#so it happens a couple times before andrew is like ‘nope’

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[devilfic]

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[hoodoo12]

At Times Like These--

--we have only each other.

This past weekend was a blur but my exhaustion is worth it.

I splurged and saw the matinee on Sunday and well as the final show.

First, Andrew Kober as Beetlejuice for the matinee. He is AMAZING. It felt like watching the show for the first time again. People have their favorites and fans like us can appreciate the differences all the understudies put into the role, but Kober is the second best Beej. Full stop. He has a fantastic mix of desperation and manic energy, with an underlying menace that, ngl, Alex sort of lost as the show went on.

During the matinee there was audience participation I haven't heard ever happening:

Kober says his line, "All I want is for someone, anyone to look my way and say “Hey."

Couple of audience members say loudly, "Hey!"

Kober continues, "I see you."

More audience, "I see you!"

Kober, "I accept you."

More audience, "I accept you!"

Kober, "And I fear for my safety around you.”

All of the audience, "And I fear for my safety around you!"

Kober, pauses. Then, "Nope. Didn't work."

We, the entire audience, lost.our.minds.

Now. The closing show ...

Fucking hell. I mean that in the best possible way.

Standing ovations from the beginning. For every actor.

It took so long for Alex to even drop the newspaper. He tapped his foot. He leaned back (allllll the way back) to lean on the coffin. He got on the floor. Then, and only then, did he drop the paper to renewed enthusiastic applause.

Every actor played along with their rightfully deserved ovation and applause during their entrances. It was so heartwarming.

I know everyone has seen all the "what happened during the last performance" posts that people are doing, but NO ONE has mentioned these things:

1) at the end of the TBS reprise, Alex ran up the stairs with a clone and started aggressively making out with them as the set changed

2) when Adam stops him from murdering Charles and goes into his "you have groped me, etc" speech, Alex made these increasingly feral, increasingly loud snarling noises like he was getting ready to scrap (. . . or screw)

3) during the Adam and Beej kiss, it went hard. Alex groped David's ass and pretended to dip a finger between his ass cheeks/shove a finger in him, then smelled his finger when David was pulled away. Then he stalked after David for more before Kerry grabbed him.

(I know I am looking at all that though the lens of a smut writer, but hoooo boy.)

Alex Timbers' speech was nice, but not allowing anyone else to say anything?! Fuck whoever made that decision. Alex was actively walking forward for the mic when the curtain stared coming down. He and Elizabeth looked surprised, so they weren’t told about it, obviously, which is unfortunate and understandably upsetting. Here is someone who had been active with the show since 2017 helping to make it what it became plus a new star that embraced (and was embraced by) the fandom, to the point she cracked during the very last word of the show, and they were denied? I'd heard from reliable sources that other cast members had some things prepared as well, and they didn't get the chance to say anything either. It was just abrupt and crushed the energy that had been wild up till then.

This show has meant so much to so many people, including myself. Alex Timbers told us what we already knew: Over a million people saw Beetlejuice on Broadway. That the audience for Beetlejuice was statistically younger than the average for Broadway shows. That Beetlejuice was the first Broadway show for a huge number of audience members. That the fact that fans were so engaged and active that we helped bring it back from the dead. We said his name three times, and Beetlejuice returned for a real send off, one the show deserved, to 1600 adoring Netherlings.

[lightningblade1994-blog]

{Sonic the Hedgehog} "Andrew & Hailey are reunited" [For © KatarinaTheCat]

Andrew:[Surprised] Hailey...?

Hailey Ranna:[In shock] A-Andy?

[Both Andrew & Hailey stare at each other for moment, then they started shouting for each other as they finally recognize each other]

Hailey Ranna: *Screams Happily with joy; then starts giggling happily*

Andrew:[ecstatically] HAILEY! But, how did you--?

Hailey Ranna:[overjoyed] How did YOU--?!

[Both Andrew and Haily start jumping with joy, laughing out loud as they begin embracing each other, much to Sonic & the gang's confusion]

Andrew:[ecstatically] --It's great to see you!

Hailey Ranna:[overjoyed and relieved] Oh! It's great to see you!

Mighty:[confused] Hey! What's going on here?!

[Hailey continues to giggle as both she and Andrew take a moment to chat with one another]

Andrew: W-What're you doing here?

Hailey Ranna: What do you mean "What am I doing here"? What are YOU doing here? I thought you were a goner!

Andrew: Nope. Here I am :)

Mighty:[starts shouting] HEY!! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?! [Both Andrew and Hailey look towards Mighty]

Andrew: Oh, sorry. Kids I'd like you meet an old friend of mine. This here is Princess Hailey Ranna. Hailey, this is-- [stops for a moment, then goes to embrace Hailey a second time as both start smiling at each other] Oh, this is SO FUNNY!

Mighty:[Puzzled] WHO is Hailey?!

Andrew: She's my best friend!

Mighty: Friend...? FRIEND?! Some kind of "Friend"-- She tried to shoot Ray!

Ray:[turns around] Heh?

Andrew: Oh, she didn't know you guys were new out here... Hailey, I'd like you to meet Ray the Flying Squirrel. Ray, This here is Hailey Ranna.

Ray: Please to meet your acquaintance ^^

Mighty: Whoa! Whoa, whoa. TIME OUT. So, let me guess this straight; You know her, and she knows YOU. But she tried to shoot Ray over here. And-- Everybody's ok with this...? AM I MISSING SOMETHING HERE?!

[Andrew gives Mighty an eyebrow, then turns to Hailey]

Andrew: How'd you end up here?

Hailey Ranna: Lancelot was after me that time.

Andrew: But why?

Hailey Ranna: Oh, Andy. He's a menace, and things had been much worse ever since he took over Ebon. He never should've been in charge in the first place ...YOU should've been in charge.*

Klick: So... you're from too Ebon, Huh? Wow! For a princess that age, I guess that must mean you'll be involved in a lot future events, right? ...right?

Knuckles: Pfft. "Princess" Bah! Dude, have you got YOUR own two antennae crossed?

Amy Rose: No. She really is an actual princess of Ebon.* Can't you tell?

Mighty:[Sarcastically] Riiiiight. So, she's an actual princess, I'm the Emperor, and Ray over there is actually the "Grand Poo Bah".

Ray: Will somebody tell me what's going on...?

Sonic: It's alright, Ray. Mighty was just joking, that's all. Aside from the whole "Princess" part.

Ray: W-Wait a minute-- So, you mean to tell me that she and Andy are...?

Tails: Uh-huh :)

Ray: --A-And she's a...?

Sonic: Yep ^^

Ray: ...You don't actually mean--

Amy Rose: Yep :3

Ray: *Gasps* [Bows before Hailey] ...Your majesty!

Andrew: *blushing* Oh, quit it.

Ray:[Still bowing] I GRAVEL AT YOUR FEET.

Mighty:[Annoyed] It's not "Gravel", it's "Grovel"! And DON'T. She ain't REALLY an actual princess from Ebon! Go on, Tell 'em the truth!

Hailey Ranna: Go ahead, Andy. Tell them what happened.

[Andrew hesitates, then ponders as he finds a place to sit down]

Andrew: That... That's all behind me. It doesn't matter anymore.

Mighty: Well... It matters to me! Everything's RUINED. It'll never be the same! *scoffs* Y'know, this is why-- Knux, you remember the last couple of weeks I've kept saying, "Can I have a couple of minutes of your time to talk to you about something?" THIS is what it was talking about! This evening is RUINED!

Knuckles: Look, I-- Wait, what?

Mighty: This evening is RUINED. The whole evening is RUINED!

Knuckles: Why are you saying it like that?

Mighty: Saying what? I'm just pointing out that my vacation is RUINED.

Knuckles: Y'know what? I'm not gonna get sucked into this [turns his back for one moment, then turns around again] Ok, just so I'm sure... REALLY? Are you just trying to tick me off or is that really how you say that?

Mighty: What're you talking about? I'm talking about this RUINED evening.

Knuckles: That's not how you say "Ruined".

Mighty: What? RUINED?

Knuckles: What do you call the remains of ancient Aztec structure?

Mighty: "Ruins".

Knuckles: And how would you describe this evening?

Mighty: RUINED, Of course. This evening is RUINED.

Knuckles: Say "Ruined".

Mighty: RUINED.

Knuckles: "Ruined".

Mighty: RUINED.

Knuckles: "Roo·Uhnd".

Mighty: RUINED.

Knuckles: JERKOFF >:/

Mighty:[bummed] Great. Now, I gotta "Gravel".

Ray: Uh-- don't you mean, "Grovel"?

Mighty: Ah, WHATEVER. And I ain't gonna do it.

Tails: Cut it out, you three! Nothing here has changed.

Hailey Ranna: ...Can you kids please excuse us for a couple of minutes?

Mighty: Well there, Andy? What's it gonna be?

Andrew: ...Would you mind?

Mighty: And so, it begins... [Walks away besides Ray] ...And to think you know a guy. [Sonic & the gang follow from behind, much to Andrew's dismay]

Ray: I knew she was an actual princess all along. I had this feeling in my gut :D

Sonic: That was all HUNGER TALK.

Hailey Ranna: What was that all about?

Andrew: Y'know, children these days... Always goofing. Come on, let me show you around...

[briamichellewrites]

14

Princess Alexandra Charlotte Grace. Brad was still getting used to it. It was a beautiful name. Nicknames were not allowed, so he couldn’t call her Alex. If he could, he would keep her and Stephanie with him forever. He heard Stephanie babbling in the living room. She was laying on her stomach on the floor looking at the baby in the mirror. The baby did everything she did and she couldn’t figure out why or how. All she saw was the reflection of herself.

She smiled at her papa when he sat down in front of her. That was her papa and she loved him so much! Where was mommy? She had run to the bathroom real quick. He didn’t like that she had just left her because she could roll over and hurt herself. When she came back, she apologized. He reminded her not to leave her by herself because she could get hurt. She nodded.

Stephanie put her hand on the mirror, knocking it over. Where did the baby go? Bria picked it up and set it back down. There she was! She smiled, happy to see the other baby. After taking a nap, she wanted to play. She pushed up with her arms before laying back on her stomach.

“Are you trying to crawl”, Bria asked.

She smiled. No, not yet. Maybe in a few months she would be ready to crawl. For now, she was okay with rolling around. After a while of laying on her stomach, she cried to let her mommy know she wanted a different position. She picked her up and let her sit down on her bottom. Thank you, mommy! She leaned forward and grabbed her papa’s toes. He laughed as she tried putting them into her mouth.

“No, you don’t want to put my foot in your mouth. Icky.”

He moved her and before she could start crying again, he distracted her with a toy. It went right into her mouth. Yum! The ring tasted like plastic. She held on to it with her little hands. Yum! Yum! Yum! Queen Elizabeth’s staff was keeping him informed of the plans for moving them to England. Bria was to be given an apartment at Windsor Castle for herself and her daughter. She would attend events with the queen for a year or two to learn how to be a princess.

There was also mention of a royal wedding. Prince Andrew was wanting to set his daughter up with a prince from another country in the hopes of marriage. To them, marriage was about bringing two families and countries together. Whoever he picked had to be a good match and had to be approved by the queen. Queen Elizabeth had final approval for almost everything.

The Queen Mother had recently died at a hundred-one year old. The country mourned her death. The Queen herself was getting on with age, as she was seventy-six years old. She still made public appearances and attended royal events. Her father became king after his brother abdicated to marry an American divorcee. He led the country through World War Two, where the princess volunteered her services. After his death, Elizabeth became queen.

Her husband, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh was usually by her side. Brad was slowly learning that he didn’t have a say in what happened to his daughter. He felt helpless. It was as if he was being brushed aside, even though he had been her father for fifteen years. Now they wanted to replace him? No. They didn’t know her as he did.

Stephanie rolled a ball over to him. She hadn’t meant to do it but she was fascinated by it rolling to her papa. He made a face of surprise before laughing and rolling it back to her. She smiled as she picked it up before accidentally dropping it. It bounced a couple of times before stopping by her foot. This was great fun! She did it again and had the same result. After bending forward, she picked it up again and tried putting it in her mouth. Nope, it wasn’t going to fit.

Bria came back over. She wasn’t feeling well. What was wrong? She just had a stuffy nose, a cough, and sneezing. It made her run back and forth to the bathroom to blow her nose and wash her hands. She didn’t want her daughter to catch her cold, so she was being protective about keeping her hands clean. Because her nose was stuffed up, she couldn’t breathe while sleeping.

