves with his bare hands. Rama kissed Lakshmana’s forehead and mumbled, “Just a while longer, brother. Hold on.”

He held Lakshmana’s lips open as Sushena squeezed the sap out of the leaves, drop by drop, into his brother’s mouth. Then he sat back, stared for a few infinitesimal seconds, expectant and waiting. Nothing happened. Lakshmana lay unnaturally silent and still. The sun climbed higher in the sky. Rama let out a bone-chilling howl.

“My Lord,” Sushena began, then stopped. Rama fell over his brother’s body and wept. Heads bowed, the Vanara army looked on.

3.

It hurt everywhere. Rama did not know who had brought him into the tent. He did not know what happened to Sushena, or to the mighty mountain a mere hundred feet from his tent. He knew nothing but silence and sorrow. Where did they even take Lakshmana? Rama did not think he had it in him to light the pyre.

Oh! Cursed fate! That his little brother should never leave this forest! That Urmila, the poor, poor girl (was she a woman now?) should never see her husband! What would he tell Mother Sumitra, who had put his baby brother in his arms so many years ago and told Lakshmana to consider him as his father and mother? And Lakshmana! Had he not followed those words to the last, ever so wedded to duty and devotion? Could his all-encompassing, fervent nature even be measured by paltry words?

Rama knew he was on suicide watch. Angad was sitting at the flap, unmoving like a statue. He was trying to be quiet, but ever so often, he would sniffle, then muffle it with his hands. How had Rama missed how close the monkey prince was to his brother? What else had he missed in Lakshmana’s life? Would he have ever known how besotted he was with Urmila if Sita did not point it out? Had he missed other things too? Lakshmana always hid his own problems. Had Rama helped him with that?

The flap of the tent rustled. From the heavy footfalls, he knew it was Hanuman. He did not turn. It was silly to blame the one person who tried the hardest, but Rama was not being rational right now.

“My Lord, the army is ready.”

What army? What war without Lakshmana? Rama wanted to ask. But then Hanuman added, “Indrajit has come to gloat.”

The hollow, empty feeling in his chest swelled. His stomach churned his misery into something sour. A spark lit under his ribs, conflagrating into unbridled rage. Rama rolled over wordlessly, picked his bow, and marched out.

+1

It was in times like this that Rama desired his brother’s counsel. Lakshmana’s rage might not have been righteous, but it was forever just. Sita stood before him, worn and thin, pale face determined in the orange light of the flames, lips pressed to a hard line. The entirety of his army – or what was left – crowded around them, and Rama had never been so alone.

When she lifted her foot to step in the fire Sita tiled her head at him, and spoke with a voice colder than Himalayan winds, “Know this, banished Prince, had he been here, my son would never have allowed this.”

It is not necessarily true, but the weight of the words made Rama’s head bow lower.

Later, when they fly over the clouds towards Ayodhya, with Sita beside him yet Yojanas away, Rama finally realized that he would soon need to confront his family about Lakshmana. He might have as well said it aloud, for Sita lifted her blood-shot eyes for the first time since the disastrous Agniparikhsha and murmured, “He’s truly gone, isn’t he?”

It was strange to think of a life without Lakshmana leaping out from behind a tree and startling them, or proudly dragging a muddied deer to their beautiful, crooked hut, or trying his hardest to help Sita in her little gardens without stepping on some herb or the other. Sita had loved him like her own son, perhaps in ways she did not even love Rama.

“What will we tell them?” she wailed, clutching at the ends of her long hair.

Rama placed a tentative palm between Sita’s shoulder blades.

“Janaki,” he began, but his throat clogged up.

Sita pressed the edge of her saffron angavastra to her eyes and sobbed.

Later, Sumitra would faint and Urmila would stand by her lost and weeping, and Ayodhya would stone Kaikeyi for their lost Prince. Bharat would give up his life out of misplaced guilt, and Shatrughan of misplaced sorrow. Sita’s sisters would leave for the comforts of their father’s home. Rama, intemperate with the loss of his family, would banish Sita for the whispers of a drunken washerman.

Ages later, word would pass from father to daughter and mother to son, of how the Sun brought down the Solar Dynasty, and how the death of one man destroyed an empire as great as Ayodhya.

But all that was yet to be. For now, Rama and Sita leant against each other, tired and lost. The Pushpak Vimana flew onwards, unrelenting.

[yourangle-yuordevil]

Local goth cryptid goes through a tough breakup 😔