#I forgot how to use tags for Comedy

[mkextra]

It’s kind of nice knowing nobody I know is on here anymore. I like getting back to the void-yelling, indulgent, purgative experience of the internet more than having to be careful bc my family is relentless about following me on socmed.

The biggest changes in my life since 2018 when I last used tumblr are very few. My best friend was diagnosed with cancer, but he’s still alive and mostly well. I dropped out of grad school, which was definitely one of the better decisions I’ve made for my mental health. I got my first gray hairs after taking in my younger sibling (which was a year of pretty much constant heart-attack-level stress, but they’re doing so well now). I got diagnosed with autism, which has been a weird experience (but scrolling back through my tumblr… not entirely surprising). I got a job after being unemployed for a whole year (which sucked) after losing my job at the library bc my contract expired after I lost student status (which also sucked but slightly less than being unemployed). I do legal transcription now, which is actually pretty decent if you’re a hyperlexic cave creature who likes eavesdropping, being alone, and grammar (in that order).

I used to think I’d end up getting big on some website or another, but in all the time I’ve used the internet my biggest hits are usually random comments anyway. Now I’m more relieved than disappointed that I never had a big following bc WOW does that not work out for people. I don’t know why I’m writing all of this down, but I’ve been thinking lately about how I don’t take photos or videos consistently even though I spend way too much time on social media. I don’t journal, either, or even really write, which is why my poetry habit is pretty withered.

I’ll probably forget about this and post something similar in another four years thinking, “Oh, how novel. I’ll try something I haven’t tried before,” even though it’s the same thing I’ve done many, many times before. This is mostly due to extremely selective memory and difficulty forming habits, but also because maybe that’s just how the record of my life is grooved. Same scratch, different part of the album; same distortion, different background noise.

I think the preoccupation is that I want to connect with people so badly, but I also can’t stand the actual logistics of maintaining those connections. Making the connection in the first place is like… wow. And then the middle part goes on forever until it’s the last part, the end part, and that’s the one that’s always on my mind. How am I going to lose this person? Is it going to be painful? (It always is.) I don’t have any big point to make about that, which is also why it’s something that I return to over and over again. That’s just how it is (it sucks) and then it’s not.

Also, I think it’s pretty fucked up how I save all my actual ruminations for when I’m not being witnessed (if someone is witnessing this, no you’re not). I used to want to be a writer. Now, I just want to be like… 30% mostly content more than 0% of the time. I think that means I won’t have the life I imagined I would when I was 18, but even then I mostly imagined it ending abruptly, so maybe I’m on the right track after all.

Idfk. Do your best to turn as many ages as possible, imaginary audience of people. It isn’t awesome, but it’s also not unsurvivably awful most of the time. I need to actually do some work now. I love you all. Drive safe.

[oliveroctavius]

The Trouble With Harry namedropped <3

[march32nd]

undefined

HERE IS MINE AND RYLEE’S VIDEO I WAS TALKING ABOUT

[simp-ly-writes]

What Would You Do?

─────── · · A The Comment Section (spin-off / pt.4.5)

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: In this standalone part, everyone finds out how Spencer seems to know you better than you know yourself and the comments go wild over it. It's still recommended that you read the series for the full effect.

─ · · TAGS: standalone, gender-neutral pronouns, social media au, attempt at comedy, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: thank you so much to the wonderful @sserendiipiity for this idea and sorry it took so long to write this! All original images belong to their owners, my work is my own. Asks are open for Smosh!

─────── · ·

Being in front of such a small crew was refreshing besides the hundreds of workers you were starting to get used to for your up-and-coming movie entrance. Still to this day, you didn't know how you landed such a part with all of your acting history coming from youtube but nevertheless as Courtney called you all to take your positions; a newfound anxiety found its way into your mind. This episode was solemnly focused on you and how well your fellow cast members and friends knew you.

Soon the heat of a thousand LEDs made you start to sweat as you smiled at the camera and introduced this weeks episode, "Hey guys, welcome to what would (name) do. And here today I am with my friends Trevor, Amanda, and of course, Spencer. Yes, we have been reading your comments everyone-"

The crew in the background began to laugh as Spencer shook his head with a small smile, foot taping yours from underneath the table as you waited for everyone to finish. "-and Spencer and I will be going back to our regularly scheduled content together. But thats besides the point! I am going to be reading these question cards that I totally wrote and your goal is to guess my answer. So if I said, 'Who do you think if the last person I messaged?" You all would answer..."

Putting the cards down quickly and going for your phone, you rolled your eyes at yourself for seeing who, as always was at the top of your history. Head now in your hands- knowing how quickly the fans would clip this next moment. Courtney began to count down behind the camera, voice trying to hide her giggles as everyone knew the answer right away.

Picking yourself up and trying not to make eye contact with anyone at the table, Courtney didn't even get a chance to hit one as both Trevor and Amanda have already flipped over their boards, arrowheads pointing towards Spencer with large grins strapped across their faces.

"And why do you think its you Spencer" you ask, not even having to look to look as you stare into the camera with a straight face. "Because we are each others conscious?" Spencer answers matter-of-factly, the smile he sends you breaks your character as you announce one point each before moving on to the next question.

"Okay, If I could learn any skill and be super good at it, what would it be?" You take a second after reading the card, unsure of your own answer as you look around the room for any ideas. Peering down the table, everyone seems to be writing a lot as you tap your marker lid against the table. Courtney begins to count down once more as Trevor rapidly erases his answer and writes down a new one as you raise your brow curiously before marking down your own.

"Let's see these answers, because I am unsure myself."

Trevor goes first out of the line, "I had a few ideas but I think I remember talking to you about being a better driver... that or being a quicker reader."

"I completely forgot about that- I would agree, being able to read and remember scripts super quickly would be awesome. Let's see what everyone else wrote down though, Spencer?"

"Well I said that you want to learn everything about music. I know that you always have wanted for some groups to make one more album or for others to pick up their sound. But what if you could make your own music just how you want it to sound?"

"Fuuucckkk, thats so good!" you moan out, trying to imagine everything you could make before your eyes flash back open in horror. You clasp your hands over your mouth before throwing your head back laughing as Spencer shoves your shoulder, "Not in front of the cameras!" He points dramatically at every single one as you grip his shoulder trying to calm yourself as he two joins your laughter.

Amanda had erased her answer by the time you two caught your breaths as Courtney asked off-camera why. "This game is what you kids would say, rigged. Like what am I going to say thats topping thing one and thing two here? But I was going to say skateboarding," Amanda responds in a lighthearted tone.

"Skateboarding?" Trevor asks, eyebrow raised as you nod your head, curious to learn the answer. "I don't know! I just thought it would be something cool that you would like to be really skilled at."

"I mean... it would be pretty cool. I could be all Tony Hawk Skate Park all around the office," you voice, picturing a future video idea before giving points out to Spencer.

─────── · ·

The video continues as expected, your fellow cast mates mocking annoyance and play-fighting amongst one another as Spencer nails question after question, often answering better than the answers you come up with for yourself about yourself.

At some point, Amanda and Trevor had tackled Spencer to the ground, begging him for answers as he held his hands, glasses askew as you sat and watched from your chair, tears stringing down your face as you hunched over, your stomach hurting from laughing so much as Courtney yelled for break, you all taking your fourty minutes to grab drinks and snacks at the cart.

"You do know how crazy the comments are going to be underneath the video, "OMG I ALWAYS KNEW SPENCER AND (NAME) WERE MARRIED'" Amanda mocks in an obnoxious girly tone as you shake your head, knowing her words to be all true true as Spencer leans down and steals a bite from for sandwich. You glare playfully at him as he turns around chewing, going to find Alex to ask how the other shoots are going back at Smosh Games.

"Well, its better than the hate. I thought I was actually going to get fired or killed if we didn't release that video soon enough," you respond a bit tensely as Trevor flicked your forehead. "Hey, none of that, (name). We all would've made sure it never came down to that."

Amanda nods in agreement as Spencer rejoins you both. He places his chin on your shoulder, asking you quietly, "How're you doing?"

"Better," you respond with a small smile, taking in his equally tired expression as you ask him the same question. He hums out positively before leading you both back in front of the camera.

As soon the red dot starts to flicker in your face once more and before you can finish the question, Amanda had already stood up, chair screeching against the floors as the table shook from her enthusiasm as she screamed out her answer. "Describe what you think I would wear tomorrow-"

"SOMETHING OF SPENCERS AND JEANS, where are my points?! Take THAT SPENCER!" Amanda dances for the camera, fingers flipping the man off as you hide behind the board, giving her the point as no one else bothers to answer.

─────── · ·

"And for our second to last question today..." you all were starting to grow loopy. After a full day of shoot after shoot, you all started screaming out random things at one another, sometimes without context and the outline of a gameshow had gradually turned into a shouting fest. "...Fuck, Marry, Kill-"

"SPENCER, SPENCER, SPENCER," Alex shouted from off-camera, chest raised proud of his throw-back answer to an earlier episode as Amanda wheezed out, Trevor throwing his board for the bit, "that was going to be my answer too!"

Spencer's ears had flared bright red as he started off into the distance. You hide your face in your hands once more, shoulders rising and falling with silent laughs before managing to read the rest of the actual question left.

─────── · ·

By the end of the shoot, Spencer had one as he raised your hands together cheering before taking a bow to the crew and then the camera. "Well, to no one's surprise, Spencer won todays episode but I have to say, you all surprised me with your answers. It feels so good to know I have all of you as my friends. And to all of those watching at home, be sure to check back in the next few days to find the new content we have cooking up. Bye!" You all wave towards the camera's before the screen shuts of to black.

─────── · ·

A few weeks later...

🔔 Smosh Pit just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

What Would (name) Do?

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 132k | Dislike | ... 8.29M subscribers 430k views 1 day ago you'll never guess who wins this episode! click to read more

3,333 Comments

username01 1 day ago The team was COOKING on this video. username11 1 day ago Well, this is one way to shut us all up and goddam it I'll take it all! username44 1 day ago Anyone else had to pause this video multiple times to look at the camera in their room and scream BC this was TOO much for little ol'me to handle. username13 12 hours ago "You'll never guess who wins," - yeah right. ▼ 50 replies ↳ username88 4 hours ago IKR? The bigger shock would have been if Spencer was banned from participating hahaha. ↳ username20 12 hours ago Kinda feel like he should've been. I mean the cast was taking it great but it must get kinda annoying how he knows every answer. Some even seemed like (name) didn't even know themselves! ↳ username54 30 minutes ago This is concrete evidence to the (yourshipname) case, these two idiots belong together. username73 12 hours ago I am salivating over all of the edits I know will come from this video. Where is @ (yourshipname)updates when you need them? ▼ 1 reply ↳ (yourshipname)updates ✓ 10 hours ago I am here and am happily overworked! We are eating good folks! username52 30 minutes ago Trevor and Amanda pinning Spencer to the ground with (name) cry-laughing in the background was not a meme format I thought I needed. I can't wait for the next Who Meme'd It!! username14 1 day ago "Spencer, Spencer, Spencer" - Alex Tran 2024 username02 just now I honestly thought they would all be quicker to name Spencer as (name)'s lest message. Like whenever they are not actively filming I swear I see them smiling at their phones in the background of videos. username05 23 hours ago (name) and Spencer: try not to fall in love. difficulty? impossible. username66 15 minutes ago Amanda calling the game "rigged" was so good. BC let's all be real here, this was fan service at its finest and i'm not even upset about it. username70 1 day ago The fact that they kept (name)'s: "Fuuucckkk, thats so good!" in is shocking to say the least. These edits about to be straight WILD. username23 14 hours ago There's literally to much to comment about, I am going insane. username80 1 hour ago "SOMETHING OF SPENCERS AND JEANS, where are my points?! Take THAT SPENCER!" Amanda has confirmed what we all believe people, let us all thank her in the comments below \/ ▼ 44 replies ↳ username54 30 minutes ago Yes, thank you dear Amanda!! ↳ username90 30 minutes ago I love confirmation bias. ↳ username54 just now I love how Spencer wasn't even mad. Like bro was damn smug about that fact while (name) was blushing so hard thinking none of us would ever catch on XD

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: I am kinda obsessing over (name) and Spencer...

