#also going up to every actor ever and gently taking the weights from their hands touching their abs and going... who did this to you....

[ozymoron]

no more buff men!!!!!!!!!!!! no more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant takr it anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[bloodorangesoup]

Ice Cream and Bad TV | B.B.

Request: Late night thoughts : The only porn bucky watches are the ones that come on tv at like 2 or 3 in the mornings. Imagine cuddling up with him on his living room floor, aimlessly clicking around until you stumble upon the channel & he gets flustered & shy about it & you fuck him while porn plays in the background. Like I think it’s so romantic🥺🥺 riding him while the soft glow of the tv illuminates his face. His moans & grunting blending in with the actors 😫😫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I cannot for the life of me control myself)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | cuddle fucking, unprotected sex(pretend ur on birth control for a sec)(still wrap it b4 your tap it), flustered Bucky, porn talk, the tiniest bit of sub!Bucky for like half a second, fluffy smut, you get the gist

My Masterlist

Notes: I did this in one sitting so sorry if it’s repetitive or has any mistakes. I think I have a major soft sport for flustered Bucky. I also had to think of a realistic name for a TV porn channel so bear with me. This is my first time writing smut in non-headcanon form so let me know how I did! Happy reading!

It was 2am on a Thursday night when your phone rang with your boyfriend's caller I.D. This wasn't the first time that Bucky had called you for this instance, it became a routine for you to talk him down after a nightmare and you prepared to do so when you picked up. Usually the first thing you would hear was his heavy breaths, the anxious buzz in his body making him fumble his words as he tried to focus on talking to you, so you were surprised to be met with still breathing and his typical deep, steady voice.

"Doll? You there?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," you replied with a yawn, trying to sound as awake as possible. Bucky could hear the airiness of your voice and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, baby, I woke you up."

"You say that every time, I don't mind waking up for you. Besides, I don't have work tomorrow so I don't exactly need my beauty rest."

There was a pause. You could still hear static from the other side of the call but Bucky didn't say a word.

"Buck? You okay?" As if you snapped him out of a daydream, his hurried words rushed through the phone.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. I'm kind of out of it right now, I had another bad dream."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You had expected his usual answer of yes, then you would listen to his thoughts and comfort him through the horrific reality that were his nightmares.

"You said you don't have work tomorrow? Do you think you could come over right now? Actually never mind, I don't know what I'm saying, it's 2am." You could practically see Bucky shaking his head as he took back his question.

"I'll be there in twenty, James. You better have some blankets and pillows ready for me because we're taking over your couch."

Bucky let out a breath over the line, "See you soon, y/n, love you."

"Love you more," you said quickly before hanging up, not letting him get in the last 'I love you.'

~

Forty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky's lap on his living room floor. You two had abandoned the idea of the couch and chose to make a small fort with the couch as your scaffolding. There was a surprising amount of pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you, you had no idea Bucky even owned them all.

He sat with his back against the couch, your legs laid over his and your arms were around his neck, bringing his head down to your chest. He talked about his nightmare, sparing you the gruesome details, and once he was done he closed his eyes and leaned further into your chest, breathing in your scent. You gave the crown of his head a kiss and rested your head atop his. Comfortable silence washed over the two of you before you spoke up.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to look down at him.

“What?” he mumbled into your chest. A soft smile graced your face at his cuteness.

“Ice cream and bad TV!” you announced excitedly before wiggling out of his grasp.

You did a little jog to his kitchen and reached down into the freezer to grab a small pint of ice cream you knew Bucky always kept stashed for you whenever you came around. Picking up two spoons and turning off all the lights in the apartment on your way, you quickly made your way back into the living room, lifting Bucky’s arms to situate yourself back into your position on his lap. You popped the lid of the small tub and handed it to Bucky along with a spoon. With your hands now free, you felt around in the dark for the remote and turned on the TV.

Waiting for the TV to completely turn on, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. You hummed at the taste of the cold sweetness coating your tongue. You gasped as you opened your eyes, finding Bucky scooping out some ice cream and lowering it to your mouth.

“Oh wait, let me make this cuter!” you squealed with your eyes wide.

Copying Bucky’s actions, you took a spoonful and lifted it to his lips, the both of you opening wide and feeding each other. You giggled at the cliché moment and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how adorable you were.

You turned back to the TV, lifting the remote in your hands to change the channel to anything but the news that was already playing on the screen. As you flipped through sports recaps, music channels, infomercials, and movies that were already almost over, you sighed.

“Ugh, there’s nothing good on. Maybe if I start from the end of the list there’ll be better stuff,” you huffed.

Before Bucky could register what you said you had already typed in the biggest number you could enter and began flipping down through channels. Surfing through the empty screens, you landed on one called HotNet and suddenly the screen was completely taken over by a pair of boobs which then cut to a woman on her back and a man on top of her, rutting into her at a slow pace, while her moans echoed throughout the apartment. You quickly shuffled with the remote, trying to turn the volume down from it’s loud setting, spooked at the loud, obscene noise coming from the speaker.

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed into Bucky’s chest, “God, I hope your neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Bucky stared at the screen with wide eyes, hoping you would change the channel before noticing that the channel was in the On Demand section. You gasped through your laugh, collecting yourself before turning back to the TV and shaking your head.

“Jeez, I didn’t even know they still had porn like this on public television.” You looked back down at the remote, clicking the Guide button. Bucky’s heart stopped as the description took over the screen, the video still playing in the top right corner. In bold letters the words On Demand titled the card. Even worse, the bottom of the screen displayed a small box containing the information,

$19.99

purchased with debit card xxxx-9758

You furrowed your brows in confusion, realization slowly softening them, before a mischievous smirk took over your face. You lifted your head to look at Bucky, his face looked down at your lap, refusing to meet your eyes. You tapped the bottom of his chin with the remote, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Did you order TV porn, Jamie?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, and you only ever used that nickname when joking around, yet Bucky still felt extremely embarrassed. He felt as if he just got walked in on while touching himself. It didn’t help that it was you that saw it, he wanted to crawl in a hole and never look back.

“Ah, you’re blushing,” you squealed as you took his cheeks in your hands, “oh come on, it’s not that embarrassing Bucky.”

“Ugh, can we please pretend you didn’t just see that,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes to escape your stare. He set down the ice cream next to him and lifted his forearm over his eyes.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself and pushing up to swing your leg under you to the other side of his lap, you straddled him.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad. I mean we’ve had sex before Buck, I think you’d rather have me find this than Sam or someone else.” He let out another groan and lowered his head to lean against your neck.

“Angel, please don’t talk about Sam while you’re on top of me and there’s porn playing on the TV.”

You laughed and ran your hands down his arms, letting one of your hands run up behind his neck and weaving your fingers into his hair. You gripped the back of his head and gently tugged him back up to face you.

“Why,” you sang, deciding to have some fun with him in his flustered state, “is this turning you on?” you whispered the last part.

Before he could respond you leaned down and kissed him. You didn’t bother to start off slow as you usually would, Bucky could taste the hunger from every parting of your lips. His hands gripped your waist, you rocked your weight forwards to rub against him. Bucky’s head clouded, his senses felt overloaded in the best way possible, your movements mixed with the sounds of the moaning coming from the TV were getting him hot. You pulled back before getting too carried away, a smile on your swollen lips.

“So, baby, tell me about it.” You said. It was Bucky’s turn to furrow his brows and he cocked his head to the side in question, mind still foggy from the feeling of you grinding on him.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” you clarified, looking at him like you just asked what his favorite color was.

“Uhm, you want to know about that stuff?” Bucky looked at you with caution, feeling out if he should listen to you or not.

“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t know how it was back then, but most people nowadays watch porn. It’s not super taboo to talk about it,” you explained. You weren’t going to force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, but your desire to hear what Bucky was into was strong.

He hesitated for a moment, looking in your eyes and seeing curiosity clouded with lust. He cleared his throat.

“Well, pretty much this stuff,” he gestured with his hand to the TV before putting it back on your waist, “there’s this girl on there, she kinda looks like you, so I buy the videos with her.” He closed his eyes and internally groaned at his words, he didn’t mean to come off so perverted. God, you had already found his porn, the last thing he needed was for you to be thinking he was a creep.

“Y’know that’s actually kinda sweet,” you giggled, “what do you like about those videos?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable knowing you weren’t grossed out, Bucky continued.

“I like the ones where it’s dark and slow. It’s usually quiet and there’s candles and stuff,” he explained shyly. Of all the surprises that came with dating Bucky, you had to admit finding out he was into romantic porn was one of the biggest ones.

Bucky cleared his throat again before questioning you, “Do you watch porn?” He felt almost wrong asking that. He knew that women in this age were more sexually liberated, but the words still felt sticky in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do.” Bucky seemed surprised at how casually you answered. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to go on.

“Well specifically, I actually really like the videos that are like this,” you said, your head looking down at you straddling him, he followed your gaze, taking in how nice you felt on his lap. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest. Your faces were so close your noses were almost touching. You could feel his rapid heart beat under your palm and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Do you ever watch the ones that look like this, Bucky?” He looked up at you and nodded with wide eyes, his pupils were blown and his mouth was open like he was searching for the words to respond.

You grasped his jaw in your hand, your thumb on his chin, and looked him in the eyes. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but with the newfound knowledge you had, you took your time with your actions. Within the last five minutes, Bucky had revealed to you not only that he liked soft, romantic porn, but that he also watched a specific actress because she looks like you. The one goal in your head was to fulfill his fantasy the best you could at the moment.

With his head still in your hand, you held your eye contact as you let your knees move out, grinding yourself against his growing erection. He let out an involuntary whimper. That was the last straw. You pulled his face to yours, joining him in a hard, yet loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your chest against his, trying to get as close as possible.

Bucky’s dick was painfully hard. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of you on top of him. His body felt like it was on fire, he was insatiably horny and couldn’t control the way his hips bucked up to grind with you. He felt like a horny teenager the way his mind was filled only with images of you naked, imagining you like that on top of him like you were now.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, keeping your pace slow as you glided it across and bit at his lower lip. A moan made its way out of your mouth and into his as you felt him buck up against you.

You slid your hands down his chest, fumbling with the hem of his shirt before his arms raised, giving you access to peel it off him, throwing it up on the couch. Bucky kissed down your neck, licking over the shell of your ear, and sucking at the center of your throat. He reached down and slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up and down your waist before gliding up and lifting your shirt over your head, discarding it with his.

Bucky wasted no time reaching around you and unclipping your bra and dragging it down your shoulders. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them with his large hands before bringing you into another tender kiss. Despite your frantic movements, there was a spark of passion cracking through the air, the both of you desperate to feel each other closer.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting your forehead against his.

“I wanna make love to you, y/n, please, let me make love to you,” he groaned with a slight whine in his voice. He sounded like he was about to crack.

“Please, Bucky.”

You leaned back on your hands and lifted your hips, giving Bucky the room to pull down your shorts and panties in a few swift tugs. He quickly got up on his knees and pulled down his sweats and boxers, sitting back down and tugging them off his legs. You reached your arms forward, Bucky grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling you back to straddle him again. You gasped at the feeling of his cock under your bare pussy, your wetness from all the grinding and kissing making you slide over him.

You leaned forwards, capturing his lips between yours and raising yourself up on your knees. Reaching under yourself, you gripped his cock, wet with your arousal, and lined him up with your cunt. Bucky gripped your hips as you sank down on him, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from rutting up into you. You stayed like that for a second, adjusting to the way he filled you. Seeing the remote lying on the floor, you grabbed it and slightly turned up the volume, only enough so that you and Bucky could hear the actress in the video being ravished by her co-star.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to slowly move up and down over him, riding him just as you had told him you liked to watch. His hands moved up from your waist, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples in between his fingers. You let out a hiss as he rolled them between his fore finger and his thumb, tugging on and rubbing his thumbs over them. He reached around to grab your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks and you used him to pleasure yourself.

You were a moaning mess over him and he wasn’t much different. The room was filled with the sounds of the porn playing on the TV mixed with the sounds of your own cries of pleasure. If the neighbors hadn’t been woken up by the TV, they sure were by you two.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his hands slid down to your thighs, moving your legs from under them and wrapping your legs around his back. His arms worked their way back up to wrap around your waist, bringing you ever so close. The new angle pushed him even deeper up into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, giving you access to all the sweet, desperate sounds falling from his lips.

You were now pushing up with your feet behind him, rolling your hips over his. The new technique made your clit rub over his pelvis, the sensation making you throw your head back and let out a deep moan. He took the opportunity to continue kissing your neck, going lower with every lick and bite. He sucked at your collarbone, leaving a deep purple mark in its place.

Suddenly, he was using his arms to lift you up, not pulling out of you, and laying you down on the blanket-covered floor. You instinctively locked your ankles together, pulling him closer as he thrusted into you. Bucky had his metal arm holding himself up while his flesh one squeezed your breasts, feeling them move with his thrusts. He lowered his head to your chest and licked one of your nipples, grazing his teeth over it before taking it in between his lips and sucking. Your hands flew to the back of his head, singing praises as you wove your fingers into his hair. He continued to alternate between your breasts, leaving love bites around them and sucking on their sensitive peaks.

You could feel your body buzz with anticipation, you were so close. The moans escaping your mouth were lewd and uncontrolled. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your waist, lifting your chest flush against his.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Nothing felt better than making love with Bucky felt. This was definitely not the first time you two had been intimate, but none of those previous times had ever been like this. You could feel the passion flowing through his body into yours. You looked up at his form over you, how beautiful he looked with the light of the TV screen glistening against the beads of sweat on his forehead. There was absolutely nothing in the world compared to having him, in all his beauty, to yourself like this.

Bucky’s heart was exploding in his chest. What had started out as an embarrassing, nightmare-fueled night had turned into the most intimate experience he ever had in his life. Love was already established in your relationship, but Bucky had never truly made love to you. He looked down in awe at your disheveled state, at the way your hair was sticking to your forehead, at the way the only light in the room gave you an angelic glow. He wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to you, to make you come all over him.

He leaned his forehead against yours, pushing his face forward once every few seconds to kiss you. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. He leaned into you even more, his cheek pressed against yours, his lips next to your ear.

“I love you so much, y/n, God, you feel so good. I love you, I love you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and strained, his words being emphasized by each push into your wet pussy. You let out another loud moan.

“I love you, James,” you whined as he hit your sweet spot, “I love you so much.”

Bucky’s hand wedged itself in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing it. You were completely overwhelmed, this is what it felt like to make love to someone. Your body began to shake and your breathing became erratic. Bucky thrusted harder, working to push you over the edge.

“I want you to come in me, Bucky,” you gasped as his thrusts got faster and lost their rhythm.

Your mouth turned open in a silent scream as you came. Bucky felt your walls clench around him, squeezing the life out of him. He let out a shaky groan as he fell over the edge. His eyes shut tight and his body tensed as he spilled into you.

Wrapping his metal arm around your back and securing your body to his, he rolled on his flesh shoulder onto his back. You went limp against him, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow down. He was still buried within you, connected to you. Letting your eyelids fall shut, you savored the feeling of being full of him and his love.

You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you called me, Bucky. I love you.”

“I am too, doll. I love you more.”

[vrishchikawrites]

Hello :) Here's another prompt if you're still taking them? WWX & LWJ met as children and declared that they would marry upon their first meeting. Their guardians just thought that it was cute, and that they will forget about it over time. (They don't)

(SOFT. SO SOFT. AU without SSC and GC transfer)

They first meet when Cansge Sanren and Wei Changze are still alive. The wandering cultivators find themselves in Caiyi town and Lan Qiren is reluctantly dragged from his duties to have lunch with a cheerful Cangse Sanren.

He brings little a-Zhan along.

His nephew has just recovered from a fever and is feeling a little clingy. Lan Qiren will never admit it, but something is in his chest softens when his little nephew clings to him with a pout, refusing to let go.

Cangse Sanren's son is exactly when Lan Qiren expected him to be; excitable, curious, restless, and frustratingly intelligent. Bright silver eyes track everything, fascinated and eager to know more.

Lan Qiren reluctantly nudges a-Zhan forward at Cangse Sanren's pointed stare. She's a protective mother and if he so much as implies her son is unworthy of making acquaintance with his nephew, she will cheerfully gut him.

a-Zhan is reluctant at first. He has never been the most social child, rarely interacting with anyone but his immediate family.

But Wei Ying, also a bit shy and reluctant, peeks from behind his father's robes and smiles.

Lan Qiren has to admit it is a pretty sight. The child is plump and healthy with bright eyes and a wide, sincere smile.

a-Zhan is enamored at first sight.

Lan Qiren is astonished when a-Zhan steps forward and grabs Wei Ying's hand, pulling him from behind Wei Changze and towards Lan Qiren.

Wei Ying comes willingly, curious and entertained by the unusual situation. Lan Qiren doesn't doubt he has had even fewer interactions with children his age than a-Zhan, being the son of traveling cultivators.

"Shufu," He pulls Wei Ying's arm up as though presenting him to Lan Qiren, "a-Ying."

"Indeed," He says, secretly amused but refusing to show it, "I am Lan Qiren, Wei Ying."

Apparently, the child doesn't lack manners because he attempts to bow even with his hand still firmly held in a-Zhan's grasp.

Lan Qiren is somewhat charmed.

He is less charmed when their lunch comes to an end and a-Zhan reaches for a-Ying's hand once again, refusing to let go.

"a-Zhan, it's time to go home. Don't you want to see a-Huan?"

"Show a-Ying to a-Huan." a-Zhan insists, "a-Huan sees too!"

"a-Huan can meet a-Ying later." Lan Qiren says patiently but he feels his eyebrow twitch at a-Zhan's stubborn pout, "a-Ying is staying in Caiyi for a few weeks, a-Zhan, I'm sure we can bring a-Huan next time."

"a-Huan see pretty now."

Lan Qiren winces when Cangse Sanren muffles a laugh in her husband's shoulder and the man looks at the sky, amused but too dignified to react.

a-Ying tugs at his hand, trying to free it only to pout when he can't escape.

The scene is too adorable for Lan Qiren's poor heart. He sighs.

"Alright, let's show a-Huan the 'pretty'."

---

The little wandering cultivator family stays in Caiyi for three weeks to rest, replenish their supplies, and give their child some time to play with others.

a-Huan, of course, is just as enamored by a-Ying as his little brother. Lan Qiren is getting accustomed to the sight of a little white-clad Wei child lead around Cloud Recesses by one nephew in the morning and another in the evening.

a-Huan is at least gracious enough to let Wei Ying walk on his own. a-Zhan is stubborn. If he's in a-Ying's company, he's holding the child's hand.

Wei Ying is a free spirit and being dragged around annoys the child at first. He tugs and pouts but eventually starts reaching for a-Zhan's hand on his own accord.

There's not a single person in Cloud Recesses that doesn't adore the sight.

---

"a-Zhan," Lan Qiren sighs, "a-Ying must leave with his parents. He belongs to them."

a-Zhan is red-faced and angry, his eyes wet with frustrated tears, "a-Ying stay. a-Ying stay, stay, stay!"

Oh goodness, a tantrum.

It is, unfortunately, a drama with three actors.

a-Huan is weeping with a tragic appearance of a love-scorned maiden; eyes wide and imploring, lips trembling, and face wet with silent tears.

a-Ying is burying sobs into his father's shoulder, his little body trembling with acute distress. "a-Ying not leave," He wails, "a-Ying wants stay with a-Zhan!"

"a-Ying," Wei Changze is compassionate instead of amused, his expression soft with sympathy. He rubs his son's back in gentle motions, rocking the child soothingly, "Baba promises we'll return. We'll be back before you even have a chance to miss your friends."

"Aiya! What a mess," Cangse Sanren says, amused, "a-Ying, do you want to leave us and stay with a-Zhan? We must go so you need to choose."

"Xingan," Wei Changze chides as Wei Ying looks up with wide eyes and shakes his head, looking heartbreakingly distressed, "Be gentle with our child."

Lan Qiren huffs in disapproval, glaring at her as she smiles sheepishly and presses a kiss to Wei Ying's head, "Aiya, baobao, you'll break your mother's heart. It's alright, little treasure," She plucks him from Wei Changze's arms, her face incandescent with love, "We'll bring you to your a-Zhan every two months, I promise! We would never keep you from your friends!"

Perhaps she knows something about raising children, after all. The definite timeline goes a long way to soothe all three children.

There are still many tears at their parting. a-Zhan and a-Huan sulk for days. Sometimes Lan Qiren catches a-Zhan looking at his hand with a forlorn expression.

"a-Zhan," He sighs one day, when his nephew spends an entire evening pouting and staring at his hand, "He'll be back soon."

a-Zhan doesn't say anything, just nodding gently and tucking his hand away.

The expression on his face melts Lan Qiren's heart, "I'll convince Cangse Sanren to stay a bit longer." He thinks about asking her to just let the child attend Cloud Recesses for his education. He's very bright, possessing a native intelligence that must be nurtured.

"Mn."

"Missing a friend is natural," He says softly, "But you must understand that everyone has their own life and obligations. a-Ying belongs to his parents. He must live with them."

"Mn. Will marry a-Ying so he belongs to me."

Lan Qiren chokes on his tea, "What...?"

"a-Ying promised he'll be my wife," a-Zhan nods solemnly, like he isn't nudging his uncle towards qi deviation, "a-Huan saw."

Lan Qiren turns to his older nephew, who nods with a cheerful smile, "They bowed to me and each other. I told them bowing to ancestors can wait until they're older!"

... what?

---

Tragedy strikes and Lan Qiren sees his nephew's heart break. Once. Twice. Three times.

Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren are killed. a-Ying is nowhere to be found.

Madam Lan perishes, and his little nephew deals with the weight of grief again, silent and solemn at her doorstep.

His brother retreats entirely and his nephews are left without a father.

They don't see Wei Ying again for well over a decade.

---

Wei Wuxian arrives at Cloud Recesses like an unstoppable storm.

Lan Qiren takes one look at him, sees the jaded edge in his eyes, watches his appeasing smile, and feels nothing but wrath.

This isn't the boy he remembers, raised under the boundless love of his parents. This one has faced injustice and doesn't trust the world.

The first time the boy challenges him in class, silver eyes sharp and assessing, he throws a book at him and assigns punishment with Wangji.

Let his nephew handle his cherished friend. He needs to look at the situation at the Lotus Pier.

He keeps assigning him lines, even for offenses that warrant the cane. Wei Ying doesn't remember much of his childhood but it is clear that the connection is still there.

The three children fall into their old friendship quickly. Xichen being amused and indulgent. Wei Ying being annoying and lively. Wangji never letting go.

Lan Qiren investigates.

What he finds doesn't please him.

He pens a scathing letter.

'She entrusted you with her treasure. You've made a hash of it. What do you mean by sending that child here in such a state? Did you think I would ignore it? Will you tell me the scars on his back are warranted?

Your audacity appalls me. You swore on your honor that you would raise him as your own son. I offered to take him in when you found him but you swore he was happy with you and his martial siblings.

My nephews love him. Your son only berates him.

You have deceived me.

I swear on my honor that I will find a way to wrest him from your sect, Fengmian.

You do not deserve him.'

---

Wei Ying is a naturally good-humored child. It takes just a month of being in Wangji and Xichen's company to soften all of his edges. His mischief no longer has a jaded edge to it.

He's still far too unruly for Lan Qiren's liking but he supposes that is a symptom of his youth.

"Jiang Yanli is betrothed," Xichen says as he serves them tea. He has a solemn expression but his eyes are sharp. He's almost as fond of Wei Ying as Wangji, after all, "I see no reason why Wangji and a-Xian can't be too."

