#I’m FINALLY getting around to reading Neon Gods and it’s definitely not boring so far

[jerriisspeakingnow]

Not me genuinely falling asleep reading a spicy book.

[steddietogo]

I had so much fun writing this for the @steddiesummerexchange!! @steddieasxshegoes hope you like this!

Word count: 8.9k

Read on ao3

— — — Steve finally turns to glare at Robin when one of the sunflower seeds she’s been throwing at him comes dangerously close to taking an eye out.

“Stop staring, dingus,” Robin laughs at him.

“I’m not staring,” he protests. Steve was merely glancing at the hot metal head on a leather couch at the back of the bar, nursing his drink all alone. “If you stopped paying attention to me for a second you’d have noticed the blonde making eyes at you from the bar,”

“Where?” Robin asks, whipping around embarrassingly fast.

“Rob! You don’t just–”

“Oh my god, she’s hot,”

“You’re so obvious,” He hisses back. “Go talk to her,”

“What? No way,”

“Hey, maybe you have more game in Rome–” And the next sunflower seed bounces straight off his forehead but before he could retaliate, there’s movement at the corner of his eyes.

“Shit, she’s coming over,” he says and watches the absolute panic taking over Robin’s face. “I need another drink, good luck.” He narrowly misses the kick aimed to his shin, slipping away to give them some privacy because, dear god, Steve knows he would never hear the end of it if Robin doesn’t get laid at least once during their entire trip to Italy.

The bar is cozy, decorated to look like the inside of catacombs with picture frames lining the walls and chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling. It's much better than the ones Robin brings them to, back in LA, almost entirely lit by neon signs and plays music a little too loud for his taste these days.

But here in Italy, Steve is not confined to the rigid schedule he follows to keep himself rested and alert enough for emergency situations. Steve makes his way to the counter and orders himself another drink, settling back to people watch– definitely not just to discreetly ogle the lone metal head looking entirely too bored to be sitting in a nice bar in Rome.

— — — Eddie can feel the eyes of the fluffy haired man on him from across the bar. Nothing he isn’t used to though. He might even be flattered by the attention if he wasn’t too busy feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t plan on sitting in a bar all alone, on what was supposed to be his honeymoon vacation, sans a ring on his finger. But no amount of being desired by the masses on stage has made his love life any better. No amount of admiration saved him from his cheating ex. He’s not heartbroken, just tired; that relationship was long over before the cheating even started. Rick was only ever concerned about the fame and attention he’d get throwing Eddie’s name around.

He would just be rotting away at home if it wasn’t for Chrissy refusing to let him cancel the whole trip and basically dragging him to the airport by his ear. He suspects it’s also to keep him far away from the whole press circus his ex no doubt started to stir by now. He just hopes they’d leave the boys from the band alone. He’d hate to drag them down with him.

Since landing in Rome the day before, Eddie had slept, ate, slept again and landed in a bar for a drink or two, trying to feel some semblance of normal again. Maybe Chrissy thought the Italian sun would magically reset Eddie to the optimistic idiot he once used to be, but he owed it to her to try at least. From where he’s sitting, two weeks felt like it’s an eternity away.

Eddie watches as the man leaves his seat and walks over to the bar by himself. He likes the way his button up stretches over his shoulders. He’s conventionally attractive in the boy next door kinda way. Pretty, even. Eddie hasn’t slept with a stranger since the beginning of his career when he’d gotten caught by paps doing the walk of shame back to his place. Since then he’d been a lot more careful with everyone he’s been associating with.

This one is cute though and Eddie may be tempted to break a few of his own rules. There is something about being alone and depressed in Italy that makes him want to throw caution to the wind and just do something impulsive. He’s feeling a little too restless and itching for some human connection. Very tempted to buy the cute guy a drink and see if he would follow him back to his stupid big honeymoon suite.

Besides, wasn’t that what Chrissy wanted for him? To forget Rick and to enjoy himself? She’d also say that it's not healthy to throw himself at the first pretty thing so soon after a breakup, but whatever, she’s not here with him.

Eddie feels, more than sees, as the stranger’s gaze lands on him one more time. The blonde that he came in with looks cozy sharing a couch with another woman, so no harm no foul, Eddie decides. He sweeps up his jacket and makes his way to the bar.

“Hi,” Eddie says. The cute guy startles at his sudden appearance by his side but his grin is nearly blinding. “I’m Eddie,”

“Hey,” he replies. “Steve,”

Steve, he learns, is on vacation with his best friend. After speaking to him for a bit, Eddie is about 70 percent sure Steve has no idea who he is. Just the way he prefers. He buys Steve a drink and they flirt a bit. Eddie likes the way Steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and how he constantly runs his fingers through his hair like Eddie makes him nervous. Unfortunately, before he can make a move, their little party is crashed by Steve’s companion. Eddie can’t help but feel a tiny bit annoyed.

“Oh my god, I need a drink,” The woman comes barreling between them.

“You okay there buddy?” Steve asks her and she grabs him by the shoulders and shakes.

“Oh shit, sorry, did I interrupt?” She asks, finally noticing his presence, funnily enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves her off.

“I’m Robin,” She stuck her hand out.

“Hi Robin, you have lipstick on your face,” Her eyes widen and she scrambles to fix herself using the reflection in the mirror behind the bar, frowning when she finds nothing on her face.

“No I don’t,”

“Made you look,” Eddie grins.

She narrows her eyes at him. “You’re good,”

— — —

They get another round of drinks, Steve buys this time, and they move to a bigger table. Robin sticks to them like a cock blocking barnacle but after a while later, Eddie doesn’t mind anymore. She’s weird and funny in a refreshing way he doesn’t get to see everyday. Plus, Steve looks more at ease when she is by his side.

“So, Eddie,” Says Robin, “What brings you to Rome?”

“Well, you can’t call it a honeymoon if you don’t marry your cheating fiance, so,” Eddie shrugs, watching the slight alarm on both of their faces. “Guess its a solo trip now,”

“That sucks, man,” says Steve.

“It's whatever,” he shrugs.

“You know what? Fuck that motherfucker,” Robin says, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim. “You’re gonna have the best solo honeymoon ever and he’s gonna be soooo jealous of you!” Robin is kind of a light weight, but it's nice to see someone else enraged on his behalf.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Fuck him,” And then he buys a round of shots. This isn’t the way he saw his evening going when he approached Steve, but Eddie isn’t complaining.

“This is so stupid, we’re gonna regret this in the morning,” Steve giggles, slumped so far down his seat only his face is visible above the table.

“Shit! I forgot!” Robin exclaims.

Eddie frowns. “What’s happening in the morning?”

“We’re going to Tuscany!” Steve says and Robin gasps suddenly, repeatedly slapping Steve on the arm, her eyes wide as dinner plates as she looks at Eddie.

“You should come with us!” She exclaims. “There’s enough room in the air bnb i'm sure, you can bunk with Steve,”

“Come with you to Tuscany?” Eddie asks, puzzled.

“Or Steve can just take the couch,”

“Hey!” Steve protests. “But yeah, it’ll be fun,” he says, turning his big hazel eyes back to Eddie looking so hopeful and expectant; and maybe a little too gone on the alcohol too.

So, really, you can’t blame Eddie for saying yes to a half baked plan that probably wasn’t even going to happen. He’s drunk and a pretty boy is asking him to follow him across Italy. Most likely, the two are going to wake up the next morning with no recollection of the night, or they're probably not even going to make it to their train anyways.

So Eddie says, “Fuck it. Let's do this!”

— — —

Turns out, a drunk Robin is no less a planner than a sober one. Eddie is woken up with his phone incessantly ringing at 10 am on the dot, his presence being demanded at breakfast. At least he feels a little bit better after seeing the other two looking as bad as he feels. Robin is wearing two sunglasses stacked on top of one another.

Packing is no hassle, thankfully, as Eddie never bothered to unpack in the first place. Being hungover for more than an hour on a train isn’t really fun. He eyes Steve and Robin happily curled up and dosing away at their seats as he spends the better half of the train ride to Florence trying not to yak up the cup of coffee and pastry he had choked down at breakfast. Wanye would have laughed and told him he has been spoiled by all the soft mattresses in his fancy hotel rooms. And he wouldn’t be wrong.

They spend twenty minutes ambling around the city, looking for a specific hole in the wall Steve was determined to visit, then fall face first into plates of pasta in ravenous hunger. It's chaotic, better than being holed up in his room with nothing to do. Eddie might even admit it was fun if you ask him tomorrow.

Once their plates are just short of licked clean, robin rummages through her cross body bag and pulls out a paper map, unfolding it into a cartoonishly large piece of paper. “Do you not have GPS in your phone?” Eddie asks, eyeing the map.

“You’re in a foreign country, Eddie, what if you lost your network? Do you want to die?” Steve says in a scarily accurate impression of Robin, then gets a bony elbow to the ribs.

Robin clears her throat dramatically, points at a part of the map and says, “We’re here right now,” Here, Eddie assumes, is Florence in the map since the lettering was so small and crowded together it was almost impossible to read. “And we’ll be taking a cab to an airbnb here, about thirty minutes away. It's like a big ass villa we’ll be sharing with a few other people and there’s like a big ass pool there too, so we can chill out over there. Then at seven, we have a wine tasting-slash-dinner at a vineyard.”

“Oooh we’re getting drunk again?” Eddie asks.

Robin enthusiastically replies, “Yup! We’re on vacation, baby!”

— — —

The villa is gorgeous. It’s up on a hill overlooking rows and rows of vineyards and trees and has a huge breakfast nook, living room and outdoor dining place and his first thought after stepping into the place was damn, Chrissy is going to be so jealous. The host is a friendly middle aged man with an accent so strong only Robin could mostly understand what he was saying.

The pool is a nice idea too. After their initial tour of the property, they change into pool-side appropriate wear and make their way downstairs. Eddie tosses his hair up and sinks into the water, letting his fingers prune in one corner with his shades on, watching Steve and Robin splashing about like a couple of toddlers. He doesn’t understand where those two get their unchecked energy reserve from, Eddie is so close to dozing away.

He turns to the woman a couple feet away trying and failing to read her book in the ruckus the two are making. “I don’t know them,” he says, though she probably saw them arrive at the pool together. She gives him a polite smile and goes back to trying to read.

The vineyard they go to for dinner is a walkable distance away, or so Steve says, and then it takes them half an hour to walk there. Which both him and Robin complain about, a lot. There’s a small group taking a short tour with them walking around in the vineyard, taking a few pictures. He sends some to Wayne and gets a thumbs up emoji back, which was the equivalent of a heartfelt hug from him in text.

Dinner is good, the food and the company. They are given tiny wine glasses and get refills as often as they want. Everyone takes full advantage of it. He even makes polite conversation with a few of the others in the groups. Steve looks especially pretty in the firelight with a rosy tint to his cheeks.

Eddie feels relaxed and so much lighter than he had in months when they stumble back to the villa, swaying and leaning against each other, giggling about stupid things. “I’ll see y'all bitches in the morning,” Robin bids them goodnight and Eddie and Steve crash into a pile on top of the two seater couch in their room.

“Hey,” Steve whispers. “I really don’t mind taking the couch you know,”

“What? No way, Steve. I don’t mind sharing, I can keep my hands to myself, you know,”

Steve snorts, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘if only’.

“What was that,” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, nothing,”

Eddie absentmindedly draws patterns over a knee thrown over his lap, the heat of his skin like a furnace under his palm. He can’t look away from wine stained lips and flushed cheeks as Steve smiles softly at him, inviting. His hazel eyes drop to his lips then back up again.

Eddie didn’t realize how close they are, their noses nearly brushing– Steve almost fully on top of his lap– it would be so easy to kiss him. He just has to tip his head up to press their lips together, so he does it.

Steve’s mouth feels as warm and inviting as it looks. Eddie lets him press his tongue between his lips, big hands cupping the back of his head keeping him there. Eddie takes it as permission to get a little more handsy, slipping his hands under Steve’s shirt.

Eddie feels himself melting into the cushions as Steve tilts his head into the kiss. He pulls back and Eddie has to stop himself before he does something pathetic like whine, or maybe chase after his mouth. “You wanna move this to the bed,” Steve asks, sounding as breathless as Eddie felt.

“Yeah, sweetheart,”

— — —

Eddie wakes up fully nude under the covers feeling warm and satiated. He listens to the birds chirping outside the window and the soft snores from the man stretched out beside him. He flips to his side, watching Steve sleeping on his stomach, his ribs expand and contract with each breath he takes. His back is littered with moles and freckles and Eddie with his sleepy brain wonders how long it would take to trace every one of them. Some of them disappear under the scar tissue twisting over the side of his torso, starting at his hip and spreading almost all the way to just under his rib cage. He leans in, lightly brushing his fingers just over the shiny, raised skin.

"It’s from a fire a few years ago," Steve says, slowly blinking sleep out of his eyes. And at Eddie's raised eyebrows, he elaborates, "I'm a firefighter. Robin too.”

“Shit,” Eddie replies, suddenly feeling more awake. “You just got like ten times hotter,” Steve snorts. “You have to wear a uniform right? Do you have any pictures?”

“What am I? Just a piece of ass to you?”

“A very hot piece of ass,” Eddie says, pulling himself up on top of Steve. “Don’t sell yourself short, Stevie” And he leans down to kiss him, morning breath and all. They get distracted for long enough that Robin comes thumping on their door to get them out of bed.

— — —

Breakfast is once again a steaming cup of coffee, fruits, and a fresh croissant. Eddie has had more fresh fruits in the past two days than the entire year combined. He was also having a very nice time happily appearing in public without fear of camera flashes or crazed fans. Feeling the sun on his skin, living his best life, as the kids would say. Eddie was wearing one of Steve’s shirts open over a band tee and canvas shorts. His usual wardrobe, consisting mostly of ripped jeans and leather jackets, wasn't the most comfortable in the sun.

There are only two other couples in the outdoor dining area of the airbnb. A pair of retirees and the other two possibly honeymooners by the way they were all over each other. Eddie briefly considers how if he hadn’t been with them, Steve and Robin would’ve also looked like a heterosexual couple, not codependent platonic soulmates having a vacation together. The thought makes him huff a laugh into his coffee. Steve raises his eyebrows at him in question from his seat beside him, and he just shakes his head.

Robin drops the folded paper map on the table once she’s done studying, steals a sip from Steve cup, then winces. “That's the one toxic dude bro trait you have,” she says, glaring at the offending cup of black coffee with no cream or sweetener in it. Eddie has to nod his head in agreement. Even Eddie doesn’t drink his coffee black.

“What? It's not that bad,” Steve tries to reason.

“It’s actually really horrible, you just don’t have taste buds anymore because you burnt them off, apparently.” Eddie chimes in.

“Nuh-uh, you aren’t allowed to team up like that, no way,” Steve protests. Robin sneaks a sip from Eddie’s cup.

“Holy shit, there is no coffee in this, it's just milk and sugar!”

“No, its not,”

“Yes, it is!”

“Okay, calm down, children. Robin, weren’t you just gonna tell us the plan for today?” Steve interrupts.

“Fine,” Robin huffs. “First we make a ten minute walk from here to the rental place for the Vespas, then were going to go to Pisa, then Siena, then San Gimignano if we have the time,”

“We’re renting Vespas? That’s the most touristy shit I’ve ever heard,” Eddie says.

“Eddie, we are tourists,”

“But like, couldn’t we just rent a cab or something?”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

“I don’t have a motorcycle license,”

“That’s fine, you don’t need it,” Steve chimes in, “It's just like riding a bike,”

Eddie grumbles under his breath, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth. Steve exchanges a look with Robin.

“Eddie,”

“Hmrph?”

“You know how to ride a bicycle, right?”

“I- I just never learned to, okay?” Robin snorts.

“That's okay, you can ride with me,” Steve smiles, nudging him.

Later on Eddie sends a video to Chrissy of the sprawling vineyards and him on the back of a ridiculous red Vespa and matching helmet, clinging tight to Steve as they sped down a cobblestone road.

— — —

Pisa is nice. There is a lot more climbing involved than Eddie had expected, and is grossly underprepared for it. The view from the top of the leaning tower is cool. Cool enough to climb up and down multiple narrow stairs? Eddie isn’t sure. Steve and Robin barely break a sweat beside Eddie who is fighting for his life– maybe he should listen to Chrissy and cut down on the cigarettes– the damn firefighter stamina.

They take many dorky touristy pictures of them trying to hold up the leaning tower which he knows would make Chrissy laugh. Eddie does his best to occasionally answer the barrage of questions thrown his way after Chrissy sees his messages. She’s mostly just happy that Eddie’s having fun and isn’t alone. She also has a few questions about the sandy blonde hair woman in the pictures with him.

Before they set off to Siena, Steve pulls out a bottle of sunscreen and insists everyone reapply– then acts all affronted when Eddie says he wasn’t wearing any to begin with. His ass feels just about flattened after the almost two hour ride to Siena. They have lunch at another nice spot, walk around taking a million pictures of the Duomo, and climb more stairs to Eddie’s dismay, which Robin finds hilarious.

— — —

“So,” Robin says, “Eddie.” Steve groans. “That bad huh?”

Robin and Steve are sitting in the shade of a nice big tree in a park, Eddie having gone to hunt down food and water for them. His spirits are still high for someone who looked so close to passing out at the top of the leaning tower.

“He’s only the hottest, funniest dude I’ve met in like years probably, no big deal,” Steve throws an arm over his eyes. “Face it, Robs, I’m just cursed to never find love.” Robin rolls her eyes at his dramatics.

“Just ask for his number, dingus,” She says, like it's obvious.

Steve sits up. “I can’t, it’s probably like, just a fun vacation fling for him. And–” He continues before Robin can interrupt. “He just got out of a serious relationship, I can’t ask now, it's too soon,”

“It does even have to be like, ‘I wanna date you please give me your number’, It can be like, ‘we should keep in touch, let's exchange numbers’,” Steve makes a face in response.

Thankfully before Robin can attempt to change his mind further, Eddie comes trudging across the park towards them. “M’lady, M’lord,” he offers the paper bag of pastries to them, on one knee.

“M’dork,” Robin replies and Eddie throws himself backwards on the ground, pretending to get shot.

“Why do you wound me so, fair maiden,” He wails rolling around in the grass, making her snort and Steve complains about getting grass stains on his shirt.

— — —

Eddie almost falls to his knees and begs for mercy when he’s rudely awaken at 5 fucking am and Robin tells him that they will be spending yet another four hours on a train to Rapallo to yet another airbnb. He tells her that she and Steve are single handedly funding the entire organization. Robin tells him to shut up and drink his milk.

“There isn’t much walking,” Steve promises him as he coaxes Eddie from bed. “We’ll just swim in the ocean, drink and relax.” After breakfast they make their way to the train station. Thankfully, this time Eddie manages to pass out for a good amount of time during the train ride only waking to blearily change trains.

He’s well rested by the time they make it to their airbnb. They get ready for a beach day, then it's Vespa 2 electric boogaloo as they rent a couple for the day to get to the beach and back. Eddie shouts “Liar!” from the back seat when Steve tells him the beach is twenty minutes away. Steve argues, technically he wasn’t lying since they aren’t walking.

The beach, unfortunately for Eddie, is a lot more packed than he had expected. It puts him on edge, makes him feel like he might get recognised. He hadn’t realized how Steve’s shirt felt like armor the day before. No one was expecting Eddie Munson to be wearing a striped button up and canvas shorts. But having his tattoos out in the open feels like he was asking to be caught. So he swipes Robin’s orange cover up with little pom poms on the hem the second she discards it and tucks his hair under a sunhat.

The wonder twins are busy in the middle of a sandcastle building competition– which they asked Eddie to be the judge of– like little kids. He sits back and watches people with their friends and family, the two dorks in front of him fighting for sand at the same place like there isn’t sand anywhere else on the beach. He spots boats docked on the other side of the beach and gets an idea.

“Hey guys, I’ll be right back,”

— — —

Steve lays on his beach towel, eyes closed and listening to music on his headphones. Robin was off fucking around in the water with another cute woman she struck up a conversation with.

Eddie rushed off saying he was going to get them something to drink but Steve gets the impression that it's just because he wasn’t one for crowded places, though he didn’t seem too uncomfortable yesterday when they were going around Tuscany. He seemed to shrink into himself when they reached the beach, looking vaguely nauseous when he was sitting under the umbrella all covered up.

He wonders if he should go look for him and make sure he is doing okay, he’s taking a little too long for Steve’s comfort. Or maybe the queue is just really that long since the beach is crowded and Steve is being an overbearing mother hen like Robin sometimes reminds him that he has a tendency for.

Steve starts to slowly doze listening to the chattering all around him and the sound of the waves in the background of his playlist when he feels a shadow descend over him. He opens his eyes to find Eddie standing over him, still in Robin cover up– sans drinks– looking a little too pleased with himself. “Pack your bags,” he tells Steve. “And get Robin,”

Steve scrunches up his face in confusion. “Pack up? We just got here,” Steve yanks on Eddie’s hand and catches him on his lap when he goes down yelping, the sun hat knocked off his head.

“We have much better places to be Stevie, believe me,” he says cryptically, throwing his arms around him.

“You’re not making any sense, dude,”

“I rented us a boat,” Eddie says, grinning.

“A what?”

“A boat. You know? Those things floating over there in the ocean?” he points like he’s explaining to a child seeing a boat for the first time. Dick, Steve thinks fondly.

“When did you do that?”

“Like five minutes ago,” Steve wants to wipe the stupid grin off his stupid face so he leans in and kisses him. It doesn’t really work, Eddie’s still high on his new boat procurement adventure. He tugs in Steve’s hair, pulling him back.

“Come on, we’re losing daylight,” he insists.

“It's not even noon yet,”

— — —

Robin seems very excited by this new development, basically bouncing all the way to where Eddie leads them to a big boat. She brings along her new friend from the beach with them, a curly haired Spanish brunette– Go Robin, Steve thinks– though the boat Eddie had picked had a capacity for more than just four people.

The captain is a funny middle aged guy who’s happy to let them play music as loud as they want. He shows them around the coast and then stops further into the ocean where there are other boats and yachts some distance from them. Steve, Robin and her new companion waste no time jumping into the ocean and Eddie finally looks relaxed.

A little while later, Steve clambers back into the boat in his swimming trunks, sea water dripping from his hair. His shoulders are already turning a deeper shade of tan. He joins Eddie lounging under the sun, laying his dripping head on his shoulder. Eddie traces a finger through the droplets doting his arm.

"Enjoying yourself?" Eddie asks and Steve hums happily.

"Kinda feel like I'm seventeen again," He says.

"Oh? You were galavanting around Italy in high school, Stevie?” Eddie grins at him, teasing.

"Mhm. Summer after junior year, I got brutally dumped,” He explains. “Kinda deserved it though, I was a little bitch in high school," Then there’s a glint in Eddie's eyes like he’s imagining Steve in a preppy outfit and the ridiculous way he used to style his hair.

"My parents brought me along for their trip and their friends has a gay son, though I don’t think they knew he was gay or they wouldn’t have let me hang out with him otherwise," Steve thinks of Andrew sometimes and all the awkward fumbling they had done when they would sneak into each other’s rooms at night– something Robin calls his ‘Bi-awakening’. “So yeah, I left for the vacation straight and came back bi,”

"That is so trust fund baby core, holy shit," Eddie says, and Steve snorts.

"Was a trust fund baby. Past tense," He clarifies.

"Hm, what happened then?"

"I mean, I already knew my parents were homophobes but hey, at least they waited till I finished high school to kick me out,” He shrugs, feeling embarrassed the second he finishes spewing his whole story.

“I’m sorry your parents suck,” Eddie throws his arms around Steve and squeezes him until he laughs. Steve has always been an oversharer, a trait that had put off a lot of his past partners, unfortunately. Eddie is a good listener. He doesn’t seem too bummed out by his little trip down memory lane. But then, when did Steve start thinking of Eddie along the same line as the people from his past relationships?

“Whatever. They were really just cramping my style,”

“Yeah, I bet you looked real bad in those starched shirts and designer suits,” Eddie says, sounding like he really doesn’t mean it.

"Come get in the water with me," Steve says and Eddie whines in protest. "What? You don't know how to swim too?"

"I know how to swim!" He exclaims a bit too defensively. "I just don't want to get my hair wet," he pouts.

"You don't have to get your hair wet," He pulls Eddie up, "I’ll protect your hair, come on,"

Steve dives in first, watching Eddie carefully lower himself into the water just enough to keep his head above. "See? All good,"

He wraps his arms around Steve's shoulders, pulling him in for a salty kiss.

"CANNONBALL!"

"Rob, wait!" It was too late. Robin crashed into the water, way too close to them, sending a huge splash into the two, drenching them to the tip of their heads.