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios

[meitantei-shitpost]

Hiya!!! I am extremely extremely obsessed with your comedy au (if it’s okay, could I do a drawing for it…? credit and tagged for u of course!) anyways! I was wondering if you had anything in mind for how the police are gonna react?

Omgggg thank you!! ☺️ I’m so glad you like all the silly shenanigans!! And you can do whatever you want with this au, I encourage it! :D

Also, the police first saw Shinichi after he shrunk at a crime scene like usual. He was so invested in the case he forgot to explain himself, but they’re so used to working with him they realized who he was easily. Other people were kinda just treating Shinichi like normal so they figured it’d be insensitive to ask directly. They all made up their own assumptions about what happened, assuming everyone else thought the same thing.

Thank you for the ask!!! I love making stupid situations 😭😭

[gravehags]

traduzione

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: dinner "date", a little bit of comedy turns into a whole lot of angst, girl these bitches don't know how to process OR express their feelings, secondo is a real one, terzo's subtle matchmaking hard at work as always

Words: 2,862

Summary: You finally decide to cash in your favor.

a/n: inspired by my quest to find a book for my capstone and only being able to locate a copy in italian. copia, my heroic translator.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Hey Copia, I–oh!”

You realize a moment too late that you’ve barged into Cardinal Copia’s office without knocking in your eagerness to get to the man in question. Papa Secondo is standing with his arms crossed in his green and black robes (no mitre in sight) looking at you with his brows pulled together in a frown. Copia, looking like a startled version of one of his own rats, stands up hastily.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeak, backing out of the room but Secondo is already moving towards you. Every time you see him in full regalia with his paints you have a hard time equating it to the man who casually made you the best bolognese of your life. When he descends upon you, you feel so small. Out of all the papas, he is easily the most intimidating. You look up into the signature Emeritus gaze and after a beat, his withering expression fades and he gives you a slow, very deliberate wink.

“Cardinale, I will discuss our matter with you later. Piccolina…” he intones ominously before snagging your hand and raising to his lips in a brief kiss, “arrivederci.”

And with that Secondo Emeritus dramatically sweeps from the room, shutting the door behind him. Copia is standing stock-still behind his desk, looking vaguely horrified.

“Copia I am so sorry I forgot to knock, I’ve just been in my head all day and was so anxious to tell you–”

“Tell me what, cara?” He resumes his seat and gestures for you to take the one opposite him.

“Well…I suppose not really tell you. I…er…I would like to cash in my favor.”

The cardinal’s interest is immediately grabbed and he scoots forward in his seat to lean his elbows on the desk and intertwine his fingers. There’s color high on his freckled cheeks and he seems breathless when he finally speaks.

“What–” Copia clears his throat when the word comes out embarrassingly high pitched, “what do you have in mind?”

You take a deep breath. “Okay so. Imperator gave me permission to use Ministry funds to purchase a very rare, very important book for collections research, right?”

Copia nods, unsure of where this is going.

“The thing is…it’s entirely in Italian. And there are quite literally no available translations anywhere so I was wondering if you…could assist.”

The cardinal deflates a little and you’re slightly perplexed.

“Are you…are you sure that’s what you want to use your favor on?”

Oh, you know exactly what you’d really like to use your favor on. Something involving those plump painted lips and gloved hands spreading you open and—

Anyway.

“Yeah well I figured it’s going to be quite an undertaking having you read me this book while I transcribe notes. Not something I’d bother you with under any other circumstances. And if you don’t want to do it that’s fine, I can always ask one of the Italian speaking siblings or–”

“Naturalmente, I’ll do it,” he says quickly, completely banishing the idea of seeking outside help from your mind, “eh…when would you like to begin?”

“Oh the book won’t be here for a couple of weeks still but maybe we could use our Friday game night? You can just read to me until you’re tired of it or we’re both tired of it.”

Copia nods slowly, and you still sense a level of disappointment from him. Odd.

“I’ll um,” you say, fidgeting with a pen on his desk, “I’ll cook for you.”

Your attempt to sweeten the deal earns a snort of laughter from Copia, which causes you to pout.

“What? I can cook!”

“You burned the bruschetta for the dinner we had with the Papas.”

Your cheeks light up as you frown deeply at him.

“Okay, now that you’re such a doubting Thomas about it,” you smirk, leaning back in your chair, “I’ll make you anything you say. Name it.”

Copia looks almost impressed as he considers your offer.

“Eh…alright. Cacio e pepe.”

You smack your palms flat against the worktop of his desk. “Done. Just you wait, you’ll show up and I’ll have dinner, maybe a little chianti…”

“Sounds awfully romantic, cara. Do you perhaps have other intentions?”

His eyes are glittering mischievously, clearly teasing you, but your cheeks heat up all the same. Okay, so maybe you did have other intentions. Yes, you need him to translate this book for you but also…it sounds nice. Just the two of you, sitting on your couch eating pasta and reading about the creation of infernal art in Baroque Rome. When you realize his mismatched gaze has been staring at you for several moments, you laugh nervously.

“Copia, I promise I don’t have any designs on your…uh…virtue.”

He chuckles at this, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach.

“Cara, I would be a poor Satanic cardinal indeed if I had any virtue left.”

“I don’t know, you’ve been awfully patient with me during this conversation. And you’re so diligent about your work. And incredibly kind. I think you’re still redeemable.”

When he scoffs and waves his hand, cheeks red, you stand up and make for the door.

“I’ll keep you posted about when the book arrives okay?”

“Sì, sì,” he says, straightening in his chair and shuffling paperwork.

“Looking forward to our date,” you say with a smirk, making sure to catch a glimpse of his eyes going wide and face going red as you flounce out the door.

–

Eleven days pass when you delicately unwrap the book from its secure packaging in your office. Holding it in hand, you use your dark red fingernail to trace the embossed title. After a moment, you set it down and pick up your phone to text Copia.

Book’s here. Tomorrow night? 6:00?

Looking forward to it, mia cara.

C

The endearment still makes you warm and fuzzy inside and you take a moment to revel in the feeling before the weight of reality comes crashing down on you.

You have no fucking clue how to make cacio e pepe.

–

Catching Secondo away from his brothers or outside of Ministry duties is a difficult beast. You have one chance to time it right and snag him in his office before his confession duties start and he is waylaid by siblings wishing to share their sins and desires with him. Lurking around the corner, you watch as another cardinal you are unfamiliar with leaves Secondo’s office and once he is out of sight, you bolt for the door. It hasn’t even fully closed yet when you’re knocking rapidly on it, waiting in the threshold. Secondo whirls around behind his desk and when his eyes land on you, he smirks.

“You’ve learned to knock before entering rooms now, I see,” he says, placing his hands on his desk and leaning forward.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry about that. Great to see you and all but I have a big favor to ask of you. Huge.”

Secondo leans back and his face relaxes into a neutral expression.

“Don’t you usually ask il tuo cardinale for favors?”

Your Italian is shit but you pick that up loud and clear. Your cardinal.

“Haha yeah see the favor is sort of about him, you know?” 

When he gestures for you to continue your tale of woe the words spill out of your mouth at an alarming rate, “I promised him I would make him dinner and I can’t cook for shit and he requested cacio e pepe and I was wondering if you could teach me?”

He looks both stunned and impressed by the speed at which you relay your request, but after a moment his face schools into a soft smile.

“Piccolina,” he begins, walking over to you, “I’ll do you one better, I’ll make it for you. Our little secret, no? When is this engagement with the cardinal?”

You want to cry, you're so relieved and thankful and without thinking, you throw your arms around him, squeezing tight. He stumbles backwards a little from the force with which you have flung yourself at him, but he pats you on the back all the same.

“Secondo, I could kiss you right now,” you sigh into his vestments before pulling back. He’s looking at you with a peculiar little knowing half smile.

“Normally I would take you up on that offer but,” he pauses, bringing his hands together, “I am not who you are destined for, sì?”

You start to ask what exactly he means by that little cryptic comment when he’s ushering you out the door and into the hall.

“It’s at six, tomorrow night. Secondo thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re a reputation saver.” 

He steps out too and begins to walk into the direction of the chapel while you blow an abundance of air kisses at him, which he catches with the most stoic of faces.

—

As promised, Secondo delivers the still-hot pasta at 5:45, just in time for you to put the pot on the stove to make it look legitimate. You texted Copia earlier, telling him to dress casual. You’ve put on one of your nicer pairs of black leggings and a cut up shirt from the Ghost project, which you’ve recently acquired from Terzo. The book is resting on your hastily tidied coffee table, along with your laptop. You’ve got the chianti, as promised - a good bottle too - another gift from Terzo. Nervously you uncork the bottle and set it on the counter to let it breathe while you wait for his arrival. When his knocks sound on your door you nearly jump out of your skin before padding over to open it. You fling it open and there he is, il tuo cardinale, and you can’t help but smile at his outfit. You’ve never in all your months at the abbey seen him dress casual, and his version is perfectly delightful. He’s wearing a matching loose red tracksuit with a black t-shirt on underneath, gloves still on his hands and his pristine black dress shoes on his feet. You’re so incredibly charmed by his appearance you forget to move aside to let him in until he makes a nervous noise and gestures into your quarters.

“Hi! Sorry! Please come in!”

You pull away to go “check” on the pasta as he shuffles into your space and closes the door behind him.

“Smells good,” he comments as he moves towards your small kitchen space.

“Doesn’t it?” you preen, pouring a generous amount of wine into his glass before handing it off to him. He swirls it around and leans his perfect pointed nose into the glass to inhale, before pulling back looking impressed.

“Terzo gave it to me,” you comment, pouring yourself a glass, “You like it?”

“Very good,” he says, looking at the bottle, “how kind of Papa Terzo to give you one of my favorites.”

You halt your pouring and look over to him. Once again you are struck by Terzo’s preternatural ability to steer you in Copia’s direction in one way or another. Honestly, it’s getting to the point where you should write him a thank you note every time it happens.

“Please, go take a seat, I’ll dish you up some pasta,” you say, ushering him over to the small living room while he takes both glasses in his hands. Taking two plates from a cabinet you make sure to scoop the pasta and twirl it artfully on the white porcelain. A little sprinkle of pecorino romano, as per Secondo’s instruction, et voila. Perfection. You dish out your portion and grab a couple forks and walk over to the couch, presenting his plate with a flourish.

“Cacio e pepe, as promised,” you murmur, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and sitting criss-cross. You don’t take a bite until Copia has, watching him slowly chew and contemplate the meal.

“Bellissima,” he finally says as he gathers another forkful, “I take back my unkind words about your cooking skills. Although, I do have to say there is something…familiar about this dish.”

You stop mid chew and look up at him silently with wide eyes before swallowing and laughing nervously.

“Old family recipe,” you comment, before hastily adding, “not my family recipe I mean, but…someone’s certainly. Right?”

You’re not lying to him, technically but you make sure to dodge eye contact with him throughout the rest of the meal. Some time later when the two of you finish and you gather your plates to put them in the sink, you miss Copia smiling to himself knowingly as he sips his wine. You return with the bottle, refilling both your glasses before situating yourself comfortably and pulling your laptop over.