So, she had to lay her pillows against the headboard. It wasn’t that comfortable but it was better than nothing. Stephanie could tell something was wrong with her mommy but she didn’t know what it was. She smiled at her, hoping to cheer her up.

She said hello to her. Was she playing with Papa? Yes, she was. She put the ball back into her mouth before hitting it with her hand. Her mouth was too small. She dropped the ball before picking up a plastic key ring. That could go in her mouth. She shook it. It made a funny sound. The keys were different shapes and colors: orange, green, pink, blue, and yellow. Papa had a set of keys but they couldn’t go in her mouth. They probably tasted icky. These tasted good. She squealed in joy before sneezing.

“Oh no. I hope you’re not getting sick like mommy”, Bria said.

“Nah, I think something just irritated her nose”, Brad told her.

“Don’t get sick. It’s not fun. I don’t think papa wants to be taking care of both of us.”

He laughed. “That would not be good.”

She babbled, as if adding to the conversation. It was getting close to dinner time but she wasn’t hungry yet. Her mommy was great at figuring out when she was hungry. She had a high chair she sat in during meal time. It was very sturdy and was highly recommended for older babies and toddlers. Bria wanted something that was guaranteed to be safe because she didn’t want her tipping over, so Brad helped her pick something out.

When it was time to eat, she strapped her into her high chair while he pulled up a chair beside her. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a chicken and gravy jar of baby food. After opening it up and stirring it, she brought it over. Stephanie got excited when she saw the jar of baby food. Yes, mommy! That’s what I want! She sat down and put a small spoon full in her mouth.

Yum! Yum! Brad told her she was doing a good job feeding her. Some food fell out of her mouth, so she used the spoon to scoop it up before putting it back into her mouth. She ate almost half of the jar before getting full. Stephanie turned her head when offered another spoonful.

“Okay. I’ll save the rest for tomorrow then.”

She put the cap back on and screwed it tight before putting it in the refrigerator. How much was left? It was about half. That was pretty good. Stephanie was happy because her tummy was full. She had to digest before she could go to bed because she didn’t want a tummy ache. At the moment, she was interested in his nose and touching it with her little hand. What was she doing? She smiled.

“I think she’s intrigued by your face.”

He laughed, making her smile. She was a silly baby. Her hands had to touch everything. She banged on her tray. It made a funny sound. She rubbed her eyes, so she took her out of her high chair. It was time to get her ready for bed before she fell asleep. The three of them went upstairs and up to her bedroom.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[writingmyanxietyaway]

I Made Cookies! | Andrew DeLuca

Requested by anon:  Yay💛😁😁 I was thinking of being Deluca's sister, also sharing the apartment with Arizona w/ the prompts 33 and 75 :D

Word count: 960

Warning: drinking, maybe one or two boo-boo words

Note: not my gif! I hope this is what you meant! Enjoy xx

#33 - ‘What did I say?’ ‘You told me to behave.’ ‘What did you do?’ ‘The exact opposite.’

#75 - ‘Are you drunk?’

------------

‘- so yeah, the mom is doing great and the baby is healthy. Uhuh, yeah, that’s what I said.’ Arizona fumbled with the keys in her hands while she spoke to April on the phone. ‘Uhm, April, I’m gonna have to call you back.’ Arizona threw her stuff down next to the door as she took in the scene before her. The room was covered in birthday decorations, music burst through the apartment and you were singing along loudly in the kitchen, covered in flour.

‘Y/N, hey! What are you doing?’ she called over the music. You jumped around when you heard her voice and turned down the music.

‘Arizona! Hi! Don’t you just love this?!’ you exclaimed. There was clearly something off about you.

‘Are you drunk?’ Arizona asked. You carefully hid the bottle of wine that was standing next to you behind your back and shook your head with a smile.

‘Nope!’ you stated proudly. She raised her eyebrows and gave you that ‘mom’ look. ‘Okay, maybe I am, so what?’

‘I literally left for two days and I come back to this.. Seriously Y/N, what did I say?’ she asked, clearly unamused by what you did to the house.

‘You told me to behave..’

‘And what did you do?’

‘The exact opposite.’

You pouted your lips and looked around the beautifully decorated room. No-one had been home for your birthday as it was a national holiday, so you threw yourself a nice birthday party. You’d done your best to decorate the house a little, but somewhere along the way you found a bottle of wine and that soon turned into two bottles, an over-the-top decorated house and a messy kitchen.

‘I just wanted a fun birthday! If no-one’s here, the least I can do is make it fun for myself and the mice,’ you mumbled and pointed to the little hole in the wall where the grey animals had been hiding out since a day. You didn’t mean to get drunk, but you’d had a rough couple of weeks. Firstly, your boyfriend broke up with you, secondly you got into a huge fight with your brother Andrew and thirdly you had lost a patient.

‘I love you Arizony, please don’t be mad at meeeee,’ you slurred. She sighed and sat you down on the couch. Handing you a glass of water, she pulled out her phone and texted Andrew how she’d found you drunk and alone in your apartment. Within a minute he replied saying he was on his way. 

‘Am I a bad person, Ari? Be honest.’ That glass of water seemed to sober you up immediately as you stared at the now empty glass.

‘Why would you be a bad person?’ she asked. She sat down next to you and pulled you to her side. You cuddled up against her and sighed.

‘Me and Andy got into a fight earlier this week and he said some pretty nasty things. I don’t understand why he constantly has to throw me under the bus whenever he’s talking about me to Bailey. I almost got fired on friday,’ you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. The mascara you wore was now smudged around your eyes, but Arizona wiped it away. She held your face in her hands and looked at you with pity in her eyes. ‘And then Noah broke up with me yesterday.. on my birthday! And he said that I didn’t give him enough space and I always yell at him. I haven’t even spoken to him in the last few weeks. He’s never even home!’ 

You heard the door open and close. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting anyone else but Arizona to see you like this, so you shoved your face deeper in Arizona’s embrace.

‘Muppet, look at me.’ It was Andrew.

‘Go away Andrew. I don’t want to talk to you.’ You never said his actual name unless you were serious. Andrew’s face fell into a frown. A feeling in your gut told you he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, so you sprinted to your bedroom and locked the door behind you.

‘I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said any of those things and neither should I have left you alone on your birthday. That was a dick-move. And I heard about Noah. Please unlock the door, ducky. You know I hate seeing you upset,’ he pleaded through the door. 

‘I. don’t. want. to. talk. Andrew.’ You knew you were being childish, but you were hurt and drunk. The doorknob jiggled and soon enough the door opened and a smiling Andrew popped in your room, a screwdriver in hand.

‘Wasn’t planning on breaking a door open today, but here we are,’ he mumbled. You groaned and pushed your face deeper in the fluffy green pillow you were laying on. ‘Talk to me. Yell at me. Hit me. Do something.’ The desperation in his voice broke your tough act and you started sobbing like a mad man. You heard Andrew mumble and soon enough you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

‘It’s okay. I’ve got you,’ he kept whispering in your ear until you had calmed down. You sat up and leaned against your big brother. ‘We all go through rough break-ups. We’ve all lost a patient at least once, it’s inevitable. It sucks it all had to happen at the same time, but we’re here for you. We know the feeling and we know how to get out of it. So, grab your pillow and some snacks. We’re watching your favourite movie tonight.’

‘Can we have some wine?’ you called out to Andrew, who was already setting up the couch and tv. You heard two panicked voices yell back.

‘No!’

[dotthings]

Let’s talk about why Dean dancing with a lamp is subtext, but it’s subtext that supports textual arcs. Dean dancing with a lamp is not random. Meta on why Dean dancing with a lamp is part of the build of a textual arc for Dean, thematically, which also connects to his relationship with Cas. This symbolic moment being tacitly about Destiel will only feel like reaching if you ignore context, ignore canon, ignore long arcing, ignore textual material surrounding it. This isn’t just me talking about a ship, this is an important arc for Dean himself emotionally and the way canon’s working, Cas has become the star player in this specific emotional Dean arc about yearning. 

Here are some canon quotes. I could just leave these here and not write another word of meta because the canon wrote it for me. But I’ve added some further commentary to spell out clearly what I’m getting at.

Dean in 8.14 “Trial and Error” by Andrew Dabb:

“You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.”

Dean in 10.16 “Paint it Black” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

“You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it....Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.”

Sam and Dean in 11.04 “Baby” by Robbie Thompson:

SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more? DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam and Dean in 13.23 “Let the Good Times Roll” by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: But on a beach somewhere, you know? Can you imagine? You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls. SAM: You talking about retiring? You? DEAN: If I knew the world was safe? Hell, yeah. And you know why? 'Cause we freaking earned it, man.

Sam and Dean in 15.08 “Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven” by Eugenie Ross-Lemming and Brad Buckner:

DEAN: Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right? SAM: Yeah, me too. And that's not for us. DEAN: No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot. SAM: Dean. I mean, I'm not even- DEAN: Look, all I'm saying is you- you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

Dean and Garth in 15.10 “The  Heroes’ Journey” written by Andrew Dabb:

DEAN: You know, I gotta say, aside from pincushion in there… this is pretty nice. GARTH: Yeah, better than I ever thought I'd get. I mean, hunting -- I figured I'd be dead before I'm 40. You know, go out young and pretty. But now I've got a great wife, great kids. I guess...sometimes things work out.

Dean in 15.10 “The Heroes’ Journey” by Andrew Dabb:

Dean, wistful, watching through the window as Garth and Bess dance: You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be.

Ok, let those roll around in your brain for moment. 

Now: CONTEXT. CONTEXT. CONTEXT.

There’s this long running arc about maybe Sam and Dean could each find a significant other, not white picket fence, but...something, with someone already in the life, who gets their life. There’s Dean’s move from despairing and believing the only ending he could have, the only ending any hunter could have, is dying with a gun in hand, to Dean’s enthusiasm for the concept of retirement, Dean’s wistfulness about finding a significant other, for what he thinks he can’t have, and he starts the cycle all over again, if he can’t have it, then he wants Sam to have it, so Dean encourages Sam with Eileen. Saileen, the Dean-blessed, Dean-approved Sam ship. Dean ships it. And that is how the canon is trending, complete with Sam and Eileen kissing goodbye and saying “this is real” and even God himself saying their feelings were real, “that was all you,” even if God manipulated events around them. Which is an overt mirror to Dean and Cas and Dean’s expressly stated doubts about what’s real and what isn’t, and Cas telling Dean “we are.” 

Much the way Sam has been witness to Destiel, and has often pointed out Dean’s Cas feelings. Dean’s got a front row seat to Saileen and approves; Sam’s had a front row seat to Destiel and approves. 

Let’s throw in Robert Berens’ work in The Trap here, since that’s relevant to this specific topic as well, because why did Sam and Dean in the potential future timeline where they’d killed Chuck give up and cave in to their vampire instincts? The world being overwhelmed with monsters...and losing Eileen and losing Cas. It’s right there in the dialogue. I’ll give you the quote and everything:

Sam and Dean in 15.09 “The Trap” by Robert Berens:

SAM: You want to quit? What's happened to you, Dean? Ever since -- DEAN: Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we've ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy? Ever since I had to bury him in a Ma'lak box? Ever since then? Yeah. You know why? 'Cause the monsters -- they're everywhere. Everywhere! What we do -- it's not even Hunting anymore. It's whack-a-mole. We don't even save people. Every friend we've ever had is either dead, or they got wise and they packed it in. SAM: Jody's still fighting, and Bobby -- DEAN: Bobby has a death wish, and you know it. And Jody -- ever since what happened to Donna and the girls, she does, too. And after Eileen... so do you.

“Ever since” Dean had to bury Cas in a Ma’lak box. “After Eileen...so do you.” 

So there’s this canonical long, long thread across multiple authors (and those weren’t even all the quotes, I’m sure people could dig up more) about Dean in particular yearning towards finding a significant other, some contentment, with someone who already is in the hunting life, who gets it, who understands.  

An episode that flat out shows how losing their significant others is the final straw that rips out Sam and Dean’s last will to fight, and they lose themselves, and after they’re turned into vampires, they just...give into the darkness. Where Sam gives up their shot at destroying the big bad because losing everyone they love is too high a cost. Where losing Cas makes Dean lose hope, where losing Eileen sends Sam into a death wish mindset. Sam and Dean don’t just need each other. That’s not canon, it never has been.