"Noooo," Eddie moans, looking like a drowned rat with his bangs plastered to his forehead. Robin's maniacal cackling reaches them as she surfaces. "She's so mean to me," he whines, hiding his face in Steve's neck.

"Aww poor baby," Steve coos, trying to hold back his laughter. "I'll help you wash your hair later, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise,"

— — —

Steve does help wash Eddie’s hair, though showering together ends up wasting more water than they were supposed to be saving on accounts of wandering hands. When they step out of the bathroom clean and loose limbed, Robin is on the couch with the TV on full volume, takes one look at their faces and says “Yuck,”

Eddie points at her and says, “Homophobe,”

They decide to order in for the night. Robin hooks up her (Steve’s actually) Netflix account to the TV and they argue on which movie to watch until their dinner arrives, then pass out in a puppy pile twenty minutes into the movie.

— — —

Thankfully, their train to Milan the next day is at a much more reasonable timing. Eddie still whines about having to move again. They make it by mid day and explore the city some more until it's time for dinner.

Eddie feels a pang when he thinks that he’d be saying goodbye to the two in less than a day. Which is dramatic, even for him. He’d barely known them for a week, yet he feels himself clinging to Steve harder and starting arguments just to annoy Robin more often.

When they go to bed, he falls asleep with Steve curled over his back and their fingers intertwined.

— — —

In the morning, Steve joins him on the couch in the balcony where Eddie is people watching through the railing with a cup of coffee. Steve and Robin are leaving soon to catch their flight back home and Eddie’s all packed up to get back to his luxury honeymoon suite in Rome, all alone. The prospect of another week alone in a foreign country feels more daunting than it had been in the beginning of his trip.

Eddie feels like the end of the week snuck up on him. He didn’t expect to like being in Italy so much, though he suspects that has more to do with the company than the country itself. Steve sits so close to him that he’s almost fully leaning on Eddie's shoulder, he’s going to miss his weight and his warmth, the easy way he holds himself near other people like he belongs in everyone’s space.

“So,” Steve says, their position reminds Eddie of the first night he kissed Steve, tipsy on wine, heart fluttering in his chest like butterfly wings. He wants to pull him in and kiss him again.

“So,” Eddie parrots.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Eddie hopes he isn’t imagining the hint of melancholy gleaming in his hazel eyes, he wants selfishly for Steve to miss him too.

“I had fun,” Eddie smiles. It takes effort.

“I’m glad,” Steve says, sounding so sincere. He tucks a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear, leans in to slot their lips together one last time. Eddie takes it eagerly, opening his mouth to him and happily goes along when Steve pulls him into his lap.

They say their goodbyes after breakfast and Eddie watches them get in a cab and drive away from him forever.

— — —

Steve stows their luggage away in the overhead compartment and plops down onto his seat, Robin engrossed in looking through the inflight movie list beside him. He drops his forehead on Robin's shoulder. “You doing okay over there?”

“Mhm,”

“It's okay to not be okay, you know,”

He lets out a watery laugh, feeling pathetic. “Its so stupid,”

“No it's not,” She pokes his forehead. “Don’t be mean to my best friend,”

“I think maybe I should’ve just sucked it up asked for his number,”

Robin huffs, “See, I can’t even say ‘I told you so’ when you look so sad,”

“Yeah, whatever, it's too late now. He didn’t ask either,” Steve reasons with himself.

“Hey, maybe you’ll run into him one day and he’d be like, your next door neighbor or something,”

“This isn’t a movie, Robs,” He sighs. “And I know all my neighbors already,”

“There, there,” She says, patting his head.

— — —

Eddie naps for a few hours, then gets a cab to take him to the train station. Time moves at a glacial pace. Eddie slumps on a bench and scrolls through instagram to pass time. Somehow his feed is full of cats running around causing chaos, cats in silly outfits, funny cat meme edits. And he thinks maybe he should get a cat. A black one, and he can name it Ozzy. Or Aragon. Maybe a cat would make him feel less lonely.

Eddie is about to close the app and go get something to eat when he sees it. It's a blurry picture of two men kissing on a balcony. The angle looks like it was taken from street level, but the tattoos and long hair is unmistakable. Fuck.

The picture already has more than half a million likes. He loathes to think how many other pages it has graced. And the comments were worse.

g3rry_ Hasn’t even been two weeks since the breakup news came out and he’s already with a new guy…

parkouch_ Smells like infidelity hmmm

gin_titanic Poor Rick :(

Corrodedjeff He should just leave the band at this point smh

RickWorld00 Anyone know who the other guy is?

Dusty_Hen05 What the fuck what the FUCK

— — —

He calls Chrissy in a panic.

“Did you see it?” is the first thing she asks him. He doesn’t answer as much as he lets out a high pitched noise like a kettle.

“Chrissy, what the fuck?”

“I know, I know,” She whines. “I’m trying to do damage control here, but Rick fucking posted a tweet saying he’s ‘taking time off from the public eye’ during this ‘trying time’ and now everyone is siding with him,”

“That bitch,”

“How’s Steve taking it?” Chrissy asks.

“I wouldn’t know, Chrissy, he’s on a plane right now on the way back to his real life,” He huffs. “Shit, he’s going to be so blindsided by this, I don’t think he even knew who I am,”

“You didn’t tell him?” she asks. “Shit, Eddie,”

“Book me flight babe, I wanna come back as soon as I can,” It takes some arguing and pleading to make Chrissy book a different flight straight from Milan. But she does it in the end and Eddie hopes he hasn’t screwed things up forever.

— — —

Eddie goes straight to Chrissy’s place from the airport. He has a hell of a time dodging camera flashes and finally makes it to the car she sent in one piece. He falls into her embrace as soon as she opens her door.

“Aww, Eddie, you okay?”

“Ahuh, never better,”

His eyes feel dry and sand from the lack of sleep. Chrissy shoves him into bed and threatens him to get some rest before they can have a serious conversation about everything. Eddie sleeps fitfully, but it's better than nothing. The sun is setting when he shuffles back into the living room. Chrissy hears his stomach grumbling from all the way across the room and they order take out.

“So, Steve,”

Eddie sighs heavily. “I fucked up Chris,” he says, stuffing a springroll in his mouth.

“Someone took a picture of you through your balcony, I hardly think that's your fault, babe,”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t even know who I was, Chris. Like, how jarring is it going to be for him to just wake up one day and find out some people out there are accusing him of being a home wrecker just for kissing a random dude on a vacation?”

“It is a fucked up situation, I’m not going to lie, and Rick’s really been enjoying playing the victim,” she grumbles. “You know, it really would’ve helped if you had gotten the guy's contact details.” She didn’t need to tell him that twice. “We need to release a statement as soon as possible but we really just need to wait it out. There isn’t much we can realistically do,”

“I feel horrible,” he groans.

“Again. Not your fault Eddie,”

“I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t find him somehow,” Chrissy snorts.

“Dick that good, huh?” She snickers.

“Gotta admit, Chrissy, it was a pretty exceptional dick.” Eddie sighs wistfully and Chrissy giggles.

“How are you gonna find him?”

“Maybe a PI? Is that too creepy? How many Steves are there in the US do you reckon?” He’s only half joking. Chrissy rolls her eyes and kicks him out of her house so he can go get some proper sleep.

— — —

Eddie takes a hot shower once he gets home, then is immediately reminded of Steve in the shower with him and his big hands holding him against the cold tiles. Then the quick shower turns into a much longer one.

Once he’s changed into his pjs, he pads down to the kitchen to make himself a hot cup of tea then settles in bed with his phone. He isn’t tired enough to go to sleep yet so he switches to a random channel on his TV and scrolls through the pictures they had taken in Italy, zooming in on Steve’s face more times he can count like a love sick– love? Really? –dumbass.

It's 2 am when he hears the sound of his front door opening and shutting that puts him on alert. With shaking hands he grabs his baseball bat from the closet (which Wayne left behind, Eddie wasn’t a sports kinda guy) making his way to the staircase, hoping and praying he’d imagined the whole thing and he’s not actually getting robbed. Or worse– someone has leaked his address online and someone broke in to see him.

It's too dark to see properly, but a figure is climbing up the stairs towards him, a little too fast for his comfort. Eddie swings, his bat connects with the stranger’s face with a crunch and he goes tumbling down the stairs with a pained shout. Eddie rushes to get the light switch and–

“EDDIE!” Rick was on the floor, clutching his bleeding nose. “Shit, I think I broke something,”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Rick?” Eddie screeches. “How did you get in?”

"What are you doing here, aren’t supposed to be in Italy, enjoying our honeymoon,” He spits back. The fucking audacity of this dude.

“Have you been breaking into my house all week?” Rick stays quiet and that's enough of an answer for Eddie. “I’m calling an ambulance,” The 911 operator tells him not to move him, not that Eddie would touch him with a ten foot pole.

“Who was that guy you were with?” Rick asks from the floor, still clutching onto his knee.

“I’m sorry, how is that any of your business?” Eddie snaps back, full of ire.

“Because,” Rick says, his expression pleading in the way Eddie just realizes he always looks like when he’s about to tell him how sorry he was and how nothing was his fault, actually. “I still love you, Eddie,”

Eddie laughs in his face, getting a tiny bit of satisfaction from the way Rick’s face falls. “Seriously? You broke up with me because I was too clingy to open our relationship and you see me with another dude one time and you can’t take it, huh?”

“I made a mistake–”

“Yes you fucking did, now deal with the consequences. You’re not my problem anymore,” The doorbell saves Eddie from the crocodile tears welling up in Rick’s eyes. How did he even put up with this for two years?

However, Eddie isn’t done with surprises for the day, it would seem. The door swings open, and there stands Steve– who looks just as shocked to see him standing at the doorstep– with Robin and another older dude he doesn’t recognise.

“Hey!” the older dude exclaims, pointing at Eddie. “It’s the guy!”

— — —

Steve has had a hell of a time since he and Robin had touched down. The second he had switched his airplane mode off he was bombarded with hundreds, possibly thousands of notifications. 72 missed calls from just Dustin and more cryptic messages from the party group chat– something about coffins? Did someone die? Steve didn’t understand.

Dustin hadn’t been much help when he called him back, babbling something about a front man of a rock band for some reason, but that was only until Robin pulled up a picture of him and Eddie kissing. Except, it was posted on some random instagram page he had never heard of instead of her camera roll, with the caption ‘Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson spotted in Milan, Italy with his new beau’. And then it clicked.

His notifications continued to flood for the rest of the day, friends and coworkers were asking him about it. His high school acquaintances suddenly wanted to know how he was doing and wanted to catch up for ‘old time sake’. Yeah right, Tommy. The worst part was probably the comments nitpicking everything about his appearance and the random threatening DMs he’d receive occasionally.

Robin was quite most of the ride back home, but that was only because she was doing a deep dive into Eddie Munson and his band’s history. The only thing she said to him was, “I know many of their songs, Steve, and Dustin and Mike literally have a poster up like every wall in their house. How did we not know this?”

He slept fitfully, the adrenaline and confusion seemingly overriding the jet lag. The last straw was when his mom tried to contact him the next morning after eight whole years, just to berate him about their family name. “In public Steven? Really?” Steve didn’t have the energy to argue that a balcony is not a public space. There was little satisfaction in hanging up on her mid sentence.

He called up Argyle and begged to swap with his night shift so he'd at least have Robin by his side when dealing with all of it. Not that he thought any of their co-workers would be mean about it, he and Robin aren’t even the only queer people in the station. Besides, Captain Hopper wouldn’t let homophobic behavior slide given that he has a gay step son of his own that he loves very much.

Steve had tried and moderately succeeded in getting some sleep before his shift. Night shifts were moderately less hectic than morning ones– though sometimes it just depends on the night itself– so it opens up more time for ribbing from his colleagues

He had even walked in on the rookie Chance showing Dmitri, the Russian dude Hopper had history with (what kind? Nobody knows), videos of Corroded Coffin singles and performances, and Steve had turned on his heels and walked away.

The call had been a welcome distraction as he buckled himself in the back of the ambulance that Dmitri drove, with Robin. “I like your new boyfriend, he’s loud,” Dmitri had called back at him.

“He’s not my boyfriend, man,” Steve had sighed.

“But he does wish he was,” Robin the traitor had chimed in and then sat unperturbed by his glaring. That was merely minutes before he had rung the bell to the house he’s currently standing before, Eddie on the other side of the threshold.

“W-we got a call about someone getting hurt?” He stutters out, remembering his training and Eddie quietly steps aside to let them in.

— — —

Eddie barely processes shit. His monkey brain is just going Steve! Steve is here! In his sexy firefighter uniform! Stevie! Until Rick spots him and loudly goes, “Man, really?” Which clearly confuses Steve as his face does the whole, brows jumping up and eyes widening look that conveyed the message ‘What?’ without him having to say a word.

“Rick, shut up,” Eddie snaps. If Steve recognises that name, he doesn't show it.

Robin checks him out and splints his ankle, ruling out any serious injury in his hips or spine, except for maybe a nasty bruise from rolling down a flight of stairs. They load him on the gurney, then the back of the ambulance, working quietly as Eddie stood around fidgeting. He really just wants to talk to Steve about the whole thing, apologize for the whole mess.

“H-hey, Steve?” Eddie says and then almost falters when Steve’s attention is on him. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing man, you don’t deserve all that,”

“No, you don’t have to, it's not your fault,” Steve chuckles humorlessly. “Honestly, I just feel kind of stupid about it now that I think about it–” The older dude claps a hand over his shoulder, interrupting him.

“We gotta go buddy,” He says in a heavy Russian accent.

“Do you want a ride to the hospital?” Steve asks.

Eddie notices Rick looking at him expectantly from inside the ambulance. Ew. But he could bear it for Steve. He just needs to talk to Steve and Eddie’s scared that if he lets him go right now he might never see him again. So he gets in.

— — —

Steve wishes he would stop apologizing. Eddie would say ‘sorry’ and his brain would automatically translate it to ‘sorry people think we’re dating’.

“It's okay Eddie, I get it,” Steve sighs. “It's not even like we’re together, is it? I’m sure everyone would just forget about it in a while and you can move on–”

"I don’t want to forget about you," Eddie’s face is all scrunched up, “Shit, Steve I thought I was protecting you from the shitstorm that’s my life, since everything I touch turns to dust anyways, I thought maybe I could spare you if I left you alone,” He sighs, “But I failed in that regard too, I guess.”

"But–" Steve's jaw feels like it's on the floor, "Eddie, you don’t need to protect me, okay? I can take care of myself,” Eddie looks like a kicked puppy, all sad and hurt. Steve just wants him to smile again. “I mean, the amount of times we actually kissed in public, I’m just really surprised that was the picture that ended up online,” Eddie barks out a laugh.

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you, Steve.” He says, his gaze intense and pleading. Steve is rendered speechless. “I grew up in a trailer park with my uncle. I sold weed in high school and played dnd. It took me three tries to even graduate highschool. I'm not a good person, i'm nothing special, I don't run into burning buildings and rescue kittens from trees or whatever, and I know I kind of ruined everything before it even started but please, please just give me one chance, Stevie–"

“Are you seriously doing this right now? In front of me?” Rick interrupts, and Steve is not a bad dude who’d hurt people who can’t defend themselves but he really wants to smack the disgusted look on his stupid face. Robin flaps a hand shushing him, watching him and Eddie like they’re on her TV screen instead. Even Dmitri is quiet, no doubt listening in.

“Would you like to go on an actual date with me? Please?” Eddie finishes.

Steve is stunned to say the least. He had been distracted for most of the ride, he didn't even realize that they had stopped until the door of the ambulance swung open, startling Robin too. Then he’s being pulled away to do his job, leaving a distraught looking Eddie behind.

— — —

Eddie paces hidden behind the ambulance bay, burning through his third cigarette of the hour– which once upon a time wouldn't even be worth noting, but he's trying to do better here, goddamnit— thinking of what an idiot he'd acted like.

What was he thinking? Asking Steve, a good guy with a normal life, without paps shoving cameras in his face, to be with him. Eddie Munson, the wildcard, the drama.

Eddie can’t go anywhere without someone criticizing everything he does. Ironically enough, that was one of the main reasons he was so anxious to leave his small town home behind. So much for anonymity. The constant judgment is the one thing he hated so much about constantly being in the public eye. He’d love to say that he doesn’t care and that it never bothers him, but the truth is that it gets fucking exhausting how people already have preconceived notions about him everywhere he goes. He doesn’t want that for Steve.

He's never known peace a day in his life. Why would Steve willingly through his life to the wolves just to be with him? It was selfish of Eddie to even ask that of him. He’s put him through enough shit as it is with the picture and all the harassment from his so-called fans. He hates it. This was nothing like how he dreamed his life would be at just twenty eight when he was in high school.

Eddie knows he’s spiraling. He’s being over dramatic and catastrophizing, as Chrissy would say. God, he wishes she were to talk some sense into him. Yet he can't seem to move away from that spot, waiting for Steve to come out through the doors, he can't leave without seeing this through. If he gets brutally rejected, so be it. But on the off chance Steve might still want this? The idea that he might be worth giving up a little bit of peace for, seems way too tantalizing.

The doors to the ER open. Steve spots him and jogs over, the look of relief clear on his face. “Hey, you’re still here,” he says. “I was hoping I wouldn’t miss you,”

“Yeah, um, everything alright in there?” he asks– he doesn’t really care.

“Sure, yeah, Rick’s going to be okay,”

“So, um,” Eddie trails off, suddenly at a loss on what to say.

“Are you going to give me your number then?” Steve asks.

“What?”

“You did ask me on a date, right? Unless you weren’t serious about it. In that case–”

“No! No, I was serious, I swear.” Eddie can’t keep the disbelief off his voice. “You’re saying yes? After everything that happened?”

“Eddie, I really like you,” says Steve. “And I’ve read so many shitty things people have said about you,” Eddie cringes a little, he knows how vile those tabloids can get. “But that was not the man I had known this past week and I want a real chance to get to know you, if that’s okay,”

Before he can stop himself Eddie is careening into Steve, crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss that Steve reciprocates with the same intensity.

“That is so okay,” Eddie breathes. “Love that plan,”

“So,” Steve grins. “Number?”

———

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[babycracker]

Fire Meet Gasoline: Chapter 6

chapter rating: teen & up story rating: explicit pairing: morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) & farah/f!oc (sadie kennedy) word count: ~2.7k chapter warnings: none story warnings: eventual smut, canon-typical violence, au - canon divergent a/n: as you can see, pairings have changed and i've added some warnings for the future bc this entire story has taken an unexpected turn and it's going to be much bigger than manner now. please don't hesitate to let me know if you wanna be taken off of the tags!

read it on ao3 here

--

Sadie was sure that she'd have more time than this. Six months isn't long, after all. Well, technically four months. She's been basically on the run for the last two.

She'd had four months to enjoy being twenty-one before the Agency had contacted her about signing the treaty, and for the two months since not so politely telling them to shove it she'd been dodging the bounty hunter that she'd evidently been assigned to.

He was an idiot. A troll, she was sure of it. Big and imposing and clumsy and menacing… but stupid. She hasn't seen him in a few weeks though, and she's starting to relax, fairly sure that she's lost him.

So, for the first time in the week and a half that she's been in this city she's daring to leave her room at the hostel and check out some of what could well be her new home. She pulls her hoodie on, reluctantly pulling the hood over her head and eyeing the bland grey of the fabric with disdain for a moment. Dreadfully boring, and dreadfully cliché - a banshee roaming around donning a grey hood - but she still needs to keep a low profile. Just for a little bit longer.

Everyone's heard about the supernatural bar in the city, such things are not exactly common, though no one seems to know where it is. It would seem the only way to find out is by word of mouth, and unfortunately she doesn't know anyone here, and she can't exactly go up to random people and ask them where the local supernaturals hang.

It would really be preferable; at just over 4'3 she doesn't exactly fit in with humans, but she supposes she'll just have to make do as she heads down the street. She sticks cautiously close to the buildings, avoiding the laughing groups of people and curiously looking around at the bright and colourful nightlife.

She could get used to this.

But for now, she resigns herself to something less flashy, a not quite as cheerful and slightly shabby bar with a bright green neon sign shining from its façade reading Shakers.

Looks good enough for now, so she steps inside, a grin spreading across her face as she takes in the atmosphere. God she's missed being around humans, and this place is packed with some of the rowdiest ones she's ever seen. Her favourite kind.

There's no dancing space as far as she can see (disappointing) but the bar is huge and there are booths lining every wall, the space in the middle filled with several pool tables.

She weaves her way through the crowd, thankfully remaining largely unnoticed, and slips up onto a stool at the bar, breathing out a sigh of relief now that her height is less obvious. She spins around on her seat, leaning one elbow on the bar and watching a group of guys at the closest pool table, trying (unsuccessfully) to gather some kind of hint at how to play the game, when a voice from behind distracts her.

"What are you drinking, pretty?"

She turns, expecting to find a bartender but instead there's a man on her side of the bar and uncomfortably close, a charming and yet slightly unsettling smile on his face. She forces one to her own to keep her frown away, the eerie sense of this guy being bad news creeping through her mind and making her thoughts slightly foggy.

“I’m really not much of a drinker, thanks anyway.”

He’s good looking enough, blonde hair, bright blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks on proud display as he grins at her. But her advanced senses are ringing every bell inside of her, warning her not to trust him.

“C’mon darl, no one comes to a bar unless they want a drink,” he presses, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush against the sliver of bare wrist peeking out from the sleeve of her hoodie.

She gasps and recoils too fast to be able to reign it in, her face twisting into a frown as she pulls her sleeves down and clutches them in her fists to cover her hands entirely. She really should've worn her gloves.

Demon.

He lifts both hands in front of him, a kind of peace offering, and takes a slight step back. “Woah, take it easy. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s fine,” she clears her throat, hoping it’ll take the obvious rasp out of her voice as she struggles to get any words out at all. He grins and slides onto the stool next to her.

“If I promise not to touch you again, will you come and join us?”

She eyes him carefully for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and giving a small nod. He seems nice enough, respectful enough. And she’s never been given any kind of guarantee that her perception is always one hundred percent accurate. Maybe she gets it wrong sometimes. Maybe she’s been disregarding people her entire life based on what she sees of them on the inside, and some of them didn’t deserve disregarding.

She’s been on her own since she ran away from home after her parents’ relentless persistence that she signed the Agency’s treaty became too much, she could do with some friends. Maybe now she can’t afford to turn down every single person that gives her a slight dishonest vibe. Who is completely honest these days anyway?

He grins again and gets to his feet, nodding towards one of the pool tables as a gesture for her to follow him. “I’m Axle.”

“Sadie,” she replies, reluctantly slipping off her seat and noticing the way he immediately arches an eyebrow at her height. He’s a demon, a supernatural, he’s probably already worked out that she’s not human and she just about winces as she waits for the inevitable questions.

They don’t come, however. He’s either much more polite than she’d expected, naïve and just thinks that she’s short, or he’s already worked out what she is and is choosing to stay quiet about it in this public space.

She follows him over to the pool table where a group of five other men are standing around playing a game, and a brief wave of panic surges through her when she realises that they’re probably all demons. They usually hang out with their own kind, and it would mean that she’s heavily outnumbered by a group of supernaturals far more dangerous and powerful than she is.

They barely spare her a glance though as she comes to stand at Axle’s side, and he barely offers an introduction in turn, instead waving his arm around the group and simply referring to them as “the guys”.

It’s probably for the best. She can handle one demon, should the need arise, she can slink away from him unnoticed, but once she has the attention of an entire group of them she’s not exactly sure how she’d get away if she needed to.

--

For someone that doesn’t talk a whole lot, Morgan sure spends a lot of time on the phone. Tanner hadn’t expected her to be so… clingy. She seems to really miss the rest of Unit Bravo now that she’s stuck away from them, which seems strange to him given that he’d assumed she wasn’t so different from him and would enjoy the break and getting to do her own thing (apart from having to work with him, of course) for a while.

But she’s on the phone again. Granted, she’s talking to Adam about their mission, but still. The number of questions she’d had about what they were supposed to do had been alarming to Tanner until he’d realised that she was most likely just coming up with the need for so much clarification as an excuse to speak to someone from her team.

Whatever her reasons though, he’s bored. He gets bored quite often with her, he realises, and he finds himself watching her on the other side of the room from where he’s kicked back on the couch, obviously and shamelessly checking her out as she paces and speaks in a hushed voice into the phone. Maybe it’d be different if he worked with her a little more; in regard to both her flirtation and their current job. At first, it’d been fun to irk her and get on her nerves but it’s already starting to get old - even for him - and he decides that maybe he should make more of an effort to be agreeable if they’re going to be stuck together for now. Or he could at least sleep with her. That might relieve some of her tension and get her to stop being such a hardass, at least.

She runs a hand through her hair and turns to face him, scowling when she notices his attention and lifting her middle finger at him before turning away.

