#I mean I’d have hated Florida anyway

[lovelytsunoda]

954 // logan sargeant

summary: florida man fucks shy college girl. or, back home in fort lauderdale y/n’s welcome home party is sabotaged by her race winner brother, and it gives her a bit of a complex. at least her brothers best friend is there to make her feel better about it.

pairing: logan sargeant x female kirkwood! reader

warnings: straight up smut, kyle kirkwood is a lot to handle in large doses (but we love him anyways), feelings of anxiety, minor sibling rivalry, body image issues. i am going to hell, littered with spelling mistakes because of how fast I was typing and pure laziness to go back and fix it

author's note: 954 is the area code for fort lauderdale. and technically kyle kirkwood lives in jupiter, but for the sake of the story let's pretend he's also from lauderdale.

she sat at the edge of the pier, jeans rolled up past her shins as she started off into the horizon, watching the sun dip below the ocean line.

“it’s your party, what are you doing out here alone?”

she rolled her eyes, pulling her feet out of the water before following the voice. “why do you think? kyle hijacked it. I’m back home for less than a day and he’s already stealing the spotlight again.”

that was the way it always went in the kirkwood household: y/n came home from school, and everything was great, and then kyle waltzes in and suddenly everything is about him again.

logan shook his head, settling onto the pier next to her, a gentle hand resting on her thigh. she shrugged it off, anxiously twisting one of the rings on her hand.

“you know he doesn’t do it on purpose, right?” logan soothed “he loves you, and he hates that you feel like this.”

“i know. the inferiority complex is all me.”

“it’s not a complex, and your feelings are valid.”

she shook her head. “everyone tells me i shouldn’t have quit karting. even when it made me hate myself.”

she sighed, laying down on the pier, worn wood scratching at her skin, but not splintering against her baby pink tank top. “what am I doing with my life, logan?”

“hey, look at me.” logan encouraged, fingertips against her chin to angle her face towards him. “you are doing great things. deans list every semester, you’re a great artist and I’d be shocked if firms weren’t lining up to hire you as a litigator.”

“you’re just saying that.” she refused to meet his eyes. logan was kyles best friend, for god sakes. she’d crumble under his stare, his touch.

“but I’m not.” logan insisted, gripping her face now, making her look at him. she needed to know how wonderful she was, and he was going to be the one to tel her. “you are smart and funny and all kinds of wonderful, kirkwood. any guy would be lucky to have you, and anyone else should consider themselves blessed to have you as a friend.”

“you really mean that?”

“why would I lie to you, y/n?”

she barely had time to respond before logans lips were on hers. she was hesitant at first, unsure if logan really knew what he was doing. unsure if he was really kissing her because he wanted to or because he pitied her.

the intrusive thoughts didn’t stay long, however, as she snapped to attention and moved her lips against his, wrapping her body around his.

“jesus.” logan breathed. “those jeans make your ass look incredible. well, your ass always looks incredible, but these jeans are really doing it for me.”

she laughed at how red logan's face was, a shade that looked more salmon under the sunset. the pier was digging into her skin, and she was starting to get uncomfortable, logan's lips along her neck not quite enough to distract from the discomfort of what she was sure would become a splinter if their activities were not relocated.

somehow they made it to her bedroom without being discovered by the partygoers, much less kyle. the fairy lights tacked to her dusty pink walls were the only light in the room as logan backed her up against her bookshelf, securely caging her body against his.

she felt safe in logan's arms. protected.

"i've been crazy about you for years now." logan growled in between kisses. "every night i came over to watch panthers games with your brother, and you were there in those tight little jean shorts, laughing and giggling with your friends. or when i'd stay the night and you'd walk past his bedroom door to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night, your skimpy silk top falling down your shoulder just enough to give me a taste of your gorgeous body. do you know how many times i've jerked off to the thought of you in kyle's bathroom? you're stunning, y/n. don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

her mind was reeling, and she couldn't find the proper words as she tugged at the collar of logan's button down shirt, pressing her lips back to his. logan sargeant was interested in her.

logan saw her for her, not just as kyle kirkwood's baby sister.

clothes were shed, buttons ripped off shirts. her head was spinning, elated and giddy and she couldn't find the words to tell logan how incredible she felt as his large hands squeezed her breasts over the mesh padding of her bralette.

she gasped, logan taking that chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, his fingers grappling for the clasp on her bra.

all at once, reality came crashing back down on her. she pulled away, hands flying up to cover her exposed breasts as the pale fabric tumbled to the hardwood floor.

she wouldn't meet logan's eyes, scared to know what he thought of her naked body. scared to see him stare at her and not know what he was thinking.

his eyes softened, the lust drawing back as concern seeped in to his irises. "y/n, pretty girl, you don't need to hide yourself around me. who made you think that you weren't sexy as all hell? i never want you feel like you have to be shy around me."

he gently gripped her arms, guiding her towards the wall length mirror hanging on the back of the ensuite door. logan stood behind her, lifting her chin so that she would meet his eyes in the mirror. placing his hands over hers, he gently pulled her palms off her breasts, exposing her bare torso to the soft lighting in the room.

"look at you beautiful you are, y/n. i'm serious."

"you're just saying that so you can get your dick wet." even as she said it, she knew it didn't sound like she meant it.

but even still, staring at herself in the mirror, all she could focus on was the way that she looked: the stretch marks on her breasts, the smattering of freckles up her arms (or were they moles, like the two on her back?).

"what will it take to show you how sexy you are, y/n?" logan rasped, undoing the button on her jeans. "should i make you watch yourself as i touch you?"

"yeah." her voice was shaky. "i think you should show me how sexy i am. clearly, i need reminding." where was this sudden boldness coming from?

"that;s my sexy, shy girl." logan cooed, tugging her jeans down her legs, kissing over her ass and down her leg before coming back up, eyes hungry at the sight of the young woman in front of him, panties hiked high on her hips and fairly see through as he slipped a hand over teh fabric and between her legs, teasing at the dampness beginning to form.

she gasped as logan slicked up his fingers, slipping them inside of her in one swift movement, working around the fabric of her cheeky panties. she was breathing hard, biting her bottom lip as she took in the sight in the mirror: logan's fingers flexing in and out of her, arousal running over his pale skin, his face contorted in concentration as he growled down her ear, telling her how tight she felt, and how good she was for him.

her own skin was rosy and flushed, a sheen of sweat beginning ro form as she felt her body heating up. there was something sinful about watching herself in the mirror, finally allowing herself to let loose a moan.

"that's my girl. don't get shy on me now, i want to know that you feel as good as i do." logan groaned, sucking on her neck. "touch me, baby. i know you want to. feel how fucking hard i am for you."

she loosened her grip on logan's wrist, internally grinning at the nail marks that she left behind in his skin before slipping an arm behind her, cupping his bulge in her hand.

she was floored. she knew logan was big (she could always see the outline in his swim shorts, forcing herself to stop staring before he noticed) but knowing that she had this effect on him?

it was a powerful thing.

"jesus, logan." she whined. "i need it inside of me."

logan's eyes sparkled. "what do you need inside of you, sweetheart? i need you to say it for me." he started pumping his fingers faster, his other hand moving to fondle her left breast, tweaking the rosy bud of her nipple between his fingers.

she sighed heavily, feeling her legs turn mushy as she leaned back against logan. "need your cock." she mumbled, unsure if she could speak any louder.

"what was that, darling? don't be shy now, i can't give you what you need if you don't tell me, love."

fuck you, she thought, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. she was clenching around his fingers now, unsure of hoe much longer she'd be able to last. but she needed him inside of her, felt like she might die if he wasn't.

"your cock!" she shouted. "please, logan, i need your big cock inside me, please, god, i need it."

why did she say that? she should never have said that. it made her sound desperate. but in a way, she was desperate, wasn't she?

logans fingers stopped their ministrations, pulling out of her and taking a trail of her juices with them. she thought her eyes were going to roll back in her head before logan laid her down on her queen bed, her hair fanning out behind her as he started to undo his jeans, resort shirt still hanging off his frame, face flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat as he licked her arousal off his fingers.

"do you have condoms, kirkwood? because i really don't want to have to go digging for them in kyle's room."

"please don't talk about my brother when i want you to fuck my brains out."

logan smirked. "not so shy now, are we, my sexy girl."

"shut up! go the ensuite, top vanity drawer on the left. you literally cannot miss the box."

she could have laughed, lying back on the bed and kicking off her panties as logan ran, half naked and dropping his resort shirt behind him, to the ensuite.

he stumbled back, tripping over discarded clothes and the fluffy carpet, triumphantly holding the box above his head.

"the whole box? how much do you think you're getting tonight, sarge?"

logan raised an eyebrow. "call me that, and i'm going to make you forget how shy you are and have you scream my name all night long."

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing-Dave York x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series summary- Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and wants you all to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, angst,fluff,(m) masturbation,talks of loss of a parent and spouse, kissing,lots of music references, PTSD,slow burn

WK-7.9k

A/N- If I knew what was going to happen with Dave and Frankie I’d tell you but I don’t yet. Santi and Alicia (that’s all I’m going to say). Reader has some tough decisions to make.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter IV

You were starting to worry that Dave hadn’t contacted you since your lunch date. He didn’t really owe you anything. As much work as you’ve done on yourself you can’t quell those thoughts that run wild. What had you done wrong? He seemed genuinely interested in you, but maybe you were reading too much into things. 

  Your shirt clings to your sweaty skin, another unbearable hot and humid Florida day. The only difference is the store ac went out again and the repair man won’t be able to come in for a few days. 

Your current predicament is the only distraction from your own mind threatening to drive you crazy. 

  You contemplate closing the store for the day as you stare up at the poor excuse for a ceiling fan. Slowly whirling the warm tepid air amongst the room. The sound of the soft crackle of the speaker can be heard signaling the record is done but the back of the store might as well be a mile away. 

  Your phone buzzes and you glance down seeing Dave’s name on the Lock Screen. Part of you wants to ignore it but you told yourself you would work on not getting upset over trivial things. 

  “Hello.”

  “Hi hummingbird.” He sounds a little distressed and you prepare yourself for the let down. “I’m sorry I haven’t called…or texted.”

  “Mmm.” 

  “There was an emergency and I had to go home. I know that’s no excuse but I want you to know that I’m sorry and I’d like to see you again when I get back.” It’s all rushed out like he’s out of breath but he sounds sincere. 

  You were honestly expecting him to ignore you and the apology is something foreign to you. Taking accountability is admirable….but. 

  “Did Mrs. Dave need you home with the kids?” You hate the bitterness in your tone but the heat and your emotions are running high. 

  He sighs deep on the other end. “I know you have no reason to believe me. I’m not married and there’s no one waiting for me at home.” As much as it hurts to say out loud it’s the truth. “My last name is York by the way.”

  “I’m sorry.” You let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t mean to be so crass. I really like you and that scares me because I know next to nothing about you.” 

  “If you give me a chance I promise I’ll tell you everything.” You can sense the desperation in his voice. “I actually have something planned for you if you’d like to spend some time with me tomorrow night?” 

  It’s sweet that he’s already thought of you. You really want to see him again and you know Alicia will be busy with Santiago anyway. You hope what you’re feeling are the good kind of butterflies at the prospect of spending more time with him. 

  “Okay…I like surprises.” Your voice perks up a little at the end. 

  “Great, I’ll meet you at the store at 7. It’s not a far walk from there.” 

  You’re curious and excited as to where you’re going. You find yourself nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for one of you to hang up. 

  “I’m gonna hang up first so we don’t end up doing the thing.” You hear him chuckle on the other end with a faint ‘bye hummingbird’ before you end the call. 

  ****

  Frankie has had a day to calm down and clear his head. He decided against Santiago being his lookout for Dave. He wanted to have this experience all on his own without the threat of an altercation or further involving Santi who is now majorly distracted. 

  Santi and his connections called in an anonymous tip about Dave’s house being compromised which will surely put him out of commission for a few days. 

  Plenty of time for Frankie to swoop in and have you forget all about Dave. 

  It’s really so simple…he just needs to tell you who he is, how he met Dave and leave the ball in your court. Things aren’t ever really that simple. 

  It stings a little as he exits route forty one and sees the ‘Welcome to Naples’ sign. You were right under his nose but you might as well have been on the other side of the world. What were the odds that he’d ever find himself here let alone walking into the place you worked. One in a million he thinks. 

  He cranks up the ac in his Jeep as if that’s going to quell the heat trying to penetrate his skin through the windows. He probably should’ve done his hair instead of wearing his hat but now his sweat soaked curls are trapped underneath. 

  He subconsciously brushes his thumb along the roses where his ring used to be as he sits on the street where you work. His fingers tapping some song that’s been stuck in his head against the steering wheel as he practices what he’s going to say to you. 

  Fuck it just go

  The sun beats down on him as he slams the door to his Jeep and crosses the cobblestone street. He takes a few deep breaths not quite the way his therapist instructed but close enough as the window with the plants comes into view. 

  He had a plan to peruse the store if you were busy with other customers. He had a general outline of how he would approach you if you were alone in the store. He was however not prepared for the sight of you standing at the window as you flipped the closed sign. 

  ****

  You can’t take this anymore, it’s too hot and no one has come in for hours. Your boss can shove it for all you care. He can’t even be bothered to check in once a month. Closing up shop and going to the beach with Alicia sounds like a much better way to spend your afternoon. 

  You peel yourself off the chair at the front desk and grab your purse. As you flip the closed sign on the window you lock eyes with a rather handsome and distressed looking man. 

  He looks like he’s seen a ghost as he scrubs his hand behind his neck nervously. You’re not sure when the record store became a beacon for hot middle aged men but today was certainly not the day to entertain anymore. You hastily fix your hair and smooth out your shirt, while trying to put on your brightest smile. 

  “I’m sorry, we’re closing early. The ac is on the fritz and I just can’t sit here anymore.” You’re not sure he heard you as you wait for him to respond. “If you…want to come back tomorrow I can set something aside for you?” 

  “You’re so beautiful.” He says like he’s in awe as you give him an inquisitive look. 

  “I think we have that one,it’s just not available as a single. You’d have to buy the album.” He laughs as he realizes what he’s just said out loud. 

  “I ugh…sorry. I meant…never mind.” Fuck he’s totally bombing this. “You know I can take a look at it if you want. I’m pretty good with my hands.” That sounds worse than he intended but he can’t stop the words before they leave his mouth. 

  You glance over your shoulder at the empty store as you bite your lip. 

  He seems to notice your apprehension. “I’m not a creep or anything.” He takes off his hat running his fingers through his gorgeous curls. 

  “Hmmm, that sounds like something a creep would say.” You grin at him and lean back against the door signaling for him to come in. “I would appreciate it honestly, I have no idea when they’ll be able to come take a look. Then I’ll have to wait for approval to have it fixed and it’s just a whole thing.” You stop your incessant rambling when you see him taking in the surroundings. 

  His hands are on his hips as he stares at the posters on the wall. He’s broad and his shirt stretches taught along his back. He rolls his shoulders and turns to see you still standing in the doorway gawking. 

  Now who’s being a creep

  You clear your throat and fix your face to a neutral expression as you gesture for him to follow you toward the back. 

  Goosebumps trail along your arms as you walk in front of him, it’s assuredly not cold enough to cause such a sensation. His cologne and sweat is flooding your senses… perhaps you’re ovulating or something similar to desperation. 

  “You’re gonna have to talk handyman, I can’t stand the silence.” You tease as you peer at him over your shoulder. “Or maybe I can put some music on. What’s your preference?” 

  He tries not to focus on the way your hips sway when you walk and of course any music he’s ever listened to has left his brain entirely. 

  “Queen.” He blurts out and you laugh. It’s so disarming he relaxes his shoulders a bit. The letters of the cities are hard to make out on the back of your shirt but he can tell it’s Queen from the design. 

  “You cheated handyman.” Your voice drops to a flirtatious tone that he can’t ignore. You lift the dust cover and place a gently used record into a sleeve of The Essential Mozart.

  He leans on the table next to you, so close his breath ghosts over your neck. “So you're a classical gal.” 

  You snort as you raise your eyebrows. “No one’s ever called me a gal. And yes I enjoy the occasional Mozart, Debussy, Bach—.”

  “Okay now you’re just showing off.” You notice the dimple in his cheek when he says it and the way his arms look as he fold them across his chest. 

  “I’ve gotta put this useless music degree to some use.” You absentmindedly thrum through the records on the display until you find the one you want. “ aha…Queens greatest hits.” 

  He scoffs as he takes it from your hands. “I would hardly say it’s useless by the collection in your store.” He flips it over and gives you a questionable look. “And I would hardly call these the greatest hits.” 

  You snatch it back as you narrow your eyes. “Not my store. Although I’ve dreamt of running my own.” 

  Noted 

  A momentary glossy expression crosses your face as you carefully place it on the cloth. He watches as you delicately handle each piece like you’re plating a five star meal. You gingerly place the stylus on the edge as he hears the  familiar sound of record buzzing just before the music starts. 

  Is this the real life?

Is it just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide no escape from reality 

  You turn to him, arms crossed mirroring his stance as you lean into the table. A bead of sweat glides down your neck as he follows it to the v in your top before his eyes meet you again. 

  Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see

  He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, I stand corrected. But you have to admit there’s a few questionable picks here.” 

  You brush past him and he gets a whiff of something strawberry, maybe your shampoo. “I’ll admit it when you fix my ac handyman.” You wink and he’s no longer disguising that he’s checking you out because you’ve been shamelessly checking him out since he stepped foot inside. 

  He follows you into a small stock room, mostly empty boxes and a shelving rack with old paint and a few picture frames. He can see the old unit in the corner as you bend over to open the side panel. Fuck. You’re making it very hard for him to keep his mind in an appropriate place as you stand and wipe your hands along the back of your jeans. 

  “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what I’m looking at. I’ll get out of your way.” It’s too small in here as you awkwardly maneuver past him and he brushes against you murmuring apologies as you hold your breath. 

  He somehow already found a flashlight amongst the odds and ends on the shelf as he crouches down to take a look inside. You watch the way his shirt lifts up slightly revealing a small sliver of skin on his back. 

  “Now who’s being quiet.” His muffled voice comes from inside the unit. 

  “I just didn’t want to be a distraction while you’re working.” You hear an uncomfortable grunt as he sits back on his heels. He smirks at your stance as you lean casually on the wall with a perfect view of his ass. 

  “Mhm I’m sure…” He turns his hat around and it somehow gets impossibly hotter. “Listen, you can distract me all you want if you happen to have a screwdriver?” 

  You chew on your lip as you think and then start rummaging through the shelves when you find one amongst an abandoned project. 

  “Will this work?” You hand him a flat head and he looks particularly pleased as he takes it from you. 

  “This is somehow exactly what I need.” He resumes his work and you wince as you hear some questionable noises coming from within. “There’s just some ice build up on the evaporator coils.” His voice raises a little so you can hear him over the sounds of ice chipping from metal. 

  “Whatever you say handyman.” You pull out your phone to check the latest text from Alicia. You’ve been giving her subtle updates just in case he decided to turn into a weirdo. 

  “Francisco.” He says as your finger hovers over the send button of your last text. You watch him rise and lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. 

