#sometimes the show is so heavy handed with it it’s started to feel smothering tbh but I’m not rly gonna complain

[starbuckaroo]

I think I would be happier w bucktommy all these episodes down the line if Tommy still interacted with or asked after Eddie. I know there’s a lot the show doesn’t put onscreen so there’s no reason why it couldn’t have plausibly happened or couldn’t still happen (and I hope it does), but Tommy was Eddie’s friend first! They hung out a lot!

And yet, since he got together with Buck, we haven’t gotten to see them interact.

Granted, there hasn’t been a lot of screen time for Tommy and that’s fine, it’s a short season w very little room to breathe. This isn’t some sort of angry anti bucktommy tirade. But it does make me just a tad uncomfortable the way things are at this moment. Bc it’s not a stretch to theorize that maybe Tommy was hoping things Eddie might go somewhere and when they didn’t, he tried with Buck. I don’t think that’s supported by the text, but it’s also not negated, either. Idk. It’s not a huge deal at the moment, just a little snag?

Listen I am a buck fan but I am an eddie fan!!!!!!! And I am so so sad for eddie this season it’s been rly fucking rough on him! Not like buck needs to change anything (except not be a jealous freak and lash out physically if he can’t use his words), like I said I’m here for bucktommy I think they’re great. But like. Where’s the awkward “hey how do we hang out now that you two make out sometimes” or whatever?? We deserve to see that tbh! It’s a more common issue in queer circles, that ppl have to slip in and out of romantic/platonic interactions when people partner up or break up. It’s also the first time either of them have dated anyone within the LAFD and so it’s the first time this could ever have even come up!

Idk man. Just I keep thinking about how happy eddie seemed when he was hanging out w Tommy and maybe it’s just bc that ep was meant to be from Buck’s pov but i don’t know what’s worse, thinking it WAS real and now he doesn’t get to have that friendship anymore or that it WASNT real and he was never actually having that good of a time.

MY REAL POINT is that anyone who WAS or IS a buddie shipper or anyone who likes Eddie at all has to acknowledge how important buck and eddie are to each other, right? Which means that in any relationship that either of them ever have, if they want it to be serious and have long term potential, they actually need to integrate their partner with their best friend.

Maybe this is too weird for some ppl? It’s always seemed like a given, like if there’s someone new and important in my life, I def want my best friend to meet them and like them bc I want us all to be able to spend time together! I don’t want to feel split between them all the time! And esp with Tommy already having connections with most of the 118/main cast, and particularly Eddie, it would make sense for us to see them interacting!

Idk. I’m probably wanting too much from my network tv show lol I just. I will literally never take bucktommy seriously as a pairing if they don’t manage to address the Eddie of it all. And not in a “address the fact that buck loves him” contrived jealousy nonsense. I mean address the fact that their lives are bound together! And it predates anyone that either of them will ever date! Plus imagine the character growth it would take for Buck to send Tommy to Thursday basketball with like a plate of cookies and orange slices or something but not show up himself. Be like “have fun with the boys, slap Eddie’s ass for me” or whatever 😂 I would believe Buck was finally on his way to being ready for a long term adult relationship if they managed that, is all I’m saying

[salamoonder]

alright so i was talking about this the other day in the groupchat and i cannot get over how good for each other caleb and beau are?? like there’s something...i don’t know there is something absolutely next level about empire siblings. like. okay. (under a cut bc this got so FUCKING long, what the fuck. also i talk about essek for a bit and how i think he will change their relationship.)

i’ve said it a million times but i think beau had the best possible reaction to caleb’s backstory reveal. she didn’t discount it; she didn’t treat it like nothing. she basically went “that’s fucked up, man, but you can and will do better” which i think is exactly what he needed to hear. caleb has this tendency to wallow in guilt and when you wallow in guilt it’s very easy to fall into a trap of inaction or only wanting to focus on things that will make that guilt quiet down (i.e., working on the very dangerous and perhaps impossible task of going back in time to save his parents. it’s kind of like people who are intent on doing relief work in far off countries where “real” poverty exists but who don’t wanna help the homeless people living in their own city.) beau pushes him to take his focus off the guilt quieting plans and put his focus on things that will actually be doing good for the sake of doing good. i think that’s sometimes a very difficult distinction to make and tbh beau has a very good grasp on it.

i also think this plays into part of the reason caleb still hasn’t told jester (or cad?) like okay number one, he’s scared. number two, i literally don’t think he can handle the easy forgiveness he would get from them (especially jester) and i think it would send him into a spiral of “no you don’t get it i did a bad bad thing i’m a terrible person” that might be hard to pull out of. and beau is extremely critical in general. she sees a thing she doesn’t like, you don’t have to wonder about it. “well that’s fucked up” are going to be the first words out of her mouth. caleb doesn’t have to worry about her misunderstanding the heaviness of what he’s done the way i suspect he does with the others. beau is never going to diminish how bad he feels about doing a thing; all she’s going to do is say “okay, and what are you gonna do about it?” which is THE BEST. THING. action is the best thing for depressed people oh my god. anyway.

