#I have no clue why I’m so introspective tonight

[cherrysnax]

oh yeah we were also wondering why we flock to media with dead kids that haunt the narrative both figuratively and literally and uh :) yeah we know why

[nvarchive]

mickey  altieri  /  @slashfame​:        “ you  guys  seem  so  happy  together . ”

jordan  and  johnny  seem  a  lot  of  things  these  days.  the  whirlwind  romance  between  them  is  something  straight  out  of  a  movie      —      the  well-known  and  mostly  well-liked  hollywood  action  star  and  the  bright-eyed  young  ingenue  first  cross  paths  at  a  chemistry  read  for  upcoming  fast-paced  buddy  cop  action  movie  fight  dirty      ( premiere  date  tbd ),  and  the  sparks  between  them  aren’t  just  limited  to  when  they’re  in  the  headspace  of  their  fictional  counterparts.  between  the  weeks  of  training  side-by-side  for  the  action  sequences  and  the  long  shoot  days,  their  relationship  was  inevitable.  even  when  the  tabloids  broke  it  early,  before  they  were  ready  to  go  public,  they  took  it  all  in  stride.

above  all  else,  they  were  convincing      —      no  one  that  wasn’t  in  their  respective  publicity  teams  had  the  slightest  clue  that  there  was  no  jordan  and  johnny  that  existed  past  what  the  public  was  spoon-fed  through  a  litany  of  very  visible  dates  and  events.  tonight  is  no  different;        jordan  has  hardly  left  johnny’s  side  since  they  got  to  this  industry  party.  it’s  not  so  bad      —      they’ve  been  sustaining  this  charade  for  the  better  part  of  two  months  now,  and  while  jordan  harbors  no  romantic  feelings  for  her  co-star,  he’s  become  something  of  a  good  friend.  the  long  shoot  days  coupled  with  the  occasional  sleepovers  they’ll  hold  to  boost  the  validity  of  their  deep  affection  for  one  another  and  the  many,  many  picturesque  dates  at  the  beach,  the  pier,  and  any  celebrity  dining  hotspot  in  the  city  of  angels  are  all  factors  in  this.  you  spend  enough  time  with  a  person,  learn  enough  about  them,  you  start  to  form  an  attachment.  maybe  that’s  why  it’s  so  easy  for  her  to  pretend  as  they  walk  into  this  industry  party,  her  hand  in  his,  all  smiles  and  loving  glances  exchanged      —      while  she  has  no  romantic  attachment,  she  likes  johnny.

all  this  introspection  happens  because  of  six  words  spoken  from  a  familiar  face  on  a  balcony  in  the  crisp  november  air.  she  knew  mickey  was  at  this  party,  and  every  part  of  her  had  worked  hard  to  push  that  thought  from  her  mind  as  she  mixed  and  mingled.  it’s  been  months  since  something  almost  happened  between  them  at  the  wrap  party  and  every  day  since,  at  some  point,  she  wonders  how  different  things  would  have  been  if  she  hadn’t  let  chris  interrupting  them  stop  her.  it  seems  right  now  is  today’s  moment;  as  she  turns  her  head  to  look  to  him,  form  following  slowly,  her  heart  skips  a  beat,  then  another.  it’s  been  months,  and  she’s  preoccupied  with  her  fake  beloved  boyfriend,  and  he’s  busy  being  spotted  out  and  about  with  so-gorgeous-it-makes-girls-hate-themselves  model  shay  does-she-even-have-a-last-name?      ( answer:  yes,  it’s  james,  full  name  shay  angelia  james,  originally  from  atlanta,  georgia,  discovered  by  modeling  scouts  at  a  mall      —      it’s  perfectly  normal  to  fall  down  internet  rabbit  holes,  shut  up! )      —      let  it  be  known  she’s  not  jealous  ( yes  she  is )  and  she’s  especially  not  insecure  ( yes...  she  is ).  it’s  just  hard  to  fit  in  dealing  with  so  many  strong  feelings  for  a  person  between  long  shoot  days  and  keeping  your  fake  relationship  convincing  and  alive,  and  truth  be  told,  she  didn’t  think  she’d  run  into  him  tonight.  not  with  over  three  hundred  people  here,  not  with  her  on  johnny’s  arm  for  most  of  the  evening  thus  far.  and  now  she’s  scrambling  to  collect  her  composure;        smile  forms  slowly,  clumsily,  warmly      —      charming,  through  and  through  ( if  nothing  else,  she  remains  a  fabulously  convincing  actress ).

❛  I  could  say  the  same  for  you  and  shay.  ❜        should  she  be  so  quick  to  bring  her  up?  does  it  matter?  there’s  no  ill  will  in  soft,  sweet  lilt      —      no  matter  how  much  jealousy  seeps  in  her  veins  and  bleeds  into  her  heart,  she  can’t  hold  any  ire  toward  the  woman.  in  fact,  she  refuses      —      mickey  is  intelligent,  talented,  imaginative,  passionate,  one-of-a-kind      —      it’s  a  miracle  he  was  single  at  all  when  they  met,  and  she’s  foolish  to  think  it  would  have  stayed  that  way  until  the  appropriate  space  of  time  passed  to  where  it  was  socially  acceptable  for  the  young  ingenue  to  run  steadfast  into  her  brilliant  director’s  arms.  she  leans  against  the  railing,  realizing  that  she  should  say  something  about  johnny.  what  isn’t  tired  and  played  out  yet?  we  just  clicked  instantly,  there  was  such  a  spark  between  us  that  couldn’t  be  ignored,  he  makes  me  laugh,  et  cetera.