He grins and sits up straight when she finally ends the call and turns to face him again.

“They want us to go to that bar tonight,” she tells him before he has a chance to say anything, and he groans dramatically and slides down to a slouching position, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

“It’s all work with you,” he complains, opening his eyes again when he hears her moving and watching her cross the room and start to pull her jacket on.

“We are on a job at the moment, so yeah, it’s all work.”

“You know this place isn’t gonna be like Mickey’s, right?”

She pulls a face, only small and only for the briefest second but he catches it anyway and for the first time sees how uncertain she is about having to be in that kind of environment.

“You gonna be good?” he adds, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic.

It actually surprises him how much he cares about how much this is going to affect her, and not just for the job. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, definitely. Having to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not overwhelmed while trying to do his job at the same time, but more than that, whenever he thinks about how painful this is going to be for Morgan his stomach twists slightly, churning uncomfortably and making him feel… he doesn’t even know. Worried? Is this what worry for somebody else is?

Probably not. He’s probably just dreading having to babysit her.

--

He can already practically hear her teeth grinding by the time they get to the door of Shakers, let alone inside. They can hear (to be fair, godawful) rock music as well as the noise of what sounds like a pretty big crowd through the door, and he casts a glance in her direction. Her jaw’s clenched, brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as she stares at the door before turning to the side and meeting his gaze.

“What? We going in or not?” she snaps, and he shrugs and waves a hand at her, gesturing to her general demeanour.

“I dunno, are we?”

She rolls her eyes and steps away from him, but he sees her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath before pushing the door open.

It’s loud. Really loud. Not too bright at least, but even he immediately catches the faint scent of alcohol, cigarettes and weed in the air. He can only imagine how strong it is to her.

His concerns for her are quickly overshadowed though when it takes less than a minute for his eyes to land on a group of men playing pool near the back of the room. He recognises them straight away, which means that they’re going to recognise him straight away and they’ll be gone before he and Morgan have gotten anywhere near them.

“Shit,” he mutters, ducking his head and turning to face Morgan more so as to turn himself away from them.

“What?” she snaps, glaring at him and not seeming to realise that something’s gone wrong, too caught up in trying to distract herself from the sensations bombarding her.

“I know them,” he answers distractedly, looking her up and down for a moment before casting a quick glance around the room in search of somewhere quieter. Something that doesn’t seem to exist in this bar.

He grabs her hand and pulls her over to the bar, nudging her to sit up on one of the stools and standing beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders and leaning in close to her. The close contact seemed to work the previous day when she was starting to become overwhelmed on the street outside, there’s no reason to think that it won’t work again in here.

“What do you mean you know them?” she asks, her voice a little less impatient as she leans back against him slightly, and he doesn’t miss the soft sigh of relief she lets out as he feels her body start to relax a little.

He doesn’t know why physical contact with him, of all people, seems to help her out but he’s going to count it as a bonus when it means that he’s able to set her at ease enough for her to function in these situations.

He glances back towards the pool table, but looks away again just as quickly, leaning down closer to Morgan to hide his face when he sees that the group are starting towards the door.

“They know you?” Morgan finally seems to click on, looking quickly towards the group and then back at him, and he only just realises how close he’s gotten to her when her nose just about brushes against his when she does it.

“Mhm,” he distractedly hums in reply, and she studies him for a moment before a small smirk crosses her face.

“I’ve been trying to get this close to you since we met, and now you’re telling me all it would’ve taken was a few demons to scare you?”

This bitch. He frowns at her, his arm dropping away from her shoulders as he straightens up again and moves away from her, temporarily forgetting that he’s trying to hide himself.

“I am not scared.” He spits indignantly.

Of all the things for her to say. Scared.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

Condescension drips from every word and his frown deepens into a glare. “Fuck you.”

“They’re going to see you,” she ignores his insult and nods behind him, and his eyes dart towards the group that have thankfully already moved past him when he remembers that whatever she thinks about him, them seeing him would be a disaster and if they knew that he was after them they’d be looking for them for weeks.

He subtly watches them go, waiting until the last two people are through the door, a blonde guy and a freakishly short girl, and then grabs Morgan’s hand and pulls her off of the stool. “Come on.”

He practically drags her out onto the street, making sure to keep a fair distance away from the group without losing sight of them through the crowd until he realises where they’re going.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Morgan mutters from beside him, obviously realising the same thing at the same time, and he stops and watches them step through the doors of the same motel that they’re staying in.

He grins and looks over at her, letting go of her hand. “Our job just got a whole lot easier.”

“You think?”

He doesn’t bother answering, just heads towards the motel once he’s sure that they’ve had a chance to get to their room and he’s not about to run into them in the lobby.

He’s stayed here countless times, he knows pretty much the entire reception staff, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find out what room they’re staying in and pay them a visit when they’re not expecting it. Then all he needs to do is convince Morgan that he doesn’t need her help with his next job, they can go their separate ways, and everyone will be happy.

--

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig

[how-masterful]

Diamond In The Rough

Dhawan!master x reader

Summary: There's a reason you've been so drawn to the stars. There's a reason the Master took such interest in you. There's also a reason he brought you here on this specific planet, in this specific spot, on this specific night: Only he won't tell you just yet. Because that would spoil the surprise.

Notes: a VERY happy birthday to the one and only @plethora-of-imagines! My partner in crime, consultant in all things masterful, kneecap thief and reason I started this whole page! Have a fabulous birthday queen- this one is most definitely dedicated to you. I hope it lives up to the hype! ❤👑🥳

The universe was a very, very big place. This was a fact that you didn't need to travel with a time travelling alien to realize was undoubtedly true. 

Learning about the universe on earth was... Limited. To say the least. Life beyond the stars was locked in the box of hypothetical conversation, pressed between the pages of countless philosophy and astrology books and stuffed into the midnight musings of "is there really life out there in the universe?" 

For years that question plagued you, hung in your mind like a veil over the fading black spots of your draining day to day. Others would blame their extra terrestrial musings on too many drug trips in the 60's or college, some on late night conspiracy youtube binges. But you blamed yours on simple curiosity- 'if there truly was life out there, why haven't we met it yet?'

But as you grew older, that youthful wonder and curiosity in the universe became something of a fascination. You checked your horoscope every morning, held countless books on the subject- you’d even acquired an old telescope from a family friend. The lady you’d acquired it from said her father loved staring up at the stars every night, made it a part of his routine .You never understood why she looked so sad when she said it, but you soon came to understand the connection people had with the stars.

Or, better yet, the people who travelled among them.

People like the man who currently held your hand in his own.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"Master, you are NOT responsible for Roswell!"

"Really? Who are you going to believe, darling? Your 1000 year old alien husband, or a middle aged redneck blogger?"

You let out a small snorting laugh, the man beside you smiling fondly as you sighed and shook your head. You squoze your conjoined hands, allowing your head to rest back on the purple tartan blanket with a dreamy sigh.

The pair of you were on a hill, a large open plane of thick grass, lay on a blanket beneath an ocean of swirling stars. The TARDIS sat parked in the distance, the familiar shack you called home glowing with the fairy lights you'd insisted on hanging around the roof of the veranda. You'd both abandoned your shoes and socks, a picnic basket and empty plates sat to the side, a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses still standing. Your lipstick still freshly sat along the brim.

The Master had prepared the feast for you both, the basket full of fruits and delicacies from planets far and wide. You couldn't help but moan at the tastes and aromas that encapsulated your senses, the flavors causing beautiful chaos upon your tongue. You supposed beautiful chaos was the Masters speciality. You'd sat in his lap and opened wide as you allowed yourself to be pliantly fed, the guttural groan that escaped the masters lips as you licked the crumbs from his fingertips causing your whole body to tremble with delight. But now the pair of you lay side by side, the Masters coat abandoned and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as you both gazed up at the dazzling dark sky.

"I'm telling you doll, never dare a drunk alien prankster- They'll neck down a bottle and start a whole subgenre of conspiracy theories in a single afternoon."

The Master took a strawberry from the hole at his side, taking a bite and discarding the top as you continued to shake your head. He let out a disappointed sigh- but there was no bite behind the gesture.

"Don't tell me you believe the redneck."

You shrugged innocently, biting your bottom lip to hold back your smirk.

"I must admit I'm more inclined to, Master. That tinfoil hat makes them hard to resist."

The time lord let out a proud laugh, eyes scrunching shut as you allowed your attention to stray from the sky. You admired the playful scrunch of his nose, the small lines that formed besides his eyes and in the curve of his cheeks when he smiled. His lips would always part, exposing his teeth. You supposed his usual laugh acted as a snarl, a threatening gesture to all opposition that he took joy in causing such pain. But here, under the starlight, there was no malice behind his grin. This was simple, unstoppable happiness that held an innocence that was rare to the Master. Or at least, rare to the universe. It was a sight you knew happily too well.

"You still haven't explained, Master." You finally spoke, eyes soft as the timelord's head turned in your direction.

"It's simple, pet. There's this race from quadrant nine, all of them three feet tall and neon green-"

You lightly rolled your eyes and smiled.

"I don't mean Roswell, I mean tonight. But expect many more questions about that to follow."

The Master smirked teasingly, hair lightly falling just beside his eye.

"Noted- I'll be sure to dig out the photo album."

"Why here?"

The Masters smirk morphed into a light dusting of confusion. A scrunched brow, one eye slightly more squinted than the other.

"What do you mean, love?"

"I mean, why tonight? You said we had to be on this planet, on this exact night, this exact year."

Realisation soon spread across his face. He nodded lightly, lips pursed as he looked up in thought.

“What are you planning in that mischievous head of yours?”

The Master smiled, allowing himself to lay flat on his back once more. He pulled his hand from your own, allowing you to nestle into his side as he took hold of your other hand. Your rings clashed together with a gentle click of metal, the diamond shining bright in the white glow of the moon. You smiled, head softly resting upon the timelord's chest as his other hand rested upon his stomach, his hearts rhythmically thumping under your temple like thunder. He tilted his head to look down at you, brushing a stray hair from your face.

"The universe is... complicated, love. It's like, its like that book you were reading a couple days ago. God, what was the name? It began with an A-"

"Alice's adventures in wonderland?"

The time lord nodded, booping the end of your nose tenderly with his finger.

"That's the one. It's like Wonderland. And the time vortex is the rabbit hole. It's so easy to get lost, to fall deep within its walls and find yourself confused and discombobulated on the other end.”

You couldn't hold back your smirking laughter. The Master rolled his eyes, pretending not to notice your childish reaction to his choice of words.

“But when you do find your way it's… strange. Unusual. Every planet and constellation and dynasty a new nook and cranny for you to explore. Wolds upon worlds of crooked doorways and spiral tunnels and rooms full of doors that lead you right back to where you started.”

You hummed in thought. You supposed the universe was like Wonderland, in a sense- your life turning upside down the moment you followed the Time Lord into his TARDIS and down the rabbit hole. You snorted internally at the thought of the Master being somewhat of a white rabbit. He already had the pension for time down pat, and arguably his beard and messy hair acted somewhat as a fur coat. You wouldn't dare say it to his face, but judging by his unimpressed expression he’d already heard you.

“But then, once you’ve already reached the precipice of curiosity, you meet the people around you. Whole races and subspecies of people that exist in the same space and time and universe as you but are all so, so different. Some of them are bloody boring, like the Shushans. What's so impressive about having your mouth on the bottom of your foot? And don’t even get me started on the Yomno, i mean- how can your whole race tell the future from spitting on a grain of rice yet all be so god damn dull-”

“Master, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting annoyed at other races for being your version of boring.”

The timelord sighed, causing you to giggle. You gently nestled closer to his side, the Masters other hand reaching up to tenderly cup your jaw.

“But then, once in a lifetime, you find something truly unexplored. Like a disappearing cat, or a dodo that died long ago but refused to acknowledge its own extinction, or a girl that fell down the rabbit hole and into the hands of a certainly very mad man. A rarity among the rubble of the basic and mundane. I believe you humans refer to it as a diamond in the rough. The time lords were once like that.”

You let your gaze meet his, confusion dancing across your face.

“Diamonds in the rough?”

“No, they were the rough. I was the diamond.”

“Master!”

You playfully smacked him across the chest, causing him to chuckle deviously.

“As I was saying, before I was so lovingly interrupted, sometimes you find something beautiful. But also curious, a mystery that even the most uninterested man would be desperate to pry their nails into and figure out how they worked. What made them tick. What made them happy. What made them desperate..."

The Master's thumb trailed over your bottom lip, his own lips parted as you let out a trembling breath. His lips curved into a soft smile, watching you lightly squirm under his touch. He pulled his face in closer.

"Humans are simultaneously the shining diamonds and the disgusting scum of the universe. Civilisations have grown in their honour and crumbled at their hands but none of them, not one single human, ever have or ever will compare to you. You're the breathing equivalent of lightning in a bottle, a single drop of rain upon a field desperate for salvation from a drought. A blessing. A gift. My diamond in the rough of a universe that does not deserve a single part of her. I don't deserve you. But here you are.``

His thumb gently caught the tear that threatened to fall down your cheek. You reached up to cup his cheek, the timelord nestling into the palm of your hand. Your noses bumped together at the sudden proximity, and you could feel your heart racing like a steam train in your chest.

"But here I am." You smiled through your tears, a choked laugh emerging from your throat, your thumb softly caressing the apple of his cheek. You could feel his hot breath against your own, his eyes heavy with lust and adoration.

"With the man whom I love more than anything else in the universe, who's shown me things I could never have imagined and treated me like a goddess when compared to him? I'm positively minuscule."

The Master let out a huff, his breath caught in the back of his throat as your lips ghosted over his own.

"Don't you dare think you're anything less than the universe" He whispered, gaze fixated on your lips as your foreheads softly touched.

"Oh yeah? And what if I do?" You returned, your bottom lip brushing against the Master's own, tongue teasing at the time lord's top lip as he growled lowly, voice rough and restrained.

"i'll rearrange the stars themselves piece by piece until you understand just how pathetic it is in comparison."

The distance between your lips was essentially non existent.

"Prove it, Master. Please."

And prove it he did. 

The Masters lips attacked your own with a desperate hunger, your eyes fluttering shut as the force sent you rocking backwards. You kept a tight grip on his face, keeping yourself steady as you pushed your lips back against his own. you'd be damned if the kiss were one sided.

His tongue slid in with ease, the hot taste of his tongue causing you to moan desperately against his mouth. The moan was reciprocated in earnest by the Master, his thumb gently pulling on your chin to allow his mouth further access to your own. You parted further, desperate to please, the sweet taste of your lips sending the time lord deeper into a spiral of lust.

You never knew how much you treasured the taste of his lips until the threat of their absence drew near, your own tongue forcing your way into his mouth like an anchor of perseverance. You took hold of both sides of his face, foreheads together as you hummed against his lips, causing him to crumble under your fingers with a chesty growl of dominance. He was hot fire, a delicious flame of lust licking and burning the inside of your mouth, and eventually the need for air forced your mouths apart.

The pair of you panted, breath escaping both parties as his arms wound tight around your shoulders, pulling you close. You gathered your breath as you nuzzled closer to the Masters side, lips red and glossy as you let your forehead rest upon his temple.

"That… Wow. I think you proved it."

"Did you ever doubt I would?"

You could hear the smirk in his tone, your eyes still fluttered shut as you came down from the high. You could still taste his mouth, the ghost of the strawberries still lingering on his tongue.

"I dunno Master… Still not seeing a tinfoil hat."

The eye roll was practically audible. The gasp certainly was.

"It's time, quick love, look."

You allowed your eyes to open, your gaze fixating on the stars above as they swirled in circular formation. Your mouth gaped open in shock as the pair of you sat up and looked to the sky.

"What are they doing?" You asked in wonderment, the Masters grip on you tightening.

"The whole reason we came here tonight. The once in a lifetime moment. Those drawings of the stars, the shapes they make. This is where they come from."

It was practically magic. Any other person would say it was witchcraft.

"Diamonds in the rough" you whispered, and the Master nodded triumphantly.

The stars swirled in ribbons of white, the dark black of the sky melting around them as the pin pricks in the black began to pulsate and grow with rapid speed. The stars began to link, intricate lines seared into the fabric of the sky like thread as the tiny stars began to merge and form into outlines of figures and shapes. A bear, a woman holding a sword, a pegasus with wings. Vast shapes of all sizes began to move and shift and form. Your eyes sparkled with wonder as the stars shone like diamonds.

It was too much to believe. Until they started to move.

Suddenly, the pegasus bucked up it's hind legs and began galloping across the sky. The woman drew her sword and charged, the scorpion's tale whipping in challenge. The bear plodded across the inky black, back pressed against the rams horns as it scratched itself as if upon a tree. All around you, hundreds of thousands of creatures moved and ran and flew across the darkness, the distant echoes of their commotion floating through the atmosphere.

A pair of lips softly pressed against your temple, trailing a line of kisses down until they ghosted over the shell of your ear.

"What do you think, darling?"

The Master whispered, breath hot on your ear and making you shiver.

"Its… Master its… Thank you. Thank you so much."

The tears from before had returned as the dazzling stars reflected in the sheen of your eyes, as the time lord beside you hummed in appreciation.

"Happy birthday, Y/N." The Master softly whispered, a tender kiss pressed to your cheek. 

In an instant you return to facing him, your lips pressed together once more, stars a distant priority beyond the pull of your husband's lips.

The constellations above returned to their original position, the pulsating giants of the sky suddenly bursting like fireworks in the night. The stardust began to fall atop your heads like something out of a fairy tale, like raining pixie dust as the stars returned to their pin prick size, now shimmering like the lights around the TARDIS veranda. 

But the pair of you were too busy for pixie dust. You didn't need the universe, or the stars, or magic at all.

You were already, well and truly, living happily ever after.

[certifiedceraunophile]

KLAROLINE FALL BINGO PREVIEW.

@eliliyah @klarolinefallbingo

Prompt: Dias De Muertos

Honestly the relevancy of the prompt comes far to late in the story but it’s there, kinda. But hey it’s there.

MASQUERADES

(CinemaAU)

Sometimes all she needed was to take a breather. A single moment. One pause.

Breathe in.

To collect her thoughts and emotions. To steady her bearings.

To state in a repetitive loop all the reasons why punching one Niklaus Mikaelson in the balls would be a marginally bad idea.

And breathe out.

Forgive her, but The man was infuriating. Okay?

And unashamedly so. Not a whit of genuine compunction behind that facade of ‘Inescapable Charisma and Unadulterated Allure.’

Definitely not her words.

Nope. No sir.

These were the words of a certain Greta Martin, editor-in-chief for the first October issue of People Magazine.

With one Mega-frustrating arrogant blonde blue-eyed dimpled asshat demon going by the name Klaus slapped to the front of said issue.

And Nope if anyone asks,

No, she did not literally just shred -In a shredding machine no less, because efficiency, thank you very much- the first copy of the magazine she bought, after reading the beginning eight lines on his exclusive, recounting what a ‘delightfully satisfying and marvellous experience the entire three months of shooting turned out to be.’

Ok one Black-hole sized pause right there please.

Thank you.

A single beat.

And....

The Absolute Fuck?!

She’s sorry. Marvellous experience?

Excuse her, but say what?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Beg pardon but What?

Excuse her.

But Marvellous experience, as in, aggressive quotation marks scratching the air “Marvellous experience” is NOT how she remembers it.

The slap in the face obvious discrepancy to both their stories is definitely not blind to her.

He called 84 re-takes that lasted four whole hours for one eight minute long single-shot single-angle scene, Marvellous.

He called having ice-cold Whiteclaw thrown square on his face by a Absolutely-done-with-wild-gust-of-agitated-Blonde-Fury on the eighth day of set, Marvellous.

He called having two separate make-up artists downright quit after being unable to touch up her makeup every thirteen seconds because she ran her hand down her face in unbridled aggravation every time her eyes landed on him, Marvellous.

He called the same experience where, she had to literally rush out of a set, under the ruse of a bathroom break, Twice in the course of three months, so that she can peacefully go through the motions of a rage-fueled emotional meltdown, complete with angry frustrated tears and a relentlessly colourful diatribe, cursing every man in her life who bore even a sliver of resemblance to the stormy-blue-eyed spawn of satan that was her co-actor, Marvellous.

God. How the hell did he possibly think he could get away with this,

How did he think he was going to smooth over the transparent inconsistencies between her interviews and his, without raising at least a few confused questions from bloodthirsty intuitive fans and the Press in general.

Given how her talk-show interviews and magazine exclusives gave the steady image, that

1. Klaus Mikaelson is a dick and a half, with an overgrown ego so ginormous that even the entirety of Tinseltown is ‘plainly restricting of his nonpareil talent in histrionic execution.’

2. Klaus Mikaelson is an arrogant narcissistic asshole that Hast pronounc'd upon his brethren yond this day f'rth that gent shalt with ev'ry smidgen of purpose in his life striveth to be the Unrivalled Bane of Caroline Forbes’ Existence.

3. The process of Creating the undeniable tour de force Masterpiece that was ‘100 years of solitude.’ The newest Christopher Nolan Direction and Production in theatres right now, that already has definite Academy Awards Nomination in the talks, was anything but Marvellous. She admits, It was so so gratifying and made her heart full with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, that left her giddy with such lighthearted contentment for days, after the phenomenal response it garnered post-premiering, Yes. But that does not capsulate how frustratingly tiresome and emotionally debilitating the entire creation process was. Hell it was downright painful at times.

4. Would she voluntarily take another movie with Klaus Mikaelson as a Co-star alongside her? You can get back to her when the sun starts to rise from the west and the answer would still be a definitive NO.

Now of course she wasn’t this brazen with her claims she knows how to be cute and classy and concise.

But she definitely did not mitigate the truth of her statement, she’s had enough training with her PR department to know what to say and how to say it but she’s sure that nobody had been able to overlook her less than companionable remarks about Klaus.

For example

The Stephen Colbert Show:

Stephen: “So Caroline tell us about the process, the Making of it, how everything fell into place like tiny puzzle pieces to reveal at last this grand, Grand Picture.”

“The process? Well the process was certainly not...pretty...but after every time we finished a scene, however small or inconsequential it may have seemed to the plot, there was this immense sense of ‘there-Done it. And done it well.’ ”

Jimmy Kimmel Live:

“Klaus Mikaelson, well my Co-star is um....eccentric at best.....”

Jimmy: “and at worst?”

“Well..... I guess” -hellish, heinously intolerable, a cruel mean bastard- “....Unyielding...?”

The Ellen Show:

“Well Klaus was a..... demanding partner and it took Herculean efforts to meet his exacting standards, but I can understand how that paid off so well on screen. The end result when I saw it for the first time, it damn well paid off.”

Ellen: “so he is absolved of his admittedly ‘uphill’ personality then?”

She laughs awkwardly,

“Ye-ah....No.”

followed by more laughter dissolving the painstaking grimace she’s trying to tamper down.

Oh and the worst.

The Late Late show with James Cordon:

During the ‘Fill Your Guts or Spill Your Guts’ segment

James: “So....I’m going to give you, let’s see, Ah there, the Bird Saliva.”

Caroline: “James!.... Damn it, you are so not making it into my good books, and....God. That’s just disconcerting I mean, How do they even, I don’t know... collect it?”

James: “Well there’s a whole process of harvesting it from the salivary glands and—“

Caroline: “Never mind! Nope. No need for the details, please, James, a lady’s delicate sensibilities are at stake. And unless the question is ‘what is your social security number?’ I’m not drinking this poison.”

James: “Now Caroline you wound me, I can assure you everything on this table is edible albeit being marginally unpalatable—“

Caroline: “Marginally?!”

James: “You should try the Cow’s tongue. It’s delectable.” Followed by a sagely nod.

Caroline: “Now I’m just intensely bothered. You’ve definitely lost all claim for a spot in my good books.”

James: “Ah well, speaking of staying in your good graces, here’s a question that will have you downing that Saliva in seconds.”

Caroline: “Hit me.”

James: “Well then, ‘Name Any one CO-star with whom you have worked with in the past that you would never volunteer to work with again.’”

Pause.

And the audience descended.

“Like I said, speaking about staying in your good books.”

Amidst the raucous screams, whistles and laughter, it didn’t even bother Caroline, the clarity and speed with which the name

‘Klaus Mikaelson’ flashed in the front of her mind, like a large Neon LED sign from a typical Vegas Nightlife scene.

It took her a total of three seconds to know that she was going to answer with his name because, well just look at that drink in front of her,

Sure if you bend over real low and squint in the right light it may look like a harmless Daiquiri, but a Daiquiri it was not.

No. This was Bird Freaking Saliva,

Come on, you can’t possibly ask her to put that in her goddamn mouth.

Like NO.

Just no.

So sue her for protecting her taste buds that are yet to experience many more exotic flavours and textures of food from all around the world.

