#i left some of my guidelines in honestly because if it makes people realize how easy it is to draw this npc and jack

[twst-mer]

playing with savanaclaw manga style

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer, Issue #59: Urban Warfare (Part 3)

Finally, it’s here! You guys have no idea how much I had been looking forward to this Issue, and for a good reason, but let’s first admire the art by Nathalie Haines, which was actually drawn like a classical painting. It’s magnificent!

*clasps hands*

Anyways, Urban Warfare (Part 3); what is there to say about it? Holy Hell, what isn’t there to say about it? Honestly, I had been losing my mind the moment I read the summary for it, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. But, before I start, a little recap since it has been a while.

Sonic and the Diamond Cutters (Tangle, Whisper and Lanolin) arrived at Eggperial City to figure out what is going on, and have found out that the city is expanding by itself. As they plan their next move, the Diamond Cutters end up in a different dimension due to one of Eggman’s portals featured in The Test Run Arc, while Sonic calls for reinforcements. Tails, Amy, Blaze and Silver show up and as they progress through the city, they run into Team Dark destroying Badniks left and right.

So, I’m not even one page into the story and I’m already picking up Sonadow energy from this moment. Trust me, I had a field day with this one.

Sonic is genuinely shocked to see Shadow... and only Shadow. I can’t blame him though, considering how their last encounter went.

Yeah, I’m not sure how many of you remember, but Shadow’s last appearance was in The Chao Races and Badnik Bases Arc, where he made some rather questionable decisions, but not as bad as what happened during The Crisis City Arc (aka the Zombot Fiasco), based on how SEGA wanted him to be written in the story. Fortunately, regarding the writing, we had actually gotten some good news in the weeks leading up to Team Dark’s, and especially Shadow’s, reintroduction to the comics.

To keep it short, all that talk about Shadow having a bunch of locks and chains placed on him to keep him in line with their vision... well, they started to break. From what I understood, SEGA gave more workable guidelines for him that allow for more liberties with writing his character - or in other words, Vegeta!Shadow is finally gone!!! As a matter of fact, while reading through the story, the improvement in his character was remarkable. Admittedly, it might not be for everyone, but goddamn, I’m loving it!

Not to mention, this is the first time since The Crisis City Arc that we see Team Dark working together once again. Also, Rouge, why are you calling everyone else kids when you’re only 18? (And yeah, I know SEGA removed the ages for all the characters, but let’s be honest, who pays attention to that?).

Sonic quips how he’s flattered that they’re here to rescue him, but they’re late to the party and... Silver, what the hell are you doing with Blaze?

*laughs* Even Tails and Amy have noticed that Silver is holding Blaze upside down, while he didn’t register any of it. I suppose Silver is too focused on Team Dark’s reappearance to realize what he’s doing.

Shadow just leaps off the scrapped Badniks, replying to Sonic how he has no idea what he’s talking about, nor does he care. Sonic, on the other hand, looks a little disappointed with that answer. I suppose he had been hoping for some banter.

Rouge then quickly brings him up to speed, explaining how she called in “her boys” (I see this as another win for everyone who say Team Dark are friends!) to see what they could do about Eggperial City - aka destroy everything in their path, foil Eggman’s plans and maybe steal some kind of treasure.

Sonic figures that makes sense, but I’m still convinced he’s disappointed they (or rather Shadow) weren’t here to help him out.

Cue Amy shoving Sonic away to talk to Rouge. I saw people saying how she’s just being overprotective of her crush, but I was questioning where Amy’s line of sight is. Amy notes how this is awfully altruistic of Rouge, but as I said above, she’s in because she wants to raid Eggman’s private vaults for a handsome reward.

Tails and Silver are hyped up to work with them to destroy the city though.

Omega notes how the conversation is irrelevant to their mission, and Rouge notes how Team Sonic would just slow Team Dark down and they’d be going off on their own, with Omega also promising to not hit anyone in the crossfire. Honestly, I think this is the nicest thing Omega could tell them.

Meanwhile, Sonic looks so done with everything. We don’t get annoyed Sonic often, so it’s neat to see him like that, and it makes sense, considering how in a (I assume) very short time-span (depending on when Scrapnik Island takes place), he had discovered Eggperial City and was chased by Metal Sonic while keeping Tails, Kit and Belle safe and having his leg injured, fought Surge at least three times, discovered what Starline had done to them, got separated from the Diamond Cutters and is now trying to foil another of Eggman’s plans while being on his territory and having to deal with Badniks.

That, and Rouge said they were slowing Team Dark down.

Never tell Sonic he’s slowing you down. Never.

Oh, and as the cherry on top, Eggman decides to make an announcement. But instead of talking about how he’s gonna blow up the moon, he decides to explain to everyone how the Eggperial City works. It is a self-replicating and self-repairing metropolis. Anything they destroy, dozens more will rise to take its place. Eggman also figures that this would be a nice time to rise the stakes a little, so he calls in for a little surprise.

IT’S THE SHADOW ANDROIDS!!!

To note, we haven’t seen these guys since Whisper’s backstory way back in the Tangle and Whisper Miniseries and before that, we haven’t seen them since Sonic Heroes and Shadow the Hedgehog.

Going by Shadow’s reaction, he’s clearly shocked to see them again, and Eggman’s obviously going to use the Shadow Androids to their fullest potential.

Hell, Eggman has already the popcorn ready, all to happy to watch the carnage unfold. He calls it a stroke of genius in regards of building robots that mimic Shadow’s skills and holding onto them for the right moment (and that’s not even accounting for the mindscrew Shadow had to deal with when he encountered one for the first time).

Metal Sonic, though, is not happy about the Shadow Androids being dispatched. I’m certain that he wants to be the one on the battlefield.

While this is happening, the Diamond Cutters have infiltrated the control room, Lanolin and Whisper sneaking in, while Tangle just strolls inside like she owns the place, much to Lanolin’s chagrin, and points out how no one’s gonna spot them as she places her hand through Metal’s head. Lanolin just sighs, figuring this should make checking the room out easier, while Whisper stares in the screen in pure shock, realizing that the past is about to repeat itself.

She breaks down, and honestly, I really love the backgrounds in this page. We can see the darkness surrounding Whisper as she tells them how everyone’s going to die. However, the moment Tangle reaches for her and comforts her, the darkness slowly fades away, replaced by a ray of light. Tangle hugs Whisper, promising her how things will be fine, and even Lanolin joins in on comforting Whisper. While these three are still learning, they do make a great team.

Speaking of the Shadow Androids, we see Team Sonic fighting them, everyone being clearly in shock to what they are, with Tails being unable to get clear readings about them as they’re too fast. Even Blaze’s fire is not enough to keep them back and they’re strong enough to deal with Amy’s hammer.

Now, I’ll stop here to put a reminder. On the heroes side, no one but Shadow, Rouge, Omega, Whisper and Tangle here knows about the Shadow Androids. Whisper’s encounter with them is obvious, and Tangle saw footage of that, while Shadow, Rouge and Omega ran into them in Sonic Heroes, and Shadow had another (dubiously canonical) encounter with them in Shadow the Hedgehog.

Realizing just how dire the situation is, Sonic calls Silver for help so they can escape. Silver, being the awesome psychic he is, lifts the ground into a ramp and with Blaze frying the Shadow Androids that are after them, Sonic grabs everyone to get away from the robots in pursuit (also, nice Sonamy moment with that little blush).

Team Sonic finds Team Dark after the groups have been briefly separated, with Blaze grabbing Sonic and Amy’s hands and rushing over to help Team Dark. Yeah, there is an error in the panels, as both show Blaze grabbing hands with rings around them, suggesting she was grabbing only Amy’s hand. I suppose the artist forgot to erase the ring to make it clear she was also grabbing Sonic.

Back with Team Dark, Shadow assesses how Eggman’s trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers and how there’s no strategy to their movements, meaning they can be easily manipulated. He figures that, once they move to a better position, they can take them out.

Cue Blaze throwing Sonic and Amy (another error, both are blue instead of being blue and pink) with Sonic spin-dashing and Amy smashing the Shadow Androids that were about to attack Shadow.

With a nose flick, Sonic is right back to quipping, asking Shadow whether he had some cousins he never told them about, while Shadow responds with “Please. These cheap copies don’t deserve to wear my place.”

Have I told you how much I love these two together? (≧◡≦)

As the battle continues, Shadow explains how the Shadow Androids are cheap copies created by Eggman, and how he’ll pay dearly for this insult. Unfortunately, Omega loses his footing and is being brought down by the Shadow Androids, but he keeps on fighting. Realizing how things are getting dire, Rouge asks Shadow to use his own powers against the Shadow Androids, but he responds how it is impossible without a Chaos Emerald (makes me wonder what happened to the Chaos Emerald Rouge stole in the Sonic Annual).

Tails rushes in, telling Shadow how the crystals are also generating Chaos Energy, with Shadow agreeing, but notes how the energy is distorted.

“Fake Emeralds... I hate to stoop to using such a pale substitute, but... it will do.”

Okay, can I say that this panel is absolutely amazing, and what’s about to happen is jaw-dropping!

I swear, this was my reaction to seeing this page:

Not only is the art absolutely gorgeous, but it finally shows Shadow as a pure badass who has the skills to support his title of The Ultimate Lifeform! Honestly, words cannot describe how much I love this! Bow your heads low, all hail Shadow!

And to add a cherry to the top of this moment of awesomeness:

Absolutely badass! It’s really great to see Shadow let loose from time to time. Hell, even Team Sonic is amazed!

Tails, Amy and Silver are starstruck, Rouge is proud of her boy, Blaze is... stunned, to say the least (I suppose she never saw what Shadow was truly capable of), while Sonic figures he should too give it a try.

And yeah, I saw the Dark Sonic jokes floating around. Are you guys forgetting that Sonic was the first to use a Fake Chaos Emerald for Chaos Control back in Sonic Adventure 2? He knows how to handle them.

Shadow then points out that they’re not done yet and goes for another Chaos Control, only for something to happen...

A giant crystal shoots out of the ground, throwing everyone off, while Rouge asks Shadow what’s happening. Shadow is crackling with Chaos Energy, warning her that it’s too much and...

Holy frigging Hell! Shadow unleashes a blast of Chaos Energy, nuking everything surrounding him. Everyone escapes, and when Rouge tries to get back to Shadow and Omega, she’s stopped by the crystals, which are now shooting out from everywhere.

Eggman quickly attempts to regain control of the situation, figuring Shadow would cause trouble. Tangle wonders what happened, with Whisper answering how it was Chaos Overload (how does she know that?). I suppose Shadow used to much of the surrounding Chaos Energy and it was too much for him to handle since the Fake Chaos Emeralds were spread out all over the city. He may be a Master of Chaos Control, but even this would overwhelm someone like him.

Eggman activates the emergency limiter, rebooting the system, noting how it’ll take more to take out his city.

Team Sonic and Rouge observe the destruction Shadow had caused, with Tails figuring it was some runaway feedback loop. Rouge is worried about Shadow and Omega, but Sonic, Silver and Blaze assure her that not only are the two tough, they also know what they’re up against and they can deal with Eggman. Rouge is cheered up, while Sonic looks forward to Shadow’s expression when he saves him.

Yeah, Sonic will never let Shadow live that down.

Back with Eggman, the power has returned, the system got rebooted... and Eggman lost Sonic and co. Lanolin points out how the power surge nearly crippled the entire city, so if they trigger another bigger one, this should destroy it. But in that moment, all three of them become suddenly visible, with Eggman spotting them.

In two magnificent panels, we get an Eggman obscured by shadows, really creeping me out, as he figures they ran into his spatial-displacement trap. He explains how they almost got out when the power dipped, but he has a way of dealing with them, summoning another model of the portal and telling them how this will scatter their atoms into oblivion.

Whisper takes the shot, and honestly, if she still hadn’t been trapped in that other dimension, she would’ve killed Eggman then and there. The blast went right through his chest. Like, this was probably the fourth time she attempted to kill someone in cold blood (first Mimic, followed by another attempt at Eggman’s life, then Surge and now Eggman again).

What’s even more chilling is how calm Eggman is, well aware what his trap had done. It then surrounds Whisper.

Tangle screams for her as Whisper is trapped inside the device, and then spots another one flying for her, only for Lanolin to ram her out of the way and tell her to tell everyone what happened and what to do before getting captured herself.

Tangle is cornered, but she suddenly phases through the window, falling out of the command tower. The story ends on a literal cliffhanger.

Holy Hell, I absolutely loved this Issue! It was beyond awesome for all the reasons I already talked above, but there is one specific thing I wanted to discuss in the ending of this analysis - Shadow’s portrayal.

Honestly, I had absolutely no complaint with how he was written in this Issue. People might not agree with me, but I think Urban Warfare really redeemed him, as rather than being prideful and arrogant, he was more business-like and focused on the mission, pragmatic and patient in explaining to everyone what is going on, as well as having his moments of banter with Sonic.

As for him being taken out of the battle, alongside Omega, I’m actually fine with it, as it’s the manner with how he was put out of commission.

Seriously, compare this:

To this:

It’s not about pride, it’s about saving everyone with his own power, and that’s what I had been missing from IDW!Shadow for so long.

I really hope we’ll see more of this in the future.

Links:

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#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)

[quiveringdeer]

Attention Minors and folks under 25 tbh:

Yo, what's up. So we all know you can lie about the numbers in your profile--I did it before turning 18 and I'm sure many other now grown folks have to.

That said, I wanna drop some guidelines cause this has just been on my mind a bunch with the way all the big push of "do not interact" signs, blocking, and toxic purity culture resurgence of the past few years.

Please mind the do not interacts of folks I reblog and interact with content of

You've gotta be mindful of the differences between works of fiction and real life but also understand that the more of something you consume, the more it can impact the way you view the world

I post and reblog stuff that is often sexual as well as dark in nature. The intended audience are other adults mid 20s+. The reason I say this is because of research pertaining to the below statement.

Though the brain may be done growing in size, it does not finish developing and maturing until the mid- to late 20s. The front part of the brain, called the prefrontal cortex, is one of the last brain regions to mature. This area is responsible for skills like planning, prioritizing, and controlling impulses. Because these skills are still developing, teens are more likely to engage in risky behaviors without considering the potential results of their decisions.

Some of us are forced to grow up too fast--in a multitude of ways, as cliche and obnoxious as it sounds from an older person, don't be in a rush to grow up too soon. Especially when it comes to sexual things. You're gonna do whatever you're gonna do, but I encourage you to really use the time prior to your mid 20s -hell even beyond- to explore yourself, by yourself.

Gonna level with you I had my first real physically intimate experience with someone when I was 25 and still look back on it that I shoulda waited. I was caught up in "finally getting it over with" and honestly the hype isn't all that. (this may also be my probably aegosexuality havin ass at play here) --Point is, you got time!

Another thing that may make some roll their eyes--You probably think you're hella grown and mature for your age. And you may be right. But I assure you, as you get older you'll look back and realize there is and was, plenty of room left to grow and mature. This goes for 16 -> 18 -> 21 -> 25 -> 30 etc. I'm currently 31 and I can see a big difference in how I think and view the world and myself within it than I did even four years ago. And am constantly learning new things that alter my world view every day.

Digital stuff makes it easy to isolate yourself and for others to isolate you with them. Be mindful of the folks you let get close to you.

Opening up to folks online has always been easier for me, the internet really became big and accessible in the early 2000s when I was still a teen, I was really lucky my many dumb decisions didn't get me hurt physically or mentally. I can't emphasize being cautious and skeptic of people enough.

I'm not a health professional in any sense of the word but I am an educator who mainly works with younger folks and I just wanna be up front with yall. Ask box with anon is open. I'm not promising to be your shoulder to lean on or internet aunty but I do wanna be supportive in the capacity I have.

[captainclervals]

NO FOR REAL the way the people on here talk about disabled people and characters is straight up EVIL. I cannot fathom the horrible way they'll talk about things like Frankenstein like the takes aren't already bad enough. The things they say are so destructive toward us even if they think they're just heehawing at a character, the second ableism comes up it stops being funny and they don't even get it

YOU'RE SO SO RIGHT ... you get it 😭 I'm so sorry you're also affected by what a prevalent issue it is but I'm also glad to know I'm not just being overly critical or pedantic HAHA I don't want to be mistaken as just trying to gatekeep a bajillion-year-old public domain book from new readers because that's not at ALL what I'd like, it'd be nice to have new artists and enjoyers and friends to meet! but while it should be fun and accessible and not feel like another high school class full of rules and guidelines on what to write, we also need to speak out on offensive humor and portrayals... not on behalf of a character but because, like you said, it's destructive to the real people right alongside us!!

I have a ball with comedy and jokes! I don't feel like classic literature is a sacred thing only to be approached with academic sobriety, BUT everyone has that responsibility to have fun in a way that isnt going to implicate real world people. a lot of folks hate Victor, I get it, and despite him being my favorite character I'm unfazed by just general dislike because if it's just a matter of taste/opinion, that's fine! I don't like everyone else's favorites!

but unfortunately from what I've seen it's rarely as respectful as that... it's very easy to list the reasons for hating him such as, he's useless, he's pathetic, he's annoying, he takes advantage of/is a burden on his friends and family... and typically they won't go all the way down to why but it's still there: because he's chronically ill? because he's disabled? not going into the moral aspects or whatever, we're just apparently cracking on him because he's prone to fainting and wild emotional spells and spends long periods being bedridden and requiring care, and because he can't/doesn't do something of equal magnitude in return, he's a bad friend and a burden and should have been left to suffer alone? and it's just funny because it's weak and effeminate to have bad health I GUESS? and he made bad choices so he deserved it or something? (the classic "if you're disabled you brought it on yourself somehow") I've literally seen people say he manipulated clerval and walton into caring for him and that they should have left him to die alone??

😩 I really don't believe the jokes are made in bad faith but there should just be more awareness of the fact that disabled people are so apt to see others, even their friends, subtly (or not so subtly?) say "it's joke material to be that sick! people who require care are bad friends/family members and your able-bodied loved ones also think you're a parasite!" it's just so ingrained in people that I'm pretty sure the majority don't even realize at all the implications of what they're using as a punchline. like do y'all think I should be abandoned by my friends and family and should die alone so I'll stop wasting their time and resources? I really doubt anyone does (ufgsj at least I hope not) but that's how I FEEL seeing some of these posts!

this is literally what made me so much more reserved and afraid of my own disability and how it looks to other people! seeing people make that exact kind of joke about frankenstein was a negative turning point in my perception of myself! I honestly somehow didn't fully recognize until seeing people laugh, right in front of me, about how weak and pathetic the chronically ill character is FOR being chronically ill and that he didn't deserve the love of his friends in caring for him when he wasn't able to take care of himself and it hit me that THIS is how people see me!! weak for being disabled, useless, and a parasite for needing assistance in simple tasks while contributing very little to the world! I've become even more hesitant about sharing details of my experience with chronic illness and far more reluctant to ask for help even when I desperately need it—

I very rarely discuss details of my disability, so most people don't even know that it's such a deeply personal struggle, but I don't feel like you should HAVE to disclose your medical history just to keep those around you aware enough to not use disability as an insult or punchline. I really don't think it should be necessary for someone to just rein in ableism politely just while someone disabled is in the company. you never know who is listening or how they feel! so out of kindness and respect it's just the decent thing to focus the victor malice towards, y'know, things like his moral failings and NOT towards his mental or physical health (and even then some of what I see typically classified as his moral failings actually are tied at least in part to his health but that's another discussion LMAO)

and not even really touching on the mental health aspect because I feel like USUALLY people are more inclined to treat that with sensitivity (even though I have seen PUBLISHED BOOKS talk about the whole "victor was delusional and imagined the monster to shield himself from the fact that HE killed his friends and family" thing. which i despise as a psychotic person with paranoid delusions. gotta love the constant reminder that generally people assume that if you experience psychoses you must be violent and always one thread away from a killing spree...). but stuff like having bouts of illness after strong emotion or needing friends to help ground you during paranoid spells or addiction resulting from a coping mechanism ARE ALSO not something to laugh at and call a weakness!

[maiikawriter]

You’re an amazing writer, and it’s frustrating that you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. 💔 Also, would you ever do writing commissions?

Thank you for the compliment about my writing but your misplaced frustration has compelled me to use this ask to go off on a little rant here.

I have had that recognition.

I have been writing in fandom for a long time now. I’ve put out stories that have gone barely-noticed, both when starting out when my quality was frankly bad and even now when my writing quality is exactly where I want it to be ☺️. I have put out fics that turned into the big thing everyone was talking about in a ship fandom at the time they were ongoing. I have put out stories that had a small, but still very engaged following. The thing I’ve realized from these experiences is fulfillment from posting does not come from numbers. Yes, it increases the chances of people engaging when there are more people to notice the work, but I have had some recent fics with thousands of readers and only a handful leaving any commentary. Those experiences of posting had nothing on my less popular fics with a handful of followers who were there every chapter, telling me why they were engaged and excited for the next part of the story.

This blog is only a couple followers shy of 1800. 1800!🥳 But back when it was around maybe 400, 500? My followers interacted so much more! They reblogged my posts. They sent asks without being prompted to do so. They gushed about their headcanons to me in my inbox. (And yes, a lot of anons even sent hate to my inbox but I didn’t even mind that bc when I answered, my followers and mutuals would come out in full force to support me!) I knew you guys were alive and saw me. My posts weren’t just getting swept under the social media rug whenever I posted things. Maybe everyone’s not online as much to interact recently and maybe I’ve scared the active followers away by expanding this blog’s interests into…pffff six fandoms now? But it’s that interaction that I’m missing and it’s the interaction that drives me to post and share new works online.

I’d much rather see a reblog of my art with interesting tags or a comment in my Ao3 inbox than an ask that says, ‘I’m sorry you’re not getting the recognition you deserve’ (and Anon, for all I know, you’re one of the few people reblogging and commenting these days and to you and those few others, thank you for that).

When you create a lot of works, there will always be those works that fall under the radar, no matter how wonderful and loyal your supporters are. I don’t expect anyone to keep up with my production speed. I put things out fast. But when they do read or enjoy seeing my art, I appreciate knowing how it made them feel. I like to know I brought a little joy or excitement to someone’s life by sharing it rather than being left to wonder. And likewise, I love leaving commentary when I read fics that made me feel things and when I see art that just makes me want to keep coming back to it.

On another note, I write what I want to read, but the longer I’ve been in fandom, the more I’ve learned how different what I want now is from what the majority wants. I write the things I love and will re-read my stories because they really are what I’m looking for from fanfiction, but they’re not what everyone is looking for and I’m not going to start writing or drawing differently to pander to popular tropes or characters. I’d be bored to tears quite honestly.

As far as commissions go, I have taken them in the past and I’m always open to the possibility. I have a ko-fi here. If you want to send a ko-fi with a request, that’s the way I’ve done it in the past, but those would only be used for oneshots. If it’s along the lines of what you’ve seen me write, I’ll take it. I don’t do x readers, ocs, or incest/underage, for basic guidelines. I’m flattered that you even asked, so thank you and don’t feel obligated to follow through unless it’s an idea you really want, bc like creating, commissioning is so much more rewarding when there’s real desire/inspiration behind it.

[movedto-erodasghosts]

the Holiday | timothée chalamet

chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (prince.)

↳ read Iris’ version here and a little bit of Timmy (Tom Holland fic)

I’ve had so much fun working on this Christmas series, hopefully people enjoy! This series will have 2 fics in 1, so there will be two story lines. I will be writing this Timmy version and @peeterparkr​​ will be writing a Tom Holland version. This series is based off of the movie the Holiday, where two women with recently broken hearts decided to switch their homes over the holiday. Both of our fics will be reader insert, but for the sake of less confusion when writing about Nancy’s character I will use “Iris” and when she is writing mine she will use “Sophia”. Both fics are connected! read @peeterparkr​‘s version to get the whole story!

story summary: Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny.

chapter summary: the heartbreak of an apathetic lover.

pairing: timothée chalamet x y/n

warnings: mentions of cheating 

word count: ~7.1k

a/n: you do not have to read both, but it does make for the best experience to! please don’t feel pressured though :)

masterlist

Love was something that seemed so simple and straightforward. How could it not be? There were set guidelines for everything, rules to follow in any event. There were rules for love, rules for relationships too. Rules that were simply that, rules. Relationships didn’t have to be complicated, so long as the rules were followed. And it wasn’t like there were many rules, or that they were even complicated in themselves. Really, the biggest and most important rule was to simply not cheat, that's all. How hard could that be?