❛  johnny’s  determined      —      I  really  admire  that  about  him.  ❜        not  entirely  a  lie,  though  the  determination  she  speaks  of  is  directly  linked  to  the  handful  of  times  he  asked  her  out  and  was  met  with  a  no,  from  the  table  read  up  to  right  before  that  photo  of  her  holding  onto  his  arm  ( re:  dragging  him  by  the  arm  through  LAX  because  they  were  about  to  miss  their  flight  to  filming  location  no.  1 )  went  viral,  and  then  some.  she  was  infuriated  at  the  time      —      now?  she’s  mostly  tired.  case  in  point:        the  energy  it  takes  to  sell  that  she’s  falling  for  him  to  the  man  she  still  hasn’t  fallen  out  of  something  with.  gaze  drops,  painting  her  the  very  picture  of  a  young  woman  infatuated.  maybe  it’ll  be  enough  to  sell  this  performance.        ❛  I’m  lucky      —      really  lucky.  ❜          a  pause,  as  her  eyes  lift  to  catch  his,  another  smile  perching  on  her  lips,  gentle  mirth  not  quite  reaching  her  eyes.        ❛  we  both  are      —      you  and  shay  make  a  beautiful  couple.  ❜

she  is  getting  good  at  this  whole  acting  thing;        her  tone  doesn’t  waver  as  she  says  it,  despite  the  twist  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach.  she’s  almost  convinced  herself  she  believes  that.  if  only  the  words  didn’t  taste  so  bitter  on  her  tongue.

[pcprminibigbang]

PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to pcprminibigbang@gmail.com! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

-

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

-

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

-

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

-

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

clink!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

-    

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

-

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

-

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

-

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

-

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

-

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

-

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

-

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - Part 14

A/N: well well well. what have we here? i’m back from the dead with a new chapter for YOU! no major warnings, so knock yourself out. i’m tagging those who’ve requested it and some of you who i think might be interested. if you’re not, please forgive me! if you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let a bitch know.

Logan was still acting aloof whenever you’d ask him for details on this party he intended to throw for his father. It had been weeks since he first brought it up and every time you tried to ask clarifying questions, the subject magically got changed or you found yourself on the receiving end of a barrage of kisses, not that you were complaining about that. All you knew for sure was that one, it would be at the Delos compound in Bel Air and two, that everyone was going to be there. So, you knew nothing. Of course, Logan being Logan, you assumed he had some trick up his sleeve; he just wasn’t clueing you in.

You were sitting out on the deck of Logan’s house, finding yourself drawn to the ocean on a rare day off. Charles had been given a project to take over, a test of sorts, and was only to disturb you if it was an absolute emergency. The waves were calm as they crashed idly on the shore. Salt wafted through the light breeze around you, luring you to the brink of sleep. Your eyes had just fluttered shut when you heard a familiar voice call out accompanied by the muffled sound of the front door shutting.

“Princess? You here?” Logan called out. You didn’t have the energy to respond, merely humming low an affirmative to no one but yourself. Without opening your eyes, you tried to track his movements. He definitely set something down, then kicked off his shoes. Somehow, he found you and began treading quickly through his living room once he saw you draped on the outdoor furniture. “How did I know this is where I’d find you?” he said with a small smile, leaning down to kiss your temple before taking a seat in the chair next to you.

“Because you know I’m a slut for the sea,” you smirked, eyes still closed, earning a sharp laugh from Logan.

“And here I thought you were only a slut for me.” You smacked him half-heartedly on his arm, making him chuckle again. “How has your day off been?”

“Amazing,” you mused. “I haven’t done shit all day. I finished my book, ate lunch, and literally just lounged here for like, 2 hours. I wish every day could be like this.”

“I’m glad you had a good day, sweetheart. But I’m missing my baby girl. Come sit with me,” he asked gently, reaching over and running a long finger down your arm. You finally opened your eyes just enough to see Logan pat his lap with his other hand.

“But I’m so comfy,” you groaned, dramatically letting your head nod to the side. Before you could keep up you whining, there was a pair of arms winding themselves around your back and behind your knees. Logan easily lifted you from your spot, a squeal escaping from you, and sat back in his seat, now with you resting comfortably in his arms.

“Much better,” he grinned, placing a slow kiss on your lips. “How would you feel about going to dinner tonight? I have someone I’d like for you to meet.”

You looked up at him, confusion furrowing your brow. “Who’s the mystery someone? Oh! No, let me guess. Ok, um…a secret boyfriend? Long lost sister? Oprah?!” Logan laughed that laugh you loved so much. The one where all his teeth showed and his eyes snapped shut, the one where you knew he thought something was actually funny.

“You’re not even close,” he said. “It’s actually my partner.” Logan watched as your confusion deepened before it gave way to an expression that was the manifestation of your heart dropping into your stomach. Sensing your impending panic attack, he quickly ran his fingers through your hair. “Phrasing, shit. I’m sorry. Business partner.” You visibly relaxed again at his clarification.

“Jesus. Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?” you laughed anxiously. “Wait, since when do you have a business partner, babe?”

“Well,” he began, idly twirling the ends of your hair between his fingers, “Since a couple weeks after you found me when I got back from Westworld.” The project. How could you have forgotten about his project he’d been keeping under wraps for months? You supposed you’d been preoccupied with wondering what he was up to with this retirement party to even consider what his big project was.