But then again she can’t possibly outright just say “Oh that’s easy, Klaus Mikaelson.”

That’s exactly the kinda PR trouble she wants to stay above and definitely didn’t need to be wrung out dry by her Spitfire Mistress-of-Hell Publicist Katherine Pierce for.

(Who also alternates as her BFF, occasionally, mind you.)

So she puts on a good show, dropped her head in her hands, gave a healthy long groan, looked up and gave James her best wounded Puppy Dog eyes, to which he was clearly not immune to, judging by how he looked a touch chagrined, but the game was just as much as beyond his hands as it were hers,

She looked to the audience “You guys are so mean, it’s not even funny.”

And grumbled a bit more till everyone was laughing and pitching forward and back on their seat amused by the poor Blonde’s Dilemma.

So she looked up to the heavens as if to ask for some unknown deity for deliverance and guidance, and poised herself to drink,

Only to put the glass back down in the last second in a begrudgingly weak show of caving in, and blurted out reluctantly,

(She’s a glorious actor, she’s aware.)

“You know what, Nope. He’s just gotta deal with it, okay?.”

Deep breath

Or was it the audience taking a deep breath and holding it in,

“ItsKlausMikaelson,PleaseDontKillMe.”

Pause again.

And the auditorium transcended.

Well,

she handled that, pretty well, if she does say so herself you know.

Apparently Kat Disagrees.

Apparently She Blew It.

She blew it so hard she could’ve knocked down the third little pig’s brick house.

Ironic since she always envisioned Klaus as the Big Bad Wolf who huffs and puffs and just generally blows.

Apparently her little admission was a PR disaster.

And Kat was furious.

The two minute edited clip that encompassed the question, the reluctant grumbling and finally the confession was apparently now a viral video on all social networking platforms.

They were trending on twitter under the hashtag

#KlarolineUnrequitedLoveIsABitch.

But her admission to being generally averted on taking up Klaus as a colleague again was apparently only one half of the video,

The other half....

Well the other other half was Klaus with his personal confession.

God, it wasn’t even a confession,

it was a—a Mockery, yes that’s it, a Mockery,

Of Her, no less

Basically Here’s the run down of the second insidious half of the video,

Klaus sitting in front of Graham Norton, in all their British glory, going live on The Graham Norton Show,

when asked about Caroline Forbes, his “partner” on scene has the audacity to let out this evil little amused huff and say:

“Caroline?” Another amused huff. “Well Caroline, Christ, where do I start? She’s an absolutely glorious presence on set. Her energy....it’s infectious, She hits you like a blonde hurricane of sunshine and snark and you’re just left staring up at the sun thinking, ‘you need to catch up mate, if you want to be half as bright and burning as her.’”

And Caroline thinks maybe this is the feeling of your brain imploding within the confines of the skull.

TBC

[ultra-where-am-i]

Consider Yourself Lucky: Clef x Reader

The cafeteria was busy as it was around lunch time and everyone needed to eat something quick before going back to whatever work they had. You were a new transfer at the site and was still getting used to the rapid pace of the larger facility. You from a much smaller and less intense site. You were given an opportunity here and you weren’t going to say no to it. You watched as people rushed past you, moving both in and out of the room, as if ants moving on their set path. You got in line to one of the food options.

As you waited in line, you looked around to the people that stood next to you. One lady in front and a tired looking guard behind you. The lady was just flipping through a social media site on her phone with a bored look on her face. Maybe this could be your chance to make some friends or even get to know what type of people work here. “Hi, I’m new here. What’s your name?” You asked her, leaning a bit forward towards her.

The lady didn’t even move or even acknowledge you in any way. With a frown, you dropped it as you definitely got the message. You slowly moved through the line and got your tray of cafeteria food. The meal was cardboard like pizza and a couple of day old salad. You looked around the tables to find an empty spot. The elongated lunch tables were beginning to fill up and the first day jitters began to creep back up.

Taking a deep breath, you began to navigate through the makeshift maze made up of people and tables. There was a table located to the side of the cafeteria that had less people than the others and you quickly made your way over there. Sitting on the far end of the table, you dug into the makeshift meal that sat on a dented tray in front of you. People moved around you and even many bumped into you as if you were just a box sitting in their way. You sighed and tried to tell yourself that people are just busy and don’t really think about it.

In the corner of your eye, a person wearing a bright red shirt was walking in your direction. It stuck out against the bland and basic colors of everyone else so your brain was instantly drawn to them. You turn your head to get a better look at this person because it seemed that they really wanted the attention. You  were shocked by the sight you saw.

The person was a shorter man compared to the other people that were walking by him. He had a hideous Hawaiian shirt that had scattered dull white and neon yellow flowers all over. He had it halfway tucked into khaki shorts that stopped at his knees. To tie the outfit all together, the man had a worn out cowboy hat that sat lazily on his bundle of blonde hair and bright pink crocs that hugged tightly onto his feet.

As if telling a very similar story, his face followed the same energy as his fashion sense. He had a dull blue eye that clashed with the neon green. His third eye that sat directly in the middle of his forehead with blonde strands of hair that draped over it. The third eye moved in a separate way as if having a mind of its own. His face all sat on top of an elongated Cheshire grin that just stretched from ear to ear. It didn’t fall even a little sliver as he approached you.

“New to the site, huh?” He asked with his grin not falling at all.

“Y-yeah. It’s my first day.” You said surprised that he was even giving you a time of day.

Your eyes darted to his name tag that looked bent and been through a war. His name was Alto Clef with his ID picture not being a picture of his face but instead being the symbol of an alto clef. His ID was lined with a light orange border stating that he had a level 4 clearance. He must be a senior staff member as that was the one explanation for the higher up level clearance.

“I see you don’t do well with other people, don't ‘cha darling?” Clef asked, taking this opportunity to sit in the empty seat exactly next to you.

Clef was watching with interest in his eye. It was hard to tell what exactly it is as it seemed to be muddled with other emotions. He was sitting way too close as he was definitely invading your personal space.His bare knee was touching your thigh. It made you feel uncomfortable but yet relieved as he seemed to be the only person to be able to see you.

“Tell me, how did you manage to get in here?” He asked leaning closer to get a better look at you. His eyes flickering all over you as if trying to find a weak point on you. “I….I was transferred here from another site.” You said honestly

Clef raised a fluffy eyebrow as if saying that he didn’t believe you. You could see it in his eyes. What can you do? That is really what happened.

“Which site?” He asked in a questioning tone.

You watched him for a bit as you weren’t sure if you should give him this information. Why was he even questioning you so much as you gave him no reason to do so? God, what made you seem like a target to him to float over to.

“It’s classified information” You tried as you didn’t want him to know that much. Why should you? It wasn’t his place to know anything about you.

But at the same time it felt good for someone to notice you now. Maybe you weren’t as invisible as you thought. That or he actually sees something in you. Your brain felt confused as you couldn’t make a decision on how you should feel about him. You did felt somewhat of a contraction to him.

“Why are you talking to me?” You finally asked him

With a smirk, Clef strummed an off cord on his ukulele. He watched you with a intrigued look in his eye. His third hazel eye twitched a bit as it looked you up and down. It made your skin crawl a bit but at the same time it felt nice to be noticed by anyone.

“You look lonely.”Clef said with a shrug as if that was a good enough answer.

“Is that really it?” You asked him

He was quiet. You turned to watch him since it might be easier to read him this way.

“Aren’t you sick of being ignored?” He finally asked after what felt like a year

“Yeah...it has happened all my life. Though it’s quite alright. I get by just fine as it really doesn’t affect me or my job.” You said as it felt good to get it off your chest.

“So what? You just walk around and do anything you want to do. Seems kind of boring.” He laughed as he reached over and took a huge bite out of your pizza.

“Why do you see me or even want to talk to me? I think you are the first person to make an effort.” You said not even wanting to question him.

Strings of cheese and tomato sauce leaked a bit from the sides of his mouth. His sharp teeth pointed out a bit from his chewing. He rolled his eyes and swallowed what  was in his mouth.

“You sound like a broken fucking record. Just accept it and move on. Unless you want me to fix it. Cause I can.” Clef sighed out as he put away the ukulele and slid over the heavy shotgun into his hand.

A shiver was sent down your spine as you got the hint. A bullet into the skull and brain will fix everything for sure.

“Right….” You said as you prayed that you choose the right words.

Clef relaxed and laughed. Though his grip tighten on on to the intense fire weapon. One of his eyes began to stroke the shaft of the gun as he looked between you and the barrels.

“Relax doll-face. You are way to interesting to fucking end now. Besides it’s not every day you get to have a SCP that rather would believe that they are human. Too bad that you couldn't stay hidden for long” Clef smirked

“I am not a SCP.” You corrected him, shocked that he would say something like that.

Clef chuckled and wrapped an arm around you to keep you pinned close to him. He leaned closer so that his face was right in yours.

“Come on. Why don’t we go have some fun?” He cackled

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Mission Turn It Up In The Club (It’s The Avengers)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

ONE SHOT

Warnings: fluff, dirty brains, drunk babbies, cutest allies, shocked fathers, confused jocks.

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

One Shot: When Thor indirectly challenges you- a complete noob with zero knowledge of espionage- to go on a relatively easy mission and get some intel, you accept it, never really ready for what's about to happen. And the camera crew records it all.

Word Count: Never underestimate the power of your inner voice because boy does it make you feel amazing about yourself sometimes!

Written for @captain-kelli 500 Fam Writing Challenge. Thank you so much for letting me participate! I picked the Quote (not a dialogue) : There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

You come with your shades over your eyes and a yoghurt smoothie in your hand, and sit down on the chair in the recording room, adjusting your 'noice and toit' t-shirt before looking in the direction of the equipment. Clearing your throat and shifting back in the chair- going as back as you possibly can- you nod at Javier and get ready for the camera to roll, never taking off the shades.

You: *sighs* *rests face on your palm* *in a coarse incomprehensible voice* It all star- *tries to clear the coarseness of the throat* ahem ahem *makes bleching noises before groaning* *stops* *sighs* Hmm...where were we? *looks straight past the camera at Javier with half-open lips* Right...right. *looks back at the camera* *lips still half-open* It all started yesterday when a stupid b**** tried to become over smart.

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier

Everyone sat in the lounge of the Avengers Compound reading the reports that had just come in from Fury about a cartel trying to traffic alien wreckage- mostly weapons- to the black market. That 'everyone' excluded you, your adopted dog Zuko, and a very unamused and unbothered Loki sitting on the raised platform by the french windows with a copy of Sapiens and your favourite mug filled with hot tea.

The camera zoomed in on you concentrated on writing something on your laptop; so engrossed you were that you never noticed when Clint quietly gorged on your choco-chip cookies and drank your orange juice.

"But we only have to gather intel from a couple of guys meeting in the city today?"

Thor- who was finally at an Avengers meet after getting things in order for his Asgardians somewhere in Norway in their 'new Asgard'- pshd at the tablet in his hands and chuckled.

"Gather intel. Is that the human way to say drink some beer with these filthy humans and let them talk everything about their plan?"

"Damn right," everyone around him muttered.

"So easy even Y/N could do it," he chortled, catching your ears and a long sigh from the God sitting by the window enjoying the sun.

"Woah, now," Tony interjected, slapping Thor's shoulder with the back of his hand, "don't give her any ideas."

You narrowed your eyes at Tony. "I'm sure if Thor says I can do it-"

"Thor also said none of you ladies can process Asgardian mead," Clint added, buried in the sofa next to you, his tablet acting as a shield against the warm early afternoon sun.

Flashback to a party at the compound

Sam wobbled, trying to stand with the support of the bar while Clint kept muttering ‘I think I can see inside you guys. Like, really see.’ Bruce was being consoled by Thor in one corner. “The big guy hates me, Thor. He doesn’t-he doesn’t love me at aaaalllllll.” Scott and Bucky tried to wager who pin the donkey. The former didn’t even get to hold the tail in his hand. While all this mayhem unfurled, Natasha and Wanda sat by the bar recording everything on their phone while sipping their third Asgardian mead cocktail. “We should do this more often,” Natasha had suggested at one point during at night.

"I don’t get how you can't process it after the first buzz," Natasha called out from the dining table, never looking away from her tablet but still smiling.

"I'll sit this one out," Thor declared, sitting next to you, "I'm sure the Black Widow or Wanda can handle that."

You looked at him with an unwavering gaze for quite some time, making Thor uncomfortable after a certain point. Loki, who had caught you through the whole shebang, had a soft smile creeping on his face on watching you make his brother so uncomfortable.

"Wow," you finally spoke, letting your head move with the exclamation, "you are such a jock, aren't you?"

"A what?"

Loki: *smirks**snickers**snickers turn into uncontrollable laughter**continues laughing**stops midway with a serious look to shout* FINALLY!

"You don't want to go because there won't be any fighting and show of power," you state, turning yourself towards him, "and having conversations with guys seems too boring. Mostly because of your hate for bad guys. You know they won't give you answers straight away if you ask them politely, which I know you hate. So the next step is- 'why can't we just beat the shit out of them after they gave up on my offer to tell everything like good boys?'."

Thor: *crinkled brows* ...we can't? *looks behind the camera* why can't we? 

Tony and Steve stood next to each other- former's brows creased, latter's raised, both in a bit of admiration shock- taking in your breakdown. Finally, Steve leaned a little towards Tony to whisper, "did she just profile Thor?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony answered on the same wavelength before Steve could even finish his question, "she definitely did." He concluded with a smile filled with soft pride.

 "You know what, I'll take it," you casually declared to the lounge while leaning on the coffee table next to you. "Take what?" Steve asked, wanting to find out more of whatever was coming from your mouth. "The challenge," you shrugged, "I'll take up the part of getting some men to blabber about the locations. And while I'm at it, I'll get them to tell me about their boss' headquarters as well. Hmm?"

"Of course, you will," Tony chuckled softly in a trance for one second and furrowed his brows in confusion the next. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," you announced in his direction before going back to whatever it is you were so busy doing on your laptop, leaving Tony to let his mouth open in displeasure.

"Young lady, you're not going anywhere near those sons of bitches."

Steve looked at the camera with a raised brow.

Steve: You know that moment when you see one of your best friends do everything reckless in this goddamn world, wanting you to curse him with having to once step in your shoes and see what it's like to keep him in check? *smiles with satisfaction* This is one of those days when you see it coming true. When God finally heard your prayers and sends that very friend's kid to make every one of your wishes come true. *nods* *gets serious* Though I'm against putting Y/N in danger. *shakes head* Would never let her do something as reckless as her biological father. *smirks* But damn it feels good.

 Tony: *narrows eyes at the camera* Is that what Captain Star-spangled underwear thinks? *Nods* Hm. *clicks tongue* Well, that day isn't far when I fund research led by Bruce to make super babies with Steve's *makes air quotes* super semen and make him go through the fate of a father and the burdens that come with it.

*Silence*

*camera pans out to show a very pregnant and a very weirded out Pepper sitting next to him with her head resting in her palm as she hears her husband talk*

Pepper: *looks into the void* *inhales* Or you could just make him the mentor for the young heroes in the compound and watch him struggle to get them in line. *shrugs* Better yet, let him be in charge of showing Loki the ropes.

Tony: *still silent* *looks into his void* *blinks* *tilts his head* *looks back at the camera* *smirks* Pepper?

Pepper: Hmm?

Tony: *turns to face her* Have I told you how much I admire your genius?

Pepper: *making circles on Tony's arm* *whispers suggestively* You have but I won't mind you saying it again.

Tony: Well, you are genius, darling. A genius with the power to create countries and throw dictators off their high horses.

Pepper: *raises her head from her palm with a glint in her eyes* *softly announces* Anthony Stark, we're going to your office and you won't stop saying all of it till I tell you to.

Tony: *feels a visible shudder go down his spine as Pepper gets up and walks away* Y-yes ma'am. *looks at the camera with a hint of disbelief*

Pepper: *from outside the room* Now!

*Tony rushes out*

.

The Confidential Club

The camera went from black to a few neon lights flickering in the distance. A heavy base song faded in when everything started coming into focus.

Don't get sick

Don't get strep

Don't get bronchitis

Aye

A soothing glow of blue lit up the walls, which the camera did a slow three-sixty, through which two figures- both tall, one slender and the other jacked up- walked in a sexy slo-mo as the club started another track.

So this money shit, yeah it's been on my mind

Fuck ya possy bitch

I'ma pop off a tonne with the tummy miss

Yea this how I slum I'm bout' to see some tits

Yea ya mummy is fine

Aye

The boys walked into the neon-grazed club glowing with a hue of red, their freshly shampooed hair bouncing with every step till these two stopped right when they entered the floor, scanning the club and the club doing the same to them, but with lost breaths, increased temperatures and some very dirty thoughts and very dirty moans.

I'm a good boy I don't hit no licks yeah

I'm a bad boy flexing with some chicks yuh

I'm a weird boy smokin' on some Brits yuh

Who dat boi

I'm that boy yuh

The slo-mo continued, recording every pair of eyes that turned to get a look at the brothers whose presence was electrifying the entire building. Ladies forgot their drinks and men, men forgot their dates and- with a swift internal jolt- their toxic masculinity and the genderless seemed to have found Gods in the club tonight.

We them bad boy come give baby kiss

We just dropped it now

Now the swallow kiss

Have to beg these ladies try to do the splits

Tryna get the boy to do the coochie little

People moved as if these Gods were gravity, walking under those flickering club lights and smoked room, hands trying to get a touch, eyes wanting to get just one sweet stare, legs wanting to get a little brush, the heat pooling inside them looking for just a little satisfaction.

Yea I'm Neo watch me on the Matrix

All these sussy boy I just implore I do not play with

Baby (Baby) sure you're crazy

Boy that gave me 8 bars and some new restraint

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

The blond locks seemed to find suggestive fingers in them, while some other stray ones roamed on Thor's chest. Loki watched his brother being surrounded with the crowd of thirsty thots, his face dripping with pure displeasure, letting the camera catch it frame by frame, with brilliant tilts, doing it till Loki was looking right at the lens.

Who that boi

I'm that boi yuh

Another camera standing a little further recorded Javier on his knees trying to catch Loki's displeasure and piercing eyes- at anyone who even suggested that they wanted to touch him- before he looked at Javier. "What are you doing?" Loki judged Javiers' slow camera tilts.

Javier raised his index finger for a few moments, still recording those sour expressions before giving a thumbs up, getting up and walking towards the crowd that had surrounded a quite flattered Thor.

With an eye roll in his brother's direction, Loki turned to find the other camera looking at him, quite possibly directing him somewhere else because the next moment he was looking away. The camera turned in the same direction to show- behind the crowd of mellow, drunk and horny people- you laughing with your head tilted backwards, sitting with a group of men he had seen in the report when he was forced by Thor to come on this stupid so-called mission with him.

You sat between four men, enthusiastically narrating something to your small audience with wide eyes and wildly moving arms, entertaining the viewers with intention known to them and these green eyes who could see right through every one of those scums.

The camera- swivelling between you and Loki- caught him walking towards you only to be stopped by a pale hand- carrying beautifully manicured nails in blood-red- landing on his chest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Natasha suggested to the God with a bare hint of a smile on her lips.

Loki looked down at the Black Widow dressed in a body-hugging black dress. "Oh, I wasn't going to stop her from having some fun, I assure you," he implored.

Natasha brought her hand forward for Loki to take the earpiece in her hand. "She's got this. But you're welcome to listen in on the conversation," Natasha offered.

"My brother can fill in for me considering Y/N is already doing his job," he mentioned, pointing towards the crowd taking selfies with a giddy Thor making girls swoon all around him.

"Hot molten chocolate cake!" came a voice from the earpiece, loud enough for Loki sensitive ears and the recorders in all the devices to catch before the God could walk away.

"That's the safe word," Natasha declared into the earpiece, before turning to look at the table where you were.

"I really should go," you colourfully begged the man who had his hand wrapped around your arm, never letting go, "my girls must be waiting for me."

"Call your girls," the man holding you said, "we can all party in the private room upstairs."

"Call my girls?" you said a little louder as if asking Natasha what to do.

"On it." Loki heard another voice come through the comms, making Natasha's tensed back go straight.

"It's okay, Y/N," she confirmed into your earpiece, "go ahead. Tell them the girls can't wait."

The camera caught Natasha turning with a smirk that sent a cold shiver over the glowing dance floor, making Loki mirror that smirk, looking forward to it all.

The enthusiasm in Natasha's face was disturbed by some invisible ripple. "Where's Thor?"

 Other Side of the Club

Javier's camera showed the blond God sitting at the bar with at least twenty ladies huddled with him, handing him drinks.

"Now this one," a petite little girl stated, handing him a tall glass of Long Island Iced Tea. Thor happily took the glass, had a decent sip, gulped it down, furrowed his brows and smacked his lips.

"No," he finally declared, earning a cheer from the girls. "Not laced!" they shouted before handing him another girl's drink.

.

Upstairs

The camera stuck to the corners as it followed the men violating your private space, their arms around you, walking in front of and behind you, leaving no space whatsoever to look for any signs of the cavalry.

"Woah, guys, how about you go in and I'll go look for my sisters-"

"Oh, no," the one with a stubble and a nice jawline declared, "you're coming with us and your friends can follow. Come on, let's get some more alcohol in you!"

"Haha, yeah!" you pretended to cheer, stepping inside the room behind the guy with a ponytail, who stood in the middle of the living room like a statue for a good second.

"What the hell is this?" He announced more than he asked, pointing to Anna- the camera girl- sitting at the other end of the room, recording the entrance.

"Oh," you exclaimed in realisation, making all four men turn towards you, never noticing the door be closed by another figure in the room, "that's my camera gal. She follows me everywhere. My dad kinda got into this idea of making a documentary out of our lives so one of them is always around me except for when I'm studying or in the bathroom. But I have seen them recording me once or twice when I was in the librar-"

"Shut up!" The jawline guy roared, taking out a gun from his back, "Shut the f*** up! Rory, I told you she was a student. She'll fetch a good price on the market."

You wanted to be frightened by that gun but the camera caught you more in offended disbelief than in fearful shock. "Excuse me? How old do you think I am? Just because I'm studying, you little-minded bitch?! Learning has no age limit, you arrogant paedophiles!"

"Oh well," Jaw-guy shrugged, taking off his jacket, "you're no use to the bosses then. Looks like we'll have to make use of you. And your pretty friend there can record us doing it." He grinned, both at you and then at the camera.

Ponytails looked at you with a wrinkled forehead. "Something's wrong," he stated, taking a step close to you.

"What do you mean?" The guy in the brown leather jacket asked.

"Look at her," he answered, pointing towards you, "she isn't even sweating right now."

You looked at Ponytails with furrowed brows. "You've set the temperature quite low, dude. I'm practically shivering in here."

"That's actually true," Jacket acknowledged, nodding at you.

"No, you dumb fuckers! She isn't scared!"

Jaw had a moment of realisation at Pony's words, taking hurried steps towards you, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you into the wall behind you.

"Oh my Gaahd," you tried to exclaim through whatever air was able to pass through your lungs, as you felt your hand automatically go grab the one that was causing you pain.

"Who are you?" Jaw hissed through his teeth close to your face. "Who do you work for?"

Your brows lifted. An aching moan left your lungs. You took in a little gulp of air. "I never thought this is how it goes down."

"That's because you picked the wrong men to mess with, darlin'."

Your raised brows crinkled at Jaw's statement. "What?"

You: Oh, I was thinking about the horny wave I got when he tried to choke me. *stretches the corner of her mouth in embarrassment* Yeah, turns out not the first thought that should come to your mind when someone's trying to kill you. But on the bright side I discovered a kink so *does a thumb up with both hands with a big grin.*

"But we haven't even started messing with you boys yet."

The camera swirled from your agitated, flushed face to the doorway leading to the bedroom, catching a very disinterested Wanda leaning on the wall as she checked out her nails.

"Wow," you choked, "were you always this hot, Wanda?"

"Who the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?" Ponytails pointed his gun at the Scarlet Witch in haste, bringing forth a plasmic red spark in between her fingers, which, with a little twist, made the man point his gun at his buddy.

Another camera entered through the door to catch Jaw pulling you away from the wall to hold you in a lock with his gun pointed to your head. "One wrong move and I blow her brains out, bitch."

"One wrong move and I'll be doing the same to you, bitch."

Natasha stood behind Jaw with a gun. "Let go of her before my friend and I paint these walls with your insides."

Jaw cursed her under his breath, taking a few moments before releasing you. You quickly walked to a safer corner of the room, next to the fireplace, breathing with ease now.

"Y/N," she called out, "you okay, sweetie?"

"Uhh...just a little light-headed. Otherwise, I'm good," you responded, finding yourself lowering your voice, "though I wish someone else was choking me right now." You looked at the camera and narrowed your eyes. "Don't you judge me," you criticised in a whisper at it, feeling yourself tilt to one side, losing your balance, already fearing to hit the floor before being caught by strong hands.