Lan Qiren stills, staring at his nephew, "Betrothal." He repeats flatly.

Xichen dares to shrug, discarding his habitual poise in his anger, "Wangji has never loved another. It's unlikely he ever will." He looks up to meet Lan Qiren's gaze, "We wouldn't be able to separate them now, Shufu, not after Wangji saw-" He grimaces.

Lan Qiren looks away with a scowl, combing his beard furiously. His youngest nephew had discovered Wei Ying's scars, after all.

"We have letters from Wei Changze," Lan Qiren says, "Discussing a-Ying and a-Zhan's formal marriage arrangements." It had all been in jest, of course. When they found out the children had 'wed' with Xichen as a witness, their amusement had known no bounds.

Lan Qiren had quite enjoyed carrying out mock betrothal negotiations.

He clears his throat, "Very well."

---

Wangji and Wei Ying are officially betrothed before the lectures at Cloud Recesses come to an end.

Yu-furen's wrath knows no bounds. Soon enough, Jiang Fengmian sends Wei Ying back to Cloud Recesses with a letter full of excuses.

Wangji takes one look at his beloved's ashen expression and turns to Lan Qiren, "No more."

Lan Qiren nods.

It is difficult to negotiate but they pull it off. It helps that Wei Changze's letters speak of the marriage as an inevitable fact rather than a joke between parents.

The Jiangs lose their Head Disciple by the time the boy is seventeen. Lan Qiren arranges their marriage by the time they're twenty.

Wei Ying never leaves Wangji's side again.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Suicide Squad Team A

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! Seriously, as soon as you click that read more, you’re gonna be smacked with SPOILERS! Don’t say I didn’t give you ample warning this time!)

The world’s in danger yet again, and Amanda Waller is in need of some expendable forces to take on some dirty jobs in the name of preserving peace. Last time she did this, it seems like she hired the wrong people. Nice guy Will Smith Deadshot? Bland, boring Killer Croc? El Diablo, who became attached to a bunch of reprobates after spending a couple hours with them? The only one who was useful in that squad was Katana. She had their backs, could cut all of them in half with one sword stroke just like mowing the lawn, and her sword traps the souls of its victims. Unfortunately, she was decidedly not expendable, so what is a girlboss like Waller to do?

Easy: Assemble a brand new squad of criminals to do the dirty work. Harley and Boomerang are the only ones she brought back, because let’s be real, they’re the only ones we give a damn about. Filling out the rest of the squad are the stoic, craggy crackshot Savant; the handsome, German spear-thrower Javelin; the alien warrior Mongal; the frothing, psychotic animal Weasel; the confident and all-powerful TDK; and Blackguard, who is literally just a guy. Together, this team gets deployed to Corto Maltese to do what no one else can do, and with skills like theirs, they are absolutely unstoppable!

They all fucking die before the opening credits.

Motivation/Goals: Considering the goal of the squad is to shave time off their prison sentences by going on the mission, it’s ostensibly the reason every single one of these goons accepted the job. Savant and Weasel are pretty well established in this regard; we get to focus on Savant for much of the opening, so we can get a sense of him, and Weasel is stated to have murdered no less than 27 children. So, yeah, they need to do this mission.

The rest, though? Who knows! Why are Mongal, Javelin, and TDK in prison? How did they even get an alien like Mongal? What did they do to land in the position they’d need to go on a suicide mission? Why doesn’t this movie have flashy, intrusive cards explaining everything to us in a throwaway gag in a montage?!

Blackguard, at least, has some other motivation. He sold out the entire squad to the military of Corto Maltese, which is why they’re ambushed. Now, there’s actually some ambiguity here: Did he do this of his own volition, and was this a complete surprise, or is it, as it is heavily implied, all part of Waller’s plan and she let this happen as a diversion for the other team to get in unnoticed?

Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what their goals are. They’re all dead within five minutes of the movie starting, with one exception.

Performance: So, the reason these guys are even worth talking about is because, despite their minuscule screentime, all of their actors manage to cram in enough humor and characterization that they’re all pretty fun and likable. Michael Rooker is as stony and stoic as ever as Savant (until he hilariously isn’t), Flula Borg’s Javelin is really sweet and charming in his interactions with Harley, and Pete Davidson’s Blackguard is just amazingly douchey and pathetic. Special mention goes to Nathan Fillion’s TDK, who has an utterly endearing and unwavering faith in his astoundingly crappy ability to… detach his arms. It’s honestly kind of beautiful. Then there’s Weasel as portrayed by Sean Gunn, who is just a hilarious crackhead of an animal man.

Final Fate: Literally every single one of them die horribly thanks to Blackguard’s betrayal. He’s the first to go, because as soon as he walks out saying “Hey guys, it’s me, the one who contacted you!” he literally has his face blasted clean off. The rest go soon after. Mongal, in one of the most astounding moments of idiocy I’ve ever seen, leaps on a helicopter despite Rick Flag telling her specifically not to. Her weight and strength send it careening out of control, which leads to it shredding Captain Boomerang to bits before exploding, burning her alive as she painfully screams and writhes in agony. TDK gets his arms shot into Swiss cheese, leading to him bleeding out since even detached they still are part of him. Javelin is also shot, but gets a dying moment with Harley where he passes her Checkov’s Javelin. Finally, after witnessing all of this carnage, Savant completely loses his shit and tries to swim away, leading to Waller blowing his head up.

You may be wondering what happened to Weasel. He appears to drown as soon as the Squad deploys, because despite being actually smart in this movie, Waller forgot to make sure everyone on the Squad could swim. Thankfully, this lovable child-murdering crackhead rodent was just sleeping, and wakes up in the first credit scene.

Best Scene: Obviously, it’s their one and only scene. It’s a magnificent slaughter that puts the X-Force scene from Deadpool 2 to shame.

Final Thoughts & Score: I’ve gotta hand it to James Gunn. Even though these losers are only onscreen for a few minutes, they all get to cram a lot of charm and personality into that time, to the point it’s actually kind of sad seeing them all die. It’s a beautiful mix of comedy and tragedy. Since their screentime is so limited, though, I’m mostly going to be grading them on style, performance, and so on rather than on villainy like normal. They are all bad guys, as they don’t really get a chance to redeem themselves like the other Squad, so I’m still counting them as villains, which means they could potentially score above an 8 (which is the highest score I’m willing to give heel-face turn villains, because they end up being better as characters in general than as villains).

I’m also not going to talk about Boomerang (I’ll talk about him when I review the original Squad) or Harley (because she not only lives, but deserves her own solo Psycho Analysis). Now here we go, from best to worst:

TDK

If you thought anyone but TDK would get top marks, you’re sadly mistaken. Seeing Nathan Fillion proudly wield the insanely lame power to detach his arms to lightly tap soldiers on the head and gently grab their guns is a sight I never knew I needed to see until this movie. The fact he just seems so darn proud about this power that he doesn’t even bother to use in any way that would be remotely useful is honestly really endearing. Frankly, the sheer fact they adapted Arms-Fall-Off Boy in any way is enough for me to give him a 10/10.

Weasel

Weasel is just disgustingly delightful. He’s just a horrible, nasty, ugly little bastard… But he’s kind of adorable? He clearly has no idea where he is at any given time and is just so goddamn freaky that I can’t help but love him. The fact that, despite being a character who in the comics is noteworthy only for dying on his first mission with the Squad, he manages to survive the entire movie is pretty impressive. Hopefully he comes back in the future, but either way he gets an 8/10 from me.

Javelin

Honestly, aside from Boomerang, his death stung the most. He’s just so cute and charming, and he doesn’t even get to fling his javelin at anyone! Thankfully, he passes it on to Harley, and boy does she ever get to use it! He’s so cute, I have to give him an 8/10. I just wish we got more of him.

Savant

Savant is just an absolutely hilarious bait-and-switch. We follow him through the prologue, with everything seeming to point to him as our main character and the Squad leader. He’s stoic, he’s cranky, and he has impeccable aim… and then we get to the beach and he just freaks the hell out and starts screaming and crying and running away like a little bitch. Seeing Michael Rooker act like he’s shitting his pants after playing a badass like Yondu is just the sort of hilarious subversiveness that James Gunn loves to do when you let him loose. The fact that he looks like, to paraphrase the TVTropes YMMV page for the movie, a “cyberpunk Tommy Wiseau” is the icing on this 7/10 cake.

Blackguard

I was prepared to hate this guy just based on how lame Pete Davidson’s costume was, and you know what? I do hate him. But I love to hate him. He’s just an utterly pathetic scoundrel and a coward, true to his name. The fact he is the first to die, as just about everyone predicted, and is killed absolutely gruesomely makes any annoyance he could provide moot, and his freeakout over being seated next to Weasel on the plane is actually kind of funny. I was originally going to give him a 6, but you know what? He can have a low 7/10. He’s like the only member of this particular Squad to actually do anything evil, so I gotta give him props for that.

Mongal

Let me make this perfectly clear: I do not blame James Gunn or actress Mayling Ng. I’m not actually mad at either of them for what they chose to do, because it is ultimately hilarious and sad. It suited the narrative of the film, and I’m not actually, genuinely mad.

With all that out of the way, Mongal is one hell of a stupid cunt. It is one thing to cause your own death with your stupidity, it is something else entirely to cause the death of a beloved character with your poorly planned attack. The fact she didn’t take into account how her weight and strength would effect an airborne helicopter makes one wonder if she is really supposed to be based on a character who can take on Superman and live to tell about it.

Let’s compare her to two similar characters to really show how bad she is. Like Blackguard, she is directly responsible for a death on the beach, Blackguard being responsible for everyone by selling them out and leading them into an ambush (and yes, I’m including him as well), and Mongal killing Boomerang with the chopper. The difference is, Blackguard’s betrayal was deliberate, he meant to sell the team out, he was actively doing something evil there, while Mongal killed Boomerang out of sheer idiocy.

Now, let’s compare her to Zeitgeist from the similar bloody massacre that occurred during X-Force’s deployment in Deadpool 2. Like Mongal, he accidentally kills a teammate. The difference is, in the case of Zeitgeist, he only accidentally melted Peter, it was a freak accident, and ultimately it does get undone by the end. Meanwhile, Mongal made a conscious, stupid decision and ended up killing her squadmate with her own idiocy. She sucks, hardcore. I don’t do this lightly, but I’m giving her a 1/10. Villains just don’t get much stupider than her.

I will giver her this, though: the makeup work on her is good. She’s lowkey kinda hot if I’m being honest. But being hot and having good makeup does not a good villain make.

[somethinginthewayiam]

Rushing off set

Pairing: Henry x reader

Warnings: language, a lot of fluff

Words: 1783

Summary: Henry is in the middle of filming the Witcher when he gets the call that his girlfriend is in labor. He rushes off set, completely forgetting that he is in full Geralt wig and costume...

Marcie, Henry‘s PA on the set of The Witcher, was watching the dialogue scene around the camp fire behind camera, holding his coat for when the director yelled cut. They were shooting outside in the nearby forest. It was dark and cold, not unusual for fall in England.

When Marcie shifted her weight from one leg to the other, she also transferred the coat from one arm to the other and that’s when she felt the vibration at her leg. It must be Henry’s phone. She opened the zipper and pulled out the actor’s phone. Normally, she wouldn’t do this but Henry gave her the permission as his little girl was due any minute now.

When Marcie activated the front screen, the phone almost fell out of her hands. 21 missed calls, 15 messages. And that minute seemed to be right now. A new message just popped up on the screen.

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!?! MY WATER BROKE. ON MY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!!!

“Oh fuck”, she mumbled to herself. Marcie took a step forward, but then stopped herself. She knew she should tell him right away, but she was also so new to set that she didn’t dare to interrupt a scene. With restless feet, Marcie waited in her spot for the director to finally yell cut. It was probably just 5 minutes, but it felt like 5 hours to her.

“CUT! Thank you”, the director finally called out and Marcie rushed over to Henry, who was sitting on a log at the camp fire. She basically threw his phone at him and held the coat up for him to get in. “Y/N’s water broke. She’s on the way to the hospital”, she immediately said. It took Henry a second to understand what his PA just told him. “Shit, fuck, okay”, he said as he jumped to his feet, but then didn’t move an inch. “GO!”, Marcie yelled at him.

Henry finally rushed off set, people turning their heads as they watched him leave. Marcie ran after him. “The baby’s coming. The baby’s coming”, she told everyone she passed to explain Henry’s sudden exit. Amid the applause of the people crowding the set, Henry headed towards his car. Only on the far edge of his conscience, he noticed people congratulating him and patting his back.

Marcie had trouble keeping up with him. She only arrived at his car when he closed the door behind him and started the engine. “Good luck, Henry. Congrats!”, she shouted at the car driving off the parking lot.

When she turned around to walk back to set, she suddenly stopped and her eyes went big. Henry was still in his full Geralt get-up. Leather armor, wig and everything. “That’s gonna be interesting”, she mumbled to herself when she continued walking.

 “Hello, I’m looking for my girlfriend. She’s having our baby, probably right now”, Henry said to the nurse at the receptionist’s desk. She only looked at him with big eyes, her mouth falling open but not a word coming out.

“Henry!”, he heard the voice of his brother Nick. He was coming at him with fast steps. “Vicki and I brought her in…hahahaha”, Nick started laughing. Henry didn’t think there was anything funny about his girlfriend giving birth and he might be missing it because his brother rather laughed in the middle of a hospital than showing him the way to Y/N’s room.

“Oh, she’s gonna love that”, Nick said and with that led the way to your room. Henry could hear you before he could see you.

“You’re doing so good, Y/N, keep breathing. Deep breaths”, Vicki coached you through another contraction. They were coming every minute now and getting heavier by the second.

“He’s here! I found him down in the lobby”, Nick exclaimed as he entered the room, Henry right at his heels. Vicki turned around and suppressed a laugh as she spotted Henry in his Geralt wig and outfit. She let go of your hand and made way for the daddy-to-be.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here”, Henry said and rushed to your side, grabbing your now empty hand. Just as the contraction washed away, already bracing yourself for the next one, you finally looked over at your boyfriend. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me!”, you breathed out. Your forehead was sweaty, little strands of your hair sticking to your skin.

“I rushed right off set when I got the news. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier”, Henry explained and kissed the back of your hand apologizingly.

“Please tell me you have your other clothes in the car?”, Nick asked his little brother before you were able to. “No, I forgot it in my trailer”, Henry said after recollecting his memory. “My bag”, you just nodded as you felt another contraction coming. You packed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for Henry as you feared this might happen. Vicki got your bag out of the little closet and pulled out said clothes shortly after.

The CTG started beeping a little hectically as the next contraction started. You squeezed Henry’s hand hard to relief some of the pain. You were taking deep breaths and releasing it in short, quick breaths just like you had learned in your classes. Henry was doing it with you, but besides that there wasn’t anything he could do. He never felt more useless.

“Ah, the White Wolf has joined us. Finally”, your doctor said as she came through the door. In previous appointments, you have established that your OB/GYN was a fan of the show, but, thank god, was not fangirling over Henry.

“Y/N, I’m going to check on your dilation real quick. The rest of you have to leave for a minute, okay?”, she told everybody. Henry went into the little bathroom adjoined to your hospital room to change his clothes and Nick accompanied him to help him out of his costume. Vicki stayed with you to hold your hand.

When Henry and Nick came back out, the doctor was gone. “She said, Y/N’s at 9 centimeters so it’s gonna be any minute now”, Vicki updated the men and Henry took his place by your side again.

Just then, a bunch of nurses and your doctor came back in and it started getting hectic. Vicki and Nick left the room, but told you they would wait outside.

Henry was now dressed in his sweatpants and shirt, but still had the wig on. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed a fake scar on his arm. But you had other things to worry about.

The doctor sat down on a little chair right in front of the bed and had you scooting down a bit. “Alright, with the next contraction, I need you to push with everything you’ve got, Y/N”, your doctor told you. A nurse lifted and bent your legs, showing Henry how to hold it to help you as best as he could. Then she walked around the bed to the other side and held your other leg.

You gripped the handle bars of the bed and braced yourself. The CTG in the corner started beeping hectically, but you didn’t need that reminder. “Now. Push, Y/N, push”, the doctor said. You bent forward, putting your chin on your chest and pushed with everything you got. Henry put his hand on your upper back, helping you to push forward while his other hand still held your leg.

It took a few good pushes before your little girl was finally out. The doctor put her on your chest while a nurse cleaned her face. She was crying at the top of her lunges and it was the best sound you had ever heard. You cried out of relief, looking down at the little baby on your chest.

Henry kissed you and you found him crying as well. All you two had ever wanted in life had just come true.

“Would daddy do us the honors?”, the doctor asked and held up a pair of medical scissors for Henry to cut the umbilical cord. With shaking hands, Henry made the cut and quickly handed off the pair of scissors, already fearing he could hurt his baby girl in any way.

“What will the little girl’s name be?”, the nurse asked as she was filling out the birth certificate. “Amanda”, Henry said for you as you were still busy crying.

“Alright, Helen will take Amanda to her first check-up”, the doctor explained as a nurse came over, wrapped a blanket around your baby and took her off your chest. “Daddy, you can go with your little lady. Mama and I still have a few things to do here”, the doctor continued. You already missed your daughter but you knew she was in good hands.

 After the check-up, nurse Helen led Henry back into your room. There was nothing left from the little chaos that had just happened a few minutes before. You were resting in your bed, barely able to keep your eyes open, even though you felt like you could finally beat Henry at arm wrestling.

Helen sat Henry down in a chair next to your bed, asking him to take his shirt off. He would now have his first skin-to-skin with his baby girl. With quick and trained fingers, the nurse gently wrapped your baby out of the blanket and put her on Henry’s chest, showing him how to hold her best. Then, she wrapped the blanket back around the two of them.

And then the three of you were alone for the first time. You looked over at your boyfriend holding your daughter at his chest. You felt your eyes tearing up. You had never seen something more beautiful. Even thought he was wearing the Geralt wig and the fake scars.

“We did it, baby”, you mumbled with a big smile. Henry looked up at you, tears in the corners of his eyes. “You did it. You were amazing, baby”, he said and looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. He didn’t dare to move an inch ever again.

Only a little while later, Nick and Vicki came into the room, congratulating you on becoming parents and meeting their new niece. Nick took a picture of Henry with his little girl which Henry later posted on his Instagram with the caption, “Geralt met our little girl before me. The past hours where the most life-changing I had ever experienced. As you can see, I rushed off set to not miss the birth of our little girl. Mother and child are healthy and absolutely perfect. Let the new chapter of our lives begin, @Y/I/N”

[tennessoui]

oh my god literally every single prompt on that list is gold and i'd love to see your obikin take for all of them. hmmm... if i had to choose i guess first 13. co-stars au?? thank you lots of love !!!

ah bless!! thank you so much!! i'm slowly working my way through most of the prompts on that list so you might see many many more before I'm done with my ask box. I think after two more, I'll put em on ao3 to keep em more organized too. this has been soooo fun!!

13. Co-Stars AU(/7. Fake Relationship AU)(2.5 k)

“No.”

“Ani, darling, you can’t say no.”

“Don’t call me that. And secondly, I can. I just did. This is my personal life, the company has no control over that.”

“While you’re filming its movie and it’s giving you money, you’ll actually find that it does, Anakin.”

Anakin sits down heavily on the bench outside his trailer, leaning forward until he can put his head in his hands. He wants to run his fingers through the mess on his head, but they’re in between takes right now and the make-up department will definitely kill him if they have to fix him up again.

“Asajj, please. You know how hard it was to get to come out as bisexual. If the first person I date after that is a woman, no one will remember! It’ll just be completely erased, and I’ll be Anakin Skywalker, Playboy Actor again.”

“But you do like women,” Asajj points out. “So either way, you’d be confirming your sexuality.”

Anakin sighs and leans his head back against the metal of the trailer. “And it would be different if I was actually in love with Padme, but she’s just my co-star and--”

“Anakin, she’s your co-star. You’re in a blockbuster movie where you dramatically save her life and then kiss her as the credits roll. This is just business. You like her. You’re friends. Think of it less like dating, and more like going to grab lunch together. And coffee. Maybe a fancy dinner. Several times a week.”

“For how long?” Anakin asks, resigned and despairing and hating the fact that he ever got into acting.

Asajj sounds relieved. “Just until the movie’s out and sales are doing well.”

That could be months. That would be months. “And I have to?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin doesn’t say it’s fine. It doesn’t feel like it is fine.

“They’re not looking for anything to be confirmed. If asked about your relationship with Padme, tell them you think she’s a great woman and you’re enjoying spending time with her. No comment on any sort of serious relationship.”

“Because a break-up afterwards might hurt the chances for a sequel?” Anakin asks drily.

“Exactly! We’ll get you a head for the business yet, Anakin. Okay, I have to go, but I’ll send you the information now, just so you know what you’ll be expected to do. We’re thinking a dinner tomorrow to start things off strong, and then slow afterwards!”

She hangs up before he can say anything else and he slumps back boneless against the metal trailer. God.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Padme. Ventress is right. They were friends before this project and Anakin knows they’ll be friends after as well. They genuinely get along, and it’s probably one of the reasons Anakin was cast in such a big name production: the chemistry between them when they’re acting is undeniable. She’s one of his favorite people in the entire industry.

“Anakin?” One of his other favorite people in the entire industry asks hesitantly from in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he says.

“May I sit?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Like he’d ever turn Obi-Wan Kenobi away.

“Are you wearing your costume?” he asks, without opening his eyes. Obi-Wan’s playing the villain of the movie, and Anakin has a hard time focusing on anything else when Obi-Wan’s around him wearing that skin-tight white turtleneck and cape combination, with his hair slicked back and fake glasses perched on his nose.

Obi-Wan sounds amused. “No, I’m finished for the day. Heading home now. You don’t have to see how silly I look today.”

Anakin smiles slightly, despite everything. In one of his better acting moments, he’d told Obi-Wan that his costume was distracting because it looked so funny on him. Really, it was just hot.

(Of course, Obi-Wan had taken his criticism seriously and gone to the director and the costume department. They had decided that it would make Obi-Wan’s character more threatening if he pushed up his sleeves in almost every scene to reveal heavily tattooed forearms. Anakin had hated himself and his big stupid mouth for days afterwards.)

“Is...there anything I can do to help, Anakin? I hate to see you like this,” Obi-Wan places a hand gently on Anakin’s knee, and Anakin has to fight a shiver at the touch.

They’d met at the script-reading for the movie, a handful of months ago. Anakin had set two clocks in his head the moment their hands grasped each other and Obi-Wan smiled charmingly up at him. “So you’re the one to kill me?” He’d winked. “Tall order.”

One clock signified the weeks it would take for him to fall in love with the older man. The starting number was pitifully small, but Anakin had been watching Obi-Wan’s movies and interviews for years before meeting him. He’d known something about the man, which of course had paled in comparison to knowing the man himself. They’d spent two weeks choreographing the steps of the final fight scene, just the two of them in a repurposed ballet studio.

Looking back, Anakin isn’t sure how he’d survived. And he had never wanted it to end.

Which is the other clock, still ticking down in his head. The moment filming ends, and they go their separate ways. They’ll probably keep in touch, but Anakin won’t see him constantly, won’t be able to lean into the weight of Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder, his knee, sometimes even on his cheek when he leans down in between takes to tell him how good of a job he’s done.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry,” Anakin snaps to the present. “Sorry. I was in my head. I. I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, tensing his hand as if he’s planning to remove it, which Anakin wouldn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“My agent says that the executives want me to date Padme. To drum up hype for the movie. Because I guess people will think it must be good if the co-stars start fucking each other?” He runs a hand across his face. “Um. Sorry, excuse my language.”