“Are you finally going to tell me what you’re up to?” you asked, eyes wide as you looked over his face for any nonverbal clues.

“I’m hoping you can get to know John a bit since he’ll be a fixture around here moving forward and yes, you can learn all about our little venture,” he smiled, running the back of his fingers along your jaw. “I almost feel bad whisking you away from your little oasis out here. You look so pretty in the sun.”

“Almost,” you teased.

“Yeah, almost. But I did get you a little something if that helps convince you to part with the deck and go have dinner with a shitty guy like me.” His smile was wide. He knew how much you hated when he got down on himself like that, but you could see the genuine joke in his eyes, so you let the argument die before it even started this time. You got off his lap and look his hand, tugging him up to join you.

“You don’t have to get me gifts to convince me to hang out with my boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and led him back into the house. “Really, you shouldn’t be getting me shit at all. It’s too much babe.”

“Shhh,” he cooed before rushing off to the table where he’d placed a garment bag when he first came home. “No such thing as too much for my princess.” Logan handed you the hanger end with big doe eyes, clearly anticipating your reaction when you opened it. You raised a brow before unzipping the front, revealing a deep maroon colored dress with a darting neckline. When you looked back at him, your lips partly as you still marveled at the dress, Logan’s eyes had grown dark as he no doubt imagined the clothing on you. “I thought maybe you’d like something to wear tonight.”

“Logan, it’s beautiful.” You stepped closer to him and got on your toes to reach up and give him a soft kiss. “Thank you. You know how much I love this color.”

“The color’s for you, the cut is for me,” he winked. You rolled your eyes before walking off toward the bedroom, your new dress firmly in hand.

----

Once the sun had set, you made your way downtown with Logan. He had made reservations at 71 Above and John would be meeting you there. Though you didn’t really have reason to be, you were a little nervous to meet Logan’s new partner. Logan said he’d become a fixture in his life, which by proxy also meant yours. Shit, was this Logan’s way of saying he was in this, with you, for the long haul. You hadn’t considered it until this very moment. Of course you saw a future with him and wanted nothing more than to spend forever with him, but you never thought much about it since Logan tended to live so day-to-day. Logan spoke a secret language you thought you understood until he pulled something new from his pocket that made you wonder if you had it decoded at all. As you leaned your head against the window, your thoughts were interrupted by Logan’s hand rubbing gently over your thigh.

“Everything ok over there, sweetheart?” he asked softly, not taking his eyes from the road. When did he develop this skill of just knowing when you were stuck in your head?

“Yeah,” you said. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.” Which was true, you were, but not necessarily the reason for your introspection.

“There’s no reason to be nervous!” he said with a smile in his voice. “I’ve known John for years, but I’ve always worked for my dad, so we never really had the chance to work together like we wanted to. But now that the stars have aligned, it seems like the perfect opportunity to finally team up.”

“I just worry…about you…” you said, your voice gentle. Logan tilted his head a bit.

“What do you mean, princess?”

“I don’t know.” You took a deep breath. “I worry about people trying to take advantage of you and your secretly big heart,” you smiled. Logan looked over to you out of the corner of his eye, a fond smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re sweet, you know that? Not nearly as cold as you want the world to think,” he grinned. But you don’t have to worry this time. He’s not a stranger to me. Besides, you’re smart and driven and funny and so fucking hot, he’s going to love you.”

You rolled your eyes before taking the hand he had resting on your thigh and lacing your fingers with his. Before long, Logan had pulled up to the valet and was opening your door, offering his hand to help you out. You made your way to the glass elevator and stepped in, Logan’s hand low on the small of your back. Once the doors shut and it was just the two of you, he reached out to press the button for floor 71 and pulled you close with your back resting snugly against him. He let his hands run up and down your sides, his lips dipping to place wet kisses along your shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough how fucking perfect you look tonight,” he breathed out, his voice thick with want. “Who’s stupid idea was it to go out to dinner again, where I can only look and not touch?”

“You don’t consider what you’re doing right now touching?” you laughed lightly as you tilted your head, giving Logan better access to your neck.

“Mmm…not the way I want to be, no.”

“Well, the door’s about to open, so keep it in your pants.” You reached back to quickly palm over the hardening front of his pants just as the elevator let out a bright ding that was almost drowned out by the low groan coming from the back of Logan’s throat. You heard him mutter ‘tease’ before taking your hand and walking over to the host’s stand.

“Mr. Delos, welcome back,” a young man said fondly as you approached. It was clear the kid had a crush on him, and honestly, who could blame him?

“Thank you,” Logan returned politely. “Is the other half of our party here yet?”

“Yes, Mr. Collins is at your table. Right this way,” he said before leading you around the windowed perimeter before gesturing to a private table tucked in the corner.

“There he is!” The man you assumed was John was quick to his feet and wrapped Logan in a close hug. He really looked like a short, stocky version of Logan. His dark hair perfectly placed and a short beard with the same wide smile. Though he was easily half a foot shorter and had beautiful olive skin.

“Sorry, I know we cut it a little close. Sweetheart, I’d like to introduce you to John Collins,” Logan said with a smile as you reached your hand out to shake John’s.

“It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and you know, I just had to meet the girl who managed to reign in my boy here.” He laughed loudly, smacking Logan on the back.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you replied, keeping up a smile. You wanted to be able to say you’d heard a lot about him too, but considering you only learned of his existence about 5 hours ago, you didn’t want to start off your friendship with a lie.