And then right after that, along comes meta episode The Heroes’ Journey. Sorry if you don’t like The Heroes’ Journey, but it’s what the canon did, it’s textual, along with everything else I’ve pointed out here, and in among the crackish humor are some real emotional narrative points. 

In The Heroes’ Journey, Dean gets to see Garth’s life. Garth found his significant other, Bess, and she’s another werewolf. Now, Garth’s life resembles the traditional white picket fence idea a lot more than what Team Free Will are headed for. Garth has a big house with a porch, and he’s a dentist. He’s also a werewolf and his wife is a werewolf and his kids are werewolves because Bess is a pureblood werewolf, Garth didn’t exactly leave the life, and he helps Sam and Dean on a case. But nothing’s been indicating to me that anyone in Team Free Will is headed for that kind of settling down, with a house, becoming a dentist. However, the canon has been practically shouting now, as we near final episodes of SPN, to make the point about a desirable outcome--some kind of stability, contentment, and a significant other. Dean gets a front row seat to seeing a hunter can have that. Garth’s a hunter who turned into a werewolf and he can have that. 

When EP’s talk about how they aren’t headed for a white picket fence or driving off into the sunset or settling down, none of that rules out them finding...something...with someone, and some form of stability and contentment.  Nope, I can’t really imagine them in the suburbs becoming dentists. But canon sure is putting up big neon arrows to...something. Think outside the box. This isn’t about the white picket fence. 

And in The Heroes’ Journey, Dean, conked out on the good gas so Garth can fix his teeth, has a trippy dream where he dances with a lamp.

Rewatch the ep. Look at how the dance is choreographed not just the use of light, because that’s a clue too. The whole dance could have been Dean and Garth being dancing bros, but Garth fades off the stage, and Dean dances alone...until he grabs the standing lamp. In a season where Dean and Cas’s relationship is an A-plot, define it how you like, it’s A-plot. Their breakup and their reconciliation, which played like a marital breakup and reconciliation, are tied to major mytharc beats. In a season where a long-running textual theme about Dean’s developing hope for retirement and his wistfulness about “things...people...feelings...” is getting further play. Where Dean and Cas’s relationship continues to be one of the show’s most central ones.

Dean dances with a lamp. While his emotionally fraught, intense close relationship with Cas--A BEING MADE OF LIGHT--has a long-running arc and recently more and more textual level content spelling out the sublimated romantic interest in small words, while there’s an arc about Dean’s yearning for that stability, contentment, a significant other.

CONTEXT. 

We don’t think Destiel’s “going canon” because Dean dances with a lamp, it’s that Dean dancing with a lamp is kinda loud serving as reflection of canon textual arcing. Sometimes subtext adds a layer. Sometimes subtext is directly tied to the surface layers, an echo, a highlighter.

I’ll just be over here, crying because Dean danced with a lamp.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 55

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,953

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Testing Boundaries

When you arrived at the kitchen a few hours later for dinner prep, you were surprised to find Ben conspicuously absent. At first you worried that he was afraid to show his face after being caught with Simon last night, but the staff member named Andrew informed you that he had temporarily stepped out when one of Negan’s men came in and said he needed Ben’s assistance with something. When Andrew verified the man’s identity as “the big smiley one with the mustache”, you had a feeling you knew just what kind of “assistance” had been needed. You weren’t even upset about it, because truth be told, Ben deserved some breaks from the kitchen. And you had a feeling that Simon possessed just enough carefree attitude and allure to make sure Ben got them. 

With the rest of the staff busy at their various tasks, and without Ben there as a distraction, you quickly became consumed with thoughts of your earlier conversation with Maria. She had made it seem as though Amber had been subdued, at least temporarily, and the rest of the wives weren’t in an uproar over the lack of attention from Negan, but the fact that a conversation about you had occurred at all put you a bit on edge. It was now obvious to the wives that you were the reason for Negan’s change in behavior, and you wondered how long it would take for that to leak to the rest of the community. And when that happened, people were sure to wonder and speculate, right? Hell, you had a bunch of questions still, and you were the one personally involved in the situation! 

By the time the first round of food was exiting the kitchen and being served to hungry patrons, your brain was starting to ache from how much that padlocked box of unanswered questions was jumping around, screaming to be opened and explored. You knew it couldn’t be ignored for much longer, but were terrified of what you might find if you let it loose. You already knew you were developing an emotional attachment to Negan, but if you opened that padlock and really took a look at the items inside, you might realize just how strong the emotions waiting to be uncovered really were. Hell, you had almost stupidly blurted some of what you were feeling out in the woods yesterday, and had barely caught yourself in time. 

Besides, the scariest part of opening that box wasn’t just looking at your own emotions and asking the tough questions, it was then also having to see what his responses would be.

Well the unknown is almost worse, so it’s time to suck it up and have a serious conversation with him about where all of this is going. Ask him about if he’s keeping his wives, admit you know he hasn’t been sleeping with them, and see what he says. Worst case scenario he laughs in your face, sends you away, and never speaks to you again. Easy peasy. 

Just as you were about to work up to a full internal panic attack at the thought of discussing it with him, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and Ben appeared. To anyone else he’d probably look the same as usual, but as he headed in your direction you could see a slight flush to his cheeks and a couple pieces of hair that were suspiciously more disheveled than usual. 

“I’m so sorry for missing prep,” he said by way of greeting, looking a bit tense, as if unsure how you’d treat him after the previous evening.

“Don’t apologize for things if you don’t actually regret them,” you teased with a smirk and playful shake of your head, voice low enough so that only he could hear. 

He choked on a laugh, shoulders visibly relaxing when he realized that nothing had changed between the two of you, and there was zero need for formality or awkwardness. 

Nudging you with his shoulder, he said, “Thanks.” It was one simple word, but the slightly shaky and whispered tone let you know how much emotion was behind it. 

A surge of protectiveness surged in you. If it hadn’t been apparent before how willing you were to Ricardo death-stab anyone who tried to make fun of or harm Ben, it definitely was now. He was one of the sweetest humans you had ever met, and Simon better treat him right or else he’d be dealing with you and your pointy sidekick.

“So, uh, what kind of ‘assistance’ did he need your help with?” You tried for cool and casual, but couldn’t totally hide a teasing grin.

“Oh, nothing much. He just needed a bit of a hand with something, if you know what I mean.” 

At the look of surprise on your face, he started laughing loud enough to draw a few curious gazes from the others. “Besides that, he was letting me know he wouldn’t be around for a day or two.”

Brows furrowing, you asked, “Is Negan sending him back to an outpost?”

“No, he’s joining the supply run tomorrow.” 

At this, you jolted with a different kind of surprise. “They’re going on a run tomorrow?”

“Yea, but I think it was a spur of the moment decision. He didn’t give me any details, but I got the sense that it hadn’t been planned in advance.” 

You nodded, “That makes sense.” If Negan had planned this run before today, he’d have most likely told you...right? 

“I’m sure he’d have told you if he knew,” Ben said, as if he were reading your thoughts. 

“Yea, you’re probably right,” you said, deciding to make that the one thing you didn’t need to overanalyze to death. Instead, you felt a pang in knowing that he wouldn’t be here for a couple of days. You had really been enjoying all this one-on-one time with him, even though it was unrealistic to expect it to last forever. 

You wanted to ask Ben more questions about Simon, but didn’t want to risk any other staff overhearing. Vowing to sit him down outside the kitchen and get all the details in the near future, you refocused on serving dinner. Both brain and body were kept busy for the next few hours with making sure everyone got a serving of food, including the staff and yourself, and then helping with the clean-up. 

It wasn’t until you were back upstairs, lounging in your own bed, that you returned to the dilemma of what to do next. Originally, you had planned to start a conversation with Negan about the wife situation, but now you didn’t think the timing was right. If he was going on a run tomorrow then he needed a clear head and to focus on staying safe, not be preoccupied with your concerns and questions. Especially since you didn’t know if asking about the wives would lead to an argument, and you definitely didn’t want to be on bad terms when he left.

Seeing him tonight and trying to act like your brain hadn’t been a whirlwind of confusing thoughts all day sounded exhausting as hell. But not seeing him and then something potentially happening to him on the run…

You had stood from the bed and headed towards the door before the thought could even finish itself. Nope, there was no way you weren’t gonna go see him, even if it was just for a little bit before returning to your own room for the night. Your watch said it was almost 8:30, so you had a little time before he’d probably be winding down for the night, since chances were good they’d leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow. 

No community members paid you much attention when you headed to the stairwell, but when you got to the top and entered the hall leading to Negan’s room, your stomach dropped at the sight of a small group of Saviors walking down the hall in your direction.

You guessed that they were the group going on the run tomorrow, and had just come from a meeting in one of the unoccupied rooms on this floor. While you were unsure whether to turn around and hightail it back downstairs, your subconscious kept marching forward, no fucks to give that you could be accused of trespassing on a level where community members weren’t supposed to wander. 

When they got closer, you saw a couple of the Saviors give furrowed looks, and one even opened his mouth as if to reprimand you.

“Hey, you can’t just be-“

He was interrupted when another man clapped a large hand on his shoulder, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. Relief flooded through you at the sight of Simon.

“Now now, Ryan. Don’t you know that this little lady here gets a free pass? Negan’s orders, so don't forget.”

Face instantly becoming less hostile, the man gave a nod of understanding and a quick, “Apologies, Miss,” as they passed. Simon gave a signature wink and grin, and you forced a smile in return, brain still preoccupied with his words.

Had Negan really told them that you were to be allowed up here? If so, did that mean he didn’t care if they knew you and him were...whatever you were? Your subconscious was now skipping with glee rather than marching, and your brain gave an exasperated sigh and glared at you while tossing yet another question into the padlocked box.

Arriving at Negan’s door, you gave a soft knock and then opened it at his muffled, “Come in.” He was sitting at his desk with those nerdy, yet also sexy as hell, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he shuffled through a stack of papers.

He looked up, and your heart rate accelerated when he smiled in welcome and said, “Hey, doll.”

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, smiling back. 

He pulled off the glasses (lord, why was that move so damn attractive?!) before rubbing at his tired eyes. Pushing the chair back a bit, he gave you a slow once over before clapping a hand to his knee expectantly.

Unlike when he had last made the gesture, the evening you ate lasagna together, this time you didn’t hesitate. Rounding the desk, you settled onto his warm lap and tilted your head back with a satisfied hum when he placed a possessive kiss on your lips. 

Glancing at the papers strewn across the polished wooden surface, you saw that they were full of lists and numbers, most likely of supplies. He nuzzled at the side of your neck, the friction from his beard causing a little shudder to go down your spine. Your brain rattled the padlocked box in annoyance, narrowly avoiding the tomato thrown at it by your subconscious. 

The reminder helped you refocus on how you had earlier decided not to have sex with him tonight. Not with all the questions and uncertainty floating around your head, and especially not when he needed to be well-rested and undistracted, in preparation for the run. But then the self-doubt creeped in and whispered, What if he decides to go find comfort elsewhere, if you won’t give it to him? He’s already had you and the chase is over, so what makes you think he’ll stay if you backtrack into more platonic interactions?

Your brain picked up the tomato and chucked it at the self-doubt, while the subconscious screamed in excitement at the prospect of a food fight. You tried to ignore all of them and refocus on Negan. Besides, while a risky move, you couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be when denied sex, something you bet he never had worried about with his wives.

“I heard you’re going on a run tomorrow,” you stated, trying not to let all of the conflicting emotions racing through you bleed into your tone.

Giving a sigh, he lifted his mouth from your neck, and you instantly wanted to take back your words at the loss. “Yea, gonna leave at 5 in the fucking morning to make a surprise trip to fucking Hilltop and see what’s up with that motherfucker, Gregory.”

Hearing the irritation in his voice, you asked “Has he been giving you problems?” 

“You could fucking say that. Didn’t fully meet his quota the last two times, so this is his third time’s the fucking charm chance to make up for it.”

Worry shot through you at this, remembering in the past when Negan had said Simon got a weird feeling about Gregory. You weren’t sure if the man was conniving or just plain dumb to be fucking with Negan’s supply rules like this, but it put you on edge. 

“Well, just be careful,” you couldn’t help but say, looking up into his handsome-as-hell face. 

He chuckled and bent down to kiss you again, murmuring, “Don’t fucking worry, doll. Nothing could keep me from coming back now.” 

You wanted so badly to give in, to respond to the kiss in full and let it escalate. His words warmed your chest at the thought of being his main reason for returning safely. You wanted to be his main everything, the way he was quickly becoming yours. You were falling for this man, but were scared to completely let go until a serious discussion was had...after he returned from the run. 