“Anakin, I’m forty-one, I think I’ve heard someone say fuck before,” Obi-Wan sounds amused again.

“Yeah, I just. Don’t want to? I guess maybe--I mean you probably didn’t see, but I came out as bisexual a year ago, and I haven’t dated anyone since, and I just know the way the rags will write about me and Padme if we’re seen together. And it’ll be like I just. Never came out.”

Obi-Wan makes a sympathetic noise but doesn’t interrupt. It’s one of the reasons Anakin loves talking to him.

“And my agent just sent me this contract, or I don’t know, list of things I have to do because there’s no way for me to get out of this and it just makes me feel trapped. But they don’t even want me to confirm if we're dating or not dating, they just want to create rumors about it, but it’s my life. I want to do what I want to do with my life, date who I want to date.”

“Do you...have anyone you want to date?” Obi-Wan asks, hand stilling from where he’s been casually rubbing circles on Anakin’s knee.

“No,” Anakin says too quickly and then grimaces. Does he really get paid for acting? He’s always so terrible at lying.

Obi-Wan hums. “I could...take a look at whatever papers your agent sent you?” He suggests. “I’m obviously not really an expert, but I have been in the business a fair bit longer than you.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin responds by rote, but hesitates, curious despite himself. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve nothing planned tonight except to have a glass of wine and pet my cat, Anakin. It would be a pleasure to help you any way I could.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, reaching out to lay his hand gently on top of Obi-Wan’s. He’s never done that before, never responded so openly to Obi-Wan’s touches. It’s an amazing thrill.

Obi-Wan flips his hand around until they’re holding hands, basically. In the middle of a public area. God, Anakin’s letting his crush get the best of him when Obi-Wan isn’t even gay. “Thank you,” he says, standing up and pulling away from the older man. It’s the right thing to do. The last thing he wants is for Obi-Wan to think he’s...predatory.

A harried looking crew member spots him as he stands and gestures to him to get back to the set. He smiles ruefully at Obi-Wan who gives him an unreadable expression but also a soft goodbye.

Later, in between takes, he forwards Obi-Wan the emails Asajj sent him, both the papers and the message at the top that says “dress nice for tomorrow at Delfino’s!” followed by a little smiley face he can’t believe she’d ever mean.

He knows nothing’s going to come of it, but. But he has to try.

----

Padme’s dressed to the nines in front of him. He’d compliment her outfit, but he’s already complimented her hair and her make-up, and he thinks she’ll scream if he continues to act as stilted as he’s being now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly after the waiter leaves with their drink orders. “I know I’m being--awkward. I just.”

They’re seated in the middle of the restaurant, and Anakin knows there’s two paps already outside, taking pictures through the windows. The rest will have arrived by the time they pay the bill and leave. It’s a circus and he’s the main event.

“I understand,” Padme responds, the angel that she is. “I don’t particularly want to be doing this either.”

Anakin presses his hand to his chest, jokingly wounded. “What are you trying to say, Padme, my beloved, my dearest?”

She laughs and he does too, but in the back of his head he can hear the sound of a camera’s shutter clicking. Everything feels fake, and he feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

A hand lands on his shoulder with startling familiarity and for a second he thinks it’s a very brave member of the wait-staff, before Obi-Wan Kenobi is swinging into his field of vision, pulling up a chair from god knows where and sitting right in between Anakin and Padme, never once removing his hand from Anakin’s jacket.

“Sir--” someone says in distress, “This is a two-person table.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and looks down at the table. “Well it certainly can fit three, so I would go as far as to say that tonight it can be a three-person table. Anakin, what did you order to drink?”

“The house white,” Padme supplies when Anakin makes no move to respond, instead choosing to gape at Obi-Wan like a fish out of water.

“Excellent choice, darling,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing at his upper arm absent-mindedly. “I’ve never been here, tell me. Do you serve a good seafood dish?”

The waiter stammers. “We have an acclaimed oyster platter, sir--”

“Oysters?” Obi-Wan smiles at the man, all teeth. “The aphrodisiac? What are you trying to get these kids in the mood for?”

Anakin blushes. “Obi-Wan!” He hisses, aghast. Obi-Wan’s eyes cut to him for a second before he smirks back at the waiter.

“I’ll take the oysters for the main course,” he says dismissively.

Somehow it’s that sentence that tips Anakin off, more than anything else he’s done tonight. Obi-Wan spends hours talking to the people that run the crafts table. He would never be so cold or rude naturally. He’s...playing a character, one that Anakin recognizes as being the villain from their movie (although without all the blood and murder).

Anakin only recedes into personas when he’s nervous about something. Can the same be said for Obi-Wan?

Padme, at least, looks amused. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” she says. “I see you’ve decided to crash our very romantic date.”

“Well that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan replies, turning to face her but keeping his hand on Anakin, although it slides down to rest on the crook of his arm. “I had Anakin send me the paperwork, mild curiosity, you know how it is, and I realized the strangest thing while I was reading over it.”

“Oh?” Padme asks.

“It never states which co-star Anakin should be seen with, just that he must be seen with a leading actor. And I don’t want to focus on the numbers here, of course, but in the rough-cut of the movie, I have thirty-four minutes of screentime. And you, my dear, have thirty-two and fifteen seconds.”

“Tragic,” Padme says, taking a sip of her water. "You may be considered more of a leading actor than I am."

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan gives her a friendly smile. Anakin is still stuck on the fact that Obi-Wan is here, that he read the paperwork, that he’s arguing semantics for the purpose of--of--

“And I suppose you’re here to offer yourself as a replacement?” Padme asks, leaning her head on her hand as she watches the two of them.

“Only if Anakin wouldn’t mind,” Obi-Wan says, turning to face him.

Anakin isn’t sure what he’s thinking right now. “But you’re not interested in men.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“But...you’re not interested in me.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“You are?”

“Excuse me,” Padme says. “I’m going to go to the restroom.”

“We’ll wait to order until you come back,” Obi-Wan reassures her, without taking his eyes off of Anakin.

Anakin bites his lip and hesitantly brings his hand up to sit palm up on the table. Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers again, like they had been just yesterday.

“I’m a very private person, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly, all traces of any sort of persona dropped from his voice. “I’ve never come out, never wanted to. But I was so proud that you had when you did. And I--well. I suppose. You already get to fake-kiss Padme on screen, I thought that perhaps you’d like to try to fake-kiss someone else for a change.”

Anakin ducks his head and gathers his courage. He can’t not ask. A fake relationship with Padme would be awful, but one with Obi-Wan? That would be torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. He’s still reeling from the information that apparently Obi-Wan does like men and apparently he likes Anakin enough to come out for him.

But does he like Anakin enough to touch him and mean it? He has to know. He looks up at Obi-Wan’s earnest face from beneath his eyelashes. “What if I want to real-kiss you?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a smile breaks out across his face. “Then you don’t even need to have to ask, darling. Kiss me all you want, if you’re okay with a clingy old man in your bed.”

“Not that old,” Anakin argues, smiling so hard he’s afraid his face will crack in two. “But I don’t want to kiss you tonight.”

Obi-Wan turns solemn, although his grip on Anakin remains tight. “We can go as slow as you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, you can have me later,” Anakin says, waving his free hand in the air. “I just don’t want our first kiss to be for the cameras.”

Obi-Wan catches Anakin’s palm and brings it up to kiss lightly. “You’re right, Anakin. That should just be for you and me.”

The rough brush of his lips over his skin causes Anakin to shiver. He’s never felt so on edge, as if his body is a live-wire. “Good thing you ordered the oysters,” he mumbles, blushing bright red as Obi-Wan laughs loud enough to fill the whole restaurant with its sound.

[kaimelia]

carry you

a/n: a huge huge happy birthday to @somegreysfics !! wren, I love you SO MUCH and i’m so incredibly proud of you for everything! you’re such a wonderful human being and i’m so so so glad we’re friends! this fic is for you and I hope you enjoy it!

"You know, I'm incredibly proud of you, right?"

"Why?" Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and Link wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

"Because you're incredibly strong." Amelia sniffled and leaned her head against his shoulder, shutting her eyes as she exhaled.

"You say that after I've been crying for the past hour," she whispered, and Link squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"But, you're here. You told me what was going on and what you needed, and I'm very proud of you for that. Not everyone can do it. I can't; I just shut down whenever I feel something sad. We both know I just fall asleep whenever I'm stressed."

That got her to laugh, just slightly for a moment before her mouth fell back into the frown he hated seeing on her face.

"You have to leave for work soon," she muttered, and she pressed her face into his shoulder.

"I don't. I can call in sick, and we can stay here all day and just watch TV and eat ice cream until you feel a bit better," he suggested, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. "Or, we can take a bath and order some pizza, or we can just sleep all day. It's your pick."

"Stay here, and just never get out of bed because it's safe here."

"Well, we'll have to eventually, but it sounds like a plan. I'm gonna go make a call to Bailey and try and cough convincingly enough; you want some tea while I'm up?" She nodded slowly, and Link carefully maneuvered himself out from under her, grinning as she groaned and dropped her body onto the pillows below her. "I'll be back, I promise." He walked around the bed, squeezing her foot through the blanket as he passed her and walked into the kitchen, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder and pulling out two mugs.

"Hey, Bailey," he coughed, hoping that it didn't sound as fake through the phone as it did to Amelia, who was giggling from the other room. "Yeah, I'm down with something; I'm gonna have to take the day off. Alright. Yeah, I'll plan on being in tomorrow as long as I feel better." He hung up the phone, quickly walking towards the bedroom and staring daggers at Amelia. "It's not very convincing when my girlfriend is in the background laughing at everything I say."

"You are not a very convincing actor," she muttered, placing a pillow over her head. Link rolled his eyes and left again, returning to the kettle he'd filled and pouring water into each of the mugs. He handed one to her as he came back into the room, quietly murmuring to be careful of the heat. She blew some of the steam off and paused as he began to sit down.

"What is it?"

"Will you go get Scout and bring him to cuddle?" Link smiled and set down his mug. "I need sleepy baby cuddles."

"Of course." He left quickly, walking into the make-shift nursery to see their son happily passed out in his crib, not having stirred for hours, to both of their surprise. "Hey, buddy," he whispered, gently picking Scout up and holding him, grinning as his tiny eyes opened. He strolled back to the bedroom, rocking his arms back and forth as he did so, attempting to ease the baby back to sleep. "Did you get him, and I didn't notice, or did he sleep through the night?"

"I think he slept through," Amelia smiled, holding her arms out and taking Scout from him. She laid the baby down on her chest, placing her hand on his back and rubbing soothing patterns as he fell back asleep. "He's still got more sleep in him. He definitely gets that from you," she whispered. Link grinned as he looked down at them, leaning down and kissing Amelia's forehead before heading back to where he was lying before and pulling the comforter up. He propped himself up on his elbow, facing her and watching as she ran her fingers over Scout's tiny head.

"You're a little creepy just laying there and watching us, you know that?" He shrugged, scooching closer and leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

"We said we'd stay in bed all day, and I can't think of anything else to do." Amelia smiled gently for a moment until her face settled, and she sighed. "Do you wanna talk about what's going on?"

"Everything just feels a little impossible right now," she muttered, lolling her head to the side to look at him. "I feel like I'm losing myself to all of the stress, and I know that becoming a new person isn't bad, but the change is so much more than I expected." He hummed softly, watching as she turned her gaze back to the ceiling. "I'm not sure if that makes any sense."

"It does. We've been through a lot these past few months, you know? I mean, the entire world has, but we've also been trying to figure out life with this little man, and I know it might not feel like it, but you're doing an incredible job at being his mother."

"I'm not convinced I won't screw him up," she half-laughed, and Link noticed her chin quiver. "I don't know."

"You don't have to know. We're figuring this out together, okay? And if anything, I'm probably more likely to screw him up than you because it took me way too long to learn how to not get peed on while changing him, so I'm a month behind you on everything."

"Yeah, but you're the picture-perfect Dad," she reached her hand out, resting the back of her hand against his cheek, "you're always peppy and making terrible jokes, and I'm pretty sure as soon as we get a house, you're gonna buy a grill and fill every stereotype of the perfect Dad."

"You better believe I'm getting a 'Kiss the Cook' apron," he chuckled, placing his hand on hers and intertwining their fingers. "But, that may not be perfect for our son. He might hate grilled food."

"Okay, be serious."

"I am," Link whispered, squeezing her hand. "Just because the world says it's perfect doesn't mean it will be for our son. Every kid is different, and maybe what he needs to grow up to be incredible is you. And I hope he grows up to be even a fraction as strong as you are, Amelia." He squeezed her hand again gently before bringing it to his mouth and kissing her skin. "It's tough, I know. And, it feels impossible, but you'll get through it because that's how life works. Whatever happens, you survive, and you learn, and you come out stronger and smarter than ever before, no matter how terrible it felt to get through it."

He paused as Amelia sniffled softly, glancing down at their son, who was contented asleep on her chest.

"And, I will be here through everything. So, when it feels impossible, you can put some of that weight on me, just to feel a little better, and I will do whatever I can, okay?"

She didn't respond verbally but nodded slightly as her eyes closed, and a tear slipped onto her cheek.

"I love you, Amelia, and I'm so proud of you for everything you do and manage while feeling like this. You're not alone, and you never will be alone because I'll always be here, and Scout will always want snuggles, and I can work on my acting skills to get more sick days in the future," he smiled, moving closer to her, and Amelia lifted her head, resting it on his arm as she laid against him.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, "thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tactical Retreat

Prompts: averykedavra: could i request,,,logince? maybe an imagination fic? roman retreating to the imagination and logan finding and comforting him? no pressure, but thank u regardless, and your stories are incredible!

Anon: So I’m I adore your writing and like I’ve read your stuff on ao3 and I just wanted to ask if you ever thought of that conversation between Roman and Remus and stuff that they mentioned in that story about Logan relapsing...? I just, I love the way you write your characters and dive into their head and manners so well- it’s incredible. (I’m shy to say but I also write a bit and I saw you’d left a comment on my story and I kind of died cause you’re incredible and I’m majorly inspired by you-)

Thanks for the prompts, babes! they fit so well that I did them together, I hope that's okay ^_^also: GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A 

C H E C K P O I N T

if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: explicit discussion of self-harm. I’m not kidding. I fucked myself up writing this a little please take care of yourselves. sympathetic remus

Pairings: logince, creativitwins, implied LAMP, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count:  5131

Retreat: an act or process of withdrawing especially from what is difficult, dangerous, or disagreeable.

Retreat: a place of privacy or safety: REFUGE.

* * *

“We are so not done with this conversation,” Remus had said.

That would certainly explain why Remus barges into Roman’s room at absolutely-unreasonable-do-you-have-any-idea-what-time-it-is o’clock.

Roman just looks at them all and raises an eyebrow.

  “Oh, please. It’s not all long sleeves and pants all summer for no reason.”

  “R-Roman, you—you—?”

  “Yeah, Specs,” Roman murmurs when Logan can’t find his words, “me too.”

  “Oh, we are not done with this conversation.”

  …

  “Will you let us help you clean them?”

  Unbidden, Logan’s face flares bright red.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetie…”

  Roman gently nudges Remus’s arm. “Let me. You two go check on Patton and Virgil.”

  “What?”

  “Roman—“

  “Come on,” Roman coaxes, “it’s not like I don’t have the practice.”

  “We are so not done with this conversation.”

 That would certainly explain why Remus barges into Roman’s room at absolutely-unreasonable-do-you-have-any-idea-what-time-it-is o’clock.

 “Remus,” Roman sighs, sitting up and covering his eyes, “I know it might not seem like it, but I do need my beauty sleep too.”

 He frowns when Remus doesn’t say anything.

 “I can look at whatever you’ve made tomorrow,” he promises, “I just—I don’t really want to—not that I don’t want to!—but can I…sleep, first, please?”

 Remus still doesn’t say anything. Roman peeks out from behind his hand to see Remus…is still humanoid. The door isn’t…off its hinges, it’s just been slammed open. His morningstar isn’t in his hands. His brother is just staring at him.

  Shit.

 “Re?” Roman sits up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light. “Re, are you—can you come here please?”

 Remus walks into the room. Roman pulls back the covers, making room for his brother, already running through the checklist in his head. No blood, no guts, first aid kit is in the corner, he can get the shower running if need be…

 It’s only when Remus actually stops next to his bed that he realizes what’s going on.

 Remus is wearing his soft things. Remus has opened Roman’s door. And now he’s getting into the bed and just staring at him.

 “…Re?”

 “Ro,” Remus whispers, and oh no, “Ro, you…you didn’t have anybody?”

 Roman’s heart clenches in his chest and an emptiness oozes into his throat. He should’ve known that Remus was serious when he said they weren’t done with that conversation.

 “…Re, I—“

 “Don’t bullshit me, Roman,” Remus hisses, the desperation bleeding into Roman’s lungs, “I know you, Ro-bro, and you—you—I’m gonna kick their asses.”

 Roman sighs, his head falling back to the pillow. Now that the worry over his brother has dissipated, he really just wants to go back to sleep.

 “You don’t have to do that, Re,” he mumbles.

 “The hell I do!” Roman winces and he hushes. “You—Ro, you know what my job is. You know I—“

 “Yeah, Re, I do know what your job is.” He stifles a yawn. “I…sorry, I just…I’m really tired right now.”

 A sharp poke to his belly makes him squeak.

 “Remus!”

 “I told you, Ro, you can’t bullshit me.”

 “What do you want me to say?”

 “Something, anything, Ro, you—“ Remus chokes— “Ro, you’re my brother. You’re fucking important to me.”

 “I know, Re, I…well, I would say I’m sorry, but you told me not to bullshit.”

 “So you’re not sorry.”

 “Sorry for worrying you, yeah. But not for…” Roman sighs. “I would just be apologizing for how it makes you guys react and not because I’m sorry for what I’ve actually been doing.”

 Remus is quiet for a moment. The bed dips under his weight as he slides under the blankets. Then he shifts a little closer until his hair brushes Roman’s nose.

 “…when you said you knew what my job is,” he mutters after a moment, “you didn’t just mean the intrusive thoughts, did you?”

 Roman shakes his head. “Thomas…I’m the…safe Creativity. I’m the fluffy, dreamy, Disney side.”

 Remus moves to look up at him, encouraging him to continue.

 “So I…I tend to romanticize things. I get the pretty, artsy, palatable version of things.” The emptiness bubbles up lazily into his throat. “Of everything. You…you get the real version of them.”

 Even in the dim light, he can see Remus visibly pale.

 “You get all the messy consequences, the realities of…a lot of the things that I wouldn’t.” Roman swallows. “So…”

 “Oh, Ro…”

 “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

 Remus props himself up on his elbow, the blanket sliding a little off his shoulders. “Do you wanna have it in broad daylight, then? Plan it all out, sit down with a drink and a notebook? Have one of your lists to work down?”

 “…can you at least close the door, please?”

 A weight leaves Roman’s chest as the door closes and the light vanishes, leaving them in near darkness. His eyes close.

  Damn it.

 The mattress sinks as Remus gets back into the bed. He’s too far away for Roman to feel him. But he can feel his gaze on him.

 “What do you want from me?”

 “The truth?”

 Roman huffs. “Is that all?”

 “I dunno, Ro-bro, you’ve gotten pretty good at misleading everyone else.”

 “I’m an actor.”

 “Yeah, which means you’re really not good at turning it off.”

 A mirthless laugh bursts out of one of the bubbles in his throat.

 “Haven’t exactly had much of an incentive to do that.”

 “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 “Come on, you think any of them have actually wanted the real me for…ever?”

 Remus scrambles up. “Roman, that’s—fuck, you’re one of the core Sides. You’re—you’re so fucking important, Ro, they—they love you.”

 Something darker than darkness shears through the emptiness.

 “No,” Roman growls, turning his head into the pillow, “no, they don’t.”

 Did they ever? Or was that just an easy way to string along their favorite little puppet?

 Before the anger can fully take hold of his throat, the emptiness oozes back into place and his jaw slackens, prompting another sigh as Remus freezes above him.

 “What’re you talking about, Ro,” comes his voice from somewhere, “they—you—aren’t you…?”

 “They say it,” Roman manages, “but I don’t think they mean it. Or if they do, it’s not—it’s not like that.”

 “Well, then what the fuck is it?”

 “They don’t want to listen to me, not really, they just…well, they need someone else to be there.”

 “It’s funny because I’m pretty sure we just had this conversation with Lolo.”

 “That’s different.”

 “Is it?” Remus pokes Roman’s shoulder until he rolls onto his back. He glares. “I don’t care what anyone else says, Ro, you’re fucking important. You’re not replaceable. And you’re sure as hell not unlovable.”

 Roman flinches.

 Remus tilts his head, eyes widening.

 “You don’t believe me.”

 Roman shakes his head.

 Remus lets out a shaky breath and lies back down, still staring at Roman. “Ro-Bro, what did they do to you?”

 “What, you want the list alphabetically or in chronological order?”

 “Roman, please.”

 Roman’s eyes snap open in shock. Remus stares back at him, pleading. His brother is begging, he realizes in a panic. He wasn’t sure Remus knew how to do that.

 “I’m—“

 “If you dare say you’re sorry, I’m gonna rip your testicles out through your mouth.”

 Roman swallows. “They just…they won’t listen to me,” he repeats lamely, “they don’t want me.”

 “What do you mean, they don’t want you?”

 Conveniently, Roman’s brain is now entirely empty. He knows stuff has happened to him…doesn’t he? Things…stuff’s been bad now. For a while. He’s been…doing whatever this is for a while.

 So why can’t he remember?

 “Every time I come up with an idea, it’s—they always want to change it.” But that’s just part of the editing process. He needs the others to help him edit.

 “They think I’m too loud.” He is, though.

 “I’m—they think I’m—“

 Arrogant? Overbearing? Stuck in a fantasy world?

 All of the above?

 “Nothing,” he whispers finally, “they didn’t do anything to me.”

 He buries his face in his hands.

 “They didn’t do anything to me. I’m just—I’m just being overdramatic. It’s fine.”

 “It’s clearly not fine.”

 “Isn’t it?” He flaps a hand at Remus. “You’re the one that gets the real version of all this. I get the romanticized version. No consequences. Just pretty words and sentiments that don’t make sense.”

 “You think Thomas is okay with a self-harming Ego?”

 “Well, maybe Thomas deserves a better Ego!”

 The room freezes.

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut. “Thomas deserves an Ego that knows what he’s doing. That believes in himself. That can do all the things it’s supposed to do.”

 He lets his hands fall limply away from his face.

 “But all he’s got is me.”

  I’m not enough.

 “I can’t—I can’t do my job without being able to…” He sighs. “I’m the opposite of Logan.”

 “…how so?”

 “Logan does it to make things go away so he can work. I do it make things come so I can work.”

 He feels Remus tense on the bed.

 “Romanticized, remember? That’s my job. Fantasy, dreams, romance, not real. I…” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

 A wave of exhaustion threatens to snatch his words from his mouth. God, talking about this is so draining. Can he be done now?

 “How,” Remus says after a moment, “can you possibly say it doesn’t matter?”

 “Can’t I just go to sleep now, Remus?”

 “No,” comes the snarl, “you can’t fucking go to sleep, because you’ve just told me it doesn’t fucking matter if you self-harm and that you think you aren’t good enough without it.”

 Roman shrinks into himself. “Don’t yell at me.”

 “Give me one good reason why not!”

 “Because you’re making me want to do it again.”

 Remus’s breath leaves him in a rush.

 “Oh, Roman…”

 Roman just curls up tighter.