“Please, take a seat!” John pulled out your seat for you before sitting across from Logan. There was already a chilled bottle of chardonnay on the table, a full glass waiting just for you at your setting. “So, Logan tells me you own your own business?”

“Yeah. I uh, I have a marketing firm in Santa Monica.” Networking was the name of your game, but you found yourself a little bashful about talking about yourself. The way you saw it, this was as much you vetting John as it was him meeting you.

“That’s great! And that’s how you met Logan here?” John asked with a knowing smile.

“Something like that. I guess he finally wore me down,” you shrugged, sending Logan a little wink.

“Wow. It’s usually the other way around with this guy. You must be a tough nut to crack.”

“She made me work. But I like to think she had a crush on me all along too,” Logan chimed in, looking you over fondly.

“Jesus, you two are so…coupley,” John winced playfully. “I’ll tell you though- I’ve never seen my boy so happy, and that makes me happy.”

You ordered dinner and continued talking over your food. John was a nice guy. He seemed to balance Logan out. You got the impression that John always was the guy at the party with Logan, talking a big game, but secretly drinking water so he could make sure his bro was safe. He had a loud and embarrassing laugh that endeared you to him just a little bit more. After getting to know each other a bit, you felt less and less like he was partnering up with Logan for the wrong reasons, which lifted a huge weight off your shoulders.

As your plates were being cleared, it occurred to you that after everything you’d talked about tonight, neither of them had bothered to bring up what they were doing working together. You took another drink of your wine and reached out to take Logan’s hand under the table.

“You know, Logan told me that you guys were partners now, but he hasn’t shared with me what exactly you’re doing yet.” You rested your elbow on the table and propped up your chin in your palm, possibly batting your eyelashes at John. “Since he won’t tell me, will you?” You risked looking at Logan out of the corner of your eye, who was clearly not amused with you flirting in front of him, even if he knew it was a joke.

“You haven’t told her?!” John asked incredulously.

“I didn’t want to say anything until it was a done deal,” Logan mumbled, a little embarrassed. He then squeezed your hand that was still in his, drawing your gaze back to him. “Princess, we’re buying Delos.”

“What?” You felt the air drain from your lungs. Your mind was moving faster than you could comprehend. What did he mean, they’re buying Delos? Delos wasn’t for sale last time you checked. What the fuck?

“After…Westworld,” Logan started awkwardly, “I knew I couldn’t let my dad and Billy take the only fucking family I have and ruin everything I’ve spent the last 15 years working on. So, after I got home and you cleaned me up and kicked my ass a little bit,” he paused to beam at you fondly, “I called John. At first, it was just to vent. And we got to talking about what we could to keep Delos and Juliet. So, John and I decided to go into business together under just a generic holding company name.”

“Since Jim doesn’t know me at all, I may or may not have reached out to him on behalf of our company, making an offer for Delos since it had gotten out that he was retiring and that Logan had been tossed from his seat on the board,” John added, his eyes now sparkling with just a bit of mischief.

“And what does my dad love more than his family? William? Money.” Logan downed the last of the bourbon in his glass. “He accepted our offer. So come his little retirement party I so generously offered to plan, you know, as a sign of my desperation for him to forgive me,” he rolled his eyes, “John and I will own Delos. I’ll have my job, my company, back. And Billy will find himself unemployed.”

It was genius. It was sneaky and devilish and just a touch petty, but it was genius. Logan was legitimately getting Delos back, just no one in his family knew it yet. You looked at him, mulling over all the scheming that brought him here. Honestly, you’d never been more attracted to him than you were in this moment.

“This is what you want?” you asked quietly, only to Logan.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t, I—” he started, his voice quickly exposing him.

“Then let’s do this shit.”

----

When you got home, Logan unzipped you, helping you out of your dress. You carefully hung it up in your little corner of the closet Logan had granted you. When you first met, you couldn’t imagine him being the kind of guy to allow someone else into his space so intimately. But you knew there wasn’t a single thing on earth he wouldn’t do for you. You slipped into one of his old shirts and crawled up next to him in bed.

“John was really cool,” you said, tracing no particular pattern on his chest.

“I’m glad you like him. That means a lot to me.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and pulled you in just a little bit closer. You felt his chest rattle a bit as he cleared his throat, causing you to meet his gaze. “Not to like, dump a bunch of shit on you today or anything,” he began, looking…nervous? Logan was hardly ever nervous.

“What’s wrong? What’s making you nervous, Lo?”

His laugh came out as a puff from his nostrils. “Something about you.” He smiled and shook his head. “I just find myself wanting to make sure you’re always happy. And I worry about letting you down or making you uncomfortable.”

“Logan…” you whispered, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair like you knew he liked when he was feeling tense. His eyes closed gently as he leaned into your touch, his breathing slowing down to normal. You spent a few minutes soothing him before he worked up to speaking again.

“Move in with me.” It took you by surprise. Of all the things you thought Logan was going to say, that did not make your short list. “I, I know you like your place. And I know you don’t need me to take care of you. But I want to. And I know you’re stubborn as fuck and I am too, but I promise I—”

You cut him off with a kiss. He didn’t need to say anything else. There was nothing he say to convince you even more. “Ok.” You were breathless as you parted just enough to answer him. His smile grew as his mouth pressed back on yours, quickly deepening the kiss.

“God, I fucking love you,” he said as though he was speaking to only himself, you just happened to be listening.

“Love you too, Lo.”