“Ready?” you say, firing up your word processor.

He nods, and picks up the old book, handling it with great care before opening it and settling on the first page. Listening to him is…wonderful. He intersperses his English translation with bits of the original Italian, and the way his tongue wraps around the words and the extra flourish with which he rolls his r’s makes you sigh dreamily. At times, you get so caught up in simply listening to him speak that you forget to type out your notes and have to ask him to pause so you can recalibrate your brain to the task. The bottle of wine goes quickly, and the contents go straight to your head. You can feel your cheeks and chest flush and you know your filter is gone when you interrupt him to speak.

“I love listening to you talk,” you smile, leaning your head onto the back cushion of the couch.

Copia looks flabbergasted, face heating up to match yours and it takes all your willpower to not move your computer aside and climb into his lap. You can think of no one else who deserves to be kissed more than he. Always so patient with you, so kind. You know you’re looking at him funny because he nervously looks away as if he’s afraid of what could happen next.

“Eh…I think I should go,” he says, closing the book and rising from the couch as your smile slips. Now look at what you’ve done, you think bitterly, you’re scaring him off. The liquor is making your head spin and you want to cry at how stupid you’ve been. This is how it always is with the two of you, you always talk a big flirtatious game but when he comes down to it, neither of you will pull the trigger. Imagine how you would have looked trying to kiss him, the voice in your head laughs, your wine-stained lips clumsily searching for his. He’s a satanic Cardinal, get real. You have to dig your fingernails into the meat of your palm to keep yourself from crying as you stand up and follow him to the door.

“Thank you, cara,” he murmurs after you open it for him. “I am…I am very tired all of a sudden. The wine, you see. Very powerful stuff.”

You nod in agreement with a stiff smile, looking past him. He seems to pick up on your shift in mood, and gently takes your hands into his gloved ones.

“Dolcezza,” he begins, gazing at you earnestly, “ragazza meravigliosa. I…”

He falters, unsure of what to say or perhaps, how to say what he wants to tell you. Be brave, you think, be fucking brave and do something for once. Before he can stutter out anything more you place your hand softly on his cheek and hold it there for a moment, content to feel the warmth of his skin. He exhales deeply and shakily as you run your thumb over his freckled cheekbone. Before any other voices inside you can tell you to do otherwise, you lean in and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you have after all done this exact thing before in a drunken state, but this time feels…different. When you finally pull away, your breath ghosts over his lips and he lets out a miniscule noise. 

“For being you, Copia,” you say, “thank you. For everything, always.”

He looks as if he could burst into tears at any moment and you look away, allowing him time to gather himself. When he clears his throat and claps his hands together, you look back at him with a bright smile. The moment is gone and you both return to playing pretend about your true emotions.

“We can…uh…finish this later, sì? I hope what we’ve done so far helps.”

“It does, thank you Cardinal. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods, still wearing the mask he so carefully puts on in moments like this.

“Bene. Goodnight, cara. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Copia,” you say, heart sinking as you watch him walk down the corridor and you shut your door. Sighing, you lower yourself to the floor with your back against it, looking around the small apartment. 

Bravery does not come easily to either of you, it seems. 

But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

King Steve

Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.

Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.

Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin. 

Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.

He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.

He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place. 

And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.

Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.

"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.

"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.

"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.

Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.

"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.

"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."

He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.

They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.

"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.

"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.

"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.

"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."

They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.

Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."

Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.

"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.

"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.

"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."

"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Harrington-"

"Steve," Steve interrupts. 

"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."

"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.

"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty." 

Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous. 

Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.

Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut. 

"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.

"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.

"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England. 

"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."

"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."

"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"

"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."

"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."

"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."

"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"

"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."

Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new. 

"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.

"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."

Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.

Unless.

"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.

"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.

"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.

"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.

"All of it?"

"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.

"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?" 

And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.

"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.

"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."

She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely. 

"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.

"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"

"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."

"Ew," he says.

"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says. 

"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."

"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.

"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.

"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.

"I wish you'd come," he says.

"I don't even have a passport," she says.

"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."

"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.

"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.

"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.

A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.

That's a lot to swallow.

Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.

Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.

And now he's here.

King.

He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.

But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.

He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.

There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity. 

Actual royalty.

They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.

He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.

He was bored.

And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King. 

It all happened so fast.

He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.

"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."

"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."

"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.

"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.

"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows. 

It's overkill. But nice. 

"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.

"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."

A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.

Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.

"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."

That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.

"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.

"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.

Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight. 

When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.

"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.

"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.

"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.

"Royal protocol, sir."

"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.

"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it. 

He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.

"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.

"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.

"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."

Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.

"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone. 

And Steve's all alone.

These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.

He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.

"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes. 

"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt. 

"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"

And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.

"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.

He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use. 

"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.

"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."

"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.

Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."

"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.

"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.

Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him. 

"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him. 

Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.

That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.

"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.

"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.

But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.

And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.

After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.

"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit. 

Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.

"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."

Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"

Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?" 

Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."

"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile. 

"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.

They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes. 

"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.

Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.

After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."

Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food. 

"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick." 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages. 

He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie. 

"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer. 

Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert." 

Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.

"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.

"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No, sir," Eddie says.

"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.

"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.

Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."

"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.

"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers. 

"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."

"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.

Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.

"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight. 

"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.

"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."

Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.

So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.

And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.

Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.

He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown. 

Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on. 

Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.

Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while. 

He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip. 

"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile. 

"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.

"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.

"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."

Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.

Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"

And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.

Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs." 

If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.

"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.

"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles. 

"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins. 

And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.

Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started. 

When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.

Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?" 

And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.

"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.

Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.

"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.

Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart. 

He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.

He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.

This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.

That he understands, fully.

"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"

Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"

And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.

But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.

Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun. 

To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.

 

Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.

He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.

"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.

"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.

Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"

"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.

Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."

Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.

"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.

Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.

"I like to play music," Eddie finally says. 

"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"

"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."

"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."

"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.

"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."

Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.

They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect. 

Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.

"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.

"That's really not…"

"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.

"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.

Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.

"Anything is fine, si-"

"Steve," Steve corrects.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded. 

Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.

Eddie is just looking down at it. 

Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.

"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.

He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.

On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie. 

"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.

"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking. 

"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.

"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.

"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.

"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.

"And you knew the other guy?"

Eddie nods.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.

"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."

Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.

"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"

Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.

"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"

Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.

"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."

Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."

"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."

Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.

They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."

He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.

"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.

"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.

"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.

"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.

Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."

"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."

"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder. 

Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.

It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.

They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.

"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk. 

"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.

She's teasing, but it's true.

"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.

"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."

"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.

"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."

But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.

"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.

"The movies?" Eddie questions. 

"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.

 

That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.

"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.

"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."

Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.

They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight. 

But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.

Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.

"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."

Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.

No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.

He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.

"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.

She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.

He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.

He smiles, and hops up next to her.

"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.

"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.

That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."

"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.

He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."

"You better, dingus."

And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.

He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.

Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."

Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."

"We're best friends," Robin says.

"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."

"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."

"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.

Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.

Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.

"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.

As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"

Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."

Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her. 

Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?

"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.

"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."

"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it. 

He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.

"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.

Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet. 

"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.

"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.

But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.

"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods. 

"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.

"Yes, please," Steve says. 

That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.

"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.

"Sir?" Eddie questions.

"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.

Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.

He's not.

He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.

Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.

Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.

"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water. 

"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.

And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.

He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.

And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.

His happiness doesn't last long. 

The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.

"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.

"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.

"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.

"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.

Steve only wants to find Eddie.

Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him. 

"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.

"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."

"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.

"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."

"Sir, please," Eddie says.

"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."

"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."

"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.

"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.

Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.

"No. No way. No, no, no."

"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."

"You're serious?" Steve snaps.

"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.

"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams. 

"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."

"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.

"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."

Eddie does, reluctantly.

"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."

Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.

He feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"

But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.

Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope. 

Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.

It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.

And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.

After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together. 

"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.

"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.

"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.

"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.

"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.

"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."

Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.

"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.

Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility. 

Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature. 

And it's done, basically.

"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.

And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.

In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.

"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.

As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. 

He's a free man, once again. 

Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.

There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"

Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."

"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.

Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"

"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.

Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.

"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.

"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.

He's not the King, not anymore. 

But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.

Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.

Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.

I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.

Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.

Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.

House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

[karlachismylife]

Total eclipse of the heart

re-posting this since it was buried by that shadowban, so sorry if you've already seen this, i appreciate every one of you!!

Dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world.

Second part (NSFW) here - Worshipping the Sun

Everything about these four men was foreign and piqued curiosity: from their clothes and ammunition to the way they spoke and treated every task given as a unit. Believing they came from another world wasn't that hard given the unfortunate circumstances, what's news about some other dimension after you were literally carrying a "gift" that travelled through space in your head? If there were illithids, githyanki, devils and gods, was it really so unbelievable that somewhere else there was a world with buildings that could house hundreds of people and weapons able to kill that same amount of people in mere seconds? Yet somehow these four very mortal, very normal men were more of a mystery than whatever Gale was hiding under his robe or Shadowheart kept in her pocket.

It was mostly in how different their reality seemed to what everyone else in the party knew. No matter how well they were trained to adapt to anything and everything, coming to terms with magic, shapeshifters and pacts with devils was much harder for those who called themselves "task force 141" than it was for every other member of the party to get used to their unusual arsenal of (mostly useless now as it turned out) weapons or tales of "tanks" and "helicopters". They surely tried to hide it, but the wariness that showed in their stances when approaching the most mundane things like a little water creation scroll was noticeable even in the less readable Ghost, even moreso in the expressive Soap. He would curse, mouth agape, thick accent and wide open blue eyes, no matter if he saw a goblin horde charging their way or Halsin having a thoughtful conversation with a random squirrel. At the beginning Johnny even had a bruise on his tanned arm from earnestly pinching it every time he witnessed something out of the ordinary; Ghost kept chastasing him for putting on a full comedy yet not even once refused to pinch his sergeant when asked.

To be honest, Karlach thought it was very funny.

She was a whole bunch of unbelievable things put into one for him; from the devilish appearance to the god forsaken engine, and her quickly growing friendship - or comradery - with the task force and especially Johnny allowed for the longest conversations consisting mainly of questions about every single thing they found odd in each other. She would sit next to him, a safe distance to keep poor lad from cooking alive, smiling cheeks propped onto big red palms and tail curling and swishing as Soap told her about random Earth bullshit - grenades, football clubs, obscure scottish alt bands... and Karlach definitely tried her best to imagine all those wild things, even if her interpretation sometimes was slightly off.

"What's that?" Her claw pointed at his chest, making Soap glance down. Was she talking about his vest? He pushed his thumbs under the heavy weight and lifted it slightly off his shoulders, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "No, I meant this... is that an amulet? You better keep an eye on it, soldier, I heard Gale's getting hungry. What's it for?"

His dog tags. He almost forgot about the dangling pieces, two non-reflecting circles with an engraving that wouldn't make much sense to Karlach even if she could read it. With a chuckle, Soap pulled the chain off and wrapped it around his fist, showing off dark letters to the tiefling's marvelling gaze.

"Nae, lass, these aren't an amulet. Tis 'n identification tag. So that they'll ken what name tae put on a grave even if mah handsome mug is in ten different places." Karlach scooted even closer, narrowing her tiger eyes in an attempt to look properly. "Tis here mah name, mah blood type, mah service number... the whole lad in five lines. Quite concise, isnae it?"