 “I’m doing this all wrong,” he hears Remus mutter faintly before something ruffles his hair and the bed dips further, “Ro-Bro, hey, look at me.”

 “Are you going to yell at me again?”

 “No, Roman, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I’m just really upset for you right now. I promise I won’t yell.”

 Roman looks up. Remus smiles back at him, still not touching him. If he wanted to, he could reach out and tug Remus closer, but…that’s hard.

 “Hey,” Remus says quietly, “you here with me?”

 Roman nods.

 “I’m sorry, really,” he continues, “we can…if you really want to stop, we can stop.”

 “…no.” Roman shakes himself a little. “You’re right. I’d rather…I think I’d rather do it now, like this. So I don’t have to do it later.”

 “Okay.” Remus shifts a little. “Can I ask you some questions or do you just want to talk and I’ll listen?”

 “I don’t know if I can just talk.”

 “That’s okay, Ro. How about this: I’m gonna ask you stuff and when you wanna say something, you just say it.”

 “Okay.”

 “How long has this been happening?”

 Roman shuffles. “Long enough. Um…at least a few years.”

 “Do you have the medical supplies you need to take care of it afterward so they don’t get infected?”

 “Yeah.”

 “If you run out, can you easily get more?”

 “Yeah.”

 Remus lets out a long, slow, breath. “Okay. Okay, that’s…that’s good.”

 “Is that it?”

 “Do you want it to be?”

 Roman falters, looking at Remus’s face. The room is still dark. It’s still the middle of the night. The world is paused, breathing softly. He…he has time.

 “…no.”

 “Okay.” Remus shifts to lay on his side. “Can I ask you more stuff?”

 “Sure.”

 “It’s not just cutting, is it?”

 Roman’s face burns. “No.”

 “Will you tell me what else it is?”

 “I don’t let myself eat. I read things I know are gonna be bad for me. I put myself in situations that I know are gonna be bad for me.”

 “Can you give me an example of one?”

 “…I submit an idea I know they’ll hate.”

 Remus lets out another breath. Something tingles on the tip of Roman’s tongue, pressing up against his lips.

 “…why didn’t you come to any of us?”

 He swallows it down. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

 “I will,” Remus promises, “I always will.”

 “How can you promise that?”

 “Because you’re my brother,” he answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and you’re important to me.”

 Oh.

 “So if you wanna talk,” he continues like he hasn’t just shattered Roman’s worldview, “I’m here to listen.”

 The tingle is back. He stares at Remus, stuck. He can talk. He should talk. They just had a conversation with Logan about that. He should know this. This shouldn’t be happening to him.

 He squeezes his eyes shut.

 “You have to promise me something.”

 “What?”

 “Don’t touch me until I’m done.”

 He can tell he’s startled Remus by the way the covers jerk back.

 “…I promise.”

  Here goes nothing.

 “It’s not that I want this,” he starts, the words aching on his tongue, “that I want to feel bad, or upset, or—or…hurt. I just…sometimes it’s easier to work that way.”

 He scuffs a hand over his nose.

 “If I’m upset, I can…I know what kind of thing would make me feel better. Or I know how I am feeling and I can make an idea feel it instead. I know—I need—we—I—“

 He sighs.

 “I hate this.”

 “You’re doing great.”

 Doubt that. “They don’t want me. They tell me I’m too loud, I don’t make enough sense, I’m too rash, I’m too selfish.” He swallows. “That I spend too much time dreaming.”

 His face twitches.

 “They think they know what I dream about.”

 “…and what do you dream about?”

 Roman sinks his head into the pillow, the soft material cool against his cheek. The bed is warm, the room slightly chilled, the air a comforting weight. The emptiness froths in his chest.

 “It’s not important.”

 “Bullshit,” and only Remus could make that sound affectionate, “they’re your dreams, Ro.”

 “Not Thomas’s.”

 “So?” Remus reaches out to poke him but freezes halfway. The sight of his hand retreating makes Roman ache. “We just figured out that we’re allowed to not just depend on that, right?”

 “Not at the expense of Thomas.” Roman huddles tighter. “And they wouldn’t care about it anyway.”

 “Why do you think they don’t care about you?”

 “Isn’t that what I just said,” he growls, scrubbing his hands over his face, “that they don’t want to listen to me? That they only ask for my opinion when they think I’ll be easily manipulated enough to agree with them? That when I’m not they reject me and everything I try to do for them?”

 He takes a deep breath and draws his hands away. The sight of Remus, just out of reach, just there, hurts. It hurts. The urge to bury his nose in the crook of his brother’s neck hurts.

 “No,” comes Remus’s voice quietly.

 Roman blinks. His hands freeze, halfway to Remus.

 Right. He asked for this.

 He wraps his arms tightly around himself and squeezes.

 “I can’t play the role all the time,” he murmurs, “so I have to…remind myself.”

 “And that’s why you…?”

 “Yeah.”

 Remus is quiet for a moment. The room hurts. Roman is cold.

 “Ro,” his brother says after a minute, “is you asking me to reject you if you look for physical comfort self-harm too?”

 “…perhaps.”

 “‘Cause you know self-denial is self-harm too.”

 “Perhaps.”

 He looks up to see Remus’s eyes…glistening?

 “I hope you know I’m gonna hug you really hard now.”

 “…please?”

 Remus all but throws himself at Roman, rucking up the covers something awful as he bowls them over onto the pillows, his arms around his brother. Remus is big and warm and solid and soft and perfect, squeezing Roman so tightly he worries for a minute that he won’t be able to breathe. He buries his nose in Remus’s neck and oh, it’s everything he ever wanted. This is—

 This is dangerous.

 This is warm and solid and fire burning in his stomach. This is being able to eat and eat and eat until his tongue turns black and falls out of his skull. This is standing in front of a hurricane and the winds whipping around his immovable body.

 This is opening that pit in his chest and giving himself to the need to devour.

 Remus must feel the way he tenses in his arms and nuzzles into his hair.

 “Ro-Bro?”

 “Re?”

 “Hey, what’s going on? You went weird there for a second.”

 “This…this is okay, right?”

 Remus squeezes him again. “Yes, Roman, this is okay. You’re allowed to hug me, I’m allowed to hug you.”

 “It’s okay that I…want this?”

 Remus stills and Roman panics.

 He’s messed it up. He’s told Remus that he wants something. He’s told Remus that he wants something. He’s told Remus that he wants something. Remus is going to think he never wants to hug him. Remus is going to tell the others he’s being selfish. He’s let them know he still wants. He’s ruined everything.

 Then Remus tightens his grip so much Roman gasps.

 “Yes, Roman. This is perfectly fucking okay. You’re allowed to want, Ro. You’re supposed to want.”

 “But I—Re—“

 “Sorry.”

 Roman pants as Remus loosens his grip. Just a little.

 “But I—that’s never a good thing. Anytime I want something, we—they—I—I’m supposed to give it up.”

 “One of these days,” Remus grumbles, mostly to himself, “we’re gonna sit down with Patton and have a conversation.”

 “…like, this kind of conversation?”

 Remus grumbles something inaudible.

 “But every time I want something it goes wrong.”

 “That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want, Roman.” Remus tucks his face back into Roman’s neck. “You’re allowed to make yourself satisfied.”

 Roman shakes his head. He’s learned this time. He got it right this time. There’s no sainthood in satisfaction. Selfless is safe. He’s figured out how to hide his appetite and put them into his work and not ask for more. He knows not to take up too much space. And when he doesn’t, well…

 He knows how to remind himself.

 When he says that to Remus, Remus pulls back to look at him.

 “You don’t think you deserve to make yourself happy?”

 He tries to busy himself with fiddling with Remus’s shirt. “I’m what Thomas wants. Or I’m supposed to be. Who cares about me?”

 “I do.”

 Roman huffs sadly. “I don’t—yes, thank you, Remus, I—I care a lot about you too.”

 “You can say you love me.”

 “I love you.”

 “I love you, too. Now, what were you going to say?”

 Roman sighs, his eyes falling closed. “I want to be happy. I can’t be happy until Thomas is happy. And Thomas isn’t happy with what I want.”

 “Oh, Ro…”

 “I’m just—why can’t it be okay for me to just be happy?”

 “It is, Ro, you can be happy.” Remus gives him another squeeze. “It’s…you can be you, Roman. That’s okay.”

 “But it isn’t. It never is. And I can’t—I can’t be happy. Not yet. I have work to do.”

 Remus shifts until his chin is tucked over Roman’s shoulder.

 “…thought you were the hero, Ro-Bro?”

 As the words plunge deep into Roman’s chest, he smiles.

 “Name me one hero who was happy.”

  When Roman really doesn’t want to be found, he goes deep into the Imagination.

 Remus knows, now. Remus came and found him. Remus talked to him. Remus listens. Remus knows.

 He was fine with telling Logan. Logan is different. They want Logan. Logan is wonderful and amazing and deserves the world. Or the stars. Or both!

 …Janus also knows now.

 He’s not sure how he feels about that.

 But they’re going to want to talk to him. They’re going to want to know things. And Roman.

 Roman can’t. Not today. It’s too much. It hurts too much.

  “‘Cause you know self-denial is self-harm too.”

 “Go away,” Roman mutters to the ghost of Remus’s voice as he pushes through the tangled brush.

 This is different. This is avoiding an overload. This is when he’s already packaged up his appetites so they’re acceptable. This is when he’s already been stripped of what he wants and he has to leave before he gets stripped of who he is.

 And it’s so, so stupid.

 The others haven’t even done anything today.

  Have they ever?

 It’s just…sometimes it’s hard, okay? Roman knows he has to do it—no, he doesn’t—yes, he does—but sometimes he just wants everything to stop for two fucking seconds.

 There’s a dark patch of woods on Roman’s side of the Imagination. When he brings the others in, they spot it and think that it’s the gateway to Remus’s side.

 That’s actually at the bottom of the lake. The gravity flips as you enter this brine pool with a dense methane atmosphere over it. It’s pretty cool, actually.

 But not this forest. This forest is Roman.

 It’s the last part of Roman that lets himself want.

 Deep between the trees, if you can find your way through, there’s a clearing. It’s very small, just large enough for a massive tree with white petals, almost brushing the ground. The petals sway gently in the little bit of breeze that manages to get through the thick walls of the other forest. Underneath is a little bench swing, just large enough for Roman to sit or lie down if he wants to. It smells gently of the blossoms. It’s quiet.

 It’s his.

 As he slogs through the last part of the foliage, he almost drops to his knees in relief. He made it. He can stop now.

 The swing creaks welcomingly as he sits down, the tree reaching to ruffle his hair. He closes his eyes and lets his head tip back. It’s safe here. There’s nothing that can hurt him. It’s his place, his haven. He doesn’t have to pretend here. His eyes flutter open as he watches the petals fall from the branches. They twist and turn until they land on his red sash.

 He picks it up. It’s so small. And soft. It’s pretty. It looks so white against the red of his sash. Why isn’t the rest of his shirt that white?

 And the sash is so…so…red…

 Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the sunlight gleam off of the blade of his sword.

 A wounded noise escapes Roman’s throat and echoes around and around the still glade. His hands clutch at his sash as he tumbles gracelessly from the swing.

 How could he be so selfish?

 Logan is hurting. Logan is struggling right now. The others should be focused on Logan. Not him.

 Is this what he thinks he needs to stoop to now? To—to—to get attention now? He hasn’t learned his lesson about asking for attention? Hasn’t he learned that asking for anything hurts?

 Is that why he wants to do it so badly?

 Because it doesn’t matter that Roman self-harms. It doesn’t matter that telling Logan that he cared, that telling the others that he could help felt like selfishly turning Logan’s problem into something about him. It doesn’t matter that Roman’s wildest dream is to have someone care for him the way he desperately wants to be able to care for them.

 Roman wants.

 Roman’s not supposed to want something Thomas doesn’t want.

 So Roman will be selfish here, in this glade, all by himself, where no one can see it, so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.

 Then he hears something.

 “Roman? Roman, where are you?”

 No.

  No.

 “Roman! Roman, answer me!”

 “No,” he whimpers, scrambling back against the tree.

 Logan can’t be here right now. Logan—Logan has enough of his own to worry about, he can’t make Logan worry about him too.

 “Roman?” Logan’s voice takes on a note of panic. “Roman!”

 He should tell Logan it’s nothing to worry about. He should come out of the woods and smile, say he’s fine. He should ask Logan if he’s okay.

 He doesn’t want Logan to see this place.

 He doesn’t want Logan to see him like this.

 He doesn’t want Logan to ask him if he’s okay.

 Because he isn’t, and he’ll want to tell Logan that.

 He staggers to his feet and starts to try and make it out of the glade before Logan gets too close. But the flowers are too soft, too warm, too safe. He can’t make himself get up, can’t make himself stop relentlessly taking comfort. He can’t stop wanting.

 “Roman?” The leaves crinkle together. “Roman, are you back here?”

 No, he should say, don’t come in here, it’s dangerous, I’ll come to you!

 Yes, he wants to scream, yes, come find me, come help me, I want you.

 The glade holds its breath as Logan bursts through the trees.

 “Roman!”

 Before he can blink, Logan’s crouching in front of him. He adjusts his glasses and reaches out for Roman’s shoulders, smoothing over the gold trim and examining his face anxiously.

 “You’ve got scratches all across you,” he says worriedly, “did you have a hard time getting through? Are you alright? Were you with Remus?”

 “No,” Roman mumbles, cheeks burning, “not…not Remus’s fault. Mine.”

 “Roman,” he tuts, “you getting injured during a fight isn’t the fault you make it out to be.”

 “…not a fight.”

 Logan frowns. He glances over his shoulder. “The branches? I managed to get through with barely any scratches, perhaps if we go back through together, we can—“

 “Wasn’t the branches, Logan,” Roman interrupts softly.

 “Then…” He can almost feel the minute Logan’s eyes land on his hands lying limply at his sides. “…Roman, did you…?”

 He nods, shame burning in his gut.

 “…this may be a redundant question,” Logan says quietly after a moment, “but…are you alright?”

 He can’t help the huff. “Would you like the honest answer or the acceptable one?”

 Logan blinks. “Roman, you…you can always be honest with me. I apologize if I have ever given you the impression that you can’t.”

 He must be able to see the disbelief on Roman’s face.

 “…I do apologize for making you think your honesty was not wanted,” he says, shifting forward to kneel in front of Roman, “and…if it helps, I do believe I owe you.”

 “No,” Roman says quickly, shaking his head, “no, Logan you don’t—you don’t owe me anything.”

“You cared for me.”

 “That’s what anyone would do,” Roman argues, “what they should do. You shouldn’t owe me for basic decency. If anything, I owed you that.”

 “Why would you owe me that?”

 He laughs sadly. “Because I’m me? Because I’m loud and obnoxious and never want to listen to you?”

 “And what about me? I’m cold and callous and dismissive of you.”

 Roman shakes his head. “No, you’re not.”

 Logan reaches up to push his hair out of his face. “And you’re not either.”

 The wind ruffles through the petals. Logan looks up and smiles.

 “It’s beautiful.”

 Roman ducks his head. “…thanks.”

 “So this is…yours?”

 “Yeah.”

 “It’s wonderful, Roman.”

 “Thanks.”

 “You don’t believe me,” Logan says softly, “do you?”

 Roman just shrugs.

 “Talk to me,” he coaxes, cupping Roman’s face in his hands, “come on, now.”

 “It’s nothing.”

 “Now, I don’t believe that for a second.”

 It hurts. He wants and it hurts and it’s not supposed to hurt and of course it’s supposed to hurt. Everything hurts. Logan scoots a little closer and waits patiently.

 “…it used to be easy,” Roman whispers finally, “I used to be able to…to make this work. And now…now I don’t know how to anymore.”

 “How what works?”

 “I’m not supposed to want,” Roman confesses, “I’m supposed to want for Thomas. And I…I don’t know what that is anymore. Maybe I never did. But I—it used to be easy for me to make myself stay where I was supposed to be. And how to remind myself to be safe in—in—“

 “Pain,” Logan finishes.

 Roman’s head throbs.

 “Oh, my dear,” he murmurs, pulling Roman forward into a burning hug, “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” Roman slurs, drunk off of Logan’s arms around him, “don’t…don’t stress about it.”

 “I’m worried about you, little star,” Logan says against his temple, “you’re hurting.”

 “We all hurt.”

 “Yes, and recently, someone very smart said that something like this isn’t necessary for us to love you.”

 Roman looks up slowly, his eyes brimming with hope. Logan smiles down at him, head tilted in silent question.

 “…you think I’m smart?”

 “I think you’re quite intelligent, yes.” He catches a tear on the edge of his thumb. “And I think you’re hurting yourself, little star.”

 “I…I am, Logan.”

 “I know,” Logan whispers, “I know you are.”

 “I’m sorry—“

 “Shh, shh,” he soothes, “don’t apologize, little star, it’s okay. I’m not angry. I understand.”

 Of course he does. He’s Logan.

 “It’s not easy, is it? It never is, it’s just…we have to unlearn things, now.” Logan strokes a hand through his hair. “Sometimes it’s going to be a little harder.”

 And Roman is here, in his glade, under his tree, protected by the eyes of the world by the thick forest wall, and he wants.

 He wants to throw his arms around Logan and hang on for dear life. He wants this pit in his stomach to fill to bursting and disappear forever. He wants everything to stop, right here, so he can live here forever.

 What comes out instead is: “…can you hold onto me?”

 Logan nods instantly. “How much?”

 “…like I might fall off the face of the earth if you let go?”

 “Can that happen,” Logan asks even though he’s already moving.

 “Not if you hold on.”

 A chuckle rumbles through the warm chest as Roman’s cheek comes to rest against the soft fabric. “Then I’d better hold on tightly.”

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[spideymarvelws]

i love your writing, hope you’re doing well 💞 could i request something where tom asks y/n’s dad for marriage permission and then flash forward to the proposal?

I changed up a few things I hope you don’t mind!

Also i kinda wanna do a social media version but idk i think it would be fun

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

Warnings : some cursing, suggestive themes, nothing but floof and happiness

Word Count : 3.5k

Smiles and Pure Happiness

Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Tom laid silently with your weight on half of his body. One of his hands supported the back of his head on the soft mattress while the other held you tightly against his bare body, keeping your warmth as close as possible. Your legs were tangled together beneath the sheets that only covered the both of you from the waist down, the rest of it spread across the floor.

You’d fallen asleep hours ago. After some lazy sex to ‘try out the new bed’ in your hotel room, you passed out almost immediately. The flight was exhausting, and with the time difference he wasn't surprised to hear the little snores coming out of your slightly parted lips as soon as your face hit the pillow.

But for the life of him he couldn't fall asleep with you.

No matter how much time he spent shutting his eyes, waiting for his body to relax, it never would. He constantly changed his position with the limited movement he had to maybe find a more comfortable spot but nothing. He even got up to close the curtains and grab his earpods to play some relaxing music but it didn't help in the slightest.

He just couldn’t stop thinking.

Today was the day, the big day where he would finally ask you the question that had been floating in his mind for the past months. The day he would bend down on his knee, pull out the ring he’d been keeping in the back of his closet and propose to you.

He already had everything planned out, whatever you wanted to do after you woke up he would go along with until it was sunset. From there, he would take you for a stroll on the docks nearby, maybe buy some ice cream to waste some time if needed.  Harry and the rest of his family, including yours, should be set up in a hut alongside the beach, hidden from the spot he would propose so they could take pictures and celebrate with you.

But what if he didn’t reach the spot in time for sunset? What if he messed up and stopped a few feet short so Harry couldn't film everything properly? What if you didn’t want to go to the beach at all? What if you wanted to go to the hot tub or the rooftop?

What if you rejected him, what if you said no?

Despite five years spent together, even more as friends and even having discussions about marriage, he still felt the doubt that you would say no. That you would run as soon as he pulled the ring out.

He looked down at your sleeping face squished against his chest, clueless to the turmoil happening in his head. He wanted this, he wanted to be able to go out and call you his wife, he wanted you to show off the diamond on your ring to the people who asked. He wanted to take this next step with you.

He just hoped you felt the same.

You shifted around, rustling the sheets as you cuddled closer to his chest, your face scrunching up when you nuzzled your cheek against his skin. He raised his hand to your back, his fingers walking up and down your spine. You hummed, letting out a big yawn as you mumbled some incoherent words.

“You’re going to need to speak up if you want me to hear you love,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head as you moved around even more.

“I said i’m tired but I don't want to go back to sleep,” you sniffed, tracing random patterns on his chest, “That and I’m hungry,”

Tom chuckled, “Well you could’ve just started with that,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, “We could order room service if you’d like,”

“Meh,” you raised your head to look up at him, “I wanna get out of the room for a while,” 

“Well, in that case...” He reached over to grab the pamphlet he took from the front desk when he checked the both of you in. 

Leaning back up against the bed frame with a sigh, he raised his arm for you to settle against his thigh with the new change in position. He rested his hand on your stomach while you played with the edges of the blanket that wrapped around your body like second skin.

“There's a buffet happening at six in the lobby,” he squinted his eyes as he read over the tiny writing, “That’s in like thirty minutes, we could get ready in that time,”

He groaned when you started to giggle, lowering the piece of paper to look at you.

“What is it?” he playfully flicked the top of your head.

You stifled your laughter with your hand, “This is why you don’t forget your glasses on the plane,” you smiled up at him with hooded eyes, “Such a sad loss for us all,”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,”

“Hey, I offered to get you knew ones before we left but you were too much in a rush,” you poked his stomach, “You really wanted to get here quickly,”

He let out a deep breath, laughing off your words. He remembered rushing you out the airport, practically dragging you throughout the building and pushing you into the car he rented for the trip. You found it amusing while he was freaking out that he might not reach the hotel in time and mess up the entire schedule.  

“Yeah, well, I’m in need of a vacation after filming so many movies back to back,”

You hummed, sitting up to straddle his waist, something you always did when you wanted to talk to him directly with no distractions. Your arms went to wrap around his shoulders, pulling his chest against yours. He put his hands on your hips out of instinct, blowing a strand of hair that decided to fall in his eyes that moment.

“That you are,” you said, pushing the brown lock behind his ear before leaning in to kiss his neck, “So stop being so tense baby,” you mumbled, trailing your lips up his jaw to the corner of his lips, “We have a week all to ourselves, no work, nobody to interrupt us and a beautiful view everywhere we go,” you quickly pecked his lips, smiling widely when he chased them as your pulled away.

“And I couldn’t be happier,” he sighed, leaning in to press his lips fully against yours, sighing when they made contact. His biggest source of comfort were your lips, soft and plush against his skin. His neck, his cheek, his forehead, he didn't care, as long as they were on him, he was at peace.

“As much as I would love to makeout with you,” you giggled, pulling away and hopping out of his lap, “We have a buffet to get ready for,”

“The buffet isn't going anywhere!” he whined, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

Maybe he was stalling, just a little, but he didn't want to leave bed just yet. If things went well, this might be the final night he would be able to call you his girlfriend, instead his fiancé which wasn’t a bad thing, it just all felt so surreal. That and he didn’t like that you were putting back on some fresh panties from your suitcase, covering your body from his view.

You rolled your eyes, walking back over to him and placing a gentle kiss on his nose. Grabbing his hand you pulled him out of the bed, groaning when his heavy mass crashed into you, nearly knocking you down but his arms wrapped around you just in time, keeping you pressed against his chest.

“Can’t we stay just a bit longer,” he began kissing the corner of your mouth, trailing his lips down your jaw and to the side of your neck where he began biting and sucking at the skin. He smirked when you let out a tiny moan, your hands moving from his chest and squeezing at his shoulders.

After a few more seconds, you finally caved.