  You’re staring at the way his soft belly dips into the front of his jeans. You wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along the seam of his boxers. 

  “Breaker?” The corners of his lip curl up into a smile as he catches you mid thought. “I need to see if this worked.” 

  “Sure ya…right over here.” You stammer out as you point him to the small box on the wall. 

  He flips a few switches and the sound you make when the air comes out of the vents is bordering on sinful. 

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You’re ecstatic and he’s got that satisfied look on his face with just a tinge of pride. 

  It’s a flicker of a moment as he hands the screwdriver back to you. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest when you see it. 

Distinctly your hummingbird tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. There’s no way he can’t know. Things were too easy with him, it’s almost laughable that it feels just like they said it would. 

  You turn to leave and stumble searching for the door handle, he pulls you back just as you're about to faceplant. “Slow down there. I can’t fix you if you break.” His voice in your ear and his hands on your waist…it’s all too much. 

  “Sorry I’m a little clumsy at times.” You grip the handle with an unsteady hand as you step out into the hallway. “There is a bathroom at the end of the hall if you need to wash up.” He offers a polite thanks as he takes in the concerned look on your face. 

  ****

  He stares at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror wondering where he went wrong. Everything was going so well. It was almost too easy. Maybe he was coming on too strong. He takes off his hat and splashes some water on his face. He’s looked better, but he’s definitely looked worse. 

  Get it together Morales

  He sees you when he returns seated in the lounge chair. The music has stopped and your foot is nervously tapping on the floor as you finish texting and place your phone face down on the table. 

  Your face is expressionless as you look up at him. “Have a seat please.” 

  He’s trying to think of something to say but he’s lost for words. 

  You cautiously grab his hand as he sits in the chair next to you. “Can I see?” He nods and holds his breath as you turn his arm over. Goosebumps raise on his skin as your soft hands trace the patterns of the wings on his forearm. Your breathing hitches as a small jolt of electricity runs through his veins. 

  He notices the roses on your ring finger. Roses meant for someone else, yet they look so perfect on you. Like they were destined to be yours.

  “Why roses?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

  He clears his throat and shifts in the chair. “They were my ex-wife's idea. I didn’t dislike them.” He sees your shoulders drop a little at the confession. 

“Why a hummingbird?” 

  He sees you smile then, while he waits for your answer. “My mom…she always said I had endless amounts of energy.” You tilt your head and point to his other arm. “What’s with the hawk?”

  He tenses a little and his fingers flex in your hand. “Sorry, if this is too much.” 

  “Don’t be.” He quickly interjects “I’ve wanted to know for so long…everything about you.” 

  “I don’t even know who you are.” You try to keep your voice steady as he stares at you with those deep brown eyes. “You don’t even know my name.” 

  You tell him then…he has to pretend it’s a name he hasn’t heard before. 

  How does he even begin to tell you? Telling you about Dave would ruin everything. 

  You stand from the chair before he has a chance to start. “Do you maybe want to talk about this over some drinks? I owe you at least for fixing the ac.” 

   He relaxes at that as the air of flirtatiousness returns to the room. “If you think I’m letting you pay you are sadly mistaken.” 

  In the few brief seconds you had to yourself, Alicia practically screamed at you to go for it. Her tone let on that she may know more than you think but you shelved that for the moment and decided to be spontaneous. 

  You hold your hand out. “Let's go handyman.” 

  He snickers under his breath. “How long are you going to keep calling me that?” 

  Your hand in his feels right as it should, when you lead him to the front of the store. Dropping it briefly to grab your purse and keys to lock up. 

  “I doubt Francisco is your real name, so we’ll see.” 

  ****

  After the initial shock wore off of learning that Santiago was the one who tipped him off to you, you settled into the idea of how nervous he must have been to approach you. 

  You’ve got a crash course over the last hour in Francisco Morales. He prefers Frankie and you think that suits him better. He was a helicopter pilot in the military but now he flies commercially. His apprehension when you first mentioned the Blackhawk tattoo was something he wasn’t sure he was ready to address with you. 

  The way you listened so intently to his story of how proud he was when he first joined, he left out some of the more gruesome details of his time in the service. When he retired he wanted to commemorate it somehow and you were the one that ultimately helped him with his decision. 

  Your hummingbird was your first tattoo, your mom actually let you get it when you were seventeen. It was one of the last things you did with her before she passed. Frankie wanted to match. The guys gave him shit for it but seeing the way your eyes lit up when he told you made it all worth it. The whole ‘birds of a feather’ sealed the deal. 

  This isn’t quite how Frankie thought he would be spending his afternoon. He followed you out the store as you confidently led him to one of your favorite spots along the beach. A small bungalow bar overlooking the shore. Despite you having told him you weren’t from here, you seem to be a regular. The older red haired waitress Trudy gestures to your usual spot that's open and sends a wink your way. 

  You ran through all of the stereotypical questions, favorite color, favorite movie, favorite food. Hobbies, dreams and aspirations. He didn’t laugh when you mentioned you were afraid of the dark. You didn’t laugh when he said he was afraid of the rain.

  You talked about your dream of owning your own music store, getting to curate things to your liking. Much like you did at your current job…but it didn’t belong to you. 

  Frankie didn’t necessarily give off rich guy vibes but he let on that money was no longer an issue. He recently became part owner of the company he currently flies for. 

  It’s so easy, like long lost friends catching up. The way you listen so intently as you rest your head on your hand. He catches you often looking out into the water like you’re waiting for something. 

  Maybe he’s trying to make up for lost time or perhaps he wants all his cards on the table in case you determine that his baggage is too much. You don’t really think it’s baggage when he tells you that he’s in recovery and his ex wife left him for her soulmate. He’s been putting in the work to better himself, and if she hadn’t left you would’ve never met him. 

  In between the plate of shared nachos and beers the conversation shifts to you. You decide since he’s shared such intimate details about his life that it’s only fair you return the favor. You tell him about your mom…the reason you believed in soulmates in the first place. Your mom and dad, highschool sweethearts. Somehow destined to spend the rest of their lives together. When she got sick it all happened so fast, too fast for you to come to terms with the fact that your dad had already moved on. 

  The idea of soulmates left a sour taste in your mouth after you moved out of your dad and step moms home to go to college. It’s why you think you were so inclined to not find yours. People fell in love everyday and lived happily ever after without theirs. 

  You and Frankie’s stories are so similar in some ways. 

  You signal for the bartender to bring you another round before you tell the rest of your story. A comfortable buzz runs through your veins as your foot brushes the inside of his calf under the table. 

  You gasp as he grabs your ankle and places it in his lap. “Ticklish?” You shake your head as he raises an eyebrow at you. His fingers trace the gun tattoo and your body betrays you as you nearly kick him in his stomach. “The jury's out, maybe I should keep testing.” 

  “No please.” You giggle and his hands travel further but stop just before the crook of your knee before he gently sets it back down. 

  “So…what kind of gun is that?” You ask cautiously as you tilt your leg to the side. 

  He sighs deep. “It’s an M sixteen…it was a dare.” He hangs his head a little, knowing how that must look on someone like you. 

  “Oh right of course.” You say sarcastically as Trudy drops your drinks off at the table. 

  “Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?” She clicks her pen to the pad as you both lock eyes and burst into laughter.

  “No Trudy, we're fine, thanks.” She sends you a mischievous smile as she tends to the other patrons. 

  His eyes widen as you take a rather large sip of your drink. He can tell you have something to say so he waits patiently as he takes you all in. The way you squint your eyes when you’re thinking, the way you tap your foot when you're nervous. How bright your smile is and how everyone you seem to cross paths with has a special connection with you. It’s why he’s not prepared when you tell him about your ex. 

  “The gun was the last straw.” You trace the lines of condensation on your glass. “He couldn’t take anymore reminders that I wasn’t his.” 

  “You don’t belong to anyone.” His voice is stern as he takes your hand. “I would say sorry but…it’s his loss.” He gently presses his lips to your fingers and you have to fight to keep yourself calm. 

  “Ya…hers too.” 

  You squeeze his hand as you take in a sharp breath. He sees it then, the thing you were waiting for. As the sun sets through the palm trees and the yellow bleeds into red and orange. It’s a task not to watch you instead of the aquamarine water and the gentle waves kissing the shore. 

  Something so simple, that so many people take for granted and he thinks this may be the most perfect day he’s ever had. 

  Without second guessing himself he leans in close. “It feels wrong if I don’t kiss you right now.” 

  Your face is mere inches from his and you’d be a fool not to admit that you wanted to kiss him in the stock room earlier. “What are you waiting for?” 

  His lips are soft against yours, it’s like he’s breathing you in with each passing second. Your hand plays with the curls at the nape of his neck as he cradles your jaw. You don’t care if anyone’s watching right now because you’ve dreamt of this moment a thousand times. It’s electric, sending a shiver down your spine and he groans as you pull away biting his bottom lip. 

  Your forehead rests against his as you catch your breath. “I didn’t want to give anyone a free show.” 

  He chuckles and pecks your lips one last time. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.” 

  ****

  The walk home felt like you were floating. His hand in yours as he tugged you close. Stealing kisses whenever he could. The heat of the day was long forgotten as the gentle breeze rolled in with nightfall. It scared you a little how fast you fell into this domestic bliss with someone you just met. But isn’t that how it’s supposed to feel? Isn’t that why people are made for each other? 

  As you approached your apartment you could see from below the light was on, no doubt Alicia waiting up for you to hear all about Frankie. 

  “Well this is me.” You point up to the loft as you await the dreaded conversation that you’ve been wanting to avoid all afternoon. 

  He can sense your shift in mood as you rock back and forth on your feet. 

  “Frankie I…really want to see you again. I want to see where this goes.” You sigh as you look down at the pavement. 

  He grabs your hands in his as he steps into your space. “But?” 

  “But I met someone recently. I’m supposed to see him tomorrow.” You shrug as you look up at him. “I’m not the type of person to just abandon something, it’s not in my nature to be that cruel. I want to at least see it through, even if that means I’m letting him down easy.” His face is unreadable as you wait for his response. 

  He swallows thick trying not to let on that his blood is boiling. He can’t tell you who Dave is, he’s too far gone. 

  His hands drift from yours as they travel up your arms, your heart rate picks up and your eyes are wide with desire. His large hand cradles your face as he caresses your jaw. “Like I said…you don’t belong to anyone. You’re free to do what you want, all I ask is that you give me a chance. Do you think you can do that?” The way he asks you and the look in his eyes you would say yes to anything. 

  You nod your head in his hand as he licks his bottom lip, still tasting your chapstick from earlier. “I wouldn’t mind something to think about on my date.” 

  His eye twitches slightly at the word but he quickly recovers. “I was hoping you’d ask.” His lips meet yours again and the way your body fits against his is almost too much. Your hands grasp at the back of his shirt as he consumes you. You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the obvious bulge in his pants, a little overwhelmed at how quickly he’s got you falling to pieces. 

  “Get a room!” He inhales sharply as you laugh against his lips. Your laugh grows at his obvious confusion because of course you recognize the voice of your best friend. 

  “Ignore her please.” You half whisper as you kiss the small patch on his cheek where the hair is missing. “I don’t know how Santiago is gonna handle all that.” You gesture up towards the open window. 

  “Oh I’m sure he’ll find a way.” He pulls you into one last hug and reluctantly steps away. You have to distance yourself from him or you just might invite him up right now. “Don’t have too much fun tomorrow.” He says it in a teasing tone as he walks backwards, not wanting to tear his eyes from you. 

  “I’ll try.” You wave at him as you hear Alicia buzz you up to your apartment. 

  ****

  “How.could.you.keep.that.from.me.” You mercilessly hit your friend with a pillow as your crowd over her on her bed. 

  She laughs as she blocks your futile attempts at causing any permanent damage. “Once he told me it was too late to let you know.” She tilts her head feigning innocence. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m so sure.” You huff as you roll over laying next to her. “I’m so fucked.”

  “Not yet.” She laughs and dodges your last blow with the pillow. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad we can finally go on some double dates…maybe tomorrow?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you playfully. 

  You sit up against her headboard as you tuck your legs beneath you suddenly feeling a little ashamed. “Well…I’m actually going out with Dave tomorrow. I told Frankie and he seemed to be okay with it.Now saying it out loud it sounds a little ridiculous and to be honest with you, I have no idea what I’m doing.” You facepalm as you throw your head back ending your rant. 

  She sits up next to you and gently pulls your hands down, giving you that look that only you know a friend would give. She knows your mind is running a million scenarios of what you should be doing and how you should be acting. Trying to be ten steps ahead of every situation so you don’t find yourself in the one that landed you here. 

  “Listen to me.” She rubs your hands softly grounding you. “You don’t have to figure it all out yet, you’re just going on a few dates. As long as you’re upfront with your intentions with them, and they agree, what more could they ask for?” She sees you staring off into space not quite grasping her words. “Babe, you just met Frankie.”

  “Ya and I let him stick his tongue down my throat. In public. Twice.” 

  “No one said you can’t have a little fun. And just so you know, I’m very jealous and very happy for you.” She nudges you slightly as you sink back under the covers. She rolls over to her bedside table and turns off the light. “I take it you’re sleeping here again.” 

  “Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.” You whine as she laughs and gets under the covers. 

  It’s quiet for a moment as you think over everything you learned about Frankie. How fiercely he loved his friends. How passionate he was about his work. How he loved so deeply despite being hurt. How easily he opened up to you and how comfortable he made you feel. You trusted him with things you hadn’t told anyone but Alicia after just a few hours of knowing him. You also can’t stop thinking about his lips, and they felt against yours. How you fit perfectly in his hold like you were meant to be there. 

  The phone on her nightstand buzzes illuminating the dark room. She laughs as she stares at the text and sends a quick message back. You’re trying not to eavesdrop as you move your head on the pillow trying to make out some words. 

  “Santi says hi.” She says as she turns toward you with a smirk on her face. 

  “Oh…he’s Santi now? Well tell him I said hi.” You reply half in a whisper. 

  She clears her throat. “He also said you might need Frankie’s number if you want to see him again.” 

  You groan as you roll over realizing both of you forgot to exchange information in your haze of the whirlwind afternoon. 

  ****

  “How do I look Fish?” Santi holds his arms out with a stupid grin on his face. 

  “Like an asshole.” Frankie grumbles on the couch with his arms crossed in defiance. 

  “Look hermano it’s not my fault you didn’t tell her.” Santi grabs his keys from the table and Frankie looks on at him wide eyed. 

  “How is this not your fault? What was I supposed to say!”  He stands and Santi holds his hands up trying to calm his friend. “Oh hi…I’m your soulmate. I hired someone to find you for me. They did, and now you’re sort of daring them.” He rips his hat off aggressively, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”

  Santi regards him cautiously. “Sorry Fish, I didn’t mean it like that.”

   Frankie sighs heavily through his nose as he plops back down. “I know Pope…I'm sorry. You like fine by the way, I hope you have a nice time.” He grits out the last part. 

  Santi punches him lightly in the shoulder “I know that was hard for you to say so I appreciate it. Plus you said so yourself she really likes you. Don’t think about it too much.”

  ****

  Easy for him to say. He was about to go on a date and Frankie was gonna sit here and try not to stew. 

You’ve consumed his thoughts over the last twenty four hours. He knew meeting you would be overwhelming but he did not anticipate falling head over heels, rom com, quintessential love at first sight, completely crazy for you. The thought of Dave being anywhere near the parts of you he wanted to explore made his blood boil. His mind ran wild last night with the scent of you still on his clothes. The way your body felt pressed against his, the way you said his name Francisco like some forbidden secret. 

  His hot shower ran cold as he stroked himself to thoughts of you. Imagining the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The way your breast would feel on his bare chest as grind down on him. The soft moan that escapes you when he bit down on your lip and how you would sound if you didn’t have to be so quiet. 

  You awoke something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

  He can’t think about it anymore sitting alone on Pope's couch half hard. He needs to go home and hope sleep comes easy tonight so he doesn’t have to think about the prospect of losing you before he’s even had a chance. 

  ****

  The last two hours have been chaotic to say the least. You both needed to get ready at the same time so of course the hot water ran out. Alicia blew a fuse in her bathroom trying to blow dry her hair so now she was in yours while you sat on the floor in her room in front of her floor length mirror doing your makeup. 

  Judging by the pile of clothes on her bed you don’t think she was planning on bringing Santi back to the apartment. Perhaps she wasn’t planning on returning either as you notice a small overnight bag placed next to her door. 

  She rushes into her room and grabs the bag before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “I gotta go hon, he said he’s coming up but I don’t want him to think I’m messy.” She wildly gestures to the state of her room as you meet her eyes in the mirror. 

  “He’s gonna have to figure it out at some point.” You state dryly as you finish your mascara. 

  “Not tonight though.” She fixes herself once more before addressing you. “Please try and have fun tonight. Call me if you need anything, you know I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” 

  “I got it Alicia.” You laugh as you wave her off. 

  “Oh and don’t wait up.” She yells out over her shoulder before slamming the front door. 

  You breathe a sigh of relief  that you’ll at least have a few moments to yourself before meeting Dave at the store. You loved your friend but you could tell her nervous energy was bleeding into your mood. So many emotions were running through your head. This would be your first real chance at getting to know him. You were giddy at the thought that he had a surprise planned for you. In the five years you spent with your ex he’s never once planned a surprise. It didn’t really bother you but it was just one of those things you assumed you would never get to experience. Looking back on it now you realize it’s a blessing in disguise that he broke up with you. You had put up with so much apathetic behavior that it became second nature to put yourself last. 

  Your phone pings on the floor beside you and you glance down to see Dave’s name. 

  Dave: Can’t wait to see you hummingbird 

  You sit for a moment trying to come up with a clever reply when another text comes in. 

  Frankie: I hope u have a nice time tonight 

  This can’t be your life right now.

                          can’t wait to see you too 🥰

  You double check that you sent that text to the correct person.

                   I promise I won’t have too much fun 😘

  There’s a feeling you can’t pinpoint at the moment. You’re not sure if it’s even right that you’re feeling this way. To be the object of two men’s affection is a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in. It would be a lie to say that you’re not riding this high. The end game however is something you haven’t quite worked out. 

  ****

  The sun is just starting to set as you make your way down the familiar street towards your work. Checking your reflection in every car parked alongside it like it’s somehow going to drastically change. He didn’t really give you very many details so you opted for a long black sundress and some strappy sandals. Your phone and lipgloss tucked neatly into the brown cross body purse Alicia got you for your birthday. 

  His back is to you when you see him, his hands in the pockets of his tight blue jeans. Almost sensing your presence he turns to you with that devilish smile on his face. He’s in front of you in a few brief steps, his woodsy cologne invading your senses and a hint of aftershave. The black short sleeve button up pulls taught along his biceps and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing him. 

  As if on cue he pulls you into a tight hug, you wrap your arms around his waist feeling his muscles flex in your grasp. He sighs long and deep like your embrace was the only thing keeping him from losing his sanity. He doesn’t say anything for a while as you both just sway for a moment, like two lovers who’ve gone weeks without seeing each other. It’s so comforting you almost forget about the impending doom of having to tell him about Frankie. You decided on the walk over that you would be upfront with him from the beginning. Just in case he wanted to call things off. You didn’t want to come off as some girl who wanted a free date from him just to break the news to him at the end of the night. Ultimately you would leave the decision up to him and go from there. 