Concise it was. Those little characters stamped into firm steel were unreadable to her, yet they were everything that would be left of Johnny for sure in this world. No one would remember him as a kid playing football, not a crying widow clutching her wedding band, no devastated mother with a family picture in a black frame, no bookshop keepers that used to scold him for sneaking a peek or two into the adult magazines at the age of fifteen. Even when the whole party would be gone, failed to preserve each other, turned into tentacle-faced mosters or buried in a desolated place, there would be someone to remember, someone to mourn.

Yet everything Johnny and his lads would have are these little steel discs that will never tell anyone how deep the northern sea in his eyes was, how invisible the formiddable mount of Ghost could get in any environment, how fast Gaz could solve a puzzle even in a temple of an unknown god in a land he didn't know even existed, how lush was Price's beard... a number, a name and a religion no one in Faerûn even heard of. Here, in a whole another world, these tags danglng over Soap's knuckles were nothing more than just a constant reminder of impending death. A part of his grave already hanging down from his neck.

"Not much use of it here then, is there?" Karlach couldn't keep the flooding thoughts inside. She looked up at Johnny's smiling - still smiling, like he was proud to show off how little would be left of him - face. "They didn't give us anything like this in Avernus. Probably just as useless anyway, no one's burying anyone there. No one cares."

"Take 'em." He said it with such ease. Reached out his hand and let go of the chain, allowing it to slip right into Karlach's catching grasp. The tags were still carrying that barely noticeable warmth of his palm, and Karlach squeezed them instinctively, savouring this surrogate touch with eyes shut and breath slightly wavering. "I'm in no rush to die, eh. "'N ye get to ken wha' it's like to be a part o' a team tha' cares."

Karlach opened her eyes and looked at the slowly heating up tags on her big palm. The initial devastating thought of wearing your own death around your neck slowly withered away, like a large piece of ash on the wind. Being a part of the team, knowing there were other soldiers to have your back... that was a thought she could get behind.

"Doesn't feel right, mate. They're yours, your name and everything..." Before she could even give them back, Soap stood up, grabbing his gun like a kid dragging a toy by its little plush paw.

"Och, tis right if ah give them to ye. C'mon, just wear them until we make ye yer own." Johnny checked one of the straps on his thigh and then suddenly winked at Karlach. "Besides, maybe ah just wanntae see ye sportin' mah name around tha' bonnie neck, soldier. Fur protection purposes, ye ken."

She blinked, feeling her cheeks - and engine for that matter - slightly heating up, and then quickly slid the chain over her head, careful not to catch it with horns. Hanging on her chest, the dark round plate in front of glowing sunshine of her engine looked like a solar eclipse.

"So it is an amulet after all," she muttered, touching now warm metal with clumsy fingers. Soap smirked, unable to hide his own blush. Despite a heavy tactical vest his chest seemed vulnerable and bare without the tags. Like anyone would be able reach a hand and rip his heart out as they did to Karlach.

Well, they would be able if his heart wasn't already snatched.

"Aye, bonnie. Fur ye it is."

[dr3amlab]

2. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 2045 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I'm not too proud of this chapter not gonna lie :(( I hope that it’s good enough, and any criticism is welcome as long as its not harsh lmaooo

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor​ @charlenasaxen​ @johnmurphys-sass​  @alittlebitofinsanitea​

couldn’t tag  @louieblue2 and @born2222die

II. VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY 

We all have memories we'll never forget. Those memories bear an impact on us, an impact so big that they are engraved in the back of our brains forever. For instance, you remember the first time you ate a chocolate frog, the first time you watched the snow fall from your bedroom’s window and you'll never forget your first encounter with Draco Malfoy. In opposition to the first memories, the latter was not a pleasant recollection.

It was on your first ever day at Hogwarts and you remember smiling from ear to ear as you entered the mesmerizing facility. The building was, and still is, magnificent beyond words could ever describe. You were taking it all in, staring at every object or construction you could as if they might disappear the moment you'd tear your eyes from them: the grand doors, the walls, the ceiling— oh, how the ceiling was beautiful; it was bewitched to seem as if it was a starry night. Even though you'd had the opportunity to stargaze thousands of times in your life, you were mesmerized because this was a sight you never had the chance to see. "It’s so pretty y/n!" your childhood friend, Athena, exclaimed equally as impressed as you. "I know right!" you beamed as you continued to watch the false stars twinkle, "it’s impre—" Before you were able to end your sentence, you had collided with another student, making you both fall on the ground. "Watch it you idiot." you stared up to meet a pair of grey eyes. "I’m sorry, I was just— " You were cut off."Staring at the ceiling? Is it the first time you ever saw a ceiling?"The boy spat with a condescending tone, making you scowl at his unnecessary spitefulness. He got up and readjusted his robes while bearing an angry expression on his face. Following his motions, you also stood up and started to dust off your clothes. "Merlin, I think you made me scratch my brand-new shoes." He scowled while staring at his shoes for a few seconds. Then he looked back at you, ready to reprimand you as if he was your teacher or your father. "Do you know how mu—"You cut him off, "Merlin, you are so shallow!" You frowned. "I didn’t do it on purpose, and I apologized," you emphasized on the last word. "So can we please put this behind us," you smiled, trying to suppress your anger. Noticing that he was about to open his mouth to fight back, Athena spoke quickly to stop the nonsense that was probably going to come out of his lips. "Come on y/n, let’s not get in trouble on our first day." She grabbed your arm making you turn around to face her "besides he’s overreacting," she said softly. "He’s an immature boy." You nodded at your best friend’s words: She’s right, you should not give a bad impression to the teachers before you even got sorted into your house. "Yeah you’re right, he’s just a little prick." You smiled smugly. "How dare you?!" the irritating person spoke again and to be honest, you almost forgot about his presence. You thought that he’d be gone by now to follow the rest of the first-year students to the dining hall but, to your dismay, he didn’t do you this favor. "Have you got no shame to say that I’m a prick right in front of my face?" He scoffed. "I can’t believe I have to deal with such peasants on my first day." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Peasants?" Just like that, a frown made back its way to your face. "Are you out of your mind for saying stuff like this?" He smirked, clearly satisfied that he got to you easily. "Why? Are you saying that you’re not a peasant?"you clenched your jaw."Because you sure do look like one!" You looked at him in disbelief before turning your head to the right to speak to Athena. "How can a twelve-year-old have this much arrogance in their body?" You then turned your head back to him and narrowed your eyes, "look," you spoke menacingly, "You should apologize for what you just said because you really don’t want to get on my bad side," you continued. "Get on your bad side?" He laughed, "please, do you even know who I am? Do you know who my father is?"He spoke as if you were supposed to shiver timbers at the mention of his father. "I don’t care who your father is." You crossed your arms, "as a matter of fact, you can tell your daddy," you took a step closer to him, "to shove whatever empty threat he thinks is going to scare me up his bum!"The blond boy became as red as a tomato and if steam could come out of his ears, you would have been able to see lots of it, like a chimney on a cold winter day."You fucking mud-blood,"he spoke through his teeth, "you just dug your own grave" you watched him intentively, waiting for his next words. "You’re not ready for what’s coming for you," he continued. "Mom, I’m scared!" You ducked your head and brought your crossed arms to your shoulders to pretend like you were shielding yourself from danger. You and athena laughed heartily at your actions while the blond boy was looking at the both of you with a discontent look on his face. After you had calmed down from laughing, you switched back to crossing your arms, but this time, you were staring at him challengingly. « Bring it on» you smirked. You were in for a hell of a ride. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ And so, you and Draco started to get back at each other to make each other’s life as bad as possible. There wasn’t a day during the school year when one of you wasn’t yelling profanities at the other. Hogwarts had not known a single peaceful day since the two of you first stepped foot in its castle. At first, the pranks were innocent, to say the least: They ranged from you stealing a school book to Draco hiding a tarantula in your bedsheets. Plus, the fact that you both were sorted in the same house made it easier to access each other’s dorms and thus made you even more creative with the pranks like replacing shampoo with green hair dye for example (Draco remembers this one all too well.) There was an unspoken rule between you and Draco: Each time a prank is pulled, the counterattack has to be crueler. There were clearly no limits to the extent to which you guys would go to make sure the other's day is ruined. Currently, you were hiding behind a wall that led to the hallway where Draco was located. You were prying on Draco and his clique who were currently having a boring conversation. You looked at the pink envelope you held in your hand knowing damn well that it was going to make their day a tad exciting. The thing is, you didn’t know how to give it to him without revealing your identity. You sighed out of frustration: You could’ve put it on his bed as you could access his dormitory easily or even put it on the table of the Slytherin common room but then, it’ll be too obvious that the letter was from you. Your mind was hurting from thinking of possible ways to give Draco the letter without potentially being framed as its writer. Suddenly, a boy that looked like he could be a first-year had the misfortune to cross your path. You smiled in victory as you waited for him to come closer to you so you could speak to him without being heard. "Hey, you!" you whispered as loud as you could to the first-year Hufflepuff that was coming your way. The young boy looked scared and pointed to himself, making sure that you actually wanted to catch his attention. "Yes, you!" He gulped not knowing what you could want from him. "Come quick, I’m not gonna bite you!" He walked towards you hurriedly. You handed him the pink envelope containing the love letter, "give this to Draco Malfoy" You pointed to the platinum-haired boy and his eyes widened at the sight of the boy, "to M-malfoy?" Of course, no first-year would ever want to be in a 100-meters radius of Draco unless they wanted to be humiliated in the worst way possible. "Just give it to him!" You said annoyed. You didn’t quite understand why the entire school was scared shitless of Malfoy, he’s just all bark and no bite. "Look, don’t worry," you reassured him, "if he says anything to you I’ll step in," you smiled. Though, you knew that he was not going to do anything because the letter will distract him. "Now go and don’t tell him who gave it to you," you warned "under any circumstances," you added, "and when you’re done come back to me," he gulped not looking too sure about running this errand for you but, then, he nodded before turning on his heels and walking towards Draco. "This is about to get interesting," you thought as you watched the boy’s figure walk towards Malfoy. Your breath itched when the first-year arrived next to Draco and you watched the scene unfold. "Well, well, well," Draco smirked, "what gave you the courage to come this close to me?' The boy looked stressed, fearing what will happen in the next few minutes. "S-someone asked me to give this to you," he presented to him the pink envelope with both of his hands while shutting his eyes closed scared of Draco’s next move "what’s this?" The blond boy said curiously while snatching the letter from the boy’s hands. He opened the letter hurriedly wanting to know what was in the envelope contained. Then, the moment you were waiting for the most came: He took out the piece of paper and started to read. You felt nervous, to say the least, and you hoped that your prank would work. You continued to watch Draco as his eyes were fixated on the words written before him. And then, to your pleasure, the ghost of a smile appeared on Malfoy's lips. "He smiled," you grinned. It was a small smile, almost unnoticeable, yes but he still smiled. Draco must’ve felt the grin that wanted to display on his lips badly and so, he bit his bottom lip to suppress it as much as he could. Malfoy cleared his throat, "You can go now," he said to the first year who nodded eagerly to be out of Draco’s sight as fast as he could. "Before, you go," Draco said making the Hufflepuff boy stop in his tracks, "who gave you this letter?" you could feel the first-year panic, "I-i’m afraid that I can’t tell you." Malfoy looked at him attentively before speaking up again, "Merlin, just go what are you still doing here!" This time, the younger boy ran away from Draco to meet you behind the wall you were hiding behind. You watched as the boy came back to meet you "Was I dreaming or did I see a smile on his lips?" You asked the boy, "I-I think I saw him smile too" you clasped your hands happily while looking at the ceiling, "thank you merlin," you said with a huge smile on your face. The boy looked at you curiously, "what was in the letter?" You tore your eyes from the ceiling to look back at him, "That is none of business," you said, "However, I have a feeling that you’ll be my partner in crime," you smiled. "So, what’s your name?" the boy spoke up, "My name is Sasha." You put a hand on his shoulder, « Sasha, I have a feeling that you and I will get along very well,» you said before turning around to leave the hallway. "Malfoy, you are so dumb," you chuckled as you skipped to your next class happily. Sasha looked very confused as he watched your strange demeanor. "What did I get myself into?" He said tiredly.