“Okay fine, ten more minutes and then we leave okay?”

He beamed at your words, picking your up by the waist and throwing your back on the bed. You giggled as he crawled over you, locking his lips back on to yours, his hands moving up and down your body, caressing the soft skin.

Maybe being late to the buffet wouldn't mess up his plan too much...

…

“What would you like to ask me Tom?” Your father questioned him as he handed him a glass of water.

Tom gulped down the water, hoping that it would calm his nerves but it only added to his stress. He’s spent years as an actor, memorizing lines and whole scripts by memory to recite in front of a large group of people and yet he was speechless in front of your own father.

“I-” he let out a deep breath, “It’s concerning Y/n,”

Your father crossed his arms, leaning back on the kitchen counter with a serious face, “Continue,”

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,”

It was silent after that. He watched as your father began to process his words, what scared him more was the unidentifiable look on his face.

Until he sighed, passing his hand over his face.

“I’ve meet a lot of people my daughter has decided to date, but your different,” he sighed, almost as if he didn't want to say those words, “But I’ve never seen her this happy in a while, and that’s all i ever want for my little girl,” he slapped a hand on his back, “And if it’s you that makes her happy, then go for it. I’d be proud to welcome you into our family,”

Tom glanced at you through the mirror, watching as you smiled brightly at your reflection. You caught him staring, blowing him a kiss and walking back into the bathroom, most likely to fix up the minor flaws you pointed out. 

He palmed the box in his pocket, biting his lip as he took it out to look at the ring. He wanted to see that smile again, he wanted to see the same smile when he opened the box for you, the same smile when he slid the jewel on your finger, the same smile when you walked up the alter and the same smile for the rest of his fucking life.

“Are you ready?” you said, stepping out of the bathroom.

He could feel his heart stop as he took in every inch of you. You wore a beautiful sundress that complemented every part of your body, flowing gently at your legs paired with simple slippers that were easy to slide off your feet and a cute floppy hat on your head. 

No matter how many times he sees you, he always felt like it was the first time all over again. He could never get over your beauty, your charm, just your overall presence that he had the privilege of getting to see up close.

After all these years he just couldn't believe that you were his.

“More than I could ever be,” he smiled, offering his arms for you to hold wrap your own around.

“Always the cliche, aren't you Holland?” you teased, smiling while you hooked your arm around his elbow, pulling yourself closer to his side.

“Only for you,” he kissed your forehead, walking towards the exit of your hotel room and opening the door, “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

…

You and Tom made your way down the shore, shoes in hand while the other held onto each other’s. Both of your stomachs were stuffed full with all the food you could fit, making you both a bit sluggish while you walked but neither of you cared. His mind was focussed on much more important things, like the beautiful scenery in front of him.

And it wasn't the sun setting in the distance rather the beautiful girl that led him in that direction.

“I still don’t know why you’re caught up on this,” he groaned.

“It was awful!” you laughed, swinging your locked hands back and forth,“Like, I knew you didn’t like cats but come on! You couldn’t make one exception for mine?”

“The thing pounced on me as soon as it saw me! Fucking hissing like an animal,”

“Because it is one!” you smacked his shoulder lightly, rolling your eyes when he yelped in false pain.

“Okay, fair point, but doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled

“Like him, and his name is Leo,”

“Shit name if you ask me...”

“Excuse me!”

“I’m kidding, i’m kidding,” he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the knuckles, “I’m sure I will grow to love...Leo,”

You sighed, “Him and Tess already get along so well, kind of like our own little family don't you think?”

Tom froze at your words but quickly caught himself, “Yeah, yeah our own little family. I’m sure Tess would appreciate the company,”

“Oh, so you’d give up your comfort for your dog but not for me,” you gave him a playful glare, “I see how it is,”

“To be fair, I did warn you that she’d always come first,”

“And I said the same with Leo, but you didn’t seem to like that!”

“I don’t like cats!”

“Your preference for dogs will be the downfall of this relationship.” 

He could help but laugh out loud at your words, the both of your falling into a fit of giggles as you continued further down the sand. His eyes darted around the area, instantly recognising the bushes Harry showed him in a picture earlier. 

He instantly clammed up.

But before he could suggest anything, you pulled at his arm, pointing at the shore line.

“I’m sorry why are we talking here when we could be playing in the water?” you let go of his hand when he wasn’t budging, spinning around and looking at him, “Come on! We didn’t come to a beach resort for nothing?”

He silently cursed at your words, turning to you with wide eyes that he was too terrified to hide.

“Well- uh, i mean, the water is probably really cold love, I don’t think we should be playing in it this time of night-”

“Oh come on Tommy,” you pleaded, tugging at his arm once again with a pout, “Please!”

He bit the inside of his lip. Oh how he hated that face

“Fine.” he grumbled, letting you drag him across the beach. 

You dropped your shoes in the sand before running into the shallow waters with your dress rolled up as high as you could get it, supporting the clothes with one hand. The other dragged itself across the surface of the water, letting the cold touch send shocks up the warmness of your hand.

“Are you joining me?” you called out to him, turning around to face him.

He swore it wasn’t the moon in the sky or the lights along the beach that light up the atmosphere but your smile. Your bright, wide smile that showed of your teeth and stretched out your lips, illuminating all the stars in the night sky.

He knew it was cliche, but it was true.

“In a second darling,” he bent down to roll up his pants before running into the water with you, immediately splashing you purposely with his hand.

“Hey!” you gasped, splashing him back with the same force.

He was quick to block the splatter but his arms were useless. Your playful banter soon turned into a fight for who could make the other more wet, laughing and giggling when your attempts at making the other soaked only did the same for you in the process.

Tom grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to his chest grinning like a mad man. He took off your hat and placed it on his head, twisting his face to make you laugh even more.

“Give me back my hat Tommy,” you reached to take it back but he swiftly raised it in the air.

“You’re going to have to kiss me for it darling.”

You rolled your eyes, “Seriously?”

He only shrugged, puckering his lips, “Yep.”

Without hesitation you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, not even thinking to pull away when he gently laid it back on your head. It was slow, savoring the feelings, the movements, the taste.

Reluctantly, Tom had to pull away, noticing the orange and red hue reflecting in your eyes.

It was time.

“Y/n?” he whispered.

“Yeah Tommy?”

It was now or never.

“I need to tell you something, well ask you something- but tell you something before i ask you the something-”

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, sorry,” he let out a nervous chuckle before taking a deep breath to recoup himself, “I- I’m just really nervous,”

“There’s nothing to be worried about Tommy,” you placed a comforting hand on his cheek, “It’s just me,”

You were right, it was just you. He had nothing to worry about, because whatever words he said or how many times he stuttered or stumbled that was just him. You looked at him for that, the imperfections that made him perfect for you.

“Seven years ago I met you by spilling my drink all over you at a bar,” you both laughed at the memory, “It’s crazy to think that you actually still wanted to talk to me afterwards, fuck you even offered to buy me a new one... I- i didn't deserve your kindness that day but you gave it to me. You gave me something that day that I just couldn't let go… and I didn’t,”

He took a step back, but keeping your hands in his, “Two years after that I asked you out, before that prick Jared could-”

“-you really didn’t like him,” you giggled.

“Yeah, yeah I didn’t. I hated that he was the one that pushed me over, it should've been on my own terms, or whenever I gained the confidence but- I’m glad it happened. And I’m glad you accepted. Because I am now the happiest man on earth and these past five years with you have been the highlight of my life. Every date, every moment, every late night talking about absolutely nothing has made me fallen deeper and deeper in love with you and I’d be a fool to ever fucking let that go,”

Without another second waisted he let go one of your hands and took out the box from his pocket and kneeled down on his knee. The waves crashed against his leg, soaking his trousers but he didn't care, not in that moment anyways.

As he opened the box to reveal the ring, your hand shot up to your mouth. The tears that had been silently falling throughout his heartfelt speech turned into loud, choked sobs, falling heavy down the side of your face, mixing with the water that moved across your feet.

“I love you Y/n Y/l/n, nothing I've ever felt with anyone has matched up to what I've felt with you. The freedom to be myself, the intense happiness that burst from my chest with just the sight of you looking back at me. And right here, right now I’m kneeling here to ask you-” he let out a deep breath.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” you cried, nodding your head up and down vigorously, “yes, one hundred times yes,”

“May I?” he gestured to your hand, barely keeping himself together. 

All you could muster was a small nod, shakily holding out your hand for him to slip on the ring. He did so delicately, his hands shaking but his smile couldn't be wider. 

Once the ring was secure, you tackled him to the water letting it soak both of you, engulfing you in the freezing cold but neither of you could care, not in that moment. All that mattered was you. He felt like a fool to think that you would ever say no, that you wouldn't be as happy as he was kneeling down on his knee and muttering the words he’s been wanting to for so long.

When you pulled away to look him in the eyes, he took the opportunity to take your hand with the ring in his, kissing gem and intertwined his fingers with his. You pressed your forehead on his, his face hurting from how wide he was smiling.

“I love you, future Mrs. Holland, my future wife,”

“I love you too future husband,”

With that, you both sealed your love with a kiss under the night sky, lighting up the water with your ecstasy.

...

I tried to write from the reader’s pov for the proposal but i couldn't lmaoo I just felt more comfortable writing it from Tom’s

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Tom Holland Taglist : @dummiesshort @seutarose @thenoddingbunny-blog @lanceyfancypants @clara-licht @sadassflatass @usuck @yeah-seems-legit @lolasm0nst3r @hogwarts-is-my-home23 @hpotterwhore @rayssa-1705

Crossed out means couldn't tag:(

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

First part

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Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[saynotoshityouhate]

Squirt Guns & Switches (Adam Sackler x Reader)

summary: Your childish boyfriend ruined your nephew's birthday gift - but that didn't ruin your evening.

notes: this was my first submission to a fic exchange ( @adcuficexchange ) ever - something that really pushed myself out of my comfort zone but now I’m addicted. I wrote this for the lovely @leatherboundbirate and while it’s not my best work (and I desperately want to try it again now that I know what I’m doing) I still had fun writing it and hope you liked it! 💕

cw: oral (f receiving), PIV, squirt gun play

Summer in NYC was sweltering at best. The air was thick with humidity and sweat. The tall buildings and black asphalt held all of the heat at street level. Your small apartment had one window AC unit that you only turned on to sleep. You and your boyfriend, Adam, were struggling actors and living in NYC was expensive enough without the small comfort of cool air.

It was your nephew’s birthday party tomorrow, and you still needed to wrap his gift. You got out the wrapping paper, tape and scissors from the back corner of your closet, along with the shopping bag that held his gift, and set them at the kitchen table to put the gift together. You poured yourself a tall glass of ice water, attempting to cool your body down more, as wearing only a thin white tank top and gym shorts wasn’t doing the trick.

As you sat down, the front door flew open. Adam, a towering presence, crashed into the living room, kicking off his shoes and tossing his red backpack onto the couch. “Hey kid,” Adam kissed your cheek, “How was your day?” He whipped off his t-shirt, revealing his structured chest that was covered in a sheen of sweat. His skin was adorned with millions of little brown freckles and moles, a walking game of connect the dots - your favorite hobby was to trace them and find new constellations across his back.

“Oooooh shit, I’ve always wanted one of these!” Adam picked up the newest version of the SuperSoaker Squirt Gun - the gift you had purchased for your nephew, before you even had a chance to answer. “Hey put that back, that’s for tomorrow!” The heat had drained the patience from your soul, even if he got cuter when he was excited about something.

Before you knew it, he had ripped the packaging apart, eliciting a groan from you. “Ugh, seriously Adam?” Adam chuckled. “Kids have too many toys these days anyways. I’d be content with a stick…and a magnifying glass.” You rolled your eyes. “You were one of those kids who lit ants on fire, weren’t you.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he turned on the sink to fill up the squirt gun’s large tank.

You stood, hands on your hips, still pissed that you’d have to buy a new gift in the morning. “Adam, don’t you dare.” Adam grinned wide, showing off his goofy smile that made you absolutely melt. You tried to hold firm, but then he fired. “wanna see your tits….” He sprayed the squirt gun across your chest, dampening your white tank top. You squealed, the ice cold water soaking through the thin fabric, quickly revealing the fact that you hadn’t put a bra on this morning. It was too hot!

“Adam!!!” You whined, stomping your feet. “Give me that!” You charged towards him, grabbing at the squirt gun. Adam held the gun above his head and skipped around the apartment chanting “You’re not wearing a bra! You’re not wearing a bra!” He was too tall for you to reach it, but you knew exactly what to do to get him to listen to you.

Taking a deep breath and looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, you grabbed the hem of your tank top. “My shirt is so wet Adam, I should probably take it off.” You lifted the shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. Adam dropped his arms from above his head, and set the squirt gun off to the side. Like two magnets, his large hands latched on, holding their weight and softness. You gasped slightly, knowing this would be his reaction but never fully prepared for how wonderful it felt. He knelt down, bringing your chest to eye level, as he laid gentle kisses on and around your breasts. You brushed your fingers through his mop of dark hair, reveling in the feelings coursing through you.

You hated to interrupt, but this was your one opportunity. You grabbed the squirt gun which was just off to the side and taking a step back, you fired. Adam was knocked off balance, too engrossed in your tits to realize you had bested him. You copied his actions, spraying his chest, until you saw the tent that had formed in his shorts. You laughed, always surprised by the small things about you that turned Adam on - like when you took control.

Adam’s eyes were blown wide, surprised by your actions but also incredibly excited for whatever was going to come next. Your eyes glistened with mischievous excitement. You shot one quick squirt of water just to the side of Adam’s hardening cock. He grunted, his hips thrusting slightly, seeking friction. You laughed again. “You’re a needy little brat, aren’t you? Stealing my gift, holding it out of my grasp, getting my shirt wet…” You sprayed the gun again, this time to the other side. He grunted again. “Kid, come on, gimme a break.” Adam pleaded.

You slowly walked toward Adam, squirt gun pointed at his crotch. “You ruined my gift, Adam.” You sprayed the base of his erection, drawing a groan from your prey. “Now I have to go shopping in the morning.” You sprayed the head of his cock. “Fuhuuck, I’m sorry,” Adam mumbled. “What did you say, babe? I couldn’t hear you.” You stood over him, your legs straddled over his hips, squirt gun pointed straight down.

Adam grabbed your calves, rubbing up and down. “Y/n, I’m…” you sprayed a long stream of icy cold water, slowly, from base to tip. “Hands off, Sackler. Not until I hear an apology.” Adam’s head rolled back, his hands falling to his side and his hips jutting upwards. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he yelled, bringing his deep golden eyes back to meet yours. You smiled, taking a step forward and lowering yourself down to sit on his stomach. “That wasn’t too difficult, now was it?” You held the squirt gun above your head, resting your other hand on his chest and leaning in, you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Your breasts fell right in his eye line, taking every ounce of his self control not to open his perfect pink lips and take one into his mouth.

You stood up, setting the squirt gun back on the table. “Now, here’s how you’re going to make it up to me. Not only are you going to replace the gift you ruined before I have to leave in the morning, but you’re going to make me feel good. I’ve had a long fucking day. I really just wanted to wrap this gift and spend the evening with my wonderful, caring, doting boyfriend. I wanted to make him feel good.” You shimmied your hips, pushing your shorts and underwear down to your ankles. Kicking them off to the side and taking a large step forward, you looked down at Adam, who was salivating. “Do you think you can make me feel good, baby?” Adam nodded his head, swallowing thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You smiled down at your large, usually intimidating, boyfriend. Not only was he goofy, and silly, and sweet - but he could be strong, and dominating, and rough around the edges. You loved that about him - never knowing what to expect. It kept you excited - and he felt the same way about you. You slowly lowered yourself, his tentative hands gently guiding you, unsure whether he was allowed to touch you or not. “Please touch me,” you breathed, covering his hands with yours, your warmth easing itself onto his eagerly awaiting face.

Adam knew what he was doing, knowing exactly how to draw reactions from you, whether they were feelings of pleasure, frustration, or pure need. He used his lips and tongue, his breath and the vibrations of his own pleasure to drive you absolutely crazy. From the start, you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to hold out. Your hips moved in slow circles, your heavy head lolled back, and your hands, unable to find a home in one place, moved from Adam’s hair, to reaching behind you, grabbing at his now painfully hard erection through his shorts. “Babe, you make me feel so good, make me cum baby, please,” you whined, quickening the movement of your hips. Adam chuckled, the deep vibrations of his laughter drawing a high pitched squeal from you. He was in charge now.

Adam moved his hands up to your hips, and in one swift motion, he had you on your back. Lifting his head and pushing your legs apart, he settled himself up on his knees between your legs. “I’d be happy to go shopping for you, kid. But I know the best way to make you feel good is my cock in this tight pussy of yours. I was just gettin’ it ready earlier.” Adam pushed his shorts and boxers down just enough to free himself, the tip red and angry and leaking precum. “Please Adam,” you cried, desperately, “I need you.” That was all he needed. In one movement, he entered you, fully and deeply. He was right, his early actions had you more than prepared for his above average size. You had already been so close - it only took a few deep strokes and taps of his finger on your clit for you to lose control. Your orgasm crashed over you, babbling nonsense and soaking Adam’s cock with your arousal.

“Couldn’t even last for me, could you, kid? Now you’ve gotta wait for me, can you do that?” Adam’s thrusts became messy, his hair fell in front of his eyes and stuck to his face where your taste still lingered. You sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, reveling in the full, warm feeling that had washed over you. “I can wait for you, please cum for me, Adam. I want you to fill me up, Adam. Please.” That was enough for him, stuttering once more and groaning into his release.

You both laid on the kitchen floor, close...but not too close - the heat of the day and your activities didn’t bode well for post-coital cuddling, the squirt gun still sitting perfectly on it’s perch. Who knew a squirt gun could lead to so much enjoyment?

[crazyasacupcake]

A Clown Called Saviour

Here's a fic inspired by the Harvest Festival scene from The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You by Lily Anderson :D

This work includes mentions of clowns, vomit, and panic attacks, so if you have coulrophobia, emetophobia, or are triggered by panic attacks in any way, then I would suggest not reading this piece.

Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, no romance

Summary: When someone has a breakdown in the middle of a meant-to-be fun Haunted House attraction, one scare actor steps up to help lead the visitor out safely, but maybe they should have just left it alone.

Characters: G/N Reader, Tooru Oikawa, Shoyo Hinata, Kei Tsukishima, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: 2989

You can also read the work on Archive of Our Own!

You wring your hands as you wait outside the haunted house, the fake (were they fake?) screams emitting from inside making your stomach churn. Your friends didn’t seem too bothered, but then when did teenage boys ever show their fear?

“This is stupid,” Tsukishima says as he counts the correct amount of tokens out to pay for your tickets. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Hinata’s never been in one before,” the other surly one, Kageyama, points towards where Hinata is trying to contain his excitement, jumping from foot to foot in front of the sign.

“Hey! They haven’t been in one either!” The ginger one snaps his head around angrily, pointing towards you.

“I don’t particularly want to go in one.” You wish there was anything you could say that would make them let you stay outside, but you had promised; you had told Hinata that if they got past the first round of the Spring High Prelims, then you would personally take him to a haunted house. You hadn’t meant anything by it – not that you didn’t believe they would get through the first round, more that you didn’t believe Hinata would remember the promise you had made before nodding off on the bus. You wanted to die when he had entered the gym that Friday with the flyer for the Halloween Fair in the park, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to his beaming smile.

“Oh, come on! It’s not going to be that bad!” He gives you a wide grin, and you want to smile back but you know that it will just come out as a grimace if you try. Instead, you just stare at him, your lips set in a tight line.

“How come Tadashi doesn’t have to go in?”

“The last time Tadashi went in a haunted house, he threw up on one of the scare actors. I think it’s best for both him and everyone else that he stays outside.” Tsukki drops the unneeded tokens into his jacket pocket.

“What if I throw up on a scare actor?”

“Then we’ll know to leave you outside with Tadashi next time.”

He marches over to the attendant’s booth, where a bored teenager rests his head on the palm of his hand, where he exchanges Tsukki’s twelve tokens for four shiny black tickets (“Three tokens per ticket, at 700¥ per token! That’s practically robbery!”).

With a deep, shaking breath, you follow your boys into the house, giving Tadashi one final timid wave before stepping into the black of the first room.

If you weren’t standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Hinata, you’re pretty sure you would have lost him immediately. Most of the time when people enter darkness, they say they ‘can’t see two feet in front of them’, but you can barely see an inch. You can hear breathing: loud, rattling breaths merging with the sound of the blood pounding in your head. You feel like you were going to pass out.

“Move,” Tsukki pushes you from behind, not too hard but you stumble anyway. Your throat feels dry – was it always this hot in here? You clench and unclench your hands, the clamminess of your palms just making you more uncomfortable.

The first scare actor pops up, in a Michael Myers mask, wielding a chainsaw. If you were in a sound state of mind right now, you would tell yourself that this person is completely inaccurate to the character, and shouldn’t be a scare actor at all due to their lack of dedication. However, all rational (if that thought would have even been rational in the first place) thought has already left the building, and instead you ball your eyes shut and barrel past him with a scream at a pitch you didn’t even know you could hit.

You run blindly, feeling your shoulder collide with a doorway, only opening your eyes when the slight momentary pain jars you from your panic.

There are lights here, in this small corridor, bathing everything in a gross green tinge, and when you turn around you can’t see any of the boys behind you. You stick your head through the doorway, leaning out into another thin corridor. There are three other doorways lining the wall, and you realise they must have gone through a different one once you’d bolted. You realise that the only way to meet up with them is at the end, as you have no way of knowing which doorway they picked.

You look back to the corridor, your footsteps suddenly ten times heavier now that you didn’t have the two six-foot tall bullies behind you. Even your lungs feel heavy, every breath like you’re taking in water instead of air, like you’re about to drown.

Your head hurts.

Why did you agree to this?

Finally, you reach the end of the green corridor, swallowing thickly as you poke your head slowly into the room.

It’s as if your heart stops.

There are five of them (Scare actors, you tell yourself. They’re just actors.) stood in different areas of the room. It’s difficult to remember they’re just scare actors when they’re all stood facing you, wearing matching killer clown masks and outfits. The one closest to you is stood behind a pile of cardboard boxes, and you’re thankful that there’s at least something separating them from you. It’s as if they’re leering at you, even though the mask is fixed into the twisted smile of the clown; they’re looking at you as though they’re hungry, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

You edge along the wall, keeping your eyes on the one behind the boxes the whole time, until you realise you need to watch the others, too. Your hand shakes as you use it to feel your way along the wall, your stomach dropping when you have to take that first step away from the security the wall provided.

You can see the doorway, it’s straight ahead, just keep your eyes on the doorway and it’ll all be fine.

The one behind the boxes shifts their body so that they’re facing you, but you don’t look at them, closing your eyes for a second to tell yourself to just calm down.

They can’t hurt you, they can’t touch you, they’re just teenagers, just actors being paid to have a good time scaring other teenagers.

You’re halfway through the room, the door is right there, just don’t look at them.

The one to your right takes a lurching step forwards and you jump, tripping over your feet and falling backwards, landing hard on the floor. Your hands burn where they hit the concrete, and your arse is now throbbing, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face twisted into a grimace as you try not to cry.

Your eyes are shut so tightly that stars begin to swim in the blackness, and you try to focus on the patterns and not the sound of the clown’s footsteps.

You press your hands over your ears, trying to tune it all out, trying to convince yourself that you’re still with the boys and you didn’t get separated – or better yet, that you’re waiting outside with Tadashi with a cup of tea warming your hands.