With one last lingering peck, you pulled back and reluctantly stood off his lap. “Well, it’s getting late so I should probably get back to my room.”

“What?” he asked, voice instantly stern and brows lowered in confusion. 

“You need sleep before the run, and I’ll just be a distraction. I could set an alarm and come see you off in the morning, if you want.” 

The hope that he’d be placated by what you thought was a logical argument was quickly dashed when he replied, “I think fucking not.”

“Negan, you need-”

He abruptly stood, and before you could even process what he was about to do, you were hoisted up and over his shoulder, head hanging down his back and ass in the air as he strode across the office and into his dark bedroom.

“What the hell!” you shrieked, lightly smacking his back with the palm of your hand. 

Kicking the bedroom door shut behind him, he took a few steps into the room before putting you down. The room was only lit by a few stray moonbeams, but you swore there was mirth dancing in the shadows of his amber gaze, which only made you more flustered. 

“I cannot believe you just did that!” you exclaimed, readjusting the bottom of your shirt where it had ridden up. 

“Well, maybe now you’ll fucking learn not to try and tell me what I need, doll.”

“Everyone needs sleep,” you fired back with a glare. You were just miffed enough at being manhandled to act petulant, even if the move had also been kinda hot, in a primitive sort of way. 

“What I need, is for you to get in the fucking bed,” he growled. 

A wave of heat poured over you at the words, and your brain stopped working in full sentences due to the amount of blood flow that had rapidly traveled south. 

“But...sleep,” you tried one more time, frantically trying remind your body of the ‘no sex tonight’ rule. 

Giving a ‘holy mother of god woman why are you like this’ level of sigh, he said, “Yes, doll, I’ll fucking sleep. But I can still do that with you here. So get in. The. Fucking. Bed.”

Realizing resistance was futile, you threw your hands in the air and muttered ‘fine’ before stripping off your shoes and jeans, and crawling between the covers. You pointedly left on your underwear and shirt, a nonverbal reminder that sleep was on the menu, and no more...no matter how much your body was screaming that it hated you for denying it. 

In unspoken agreement, Negan stripped down to just his boxer briefs, rather than his usual bed attire of naked, and crawled under the covers. Pulling you into his body, back to his chest, his head rested a few inches behind yours. He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, and biting your lip was all that held back a whimper. 

“You better fully wake me up in the morning, so I can say goodbye,” you mumbled, the decadently soft mattress and pillow quickly putting you into a drowsy haze.

The hand he had rested lightly on your hip gave an affectionate squeeze, and he whispered, “I will. Now stop talking, doll. I need sleep, remember.”

Ignoring the sarcasm in his tone, you snuggled back tighter against him, and sighed in contentment. “Good night.”

His voice lost all teasing and became lower and softer when he replied, “Night, doll.” 

Smiling, your muscles relaxed into the mattress. It wasn’t until you were cocooned back in this glorious bed with him that it became apparent just how exhausted you were. The mental gymnastics your brain had gone through today had thoroughly worn you out. However, a part of that persistent self-doubt had now broken off and shriveled up to dust when it saw that Negan was perfectly willing to have you in his bed like this, with no sexual expectations. If you could stay awake long enough to fully think it through, you’d be shocked as hell that he hadn’t pushed. The fact that he hadn’t even brought up sex, that he still wanted you here with him, even just to do this…

Your last coherent thought was maybe he’s falling for you too, and then sleep took over.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[jerakeenc]

June-Sept Re-recs (12)

This is the best of the best of the best of what I've reread in the last couple of months. I end up downgrading a lot of the fics I reread because even my tastes change over the years. These are the ones that stay awesome, even after many rereads.

(For comparison, I put a little sparkle ✨ image next to the most perfectest (yup!) fics in my regular rec posts. The fics in this post are all sparkle.)

I included my first-read date. The calendar says 2011 was ten years ago but I have my doubts.

Now We've Learned To Kiss The Sky by torakowalski

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Explicit | 13,800 words

“I’m going to ask you something,” Phil says and then pauses and doesn’t ask Clint anything at all. “Yeah?” Clint asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Is it kinky?” It isn’t, obviously; Phil never has a problem suggesting anything when it comes to sex. Phil shakes his head. He looks up, catching and holding Clint’s eyes. Clint doesn’t make any more smartass comments. “Marry me?” Phil asks.

First read in 2012. It's still so lovely.

Disclosures by gqgqqt

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Teen | 67,900 words

Phil Coulson is miserable, distrusted by most of SHIELD, and still doesn't remember why. It's only going to get worse before it gets better.

(2012) I didn't think I was going to like this, this time around. But nope. Still perfect.

Quriosity by dr_girlfriend

James Bond | Bond/Q | Explicit | 79,900 words

Bond finds himself increasingly curious about his enigmatic Quartermaster.

(2014) Very very good and pretty much the prototype of what I want out of the bond/q fandom.

Out of the Dead Land (orphaned on ao3)

MCU | Bucky/Steve | Mature | 62,700 words

Someone is building machines that look and act like people. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

(2014) Brilliant H/C

All the Rules to Break by foxxcub

Inception | Arthur/Eames | Explicit | 27,700 words

A notorious serial killer returns after a three-year hiatus, reminding Detective Arthur Moss of the infamous case he couldn't close. But when the FBI becomes involved, Arthur is forced to work side-by-side once again with Special Agent Daniel Eames, a man who knows Arthur better than Arthur himself will ever admit. Both men must confront their past and heal old wounds in order to bring a psychopath to justice.

(2011) I love this AU. Always have, always will.

I've Got Nothing To Do Today But Smile (The Only Living Boy in New York) by gyzym

Inception | Arthur/Eames | Teen | 19,860 words

Arthur's a corporate lawyer, Eames owns the coffee shop across the street, and all good love stories start with a quadruple shot latte.

(2011) Another AU I will love forever. Still amazing.

Scattered Pieces of My Mind (orphaned on ao3)

Hockey RPF | Kane/Toews | Teen | 22,580 words

After one scandal too many, Patrick Kane gets traded. Eventually it stops being the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

(2014) And this here is the prototype for my favorite H/C scenario. I feel like this rec list may be giving a bit too much away on my state of mind these days.

we were even after all, even in enmity (orphaned on ao3)

Hockey RPF | Kane/Toews | Mature | 60,000 words

“Jonathan,” Q says solemly. Something in his tone gives Jonny pause. He sits up straighter, waiting for the end of the sentence. “I regret to inform you that you’ve been traded to the St. Louis Blues. It’s been an honor and a pleasure working with you the past few years, and you will be sorely missed. Please clean out your locker before you leave today.” “That’s what Kaner said in your meeting?” Jonny asks, feeling numb. “That’s why it took so long? He was convincing you to trade me?”

(2014) Yup, you guessed it. H/C, angst, whump. Perfection.

Shelter by harriet_vane

Social Network RPF | Jesse/Andrew | Teen | 63,500 words

From the kinkmeme prompt: Some sort of AU vaguely based on Shelter! For whatever reason, Jesse has to take care of Hallie and give up his dream of being an actor. He ends up working in a dead end job when former, now successful friend (Andrew) returns home. They fall in love, etc, only Jesse can't go away with him because he has a responsibility to his family. CUE ANGST.

(2011) I remembered the bare bones of this story and thought I probably wouldn't enjoy it as much now... but it turned out to be excellent. Really cute AU.

here comes the sun by oflights

Social Network | Mark/Eduardo | Explicit | 56,600 words

This is a story about growing up, sad 70's rock songs, too much hair gel, "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", a baby with curly hair, a Geiger counter, a dog that isn't named Max, the Chicken Dance, Cheerios, pepper-spray, drugs, sex, and a stuffed chicken named Cluckerberg, nicknamed Cluck. or: Mark raises Sean's accidental baby, and I write the fluffiest thing ever.

(2011) And then there's this one... I mean, who'd want to read about Mark Zuckerberg in 2021, right? I do apparently. This story still gets five huge stars from me, implausible setup and all. It's endearing, romantic, super cute.

All The Stars And Bleeding Hearts by torakowalski

Social Network RPF | Jesse/Andrew | Explicit | 40,470 words

Notting Hill AU. In which Jesse runs a bookstore, Andrew is a famous film star and they’re both faily dorks in love.

(2011) Beautifully done!

and how many years I've missed you by estrella30

One Direction RPF | Harry/Nick | Explicit | 17,900 words

“So my god, Nick,” Harry folds himself down into a chair, his long legs splaying out under the table. His foot knocks into Nick’s and Nick kicks him back reflexively, his body remembering how to act around Harry even after all this time. “This is bloody crazy,” Harry shakes his head. “It’s been ages, yeah? It’s got to be like, what, five years or something?” Seven, Nick thinks to himself. You were just nineteen and I was twenty eight and it was seven years ago, not five. or, the one where Harry and Nick haven't seen each other or been in touch in seven years and then they meet up and things happen

(2014) More angst. Frickin' beautiful.

[waitimcomingtoo]

would it be too much to ask for another part of plank all over me? maybe this time is an autocomplete interview with both of them and there‘s rumors going around that they’re engaged or that she’s pregnant so they’re acting all mysterious for it... thank you so much ❤️ i loooove your stories!!

Plank All Over Me - Autocomplete Interview Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You and Tom do a WIRED autocomplete interview

Disclaimer: you do not have to have read the other parts to understand this, but check them out ;)

Plank All Over Me

Yoga Edition

Couples Tag

Prank Interview

Waitimcomingtoo Masterlist

“Hi, I’m Andrew Garfield.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“And I’m Emma Stone.” You blew a kiss at it.

“And this is our weird Autocomplete Interview.” Tom finished.

“It’s WIRED.” You giggled at his mistake.

“What’s wired?” Tom asked you.

“Nothing’s wired. The channel is WIRED.” You corrected. “You said “weird”.”

“My apologies.” Tom said to the camera and he rested his hand on your knee. “This is our WIRED Autocomplete Interview.”

“Dyslexic king.” You praised and Tom laughed. 

“I like how these videos gradually get more and more chaotic as we make them.” He smiled at the thought of the other stupid videos you’d done together.

“I can’t wait to be 80 and playing with puppies over at Buzzfeed.” You joked.

“You and me both, darling.” Tom leaned in and kissed you. “Should we start with mine or yours?” He asked as he picked up the boards of questions.

“I like to save the best for last, so yours first.” You quipped and Tom gave the camera a blank stare.

“Isn’t she sweet?” Tom said sarcastically. You picked up his first board and peeled off the first strip of paper.

“Who is…Tom Holland.” Tom read off the board.

“I bet my mom was the one who googled that when I told her we were dating.” You said and Tom laughed.

“My mom probably googles “who does Tom Holland think he is?” when I’m acting up.” Tom added.

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth with your hands. “Have I ever told you when your mom and I call you when you’re acting up?”

“No, what?” Tom inquired.

“No. I can’t.” You shook your head. “It’s our secret.”

“What? You have to tell me.” Tom shook your arm like a little kid. “Please?”

“Fine.” You sighed. “We call you Bitchy Elliot.”

“WHAT?” Tom screamed and you bent over laughing. “WHAT?”

“You wanted to know!” You reminded him.

“Bitchy Elliot? That’s not even clever.” He scoffed.

“It’s clever.” You disagreed. Tom picked up the board and dramatically ripped off a strip of paper.

“Who is Tom Holland…civil war.” You read amidst your giggles.

“Like who do I play?” Tom asked the camera.

“No, silly. They’re asking if you were on the North side or the South side of the American civil war.” You replied as if it were obvious.

“Oh, well I’m from Southwest-“ Tom began.

“The south was the racist side.” You interrupted.

“North.” Tom said definitively.

“I knew you didn’t know enough about American history to answer that question.” You laughed as you peeled the next strip off.

“Who is Tom Holland…girlfriend.” Tom read off the board.

“Whoever she is, I bet she loves proper grammar.” You poked fun at the phrasing.

“Y/n almost canceled our first date because I texted her and used the wrong form of “your”.” Tom told the camera.

“I think I was being completely reasonable.” You defended.

“Were you?” Tom squinted at you.

“Yes.” You answered and brushed his hair back. “Next question.”

“Where did Tom Holland…college.” Tom asked as he peeled the strip off.

“Oh God, where did Tom Holland college?” You asked in sarcastic amazement.