"Oh," you sang while the camera panned out from you and those pale hands to show Loki very gracefully breaking your fall, "Hey, handsome!"

Loki didn't even blink as he tried to bring you back on your feet. "Drinking on a mission? Really? I thought you were better than this."

"Ugh," you bleched at him, "shush! I was in my form with those gin shots, okay. These whiney thirsty boys were blabbering the moment I sat down. Let's see your brother pull that off-wait. Why are you here?"

The two of you were oblivious to the fight going in the background being recorded by the other camera; the Black Widow breaking bones like twigs while the Scarlet Witch was making them vomit on their fears.

"Oh, I wanted to see what petty excuse do you humans use to enjoy and forget this pathetic world-"

The camera panned in on you while someone outside the frame screamed and was thrown into a wall. You smiled with pure emotion in your eyes while looking at Loki.

"You didn't know we were here, did you?" you asked with that smile still stuck on your face.

"No."

"Thor dragged you here, didn't he?"

"I came here by my own accord."

"What did he blackmail you with this time?"

"...I wasn't blackmailed! No one can blackmail m-"

Loki: Tony said he'd block my access to his library. *clenches his teeth* That old rusty metalhead.

"Fine if you don't wanna tell me. I'm just glad you came," you pointed, patting him on his chest, completely missing the knife flying towards you being blocked by his reflexes- nothing having been displaced but for his arm.

"Wow," you gasped, letting your hand touch his chest again, "what do you have under there? Rocks? How the heck is your chest so hard?"

"I'm a frost giant darling," he asserted, twirling the knife in his hand before throwing it forward without looking, landing right on Leather Jacket's hand about to pull the trigger and shoot Wanda.

"And I'm a human. What's your point? Why are your boobies so hard and mine so squishy? Look!"

You took his hand to make him feel your chest. "Okay," he cut you short before you could forcibly make him grope you.

"You are clearly running on alcohol right now."

You snorted. "No, dummy. I'm standing. Are you sure you're not the drunk one?"

Loki looked at the camera.

.

"I'm sorry," you whined.

The camera caught your figure partially as you hid behind Loki in the compound elevator while Wanda and Natasha stood on either side.

"Don't worry," Natasha reiterated, "we'll take care of it. Just don't tell Tony about the..." she waved her hand in the air like it meant something to you.

The ding announced your arrival to the lounge. Elevator doors opened to see Tony standing at the entrance with crossed arms, his eyes boring straight into everyone in front of him, not even bothering to blink.

Behind him Scott and Bucky sat on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and Home Alone on the big screen, their eyes and ears focused on all of you rather than the movie.

An everlasting moment of silence passed and you managed to get a look of those eyes of judgement over Loki's shoulder before quickly curling back into your hiding spot.

"Where were you?"

The room didn't even have time to register the chill when you heard Natasha speaking. "Wanda and I were out shopping. I don't know about these two," she announced with her hands raised, walking out while mouthing 'sorry' at your face that had just experienced third-tier betrayal.

"I suggest you come out from behind Aro here," Tony digressed, "he's not gonna hide you for the rest of your life."

Loki took a step out of the elevator, getting a little closer to Stark, towering him just a little, his hands resting in his pockets. Stark was visibly hating the suave play from the God.

You were stuck there for a few more seconds before stepping beside Loki, letting the camera capture the wide eyes, a gasp of shattering shock and the fumes dissipating to give place to something new.

Panning in on you, the camera caught the bruise growing on your cheek, the size of a pear.

"Y/N-" Stark had barely begun to address his horror when Loki cut him short.

"She’s fine, Stark. Just a little-"

"Who did this?!"

That erupting gaze was meant for you to answer the question and so the entire surrounding went silent for you to answer him. Even Home Alone was muted to hear what you had to say for this bruise.

"Mr Stark, I can explain." Your voice was a quarter of what it was half an hour ago, barely coming out in front of your father. "Please don't be mad. And please keep an open mind about it."

None of you could gather what rushed into Tony's mind because the next thing you knew, he felt himself shift back a little. Curse words flew under his breath as his hands tried to run over the tensed muscles in his face.

"Oh, my G-is this some sort of new...new thing you kids are into?"

Now it was your turn to be confused. "What?"

You: *cringe* Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Get it out of my head! Ew!!

"N-No! I-what?! Nooooooo!" you stressed at the word as much as possible. The God stood there seemingly trying to make sense of this conversation.

"Loki and I were out on a date. We were karaoke-ing and I was dancing on the bar counter when I slipped and hit myself."

Loki did not miss even a second to look at the camera with pursed lips.

Loki: That's not what happened.

 Flashback to the club

You forced Loki on the dancefloor while Natasha took care of the goons.

"Come on, show me your mooooves, Loki," you shouted over the music before giddily jumping and taking a step back, colliding with a guy.

"Oh, I'm so-"

"What the f***!" The pasty blond guy cursed at you before looking at Loki. "Take care of your bitch, asshole."

Before Loki could take a stance between the two of you, he felt your hand block him, your eyes glowing at that rude stranger.

"Who the f*** are you calling, asshole, you dried pulp-less raisin!"

The guy twisted his jaw before stepping very close to you.

Loki- clearly uncomfortable by the distance- tried to pull you towards him and away from that pathetic excuse of a human

"Alright," the God announced, "you better watch-"

The camera caught the full-blown emotion of offence on Loki's face as you swatted his hands away.

"I called. Your boyfriend. An asshole. You c***."

Loki blinked in a sense of amusement at the audacity of that man, the ripples of tensed muscles under his black t-shirt quite visible for the ones who watched.

"At least I can take a pounding unlike your ego, you smelly ballsack," you spat back. "Now walk away before I bring a mirror and show you what a real asshole looks like." The infant rage that Loki was carrying in his entire body suddenly screeched to a halt as he looked at the back of your head with shocked confusion. "What kind of insult was that?"

The pasty guy was fuming now. Your words clearly rubbing him the wrong way.

"Oh, what happened?" you sang in a sarcasm filled tone. "Did your boring comebacks turn flaccid? Just like your virgin d-"

He pushed you back. "Shut the fuck up before I make you shut up."

Loki body stood as a shield- only behind you- wanting to go ahead and do something to that guy but you were not giving him a chance to do so.

You gasped. "The audacity of this bitch!" And pushed him back. "What're gonna do, fight me?"

No one saw it coming. The punch landed on your face within seconds, pushing your back into Loki's chest, the latter having to grab you to stop you from falling.

"Okay, that's it," Loki pulled you up, his eyes on fire glaring right at the man with the intention to kill. And as his luck for the night would have it, you used him as a support to gather a bit potential, scream "Son of a-" while charging at the guy. By now the rest of the ladies on the dancefloor had witnessed enough to come to your aid and beat the living hell out of that man. Pure, chaotic energy spreading over the floor that reflected in the pleasant amusement in Loki's eyes.

"By the Norns," Loki whispered, looking at the scene unfolding in front of him before looking at the camera, "remind me never to get on Y/N's bad side."

The pasty guy screamed out of the frame, making Loki turn at him with a layer of disappointment.

"Oh, you asked for it," he shouted at the man screaming for help before being swallowed whole by the river of women.

 You: *sighs* Of course, I can't tell Mr Stark I got punched while defending your honour.

Loki: *giggle snorts*

You: *turns to look at him* what?

Loki: You're right. I can see him never believing that.

You: *nodding in agreement* right?

Loki: Because he would cut my head off the day he does. *stops smiling*

You: Aw! I won't let him, buddy.

Loki: Oh, I doubt it. He is still in shock about the whole 'date' thing.

The camera flips to the lounge showing Stark sitting in between Scott and Bucky, looking in the distance- still in shock- while those two munched on their popcorns from the popcorn bowl kept in Tony's lap.

"Nah." he finally says out of the blue, almost making Scott jump, "Y/N can't date Loki? I'm sure she's just pulling my leg for not letting her go on that stupid interrogation mission."

Scott and Bucky exchanged glances before nodding and patting him on the back, resuming their movie with a 'sure buddy'.

You: *sheepishly* Yeah, I think we broke him.

Loki: At least he's behaving like he's supposed to, unlike my brother in such situations.

You: Huh...*nods* *furrows brows* speaking of Thor...where is he?

Loki:

You:

 The Club-a-Dub-Dub

The camera captured a face covered by flickering neon pink shades looking down at a laptop in those big hands while glowing neon party necklaces adorned his neck.

"All right let's do this," Thor stated in all seriousness, using a pink tic-tac to pull his hair up above his ear. The camera zoomed out a little to show him looking at a laptop placed in front of him on a pedestal.

"We are gathered here for a task that is too important for this world to be left to another time. A task so huge that my heart feels both burdened and honoured to be able to put it to fruition. A task so pure in its being that anyone who stands up against it in this club shall face my wrath. But not before I try to make them change their mind with love. Rosa and Gina, I ask you to step forward and be the blessed lot of this sacred ceremony."

The slow panning out of the frame showed two beautiful women step forward and face each other with pure smiles.

"By the power vested in me by becomeaminister.com, I am honoured to announce you wife and wife. You may now kiss."

An uproar of elated excitement filled the club just as Thor finished; the brides kissing and their friends celebrating. Everyone toasted to the newlywed couple before someone shouted to do the cha-cha slide.

The next thing you know, Thor and the rest of the people in the house were sliding left and right.

"THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!!!!" Thor shouted with the jumps and twists, "I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHY I'D COME HERE!!"

[samgwrites]

Locked Doors

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Chapter 2 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what.  

Read on AO3

Michael didn’t want to go to a hospital, and Jon agreed that it  would probably be best to not deal with doctors obsessing over someone who had been presumed dead for seven years. Luckily, Tim apparently knew a good amount of wilderness first aid, so after a slightly hectic few minutes trying to find the emergency kit, the current assistant was setting the former assistant’s hand in gauze while Jon had run off to inform the rest of the staff about the current situation. Couldn’t have someone accost the stranger wandering the institute, not again, even if Michael insisted that he would prefer to be out of everyone’s hair as soon as possible. 

He would prefer to just be done with the Magnus Institute. 

He peered down at Tim as the other man wrapped his hand. Tim was frowning, but the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished from his expression, replaced with a stern focus. Not exactly an approachable look, but that had never stopped Michael before.

“Can I ask you a question?” He said, leaning forward and hiss slightly as Tim tugged a bit too hard on his hand. 

“What?” Tim responded, not looking up. Michael sighed. 

“It’s sort of a weird request but… can you tell me what I look like?” This did catch Tim’s attention, and he looked up at Michael quizzically. 

“What?” Michael glanced aware under the gaze, grinning nervously.

“I haven’t exactly been able to use a proper mirror in a while… it’s been awhile since I’ve seen myself without the distortion ruining the image,” He thought for a moment. “I can’t even remember what it looked like to be honest. I mostly just remember enough neon to be nauseating,” Tim hummed, before dropping Michael’s hand and standing up. Michael frowned, realizing he might be asking too much. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, I know it’s weird-” Tim waved his own hand, running the other one over his face and through his hair. 

“It’s… it’s fine. I can tell you. You’re pretty average looking, I guess? You got this blond mop of hair, you’re pretty pale, greyish eyes. I knew about ten guys that could practically be your double from when I was at uni. The weirdest bit is that you don’t even look that different? 

“Your hand’s normal, far as I can tell, and your voice doesn’t give me a migraine anymore. You just look like a normal guy. The sweater is a little weird, but it’s not as flashy as I think it was,” Michael looked down at what he was wearing. They were the same clothes from his journey into the mountains, but they were definitely different. They did look older, to start. His jeans were ripped where they hadn’t been. His sweater was worn at the wrists and he figured the coat he’d attempted to lend Gertrude was frozen on a cliff somewhere. He looked back at Tim, and was startled to find the assistant staring intently at him with an odd look that he couldn’t place. Tim turned away.

“Your hand should be fine for now, it’s not a bad break. Try not to use it for awhile if you can.”

“Thank you,”

“Are you really Michael?” 

“What?”

“Are you really Michael Shelley? Or is this just some weird trick to lure us into a false sense of security. Those fucking clowns are up to something, woudn’t be that surprised if you were working together,

“The circus? No, I hate the circus-” He cut himself off. Did he hate the circus? He hadn’t actually known about the unknowing before Gertrude decided to feed him to delusion incarnate. Did he hate the Stranger, or was it simply remnants of a thing lodged into him?

No. No he hated it. He could remember that much. The distortion had wanted him to interfere, but so had he. It was a ritual, like the ones Gertrude had been after. If he could throw a wrench in its workings, then perhaps no one else would receive his fate. But that isn’t exactly how that small thought buried in his mind had been realized. His face hardened. 

“I hate the Stranger and the Spiral and every other so-called god. My name is Michael Shelley, and if that isn’t who I am then I would prefer someone to let me know now before I get any hope back. Now,” He stood, moving towards the door, “thank you so much for the first aid, but I’d really like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tim said, voice unsure, glancing between Michael and the door.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Michael ground out, and left the room. He did not slam the door behind him, but the thought crossed his mind. He had never been one for slamming doors. Perhaps now was the time to start.

Seeing Elias Bouchard in the Hallway before the elevator back up to the library was a bit of a shock.

Well, not a shock. It wasn’t that surprising to see the head of an institute standing in a commonly walked area of said institute.  But Michael was not prepared for it in the least. He stumbled and felt himself pale slightly at the sight of the man standing so nonchalantly. This man was a murderer. A direct conduit of the eye.

Michael had met Elias when he’d first started at the institute. The older man had been alright, if a little bit unpleasant to be around. He was intimidating but only in the way that a university student who drinks and parties on weekends is intimidating to someone in secondary school. Which is to say, not that intimidating once you realize how much of an idiot the man is. 

The Elias standing in front of him wasn’t an idiot. He’d grown a lot around the time he became the head of the institute. He looked sharp despite his age, and his eyes bore into Michael. After a moment he smiled, and his grin was nearly reflective. 

“Mr.Shelley! How wonderful of you come back to us! We’ve missed you,” Michael had seen a hunter before. The distortion had enjoyed trapping one or two in its mazes, giggling as they would chase each other or his other prey around, not noticing that they were being devoured themselves. The expression on the other man was far more predatory than any he’d ever seen on those animalistic creatures. Michael felt his mouth go dry, but it shifted into his usual friendly workplace smile anyway. 

“Hello Mr.Bouchard,” He said, “I was actually just leaving. Wouldn’t want to be in your way,” But neither of them moved. The hallway was small, and while Michael was lanky enough that he could have definitely fit on either side of Elias, it felt as if any attempt would end poorly for him. Though he was probably just paranoid. When Elias just continued to look at him, he continued. “Actually, I did want to talk to Jon before I left, have you seen him?” 

“Oh, yes, he’s talking to Martin right now. Explaining everything so the poor man doesn’t jump out of his skin when he sees you. Wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened with Tim no would we?” The man’s tone was far too light for how sick Michael was starting to feel. “Especially now that you’ll be working together,” 

“What?” 

“Oh, well of course! I don’t blame you for not thinking of work, I’m sure your head’s still a little fuzzy, but you never actually resigned. And you’ll need work anyway to get back on your feet. The archival assistant position has actually gotten a higher salary since you’ve been gone. Now, if you could just come up to my office and sign some paperwork…” His voice turned to static in Michael’s ears. What a cruel joke. To still be trapped somewhere after finally escaping hell… but the more he thought about it, the more he sensed a lie. 

He remembered thinking about quitting back before Gertrude had started pretending to value him. He had thought a lot about finding a less high stress archiving job, maybe with more people his age, but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. The spiral had known how the eye trapped people, not terribly unlike how it trapped people in their own broken minds. He didn’t feel that now. There was no reluctance, no hesitation. The sick feeling in his stomach was simply because this man had far too much blood on his hands for anyone to be comfortable talking to him. The eye didn’t have hold on him anymore.

Perhaps he could thank Gertrude for something after all. He grinned back.

“Actually, I’m afraid I won’t be returning to work. Seven years is quite the long vacation, and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what my position entailed aside from being condescended to, and I don’t miss it. Besides, you wouldn’t want any lingering distortion to mix up your carefully organized files, right?” He leveled a stare at Elias, trying to ignore the slight way his unbandaged hand was twitching. “I’d like to find Jon now, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Try the kitchen,” And then Elias walked away, leaving Michael alone once more.

Jon was not in the kitchen. There was, however, a woman that he’d never seen before making tea, who jumped slightly when he opened the door. She seemed a bit younger than him, or maybe just much smaller, with brightly dyed hair wearing a graphic tea. He’d say the spiral had influenced her fashion choices, but she looked far too serious for that to be the case. 

“Ah, um, hello,” She started, “Uh… who are you? I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here,” She spoke with an unsure amount of authority. 

“I’m Michael. Michael Shelley,” He waited for the flinch or gasp of some sort, but it didn’t come. She just continued to look at him with a sort of sneering disinterest. There was something in her eye that almost seemed familiar, but he chose to ignore it. So Jon hadn’t gotten to explain things to her yet. Well. He’d love a conversation with someone who wasn’t familiar with the monster, and it wasn’t like he was lying. Not completely.

“I know Jon,” He said, trying to sound appeasing, “I needed his help with something so I thought I’d stop by,” She didn’t look convinced. 

“Not to be rude mate, but you look like you just got hit by a bus,” Michael laughed in response. 

“Honestly I feel like I might have been. I uh, had a bit of an accident this morning,” He held up his wrapped hand, “A regular one of your institute scary stories I think,” Michael could see when she closed off. They stood in silence for a moment, him smiling nervously while moving on the balls of his feet, and her holding her fresh cup of tea looking like she’d lash out if he made any sudden movements. In the end she just shook her head and sighed. 

“I think there’s a cot in the store room if you need a place to crash for a bit. Doubt anyone would try to stop you.” She said finally, before taking a long sip of tea and walking out. She might’ve mumbled something rude under her breath, but Michael just nodded absently and stood there for a minute, before turning. 

Michael didn’t care about talking to Jon now. He really needed to get out of this institute. 

Two days later, they sat across from each other at a coffee shop, both of their reflections looking perfectly natural in the well cleaned window. They had gotten chances to talk in the past couple of days, mainly right outside the institute, so it was nice to just sit in a peaceful environment. Jon had gotten himself the blackest tea that Michael had personally ever seen, and he’d gotten Michael a hot chocolate and a sandwich. Michael stared at the spiral shape of the whipped cream before breaking it with his spoon. They talked for a while, mainly pleasantries, both obviously unsure where to start the serious conversation. Jon broke the peace first. 

“Elias is sending me abroad,” Jon said and a small part of Michael panicked. 

“I’m not coming,” The words burst out of him before he could think about any other reason Jon might be telling him this.

“What? No, I didn’t mean… I wouldn’t ask you to come. I’m not that dense, I don’t expect you to come, of course not. I just…” Jon trailed off for a moment “I know you’ve been sleeping outside these past few nights.” It wasn’t Michael’s fault he didn’t have enough cash for anything more than a park bench. At least it’s spring, he’d thought. But it wasn’t like he wanted Jon to know that, even if the knowing was unavoidable. 

“I-”

“Michael,” The blond man sighed and looked down. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” 

“I didn’t want to push you, because I know this is hard,” Michael couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that escaped him. Jon smiled at him softly and continued. “You are probably going to have to reenter society eventually? Basira still has some pull with the police, I really don’t think you’ll experience too much trouble in that department. What I wanted to talk to you about is if you’d want to stay at my flat for awhile?”

“It’s fine if you don’t, I know you’re not exactly comfortable with… me… yet,” Jon held up a hand when Michael began to protest and continued, “but I’ll probably be out of the house for a month or so anyway and I’d really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on things,” They both knew that wasn’t the reason. Michael could tell that Jon simply wanted him somewhere safe and to be able to check in, and for him to feel like he was at least somewhat in control of his new normal. Perhaps not all archivists were good liars after all. “And Michael?” Jon reached over and gently touched Michael’s injured hand with his own recently scarred one. “I’d like to be friends,” Michael froze. Those words sounded so familiar. Like they were his in a distant, broken way. They felt safe. They felt true. Michael smiled, perhaps the first purely genuine smile he’d shown in the past few days. In the past few years. And he knew his answer wasn’t a lie. 

“I’d love to.”

[gayidiot12]

Lets Talk About Neon Genesis Evangelion... And Why I Love It (With Pictures!!!)

Not a lot of people are going to read this and that’s okay. I have a problem, when it comes to getting attached to shows. The problem is I get REALLY attached. Like, I get emotionally invested in characters, locations, events, lore, everything. I’ve found that writing about a show, and how it makes me feel, helps me ease off this attachment.

Spoilers for the show below, even though its been out for longer than I’ve been alive.

So, I just watched the Netflix dub of NGE. This after seeing both the original Japanese dub, and the original English dub, and loving both of them. Generally, I liked the Netflix dub. I think the voice acting and dialogue has significantly improved in most areas. I’m not entirely sold on Shinji’s new voice actor, although they did such a wonderful job. I just think once you’re used to Spike Spencer as Shinji, its hard to hear it any other way. I have a few gripes though:

1. The pronunciation of NERV... I know... I know... it was changed to be closer to the German pronunciation meaning “soul” but “Nayerve” is as ugly as “moist”. It will always be “Nerve” in my heart.

The removal of swearing. In Japanese there is no swearing, so in the spirit of bringing the dub closer to the original, they removed it. However this is jarring in some spaces. “I’m the lowest of the low.” and such.

The removal of the gay subtext in episode 24... we’ll get to this...

So Moving on: EVA may not have been the best show to watch while locked up because of the ongoing pandemic. Like I said, I get ATTACHED, and this show, perhaps better than any other takes all the characters and locations you’ve grown to love... and it fucking destroys them. No mercy, at all. You like this character? That’s cool BOOM they’re gonna get emotionally destroyed just as things start going right in their life. 

Nowhere is that better exemplified than in Shinji. Now this is a character I really relate to. Much in the same way as him, my relationship with my father was tumultuous at best, and down right abusive at worst. I joined the army to get away from it. I guess you can say the army was my NERV, but instead of a giant purple robot (although its not actually a robot, that’s not important), I got a gun and got to sit in the desert for a few years.

Shinji sells me so hard on this series. Its easy to say hes a wimp, or a weakling, or a baby, and that’s all well and good. However if you want a ra ra action series, go watch Gundam or something. Shinji is a person, a flawed person. But a well written, understandably flawed person. He’s spent his life abandoned, and struggles to make connections with the people around him.

I’m going to Largely skip over talking about Rei, Auska, and Misato, because they too have all been analysed at length by people far more qualified than me. Needless to say, I love them all for different reasons. Particularly Misato, the troubled parental guardian. Shes an incredible leader and especially for the 1990′s, she’s a fantastic female character.

What I will go into though, is EVA’s numerous side characters who I love dearly. Particularly one (1) boy:

I would die for this boy, and in Evangelion fashion, I would’ve had to.

Everyone, from the 3 officers that work under Misato in operations, to Shinjis Classmates Kensuke and Toji (Toji seen above), to deputy commander Fuyutsuki, Dr. Akagi, are all fleshed out, interesting characters who I love in their own right. 

Toji in particular, “the jock with a heart of gold” is introduced at first, as a sort of antagonist. The first thing we seem him do is punch Shinji in the face. However, this wasn’t just in the name of being a dick, it was because (unknowingly) Shinji had injured his sister while battling the angels. 

Skipping over some (excellent) character development, they become best friends and low-key, I shipped it. From there, he goes on to become an EVA pilot just like Shinji, but after his start up test, his EVA loses control. Infected with an angel, it goes on a rampage. Against his will, Shinji is forced to put down the EVA, severely injuring Toji. In the original draft, Toji was going to be killed in this incident, and instead got off “easy”... only losing a leg. I’m skipping over alot of detail here, but chances are if you’ve seen the show, you know whats up. If not, go watch the goddamn show.

At this point the show doesn’t pull punches. In fact, episodes 16 onward are known for being gut punch after gut punch, breaking our characters down, and only partially rebuilding them. Some never recover at all.

All of this continues until episode 24. This episode left me a mess... and that’s all before Kaworu even shows his face.

For context: all of Shinji’s friends are gone, evacuated. The thriving, vibrant metropolis of Tokyo-3 has gone from this:

To this:

Annihilated. All of it. The world we built up, gone. And there alone Shinji sits, at the empty pit that used to be a city... and he runs into Kaworu. In the white haired boy he makes a friend, his only one in the weeks after the city was obliterated. In the original English dub (here comes the controversy) Kaworu is the first person to tell Shinji that he is loved, and worthy of being loved.