honestly like. ok my favorite thing about beau is that despite the social awkwardness/prickliness she is genuinely *really good at people*. she understands people. i literally still cannot get over how good she is at handling caleb’s panic attacks. i think a lot of people’s first instinct w handling panic attacks is to smother, or, worse, to get just as worked up as the person panicking trying to calm them down. beau is very detached, calm, and levelheaded. she provides physical comfort/stimulus, water, and someone to talk to, and she waits. ( @thedarklordsnicklefritz pointed out recently that she’d be a very good nurse.)

now, caleb to beau: he so clearly, so obviously values her opinions and what she has to say. for all that he is “the smart one”--for all that the wheels in his head are constantly turning and for all that he has a plan for everything--he sits quietly and listens to her whenever she has something to say. he asks her about herself. he wants to know her plans and her goals. not only does he treat her like an adult with agency and ambition and ideas worth hearing, he treats her as a colleage. as a fellow scholar. and i think that beau was sorely lacking that kind of respect, especially under zeenoth. i think it’s something that she craves. even when they are at each other’s throats, he doesn’t interrupt her arguments. he listens till she’s done, and then he speaks. even if he’s growling at her through clenched teeth. he still gives her that respect.

another thing about caleb is that he mirrors the kind of love that beau shows him right back at her. leaving molly’s grave? the shit in kamordah? hand on her shoulder. here is frumpkin. here is frumpkin again. and again. and again--here is some quiet show of support, some small comfort. nothing to embarrass her or cause undue awkwardness. just, there, always. they are each other’s constants and i will literally never be over this oh my god--

okay another thing is, and this is going to be a bit touchy and i might word wrong so please be patient with me and ask questions if you have them, there is something to be said about the friendship of two people who are fundamentally romantically and sexually incompatible. like there’s a reason why “gay best friend” is a trope and there is some not great stuff surrounding it. but i also think that there is a kind of value in a friendship where you never have to worry about romantic or sexual shit coming up. there’s a certain security there, a kind of...safety. there is a safety in "i have no interest in your sex life." there is a safety in beau being a lesbian. both of them have some real baggage/struggles surrounding relationships, and this is not to say that they will never have a meaningful or secure or safe romantic/sexual relationship again. it’s just that there are unique problems that both of those will bring to them--unique problems that i think may bring them each a unique beauty and growth in working through--but nevertheless, unique problems that neither of them have to worry about with each other. their friendship is safe from that.

alright, now onto essek: i am really worried/intrigued for what he will mean for their friendship when they get back to xhorhas and have to deal with him. i think they both see him very differently, and i can’t see them getting through...*waves hand* “punishment” and whatever that means, without another blowup fight and serious hurt feelings.

i think caleb quite clearly sees himself in essek; i don’t think i need to lay that comparison out for anyone, honestly the whole 97 speech sums it up pretty well. what i would like to say is i think caleb has found hope in essek, for essek, in a way that i don’t quite think he’s managed to do for himself yet. like he’s gotten a lot better, but i think a symptom of getting better is that you see your flaws more clearly, and i think that’s very much happening to him right now. i think he sees himself as the same (or possibly even worse), regardless of how far he’s come. (see “i am ruined” to fjord.) i think essek is a mirror for him in which he sees himself more clearly without even realizing that that’s what he’s doing. he sees a selfish person who has done selfish things and hurt people in the process. and he also sees someone with a conscience and empathy who is extremely capable of doing real good. he sees someone with potential. someone with kindness in his soul. someone who could take his guilt and turn it into action, maybe to soothe some of that guilt the way caleb started, and maybe to eventually leave that behind, and do good for the sake of doing good. he sees someone in pain who is in need of support and a friend like beau to nudge him in the right direction.

and beau sees someone who has done selfish things for selfish reasons and does not show nearly enough remorse for it. she sees someone who has caused death and pain out of carelessness and pride and misplaced judgement. she sees someone who values his own gains over the lives of others and justifies that to make himself feel better, and i think that’s exactly the kind of authority figure that beau hates most. she sees someone who better fucking prove that this remorse is real or so help me god i’ll show you what remorse is.