“I didn’t college.” Tom answered. “And I don’t think whoever asked this question did either.”

“Where did Tom Holland…meet Y/n.” You asked as you revealed the next question.

“We met over at BBC Radio 1 when we did the Plank All Over Me Challenge.” Tom replied with a smile.

“And I haven’t been unable to get rid of him since.” You said sadly. Tom rolled his eyes and peeled off the next question.

“Shut up.” He teased. “You love me.”

“Most days.” You agreed.

“Is Tom Holland…in the MCU.” Tom read off the board.

“He is!” You said excitedly. “I actually almost left the MCU when the Sony/Disney thing was going on because I didn’t want to be in it if Tom wasn’t.”

“She was two seconds away from not renewing her contract for Venom 2, so you have me thank for it happening.” Tom boated.

“Or we have the cast and crew to thank.” You suggested.

“Or me.” Tom shrugged as he revealed the next question. “Is Tom Holland…taller than Y/n.”

“You could ask “is Tom Holland taller than…” and no matter who you fill in the blank with, the answer would be no.” You stated.

“Haha!” Tom said sarcastically. “Read the next question.”

“Anything for you, shorty.” You laced your fingers though his and kissed the back of his hand. “Is Tom Holland…engaged.” You smirked a little when you read the question. Engagement rumors had been off the charts lately and you and Tom decided to be vague.

“I don’t know, is he?” Tom looked at the camera and tilted his head.

“Like engaged to a girl or engaged in combat?” You stroked your chin.

“Well he’s definitely not engaged in combat.” Tom confirmed and wiped his brow.

“So is he engaged to a girl?” You kept up the act.

“I can’t tell. He’s very mysterious. And very handsome.” He added.

“I wouldn’t go that far but he is pretty private about his personal life. I wish I could ask him.” You leaned your chin on your hand and sighed.

“I heard he’s pretty difficult to get a hold of.” Tom said sadly.

“Yeah. Maybe someone should give him a ring, see if he’ll answer.” You looked at the camera and shrugged. Tom peeled off the next question and dropped the paper on the floor.

“Is Tom Holland…British.” He read.

“He’s Australian.” You answered confidently as you revealed the next question.

“Does Tom Holland…drive.” He read off the board.

“No. He usually winds up his ears and flies off.” You said into the camera with a straight face. “They flutter like butterfly wings and that’s how we get around.”

“I think I know the answer to “is Tom Holland engaged?” now.” Tom mumbled.

“What’s the answer?” You asked him.

“No.” He told you before breaking into laughter. You cupped his face and kissed him swiftly as an apology.

“Was that your last one?” You asked when you noticed the lack of boards.

“Oh I guess it was.” Tom looked around. “Your turn.”

“Who is Y/n L/n…mcu.” You read. “Uh I play Iron Man.”

“She plays Iron Man very well.” Tom added as he peeled off the next question. “Is Y/n L/n…pregnant. Wow, second question.”

“Do I look pregnant?” You sassed the camera.

“Is Y/n L/n…engaged.” Tom read the next one.

“Nope, just pregnant.” You nodded.

“Is Y/n L/n…married.” Tom revealed the following question.

“Married to the money.” You answered and Tom chuckled.

“Is Y/n L/n…Tom Holland’s girlfriend.” Tom smiled as he read the next one.

“Depends on who you ask.” You shrugged.

“No, always.” Tom said, a little offended.

“Depends.” You shrugged again.

“Depends on what? Who would say no?” Tom questioned you.

“Me, if a cute boy asked.” You joked. He made a face and you laughed before kissing him.

“Is Y/n L/n…engaged to Tom Holland.” Tom read the next one.

“Im engaged in this conversation with Tom Holland.” You replied.

“Why does everyone keep asking if we’re engaged?” Tom asked with fake curiosity.

“Because we are.” You deadpanned.

“Oh right.” Tom matched your seriousness before you both burst into laughter.

“They’re probably asking because of the prank interview we did with Conor and Josh.” You reminded him.

“We didn’t say we were engaged.” Tom said.

“But we talked about marriage.” You countered.

“Guys, we’re not engaged.” Tom said to the camera.

“But Tom is pregnant.” You pointed at the camera. Tom laughed before peeled off the next question.

“Did Y/n L/n…win the plank challenge.” He read.

“I don’t even remem-“ You started.

“I won.” Tom stated. “I hold the record.”

“Well there you have it.” You laughed.

“Did Y/n L/n-“ He started to read the next one.

“Ryan Reynolds.” You cut him off.

“Oh okay.” Tom nodded as he peeled the next one. “Does Y/n L/n…have a boyfriend.”

“See the above answer.” You smiled at the camera.

“This is a video. There is no above answer.” Tom sassed. “And your boyfriend is not Ryan Reynolds.” He added quietly.

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed sadly. Tom made a mock hurt face and you pouted.

“Aw.” You laughed. “I love you.” You pulled him close to you and covered his face in kisses.

“Okay. I love you too.” Tom kissed your cheek. “There’s one more. Does Y/n L/n…John Mulaney.”

“I genuinely do not know how to answer that question.” You said after a minute of silence.

“I genuinely don’t know if that is a question.” Tom added.

“I think that’s a great way to end the interview.” You laughed. “Thanks John Mulaney.”

“Thank you for watching our Autocomplete Interview.” Tom grinned. “I’m Tom Holland.”

“And I’m engaged to Tom Holland.” You finally confirmed as you held up the hand with the ring. “Goodbye!”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @mjspxrker @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

[thefanficmonster]

4+1 Taylor’s short edition

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor

Summary: The four times Daniel teased Taylor about being short and the one time she got her revenge.

Requested by my platonic spouse @hopeveon Hope you enjoy it bro! (sorry for the wait) Love, Vy ❤

I

There are times in Taylor’s life she wishes she was the high-heels-to-the-store type of person. Maybe then her height wouldn’t hinder her from reaching the top shelves where her favorite cereal is kept.

She’s been standing in front of the raft, glaring the orange box of cereal down as if that way she’ll eventually convince it to fall on its own right into her arms. 

This is one of those ‘I wish I could wear heels without maneuvering around like a baby giraffe’ moments. Not that the heels would help her much considering how high up the shelf is but it’d still give her some level of advantage: she’d be able to reach the shelf below the top one and that’d still be considered a bonus.

“Need help, T?”

Then again, who needs heels when they have a tall boyfriend to snatch up things they can’t.

Taylor flashes him a smile as he turns into the aisle she’s standing in, the shopping cart he’s pushing already containing the items he was assigned to get. “Could you, for the love of God, grab me one of those?” She asks pointing up at the cereal boxes with clear frustration in her movements.

Daniel shoots her a smirk as he parks the cart, “Why don’t you...” Taylor, sensing the oncoming joke at her shortness, opens her mouth to complain but before she can say a single word, she’s lifted up off the ground, earning a yelp from her. “...get it yourself?” Daniel finishes his previously began sentence, holding his girlfriend up so the boxes are within arm’s reach.

When she takes two, he sets her back down on the floor. Just as she’s about to thank him, however, he ruffles her hair, placing a kiss at the top of her head once he does so. “You’re welcome, shorty.”

And just like that, she swallows her gratitude.

II

Taylor’s classes finished earlier than Daniel’s today due to some change in the professors’ schedule. That leaves her here, on a bench in the college park, waiting for her boyfriend since she doesn’t want to break their routine and walk to the dorms on her own, leaving him to do the same. They’ve had very little time for one another as of recent because of the upcoming torturous finals that have them worrying and overworking themselves sick. Walking to the dorms is one thing these upcoming exams can’t take away from them, luckily.

As she types another message to Andrew, promising she’d help him with his essay he’s gotta turn in in two days and has no idea how to even start it, she hears the sound of laughter. Laughter which the person is desperately trying to suppress. She looks up from her phone to see Daniel standing on the path a few feet away, one hand clutching the strap of his bag while the other is balled in a fist and pressed against his lips to prevent the aforementioned laughter from escaping him.

When he notices she’s looking, he does his best to keep his composure and still himself but it’s already too late - it’s all been spotted.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Taylor can’t contain the need to ask what has him cracking up so badly, “Take a breath please. What are you even laughing at?“ Finding himself unable to speak without laughing, he just points to her feet which has her even more confused. She raises an eyebrow at him, looking down at her dangling and swinging feet clad in an old pair of Converse. “That explains nothing.” She says, continuing to watch his movements with an unamused look on her face.

Daniel does as she told him - takes a breath - before he opens his mouth to explain, a smile still stretching at the corners of his lips, “You can’t touch the ground, can you?”

It takes a few moments for the words to register and be processed but she’s quick to catch onto yet another one of his increasingly creative jokes. It’s understood without saying that she’s less than impressed by this joke of his when she gets up and proceeds to speed-walk down the path towards the dorms, leaving Daniel rushing to catch up to her, calling her name while laughing his ass off.

III

This carnival date was entirely her idea, but she’d never admit it, obviously. There’s another truth she’d never admit, this one even more embarrassing in her opinion - she wants to win some stuffed animals so she can decorate her dorm which she’s suddenly decided is incredibly barren.

Daniel had no problem agreeing to the idea of a carnival date, especially not when Taylor agreed to go on the rollercoasters with him. The rides aren’t all that impressive but they are enough to get your adrenaline rushing and he’s prepared to settle for that with the added bonus of the fact that Taylor probably wouldn’t have accompanied him if the rides were impressive by his standards.

After a successful negotiation, Daniel’s spent the short but drawn out walk to the first ride they plan on going on with his arm wrapped Taylor’s shoulders, convincing her there’s nothing to be afraid of and that the ride is perfectly safe.

“It doesn’t even go upside down!“ That’s an argument he uses as though it’ll change anything about Taylor’s feelings on the ride or make her any more enthusiastic about getting on. If it were to go upside down she wouldn’t be anywhere near it let alone on it. “Besides, it’s less than three minutes and I’ll be by your side the whole time, T. Nothing to worry about.“

Taylor, unable to say no to the excitement of her boyfriend, succumbs with an eye-roll, “Fine, but if I puke on you it’s your own fault.”

Lifting his hands up in surrender, he continues guiding her to the entrance of the ride where they make it within less than a minute before the ride starts. However, right as she’s about to step onto the platform, Daniel’s arm gently tugs her back. In response to the unexpected gesture Taylor stops in her tracks, turning her head to give him a confused look. Daniel doesn’t reply verbally, but the grin on his face and the tilt of his head that point to a sign displaying the required height to get on the ride say it all.

“It’s your lucky day.“ He laughs, seeing the frown upon her face as a response to the teasing look in his eyes. Taking hold of her hand he leads her away from the ride stifling laughter at the cute displeased furrow of her brows. “Let’s go get you your stuffed animals.“

IV

“Great game!“ Taylor claps her hands together when she sees Daniel exit he changing rooms following a particularly intense match that ended in a draw, leaving both teams displeased to a certain degree.

Despite the bitter feeling of not having lost but not having won either, Daniel lets a wide smile spread across his face when he sees the excitement in Taylor’s eyes. He knows she’s clueless about more than half the things going on in the field but her support is limitless and unconditional which makes him so incredibly fond of her - even more than he already was.

“Thanks, it could’ve been better though.“ He replies, shrugging as he leans down to give Taylor a hug, “You coming to the party with us?“

Pressing her lips in a thin line when the two pull away, she gives him an apologetic shake of her head, “Sorry, I have an essay to finish and an exam to study for. I hope you have fun though.”

He does an expert job of covering up his displeasure with her absence as to not make her feel guilty about it, “Don’t worry, wish I could help you with it. I mean, I don’t have to go...”

Taylor scoffs, giggling a little bit at the cuteness of the boy standing before her, “Nonsense.” She says with a playful eye roll as she pushes up on her tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Just as she’s about to turn around and walk away, she catches glimpse of the oddly sentimental look in his eyes and the small smile on his lips, lightyears away in comparison to the one he wore previously. “What is it?”

“Nothing.“ He shrugs yet again, “You’re just super cute when you do that.“

Taylor huffs, “You’re lucky you’re tall.”

She was practically asking for it

“Nope, I’m lucky you’re short.“

That earns him a punch to the shoulder before she storms off a frown and a blush on her face. And a smile she’s suppressing.

The Revenge

It’s spring, the smell of the freshly bloomed flowers and trees tickles their nostrils as the couple walk in the park, the sunlight warming their skin. Spring break has never been an exciting time period for either of them. Hell, they didn’t even go home and chose to stay in the dorms instead so they could spend the time they had with each other rather than with their families who’d either bore them to death with awkward questions or make them regret coming back via a different method.