  “Hi hummingbird, I missed you.” He speaks softly into your hair as you try to stay on your feet. 

  “I missed you too.” He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. It feels wrong but it’s true, you did miss him. 

  “I hope you like what I have planned for us tonight.” His eyes twinkle when he mentions it again but you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Something on your mind?”

  You take a deep breath and put a little more space between you as he holds your hands in his. “I have a lot to say before we go on our date so just give me a moment okay?” He nods once acknowledging what you said. 

  He’s stoic on the outside but internally he’s starting to panic. You didn’t say you didn’t want to go on the date but there’s clearly something wrong. 

  “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you and getting to know you better, but I have to be clear about some things since you’ve been gone. I’ll spare you all the details but…I met my soulmate yesterday.” His hands tighten their grip a little but you don’t seem to notice. “I know this may sound confusing but…I’m not going to just drop you for someone I just met. At the same time, I feel like it would be crazy to not give my soulmate a chance.” 

  You stare down at the ground hoping it will stop your rambling and give you the words you practiced in the mirror that are coming out all wrong. “I understand if this is too much-“

  He cuts you off as he tips your chin up with his finger. He’s comfortably stepped into your space again and you wouldn’t know by the look on his face that he’s seething. 

  “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time, and I’m not about to back down from a little friendly competition.” Your eyes are challenging him when you don’t pull away. He leans in, his lips barely ghost over yours like he’s waiting for permission.

  You’re not sure what reaction you were expecting from him but it certainly wasn’t this. You’re sick of trying to predict what your life is going to do and instead decide to go with the flow. 

  You kiss him first. 

  It almost knocks you off your feet how different he is from Frankie as he takes back control. He’s more sure of himself like he’s kissed you a thousand times. His hand travels behind your head, while the other grabs your waist. You gasp at how close he has you pulled into him as you taste the hint of mint and something else that’s entirely Dave. He chuckles a little at how he’s already got you so worked up. If it’s a competition you want then it’s a competition you’ll get. 

  “It’s not really customary to kiss before the date.” He’s a little breathless and you laugh as his muscles twitch beneath your fingers. 

  “I don’t think anything we’re doing is customary.” He huffs at that, yet you have no idea the full weight behind it. 

  “I’m just glad I haven’t lost my touch…it’s been a while.” He laces his fingers with yours. “I hope you like what I have planned.” 

  “Oh I’m sure I will.” 

  ****

  You don’t care how ridiculous you sound as you scream the lyrics to don’t stop believing at the top of your lungs. It’s just one of those songs no matter how many times you hear it or how many times it gets overplayed, you can’t help yourself. 

  Dave is doing his best to hide the fact that he’s been singing every song word for word as he hovers close behind you in the crowd. 

  He was a little nervous at first when you arrived at the venue…picking a concert for a first date was a bold move. He’ll be replaying the excited jumps you did on a loop in his head when he revealed it was a Journey cover band. He remembered from the first time he walked into your store and somehow got lucky when he saw a place on the waterfront hosting the special event. 

  You’re a stone's throw from your impromptu date with Frankie the previous night. The setting is much similar as you look out onto the water. Your stomach does a flip every so often when he possessively shields you from someone getting too close, or the way his hands instinctively wrapped around you during the slow songs. 

  Thankfully he made time before the show to get some dinner at one of the many food trucks outside the venue. You’re excited giggles when you said you wanted to try everything so that’s exactly what he did. You both shared a little from each one and of course donuts for dessert. You also shared a lot with him about your life. No doubt hoping he would reciprocate. 

  He rarely if ever talked about his wife with other people and most wouldn’t consider the topic a great first date conversation. Except for you. The way you made him want to open up and be better at sharing. It wasn’t awkward at all, in fact it felt a little freeing. If only he could tell you that’s how he found you. Resigning his life to helping people find their soulmate, it’s really his karma that he’s now competing with Frankie. He did this to himself and now the question lingers in the air of how he found you and why don’t you know about who Dave really is. He’s not sure what kind of game Frankie is playing but it’s making him uneasy. 

  His phone vibrates in his pocket as he glances down to see the aforementioned name. 

  Francisco: I hope ur having a nice time let’s talk soon

  He hears a small gasp from you and immediately breaks out into a cold sweat. He tucks his phone into his pocket hoping he hasn’t been found out this way. 

  You’re staring at him with those sad eyes half pouting and it’s quite possibly the scariest and most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “It’s the last song.” 

  His eyes tell a different story than yours as he takes your hand. “We’ll just have to make the most of it then.” He spins you in his arms and you feel a bit like Cinderella, you’re time at the ball running out soon. 

  When the lights go down in the city 

And the sun shines on the bay

  It’s hard to enjoy your favorite song when he’s singing it so sweet in your ear. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he sways with you. Your stomach is doing flips for an entirely different reason now because you know at the end of the night you won’t be calling it off with Dave. 

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[theewokingdead]

The Wiener of My Heart - Benjamin "Benny" Miller x Reader

Pairing: Benny x Reader (1st POV, no descriptions) Rating: T (blog is 18+) Summary: You and Benny are brought together by your mutual love of dogs. Word Count: 1.4k+ Warnings: Some cringe-worthy puns and innuendos, but it’s Benny so are you really surprised? Language. A/N: I saw a decal on a car in a grocery store parking lot that read “Sometimes I trip over my wiener.” I immediately thought “Benny would 100% have that on his car.” This is pure chaos, and I’m not sorry. Hopefully this doesn’t get lost in translation for anyone, but wiener = wiener dog = dachshund.

{Masterlist}

I fucking hate grocery shopping. It’s one of those things I can’t seem to bring myself to do until I absolutely have to. There’s something about wandering through the endless aisles, searching for the things I need, finding the best price of those things, all while avoiding small talk that I find frustrating. It’s just not worth the hassle, the time, or the stress.

Today’s trip has been a nightmare; there are people everywhere, obstructing every turn and moving in all directions, and the shelves are being emptied as if the end of the world has just been announced.  I will not be surprised if I immediately hear the national alert system going off when I turn on my car.

God, please, if the world is ending let them be The Walking Dead zombies and not the fucking infected from The Last of Us.

I am on edge until I step out the doors and take a deep breath, the heavy, muggy air of Tampa somehow easier to breathe in than the air inside the stuffy store. I made it out alive, and so far, there aren’t any signs of any impending doom. I mean, no more than usual, considering Florida is a dumpster fire on a normal day.

I push the cart to my car, unlock the trunk, and rapidly load the groceries, eager to get home and pour myself a glass of much-deserved wine. I’m only halfway through when I turn and happen to catch sight of the most striking man walk out of the store, several grocery bags in each hand. He is tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms that seem to effortlessly carry the weight of the groceries. The sleeves of his jacket are rolled up enough to see his forearms flex with each step he takes. Something about him oozes rugged charm, and it’s impossible to not be captivated by him.

Fuck, he’s cute.

The man moves in my direction, and I quickly shift my focus and get back to loading my car. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the man approaches the Jeep parked beside me, shifting his bags to unlock it and and lift up the back window. My heart beats a million miles a minute, but I try to ignore it, figuring he’s too far out of my league.

He’s probably a douche anyway, I tell myself, trying to keep from being disappointed when he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence.

Unexpectedly, I hear a deep, quiet laugh, then a smooth, sultry voice speaks, “I’d rather be playing with my wiener too.”

My stomach twists, making me feel sick. The fuck did he just say?

“Excuse me?” I question, whipping toward the stranger faster than I thought humanly possible. My nose scrunches with disgust. The fucking audacity of this man. He’s not just a douche, but a fucking creep - which is a shame because up close this man is gorgeous. His blue eyes are like two pools of sapphire, glistening in the sunlight. A pair of sunglasses hang on the neck of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to reveal hair on his chest. Strands of blond hair peek out from underneath his hat, which he’s sporting backwards – a telltale sign of being a total douche.

I should’ve known.

However, the man seems to immediately regret what he said, his growing wide, cheeks as red as a traffic light.

“Oh shit! I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he exclaims, tripping over every word. “I meant…” He gestures toward my rear passenger window, which I know has a decal featuring the words “I’d rather be playing with my wiener” along with the silhouette of a dachshund. “I have one too,” he clarifies, pointing to his bumper, a sticker with a similar picture and the words “I trip over my wiener.”

My cheeks warm as realization settles over me. “Oh!” I exclaim, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “I am so sorry! I thought you were-”

“An asshole?” he finishes for me, to which I breath out a “Yeah” with a small giggle. He chuckles awkwardly, reaching to grab the bill of his hat and pulling it off his head. While running his fingers through his tussled hair, he flips his hat around then puts it back on. “Yeah… Sorry. I didn’t exactly think that one through. Not my finest conversation starter.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, offering him a genuine smile. “Don’t worry about it, uh-” I suddenly remember that I don’t know his name.

“Benny,” he replies, offering his hand to me.

“Benny,” I reply, repeating his name aloud once while it plays in my head like a beautiful song. I give him my own name, and as I shake his large hand, my mind immediately drifts to how his touch would feel on other parts of my skin. The thought of his hands exploring every inch of my body sends shivers down my spine. As I reluctantly release his hand, I can’t help but long for a moment when his touch could be more than just a fleeting gesture.

“Do you think maybe I could see your wiener?” Though my voice sounds meet, the sly smile spreading across my face shows that I’m well aware of what I’m doing.

“Right here? Right now?” Benny questions, pretending to be appalled by the notion, clearly playing along.

“Right now,” you demand. “Show me see your wiener.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a smile.

Fuck, the things those two words make me feel.

After reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he whips out his phone and swipes across the screen with his thumb. Within seconds, he’s showing me a picture of a beautiful black and brown dog, sporting short legs and a long torso.

“This is Beanie.”

My eyes flick up to him. “Beanie the Weenie?”

“Sir Beanie the Weenie of House Teenie, actually,” he clarifies, trying to sound so matter-of-fact.

“Oh,” I gasp, trying to sound impressed. “I had no idea you know the star of Game of Bones.”

Benny lets out a boisterous laugh, sparkles in his eyes, seeming both shocked and thrilled by my parody. “Fuck! Yes! That’s exactly what I was going for!”

Smiling, I look back at his screen, watching as he swipes to another picture, then another.

“You know, I don’t show just anyone my wiener,” Benny admits after several moments of silence. “I hope he doesn’t disappoint.”

I snort. “Not at all. He’s very cute.”

Chuckling, he tucks his phone back into his pocket, then gestures to me. “I showed you mine, so why don’t you show me yours?”

“It’s only fair,” I reply, reaching for my phone. Happily, I show him a photo of my brown long-haired dachshund. “Her name is Leia”

“Like from Star Wars?” he questions, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Well, actually…” I pull my phone back and quickly find a photo from last Halloween. I show him the picture of my dog in a Leia costume, fake buns and all, which causes Benny to bust out in a fit of laughter.

“Okay. You win! Your wiener is way cooler than mine.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “A princess does outrank a knight, so…”

He chuckles, and a giggle escapes my lips.

“Maybe we can set up a playdate?” I suggest.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Benny replies. “Maybe we can set one up for the dogs too?” He looks up from my screen to meet my gaze, the corner of his lips rising into a small smile. Fuck, his eyes are mesmerizing. They’re the kind that make you feel like you’re the only person in the room, as if he’s seeing into my soul and understanding me without even uttering a word. I could stare into them for hours, lost in their piercing blue beauty.

I smile, feeling my cheeks warm once again. “I’d like that.”

We exchange numbers and part with the promise that we’ll be in touch soon. While walking toward my car door, I feel a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold. Grabbing a hold of the handle, I pause, then look over at Benny as he climbs into his seat. Looking at him makes me feel calm, as if all my worries melt away in his presence. I almost don’t want to let him leave.

“Hey,” I call, grabbing his attention before he can close the door of his Jeep. “Make sure you play with your wiener for me when you get home.” Casting him a wink, I climb into my seat, satisfied by the pink that’s rising in his cheeks as he casts a shy smile.

I’m pretty sure a stranger just stole my heart in a Publix parking lot. But what can I say? Benny has one incredible-looking wiener, and that makes me weak.

[iceicewifey]

What does Ms. Shay think of the other Agents of DIO? 😁

wah tysm for the ask!! also i realized this isn't exactly what you were asking after i’d typed all this out, i just learned how to read 😭

Shay doesn’t really get to meet a lot of them—most she’s only seen in passing. She lives in the mansion, so she only really has relationships with/opinions about the other guys that live there 🫠

DIO　⸺ 　Holds him in high regard which is unusual for someone like her. Serves him (mostly) without question because she’s terrified of what’ll happen to her if anything happens to him—she’s (mostly) willing to bend to his every whim as she was promised protection from the organizations she’d gotten wrapped up in that wanted her dead in exchange. She’s not his closest subordinate by any means but she’s trusted enough to know the secret of his stand, a secret she’d keep with her life.

Enyaba　⸺ 　Complains about her a lot but she actually quite likes the old woman when not being bossed around. Misses her after she leaves for Pakistan but wouldn’t admit it. Doesn’t miss being thwacked by her staff tho.

Terence T. D'Arby　⸺ 　Thinks he can be a bit of a prick at times but she gets along with him pretty well despite it. Doesn't know a single thing about video games but impressed by his expertise. His doll collection both intrigues her and freaks her out a bit.

Daniel J. D'Arby　⸺ 　 Hates him because she always gets a shit hand when agreeing to play with him (/hj) Considered propositioning him to steal her father's soul at one point but ultimately decided against it. Doesn't dislike him but gets along with Terence better and doesn't wanna get caught up in the spat between the two of them. Also thinks his cat is cute.

Vanilla Ice　⸺ 　Thought he was a bit intense at first but warmed up to him once she got used to the RBF. Her first impression still haunts her (/lh) Anyway. They're just Good Friends™ and totally nothing more than that. Definitely don't have a thing going on. She’s not in love with him at all. (/s)

Kenny G.　⸺ 　Likes him since they live together but she doesn’t speak to him too much unless necessary. Just doesn’t really click with him like she does with Ice or D'Arby.

Nukesaku　⸺ 　Thought his typical appearance and the female disguise were two different people at first 😭 She liked the female disguise mostly because she assumed she wasn't the only woman other than Enya in the place but alas. She kicked his ass after realizing. Hates the ‘little freak’ and actively partakes in bullying him.

Hol Horse　⸺ 　Likes him but can't stand him at the same time. Besides her run in with DIO back in Florida, Hol Horse was the first one she met upon getting to Cairo—she accosted him at the airport to help her out because she didn't know where she was and "surely the guy dressed like a cowboy speaks English... right?"😭 Doesn't see him around too often since he doesn't live there but she's just glad he doesn't try to flirt with her any time he is around anymore lmao

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

another chapter, another confused me

anyway here’s the notes for this week

ryan g immediately knowing something is up with the box. so true.

beef boy is apparently about to fight the professor

well that was a noise that the professor made

i will not be calling him beef man. i can compromise with beef boi.

we stan bessie

so she’s been girlbossing since birth

ryan’s day drinking apparently

growing broke via college? she’s so me fr

i would not like to walk around with a marching band. it’d be cool but i’d get so many headaches.

i too am sad every time i’m on a plane

huh she brought a band

working a job you hate to gain money to do what you like? sounds about right.

the professors little head peeking up from under the stage inexplicably

we stan charming men into giving more tips

i love bessie with my whole heart

having siblings is so fun :|

oh so he doesn’t remember huh?

hi horse wife. i’m. what. is. happening. in. this. ad.

i’m still confused as to why we can so clearly see a forearm when dorothy ruth is here.

also every week i sit here and go “isn’t she dead?” and still have no answers

uh ryan you cannot talk about puppet murder that casually

very unfortunate that she couldn’t find a pilot but slay for going to france

working at a chili parlor sounds like it could be really nice. or really awful. i’m not sure.

is it because she’s black, a woman, or american? it’s all of them. isn’t it?

oh it’s cause she’s a woman

2 women died? alright no more. no women allowed. the sky is for men.

that’s a really long school name

9 MILES TO THE AIRFIELD??????

so that plane is old as fuck huh?

that sounds absolutely terrifying to fly. i don’t even want to fly a plane now.

she’s slaying

that was the most uncomfortable c-dogs bit i have ever witnessed

that was a misleading question

i love that she’s just dramatizing her backstory. as she should honestly.

we love a hollywood rejecting queen

SHE GOT A PLANE

okay well at least she didn’t just not show up i guess??

but also ouch

ooo she’d hate being stuck in a hospital for that long.

i love that she wants to open a school

girlie just jumping out of planes and parachuting to end her shows

i love her for just refusing to fly if people are gonna be dicks.

“what have you done?” “well i guess i got murdered.”

this plane is gonna crash isn’t it.

i hate this.

no thanks.

FUCK DUDE

she just fell out of a fucking plane

that sucks ass

WHO THE FUCK WOULD LIGHT A CIGARETTE

a loose wrench? hmmm

that’s a big ass funeral

fucking racist ass media. goddammit. i hate people.

the shade being thrown at florida. damn.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HER OBITUARY WASNT RUN TILL 2019?????????

WHAT THE FUCK

IM SO ANGRY

that cloud scares me

also the arm is so visible

ryan’s little white board message is a mood “he’s up to something. not sure what.”

you’re telling me this cloud had a three way with a rainbow and a goodyear blimp???

another message “don’t fall for it”

what the fuck

the jfk assassination?

also the increasing chance that you’ll die in the lyrics

refuse the lotion ryan. that’s it. good. avoid the lotion.

the pterodactyl wanting to eat the stars is a mood honestly

doesn’t recognize the stars… that’s odd.

awww the professor misses ryan :(

that one really bright star is concerning

and that’s all for this week. see you next time folks.