What are you supposed to do when rules are broken though? Sure, there are rules to follow if those rules are broken, but they never seemed to be rules you would need to know. So where did this put you now?

It didn’t feel so straightforward anymore though, it felt more like a whirlpool just washing away at you. Love might’ve been more complicated than you thought. Was it worth the complications? Honestly, you couldn’t say. Things never seemed to be too terribly complicated for you, it was simple enough to make most decisions. You found that people often made things far more complicated than what seemed necessary, too many feelings attached. Why did things need to have so many strings attached? Why couldn’t people just realize what was best and move on?

Then again, you were even sure you knew what was best anymore. It had seemed that you found love, that all the rules were being followed. Things seemed to be so simple, so orderly. So why did he have to go and break the rules? And what did that make everything mean?

Maybe love wasn’t even real. How could it be? If it was, why did Danny ever do that? It was a direct violation of the most basic rule, and it was just downright cruel.

Love, if it existed, wasn’t supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be supporting one another, working with each other to make life simpler. Love was meant to be just taking your partner in, sharing your interests with each other. It was removing stress and worry off the other’s shoulders.

What love wasn’t, was going behind one another’s backs. Betraying all of what you built. Love wasn’t breaking each other's hearts, and it was not breaking the rules.

Love also wasn’t meant to be a distraction, and yet you were letting it whisk your thoughts away all morning. How could you not? You couldn’t stop yourself from this non stop wondering if it was true. Had Danny really cheated on you? And if so, why? How did he expect you to react? Well, that you knew the answer to.

“Come on, y/n. What was I supposed to do? She’s new to the job, she needed some help from someone.”

“So, so what? She needed help getting laid?” You scoffed, “Don’t play that card on me. It’s not like there is much to figure out about a receptionist job.”

“I didn’t sleep with her, I swear.” It was completely unconvincing.

“On my life?”

“What?”

“Do you swear on my life?” You repeated. “If you’re so sure that you didn’t do it, swear on my life.”

You could see as his brain scrambled for answers, he was stuck in a corner.

“Y/n, come on. I’m not going to do that, I won’t swear on your life. That’s ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not, it’s simple. If you could just do it then this would be over.”

“You’re being irrational.”

“I am not!” You tossed a pillow at him, “You broke the rule! You slept with her, and for what? Just so you could gaslight me about it?”

“I’m not gaslighting y—

“Oh, of course you aren’t.” You marched over to the closet, taking all of his things out. “Unbelievable, Danny. All you had to do was not cheat. It was that simple.”

“What’re you doing?” He watched you tossing everything on the bed. “Hey, don’t do this. C’mon, we can talk about this. We can work it out, right?”

“No!” You threw the last shirt. “No, Danny, we can’t. You had to go and throw it all away. You wanted her so bad, and well now you can have her.”

“It wasn’t even her! I mean, really. I just… can’t take it with you anymore. It’s always something, you know.” He sat on the bed, folding his things up as he expected them to be put back.

“Always something? Really? What does that mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t see it. You can’t talk, you’re too busy with work. You can’t have dinner, you’re busy at the shop. You can’t just tell me how you feel instead of beating around the bush, your emotions are too sensitive to talk about apparently.”

You started walking away, “I’m not taking this from you.”

“Oh, of course not! That’s another thing,” he followed after, “it’s always about you. It’s about your schedule, your needs, your damn rules. It’d be a true miracle for me to have any input.”

“So that’s why you decided to sleep with her? Because you couldn’t work up the nerve to tell me you needed some alone time with me?” You turned around, arms crossed. “You know how much I care about the shop, and you should know that a lot of work goes into running it.”

“Maybe I just got tired of this never ending schedule built around your world.” Danny shrugged, “Was it really so bad of me to want some attention on me for once? I mean, come on!”

“It was horrible of you to break the ru—“ you stopped yourself, there was no way he would be winning the argument. “I just can’t believe you expect me to be okay with you cheating on me. You’re talking about it like, like I was supposed to expect this to be coming? Like I don’t have the right to be monumentally pissed at you right now?”

“You’re always at that damn bookstore,” he lamely fought. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not like we can’t work through this.”

But what made him think you wanted to work through it? Really, that was the last thing you wanted at the moment. And it wasn’t like he even deserved that much from you. He broke the rules.

He broke them, and blamed you for it. You couldn’t even see what you had done wrong, it didn’t make sense. Yes, you worked a lot, but being a shop owner is demanding. It requires a lot from you. Danny always tried convincing you to share the workload with Tom, who had been working in your shop from nearly the start. You completely trusted Tom, and yet there was this part of you that couldn’t just let him do that out of worry that things just wouldn’t be the same if it was him instead of you.

Even if you worked too much, that was no reason for Danny to do what he had done. It just didn’t make sense. Why were you even letting it eat away at you? That was the kind of thing you would typically consider to be a waste of time, so you were unsure as to why you were so caught up in it now.

“Y/n, hey,” Tom poked your side. “You okay? You’ve been putting the books up the wrong way.”

“Hmm?” You glanced at him before looking back to the books in front of you. “Shit…”

You hadn’t even noticed, not a single one of them.

He chuckled, reaching out to help you fix them. “You seem lost in the clouds today.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just… Danny and I had a fight last night and this morning. I guess I’m just trying to figure that out.”

His brows furrowed, “What was the fight about?”

You stacked up the books and let out a long and heavy sigh. Running a hand down your face, you chuckled, “He fucked his receptionist.”

Simple, straightforward.

“Oh wow,” Tom’s eyes widened. “Umm… did he…” he cleared his throat, “did he confess?”

“Indirectly.” You shook your head, “He blamed me for it. Said he needed some attention, and that I fail to give it to him. He told me I spend too much time here, and that I make everything about myself.” You started shoving the books back into place, Tom handing you a new one each time.

“So he thinks he’s justified?”

“Completely, and he expected me to just move on from it and maintain our relationship. I mean, how the hell do I just move on from that?” You looked at Tom.

He shrugged, pointing to the shelf, “Still not put up right.”

Looking over, you noticed they weren’t. Some books were placed upside down, or even backwards. It wasn’t like you to mess up something so minor or to get that lost in your own thoughts.

“Fuck…” you started taking them out again.

“Let me,” he stepped over, taking the books from your hands. “Go on about Danny, though.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, “He’s made it all complicated. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I could’ve sworn to you a week ago that we loved one another. You know, we just… we seemed to work so well together. He didn’t seem to mind my busy schedule, it’s like that came out of nowhere. I just thought he was more understanding.”

“So he’s upset the balance?”

“More than that, he’s thrown me completely off trail. He broke the rule, Tom!” Your voice was louder than you realized, for once you had forgotten you were even in your shop.

“It sounds to me like he’s not worth the worry,” He put the last book in. “Don’t let him eat away at you like this, it’s not like you.”

“Exactly, so why does it bother me so much?” You pulled yourself up onto the counter.

“Well… you loved him. You’ve been together for so long—”

“We were together,” you corrected. “I kicked him out this morning.”

“Right, sorry.” He started placing clearance stickers on some books, “You were together for a long time, and it’s still so fresh to you.”

“That’s the thing, we were together for so long, and yet he still did that.” You jumped down, beginning to put away more books. “I just… I want to shake him off, pretend he never happened.”

It would be much easier to just ignore him, even if you knew it wouldn’t actually solve anything. Maybe it could, though. If he was never a part of your life, you would’ve never felt this pain.

“It’s just not so simple to move on from love like that. I wish it were, believe me, but it’s just not.”

“How could’ve that been love, though? I mean, isn’t love supposed to be this grand thing? Where you meet ‘the one’ and you care for one another deeply. You do whatever you can to help each other, to be there.” You scoffed, “There is nothing like that that exists.”

“Ouch,” Tom rested a hand over his heart, “does our friendship mean nothing to you? Would I not do those things for you?”

“It’s a completely different context, and I’ve known you for most of my life.”

“Okay, okay… but you shouldn’t just give up love because of this one bad experience. You know, I’m sure there are loads of other opportunities out there for you to see better examples of love.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you suggest I would find such ‘love’?” You raised a brow, he sounded so childish.

“I don’t know… I just think that love can happen anywhere, at any time. It’s not something that needs to be planned or to follow some schedule. It just… happens.” Tom smiled softly, “And love shouldn’t hurt, no, but sometimes it does. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth the pain. Don’t get me wrong, Danny’s absolutely not worth the pain himself. But I don’t want your image of love to be ruined from just one guy.”

Tom was right about one thing, Danny wasn’t worth the pain. But that pain wasn’t love, and your relationship with Danny apparently wasn’t either.

“It’s a fantasy, Tom.” You turned away, “I mean, maybe some people find love, but it has to be rare. Most people probably just settle out of being tired of looking.” You felt that was true. “Love doesn’t just come waltzing through the door.”

“Well, no,” he sighed. “But that doesn’t mean love isn’t out there. It has to be, you know? And finding love is just that much more precious, because it’s so much harder to come by, if that’s what you believe.”

It sounded like a fairytale to you, how could he believe in such a thing? Maybe he was right that love existed, but it wasn’t like everyone was finding it. In your mind, there was simply no way it could be as common as Tom seemed to believe.

“Aren’t you just the love expert, what with your relationship with Destiny?” You teased.

His relationship with Destiny didn’t seem to be one of love to you, not that it was really any of your business. You worried for Tom and didn’t want him to end up in the same boat as you, though you hadn’t seen it coming before. Destiny just seemed so disinterested in him, which you hated for him. You never really said that to him, as you felt that would be completely overstepping. Still, you had hinted the thought at him, because you felt like you couldn’t just let it happen. She seemed like trouble.

Maybe your experience with Danny only gave you a better ability to see when someone was going to hurt someone in a relationship. That, or you just didn’t like her from the beginning, as Tom claims. Destiny seemed nice enough but you weren’t sure how much she cared for him. That was between them, though.

“I’m not an expert,” Tom denied. “I just think that you could find love again.”

“I don’t think I ever really did, and I’m not sure that I ever want to. It seems to be more of a waste of time than anything else.” You were so set on that idea.

Tom couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to believe in love, what was to hate about it? He understood that you were likely trying to process countless emotions, but there was something about how you pictured love that he could never fully understand. Your version of love seemed to be somewhat more of a business transaction rather than what he believed.

“So, how are you going to magically get over this?” He straightened up his pile of books.

“I should just… leave. Get away from here.” You started to fix a random display, “It’s what I need, a break. From him, from this, from everything.”

“You? Take a break?” He laughed, “Right, sure. Y/n, it would be a true miracle for you to take a break.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snapped.

You knew exactly what he meant. Anyone who talked to you for more than ten minutes knew what that meant, that didn’t mean you weren’t mad at him for pointing it out. Work was important to you, and you spent a lot of time in your shop. It took more to run it than people realized. Danny never understood.

“I just…” he shifted his gaze to his feet. “I just mean that… you’re a hard worker. A very… very hard worker.”

“Which is why I deserve a break!” You made your way back to the counter.

“You do deserve one,” he assured you. “I just meant it’s unlike you. But, you had planned to go on holiday with Danny, hadn’t you? You could still go.”

“Oh god,” you groaned. “I forgot about that. We were meant to come up with an entire plan for it, we had already put my flat up on Airbnb.” You were mentally beating yourself up for that one, suppose you’d have to take it down later. “We hadn’t even figured out where we wanted to go, we were so caught up in work. Well,” you scoffed, “I was caught up in work, and he was distracted with his receptionist.”

Tom offered a sympathetic smile, “You could still go on holiday. You said you wanted to just forget about it and that would be the perfect opportunity.”

He made a good point. It did seem to be the obvious answer to your problem. You could get away, clear your mind of Danny completely, and come back to move on with your life smoothly. Danny didn’t have to be a complication anymore, he didn’t even have to be a thought. Yet, at the same time, there was a part of you that felt like it wasn’t the best idea to just run away from your problems. But was it really running away?

“No one has reached out about the flat anyway,” you stated quietly. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea. Maybe that’s my sign to stay?” But were you even one to believe in signs? “I don’t know. I think I’ll just go to bed, do you mind locking up? You’ve got the keys, right?”

He jangled them in your direction, “Yep. See you tomorrow.”

You gave him a wave before making your way up to your house, just above your shop. Going on holiday seemed to be what you needed. Like he said, the perfect opportunity. It wasn’t like you though, he was right about that too. Maybe what you really needed was to create a new routine for yourself, one without Danny. To create a life for yourself where there was one less thing to focus on.

Opening your laptop, you went to check on your Airbnb account. No one had reached out still, which only pushed your thoughts more towards staying. After all, it was a possible sign to stay.

It felt ridiculous, to think anything like that was a sign. You didn’t listen to signs, you listened to facts, to what was right in front of you. The truth of it was that no one had reached out, you needed to just remove your home from the sight and continue on with your typical life. So you did, staring blankly at the screen after.

What was your typical life now? Were you supposed to just move on? If that was what you were really meant to do, you didn’t know if you could. You couldn’t lie, deep down you knew it hurt, and maybe that’s why you wanted to leave. But leaving would really do you no good, even if it was what you wanted to do. Instead, you would do what? Ignore them in a different way? Pretend it never happened, that Danny never existed.

Yes, that is what you would do. He didn’t deserve more of your time to be spent on him, he deserved to be forgotten. You didn’t know how you really could forget, especially as you sat surrounded by a life you built with him. How many trinkets around your living room were his? How many things did you get because that was what he wanted for his home? The pile of CDs in the corner were his own taste in music, most of which you could never really get into.  Suddenly, everything around you felt wrong, like it wasn’t even your home at all.

Maybe you needed that holiday after all. You weren’t really sure what to do. Where would you go? Would you be able to leave the shop to Tom? Would it even really be worth the trip? What if it only stirred up some new form of emotions? You couldn’t go.

Your account popped up with a notification, someone was actually reaching out to you.

A woman named Iris messaged, “Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!”

Could be another sign, you thought. It still wasn’t something you really believed in though.

“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore.” It was a fair enough explanation, though you weren’t sure that a stranger cared to know the reasoning.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  why did you break up with him?” Or maybe she did care.

Another message came through quickly after the other. She felt as if she had overstepped, “I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.”

You hadn’t really minded, a part of you wanted to completely vent to her. It wasn’t like you would ever meet her, so why did it really matter? Keeping to yourself was the wiser option, though, and it wasn’t like you had much to say about the situation.

“No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.” Simple enough.

Iris’ reply caught you off guard, “Men are trash.”

She was right. Men are trash, and not worth anyone’s time. No use in crying over spilled milk, yet here you were with a shattered heart being held together by Paw Patrol band-aids.

“To say the least” you laughed to yourself.

God, were you really letting yourself sit in that pain? Furthermore, were you really letting yourself vent to a stranger on Airbnb of all things? You weren’t being yourself, not really. Not that you had been for a majority of the day though. Everything seemed off.

“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.” An Iris fell in love with a Chad?

You couldn’t help but laugh again, at least someone else was going through some similar pain. His name was Chad, falling for a Chad was pain in itself. A part of you wanted to know more about Iris’ situation.

“Chad?” you wrote back.

“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Though you had never spoken to this woman, you could hear the regret in her voice.

At least you hadn’t ended up with a Chad, but you weren’t sure that Danny was much better. “Well, I’m sorry that ‘Chad’ had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.”

You really had needed to get away, that was something you now knew.

“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.” She replied.

You couldn’t believe what you were about to say, and a part of you hoped that she would just sort of brush you off. Another part of you was hoping that she would reach out further. It did seem like a possibility, since she had reached out after it was removed.

“Maybe we could work something out?” You figured if you could at least commit to renting out your place that you would then commit to taking a holiday.

“Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.” You thought it could just be a joke, but it also seemed like an intriguing idea.

“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” You asked, a bit hopeful.

This was not much like yourself, it seemed like such a crazy idea. You hadn’t traveled in a long time, and even then you had never traveled alone. Suddenly, it was all you could think of doing. It would mean escape, a new setting and a chance to give yourself a fresh start. You just hoped she lived far, far away.

She replied, “Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.”

You gave it a quick Google, just to get an idea of what it was like. You hadn’t heard of it before, and it would put a pretty good distance between yourself and Danny. It was far, small, and unknown. The only things you really cared about.

“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” It was the perfect distance, really.

“Me too.” She replied.

You hesitated, unsure of what you were about to ask. “So, should we switch?”

“You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.” So it was great then? Maybe the polar opposite of your current situation.

“Surely it’s not too horrible.”

“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.” She was only making it more and more appealing to you. You wanted to leave the “romance” and you couldn’t imagine why she would want to run towards it.

“That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.” You had, really. You were never a big fan of the romance part of it all anyway, it seemed overrated at this point.

“Well, this is your chance.”

You paused to think, was this really the choice you wanted to make? You had been thinking about it all day, but having it suddenly becoming a reality was different, overwhelming almost.

“Can I ask you one thing?” It was the most important question you had.

After a brief pause she responded, “Sure.”

“Are there any men in your town?”

“Honestly? Zero.”

So it really was turning out to be the perfect escape. “When can I come?”

“Tomorrow too soon?” She seemed just as eager as you to get away.

You considered it, would it be an irrational decision? You knew that if you declined you would likely never really break away. Besides, Iris seemed to need it just as much as you did, if not more because of Chad.

“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.” Had you really just sent that?

Apparently you had, as she replied, “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”

Maybe? “Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”

It was completely insane, but you were going for it. Like you had said, you would likely never have to talk to this person again, why not make yourself seem crazy?

“It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?” Not the response you were expecting.

Still, you decided to roll with it. “Umm, yes actually :) that would be great”

“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?” she asked.

You nodded gently to yourself, “Yes, I feel like that might be better.”

It felt strange to be doing such a thing. You were talking to a complete stranger, from a completely different country, about switching homes. And switching the next day, no less.

You weren’t really sure how, but your conversation had somehow managed to become more personal as it went on. After texting for a bit longer, and seeing pictures of her house, you both had decided to give each other a call over facetime. It was nice, kind of, in it’s own strange way, to be talking to Iris about it all. Sure, she seemed to have more faith in love than you did, but she still could understand where you were coming from to at least some extent.

So, yes, maybe you were ranting to a complete stranger about how your boyfriend had cheated on you. To be fair, she was also ranting to you about how the “love of her life” just got engaged to someone else. He seemed like a dick, truly. It made you wonder why either of you were letting men like Chad and Danny hurt the both of you, and they still were hurting you, really. It didn’t seem fair. If there was such a thing as love, why did you have to love them?

Iris seemed to have a tender heart. She spoke so delicately about love, and you swore she seemed to still want it even after what she had just gone through. You couldn’t imagine, you wanted to run from love. You wanted to leave it behind and forget that it was ever a thing. Yet Iris seemed to want to hold it close, and to possibly find it again. It was interesting to you, how differently the both of you viewed it.

The call had been going for what felt like hours, and you seemed to be learning more about Iris than you had ever truly known about Danny. She was a writer, and surely a lovely one at that. Apparently, Chad took advantage of that, though, among other things. He seemed to only care about Iris to the extent that she was there at his own convenience. Your heart broke more, you thought, but this time for Iris. Because, no, you didn’t believe in love. But she did.

Iris had this idea of love that you couldn’t understand. It seemed too fake, like it was pulled out of a movie or book. Iris thought that love was complex, that it could be found and more than once. Her idea of love seemed so far from your own, and you couldn’t picture why. Why would she still believe in something like love after what happened with Chad?

Really, it didn’t matter much. Maybe it was your vastly different views, but talking with each other seemed so easy. It was almost as if you were just talking to an old friend.

“So how long were you with him?” Iris asked.

“About four years.” It was a waste of four years. “What about you? How long have you loved Chad?”

You couldn’t help but poke fun at his name. Chad.

“Oh god it does sound super stupid,” she groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point.”

You chuckled, “No, it’s not stupid. But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”

“But like you told me—He blamed it on you?”

“He did.” You let your head rest in your hand, “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”

Iris rolled her eyes, once again tired of Danny, a man she had never even met. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.”  

“Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… bored of me.” You reached for your glass of wine, “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”

She sat on her couch, wine in hand. “No. it doesn’t. Why—Why are men—Like—No, never mind that’s my question,” she pursed her lips jokingly, “why are men?”

You laughed, “Why are men indeed.” You couldn’t help but grin, “More specifically, why is Chad?”

“Ugh, don’t even mention him.” Iris let her head fall back, “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?”

Chad was an asshole, and so his name fit him well. It was still hard, almost impossible, to see what she ever saw in him. Iris seemed so soft, and kind. You could tell that, sadly, Chad had really hurt her.

You spoke truthfully, “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him. Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”

She paused to consider, and it then left you in your own thoughts about it. A Chad was never deserving of an Iris, so you couldn’t help but wonder why. You figured, though, that she was like you with Danny. She likely didn’t know that Chad was a jerk, how could’ve she? Though the signs seemed obvious to you, you weren’t the one living that experience.

“Look—I—I believe in love at first sight and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” She seemed to be lost in thought almost, like it was just coming out in full truth. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming.” Aren’t they always? “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story, and he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—He only wanted sex and I fell in love. Pathetic right?”

You didn’t think it was pathetic at all. If anything, it was sweet. She truly seemed to believe that love existed, and if that was the case then she was speaking from a place of vulnerability.

“No, I don’t think it’s pathetic…” you took a breath in, “I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost. Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” And it didn’t, how could it? “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like.” And that was what you thought of it. Love was a chore, a fairytale, a loss. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”

“Love is worth it, though.” You likely seemed heartless to Iris. “It’s men who are the problem.”

That was something you could agree on. “Suppose you got me there…”

“But you like really don’t believe in love?” she wondered. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”

Well, Danny. Your relationship with Danny seemed like love, but you weren’t so sure anymore. It couldn’t have been love if it only led to him cheating on you, no. Love wasn’t meant to have those sorts of complications.

“You know, I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You stared blankly, “But, I guess he just… didn’t. And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” Which hurt a bit to say out loud. “I just don’t think most people do.” Your eyes flickered back to Iris, “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”

“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing.” She sounded like Tom, which wasn’t necessarily bad. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances, not me though,” she scoffed and you offered a small smile, “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it, I don’t think you can easily-I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone. I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.”

It was disheartening to hear her saying that. You didn’t believe in things like that, and you were normally so quick to fight Tom about it, but it just hurt to hear her talking about it. Iris believed in this full on Shakesperian love, so hearing her say something so somber was odd. You thought it couldn’t be true, because she seemed to be the main character, really. Her disheveled hair, multitude of snacks, and her glass of wine. While it may not be the “picture perfect” main character, it was a real one. That was exactly what you pictured when it came to a main character, so what made her think otherwise?

“Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true.” You sat up in your bed, “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling… I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though…” You paused, this conversation was starting to sound too familiar. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”

She really might make good friends with him, they seemed to hold some similar beliefs.

“It is thrilling. I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you could hear the excitement in her voice, “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…” Yeah, but. It was another thing that was out of reach. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to hear that yet another man hated everything related to love. It wasn’t that you thought all men did, but it did seem to be something you noticed in quite a few. And, honestly, you didn’t blame them. You were right there with them.

“Really?” You smiled, “He sounds better than most men already.”

Iris let out a laugh, “He’s not.” Big surprise.

“Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?” You asked.

She scoffed, “You’d think that. But no, he’s a man.” That was a fair point. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love. Your friend is probably the second one.”

You knew what she was saying. You had been with a man that pretended to love love, sort of at least. And Tom, well, he was nothing like Danny at all.

“No, I don’t think so,” You shook your head. “He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you.” Though you weren’t sure how he could more than her. “He’s really sweet, typically… I mean, he is a man so he has his days,” you joked.

“Oh,” she closed her eyes, “so… Right, right, but you don’t believe in love and…” whatever she was saying, you didn’t understand. “Right, right, Perfect setup, see?” What did that mean? “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”

You were a bit confused by her reaction, but decided to shake it off. “Then I can’t wait to go, really. I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself with things to remember the ‘fantasy’ of love again,” because that’s what it was, a fantasy. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”

The question of the night. It still didn’t seem real, like you were just going to wake up the next day and your life would go back to normal, or whatever the new normal was going to become. Yet here you were, planning to swap houses with a… stranger?

“You think there are any flights?” Iris questioned.

“I’m sure there have to be some,” you shrugged. “Should we check?”

“Definitely.”