This is huge! its a small glimmer of hope for someone who has just been crushed over, and over again. Now in the Netflix dub, this line is translated as “you are worthy of my grace”. Did it bother me? yeah. Was I able to look past it? also yeah. In the end it did the same for me. 

However none of it is meant to last... Kaworu was an angel all along, and finally in what is technically the last episode of the series, after shinji has lost his friends, his home, any chance of a positive interaction with his father... he is forced to kill the one person who loves him.

FUCK

So episodes 25 and 26. I recommend everyone sit through them at least once. They help break down whats going inside shinji’s head during some key scenes in the movie: End of Evangelion.

End of Evangelion takes that destruction of everything Im attached to I keep mentioning, and dials it up to 11. We watch Nerv personnel get mercilessly gunned down, burned alive, or turned into fanta against their will. We watch Auska get horrifically ripped apart at the hands of the Mass Produced Evangelions... and we watch the horrifying destruction of humanity in perhaps my favorite concept for the end of the world... ever.

And after all of that... all of it... what happens at the end is mostly up for interpretation. Leaving me, tired, isolated, and bored, to spend my days thinking endlessly about this masterpiece of a show, its characters, and its world.

Listen, if you made it this far into my rant, thank you and I’m sorry. I definitely needed to get this all out of my system. 

God’s in his heaven, all is right with the world

[themagiciansreccenter]

Five @ Five @thursdayeuclid

As a part of our author spotlight, we’ve asked each writer to highlight 5 fics and tell us a little about their experience writing (or reading) them.

Modified Aspect Ratio by @sabrinachill

Quentin flinches when party hats suddenly appear on all three of their heads - the pointy, cardboard kind, with elastic straps that bite into the soft underside of their chins. Crepe paper streamers float in the air and balloons drop from where a ceiling should be, drifting down to scatter across the white expanse that serves as a floor. Tiny multicolored fireworks explode into shapes like smiley-faces and stars, and a three-tiered cake coated in yellow and red icing pops into existence in a puff of flour, hovering to the monster’s right.

But the biggest decoration - and weirdest, by far - is the enormous blue neon sign with the words “Welcome to Hollywood!” strobing insistently against the white blankness.

The monster is now wearing a wizard costume, for some unknown reason, and bouncing up and down while clapping its hands and performing a horribly off-key rendition of “Party in the USA.”

“This is officially the worst party I’ve ever attended, including the one where we murdered a couple of gods,” Eliot mutters.

Quentin’s answering sigh is epic and professional-grade, containing all the exasperated resignation in the galaxy. “Why is it that everything that happens to us is always equal parts absurd and terrifying? I mean, I could accept regular old fear and tragedy, sure, whatever, everybody gets those. But it’s like the universe gets off on dicking us around.”

He wants to slump, all dramatic and defeated, but he’s still pinned in place by the monster’s powerful will, like a butterfly in a display case.

This has to be my favorite Queliot AU. It's patently ridiculous but just believable enough to really touch your heart. Which, honestly, is most of the show too. I laughed and cried reading this. It's amazing and unpredictable and goes places I would never have imagined.

to be unbroken or be brave again by @milominderbindered

After the fourth time it happens, Josh decides to go for it, and as they’re bathing in the sweaty afterglow, he asks Margo if she wants to go on a date.

Margo looks at him, up and down, and says, “No offence, Hoberman, but no.”

“Oh.”  Josh’s stomach sinks a bit.  He pulls up his pants and takes a joint out of his pocket.  “Okay, that’s chill too. Wanna smoke?”

“Oh, don’t look all sorry for yourself,” Margo says, rolling her eyes as she picks herself up from the bathroom floor and inspects her hair in the mirror.  “It’s nothing personal. You’re nice, the sex is good, whatever. But, listen. Eliot is my best friend, and he’s going through this incredibly shitty time right now.  Specifically to do with love.  It’s been a couple months since that Mike shit went down, but he’s still seriously messed up, and he’s my first priority, capiche?  I’m not gonna start dating someone and just leave him by himself half the time, or shove a bunch of lovey-dovey crap in his face.  No way. I’m not gonna date anyone until Eliot’s dating again, too.”

“Right,” says Josh, slowly, as he lights his joint and thinks about it.  “Not until he’s dating someone too. Got it.”

He thinks about the party raging downstairs, and about what he knows about Eliot.  Eliot’s had no problem hooking with guys recently, everyone knows that, but he’s not kept anyone around for more than a night.  He’s heard Margo calling it Eliot’s attachment freak-outs when he drops the guys as soon as they suggest sucking his dick more than once , which makes sense.  Except. Well, there’s that one first year, with the floppy hair and the Lord of the Rings t-shirt.  Eliot and the first year with the weird name haven’t hooked up, according to Josh’s well-informed rumour mill, but he certainly seems to be the only person other than Margo who Eliot’s remotely interested in spending time with when he’s not drunk.

There aren’t a lot of things in life Josh Hoberman has an excess of.  But he’s not hard up for money. He’s got a trust fund and a drug hustle.  And he’d spotted Eliot’s first year at the school noticeboard taking the number for a three-headed-dog walking ad, the other day.

So, just like that.  The threads tangle together.

So this is a 10 Things I Hate About You AU (which was itself a reimagining of Taming of the Shrew), and I'm living for it, just right off the bat. I love Hoberman wanting Margo so badly he goes to all this trouble. I love Quentin being morally compromised but just wanting to spend all his time with Eliot... I love it. This story deserved more attention. It made me laugh and 'aww' and have feelings, plus it's on the shorter side so you have no excuse not to read it.

we can kiss like real people do by VeryImportantDemon

“No offense,” Quentin began, squinting at the stranger, “but I don’t know you, um… Janet.”

“None taken,” the man said. “And my name’s not Janet, it’s Eliot. None of the names on these things are right, we just grab a nametag.”

“Oh,” Quentin said. He supposed that made sense. “But I still don’t know you.”

Eliot shrugged again, taking a sip of his coffee and licking his lips afterwards. Q tried to pretend like he wasn’t staring, but he and Eliot both knew that he was. “In that case, it can’t hurt to tell me, then,” he added.

“Why are you even here?” Quentin asked, stalling for time. Maybe the ridiculously attractive barista was on break and if Quentin talked long enough, that break would be up and he wouldn’t have to confess his embarrassing predicament.

“You’re sad and cute and I was bored,” Eliot said. “Now, spill.”

He was not to be deterred so Quentin didn’t have very long to dwell on the fact that he’d just been called cute. “I, um… I kind of lied to my dad,” he said.

“Ooo,” Eliot said, leaning forward. “Exciting. About what?”

“It’s not that exciting,” Quentin said. “I just… He’s worried I’m lonely and he keeps asking if I’ve met someone. I just told him I had a boyfriend once to get him to stop asking and now he wants to see a picture of us.”

“Mmhm,” Eliot said. “I think I’m following. Why didn’t you get that snack that was here earlier to take a pic with you?”

“I can’t,” Quentin said, wondering how his life had gotten to the point that he was having an impromptu therapy session with a barista. “That’s Penny. He’s my… Sort of friend? And he’s kind of an asshole.”

“Pity,” Eliot said. “This your phone?” he added, gesturing to the phone on the table.

“Yeah,” Quentin said. Before he said anything further, Eliot scooped it up, unlocked it with Quentin’s face, and then set about doing something Quentin couldn’t see. “Hey!” he protested. “That’s my phone!”

“I know,” Eliot said. He rose from his chair, crouched down beside Quentin, and flashed a mesmerizing smile. Quentin was sure he looked a little startled and confused in the selfie because he really was confused. Eliot moved fast. He tapped on Quentin’s phone for a few more seconds as he crossed the table and sat down in the chair he had previously occupied before tapping a few more times and sliding the phone back to Quentin. “There,” he said. “Problem solved.”

I am a complete sucker for fake dating, and this story has a delightful array of truly ridiculous fake dating tropes. Also, it has transgender Penny dating Margo, and as a trans man, I can only aspire to such absolute game. Well done, trans Penny. Godspeed you, good man. There's a scene where I was freaking out and very upset and the author had to reassure me in comments it would be okay, so I kept reading, and everything was lovely in the end.

The Honor of Your Presence by Page161of180

One of the first years-- Elliott (oh no, that is too confusing, even in his own internal monologue), ah, Todd doesn’t remember her name, not because he doesn’t care, but because there are two Emilies and an Emilia in the new class and he hasn’t quite sorted them out yet. Maybe he should ask them about their middle names?-- makes it halfway down the stairs, before coming to a dead stop at the sight of the PKC’s friendly neighborhood post-grad locked in a silent stare-off with a six-foot-something R-rated Disney prince in head-to-toe-- Todd’s pretty sure it’s brocade? It’s very shiny and kind of between mint and seafoam. Definitely a nice color, against pale skin and dark hair. Which Todd knows from dressing himself , not because he spends that much of his time thinking about-- Not that there’s anything wrong with--

Ha. Ha ha. What? Not the point.

Todd shakes his head frantically at Emily, Emily, or Emilia, and she gets the message, turning back up the stairs and retreating to the safety of her room. Todd wishes he could go with her. Not, like, with her , specifically; he’s more into Emily (other Emily? Or maybe she’s Emilia?), honestly. But, you know, away . Would be good. 

Neither Eliot nor Quentin seem to notice she was ever there.

Eliot has been staring at Quentin for one minute and forty-five seconds, Todd’s face going more ashen with each moment that slips away, when the former (still?) king finally says, “I’m sorry. What ?”

And if it were Todd facing down Eliot like that (not that it would be; why would he be dating Eliot? Crazy.), he would have basically just, become one with the carpet, because that only sounds like a question. It is very clearly, obviously a trap. But Quentin-- man . Quentin has always been, just, super brave. Way braver than you would probably expect from someone who’s all, sort of, pocket-sized and, um, no judgment but, not really all that good? At magic? Like, not bad-- definitely not bad! Just. Kind of normal and-- soft? If that makes sense? He just sort of always looks like he needs a hug. Which is maybe why Eliot basically always has at least one arm wrapped around him.

Not now, though. Now, Eliot has both arms down at his sides, hands dangerously still, while Quentin crosses his own over his chest and sets his jaw.

This is just one of the greatest fics I've ever read in any fandom, for any pairing, and it's hilarious and feelsy and I had to keep pausing when I was reading it just to sit with my emotions for a minute. I recommend it to absolutely anyone who likes Queliot at all.

Ask Me, I Won't Say No by @veganshailseitan

None of them linger too long in their booth after they collect the gift certificate that will almost cover their drinks for next week-

Wednesday Night Trivia Rule 2: Only Penny and Alice are allowed to handle the gift certificates because they are the only ones who won’t lose them.

-exchanging hugs and kisses on cheeks. He’s walking out of the bar while texting —a grave mistake he should have learned from by now, but he just has to let the sitter know he’s going to be late real quick— when he suddenly smacks into something solid, sending his phone clattering to the floor.

Something solid which oh, fuck happens to be a person.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the stranger says, despite the fact that Quentin should clearly be taking the blame here. 

He’s ducking to pick up his hopefully-not-shattered phone before he can even spare a glance at the person, “You’re fine, I wasn’t paying attention to-” he loses the sentence as he stands back up, looking up to a face he’s only seen from across the room “-you?”

His brief interaction with the enemy-

”I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Eliot. Waugh.”

“Um, yeah, I’ve seen you here before, hi. Quentin Coldwater.”

“Quentin Coldwater?” -sticks in Quentin’s mind for the next week. He’s excited for trivia. More excited than the usual eagerness for his night out of the house with grown-ups, and nervous for the first time since he could remember. Which is so dumb and shows Quentin how painfully out of practice he is at interacting with other human beings.

He and the guy —Eliot— had barely exchanged two sentences and he’s pretty sure one of them had just been Eliot making fun of his name. But then again, his type has always been the ones that pulled his pigtails on the playground —which, yeah super healthy there Quentin, way to go— except for Arielle.

And there it was: the surefire way to kill whatever ill-advised excitement he’d been holding onto for the night.

He’s early this week, for reasons he’s already overthinking, so he goes ahead and grabs their usual table. It’s his week to pick-

Wednesday Night Trivia Rule 1: The person in charge of choosing the team name will rotate on a weekly basis in alphabetical order. That week’s decider can only be overruled by a unanimous vote from the rest of the team (per the March 2018 addendum).

-so he lets the group chat know he’s there, checks them in with the Quizmaster as To Be Perfectly Queer, (because he’s at least self-aware at this point in his life) and heads to the bar, trying to focus on whether or not he wants to try the new local craft brew they were pushing this month-

And immediately runs into Eliot.

Thankfully not literally this time.

“Well, hello, Quentin.” Eliot looks as surprised to run into him as Q is, which is stupid on both their parts.

“Uh, Eliot. Hello. How are you?” just talk like a normal human, Quentin, Jesus.

Eliot smiles, sultry and so over the top that Quentin almost laughs, “Fraternizing with the enemy, are we? I’m sworn to hold our knowledge in secrecy, so don’t you dare try to seduce it out of me.”

Quentin does laugh at that, somehow put at ease by Eliot’s carefree flirtation, “I’ll try to restrain my charms. Scout’s honor.”

I actually -just- got around to reading this one and I liked it so much it made me squee out loud on a couple of occasions. It's hot, it's kidfic, it's sweet, and there's feelings and fluff and smut. Basically a ridiculous AU where Eliot and Quentin are on opposing pub trivia teams. However, that premise accounts for only a fraction of this story's considerable charms. I didn't expect to love it like I did--I did, in fact, expect to love it in a totally different way--and then it hooked me and dragged me panting and squirming through a smorgasbord of emotion. 

[grimmseye]

Kill Your Heroes (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Jester, Mollymauk, Mollymauk Tealeaf & The Mighty Nein

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Teafleaf, Caleb Widogast, Jester 

Other Tags: Superhero AU, Reporter!Mollymauk, Vigilante!Caleb, 

(Read on Ao3) (Chapter 1)

Mollymauk will never understand those people who hate to see photos of themselves. He can only smirk with pride as he watches the numbers go up, the name he’s made for himself calling out and letting viewers know exactly where to head when they need the up-close source. Several deposits have gone into his account, news stations vying to broadcast his footage. No one gets as close as Mollymauk dares, so no one but the luckiest get the shots he brings to the table.

‘New Hero: Firebird?’ is the approximation of every headline he clicks past. He’s pleased as the cat that got the canary, feet up on the couch as a crockpot roils in the kitchen. A few batches of those will guarantee quick meals for the next few days, save them the money that takeout would cost.

The new villain, now promptly beaten to a pulp with the combined power of four heroes (really by the type Yasha got there it was just to hold the guy down as they cuffed him) had been dubbed Beholder in an instant. Molly’s always had a good sense for names — what sounds dramatic, what gets a glitter in the eyes.

He clicks from site to site, video to video. There’s one that makes him pause as he’s clicking through, eyebrows raising as his head cocks to one side.

‘The Return of Verbrennen?’

He cocks an eyebrow, crunching down on the trail mix he’d deemed to be a good breakfast. A blurry still from his camera is presented on screen: the cat-masked individual. It’s from the moment he was put on his feet, camera still rolling, distant enough from the man to actually get a good shot.

The picture shrinks, two news anchors on the screen now. His tail twitches as he listens, impatient for them to get to the point of it all.

“It’s hard to say is this is him or not,” one anchor is saying. “Fire isn’t exactly an unusual power. The Scourgers were almost indistinguishable from each other — we don’t even know their voices. I think people are jumping the gun with this one.”

“That’s fair. As much as I hope it’s true, the last we say of Verbrennen seemed pretty final.” A new picture comes up. Burning building. Large building. A new picture: collapsed, glass and rubble. A disaster. “We did extend a question to the remaining Scourgers and the Cerberus Assembly, but they have yet to comment on this new arrival.”

“And as far as we know, he’s not associated with any organization. Making him a vigilante — the first Zadash has seen in quite some time. How the sanctioned agencies are going to receive him is still unknown but —”

Mollymauk gets bored. He sets down his phone with a roll of his eyes. Names, names, names. Verbrennon means nothing to him, just names thrown around without explanations. He could look it up, of course, but Molly’s not much of the reading sort. He can blabber just fine into a microphone, but drivelings are to be heard, not read.

He’s reluctantly tapping in the name, unsure how its spelled, when a rapraprap at the door catches his ear. Mollymauk perks up, an amused grin on his face. “Yasha?” He calls. “You forget your keys again?”

She’s only got patrol this morning, could be done early. They’re always amped up after villain attacks, keep the citizens calm. Deal with the idiot criminals who think their petty theft won’t be noticed.

The voice on the other side of the door, though, is not Yasha’s. “Er, no. This is not… Yasha.”

Oh. It’s the neighbor Molly never sees, the one with the Zemnian accent. Lots of those around lately, he muses, a bit of a grin on his face. Old neighbor, new hero. He’s heard a bit of chatter surrounding the man: elusive, seen at odd hours of the night, nervous demeanor. Never clean shaven, allegedly. Molly had always assumed he was on the run from the mob or something of that like.

So of course he cracks the door open to get a look at the complex’s very own cryptid. With such a reputation preceding him, Mollymauk is more than a little disappointed to find someone who is clean-shaven, even handsome standing at the door. And then he remembers that a handsome man at his door isn’t actually anything to be upset about, and he gives a friendly grin as he sweeps open the door and leans against its frame.

“Good morning,” he greets, amiable as always.

Mister Cryptid doesn’t say a word. He just stares for a long, long while, eyes wide and jaw slightly slack. Perhaps Molly gets the best of both worlds — handsome and a weirdo. It’s a good day.

And then the man recovers. He clears his throat, shakes his head. “Pardon me,” he gulps. “You just, ah… have I seen you somewhere before?”

“Almost certainly,” Mollymauk laughs. “Though if you have, I think you’d remember it just fine so — actually, maybe not? Doesn’t matter, you have now.”

“That is true,” he murmurs, still blinking as though he were dazed. “Um, my apologies. My name is, ah, Caleb. You haven’t — I do realize that this is against regulations, but he is a perfectly good cat — have you seen Frumpkin — have you seen my cat, Frumpkin, around by any chance?”

“Brown tabby?” Molly asks, remembering the cat from yesterday. “Bushy tail?”

“ Ja, yes, that’s the one.” Caleb gives a smile of sheer relief.

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” he chirps. Unfortunately for him, that soft smile immediately falls into shock, annoyance, and then resignation. He winces, hastily adds, “Ah, don’t look like that. I’m just pulling your tail — so to speak, Mister Caleb. I saw him yesterday afternoon, just hanging around in the hall. Nothing since then.”

“Scheisse.” Caleb sighs. “Well, thank you. Don’t, ah, I will probably be setting some old clothing out to try to lead him back home. Cats are quite good at finding their way around but in case he gets lost…”

“Sure thing.” Molly gives a wry grin. “I promise I won’t report you for dirty laundry in the hall. Might want to let the old lady know, though. Three doors on the left — no, on the right. Definitely the right.” He gives a wave of his hand just to make sure. “She’s a bit of a crotchety old bitch until you get on her good side.Tip? Compliment her nails, she always gets the acrylics with the french tips and you don’t spend that kind of money unless you want to get a compliment.”

The guy is still just blinking at him, slow and baffled. He licks his lips, mumbles, “Okay. I will do that, thank you. And, ah, if you do see my cat, just knock on my door. I am right across the hallway.” And he does point to the door across from Molly’s, room nine on this floor.

“Good to know.” His tail curls behind him. “Good luck in finding your cat then, Mister Caleb. It was nice meeting you!”

“It — it was nice to meet you as well.” Caleb ducks his head, backing up towards his door. Molly gives a little wave before turning around, pulling the door shut with his tail.

He stretches out, a faint smile on his face. A bit disappointing, maybe, that there’s not some rando across the hall with a machete. But Caleb seems nice enough. And, he supposes, he gets enough excitement just from living in Zadash. At least that trouble earns him some coin.

  On Fridays, Mollymauk meets with Sugar-Bomb.

Secret identities can be difficult for tieflings, except that apparently Sugar-Bomb can disguise herself. Different skin tones — he’s seen blue, red, purple, bright pink, neon yellow. Different horn shapes. Different tail structures. Taller, shorter, younger, older — no one can keep track of her, except by her distinctive costume, a cotton-candy pink and blue.

Today, Sugar-Bomb is shade deep shade of violet, her hair buzzed into an undercut. She’s not wearing a mask because she doesn’t need to, Molly wouldn’t be able to recognize her anyway.

Yellow eyes brighten at the sight of him. “Hello, Molly!” She beams, flouncing towards him and scooping him into a hug. He laughs as she lifts him clear off his feet. Her horns are in upward twists today, framing the bun of her hair.

“Hello, Sugar,” he laughs, delighted as she twirls him and then drops him back on his feet. Their tails twine loosely as they stroll into the coffee shop. Not a soul is aware of the hero in their midst.

They order their usual drinks, Sugar’s loaded with sugar, Molly’s just as elaborate. He’s sure the staff would hate them if they didn’t drop an extra copper into the tip jar. The two of them slide into a little booth, Molly saying, “Yasha’s got patrol today. I’m sure Lionheart is trailing after her as usual.”

Secret identities are also funny things. He doesn’t know who Sugar-Bomb is, and he doesn’t intend to ask. Sugar knows who Yasha is, though, and Yasha knows she knows, because they see each other around so frequently that it’s impossible to not realize that the large civilian human woman who hangs around Molly is the same as the hero with all the same traits.

He thinks it’s only a matter of time before Sugar-Bomb wears her actual face to their litle dates — gods know it was Mollymauk who dissuaded her from outing herself from the get-go. People might not look at her and pin down the cotton candy hero, but Mollymauk is recognizable. Everyone knows his face. It’s the reason he doesn’t get Storm Herald on camera very often, it’s the reason they don’t greet each other with the same familiarity that Sugar does when masks are on. Someone as colorful as Mollymauk knows how to keep attention where he wants it.

“I think they’re cute, don’t you?” Sugar sighs, leaning her chin on her hand. “Do you think she’s ever going to notice?”

“Who, Yash?” Molly snorts. “Hard to say. She’s not oblivious, but at the same time, Lionheart’s kind of…”

“Constipated?”

The two of them dissolve into snickers, Molly hiding his behind a hand, Sugar loud and raucous. “That’s the word,” Molly chuckles. “Yeah — yeah. Uh, I mean… even if Yasha did know, I’m not sure if she’s going to go for it? They get along, like — I mean, you’ve seen the footage.”

“They’re pretty badass together,” Sugar nods.

“Yeah, yeah. I know — I think? — that I’m not either of their slice of pie but I can appreciate. It’s kind of hard to say, gender’s fake.” He and Sugar have had this conversation a dozen times and it always ends in headaches. Molly would freely admit he has some jealousy over her ability to just alter her body at will. “ Regardless, I don’t know if she’s looking for a relationship right now. Between her job and me —”

“And you?” A grin.

“Oh, I’m a handful.”

“She has very big hands though.” Sugar beams as Molly chokes on his drink, covering his mouth laughing. “And I can help! I’m always willing to hold your hand, Molly.”

“You make me blush.” And it’s the truth. There’s a warmth on his cheeks from happiness. Simple zest for living, and loving. He loves Yasha, he loves Sugar-Bomb, he loves being here with them.

And in that moment, of course, Sugar’s phone starts to buzz. They both go quiet, they both know which phone that is. She mumbles something under her breath as she pulls her phone out, eyes flicking over the screen. Her face darkens.

“Shit,” she curses. Her head lifts, lower lip stuck out in apology. “I’m sorry, Molly…”

“Don’t worry, dear,” he waves her off. “You go do your thing. I’ll be right behind you, anyway.” He winks. It’ll be on a phone instead of a camera, but footage is footage. “Actually, would you mind giving me a lift there?” “Oh, yeah, sure!” She smiles. “I gotta get changed first, though.” Sugar-Bomb scoots out of their booth, snagging her drink with her tail to pull it into her hand before heading out. Molly idles a few minutes until the emergency sirens start to wail. Phones go a-buzz, villain alert near the Signet Wall. Then it’s time to go.

Mollymauk keeps an eye out on the rooftops. He sees a flash of red and heads for it, dipping into the alleyways. Sugar-Bomb is there at once, leaping down to meet him, sticking the landing with no apparent trouble. She’s changed to a red tiefling, short horns that curve up and back, a thin, spaded tail. “Ready to go?” She grins, and then promptly throws Mollymauk over her shoulder.

He laughs, trusting her to get a good grip on him as she pushes off and scales the wall, taking them to the rooftop and leaping over the streets of Zadash. Most heroes figure out some form of mobility — those that can’t fly or sprint stick sirens on a motorcycle and gun it.

They head for the far end of the city, flitting around the Tri-Spires that loom over the populace and then further. An attack on Zadash’s sect of the Righteous Brand is a gutsy move. The fact that there’s even an alert, though — that’s concerning. Most villains know better than to stage an attack where the heroes are so clustered together. Most villains would be put down without a thought trying such a thing.