TAGGED: @marvelcapsicle @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @dylanobrusso @abroadcastofthemind 

[loisinherlane]

“I don’t need to be the hero tonight.” for a drabble prompt

This takes place rooooughly after the Spider-Island arc. Some canon facts may be wrong because I have no memory. This is also z bit long because I can’t drabble and kind of turned into a Harry introspection, but I love my boy. (Also, I am still accepting drabble prompts, particularly for MSM if anyone is interested! Don’t have to be following me.)

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings for Peter had changed.

Changed seemed to be the closest word for what had happened. Grown was almost right, but it wasn’t necessarily that he felt more. Peter had always been his best friend, since they were kids, and those feelings had started off as strong as any child’s feelings for their first best friend were: a mix of warm affection and childish jealousy, the desire to keep your best friend only yours and the lack of expectations beyond companionship. But no friendship remains like that as you grow up, veering one way or the other. 

Perhaps that was when things had first changed. At ten-years-old, he’d stopped looking at Peter like a possession and more as a person, a person who didn’t care about all the video game systems set up at Harry’s house and the ones his father was building that were still prototypes but open to be played, but a person who would play the old N64 system Peter had, the only game system he had, everyday without any complain. Peter Parker only cared that Harry was there, and that was . . . nice in a way Harry had yet to define. Peter cared about Harry, and that was what made them such good friends. Best friends.

Then along came middle school, and nothing remains the same there, the wishy-washy pre-adolescence. Trying to navigate those memories and pinpoint a moment where things shifted was almost impossible because all Harry remembered was muddy frustration and constant change. Peter was still there, and he was still the most important person in Harry’s life.

Perhaps things really changed in high school. For most of their lives, Peter had always been the gawky one. Though heights fluctuated, Peter always managed to seem just a bit small, while Harry was always a bit too thin for his height. By the time high school started, Harry had maybe an inch and a half on him, and Peter was still small and gawky, but there was something else. When Harry looked at him, he saw the glasses and the thrown-on hoodies and nothing remotely fashionable or aimed at looking handsome, but still-- still-- Peter had a quality about him that made a warmth settle somewhere between his chest and stomach.

Harry found he liked to do that. Just look at Peter and feel that warmth that came from being with him. Whatever Peter was talking about, Harry wanted to listen. He wanted those feelings to grow stronger. He wanted to keep feeling. 

Most people describe butterflies as a part of puppy love. Harry didn’t get that. If what he had was a crush, he never exactly felt nervous. But he’d never had any competition for Peter’s attention before. They started high school and developed a routine that was all them. Coffee in the mornings, lunch from time to time. If they made new friends, there was no one really close, no one to sit down with them. The others were on the fringe, people they talked to at school. But beyond that, it was still just Peter and Harry.

Horizon High changed that. Not right away, it seemed, or maybe Harry just hadn’t noticed. They tried to keep up their routine, and he tried to make sure he was still around to look after Pete as much as possible. But somehow, things kept happening, and suddenly Harry wasn’t at Horizon and Peter was. 

Harry wasn’t jealous. He wanted Peter to go to Horizon. He wanted him to have the opportunity to explore all these scientific discoveries and get an opportunity to make his mark on the world. 

But there were others there, and suddenly Peter had more friends. Being jealous was stupid. They’d been Harry’s friends too, when he was at Horizon. 

It couldn’t have been jealousy.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he was convinced of that. Things were changing for a lot of reasons, and their friends were only a part of that. Peter was acting different, less goofy, more confident, in smaller doses. He’d ignored that right after Uncle Ben died, but Harry knew his best friend.

He should have put it all together sooner.

Peter was Spider-Man.

Peter wasn’t just building tech for Spider-Man; he was Spider-Man, and he hadn’t even thought to tell him! How could he have not told Harry? They were best friends!

“Harry, if I had a secret, but I know it would really upset you, would you still want to hear it?”

Had that been about this? Had Harry been so stupid to miss it all this time? How many other clues had there been, that Harry had just filed away because he trusted Peter? It explained so much, like how Peter randomly decided to get contacts, supposedly, and why he looked so tired some days.

“My loyalty is to you, not to Spider-Man.”

What bullshit.

“Harry?”

The voice sounded foggy through the glass, and Harry looked up to see Spider-Man braced on his window again.

Harry stubbornly lowered his head back down to his notes, running through his calculations again. He had to have missed something. 

“Harry!”

Harry slammed his notebook down on the bed, the pen bouncing onto the sheets as he moved back to the window. He slammed it open, wishing it had been hard enough to shatter. Maybe that would have been enough to scare him off. 

But Peter Parker didn’t scare so easily anymore. Harry had seen that over the last few days.

“What do you want?” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his head.

“I came to check on you,” said Spider-Man, sliding closer as if he intended to come inside. Harry stepped to block him.

“Well, Os Academy is gone, so.”

Spider-Man’s lenses focused and unfocused as if trying to make some sort of expression. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry didn’t reply. He glanced back to his notebook. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Spider-Man shook his head. Harry tried not to look at him, but it was hard, not now when he knew Peter was underneath that suit. The mask concealed the shape of his face in any detail, but the suit revealed far more than Peter Parker’s clothing did. Peter Parker wasn’t just a kid anymore. Harry wouldn’t have called him a man, as his name suggested, but he had something like a muscular figure packed into a boy still growing. He was . . . handsome. Attractive. Objectively. 