“Wonderful.” More like terrifying. “How long are we doing this for?”

Another thing to worry about. Overall, it wasn’t that you had this sense of panic. You felt more excited than anything if you were being honest, but a part of you recognized how irresponsible this entire situation was. Nevertheless, you pulled your laptop closer to you.

“Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon…” she made another good point. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”

You wanted to get away. You didn’t have much family, nor did you want to gain pity from them about Danny. The entire point of leaving was to escape the basic thought of him. Tom typically had takeout with you and Danny on Christmas Eve, but that was something you could do in the states on your own if you wanted.

“Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly,” you said plainly.

“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” She adjusted her camera to put a small pug in the frame. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”

You smiled brightly at the puppy, “I’d love to take care of… did you say…” you held in a laugh, it was a bit funny considering, “L-little Tommy?”

“Yeah, his name is Tom.” Iris came back into frame, “He’s the only male that matters.”  

“Oh, I love that.” You grinned, “I would love to trade Tom’s with you.”

She chuckled, “As long as I don’t have to feed that one.”

“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” you joked. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”

You had nearly forgotten to even mention that, would’ve been quite the surprise. And, you had also nearly forgotten that you would have to eventually tell Tom about this situation. Which would happen pretty soon, if you were to leave so soon. He’d surely think you were crazy.

“I probably won’t notice, honestly…” she looked off camera, “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”

You scrolled around, “I found one too, shockingly enough…” Suddenly, it was real again. It was back and forth between the reality of it, and just the idea. “Are we really going through with this?”

It was a crazy plan. There wasn’t even an actual plan in place, not really.

“I think we are.” Iris sounded just as nervous you did, which was comforting in some way.

The feeling of excitement for a new beginning was what you were trying to stay focused on.

Still, you were a bit hesitant. “Well, alright then…”

“On three then….”

Were you really going through with this? It was completely crazy. When you were talking to Tom before about needing a break, this wasn’t exactly what you imagined. You seemed so nervous, and yet you continued to go through with it. You figured that it must’ve been what you truly needed.

“One…” were you really counting down?

“Two…” that was a yes, apparently.

“Three!”

It was too late to go back. You bought the ticket, it was happening. You were officially going to the States for holiday, and at Christmas no less. A part of you felt this wave of relief, while another part of you was still feeling very conflicted. But it was done, that was it. You just swapped houses with a complete stranger.

read iris’ version here

next chapter

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things​ @santas-dwynwen​ @thebitchupstairs​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[platypanthewriter]

First Kiss (In the Time Of COVID)

Harringrove April prompt 01 (because I missed it the first time): First Kiss!  Second to last!  Almost there!  Steve gets touch-hungry enough to consider the ridiculous health-organization suggestions about gloryholes, and has sex and then a whole relationship with a man he meets at a bar...before he ever gets to kiss him.

Steve was only at the bar because it was right next to the dry-cleaners with no public bathrooms, but he couldn’t help staring at the New York City Department Of Health Safer Sex Guidelines, posted right on the wall between the sinks as he washed his hands.  

Gloryholes were recommended, it said.  Somebody had highlighted it, and somebody else had smacked a big lipsticked kiss on it, which was definitely not within sanitary guidelines.  Steve stood there like a post, thinking about a hot mouth around his dick, instead of going home to his cold, gray apartment, and yelling weird greetings every morning at his neighbors between balconies, stuff like “You hallucinating yet?  I hear people have been hallucinating!” and “How’re you enjoying solitary?!” 

He thought about being touched by another human being.

He hadn’t really noticed the hole in the wall before, other than kind of wondering why, like, why not make out in the car, even—but COVID changed things.  He bit his lips together, and eased back around to look in the stall again.  It wasn’t that bad, even if the people doing graffiti couldn’t spell.  It was tidy, and there was plenty of toilet paper, so at least the staff were in here regularly, he thought.  The floor wasn’t sticky, or anything.  He leaned to look through the hole, and saw a flash of pink skin, as he heard a scrambling in the next stall.

After a second, the person knocked on the stall wall.  “You stick your cock through there and I’ll suck it,” he said, his voice a little wobbly, like he knew exactly how bizarre this was, and he was trying not to laugh.  

Steve bit back a laugh of his own, snorting into his hand.  “Jesus, I’m not even drunk,” he told the voice, who laughed outright.  

“It’s my fucking lunch hour.  You gonna feed me?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, patting the condom he always, optimistically, carried in his back pocket.  “Now I kinda don’t want to,” he said, and the other guy laughed harder.  “Okay,” Steve said, steeling himself.  “I’m going for it.  Gonna put my cock in this creepy hole.  Don’t bite it off.”  He heard a snort as he checked the expiration date on the condom—he hadn’t had sex in eons, it felt like, and he half-expected to see it had expired in 1492—but it wasn’t even gonna expire soon, so he took it as a positive omen.  

“The hell are you doing, hurry up,” said the other man, shuffling his feet, and Steve rolled his eyes, and the condom onto his dick.

“Sure hope nothing over there’s hungry,” he muttered, taking a deep breath before he stuck his dick in the hole in a bathroom stall, stone cold sober, before noon.  “Hungry for a dick meal.  Ready to bite.”

“I might,” the other guy breathed, laughing, but Steve could feel him brush his lips along the side.  “Mmm, polyisoprene,” he mumbled.

“Suck enough dick you recognize condoms?” Steve asked, snorting a laugh, and felt him laugh along.

“You want an expert, don’cha,” he shot back, taking Steve’s cock on his tongue, and Steve groaned, his body thudding hard against the wall.  It creaked, loud, and the guy pulled off again, laughing.  

“I do,” Steve told him.  “I do, I do, I want an expert, come back, dick-monster.”

“I’m not gonna bite off your dick,” said the guy, snickering again.  

“I don’t even care,” Steve said honestly, “—just lemme come first, jesus—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, slipping Steve’s cock between his lips again, and in, deep down his throat where his muscles clenched around it.  Steve could hear him choking with gusto, and he just leaned against the wall, feeling the first human touch he’d had in months.  

He’d given the pizza guy a tip, ages ago, it seemed like, and the guy’s hand had brushed his, and they’d both stood there, staring at their hands, like maybe Steve oughtta propose marriage, and the guy like maybe he was gonna accept.  They’d said goodbye awkwardly, whipping the hand sanitizer out of their pockets as they turned away, and now Steve couldn’t order pizza without his neck feeling warm.  

The guy eating his dick for lunch was so much better, and Steve longed to touch him, and tip him back in a pile of pillows in the warm afternoon sun.  Take the man back to his bed, bury his hands in warm hair—pull him up the bed and kiss him, maybe—feel the weight of another person on his body.  He clenched his hands on the top of the stall wall, grunting as the hot tongue stroked the bottom of his dick, and the tip pushed against the spongy back of the guy’s throat.  

Steve wasn’t good at talking, really, particularly not when all his attention was on his dick, but he couldn’t grab the man, so he tried.  “God, you’re good at this,” he whispered, his mouth fumbling the words a little, but he thought the idea came through.  “Jesus, you’re amazing.  Christ.  God, your mouth.  I bet you’re beautiful, holy shit,” he rambled.  “Even if you’re not beautiful, you’re beautiful, holy crap, I wanna kiss you.”  

The guy pulled back a couple times, then all the way off, coughing and trying to breathe.  “Sorry,” he gasped, clearing his throat.  “Sorry—”

“Take your time, buddy,” Steve told him, feeling like his whole body was a bomb on a timer ticking down, but also like he wanted to draw it out, maybe, a little.  “Shit,” he panted, mumbling like a moron, now he’d started.  “You’re the best dick-eating monster ever, you’re like, better than the ones on Sesame Street,” he told the dude, sincerely, and heard him burst out laughing again.  

“You want a blow job or what,” he gasped, sounding like he was crying.  “Stop making me laugh, christ.  There aren’t dick-eating monsters on Sesame Street.”

“...oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Steve realized breathlessly, nodding.  The stall wall was cool against his sweaty skin.  “You’re smart, huh.”

“Jesus,” the guy breathed, and then Steve felt his mouth again, and his hips spasmed against the glory hole.  He made a guttural noise as he came, intending half a warning, half a compliment, but the guy just waited as he went still, and then pulled back, panting.  

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, coming down, his heart pounding half out of his chest.  “God, that was good.”

“I am an expert,” the dude said—hoarsely, probably because he’d let Steve fuck his throat for minutes on end.

“Yeah, you are,” Steve agreed, sitting down on the toilet edge.  “Damn.  Gimme a sec—wait, you got another condom?  I only had one.”

“...it’s fine,” the guy laughed.  “I’m a dick monster, remember, s’enough for me.”

“Next time,” Steve said, impulsively, and heard a thump on the other side of the wall.  

“...you, uh,” the guy said, and trailed off, as Steve checked his phone, and grimaced.  

“I gotta go,” he said, over the guy asking something kinda quietly on the other side.  “Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go ahead,” he laughed, and Steve frowned at the wall.

“...I have this Zoom meeting,” he said, grimacing.

“Same bat-time, same bat-channel?” the guy asked, and Steve laughed.

“This your usual break?”

“Yeah.  I’ll have you for lunch anytime,” the guys said, and Steve sighed, flattening his hand against the wall, and wishing he could touch.  

“Jesus, what’d I do right to get a day like today,” he said, and the dick-monster snickered.

“Better run, dude.”

“Yes, thanks,” Steve told him, yanking his zipper shut, and his mask back over his ears.  “Thanks, man, I haven’t touched anybody in like.  A year.  You’re a goddamn saint.”

“Saint monster,” he said, as Steve left.

 Steve had to pick up his dry-cleaning two days later, and it occurred to him he really should’ve gotten the guy’s number, or at least asked what days he had off.  He slid into the bathroom, touched his back pocket again, and felt the two condoms.  He cleared his throat, grimacing, because it seemed creepy as hell to drop and stare through the glory hole.  

After a couple minutes, he heard the door open and a flurry of footsteps, and then a thud at the stall wall as he dropped to his knees.  “I’m here,” his benefactor said, breathless.  

“Okay,” Steve said, pulling a condom out, and trying to find the spot to tear it open.

“Don’t sound all fucking excited to see me,” the guy said, his voice flat, suddenly.  “I know I’m just some—”

“No, no, hey,” Steve said, addressing the knees he could see under the wall of the stall.  “I was trying to get the damn condom open.  Your turn, right?”

“...you wanna suck me off?” the guy asked, slowly.  “You don’t gotta.  I’m an absolute whore for praise, seriously, just keep telling me how good I’m doing—”

“...I mean, I can do that,” Steve said, wishing he could see the dude’s face, instead of trying to gauge the meaning of every pause in his sentences.  “But I can suck you off, first.”

“...what a gentleman,” he said, laughing, and then Steve heard him unzip.  

 The sight of someone else’s skin, even through a glory hole, made Steve’s mouth water like he was a gotdamn cannibalistic psychopath.  He wished desperately that he could just touch, without the plastic barrier.  He pinched the end of the condom and held it against the end of the guy’s already-hard cock, pushing the ring up and over hot skin, and he knelt to try and breathe in the smell of another human.  

The guy smelled a little sweaty, and a bit like soap, and Steve’s hands actually shook as he resisted reaching through and scratching his nails through the bed of curls around the base of the cock in his hands.  Even through plastic, the dude’s dick was satisfyingly heavy, warm, and alive, and he kissed it as soon as he’d gotten enough of the condom on.  The guy grunted, thumping against the creaky stall wall like Steve had done, and they both laughed.

“You know the best part of bathroom sex,” the guy panted, the tip of the condom already filling as he leaked, “—it’s the acoustics, right, I sound like a whole-ass porno in here.”

“That’s not the best part,” Steve told him, swallowing, and then swallowing again, because he didn’t know touching someone, even through plastic, could make him want to crawl under the wall of a bathroom stall if it meant he could touch them more.  He never thought he’d be so happy to see a dick.  “God, you feel good.”  

“...I am good,” the guy whispered, barely audible in the weird, loud bathroom acoustics with the fan going, and Steve laughed, kissing his cock again.  It jerked in his hand.

“You are good,” he breathed against it, and the dude bit back a groan.  “You’re perfect,” Steve said, following a hunch, and felt the guy thump his hips against the wall between them again.  

Steve grinned, bending down to swirl his tongue around the tip, and he saw the dude’s hands grip the upper edge of the stall, his knuckles whitening.  The little hexagonal tiles dug into Steve’s knees, a bit, but he didn’t mind.  He felt himself getting hard, and unzipped his pants, absently freeing his dick with a sigh of relief.

 Steve had always liked sucking cock.  He’d wondered whether it would be any fun, though, without the feeling of hips under his hands, or fingers in his hair—but he could see the guy’s shoes shifting, and feel the soft thumps against the stall as he forgot everything except Steve’s mouth around him.  Steve could look up and see his grip straining on the stall wall, and smell him, the laundry and sweat and cologne smell of him—and hear him, louder than Steve, grunting streams of “Fuck, fuck, jesus, fuck,” and “God, don’t slow down, you asshole,” and “Oh shit, do that again, please, please, please…” trailing off into begging, panting gibberish.

When he came, he staggered back and thudded down onto the toilet seat with a clatter.  “Just—just gimme a minute,” he panted, as Steve grabbed toilet paper, and wiped the spit off his face and chin.  

“Take your time,” he said, and the toilet seat squeaked as the guy cleared his throat.  

“Yeah, yeah, shit, sorry, fuck.  Lemme just get down there, asshole—”

“No, I mean it,” Steve said, sitting down himself, and giving his dick a squeeze.  He let his eyes fall shut at the relief.  “Take as long as you want, I don’t have a meeting or anything.”

“...shit,” the guy breathed.  “Yeah.”

“...wanna give me your number?” Steve asked, trying to distract himself from the thought of the dude’s mouth, of pushing into the heat of another human being.

“Shit, yes,” the guy blurted.  “Yeah, yes, please.”  He recited it, and Steve put it in his phone, taking care his extreme horniness didn’t make his hand shake and drop his phone in the toilet.  

“I’m saving you as ‘beautiful dick guy’,” he said, and Beautiful Dick Guy laughed.  

“Text me, so I know you’ve got it,” he said, and Steve did, before tucking his phone safely away.

“What are you saving me as?” Steve asked.  “Best blowjob ever?  Nice Mouth Dude?”

“Surprised you didn’t save me as ‘Dick Monster’,” the guy muttered, and Steve snorted a laugh, as he slid the other condom on.

“Well, you haven’t bitten it off yet.”

“I’m not gonna bite it off!” he laughed.

“You might,” Steve told him, patting the wall, because he wanted to touch something.  “I mean—”

“Get your cock in my mouth, jesus,” the dude said, and Steve stood, and pressed his cock through the glory hole to the guy’s lips with a grunt of relief.  

“Jesus,” he whispered.  “Thank you, god.  Thank you.”

Beautiful Dick Guy pulled off, and Steve bit back a groan of protest.  “Stop making it sound like I’m donating to charity,” he growled, before sinking Steve’s cock between his lips again, and swallowing around it.

“Dunno what you wanna hear,” Steve muttered.  “God, you’re good at this.”  The mouth around his dick hummed approvingly, and Steve nearly came at the vibration, moaning.  “You’re perfect, you’re amazing,” he mumbled, on autopilot.  “Jesus, you’re a fucking gift, you’re the best thing that ever happened to my cock, I swear, you’re a goddamn miracle, you’re a natural disater on my dick—”

The dude started laughing again, choking and coughing, and Steve grabbed the top of the stall, wishing it wouldn’t be weird and unsafe to just climb on the toilet and lean over to kiss him like the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet—or better yet, open the door and walk into the other stall, and dip him like the end of a tango.  Steve mumbled some version of all that, and the guy cackled harder.  “Sorry,” he wheezed.  “Sorry, sorry.”

“No hurry, man,” Steve told him, taking a deep breath.  “Can’t...rush art, right.”

“Jesus,” the dude snorted, coughing again, and Steve cocked his head, trying to think around all the blood pounding in his dick.  

“...other people must tell you you’re good at this,” he said, “—like, all the time,” and everything was quiet for a long second.  

“...yeah,” the guy finally said, sounding a little bitter.  “Everybody’s super polite and respectful, when you suck them off in a toilet.”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing, and squirming, a little, at the memory of how the dude’s voice felt against his dick.  “Well.  Um.  Would it be weird if I texted you?  Like.  I can’t ask you out.”

“...you wanna ask me out?” the guy asked, laughing.

“I can’t, there’s—there’s nowhere we can go,” Steve said, wondering whether it’d be rude to pull his cock back through, and jerk off, if it was just gonna sit there untouched.  “We could, um, we could like...wave at each other in the park, but it’s cold.”

“You’d date me?” came his voice again.  “You haven’t even asked my name yet.”

“Steve,” Steve said quickly.  “And you are?”

“...Billy,” Billy said, and just as Steve was distracted, thinking about what kinda shitheel would fuck a guy’s mouth and not ask his name, the heat of Billy’s mouth sank over his cock again, and Steve just tried to keep his mouth moving, mumbling how fantastic Billy had to be.

 Billy left first, while Steve took stock of the brain cells he’d lost through his dick.  Thanks so much, he texted.  Sorry I can’t kiss you.  

what, arrived back, almost instantly.

I mean, Steve sent, and then stared at the screen, trying to figure out what he meant.  I love listening to you laugh

I want to kiss your face while you laugh 

wrap around you when you shiver

leave hickies all over your body

hold you when you’re all fucked out

wake you up with my mouth on your cock

my hands holding your thighs

 dont do this to me at work, Billy sent back, and Steve hunched his shoulders, grimacing, but then his phone buzzed again.  i’ll die i’m fucking dying holy shit god yes kiss me hold me down 

I can come back next week, Steve sent, grinning.

fuck you, Billy sent back.  you know how many actual hours that is 

why you gonna make me wait that long

asshole

Steve laughed, grinning at his screen.  

 When he left, he took a long look at the bar, and a dude with light brown curls, thick, dark brows, and amazing gray-blue eyes watched him.  It was hard to tell his expression through the mask, but Steve was pretty sure it was a grin.  

later, beautiful cock monster, he sent, and he heard the familiar snorted laugh.

fuck you, his phone told him.  

 The next morning, he sent g’morning, beautiful, and hope you’re having a lunch as amazing as you are, and kiss emoticons, and Billy sent back eggplants and staring eyes and suggested Steve come by the bar twice a day.

 He learned over the next few weeks that Billy could get nearly any conversation back around to sucking Steve’s cock, and it made it kinda...hard to talk to him, honestly, when Steve wanted to put him on speaker over lunch, or watch a movie.  He had more phone sex than he’d had in ever, but Billy kinda sounded like he was taking his cues from a phone sex hotline, and that...wasn’t quite what Steve had been...longing for.  

“I watched some Sesame Street clips with this kid I know on Zoom,” Steve told him.  “Looked for you.  You live near, like, Bert and Ernie?  Is that the queer community there?”

“Were you thinking about my dick?” Billy asked, snickering, and Steve hadn’t been, really, he’d been thinking about Billy’s laugh.  “My mouth misses you more, though,” Billy whispered, “—misses your heat, man, misses stretching around you—” and Steve was half-hard in his jeans, again, and too tired to do anything about it.  

“I gotta go,” he sighed, and Billy was silent at the other end.  It felt less like dating, and more like watching the same porn over and over.  

 When Billy called just as Steve was settling in with warm pajamas, popcorn, beer, and a good K-drama, about to find out who the mother-in-law’s secret son’s girlfriend actually was, Billy called, already panting.  Steve couldn’t help thinking I just got you off after lunch.  

“I’m kinda busy,” he said, pausing the show.

“Aren’t you off?” Billy asked, after a pause.  “You’re off, right?”

“...yeah, I just have...stuff,” Steve said, grimacing.  

Billy was quiet for long enough that Steve glared off into space, because his popcorn was getting cold.  “...maybe in an hour?” Billy offered.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Steve said, “—or later this week.”

“...yeah, okay, you call me,” Billy said, and hung up.  

Steve shook his head, sighing, and clicked his show back on, watching with big eyes as he tried to figure out the complicated relationships.  He didn’t remember to text Billy that night—and he didn’t hear anything back, either, so he didn’t worry about it, too much.  It was kinda nice, honestly, not getting a phone call at seven am from a guy Steve barely knew telling him what to do with his huge, meaty cock.  Somehow, formulaic sex hotline talk didn’t help him feel any less lonely.

 By the end of the week, he was kinda dreading calling Billy at all, so he called Robin instead.  

“He’s too horny,” she said slowly.  “Steve, everybody’s horny.  We’ve all been in solitary for a year.  I would probably eat out a fire hydrant to feel some juices on my face, okay, go easy on this guy.”

“It’s not...ugh,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face.  “It’s like talking to one of those viagra emails, okay?  Like, why even talk to a real person, if he’s just gonna…like, I get him off, but he won’t talk about anything else, I don’t know if he’s ever seen a movie—”

“...he’s boring, it sounds like,” she sighed.  “That sucks, man.”

“He is,” Steve groaned.  “I feel like I’m talking to a budget sex line operator.  He cuts me off whenever I even mention work, or like, anything—”

“...sounds like he might think you’re boring too, buddy,” she said, with her trademark blend of cynical sympathy.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.

“Better wrap it up,” she said, and he nodded, grimacing.

 hey, he texted.  I don’t think this is gonna work out.

 Billy called an hour later, and Steve sighed, but swiped to answer, and said “Hello?”

“God,” Billy whispered.  “I thought you might’ve already blocked me.”

“Haven’t yet,” Steve said, drumming his fingers on his tabletop, and waiting.

“‘Yet’.  Okay,” Billy said, laughing.  It sounded a little—pissed, maybe, and Steve braced himself, listening to Billy’s soft breaths.  It sounded like he was walking somewhere.  “Is—is there anything—any way I could get another chance,” he panted, and then it went silent, like he was holding his breath.

Why, Steve wondered, frowning.  He bit his lips, thinking.

“If there’s anything you want from me, just tell me,” Billy said, sounding a little less steady.  “Or shit, if—if you don’t want something, just—just tell me what you want, I don’t—”

“It’s not you, it’s m—” Steve tried, making a face, and Billy cut him off, laughing, but sniffling.

“No.  No, don’t give me that, it’s definitely me, I can tell, okay.  You wanted me and then talking to me was a fucking chore, what—come on,” he whispered, his voice cracking.  “You said you wanted to hold me, don’t—”

I was lonely, Steve thought of saying, and winced.  I can’t make myself like you.  

“Don’t make me get a job on Sesame Street,” Billy said hoarsely, laughing.  “I don’t think they actually have openings for Dick Monsters,” and there he was, the guy Steve had listened to giggling, the man he had liked.  

He took a deep breath, thinking.  

“...okay, yeah,” Billy said, clearing his throat.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  “Fuck.”

At least, Steve thought, feeling his face heat, he could tell Billy hadn’t been bored.  “...you...wanna try again,” he said, cautiously, and Billy made a weird noise like he was slurping up nothing through a wet straw.

“Yes.  Yes,” he whispered.  “Yeah, is that—is that even—”

“Okay,” Steve told him, and felt indescribably guilty listening to his boyfriend burst into tears.  

“Fuck, okay, tell me—tell me what you want,” he gulped.  “I don’t wanna piss you off again, tell me—”

“You didn’t piss me off,” Steve told him, and Billy swallowed hard.  

“Okay,” he said again.  “What—why—”

“...you’re like talking to a SPAM email,” Steve finally said, brutally honest.  “Like, every time I try to talk to you—”

“What?!” Billy asked, laughing, a little bitterly.

“I try to tell you what I’m having for lunch or something, and all of a sudden you’re all ‘biggest HUGE cock, daddy’,” Steve groaned.  “Like...if I’m that boring, d’you even want to date me?”

“...should I just call less,” Billy asked.  “I know I was calling too much, I was trying to just—just wait for you to call me, just call sometimes—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve said, sighing.

“No, I am, I swear!” Billy yelped.  “I’m listening, you don’t want me trying to keep you on the line, I’ll stop.  I’ll—when you’re done I’ll just hang up, I swear, I’m listening, I am—”

“I’m not...trying to get you to hang up,” Steve said slowly.  “I’m—I’m just telling you stuff?  I just—I’ve got a life, y’know, I thought maybe—you’d wanna know me.”