Before he’s prepared, Sugar-Bomb is coming to a halt. She on the edge of a roof, steps back and sets Molly on his feet. “Whoa,” she blinks, as Molly steps up to get a glimpse at what she’d seen. “The fuck is up with them?”

Molly gets his phone recording immediately. There are figures far below, moving through the streets. “They’re not running, that’s… weird,” he frowns, not even slipping into the right persona. The camera zooms somewhat, only getting a blurry figure on the screen as civilians amble below at a slow pace. “Why the hell aren’t they running? The attack’s at the Wall, right?” He turns the camera, just to catch the plume of dust that marks the disaster zone. It’s not frighteningly close, but enough that any person in their right mind would be moving away, fast.

He pauses the video as Sugar-Bomb starts to speak, her voice low. “That is super weird. I would have gotten a dismissal if, you know, they got the bad guy.” She checks her phone just in case, shakes her head. Her ears tilt down, tail curling in a nervous manner.

“Wanna check it out?” Molly suggests. She looks at him, and then she smiles. Molly gets an arm around her shoulders, letting her carry him down the walls of two buildings and back onto the pavement of the wide alley.

They crouch low. He’s not sure exactly how Sugar-Bomb’s illusions work, but she seems to pull the shadows around them, her form in his peripheral growing dull despite the bright colors she’s donned.

On the main boulevard, just down a block, he can see what looks to be a human shuffling towards them. They move at a slow pace, head hanging down, legs almost shambling. Molly looks to Sugar-Bomb, the two of them exchanging deep frowns. “I’m gonna go check it out,” he whispers. After a beat, she nods, and he slips out of hiding with his video rolling.

He makes sure to capture the person as they trudge down the block, calling out, “Excuse me! Hello, are you doing alright?”

They lift their head, looking to Mollymauk. For a moment, their gaze is distant, and then it sharpens, fixed on him. They keep moving forward.

He turns his head, getting a sweep of the area. They’re not the only person around, two more are further down the block, one walking in the street, all having paused now to look at the source of the noise. “Hello?” He calls again. “What’s — what’s going on? There’s an evac alert, you know.”

They start moving towards him. The one up the block keeps up their pace, the two further down turn around. “Well that’s just weird,” Molly mutters, edging towards the one that’s alone. He can see Sugar-Bomb still crouched low, eyes intent on him. His head turns, looking full in the face of the human. A woman, short hair, older face. Her gaze is distant, but fixed on him at the same time. She keeps moving — definitely towards him now, not just along her path.

“Okay. Well, these people are either on something or are in some kind of a trance, and I’m not sure I like either option,” Molly mutters, more out of habit than anything. He stays still, wary gaze on the woman as she approaches. The other three are still further back, still out of range.

The woman slows. About four paces from Mollymauk, she stops. Her breath swells slow, deep.

Her head rears up. From hanging low, it’s suddenly tilted towards the sky, her jaws parting to reveal yellowed, serrated teeth. And then she shrieks and lunges for him.

“Fuck!” Molly backpedals. Two steps and then Sugar-Bomb is at his side, tail pressing against his stomach, pressing him out of the way as she pulls the hammer from her back and swings. It impacts the woman in the stomach, her breath choking out of her, stumbling back with a horrid gasp.

Sugar-Bomb grabs Molly and bolts, hoisting him into a fireman’s carry that has him fumbling for his phone, gasping out, “Sugar-Bomb saves my ass as usual. Those people look zombified — oh, gods —!”

They round a corner, and stumble into a small hoard. Humans, elves, dragonborn, without discrimination there are sallow, stumbling, sharp-toothed beings that crane their heads around and then immediately swerve around to advance upon them. “Oh, fuck,” Sugar-Bomb gulps, bouncing back and away. “That is a lot of zombies.”

“Up, up, up,” Molly gasps. She reels back, just in time for one of these things to reach out and swipe at her with gnarled, yellow nails. “Down! Put me down, you need your — ”

She dumps him onto the ground without question, Molly landing on his ass. Her hammer is in her grip and she’s swinging hard, planted defensively in front of him. The first one falls with another rattling wheeze of pain. It’s just one among a couple dozen. A hand closes on Molly’s tail, and he jerks back, scrabbling up to his feet only to yelp as a hand gets ahold of his jacket and pulls him back down.

“Molly!” Sugar-Bomb’s voice is a rough cry. More hands are grasping at him. He kicks hard, foot cracks one in the jaw. Two hands off, two more holding fast, clawing, pulling. Sugar-Bomb slams them in the side with her hammer, the body a ragdoll tossed into the street.

And in this time, they’ve clustered and advanced, several dozen of these veritable zombies now swarming them. Sugar-Bomb grabs him by the jacket, yanking him up by his coat, ears pinned back, tail lashing, hammer in her grasp, Molly’s eyes darting back and forth searching for a single thing he could use to be more than dead weight to her —

And then a wall of flames erupts in his face.

[that-70s-show-slasher]

That 70s slasher

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Chapter four: Jackie and the Burnout   Foto hut, Point Place Wisconsin.

 Jackie followed Hyde in to the small camera shop, looking around. “So, this is where you work” she commented on the place.

“Yeah, it gets me paid and all I really have to do is sit around all day. I can even leave sometimes, and I do” Hyde chuckled, taking a seat in his chair and picking up a magazine, it was his typical work day, which was boring, but doing anything else was boring and it didn’t get him paid.

“It’s got- uh… “Jackie wanted to be nice but truthfully she thought the place sucked, it was covered in a layer of dust, smelled like pot and was very cramped. “Well… character?” the young girl was trying to be less rude, being nice was hard though.  

“The place is crappy, don’t worry about saying how you feel” Hyde never moved his eyes from the magazine as he spoke. “Leo should be here, but if he doesn’t show up we can probably just, play board games.” Hyde held his finger up. “No, I take that back, even if he shows up we can still probably play board games.”

Jackie nodded in response and leaned against the desk top, crossing her legs and taking in the different cameras around the room, then her eyes landed on Hyde, who wasn’t paying attention, she didn’t mean to but her eyes had landed on him and she couldn’t take them away, he was handsome, and cool, and though neither of them really ever said any good things about each other, he was nice. Maybe she was just dealing with her break-up with Michael by looking for someone new, or maybe she really was falling for the curly haired stoner.

After a moment of silence and awkward staring, Leo walked in. “hey man” he said to Hyde and then noticed Jackie. “Oh, hey man” he waved and took a seat next to Hyde. “Hey” Hyde said, only glancing up from the magazine for a moment.

“Whatcha readin?” Leo said and leaned in to look over Hyde’s shoulder. Hyde moved to avoid Leo, then handed him the magazine. “Here, enjoy, I’m gonna…” Hyde stepped back towards the door, looking at Jackie. “We’re gonna go-” he pursed his lips and pushed the door open.

“okay man, You’re the boss” Leo kept reading then stopped, “wait- I’m the boss, man, whatever, come back soon-“ Leo didn’t care what he was saying, he was just interested in his magazine.

The two teens quickly made their way out of the hut. “I’ve got the day off, wanna head back to Forman’s house?”

Jackie thought for a moment. “Hm, no, how about we go see a movie?”

 Hyde nodded, knowing that no matter what he said Jackie would win in the end, she was like that. It annoyed him, but he was fine with it so he never let it get to him. “So what movie?” Hyde asked as he climbed in to Jackie’s car.

The rich girl thought for a moment then spoke. “I hadn’t gotten that far, why don’t we see what’s playing when we get there?”

“Jackie I am not driving all the way to Kenosha on the off chance that there is a movie we both wanna-“

“Steven, I know what movie is playing, I was just hoping you would be willing to go along simply to be with me” she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Why would I wanna go simply to be with you?”

“Steven!” Jackie turned to look at him, noticing his playful smirk that was barely showing. “Do you wanna see the movie with me or not?”

“Sure, yeah. Whatever” Hyde put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot behind the Foto hut, Heading towards Kenosha. He would never admit it, but really the only reason he was going was because of Jackie.

Just a little while later the two were at the theater, settling down in their seats, the movie wasn’t one Hyde wanted to see, but he had nothing better to do, and to be honest he did enjoy most movies, even ones he claimed to hate. As the movie lingered on, he found himself really enjoying the plotline, the Male Lead reminded him of himself and the female lead- well, she reminded him of Jackie. The two were lovers in the movie, which he and Jackie most definitely, were not.

Finally the credits started to roll. It was an enjoyable movie, but still not his favorite type, and seeing two characters kissing, when they reminded him of him and Jackie wasn’t all that comfortable.  

“Well Steven?” Jackie asked as they walked out of the theater, side by side.

“It was, well-” Hyde tried to think of a word for it. “Fine for what it was” he nodded, stopping by the car and looking at Jackie.

“Oh, well- I really liked it” Jackie smiled softly and they got in the car, looking at each other before Hyde turned it on. “Do you wanna head back or, go somewhere to eat- or something?”

“There’s this really cool old malt shop I’ve been to once with my parents, it’s really good, we should go there” Jackie said chirpily and Hyde agreed, pulling away from the theater and following Jackie’s directions.

When they pulled up to the small neon illuminated restaurant they noticed it was very vacant, aside from a waitress, it was open though, or at least the glowing ‘OPEN’ sign suggested so.

Hyde got out first, opening both the car door and the building door for Jackie. He may not like her… that much, but he would still be polite. She probably considered this a date, which she wouldn’t be wrong, this was very date-esk.

Once sat down, they each ordered a malt, why else would they come to a malt shop? “We should probably call the Forman’s… tell Eric we’re not Dead” said Jackie.

“Why would we do that? Forman probably isn’t worried all that much and we’ll be back before the night is through.” Hyde replied.

“Steven, his sister was just…” she gulped. “If he suspects the same of us…”

Hyde stood up, sighing, she was right. “I’ll go see if there’s a phone I can use.” Jackie nodded. Hyde doing this for her, for Eric, it made her feel a bit more content.

Hyde waited at the bar but noticed a phone on the wall in the back. No longer needing to ask, he walked over to the phone, digging in his pocket for change, luckily enough, he had the right amount to call. He spun the dial and waited for an answer, soon he heard the voice of Kitty. “Hey, Mrs. Forman, Jackie and I are…” he contemplated saying ‘on a date’ but changed his mind. “In Kenosha… we won’t be home for at least another hour or so, could you tell Eric we-“ he knew how much Kitty was affected by Laurie’s death also, so yet again he changed his wording. “We’re fine” he pursed his lips and listened to kitty talk for a moment, they both said bye, and hung up.

By the time he sat back down, the two chocolate malts were already set neatly on either side of the table. He looked at Jackie as she grabbed the class and began to suck through the straw.  

Hyde sipped at his straw also, sitting in silence for a few seconds.

A little bit of talking later and the two were back on the road, headed for Point Place, on their way back they stopped. Parking in a clearing in a park, they talked a little, and after a while they ended up sitting on the trunk, enjoying the cool night air, completely silent for half an hour. “This is the best date ever” Jackie spoke, breaking the long amount of silence.

“Jackie, we haven’t talked in thirty minutes.” Hyde turned his head to look at her.

“That’s okay…” Jackie lays her hand on Hyde’s shoulder. “Steven, you don’t have to say anything, I… I understand you.”

“Oh? You do, do you?” Hyde scoffs and looks away from Jackie.

“Sure, so you’re probably sitting there thinking, ‘I’m on this date with this girl, who probably really, really likes me and she’s- so beautiful that-’ “Hyde interrupts Jackie. “Jackie-“ the girl puts her finger to his lips. “Hush” she removes her finger, “and you’re wondering… ‘How can I open up to her? When everyone I have ever loved has abandoned me, and… With everything that’s going on right now, am I even worthy of love?’ well, you are Steven… you are”

Hyde covers his face and begins to cry; Jackie puts her arm around him and rubs his back. “It’s okay… Steven, it’s okay, let it out, let it all out.”

Hyde sobs an “Okay” before pulling his hands away and blowing a raspberry, smiling a little bit. Jackie flails her arms up and slides off the trunk of the car, “Let’s go home” she says in an annoyed tone.

“Aw- come on I’m kidding” Hyde raises his arms. “No this- this is alright we can hang out here for awhile, okay?”

“God…” Hyde sighs out as Jackie walks back over, sitting beside her date yet again. “Here, have some of my shake” Hyde reaches over and grabs the to-go cup and hands it to Jackie. “Sure” the dark hair girl says shyly, taking the drink and sipping at the red straw.

Hyde sighs and Jackie scoots closer, grabbing his arm and lifting it around her neck. “Okay…” Hyde smiles accepting the gesture. As the night goes on, it gets colder and Hyde offers Jackie his Jacket, she accepts and pulls it on, smiling and scooting back against Hyde.

“So…” Jackie tenses and purses her lips. “Our first date is almost over…” she nods a little

“Yeah” Hyde nods along with her.

“What’d you think?” Jackie leans towards Hyde a little bit.                                    

“It was no worse than bowling” he smiles and turns his head to look at her again.

Jackie raises an eyebrow in confusion and Hyde continues. “I-I don’t hate bowling”  

Jackie leans closer and Hyde picks up on what she’s doing and leans in also, their lips are so close, and then they are touching, moving against each other. They were kissing, really kissing. Jackie touched Hyde’s cheek lightly with her hand. Before pulling away. “That was…” Jackie spoke, clearing her throat. “I didn’t feel anything…”

“Nothing?” Hyde asked.

“No I mean the kiss was hot but…” Jackie paused. “I mean, did you feel something?”

Hyde blushed and lied. “Uh… no” he thought for a second. “Well…” he wanted to tell her the truth but decided not to. “No”

“So… I guess that’s it then?” she taps Hyde’s leg with her fist “Turns out, you were right about us all along”

“Yup…” Hyde pursed his lips again.

“So, what happens now?” Jackie awkwardly asks.

Hyde looks Jackie up and down. “I’m not opposed to doin it” Hyde jokingly says and smiles. Jackie gasps and punches Hyde playfully “Take me home you pig!” Hyde smiles. “Yes Dear”

Hyde dropped Jackie off at her house, walking her up to her door and smiling. “Well… I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Jackie asked  and Hyde nodded “You know where to find me” he smiled, they leaned in to kiss again but stopped and avoided eye contact, Jackie turned and went in and Hyde started to walk home, leaving Jackie’s car in the drive way.

While Jackie and Hyde were on their date, Fez was in his bed, curled up, he hadn’t left his house since he found Laurie’s body, glimpses of her blood stained clothes and dead eyes kept flashing in his mind, he couldn’t handle it, it made him sob in to his pillow, shutting out his host parents, who didn’t seem to care much other than telling him how bad it was that he was associated with those people.

His friends hadn’t even come by to check on him… or called, he heard some people at the door the other day but he wasn’t sure who it was, maybe it was his friends but he didn’t know for sure. His life had been so turned around that he didn’t even know what to do with it anymore… he just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, Laurie’s cold body was the worst thing he had ever experienced, and he had experienced some horrible things in his home country.

Who was next? Was someone next at all? Would he have to deal with yet another friends death, the idea of it was too much to take, he tried to push it out of his mind, who would be next, how it would happen, would he be next? He curled up more and tried to fall asleep. Which he did eventually he fall asleep.

The sun rays beamed in over the foreign kid and he slowly woke up, rubbing his eyes and getting up, he was still very depressed but he was also very thirsty, so he headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. On his way to the kitchen he passed his host parents, who were watching something on the T.V, he didn’t stay in the living room long, instead hurrying to the kitchen to get his water.

He gulped down the glass of clear liquid, and poured another, gulping it down just as fast, as he was drinking his second glass the Phone rang, he nearly spit the drink out “I got it!” he called and grabbed the phone before either of his host parents could get to it.

He answered. “Hello” he was hoping it was his friends.

“Hey, Fez, good to hear your voice, your folks have been keeping us away from you” Eric spoke, giving a glance to his friends. “So, Kelso called us this morning and asked if we wanted to go to the water tower later?”

“Oh that would be wonderful Eric” Fez excitedly said.  

“Cool” Eric said and gave his friends a thumbs up.  “Meet us in an hour?” Eric asked and Fez nodded even if his friend couldn’t see. “Yes, I’ll be there”

As soon as he said that the phone was yanked from his hand and hung up. “Aye!” Fez jumped back and saw his host father. “You will be doing no such thing young man” he crossed his arms.

“But they are my friends!” Fez whined.

“No buts, they are dangerous and could get you hurt, instead you will be staying home and helping clean the house” the man sternly said and Fez realized there was no way of getting out of it, he was stuck with his stupid host parents instead of hanging out at the water tower with his friends. Back at Eric’s house, he, Donna, Jackie, and Hyde, were all getting in the Vista Cruiser to go see Kelso and Fez at the water tower, Eric and Donna got in the front while Hyde and Jackie got in the back, scooting closer to each other than normal.

“Are you guys okay back there?” Eric asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah man- we’re fine” Hyde said.

“You sure? You seem kinda close?”  Eric smirked, guessing that Hyde and Jackie had done something a little more than just talk the night before.

“No, we’re not that close, man. What’s with all the questions Forman?” Hyde turned the questioning around to Eric. “Yeah Eric, what’s with all the questions?” Jackie asked Eric also.  

“Will you two just shut up so Eric can drive” Donna laughed and rotated in her seat to look back at the two teenagers in the back seat.

On their way to the water tower they all sang along to a Led Zeppelin song that came on the radio. It was truly calming, just singing along as wind blew through the open windows, Donna was up against Eric and Jackie was up against Hyde, basically confirming Eric and Donnas suspicions.

A while later they were pulling in to a gravel spot down the hill from the water tower, they could see the top of it but not the whole thing, the four got out of the car after Eric shut it off and headed up the small dirt and stone trail, all Laughing as they did so. Eric tripped and slid down the trail a foot or so and everyone laughed, though soon helped him up, brushing him off.

“Eric are you okay?” Donna asked, a little worried but still holding back laughs.

“Yeah… I’m fine, just a few scrapes.” He laughed and Hyde laid his hand on the scrawny boys shoulder.

“That has got to be the best part of today, you started sledding on your ass man” the joke caused the group to laugh and they turned to head back up the trail.

What they found was not at all what any of them expected, it was disturbing, and all of them could see it clearly from where they were standing. Donna took a step back muttering an “oh my god…”  Eric’s eyes went wide and he said the same as Donna, though a bit louder.

Jackie’s eyes filled with tears and she turned to Hyde, hugging him and sobbing loudly against his Jacket while he just stared up at the scene before them, his mouth hanging open just slightly has he tried to comprehend the situation.  Eric turned to his friends. “We gotta call the police man!” he yelled and Hyde nodded. “I’ll stay here… you take Jackie and Donna and go find a phone.” Hyde commanded Eric nodded and did as he said; taking Jackie and Donna in to his arms and walking down the trail quickly back to his car.

[bad-idealist]

Icarus heights (The intro to a story about superheroes and villains, think X men meets Farcry) Enjoy :)

The evening sky was dim, the grey obelisk that was Icarus heights rose far above the neon haze of the cityscape. The only source of light on the buildings matte skin being a single tacked on-sign, bright blue, that read “Long live the king”. Its bold words flickered faintly, taunting the world below, and bathing the rooms behind it in a seas of light. If one were to view it from street level the words would be barely legible, as if to further cement its status as above the people, and the many corpses of buildings, scrapped to make way for its construction, served as a reminder that it was an unstoppable force, an inevitability, and that’s its occupants cared not for the struggles of the common folk.

Much harder to notice, was the small veiled figure clinging to the face of the tower, carefully scaling it like a determined flea on the back of a great hound. The winds were getting stronger with every foot he ascended, and the first droplets of an oncoming storm had already soaked into his crude fabric mask. He had lost count of what floor he was at a while back, every pane looked identical, and he was surprised he hadn’t been seen by now. For all the goons the bastard has they aren’t the brightest. He amused himself with the ridiculousness of the situation, but the soft roar of distant thunder prompted him to make fast his ascent. He counted the remaining floors till the top. Around 5 left. With the storm fast approaching he couldn’t stay out in the open, he’d have to scale the rest from the inside. He’d hoped to conserve his energy and save himself for his target, but his suction cups couldn’t operate if the glass was slicked with rain. So he took a reluctant breath, concentrated and slowly phased himself through the black window. The room he landed in was empty, Thank god, and lavishly unassuming. He patted himself down to ensure he had brought all of his effects through with him, phasing required total focus, and having only possessed such a trait for a month he had not long to master it. Dagger-check, clothes-check, Gun….

He frantically checked the many pockets that lined his homemade cloak. It wasn’t there. He imagined the silenced pistol tumbling down from the high-rise and knocking some innocent out cold. He’d have to find it again after, if he survived. There was little time to examine the room as the grumbling of guards could be heard nearby. And soon enough the door to the room swung open, and the cloaked boy dove beneath the room’s central table. The grumbling stopped, Had they seen him? Their heavy footsteps grew closer, so he silently unsheathed the small dagger from his boot.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. The boss don’t pay us enough for this, what’s he so paranoid about anyways?”

The voices where clear now, and the table creaked as one of the men leaned on it. The boy decided he may as well practice with the dagger, he’ll need it.

“Me” he growled as menacingly as he could, before leaping out over the table and slashing at the nearest one’s neck. He dropped his rifle and went to scream, but the boy muffled him with a gloved hand. The second guard swung. Only to have his fist slip through the boy. Who quickly dispatched him in similar fashion to his companion. He considered picking up the firearm, but hesitated. That would just draw attention to himself. He then noticed just how much blood splattered his garments. Good thing he was wearing red. Down the sleek halls he lurked, having to find each new floor’s entrance due to the peculiar lack of an elevator or consistent stairwell. By this point the storm was gaining momentum, thunder shook the air, lightning danced across the tower’s metal frame. And the sounds of blood hitting floorboard were masked by the spattering of rain against the windows, which were just as dulled from the inside.  The guards were definitely not the brightest, the invader thought as he silently carved through three more who were previously engaged in a poker match. There wasn’t far to go now.  By the time he’d gotten to the entrance to the final floor he was dripping in the blood of what must’ve been twenty men. But that didn’t matter. He’d made it. He assumed there was no more need for stealth, How many guards could the man have? He lightly tried the ornate double doors. Locked. So, now in a rush to finally meet his prey he walked through the sturdy oak, and into a penthouse. It was modern and geometric in design, oddly homely compared to the rest of the place. The centre being a rather large fireplace, paired with a grand leather chair with its back to the entrance. In which sat the one this whole ordeal was about.

The boy hadn’t been noticed, and so slowly crept towards the chair. Dagger in hand.

“Hello. Mr ashton.” Came a smooth, confident call. “Although amongst my men you’ve become known as ‘The wraith’.”

Was he mocking him? It was hard to tell. The boy approached the chair. Teeth grit and arm raised.  “Yeah well your thugs aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.” Came the boy’s retort. “Besides, I saw the sign. The king? Really?”

“Oh don’t you like it? I thought the blue would brighten up the place.” The chair rotated, like something from a spy movie, to reveal a slick looking young man in a rather luxurious suit. He leaned forwards, almost eagerly and continued “And to you. I am the king.” The boys patience had worn thing. He held the dagger to the tyrants neck, only pausing for one last question.  “Why?”

“ Why the tower, the guards, the gangs in the streets? Why did you take our city from us?” The man chuckled. “If I recall correctly when people like yourself started popping up you weren’t exactly considered welcome, normal people don’t want you in their city. I on the other hand, say everyone is welcome, provided you know your place.”

“You left the streets in ruin and hundreds dead!” The boy growled. Only to be met with a condescending look and retort. “Actually, I said live however you see fit, provided they follow one rule: Don’t fuck with the king, you people did the rest yourself.”

“Yeah whatever” Said the boy, and thrust the dagger forth. It froze.  Just shy of the self proclaimed king’s chest.  His entire body froze, and a sarcastic clapping could be heard from behind. “You know I didn’t expect you to buy such a cliché mob boss shtick but wow! You are STUPID.” The voice, which couldn’t have been much older than the boy’s was almost hysterical. The boy’s head turned, not of his own will, to face his speaker. It was another young lad, not much older than himself, donned in a simple hoodie and some cheap jeans. Who the fuck are you? The boy thought, but couldn’t bring his lips to move.  “My name is Stane, Christian Stane. And I’m the king.” Was he in his head? The boy willed himself to move, but to no avail. “Yes I am.  pretty cool huh?” Stane looked his captive up and down amusedly, trying not to laugh. “You like my puppet?” He gestured to the man in the chair who, simply sat blank faced and dead eyed. “I think it’s great” It spoke.