Daniel and Taylor are discussing the movie they just saw, completely unaware of the world around them as they do so. That happens frequently - when they’re in each other’s company, lost in conversation, they often end up forgetting they’re not the only people on this planet. Not the only things either.

“Oh come on, he was so annoying. I like a good villain as much as you do but he was ridiculous.“ Taylor complains, one hand resting above her eyes to shield them from the sunlight in order to be able to look up at Daniel who in return is gazing down at her, head slightly bowed.

“That just makes him cooler - he’s so ridiculous and such an airhead but he’s super intelligent. Did you see what he came up with? That doesn’t say ‘ridiculous’ to me.“ Daniel replies, receiving a frustrated huff from Taylor in return.

“Whatever, he’s still super annoying and no amount of intelligence can change that.“ She persists, frowning as if that’ll emphasize her point better.

Just as Daniel’s about to reply, however, he’s quickly silenced by the smacking of branches against his face. He panics momentarily, caught off-guard by the not painful but still unpleasant impact. But when he hears Taylor’s laughter, he brings himself to open his eyes and stop his arms from flailing around in self-defense of the twiggy branches that he walked into. When he turns to look at Taylor he sees she’s not at all affected by the same affliction, seeing as how her height allows her to pass right under the branches untouched.

“That is what you get! That is what you earned!” She calls back to him as she keeps walking down the path, “You joke about my height, Mother Nature’s gonna punish you.” 

This gets a laugh out of him as well as he jogs to catch up to her, “Hey, I never joke about your height! I just ACKNOWLEDGE it in a playful manner.” He corrects her, looking down hoping for a laugh or something but only receiving a glare in return.

Before another set of branches hits him in the face.

[honestlyzenoouh]

Andrew Says Hey Twice

So i totally didn't write this in procrastination over the "Aaron Goes Big" sequel, nope, no sire. And if so, you can't prove it. This is totally inspired by a post by this user(I'm trying to find the exact post, but it's taking longer than expected), and i just had to have a fic of it. So I made one. Enjoy✨

AO3

***

Nicky loves getting his care packages from Germany. The candy gives him a sense of home, and their cards are always so thoughtful and sincere. The fact he feels that dash of homesickness always makes him feel a sense og guilt, but Germany, and subsequently the Klose's, literally saved his life when he was a teenager, so it makes sense it feels more at home there, than the US.

This particular package came from Erik himself, instead of their parents (the Klose's are unrelenting about the fact that they are also Nicky's parents, and at this point Nicky can't bear to fight it), which means there is another kind of goodie too.

He takes the package into the dorms bedroom to give himself a sense of privacy. Opening the box is realitivly easy, Erik had always sucked at using tape. The one thing he couldn't do apparently. Inside the box there are the usual kinds of candy, his favourite brand of Fruchttee that you just can't find in the US, and there at the bottom, the very best about boxes from Erik.

At the bottom of the box this time, is a t-shirt. The pieces of clothes varies from box to box, from sweats to hoodies, from new to old, but always worn exclusively by Erik for a full day, and sprits by his cologne so it really smells of him. This time the t-shirt is actually one of Nicky's old ones. It's a sky blue comfy shirt two sizes too big, and the font on the front is considerably worn, but still readable "SAY HEY IF GAY"

Nicky had bought it one of the first time they had visited Munich, where the Klose's had a bit of family, as a joke. He had started to feel a bit more comfortable with his sexuality at this point, and liked to wear it and just say 'hey' at random intervals. Erik found it very endearing, and liked to say 'hey' back him.

Fighting the smile on his face was impossible, so he didn't even try. Shrugging his own sweater off, he put on the t-shirt instead. Even though Nicky had grown a bit of muscle since the last time he had worn it, it still didn't fit as good as he would have liked, so it would have to still be a sleep/lazy shirt. Considering it was almost dinner time, he didn't have an obvious reason to take it off yet.

He sorted his candy into different piles, what Aaron would like, what Andrew would really like, what he himself wanted to keep, and a 'let's share' pile. With that over and done with he got up from his bed to distribute the different piles, and decided the kitchen was his first stop. Arms laded with candy and tea, he almost walked into Andrew but he stepped out of the way just before.

Laying the goodies on the table top, he found the couple of chocolate bars intended for Andrew and turned back around to face him. He was about to explain the german candy when he saw him staring at his shirt instead of his face. Gearing up to say 'his face was up here, thanks', Andrew looked up at his hands instead and saw the chocolate bars. He swiped it from his hands and simply said "Hey" and walked nearly all the way out of the kitchen, before stopping for two seconds and adding a short "Thanks".

"You're welcome." Came out of his mouth before he could stop it, and once Andrew was all the way out, Nicky allowed himself a second to feel confused about Andrew and his general Andrew-ness before shrugging and going back to his candy.

Though, he couldn't shake this weird feeling of deja-vu. He was about eighty percent this had happened before. And now that he thought about it, it was about a hundred percent. This had also happened a few weeks after the twins 17th birthday. Nicky had just gotten out of bed, and was preparing coffee for him and Andrew, as they tended to wake up at the same time, whilst Aaron didn't get up unless forced. He poured the cups and turned around with one claps between his hands, to lean back against the counter and drink it. Andrew was standing in the door way, apparently just waiting for Nicky to be done, because he went for his own cup to customize it to his likeliness, when Nicky was done adjusting his position. When he was done he spun around to take it to his room, as usual, when he just went "hey" before adding a little "thanks".

Nicky had been too shocked about the fact Andrew had willingly spoke to him, and in the morning no less, that his "welcome?" was spoken into the empty kitchen. He had shrugged the episode off then too, though that time it had been in the hope of Andrew more willingly speaking to him. And he did, a small 'morning' here, and a small 'thanks' there. It wasn't a lot but Nicky cherished it nonetheless. Made staying for them a little more worth it.

He was putting the last of his candy in the different cupboards, except for Aaron's which he still had in his hands, when he caught sight of himself in Kevin's open laptop. It was sitting innocently on the kitchen table, open for all to use, though the screen was black. The sight of his shirt made the smile crawl back on his face, before it unexpectedly fell of and was replaced with one of understanding and shock. That little fucker.

"ANDREW JOSEPH MINYARD, WHERE THE IN THE WORLD DO YOU GET OFF BY COMING OUT TO ME AT SEVENTEEN AND THEN JUST NEVER BRINGING IT UP AGAIN?!?"

[simp-for-deadly-fictional-women]

Here are a list of things I hate about Riverdale mostly because I’m bored. And most of these will be about the erasure of lgbt identities so be prepared to listen to an angry bisexual rant

To start off with, we have Betty and Veronica who were rumored and even queerbaited to get into a relationship

Nope

Of course, the kiss that had been in every Riverdale trailer only got a four second length and an eye roll from one of my favorite lesbian queens—Cheryl bombshell

Apart from that, it was never spoken of again despite it being one of the main focuses of people’s excitement about Riverdale

Next we have Jughead and boy....

His asexuality was completely erasures, and I found that out the hard way watching the bughead sex with my mom *shudders*

And even if he wasn’t asexual in the comics, buggead is just a completely toxic relationship

It depends on lies, incest, cheating, the “good-girl bad boy” stereotype, and an awful fan base

Tbh it would’ve made much more sense to put Veronica and Betty together and have Jughead proudly own his sexuality rather than putting them together just for the sake of straight-washing

Archie hooked up with his teacher and didn’t say anything when he heard a gunshot that could’ve possibly been the gunshot that killed his classmate. Need I say more?

The pussycats were my top favorite characters throughout seasons 1- however long they lasted before racism flicked them from the show. I mean, you have Josie, who strives to achieve greatness despite the stereotypes being forced upon her, and not to mention her flirty relationship with Archie that could’ve been much more than had been originally planned for her storyline

Valerie, my love. She’s a sweetheart who deserves nothing but love and happiness. Of course, being close to Archie, that won’t happen

I’m gonna say it...Chuck Clayton could’ve have a great redemption arc. I really think he could’ve, but due to people sucking up to Betty’s white privileged figure, he didn’t. And never will get one as long as the cOrE fOuR are still thriving.

Cheryl Bombshell Blossom. Need I say more?

Toni Topaz. Again—need I say more? But Vanessa on the other hand DOES NOT DESERVE THE HATE SHE GETS BECAUSE JUGHEAD AND TONI KISSED. IT WASNT HER FAULT THAT JUGHEAD COULDNT HANDLE A BADDIE LIKE TONI.

Kevin Keller feeds into the gay best friend stereotype and therefore...no. (Points to Cheryl for hinting towards the writers with that one)

The plot line? Sorry don’t know her

The consequences for the character’s actions? Sorry, don’t know her

Dress code? Sorry don’t know her

Acknowledging sexualities instead of straight-washing them? Sorry don’t know her

And don’t get me started on the strip tease scene with dArK bEtTy I mean.............

No one had a problem with that? And I’m not just talking about the characters—I’m talking about the actors too. Was lili not super uncomfortable filming that scene in front of middle aged men?

And not to mention how when they DO put lgbt ships together, one of them dies, cheats, breaks up for...reasons, or just fights all the time

But not with straight ships????

Bughead could probably try to slaughter each other, but then they’d apologize with an awkward sex scene, and a bunch of 14 year-old girls cheering and crying out of joy

But if choni or joaquin/Kevin (sorry I don’t know their ship name) fight....it’s over

And of course, that is quite realistic for some couples, but if you’re only doing it to the gay ones and making straight ships completely unrealistic, then that’s a problem.

Overall, Riverdale is a terrible show with even more terrible characters. But...

Stan Toni Topaz, Cheryl blossom, the pussycat women, midge (who died because of the black hood), cheryl’s grandmother, Fred andrews, and Jason blossom

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Not Shy

First of all, your writing is lovely. I love that most of your jihoon fics are not set in AUs. I loved Just Another Man. Can I ask for strangers-to-best friends-lovers trope for Jihoon with a very confident and jokily flirty mc... I know I sounds super specific and I'm sorry, you don't have to do it if you don't want to~😅....It's just that most of the MCs I've seen have been more on the shyer side hehe.

Summary:

When you first meet Jihoon you ask him if he believes in fate. Unluckily for you, Jihoon is a little more complicated then just answering such a question when you two have only just met.

 -

“Do you believe in fate?”

The boy that you had unfortunately just run into looked up at you from where he was now partially sprawled across the floor, a blank expression spread over his face. Your expression wasn’t affected by his stoic one. Instead, a small smile began to spread over your lips as you looked down at him.

He didn’t respond however so you decided that maybe he hadn’t heard you the first time.

“Do you believe in fate?” You repeated softly. “I know that this is crazy but... I believe that we were meant to meet.”

You could tell just by looking in the boy's eyes that he thought you were crazy just from your words, but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You simply held out your hand, waiting for him to take it. The boy sat there on the ground, staring at you and your hand for a good few minutes.

You knew most people would rush the process. Probably take his hand before he was ready or withdraw their hand in frustration from the wait but you weren’t hasty. You just stared down at Jihoon with a calm expression on your face waiting for his response.

Finally, he looked down at his scattered papers, his body tensing ever so slightly. As his eyes disappeared from your sight.

“No.”

His response was barely a whisper, and it took you aback. Your eyebrows furrowed and you let your hand fall to your side as he began to collect his papers in his hands. You opened your mouth to say something- maybe asking him if he was referring to something else but then he added:

“Fate is something that people hide behind when they can’t handle the facts that their future is in their own hands.”

He picked up his own papers, and stacked them neatly in his hands so that he could stand up steadily.

“Saying that you think meeting me is fate is a manipulative way to try to coerce me into your life. Someone who will blame their bad personality on the stars or their aggressiveness on mars being in retrograde.”

He gave you a look, slowly letting his eyes trail from your feet right back up to your eyes.

“I don’t need someone like you in my life.”

And before you could say another word to him, he turned on the heels of his feet, and walked away from you down the hall.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Normally someone treating you like that would be a big red flag for you. Surely someone being so brazezn and rude to a stranger shouldn’t be acceptable after all. But for some reason, his words had your heart beating. You looked down at the hand you had offered him- the hand that he refused to take, and oddly enough you felt a small smile creep across your face.

When most people met you, they loved your company. They thought of you as some sort of naïve child that needed to be protected at all times. But this stranger seemed to see you for what you really were.