[midnightmisadventures]

Ive had so many fun dreams lately but for some reason i’m coming to write about the scary ones

Um been having nightmares. Last night and today. And they feel really heavy, but important. And frankly i do hate them. Please no more nightmares. But maybe if i write about them i’ll prove to spirit that im listening and then they’ll stop 

First Dream: 

Last night i had a dream where the fam of 5 was traveling, driving road trip vibes probably to florida. We were all together packing the car and idk how but all of a sudden erikka was missing. And we knew immediately there was foul play. We were in a sketchy area ad there were cars going in and out and we were afraid she was kidknapped for trafficking. It was so anxiety inducing, and i tried to keep praying and have a positive attitude that she was strong, she would find a way out, she would show make it home. I kept hoping she would show up any minute. But as hours past i kept getting more worried that i’d never see her again, that something terrible happened. And i was crying and and already grieving. In this dreamverse apparently something similar had happened to dalvin a while back. And erikka used some sort of manifestation power to bring him home safely. So i felt like absolutely garbage that i couldnt do the same for her, i was beating myself up. I kept saying “im supposed to be good at this, i feel useless” 

Next Dream: 

This one was so so very odd. Basically we were at chip and it was the anniversary of this well known historical environmental event. And it happened near the west end fairgrounds or something. So there was a lot of hype and press in our area during this.... 100th anniversary or something like that. I don’t really remember, but there were 10 guys all brothers and they won a contest? or something? from someone in....ohio or some random state. Back in the early 1900s. Anyway, an almost catastrophic event was witnessed by a bunch of people. A huge asteroid hurdled towards earth and grazed the side of it (near west end fairgrounds) and chipped a piece of land. It was marvelous that only a few inches kept it from hitting earth directly and splitting the earth in half. Or doing dinosaur level damage or something else crazy. It couldve killed a ton of people or been an end to humanity. So whatever....a hundred years later or so, they were able to do a super techy demonstration and show what almost happened and what didnt happen through like a hologram projector and the whole town watched and it was really snowy outside and i wasnt wearing pants. It was just trippy to think about how something like that could happen at any moment and kill us. For some reason i made the comment “it always scared me that the fact that an asteroid hasnt hit earth with humans on it is completely by chance and hasnt happened yet which means odds are it WILL happen soon. But i always forget about THIS historic moment, which makes me feel safer in that something technically DID happen” 

Final Dream: 

Okay so again, at chip present day. And i wake up with a bunch of messages from people from high school saying to call....our class prez. Which was so odd, ive never had a personal relationship with him. But everyone was blowing up all socials and talking about something crazy that happened. His twin sister reached out to me and said to call him. Like PV social media was going bonkers!! So i was busy all day, it was always ET’s birthday maybe for a date reference? And the more i ignored it, the more people hit my line. Even claire, messaged me by the end of the day saying “call class prez he’s really not doing well” and i was like WOAH. Cause that means people wanted me to call him so bad that they had reached out to my friends who didnt even go to pv to get my attention. I told erikka “idk why they want me, is it because im good at saying calming words” and she said idk it seemed more specific like he wants to “apologize.” SO then im like what?? By time i call him its 1:03am. But he answered and apparently. A couple of kids from our grad class passed away and class prez was really emotional about it. I remember one being Austin H. And he was so sad and unstable that he made a comment online saying something along the lines of “this is worse than gilaine maxwell creating slave camps for black people” ???? Bro i have no idea. 

So class prez gets ALOT of flack for this comment. I mean its career ruining, he’s getting death threats. So maybe he wanted individual calls from black peers to hear their genuine opinion? So we’re on the phone and he’s profusely apologizing, saying what he said was unacceptable. He said “im sure youve heard my ghislane maxwell comment” i said no...havent got the chance. So he plays me a historic video about supposedly the “actual history” of these slave camps he was referencing. The video had this eerie 1900s black racist cartoon vibe that makes my blood curl. It was about these talented black people being condemmed and found guilty for things they didnt do. The evidence was so blatantly there and still everyone convicted them and sent them to be tortured and die at these camps. It was EXTREMELY unsetteling to watch and to be watching with class prez. Also in the dream, it felt inescabable and scary and for a little it felt like i was there. Like it was playing in my chip bedroom but i went top bunk and i could feel the sticks they were beating the black people with. It felt soooooo evil and sinister, and seriously idk what ancestors are communicating with me via dreams or what they want because this was DARK. So then class prez is asking for my take, and why it matters, and why its bad. And im saying he obvious stuff. The videos message was basically like “it didnt matter if black people were educated, doctors, laywers, scientists, hey were gonna slaughter and torture us anyway” so i didnt know if the vibe was like “be greatful that black people are allowed to have careers?? or get vengeance on white people....it was just so intense. 

So when the video was over and i got off the call, i was so uncomfortable and unsettled. Felt like i had waken up from a nightmare or finished a scary movie. So i desperately tried to turn all the lights back on but ofc it was a dream so everything was dim. Still didnt catch it though. I tried finding my parents for comfort. 

Awful right? No more nightmares 

[graftisms]

JOSH & MALI — DAY THIRTY

location:   night / terrace

featuring:   @inquixotic

JOSHUA

"don't get any ideas," he warns her with a look, though the smile on his face shows he's kidding. "i know we were trying to get away from those two, but... i kinda wanna see if frankie immediately dumps him or not after this." taking a seat on the terrace bench, he glances down at the rest of the group, where frankie is still beatboxing like a four year old. 

MALI

the terrace is...certainly a decision on his part, given his words, and she gives him a look, the smirk tugging at her lips amused. "what was that we discussed, about mixed signals?" it's teasing, though they do choose to sit next to him rather than across, so she can peek down over the wall at the group. "no chance she does, right? isn't this the kind of thing she eats up?" the girl joked about looking like larry king, for fuck's sake. "she had to build a pillow wall, you know," she whispers. "don't tell miles, he hasn't broken me down yet."

JOSHUA

"we can go back downstairs if you want," he tells her, hating when she says that. mixed signals. he's really not trying to... at least, he doesn't think so. "if you want to walk into the middle of that, be my guest." but she is right about this potentially being something frankie would like, grimacing to himself. "apparently. she is from florida." josh uses that one fact to attribute everything to why frankie is Like This. "he told me," he snickers, "but i think they're gonna do it tonight. i don't think she'll be able to hold back two nights in a row. well, unless he falls on his ass right now."

MALI

"no, i like miles, i'd like to keep it that way. i'll keep my hands to myself." they're folded neatly around her drink, too. she really is trying to keep her smile friendly, not flirty. "i suspect this is better enjoyed from a healthy distance." florida's a good enough explanation for her and she nods. "what's his excuse then?" for being Like That, she means. "did she use the break her back like a glowstick line on you, too? it was quite creative, i'm keeping it in my arsenal." she'd love if they fucked. "she's bringing him back, right? their chemistry is so good."

JOSHUA

he has his drink in his own hand anyway, taking a sip as he watches from above. "got hit in the head with too many footballs?" josh guesses, shaking his head. "i don't know, i think he's just a weirdo. small town mentality, maybe. they are kinda perfect for each other though, aren't they?" he ships it so bad. "no, what?" he laughs, turning to mali. frankie's such a freak. "oh, she's definitely bringing him back. i'm a little afraid to know what's gonna happen after that, but no part of me thinks she won't bring him back." otherwise josh might actually bring miles back himself.

MALI

"it is weird, though, i'm used to athletes being...different than he is, you know?" worse, she means. he's just a goofball, she always expects something like jamie tartt from footballers. "they're real well suited," she agrees, smiling. "he deserves something good. i hope the fall out isn't too intense." callie and frankie seemed very intense on screen, so she does worry a little. especially if neither she or phoebe go back, too. josh being his only friend wouldn't win him many points with the others, she suspects. "she told me she wants him to break her back like a glowstick," she repeats, still hushed but pronouncing slower. "i really think she likes him, you know? why else would she admit that out loud?"

JOSHUA

"uh, yeah. i know what you mean." josh means to smirk, but instead there's somewhat of a fond smile on his face instead. he can't help it—he's really liked getting to know miles, probably better than anyone else here. (gay.) "you'd be surprised, though. not all athletes are as cool as me," he jokes, looking over at her. "yeah, same. i love frankie, but... she's not always consistent in what she does." or what she wants. josh really thought she wouldn't have moved on from her girlfriend so quickly, considering how gross they had been. he pulls a face at the words echoed back at him, not something he needed to hear. "because she's gross?" he guesses, but he can't help but add, "yeah, i think she likes him too. i mean, she has to." he motions to the two of them on the ground once more.

MALI

"oh, you're cool, are you?" she turns her gaze back to him with a teasing smile, eyebrows raised a little. "and here i thought hockey players were the sweet ones." she nods slowly, her lips pursed with a little concern for her friend. she likes frankie, too, but miles is the one that'd be hurt here. "do you think her girlfriend is cracking on?" she asks, curious to hear his thoughts. she's honestly dying to know what the others are doing in the other villa. "it does paint a vivid picture," she giggles, shaking her head. "they really knew what they were doing when they sent him in, huh."

JOSHUA

"really, is that what you've been told?" he grins. that is a new one for him, usually used to people treating him being a hockey player like they do him being a frat boy. josh would tell her that he's sweet, but that's definitely not something he could do with a straight face. "honestly? i have no idea. i don't exactly talk to her." because he's pretty sure callie hates him, thanks to dylan. "probably not, if i had to guess. they were like... crazy attached at the hip since frankie first got in. kind of like those two now," he nods down towards miles and frankie, "but, like, if their hands were always on each other. they really knew what they were doing with all of you, i think," he gives her a look, mouth twitching to try not to smile. "you're all pretty decent bombshells."

MALI

"yes, is it not true? i thought you lot were the charitable ones." they feel like with hockey players, they've heard more about the reading programs, encouraging children to play, the do good of the sports world. "i think you're sweet." she can't keep a straight face at that either, though, so josh isn't alone there, there, the small grin sneaking on before they were done saying it. "god. i hope she doesn't kill miles." she doesn't think she's the violent type, but who could be sure after they let dejan stay for so long? if it was anyone, she thinks callie or naomi. "god, so frankie has self control with miles?" she can hardly believe that, for how belligerently they flirt. "pretty decent," she scoffs, her eyes rolling, though she's clearly amused. "darling, i'm your worst nightmare. it's okay, you can admit it. i won't tell the others."

JOSHUA

"as opposed to what, soccer players who are greedy?" he laughs. it's not like he'll complain about the compliment sent his direction, although the way she immediately grins after calling him sweet makes him scowl playfully. "wow, now say it like you mean it," he drawls, eyes rolling at her. "who, frankie's girl? nah, i doubt that. she is dylan's sister, after all." and dylan isn't exactly the confrontational type. "yeah," the way she says that makes him laugh, "believe it or not, this is frankie with self-control. a lot of it, i'd imagine." hence the pillow wall. "i wouldn't say worst nightmare," he scoffs, turning to face her better. "you're definitely the bombshell brought here to fuck with me, that's for sure. but you're not as... bad, i guess, as you think. even if you did seduce me night one," josh smirks.

MALI

"i don't know about footballers, but baseball players certainly are selfish," she snorts, knowing firsthand from past relationships. they nudge his knee with hers, forcing her expression into something resembling a straight face, though they're clearly fighting a smile. "you're very sweet, darling." it's a feat, but she manages. she tilts her head, confused at that assessment. "the twins seem to have very strong morals," she says, in lieu of bringing up any past situations — the luke thing had seemed confrontational to her, but perhaps it was editing. "so she's worse than this usually. wow," she breathes out a laugh, amused endlessly by that concept. they thought those two were bad, she wonders how much she wasn't seeing on screen. she's got a small smile, up until he says she seduced him and it widens into a grin, mock outraged as she smacks his arm. "i did no such thing," they argue. she absolutely did. "you touched me. how am i meant to resist that?" it's a joke, mostly, but she's trying to seem like she believes herself, too, for the delusional edit. "some would disagree with you, though, on being bad. i've been told to stop saying i don't care about getting back to the villa probably three times?" she giggles a little, looking over at him with out of the corner of her eyes. "can i ask you something, though? promise it's not a line." 

JOSHUA

"that seems like a generalization," he points out, chuckling. "what has a baseball player ever done to you?" josh nearly holds his breath to keep from laughing at the look she gives him, shaking his head. "christ, you look like you're gonna hurt yourself. i think i like it better when you're laughing at me," he jokes. he wants to make a comment about dylan not having morals when he stole naomi from him, but he holds himself back. realistically, josh knows that dylan hadn't stolen naomi, but it's hard for his mind to not go there, when it's the story he had told himself for days now. "you know you did," he laughs, making a show of rubbing his arm where she did him. "i touched you because you were half naked crawling next to me on the couch. where else should i have put my hands?" josh grins, finding it easier to joke about it now. he knew what he was doing when he invited her into bed with him, but she was the one who had come to him to begin with. "you don't care about being brought back to the villa, what?" that's news to him. josh has a feeling he's not going to like whatever question she gives him, but what else is he supposed to say? "alright, shoot."

MALI

"quite a bit," she says, a note of suggestion in her tone, laughter in her eyes. "but not nearly as much as i'd have liked." now she does laugh, though, leaning just a little away from him, creating a few more inches of space for her own sake. "it's easier to laugh at you." they shake their head vehemently, the smirk betraying that she knew what she did, though. "that was absolutely not what happened. i was a perfect angel, i was just trying to keep you company." their head drops back onto the edge of the pillows, rolling her eyes not feeling dramatic enough for this. "i was just in my pajamas! you invited me in," she points out, giggling. "it would have been rude to say no." a look of surprise flashes across her face, followed by confusion. "i thought i had mentioned — my goal isn't to get brought back to the villa, no," she confirms, raising her eyebrows. "if i make a good connection, sure, it'd be nice, but i want something good before all else. the...show portion does not matter." despite his apprehension, she presses forward, a rare flash of sincerity in her face. "if not for the show, if we had met outside of all this, do you think we would have got on?" she asks, tilting her head. "do you think you'd have liked me?"

JOSHUA

"why do girls love baseball players so much?" his eyes roll at her. "it's such a lame sport. anyone can do it." lame compared to hockey, obviously. "yeah, i've heard that before." watching her laugh makes him smile though, realizing with a pang that he's actually going to miss her when they eventually leave casa. maybe she has another relationship with one of the other islanders he doesn't know about, so these aren't the last days of seeing her. "well usually when people sleep in another room, it's because they don't want company," he points out. "stop acting like you weren't in your sexiest pajamas. i saw what you wore last night and it was not that." when she reminds him, josh does remember that she had told him that before, although that's not really what he had thought she meant. it doesn't matter what he thought she meant, though. "oh, yeah," he nods, before stalling at her question. he knows what he wants to say, but-- "can i answer that freely, without you accusing me of mixed signals?"

MALI

“they have all their teeth?” it’s a joke, a dig at him for playing hockey of all things. but he’s not wrong. she practically falls asleep at baseball games. “because you’re such a funny guy,” there’s a touch of sarcasm in it, settling back comfortably. maybe she would miss this sort of chat when the week came to an end. “you enjoyed my company just fine, though,” she does laugh at that — their way of helping that clearly did no good. “what, are you saying my night shirt wasn’t sexy?” it was more of a negligee, really, still very sexy. “i swear, i will not even tease you about what signals you’re giving.” she gives a tiny smile, her eyes showing it more than the rest of her face. that’s kind of an answer in and of itself.

JOSHUA

"fuck off," he laughs, before showing off his pearly whites. "look at that—the gang's all there. i still have my wisdom teeth and everything." it's honestly a miracle josh has all his teeth, considering how much he's been knocked around on the ice. "well, i didn't say i didn't," josh smiles slightly, choosing to ignore the comment about her pajamas last night. he's not exactly looking to point out that he remembers exactly what she wore before she went to bed alone. "somehow i doubt that," he chuckles a little, hand rubbing the back of his neck a bit. "but no, honestly? i do like you. i thought mixed signals aside, that was pretty obvious. if we had met on the outside... i definitely would be the one grafting you. really, if not for the fact that i want to see where things go in the other villa with someone else, this would be really different." he would've brought her back, josh knows, if things had ended the way it did with jenny, and naomi was still not in the picture. some part of him is still tempted to bring her back anyway, because he doesn't entirely trust naomi to be coming back single, let alone for him. "i don't want you to think i don't like you," he tells her, holding her gaze. "why, on the outside, do you think you would've given me a shot?"

MALI

"swear they're not dentures?" they know they make those! they've seen them get popped out. she's pretty sure she'd know after their night together, though. "and, clearly, you're still looking, if you know what i wore last night." light and teasing, sparing a glance down to miles and frankie's show to avoid seeing whatever flash of discomfort that call out causes for him. they're not trying to make it easy on him, but it's a lot harder to act like this when she can tell he doesn't want her to. grafting here is hard, she should really just be focusing on an easy target, like maddox. she looks back to meet his eye as he explains, and they nod slowly, a sympathetic smile on her face, but a little surprised frankly. "you know i am mostly teasing you about the mixed signals, right?" they ask, raising a single, perfect eyebrow at him. her smile's gone a little rueful, though, as she adds a nod. "if you're this charming normally? easily, yeah." it doesn't require any thought on her part. it may have taken more effort from him rather than her, but she's just glad to hear it isn't just her. she doesn't hold his gaze for longer than it takes to say that, though, glancing back down at her drink. "lie to me instead?" she asks, with a soft laugh. "tell me you'd never go for me."

JOSHUA

"they are not," he laughs, making a show of rolling his eyes. "i don't remember what you wore last night," josh lies, but he's smiling, knowing he's already been found out. "i don't remember anything sexy." by now josh has forgotten about the reason they've come up there, eyes watching mali as she glances away from him to only look back in his direction. "i know," he chuckles, still a little sheepish, "but i know there's some truth there, too. i feel bad. i know everyone thinks i'm some giant dick, but i do like being on the same page with people." meaning girls he dates, even though he wouldn't call it dating on the outside. josh prides himself on letting girls know that a relationship they have isn't serious, unless he wants it to be. mali calling him charming feels like it should be sarcasm—he's used to it being that in the villa—but by now he knows she doesn't mean it like that, flashing her a smile. "you want me to lie to you?" he laughs. "fine, but answer me this: if we're both single in six months and i slide into your dms, will you block me?"

MALI

"then how do you know it wasn't as sexy?" there's a triumphant smile, at his denial, poking at his arm. "maybe they were worse, for all you know. if you weren't looking." they do have worse pajamas with them, ones even he'd probably not be able to resist now, but not that they'd pull out without very good reason. their head tilts, at his more genuine...not apology, exactly, but admission. "everyone's wrong, then," they frown a little, meeting his eyes again with her own, a little surprised but brushing the off quickly. she'll have to lay off those jokes, maybe — she's not looking to make him feel guilty, or like he's some prick. that feels a little too serious to say though, and they lick their lips. "they're exaggerating. you're a perfectly normal sized dick." she adds, an attempt to lighten the mood a little. "you're not taking me back, so i think it'd be nicer if you didn't like me," she smiles at him in return. "if you're single in six months, i will be very surprised," he'll have fumbled hard here if that's the case, with how many girls he's got wrapped up in him. "but you can send me a text, yeah. i can make up some business in canada."

JOSHUA

"shut up," he laughs, pushing her lightly in her shoulder. obviously he was looking. it's rude of her to try to get him to admit it. "did you really pack worse than what you wore that first night? because damn." in short of something she'd be wearing to the hideaway, he guesses. josh really hadn't said that everyone thinks he's a dick in a sympathetic way; surely she'd been on twitter regarding the show, and plenty of people were his antis. he had enough in the villa, god only knows what the viewers looked like. so he never really knows what to do when she argues against them, though the comment about his dick does make him laugh. he's tempted to reach for her, but knows that wouldn't really help their situation out. honestly, she probably only thinks so highly of him because it's been three days. if he did bring her back to the villa, she wouldn't think so well about him for long. "fine, then i hate you," he smiles, shamelessly. "you don't have to come to canada, we can meet somewhere in the middle. europe, maybe? spain?" josh laughs at his own words.