“See, he even answers when spoken to. So speak up.” It was hard to tell if he was mocking or genuinely expected him to sleep.  The former was confirmed when he once more laughed and moved even closer to the paralyzed boy. “But what he said was true, I’m simply acting in my best interest, the people down there don’t seem to have the biggest sense of community either.” He paused, composing himself for a second. “Ok you’ve been a massive pain in my ass lately, and now your beginning to bore me. Say what you need to say. I’m gonna kill you regardless.” He drew a chrome handgun and squared it at the boys forehead.

“YOU GODDAMN PHSYCOPATH!” The boy roared, surprised at his own ability to speak again. He went to say more But his lips tightly sealed before he could get the words out. Stane frowned in mock hurt. But his words were thick with genuine rage. “ I can assure you I am NOT a psychopath.” The boy felt his legs move, but not how he wanted to. Instead they walked him towards the large window overlooking the murky skyline. The windows here were clear from inside, allowing for perfect view of the entire city.  Once there the boy turned to face Stane “Psychopaths feel no emotion. But what I’m about to do is gonna make me real happy. There was a gunshot, but no pain, no nothing.  The bullet had phased  through him. Without him focusing on it. “Good” Stane chuckled, “Your blood everywhere would just ruin the whole vibe of the room ya’ know.” Just as the helpless wraith realised what he meant, a second shot was fired.  Directly into his gut. He fell back, phasing through the window and into the cold storm.  Stane chuckled, then sighed . He went to watch the body plummet. But couldn’t make it out amongst the rain. Slightly annoyed, but satisfied he watched the lightning strike the rooftops and he recited the blue neon reflected against the many buildings. “Long live the king”.

END

[nachtgraves]

a++ kuzuhina: maybe the same ship with #4.“I’m flirting with you.”?

Oh my god I am so sorry this took forever and a half BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT. I experimented with writing a thing told mostly through texting so hopefully it still flows pretty well? It was an experience, I tell you. Also. I apologize for the awful title for this but it was literally the best I could think of.  And I probably should have used time stamps but I’m a dumb and hope extra spacing gives the same effect?

Title: Mis-Texting Could Possibly End in Kissing  // AO3Word Count: ~4200Warnings/Tags: PG. Told through texting with interspersed prose, high school au, hope’s peak still exists, but no despairs, some typos are intentional and let’s pretend the others are too, real minor angst. Hajime is non-italics, Fuyuhiko and the two instances of Chiaki are in italics.

[ughhhhhh][im so bored][she wont stop taking][talking*]

[That’s kind of the point of a presentation]

[nooneasked for ur sass]

Hajimedoesn’t know how it happened, but he and the infamous ‘baby-faced yakuza ofHope’s Peak High’ are texting buddies.

Well.

Maybethat’s not entirely true. He does know how it started, at least.

[heypres][its kuzuryuu][souda gave me ur number][wat do we need for teh fair agian?]

[Sorry, youmight have the wrong number]

[oh][ur not nanmi?][fuck][souda is dead][sorry]

[Noworries. Mistakes happen][But, by Souda do you mean Souda Kazuichi?And did you mean to text Nanami Chiaki?]

[yeah][who r u??]

[Chiaki’s a close friend. Ournumbers happen to be really similar. Hers ends in a 1 instead of a 2]

[ohthanks][srry for the mix up]

[Don’tworry about it. Happens fairly often :p]

Hajimedoesn’t hear back from the stranger for a few days and quickly forgets themix-up even happened. He hadn’t been lying when he said that such thingshappened fairly often, especially since Chiaki was voted as class rep. (She hadbeen so surprised and happy, Hajime thought a new VR game system was announced).Chiaki and him and found it quite amusing and it wasn’t much trouble to fix themistake usually. But one afternoon, he’s cleaning up his room and finds apacket of papers that look important by the large scrawling over the front pagein Chiaki’s loopy handwriting, reading: ‘SCHOOL FEST BUDGET’. He also knowsthat Chiaki wasn’t going to be home for hours, since her school festival wasthis coming weekend and she’s been staying back to organize, plan, and dowhatever it is class representatives do for events like that.

[Hey you left a packet of papers atmine. School fest budget?]

[Chiaki?]

[Goddmannit did u foget to chargeyour phone again?]

Knowingthat if the packet were important, Chiaki would be freaking out (she always putso much pressure on herself, especially since she became class rep), Hajimestares at the packet in his lap. He could run to Chiaki’s high school, butdoubts he would be let in since it was almost sundown and Hope’s Peak High wasone of the more prestigious secondary schools in their district. Hajime himselfgoes to a regular public school a short walk from their neighbourhood.

Staringat his phone, as if it was going to give him an answer, he finds one as hescrolls through his messages. He still has the short conversation from thestranger from Chiaki’s class. It’s worth a shot, at the very least.

[Hey this is Chiaki’s friend HinataHajime. I still had your number from when you mis-texted me and I was wonderingif Chiaki was nearby? She’s not answering her phone]

[yeah][why?]

[I think she forgot something at myhouse. School fest budget?]

[yeah][she thought she lost it][shes asking if u can drop it off at her place][her phone is dead]

[Yeah I cando that][Thanks]

Laterthat night, Hajime is attempting to complete a history essay due the nextmorning when he receives a text. His phone is plugged in by his bed, on theopposite end of where his desk is. He literally jumps at the distraction,hopping into bed and lying back against the pillows propped up against the headboard.

[Thanksfor dropping off the packet.]

[No prob][You need to remember to charge your phone]

[I know. (*_ _) ][How did you have Kuzuryuu’snumber, by the way?]

[The miss-text a few days ago.Figured it was worth a try]

[Thank you. You really saved me.]

Threehours later, it’s inching closer to midnight and Hajime hasn’t returned to hisassignment. Chiaki is not impressed.

[Doyour work.]

[I’m takinga break]

[(￢_￢) You’ve been ‘takinga break’ for three hours. Stop procrastinating and finish your homework.]

[You’re notdoing your homework]

[I finished my homework. I’m makingsure all the plans for the school fair next month are in order.

You’recoming to it, right?]

[Yeah][If I’m not stuck wiht tuorting…][Tutoring*][Can’t you help???]

[You know I’m not that much betterthan you. Sonia helps me.]

[Give me hernumber?][I’m desperate a tthis point]

[That’sa breach of privacy.]

[Chiakiiiiiiiiiii][Please?][I’ll do your Japanese hw next time?]

[No.]

[JapaneseAND math?]

[Tempting.But good night, Hajime.]

[Chiaki][Chiaki][Chiaki come back][Chiakiiiiii][What kind of friend are u?]

It’stimes like this Hajime sometimes wishes he was closer to some of hisclassmates. He’s not a loner, but he’s definitely a drifter of sorts. He has peopleto talk to and sit with at lunch, but rarely does he spend time with hisclassmates outside of school or for non-school related activities. Because ofthat, he’s not close enough to anyone to randomly message them at close tomidnight for homework help.

Justas he’s trying to figure out a solution – since it’s far too late to actually do his work like the goodstudent he only sometimes is, his phone goes off. And this, is the true startof everything.

[cmon i’ll pay u][and by pay i mean not break ur fucking teeth with my fist]

[Wrongperson?][Hopefully, at least]

[fuck][sorry][yeah][i meant to text the person above u in my message list thing]

[Everythingokay?]

[yeahjust some shitty hw]

[You too?][I have this awful history essay due tomorrow]

[historyis whatever][math is killing me]

[Math isn’ttoo bad][At least there’s always just one answer]

[historyand english u just bs tho]

[But it’sso subjective][Everything depends on something else]

[wannatrade then?]

Andthat is how Hajime found himself a homework buddy. Kuzuryuu is good at Englishand history, while Hajime’s strengths lie in math and science, and the both ofthem were pretty good at Japanese. One night of texting back and forth, helping(dipping into the realm of ‘academic dishonesty’ on occasion) with theirrespective assignments. They say goodnight close to dawn, but Kuzuryuu had stayedup long after his homework was complete and waited and helped Hajime until hewas done as well.

Fromthen on, Hajime would find himself texting back and forth with this boy he’snever met. At first, they exclusively went to the other for homework help, buteventually Hajime would send Kuzuryuu a short text about something funny that hadhappened (a cat attacking some dumb kids that were trying to taunt it) andKuzuryuu would send him a rant about something that annoyed him (old womenthinking that he’s younger than he is or a police officer asking if he’s losthis parents) and it snowballs into them casually texting throughout the day,particularly during boring presentations that no one, including the personpresenting, cared about.

[Payattention and stop distracting me]

[potnd kettle][stop looking at ur phone during class]

[Shush][I’m bored too]

[fuckinquit the holier than thou then][i can ignore u][nd u can be bored alone]

[Youwouldn’t do that][Who’d you distract if not me?]

[plentyof pple][ur lucky i deign to talk to u]

[Yeah][I’m sooo grateful]

[ushould be]

[Stilldoubt that you could ignore me]

[fuckintry me]

[Is that achallenge?]

Kuzuryuulasts all of until the end of the school day. Hajime can be quite theannoyance.

[jfc ur gonna break my phone]

[I win :D]

[uwin a fist to the face when i see u]

[Are wegoing to meet up then?][So eager to see me :P]

[Kuzuryuu?]

[I’m sorryif I made it weird]

[nahi had to hide my phone fr a bit][ur the one who sounds too happy bout gettinghis face smashed]

[You’re tooviolent][How do you have firneds if you treaten to hurt htem all the time?]

[nicetypos]

[Hush. Atleast I use proper grammar most of the time]

[yshould i waste my time with shit like that?]

[Forlegibility][I got to go][Got phys ed :/][Save me]

[ihope u have to run laps the entire time]

[You areevil]

Hope’sPeak’s festival comes and goes one weekend. As usual, it is a busy event due tothe school’s prestigious standing. Hajime, as promised, visits Chiaki’s class,doing an interactive murder mystery café of sorts where customers are givenclues with their orders to figure out the murder of a prop set up in the centerof the classroom. He finally meets some of Chiaki’s classmates whom she’stalked about and apparently she’s talked to them about him in return. However,and though he won’t admit it to anyone other than Chiaki if hard pressed, hekeeps his ears open for the name Kuzuryuu and is disappointed to realize thathis texting buddy was nowhere to be seen.

(“Kuzuryuu?We sent him to go advertise with Koizumi and Saionji,” says Sonia. “Do you twoknow each other?”

“Uh,he mis-texted me once,” Hajime replies. He redirects further questions awayfrom him and towards what they used to make the neon pink blood for the fakecrime scene.)

Hajimemay have lingered around for a bit until he couldn’t justify staying and beinga distraction any longer. By the time he leaves to go back home, he’s exchangednumbers with a few of them with vague promises to meet up some time and hangout. Even as he leaves the school, weaving past the steady stream of peoplestill entering the premise, his eyes roam for individuals advertising forChiaki’s class. He returns home to his books and TV without having met aKuzuryuu.

[You guysdid a good job at your school fest]

[uwent?]

[I promisedChiaki]

[u2 datin or somthn?]

[God no][We’ve known each other forever]

[doesntmean u havnt dated]

[Ew][She’s practically my sister]

[heardu got numbers frm some girls in my class]

[Oh yeah][Are Sonia and Mioda always like that?]

[annoying?][obnoxious?][preppy?]

[Haha][Your class seems really cool]

[seems][u dont see them 5 days a week]

[I bet your classmates have thingsto say about you too]

[maybe][but they wouldnt live for long if they say anything]

[Hahahawhat are you, the yakuza?]

[Kuzuryuu?]

[uhavent looked me up?]

[Why wouldI?][And you’ve never told me your first name]

[uwouldnt need my first name][but its fuyuhiko]

[You’re not pulling oneover on me are you?]

[i go to hopespeak idiot][sonia’s a motherfucking princess][nd y woud i joke about that?]

[You’re not going to send people after me for makingfun of you, are you?]

[ur entertainingfor now]

[Oh ha ha][Glad I amuse you]

[Wait][Oh my god][Is this you?][[image]]

[u got somethingto say?]

[No][Just][Not what I was expecting]

[think carefullybout ur words hinata]

[I thought I wasentertaining?]

[toys can getbroken]

[Now that’s uncalled for][I didn’t even say anything about how adorable you look]

[HINATA]

[It’s true though!][You can’t call a hit on me for being truthful]

[just shut up][y did i tell you to look me up][yd u look for pictures?]

[Curiosity][We’ve been talking for a while now and we don’t even know what the other lookslike]

[Kuzuryuu?][Did you know what I looked like?]

[bein cautious isimportant]

[Omg you looked me up][What horrible pictures did you find???]

[[image]]

[That’s from Chiaki’s fb!]

[not that hard]

[I TRIED TO FIND YOU ONFB THOUGH]

[securitysettings]

[Oh][Point]

It’snot too long after that Hajime receives a friend request from one KuzuryuuFuyuhiko. He hits accept almost embarrassingly fast and proceeds to exploreKuzuryuu’s newly unveiled profile with the eagerness of a stalker given an inchand taking a mile. There’s not much to explore, the other boy doesn’t seem touse the website very much, which honestly does not surprise Hajime though hecan’t help but feel a little disappointed.

[The last time you were active onfb was almost a year ago][And it was a profile pic update][That you didn’t even upload??]

[soudand sonia hacked my account][sonia was offended my profile pic was like 2 yrs old][koizumi has a fuckton of pics of ppl][nd i was 2 lazy 2 change it]

[It’s agood picture of you]

 [thanks]

Uponadding Kuzuryuu, Hajime’s flooded by friend requests from Chiaki’s otherclassmates and ends up talking semi-regularly with them. Kuzuryuu and him stilltext each other practically daily, to the point Chiaki comments on it whenHajime is over at hers to help her complete co-op achievements for a game she’syet to 100 per cent.

(“Youand Kuzuryuu seem to really get along.” Chiaki glances pointedly at Hajime’sphone as it buzzes several times, Kuzuryuu’s name flashing on the screen.

Hajimeshrugs noncommittedly, and is oddly relieved that the game finishes loading andthey’re thrust into a horde of mutant creatures.)

Evenhis classmates notice he’s on his phone a lot more often during and betweenclasses.

(“Gota girlfriend, Hinata?”

Frowning,Hajime shakes his head, “No, why?”

“You’realways on your phone texting and smiling down at it.”

Hajime’ssure his face has never been more red and when, moments later, he gets a textfrom Kuzuryuu complaining about the apparent Souda-Sonia-Tanaka love trianglethat should just turn into a threesome, he realizes his face does indeed moveon its own.)

[Oh my godhelp]

[what’dyou do?]

[Gave into peer pressure and wentto a goukon with some classmates -_-][I’m hiding in the bathroom][But I’ll have ot go back out there][:c]

[urnot drinking r u?][ur not 20]

[A yakuzaheir is against underage drinking?]

[udidnt answer]

[No one’sdrinking][We’re at a karaoke place][But htank you for caring c:]

[shutup][u dont usually go out w/ ur classmates]

[Yeah][Some of them have been teasing me about a girlfriend so I mostly just went sothey’d shut up]

[girlfriend?][u said u nd nanami werent dating]

[We’re not][They think you’re my secret girlfriend]

[?]

[Apparently I smiled while textingor something][And I’ve been on my phone more often][And you’re the only person I really text during class so]

[oh]

[Yeah, funny right?][Wonder what they’d think if they knew I was texting buddies with the heir tothe Kuzuryuu clan lmao][Though some ofthem already give me shit for being close to Chiaki just cuz shegoes to Hope’s Peak][They think you guys are snobby elitests just cuz you go to a prestigiousschool and we’re just public school kids][But you guys arent tat different][Just different talents and families][Woops sorry][Didn’t mean to get all ranty][Ugh I gotta go][Can’t hide here forever]

Afterthe goukon, which wasn’t horrible but neither was it all that enjoyable, Hajime’splunged into preparations for his school’s culture festival and upcoming exams. He’s barely had timeto text Kuzuryuu other than short greetings and the occasional tidbit from hisday that the other boy would find amusing. He misses their daily conversationsand when he finally has some down time, the day before the culture festival,he’s holed up in his room and on his phone while he catches up on TV shows onhis laptop.

[Hey longtime no chat][I’ve finally got free time again!]

[yea][school stuff?]

[Yeah][Every teacher decided to have everything due weeks early so we weren’toverwhelend when finals come around][Kill me -_-]

[shouldnt u be spending ur free timew/ ur gf stead of talking to me?]

[What?]

[ugot a gf or whatvr after that goukon][didnt u?]

[No?][Where’d you hear that?]

[therewas a pic on fb][u were tagged][it showed up on my feed]

[I haventbeen on fb recently][Lemme check]

[Oooooh][Yeah no][I wasn’t even aware this was taken][And the comments are baseless][I barely spoke to her][There was no ‘chemistry brewing’]

[shescute tho]

[Yeah Iguess?][Objectively][But not really interested][She doesn’t go to my school][And we met for like five seconds]

[datingimplies getting to kno eachother]

[Yeah but][Idk][Just nothing clicked?][And I wasn’t even looking for anything going to the thing either so][What about you?]

[watabout me?]

[You thinkshe’s cute][She your type?]

[no]

 [Am I notgetting more than that?]

[i’mmore into a dif set of anatomy]

[?????]

[shesnot a he]

[Oh][OH][You’re]

[homo]

[Oh]

[ifthats a problem u should delete my number]

[NO][Not a prob at all][Sorry][Just surpside][Supreied][SURPRISED][Fuck][I’m sorry]

[usaid that alredy]

[Well I am][Could have responded better]

[couldaresponded worse][so][not a prob?]

[Coursenot][That’d be stupid for one][And hypocrtical for antoher]

[hypocritical?]

[I’m bi][Or pan][Idk][Still nto sure about the difference tbh][Nd I have a friend who’s ace]

[nanami?]

[I cannot divulge something that isnot mine to tell]

[she let it slip when we werecleaning up after culture fest][sonia and mioda bugged her bout if u two were dating][hanamura wanted to know bout ur sex life]

[Hanamurascares me][And yes to Chiaki being my ace friend]

[hanamurascares everyone][u basically gave it away with ur notanswr answer]

[Shedoesn’t care][But I still didn’t actually confirm or deny][Because that would be rude][(◡‿◡✿)]

[fuckoff][dont u dare start using those kaomoji things like nanami]

[(。・ω・。)][( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)][*｡:ﾟ+\(^‿^✿)]

[imgonna block u]

[(◕‸◕✿) *pout*]

Theydon’t re-visit the topic of sexuality again and settle back into their frequentback and forth texting. Hajime’s still teased at school but once he finallycaves and lets his classmates know that he is not texting a girl, but a boyfrom Chiaki’s class at Hope’s Peak, all interest in his affairs are lost.

Winteris fast approaching and with that comes the school culture festivals foreveryone other than Hope’s Peak, who have their festival earlier because no onewould go to any other school event if Hope’s Peak is allowing outsiders to touraround. Hajime’s class decides what to do rather quickly since no one’s allthat interested in putting too much effort, but Hajime still ends up being runragged with the rest of his class in the last minute preparations.

[I hateculture fests]

[culturefest?]

[Yeah][My school’s one is coming up][My class is doing a butler/maid cafe][Because we are simple public school students who don’t have the resources forpink blood]

[I was kidding][Your class’ murder cafe was the best thing I’ve ever seen][Thouhg I admit I had high expectations since you guys do go to Hope’s Peak]

[it was nanami’s idea][nd hanamuras a creep but good cook][nd sonias gotta 1up everyone nd dished out money so we could go way overbudget]

[Haha][But it was great][I had a lot of fun]

[Btw][Your birthday’s coming up right?]

[no][y?]

[Is yourbirthday not during the winter?]

[itsin aug]

[But yourname is FUYUhiko]

[ndmy sis is natsumi but her birthdays in march]

[But][That doesn’t make sense]

[blameour parents]

Hajime’sculture festival comes and goes. It goes fairly well in his opinion, even ifhis butler uniform ended up shrinking in the wash and it was too late to fix. He’spretty sure his pants were borderline indecent with how tight they were and thefact that he had felt far too many eyes on his ass and crotch region during theday was not comforting in the least. No real disturbances occurred though, other than when Chiaki came by and was recognizedby video game enthusiasts and Hope’s Peak admirers.

[thoughtu were doing a butler cafe not a host club]

[?????]

[[image]]

[Where didyou get that???]

[ihave my sources][could u not find pants that werent 3 szies too small?]

[It shrankin the wash okay][But oh god][Did I look that bad all day???][Kill me]

[udidn’t look bad][how many ppl asked u out this time?]

[None??][Though now I know why girls kept giggling when I turned my back][I don’t know if I can show my face at school again]

[theywere prob giggling cuz u have a nice ass]

[Ha ha]

[urnot ugly idiot][i bet tons of girls are crushing on u at school][nd guys][im surprised ur single]

[Shut up][If it’s a surprise anyone is single it’s you][You’re funny, snarky, smart, and really attractive][And you pretend like you’re relaly grumpy and antisocial][But when Chiaki talks about school and you come up you’re always taking part][And the fact that you’re secretly really toned][Like seeing those beach pictures on Koizumi’s fb][Oh my god][And your eyes][If they look that gorg in candid photos I don’t want to imagine in rl][And I’m just this normal whatever][Mediocre in every way]

[Uh][Pretend I never said all that?]

[didu fb stalk me on other ppl’s fb?][nd ask nanmi to spy on me for u?]

[No]

[Maybe][No to the spying][Maybe I would ask about you though?][I’m sorry]

[ur not mediocre][wanna talk about pretty eyes?][and secretly toned bodies?][if u wore clothes that didnt swallow u][ud be batting away pple who wanna date/fuck u][nd ur eyes are the ones that are gorg and unique][u have any idea how many times ive thought of wanting to see em in person?][nad how nanami talks about u all the time][i knew of u before the whole mistexting crap][but as nanmi’s annoying notboyfriend][and now i get hwy she praises u so much][anyone would be lucky to go out with you][ur stupidly nice and considerate][but also a sarcastic little shit u cant hate]

[You don’t need to say nice thingsto me just cuz I made a fool of myself just now]

[imflirting wth u dumbass]

[Oh]

Hajime is typing…

Hajime is typing…

[uever gonna finish ur reply]

[I’mpanicking][Give me a break][I don’t know how to respond]

[fine][go on a date with me?][ y ( ) n ( )]

[How did Inever realize how dorky you are]

[fuckinjust anser or ill punch ur stupid face]

[Maybe I’drather you kiss it]

 [andi’m a dork?][fucking loser]

[Shut up][You didn’t say no though]

[ustill havent answered me]

[You first]

[fucku i asked first]

[I askedsecond]

[HINATAI S2G I WILL SHANK U]

[I’m sorry][I default to annoying when im embbarsed and dont know waht im doing][I want you to kiss me. I want to kiss you][So yes please]

[yesor no woulda been fine][dork]

“…”

“…”

“…”

“What?”Kuzuryuu finally snaps.

“This is a lot harder in person,”Hinata laughs weakly. And it really is. Especially because Kuzuryuu is even cuter in person and Hajime didn’tthink that could be possible. Also, the skinny jeans and casual button downcombo he’s sporting makes it hard for Hajime to look anywhere at the boy’s bodywithout blushing. He’d been so excited to finally meet up, expecting to fallinto conversation as easily as they do while texting, but one look at Kuzuryuuwaiting by the entrance of the movie theater, scowling at everyone who’d lookat him, had wiped most of the vocabulary in Hajime’s brain.

“Younever shut up when we text,” Kuzuryuu grumbles.

“It’snot my fault you’re even cuter in person and I forgot everything I wanted tosay.” Kuzuryuu scowls but he also turns redder than before. “See! If you canstop being so adorab—”

“Hinata,I swear if you call me c-cute or a—that, again you’ll wish I sent Peko afteryou.”

“Peko?”

Kuzuryuugives him a look that is equal parts fond and exasperated and a littlebewildered. “You could have found so much about me just from a few google searches.”

Hajimejust shrugs and looks down at his feet, “Yeah, but I’d rather get to know youby actually talking to you.” When he looks up, Kuzuryuu’s facing away but notenough to completely hide the fact that his cheeks and ears are tinged a darkpink-red, especially since Hajime’s got a 22cm height advantage. Hajime grins.“C’mon, we’re going to be late for the movie.”

Whenhe reaches forward and grabs Kuzuryuu’s hands, he files away the squawkingnoise the shorter boy emits as he tugs him along towards the movie theater. Inall honesty, Hajime wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the movie they saw –he believes it was an action flick – since Kuzuryuu decided to pay back the handholding with a game of gay chicken that led to some intense public displayingof affection. They’re lucky the theater was mostly empty and they chose seatstowards the back. Hajime’s mental notes of Kuzuryuu by the end of the movieinclude several points relating to the plushness of Kuzuryuu’s lips, the factthat Kuzuryuu’s palate is quite the sensitive spot, and that Kuzuryuu has totry extremely hard to remain quiet.