“Harry,” Spider-Man said again, and damn it, it was Pete’s voice. How could Harry not have noticed? “No. I told you. I came to check on you.”

“Great. Spider-Man came to check on me. I’m so lucky,” Harry drawled, his jaw tight.

Peter reached for his mask. “I don’t need to be the hero tonight. I’m your friend, Harry. Your best friend.”

Harry was quiet for a moment. “No,” he said. “Best friends don’t lie to each other like that.” He paused before spitting out, “Spider-Man.”

“Harry,” Peter tried again.

“No! Just . . . go patrol the city.” Harry shut his eyes and tried to block out all the sounds, the faint echo of street noise from down at the bottom of the tower. Peter made no sound beside him, and when Harry opened his eyes, he was gone.

Harry was mad that he’d come. He was mad that he’d gone. Those were simple feelings that he could name. But there was more to the ache in his chest than this. Was it a crush? A few days ago, Harry was on the cusp of believing.

But now there was no gawky friend to crush on. Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Harry shut the window and picked up his notebook.

[crisisdragonfly]

Tonight’s ramble is about insomnia

It took me a long time to figure out why I couldn’t sleep at night

Now it’s glaringly obvious, but I used to be so withdrawn and afraid of my own shadow that I couldn’t think for myself. I couldn’t decipher obvious clues and details that would have helped me understand myself and others. 

In fact, by the time I left my guardians’ custody, I was so terrified of everything that when my dad gave me his credit card (I was around maybe 18 or 19 at the time?) and told me to go pay for a book I wanted, I just stared at him. I didn’t understand why he was letting me do something on my own or why he would trust me with his money. 

After all, I was always told I was no good. I’d never amount to anything, I was worthless and stupid. And since I believed that, I was pretty stupid. He continued to insist that I go up to the counter, and so I did. Shaking like a leaf because I didn’t know how to interact with people, I waited for the cashier to tell me what to do, because as I said, I was never allowed to do this before. 

 It was extremely embarrassing, not to mention mortifying for me. My face felt like it was on fire during the whole transaction. I was shaking, my heart was hammering inside my chest and none of it could be over soon enough. 

Thats a bit off the topic of insomnia, but I wanted to illustrate how very ignorant of the world and my own abilities I was when I was a kid. 

Back on to the topic, I recently discovered during some introspection, like within the past few years, that my insomnia is probably trauma based? Since I don’t have a therapist, I’m not diagnosed or anything, but I can’t sleep very well. I haven’’t been able to in a long time. I wake up after 6 hours tops, and thats only if I’m exhausted. It takes me hours to go back to sleep after that. If I’m not exhausted when I go to sleep, I will wake up in three hours, even if I’m taking sleeping medication, and always, without fail, if someone opens my bedroom door while I’m asleep, I will immediately wake up. 

If someone calls my name when I’m asleep, I bolt upright and my heart is already racing. No control over it. 

As I said, it was only recently that I made the connection that the reason I don’t sleep well, or always immediately wake up if someone opens my bedroom door is most likely because while the physical and verbal abuse happened at all hours of the day, the sexual abuse happened at night after I’d gone to sleep. 

This is where it gets hard to talk about. 

The other abuse went on from the time I was around 6 until I left, but the sexual abuse started when I was around 10. It was after we (my guardians, me, and my siblings) all made a big move out into the boonies, in the middle of a forest, hours away from any friends or family, that it started. 

He would come into my room at night, long after I’d fallen asleep. He’d either stay there and slip into my tiny twin bed, or he’d pick me up after his wife left for work at 4am, and take me into his bedroom. 

Most of the time, I was too groggy to fight him off. Even if I pushed away, or said no, he would just grip tighter and laugh and talk about how he’d heard girls make a lot of sounds when he did stuff to them, but never a no. 

I was a little kid, I couldn’t fight a grown ass man, especially not at 4am. 

I remember crying after he was done, but I couldn’t do it out loud. I was too afraid to wake him up, so I just laid in the bed after he was done, and he was sleeping. Sometimes one of my siblings would be sleeping in the bed, and he’d pretend it was a game to see if he could do stuff to me without waking his kid up. 

I didn’t end up telling my other guardian about the sexual abuse until I was 13. I remember, she was watching some sort of movie about a rape victim on tv. Some lifetime nonsense, and I was really uncomfortable, I sat there talking myself up the courage to tell her in my head, but eventually I stopped thinking and just blurted it out.

At first she was pissed and crying and telling me it would be okay and she would get to the bottom of it. Then she went outside and called her friend and told her friend about it, crying on the phone in a whole pity party for herself, barely mentioning me. 

By now, as an adult I understand that she had a lot of her own issues, but I’d always thought if she was a mom, she would protect me. She would do what was right and help me. I was just a kid and she was supposed to be my mom. 

So a few hours went by and my abuser came home, and they spoke to each other outside for a while. He obviously denied ever doing anything, and I guess that was enough for her, because her next words were accusing me of lying, and then immediately implying I’d just had a really vivid dream that it happened and believed it. 

My abuser faked tears during the encounter and was like “why are you doing this” 

They were so insistent, that for a little while I did wonder if I’d made everything up. 

Then a few days later, the man confessed to doing it. He told her he would stop, and that was enough for her, apparently. Nothing else was done.

Less than a year later, it started again. And thats when I knew I couldn’t trust anyone to help me, it didn’t matter if I told anyone. If the person who was supposed to be my mom wouldn’t listen, why would anyone?