MALI

"i'll wear it tonight if you promise to look," she quips, knowing good and well he will look regardless, but never agree to that. she might wear it anyways, as a reminder of what he's choosing to miss out on. his stronger reaction to her words makes her laugh, her eyes rolling now. it definitely did not help when he smiles alongside the words, but she'll take what she can get. "hate is such a strong word, darling, please," they give him their best  🥺 eyes, as if genuinely hurt, turning out a good performance. "i suppose i can let you go, if you truly don't like me." she snorts, shaking her head. "what, so you can reject me again? i don't think so," she teases, touching his forearm lightly. "how's greece sound? i hear santorini is lovely in the spring."

JOSHUA

he gives her a look. "you know i'll be looking anyway." and not just because now it'll be on the forefront of his mind to look. since being in casa, mali has become the one that his eyes find first in the room. well, that or miles. maybe he should be considering bringing her back, but josh knows himself, and he knows that doing that wouldn't end well for anyone. besides, he really doesn't want to give mali mixed signals. "what do you want me to say then?" he smirks, impressed at how quickly she can turn the eyes on him. "i think you'll be just fine when you get out of here." josh prays to god that maddox or bash isn't bringing her back. "stop," he laughs, nudging her. "i can do santorini. i've been once before, but don't remember much of it." too blackout.

MALI

that's more than she was expecting and gives him a pleased, if a little surprised, smile. "i know. but i like to hear you say it." it's part of what's so frustrating about naomi being such an unknown — without her in the picture, this would be a sure thing, they're so confident in that with how josh looks at her, like he does now, like it's a given, that she knows it as well as he does. "you can give me the good old i just think we're better as friends line," she suggests, a little smile sneaking in. "what, are you that confident you're not breaking my heart here?" mali's teasing is still all smiles, light and unserious. she's confident she won't be going back at this point, anyways. she leans in a little bit at his touch, undoing the distance she put in between them earlier as a safe guard, perhaps stupidly. "too much to drink or too young? the beaches are to die for, especially if you can manage a private one." her smile turns more into a smirk at that, planting ideas of being alone again.

JOSHUA

"i don't want to be your friend," he deadpans. no point lying about it. "but if you want me to lie, i can do that." only then does josh flash her a dry smile, meeting her eyes. "i'm pretty sure you'll live, yeah." it's not like either of them can pretend that she'd ever be heartbroken by his ass. even josh knows that mali is too good for him—and if he needed a reminder, her talking about her private beaches doesn't hurt. "we get it, you're rich," he rolls his eyes, before flashing her a teasing smile. "nah, just too much to drink. went for spring break one year with my frat brothers. and before you ask, yes, it's exactly how it sounds." a lot of booze, a lot of girls with faces he doesn't remember, some of them speaking an entirely different language than him. "but the beaches are fun, for what i do remember. we did a booze cruise, which i remember liking too. if we end up going, we can do something a little more low key."

MALI

"then what do you want?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him. it's not like they don't know, actually, what he wants from her. it's been made very clear, and she's probably his personal nightmare for casa, but she wants to pull it out of him anyways. "yeah, i will. i can live without you, darling, but i can be dramatic about, if you want the screentime." her smile brightens with the joke, teasing. they would genuinely miss him, though, they think. in another universe, maybe they got something more serious out of this. "hotels have private beaches, too," she slaps his arm gently, playful, mock outrage on their features but a twinkle in their eyes. "that tracks, for a frat boy like yourself." it's not like her trips there have been any better, though, probably just as messy, if not more so. "skip the booze cruise, but rent a sail boat or something, maybe. bring a bottle of wine and a picnic, go to one of those little islands they've got?" perhaps a bit too romantic for a former frat boy, but come on. she has standards.

JOSHUA

that's a good question, and for a moment he can't think of what to say. "fine, we can be friends," he finally relents. "but not, like, best friends. friends made from this weird ass experience that might hang out in greece together in six months, pending other obligations." the way he makes it sound like a business transaction is purposeful, though he flashes her a playful smile to show he's joking. "please, don't be too dramatic," he groans, unable to help himself. josh already knows that he's going to get his ass kicked for sleeping with mali, and the last thing he wants is for mali to play into the dramatics to completely ruin his chances with naomi. but he can't exactly blame her for that. "do you know how to sail?" his eyebrows raise lightly, "or are we renting someone to steer for us? that sounds like a very love island date. i think i can swing it. it's the least i could do."

MALI

she can't help the laughter that bubbles out at all his qualifications, nearly snorting it surprises her so much. "god, you sound like a lawyer. deal." his dramatics make them smile now, a little disappointed that he doesn't want more of a show, but they nod with a purse of her lips. it'd only make his time here worse, she's sure of that, but it'd be fun to give him some more attention in the mean time. though, truthfully, she can't believe this experience has gotten him a better edit. "you keep making fun of me for being a rich girl, and you think i can't sail?" a hand goes to her heart, shaking her head a little. "no faith in me at all, darling. but it's a date. i'll see you in six months, pending your other obligations."  the way they say it makes it sound like work, because it certainly will be for him. there's a moment of comfortable silence for her before she pushes herself up, realizing she doesn't hear the beat boxing anymore, assuming they've since moved on to something else. "i should go find the others, don't want them getting the wrong idea," they say, hesitating a little. part of her wants to kiss him once more, since she knows in the next day or two, he won't be bringing her back and she likely won't get the opportunity again, but instead she leans over and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to the corner of his mouth than she probably should, but it's kind of like her way of saying goodbye. she shouldn't make it more difficult on him if she genuinely wants to see him again in a few months, should he and naomi not work out. "good night, darling. behave yourself with layla, or i might be a little miffed."

[obaewankenope]

Do sharks have friends? Do they visit their family or have reunions? Or siblings? Do they really hate dolphins or is that a stereotype thing?

Okay, lots of questions here to answers! I'll do them one-by-one.

Do sharks have friends?

Okay, so, sharks don't socialise the way people do, or mammals, or well- any other creature since they're Their Own Thing. BUT, in a way, some shark species do have friends.

A recent study by the Florida International University has shown that Grey Reef Sharks can, and do, hang out with the same sharks in the same place for years. The study was conducted at the Palmyra Atoll in the Pacific Ocean which is, jsyk, kinda remote so a great spot for researching this sort of thing.

Sharks aren't "social" animals exactly but they do have social groups. This is why you can see large groups of the same species in a relatively small area co-habiting without, ya know, eating each other or fighting. It is also why different shark species, when pressed, can inhabit the same area for the sake of survival (see Red Tide and Florida Canals).

Anyway, the research on Grey Reef Sharks found that they purposely associate with the same sharks year-after-year which suggests they can recognise each other and Know Who Is Their Mate and Who Is An Imposter.

This just in, Grey Reef Sharks would probably be great at Among Us.

[image source: sharksandrays.com]

All this said, they don't have friends the way we do as a social species that depends on social bonds for developmental and evolutionary purposes. For sharks, the "friend" thing is more like us going "fellow associate" at the regular office meeting where we mingle with Those We Vaguely Know because being alone is just asking for management to send us for a Team Building Seminar that we Really Don't Wanna Attend.

As it is, Grey Reef Sharks tend to form groups normally so a social structure has to exist for them in order to do that in the first place. Now, the idea that they can also travel and meet up with "friends" is something else. I happen to find that more fascinating than anything else ngl.

#SquadGoals

Do sharks visit family/siblings/have reuinions?

Again, like the friends thing, sharks don't have social groups the way we do. But they do have migratory patterns, often have a species specific breeding ground and nursey for their offspring so, in a way, sharks kinda do visit family and have reunions. Mostly by habit and not out of any real Social Building Desire.

[image source: cnet]

Do sharks really hate dolphins or is that a stereotye thing?

Sharks don’t hate dolphins. They’re afraid of them. Wary. Which, considering the fact that dolphins always end up in pods of dozens which will definitely be enought to kill one lone shark, kinda reasonable thing to be afraid of. 

The thing is, there’s lots of reasons why sharks are at a disadvantage when faced with dolphins and only one of them is because dolphins swim around in gangs that just wanna fuck up a shark when it swims across their territory. 

Phyisological differences between sharks and dolphins are also a reason. 

Sharks have vertical tails that move from side-to-side which is good for quick swimming forward and maybe downward, but not exactly great for flexible movement and twisting. Dolphins have horizontal tails that move up--and-down which definitely gives them an edge on agility over sharks.

This means a shark can dart forward quickly and snap at a dolphin, but that dolphin can twist and use its tail to avoid the attack because of the way the spinal structure of sharks and dolphins differ. This is why, btw, when you swim like a mermaid underwater, you can twist much easier (our spines are literally perfect for that sort of thing with an up-down motion for swimming). 

On top of this +10 agility that dolphins have, they also have stubby snouts which are great for blunt-force attacks. Coupled with their speed and agility, a dolphin can do real damage to a shark - even a Great White - if it can hit areas where soft tissue damage can occur, internal bleeding, or even manage to damage the gills. 

A shark with damaged gills is a dead shark and that’s definitely something dolphins have figured out.

So whilst sharks don’t hate dolphins, if they had the ability to feel human emotions like “hate”, they would probably be absolutely fucking terrified of them more than anything else. 

Also, side note: Orcas, Killer Whales, are dolphins not actual whales. The biggest threat to Great White Sharks (besides us) is the Orca. They like to dig out the liver of a Great White because it’s rich in nutrients. If I were a Great White, I’d swim like fuck away from the black-and-white wolves of the ocean ngl.

[image source: illumina news]

[samnyangie]

Hehehehe I was bit hesitant to post this but it’s too gold not to share it! Plus, it’s a great contrast to this interview as he was being mature discussing acting in depth and overall, just serious(but cute haha). This one is light hearted (also bit cringey) as it talks about his past crush, Love letter, ‘snogging’ aka kissing(!!!!) and Romeo and Juliet, it’s more gossipy in a way? But I wholeheartedly love this interview, he’s so adorable.

So, I hope you also like this as well:D

*warning: there’s a slight mention about suicide and shooting!

(Credit)

__________________________________

"Robert Sean leonard's Lip Service..." (My Guy & Girl Interview Feb 1991)

Robert Sean Leonard's Lip Service...

What a kiss-and-tell merchant this boy is!

Robert couldn't wait to talk about snogging...wet ones, ones that make you want to puke! Eee...yuk!

But first we wanted to find out what he'd been up to since Dead Poet's Society and what his new film Mr and Mrs Bridge is about.

So Robert, what have been doing since Dead Poets Society?

"Oh, I filmed that a little over two years ago now. At the moment I'm in the stage production of Romeo and Juliet with the Riverside Shakespeare Company in Manhatten. I've also just made a movie called Married To It. I hope the title will change 'cause I don't like it very much. It's about three couples and I play the husband who's married to Mary Stuart Masterson. Cybil Shepherd is in it too.

"For a While after Dead Poets I went back to college. I took a year off and did some theatre. I also wanted to wait for a good film. A lot of the films that came my way were just typical teenage American junkie films. I waited and waited for something special until Mr & Mrs Bridge came along. I was so thrilled to get it."

What is it about then?

"It's about a family at a time before the war when four individuals spoke up, rebelled. It's sort of the last family unit in America where father knows best. The children don't have any rights-because they're the children.'

I play the strong silent type, who rebels when his father won't let him join the army. Paul Newman plays the father, and he's just such a brilliant actor. To me Mr and Mrs Bridge is about the importance of communication.

Going back to Dead Poets, is it true you got the part because you were unknown?

"Yes. The director, Peter Weir, had the talent and the guts to tell Touchstone pictures that he didn't want any famous actors. I was 19 when I got the part of Neil Perry, but i'd been working on stage in New York for five years before that-I started young.

"I still remember the weekend when we filmed the shoot-it was really depressing, just like the whole film. I'm just glad I didn't have to shoot myself on screen-all that mess!"

Was your school much like Dead Poets? All those stuffy traditions and horrible uniforms?

"My school was very, very, very different. I went to an ordinary public high school. It was much less restrictive. And we didn't have to wear uniforms. At my school there were the metalheads, leatherheads, deadheads and band fags -and I was a leatherhead, wore all the biker gear!"

So you were a rebel just like Neil then?

"Ha ha ha! Well I wasn't exactly a goody goody, thats for sure! I suppose I was a bit of both really. I was so focused on acting I didn't become too rebellious as a teenager. Besides I got to rant and rave on stage every night.

"But I was never at school that much anyway. I had to leave lunchtimes to go to the theatre. Strangely I didn't have many good friends like "The Society" But I did get along with everyone. There were a lot of similarities between Neil and myself, though. His passion for acting and learning. But unlike his parents, mine were, and are, incredibly supportive. The Dead Poets Society still get together you know. Most of the guys from the film live in New York and I've kept in touch with them all. There was a real camaraderie between us on the set that's carried over.

What subject did you hate the most at school?

"Well I loved things like history but my worst subject was gym. I always 'forgot' my trainers. I mean I like sports, but it's just that i'm such a miserable failure at them.

Did you get lots of Valentine cards when you were younger?

"I got a lot of cards at school, but not since. Actually I got a Valentine card last year from a fan, a girl in London would you believe. I don't know if I'll get any cards this year, but it would be nice. Am I sending any this year? Ahh Now that would be telling....!"

Have you ever sent love letters?

"I've never sent a love letter to someone I didn't know. I sent a secret one at school. There was a girl in High School that I had a heavy crush on, for four years! But I never had the guts to ask her out. I wrote her a card and I actually quoted a Blues Bothers song. 'I have everything I need, almost, but I don't have you. And that's the thing I need the most'. But I didn't sign it. She may have thought someone else sent it.

So, who was this lucky girlie, then?

"Her name was Joanna, she was my first big crush. From 13 to 17! She never ever knew 'cause I was really shy...I still am! Her last name was Lenz, so her locker was right next to mine, Leonard. So I got to see her every morning when we got our books. I did talk to her, and tried to make her laugh. Her house was pretty near mine too. I had a few pretty late nights where I'd go and sit on her lawn. She didn't know, but i'd just sit on the grass and think. I suppose that's just a normal thing about growing up."

Have you met her since you've become a famous filmstar?

"Well she moved to Florida when I was 17. It was the last I heard of her. Maybe I'll see her at our class reuinion. In America you always have a five-year reunion when you're 22 and you go back to school. I don't know if I'll still fancy her though..."

What first attracts you to someone?

"When I was 13 it was simply the way a girl looked and talked, and moved. Those things are still important now. But also someone who can make me laugh and talk about the same things and who has the same dreams"

What is your favourite romantic movie?

"It has to be 'Singin' In The Rain' I just loved the dancing and the scene where Gene Kelly sings to Debbie Reynolds in the studio. I'd love to do something like that, but I don't think I'd have the talent for it.

Have you, erm, heard of the word 'snogging'?

"Ha ha ha! That's a really English word. If you had asked me before I'd done Romeo and Juliet, I wouldn't have had a clue! But our stage director is English.

There's this one scene in Romeo and Juliet, the kiss goodbye, and he used to snap his fingers and shout "Come on, come on you two, we don't want this to be a snogging session"."

Do you remember your first snog?

"My first proper girlfriend used to play the piano and I played the guitar...we used to play music together (we'll bet!). That was when I had my first real kiss. I was terrified! She blew me away. There was a lot of fumbling, not knowing what to do. I remember kissing, then feeling nauseous (ie. wanting to puke). I just wanted to go home. I didn't feel pressurised into doing it, or anything. I just felt strange 'cause it was something new. In some ways I wasn't quite ready for it. Like it was something you're expected to do. But it's kinda hard to tell a girl you feel nauseous and you want to go home!!"

What's your biggest snogging turn-off?

"Gosh! Well it really turns me off when girls kiss wildly, when they try to swallow you. Or when their mouths are wet. I prefer it when it's relaxed and tender."

Have you had any other dating disasters?

"Not lately. I'm much to busy for girlfriends just now. But there was something in Romeo and Juliet, though. On the opening night I was in the tomb and I had to kill Paris then go and talk to Jiliet. I realised my dagger was missing, and she needs it to kill herself. So I just had to stop the show. I just looked at the audience and said 'Er, excuse me, but I've just lost the dagger! We'll have to stop until I find it'.

So I looked and looked until I found it...underneath Paris actually, who was lying dead in the corner. So I put it back in my sheath and said 'Okay, move on!"

Are you a good Romeo?

"Yes, indeed. Luckily I didn't have to climb up the wall to the balcony or anything.

Shakespeare really made an error at that point. If Romeo and Juliet touched or kissed in the balcony scene I think Shakespeare would surely have written about it. Whereas there's no indication where they touch at all. Did I have to wear tights? Oh, yes, I had to wear them all right. I've worn them before too. You get used to it. You forget you're wearing them after a while." Could be dangerous that...

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

chapter 5

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Peter found you in the kitchen the next morning, smiling shyly you as he stood in the door. Unsure of how to interact after the night before, he kept his distance as to not overwhelm you. You nodded towards the empty seat next to you, and a relieved smile appeared on Peters face as he grabbed a cereal bowl and joined you at the table. You silently pushed the milk towards him, feeling your face heat up when his fingertips brushed yours.

“Thanks.” Peter said as he poured the milk into his bowl.

“You’re welcome.” You kept your eyes down, focused on your cereal as you raked your brain for something better to say.

“So, am I like your girlfriend now or-“

“I would like that very much.” Peter said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment at how desperate he sounded. You laughed at his eagerness, feeling inclined to lean in and kiss him right there at the kitchen table. He happily kissed you back as soon as he was able to stop smiling. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, already enjoying this version of your relationship with him.

“I like you so much.” Peter mumbled, peering at your through his eyelashes.

“I like you too.” You giggled, still finding it funny to hear those words from your own mouth.

“Well, this is quite a turn of events.” Tony commented as he entered the room, making you and Peter jump apart.

“We were just-“ Peter began.

“Save it, skip. FRIDAY logged you going into my daughters room last night but never logged you going out. My guess was you snapped and killed each other or finally kissed and made up. I’m assuming it’s the latter, no?” Tony raised his eyebrows, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Peter apologized. “All we did was talk and sleep. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t need details.” Tony stuck out his tongue and gagged. “Just try not to break my daughters heart, yeah spiderling? Mark 45 is getting a bit rusty and would be more than happy to take you out.”

“I won’t, Mr. Stark.” Peter said confidently

“Good. Because if it came down to you or her, I’d pick my princess every time. No offense.” Tony waved his hand dismissively as a surprised smile crossed your face.

“Really?” You wondered after his recent actions implies the opposite.

“Oh, absolutely.” Tony said like it was obvious. “Peters great and all, but nobody compares to you. You are a Stark, after all. That means you’re predestined to be better than the rest.”

“Thanks, Daddy. It’s nice to hear that.” You grinned, his words meaning more to you than he knew.

“Don’t get too excited. You’ll be less happy to hear that we have to head to Florida tonight to check out some psychedelic weapons being sold. Should be a drag but that’s what we’re here for.” Tony pulled at his collar and grimaced.

“We?” You asked hesitantly. “As in me too?”

“Well Romeo here is great and all, stupendous really, but I’ve missed you by my side.” Tony said causally. “And also you don’t make the whole jet smell like axe body spray and Proactive.”

“It’s Clean and Clear, sir.” Peter corrected your father, retreating when Tony shot him a look.