“I thought you were fucking bored,” Billy yelled, then, fuzzier, “—no, sorry, sorry—” before the phone was back to his ear.  “Every time I’d get you on the phone you’re like ‘So anyway, lots to do today—’”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing.  

“You always sounded bored.  You’re always bored, with me,” Billy said, laughing.  “Shit, I knew this was coming, don’t—don’t date me just because I begged, christ.”

“It’s not even really dating,” Steve sighed, wondering if he’d have noticed Billy’s tension earlier, across a table from him.

“...yeah, not—not really,” Billy agreed, then, more quietly.  “We’re just talking, sometimes.”

“Want to go for a walk,” Steve asked, and Billy held his breath again, then blew it out with a soft sigh.

“...not if you’re dumping me,” he said, and Steve sat up straighter.  

“No!  No, just—I wanna see you.  I didn’t even wanna dump you, I thought you were fucking bored, man.”

“...okay,” Billy said, sounding like he might be smiling, finally, and when Steve arrived at the park, there he was, texting.

Steve’s phone buzzed as he approached—sure enough, it was the guy he’d seen at the bar, with dark eyebrows and pretty gray-blue eyes over his mask.

dont make me wait, dickhead, it said.

“I’m here,” Steve called, and Billy looked up, and grinned with his eyes.  “Shit,” Steve said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Billy’s smile dropped.  He searched Steve’s face.  “I just wanna hug you,” Steve admitted, staying six feet away.  “You look cute.”

Billy laughed, his eyes crinkling, and Steve wriggled his hands in his pockets, groaning melodramatically.  

“Tell me something about you,” Steve told him.  “Uh, not about your cock.”

“...um,” Billy said, kicking a pinecone along the path.  “Huh.  I got a little sister.  Max.  She’s home now, but she’ll head back to college.  When they reopen.”

“This is the kinda shit I should know when we’ve been dating for nearly a month, and we talk every goddamn day,” Steve growled, hunching his shoulders.  

“Well, truly fucking sorry,” Billy said, glancing over.  “The only part of me I knew you liked was my dick, so—”

“No, I’m not—I should’ve asked,” Steve said, swivelling, and waving his hands in the air as another horrifying thought occurred to him.  “What’s your last name, Billy?!”

“Hargrove,” Billy said, grinning at him.  

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, shaking his head, and walked on.  He grabbed his phone, and changed his boyfriend’s contact info to include his actual name, feeling like a dipshit.

 When they decided, shivering, to head home, Steve turned around to watch Billy walk away, and caught him doing the same thing.  

I really like you, Steve texted.  sorry you didn’t know.

Billy turned on his heel and blew Steve a kiss, and Steve jumped and pretended to catch it like a fly ball, before holding it cupped in his hands.  

nerd, Billy sent.

your nerd, Steve sent back, triumphantly, with two thumbs up across the park at Billy, who started laughing so hard again he had to lean on his knees.

 He found Billy Hargrove on Instagram, and Twitter, and scrolled through photos of a really unfairly hot man as he sat in his car, his eyebrows raised.  There were photos of Steve’s texts, with loads of comments and hearts, and Steve found himself grimly going through posts where he’d texted and Billy’d posted the screenshot, and then video of him screaming into a pillow, or things Steve had said with two pages of comments and analysis.  

‘I think you could do better than somebody who doesn’t like you very much’ caught his eye, and he bit his lips together.  

Good thing it’s not up to you, Billy had replied, and Steve nodded, glaring at the username, MadMax666.  

I like him a lot, Steve typed, but that didn’t seem like enough, so he deleted it.  ‘I like him more than anyone else does’ was worse, and he grimaced, deleting that one. I know he’s amazing, he put, finally, and got back a Who is this?? from Billy’s logon.

The dumb boyfriend, Steve told him, and then everything exploded with heart emoticons, and Steve just called him, grinning.  “Hey, Billy,” he said, and Billy laughed.  

“Hey, Steve,” he said back, softly, and Steve talked him off the way they had at first, in the bathroom at Billy’s work, telling Billy he was amazing and perfect and good.  

 The next time Steve went by the bar, he called first, and Billy laughed breathlessly when he said he was coming by.

“Advance notice,” he said.  “Almost like a date, huh?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice a little sooner,” Steve admitted, and got a short pause before a hissed “Oh my god.”  Steve laughed.

“Maybe something special, then,” Billy whispered, and when Steve got there, instead of seeing Billy’s knees as he dropped to the floor instantly, Billy’s hands were curled over the wall of the stall.  “...just shove on in,” he said, and Steve realized that, bizarrely, he was about to have actual penetrative sex with someone he’d never touched.  

He unzipped his pants, and rolled a condom on, as Billy said “I know this isn’t what you want.  From dating.  I—I thought maybe—”

Steve dropped his already-dripping dick to slide his fingers over Billy’s, on the wall of the stall, and hear his voice hitch and shudder.  “You’re perfect, babe.  You’re enough.”

“...love you,” Billy whispered, maybe.

“What?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy said “Nothing, nothing.”

 Billy didn’t seem to know Steve had found his Twitter too, and all discussion of Steve floated over there, which would have made him feel creepy about reading it, except it was invariably something that just meant Steve needed to call and cheer him up, that he wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t eavesdropping.  

What are you gonna do in that huge apartment all by yourself, somebody asked Billy, in the spring, and Steve’s heartbeat a little faster scrolling back to see Billy’s boyfriend had moved out months before, and his little sister was going back to college.  

Want to move in with me? he typed, and reconsidered, staring at it instead of hitting send.  He counted the months he’d known Billy on his fingers, grimacing.  

Can’t pay the rent here with reduced hours, can’t get the deposit to move, popped up on Billy’s Twitter, and Steve glowered at it, then called.

“Move in with me,” he said, when Billy answered.

“...what?” Billy breathed.

“Move in with me,” Steve said again.  “You’re alone, right?  Come live with me.”

“...is there room?” Billy asked, sounding bewildered.  “For me?”

“There’s a little room I use as my office,” Steve said, making a face.  “I, uh, I kinda thought you wouldn’t be using it, though.”

“You want me to live with you?” Billy asked again, like his brain was skipping, and Steve laughed.  

“Yeah, dick-monster, I do.”

“...you’ve never even seen my face,” Billy muttered, and Steve laughed.

“Is it my fault you’re so fucking tired of Zoom?”

“That doesn’t count,” Billy huffed.

“I’m vaccinated,” Steve told him.  “I’ve been quarantining.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Billy said dourly.  “I’m crawling out of my skin over here.”

“It’s safe as it can be.  D’you want to?”

“Of course I—we’ve never even had the exclusive conversation,” Billy groaned.  “Are we?!”

“COVID makes shit weird,” Steve sighed.  “I figured you were it for me, yeah.”

“I have never touched your flesh,” Billy moaned, like a serial killer, and Steve snorted.

“Calm down, carnivore,” he said,  “—you want help moving?”

“Yes,” Billy sighed.  “Yeah.  Gimme a couple days—”

“Days?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy was quiet on the other end.  “Days are fine!” Steve corrected.  “Days are good!”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing softly.  “Days.”

 As soon as the furniture and boxes were piled in Steve’s front room, he sidled over to Billy, who was leaning against the counter panting, his eyes closed.  Billy’s jacket was open, from the heat of hauling boxes up the stairs, and Steve ran his fingers down Billy’s neck, and then yanked him close into a hug, feeling the warmth and bulk of him breathing.

“Oof,” Billy whispered, but he relaxed into it with a sigh, leaning his whole weight against Steve.

Steve breathed him in, realizing he felt weak, a little, with the need to squeeze Billy as hard as he could.  “Hi,” he whispered.

“Mmmn,” he said, contentedly.

 Steve hauled him back to the bed, stripping him down on the way.  He wouldn’t quit squirming, and Steve rubbed stubble all over his neck, making him yell.  They nearly tripped, because neither of them wanted to pull back enough to look down, but they made it to Steve’s bed.  Steve pushed him back, and then crouched over him.  

Steve unhooked the mask from his own ears, and ran his fingers up Billy’s arm to his head to untie his.  “Feel like I’m lifting your veil,” Steve told him.

Billy kept his eyes shut, smiling as Steve lifted his mask.  He was pretty, prettier than his pictures, square-jawed and mustached, and Steve ran his fingers over his boyfriend’s cheek for the first time, just exploring.  He tweaked the one dangling earring, and brushed his thumb over Billy’s lips, and Billy bit back a moan, turning his head in Steve’s hands to kiss his fingers.

“...y’know I’m never gonna stop touching you,” Steve whispered, and Billy laughed, his long lashes brushing his freckled cheeks.  “...you’re perfect.”

“Mmmn,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully.

“You’d be perfect if you had a smashed nose like a cauliflower, and nine-hundred eyes like a fly,” Steve told him, honestly, and Billy burst out laughing.  

“Not much of a compliment, then,” he pointed out, opening his eyes and grinning at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help touching his grin, feeling where his cheeks bunched as he smiled.  

It felt so good to touch someone.  

“...god,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips over Billy’s smile.  "May I kiss the bride?" 

Billy laughed against his lips, hot and human.  

My other Harringrove April prompts are here!

[floralovebot]

I read your timmy/riven/helia headcanons and I LOST IT hahahaha I love it! I just got curious about that sad headcanon you mentioned about helia (I think about his past?)? Like you have said, like other people I project into him a lot so he's my favorite and wanted to know about that hc cuz now I can't stop thinking about it 🙊

AHH A FELLOW HELIA STAN MY BELOVED!!! HI!!!!

okay so,, i'd like to preface this with a couple things. 1. it's based off of a rewrite that i've had in my head since i was like, 10 and i'm never actually gonna write/post it kldhglahdgl. 2. i want to explain why i came up with this backstory and headcanon! cause ik anyone who isn't a helia stan or at least really likes him, probably won't understand (not in a gatekeepy way but in a "this character is so underdeveloped that if you haven't paid attention to every little thing about them you probably won't immediately catch on to the thought process behind this" kind of way).

So,,,, oh dear okay first no one is allowed to judge me. if you judge i'm gonna cry >:(

When I was trying to come up with Helia's backstory, a lot of different ideas went through my mind. Naturally being a Helia stan, I first went with the "he grew up at red fountain" route! But then I realized I wanted something with a little more umph, and as I realized certain things about him, growing up at RF (red fountain) didn't immediately make sense? At least,, not completely... You see, Helia is a major perfectionist (we've covered this in past lessons) and a major escapist. Something that stands out about him though, is that everyone we've seen that knew him for a long time (ie family members or childhood friends) are extremely supportive of him and understanding of mistakes (even bigger ones).

Helia's escapism has a direct connection to his perfectionism, ie if he makes a mistake, no matter how small or inconsequential, he freaks out and leaves. Something that makes him slightly different from other, similar characters though, is that his perfectionism only has to do with himself (usually). He doesn't worry about what other people think of him, only about the guidelines he's set for himself. So, if he makes a mistake that crosses those guidelines or rules, that's when he gets upset and leaves. (I honestly think him leaving RF for art school the first time could've been a product of this, though that's heavily just thinking and not canon).

While anyone can be a perfectionist and escapist without any big reason, I really wanted to explain why Helia is like that. His issues in particular seem more based on fear and invisible rules than just feeling inadequate (like some of the other escapists in the group... ahem bloom ahem). One thing that really stood out to me, was the arc in the comics where he left the school for a third time because he made a mistake on a mission that almost cost Brandon and Codatorta their lives. He let emotions and personal life get in the way of what he was doing and that allowed someone to mess with their ship, causing a malfunction that almost killed them. Helia, instead of trying to figure out what happened, immediately resigned from the school because "a good specialist wouldn't have done that". He places these almost impossible standards on his entire life, both personal and work-related. And again, while that can happen to anyone, the level he does this at is so much higher than the other characters (even the royals who are notorious for doing this).

I want to preface this next bit with I'm a dumb bitch who's obsessed with apocalyptic media. So like,, the backstory I came up with is that his planet basically got overrun with monsters born from wild/dark magic and that most people died in the chaos. This happens when he's very young and he only survives because he had adults taking care of him. Eventually, he would get separated from his family and come across another group of survivors are willing to bring him along. He ends up bonding with a young woman who he essentially uses to replace his mom (cause yknow,, kids need parents and all). At some point, they're looking for food or medical supplies and he makes a mistake (likely making a loud noise or something) that draws monsters to them. The young woman saves him and in the process sacrifices herself. Cue survivor's guilt that transforms into extreme perfectionism. After this, he would run away and eventually Codatorta finds him because specialists were sent to find survivors. Cue him growing up at RF where he can get the proper training but he's too young to go on missions. This sparks the perfectionism and starts the escapism. (Not even gonna pretend that this backstory isn't heavily inspired by tlou and twdg.)

I also wanted a reason for why he's so heavily protective of Saladin, a very strong wizard who's been in countless wars and by all means, doesn't need protection. Like,, obviously they're family so duh. But idk,, his protectiveness of Saladin tends to overshadow his own life (for instance in the comics I mentioned earlier, Helia only comes back to RF because he had to help save Saladin and in the process gives up his job as an artist). I wanted to explain why Helia is such a good specialist but is also constantly trying to get away from that life (ie he grew up there and doesn't want to live in war constantly). I also wanted to explain why Helia seems so unphased when things happen! Like he just,, he shows emotions, but they're so subdued compared to everyone else.

OKAY ANYWAY,, jeez this is long already (and I condensed it... I have an entire google doc that explains all of this in a much more eloquent way). The trivelia headcanon was about Helia feeling comfortable sharing these things with them. He would bond with Riven specifically over not knowing/having family. Over the years, Helia would share just the tiniest little tidbits here and there about what happened (this apocalypse coincided with the Domino war and as such no one helped them. the Magix news centers kept pushing this issue aside to the point where a lot of people don't even know it happened) and how he feels about it. Like I've said before, Helia has a hard time talking about his life and especially his emotions. So Riven and Timmy (and Flora :) ) would really be the only ones who get to hear these tidbits. Eventually, Helia would have to go back because there are rumors that the monsters are trying to spread to other planets. Timmy would be his main source of communication when he's there as the others wouldn't be allowed to go (since they aren't native to the planet and could be in danger with the wild magic around [.. things happened to the first specialists that got sent... not good things]). (Also not gonna lie that the monsters are heavily inspired by the aliens in a quiet place.. In the google doc, I have an entire section dedicated to the monsters alone alkgdldajg).

.... this is so long.........

[ediths]

Bad Reputation

Pairing: Frat!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 11,573

Summary: You meet Tom at the coffee shop that you work at, and you never think you’ll see him again, but the world seems to be on your side.

Warning(s): mentions of sex, I think the word hell is used (i don’t think there are any other bad words), some self doubt by the reader, frat!tom (yes, that’s a warning hehe), mentions of tom being a boxer oops, it wasn’t edited (my wife was gonna help me edit it bUT i started overthinking and decided to just post it :))

A/N: This is officially the longest one shot I have ever written. This is for @t-holland2080 ‘s summer writing challenge. I never thought I was going to get it done, there was a lot of writing and deleting and questioning, but here we are! I hope everyone enjoys, and as always, feedback is highly appreciated!!

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*

You were stressed, to say the least. Today had been a busy day and it was only getting worse. Working at the coffee shop on campus had its perks, sure. Like having some extra cash and getting free coffee. But it also had its downsides. It was always busy. Some days, like today, even more so. A lot of the students were absolute jerks and couldn’t bother to wait more than thirty seconds to get their drink when it obviously took longer than that to make, and every one of them always had something snarky to say or a loot to throw you to let you know just how ridiculous it was that you couldn’t snap your fingers and the drink be done.

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You had opened the store, today being one of the only days when you had no classes, so you could work for longer, which meant that you had gotten up at five this morning so that you could get ready and be at the shop by six. Every person that you had greeted seemed to be in a hurry, hurtling snide comments at you over and over. It seemed to be the busiest day of the week, even though it was nowhere close to the weekend.

And to top it off, another customer just walked in. Thankfully, he took his time walking up to the register, spent a little while gazing at the sweets arranged in cases around the room. When he finally did make his way to you, he flashed you a bright smile. 

“What can I get you today?” You ask, going through the motions.

“Hmm, can I just get a regular coffee, love?” He’s still got that heart stopping smile on his face, and you can’t help but give him a real smile back.

“Sure, will that be all for today?” You ask, wanting to put the order through so that it will get done faster, just in case he is in a rush. It’s just a black coffee, so all you have to do is pour it into a cup, but you’ve had multiple impatient people get upset over it taking you “too long” to pour it.

He wants to say no, wants to say that he wants your number too. He thinks you’re beautiful, and he secretly really wants to tell you that. He wants to let you know that he saw you through the shop window and that he only came in here because of you. He wants to tell you that he secretly hates black coffee but it’s the cheapest option and he had to buy something to talk to you. 

But he says none of those things, doesn’t want to come off strong. He’s never seen you before, after all. He doesn’t know who you are, if you’re the kind of girl that would want to even give him the time of the day. If you’re the kind of girl that gave any boy the time of day.

So he settles for saying, “Yeah, that’ll be all,” he looks at your name tag, “y/n.”

You tell him the price and go to pour his coffee as he swipes his card. Once you’re done, you struggle to put a lid on it; trying, and failing, to not get coffee onto your hands.

You quickly wipe the slight spill off of the cup, not wanting him to get anything on his hands, and then hand him the cup, thanking him and wishing him a nice day.

Once he leaves the store, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. He was cute, really cute actually. And he looked like a nice enough guy. You don’t know how you’d never seen him around before, knowing that there’s no way you had, you’d remember a face like that.

*

Apparently, you wouldn’t remember a face like that. Not until he ordered coffee from you, anyway.

You went to your English class the next day, hoping that the lecture wouldn’t make you want to rip your hair out. When you sit down in your normal seat, a place near the middle, but a little closer to the back, you see him.

You can’t believe you had never noticed him. You had noticed every other person that he was sitting with. They were all the guys that came into class late every Friday morning because they were too hungover to get to class on time. They were the frat boys.

Did that mean…? No, it couldn’t. He didn’t look like the rest of the frat boys.

But he fit right in, really. He was perfectly in place in their group. Honestly, it looked like they all watched what he was doing, following whatever he did, almost as soon as he did it. It was like they were waiting for his instruction. You had heard the rumors, they only did that with the head of the fraternity, Tom Holland.

But no, that would mean that he was Tom Holland. 

Even though you heard continuous rumors about the way that he partied, got blackout drunk, slept with random girls, and then never called them again, you had never once seen the infamous face of Tom Holland.

And nobody questioned it when you told them. You weren’t the kind of girl that would know who he is. You’re not the kind of girl that goes to parties every chance they get and hooks up with the first guy that you can get your hands on.

If your assumptions were correct, however, he had been right under your nose this whole time, you had just never paid attention to him.

*

He had been looking for you, had been trying to find your face in the sea of others the entire day. He had absolutely no luck doing so, though, seeing as apparently, you were nowhere to be found.

He even tried to ask about you, but according to everyone that he knows, you don’t exist. And if you do, you don’t go to school with him. But he’s determined. He will see your stunning face again, experience your heart warming smile one more time, at least.

For the time being, however, he’s trying to push the thought out of his mind, knowing full well that he has to focus on whatever his English professor is going to drone on and on about today. 

Once he had turned in slightly in his seat to see where Harrison was, though, there was absolutely no chance that he would be paying attention to anything but you.

You were right there, you had been right under his nose this whole time and he had spent so much time trying to actively ignore everything to do with English that he completely overlooked you, the prettiest girl that he had ever seen. 

Your eyes were downcast, looking at the notebook that you had brought to class. Yeah, you seemed like the type of girl that would rather hand write notes than type them. 

Your cheeks and your ears were tinged pink and he couldn’t help but wonder what made you blush, but then you looked up and met his gaze, and every thought left his mind. He could do nothing but stare back at you like a fool until Harrison finally walked in, sitting down beside him and nudging him with his elbow.

“Who’re you looking at, mate?” The blonde asked.

“Nobody.” Tom quickly replied, not wanting to have to listen to his best friend nag him about being enamored about a girl that he had only talked to once. And it wasn’t even a real conversation, he just ordered coffee from you, there was no flirting, there was no getting to know each other. The only things that either of you had learned was that he ordered just black coffee when he drank it and that you worked at the campus coffee shop.

You tried to sit through the rest of class as if you hadn’t just, maybe, held full eye contact for like a whole minute with the head of the biggest frat on campus. But really, he’s all you could think about. You were usually pretty good at not getting distracted during class, at not having to worry about whether or not you missed something because you were lost in your own head. But today, you probably zoned out and missed over half the lesson.

This was crazy, right? No person should be this intrigued by a person that they’ve only talked to once and seen only twice, should they? 

If it was crazy, though, you were completely embracing it. There was something about this boy, something about Tom, that was messing with your mind. You weren’t the kind of person to believe in soulmates, but you did believe that the universe brought people together. You believed that there was a reason for everything. Which means that there had to be a reason for Tom to have walked into the coffee shop that you worked in, on the day that you needed a little brightness the most. There had to be a reason that he was in your class, that your paths had crossed yet again.

*

He never paid attention to the things happening around him while he was in class. He had never before paid the slightest bit of attention to the people that would filter in through the doors. But ever since he saw you in his English course, he started paying attention. And he realized that he had two other classes with you, his history course and his biology course.

He saw you every time that you had class with him, but he never had the guts to walk up and just talk to you. He had never had that problem before, usually going up to any girl he thought was attractive and sweet talking her into the palm of his hand in a matter of minutes.

Something about you was different, though. There was something about you that made him almost scared to just walk up to you. The fear of rejection when thinking about you was high, and that wasn’t something that he had felt in a long time. 

It was almost like he felt that you were too good for him. He felt like you were too innocent, too pure to be bothered by him. 

He was the resident fuckboy on campus, and there was no way that someone like you, someone that he had never seen at a party, or at any other social event, would want to be around him. 

There’s no way that he’s anywhere near good enough for you. He thought that if he walked up to you and asked you anything, you’d scoff in his face and then walk away. 

So, he doesn’t go up to you. He doesn’t talk to you. Doesn’t ask about your day, about your favorite subjects, about what your dreams are. And he sure as hell doesn’t ask you what he really wants to, for you to go on a date with him.

*

It had been a few weeks since you had seen him last, always making sure to get to class super early so you could sit closer to the front, not wanting to be too distracted in the classes that you had with him.

You have to admit, though, that you had spent many hours in your dorm room, debating on whether or not you should go out to one of the frat parties that you knew Tom would be at. Ultimately, you decided against it, knowing that you’d just make a fool out of yourself, showing up to a party in which you weren’t invited to see a boy that probably hasn’t thought about you since you gave him his receipt.

You had all but given up on him, realizing that the chances of ever even talking to him again was slim to none, and hoping for anything more than that was absolutely ludicrous.

So, pushing him to the back of your mind, you walked from your dorm to the library. For the first time in what felt like years, you didn’t search the faces that you passed by, you didn’t hope that one of them would be him, and you didn’t feel disappointed to not run into him.

You made it to the library just in time to say goodbye to your favorite librarian, Joan, before she left for the day. She wished you a good evening and then went on her way, shooting you a warm smile as you entered the rows of books that could all be used for reference on the essay that your English professor had assigned.

He hates essays. He really, truly does. He would rather do literally any other type of assignment than an essay. But here he was, walking into the library to search through numerous research articles just to find a sentence or two that he could use for his 5 page, minimum, essay that was due in less than a week.

He trudges over to the shelves, knowing which books that he needs to grab, but not really looking forward to doing so.

Right before he gets to the aisle he's about to wander down, he sees you. The girl that he’s been paying more than enough attention to since the day he walked into the coffee shop that he had never been to before. The girl he had been too scared to go up to and just simply talk to.

Until now. 

He finally had a reason to go up and talk to you. He hated essays. He was complete trash at them. He always failed them no matter how hard he tried.

But you didn’t. You always did great on your essays. He knew you did, not because he was paying a weird amount of attention to you, it’s just that after he realized who you were, he started remembering some of the times that you had been there, but he just didn’t notice you. Some of these times were when every single time the professor would pass back essays, he would ask for yours back for ‘example pieces.’

So he cautiously made his way to you, walking slow to see if anyone was with you that would pop up. Thankfully, nobody did, so he walked the last couple steps to the table you had chosen as your study area and put his hands on the back of the chair opposite of you.

You look up and a wrinkle automatically comes between your brows, one that he can’t help but want to smooth with his fingertips. 