You were capable of everything that you had set in your heart, and you weren’t afraid to chase after your dreams. You were a strong individual- hardly understood -and the last thing that you needed was protection.

You let your fingers curl up into your palms and hummed looking back up.

You knew that you would be seeing that boy again. And your certainty was only confirmed when you walked into your next class that day and found him sitting in the front row.

The first thing that struck you when you looked at him was that he had a very peculiar style. Large clothes that didn’t really fit him- shirts that were so big that he honestly looked like he was a child in them. At a glance you would have thought the professor let his child sit in on his classes.

But then again, you never took things as they were at a glance.

You considered saying hello to him, but you knew that this class had assigned seats, and you figured that you should focus on school and say hi to him after class.

You walked up to the seating chart and began to search for your name, your finger trailing across the paper as you did so.

“Andrew, Kriesha, Sooyoung, Yena, Seunghee, Jihoon-”

You smiled successfully and turned back towards the seats wandering over to the students sitting in the front row. You found Andrew’s name tag pretty fast, so then it was just getting to-

You almost laughed aloud.

You walked over to your seat and set your books down on the table clearing your throat loud enough to capture the boy’s attention. He looked up at you, an aggravated expression settling over his face as he did so.

“What a coincidence,” you sang airily. “Or should I call it fate?”

You took a seat next to Jihoon and held up your hand for him to shake.

“So it’s Jihoon right? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Jihoon’s eyes lowered to your hand and then he sighed and shook it lightly.

“It’s not fate,” he mumbled indignantly. “It’s one class.”

“And one seating chart,” you replied light-heartedly. “You really think the Universe isn’t rooting for us when we were placed right beside each other on the first day of classes?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes and turned away from you, returning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

“You better not distract me during class,” was all he mumbled back.

You honestly thought that one class was the last time you would see him. After all you were both in big college classes- one of your lectures had a couple hundred kids in it. And yet every class that you walked into, your eyes skimmed the hall to find Jihoon sitting there with his books already laid out across the table.

“You have to be stalking me,” Jihoon said in exasperation as you took a seat next to him in your third class together. You laughed.

“That would be some dedication to fool a man I don’t even know,” you stated airily. “Nope, this is just what I was saying earlier.”

You raised a finger into the air and waved it back and forth.

“This. Is. Fate.”

Jihoon groaned.

“It’s not fate. It’s certainly unlikely but not fate.”

Jihoon kept his eyes on the front of the room, granting you little to no attention as he spoke. Despite that you just stared at his profile, taking in his features.

It was lucky for you. He was a very attractive man. His hair was always well-kept. Combed out and cut neatly. It was clear that the first day when you saw it he had been through a lot- since it had been relatively messy comparatively.

His dark blue shirt complimented him well. It made his skin look smooth- like that of a pearl. You sighed and rested your head on your hand.

“You’re pretty,” you mumbled softly. You weren’t sure if you meant for him to hear it or not- but whether it had been your intention he looked up in surprise when you spoke.

“What?”

“You’re pretty,” you repeated a little louder. “Just really, really, distractingly pretty.”

You watched as color began to climb up Jihoon’s neck, spreading a red color evenly over the surface of his face. You chuckled a little to yourself as you watched it happen.

“If I could take a picture of anything-” You started in absolute amazement at how the color enhanced his facial features. He quickly turned away from you again, his hands covering his face.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled.

That first night alone you had more homework then you could really manage to handle. You were up so late that when your alarm went off that next morning it really didn’t feel like you had gotten any sleep at all.

So on your way to class you decided to grab coffee- and of course, grabbing coffee for yourself meant grabbing coffee for Jihoon as well. You just got him an iced coffee, as you had no idea the sort of drink he would get. You just sort of hoped that was the sort that he liked.

When you walked into the classroom he wasn’t looking at you. Instead his eyes were focused on the papers scattered on the desk in front of him. You didn’t care so much, you knew that thus yet he was hell-bent on disliking you. You set the drink in front of him as you settled yourself into your seat, startling his eyes up.

“What’s this?” He asked you uncertainly. You shrugged.

“I got you some coffee,” you replied pointedly. This only made Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow even more.

“Why?” He asked. You shrugged.

“Homework was hard. I’m sure you were up late. I was getting coffee so why not get you some.”

The explanation clearly didn’t ease Jihoon’s concerns as he eyed the cup of coffee hesitantly. You rolled your eyes.

“Do you want me to drink it to prove to you that it isn’t poisoned or something?”

Jihoon shot you a glare and lifted the straw to his lips, taking his first drink of the coffee. When he pulled away he looked surprised.

“Wait- Did you get this at the coffee shop off of first?” He asked in surprise. You gave him a surprised look right back.

“Yeah! You know it?”

Jihoon scoffed.

“Seungcheol made this,” he murmured back.

“Choi Seungcheol?” You said in surprise. “You know him?”

Jihoon put his coffee back down on his desk.

“You know Seungcheol?” He asked back instead of responding. You laughed out in surprise.

“Know him? I’ve been smoking him in baseball since kindergarten,” you stated back with a laugh. “Our parents had our siblings at the same time so we spent a lot of time together as kids.”

Jihoon stared at you as if he could hardly believe what you were saying.

“You know how everyone calls him Coups?” You asked. He nodded. “Well that’s because of me. I gave him the nickname because of a game we used to play as kids.”

“Huh,” Jihoon mumbled, the sound tumbling from his lips. “Seungcheol used to ask me to hang out with him a friend all the time when we were kids. We were on the baseball team together.”

“You were Jihoon from baseball?” You asked in astonishment. “I always wanted to come watch your games but mom thought that it would make me have ‘delusions of playing baseball’.”

You shrugged.

“Anyways, Seungcheol used to tell me all sorts of things about you,” you continued lightheartedly. Jihoon groaned.

“Couldn’t have been good.”

“No,” you denied quickly. “It was always good. Seungcheol always speaks so fondly of you. I always wondered if we would meet.”

“And... We did,” Jihoon mumbled. “Seungcheol talked about you too... Every now and then.”

You smiled at Jihoon, pleasantly surprised to hear such news.

“He used to say we would make a good couple,” Jihoon murmured in disbelief. You just leaned forward, tapping Jihoon’s nose lightly.

“Fate.”

The more you got to know Jihoon the more you had a feeling you were right. It really did seem like it was fate to have met Jihoon. After Jihoon got over the fact that you were a little forward and unafraid to be yourself with him, he quickly grew to like you.

You two started off alternating days where you would bring one another coffee, to just accompanying one another to the coffee shop, to studying every day together after classes got out and eating lunch together every day until you two were completely inseparable.

You loved being close to Jihoon. You loved when he fell asleep on your side because you two were out too late studying. You loved how he refused to talk to you in the morning until he got his americano. You loved that during class he was always so focused and on task, but after class it was like all he could do was listen to music, and talk about Justin Beiber, or write in that little book he never let you see.

You knew you were in love with Jihoon, but only a single question remained.

“Jihoon, do you believe in fate?”

Jihoon slowly looked up from his papers, an earbud falling out of his ear as he did so. He made no move to pick it up. Instead, he just stared at you, completely thrown off by your question.

“What?” He asked.

“Do you believe in fate?” You repeated again gently. Jihoon stared at you for another moment, and then he sighed, and took the hand that you had offered him that first dy you two met. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles and seemed to find solace in your warmth.

“I never used to,” he admitted. “I used to think that fate couldn’t exist because we are in control of our own lives. Which we are, that is true, but fate still has a hand in our lives, I think. I never imagined one day I would be sitting next to you thinking that I could spend the rest of my life with you in my arms and be happy but...”

“But...?” You urged softly.

“But I guess fate is real, because I love you, and you believe in fate. You were right.” You hummed, unable to hide the huge stupid smile on your lips.

“I love you too Jihoon.”

[thedefinitionofendgame]

two under two

Amelia X Link multi-chapter | Rated T | Canon-divergent after 7x11

A/N: Just some Amelink (and others) fluff for y’all! After all the potential wedding talk in 17x11, I decided I just had to work on my Amelink short multi-chap fic. I’m just so glad Amelia’s found someone who is absolutely crazy about her. I am so happy for her and the little family she’s made. *SPOILERS FOR SEASON 17*

•

You can read this work on ao3 and fanfiction.net as well

Written & cover by @thedefinitionofendgame (aka me)

chapter 1 - big news calls for bigger reactions

It was now or never, and even though never sounded fine to Amelia, she knew now was the best time to say whatever she wanted to say. Clearing her throat, she felt Link’s fingers intertwine with hers under the table, which kept her calm. There’s no time like the present, Amelia thought to herself. Rip off the bandaid and get on with it! So by opening her mouth, she did just that. “We, Link and I, have something to tell you guys,” Amelia said, shifting her gaze to everyone seated around the outdoor dining room table. They were outside because the weather was finally nice enough to enjoy a meal in the outdoors, without fear of being rained on.

Everyone stopped chattering and turned to look at Amelia. There was a big crowd tonight in the backyard, as get-togethers were allowed now that all the adults had their COVID vaccines. Besides Meredith and the kids, Winston, Jo, Teddy, Owen, Leo and Allison had come over as well. Oh and of course, Jo’s adopted daughter, Luna Ashton who had been renamed Luna Ashton Brooke Wilson, to honour her birth name and her forever mom. It was definitely a full house, which made for the perfect time to announce Amelia and Link’s news; the news that they had been dreading to announce for the past couple months. Not dreading the actuality of the news so much as the reactions it would bring. Just like the time before, Amelia braced herself for the responses of her friends and sisters that telling this news would bring.

Amelia paused a heartbeat too long. While Zola, Bailey and Ellis were quiet at their kids table next to the main one, Meredith was the impatient one. “Well, out with it!” She said, raising an eyebrow at Amelia. Despite Meredith’s terrible health scares earlier in the year, the blonde had bounced right back and was as high spirited as ever. She still had to take it easy, especially when it came to heavy-breathing exercises, but for the most part Meredith Grey was back to normal.

Amelia looked at Link, who nodded encouragingly. He hadn’t forced her to announce their news in front of everyone today, and had actually suggested only telling Meredith and Maggie to start. However Amelia said she wanted to tell everyone at once, to avoid any questioning or whispering that might happen at the hospital. “Link and I are pregnant again. Tada, that’s the surprise.”

The entire table fell silent, while everyone processed the news. Maggie was the first to recover and jumped up out of her seat to give Amelia a hug. “Oh my gosh!” She squealed, engulfing Amelia into her embrace.

“That’s awesome news! I’m so happy I get to be Auntie Mer again,” Meredith said. It only made her a little sad to know that last time Link and Amelia had announced they were pregnant, Andrew had been with her and heard the news firsthand. She quickly shook her head to clear her mind of those thoughts. This was not the time nor place to think about Andrew DeLuca.

Next to Amelia, Link was receiving a fist bump from Winston and Jo smiled happily at her best friend. “I’m really happy for you, you’re gonna make a great dad times two.” Jo bounced Luna in her lap. “Are you excited to have another baby friend? Maybe it will be a girl this time.”

Link opened his mouth to reply, when Zola popped up between the new parents’ two chairs. “I can’t wait for another cousin! Can I say hi to the baby?” Nodding, Amelia pushed back her chair so that Zola could place her hands on her Auntie’s belly. Amelia was a bit overwhelmed by the well-wishes; she hadn’t expected so much attention. When she had started telling people about Scout’s coming, it was only Maggie then Link then Meredith and Andrew. People found out gradually. Oh god, Link was right! Cursing herself about her baby daddy being right about waiting, Amelia tried to drag herself out of her own thoughts.

The squeezing of her hand in Link’s brought her back. Zola had moved on, and was now happily talking about the new cousin on the way to Bailey and Ellis. Scout was napping just inside, which at least dialled back the noise. If one baby was loud, Amelia was scared to find out what two would be like.

Although she was excited. Goodness, she was over the damn moon about it. The first time Link had gotten her pregnant, she had been just scared, until Mr. Atticus Lincoln had turned her whole though process upside down. He had told her he would support her no matter what she decided; would love their baby unconditionally or drive her to the clinic if she chose to have an abortion. Amelia hadn’t ever felt that type of love before, the type that didn’t matter what she chose. It only grew with the pregnancy, at least after the whole “who’s the daddy” fiasco got cleared up. At least this time Amelia was one-hundred percent sure this baby was Link’s. She loved the baby they had made together the first time, and would love their second baby just as much.