Your breathing is coming too hard, too fast, and you feel like your chest is about to explode, the pounding of your heart shattering your ribcage as it bursts from your body. You can’t get a full breath, the air stopping dead in your throat just before you can get a full lungful. You think you might pass out, your whole body feels as though it’s on fire, and you just wish that it was over, that you’re already outside, that you’ve completed the house without having a breakdown, that you don’t feel like you’re about to be murdered by a teenager in a clown mask.

The footsteps stop, and there’s a moment where you think about opening your eyes but you know that if you do you’re going to see the clown leaning right in front of you.

They’re just actors, they’re just teenagers, they can’t touch you, they can’t hurt you, they just want to scare you.

You swallow, almost gagging from the dryness of your mouth.

There’s wet on your cheek, you notice. You’re crying, the tears dripping hot and heavy down your face in your blind panic, and only when you notice the wetness of your face do you tune in to the sound of your loud sobs.

The footsteps to your right retreat, the clown slinking back to their original position.

Something touches your shoulder, and your brain goes haywire.

They’re not allowed to touch you so what just touched you was that a real clown ohmygod am I about to die what if he stabs me why is he touching me why is he touching me WHY IS HE TOUCHING ME

The thing shakes you slightly, enough to get you to open your eyes the tiniest bit before shutting them again once you see the mask to your left. They’re crouched down, balancing their weight on the balls of their feet beside you. They touch your wrist and you flinch, before they gently pry your hand away from your ear. You open your eyes again, focusing instead on the balloon that’s tied to their wrist, bobbing in the air with each movement of their arm.

They stand up, offering you their other hand to help you up, but you ignore it and stand up on your own. They nod at the clown across from them, and then they nod you towards the doorway.

You don’t move, swallowing once again, making sure you don’t look at the mask. You wipe your cheek with the heel of your hand.

The clown offers their arm to you, and when you don’t take it they make a flourishing bow gesture before offering it again. You giggle weakly, your head throbbing, and the clown points at you before giving you a thumbs up.

You take their arm, and they walk you out of the room, into another dim corridor.

“Thank you,” you whisper, surprised at the hoarseness of your voice. The clown just shrugs.

“Are you not allowed to talk?” The clown shakes their head, and you hear a bell ringing that must be attached to their collar. “I like the bell. It’s a nice touch.”

You stay silent for a moment, until you step into the next room and a man in a leather apron jumps out with a cleaver. With a squeal, you turn, curling into the clown’s side as you try to make yourself as small a target as possible, squeezing their arm a little bit too much. You’re surprised at the muscle you can feel through the costume; it reminds you of the times you’ve hugged any of the boys on your team when they win a game. It’s weird to think that an athlete would be doing something like this in his free time (as though your athlete friends aren’t currently in the same haunted house, albeit for a different purpose).

The clown clears their throat, and when you look at them, they make a gesture with their hand, one that seems to say if you talk it might help you calm down.

You think for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’m only here because I promised my friends that if they got through the first round of the volleyball tournament then I’d go with them. And then we got split up. And Tadashi is only allowed to stay outside because he threw up on a scare actor once, so because I haven’t thrown up on a scare actor that means I had to go in.”

The clown makes a show of laughing silently, their shoulders shaking as they clutch their chest with their other hand.

“But I just hope it doesn’t worry Hinata too much because I know he can talk a big game but he’s really a huge wuss – I mean, before our practice game against Aoba Johsai he was jumping off the walls until it actually came about, then he threw up on the bus and was mainly the reason we lost the first set – don’t tell him I said any of this will you?” You don’t know why you ask – there’s no way they know who Hinata is.

The clown shakes their head, making an exaggerated cross over where their heart would be.

Another scare actor jumps out with a shrill scream, and you close your eyes with a shaking breath before continuing.

“I think Aoba Johsai is our biggest problem – we only won the practice match because their normal setter wasn’t there for the first two sets, and even then, it was a close call. And then we played them during the Inter-High in full sets, but we still lost in the end. I just hope that all the work they’ve put in over summer pays off, and I hope they don’t let him land any service aces, the cocky bastard.”

You enter the next room – how many rooms are there? The clown tilts their head slightly, like a puppy dog.

“The Aoba Johsai setter, Tooru Oikawa. He’s a complete jerk. At least the other teams we play are likeable, he’s like a movie villain – especially in the way he seems to exist just to annoy Kageyama.”

Their arm tenses, but you either don’t notice or you don’t care.

“He’s so full of himself – did you know he was almost late to their first game in the Inter-High because he was too busy flirting with his little fangirls. And that’s another thing! Who has fangirls as a high school athlete? No wonder he’s so self-centred, they’re just inflating his ego all the time. God! He thinks he’s the best person in the world, but he’s not; just because you can serve really well and set really well and spike really well doesn’t mean that you’re God’s gift to volleyball.”

They nod slowly. You’re almost through the last room – you can see the torn sign on the door that reads You Made It… Or Did You?

“He’s infuriating! He’s just so smug and you can just tell that he thinks he’s the smartest person ever – well, Tooru Oikawa, you aren’t a genius.” You’re surprised at how angry Oikawa makes you, but you’re thankful for the anger that thinking about him creates as your fear is basically non-existent at this point.

The clown shoves the door open with their left shoulder, holding it open for you to be able to slip out into the cold night air, which feels lovely against your warm skin.

They do another exaggerated bow, the balloon bobbing and blowing about in the breeze. They turn to go back into the house, back to their original room.

“Wait!” You’re surprised by the sudden force in your voice. The clown stops, and turns back towards you, tilting their head to the side in question. “Will you be at the preliminaries on Thursday?” A nod. “Come and find me and I’ll buy you a water for your trouble.”

You pause, watching them, waiting to see if they’ll reply. They don’t.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you, so much.” You let out a short laugh. “Who would’ve thought my saviour would be a murderous clown? Thank you once again, Hero Clown.”

The clown makes one final bow, the bell tinkling, and gives you a wave with a wiggle of their white-gloved fingers. Then, they turn for the last time and disappear back into the house.

“Where did you go?” Tsukki’s voice makes you turn around, and you see the three of them stood there watching you. Tsukki looks bored. Hinata isn’t wearing his jumper anymore.

“Where’s your jumper, ginger?” You ask, ignoring Tsukki’s question and walking over to meet them so you can begin your exit out of the park. He holds up a plastic bag that he didn’t have before.

“Hinata threw up on a scare actor.” Tsukki answers. “That means that next time Hinata can wait outside with Tadashi.”

On the twenty fifth of October, you stand inside the Sendai City Gym with the boys, cradling three of their water bottles against your chest. All of you are staring at the schedule as you wait for your first game – the game against Johzenji – to begin. Nishinoya sits on the floor in front of you as he stretches, before he yawns and holds his hand out for one of the bottles. You roll your eyes, unsurprised from his lack of a please.

Before you can pass him one, though, someone behind you grabs one of them from your hands, and you wheel around in shock to see Tooru Oikawa of Aoba Johsai drink half of the bottle in one go.

“What…is wrong with you?” You snap, snatching the bottle back from his hands. “Who do you think I am, your servant? I’m not one of your stupid little fangirls! Drink your own team’s water!”

He tilts his head with a smirk, but you can tell there’s something weird about it. Maybe it’s the way his eyes aren’t as bright as they normally are whenever he teases the opposition, maybe it’s how it’s more like a sneer than a smirk.

Nishinoya stands up, and you put your arm out to keep him at bay. You don’t need the feral chihuahua to back you up against Tooru Oikawa of all people.

“Don’t worry about it, Little Karasuno-chan. Your debt is paid.” Oikawa’s words are laced with… something.

“My debt? I don’t know what you’re on about, mister, so you’d better-”

The realisation slams into you like a truck going a hundred miles an hour.

“Come find me and I’ll buy you a bottle of water for your trouble.”

You feel your stomach drop.

Oh no.

[innuendostyles]

Your from the UK right??? Not to make u sad but imagine going to Asda with Ben at 2 in the morning (u only went for some milk) and u end up coming out with almost the entire shop in ur trolley 😂😂 Happens to the best of us

YAY

“We’re only going for milk.” He quietly mumbled as he aimed the keys at the car and pressed the lock button, hearing the sound of the mechanisms working to ensure the car wouldn’t get stolen from the car park. He held his hand out for you to take before he crossed the zebra crossings, giving a silent nod to a car that’d stopped so the two of you could pass.

It was a gentle reminder but also a jest at himself, considering the last time he’d gone to Asda this late, he’d returned home with a new DVD player for your living room, an abundance of on-sale Easter chocolate, and a DIY friendship bracelets set (it was located in the 6 years and over section, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that part.)

The bracelets aforementioned had been tied to your wrists for a month and a half now, yours was a braided black, white and yellow band while his was black, white and red. He somehow matched his outfit, black jogging bottoms, a red Nike hoodie and the best part of all…. socks with sliders. You’d claim that if he wore those out of the house, you’d pretend not to know him, but later decided that it was more endearing than embarrassing. His socks were black with red love hearts printed all over them, some you’d got him for Valentine’s Day as he claimed that “a pair of socks is the best present you could ever buy a man.”

You, on the other hand, wore a pair of black leggings, paired with an extremely worn “Rolling Stones 1979 Tour” acid wash t-shirt. Ben had insisted that you wear one of his jackets, given the fact that your local Asda always seemed to be freezing around this time, so it was topped off with a navy blue Nike Air Max windbreaker. Your fluffy bed socks really pulled the outfit together.

You each had one of Ben’s AirPods in your ear, currently listening to a song by The Lumineers, one that Ben described to you as making him feel as if he was “running down a sandy beach trying to get to you.” His pinky finger slid around your pinky finger as he strayed to the shelter where all the trolleys (shopping carts) were located.

He always pushed the trolley, claiming his driving skills were better than yours, but you knew the only reason he enjoyed pushing them so much was so he could “fly down the aisles”, an act in which he would push the cart extremely fast when there was nobody near you, and lift his feet from the ground, letting the cart take all his weight.

The song ended and changed to a Snoop Dogg song, to which you quirked an eyebrow, asking, “What fucking playlist is this?” with a laugh.

You walked through the sliding doors, Ben already getting distracted by some plants that were on clearance at the front doors, silently placing 2 small plant pots with some sort of pink flower in the middle into the cart.

There was a display as soon as you entered the shop floor, a large green cardboard cut out of the grinch, next to it sitting a handful of Christmas DVD’s, letting all the customers know that they could “Buy 1 Christmas DVD and receive a free 9” pizza”. Ben’s eyes immediately lit up, turning his head towards yours as he exclaimed that Christmas films and food are two of his favourite things ever. You shook your head in disbelief as you picked through the DVD’s, most of them being new and animated films you’d never heard of.

You were looking for one in particular, though you had little faith that it would be in the same pile as these cartoon ones. Ben loved The Nativity, one of the funniest Christmas films in the world, he reckons. He thought Martin Freeman was one of the best actors ever, and that along with Marc Wootton, it had to be the best film ever.

You rifled through the array of cases, finally picking out a white cover that read, “The Nativity!” You placed it in the cart, seeing Ben’s eyes light up as he bounced up and down in excitement, like a child.

“Can we get pepperoni on the pizza? Please!” He whined, earning a “yes” from you, to which he skipped down the aisle and giggled like a schoolboy.

You reached the fridges, Ben picking up 2 pints of milk and putting them in the trolley before giving an accomplished nod.

“Can we ‘ave a look at some vinyls?” He asked, with a pleading pout that he knew always won you over.

“Ooh, yeah actually, Gwil said he wanted the Hamilton vinyl a couple of weeks ago. Might be a good present, yeah?” You suggested, knowing it would result in Ben realising he hadn’t yet bought Christmas presents for any of his friends yet, something you’d been trying to gently remind him of for the last couple of weeks.

You made your way to the music section, getting distracted by anything and everything you could find. Ben was clinging onto a t-shirt with a green dinosaur on it, lit up by Christmas lights with a star on top of its head, the phrase “Tree-Rex” printed underneath it.

He held up the knitted fabric to you, and you both whispered, “Joe.” at the exact same time. It was folded and placed into the cart.

A pack of 250 small Christmas cards was the next thing to grab your attention, Ben telling you that the two of you “had to send the neighbours a card this year, considering the amount of times they’ve had to endure foolish giggles and the  creaky bed really late at night!” You’d simply nodded with a chuckle, though he didn’t put them in straight away. He noticed the box had been busted open at the top and went on a hunt for an unopened box. He reached his arm all the way back into the shelf, jokingly asking you to hold his hand so he didn’t get lost. He finally grabbed a pack, throwing them into the trolley from about a meter away and doing a celebratory dance when they went in.

One of the lights overhead flickered, which caused Ben to turn to you with an over-exaggerated gasp, claiming “Asda is haunted!!!!” and running away from you frantically. You guffawed at his antics, lightly jogging after him while trying to catch your breath from laughing.

After collecting your pizza on the way to the music section, Ben made a quick turn down the homeware section. He browsed the cushion cases, holding up a few colours and patterns that he thought may match your living room sofa, all of which received a horrified glare from you (this was the exact reason you didn’t let him take the lead when you decided to start decorating your flat together… his first suggestion was warm brown walls with a stripy turquoise and black sofa…)

He reached the mirror section, finding an extremely large plain mirror, with no frame, slowly running his finger over the edge of it.

“Might buy us this for Christmas.” He stated.

Your brows raised in confusion, tilting your head to tell him you were unsure why he’d said it.

“One of them naughty mirrors…… when you put it on the ceiling so I’d be able to see everything when you’re ridi-“  your hand quickly shot over his mouth, your eyes widening as you took in what he meant. You could feel his lips sporting a smirk beneath your palm. You shook your head and giggled along with him.

“C'mon babe… know you’d love seeing this juicy cheeks every time I’m on top of you…” you lightly smacked his chest and delivered a sharp, yet humorous, “enough!”.

Once you’d finally made it to the music section, Ben appeared to be in his element. He’d picked up the Hamilton vinyl for Gwilym, as well as a new Ariana Grande record for Lucy. He was eyeing up Taylor Swift’s newest release, hoping you wouldn’t notice when he slipped it into the cart. He groaned when you looked him directly in the eyes and shook your head with a knowing smile on your face.

“I was gonna give you that for Christmas! Now you’ve ruined the surprise!” He whined with a pout.

“You are all I want for Christmas.” You replied, already cringing wondering if anyone else had heard you.

He, too, shook his head, but still gave you a quick kiss on the cheek to show his appreciation for you.

The next aisle was the clearance aisle. This was a dangerous one for Ben. His Mum had always taught him “never to pass up a bargain, cause you’ll see it one day, regret not buying it, go back the next day and it’ll be gone!”.

Within 5 minutes of browsing the shelves, he’d picked up a large Christmas-themed Yankee Candle gift set for his brother, a turkey-shaped dog toy for Frankie (this one you’d suggested) as well as a pack of 3 photo frames and a new flower vase for his mum.

Walking to the checkout was always a dangerous game, as the bakery part of the shop was located right next to all the tills. He’d always claim to be “just looking” while you unloaded the trolley onto the moving belt so the cashier could scan your items, and most times he only came back with a box of flapjacks or at the most, 2 jam donuts and a reduced fat chocolate eclair cake.

What you weren’t expecting today, however, was for your boyfriend to return with a basket he’d picked up from somewhere, filled with pastries and cakes that made your mouth water.

“These’ll be alright til Christmas Eve won’t they? Can watch Nativity with our little pizza ‘n then fill ourselves wi’ these after? Yeah?” You didn’t really get a chance to reply before the food was placed down onto the belt. You’d never seen him so happy with himself, thinking he’d just come up with the best idea in the entire world, even though you’d done basically the same thing for the last 2 years of spending Christmas together.

The cashier gave you your total, a whopping £110, even though you’d originally come in for 2 pints of milk, which should’ve brought your total to around…. £3.

He shook his head with a small smile as he took his card out of his wallet, swiping it over the reader and thanking the lady when she gave him his receipt. He rolled the trolley out onto the car park, you following closely behind telling him to unlock the car so you’d be able to hear the beep it made and find it, considering how dark it was outside. After locating the vehicle, he gently placed all the items in the backseat, taking extra care to make sure the pizza was cushioned by Joe’s new shirt and Frankie’s new toy. He dropped the trolley back off at the shelter before getting into the car, strapping his seatbelt and turning the radio on.

Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime” filled the speakers, causing Ben to let out a quiet, “What a fuckin’ banger!”.

You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and give him a peck on the cheek and a ruffle of his hair. You simply were having a wonderful Christmas time.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Anything But Normal

A/n: this was such cute Idea I hope I did it justice. It’s been a while since I’ve written a comedy piece. There are probably spelling errors I’ll go back and fix them later. also I love Jon Favreau as Happy so I had to put him in. (i swear he is one of my favorite actors) btw this is not edited (i’ll come back and do that eventually)

Requested by: @tokiokiedokie​

Warnings: Cussing,(come on it's me guys), partial nudity.

Member: Han Jisung

Summary: When Y/n’s best friend goes through a drastic change he starts keeping secrets. Secrets that include him being New York’s one and only friendly neighborhood spiderman. Shit hits the fan when his new secret life is exposed and she gets dragged into it.

Genre: Spiderman!au, romance, comedy, friends to lovers!au, little bit of angst

There are only three things that truly matter in life. Good friends, good pizza, and a good story. So far I had two of those at the moment. Sadly I was lacking a good story. Our school newspaper had been quite dry despite my efforts to discover new and intriguing stories. 

“Stop sulking and eat.” My best friend said, shoving a piece of cheese pizza in my face. Jisung laughed when I bit the end before returning to look at my laptop. We were at our usual pizza place seated next to the window with the big bright red neon sign lighting up our faces. The sun set over the New York skyline making the moment almost perfect. If only I was writing an exciting article. Instead, I was putting together a riveting look into the school’s menu changes. 

“You know I invited you because I thought you were going to be good company.”

“Please. You invited me because Felix was busy with a stupid Lego project and no one else will eat pizza with you.”

“Whatever.”

Jisung and I weren’t the most popular people in our senior class. To be frank, Jisung was my only friend. So going out and eating pizza every other day at ten o’clock at night was often the highlight of my week. Having had enough of the lack of attention Jisung slammed my laptop closed and removed it from the already small table. “Hey! I didn’t save!” 

“That’s what Google Docs is for.”

He was right. I needed to stop working. I had been slaving over that stupid and boring article all week. He didn’t have to be such an ass though. “You are such a teenager.” I scoffed, watching him shovel yet another slice of pizza down his throat. “Oh, and you are such an adult!” The mocking tone of his voice threatened a laugh. 

“I swear you are God’s punishment for enjoying sex. Everyone’s libido just disappears when you are around.”

“Hey don’t ruin our date. I was considering sleeping with you tonight.”

He laughed when I threatened to smack him. It had been like this for as long as I could remember. Just me and Jisung. My parents had been friends with his before they passed away in a car accident. Now Jisung lived with his Aunt May and his Uncle Ben a few blocks away from me. 

I remember after the crash I would wake to a tap on my window to see an eight year old Jisung on my fire escape. Not wanting to bother his Aunt with his nightmares, Jisung had run all the way to my apartment and climbed the fire escape to my room on the sixth floor. I would open the window and let him sleep in my bed. My eight year old brain used to think maybe my bed was like force field keeping away the bad dreams about his parents.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” Jisung asked bringing me out of my thoughts. 

“Mr. Finoli asked me to take pictures of the science field trip so I’m going with you guys. Why?” A look of realization crossed Jisung’s face making him freeze. “Did you forget to ask May to sign your permission slip?”

“I forgot to ask May to sign my-...you can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?”

Laughing I pulled a ten out of my wallet and left it on the table. “Come on, you’ve gotta get your slip signed, dummy.” “I can pay, it’s no problem.” He said watching me pack up my stuff. “Nah, you can get the next one.” Bellies full of pizza, we left Tony’s Pizzeria and headed in the direction of Jisung’s apartment, his arm draped over my shoulder and talking my ear off about some random experiment they had done in Physics that day. 

The next day I woke up bright and early to meet the class at the New York Museum of Science. Camera bag on my shoulder and camera around my neck I stood outside the museum with about ten other students and two teachers. My tired eyes brightened when I saw Jisung step out from the subway, May right behind him.

I laughed as he wiped a kiss from his cheek before waving goodbye to her. His dyed blonde hair was messy and blew slightly in the wind. Jisung waved when he saw me and jogged over. His hoodie lazily hung off his shoulder and his shirt and jeans were somewhat wrinkled. “Don’t you look nice?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his appearance. 

“Shut up.”

He laughed throwing an arm around my shoulder, leading me closer to the group. Soon the tour began and I busied myself with taking photos of the group for the paper and yearbook. Jisung followed the group, only half-listening to the teacher as he looked at other random exhibits. 

At around one in the afternoon, the group moved outside to have lunch on the steps. I sat off to the side with Jisung, his legs spread out across the stairs and his elbow rested on the step above us. It was refreshing to be next to him talking about absolutely nothing. Even if he stole my food. 

Eventually, we were all called back to resume the tour. I angled a shot of two students looking at a bug exhibit, but just as I took the picture Jisung jumped in the frame throwing up a peace sign and crossing his eyes. “Hey! Stop hitting me!” He yelled as I smacked his shoulder over and over again. “Look I’m just innocently observing the exhibit. Leave me alone crazy woman!”

Sighing, I pushed him away and resumed taking photos. As the group was moving onto the next room I noticed Jisung was missing. It wasn’t unlike him to wander off into a room he wasn’t supposed to just to look at probably like some DNA model or some other weird science shit. I could never get over the fact Jisung was super into science when he gave zero fucks about his other classes. 

“Jisung?”

“Ji?”

“Ji, we are moving on,” I said looking for him. My eyes landed on a semi-open door marked ‘Lab’. He wouldn’t. He did. Just as I started to walk towards the door, he exited with a goofy smile on his face. “Y/n! Dude, they have all these cool spiders and test tubes in there it was so cool! One of them bit me!” Like an excited three-year-old, he showed me his wrist where he indeed had a red spider bite. 

“Ooooooh! Take a picture!” 

He shoved my camera into my hands and held up his arm pointing to the spider bite making the dopiest smile. Knowing he wouldn’t shut up until I complied, I took the picture. 

“Let’s catch up with the group,” I said taking his hand and dragging him back to the class. When we reached the group a teacher looked over at us his brows furrowing. “Excuse me, Miss L/n, is your friend okay?” He pointed to Jisung, a concerned expression on his face.

“Jisung? There are certainly things wrong with him but he’s oka-”

My words stopped when I turned to look at my best friend next to me. “Ji- Oh my god! Ji are you okay?” His face had obviously paled and he looked dizzy. A thin layer of sweat lay on his forehead. 

“Hell yeah. I’m doing fine, baby.” His voice sounded drowsy.

“Miss L/n he is not alright. Does he have anyone who can come get him.” The teacher said pulling out his phone. I shook my head. May worked in the day and his Uncle Ben was on a business trip. “No, they are working.” 

He sighed and turned to me. Jisung was clearly getting worse by the second and was wobbling a little. “What about you? Can you take him home?” Jisung laughed and wrapped his arms around me loosely. “Fuck yeah, I’d her take me home.” 

“I have a test in my last period.”

“I’ll write you a pass and send it to your teacher. Take him home please.”

Nodding he typed something on his phone and returned to the group who had started to move once again. “Okay Ji, let’s get you back to May’s.” Slowly we started moving to the exit. Before we made it to the doors, Jisung practically turned green. He pushed away from me and burst towards the nearest restroom. 

“Jisung!” 

Ignoring the looks and yells I followed Jisung into the restroom and looked for the stall he was in. “Hey, lady get out of here!” A man standing at the urinal screamed. 