“Can I help you?” You ask after he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just standing there.

“Um, yeah. I- you have Professor Stephens for English, right?” He tries to keep his eyes locked on you, but he can’t, can’t help but let his eyes wander over your features. The way that your eyebrows are furrowed and your forehead continues to be pinched, still confused as to why he’s here. The way that your cheeks seem to be a natural rosy pink. The way that your lips look so effortlessly full. 

“Yeah, why?” He’s beginning to think that this was a bad idea. He had been right when he first thought it, there’s no way that someone like you could even want to be around someone like him. But it was too late to back out now, so he continued the plan that he had conjured up with the two brain cells that he had left.

“So, um, feel free to say no, of course. No pressure or anything.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Just, you see, the thing is, I’m awful at essays. I try my best and still fail, and every time we do one, the Professor always keeps yours for examples when he does them next year. So, basically, I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna help me write mine?” 

You look taken aback for a moment before agreeing, nodding your head and telling him which dorm was yours.

“Um, do you maybe want me to give you my number so that you can text when you’re available?” You ask him, and he tries his best to not let his face light up too much, but he definitely feels his stomach flip at the thought, even though you’re not even doing anything but trying to make study plans with him.

He says a quick thank you and a goodbye before promising to text you the next day as soon as he was done with his frat duties.

Why you had agreed at all, let alone so easily, was a mystery to you. What could he possibly want out of this? Yeah, he seemed like he worked a lot harder and paid a lot more attention than the majority of the other frat boys, but he was still one nonetheless, which means that he had to be up to no good.

Did he want you to just write your paper for him? Was that why he was asking?

A small part of you wants to believe that maybe he asked you because he had been feeling the same way that you have been. But that’s crazy. He’s the most wanted frat boy on campus, there’s no way that he’d want anything to do with you.

He was just trying to get his paper done. Whether he was trying to get you to do it or if he just wanted help like he said, you weren’t completely sure yet. But you knew one thing, you had to clean your dorm before he came over.

You rushed back to your place, throwing things where they belonged and hanging up the clothes that you had neglected for days. 

You’re not entirely sure why you’re freaking out so much, trying to get your dorm as close to spotless as possible. It wasn’t like you needed to impress him. You were a uni student. You weren’t expected to be perfect, to be spotless. Yet, you still felt the need to make sure everything was perfect for him.

And that’s when you remember the cute little cafe that you had been dying to go to. Every review said that it was perfect for studying, and that the food there was amazing. 

So, when Tom texted you that evening to make sure that you had his number, you responded telling him that when he was finished the next day to shoot you a text and then meet you at the cafe.

You’re relieved when he agrees, that place being a lot less personal, a lot less intimate than your dorm room, making you feel much more comfortable.

*

The next day, he texts you around noon, telling you that he’ll be able to meet at two at the cafe that you had suggested. 

He’s more excited than he should be, especially since this is just a meeting for you to help him with the most atrocious thing that English professors can assign. But he can’t help it, it’s you. He gets excited every single time that you glance in his direction.

He rushed back to the frat house, taking a thorough shower and picking out a nice button down and a pair of dark jeans. The outfit was nice, he dressed to impress, but not like he was going to a formal dinner or anything.

This was just a study session. Nothing more.

The thought wasn’t getting his emotions in check like it should. Hell, he shouldn’t even have any emotions going into it. He had talked to you a grand total of two times. He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you for an absurd amount of time when he had known of your existence for approximately a month.

He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you at all. He was Tom Holland, for goodness sake. He wasn’t the guy that caught feelings. Everyone knew that. 

But there was something about you, something about the way that you smiled at him, that made him want to be better. Something that made him want to throw away his reputation and start fresh, to not be seen as the boy with a new conquest every day, to be seen as the boy that’s looking for a girl to fall in love with.

Could that girl be you? He has no clue, but there’s something about you that’s begging him to find out.

So, he makes his way to the cafe, taking enough time to not seem too eager but still getting there almost fifteen minutes early.

You were already there as well, though. You had been just as anxious, if not a little more. You had spent hours getting ready, making sure that you were perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. You also spent at least an hour getting your supplies together and then checking, and rechecking everything to make sure that you wouldn’t forget a single thing.

You had arrived at the cafe half an hour early, wanting to make sure that you were there and everything was in order before he arrived. You had half expected him to be late, leaving you more time to calm your nerves. Your expectations were proven wrong, however, when he walked up to the booth you were sat at nearly a quarter to the hour.

“Hey.” He greets, sitting down a notebook, a few writing utensils, and his laptop. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me.”

“Hey! It’s no problem.” You assure, not wanting him to think that this is a burden for you when you’d rather sit around with him and work on an essay than sit at your dorm all alone, especially since you had been so caught up in him as of late.

“So, um, where do you want to start?” And so began the study session that the two of you had been looking forward to. You got so lost in the material, explaining to him what certain aspects of the essay should pertain, letting him write a paragraph or two and then tweaking them slightly, allowing him to do the same, that you didn’t even realize that the diner was about to close until the waitress came to inform the two of you.

He looked just as surprised as you felt to see that the two of you had been there for almost eight hours. 

You both said a quick goodbye and set a time to meet again to continue with the studying, the time conveniently being in a few days, giving you enough time to get most of your essay done so that you could focus on him more.

After he said his final farewell, he made his way down the street, heading back towards the frat house. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way that your smile has been permanently etched into his brain. How your laugh is the most precious thing that he’s ever heard, and he’ll continue to do everything in his power to keep you laughing as often as possible. 

You’re not in a much better headspace, thinking constantly about the way that his smirk is overly annoying, but also so hot that you want to kiss it off of his face. How his nose is slightly crooked, but in a way that accentuates his features in the best way. 

You had asked if he had broken it before, not being able to help your curiosity. This had left to him laughing, throwing his head back, and telling you that he’s had more broken noses than he could count. He’d been boxing for most of his life, and that’s just the kind of thing that happens, knuckles get bruised, noses get broken.

Something about that had made you swoon even more. The thought of him boxing got your heart racing. You had no clue why, you’d never been a fan of any form of violence, but something about picturing him in a boxing ring had your stomach tying in knots and your face heating up.

You fell into bed that night with a smile on your face, feeling more excited than you should have to see him again.

He laid awake in his bed, across campus from you, thinking of the same things. When he’d see you again, if your conversation would venture more towards each others’ personal lives instead of strictly on the material. 

It’s safe to say that neither one of you got that much sleep that night.

*

The two of you decided to meet at your dorm room this time, seeing as how you had spent hours studying the time before and weren’t even done when the diner closed. This way, he could stay and study as long as necessary. 

He was pacing around his room, three hours before he even had to leave for your dorm, trying to find out what in the world he should wear. He thought about asking one of his frat brothers, seeing as the majority of them had a pretty good taste in clothes, but he knew that they’d all take a dig at him if he had to explain why he was so worried about his outfit choice. 

He wasn’t embarrassed of you, not in the slightest, he just didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t even a thing yet. If you ever did agree to actually go out with him, though, he would take all the jokes and the comments from his frat brothers that he had to. He’d be too happy to care what they had to say, even if you only agreed to one date and then never wanted to see him again.

He ended up settling for a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, wanting to be comfortable for the long study session, but not wanting to look like a bum. You had also mentioned to him that your building tended to be a lot more chilly than others around campus, and advised him to either wear a sweatshirt over or to bring one with him.

Although he’d never admit it to you, there was a part of him that was already trying to figure out a way to get you to come to the frat house for the next study session. It was abnormally cool in the house as well, but he wasn’t planning on telling you that. If you didn’t bring one on your own sweatshirt, he would give you his. 

Because, no matter what all the boys thought of him, or what he let his reputation get to, he was the kind of guy that yearned for the domestic things in life. For waking up next to the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with. For waking her up with kisses and then making her breakfast. For her to be wearing his clothes and for him to be able to come up to her and randomly love on her.

He had never had the chance to be like that with someone. He had come to college, joined a frat, and thought that he had to be the guy that had a new conquest every night. And he had been completely fine with it, content even. Until he met you. And something about the way that you made him feel in the brief time that he was around you in the coffee shop made him realize everything that he was missing.

He was missing you. 

And you were all he could think about anymore, because he wanted his life to be complete, and he knew that with you, it would be.

How you could be this intrigued by someone after literally interacting three times is unknown to you, but you had to admit to yourself that you are. You’re so intrigued by him that you find yourself thinking about how it would feel to fall asleep next to him, or how it would be to walk into the kitchen in the morning to find him fixing something and just wrap your arms around him without a care in the world.

You shake the thought from your head, realizing that there’s no way it could ever be a reality, so why fantasize about it?

What you focus on instead is the study session the two of you have in just a few hours. You had cleaned your room before the first session the other day, but you had been deep cleaning since last night, trying to make sure that everything looked decent and presentable. You didn’t want him to think that you were a slob.

You were glad that you had remembered to remind him to wear or bring something warm, seeing as today was one of the cooler ones in the building. The thermostat that you kept in your room reading a chilly 64 degrees (17 degrees Celsius). Why it was so cold in your building, leading you to dress warmly, only to go to a lecture where the room felt like you were sitting on the sun, you would never know, but you never complained or requested a dorm change because you genuinely loved the one that you were in, regardless of the temperature.

With a quick glance at the clock on your bedside table, you decide to get dressed. You put on a hoodie and a pair of leggings. You decided to just put your hair up in a bun. It was just Tom, after all. This was just a study session. Nothing more. There was no need to get all dressed up. It’s not like this was a date. You were just helping him with his English essay. Within the next week, this whole thing would be over and you’d probably never see him again besides in class, much less have an actual conversation with him.

*

“Hey,” you mumble as you open the door for him. You’re still slightly nervous about what he could be thinking. 

Will he think your room is a mess? You had cleaned the entire place, going over everything at least three times, but the thought still crosses your mind.

Will he think that the amount of books you have in the oak bookshelf to the left of your bed is weird? Would he think you were too nerdy? Who were you kidding, he probably already thought you were a nerd, he had noticed how the professor asked to keep your papers. At best, he had to think you were the teacher’s pet or something. That’s probably why he even asked you to help him. He probably figured that you would put in a good word for him, that you would let Professor Stephens know that you had helped.

“Hey.” He replies, sounding almost as nervous as you felt. Could he possibly be? Why would he even be nervous? The only thing that you could think of that he could even be slightly nervous about is the impression that he makes on you, if you were impressed or not. He had no need to feel like that, though.

You wanted to tell him that, but you couldn’t. There was no way in the world that you could possibly just come out and say it, let him know that he looked great.

“So, where are we starting today?” You ask, trying to steer your mind back on the right path.

“Um, I was actually maybe thinking that we could just read over what we had worked on since last time, if that’s okay? And then give each other notes that we have if there are any?” You look over at him and see that his hands are slightly tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, giving him cute little sweater paws.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You pull your eyes from his hands, walking over and plopping down on your bed, looking over at him expectantly.

He seems a lot more nervous than you had initially anticipated. He seems almost as if he’s scared to come sit next to you. There’s something about that thought that makes him seem even more endearing than he already was.

“You can come sit, you know?” You say, smiling at him to let him know that it was alright.

He gives a nervous chuckle that sounds more like a cough and you can’t help but to laugh along. There’s something about hearing his laugh that makes your chest feel a sudden rush of warmth.

He slowly makes his way closer to the bed, still approaching with caution and you can’t help the smile that’s glued to your face.

“So, what’s your story, Holland?” You blurt, not thinking about what in the world you were doing. You didn’t even stop to ponder the possibility that he wouldn’t want to talk to you about his life. There was still the completely possible idea that he actually only wanted to be around you to study. Although, you can’t help but have an itch in the back of your mind that keeps telling you that isn’t the only reason that he’s here.

“What do you wanna know?” He takes you by surprise with that, with the fact that he seems to be willing to tell you any and everything.

“Anything.” you breathe, watching him settle into your bed. You had situated yourself to where you were sitting against the headboard, and he shuffles to lay on his stomach, opening his laptop beside you.

“Well, um, where do I start, I guess is the question.” He looks over at you and you just give a shrug, so he continues. “I could just start at the beginning. I’m Tom, as you know.” He chuckles, running a hand through his chocolate locks, and you can’t help but follow the path that his hand takes through the tendrils of hair, over his neck, and back to the bed. “I have three brothers, all younger. Sam and Harry are twins. Sam’s really into the whole culinary thing, and Harry’s a photographer. They’re really good at what they do.” You can tell by the way that he talks about them that he's really proud of them. “Paddy’s the youngest, still can’t believe how big he is every time I see him. It seems like only yesterday he was a little baby that I could carry around everywhere.” The look on his face seems as if he’s guilty for leaving his brothers when he went to college, and you immediately want to assure him that it’s okay, but you don’t feel like it’s the right time.

“I’ve got a dog named Tessa, she seems to miss me a lot, gets really lovey and excited whenever I go back home for the holidays.” The smile that breaks out on his face makes your heart swell. “Mum and dad are still together, raised me right, taught me how to treat people and how to make the right choices. If we’re honest, I don’t think that they’d be too proud of who I’ve become.” he meets your eyes and gives you a sad smile, and you want to lean over him and envelop him in a warm embrace, but you don’t think that would be the best move.

“What do you mean, why wouldn’t they? You seem like a pretty good guy, Tom.” You’re not lying, you think he’s a great person. You see no reason why they wouldn’t be proud of him.

He chuckles, looking up at you and wondering if what he’s about to say next is the best thing to do, but he decides that he might as well. “I am a pretty good guy, when I’m around you. But when I came here and joined the frat that I did, I thought that I had to be a certain person.” He looks away from you, not wanting to have to see the way you’re going to react to how he really is. “And, for a while, I really liked who I was, you know? I thought that was who I was supposed to be, and it kind of felt right. The whole partying every weekend and taking a different girl home each time I went out thing was fun for a while. And then something changed. Something in my life shifted and I figured out that it wasn’t really that fun. That there were other things that I could do. I don’t want the reputation that I have.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair again, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m surprised that you haven’t heard about it. You’d probably run for the hills if you did.”

You chuckle, and his eyes immediately shoot to meet yours. “I know about your reputation Tom. I have since before I even agreed to help you.”

“Then why would you agree? You had to have known the kind of person that I was. There had to have been at least one person that warned you away from me.” He genuinely can’t believe that you knew about his reputation, about all the things that everyone said about him, both true and false, and still decided to be around him.

“Yeah, there were quite a few that warned me about you, but I don’t listen to what people tell me to do. And I definitely don’t listen to what people have to say about others. I like to find out for myself, which is exactly what I did, and I’m glad that I chose to do what I did. If I had listened to them, I wouldn’t have found out how great of a person that you are.”  Without putting any thought into it, you reach down and run your fingers over his palm, letting him know that you’re there, that you know who he really is and that you don’t think what everyone else does.

He looks up at you, looking a bit startled, and confused, but he makes no move to pull away, just relaxes even further into the bed as you continue to trace random patterns into his hand.

“Hey, this may sound weird, but I haven’t been sleeping well lately, too nervous for my brain to shut down, so do you mind if we maybe, um, take a nap? Or maybe just me? I don’t know, I could lay on the floor or something, I just feel really calm right now.” A blush rises to his cheeks and you can’t help but agree, grabbing your stuff and placing it on the floor beside your bed.

“You can stay up here, Tom.” You murmur, not wanting him to be too far.

He nods an agreement, helping you shuffle under the covers before doing the same. You hear him sigh in content behind you and the smile that spreads across your face stays there as you drift off into the most peaceful sleep that you’ve had since Tom walked into the coffee shop.

*

Weeks passed, and you were still keeping up with the study session, you finding it a lot easier to get things done when Tom was around, and him still needing the occasional push in the right direction on certain assignments. You had both found that it was just simpler to stay study buddies than try to get through it on your own.

You had become a lot closer with Tom, the weeks spent together really letting you get to know one another quite thoroughly.

And, if you’re being honest with yourself, which you hadn’t loved doing lately, you had developed quite the crush on Tom. You suddenly saw what everyone would ramble about when talking about him.

He was sweet, caring, funny, and a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for. When you had told your select few friends about him, they had immediately warned you away from him, told you that he didn’t really need a study partner, he just wanted to get in your pants.

All those speculations had gone away, however, after you explained to them that you had gone the initial week without him trying to make a move whatsoever. At first, they had been surprised, but then you just ended up getting the occasional offhand comment about how it wasn’t all that hard to believe. “I mean, look at him and then look at you.” was one that was used quite a bit. And you hated to admit it, but it really got to you. So much so that you had decided not to make the first move yourself. 

You had grown up being told that women could do anything that men could do, that it was okay to make the first move no matter what the situation was. But there was something about your so-called friends that made you question that in an instant.

Maybe they were right. They did seem to have all the ‘evidence’ that they needed. How could he possibly have the reputation that he had and not have made a move yet? The only plausible explanation was that he simply found you unattractive.

But then your brain would drift back to the conversation that you had shared a few weeks prior. He didn’t want to have that reputation anymore, didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be the guy that he was before starting college, before joining the fraternity that made him into a completely different person. He didn’t want to be the womanizer with a brand new girl in his bed every night.

Those thoughts set the peace back in your mind. Maybe he really was different. He certainly was around you, he had been since the very beginning.

You had made him want to be different, want to change and be known as the guy that wants to fall in love, not as the guy who wants to sleep with as many girls as possible. You changed it all for him and he couldn’t help but realize that he may be falling for you. 

He had been completely enamored by everything about you since the moment that he had first laid eyes on you, and in the short time that the two of you had been hanging out, he had come to grow extremely fond of your personality. Of the way that you saw the good in everything and made him feel as if he wasn’t the crappy person that everyone assumed he still was. Of the way that you made every room brighter, no matter what.

He hadn’t felt as strongly as he did for you in as long as he could remember, and usually feelings would scare him, but there was a certain aspect of the way that you made him feel that took all the fear away, made him feel completely secure in admitting that he had feelings for you.

Not that he could ever admit them to you. No, he was nowhere near fearless enough to come out and let you know how he felt. There was no way that you could possibly like him back. There’s no way that you could have just ignored every bad thing that he had opened up and told you about. There was no way that anyone could love him despite all of that, let alone you.

You were sitting in his room at the frat house, typing away at a project that had been assigned for English, when he looks up at you. He studies your features for a moment, how perfect they all look. How the crease you get between your brows when you’re trying to concentrate makes you somehow even more beautiful than you already are. How the way your tongue sticks out and runs over your full lips makes you look almost angelic, how your hair frames your face perfectly, making him want to run his hands through it.

“We’re having a party here tonight.” He blurts, making you look up from the screen of your computer and give him your undivided attention.

“Oh, that’s fun, do you need me to be gone by a certain time or something?” You ask, slightly bummed that you may have to leave earlier than usual tonight. You’ve gotten used to spending most of the day with him and then going your separate ways at almost midnight every time that you studied together.

“No, no. not at all!” He spits, wanting to smack himself for being so bad with words. Of course he didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to be around him as much as you were comfortable with. He could spend every day and night in your presence and never get bored. “I was actually wondering if, um, maybe you’d want to go?” 

You almost chuckle, thinking how ridiculous the offer is. He knows you, knows that you’re not the girl that goes to parties, much less parties at the biggest frat on campus. You don’t laugh, however, because you see the hopeful look in his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know, Tom. I’m not exactly the party type, you know?” 

He scoffs, “What makes you say that? Everyone’s the party type.” 

You give a slight eye roll at that, “That’s not true. I’m nowhere near what would be considered the party type. I’m the girl that stays in her dorm or at the library studying, not the girl that goes to parties on the weekends and gets wasted.” You look down at your hands, realizing yet another reason why he wouldn’t like you. Why would he want to be with someone who’s never experienced that aspect of his life? “I mean, props to those girls that do that, it just isn’t me.”

He leans over towards you and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting until your eyes meet his again. “Please? I promise you’ll have a good time. I’ll make sure of it.” Your cheeks heat up at this, your mind immediately going to the gutter. You shake the thought from your mind, surprised that you would even think such things.

 It’s not like you and Tom would ever do something like that anyway. He had explained to you multiple times that he didn’t want to sleep with people that he didn’t have feelings for anymore. He didn’t want the meaningless sex anymore. He wanted something that actually meant something. And even though it would mean something to you if something were to happen, it would be meaningless for him, so the chances of anything occurring if you agreed to go to the party was zilch. 

So, you find yourself nodding, agreeing to go. He looks extremely shocked, like he had every doubt in his mind that you would ever say yes. 

If only he knew how you felt, then he would have been aware of the fact that there’s no way that you could ever say no to that face, to the puppy dog eyes that he gives you when he asks for something that he really wants. And he hadn’t stopped giving them since the initial question had rolled off of his tongue, so he must really want you at that party, so of course there was no way that you were going to miss it.

*

Frat parties are weird. They’re kind of gross too, people spilling drinks everywhere, dropping cup after cup into other people and on the floor. You were glad that you had decided to not get dressed up, the room felt like it was a thousand degrees. You had settled on a pair of black denim shorts and a slightly cropped top that came down to just above your belly button, wanting to fit into the atmosphere without looking like you were trying too hard.

You had gone home around thirty minutes ago, getting ready before heading back. By the time you had returned, Tom was nowhere to be found, and you weren’t planning on actively searching for him. You’d let him do his own thing, and maybe catch up with him later.

Another thing you noticed, after pouring yourself a drink and settling against a wall near the corner of the room, was that frat parties are loud. Not just the music, that’s continuously playing, no breaks that would make people want to leave to do something else. There was something about the way that every song made the occupants of the party roudier and roudier. After a few songs had played, almost every person in the house was screaming along at the top of their lungs. So yeah, frat parties were loud.

As you scan the room, you realize that this could maybe be thrilling. If you had someone that you could have asked to come with you, if you had someone to dance with. You had a few friends, sure, but none of them would ever be caught dead at a party like this one. They were all like you, they’d rather stay home and get some peace on a Friday night than go out to a party. 

Were you really like that though? The girl that you had thought you were before, even just three hours prior, would’ve never agreed to this much less be enjoying it.

The last thing you notice before joining the crowd, a girl grabbing your hand and leading you to dance with her, is that, just maybe, frat parties are fun.

He had been pulled into a game of pong by his brothers. He hadn’t even noticed that you were here yet, but the second he sees you dancing with a few girls that he’s never even seen before, all the air is knocked from his body. You look ethereal. The light sheen of sweat making the dim lights reflect off of your body, casting a light around you. The way that the strands of hair that have come loose from your updo stick to your forehead and neck make him want to fix it for you, run his hands through your hair, no matter how sweaty it would be, and redo the ponytail that you had been sporting.

There’s a churning in his gut, and at first he doesn’t realize why. But then it hits him, hits him like a freight train. He wants to be the one dancing with you. He wants to make you smile like you’re smiling at those girls. He wants to be the one that riles you up and makes you dance and have the time of your life.

So, without finishing the game, he makes his way to you, ignoring the questions and shouts to come back from the boys. He walks up to you without a care in the world and wraps his hands around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You tense up for a split second and he feels like an absolute idiot for just coming up behind you like he did, but then you lean back into him, turning your head slightly to the side to murmur a “Hey, Tommy.” into his ear, and his entire head goes blank.

Tommy? He could get used to that.

“Hey, love. You look like you’re having fun.” He fights every urge in him to not kiss into your neck, to not leave the marks that he’s been dying to for weeks on end. 

“I am. I really never thought this would be my scene, but it’s a rush.” You giggle, still dancing to the music, his swaying along behind you, still holding onto your waist.

“Told you that you’d like it.” He breathes, still resting his face in your neck. You can feel his warm breath fan over the expanse of your skin and it sends shivers down your spine, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the smirk that you can feel appear on his face lets you know for a fact that he felt it. “Hey, do you maybe want to go upstairs? Take a breather?” 

At this, you turn to face him, “Tom…” you say pointedly, knowing what people will think if you head upstairs together. You can already hear the things that people will say. “Is that the best idea? You know what people are going to say.” 

He flashes the puppy dog eyes, and he immediately has you, but you can’t let him know that, so you continue to put up a fight. “Tom, the rumors aren’t going to be pretty.”

“I won’t let anyone say anything bad about you, darling. I don’t wanna do anything, just wanna take a beat, cool down, spend some time with you.” You smile, wanting to just give in to him, to let him lead you to his room that you’ve been in way too many times before, but you’re still a little worried.