[shygirl4991]

Brewing Romance Chapter 5 Finding your Pride

A Collab Story with @lizaluvsthis

SMG3 and SMG4 design for the AU by Liz!

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Summary:SMG4 starts to struggle with his finances when he learns living in his newly built castle is more pricey than he thought. So when he gets an invite to the grand opening of SMG3 Coffee n Bombs he manages to land himself a second job as the cafe waiter where both men will learn that coffee won't be the only thing brewing in this cafe.

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, comedy, just two idiots in love, love confession, first kiss, angst

SMG3 gets back home from the dark web, he needs a better way to get items to make bombs. Yawning he takes the elevator to his bedroom, he changes into his pajamas before remembering he forgot to finish checking inventory “Ugh how the hell does four do anything with this little bit of sleep.”

Throwing his phone on the bed he takes the elevator back up, lazily slaps his hat on his head he attempts to take inventory fighting his strong need to sleep. That's when he heard pounding on the front door, he became confused on who the hell would be at his door this late at night.  He runs from the back from surprise to see who his guest is “SMG4?” He opens the door and gets tackled by a crying SMG4, the fog in his mind cleared as he holds the man close. He was concerned why the man was crying, he kicked the door close still holding the man close to him. He didn't notice the hat slipping from his head “Hey it’s okay what happened?” he awkwardly pats four’s back. After a few minutes standing there in each other's arms he felt the man relax at last, he stepped back sniffling “Sorry, I had a dream about…you know the god box and zero.” 

SMG3 sighs, he felt this was all his fault if he didnt rush the hat he wouldn't have triggered those memories.  He makes a mental note to take better care of himself as he takes the man’s hand, it feels as natural as breathing these days to do that. He pulls out a chair for him to sit before smirking at the man “Guess I'm making more coffee for us since it seems you can't stay away,” he teased. SMG4 giggled, that was music to Three's ears given how much of a mess the man was at the start “Can't help it if i have such a charming boss!”

SMG3 felt a smile grow on his face as he walked to the machine, that's when he felt the cold breeze go through his hair. His eyes go wide turning to grab his hat that slipped off his head, his lazily put together bun breaks free letting his hair loose. He stood there nervous at the reaction the other man would give “You..uh the er hair is long…you look haha so how about that latte?”

SMG3 blinks seeing the reaction “What? THAT'S YOUR REACTION?!” Four panics standing up from his seat “How am i supposed to react?! You have long hair that makes you look…ha uh like a…” his face goes beat red trying to find his words “knight? Yeah, like a charming prince, kind of like a coffee prince!?” 

Three squints at the man walking up to him, SMG4 could feel himself about to pass out from the heat his face was emitting.  He swears he is starting to see those strange anime sparkles he always sees happening in those romance anime that Boopkin watches, his eyes slowly drift to the side hoping he wouldn't drop dead. SMG3 crosses his arms and sighs “Sorry, I'm so used to you being an asshole I just assumed you learning that I let my hair grow…well you would have called me a girl or something stupid.” 

He walks to pick up his hair tie to put his hair back into a bun, Four watches him walk away confused by these strong emotions from seeing his hair loose. He sits back down watching Three slap his hat on and walk to make coffee, as he watches his mind start to drift. Daydreaming he pictures SMG3 with his hair loose visiting him at the castle, he grabs his hand smirking at him the light hitting him just right that his red eyes glowed “SMG4..i have been wanting to tell you something for a long time,” Four blushes leaning forward “What is it?” Three tightens his grip “I find your content super funny…i'm even subscribed to you and i always make sure that i'm the first to like it!” 

SMG4 giggles at his daydream making Three worried “That nightmare must have shaken something loose.”

Three finished making the coffee and gently placed the cup in front of him, SMG4 was still giggling to himself which was starting to really scare SMG3. He snaps his fingers in front of the man's face “Hello? OI IDIOT IS ANYONE HOME!?” Four jumps up and lets out an awkward cough “Er my bad was lost in thought about memes for some videos.” 

Three rolls his eyes “Are you serious? How you deal with your issues can be interesting, that's for sure. Now what's this about the god box?” Four frowns looking at his drink “Don't remember much of my dream but…the moment you got hurt plays on loop in my head right now…guess I still wish I did more to stop it.”  Three sips his coffee hoping it will give him enough power to be able to listen to Four, he can feel himself slowly nodding off. SMG4 leans back in the chair touching his left eye “Hey Three…if i was the one that got hurt, what would you have done?”

SMG3 stares at his empty cup thinking, back then all he wanted was the man to be dead. That was until he jumped in front of a sword to protect him, the man no matter how many years he has known him will always be an idiot protecting others before himself. He hums thinking “Not sure, things were so different back then. I mean Four think about it back then what would you do?” he lets out a chuckle “Not like you would give an eye up for me or anything, you did what you could when I got hurt and managed to save it.” 

Four frowns dropping his hand from his eye “Yeah..like i would do something that dumb…” 

Noticing the change in tone Three reaches out and pats Fours hand “It was a life changing event that had a bright side, i know it's easy to say let it go but don't let the guilt eat you alive. Trust me, the guilt about what happened at peach's castle likes to stab me too.”

SMG4 twitches remembering the keyboard, he gets up to stretch doing his best to not focus on the negatives. Thanks to those horrible events he gets to live in peace right now with Three and hand out coffee, he lets out a small chuckle realizing how domestic his living has gotten since he and Three got closer. He turns to ask another question to see Three has fallen asleep on the table, Four smiles softly as he gets closer to the sleeping man “You're so handsome like this…” he gently lifts up the man carrying him bridle style as he walks to the elevator. He hears a soft snore making him giggle, he blinks, staring at the sleeping man slowly realizing something “Three..maybe if you stayed this relaxed and not so cranky, i would find myself in trouble.” 

He goes down the elevator and tucks in SMG3 taking his hat off, then slowly lets his hair loose. He smiles softly and without a second thought kisses SMG3 on the head, blushing at what he did as he runs to the elevator to hurry home.

He slams the door to his room and throws himself onto his bed in a panic “AHHHH WHY DID I DO THAT?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!” He covers his face with a pillow trying to figure out what was going on with him. At least he knew for the rest of the night he won't be having nightmares given his mind is filled with SMG3.

It's the next day, nervously SMG4 gets dressed; he was still unsure what came over him last night. With a sigh he starts to walk outside staring at the cafe “Please don't let today be awkward.” he steps in the cafe to hear SMG3 yelling on the phone “THE HELL YOU MEAN PEOPLE ARE COMPLAINING WE AREN'T LGBTQ PLUS FRIENDLY!?” He slowly turns to see Karen letting out a sigh as she sips her coffee while Three paces back and forth on the phone

SMG3 sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose “Have you seen our waiter? He is more fruit than fruit loops and you're telling me that's not enough?”  Four glares at his boss putting his hands on his hips “See he is doing something super gay right now need picture proof?”

Three’s face drops as he hangs up the phone, he then growls and throws his phone to the wall smashing it. Karen puts her cup down to get a broom “Told you we should have done what starbucks did.” Three glares at her “We aren't starbucks plus being a king living in one is enough for me to not want to be a starbucks. We need something different, unique to us..” 

MG4 walks up to Three rubbing his back to help him relax, Karen walks out with the broom and gives four a look. She has seen the two interact before, it was always funny seeing the two act like some old sitcom couple fighting about the strangest things. At this moment she noticed something different, SMG4 was giving such a soft look to his boss, one she never noticed before. She lets out a soft chuckle shaking her head as she starts cleaning the mess. Three relaxes as he takes out sticky notes “Thanks..also i didn't mean to pass out on you last night wanted to apologize before the day started,” Four shakes his head “Hey from how out cold you were it seems like you pulled one from my books!” he giggles as SMG3 looks away blushing “ugh baka.”

He walks to the back thinking what he could do to save the cafe “Do something gay with what you already sell…” he looks around the room. Pride cookies felt too low, he wasn't even sure how he could turn coffee gay after all he is lucky he can make the amount he knows without breaking the machine. With that thought he makes a note to study latte art in his free time.

It was time to open the cafe, SMG4 was in charge of making the coffees to cover for Three. Sadly due to the drama over the cafe being not lgbtq friendly people didnt come in,  works for Four given he was worried about having to make coffee and deliver them. He hears the door open, he smiles and waves “Hey Melony welcome should i get your usual?” 

She gives him a sad smile “uh yeah! And can you do something for me also?”  she hands him a note, he takes it confused as he reads the front of the note ‘To SMG3’ he sighs. After everything with Zero and the god box, SMG3 distanced himself from most of the crew.  Melony was one that never gave up hope that one day Three would let go and become her friend again. “I will try Melony, I will drop it off while I get your coffee beans.”  He steps to the back room to see sticky notes balled up on the floor around the other man. 

He casually walks up to Three dropping the note then grabs the bag of coffee beans heading out as fast as he can. SMG3 picks up the note and starts to read it, annoyed he gets up and walks to the front of the cafe “MELONY!”  she stands up straight turning to give SMG3 a huge smile “SMG3! How have you been?”

SMG4, noticing the other crew members walking in, he decides to serve them to give Three and Melony space.  He hands her the note “I told you to leave me alone, all you have done is harass me over this so-called friendship we never had! All we did was draw stupid shit together, leave me alone!” Melony’s eyes start to water. “I know we were friends please i just…I'm sorry I never wanted you to get hurt.” with that she takes her coffee and leaves the cafe. 

“Your parents sure raised a good one, was it really fair to just yell at the kid like that?” Karen frowns watching Melony leave. 

SMG3 lets out a bitter laugh “If by parents you mean a stupid USB ship then yeah i sure had family show me the way…unlike him.” His eyes drift to Four laughing with Tari and Saiko. “SMG4 had everything better…school everyone loved him, he then became the best at youtube he even managed to find himself a family. I came from nothing, but I grew into someone and I'm getting better day by day.”

He was going to walk away but was surprised to be stopped by Karen gently grabbing his arm. “You lived your life alone…i'm sorry for that but if i learn anything raising my kids is being able to see lost children. Right now you're lost, you don't have to listen to me but just think, is pushing folks away because you fear loss really worth being alone again?” 

With that she lets him go and returns to her station looking done with everything, he looks down thinking over her words. He pushed everyone away but SMG4 given the man doesn't know when to quit, otherwise Karen wasn't wrong he has slowly been putting himself in the isolated box he was in at the start. He walks to the back room and takes out his journal gently touching it “If you cant express your emotions through words you draw…right melony?” ripping a page from his journal he starts to draw. 

Four waves goodbye to his friends, the day has been extremely slow due to lack of customers. He was getting worried over how Three will take it if can't figure out how to save the cafe, he decides to try to come up with ideas but no matter how hard he thought he only ended up drawing memes that made him laugh.  SMG3 walks out from the back room with a huge smile “I GOT IT!” 

SMG4 jumps up in excitement “You have an idea how to show our pride?” 

Three nods, throwing a pin at Four, he catches it and his eyes light up.  In his hand was a pin in the shape of a bomb with the bisexual flag colors on it “Whoa these look amazing Three!” the man chuckles “I know! The idea came to me when I was uh…working on something personal. The two I have are prototypes I'm going to take to my people to make more! We show those pain in the ass HR our pride and make money, these bad boys five dollars want extra cost extra!” 