“Oh please. Get over yourself.”

“Ji?”

Following the coughing and gagging sounds, I pushed the final stall door open. Jisung sat on the floor his mop of blonde hair hanging over the toilet. I crouched next to him and rubbed his back gently. “Oh god, I hate puking.”

“Jisung everyone hates puking.”

“Yeah well.....your face likes puking.”

“Nice comeback.”

Feeling too terrible to respond, he just threw up the contents of his stomach again. When he seemed able to stand the two of us made our way outside and down the subway. Jisung leaned most of his weight on me as I slid my metro pass through the scanner. How I managed to get him through the turnstile and onto the metro I have no clue. Thankfully there was once last seat free for Jisung to sit down in. 

“Y/n, I don’t feel good.” 

“I know,” I said softly as he rested his head against my stomach. The train turned sharply making me hold onto the strap, not wanting to fall into Jisung. Soft whines and groans came from him every now and then. This was the worst I had ever seen Jisung. 

I listened to the stations being called out as I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping that would calm him down a little. We were only four stops away but more people were getting on the train. Jisung looked up at me a sick expression on his face. It changed when he looked at the passengers boarding the car. 

“Here, Ma’am. You can take my seat.”

“Thank you so much, young man.” An older woman said taking his seat as he got up. “Jisung, you feel terrible. Are you okay to stand?” He shrugged latching onto the strap next to mine, his face paling again. “I’ll be fine, it’s only four stops.”

Jisung’s eyes started to droop as the train started up again. His body began to act heavier than it was so he resorted to leaning on me and nestling his head between my neck and shoulder. I did my best to make sure he didn’t fall over.

“You two are very cute together.” The old lady said with a smile.

“Oh- we aren’t--” 

“You better hold onto a good man like that, sweetie. Handsome and kind. Those are hard to come by.”

Before I could respond we turned again, and I had to keep Jisung from falling in this poor nice old lady’s lap. I felt his skin burning against mine. Could this train not go any faster. Soon enough our stop came. I said bye to the old woman and helped Jisung get off the train and up the subway stairs. 

“Come on, Ji. We are almost there and we both know I cannot carry your ass.” 

Eventually, I made it up the stairs of his apartment building to the fourth floor and managed to drag him to his door. “Jisung, where’s your key?” Trying not to hurt his head I propped him up on the door frame. He laughed when I started searching through his pockets.  

“Y/n if you wanted to cop a feel just ask. That tickles.” 

“Jisung where are your fucking keys?” 

“Back pocket.” He said drowsily. I sighed and reached behind him. My hands searched through his jean pockets for the cold metal keys. “Having fun back there, because I’m sure enjoying it.” 

I suppressed the urge to punch him in the stomach out of fear he would vomit all over me. Finally finding his keys, I unlocked the door and threw my stuff inside, before lugging him in as well. Jisung leaned on the couch while I put my stuff on the table.

“Y/n it’s burning up in here.” 

“Jisung, you just have a temperature.”

“It burns like fucking hell! It’s too hot!”

Before I could stop him Jisung was shedding layers like a snake. He tossed his shirt somewhere in the small living room. He was sweating like crazy, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Ji, come on let’s get you in the shower.” I started running a cold shower for him before rushing back to the living room to call May. It would only be a couple hours until she got home, but I should still let her know what’s going on.

While Jisung was in the shower, I grabbed some medicine from the cabinet. I had absolutely no fucking idea how to treat a spider bite. Antibiotics? Hearing the shower turn off I knocked before entering. Jisung had a towel wrapped around his waist and was leaning his head against the wall. “Y/n...”

“I’m right here, Jisung.” Cautiously I led him to his room and watched him collapse onto his double bed. Rummaging through his drawers I found some mostly clean sweatpants. “Ji, do you even do laundry?” 

“Y/n, I feel a little too fucking sick to do chores now.”

“I know. I know.” He slipped on the sweatpants and let me dry his hair. I wrapped his arms, covering the bite so it wouldn’t get more infected then it already probably was. Jisung’s temperature flipped like crazy. One minute he was burning up and the next he was freezing. 

A sigh of relief left my chest when I heard May call out in the apartment. “Y/n thank you so much for taking care of him.” She gave me a short hug before running to go get more meds. She would know better than I would, being an ER nurse. “Ji, do you want me to stay? I can call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night.” He slowly shook his head.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“I can stay really-”

“Y/n, I’ll be fine. You can go home.” 

He gave me a half-assed smile and squeezed my hand. There was no arguing with Jisung sick or not so I gathered my things and left. May promised to keep me updated and I told her I would have my phone next to me.

The walk back to my apartment seemed longer than usual. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jisung. When I got home, my parents greeted me before telling me they would be working tonight. My dad was a cop and my mom worked at a hospital downtown. It was rare they were even home, to begin with. Exhausted from taking care of Jisung, I rolled onto my bed and fell asleep.

This boy really texted me at five the morning telling me to meet him at his locker three hours later. If he wasn’t still sick I would for sure have throttled him. Except for the fact that Jisung didn’t look sick. Not at all. He looked perfectly healthy as he walked down the hall towards me. In fact, he looked...really....good. It pissed me off. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“Yeah, I got better.”

Jisung opened his locker like it was any other day and got his books. “What did you want to talk about?” He sighed and looked over at me. There was something different about him. Did his jaw always look like that? No. No jaw looks like that. 

“So this morning I woke up and like I felt completely fine. In fact, I felt the best I have in years. And this weird thing happened to me on the subway-”

Jisung’s words were interrupted by the sound of his locker closing, only the entire row of metal lockers rattled as his shut. “The fuck? Did we have an earthquake or something?” I asked looking around. “What? No. New York isn’t on a fault line.” Shrugging it off I turned back to Jisung.

“You were saying?” He seemed distracted now, looking at his closed locker. “Ummm.... I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “Ji, you don’t need to thank me. I’ll always take care of you if you need me.” As I pulled away his hands stayed on my waist, which wasn’t totally out of the norm. Jisung was always a really touchy and flirty person. It drove me crazy sometimes, knowing that it was just his personality and not him acting on something else. 

“So this weird thing happened on my way to school this morning. My hand-” Again Jisung was interrupted. This time by the bell ringing for homeroom. “Hey Jisung, I’ve gotta go, but you can tell me at lunch right?” He nodded, his expression becoming more uneasy. As I turned his grip on my waist stopped me.

“Ji, I know you wanna tell me now but I have to go!” I said with a laugh. A nervous breathy laugh escaped his lips as he tried to pull away from me. “Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you.” Arching an eyebrow I chose to ignore his weird behavior and walked off to my homeroom. 

When the lunch bell finally rang I took my food outside to where Ji and I normally ate. However, he was nowhere in sight. As if he could read my thoughts, my phone notified me of a text from Jisung.

Lix asked me to help him with some Chem work. Sry I can’t eat with you :(

I sent him a quick reply saying it was okay. It wasn’t the first time I had eaten alone and it surely wouldn’t be the last. To no surprise, Chaeyoung and one of her friends walked by. “Have you seen that kid? What’s his name? Jihyun?” She said in her shrill voice. It was hard not to hear her conversation even from twenty feet away.

“No, I think his name is Jisung. Han Jisung. He is in my physics class. Kind of a dweeb if you ask me.” 

“Well, that dweeb filled out. He was probably just a late bloomer, but like all of a sudden, he got really hot. Have you seen his arms and his chest? Oh my god! A girl could die.” 

The girls laughed and continued to objectify my best friend. They were right. Jisung had seemed to have had a huge glow up overnight. His lanky form did seem more toned and his arms were much more muscular than I remembered. 

“Can you believe he still hangs out with that new junkie girl? Like, please. He could get any girl he wants now. Why stay friends with that waste of space?” 

“That bitch is so full of herself. Literally, no one even likes her.” Chaeyoung said laughing. Having heard enough, I got up and decided to go to my next class early. It didn’t necessarily bother me what she had said. Chaeyoung always liked to mess with me.

All my classes seemed slower than usual and Jisung was answering my texts. At this point in the day, we would probably be having a meme war or a stupid conversation ignoring our teachers, but my phone was silent. Not a single notification. 

By the end of the day, I was feeling totally depressed. English was my last class and thank god I had it with Jisung. No doubt he would be late though. He rarely ever showed up on time to class. But, as I walked through the classroom door I did a double-take seeing my best friend in his usual seat right beside mine. 

He gave me an innocent smile. This was strange. Jisung was never early. He looked...normal. I mean other than the physical overnight puberty storm. He slouched in his chair his long legs spilling into the aisle, not that he cared, and he twirled a pen between his long slender fingers. 

“Yo, wassup, cutie?” He said as I sat down. “You seem to be the talk of the school.” He shrugged and shuffled through some physics work he had on his desk. “You jealous?” That stupid smirk appeared on his mouth. “No. Just confused.”

“Okay, class. Settle down. We are going to be returning to our analysis of Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility.” 

I busied myself with taking thorough notes knowing Jisung would just fall asleep again or just play a random game on his phone. The teacher droned on making a seemingly not boring book a complete snooze fest. The lecture continued without end threatening to send me to sleep as well. Out of habit, I looked over at Jisung, except he was not asleep. Jisung was wide awake and he appeared to be listening intently. 

As if he sensed I was looking at him he turned and smiled at me before returning his attention to the front of the classroom. This was too weird. Where was my Jisung? Maybe he was still sick. That could explain the weird behavior, right? 

The harsh sound of the release bell brought me out of my thoughts. Jisung was already packing up his stuff. “Hey, you wanna stop by Tony’s on the way home? You can buy me a slice!” I said latching onto his arm. The girls were right. Jisung had filled out. Feeling myself starting to blush, I let go and looked back up at my best friend. 

“I can’t. I’ve gotta run some errands fro May and then Uncle Ben asked me to pick up dinner and some other stuff.”

“I can come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll text you later!” 

Without another word, Jisung raced out of the classroom. I knew Jisung pretty well and it was clear he didn’t want me around today. Alone-again- I rode the subway back to my apartment to be greeted by an empty living room. My mom had left a note on the counter leaving me money for dinner and saying Jisung was welcome to come over. “Yeah, well he’s too busy,” I said to no one in particular. 

It got dark pretty quick. All my homework was finished. I even managed to submit the stupid article on lunch menus. Eventually, I had nothing to do but stare at my ceiling. The news was getting pretty boring. After the whole Avenger’s fiasco, things had quieted down, and no interesting stories were in sight. By 11:30 I had given up hope Jisung was going to text let alone call so I did the next best thing. 

“Hi, May! Is Jisung busy?” 

“Hi, sweetie! Jisung got home about an hour ago. He said he was out with Felix. Should I tell him to call you?”

“No, no. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell him. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Okay, honey. Goodnight!”

Han Jisung you filthy little liar. If he didn’t want to hang out with me he should have just said so. Deciding I had finally had enough of this awful day I curled up under my covers and fell asleep.

Months had now passed and Jisung had started acting normal again. Well as normal as Jisung could be anyway. Our near daily trips to Tony’s had decreased to only twice a week and Jisung always seemed to be busy after school, though he made sure to text me back for fear of facing my wrath. 

“What do you think of this Spiderman guy?” I asked typing away on my laptop. Jisung lounged across my bed, the Saturday afternoon light casting a warm glow over his face.  He looked up from his place beside me. “Uhh...I don’t know. What do you think of him?”

“He seems a little childish and amateur, but he is a great story. Vigilante helping out downtown New York? That’s gold.”

“Childish? What do you mean childish? He’s professional as fuck. I heard he stopped a bank robbery the other day.”

“Yeah, and they found the criminals hanging from a lampost by their underwear.”

Jisung laughed and ran a hand through his blonde hair before looking up at the ceiling. “You’ve been talking about Spiderman a lot lately. What do you have a crush on him?” I scoffed, fingers flying across my keyboard. “Please. I don’t date children. Besides, I just think he is a great story.”

“You wanna order takeout?” Jisung asked reaching over me to get my phone. My dad was on duty and my mom was on call so Jisung had come over to keep me company. I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice how amazing he smelled as he leaned over me. “You know you should really stop eating junk food. You are what you eat.” I said distracting myself from how close he was.

“Well then if we are what we eat, I guess I would be fast, cheap, and easy.” 

Jisung winked at me, making my eyes roll. Jisung had grown at home in his new body and somehow he got even cockier than he was before. He groaned at my lack of response and instead let his head rest in my lap, giving him a good view of my screen. “Play with my hair, bitch.”

“Excuse me, dick. I’m working.” He laughed and unlocked my phone. I often wondered why he liked just sitting with me. I think I remembered him telling me once that he liked the sound of me typing. He said it had sort of a rhythm that only belonged to me. How he could pick up on that I had no clue. Like he had superhearing. 

“I ordered sushi. Don’t worry, I’ll pay.” Jisung said, adjusting his body slightly so he wasn’t at an awkward angle. I smiled continuing to write about our masked arachnid hero. “Please tell me you got boba too.” I sighed suddenly craving the sweet drink.

“Of course, baby. I’ve got you.” 

There was a moment of silence. Any minute now Jisung was going to break it. The boy couldn’t go three minutes without talking. “Do you think Spiderman is hot?” Jisung blurted out. 

“Jisung...do we need to have a talk?”

“What- no! Oh, what- no! I mean like do you think he’s hot?”

“The guy wears a mask; how am I supposed to know?”

He shrugged and played on my phone. “I don’t know. What do you think he looks like?” With Jisung’s mind, he wasn’t going to drop this until he got an answer. Saving my work, I closed my laptop and moved it onto the side table. “He’s probably like thirteen. I’m mean he is skinny enough to be a pre-teen.”

“No, like his face.”

“You are weirdly obsessed with this you know.”

“Answer the question already. I’m getting bored.”

I thought for a minute, my hand unconsciously moving to run through his blonde locks. What would spiderman look like? “He is probably just some random white dude. Dark hair, blue eyes maybe?”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. The topic changed after that. Jisung told me about spending time with his Uncle earlier that day and we talked about his weird physics experiments. Soon enough, the food came and Jisung paid for it like he said he would. We spent the next several hours sitting in my bed eating sushi, drinking boba, and watching a drama Jisung insisted I ‘needed to see or my brain would explode out of my ears from being lame’.

After several episodes, my room was obscenely dark and my parents had yet to come home. My back rested against Jisung’s chest letting me feel the vibration of his laughs. “Hey, it’s late. You should probably head home.” He smiled when I made no attempt at moving or letting him up. “Do you want me to stay?” “Yes  please.”  He chuckled and pulled out his phone, calling his uncle and letting him know. 

Soon I began to grow tired, my head slumping back onto his shoulder. He poked my side, trying to wake me up. “Hey, go change for bed.” Sleepily, I nodded and shuffled out of bed to sift through my closet for a nightshirt. Jisung moved around getting comfortable while I changed. 

As I walked back over to the bed Jisung shut my laptop and placed it on my nightstand. When I climbed back into my bed he pulled me on top of him, wrapping his arms around my waist. It had been quite a while since Jisung had stayed over. It felt so nice just to be next to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat lulled me to sleep. 

Jisung’s ringtone blared in my small room quickly waking me up. “Ji-” I said shoving my head under the covers. “I got it. Go back to sleep.” A quick glance at my clock told me it was two am. Who the hell was calling Jisung at two am? Jisung reached over me and grabbed his phone off the stand. He tried not to move a lot because my head still lay on his arm. “Hello?”

“Happy? What’s wrong?”

“Jisung tell the Disney dwarf to hang up. I wanna go back to sleep.” I whined, drowsily. Snuggling back into his chest, I reluctantly listened to him sleepily talk on the phone, Jisung not being fully awake himself. “Where am I? I’m at Y/n’s.....Yes....Yes, you can add the location to the list.” I felt Jisung run a hand through his fluffy hair and sigh.

“Mr. Stark said what? Yeah, yeah I have it in my bag....What now?....She’s gonna kill me....I can be there in ten.” Jisung hung up and started to get out of bed. “Woah, where the hell are you going? I need my personal space heater.” Jisung let out a tired laugh as he slipped his baggy shirt back on and rummaged through his bag looking for something. 

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”

“Jisung who the fuck is calling you at two am? What is so important that you have to leave?” I asked still not really awake and comprehensive. “Uhhh....my....internship.”

“Your what?”

“My internship.”

“Your what?” 

“My internship.” 

“Yeah-Ji- you keep saying ‘your internship’ like my half-asleep half murderous mind will understand what your saying.”

 “I got an internship with Stark Industries. They have uh... a problem....with some of the...code that I wrote....last week.” 

Jisung started slipping his socks back on as I stared at him in confusion. “When did you get an internship with freaking Tony Stark -You work with Ironman?!” He laughed and started searching for his shoes. 

“Y/n, go back to sleep. I’ll see you on Monday.” Then he left. I was alone once again in my room. A random siren went off in the distance and I just sat in bed. Suddenly, the police scanner on my dresser crackled to life. My dad had given it to me for my birthday a few years ago. 

We have a 647g Disorderly Conduct at 284 Hickom Av.

647g? Why bother calling that in at this time of night? That was just loitering. Sighing, I got up and walked over to turn the radio off. Another voice coming through stopped me. 

Disregard suspect has left the premise with another group of guys. Headed south down Hickom. 

South down Hickom street? What had my dad said earlier this week? Something about several high arms deals going down near there. If I could catch one in the act this would be a great story! Throwing on some pants and slipping on my sneakers, I grabbed my camera and put on my jacket. “Finally a great story!” 

Hickom Avenue was maybe about ten minutes away. The streets were pretty dark at two am, but it didn’t really bother me. My curiosity overpowered any fear I should have. My eyes scanned the area looking for any sign of the guys the scanner mentioned. Just as I was about to cross in front of an alley I saw them. Quickly I doubled back and pressed against the wall. 

“If I’m paying 4k for some lightsaber shit, I’d better get a demonstration, man.”

Carefully I peeked around the corner. Seven men stood in the hallway. Three were next to this heavy-duty van with blacked-out windows. This was definitely an arms deal if I had ever seen one. Which....to be fair...I hadn’t. But it was pretty clear. 

A guy with muscles bigger than my head pulled out a large weapon with green glowing lights. Quickly I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures. They proceeded to fire this huge light cannon around the alley. Holy shit. This thing was powerful.

“Okay, you got a deal. I’ll take four-”

Let’s dance the night away,

Let’s  dance the night away,

Yeaaaahh

One, Two, Three! Let’s go!

“Fuck,” I whispered ripping my phone out of my pocket and struggling to turn it off. “Turn off, come on.” Finally, I silenced the phone and turned to see if they had heard. Instead my eyes met a broad chest only a couple inches away. 

Okay....think, think, think. Too busy panicking. Can’t think. Uhhhhhh......fuck. I followed my first instinct and threw a punch at the guy’s nose. His head did not recoil like it was supposed to. He just simply cracked his neck and glared down at me.

Okay.....instincts bad.

Before I knew it I was struggling against the man’s grip as he dragged me into the alley. “We’ve got a visitor.” He said throwing me onto the ground in front of all the other men. They sneered and inched closer clearly quite upset I had interrupted their little party. 

“Make that two. Hey, how are you guys doing?” 

All heads turned to the roof of the liquor store we were next to. My eyes widened. There was Spiderman. Complete with the red and blue suit and cocky childish attitude. “Who the fuck are you?” The buff guy, who now had his foot digging into my stomach, said.

“Bro....Come on. I’m Spiderman. You know. I shoot webs and kick ass.” 

“Isn’t he that guy from YouTube that did the flip on that building?”

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

The man scoffed and pressed further onto my stomach, making me wince slightly. “Scram, Arachne Boy.” The men around me laughed at I assumed the leader’s joke. The hero sighed and shook his head.

“See now I have to beat you up. You can’t just make fun of my name. That shit hurts, bro.”

“What the fu-” Before he could finish his sentence a web shot and grabbed onto his face and flung him into the side of the building. Soon a fight broke out. Trying to remove myself from the situation I crawled away as Spiderman fought all the men. 

“Ah!” 

A strong hand grabbed the back of my neck and hoisted me off the ground. “You aren’t getting away that easy, little girl.” The man sneered. A huge welt was on the side of his face from Spiderman’s attack. My airway’s started to close as he squeezed tighter. My hands tried to pull his fingers away and slapping at any place I could reach. Meanwhile, the last thing I would hear before I died would be Spiderman yelling something about Naruto running a dude into the next Millenium. 

As the edges of my vision started to fade, I heard another voice come closer. “Get your fucking mutant hands off her!” It screamed. I was dropped to the ground. Air filled my lungs as I took huge gasps. Looking up I saw Spiderman taking on the huge monstrosity of a man with nothing but his own two hands. 

“I was told never to play with guns. But I think today might be the exception.”

A web shot out of his fingertips and pulled the weird contraption into his hands. A bright light emitted and fired at the man, blasting him into the building wall. Within seconds Spiderman had wrapped up the villain in a little cocoon of sticky webs, keeping him secure. A quick look around told me he had already done the same to the others. 

The boy in the red suit danced around like a weirdo, while I sat on the ground. “Go Spidey! Go Spidey! Hell yeah! I made all of you my bitches!” I coughed still trying to get air back into my lungs. The white eyes on his mask widened. It must be some pretty advanced tech in that suit.

“Holy shit- Are you okay, Y/n...........I mean...wait-...random citizen I don’t know who means nothing to me personally. Are you okay?”

His voice weirdly got lower halfway through his sentence. Dazed, I looked back up at him. He offered me a hand up and gratefully I took it. “Thanks for helping back there,” I said, voice coming out a bit sore. He shrugged and puffed out his chest. 

“Yeah, I did kick some serious ass didn’t I?”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my camera and started to walk away. “Wait! Where are you going?” He swung from a lamppost and landed in front of me the suit’s eyes widening and shrinking again. His suit must have facial readers or something. 

“I’m going home. I’ve got my story; I’m done.”

“Hey it’s not safe. Let me take you home. What would your friends say if you weren’t at school tomorrow?” 

Spiderman continued to follow me as if he were a lost puppy. I laughed when he almost tripped over a trashcan. “Okay, one- how do you know I’m a student? And two- I don’t really have any friends. People don’t like me at school.” He stopped in his tracks. 

“What do you mean- Are you getting bullied at school?” His words stopped me. He sounded genuinely concerned. By now we were halfway to my apartment. I simply stared at him as the old streetlights flickered and struggled to light up the sidewalks we were on.

“A couple people bother me, but I just ignore them. Look I’m gonna go home. Thanks for back there. You were a real hero.” 

He looked between me and my hand as I stuck it out for him to shake. Slowly he took it, his grip firm, but cautious. “You know, usually heroes get a thank you kiss for rescuing such a gorgeous girl.” I scoffed and pulled my hand away. 

“Sorry, Spidey. I’m not interested in cocky little shits who run around wearing masks.”

“Yeah well, you’d be surprised. What is your type? Bet, I’m still it.”

My eyes lit up thinking about him. “I guess I’m more of the boy next door type. They say you always fall for your best friend right?”

He blinked as if he was processing my words. What I thinking? A horny fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t understand. “Night, Spidey. Thanks for the save.” Not letting him say another word, I headed back to my apartment. My apartment was still empty when I returned. My parents wouldn’t be back until after I left for school in a few hours. Reluctantly I went back to my bed, missing the space where Jisung lay only a few hours earlier. It was harder to fall asleep without him next to me.

My legs carried me as quickly as they could. I ignored the crazy looks from people on the street as I raced to May’s apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I burst through the building’s main entrance. Knowing the elevator would take too long and it was probably broken again, I took the stairs up to the fourth floor. 