“People are going to say things regardless of what you do. And it isn’t just me they’ll say things about.” He leans down, pressing his face back into your neck.

“Please? I really want to just be with you, I’ll fight anyone who says anything bad if I have to.” He promises, making your smile grow.

“There’s no need for violence, come on, let’s go to your room.” You finally agree, letting him take you by the hand and push through the crowd.

You slowly make the trek up the stairs to his room at the very end of the hallway, stepping inside and letting him close the door behind the two of you.

You flop down on his bed, laying on your stomach and looking around the room that you’d already scanned countless times before. The books on the shelf are calling out to you, but it’s not the time. This is a party, not a study session. You let your eyes roam again, landing on the family photo that you’ve admired more times than you would care to admit. He looks so happy, posing on a golf course with his brothers and dad, Tessa sitting at his feet.

“You’re gorgeous.” He blurts, not thinking of the consequences that could come from his words.

You can feel your cheeks heat up from the compliment, your ears beginning to burn. “Thanks, you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”

“Thanks, love.” He chuckles, and then the room falls silent for a few moments, your head resting on the bed, eyes closed and trying to get your heartbeat to slow down. He’s still standing by the door, leaning on his desk and playing with his fingers.

You continue observing the room, noticing for the first time that there was a little hole by the bathroom door. You wonder how it got there. Your brain is shuffling through a few options of how it could have appeared when Tom clears his throat and catches your attention.

You turn your head, locking eyes with him again and quirking your eyebrow, sending him the message to continue, to just spit out whatever he has to say.

“I walked into that coffee shop that day and ordered a coffee. I was in a hurry and I needed to make it to an important meeting at the house, but I saw you through the window. You looked so stressed, I didn’t just want to bombard you with yet another order, so I took my time by looking through the pastry cases, letting you have a second to breathe.” He pulls out the chair by his desk and plops down in it, looking too nervous to continue standing. “I strolled on over to the counter, ordered the simplest thing I could, and patiently waited for you to get it. I saw that you spilled some on yourself and wanted so badly to take your hand in mine and kiss it better. I don’t know why, it was just an urge I had.” He chuckles slightly, as if realizing how utterly ridiculous the action would have been if it had actually been carried out. “After that day, I couldn’t get your smile out of my head, couldn’t get the way that your eyes lit up to stop replaying in my thoughts.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around the room before landing his eyes back on yours. “I looked for you for a while, asked about you, but to no avail.”

You chuckle this time, you’re not surprised that he couldn’t find you by asking around, you didn’t associate yourself with many people. 

He flashes you a smile and then continues, “Everything about you makes me smile, I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I can’t keep you out of my head no matter how I try. You drive me crazy in the best way possible. I caught feelings for you. I feel so hard and that scares me to death at first.” He sighs, looking away from you again. “I don’t usually do the whole commitment thing, as my reputation suggests, but thinking about the things that I could have with you makes me want the commitment, makes me want to be domestic and lovey with you.Don’t get me wrong, it’s still terrifying.” He locks eyes with you again. “You just have this way of making me feel like everything’s going to be alright.” He cracks a smile before continuing with, “I think that the world could be ending and you’d make me feel like it was fine.”

You’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. Tom Holland, arguably the hottest, most popular boy on the entirety of campus is into you. And not only is he into you in the way that everyone had thought he would be, he actually wanted something real with you. He didn’t just want to have you in his bed for one night. The way that he was explaining it, he wanted you in his bed every night for as long as he could have you.

You have to take a second to catch your breath, his confession leaving you feeling as if you had just run a marathon at a full sprint.

Once you calm yourself back down, you let everything you had been dying to say fall out of your mouth. “That day at the coffee shop, all I needed was one thing to make me smile. I just needed that one thing to let me know that it was going to be okay. And then you walked in, and you didn’t just make me smile for a minute, you made me smile for the rest of the day. I looked for you too, searched every group of people I walked past. I didn’t ask anyone because I doubted anyone that I know would know someone that looks like you.” You chuckle awkwardly, trying not to put too much thought into what’s coming out of your mouth. If you did you would immediately psych yourself out and that’s definitely what you needed.

“I caught feelings too. I really tried not to, if we’re being completely honest with each other. I never thought that this would be me.” You look down at your hands, playing with the silver band that you keep around your finger. “I didn’t think that I would be that girl, you know? The girl that falls for the cute frat boy, even though they were repeatedly told to avoid him.” You smile despite yourself, still twisting the ring mindlessly. “I fit the cliche perfectly, don’t you think? The nerdy girl with barely any friends that meets the boy that needs a little help studying and then falls for him.” You scoff at how predictable the whole thing was, it was almost laughable. Honestly, it was, and you’d be laughing along if it wasn’t your life. 

“But the thing about it is, I was fine with being that cliche. I was fine with falling for the boy I’m not supposed to because it wasn’t just any boy, it was you. And I haven’t been able to get your stupidly perfect face out of my head since the minute you wandered into the shop. I can’t stop thinking about holding your hand when I see you tracing seemingly random things with your fingertips. Can’t stop myself from wanting to lean over and kiss you every time that I’m helping you study and get a little pouty because you want a break but we’ve only been working for like five minutes so I say no. Can’t stop myself from thinking about how sometimes we nap together and wake up tangled in each other's arms, and how we could do that every day.” Your cheeks begin to burn at the things that you just let slip out of your mouth, but you’re quickly distracted by the embarrassment as you feel the bed shift under Tom’s weight.

He settles in beside you, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over your knuckles. You look up at him, wanting to see his reaction to what you had just said, and as soon as you see his face, you’re floored.

He has the biggest smile splayed across his face, and you can’t help but mimic his expression, glad to see that he wasn’t repulsed by what you had to say. Which, honestly, it wouldn’t make that sense if he was, but there’s always a possibility.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long, and yeah, we’re definitely the cliche, but would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?” Tom asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

You want to say yes. You really do, more than anything in the world, but your voice of reason is asking you why someone in him would really want to be with you. Sure, he said that he didn’t want to be that guy anymore, but that’s literally who he is. Why would he really just throw all that away all of a sudden? 

“No offense Tommy, but you’re not exactly serious boyfriend material, and I’m the girl that wants to have a serious boyfriend, to have a relationship that’ll last. I want to be able to take my boyfriend home to my mom and dad. I don’t just date for the hell of it, Tom. I date for real.” You say, fighting an internal struggle with yourself. So much of you wants to just say yes, but he has to know what you want in a relationship. “And don’t freak out when I say this, because a lot of guys do. But, really, if you’re not dating someone to see if they’re the person that you’ll spend the rest of your life with, why are you even dating them? That’s how I view relationships.”

“I get that, it doesn't freak me out. I used to be like that, used to want a serious relationship.” You give him a look, the way he’s wording his sentences not helping his case. He gets the hint and rushes to continue what he was saying. “I just lost myself here, but being around you made me realize that the part of me that wants to be in a serious relationship, that wants to be domestic was still in there.” He’s getting more nervous by the second, you can tell by the way his fingertips are tracing patterns into your hand. You give his a quick squeeze in reassurance. “I don’t expect you to believe me right now. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe me either if I were you, but I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I can be the guy that you want. Screw my reputation, forget what everyone thinks about me. I just need you by my side, I don’t care what anyone else has to say.”

You smile, feeling your chest swell with his words. There’s not a single part of you that doesn’t think he could prove it to you, so you don’t hesitate to agree.

“Fine. prove it to me Holland, and then I’ll think about being your girlfriend.”

*

Ever since that night, he’s been even more perfect than he already was. He really meant it when he said that he’d prove it. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t show you that he could be everything that you need and more.

He walks you to class from wherever you had spent the night before. If you had slept over at the frat house, he would let you shower there and wear some of his clothes if you hadn’t brought any of your own with you - or if you just wanted to wear his clothes - and then he would walk you back to your dorm so you could finish getting ready. If the two of you had slept in your room, he would always make sure that he woke you up by nuzzling into your neck, then letting you get ready while he checked to make sure you had everything you needed for the day. 

Once you were ready to head out the door, he’d grab your stuff for you, slinging your bag over his shoulder and either grab your hand or throw his arm over your shoulders. He’d walk you all the way to class and then leave you with a kiss on your cheek.

During those that you have together, though, he walks in and you sit near the back. You moved where you normally sit so that he can whisper in your ear during the lectures without bothering anyone else. You had ended up needing to invest in a voice recorder so you could catch the content and listen to it later.

The classes that you shared that took place in the early mornings were by far the worst, for you anyways. He seemed to not have a problem with getting up at the crack of dawn to get ready. But no matter how tired you were, he was always there to make sure that you were well put together. And, after he ensured that the voice recorder was on and running, he would let you lay your head on his shoulder and get a little more sleep.

On the nights that you’re not too worn down from classes, he’ll take you out to dinner. He always lets you pick the restaurant and then takes you to a new scenic destination to watch the sunset. 

You still spend a lot of your time at the library, still having to study even though you’re spending a steadily increasing amount of time with Tom. Any time that you need to sit at the library to study, he’ll tag along if you want him to, even if he doesn’t need to study. He’ll sit across from you, knowing how you like to have an ample amount of space to spread out your materials, and read a book.

Even when you didn’t go out anywhere, just stayed in and spent time with each other, everything was perfect. Everything was completely perfect.

And what really took you by surprise was the fact that he didn’t even seem like he was trying very hard. It seemed like acting like this with someone that he cared about was just second nature. It was really pleasant, knowing that if you did say yes, it would be like this all the time.

One of your biggest fears going into this was that he would be perfect until you said yes and then completely change, do a full one eighty and make you regret your entire decision. But the way that he acts comes naturally to him that you don’t have a doubt in your mind that it will stay the same if you agree to date him.

*

A few weeks later, you’re sitting on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone as he sits at his desk, working on another essay. You had finished yours a few hours prior, so you were waiting for him to complete the rough draft so you could read over it.

“Yes.” You blurt, not thinking to elaborate.

“Hmm?” He wonders, not even looking up from his laptop, fingers still clicking away at the keys.

“Yes.” You say, a little louder this time. His fingers stop moving, coming to a rest on his keyboard.

“What do you mean , love?” He asks, not wanting to get his hopes up as to what you could be talking about.

“I’ll be your girlfriend.” He jumps up from his chair, a smile breaking across his face. He bounds over to the bed and picks you up, spinning you around and planting kisses all around your face.

You giggle, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip to no avail. After a few moments, he lets you down. He clambers onto the bed beside you and puts a hand on each side of your face, smooshing your cheeks.

“I love you, in case it wasn’t obvious.” He says, looking at you like you’re the reason that his world spins.

“I love you too, Holland. Couldn’t imagine life without you.” And it’s true, although you’d only known him for a span of a few months, he had completely changed your life.

And suddenly, you’re really thankful for a busy day at the coffee shop.

*

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[thatfilthyanimal]

Writing Megamind

This post made me think of something I hadn’t realized I was consciously deciding to include for years, so I figure I’d share! When I write Megamind, either via fic or RP, his outfit gets mentioned a lot. It’s almost silly because he’s mostly in his main villain outfit by default and can often be assumed to be wearing just that, but there IS a reason I bring it up!

Full villain outfit + spikes/collar - He’s either feeling prickly and wants people to distance from him, or he’s in his manic state of embracing supervillainy and is playing his part. Both are pretty standard and the rest of his actions and body language decide which one it is to the reader.

When you take him out of this typical movie setting, and pull his walls down, that changes!

Megamind in the villain outfit minus the spikey parts - Not prickly right now. The spikes are off, and he’s vulnerable and knows it. He is either a) not planning to leave the lair, b) is around someone he very much wants to trust not to hurt him, or c) feeling very comfortable with whatever situation he’s in.

Casual wear / Showing skin - He’s aware that he looks very alien and that people generally aren’t okay with that, so showing skin gets difficult for him. Especially if you adhere to the headcanon of him hating that he’s alien and deeply wishing to be “normal”. He usually won’t go this route when it comes to dress, and especially not publicly. Casual wear like button-up shirts are not common and typically a sign of something bigger going on. Either he’s planning to be holed up in the lair for a long while, or whomever he’s with is someone he’s putting a lot of trust into. Again, without the spikes and leather he is extremely vulnerable, and him putting these things aside for being around someone else casually is typically a big deal.

NSFW headcanons, which I will leave very vague/brief here-- villain outfit being left on in some fashion implies needing to have some level control in his situation, and lack of clothing is submission and willingness to give up the reigns of control to someone. Honestly, probably the biggest show of trust he can give. (Probably also why he's commonly written as being submissive with Roxanne?)

I really lean hard into the “show, don’t tell” side of writing and I have no idea if it works-- I don’t exactly try to follow guidelines of how to write “correctly” or anything. But in complicated and complex characters like Megamind, it’s important to consider his comfort level in situations with just about everything. Ignoring his comfort can lead to situations where he is easier to freak out and panic, and that may not be what you’re going for in your story. Or worse, it may just make him seem out of character and make your fic less pleasant to read for folks like moi who put a lot of emphasis on this part of him. If you find him hard to write, keep his comfort level in mind, it’ll make things a lot easier! His moods are often unstable and considering his comfort will help direct him where he needs to be for a scene (though this isn’t foolproof, I do have a hard time getting him into certain situations I’d love him to be in, because it just won’t work for him in whatever state he’s in).

(And on that note, if you are struggling to get him into a situation in a way that still feels in character, congrats! You’re paying attention! If you feel resistance writing him in a situation because it doesn’t feel “right”, that is a good sign. Find another way to get him into the situation you’re going for.)

Personally I prefer things like moods being explained via expression/posture over being told what emotion a character is feeling. This is probably a BPD thing in my case, because I spend a lot of time reading people by their outward moods and expressions. This is also probably why I love the character so much-- the animators did a superb job with showing vs. telling, and Megamind is clearly an expressive and complicated character. I can tell what he’s feeling in any scene he’s in, and that’s some damn quality art if I say so myself!

While I’m here, let’s bring up the villain persona. In my headcanon, it’s a face. It’s a safety net he falls into regularly. It’s not all he knows, but sometimes it’s all he wants to know. So you get situations where, he feels uncomfortable, and he slips into the villain face and talks darker, gets showier, grins and cackles and postures more, and sends out threats. He also may slip into naming people formally from his career, like calling Roxanne “Miss Ritchi” despite their romantic status not needing it, or calling Wayne “Metro Man / Metro Mahn”. He may also mispronounce things more-- either intentionally or unintentionally.

If anyone ever needs characterization advice for him, I’m happy to help, so never be afraid to ask! I spent a lot of time trying to wrap my head around him for the sake of the old tumblr RP, and I’m happy to share any advice that might help others write him more effectively. :D I’ve been told I write him very well, so I promise I’m not trying to be smug here, lol! I really do enjoy writing him. He’s a challenge and it’s very fun!

[ltleflrt]

I would love some more mean advice, I'm taking notes because this is a goldmine

lol honestly, the advice about not starting a fic with Life Story Infodump or Daily Grind Infodump is the most important thing I can think of. Since nearly all of the times I back out of a fic, it’s because of one of those two things.  Just about everything else I can think of is pretty minor and won’t make me quit reading.  But here’s a few things I think might be helpful just for giving a story some extra shine.

1. Minute detail of a process is rarely necessary.  Gloss over how something works unless the details have something to do with plot. For instance, if Dean is making tacos for dinner, just say Dean gets to work preparing tacos. Don’t talk about warming up the shells, or browning the meat, or slicing the veggies.  Unless it’s plot related. If Dean makes checklists and crosses things off to soothe anxiety, then those details are important, but make it clear that he’s self-soothing.  Or if Cas is allergic to onions, bring up that Dean sauteed them and added them to the meat, because Dean LOVES onions, and it didn’t occur to him to check if Cas has allergies before he started cooking, and they can’t be picked out, and oops the date ends with Dean rushing Cas to the ER, etc.  Otherwise, just say Dean had an hour left till Cas showed up for dinner, so he hurried to prepare all the taco fixings, and it took too little time so now he had to figure out how to occupy himself till the doorbell rang.

(btw, I would LOVE more first date ending up in the ER stories, everyone who reads this is free to adopt that idea lol)

2. Please don’t write an entire story in 1-2 sentence paragraphs.  This is rare, but it’s an almost instant nope out for me.  There’s this one story that I reeeeeally want to read, because it’s right up my alley, and other than the short paragraph issue, it’s well written so I keep trying but getting stuck.  I’m gonna have to copy it into a doc and edit the paragraphs and squish some stuff together to make it legible to my brain.  Like there’s a long stretch in the first chapter where every sentence is its own paragraph, and just.... why.  When you’re putting a paragraph break, there’s a mental pause happening in the reader’s mind.  And too many short paragraphs in a row makes it more like a really long poem rather than a typical story you’d read in a book.  A lot of advice says to not attack your readers with a wall of text (WALL OF TEXT CRITS YOU FOR OVER 9000!!!) and to break things up, but the opposite is also true.  Too many super short paragraphs is like Damage Over Time (THROW MORE DOTS, MORE DOTS!) and either one of those will defeat your reader’s interest.  Short paragraphs are a very useful tool, I use them myself for emphasis, but it can’t be your whole story.  Try to limit it to no more than 3 in a row.  If you’re going past that, take a minute to read those sentences and see if they’re related to each other.  Squish them into a single paragraph if they are.  Varying your paragraph length IS an art form.  Like writing music.  Paragraphs build a cadence, and staccato cannot sustain a whole song.  This can be mitigated by creating long compound sentences though, so keep in mind that the length of the sentence, which should vary, can make a paragraph feel longer, even if it is only 1 or 2 sentences.

(haha she gives advice on how to break up paragraphs while critting you with a wall of text!  good job, Carebear.)

3. The art of breaking up dialogue is just as delicate as the art of paragraph construction.  Too much back and forth without breaking it up with an action or an internal thought can make it confusing who is talking.  The rule of 3 comes in handy here too.  After 3 back and forths, put in something non-dialogue.  So it would go Character A says thing, Character B says Thing, Character A says thing, add some action/internal thoughts.  And just a he/she/they said tag isn’t enough.  IT IS BETTER THAN NOTHING, and depending on the cadence of the conversation it’s the right tool.  But adding some physical movement or a stray thought would be better.  That being said, don’t put too much action/thought between sections of dialogue.  If you put too much info in there, it can make your reader forget that there’s even a conversation going on, and they’ll get to the next piece of dialogue and be like wtf is this pertaining to again? and they’ll have to scroll back to the last line of dialogue to remember what was last said.  Remember, thoughts fly at the speed of light, so if you’re pausing the dialogue for some internal character thought, it’s happening in a matter of seconds, but your reader needs minutes to read and parse what’s going on.  Again, rule of 3, try not to do more than 3 paragraphs between dialogues.  And if you’re still not sure, or you feel like you need more so you keep going, read out loud from the last dialogue through the next dialogue and it’ll give you an idea of just how much time is physically passing for your readers, and you’ll start to feel the true size of things.

(WRITE ALL THAT STUFF DOWN THO.  If you need to get it out, then by all means, get it out.  It’s your first draft, and it’s important for YOU, even if a lot of it isn’t important for the reader.  Trim it in the edit. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, TRIM IT IN THE EDIT.)

(And the rule of 3 is a guideline, not a rule.  It’s just a good measuring tool that you can use until you’re comfortable enough to eyeball things on your own.)

Anyway, those are the only things that come to mind while I’m calm and not in a frothing rage over writing errors that are not mine to correct.  I feel like a huge asshole for vague-bitching about other people’s writing, and I profusely apologize for anyone’s hurt feelings if they read this advice and realize this might apply to something they’ve done.  PLEASE KEEP WRITING, DON’T LET MY WHINGING DISCOURAGE YOU, I LOVE YOU.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Parallels | Chapter 13

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist! | Parallels Masterlist

Characters: OC! Violet Grace Dawson, Luke Patterson, Julie Molina, Carrie Wilson, Bobby Wilson, Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer, Flynn nolastname, Willie nolastname, Nick Danforth-Evans, Dirty Candy 

Guideline: Sunset Universe is the universe in which Sunset Curve is famous and Violet is friends with Carrie, Julie and Flynn. Candy Universe is the universe in which Dirty Candy is more famous and Sunset Curve has broken up. 

Song(s) used: Unsaid Emily - Sunset Curve 

Warnings: Unsaid Emily is the warning... 

Words:  4,255

Gif credits: @amazondancewarrior​

As the band moved off stage and back to the table where Carrie and Julie were sitting, the adrenaline still coursed through Violet’s body. She felt amazing. That whole performance was electric and the vibe the crowd gave off as she sang to them was something she didn’t know she was craving. 

“Violet Sunset?” Julie asked when they reached the table, her eyebrows raised at the lead guitarist who shrugged. 

“Sunset Curve was dead and Violet brought us back to life,” he replied and his eyes flicked towards the girl. “It was only right…” 

Violet couldn’t suppress the smile on her lips. He was such a kind, considerate person and she hated that she had hurt him. Then again, he had hurt her too. In a different way and technically, it wasn’t even him but still… Seeing his face reminded her of that day. 

“You were pretty amazing up there, Vi,” Alex complimented as he sat down next to Carrie. 

Reggie scoffed. “Pretty amazing? Dude, she rocked that stage!” The excitement in his voice made Violet smile like an absolute idiot. Reggie was the best moral support himbo she could ever ask for. 

“Told you,” Carrie chimed in, smiling proudly. “You’re magic.” 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, capturing Violet’s attention again. He still had that same smile on his face. Tender. Lovesick. “She is magic.” 

While Violet and Luke disappeared in each other’s eyes, Carrie, Julie and Alex exchanged knowing glances. Something was happening between those two and everyone could see it. All the sparks and fireworks went off when those two looked at each other. There was no denying it anymore. 

Bobby saw it too, but he didn’t like it as much as the others did. That kiss they had shared meant something to him. Apparently, it didn’t mean as much to her. It wasn’t like they had talked about it since it had happened, but still. Bobby liked her. A lot. This was a completely different version of Violet than the one he had known for years. It wasn’t the Violet Luke thought she was. And it bothered Bobby. 

It bothered Bobby for the rest of the night. While they chat and drink and watch the other performances and criticize them, Luke and Violet couldn’t stop staring longingly at one another as they made fun of other people. It bothered Bobby that she was having fun with Luke instead of him. Bobby was jealous, and he knew it. Carrie knew it too. 

“Can you put that frown upside down and be happy for her?” she muttered towards her brother, making sure no one else could hear. “You know what she’s been through and how hard it’s been to not see Luke as that jerk from her universe, so for once, please, be happy for her.” 

Bobby grunted. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact you completely changed since Violet turned up here?” he said in a hushed voice. Carrie was taken aback by his sudden confession. “Since when do you care about other people’s feelings?” 

“Since I learned people were allowed to have them,” she retorted, sassily. 

Her brother hummed. “And who taught you that?” 

Carrie’s eyes darted from the left to the right as she mulled the question over in her head. “She did…” 

“Yeah… She’s changing us for the better because we know she’s a different version from the Violet we know. But Luke doesn’t know and he ain’t changing. Don’t you remember what he did to Sophie, freshman year?” 

“He’s not gonna do that to Violet,” Carrie objected. “He’s grown since then. You’re just jealous.” 

Bobby huffed as he sat back in his chair. “Fine, I’m jealous, don’t listen to me and let her fall into that trap.” Carrie’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but she decided not to react to it any further. Instead, she went back to a conversation she was having with Alex and Flynn. 

Bobby wasn’t wrong. She had changed. A few months ago, she wouldn’t be caught dead at the same table with Flynn and Julie. But she knew it made Violet feel more at home since she was best friends with them in her universe. All she wanted to do was to make Violet as comfortable as possible until she went back to her own universe. Even if that meant fighting with Dirty Candy. Even if that meant losing that reputation she had built for herself. Even if that meant losing the fame and popularity. 

“Can we go for some food?” Flynn whined after the third band that dared to perform after them. None of them were as good as Violet Sunset, but they earned some gold stars for effort. 

“Yes, please!” Reggie exclaimed. “I’m starving!” 

The whole gang unanimously agreed and got up from their seats at the table. Dodging people left and right, they went upstairs to the actual pizzeria where they claimed a booth in the far back of the restaurant. 

“I actually need some air,” Violet announced before she had sat down. “I’m gonna go outside for a moment.” 

“Do you want us to go with?” Carrie asked, a flash of concern running through her eyes. 