Four runs up to three and hugs him “This is great!” Three blushes as he slowly slips out of the hug and takes the pin from Four. He never would have pictured drawing an apology to Melony would help him find his own pride, he stares at the pin and chuckles to himself he was coloring in the drawing when he notices the colors he tested looked like a pride flag and went off from there. Never would he imagine that even after all this time Melony still can inspire him, he puts the pins in the box ready to make these pins a reality. 

“Time to get these bad boys out before HR arrives tomorrow, later losers!” He leaves the cafe determined to save not only his cafe but his lost friendships. SMG4 watches the man leave and softly smiles to himself “To think I was worried today would be awkward…but we didn't even talk.” Why did that bother him? He sighs confused by these strange emotions, shaking off the strange need for SMG3 company he finishes his chores in the cafe not noticing Karen was studying his every move. 

[yukidragon]

I heard Jack has a family, I only know his parents' name (Rise & Shine) But i dont know his sister's name since I'm only new of this fandom, I dont know much their personality, how they looked like or his parents' backstories too or even what jack and his sister looked like or personality since they were kids. (since i heard Jambeebot taken down SDJ drawings in their twitter acc :'( )

But What if Jack's family met reader/alice or Jack introduced his parents to reader/alice?

What do you think Jack's family interactions towards alice/reader or what do they think towards to alice/reader

I would love to hear your thoughts or headcanons, also i love your SDJ Fanfics too <3

Thank you so much for saying so. It makes me happy to know that you love my stories. 💖

Welcome to the fandom! Happy to have you join us. 🎉

Jack’s extended family are part of the SunnyTime Town AU, also known as the STT AU. This isn’t to be confused with the universe for Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack, where Jack is just a character Joseph/[Redacted] played. In STT AU, Jack is a real person who happens to be a clown, living in SunnyTown, as opposed to CoudyTown. It's primarily a comedy AU based off a world filled with clowny characters. Here’s a couple of images Sauce/Jambeebot did for it, including ones that explain more details about it.

Oh, before I go into the images, I will emphasize that Jambeebot/Sauce’s art is not mine, and I really hope you support them on their official Sunny Day Jack twitter, Patreon, and/or kickstarter! They work super hard to create this content for all of us to enjoy, so I wanted to emphasize the credit to them since I’m showing their publicly released artwork.

Also, while I’m on the topic, please don’t repost the private patreon-exclusive art. I’ve seen some people reposting art from the patreon in the tags, and even if it’s cropped, that’s not okay. Doing that is not supporting Sauce/Jambeebot; that’s costing them money that could be spent helping them be financially secure and allow them to make the game without worrying about their livelihood.

Oh, and I almost forgot the obligatory tags for @channydraws and @earthgirlaesthetic. If you want to get tagged when I make the next headcanon post, just let me know!

Thanks for listening, now onto Sauce’s beautiful art and lovely STT AU.

And since you were interested in seeing Jack and his big sis Daisy Chain Jane as kids, as well as getting a look at what little we’ve seen of Rise and Shine’s backstories, I shall deliver.

I’m still working on Alice’s clownsona as it were for the STT AU. I do have her name sorted out though - Aurorabori Alice.

Yes, I feel quite proud of that pun.

Alice (and MC in general) would be the newcomer to SunnyTown who Jack feels an immediate attraction to. Jack is well liked by everybody, and is always friendly, but he’s especially drawn to Alice, wanting to befriend her and spend as much time with her as possible.

Also, despite this AU being very lighthearted and comedy based... yanderes still exist here too, and Jack inherited quite a lot of traits from his dad...

The intensity of these feelings for Alice(/MC) are new and... more than a little unnerving, even to Jack. He’s never felt this way before about anyone. He aches for her in a way that is so strong, he is rather frightened of himself, and too ashamed to tell anybody that he feels this way. He didn’t realize that something was missing from his life until he met Alice, and now that he knows just how warm sunshine can be, the thought of living without her feels dark and cold, even though he’s surrounded by friends and family who love him.

Despite these new frightening desires, Jack won’t force anything on Alice. How could he do that to someone he loves so deeply? It would snuff out her light and ruin her. No, all he can do is keep these feelings hidden and love her with all his heart. Hopefully, if he does everything right, she’ll eventually love him too. There’s no one else in the world who could love her more than he does. It’s impossible, not with feelings as strong as this...

As for Alice... she just thinks Jack is very friendly. Anytime she suspects that he might be flirting with her or that his feelings might be anything but platonic, her best friend Honey Bunny is quick to remind her that Jack is just a very friendly person, which is why everyone loves him, and he probably isn’t interested in getting a partner since he’s never had one before at his age.

Though Honey doesn’t realize Jack simply never felt anything for anyone the way Alice did.

Yes, this is the same Honey Bunny puppet that’s from Alice’s concept sheet. Like Buddy can change from a belt to a person, Honey can change from a puppet into a person.

There’s a theory that when Buddy changes into a human, Jack turns into a belt, though there are also pictures of the two of them human together (including a very spicy one). Still, if Honey and Buddy’s situations with their respective pals are similar, then it means Alice would have a puppet form she can transform into. I’d probably have to design it when I finally draw her STT AU self.

Honey has good intentions about steering Alice away from Jack’s affections. Alice moved to SunnyTown to get a fresh start after she had a rough time with a former suitor who may or may not be Ian’s clownsona. (Naturally, things won’t wind up as toxic for the breakup as they did in the SDJ universe.) Honey wants to protect her best friend from heartache, but might be a bit overprotective at times.

On the other side of the coin, you have Buddy serving to encourage Jack and give him, at times kind of off the wall advice, but he means well too. Naturally, this causes Buddy and Honey to come into conflict a lot, as Buddy is trying to be Jack’s wingman, and Honey is trying to be Jack’s cockblocker.

One solid image I have is of when Alice and Jack start getting closer despite Honey’s interference, Buddy (in human form) drags off Honey by her ears or tail (also in human form) to give them alone time.

Yes, Honey still has rabbit ears and a tail in her human form. How can I resist? Plus it’s not like Buddy doesn’t have unusual anatomy too...

Oh, speaking of that part of him, in this version of the STT AU with Alice, Honey and Buddy wind up going from antagonists to, ahem, quite a bit more. They fight, and it turns into spice. Jack and Alice are going to walk in on them and get quite a shock to see them making out.

Naturally, in a general MC version of the STT AU, there wouldn’t be a Honey Bunny, so it’d be up to the respective person writing their take on the AU to decide how the relationship with Jack goes and what obstacles there are.

Jack is very likely to introduce his family to Alice right away. Jane seems like the type of nosy big sister who would insist on meeting the girl who Jack can’t stop talking about. Mama Shine and Papa Rise would obviously be curious as well.

Rise would also suspect that Jack might be taking after him in a certain way and discreetly give his son tips on how to keep from scaring away his sunshine. After all, Rise would never allow anyone to take Shine away from him, and why would he force his son to suffer without that addicting sunlight in his life?

Shine is a sweet mama type, very energetic, loud, and talkative. She would be the first to greet Alice after Jack introduces the family, likely with a big friendly hug, and would gush about how her son always speaks so highly of Alice, much to Jack’s embarrassment when she starts giving examples.

Alice, in return, would be happy to meet her new friend’s family and very happy that they like her. She wouldn’t be nervous about meeting them since she wouldn’t realize that she’s meeting her future in-laws. She would see where Jack gets his friendly and kind personality from when meeting them.

Honey might insist on coming along to the instruction if possible. She’ll be seeing right through Jack’s intentions and want to make sure things stay strictly platonic, though she will be friendly and wind up liking the family more than she thought she would.

How the family would feel about a general MC really depends on the different MCs and their personalities. From the aspect of how they feel about someone Jack is obviously in love with, they’re happy for him that he found someone who makes him feel that way. As long as they’re a good person for someone as sweet as Jack, they’ll welcome them with open arms.

Opinions on Alice specifically are as follows...

Shine thinks Alice is a very sweet girl, and is very considerate of Jack, which is ideal in a partner for her son. Alice is not terribly talkative, but that’s not a problem at all. After all, her loving husband is nonverbal. What’s important is that Alice is kind to Jack and even at this early friendship stage, she can see the hints of budding romantic feelings towards Jack forming from Alice’s end too.

Rise has a general friendly reaction to Alice initially, then is quietly surprised and pleased to learn that she knows sign language and can hold an actual nonverbal conversation with him. That certainly wins her a few points in his book. The more he learns about her, the more he can see what Jack sees in her and he approves.

Yes, Alice knows ASL in the SDJ universe too. (As well as the other AUs with her.)

Jane is a bit more of a wild card when it comes to Alice. She both likes Alice right away, but also sees an opportunity to playfully tease such an easily flustered person, as well as her little brother. She’s friendly and ultimately ships Alice and Jack, but is going to give them both a hard time with it and mercilessly tease Jack at every opportunity.

Opinions from the family about Honey Bunny are generally positive as well, as it’s easy to recognize she’s just looking out for a friend. Shine would probably try to give her advice to take it easy sometimes though. Jane would find it hilarious that Jack is getting cockblocked and use it as teasing fuel. Rise would see Honey as a potential problem, but is keeping hands off from interfering, as it’s a minor issue and Jack needs to learn how to deal with people who would keep his sunshine away.

Buddy is nebulous in that he’s a close enough friend to Jack that he’s practically family, so I’ll give his opinions as well. He likes Alice right away. She’s friendly, nice, and she greets him along with Jack even when he’s a belt at the time, which a lot of people forget to do. He is totally on board with helping Jack win her over.

As for Honey Bunny... as far as Buddy is concerned, she’s obnoxious, annoying, but cute, and fun to tease. The latter feelings develop into a more, ahem, friendly type of teasing down the road.

In the STT AU, Alice would probably be the new arts and crafts teacher at Jack’s schoolhouse, which gives them plenty of time to interact, and plenty of time for Jack to give her lovestruck looks from afar as he watches her teach the kids and play with them.

Also, in a nod to the lore I went with for Sunshine in Hell, Alice would sometimes give puppet show presentations at the library with the help of her friend Honey Bunny. Cloudy-Belle Sue just might wind up being her cousin in fact, given Alice’s hair is kind of cloud-like and fluffy, which is similar to Sue’s hairstyle. In this situation, it would be Sue introducing Alice and Jack to help her cousin get used to the town and make friends.

Naturally, Sue and the rest of the SunnyTime Crew are going to help Jack get together with Alice. They’re his friends after all, and Alice is a sweet girl, though Sue will caution Jack to take it slow since she’s had her heart broken before.

For a general MC, the crew would no doubt ship Jack with his sunshine regardless since he’s so happy with them. Whether they’re related to any of the other crew members is up to the individual MC’s backstory, of course.

Oh, wow, this really ran away from me, didn’t it? That’s about all I have for now of the STT AU. If you want to hear about the AphroDesia crossover AU’s versions of the family and their opinions of/interactions with Alice, let me know, since things are a liiittle bit different in the mafia AU.

Thanks again for sending the ask. I hope you found my thoughts entertaining and that these images from Jambeebot helped you learn a bit more about the SunnyTime Town AU!

[amoebaforce]

How do you think some few characters (Hien, Yugiri, Gotsetsu, the twins maybe, or really whoever you think would have the most fun reaction I just want to know it isn't just me who thinks about this) would react to the WoL forgetting to take off or just not taking off the imperial armor after the quest where you get it in stormblood? Mayhaps due to comfort reasons or just being so used to changing armor often that the thought never crossed their mind that it was the Wrong Armor.