[lamujerarana]

71 or 89 with spideytorch please?

When Johnny burns a message into the sky asking to meet with Peter at the usual place, Peter drops everything, just like he always does.

The Torch could be in trouble, and what kind of friend would Peter be if he didn’t rush to help him?

Tonight, even though he’s impatient to get there, it takes him exactly twenty-seven minutes to get to the Statue of Liberty, but only because there are no helicopters flying past and Peter doesn’t have enough web-fluid left to make a raft. 

When at last he drops down onto the Statue’s crown, he discovers that Johnny’s already there, feet dangling out between one of the crown’s spikes and gazing pensively out at the city skyline. He’s so lost in thought, he doesn’t even notice Peter’s arrived.

Peter wishes he had his camera. He thinks he could fill a gallery with moments like these, moments when Johnny looks like a living work of art, like…like he should be one of those pictures hanging in a museum. He—his beauty—it deserves to be remembered forever. Maybe Peter can make that happen. Maybe that’ll be his claim to fame fifty years from now. Maybe he’ll be an eighty-year-old going around telling everyone he was the guy who took those pictures of the Human Torch.

Peter shakes his head to drive away those flustering, bewildering thoughts that he’s never entirely known what to do with.

“Don’t think too hard, Torchy,” Peter says to lighten the tension as he sinks down next to Johnny. “You wouldn’t want to break anything.” 

Johnny smiles faintly up at Peter. “Hey,” he says. “Thanks for coming.” He scoots a pizza box over towards Peter.

Peter yanks off his mask, pops open the lid, picks up a slice of the half-eaten pizza, and stuffs it in his mouth. He is starving. He makes a face. “Pizza’s cold, buddy.”

“It was hot when I got here, pal,” Johnny sighs. He stretches out a hand, palm up. “Want me to warm it up for you?”

Peter doesn’t see why not, seeing as how the Torch is basically a walking oven. Functional as well as beautiful.

When Johnny hands it back, it’s sizzling and perfect. Johnny’s gotten great at warming up pizza over the years. Peter’s truly impressed with how much he’s improved at it since they were kids.

“Buddy,” Peter says around a mouthful of his pizza, “if you ever need a job as toaster oven, look me up.”

Johnny snorts, but doesn’t say anything. 

Oh, boy. He’s in a mood. Peter’s seen him like this before. Brooding and silent.

“So why’d you call me out here?” Peter ventures. “Because if you need me to explain how to tie your shoes again, Torchy, you’re on your own.”

Johnny’s wearing his standard pair of black boots, but that’s beside the point. Johnny knows Peter’s just kidding anyways. Peter’s pretty sure Johnny can tie shoelaces. He thinks so, at least.

There’s maybe a glimmer of a smile on Johnny’s face after Peter’s wisecrack, but it’s not the startled burst of laughter Peter’d been trying to tease out of him.

“I just…I dunno.” Johnny sighs. “Guess I just wanted to see a friendly face. Ryan dumped me again,” he confides quietly.

“Oh,” Peter says, at a loss. “I’m sorry.” This is the third time they’ve broken up in as many months. Each time Ryan would dump him for a “better” guy, and then get back together with Johnny the moment the relationship fell apart. Like Johnny was Ryan’s security net or something. His second choice. The thought is enough to make Peter see red. Johnny’s a great guy. The best. Anyone’d be lucky to date him. Lucky. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Probably,” Johnny echoes. It doesn’t sound like he really believes it.

“He wasn’t the guy for you, pal, and you know it,” Peter continues.

“I know,” Johnny admits. He sighs wearily. Peter doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Johnny looking this defeated. Broken. Run down. “I’m just…tired. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

“Tired? All the time. I’m tired right now. Give me a nice bed and I’ll sleep for twelve hours,” Peter says. He knows he’s babbling a little, but…he’s not great at the whole feelings thing.

“Not that kind of tired,” Johnny says. He takes a deep, shuddery breath. “I mean, tired of being alone. Or, I dunno, scared of being alone. I hate being alone, Pete. It’s the worst. Sometimes I think I was holding on to Ryan so tightly because I didn’t want to face what my life was like alone again. I knew he was—I’m not stupid. I knew what he was like. I just…didn’t care. As long as he kept coming back.” His mouth twists. “As long as I wasn’t alone.”

“But he’s not coming back anymore?” Peter checks.

Johnny shakes his head once, and only slightly. “No,” he says. There’s a finality to his words, a certainty. “I don’t think so.”

Peter swallows down another bite of pizza and thinks about what he should say. “You’re not going to be alone, Torch. You aren’t even alone now. You’ve got your family.”

And me, Peter wants to add, but somehow he can’t bring himself to say it.

“It’s not the same, Pete,” Johnny says, mouth tight. “As having someone to share your life with. It’s just not.” He gives Peter a knowing look. “You know it’s not as well as I do.” He shrugs, and his voice is bitter. “I just feel like I keep trying and trying to find someone to spend my life with, and the minute they see what I’m like, who I am…they all lose interest. Maybe I just don’t have anything real to offer them. Maybe that’s the problem.”

Peter has never heard anyone be more wrong. He’s frowning disapprovingly when he says, “Torch—”

His tone of voice must make what he’s about to say obvious because Johnny interrupts him.

“He said I was the worst thing that ever happened to him, Pete,” Johnny says. He tries to keep his voice even, but it’s clear that he’s deeply upset about it. “And that he wished he’d never met me. His exact words.”