Violet shook her head, “I’ll be fine,” she said and turned around to make a beeline for the door. She pushed through the door but when she thought she’d hear the door fall shut, she didn’t. It took the door a little longer than it should’ve to shut completely. 

Turning her head, she found the reason for the door’s late closing. Luke had followed behind her. He smiled as the two came to a halt near Bobby’s car. 

“Sorry,” Luke started. “I needed some air too. I hope you don’t mind?” 

Violet smiled and shook her head. “I’d like some company, actually.” 

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed for a second before his face softened. “Cool,” he said and hopped up on the hood of Bobby’s car, tapping the spot next to him for Violet to sit. She obeyed his order and wrapped her arms around her legs, which she pressed against her chest. 

“Thanks for helping me out there on stage. I couldn’t have done that without you,” she muttered nervously. 

Biting his bottom lip, Luke watched her every move. The way her lips moved as she spoke, the way her eyes flicked back and forth as she stared ahead of her. She looked gorgeous. She was gorgeous. 

“I think you’d do fine on your own. But it would be pretty stupid of me not to rock out on that stage with you. We sounded amazing together.” 

Violet allowed a smile to grow on her lips. Her eyes found his and he, too, was smiling from ear to ear. “We did,” Violet agreed, nodding.

For some reason, she felt nervous then. But a good nervous. The fluttery, stomach twirling kind of nervous. Luke did that to her. He made her feel this way. He made her feel like a stupid teenager in love. She was a teenager, she just wasn’t sure about the ‘in love’ part just yet. 

“What do you think about our band name, by the way?” he then asked, completely ignoring the fact that he wanted to kiss her then and there. 

“I love it,” Violet replied. “Though I didn’t mind Sunset Curve either.” 

Luke couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He was glad Violet didn’t hold a grudge against him for ignoring her for days after she said ‘no’. He had to admit, it was a bit childish but they were good now and that was all that mattered to him. 

“So, tell me,” Luke then started, “If Sunset Curve did become the biggest band this earth had ever seen, whose poster would you have on your wall?” He grinned widely whilst pointing at his own face. 

Violet let out a laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” 

“Nope, not kidding. I wanna know!” Luke laughed. 

“Okay… Uhm… Reggie,” she answered honestly, which earned her an open-mouthed reaction from Luke. “What?! I have a weakness for bassists!” she defended herself between giggles. 

“Maybe I should learn to play the bass then,” Luke said nonchalantly. 

The giggles died down but the comfortable vibe didn’t fade. “Maybe you should. I could teach you?” 

“You play bass?” 

“And drums, and guitar, and piano,” Violet summed up like it was nothing at all. 

“Ah, you’re a talented one, aren’t you?” Luke leaned back on his hands. 

Violet shrugged. “Just very interested in music, is all.” 

A silence fell between the two of them, a comfortable one at that. This felt right. This felt familiar. Like home. Even better than that… 

It felt like the place she belonged. 

A gentle tap on the window before it opened made Violet snap out of her thoughts. Ever since she had gotten back into her room after her day spent with Luke, she’d been all up in her own head, thinking about what she had done. 

She kissed Luke. 

She kissed Luke while she had promised Marcus she wanted him, not Luke. It made her realize that she had been lying to herself for the longest time. That kiss wasn’t just to stop Luke from panicking. She had wanted to kiss him for a while now but never got the courage to do so. 

“I thought you were gonna let your hair down, Rapunzel,” Marcus spoke as he climbed in through the window with that charming smile plastered on his face. Once inside, he made a beeline towards the bed where Violet was sitting and kissed her lips. 

The simple gesture flipped Violet’s stomach upside down. Now she realized she wanted to keep kissing both boys. Both of them. Because Marcus’ lips were so plump and soft, and Luke was… Luke… 

“I don’t let my hair down for just anyone,” she responded, flicking her hair over her shoulder sassily before kissing him again. She could feel him smile in the kiss as he pushed her backwards, onto the mattress. Once on her back, Marcus pulled back from the kiss, hovering over her. He let his gaze caress her skin whilst one hand reached up to stroke a strand of hair away from her face. 

One corner of his mouth curled upwards. “You are so gorgeous,” he said and dipped down again to meet her lips once more. Violet felt her stomach churn. Marcus was so nice to her and she had only gone ahead and kissed another guy. 

“I gotta tell you something,” she told him, her words swallowed by his mouth. 

Marcus pulled back once more. “That you spent the day with Rockstar Patterson? I know,” he said and kissed her again. 

Violet’s hands pushed at his chest carefully. “You know?” 

“Babe, please, it’s all over the internet,” he replied and sat up again, crawling to the head of the bed, leaning against the mountain of pillows. “I don’t care that you spend time with him. I trust that you are just friends and that you like to spend time together.” 

If Violet wasn’t being eaten by her own guilt, she’d be so turned on right now by his nonchalance and utter confidence. “We are, and we just went to the studio to record something for Sunset Curve’s new album,” she told him with a small smile, unable to erase the image of being in a recording booth with Luke. 

“I’m glad you had fun,” Marcus said and pulled Violet to his chest. “When were you gonna tell me you’re friends with one of the most famous bands in the world?” 

Violet let out a chuckle. “I mean, I couldn’t tell you that in the supermarket when we first met, could I?” Marcus laughed at this too, and it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard coming out of him – aside from the moans he deliciously elicited the other night. “Imagine me telling you in the cheese aisle I was friends with a mediocre band that happens to be well-known.” 

“Mediocre?” Marcus exclaimed. “Medi– Vi, did you even hear their songs? They’re banging!” 

“The songs or the boys?” 

“Both.” 

Violet looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re sexy when you’re so open about your love for other men,” she confessed before pressing multiple kisses to his mouth until he properly caught her lips with his, deepening the kiss. 

Whatever happened with Luke had been long forgotten. All thanks to Marcus’ lips. And tongue. And other parts of his physique. She was with Marcus and she liked Marcus. A lot. She wasn’t going to ruin that for one kiss she had shared with Luke. 

Not even when Luke didn’t talk to her for days. He was avoiding her, she was sure of it. When she called him, he didn’t pick up. When they were all at the club together, Luke left early. When the girls went to the boys’ rehearsal, he either didn’t show up or left the second she walked into the room. 

“What’s up with him?” Carrie questioned when the boy left the rehearsal space for the fifth time that week. 

Violet groaned as she plopped onto the sofa. “That’s probably on me,” she admitted. “We… kissed… the other day…” she carefully revealed, her eyes flicking from one person to another to see their reaction. 

“How am I only finding out about this now?!” Carrie squealed, shooting up on the sofa. “Tell me everything!” 

“What about Marcus?” Julie asked instead. 

All while Reggie opted for the, “Why is he mad about that?”

“I don’t know – We went to the studio together the other day and recorded a song and stuff and when he dropped me back home, we found out we’d been papped and Luke freaked out about that –” 

“Because he promised our manager he wouldn’t be seen with another girl…” Bobby completed her story, either to clarify for the rest or because it dawned on him. 

“Yeah – so… I kissed him, because I read somewhere that when someone’s having a panic attack, you need to distract them, so…” 

“So you distracted him with your lips,” Flynn continued, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Violet hummed and nodded her head. “And now he’s avoiding me.” Once again, Violet groaned and threw her head against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry, guys. I know you need to practice…” 

“It’s fine,” Alex shrugged. “Honestly, we’re used to Luke reacting this way when something bad happens.” 

Violet’s eyebrows knitted together, her eyes landing on the drummer a few feet away from her. “What do you mean?” 

“Luke’s been avoiding his parents for years,” Reggie explained. “He had an altercation with his mom when the band was just on its way to stardom. He ran out on them and never returned.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore the fact you just used the word ‘altercation’,” Alex told his friend before turning back to Violet. “But, yeah, he regrets running out on them, but he’s stubborn. You really have to grab him by the arm before he properly faces whatever happened.” 

Violet perked up at this. This might be her unfinished business. Not only un-jerk Luke, but bring him back to his parents, make him admit that he regrets running out on them, bring them together again. 

“That’s it,” she muttered and, without saying anything else, she left the rehearsal space to go and look for Luke. It took her a while, but eventually found him on the balcony with a cigarette between his fingers. She scoffed and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe while watching him for a moment. “Does that help with the whole brooding thing you got going on?” 

Her voice made him jump, his head snapping around to find her standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face. “Doesn’t seem to keep you away,” he muttered and tapped the butt of the cigarette to get rid of the excess before placing it between his lips, inhaling and blowing it out. 

“You’re gonna need to try a lot harder to do that,” she told him as she pushed herself off the door to take a seat next to him on the lawn chair. “But it does answer the question if you’re avoiding me or not.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, but didn’t react any further. 

“Riddle me this, Lukas,” Violet started and grabbed the cigarette from between Luke’s fingers to take a drag herself. “We went out on a date, I didn’t wanna go out on a second one and started dating someone else, you get jealous, we kiss and then you avoid me. Make me understand this, please…” 

Luke let out a laugh. “You’re joking right?” Violet looked him dead in the eye, giving him an answer to that question. “I am insanely in love with you, but you’re with Marcus and I gotta respect that. So, I started avoiding you because I can’t stop thinking about you and whenever I see you, I just wanna kiss you again.” 

Violet was taken aback for a moment. She hadn’t expected that answer to come out of his mouth. “You’re in love with me?” she asked, just so she was certain she heard it right. Luke took advantage of her state and stole the cigarette back. “Luke – don’t you remember what you did to me, so many years ago?” 

“Yeah, I do. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. And besides, that was years ago. I’d like to think we’ve grown, don’t you?”  

“I don’t know, have you grown enough to go back to your parents and make it up to them?” Luke’s head snapped up at this. Now he was taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up, let alone know about. That was after they stopped talking altogether. 

“The boys told me,” she explained. “If you think you’ve grown so much to make me give you another chance, I’d like to think you’ve grown enough to go and apologize to your parents.” Swinging her legs off the chair, she got up, hovering over Luke. “Think about it.” 

Without waiting for an answer from him, Violet walked back inside and downstairs where the others resided in the practice room. She had a good feeling about their chat, she just might have gotten through to him. And if Luke and his parents make up, she might just be able to get back to her universe. Back home. 

“You okay?” Bobby asked when Violet reentered the rehearsal space. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. I had a good chat with him,” she replied with a smile and returned to her spot on the sofa. “I think I might’ve gotten through to him about his parents too.” 

“Yes, you did,” Luke’s voice sounded, causing everyone in the room to look up at the boy who had just entered the room. With his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, he shrugged. “I – I think you’re right. About my parents. I should go and talk to them, tell them – especially my mom – what I’ve been wanting to tell them all along. I wasn’t fair to them. I was young and dumb and I shouldn’t have walked away. Or I shouldn’t have stayed away, but I was stubborn and instead of telling them, I wrote a song about it…” 

Violet’s interest piqued as the boy picked up his acoustic guitar. He tuned it for a few seconds and then started playing. A soft, melancholic melody floated out of the instruments and through the room. 

“First things first We start the scene in reverse All of the lines rehearsed Disappeared from my mind When things got loud One of us running out I should've turned around But I had too much pride”

Violet felt a lump in her throat and swallowed it. This was going to be one of those songs she wouldn’t be able to listen to without crying. 

“No time for goodbyes Didn't get to apologize Pieces of a clock that lies broken”

The other boys moved to their instruments while Luke walked to where the microphones were still set up from the rehearsal they were supposed to have. His gaze didn’t leave Violet’s, which didn’t make her feel any better. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me If you could only know I'd never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily”

The boys joined in on their instruments, giving the song all the more power to completely wreck the girls in the audience during that rehearsal. 

“Silent days, mysteries and mistakes Who'd be the first to break? Guess we're alike that way He said, she said Conversations in my head And that's just where they're gonna stay forever”

A single tear rolled off Violet’s cheek when Carrie reached for her hand. Looking up, Violet noticed that she, too, had tears streaming down her face. As did Flynn and Julie. All four girls were going through the motions with this song. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me If you could only know I'd never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily”

All four boys hummed a little during the instrumental bit, and even then Violet could feel every emotion Luke was feeling. He was so good at translating what he felt into song and let the audience feel exactly what he was feeling. 

The other boys stopped playing for a moment, letting Luke’s acoustic guitar do its job as Luke lapsed into the chorus again. His voice sounded more vulnerable this time, more powerful, and it sent shivers down Violet’s spine. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me”

They then joined in again for the last part of the chorus, and as the power of the music grew, so did Luke’s voice. Violet even noticed his eyes glossing over. 

“If you could only know I'd never let you go And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave Unsaid Emily”

The last chords were played and the last cymbals hit until the song faded out. A silence fell over the room. Nobody made a sound except for the occasional sniffle from the emotional girls on the sofa. 

“I–” Luke broke the silence. “I’ve never had any regrets in life. Not one. Except for running out on my parents, especially my mom. I wish I could tell her how I feel, but I don’t think she’d want anything to do with me anymore.” 

Violet wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand before getting up and making a beeline towards Luke. Cupping his face with her hands, she forced him to look her in the eye. “Your mother loves you, Luke. She adores the heck out of you and I’m sure that if you rang her doorbell and told her what you’ve always wanted to tell her, tell her those words you left unsaid, she’d forgive you for running out on you.” 

“How are you so sure of that?” Luke asked in a hushed tone, followed by a sniffle as he, too, had started crying. 

Violet chuckled, “Just trust me on this, okay?” 

Only the girls knew what she meant by this. Luke’s mom must love him in her universe. They had a great bond in her universe, Bobby had told her that. He had told her how amazing they were together and how he wished he had such a relationship with his mother. The Wilsons didn’t even know who their mother was, so Bobby was extra alert when it came to that subject. 

“Hey guys!” Marcus’ voice rang through the room, making Violet jerk back from holding Luke’s face. “What’s up?!” he called out as he approached the band and Violet. 

The girl wiped her tears and smiled up at the boy that had crashed rehearsal. “Hey babe,” Violet greeted and pecked Marcus’ cheek. “How’d you get in here?” 

“Their maid let me in,” he replied excitedly, “They have a maid!” 

“Actually, that’s our manager –” Reggie corrected him, but Marcus wasn’t listening. 

“You ready to head off?” he asked Violet instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

Violet’s gaze flicked back to Luke and nodded her head. “Yeah. Let’s go,” she sniffled and, as Marcus guided her out of the room, Violet’s eyes found Luke’s again and again. He looked sad, but relieved for some reason. 

She was glad Luke had opened up to her. He got really vulnerable with her just then, something Violet hadn’t yet done with him. Or anyone. Hanging out with Carrie, she learned to keep those feelings all bottled up. Keep your head up. Smile. Don’t let anyone see that you’re broken inside. 

That vulnerability was hot, and it made Violet think that maybe, just maybe, she would have to return that gesture. As a thank you for opening up to her. To show that she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable either. 

She had to show she wanted to be somebody too.   

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TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST | PARALLELS MASTERLIST

[bubbyleh]

like real people do

It's not often that Dr. Bubby finds himself at a loss for knowledge.

As the perfect scientist, he has basically all the information he would ever need inside of Black Mesa. He knew the purpose of every lab, all the equations they used, a complete layout of the Black Mesa facility... It had all been programmed into his mind sometime during his development, though files from that time were something Bubby was explicitly denied access to.

So, for the first few years of his life, Bubby was incredibly well-versed in all things Black Mesa. As time went on, he picked up things about the outside world. At first it was small things, like a song or a location. But completely by chance, a scientist turned the corner from the break room too fast and ran directly into Bubby, spilling his soda all over him.

"What the hell!?" Bubby had fumed, staring down as his drenched shirt. "Watch where you're going!"

"Oh, goodness! I do apologize for that!" the other scientist stammered. "Let me go get you some napkins!"

Looking up, Bubby was struck by the man before him. He was nowhere near as tall as Bubby (who was?), but there was obvious muscle under his lab coat, and those eyes... they looked so kind. Though he didn't realize it at the time, Bubby would look back and realize the thing he felt was attraction.

He was back in the break room before Bubby could react, but true to his word, he did bring napkins with him on his return.

That was how Bubby met Dr. Coomer.

Coomer had offered to front the quarter Bubby would need for the washing machine in the Black Mesa dorms, which Bubby took as an opportunity to have all of his clothes laundered at no cost to himself. Coomer had laughed at this, and Bubby couldn't explain the surging feeling in his chest when he did. He also couldn't explain why he kept talking to Coomer, regaling him with stories that made him seem intelligent! Bubby sat on one of the unused washing machines, which Coomer was leaning onto. They only realized the passing time when the machine beeped, signalling that Bubby’s clothes were clean.

At that point, Bubby's heart had dropped. He shoved his clothes into a dryer, started it, and left with only a flimsy excuse.

They weren't happy about that one. But Coomer and Bubby kept finding excuses to skip out on work to hang with each other, so eventually they were made lab partners.

Coomer would never hesitate to share information about the surface with Bubby. During their early mornings, while they drank their coffee, Coomer would recite verbatim (as best Bubby could tell) the happenings in his favorite movies and television shows. He liked following along to the dramas Coomer would tell him about, to the point where he could hold his own in a discussion without ever having seen an episode.

It was, after all, its own form of knowledge. And like all knowledge, Bubby reveled in it.

Which is why, fifty-some odd years later, Bubby is completely out of his depth.

Bubby’s been out—free, he’s been free—for a week. Sure, he wasn’t expecting his first experience in the real world to be at Chuck E. Cheese’s, but he wasn’t complaining. Because there was something so normal about eating subpar pizza at your friend’s birthday party, Bubby was fine enough that it wasn’t “special” in any way.

But sitting across from Dr. Coomer, Bubby realized something.

They’d been together for the better part of four decades, and they had never even been on a real date before.

Which Bubby thinks is justified, all things considered! It’s not like he was allowed to leave Black Mesa property, and underground research facilities aren’t exactly known for their nice eateries. What were they supposed to do, just ask the administration if their super secret lab-grown power man could leave for a night only because he wanted to have dinner somewhere?! That would just be asking for the tube.

It’s not like they didn’t make do, though! There had been quite a few occasions where, during a late night, Coomer had snuck down a bottle of wine for the two of them to share. Bubby would push down the stinging shame he felt every time, because Coomer deserved someone he could go out with. But for some unimaginable reason, he had chosen Bubby.

So, a week after their escape from Black Mesa, Bubby does research. He finds as much media as he can about dates, mostly coming back with romcoms. He read articles and blogs online about how to have the perfect first date. A lot of these guidelines seem to make assumptions about how well people on dates knew each other. But, well, if it’s what you’re supposed to do…

It takes about two days of doing nothing but binging romcoms, but eventually Bubby decides that his notes are satisfactory. He’s managed to narrow down what he calls the Expected Questions, or, the questions that are apparently required on a date. And Coomer has to know about them, because, hello? He’s been through this all before. The man’s been married before, Jesus.

And then there’s Bubby. He’s gonna mess this all up, isn’t he?

The thought of that almost makes him snap his note-taking pencil.

Around hour forty-three, Coomer pops his head into the room Bubby has tentatively claimed as his study (he’s not used to being able to claim rooms, let alone ones as frivolous as a study). He looks worried.

“Bubby, dear,” Coomer says, his tone wavering a little. “I’m all for the advancement of scientific research, or whatever it is you’re doing.” Right. Coomer can’t know what’s going on in here. “But, perhaps you would like to come down and eat? It’s almost time for lunch.”

Oh. Lunch. And food in general. That thing people need to eat in order to live. Bubby hasn’t eaten since around hour thirty-one, when he snuck some yogurt from their kitchen. Yeah, he could eat.

“Uh, okay. Sure,” Bubby stands, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling. He’s not used to having so much free time, apparently, since he’s forgetting to eat.

Which, hey, another thing. It seems a little stupid, but Bubby thinks their whole relationship is going in the wrong order. Like, they haven’t even been on an actual first date yet, but they’re already living together? But in another sense, they’ve been together for thirty-six years, and they’re only now moving in with each other? In all the romcoms Bubby just watched, there wasn’t anything remotely close to that.

So maybe they’re doomed already?

It’s something Bubby thinks about while he eats the wonderful grilled cheese that Coomer prepared for him. Seeing the way that Coomer looks at him, though, smiling brighter than the sun felt the first time Bubby ever stepped foot outside… Well, Bubby can’t help but want to try anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

It takes three more days for Bubby to work up the courage to actually ask Coomer to go out. Which is the dumbest thing ever, but hey! This is a big deal for him!

They’re spread out on the couch watching Rocky II, which was Coomer’s suggestion. Bubby is honestly sick of watching movies, but he’s not about to admit to what he was getting up to during his over forty-hour research binge. Besides, he gets to lay down in Coomer’s lap, which is nice.

This is another example of their relationship being completely out of order, but Bubby chooses not to think about it.

“You know what I was thinking?” Bubby asks during a lull in the action.

Coomer gives him a wry smile. “When aren’t you thinking, professor? I swear, that head of yours must go a mile a minute.”

“Doctor,” Bubby corrects automatically. “But really.”

“Okay then, Professor Bubby,” Coomer chuckles to himself. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know who Professor Bubby is, but Doctor Bubby was thinking we should go out to dinner sometime. Like somewhere fancy.”

Coomer hums. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. I've always wished we could go someplace nice together.”

"Well, they do say great minds think alike," Bubby smirks.

"But fools rarely differ," Coomer presses a kiss to Bubby's forehead. "You make me feel like a lovesick fool, did you know that?"

Oh!

"You old sap!" Bubby laughs at Coomer. But he pulls him down to kiss him anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

Coomer catches Bubby staring at himself in the mirror just before they head out. It's the suit, really. It made sense to buy, after all, going to an upscale restaurant kind of requires one. But actually wearing it, is…

It's jarring. It's like everything he never thought he'd be.

"Are you alright, Bubby?" Coomer asks him. "You know I don't care if you dress nice tonight. You could wear one of your turtlenecks if you'd like."

Bubby shakes his head. "Harold, I absolutely love this suit."

♡♡♡♡♡

Bubby does certain things to prepare for their date. Nothing too drastic, no. He's not going to have, like, Tommy or someone feed him lines from an earpiece or anything like that. No, all Bubby does is script out everything he's going to say for the entire date. God, it's such a simple and ordinary thing to do! Okay!?

So they sit across from one another, at a candlelit table next to a window. It's romantic, more romantic than anything they ever did at Black Mesa. Which isn't saying much, but truly, Bubby can't complain.

"This is a fine establishment, Harold," Bubby notes, keeping on script. "How did you find this place?"

"Well, you see, my dear Bubby," Coomer starts but god, the word "dear" alone is making Bubby want to burn the whole restaurant down as a symbol for his love. "I used the internet! It’s quite a useful tool, don't you think?"

Ah, a question! Luckily, Bubby has accounted for just this situation, and the tactic is not something he’s unfamiliar with. “I’ve found it to be helpful, yes.”

The good old agree card. Works every time.

But! Bubby needs to get back on track. This is a very important date, and Bubby can’t just let himself forget that! Time for the most basic of lines.

“So, Harold,” Bubby finds himself saying after they’ve ordered. “How was your day?”

Nice. Good. Perfect. Amazingly spectacular.

Coomer laughs. “We were both home all day, Bubby. You tell me!”

Right shit damn it a garbage fire.

“Fuck,” Bubby says before he can stop himself. And when he realizes that he let that slip, he lets his head fall into his hands and groans. “I’m fucking this all up, aren’t I?”

“Er, Bubby dear, are you alright?” Bubby feels Coomer grab onto one of his arms. “Is… is this too much for you? Drat, I knew we should have worked up to this. We could go home, if you’d like.”

Bubby’s head shoots up. “No!” he says, forcing the word out as fast as he can. He takes a deep breath, then grabs Coomer’s hand. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here.”

“Then what is it?” Coomer asks, and damn it, he’s not supposed to be worried! Nobody is supposed to be worried for Bubby, not like this! He’s used to the medical kind of worry, where the other party’s concern was more for their career than Bubby himself, always talking about him like he couldn’t hear, ignoring his presence except for when they needed him. But Coomer…

Coomer was never like that. Even when he found out about the tube, and the prototypes, and the medical evals and everything… Coomer still loved him. Which meant the world to Bubby, who, for his whole life, thought himself unlovable. And when Coomer looked at him, he didn’t see something immoral that shouldn’t exist, or something that needs to succeed, lest it be cast out like the others, he just saw Bubby.