I swear this totally isn't exactly who you think this is and I'm totally not just wanting input from more people on this kinda thing (lying lmao)

ohh this definitely has comedy potential, anon... but also some angst potential, given all that uniform represents. here's some little blurbs for you <3

characters featured: Hien Rijin, Yugiri Mistwalker, Gosetsu Daiten tags: very light angst, this one is pretty spoiler free, gn!WoL

Hien stares for an improper amount of time, feeling his brow knit tighter with each passing moment. Is this a prank? Some kind of joke he's too out of touch to get? But as the seconds tick to minutes, the punchline never comes, and Hien clears his throat.

"Are you... going to change?" he asks, struggling to phrase the question eloquently. The WoL blinks at him.

"Change?" they repeat. Hien gestures to their breastplate. As their eyes follow suit, the Warrior blanches. "Oh, shit! Sorry, I wasn't even thinking-"

"No, no!" Hien blurts. "There is no rush, I just thought-"

They both pause, realizing they are each apologizing for imagined slights. Hien's pinched expression cracks first. A chuckle rumbles in his chest, and before he knows it, the two are laughing at themselves.

"Thanks for reminding me," the Warrior says sheepishly, already taking off their gauntlets.

Hien bobs his chin, feeling his posture slip just a tad looser. At least he wasn't the only one feeling a little clueless. "Of course."

***

Yugiri knows all too well the visceral discomfort of disguising oneself as an enemy -- so when she steps into the hallway after a long post-mission debrief to find the WoL still dressed in Imperial armor, the shinobi bristles.

"Why do you still wear it?" she demands.

Her tone leaves little room for speculation about what it is. The Warrior freezes, suddenly feeling as guilty as a child caught with their hand in the pantry, although they can't exactly explain why.

"I... forgot about it," they admit. Yugiri stiffens ever so slightly, and the WoL cringes. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm always changing armor," they add hurriedly. "After a while, it all starts to feel the same."

Yugiri's gaze slices up and down their body once more before she turns away, folding her arms.

"Perhaps. But it does not all look the same. You would be wise to remember that."

She disappears around the corner, quick and silent as a knife.

***

Gosetsu isn't the jumpy sort, but when a figure strides across the courtyard in that unmistakable metal plate, the old samurai finds his heart gripped in a swelling panic. His mind swims through a dozen questions at once. How can an Imperial soldier stalk these halls without kicking up a swarm of guards? Why aren't there any calls to arms ringing through the air? Are they under attack? Where is Hien? Then, just as his hand dips toward his sword, Gosetsu does a double take.

There are familiar weapons strapped to that soldier's back; there is a familiar set of eyes peaking out of their helmet. It is no enemy infiltrator, but the Warrior of Light themselves, still swathed in the armor they'd worn on their earlier mission. Gosetsu's skin prickles with relief.

"Ho there," he calls, willing his voice not to waver. The Warrior gives him a friendly wave, slowing to a stop.

"Hey, Gosetsu," they say cheerily. "What's up?"

The samurai cocks a brow. "I should ask you the very same! You might well give an old man a heart attack walking around like that."

The Warrior jolts as his words sink in, then scrambles to take off their helmet. An apology bubbles in their throat, but Gosetsu claps them on the shoulder before they can form it into coherent words. His laugh booms.

"Ah, but maybe it is good to keep old men on their toes, too!" he muses.

Then, Gosetsu turns and waltzes off, leaving the Warrior standing bewildered in the center of the courtyard.

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Bonus Sick Fic

Santiago Garcia x Javier Pena

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Summary: Part of If You Wanna Be Wild, Santi is sick and Javi comes over to take care of him, both realizing something is brewing.

Warnings and content: PTSD (flashbacks), internalized homophobia but like. Its mild. Flashbacks to that one scene in Glee with Blaine and Tina and the vapo rub lololol

A/N: I know it's been a min since the last chapter and I promise it's coming but I thought I'd giving a lil bonus chapter. Takes place before chapter 3.

A/N 2: for those who aren’t boomers like me, MASH is a show from the 70’s about med soldiers in Korea. It was a comedy but also dealt with super heavy themes and makes me cry

1.8 words

******************

When Javier Peña waltzed into work at 8:23 AM, he was surprised to find Garcia was not at his desk. Santiago was always on time, and usually early, often staying late to make sure his paperwork was just right. Javi had once returned after realizing he forgot his wallet before the weekend only to drag Santi out of the DEA’s office practically pouting at nearly midnight.

So needless to say, Santiago being gone on a Monday morning was certainly enough to make Javier concerned enough to walk back up to the secretary. Maybe he had finally gone out and enjoyed his life a little on the weekend. The kid needed it, he needed to let off some steam, and a guy that looks like him certainly wouldn’t have any trouble finding a nice girl. Well. Javi hoped she was nice. Santiago would get eaten alive.

“Hola Colleen, ¿Has visto Garcia?” He asked, leaning over her desk.

She did not look up at him. “There’s at least 6 Garcia’s in this building.”

Javi cocked his head to the side. “Which Garcia do you think I’m talking about?” A rhetorical question. “He’s late.”

“What’s it to you? You're late every day, your little lap dog probably got stuck rescuing a kitten from a tree or something.”

He would waste time on something like that.

“Colleen”

She rolled her eyes. “He called in sick, Javi, now mind your business.”

“Sick?” How did he possibly get sick, the kid had the best immune system he knew. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, ate all his veggie’s off his plate like his mommy was still watching. “How sick.”

“I didn’t press for details. He never uses sick days so if he wants to play hooky for once it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you Colleen.” Javi smacked the desk, not hard at all. “This was very helpful.”

Javi waited until noon to call. 

“Hola?”

“Garcia, where the hell are you?” He didn’t want to make it seem like he’d been asking about him, after all.

“Oh, hey Javi.” He sounded awful. “Lo siento, I thought they would have told you I was out sick.”

“Well, no one tells me shit around here, you know that.”

“Except for prostitutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m going on break, want me to swing by and get you anything? Some food, medicine, blankies.”

“Oh, actually, there’s some paper work in my top drawer-”

“I’m not bringing you work, Pope! Jesus, were you the kid who had friends bring him his homework when he was home sick from school?”

Santiago coughed and his poor throat sounded so horse. “Well, if I had friends and if I took days off, I suppose I would’ve.”

“Jesus, Garcia.”

“I’m JOKING! But yeah it was my sister. Mamí would have my head if I fell behind.”

That kid was never going to be free of his mother. “Other than work, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow? 8 O’clock?”

“I’ll see you when you walk in at 8:45”

“Shut the hell up.”

*

Javi was getting ready to leave work when he thought he might call Santi again to see if he needed anything on his way home. They didn’t live far, after all.

He called once, but the boy didn’t answer. He called again, no answer. When there wasn’t an answer a third time, Javier got concerned; he must be too sick to answer. Only stopping briefly at a corner store for some medicine, Javi rushed over to Santiago’s, banging on the door. “Garcia? Garcia!”

After a few minutes, Santi stumbled to open the door, looking groggy and messy and so unlike the boy he knew. Santiago shaved every morning, came to work crisp and put together. Right now, in a rumpled t shirt and shorts and a face that looked like he hadn’t shaved since Friday morning, Santi looked like an adorable disaster. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

What a guy. “Am I okay? Garcia I called you three times and you didn’t answer, you look like hell.”

“Oh.” Able to relax a bit, Santi’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eye as he coughed and looked at the bad in Javi’s hand. “What’s that?”

Javi glanced at the bag before returning his gaze back to the sick man. “I brought you some medicine. Thought you might need something.”

The smile Santi gave him made his heart leap. “Javi, I appreciate you worrying.”

“I wasn’t-”

“But I’ve had three of my tia’s stop by and baby me already.”

“Oh-”

Santi saw Javi’s slightly dejected look, and it made his heart swell just a bit to see that yeah, Javi was an asshole, but he was his asshole and Javi cared about him. Javi wanted to take care of him. “You know how to make soup?”

“I can try.”

“Good, because I’m starving.” Opening the door to let him in, Santi went back to his couch to watch M.A.S.H.

Javi set to work. “Jesus, Garcia, M.A.S.H? Didn’t you get enough of war?”

“They can’t show anything on TV worse than what I’ve actually seen.” He mumbled, cuddling up in a blanket again.

Javier often forgot that Santiago had a whole life before him, a whole life of seeing things Javi couldn’t protect him from. Occasionally, Santi would mention his friends from the Army, his special ops team he was a part of, but not much, and especially nothing with what happened or why he left. There was his best friend who was a pilot and a pair of brothers. The older brother had been honorably discharged recently with “post-vietnam syndrome” although they hadn’t really spent that much time in Vietnam, comparatively. Vietnam was just the thing that got people talking, finally. This only came up in concern for the young brother who without an older brother’s guidance was hard to reel in.

By the time the soup was done, Santi seemed asleep so Javi walked over to the couch quietly only to find Santi was awake, watching M.A.S.H with tears in his eyes. Javi looked to the TV and although he couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, the scene was somber. “Garcia?” He didn’t answer him. “Garcia, hey, Santi-” Javi touched his shoulder causing Santi to gasp out of his trance.

“Will?!” Santi jumped up, eyes wide with panic and hand going for his hip only to find no gun. No holder. No uniform…

“Hey, amigo, relaje, relaje… It’s okay.” He held up his hands to try and placate him. “It’s just me, you're safe, I’m not going to hurt you, Santi.”

When Santi realized it had happened again he quickly averted his eyes, subconsciously shifting away from his friend. “Fuck, sorry, I was… dreaming.”

Javi knew he wasn’t dreaming. He had been awake, clearly, but Javi didn’t question him. “Dreaming about how you got that scar on your neck?”

He knew him a little too well. That’s why Santi called out for Will, the voice he had heard before slipping into unconsciousness. Santi felt like he had been going crazy. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for Will; Santi could handle gunshots and cross fire and action. He could handle it well, he knew he was capable. It was other things, however, things like dead bodies or funerals that sent him into a haze. One funeral he went to when he looked in the casket he saw himself. He never told anyone and never went again. When he went to mass he prayed he would never have to go Frankie, Will, Benny, or Elena’s. He prayed he’d go first.

“No.” He took a few bites of soup, complimenting it.

Javi just nodded. “Alright.” Turning the TV to the Mary Tyler Moore show, Javi tried to change the subject to distract Santi. “Always thought she was hot.”

“Me too. Had a crush on her when she was on the Dick Van Dyke show.”

Javi chuckled. “Of course you did. Here.” He went and got the cough syrup and put it on a spoon. “Here.”

Like a child, Santi whined. “Asqueroso”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not Mary Poppins and I’m not giving you sugar to wash it down.”

“Fiiiiine.” Santi lifted is head enough that Javi could guid the spoon between his plush and waiting lips, eyes dropping in exhaustion and face flush with fever in a way that made Santi just look… fucked out.

No, fuck, shit, he’s not suppossed to be thinking those things about his partner, or men in general. Not that Javi had a problem with it, but he wasn’t gay. It was just his mind wandering, that’s all. 

“Javi?” Santi mumbled half asleep.

“Hm?”

“There’s some vicks vapor rub on the counter, can you grab it for me?”

“Yeah, no problem.” When Javi returned with the rub, Santi was out cold. “Garcia?” He felt his forehead, he was burning up. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Sighing, he opened the vapor rub. With care and precision, Javi rubbed a bit on his neck and a little on his chest, only dipping slightly under the collar so as to not put his hand anywhere untoward. It wasn’t sexual, Santi just needed help. Digging through his medicine cabinet, Javi also found some peppermint and lavender oils and remembered what his own mother used to do when he was sick. A tiny bit of lavender under the nose and some peppermint on Santi’s temples, Javi hopped at the very least he could have a good sleep.