The door was unlocked when I ran into the apartment. “May? May!” I called, looking for her in the living room. Hearing small cries I turned to find her exiting the kitchen. With open arms, I let her hug me and cry into my shoulder. 

We sat in the kitchen in silence. Occasionally one of our cries would slip, but the emptiness would return. He wasn’t answering any of my calls. I was beginning to worry. May said they were together. Where was he? It had been hours since May had called me. The sound of the door opening made us both stand from our seats. 

Jisung walked in with heavy shoulders and blood on his forehead and smeared across his shirt. He had dried tears staining his cheeks. I had seen the footage of the shooting on the news with May, but the sight of Jisung standing before us made my heart break. 

I held myself back as May went to her nephew. They needed each other. I could wait. Whispers between the two were shared, most likely about her husband. She had already gotten a call, but hearing it from Jisung seemed important to her. After a moment she excused herself, saying something about wanting to go to bed. 

The two of us stood in silence. I had no idea how to comfort him. How could you comfort someone who just watched their uncle die? Jisung started to slowly move towards his room. Wordlessly, I followed. 

After I closed his door, I turned to find him staring at the walls small cries coming from his form. There were pictures of him and his uncle all over his room. Jisung sighed when I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He turned around so he could hold me to his chest. Hot tears fell against my neck as he cried. 

It felt like hours before he calmed down. Gently I led him over to the bed and sat him down. All he could do was stare at his hands as I grabbed a clean shirt from his closet and a wet cloth from the bathroom. There was no fight from him as I lifted the bloodied shirt from his body and put it in the hamper. 

Carefully, I lifted his chin and gently started cleaning the blood away from his face. I tried not to wipe away the tears that slowly ran down his cheeks. He looked broken-and tired like he hadn’t slept even before today’s events. My heart shattered when he finally looked me in the eye. 

“I’m not ready for this.” He whispered, more tears falling. 

Wrapping my arms around him, I let the clean shirt fall to the floor. “I know...” I tried to keep tears from falling from my own eyes. I concentrated on running my fingers through his hair and how tightly he held onto my waist. “You’re never going to be ready for it.” He cried even harder, making me want to scream for him. 

Slowly, I laid back onto his bed, holding him on top of my chest. “No one is ever ready for what you are going through,” I whispered. His body shook from crying and he buried his nose into my neck, holding onto me as if I were the only tether keeping him from floating away. “But, you are so strong. We aren’t faced with challenges we can’t overcome.” His breathing started to steady as my hand traced patterns on this bare skin of his back. “Sometimes I wish I was normal,” He whispered.

“Ji, you are anything but normal. And that’s okay. But for now...you can just be here. I’ll be with you. When you’re ready you can do whatever you need to. But...just stay here for now.”

He nodded and held onto me even tighter. I listened to his breath, gently rubbing his back and playing with his hair. When I knew he was asleep, I let myself do the same. Tomorrow would be another day. I would most likely have to leave and let Jisung and May grieve, but for now, I could be with him. Hopefully, that was enough. 

Early the next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. Jisung’s covers were loosely wrapped around me and his window was cracked open, letting a strip of sunlight in. Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my head. It was quite unusual for him to be up this early. Well, it was quite unusual for me to be up this early, but it was like my body had a sensor for when he was gone. I pulled my phone from the table and started to text him.

The sound of the window opening caused my attention to turn. I froze as I saw Jisung climbing through the window. “What the fuck!” He froze when he saw me. My eyes widened, taking the sight in. Jisung was standing before me wearing a familiar red and blue suit, a mask in his hand. 

“Y/n, I can explain...”

Was Jisung Spiderman? Was my best friend Spiderman? Holy shit! “Okay explain!” He simply stared at me, eyes wide. His hand came to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes avoided mine as my arms crossed my chest. 

“Jisung, might I suggest explanation protocol #38 for Miss L/n?”

“Oh my God! Friday, shut up! You aren’t helping.”

I watched as Jisung said to the AI apparently in his suit before he tossed the mask onto his desk. “You have an explanation protocol for me?” The look on his face showed that he knew he was in trouble. 

“See the thing is...I’m not Spiderman-...” He stopped when I glared at him. “Okay, I am Spiderman. This is my internship with Mr.Stark.” Without hesitation, I got up from his bed and started slapping his arm.

“This doesn’t even hurt, does it? You have superstrength. Oh my god, I’m going to fucking murder you.” An aggravated sigh left my chest. “So this whole entire time you have been swinging around the city saving people and doing flips on buildings and I was none the wiser?” I said turning back to him.

“That was one time! But...yes.” He stood awkwardly in his own room. “Look, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” He gulped when my stern gaze turned back on him. “So, anything you ask I’ll answer.” 

“Who else knows?”

“Mr. Stark, Happy- the guy who is my supervisor-, and Felix.”

“FELIX?”

He flinched as my voice raised. Taking a breath, I calmly sat back down on his bed. He watched as I crossed my legs and turned off the sound on my phone. No way was I gonna let my parents interrupt this conversation. “How did you become like...this...” I asked pointing to his clearly toned physique.

“At first I thought it was just like another puberty thing. But, like puberty doesn't make me shoot webs out of my hands. I think it was that spider from the lab.”

“So do-...are all your...bodily fluids...like...webs? Like do you shoot webs out of everywhere or-”

“You wanna find out?” Jisung said with a smirk, coming closer. I did not hesitate to slap him. 

“You couldn’t think of a better name though? Spiderman, really? You couldn’t come up with something more aggressive?”

“Well, I mean...like - spiders are cool, okay!”

I could tell he was uncomfortable. Usually, Jisung always stood up straight and had some sort of a smile or smirk on his face, but he was truly nervous. He watched me expectantly, waiting to answer whatever questions I asked next.

“So when you said you were away on a company retreat for the weekend. That was actually you who was fighting Captain America and all that shit in Prauge?”

“Yes.”

“When you left that night, did you go to the arms deal?”

“Yes.”

“So, it was you who saved me.”

“Your welcome.”

“Don’t push it.”

Nervously, he let out a laugh. No matter how many questions I asked...he was still my best friend. I was proud of him. He was doing so much good. Don’t get me wrong I was still very pissed at him for not telling me. “You owe me pizza at Tony’s for the rest of the fucking year.” A sigh of relief left his chest and he wrapped me in a hug. 

“That’s fine by me. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask about the whole crush thing.” I pulled away to see that fucking smirk on his mouth. “I think it’s cute you’re in love with me.” He tugged me closer to his body, gripping my waist.

“Who says I’m in love with you?”

“Me.”

“You’re an asshole- you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“I’m an asshole, not a liar. There’s a difference.”

My breath caught in my throat when I saw his eyes glance down to my lips. I could practically feel my heartbeat pulsing through my entire body. It was true and he knew it. I was in love with him. “Well....what are you going do about it? Prick...” I said in a shaky breath. He let out a soft laugh, his eyes lighting up. 

“Kiss you....bitch.”

My heart went crazy as he pressed his lips to mine. Closing my eyes, I melted into his touch. This was definitely the craziest two days of my entire life. I never would have imagined I would have to comfort my best friend, find out he was a superhero running around New York, and then have him kiss me in his bedroom.

Jisung smiled as I kissed him back, draping my arms around his neck and threading my fingers through his blonde hair. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought kissing Jisung would be like this. Without his mouth leaving mine he pushed me up against the wall of his bedroom. He sighed when my teeth caught his bottom lip.

“Fuck...do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” He asked before returning to my lips. 

“Kissing me?”

“To be honest I’ve been thinking about more than that since I was thirteen.”

Ignoring my scoff, Jisung continued to attack my lips like he had found water for the first time after walking in a desert. His hands slid under my legs, making me shriek when he picked me up. In one swift motion, he turned around and threw me onto his bed, before hovering over me. “I love you,” He whispered, before placing a soft kiss on my lips. Slowly, he moved down to my neck, my hands running through his soft hair. Impatiently, I pulled him back to my lips. 

Our little makeout session was interrupted by the sound of Jisung’s phone ringing. He sighed and dropped his head onto my shoulder. “I have to get that,” He sighed and pushed himself off the bed, walking over to pick up his phone. My eyes couldn’t help but rake over him. Now, I could freely ogle how gorgeous his body was. I bit my lip, looking at the lines of his broad shoulders go down to his slim waist.

“Happy, now is not a good time.”

“Yes....among other things...” A blush flooded his cheeks as he looked back at me still laying on his bed. 

“Can’t Mr. Stark send someone else?”

“I’m not just going to up and leave.”

Getting bored, I got up and wrapped my arms around him. He tried to look over at me, but I just buried my face in his chest. Patiently, I waited for him to finished the call with Happy. Finally, he threw the phone onto his bed and kissed me again. “Do you have to go?” I asked against his lips. He pulled away another smirk filling his face.

“You want to go to Berlin for a week?”

“What?”

“Mr. Stark needs me in Berlin. Something about S.H.I.E.L.D and an Avenger thing. But, there is no way May will let me go. Especially after yesterday.”

“Why am I going?”

“Happy said I could take you with me, you know to convince May to let me go.”

I laughed and kissed him again. “Sure. I’ll go to Berlin with you.” He laughed and spun me around the room. “However, you are gonna be the one to tell my dad that we are going alone with no chaperone to a country where the drinking age is sixteen.” 

“Fuck.”

“Good luck, Ji.”

Requests are open, just send an ask my lovelies!

Masterlist

[notveryglittery]

birthday prince (1)

summary: roman gives the performance of his dreams and deceit loves him all the more. words: 1,330 / ship: roceit (roman/deceit)  author’s note: hello!! this is the first part of my Giving The Gay Anything He Wants series for roman’s birthday (june 4)! the ships are all written romantic but i’m not stopping you from seeing them however you want. peep the ao3 end notes for credits on these gift suggestions (bc i can’t decide where to put them in this post)! i hope you enjoy!!

part 1 (roceit) | part 2 (logince) | part 3 (prinxiety) part 4 (royality) | part 5 (dlampts) read on ao3 

— — —

“Darling, may I please open my eyes now?”

“Trust me. We’re almost there.”

Deceit could try all he wanted to hide the excitement in his tone but Roman had no trouble picking up on it. There were hints of nervousness there, too, but Roman was sure that whatever his love had planned, he was going to enjoy it no matter what. Surely, it had something to do with his birthday, given that the week of it had just begun. Usually, Sundays were reserved for family time, but apparently Deceit had had this in the works for a while now, and if they all knew anything, it was to not throw a wrench into his schemes. The part Roman was having a hard time wrapping his head around was the fact that Deceit was giving him such an early birthday gift.

His hand was cool in Roman’s but it held on securely as they walked. They were dressed nicely, with matching accessories. The rings on Deceit’s fingers kept clinking against the ones that Roman wore and as silly as it was, he couldn’t stop smiling about it. During their stroll, the air had been warm and the floor mostly carpet beneath their feet; at the sound of doors opening, however, there was a brief crisp breeze and suddenly each step echoed around them. Roman would know this room no matter the circumstances. A giddy laugh bubbled up his throat.

“What’re we doing here, bee?”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself?” Deceit suggested, pulling Roman’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Roman opened his eyes. As he expected, Deceit had taken them to the Theatre. It had always been a pleasant and neutral space in Thomas’ mind. Whereas Roman kept control over the Fantasy Realm or Logan the Memory Archives, the Theatre was available for any of them to use as they needed. It was often transformed for Daydream Scenarios but Roman liked it best like this, in all its original glory.

“Shall we?” Deceit prompted, gesturing down the aisle and towards the front row seats.

Roman might not know what was in store but he had no intention of turning it down. He followed again, resisting the urge to mention Deceit having not actually answered his question. He knew he’d find out any moment now, anyway. They settled comfortably, Deceit not once letting go of Roman’s hand. It was only a few seconds later that the lights dimmed and everything shifted. No longer were they figments of the imagination, sat in a theatre that he had created. As far as Roman could tell (and feel), they were in New York City, at the Richard Rodgers Theatre. It was… it was absolutely magical.

And then the opening notes rang out and Roman’s breath rushed out of him.

”How does a bastard, orphan…”

“What… you—”

“Oh, don’t get all flustered now, dear,” Deceit interrupted, equal parts teasing and adoring. “You’ve got a role to play.”

The reds and golds of his suit were replaced in an instant and the 18th century garb he wore now matched that of the actors performing. His hands were shaking but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was terrified or excited. It was probably both.

“Shut up,” he squeaked.

“Happy birthday,” Deceit purred, entirely too self-satisfied.

”And the world’s gonna know your name…”

In a blink, Roman was center stage, in darkness. The show had been sold out, every seat filled. Most of the audience appeared faceless and unimportant to him but, barely, he could see Deceit still sat in the front row. The pride and awe shone blatantly on his face. Roman’s heart was racing. It was adrenaline and fear and joy and nerves and satisfaction. It was butterflies in his stomach and dreams coming true and the sensation of slipping into character and playing his part with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

”What’s your name, man?”

“Alexander Hamilton!” Roman sang as the spotlight beamed down on him.

— — —

Roman threw himself into Deceit’s arms as soon as he arrived backstage. He was out of breath and had been crying since the end of the curtain call but he was blissfully happy. Absolutely nothing could take him down.

“I love you,” he gasped, peppering Deceit’s face with kisses. “That was exhilarating! I just performed in Hamilton! Alongside the original cast! I played the lead role! Oh my god!”

“And you were brilliant,” Deceit said, leaning back just enough so that Roman could see his smile. There was a bouquet in his arms and the flowers were pushing against their chins; it tickled but it smelled sweet. “No offense to Lin-Manuel, but—”

“No!” Roman exclaimed, laughing through his tears. “Don’t you dare besmirch Mr. Miranda’s name!”

Deceit rolled his eyes but relented. He pulled away and offered his gift out to Roman. “I know, they aren’t nearly as handsome as you. However…”

There was more weight to the bundle of roses than Roman would have expected. Upon closer inspection, he found a carefully wrapped package tucked in the middle. He cradled the flowers in his elbow and took the parcel out with his free hand.

“This is for anytime you need reminding of how loved and cherished you are. If for some reason none of us are available to do so, that is.” Deceit was telling him but Roman was transfixed by the handheld mirror revealed as the cloth fabric fell away. It was shiny and gold, with rubies and citrine embedded in the handle.

“I don’t know how true any of it is but,” Deceit began and Roman could hear the telltale start of a nervous ramble. “Rubies are protective stones that bring happiness. Citrine encourages self-expression and creativity. They’re also…” He paused. Roman’s heart felt warm at Deceit’s growing blush. “You know… our colors.”

Before Roman could respond, the mirror flashed pale yellow. He winced and then nearly dropped it because it had started to speak.

“Oh, dearest Roman, it should be impossible for you to be any more attractive than you already are! Somehow, though, the expression you wear when gazing at your loved ones adds still so much to your infinite beauty!”

“Excuse me?!” He yelped, mouth falling open in surprise.

“Good timing,” Deceit said, having seemingly recovered. “And don’t think you can get away with needing it but feeling as if you don’t deserve it. It’ll compliment you whether you like it or not.”

Roman couldn’t even be upset at the blatant callout on his behavior when Deceit looked so pleased with himself. Creating something like this… he had to have taken into account the mirrors’ awareness of its surroundings, knowing when Roman would need it… This hadn’t been a trifling task. Roman thought he might burst with all of the feelings welling up inside of him.

“I love it,” he managed, voice wobbling as tears sprung fresh to his eyes. “I love you. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you—” The gratitude dissolved into happy crying, positively overwhelmed by it all.

“It’s the least I could do for you, my prince,” Deceit crooned, stepping closer and taking Roman gently in his arms. “The world would be yours, if I could give it. Until then, I’ll continue to do my utmost in providing you anything you could ever ask for.”

The Theatre melted away as Deceit carefully sunk them out. While Roman retrieved a box of tissues, Deceit took the flowers and mirror and set them safely aside. It took only a few minutes longer for them to be dressed comfortably and in Roman’s bed, wrapped snugly in blankets. He was crashing quickly, from the last of the adrenaline and the final wave of emotions. Everything was just the right amount of comfortable, Deceit’s cooler temperature keeping them from being too warm from Roman’s elevated body heat. He felt cocooned and safe in Deceit’s embrace and knew that there wasn’t anyone on the planet luckier than him.

[ohdearhiddles]

request: can you do a one shot where Tom is filming for some new series or something and hasn’t answered his phone all day and he gets super apologetic because he doesn’t want the reader to feel like he’s ignoring her??

TITLE: Deserving Better

WORD COUNT: 1728

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: literally the tiniest amount of angst possible, and kinda fluffy towards the end -- also this is my first time posting a one shot to this account so i hope its not too shabby (( i also already posted this but messed up so here it is again oops ))

You were never one to complain about people’s schedules, even when they made you feel slightly lonely. Everyone around you, including yourself, had a life outside of just friendships and romantic relationships. This was something you had to constantly remind yourself every time you found that your texts and calls were going unanswered for hours, sometimes days, on end. It was something you silently chanted to yourself especially now.

It was a typical Friday for you, a rare day off from work, that was meant to be completely stress free. Today was supposed to be no exception to this “no stress” rule you had made for off days; however, no matter how much you tried, relaxing just wasn’t on the agenda. You had woken up to a sweet text message from your most recently acquired boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston. Although the two of you had only known each other for a few short months, it felt as though you both had found your endgame. This wasn’t spoken in conversation, of course, but it was obvious in the way you treated each other that there was something between you that neither of you had found in anyone else.

You were sitting on the sofa in the comfiest clothes you could find, snacking on some popcorn as the 4th movie of the day’s credits rolled across the screen. It was 8:03pm, and for some odd reason you couldn’t shake this weight on your chest no matter how much you tried. Tom had started filming at 9am, he had told you this in the text. Surely they had finished their filming by now, right?

Sighing, you grabbed your phone from between the couch cushions where you had purposefully shoved it in hopes that you wouldn’t stare at it all day. You carefully read the text he sent again:

“Good morning, darling. You’re probably sleeping still, I hope this text doesn’t wake you. I start filming at 9, but text me whenever you wake up.”

You read the text a couple more times just for the sake of feeling the wave of happiness it sent through you. Seconds later, you decided to put the phone back where you had it a minute ago. 

Tom was a thoughtful man, always caring, always sweet. When the two of you started dating, he made it clear that he would be quite busy right off the bat, but he would try his hardest to make time for you. After a string of bad relationships, you weren’t so sure of the idea of dating an actor, let alone an actor that was quite well known. Tom was extremely convincing, though.

Well, to be honest, you didn’t need much convincing. All he really had to do was look into your eyes, kiss the back of your hand, and smile his award-winning smile. That was all it took to sweep you right off your feet, and you didn’t regret it one bit. 

Tom was right, of course. He was extremely busy. One month after your first date, he was already planning on filming for a new series in the city. You shared your excitement with him with drinks, kisses, and a passionate night, but it didn’t stop you from feeling like this could be a test so early on in a relationship. The same question kept popping up in your head after that: 

Could you really handle not hearing from him all the time? Would he miss anniversaries? Birthdays? Holidays?

You kept telling yourself that yes, of course. That didn’t do much for your mind in the long-term as the days passed. Tom had already called for a rain-check on date night once or twice in the past couple months. You had brushed it off for the most part because it could be much worse.

He had told you to text him when you woke, and you did. At least, you could have sworn you did. Groaning at your own impatience, you quickly grabbed the phone again to make sure you had hit send on the text from this morning. You did. You also saw that you definitely hit send on the text you sent at 3:21pm, asking whether or not Tom had eaten lunch. He probably didn’t.

You gently tapped the message box for the millionth time since you woke up. There were multiple texts that you had almost sent throughout the day, but the last thing you wanted to do was seem clingy when he already told you that he was going to be busy. Realistically, you knew he wasn’t ignoring you, but in the back of your head you had already begun to worry if he was tired of you when he had so many beautiful celebrities in his midst at all times. He wasn’t a typical man that you meet and go on a few dates with, and you knew this very well.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, dancing in the air as you thought of something, anything, to say that was enough reason to text. Slowly but surely, you decided that it was probably best to just ask if they were done filming yet. So that’s what you did.

As the 5th movie of your day began coming to a close, meaning that it was most likely close to 11pm, you wondered if Tom was ever going to answer his phone. He hadn’t gone this long not responding before and that thought only made it worse in your mind. What if he was now completely annoyed that you had asked if they were done filming? As silly as the thought was, you couldn’t help but contemplate it. Just as you finished running through the endless possibilities from his annoyance to him somehow ending up hospitalized, your phone began to ring. 

Upon picking up the device, all the worries vanished from your mind. A cheeky photo of Tom kissing your temple showed on the screen: his contact photo. You let out a breath you had probably been holding all day right as you hit the answer button.

“Hello?” You answered the call, a sheepish grin on your face as if to hide your embarrassment.

“Y/N, darling, I am so sorry for not answering your texts.” Tom’s voice poured through the phone. He sounded frantic, every word seemingly rushing in order to explain himself. “I left my phone in my car and by the time I realized I left it, we were starting to film.”

“It’s alright,” you said. Ten minutes ago, it most certainly wasn’t alright, but you wouldn’t let that show especially with him sounding so flustered about the situation. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“No, no,” he shushed you, “I even told you to text me when you woke up, but I didn’t have the blasted thing on me. Love, please forgive me.”

You let out a small laugh, “All is forgiven.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed on.

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Then,” he drew out the word as something in the background of the call began rustling, “I suppose I should go back home.”

Confused by his statement, you sat up. Tom was quite unpredictable, and for some reason you felt as though he was up to something right now.

“Home? Are you not home yet?” You asked, trying to hide the overwhelming curiosity that had taken you over.

“Well, not quite, I got some Chinese take out in hopes that my girlfriend would forgive me of my wrongdoings,” he sighed dramatically through the phone, pausing for some dramatic effect. “But I guess that won’t be necessary since she says that I’ve already been forgiven.”

“No,” you rushed out, slipping off the couch and running towards your bathroom. Your hair was a mess and you looked as if you had just crawled out of bed. Granted, you had definitely been sitting on the couch for the past 10 hours, but Tom didn’t need to know that. If he saw you like this, though, he would definitely know that. “Not forgiven. I want the take out, give me a second.”

You could hear his laugh through the phone as the sound of his car door closing made you move ten times faster. You threw the phone onto your bed, running to the bathroom to fix your hair and gargle some mouthwash so that Tom wouldn’t be able to smell the hundreds of different snacks you had consumed in one sitting. A full minute passed before there was a knock at the door. Fumbling for your phone, you saw that he had already ended the call.

As quickly as you could, you went to open the door. The second your eyes fell on him, you stilled. It wasn’t just takeout; he had brought the entire brigade with him as an apology. He held a bouquet of your favorite flowers with the takeout in one hand, and in the other he held a bottle of wine. Tom smiled at the shocked expression on your face before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and letting himself inside.

After slipping off his shoes and placing the food and flowers on the table, he made his way over to where you stood. His tall frame loomed over you as he placed his hands on your hips, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“You didn’t have to go this far,” you said, head tilted to look at the small distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t I?” He breathed, pulling your body closer until his hands wrapped around your waist and rested at the small of your back. “I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, I know how you get sometimes.”

You held your breath. Tom knew that your past relationships went sour because of lack of communication and because you had a tendency to overthink, but you never realized that he was taking that into account. It started to click in your mind as you recalled his promises to make time for you, to be there for you, and to try his hardest to make things work. He had done all of that for you, because he was thinking of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered perhaps too quietly for him to even hear it.

Tom heard it, and as he tilted your chin up to look at him, his smile showed that he did.