While most of the people around the table seemed surprised, Link was very much not. When Amelia had told him she was pregnant, he had raised an eyebrow at her and laughed, before telling her he loved her and that he was the happiest man alive. With all the “athletic and aerobic” sex they had despite having four kids in the same house as them, it was no wonder he managed to get Amelia knocked up a second time in less than two years. It was more like one and a bit years, because what everyone else didn’t know was that Amelia was already five months along. They’d gotten pregnant around Scout’s half birthday. Good timing on their part...not. Both Link and Amelia weren’t against having more kids but had not wanted to discuss or try for a second for a while longer. Baby Amelink #2 was a bit of a surprise just like their older brother had been.

Owen and Teddy were the last to offer their congratulations. "Well I’m pleased for you both," Owen said, speaking for the first time since the bombshell was dropped. He didn't look at Teddy, because he knew what her face would convey. They had been wanting to add to their growing brood for the past couple months, but nothing had happened. Owen didn't think of himself as infertile, all previous mishaps had proven that, so he wasn't quite sure why he and Teddy hadn't gotten pregnant yet. Although he wasn't going to complain, especially when Amelia and Link seemed to just come to terms and that's why they chose to wait so long to announce it. He had been waiting for them to come out with their secret for a while now, after accidentally overhearing a conversation between them both in the pit post-consult. Like the good ex-husband-more like friend and fellow doctor-Owen was, he kept quiet and didn’t even tell Teddy. Now that their news was out in the open, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about slipping up ever.

Chatter continued amongst the friends, and Amelia relaxed now that the focus was off of her. She leaned back in her chair and placed a hand on her growing tummy. “You’re already a hit,” she whispered to the baby inside of her.

“Damn right she is,” Link leaned over and whispered in Amelia’s ear, sending shivers down her spine. Why did that voice always make her think dirty thoughts? Probably the hormones, and also the fact he used that exact tone in the bedroom. God Amelia, get your head out of the gutter, she thought to herself.

Amelia glanced at Link. “Are you calling girl on me?”

Link shrugged, not totally willing to admit it, but he was definitely thinking it was a girl. “Maybe. Jo said it first.”

“Oh sure, that’s what sparked it.” Amelia rolled her eyes but internally, she was smiling really big. “We already have a name regardless of their gender though.”

“We do.” Link smiled and pressed a kiss to Amelia’s temple. “Best name ever.”

“Even better than Scout?” She smiled back at the man she loved more than anything else in the world, maybe even more than Scout. Amelia loved her son very much, but it was his daddy that made everything in her life good. Every single moment, no matter how upsetting, Link somehow made it worth it. Made it worth all the hard nights and the crying sessions and the struggles to stay sober. He was her everything, and always would be. Together, they would be there for Scout and the new baby. It was always going to be them, until the very end.

Link thought for a moment. “Nope, but tied though.”

Laughing, Amelia nodded. “Alright, I can live with that.” They were quiet for a moment, then Link nudged Amelia with his elbow. She turned and saw Ellis standing beside her chair. “Hey Ellie-Belle, what’s up?”

“I wanna sit with you and the new baby. Where is it?” Ellis looked around, as though she magically expected a baby to appear outside in the backyard.

Meredith raised an eyebrow at her sister, as the youngest Shepherd pulled her niece into her lap with only minor difficulty. “If you have a girl, all I gotta say is that they’re clingy and ask a lot of questions. Such as,” she turned to Zola who was standing beside her patiently waiting to ask a question. “Yes, Zo-Zo?”

“When are we going to have dinner? Bailey’s hungry and we ate lunch over five hours ago.” Zola stated matter-of-factly.

“And with boys, you get the always hungry factor,” Meredith sighed.

“Know all about that,” Amelia said, with a pointed look at the baby monitor on the table. “I swear this kid never stops eating. He’s almost getting more action than Link is,” Amelia blurts out, forgetting there was a child in her lap and four others nearby. Well, more like 3 because Allison was inside napping with Scout.

No one really paid close attention, except Link who let out a chuckle. “Always telling like it is,” he said with a smirk. Link waited until Meredith had gotten up and headed inside with the rest of the adults and the other kids, minus the one in Amelia’s embrace, before he said anything else. “I love you,” he whispered, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Amelia melted and wrapped her arms tighter around Ellis. For a minute she pretended that the small body in her lap was her own daughter, the girl’s older brother chasing after the food Bailey sought as well. “I love you too. Everyone took our surprise a lot better than I thought.”

“Of course they did. Because they love you, they love Scout and I guess they love me too,” Link added.

“They love you probably more than me. I’m the former drug addict, remember?”

“Hey, you’re still keeping your promise about not getting high. That’s all that matters.” Link placed one of his hands on Amelia’s belly, right where their baby was growing. Ellis twisted in Amelia’s lap and did the same, amazed by whatever her Uncle Link was doing. With a smile to both the girls present, he messed Ellis’ hair and then looked over at the woman he loved. The woman he had unashamedly surrendered his heart to, the woman who he would fight forever for. He had almost let her and their beautiful son slip through his fingers, but thank god his best friend told him to not mess what he had with Amelia up. She was his ever after, and it was true that before Amelia, he didn’t tell people he was in love with them often. Hookups were a thing of his past, after the gorgeous brown haired-blue eyed girl walked into his life. She had walked in, stolen his heart and stayed because they were going to be each other’s forever. They were each other’s forever.

A forever as a family of four. Because they already had Scout and a baby on the way which made them a family of four. Four was a number Link could work with, a number he sort of wanted to increase but only if Amelia wanted. He would do anything for her and vice versa. His girl was strong and brave and worked miracles everyday. If it was anything Atticus Lincoln was proud to do, it was call Amelia, his.

posting chapter 2 & 3 soon!

[star-six7]

I’ll Stand Up With You Forever

Andy Biersack x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1461

Request: Can you write an Andy Biersack imagine on a honeymoon?

A/N:  This is my longest one yet! I really enjoyed writing this; if you guys have any more requests for any band listed in my bio, please send them in!

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You closed your eyes and sighed happily, settling back into your seat. The flight from Cincinnati to Maui was a long one, and you didn’t want to be jet-lagged all week. Today marked your first full day of being married to one Andrew Dennis Biersack, and it was also going to be the first day of your two-week long honeymoon in Hawaii. Needless to say, you were the happiest you had ever been. You replayed the highlights of your wedding (and the night after) as the plane taxied down the runway, smiling. It was an amazing feeling to know that you had the rest of your life to keep making those kinds of memories with Andy, and you couldn’t wait.

Andy couldn’t wait either, but even more so, he couldn’t wait for the plane to take off. Or land. Or both. He kept leaning over you to peer out the window. You wondered if his legs or his back felt cramped, given his height, but when you opened your eyes, he was grinning.

“What’s up?” You smiled back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe we’re finally married! I can’t believe we’re going on our honeymoon. Can you believe it? I can’t.”

You laughed quietly at his enthusiasm, glancing down at your own wedding band. “Are you sure you don’t want the window seat?” You asked him, gesturing at the setting sun.

“Why would I need the window seat when the best view is sitting right next to me?” He smirked.

You blushed, slightly giddy that he still managed to take your breath away after all these years. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “I’m gonna try and sleep now, okay? I wanna be awake for at least some of our honeymoon.”

“So… we’re not joining the Mile High Club?”

You groaned and covered your face with the in-flight magazine.

“Come on babe, don’t you want to get with an extremely handsome rockstar?” He winked exaggeratedly.

“Actually, yes, do you know any?” You lowered the magazine and grinned at him.

“I’m hurt,” he said, feigning disappointment. “But after years of knowing you, I am definitely not shocked.”

“Well,” you said, leaning your head back against the seat, eyes closed. “Go to sleep. We have the rest of our lives to try again.”

---

After twelve hours and some change, the plane touched down. You had managed to get a decent amount of sleep, even with Andy’s fidgeting and restlessness. However, taking off during a sunset and landing half a day later during the same one due to the time zones was enough to throw off anybody’s internal clock, and therefore, make them a bit grumpy.

You frowned as Andy led you to the rental car, luggage in tow. “Can’t we just check in at the hotel and go to bed? My body is telling me it’s six am!”

“Nope!” he said, grinning far too brightly for someone who hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. “Can’t get off schedule!”

You sighed as he kissed your cheek and started humming lightly as he drove. While you had taken care of most of the smaller details of your actual wedding and reception, Andy had been in charge of the honeymoon. You had both decided on a destination, and you had given your input on some of the activities you were looking forward to (at least, those that took place outside of the bedroom), but Andy did the bulk of the work as far as making reservations and planning an itinerary. And Andy loved planning itineraries. 

Every trip you had gone on as a couple, Andy had meticulously outlined every day of it, almost down to every hour. This could be both a blessing and a curse, because while it was nice to have a plan, Andy was pretty insistent on sticking to it. You had joked before that he should plan the mission timelines for NASA. He just laughed and said that years of being in a far-traveling, highly successful rock band following a strict tour schedule had drilled it into him, and besides you were stuck with him, weren’t you? Yes, you thought now, looking back down at the ring on your finger, you were stuck with him, and you couldn’t be happier.

The jolt of Andy putting the car into park snapped you out of your reminiscing, as you looked around, taking in the restaurant he had pulled up to.

“Come on, I know this will make you feel better! I looked up the menu a few weeks ago, and I think you’ll love it!”

You just smiled, shaking your head. Of course he did. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do. And you know I love you too.” He put his arm through yours and led you inside.

---

Andy was right, like always. Eating delicious food while looking out over a stunning view of the ocean did wonders to your mood, not to mention simply just talking and laughing with Andy and being with him. Soon, it was time to pick up the check and head back to the hotel.

You had parked in the basement lot of the building, but Andy grabbed your arm when you went to get the suitcases out of the back of the trunk.

“Wait,” he said, a playful look coming across his face. “We should do something first.”

“Huh? What about the schedule?” You edged out of his grasp. “I’m still in my plane clothes. And besides, don’t you wanna do something in our room?” You added a note of flirtation in your voice.

“No, it’s- I mean, yes! Yes, I wanna do bedroom activities, but-” And then he grabbed your hand and started sprinting towards the exit.

“Andy, what-” you tried, stumbling to keep up.

He just laughed and stopped to pick you up and swing you over his shoulder. “You’re too slow, come on!”

By this point, the sun had set over the island, but Andy navigated the dark path through the hotel grounds with ease. He skittered sideways through an open gate and down a sandy concrete walkway towards what you realized was the beach.

“Andrew! You better not be planning on throwing me in the water or I swear-”

“Good idea,” he laughed, “but no. You should take off your shoes.” He set you down on the sand.

You complied, as he did the same, and then you waded out into the surf with him. You watched Andy as he immediately began searching for shells to give you, knowing how much you loved to collect them. All of a sudden, the entirety of the past few days started to catch up with you all at once. While there wasn’t any scientific proof of fate, or soulmates, or anything like that, you couldn’t help but feel like every decision, every event, in both your life and Andy’s had led you to this exact moment. Standing knee deep in water, alone on the beach at night, with the moon shining down on the two of you as you tried not to get soaked by the incoming tide. Every disappointment and roadblock you had experienced snapped into place, and now you could appreciate them for where they had gotten you. You admired the way the moonlight glinted off Andy’s smile, the way his arms had felt around you moments ago, and the way his laugh sounded over the waves. You knew that there would certainly be more challenges in the course of your life, but you knew you could get through them with someone as kind, talented, smart, beautiful, and loving as Andy by your side.

Suddenly, you were pulled back into reality by the shock of ocean water down your front. Whirling to your right, you saw Andy standing next to you with the most see-through attempt of a look of innocence on his face. However, you couldn’t find it in you to pretend to be annoyed.

“Hey, so, if you missed it the first five times, I found you a-”

“Andy.” You cut him off. “Um. I know I only said it a million times yesterday, but… I really love you. And I’m so glad you’re in my life, forever now…”

Unwittingly, you felt yourself starting to tear up.

“Hey,” Andy said, moving closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders. “I know, I love you too, and you complete me. That’s kinda why we got married, remember?”

You chuckled, smiling up at him. “I’m glad that we’re having this moment and everything, but it’s getting cold…”

“You’re right,” he said, taking your hand in his. He glanced wistfully up at the hotel, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Maybe we should go take advantage of the honeymoon suite.”

A/N: Thank you for reading my work! If you enjoyed it, please comment and let me know what you liked about it or what your favorite part was! Also, feel free to send in requests! :)