“Well, you should pack. We leave after dinner. Plenty of time to say goodbye to lover boy.” Tony shrugged, making you and Peter flush. “Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that. See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You nodded eagerly as Peter squeezed your hand under the table.

Tony winked and knocked the table twice before exiting the kitchen.

“Did you say something to him?” You looked curiously at Peter once your dad was out of earshot. “It’s been over a month since he’s taken me on a mission. And I’m pretty sure I’m the least qualified person in this tower to recovery illegal weapons.”

“Would you be mad if I did?” Peter asked, scrunching his face nervously. You looked at Peter fondly before grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you rested your forehead against his once again. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“You were worth waiting for.” Peter smiled softly as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I still want you to clean up your cereal bowls though.”

“I’ll think about it.” You giggled, moving your spoon around in your cereal. “As long as you promise not to dip your fingers in my brownie batter.”

“Gross.” A voice came from in front of you, startling you and Peter. You looked up and saw Drax with a bowl of cereal in hand, staring directly at you and Peter.

“Drax?” You shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting the city. I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a child.” He deadpanned before slowly raising his spoon to his mouth.

“How long have you been there?” Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know.” Drax thought. “When did Iron Man come in?”

“A few minutes ago.” You shrugged, still staring at him in confusion.

“Long before that.” Drax concluded, making you and Peter look at each other.

“Oh my God.” You groaned.

“Could you give us a few minutes?” Peter asked with a fake smile.

“Okay.” Drax nodded and walked out of the room.

“So as I was-

“How many?” Drax popped back in and interrupted Peter.

“What?” Peter asked, growing annoyed.

“How many minutes do you need?” Drax wondered.

“A lot.” Peter stated through gritted teeth.

“All of them, if we’re honest.” You mumbled.

“Okay. Bye guys.” Drax waved and left the room again.

“Bye.” Peter grunted, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Where were we? I forget.”

“I could try and remind you.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him. Right before your lips could touch, the doorbell rang. You hung your head in disappointment and sighed.

“Oh my God. What now?” You whined.

“I’ll get it. Stay here.” Peter rubbed your arm comfortingly and made his way to the door. Peter opened the door to find a clean cut brunette in a crisp button down.

“Hey.” The boy smiled. “FRIDAY let me up.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter nodded. “And you are?”

“Harry Osborn.” The boy said, making Peters heart stop. “You’re Peter right? Y/n has told me a thing or two about you. Is she here?”

“In the bathroom.” Peter fibbed. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

“We cut our date short last night so I thought I’d surprise her.” Harry replied.

“How nice. She’s gonna be really really surprised.” Peter began to sweat, not knowing how to deal with his new girlfriends almost boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’m gonna ask her to be my girlfriend today.” Harry announced, making Peters heart stop. “I’ve waited too long, you know? And hot billionaires don’t fall into your lap everyday.”

“I don’t…” Peter trailed off, looking over his shoulder at you in the kitchen. You gave him a friendly wave, and he waved back before turning to Harry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why?” Harry sized Peter up, unhappy with his answer.

“Well, she came home really upset last night.” Peter began, which was partially true. “I don’t think she wants to see you anymore.”

“What?” Harry laughed in disbelief. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah. She told me.” Peter folded him arms, standing his ground.

“Why would she tell you that?” Harry cocked his head. “She hates you.”

“She doesn’t hate me.” Peter snapped, his jaw locking.

“Hate to break it to you, Dude, but she does. You’re all she talks about. Hang on, fantasy football.” Harry held up a finger as he checked his phone, putting it away after seemingly reading something he liked. “Anyway, she said you were the worst thing that ever happened to her.”

“Well that’s not what she thought last night.” The words left Peters mouth before he could think them through, but he didn’t mind the look it left on Harry’s face. Peter smirked as Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You two...”

“Yeah, we’re together.” Peter shrugged with his arms still folded. “Looks like you waited too long.”

“Wow. I guess there really is a fine line between love and hate.” Harry laughed bitterly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, she and I have built a permanent residence on that line.” Peter told him. “Sorry about it.”

“Alright. I better go then.” Hardy said coldly, burning holes in Peter with his eyes.

“Thanks for stopping by.” Peter smiled widely as he shut the door. He returned to you in the kitchen, guilt building up in the back of his mind.

“Who was that?” You asked from the kitchen sink as you rinsed your bowl. Peter smiled at you listening to what he asked you to do, but it quickly faded.

“Uhh, Mailman.” He lied to you, adverting his eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“Really? Why did he come to this floor?” You chuckled curiously as you put your bowl in the dishwasher. “He usually leaves it in the mailbox in the lobby.”

“Oh well he wanted to see the main floor.” Peter said weakly. “Can’t blame him, the interior decoration is really something to behold.”

“You’re acting funny. Do you feel okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows, pressing the back of your hand to Peters forehead to check his temperature.

“I’m fine. Just happy to be with you.” Peter shrugged as he held your hands in his, his conscience getting the better of him by the minute. You noticed the sweat building on his forehead and slowly let go of his hands.

“Peter, where’s the mail?”

“The what?” Peter wondered before he remembered. “Oh, there was none.”

“Who was at the door, Peter?” You asked suspiciously, your face hardening as you broke through his web of lies.

“Harry. But I got rid of him!” Peter said quickly when your face showed signs of anger.

“Got rid of him how?” You demanded.

“I told him we were together.” Peter said timidly, weary of how you’d react.

“What?” You exclaimed. “Peter!”

“Whats wrong? We are together.” He reminded you, getting the feeling you wanted to hide that fact.

“That doesn’t mean he needed to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to find out like this.” You crossed your arms. “That’s not fair to him. Do you know how heart broken I’d be if he did that to me?”

“You said the date was lame. And you have a boyfriend now, so who cares?” Peter shrugged dismissively, growing frustrated over you caring about Harry’s feelings.

“I do, Peter.” You raised your voice. “Yeah the date was lame but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be blown off. He’s a person with feelings. He deserved to hear it from me.”

“Apparently he’s heard a lot of things from you.” Peter matched your anger. “Like how much you hate me, for instance.”

“What are you talking about?” You shook your head in confusion.

“You told him I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Is that true? That’s how you feel?” Peters voice wavered between angry and upset as his eyes desperately searched your face for answers.

“I used to feel like that, but not anymore.” You retorted. “You know how I feel about you now.”

“Do I? Because you seem awfully concerned over hurting Harry’s feelings. Do you still like him?” Peter demanded answers, a mixture of insecurity and jealousy eating away at him.

“No.” You shouted. “I just don’t want to hurt him.“

“You had no problem hurting me when I first moved in.” Peter said coldly.

“And I apologized for that. God, you’re so jealous.” You spat, rolling your eyes at Peter and turning away. He gripped your arm to make you face him again, not enough to hurt you but enough to keep you in place.

“I wouldn’t have to be jealous if you weren’t so indecisive.” He seethed.

“I did decide.” You stepped you to him. “I chose you. But you had no right to send Harry away like that and lie to me about it.”

“Like how you lied about hating me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how it felt to hear him say that?”

“It’s a figure of speech.” You scoffed and yanked your arm out of his grip. “I never actually hated you. Do you have to knit pick everything you hear?”

“Apparently I do since you don’t know how to send a clear message to save your life.” He shouted. “You hate me, you love me, which is it?”

“I hate you!” You screamed, pointing a finger in his face.

“I hate you too!” He yelled back, stepping closer to you so your noses were touching. The fire in his eyes ignited one in your own, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Good!” You barked.

“God, do you ever stop talking?” He gripped the counter angrily as he stared you down.

“Why don’t you make me stop talking?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“You are the most annoying girl I’ve ever met.” Peter growled as he towered over you.

“You’re no walk in the park either, Parker.” You hissed.

“My name is Peter.” He snarled, griping your hips. “Say it.”

“You wish.” You laughed shortly. That was all Peter needed you hear to push him over the edge. He grabbed your face and pressed a searing kiss to your lips. You clutched his shirt, gripping it firmly to keep him as close as possible as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Peter.” You mumbled into his ear, making him chuckle when his plan worked.

“Fine line, huh?” He smirked as he held your chin between his fingers.

“Yep.” You laughed breathlessly and kissed him again. “The finest.”

Tag List 🏷

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[gallavictorious]

love your metas, so can i get your thoughts? i've always felt that personality wise, fiona/ lip are alike, and then ian/ debbie are alike. fiona/ lip are smart but often lost in what they want out of life/ what path to take. they both self sabotage and spiral in response to that. s4/ s9 fiona and s6/ s7 lip had similar arcs. they seem to need to receive romantic "love"/ validation, more than to give it, and can be selfish in that. but they are very giving when it comes to their family. [1/2]

[2/2] so anyways, whereas ian/ debbie very much want to give "love" as much as they want to get it, to the point that they always let any awful person who demands it, have it. kash/ ned/ caleb/ trevor/ matt/ derek/ the s10 2 ladies/ etc were all like that. (mickey being the 1 exception ofc!) they can be manipulated and therefore taken advantage of. but they work hard and take pride in that and know what they want (rotc/ emt and babysitting/ welding). but debs is selfish obviously, and ian isn't

Hiya nonnie! That's some very interesting thoughts right there, and a few I hadn't considered before! Let’s see...

I think you make a great point about Fiona and Lip both being smart but lacking a clear idea of how to translate that into a sustainable lifestyle, and they certainly do have a tendency to self-sabotage. In fairness, fairly often it's things outside of their control that derail them – which I think is a very good illustration of how much harder it is to ”make it” when you come from that sort of background. Even when they aregiven opportunities and try to capitalize on them, there's so very little margain for error; everything is always just one small step from collapsing, there's always something going on with their family that they need to deal with, and when things do go wrong, they mostly lack the resources (mental and financial) to respond in a good way. Their coping mechanisms are maladaptive as all hell, that's for sure, courtesy of their fucked-up upbringing. But yeah, quite apart from all that, I think Lip and Fiona have a habit to fuck things up for themselves by not doing great with stability in general. Rob's an asshole but not entirely wrong when he calls Fiona a chaos junkie, and Lip's issues with authority and alcohol don't exactly make things easier for him.

Additionally, I think that while Lip and Fiona are both capable of hard work – and for a long time they certainly work their assess off to take care of their younger siblings – they also have a tendency to look for quick fixes and easy outs? They're problem solvers and quick thinkers, and they had to be, to deal with the mess Frank and Monica have made of their lives, but I'd argue that this survival tactic has developed into a somewhat problematic predispotion to eschew slowly, steadily working their way towards a goal in favour of leaping on ”smart” deals and opportunities. Which isn't always bad, of course, but it has caused them a fair share of problems; consider, for instance, Fiona and her real estate escapades in season 9 and Lip's highly questionable choices in season 11. (I just watched 11x07 again and GOD do I want kick him in the nuts. I love Lip, but grow the fuck up, man. Tami is a bloody saint for being as patient with him as she is.)

In contrast, Ian and Debbie have a crazy strong work-ethic and are highly goal-oriented. They fix their eyes on the prize and they fucking go for it, putting in the hours and the work without hesitation or complaint. They are far less likely to look for short-cuts or screw themselves over because they get bored with the monotomy. That doesn't mean their path to success is a straight one, of course; Ian's bipolar has wreaked some proper havoc for him, and though she's succeed in both having a kid and a job she trained for, Debbie's narcissm is keeping her from developing the strong bonds (familial and romantic) that she so desperately craves. I think the difference between Ian and Debbie here is that Ian is genuinely looking for a partnership and a real connection (to such a degree that it sometimes leads him into highly unfortunate relationships) whereas Debbie thinks she wants that but isn't prepared to actually be vulnerable and perceptive to the other person's needs to such a degree that a real partnership becomes possible. She never, I feel, actually sees and knows her partners for who they are; she projects onto them her idea of what they should be like, and responds to that, not to them. It hasn't ended well, so far.

And I have to say that while Trevor (of whom I'm fond in spite of his flaws, so you'll find no hate for him on this blog) and (especially) Caleb have their issue I don't think it's fair to compare them to Kash and Ned. As for Matt and Derek, they may not be perfect, but I'd argue that Debbie treated them far worse than they did her. I mean, she did rape both of them. (Out of youthful ignorance, sure: it's still sexual assault. I do find it very interesting and quite encouraging that she obviously recognizes her own guilt in season 11.) By and large, Debbie has treated her partners worse than they have treated her, which is certainly not true of Ian. (Which doesn't mean Ian's a saint. Boy's got plenty of flaws, and he doesn't always treat his lovers perfectly – the cheating comes to mind – but in general he doesn't treat them badly at all; as you say, he is more likely to allow himself to be treated badly by them.)

Circling back to Lip and Fiona, I think you have a point in them craving the way their partners make them feel, but being less interested in having a partner to build a life with, if that makes sense? They aren't really looking for someone to share their lives and struggles with (which might be the resulf of them being used to having no one but each other to rely on for most of their lives); they want that high of being in love and in lust, and when things get a bit too steady and boring, they get restless. Jimmy was, admittedly, a big support for Fiona for a while, but it was quite one-sided: always on her terms. Lip might be coming around on that with Tami, though – possibly because she's assertive enough to push back against him and not let him get bored. Also, Lip (and Fiona) has shown himself to be far more devoted to kids in his care than to his partners, so I'm sure Freddie's existence is a major factor in him sticking it out with Tami even when things are hard. (Not to suggest he doesn't love Tami; I think that she's by far the best match for him on the show.) At the end of the day, I think that Lip and Fiona would enjoy someone properly at their side and in their corner – they just need to understand that that's something they can have, and that for it to work, they need to be in their partner's corner too. As I said, Lip might be on the way, though his unwillingness to solve problems together with Tami is worrisome; who knows what Fiona's up to in Florida; Ian's already got it, and as for Debbie... she knows she wants it, but not how to achieve it. For her, I think, the answer might be to reassess how important having a partner really is to her; does she truly want it, with all the compromises it inevitably entails? Then again, she's young yet; we were, I think, none of us very good at relationships at 20, and Debbie (and her siblings) has had a rougher go of it than most. She has time to learn.

This took... forever, nonnie, so I do hope you see this!. :o Can't say I expect my scattered and tentative musings to have been worth the wait, but I ended up having a lot of fun thinking about this, so here's to you finding something of value in there. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! <3 And as always, if anyone else wants to chime in you're more than welcome to; my ideas on this aren't very fixed, so I'd love to hear other or additional perspectives.

[simonsrosebud]

Dalton + the foxes spring break trip

this was one of the first prompts sent for kalton and i’m SO SORRY that it took me this long, anon!! almost a month, now!!  okay that’s not really that long but still, i kept saying i’d have it and NOW I FINALLY DO!!!  (and she long too)

dalton’s sitting in the lounge while kevin gets his spring physical when allison comes through the room.  she backtracks when she sees him, and sits on the arm of his chair.

“getting excited for spring break?”  she shrugs her one shoulder at him.

dalton shrugs.  it might be nice seeing the girls.  “sure, might go home for the week.”

allison frowns.  she leans away from him and grabs his shoulder.  “you’re not coming to florida with us?”  and looks the other way when kevin comes out of abby’s room.  “did you not invite dalton to florida?”

kevin stops.  fuck.  “i was going to.”

dalton starts to smile.  “he definitely wasn’t.”

allison looks between the two of them and stands.  “okay, well, if this causes drama please call me over?  i’d hate to miss it.”  she sends a wink dalton’s way and heads into abby’s room for her spring physical.

dalton stands and grabs kevin’s hand to lead him back out to the car.  “i don’t care that if you don’t invite me, kev.  me hanging with your friends makes you nervous, but keep in mind that andrew approves of me?  remember the date to the zoo?  i know he’s who you’re actually worried about.”

kevin knows this.  god, he knows.  he remembers their double date to the zoo with andrew and neil- as awful as it was because animals make him nervous.  but it was obvious that andrew approved after he talked to dalton after the winter banquet, and neither were harmed or fazed.

kevin’s still trying to get the scoop on  that.

but he still can’t promise the foxes will behave, and a week with them without a way to get out?  scary.  it’s not like they’d be able to just go to dalton’s.

plus, the night they got him wasted and spilled some of kevin’s secrets still haunts him.

“i’ll think about it.”

two days later, kevin stops by dalton’s classroom before they start.  “you can come, but i’m not letting you do shit just to please my friends.  they’re assholes and we both know it.”  that’s fair.  kevin lowers his voice.  ”if they cross a line and you don’t call them out on it then they’ll keep going, and you won’t be having sex for the rest of the month, and i find you won’t like it.  got it?”

dalton’s smiling.  kevin’s 100% serious, and dalton knows he won’t hesitate to hold up his bargain, but he doesn’t care.  it’s wickedly entertaining regardless.  “yes sir.”

kevin nods, and goes to leave.  halfway out of the room he turns.  dalton’s students always watch him like hawks, but he’s used to it by now.  “i’m serious, miller.”

the house is bigger than their first spring break house.  it’s beach front, and if they have neighbors within a mile then kevin surely can’t see them.

he and dalton get one of the two bedrooms on the top floor.  it’s them, and allison in the room beside them.

the first day they’re there, after everyone’s settled, the drinks immediately start flowing.  dalton starts to get more clingy, and at one point they disappear for two hours.

when they come back, changed and showered, dalton sits on the sofa tucked into kevin’s side.  allison points a drunken finger at dalton.  “i’d ask you why you left, but i could practically hear you guys fucking just going up the stairs!”  she sticks a finger to her mouth to fake gag.

kevin’s not one to talk about his sex life with this crew.  and dalton knows this, but kevin can see a snarky remark brewing in his head anyway, so kevin decides he can indulge his boyfriend this once.  “just because you’re not getting dick doesn’t mean i can’t.”

nicky chokes on his drink.  “no way is kevin a bottom!”

a few wads of cash silently get handed to neil while the group reacts to his comment.

matt turns to look at them.  “eh, i guess i can see it.”

“me too,” dalton says.

aaron gags.  “i’d rather die than continue this conversation.”

the next day is going well until lunchtime when kevin, nicky, andrew, aaron, and himself are in the kitchen.  dalton has offered to make the sandwiches for the beach so long as in exchange for not having to drag one of the coolers down onto the sand.

“okay but for real, how do you put up with kevin?  we lived with him, but i can’t imagine dating him.”

“the same way i couldn’t imagine dating you, but erik can.”

aaron steals a piece of cheese from the pack.  “i’d pay someone to kill me.”

“you guys realize he’s sitting right here?”  dalton glances to kevin sitting at a stool to the island.  he looks unbothered.

nicky shrugs.  “yeah, but he’s used to us teasing him.”

“cause he knows he’s an asshole.”

“does he get pissy when you try to talk about anything other than exy?”