He deserved it, honestly. The young man worked hard, he cared about what he did and the people of Colombia. He was smart, capable, and kind, traits that Javi remembered liking so much in Steve. He was easy to like. 

Settling into a chair nearby with some soup, Javier decided to stay for a little bit just in case Santi needed something or in case he got worse.

When Santi woke up a few hours later it had already gotten dark out and he had intended on moving to his bed. When he began to sit up, however, Santi saw Javier asleep on the chair. He must have stayed to keep an eye on him. Santi’s heart was full, overcome with emotion and affection for his partner in ways he can’t remember feeling since… well shit, Santi can’t remember feeling like this. He had friends he loved dearly, he loved his sister and his mother and all his extended family… but this felt… different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Standing up, Santi quietly used the bathroom and got another blanket from his room. Before laying down again, Santiago carefully laid the blanket over Javier, tucking him in.

“Buenas noches, amigo. Y gracias."

************

Hope this was enough to tide y'all over!

I was writing the vapo rub scene and it was gonna be a lil more intimate but then I got trauma flashbacks to Glee and ina singing and... I said hmmmmmmmm nope lol

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleur @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42

[sarah-kings]

For some reason, i'm thinking of a g/t hallmark movie

This is a quite interesting idea!

From what I have gathered Hallmark movies are movies from an American TV channel (please do correct me if I'm wrong, I didn't grow up with American TV) and they seem to publish romance, family and comedy movies and by the looks of it an abundance of Christmas movies.

I'm usually not one to seek out romance movies since I almost always predict the ending and ruin the fun for everyone around me but I could definitely see a romance movie working out greatly for G/t, seeing as the entire G/t community tends to write fluff and as there is a huge gap in G/t media such as movies.

I don't personally tend to write G/t mainly focused on romance - it's mostly focused on fantasy, sci-fi and horror, but if I had to create a movie it would most likely be something like this:

One time, as a bit of a joke, I've created this comic following a woman who is struggling to date someone in a world where G/t is something you can encounter on a daily basis, seeing as there are people of varying height and sizes. An aspect I constantly heard about dating was "I won't date someone who's below 6ft", so I thought "why not crank that up and apply it to rediculous G/t heights?"

Another comic followed not too long after, this one, in which Jane tries to go on another date, hoping to find a significant other who isn't lying about their height like Kyle from the first comic, only to end up with David- a giant himbo who gets everything mixed up terribly and accidentally did a writing error while writing his height down.

My idea for a G/t Hallmark movie would be to follow somebody like Jane with her struggles of dating in a G/t world, eventually dropping her ideals that her significant other must be around her height and learning to embrace David's big, goofy heart despite her serious demeanor.

G/t shenanigans could ensue, such as David trying to introduce Jane to his parents, the introduction going along the lines of:

David: mum, I want you to meet somebody. Her name's Jane, she's this amazing woman I've met and she's -

His mum: I hope she is a giant like us, David

David: *awkward pause* *gently pushes Jane back down into his chest pocket* hahaha, JUP, definitely! Hey, just one second, mum

*disappears into the bathroom*

Jane: you didn't TELL HER that I'm human sized?!

David: I'm sorry, I forgot!

Jane: How do you FORGET something like that?!

Complications could follow afterwards, David and Jane are on the edge of breaking up because of their family either not agreeing to them to be together or because the size difference is simply too much, both of them being convinced they are too small or too big to fit into the other's world, yet neither of them want to be apart.

Of course, as romantic movies always go it would most likely end with a happy ending for the two of them, showing the struggles they went through to achieve happiness and showing how they both are part of each other's world, despite the size difference.

Thank you very much for leaving this thought here, @seasonschange32, I very much enjoyed writing my thoughts on this down and hope you enjoyed my reply just as much.

I am by far not the most skilled writer when it comes to romance, I'm sure of that, so if anyone would like to take inspiration from this I'd love to see what you do with this, so please tag me if you do!

[landwriter]

WIP Title Ask Game

Tagged by the inimitable @xx-vergil-xx <3

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Listen, we've been here before, but for those who missed or repressed it, all my finished and unfinished fic lives in a single FocusWriter document named Untitled 1 that's about 277,000 words, with an index last updated sometime in late 2022 or early 2023, arranged in a loosely reverse chronological order, with exception for related WIPs and also the Seventies San Francisco AU, Lighthouses, which is between chapters 4 and 5 of Oaths. No, I don't know why I'm this way either.

But I am delighted!! for a chance to shamelessly use this as an excuse to tag people and catch up on what you beautiful souls are writing! (or not writing, as the case may be)

And my own, for asks please send asks:

WIPs I remained acutely aware of who lured me back:

Lighthouses

An Eternity of This

WIPs I absolutely forgot at mental daycare pickup but totally DO want to write and get out there now that I've seen them again:

Professional Fuckers

Skin - 05.14.23

Just Like Love followup that began its life innocently as 'Hob POV missing scenes', caught some more Corinthian scenes due to this very meme on Tumblr, and then like weeds in April exploded beyond all hope into an unhinged noir/dark comedy/tragedy play-it-all-the-way-out Corinthian/Hob/Dream cerberus-monster-of-a-sequel that would be longer than Oaths if I ever wrote it and annoyingly is probably my favourite thing on this list despite the fact I will almost certainly never have the time to actually write it, or maybe because of that :)

You’ve Got Mail AU

Come getcha hot fresh snippets!!!

Tagging with puppydog eyes: @moorishflower @softest-punk @teejaystumbles @wordsinhaled @that-banhus @chubsthehamster

[longeyelashedtragedy]

get to know me tag from @heffer-wen this is a good one!

tagging: @perfectpiety @echthr0s @colorsofmyseason @kvaradonaa @protect-daniel-james @thundercrack @arsenalgbt @steeple-sinderby-wanderers @lamperry4ever (this is all optional of course!!!)

1. Do you make your bed?

I only properly make my bed when I change my sheets, but I can't stand to have the bed looking janky when i come home, so I wrestle with my thicc blanket until it's decently even and neat on the bed, and if the pillows have gone wild I'll straighten them out a little. if any of my over 9000 stuffed animals are on the floor I'll pick them up of course.

2. Favourite number?

24! my birthday, and a nice solid good number, can fit lots of other numbers into it. 17 has been an Important number for my bff and me, and I have a religion based fondness for 18...but 24 it is.

3. What's your job?

my job is very cool and specific and I love it, but it's not one I would ever want to mix with my online persona for various reasons. in fact I've always worked in an "industry" that I think should never mix with my nsfw ways on here. always happy to talk about it in private!

4. If you could go back to school would you?

oh hale to the FUCK no. I hate school. I haven't liked school since I graduated high school. my brain can't be made to think like that and do so much work to other people's specifications--and then there's sitting in class and having to listen to other people talk, I couldn't give less of a shit if I tried! I'm a voracious self directed learner--I want to learn something new like, every second--but this doesn't translate well into a school setting.

unfortunately--a job I think would be really cool to have, I'd have to get a master's and certification, and while I think I'd be great at the job, I'd be right shit at the kind of work the degree requires you to do to pass. (I could easily do the job with good mentoring and maybe like...one course, but that's how so many things are.) Maybe if I marry rich I'd go back! Frank lampard step the fuck up!

5. Can you parallel park?

I could do it just to pass my driver's test and have done it like. twice since. I'm terrible 😭 I have visual-spatial-perceptual whatever deficits and just can't do it. I also have a spot missing from my peripheral vision on my left side so parking on that side is even more confusing. my sister however is great at those things and yet she also can barely parallel park, you should see the two of us try to do it together, it's a full on yakety sax comedy. the WORST is here in the city, people stop on the street and give you unsolicited advice while you park and this gives me so much anxiety that I can't even remember what to do.

6. Do you think aliens are real?

not really? I suppose there's sentient life somewhere but is it likely to be humanoid? I'm terrified of space (I'm one of those would rather go to the bottom of the ocean than outer space freaks) so I try not to think about it

7. Can you drive a manual car?

what to heck,,,,,,,,,,,,of course I can't 🇺🇸 shamed by having to pay more to rent an automatic when I've driven in Europe

8. Guilty pleasure?

disregarding my dietary restrictions? I also have the bad habit of reading what scents my hot favs wear and then buying cheap samples. today one arrived that I forgot I'd ordered so now my wrists smell like chanel allure. I'm indifferent? it smells like Ladies' Perfume

what else...idk, I'm not too guilty about my pleasures really

9. Tattoos?

none--I have a couple of ideas, but have never been tempted to actually do it?

10. Favourite colour?

black and pink!

11. Favourite type of music?

I like things that are loud and repetitive and insistent. sometimes screechy. I like listening to other languages. my favorite instrument is the bagpipes (how do I say that in a grammatically correct way ffs) if that helps! will always go for: good rap/hip hop, 80s thrash metal, eastern european/balkan folk music, techno (the darker and more berghainy the better), other weird electronica, the beatles, most things that came out of the 80s

12. Do you like puzzles?

the kind with pieces? those are fun, I just don't have any room to spread one out. other kinds, like logic and shit, absolutely not, my brain doesn't work like that at all

13. Any phobias?

insects, and the main one: food contamination, but not the kind you're thinking--I definitely am more anxious than the average person about the food I eat being contaminated, but what the phobia actually is is more like...places where food shouldn't be being contaminated by bits of food...It's very specific and I've always had it but it's getting worse as I get older. like, imagine if you go into a restaurant and there's a couple of crumbs on the chair, or like, a bit of dirt on the underside of the waiter's tray. you'll just brush them off, right? or like, just not care about the bottom of a tray? I feel sick to my stomach and my heart is racing a bit just imagining this. what a privilege!

I'm also fucking terrified of being alone in elevators, but I'm not sure if that counts as a phobia? (I'm afraid of getting stuck in one by myself--as long as there's another person in there I don't care lol)

14. Favourite childhood sport?

swimming was my only one--I begged for lessons, started young, and was pretty good, did a swim team and everything. otherwise I am horrible at sports--I can't run (never could), and have no hand-eye coordination (did some occupational therapy at age 18 but it was Too Late), and again, those visual perceptual spatial issues! I wasn't terrible at floor hockey and volleyball in gym class I guess. footy was my worst 😭 in 8 years of gym I scored one goal--an own goal

15. Do you talk to yourself?

Not really.

16. What movies do you adore?

hmmm...I am not a huge movies person, but here's a list:

mulholland drive

mary poppins

the producers (mostel/wilder, 1967)

willy wonka & the chocolate factory (gene wilder version ONLY)

little miss sunshine

moulin rouge

cabaret

my cousin vinny

run lola run

y tu mamá también

the sound of music

chicago

kill bill vol. 1

cidade de deus

diarios de motocicleta

buena vista social club (not without its problematic side, but the musicians/music is so joyous)

the wedding singer

anklaget/the accused (weird danish movie that I don't think anyone i know has heard of?)

le dîner de cons

kamchatka

imagine me and you

ghostbusters 2016 (i will DIE on this hill)

brokeback mountain

team america: world police

rear window

amadeus

the crow

the incredibles

spaceballs

a shot in the dark

airplane!

romeo + juliet

school of rock

american psycho

uncut gems

rebecca

dial m for murder

17. Tea or coffee?

coffee! please. tea makes me feel a bit sick

18. First thing you wanted to be growing up?

I wanted to be an opera singer and a "lady mover" (we moved twice in the span of like, 2 and a half years when I was little)