Bubby loves him. And he thinks he can afford to be a little less than a genius around Coomer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bubby admits, and damn it, why is the world suddenly blurry? He’s wearing his glasses and-

Oh.

Bubby realizes that he’s crying.

“Sorry, fuck,” Bubby chokes back a sob. Coomer squeezes his hand. He’s talking through his other hand, which is covering his entire lower face. “I’m not… Shit, I didn’t think it would go like this. I don’t know how to do a… date. I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that, so they never programmed it into my head but… I just want to do normal person things like go on dates with you.”

“Normal?” Coomer remarks, and Bubby can see he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Oh no, go ahead,” Bubby still manages to be snarky even while he’s breaking down. “Please make fun of me while I’m crying and being emotionally honest. It really helps.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Coomer at least has the decency to look apologetic. He reaches to hold Bubby’s other hand as well, which he is so graciously allowed. “It’s just… did you think I would be with you if I wanted normal?”

Bubby is taken aback.

Huh.

“I… suppose you’re right,” Bubby admits, and he can feel the worst of his feelings going away. It feels a little empty now, without it. “I do still want to try this date, though.”

The look Coomer gives Bubby is so wholesome and accepting that Bubby believes for a moment that he’s died and this is the face of an angel. It’s so powerful that he actually manages to forget, if heaven and hell are real, then he definitely isn’t going to heaven.

Coomer is happy to immediately launch into explanation mode. “Well, first things first, for a date, you should begin by talking.”

Bubby can’t help but smile at the man he loves. “Talking,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Coomer nods at him. “Tell me, Bubby. What do you want to talk about tonight?”

♡♡♡♡♡

It’s in the parking lot after their meal that Bubby comes to his conclusion about dating.

“I don’t see what the big deal about that was!” he rants as he and Coomer get into the car. “We could have done that at home! All the movies and stuff hyped it up.”

Coomer, thankfully, ignores his comment about movies. “Well maybe next time, we can just make some good food at home.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “And who is going to make all that food? I don’t remember you being a chef, Harold.”

Coomer just beams at him. “We’ll order some takeout! What do you think? Perhaps next time we will order some Chinese food!”

This is the man he’s in love with, and Bubby smiles to himself. Chinese food sounds nice.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Grace Monroe & The Infinity Train on HBO Max

Disclaimer: Post includes spoilers and also, this viewer does not deem Infinity Train as a children's show and my views are not subjected to the idea that this is a children's show, but I do regard the characters as children.  

I’m not a psychiatrist. I haven’t taken a psychology class in many years. My work with children has been primarily trauma centered children, and I haven’t worked with typical children for a decade, so most of my opinions are from my personal life experience, my work experience, my children’s rights advocacy and activism, and the guidelines from my childcare specialist work for children in the system in the state of Texas. I don’t have a lot of information these days on typical children and I don’t know the culture of children all over the country or world, but I basically know a little something about traumatized children.

And as always, be nice, because I can be mean too (and will). 😉

Special thanks to @i-am-a-passenger for listening to me and being a SOUND sounding board for my thoughts through this experience that was season 3 of Infinity Train.

To be honest, I thought that it was extremely brave of the creators to go the route that they did with the story line. Not everybody can be saved is a take that we don’t see nearly enough, and whenever we do, usually a POC, oftentimes a Black girl is on the losing end of the tale. That didn’t happen here and despite some problems with some of the way that things played out in front of us, it was STILL a monumental moment for many fans and Grace’s redemption arc was valid and reasonable, so I loved it and I live for it. Now, I’m gonna give my review of the season and what I noticed about the characters...

First off, I think that the writing of this season was phenomenal. The style of the way the story was told impressed me from start to finish. There were moments that I didn’t expect, but I understood from a writing standpoint and for the characters presented. I’m not a professional writer, but it’s been a passion since I was 7 years old, so I have some experience with passion for writing and stories and a great narrative is my WEAKNESS, and I do believe that Infinity Train provides great narratives. 

This season has been my favorite thus far. I would have appreciated it for the story content, even if they had switched the characters’ arcs or went in a different direction with the redemption arc, but the fact that I was able to see an example of a Black girl being able to BE HUMAN, at my age - 38 - is still such new content that I was honestly overwhelmed by the simple fact that the creators decided that this Black girl was worthy of not only redemption, but the attention to detail and consideration was enough for me to love this season.   

The girl in question: 18 year old Grace Monroe, whose been on this train for something like 7 years.

It’s rare to see a dark skinned, brown skinned, Black girl with natural hair be shown in anything but stereotypes and/or plot devices for other characters. This character has a story of her own. A beautifully written and fully realized story of a child who got confused, made bad decisions, did terrible things, learned the truth, and sought to change.

Whenever we first meet Grace and Simon, she’s announced as the leader of the Apex, and Simon is announced as her second in command and given the credentials from her, “I trust him with my life.” Something that is later a bittersweet thought as he becomes the biggest threat of her life since she got onto this train. They’re clearly very close and only seem to disagree on how they respond to negativity.

One of my favorite things about Grace was that she was given layers. One of my LEAST favorite things about Grace was that she was given unfair head canons by the fandom extremely early on (all of which nobody ever proved but remained diligently devoted to believing). 

In this season, when the two are taken out of their comfort zone and traveling with outsiders, Grace and Simon are faced with lives that they haven’t thought about previously and wind up choosing very separate paths. Honestly, these paths they went on made perfect sense to me. I see both of them as traumatized children without any guidance and while one of them is very careless and reckless (Grace), the other is deliberate about what he does and has goals and plans. 

The biggest influence, I think, was their interactions with denizens prior to forming the Apex. Grace admittedly never got to know any while Simon was betrayed by one whenever she left him behind to potentially die. Simon carried this rage inside of him while Grace had nothing but apathy to guide her attitude of the denizens. Grace needed attention and she was able to get that from Simon and the Apex, so she made a life built on what that gave her.

While Grace tends to seem to try to sweeten the issue or charm people. Simon is more short with others and a bit rude. They handle things much differently, though they have created a lifestyle together and formatted a society of children that they lead.

All too frequently, if a character looks like Grace, she is there as fodder for whoever her (usually white) counterparts are. But Grace has a unique situation in which she shares center stage with her white male counterpart and we watch them develop together from two peas in a pod to mortal enemies. It is a sad separation, but one that felt necessary for the direction of the story. But here’s why Grace matters so much, despite the fact that she and Simon built a child army and killed we don’t even know how many denizens:

Grace changed for the better. When both of them met and got to know a denizen, she began to change. She didn’t understand it at first and took some time to admit to herself that she was even changing. She thought that something was wrong with her because her number was going down and that wasn’t supposed to be how it was. What she thought was that it made her look weak and she didn’t want Simon or the Apex to see her that way.

And saying that Grace changed for the better is sort of shaky, too. Because Grace wasn’t a bad person to begin with. She was a child who got on the wrong track. Going from being extremely alone to having one friend to having hundreds or however many Apex kids of followers changed her for the worse, but she was a good kid at her core. She was lonely in the real world and she acted out, then wound up on this train, had a life changing event by having to see “The Conductor” and translate what happened to her as someone saving her, and she went on to help save others, or so she thought, to some degree. 

Whenever she saved Simon, she had literally no reason to, other than she saw a kid in trouble and she knew she could help.She had just as little life skills and social skills as this kid in front of her, but... he was crying and she reached out to try to make him feel better, reminding him that even though life on the train was hard, he was alright now. Then, another life changing thing happened - Simon noticed that her number was higher and asked her how she got it so high. She knew just as much as him, and said that she was really good at life on the train, and the way she took that ghom out - she wasn’t completely wrong, but them being children and having only time and their limited views started a cult.

What I found interesting about this memory was the fact that Simon was telling Grace’s story for her. She tagged her charm onto it, but Simon (the writer of their laws and apparently a trilogy that not even Grace, who likes to read things wanted to read while they were besties) is telling the story to the kids. Probably embellishing, and Grace loves to be noticed, so she keeps this up until they’ve formatted an entire belief system. It was basically just I presumed whenever I questioned the reputation this fandom gave Grace as a manipulator who filled Simon’s head with hatred for denizens and Apex theology.It confirmed that people were wrong about her, which unfortunately didn’t make them change their minds, but they ain’t gotta. Grace lived and Simon died and that’s how this turns out sometimes.

I was able to at least acknowledge that his death was atrocious and it’s very unfortunate that he didn’t change for the better. He wanted control. He wanted power. He wanted to reign. Those things were more important to him than believing anything that went against his ideals. They were more important than Grace and his relationship with her. Meanwhile, Grace, up until even after he was gone cared about him. She defended herself whenever he attacked her, but she tried not to hurt him. She even tried to talk to him and he once again refused to listen. She saved his life AGAIN, and he still tried to kill her. Despite it all, when he was gone, she cried. Her friend was gone. Another life had been taken, and life meant something else to her now. 

Even paper birds mattered now, and thanks to that difference inside of her, she didn’t die. But, I expected her to. Not even because it would’ve made sense or helped the story in any way, but because that’s how it usually goes for characters like her, characters who LOOK like her. The fact that it didn’t brought tears to my eyes. This season was amazing. This ending was amazing. This character was amazing. I’m so pleased with it and it was more than I expected, because instead of setting expectations, I let them tell me the story. They did an excellent job.

I've been asking people since she first appeared in season 2 why they thought that Simon was some helpless and she was this dominating figure that bossed him into this lifestyle and mostly it came back to her higher number. i didn't think we were being shown that, so I've been suspicious every time someone has suggested that Grace got Simon started in this or taught him this and now that it's been debunked, I'm even more irritated with the suggestion that her redemption doesn't make sense or wasn't right. 

The thing about Simon was that he seemed fine. He seemed innocent, at times. He seemed like someone to sympathize with... What a lot of his fan base doesn't seem to realize is that is the case with every abuser. That is the case with many killers. Bad backgrounds and hard times coming up don't make for an excuse. Just because I GET his personality, doesn't mean he deserves respect or consideration. But then, we have Grace, on this other end who can't even get the recognition she earned through her decision making when she literally had the same childhood as him whenever they got there. Idk. Shit feels suspicious to me to not acknowledge Grace's redemption as well written. And the idea that Simon was doing these things for or because of Grace was proven as untrue, so there should have been a shift in her favor and there wasn't and my god that's some top shelf bullshit to me...

People frequently speak of Grace's manipulating Simon, possibly because they haven't had to try to use what you have to smooth someone over. The fact that Grace has been consoling Simon since they were children (THEY WERE CHILDREN), Because I see "Simon is a child" everyday, and always speak of his trauma, like Grace had none and like she's not the same age or near it. But, that's another thing that gets done to Black girls - they're aged up in people's prejudiced minds and expected to be more accountable than their peers. This GIRL has been repeatedly blamed for the issues of her friend.

And her "betrayal?" A lie she told to preserve life.

Simon proceeds to use her tape against her, leave her trapped inside of it (knowing it was dangerous, because the cat told him), sow lies about her in the Apex, pressure children that she knew to kill her, literally tried to beat her up and murder her, and kicks her as hard as he can after she saved his life AGAIN... He still gets more grace than Grace from the audience. I don't think people see Grace's humanity. People even assumed that her number was higher because she killed so many denizens... Like literally every wrong move doesn't affect numbers. And when faced with the story, which gives us a vulnerable Grace with flaws but also compassion, she's still been sidelined by fans of the show and nobody has given me any good reason as to why, so you already know, like we been knew. 😒

People have even tried to downgrade Simon's toxicity towards her because she led the Apex (and these people pretty much had similar things to say as people who didn't believe that my ex sexually abused me because of some examples of me being strong while arguing with him)...

THIS was triggering as fuck, but I've barely seen a PEEP about it. I'm going to presume that problematic takes of Grace are from a place of discrimination and dehumanization against another Black girl character like fandoms usually do.

But that just makes her matter more.

Good job, Grace. I knew there was good in you all along, and I didn't have to make up anything about you in my brain. ♥️♥️♥️

*Grace mourning a man that just tried to destroy her multiple times for telling a lie to keep him from killing a small child...

SPEAKING OF... The man double kicked her off that damn train in front of the kids AFTER they all saw her rescue him. Them kids might be messed up because of the Apex, but you can't tell me that Simon ain't further fuck them up with his reign. At least we know Grace was always nice to them. I'm glad they'll have each other to figure it all out.

[danceinpurgat0ry]

At the End of Everything, Hold Onto Anything

Ahoy hoy, readers!

So... This is another one of my personal favorites, even though I was relatively new back when I wrote it. Like “Snowed In,” this takes place in a modern AU. This was also slightly inspired by Night in the Woods. It’s a really good game, and I think you should check it out.

And like “Hold You, Never Let Go,” I was only able to post the first half since the second part contains smut, which I’m afraid of getting in trouble for if I were to post it here, since I’m not too familiar with this site’s content guidelines. There is a brief mention of it, though, but it’s very brief and will most likely be fine (I hope).

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled on for long enough. I hope you enjoy!

. ˚◞♡ 🎐 *ೃ༄

The breeze was cold, delivering the autumn winds as it traveled. Leaves fell from the looming trees, assuming a crisp orange hue. Autumn is said to represent adulthood and maturity. And, to be frank, whoever said that wasn't necessarily wrong.

You had just finished unpacking your things. You had just moved back to your hometown. Why? Well, you wanted to resume your aimless former life and catch up on those you left behind. So you dropped out of college, moved back, and... yeah.

In fact, there was one person in particular you yearned to see again. You just weren't sure if that person still lived here.

It's better to just not get your hopes up, though...

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A few days have passed, and already you're starting to feel a little glum.

Things have changed here. Your friends, the town, the venues... everything. It's almost as though everything's moved on without you.

Your friends have grown and changed. They have jobs now. They almost seemed alien to you now. Or was it the other way around?

Nah, it had to be them.

Anyways, there was still this one place in town you liked that was still around. It was a local bar you used to sneak into from time to time, namely because they had a cocktail-type arcade machine called "Galaga," and you would always sneak in to play it.

Looking back, you're actually rather thankful that the bartender pretended not to see you when you did.

And admittedly, you actually did have a drink or two a few years before you were of legal age to drink. Thankfully, you dodged a huge bullet when your mother took you here for your "first drink" since the bartender covered for you.

Good times...

But even the bar itself had changed. The bar had been renovated to fit in with more modern times (it was actually more like a club than a bar now). Nevertheless, you were relieved that it was at least still there.

You could hear the music from across the street. Sighing, you decided to enter. Whether it was for nostalgic reasons or simply because of an obscure sense of curiosity, you'd never know.

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You took a sip of your drink as you stared at the others abhorrently, jealous that those freaks were able to find their "special someone" before you (even if it was just some weird hookup). It disgusted you. But perhaps it was all just in your head. Nonetheless, you were still pretty pissed.

Of course, this burning flame of jealousy died down a bit when notice a familiar face sitting next to you—Hinoka. Hinoka was a good friend of yours. She was a serious girl who didn't take shit from anyone. And admittedly, you still thought it was the funniest thing ever when she knocked the shit out of this one jackass who attempted to flirt with her, only to offend her in the process.

Anyway, you were a bit surprised to find that Hinoka of all people decided to come to a place like this. "H-Hinoka?!" you practically yelped. "Dude, I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Hm? Oh, hey (Y/N)," she responded, sipping out of her flask. "What're you doing here? Weren't you going to college out-of-state?"

"Uh, yeah, funny story," you began. "I kinda, sorta dropped out."

"Oh, really? How come?"

"Do you promise not to laugh?"

"Of course. We've been friends for gods-know-how-long. You can tell me anything."

"Okay..." You inhaled deeply, then turned back to her. "I wanted to go back to being an aimless nobody and return to my friends and family."

It went silent for a moment before Hinoka let out a soft sigh. "Is that it?"

"Pretty much..." Technically, it wasn't. Of course, you weren't willing to admit that.

"I'm not going to judge you or think less of you for it," Hinoka began. "But I believe you could've done better. Honestly."

"Yeah, I know..."

Those were words you didn't want to hear at all, but you knew that Hinoka was just being a good friend. You couldn't be mad at her for that.

You took a sip, still feeling a bit glum. You're odds of actually getting to see a certain somebody were already low, but you feared that you might not even get to see them. Possibly ever again.

This certain somebody wasn't just "anybody." This somebody—a girl, to be exact—was someone you had your eyes on. In fact, you could've even said that you were infatuated with them. But being the dick you were back then, you left without even so much as a goodbye. Or at least, you thought you were a dick for it.

But that wasn't until you heard a soft, smooth voice that your mood suddenly skyrocketed. When you turned around, you saw her—a purple-haired woman sitting right next to you. You nearly spit out your drink (like a fucking idiot). It was her!

"C-C-Camilla?!" you squeaked.

She turned to you, a large smile spreading across her face. "(Y/N)? Oh, what a wonderful surprise~!" she said as she wrapped her arms around you, practically squeezing the life out of you. When she did so, her large breasts squished into your face. It was pleasant, but a bit cliché. You've seen something like this in a few anime and manga, and honestly, you now realize that it really isn't like they make it seem.

"I missed you so much," she cooed. You shifted your head so that you could speak. "Ah... I missed you, too."

Camilla eventually let go, then reached out to hold your hands. "Why don't we go somewhere else? We have quite a bit to catch up on, you know." As she spoke, you could tell that she was a bit disgusted by the mere presence of Hinoka. But that was to be expected. The two didn't neccessarily get along well. Hinoka seemed to be glaring at the purple-haired woman with the same amount of disgust.

"Y-Yeah, okay," was all you could utter. Camilla flashed you a warm smile, gently pulling you along and leading you outside.

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"Where have you been all this time? I missed you so much."

The two of you were now at your house. It was your idea, but it was a bit lackluster (in your opinion), and you hoped that Camilla wasn't secretly judging you for it. Well, it wasn't like you could've just waltzed into town and bought a fucking mansion or some shit.

"Ah... I went off to college. You know that."

"Oh, that's right. And how did that turn out for you?"

Again with that question...

"I...dropped out." You practically bit your tongue as you confessed that to her.

"Oh? How come?"

"Because..." You breathed in a sharp inhale. "I wanted to come back. Get all that pressure off of my shoulders. And..."

Gods, at a time like this, you wished you were dead.

"The truth is, I...wanted to be with you. I've always had my eyes on you, Camilla. I've dreamt of you for countless nights, wishing that I could just be in your arms and cuddle the shit out of you. That by some stupid luck I'd one day be yours. College was hard, Camilla, not because of the pressure, but because I missed you so fucking much."

At this point, the words just flowed out of you. Camilla seemed to be hooked on every word you managed to spew out.

"You're the only woman for me. I was a mess back there because you're just so perfect. I could never focus in my courses because I could never get you out of my head. Because I love you, Camilla, so very fucking much."

After confessing your feelings for her, you didn't think you could even bring yourself to look at her directly due to sheer embarrasment. You winced, expecting her to laugh at your feelings. To your surprise though, Camilla just stood up and approached you, bringing her fingers to your chin to guide your gaze to her face, before planting her lips onto yours. It felt...great.

To be honest, this was the best kiss you've ever had. You can't really say it was your first, though, since you've had a few partners back when you were going to college up state. Ever since you left, you had a huge hole inside that you desperately tried to fill, although things didn't really work out for you. You fought with one of them, the second cheated on you with some douchebag, and the rest were just hookups or one night stands. There was no woman out there that was like Camilla. Yeah, it was pretty hella depressing, but you knew that after this, that hole would finally be filled.

After what seemed like an eternity, your lips parted. The sensation still lingered within you, though, whether it was because of happiness, your libido, or maybe both. One thing's for certain, though: Camilla tasted really fucking good.

"Damn," you spoke. "That...was awesome."

"You liked it?" Camilla giggled. "I'm glad. I've been waiting so very long to do that."

"Have you, now? Well, I'm happy that I got my feelings through to you. Uh...assuming that you reciprocate, that is."

Camilla gave you a kiss on the forehead. "Of course. And you know...the others missed you just as much. Especially sweet little Corrin, the poor thing was so sad to see you go."

Corrin was a good friend of yours as well. The two of you would hang out all the time, to the point to where you remember pretty much everything about them. Not that you thought they were repulsive, of course. You simply enjoyed their company. The two of you would mostly play video games, but you did other things as well, such as eat lunch together or watch movies.

You missed those times... maybe you should go visit them.

"I'm glad to hear that," you responded. "Now then, there was actually something I've been wanting to do with you."

"Oh?" Camilla let out a confused yet intrigued sound. "Whatever might that be, sweetie?"

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"Bon appétit!"

You brought a few dishes to the table, decked out in red tablecloth and lit candles. Seeing as it was Valentine's Day, you thought that it would be nice to have a fancy(ish?) dinner with the woman who was now your girlfriend. This town didn't offer much in the way of good eats, so you took it upon yourself to cook them up in the comfort of your own home. You had gotten pretty good at cooking after you moved off to go to college, so you didn't have much to worry about in that department.

You brought a bottle of red wine and poured it into your glasses. It wasn't the most "high-class" wine in the world, but it certainly wasn't cheap, either. Some smooth jazz was playing in the background, too. You took a seat and said, "You know, you look really gorgeous. I mean...you always have, but..."

Camilla chuckled, taking a sip of her wine. "Awh, you've always been so cute when you trip over your words. I can't help but fawn over it."

"Damn... And here I thought I was looking like a complete fucking buffoon."

"Oh, I could never think that way of you. You went through all this trouble just to make me feel special, after all."

Ah... She always knew the right things to say. What a goddess.

"So," you began, sipping your wine and attempting to be seductive about it (although you hoped that you didn't look like an idiot doing so). "What have you been up to all this time? Now's a great time to catch up on everything."

"Ah, well, I just recently got a job downtown. I get paid a pretty good amount, so I've been able to take good care of by beautiful siblings easier. Well... Corrin and Elise, anyway."

"They still live with you?" you asked, stifling a bit of laughter. You didn't mean to be disrespectful; it was just a bit laughable to you.

"Oh, of course! Corrin is still pursuing their academic career, and Elise is still a bit too young to move out on her own. So, naturally, it's my job as their big sister to take care of them. We're still keeping in touch with Xander and Leo, though they're off pursuing their own affairs elsewhere."

"That...makes sense."

Camilla was almost like a mother to her siblings... It made you feel a bit jealous. Yeah, you had parents, but they hardly ever paid attention to you since they were always busy working. Because of this, any kind of relationship with them was pretty much nonexistent. It didn't really help that you didn't have any siblings, either.

"Oh? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Camilla seemed to have sensed the uneasiness within you, much to your surprise. "O-Oh, uh, nothing. I was just thinking, that's all."

"About your parents?"

Fuck.

Camilla had known about your relationship (or, lack of, per se) for a while now, ever since you vented to her about it one day. To be honest, you never expected her to remember that.

You nodded, slowly, letting her know that she was right on the mark, as painful as it was.

"(Y/N), sweetie, you shouldn't worry so much about them. Even if they weren't close to you nor cared for you, you still have me! I care about you so, so much, and I always have. Even when you left, I continued to care deeply for you and your wellbeing."

"But aren't you upset that I just...left? Without even saying goodbye? Aren't you upset by how selfish I was back then?"

"Of course not, (Y/N). I could never be upset with you. You had your reasons. And besides, I knew you'd come home. That's why I waited. I've waited years for you to finally return. And now...here we are. Sitting at your table in your home."

...

You didn't know what to say. Camilla seemed to stand by you no matter what, even though you practically abandoned her for something better, and she was fully aware of that fact. Her little speech brought tears to your eyes. Gods, you loved her so much.

"Thank you..." you said with a sniffle.

"Aww, don't cry, darling. It'll be okay now. You're home." Camilla got up and came over to where you were sitting, turning you around and embracing you.

"T-That's right," you sniffled. "And I'm not leaving again. By your side is where I want to be, even if it's in a hellhole of a town like this. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Camilla smiled against your forehead, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "That's so sweet, (Y/N). I'll always...always be by your side, too, no matter what."

"I'm...happy," was all you could utter.

"Hey," Camilla said, releasing you. "How about we have a little "fun?" You know, since it's Valentine's Day? And a reunion? It'll be much more romantic that way."

To be frank, you've had wet dreams about Camilla even while you were away, so the thought of actually having sex wasn't a bad idea.

"Okay," you replied. "Let's do it." You weren't sure if it was because you were practically half-wine now, but you were feeling pretty adventurous.

Smiling, Camilla reached for your hand and led you to your bedroom.