“he was an uptight dick when he first stopped drinking.  how does it feel to date an alcoholic?  kevin, how does a vodka sound?”  andrew raises a brow.  dalton notices kevin stiffen just a bit.  that one stung a little.

dalton clenches his hand on the knife and stops what he’s doing to look at andrew.  “you remember our talk, andrew.”  andrew stops.  “don’t talk to him or me like that ever again.  i don’t cross your lines, don’t cross mine,” he says.  “yes or no?”

andrew is still for a solid minute.  dalton knows he respects him just enough to stop when he says no.  dalton has proved himself, and andrew knows he isn’t intimidated by him.  kevin doesn’t even have that from andrew yet.

plus, dalton learned pretty quick how to speak his language.

which is why dalton waits for the nod he knows will come.  “i’ll indulge.”  and leaves the kitchen.

when he does he looks to the other two.  “tease me all you want, i’ve got tough skin, but insult my boyfriend or my relationship to my face again and we’re going to have real problems.”  he continues making the last sandwich of the bunch, his own.  “after all, aaron, i’m sure you don’t like it when the foxes all question why on earth katelyn would a simple minded seemingly homophobic dick when there are plenty guys on the football team that would kill for a chance with a cheerleader.”  he shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich.

nicky looked guilty before, but after that he tries holding in a shit eating grin as aaron storms away.  when neil comes in a moment later confused, he asks, “why’s he pissed?”

“dalton came at his neck.”

neil, a little alarmed, takes a step away from dalton.

“that means he called him the fuck out on his bs, neil.”

oh.

“for what?”

dalton doesn’t care to stay for the rest of it.  he’s finished making sandwiches, and kevin looks smug where he’s sat.

“do good enough to keep sex for the month?”  dalton whispers and kevin tries not to laugh.  instead he takes dalton’s hand and leads him to their bedroom.

the next incident comes from the water balloons that dalton had brought.  no one notices they’ve disappeared until andrew comes through the house with a straight face and a bucket full of them.

he stands on the balcony that afternoon, pelting whoever went out on the deck with balloons.  and when dalton comes out with a few of his own he throws them right back.

but then neil comes out with more of his own, and matt joins neil’s side with a water gun.

dalton’s face falls.  “oh- oh this was not supposed to happen.”

as the attack starts, he tries to get back inside, but kevin is standing on the other side of the sliding door with a cocky grin, waving at him.

and the door’s locked.

“kevin!”

kevin cocks his head.  “i can’t hear you, d!”

dalton gawks, but then gasps when a bucket of ice water is dropped over him.  he looks up at neil leaning over the deck railing and laughing his ass off.  it’s a good thing he considers neil a friend.

kevin opens the door.  “sorry, i think the door must have been locked.”

dalton glares, and chases kevin soaking wet through the house.  when he grabs him by the thighs he lifts and throws him over his shoulder. 

“put me down or i- dalton don’t you dare throw me in the pool!”  he shouts when dalton runs out the door again.  and kevin shouts and grips onto dalton’s shirt as he jumps into the pool with kevin over his shoulder.

when they come back up kevin gasps and latches onto dalton.

“kev, i can’t carry us both!”  dalton jokes, kicking his legs to stay afloat.

kevin tries not to show his panic for a second.  he can’t touch the bottom.  “oh my god.”  his arms tighten around dalton’s neck, “i never learned how to swim,” he whispers.

dalton swims to where kevin can hold on to the ledge.  they’re both in their clothes, kevin even has socks on.

“you can’t swim?”

kevin shrugs and pulls himself out to sit on the concrete.  he peels his socks off, then his shirt.  dalton takes his shirt off, but he’s wearing swim trunks so he stays in.

“we never had the luxury of going to a pool or beach, i’ve only been to the beach a few times since i’ve come to south carolina.  i never go deep enough that i can’t touch.”

dalton holds a hand over his forehead to block the sun from his view.  kevin kind of looks like a god, backlit like this.

or an angel.

anyway…

“do you want me to teach you?”

kevin scowls a little bit, more to himself.  “don’t need to give them another reason to come at me.”

dalton nods.  he gets it, the foxes are a tough crew and kevin doesn’t always tell them when they’ve hit a nerve.  he just gives a “fuck you” and insults them back instead of telling them that he doesn’t like when they do ______.

to each their own.

but that night, dalton tells kevin to put his swim trunks on and meet him outside.  he’s in the pool when kevin opens the door.  “you know it’s like three in the morning, right?”

“you were up anyway.”

“sure, but not to go swimming.”  kevin sits on the edge of the pool.

dalton swims to him.  “what will it take for you to let me teach you to swim?”

kevin rolls his eyes.  he’s not doing this right now.  “d, i don’t go swimming.  there’s no point, really.”

“what if you’re on a boat and it sinks?”

“life jacket.”

“and if there’s not enough?  remember what happened in titanic?”

kevin glares.  they sit in silence for a minute, and eventually kevin looks his way again.  “what do you want me to do?”  he mumbles.

dalton pushes away from the wall.  “just swim to me.”

kevin stands.  “that’s not really teaching- oh!”  andrew rams into kevin to shove him into the pool, and dalton can’t really say he expected that, but it doesn’t surprise him once he registers it.  he knew andrew was awake when he passed him earlier.

andrew walked into the living room with a book in his hands, and stopped when he’d seen dalton.  “go to bed.”

“i’m waiting for kevin.”

“no fucking on the sofa, i’m not leaving.”  he said, and plopped down on the loveseat.

dalton kind of stammered for a second, and stood when kevin texted him back omw.

“i’m, no, we’re just going in the pool.”

andrew already had his book propped open.  “he can’t swim.”

“i’m gonna try to teach him.”  he’d said, and that was the end of it.

kevin gasps when he comes up from underwater, and on instinct swims to the edge of the pool and pulls himself out.  he goes to yell at andrew, but he beats him to it.  standing there, dry, andrew wipes a single splash droplet from his bicep.  “you can swim.”  and leaves.

dalton is grinning when kevin turns back around.

“i-i didn’t, i was already at the edge.”

“you swam like five feet, kev.  i think you’re capable of swimming, you’re just scared.”

he is not scared.  of water, for christ sake.

when dalton convinces him to get in the pool again, it’s just shallow enough that kevin can stand on his tip toes if he needs.  dalton is waiting on the other end.  kevin feels like a child.  “this is stupid.”

“just do it, and we can go have sex.”  and kevin isn’t even in the mood, because he’s still annoyed at andrew, but he’s not a coward anymore, so he ducks underwater and swims to his boyfriend.  when he gets close enough, dalton grabs his hands and pulls him the rest of the way.

kevin is smiling, a little.

he feels accomplished.  dalton isn’t stupid.

“okay, i didn’t include andrew in that, i promise, but at least we know you do know how to swim.”

and kevin literally has his lips on dalton’s.  he doesn’t want to think about andrew.  “shut up, please.”  and kisses him.

the only people who really get more color from the beach kevin, nicky, dalton, matt, dan, and allison.

neil’s is a special case, because while he gets tan, it’s only his legs, face, and arms to which he gains a wicked farmers tan that everyone teases him about.  he doesn’t really care.  you can only tell if he lifts his short sleeves, and since he never goes shirtless or wears tank tops, he can hide it.

aaron gets sunburnt, but that doesn’t count.

nicky claims that aaron always gets burnt, and that he’s never seen so much as a single patch of red skin on andrew.  only that he gets a little tan, sometimes, in the summer.

andrew decides not to let him be proven right (even though he is) and conceals himself under an umbrella, so no one knows for sure.  his armbands stay on, of course, and no one else is allowed to use his shade but neil and renee.

dalton plays football on the beach with matt and goes boogie boarding with neil and dan at one point.  and one day he surprises the group by saying that they should go surfing.

“you know how to surf?”  kevin flips his sunglasses up to look at his boyfriend clearly.  “since when?”

“we used to go on vacation to florida a lot, my grandparents used to have a condo.”

“and you surfed?”

“i mean, i’m no expert.”

kevin doesn’t care.  he’s seen surfers in motion.  it’s hot.  he wants to see dalton out there straddling a surf board.

but no one else knows how to surf, and they don’t feel like learning.  “we could go horseback riding like last year?”  dan offers.

dalton notices neil grimace.  kevin groans into his arm.  “what?”  he mumbles.

“i don’t trust large animals.”  he lifts his head up and points a finger at him.  “don’t make a comment.  that’s a perfectly valid argument.  they’re not to be trusted.  imagine if that thing kicked you in the face with a metal hoof?”

“aw, alright, it’s okay baby kevin,”  he pets kevin’s head, and jumps up and squeals when kevin lunges.  he tries to run, but falls behind tripping in the sand.  kevin grabs him from behind and jumps onto his back. 

dan turns to the group really quick.  “we all like dalton, yes or no, show of hands?”  everyone but aaron and andrew raise their hands.

neil looks back at him.  “andrew likes him.”

“aaron’s just still pissy that dalton told him to knock off the bs a few days ago.  he’s a yes.”

dan nods.  matt wraps an arm around her shoulders.  “man, i know kevin’s a pain in the ass, but it’s always just been his paranoia and anxiety.  the dude’s a little more fucked up than some of us.”

“that’s not necessarily relevant,” aaron says.

“no, i mean.”  matt shrugs.  “dalton’s good for him.  i think he’s helped a lot with that stuff.  he’s a good support system for kevin.  and a happy kevin is like the happy wife happy life thing, no?”

“you got that right.  plus, dalton’s not bad to look at.”  aaron kicks nicky’s foot.  “i’m allowed to acknowledge when someone’s attractive.  don’t tell me you don’t look at megan fox and go hm, she’s not bad to look at.”  aaron rolls his eyes.

allison looks out to kevin and dalton in the ocean.  they’re standing at almost chest deep, and dalton has one arm draped over kevin’s shoulder, keeping him steady, and the other pushing kevin’s hair from his forehead.

“this week was really fun.”

“i probably would’ve been annoyed at them all week without you here.”  dalton raises his eyebrows.  “you ground me.”

that makes him smile.  “i’m glad.”

kevin kisses him, and he means for it to just be chaste, but he goes in again because he can’t help himself.  and because he can.

dalton starts to smile against his lips, and slides a hand to the back of his head, through his wet hair.  “love you.”

kevin hums.  “i love you,” he mumbles, and when he pulls away he wraps himself around dalton in the water and drops his head on his shoulder.  thank god he invited him.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. ���Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[fingergunsbidean]

A Journey in Bisexuality

Word Count: 4.3k Pairings: Dean/Castiel (main), Dean/OMC, Dean/Lee, Dean/Garth Warnings: Underage feelings for Harrison Ford, internalized homophobia, mentions of homophobia but no homophobic actions are done towards Dean, drunken kissing, NSFW elements but no smut, alcoholism implied, and mentions of John Winchester’s A+ parenting, but no actual interactions with him. Summary: A character study of Dean and his journey with discovering and accepting his bisexuality.

Note: I was NEVER actually planning on posting this. I’m NOT a fic writer lol. I actually wrote this as a self paragraph in a 1x1 ten months ago, but I thought we could all use some Dean going to therapy and healing after that finale, so here we are. 

Dean is fourteen when he starts looking at Harrison Ford differently. It’s not just him, it’s all his favorites, but right now it’s all about Harrison Ford. 

His dad is on a hunt in the next town over, leaving Sam and Dean in some cheap motel. For once, he’s not itching to join him, because the local cable is having an all day Harrison Ford marathon, starting with Star Wars and ending with Indiana Jones.

He’s always admired the guy. He’s good looking, knows how to handle a gun, wears an awesome hat, and always wins the hot girl in the end. 

The thing is that Dean always wanted to be him, and as he watches Indi somersault out of the way of an oncoming boulder, he still does, but there’s something more there tonight that he hasn’t noticed in the past.

His cheeks feel flushed and there’s heat tickling underneath his skin. At first, he thinks he’s getting a fever or something and moves over to the other bed, just in case he’s contagious. 

The space does nothing to help Dean though, and his pink cheeks grow bright red when Indiana kisses Willie in Temple of Doom. As the music swells, and he lowly says the words “primitive sexual practices,” Dean finds that he’s picturing himself in Willie’s place, with Harrison Ford looming over him and dipping down to kiss him deeply.

The realization of what he’s doing crashes into him, leaving him a little sick to his stomach as he snatches the remote and turns the TV off abruptly. He swallows roughly to chase away the sick feeling and gives Sam a feigned apologetic look. 

“I–uh–think I’m gettin’ sick or something. I’m going to bed,” He says. But hours after the lights are turned off and he’s buried under the covers, he’s still wide awake.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is seventeen, and this is the longest they’ve stayed in one place since he watched their house in Lawrence disappear from the backseat in the Impala. 

When their dad took on a pretty big case in Florida, he left the Sam and Dean with Bobby, and then…just kind of left them there. It’s been three months. At first he was pissed. He’s old enough to go on hunts with his dad. He’s been on plenty, while Sam was safely hidden away in a motel.

“You gotta watch over Sammy,” John said, like he always does when Dean asks to go.

It felt like a shitty excuse at the time, but now he can’t imagine being away from his little brother this long, and while he’ll never admit it, he’s glad he left them with Bobby.

For the first time, Dean actually knows the names of the other kids in his class. He has decent grades, and he’s even considering trying out for the baseball team. 

Sammy seems happy too. Dean has seen the poor kid get ripped away from school after school, trying to keep his sobs quiet in the backseat as their dad drove away from yet another town. He hates himself for thinking of it, but when he sees how settled Sam is at Bobby’s, he hopes their dad doesn’t come back.

And maybe he’s happy too, and he tries not to feel guilty, but it’s not like his dad will ever know. Whenever he shows up for them, Dean will follow with a “yes, sir,” like he always does. 

Until then, he just lets himself be a normal seventeen year old for once. He even found a group of friends and everything, a few guys from his gym class. There’s Matt, Jordan, and Aaron with the too blue eyes, or at least that’s what he calls him in his head. As if he’d ever have the nerve to call him that aloud.

Thoughts about boys creep up on him like itch, dull at first but the more he ignores it the more insistent it becomes. When he first noticed these…feelings, he told himself, “It’s a celebrity crush, it’s fine. Everyone gets those.” But then it grew into, “It’s just some stranger in a diner, it’s fine. You’ll never see him again,” and now it’s, “It’s just your good looking friend, it’s fine.”

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

It’s not fine, but Dean pushes it down and pretends it’s not there. Besides, he hasn’t stopped noticing girls. If anything, he’s notices them more. As long as that’s the case, there’s no reason to act on these feelings or even acknowledge them. 

His dad doesn’t want a whole lot from him. He wants him to protect Sam and be a good hunter, but Dean sure as hell knows what he doesn’t want for him, and that’s being with another guy like that, especially when he’s still attracted to girls. He’s seen the way his dad looks at gay guys, heard the comments he makes under his breath, and there’s no way that’s the kind of life he wants for his sons.

So, every time Aaron gives him the kind of smile that makes his chest warm or he finds himself staring too long, he reminds himself of all the reasons why this can’t be a thing. And just because Dean is thinking things he shouldn’t be, doesn’t mean Aaron is too.

He needs that reminder right now as the four of them are packed together in a crowded movie theater, seeing Scream. At some point, Aaron scooted closer to Dean’s side, pressing their shoulders together. 

The screams from the crowd sound like a dull roar in his ears when Aaron’s pinky brushes against his, and he holds his breath as he slowly tangles them together, until they’re practically holding pinkies. 

He should rip his hand away, he even stiffens as he prepares himself to, but then his shoulders sag as he leans further into the touch. He doesn’t want to pull away. His eyes burn as he stares fixedly at the screen with how badly he doesn’t want to pull away.

They stay like that for the rest of the movie, sneaking glances at each other, but keeping the touch to just their shoulders and pinkies. When the credits roll, Dean finally pulls away, stretching as he stands to try and come off as casual as possible. 

They toss their popcorn in the trash and talk about the movie as they head out of the theater. Matt and Jordan give them a quick pat on the shoulders before heading off, and before Dean can go searching for Bobby’s truck in the parking lot, Aaron grabs his elbow to keep him from leaving.

“Dean?” His blue eyes flicker from Dean’s face to the ground nervously, “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Like without Matt and Jordan.”

Dean feels his throat close as he struggles to get air in his lungs, worried that his popcorn might come back up. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. There’s nothing wrong with hanging out just the two of them, but from the way Aaron’s blushing he has a feeling it’s more than that.

“You mean like…” He trails off, unsure if he can even say it, but Aaron beats him to it.

“Like a date, yeah. I don’t know if you–if you’re–well, I thought I’d try, at least,” He gives a nervous look as he braves meeting Dean’s gaze.

His first instinct is to be furious, to fly off the handle at him for even daring to assume that Dean isn’t anything but straight, to tell him he doesn’t swing that way and storm off, maybe even get a punch in, but he’s frozen. 

Despite all his promises to himself that he wouldn’t ever acknowledge this thing that follows him around, he starts entertaining the idea of letting himself have this. His dad is on the other side of the country, he’ll never find out. Nobody has to know if they keep it to themselves. He can just try it this once to get it out of his system and then stick to girls.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean chokes out before he even fully gives himself permission to, and he knows he needs to leave now before he chickens out, “I gotta go. Uh–I’ll call you.” Aaron lets out a huge, relieved breath before giving Dean one of those grins that make his insides squirm with delight, and he smiles back, giving him a playful wink before walking away.

He spends the drive back to Bobby’s going between panic and excitement, planning out potential date ideas but also rehearsing ways to turn Aaron down. As he pulls into the Salvage yard and sees the Impala, he realizes it’s all for nothing and feels strangely numb. It’s time for the next hunt, and he knows with absolute certainty that he’ll never see Aaron again. It’s for the best, he tells himself. 

Who was he fucking kidding anyway?

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is twenty-one and drunk on the beach. His vision is a little fuzzy, and when he looks up at the sheer amount of stars in the pitch black sky, he feels dizzy, causing him to stumble into the body beside him.

“Watch it, brother. You don’t wanna eat sand,” A husky voice laughs as he grips Dean’s shoulders with strong hands to steady him.

Lee can’t fill the hole that Sam left when he went off to Stanford, but having him around helps him feel a little less like he’s suffocating. John swung by Texhoma in hopes to recruit his old buddy for a hunt, but got his son instead. Dean and John were glad for the turn of events for different reasons. His dad admired how strong of a fighter Lee was, his training precise enough for John’s Marine standards.

Dean just admired him, in general. He’s having a hell of a time ignoring it when his dad is always there. Maybe, it’s just his paranoia talking, but it feels like he’s watching Dean too closely, noting how he acts around Lee. Which is what inspires their first escape from John Winchester in a slew of rowdy drunken activities. 

After he caught them wasted in a middle of a hunt, they started being more discreet about it, so while John was dead asleep in his motel room, the two of them snuck off to a bar and then stumbled their way to the closest beach.

Lee’s hands on his shoulders make him feel both grounded but also like he’s teetering over the edge of a cliff. The moon illuminates his face from where it’s hovering near Dean’s, his blue eyes boring into his. 

In his drunken state, he forgets what they were talking about, or if they were even talking at all, and all those walls he’s been building around himself for the past decade feel flimsy, like the slightest nudge will knock them all down.

Dean’s gaze flickers wildly over his face before landing on a piece of hair that fell over his eyes. “You have sand in your hair,” He drunkenly giggles and lifts a hand to pull the sand out before tucking the errant hair behind Lee’s ear. Instead of dropping his hand like he planned to, he cups his friends cheek instead, his thumb absently brushing over his soft skin.

“Dean,” Lee breathes, low and rough, and it sends a tingle down his spine.