“Well, you’re the single best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Peter finds himself saying. What’s more surprising is that he realizes, as he says it, that it’s true. “The best.”

Johnny goes very, very still. Peter’s not even sure he’s breathing. His eyes are wider than usual, and somehow they look impossibly bluer. Maybe it’s the dim light. Peter doesn’t know.

“Pete,” Johnny says breathlessly. “What do you mean by that?”

What does Peter mean by that? It’s an excellent question. Peter doesn’t really know either.

“I think it’s that I…like being with you,” Peter says, frowning as he searches through feelings he hadn’t even known were there. Peter’s not much for the introspection these days. “It. Makes me happy?”

It’s true too. Peter realizes that he looks forward to this. The days he gets to see Johnny. Even just get a glimpse of his lovely face. He lives for these days.

How is it possible for that to be true and yet…Peter’s never noticed before? Not consciously, at least.

Johnny’s examining Peter’s face with a piercing intensity that makes Peter feel his face heat up. Now he knows what it’s like to be on the other end of a microscope. He apologizes to every bug and spider he’s ever examined under one.

“And that’s all you meant?” Johnny asks with an earnestness Peter doesn’t get. “Just that?”

“What else would I mean?” Peter asks. He really wants to know. Maybe Johnny can help make sense of all of the confusing things Peter’s barely beginning to discover he feels.

Johnny purses his lips. “Well, Pete…when you tell someone they’re the best thing that ever happened to you, it a little bit sounds like…you know.”

Peter truly hasn’t a clue. “Like what?”

Johnny squints at him as though he can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not. “Like…you’re about to ask them out on a date or something. Peter. Is…” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, or maybe to work up the courage to ask, who knows. “…is that what you meant?”

Peter takes some time to think about it because he honestly has no idea. Does he want to go out on a date with Johnny? He’s never really thought about it before, but he does now.

He imagines what it would be like. Bringing Johnny flowers—roses, the yellow kind, because they’re his favorites—and then going out to eat with him at one of the lousy diners that he makes fun of but secretly loves, making him laugh and laugh until his sides hurt and there are tears in his eyes, spending his life making sure that there’s never again even the tiniest flicker of sadness marring those clear blue eyes, because they’d be Peter’s, all Peter’s…

Peter wants that so much he can hardly breathe. His eyes open comically wide as he realizes what it means. “Ohhhhhh,” he says. He falls back flat against the floor and shoves his hands in his hair and freaks the hell out. “Oh, my god.”

“Peter?” Johnny says, worried. “Are you okay, buddy? What the hell just happened?”

“I think I just realized that I’m in love with you,” Peter blurts out before he can think better of it. “Oh, my god. How long have I felt like this?”

Peter doesn’t know the answer to that either, but he thinks it may have been a very long time.

Johnny, mystifyingly, infuriatingly, starts to howl with laughter. He collapses back against the Statue too.

Peter, mortally offended, glares murderously at him. “I tell you that I love you and this is how you react? I am hurt, Torchy. Wounded.”

“Your f-face!” Johnny hardly manages to get out, he’s laughing so hard. He’s literally rolling on the floor and clutching at his sides. “Oh, my god, you should see your face!”

Peter throws his hands in the air. “I’m having a life-changing epiphany!” he protests. “My whole life is a lie. Let my face look how it wants!”

This just. Explains so many things. Holy hell.

“N-no,” Johnny wheezes. “You don’t g-get it. It’s not just your face.” He makes a herculean effort to get his laughter under control. “Pete, you dummy. You’re in love with me? I was in love with you first!”

Peter’s shocked, but it doesn’t take him long to, for some reason, find that hilarious. He can’t help it—he starts to laugh too. It’s all so absurd! “No,” he says. “Shut up!”

Johnny’s nodding earnestly. “For years, you moron!”

That makes Peter crack up even harder. “We are so stupid!”

Here they’ve been, wondering why none of their relationships ever worked out, and it turned out that it was because they’d been in love with each other the whole time!

“Well, you’re stupider than me, because at least I figured it out a long time ago,” Johnny points out.

“No, you’re stupider than me, because you figured it out and never said anything,” Peter shoots back. “Who knows, maybe I would have figured out how I felt if you’d said something.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Johnny says, chortling. “Don’t blame this on me, Peter Benjamin Parker. You’re the one who didn’t even notice they were in love. I mean, who does that? I’m sorry, but that’s way stupider, dude. How did you not notice?”

Peter props himself up on one elbow so he can look down at Johnny, who smiles up at him cheerfully, blue eyes shining, golden hair shimmering with the distant lights of the city. 

He’s beautiful. Peter can’t even begin to fathom how beautiful.

It makes Peter’s breath catch, and he realizes that he’s done it a thousand times before, whenever he’s been struck by Johnny’s beauty. He’d simply…never let himself feel it. Never let himself enjoy it. He’d always shoved it down, buried it away, refused to let himself think about it, about how he felt, about what it meant for him and Johnny.

For the first time in his life, he gives himself permission to feel everything, to plumb the farthest depths of his feelings for Johnny. He could spend a lifetime exploring them. Perhaps he will if he’s lucky.

He licks his lips. “You know, instead of arguing about who’s dumber, we could be—“

“Having sex?” Johnny finishes for him. He smiles, and Peter’s heart flutters. “Good plan. I approve.”

Peter’s taken aback, but he doesn’t object. “I was going to say ‘making out,’ but yours works too.”

Johnny’s still laughing when Peter kisses him for the very first time.