“Hey,” He answers, because it feels like the right the thing to say in the moment, or maybe he just doesn’t know what the hell to say when they’re standing this close and he wants nothing more than to just close the remaining distance, give into this want that’s been burning in his chest for years.

Something like recognition shows in Lee’s eyes before he clasps the back of Dean’s neck and draws him down to seal their lips together in a tentative kiss. It’s more gentle and hesitant than his actual first kiss, but it makes his entire body practically sing. 

He hears a desperate noise over the sound of the waves, and he thinks it might’ve come for him, but he doesn’t care. He can beat himself up for that later, but for now, he sighs against Lee’s lips and deepens the kiss, letting himself have this.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Lee is the longest relationship he’s ever had, which is pretty sad, considering it lasts for about a month. But in that month, they find creative ways to sneak around his dad and even get caught up in some kind of wild orgy with triplets. 

It all crashes and burns when a case in Arizona goes horribly, horribly wrong, and Lee can’t just move past it. He quits hunting and leaves Dean to go back home, giving him one last lingering kiss before he drives away.

With hardly anything more than a dismissive grunt, John leaves shortly after, deciding Dean is finally old enough to hunt on his own, and that they’ll cover more ground to find whatever killed mom if they split up. The fact that his dad trusts him to do this on his own should be enough to fill him with pride, but it feels more like punishment, and for the first time in his life, he’s completely alone.

A week after Lee and his dad left, he’s sitting in the parked Impala, dialing Sam’s number.

“Heya, Sammy,” He greets his brother, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant and cheerful as possible. 

They talk about Sam’s homework and friends, and Dean tells him about some interesting hunts, leaving out the most recent one. He doesn’t tell him about dad leaving, but Lee is on the tip of his tongue. Part of him wants to tell Sam–to get this weight off his shoulders, for one more person to know, so it doesn’t feel like some big fever dream.

“Sam,” He starts, his tone suddenly serious. “I’m…” He stops. He’s what? He’s not gay, but he obviously ain’t straight either. But who says he has to label himself right this second though? He can just tell him about Lee. “I…” He tries again, but the words just don’t come.

That time he agreed to go on a date with Aaron, he told himself it’d be a one time thing to get it out of his system, and while this wasn’t Aaron, that’s what Lee can be. A one time thing. Something that Sam doesn’t need to know about.

“I gotta go. Take care of yourself, okay?”

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is thirty and fucking grateful for it. It’s 2009, and not 2014. He still has time to fix this. When he whips around and sees Cas standing there on the empty street, there’s a look on his face that Dean can only describe as tenderness, and that makes him believe he really can fix this.

“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean breathes shakily, overwhelmed by the sheer relief that this Cas is his Cas, not the version he left in 2014.

“We had an appointment,” Cas replies, and there’s so much warmth in his gravely voice that Dean wants to chase it and hold it close to his chest. 

He feels his face do something that’s probably too open and too fond, but he doesn’t do anything to mask it. Instead, he firmly rests a hand on the angel’s shoulder and looks him straight in the eye before saying, “Don’t ever change.”

Dean wouldn’t say Cas has much variety in his facial expressions, so the hint of a smile he gets in return feels huge. It reaches his eyes more than his lips, and something about that makes it more genuine. 

This isn’t the first time Dean felt something after prolonged eye contact with the guy, far from it, but it’s usually a shock of heat or desire–this is something else entirely. He just wants to find more ways to earn looks like this, which seems impossible with the apocalypse around the corner, but he wants to try.

It’s been nearly a decade since he told himself he wouldn’t let himself act on feelings for another man, but shit has changed. His dad is dead, and that’s not enough to erase the shame that still washes over him any time he accidentally checks out another dude, but John Winchester is not an excuse anymore. 

The world is ending, isn’t this the best time to say fuck it and try?

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is thirty-two, and he’s very naked, and very sticky. He curses himself under his breath for not taking the time to clean up before passing out, but he must’ve worn himself out. 

For a second he forgets where he is or who he was with the night before, but when he cracks an eye open, he sees peeling yellow wallpaper from the ugly ass motel room he’s been staying in. He blindly reaches a hand out behind him and makes contact with an equally naked and sticky body.

“Hey, watch the hand,” A very familiar voice laughs from behind him, causing Dean to whip around in surprise, wincing at the soreness that follows.

“Garth?” He asks wearily.

“Yeah, who else? We didn’t even drink last night, don’t pull the forgotten one night stand act with me, Dean Winchester,” Garth chastises him gently, propping himself up on his elbow as he smiles down at him.

Dean blinks a few times to try and wake himself up, and when he’s feeling a little less disoriented, the night before comes back to him–and, oh yeah, he remembers it. Who would’ve thought a little guy like Garth could be such a firecracker in bed? Maybe, he somehow sensed that about him, and that’s why he was so eager to find out.

In the short time he’s known Garth, he wouldn’t say he’s had many dirty thoughts about him. He didn’t have many thoughts about anyone these days, not since Cas…Dean quickly ends that train of thought there. The nightmares are enough. 

The thing with Garth just kind of happened, between the goodbye hugs, and the comments about how good he smells, the little smiles he keeps sending Dean’s way, he figured why the hell not?

He wasn’t disappointed with his choice either. Garth was surprisingly strong and confident, which are all things Dean likes in his partners. He just wouldn’t usually go for someone he sees so often–makes things awkward.

“I remember,” He gives a quiet laugh before clearing his throat awkwardly, looking from Garth’s bare chest to the sheets. “Look, Garth, I–uh–I’m not really looking for a relationship or anything,” He begins, and it feels so overused and rehearsed. 

He hates having this talk, which is why he usually sticks to waitresses or women, and the occasional man that he won’t ever see again. He doesn’t want to shoot Garth down, but after Cas–he just thought things would be different by now. He thought they would be different now, but that hope died when he pulled Cas’s soaking trench coat out of the water.

He doesn’t know what he kind of response he expects, but it’s definitely not for him to throw his head back with a loud laugh. “Oh, Dean, I should’ve known you’d be this funny the morning after. Look at you, trying to give me the it’s not you, it’s me talk. We’re fine, buddy. Just two guys looking for a night of fun,” He shakes his head and gives Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Dean feels his entire body sag in relief, and now that, that awkwardness is out of the way, he feels his body react to Garth’s close proximity, the memory of the night before has him ready to go all over again. 

Resting a hand on the hunter’s naked hip, he leans in until their noses brush, “In that case, round two?” He asks, his voice practically a quiet purr.

“Round two,” Garth agrees before pulling him in for a heated kiss.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

“I don’t know. I guess that was the first time I did something like that without feeling guilty after. I didn’t really even think about the fact that he was a dude that time,” Dean recounts, picking at a stray thread on his jeans.

He’s forty-one and the world is still turning. Chuck is gone, Jack and Eileen are back, Cas is human, Sam is okay, and everything should be fine. But it turns out that peace on earth doesn’t erase decades worth of repression and trauma.

It took storming out of a few therapist’s office before he found the right one. Dr. Williams, or Charlotte, is pretty nice, so far. She listens to all his stories that would sound absolutely insane to an outsider, and hardly bats an eye. 

Usually, they talk about Hell or Michael, but somehow the subject shifted to his history with men today, starting with him telling her about the ring he got Cas for Christmas. The one he almost didn’t give him–the ring that isn’t an engagement ring despite the looks Sam keeps giving him, but hopefully isn’t just a friendship ring either.

“And how do you feel now? With Castiel? Do you still feel ashamed of your feelings or sexuality?” She asks calmly as she looks up at him over her notebook.

Dean grimaces at that word–sexuality. He’s had so many years to accept the fact that he isn’t straight, that he likes men too, that he more than likes a particular man specifically. 

Still, he can’t get himself to say the actual word, not even in his own head. His old man has been dead for thirteen years, and it still feels like he’s looming over his shoulder whenever he even considers it. 

Sometimes, he wishes he told him when he accidentally wished him back into existence, but he’s glad he didn’t. Of all the people who deserve to hear it first, it’s not his dad. The fact that he even thinks that, tells him these sessions are doing something.

“Sometimes…yeah,” Dean mutters and nervously licks his lower lip, “I know my family won’t care. Hell, they probably already know, but I don’t know. I just can’t shake it, I guess.”

“You don’t have to come out,” Charlotte tells him, and her voice isn’t too gentle like some of the other Therapist’s were, but it’s not too matter-of-fact either, which is why he likes her so much. 

“Not with an official statement, at least. You should do what you’re comfortable with. Like, next time you watch Star Wars, instead of keeping all those thoughts about Harrison Ford to yourself, say them aloud.”

Dean merely raises a brow in response, he’s pretty sure nobody wants to hear what he has to say about Harrison Ford. He’s come up with way too many jerking off fantasies to that guy. Most of his thoughts are something along the lines of, “I’d sell my soul to fuck Harrison Ford.”

Charlotte seems to catch on quick and lets out an amused snort, “The safe for work version.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure there is a safe for work version,” Dean points out and waggles his brows suggestively before dropping the act and sagging a little in his seat, his face going blank in thought.

“I know that uh–that being bisexual is okay,” He stammers out and rubs the back of his neck as it prickles with nerves, “Which is what I am, I mean, bisexual. I’m just trying to believe that it is.” 

It’s the first time he actually said it, and it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be. He still feels sick with anxiety, and like he wants to drink an entire bottle of whiskey when he gets home, but the fact that he did it at all lifts a huge weight from his shoulders.

Charlotte gives him an impressed nod and jots down a few notes, “Well, that’s a good start.”

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

After his session, he comes home and gives some flimsy excuse about his whereabouts before pouring himself a drink. Cas isn’t in the kitchen or his room, but it doesn’t take Dean long to track him down. 

The new human spends a lot of time in the same spot these days. Shrugging on a coat, he brings his glass outside and walks to the little area Cas so carefully turned into his garden.

Dean doesn’t announce his presence, just watches from a safe distance as Cas mutters quietly to his plants. The sun occasionally glints off the silver ring on his middle finger, and it brings a fond smile to his lips. 

After everything they’ve been through, after losing him so many times, Dean can’t believe he’s really here. It’s not perfect, Cas is struggling with his new humanity, and the distance between them hasn’t been fixed, but it’s still good.

And Dean loves him.

“I’m in love with Cas,” He mentally tells himself, another thing that he’s known for ages but has been too damn scared to actually put into words. It’s just as nerve-wracking as his confession to Charlotte earlier, but it still brings him peace.

He doesn’t know when he’ll tell Cas, or if he ever will, but right now he’s okay just telling himself. He’s okay just standing here and watching him garden. It’s more than he thought he’d ever have.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #529

“i’d kill to kiss your apocalips”

do you like horses? Yeah! Horses are so majestic and deep creatures. How do you feel about candy corn? I absolutely hate it. What do you find in your opinion is an absolute waste of time? Arguing with people who are clearly closed-minded. Just drop their asses. Who's your favorite philosopher? I don't have one, but I actually really wanna take a philosophy course when I go back to school! Who calls you the most? My mom. The last person you spoke to, do you know their eye color? She has brown eyes. Are you currently in a smoking environment? No. Have you ever owned a tire swing? No. I wanted one as a kid, though. Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? No. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? I stay away from rollercoasters. Have you ever gone in a sauna? UGH NO NO NO NO NO. Those sound miserable. Have you ever been someplace tropical? Only Florida. Would you make any changes to your current bedroom? It's funny you ask, 'cuz I was thinking about that at the hospital. I've wished my walls could be painted for a long time to something light and calming, like maybe a light peach. I was thinking about moving my bed to a corner too (it's in the middle with the head against a wall), but I came to realize that the room would be imbalanced with too much center space. I've been tryna muse over other things to change things up a bit. Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn't have? I wanted a ferret pretty badly when I was younger, but as an adult, I know it's unreasonable for me. They're too much work. When you lost your virginity, do you honestly feel like you were ready? I've come extremely close to that, but I still consider myself technically a virgin. Like not to get too personal, but I've never done it with both of us purely naked, so. But ANYWAY, I'd be ready now. I'm an adult and know how to be smart regarding being safe. Plus, I have mega high expectations for a partner, so I'm not gonna get intimate with people easily. I'd be confident in my choice. When you were younger, did you plan on saving yourself for marriage? Sure did. It's why my first boyfriend and I never went all the way. Have you ever had sex on a floor? Uh I've gotten close. Do you remember who you were with when you first smoked pot? I've never smoked it. What were you smoking out of the first time? ^ Do you think pills affect your sex drive? An old birth control did fucking HORRIBLY, and I stopped that shit SO fast. I was so, so, so uncomfortable. Why do you drink? I only ever drink if I want the taste. Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos? Yep! Do you wish you had a new phone? Yes, actually. I want one with a better camera and more space. Name a song that makes you happy. No song is fail-proof, but I love how validating and fun "Danny Don't You Know" by Ninja Sex Party is. Surprisingly warming for a goofy songs band. Do you know how to read music? Not anymore. I haven't been in band for eons. Do you regularly use a blow dryer? Noooo. Even with my hair short now, my hair is just way too thick and takes FOREVER to dry. It ain't worth it. Is there a difference between being spiritual and religious? Yep. I'm not religious, but I've some spiritual beliefs myself. Spirituality is more about being in touch with your soul and finding divinity in your own body. Do you carry condoms? No, I don't have a reason to. Would you date someone with braces? Yeah? If they'd feel more confident with better teeth, you go, boo. Would you consider dating a psychiatrist or psychologist? I mean yeah, though I'd be worried I would overwhelm them since helping (usually) mentally ill people is already their career. What is your ringtone? It's just one that came with the phone, but I wanna change it to something I actually like to spice things up and give me a hint of enjoyment whenever my phone rings, even though I dread talking. I also want to change my text tone to the sound effect that happens when you pick up a gem in Spyro; I had that on my old phone, and it made me happy. Does your door have a dead bolt on it? Yes. I'd feel very unsafe otherwise. If the last person you kissed asked you to marry them, what would you do? It's, uh, too early for that. I know with certainty he wouldn't ask me this early, though. Does your mom wear makeup? Only for big events. Do you kiss your boyfriends/girlfriends in front of your parents? Yeah. Do you ever day dream about the person you like? Well yeah. I like picturing our hopeful future. Do you still have any Pokemon cards? Maybe in my treasure box? I can't say I'm sure. Do you like the picture on your ID? Holy SHIT no, it's so ugly. Have you ever heard a young child swear? Y'AAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL recently when I was with my mom while she was babysitting Ash's kids, my 7-year-old niece said "goddammit" while playing a game. My eyes almost popped out of my skull because 1.) that family is VERY religious, and 2.) I don't know where in the world she heard it. Mom just calmly told her to not say that. When people smoke around you, does it make you cough? Ugh, yeah. Please don't smoke around me. Would you rather name your child Michelle or Monica? Michelle. What is your best friend's favorite relative? I'm not sure, but I know she's real close with her dad. If you found out the last person you kissed was moving to a different country, how would you feel? I'ma be real w/ you, I'd want to go with him. I don't want to lose him. I know he wouldn't do this, though; he takes care of his schizophrenic mother and wouldn't abandon her. Plus he's close with his sister and nephew, so wouldn't want to leave them either. I can't even imagine him leaving without me, either. Lastly, he's very comfortable with his job and actually might move into management in the future, so it'd be quite an unexpected decision. Do you have a playlist made on YouTube? I have more than one for different reasons. Do you like dollar stores? I mean, yeah. They're good for snacks and quick drinks. How many people saw your last kiss? No one, Mom was in her room and I just kissed him goodbye. Who has the biggest ego you know? Fuckin' Colleen. I highly, highly doubt that has changed. Do you think it's weird how babies are made? Well yeah, it's pretty damn strange. Science is wild. When you were going out with your last ex and you had the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you have left your bf/gf for them? No, honestly. I actually know Sara and was perfectly happy with her. I wouldn't leave someone like that for a person I don't actually know. Like Mark, I love u boo, but I still wouldn't. Does your dad swear? A lot. Do you sweat easily? I suffer from severe hyperhidrosis, so I do very, very badly. It's so gross and embarrassing. What is something that you think the government should legalize? Weed, nation-wide, at LEAST for medical purposes. I'm for it even recreationally if you're smart about it, but c'mon, we know the health benefits. What is your favorite song lyric at the moment? "I found asylum inside your armageddon eyes" from "Cyberhex" because it makes me think of my boyfriend, plus I'm just obsessed with the song rn.. Have you ever done plagiarism and was caught doing it? Absofuckinglutely not. I feel very, very strongly about people stealing ANY form of creative work/art. This reminds me though that Mom and I were talking briefly about my writing yesterday, and she brought back to my memory how teachers thought my senior project about snake misconceptions and myths was plagiarized; they called my mom to get information from her because it was "too advanced," but she assured that that's just... how I write, ha ha, especially for something serious. What type of lifestyle do you want to obtain, if you haven't obtained it I really, really want to be more productive and an actually admirable human being in terms of success. What was something that use to frighten you as a child? I was fucking terrified oh King Ramses from Courage and even had nightmares about him, lol. Insert interesting fact here: Uhhhh meerkats are the most murderous mammal, according to a study. Even surpassing humans. What's the most memorable video game you remember playing when you were little? I was rather young when I first played the demo of Shadow of the Colossus, and I was too scared to approach the first boss for a looooong time, ha ha. I would just play the demo up to that point because it was so entrancing. Now it's one of my faves. Who is someone you'll never ever forget even if you tried? Jason. Trauma, my friend. Would you ever watch a bullfight? No. I hope they get fucking gored. Would you ever travel to Greece? Certainly! What is a sickness you always tend to get? I almost never, ever get sick, so I really can't say. Well, it's not really a "sickness," per se, but I do get UTIs a lot. I just don't drink enough water. Have you ever sculptured anything? Yeah; I've made quite a number of clay things in art classes. Would you own a Dalmatian? They're gorgeous dogs, but I don't want another at any point in the foreseeable future. Girt does own a dog though and loves the cutie, so maybe in our potential future I'd be fine with Charlie. After he passes though, if Girt really wanted another, I'd probably be fine with it. He LOVES dogs and I want him happy. If he can accept my desire to start a tarantula collection, and I respect his desire for a dog, ha ha. What do you usually tend to do on long car rides? I HAVE to have my music, and I just really stare out the window and take things in. Have you ever seen a live orchestra? No, but I wouldn't be opposed! Have you ever had breathing complications? Yes. I've been suspicious for YEARS that I may have asthma (my mom and grandmother both have/had it) because occasionally I have a hard time getting enough air in and make a squeaking noise when I try to take a big breath; when it happens, I usually have to use Mom's inhaler for relief. Mom is quite sure it's just allergy flare-ups, but idk. Have you ever seen a comet? I don't think so. :( I'd love to. What place would you never visit? North Korea, to name just one place. Have you ever made someone breakfast in bed? Sara, actually. I made eggs once when she visited. What's the most odd, weird name someone's ever given you? UHHHHHHHHH I have no clue. The most unique was probably "Bee" from Megan (and almost Girt, but I let him know it's bittersweet to me and I'd prefer him not to to avoid the memories, which he totally respected), but I wouldn't call that one "weird." What part of you always seem to go numb quickly? My legs, if I sit too long.