and i think caleb (unfortunately like so much of this fandom with various characters) has latched onto essek as this mirror of himself, and i think at this point any judgement that beau passes on essek will reflect unfortunately on caleb. and the worst part is, beau isn’t going to see that. she wasn’t there for the razor speech. i think to her it’s obvious what she thinks of caleb: he’s a person who’s done some fucked up shit, sure, but he is someone who cares deeply about getting better and has proven himself to be a kind, unwavering person over and over again. he’s more than alright in her book. whereas essek hasn’t really done anything to win him anywhere near the same kind of rapport with her. clearly, in her mind, they are different. why should they be otherwise?

but caleb is going to hear any criticism and, i think, just apply it straight on to himself. i think he thinks that he and essek are so similar that any cut towards essek is a cut towards him. i think he is going to be deeply hurt, i think it’s going to feel like a betrayal--like a revocation of the trust that beau has in him--and i think beau is going to have no idea.

[thompsborn]

I'm ~indecisive~ so either parkner, parksborn, or ot3 (Peter/harley/harry), OR just something Harley centric pleeaassee love you hope you're doing well 😊💗💗

wasteland, baby by hozier

be still, my indelible friend

you are unbreaking

though quaking

though crazy

that's just wasteland, baby

[send me a character/ship/dynamic/etc. and i’ll put my music on shuffle and write a drabble/one shot based on the first song that plays!]

-

i have literally no clue what happened with this, literally i saw the song and was like wow yes hozier song for a harley centric ot3 one shot? perfect! and then it just. devolved? evolved? developed. somehow. into this gay panic lonely tennessee boy meeting two dumb fucked up and traumatized boys on a road trip before they start college and ??? i have no fucking clue tbh

tw: internalized homophobia, classic southern rose hill homophobia, a much thicker version of southern accent typing than i usually do, vague mentions/hints of toxic/abusive home life via one mr harry osborn, basically just canon based trauma but only talked about in passing

-

Harley feels life like a pressure pushing down on his chest.

It isn’t heavy, per se, but it isn’t light, either - rather a constant weight, comfortable at times, overwhelming at others. He will carry it down the street like a backpack strapped around his shoulders and pressed into the dimples at the base of his spine and he may wince and he may want to whine, but he’ll just smile with the warmth of sunshine radiating from his skin like he is the sun itself, and he will nod his head in greeting at any lonesome soul he passes.

Lonesome as him, at least. Lonesome as lonesome could ever really get.

He’s got his Mama, is the thing—and he loves his Mama with all he’s got, feels it seize up in his chest sometimes, his heart palpitating rapidly as it tries to process just how much love he holds in his chest like a secret he can’t quite share. Got his Mama and his sister, Annabelle, and her missing teeth that she loves to show off with every dimple cheeked grin that she flashes them, a nine year old girl who loves to have her hair braided back and resting between her shoulder blades like a signature, something that is solely hers. Harley can’t see braids without thinking of Belle and her crinkly nose and the laugh lines around her eyes when she can’t stop the chortles that rise from her chest. Belle and their Mama are all that he’s really got, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

But he wonders if there’s anyone out there who would really understand what he means when he says, “Life just feels a bit heavy today.” His Mama tries to, but she doesn’t get it, feels the pressures and the struggles of life differently than he does, because he knows she feels the aches and pains just as much as him, if not more so, but she has an energy that he doesn’t seem to have access to, an ability to chime a laugh without feeling like it’s too heavy in her poor lungs to make much of a sound. Belle doesn’t show any of the signs that Harley did when he was her age of any sort of weight pushing down her shoulders, because he felt it early, early, early—far too early than any child ever deserves, but he saw his father walk out that door with a half-assed smile and an unconvincing promise to return and that weight appeared like a lump in his throat and a stinging of tears behind his eyes and it’s only grown and shifted and intensified since then, really, but Belle doesn’t seem to have that weight, or any weight at all, and Harley hopes to the heavens above (that scare him shitless on a good day, really) that she never has to feel like him.

Because he is horribly, terrifyingly alone, sometimes. Sitting on the sofa with his Mama sitting to his right, his sister curled up in between them, letting out endearing little snorts when something funny happens in whatever show they’re watching, and his Mama could be brushing back his hair like she did when he was a kid, Belle could be snuggled in his lap and laughing into his chest, he could be surrounded by the two most important people in his life, the only two people in his life, and he could still stare at that television screen and feel a gaping wound in his chest that nothing can fill. There’s weight, pressure, heaviness--and an emptiness, in the center of it all. A vacancy that may never be filled. Like the eye of a hurricane that never seems to rest.

Then a far too fancy looking car rolls up in Rose Hill, parks itself in the dirt lot of the only motel in town, and everything seems to shift.

“I’m Harry,” one of the oddities tells him, when Harley stops by Rita’s Diner because his Mama is taking Belle to a doctor’s appointment in the next town over but wanted him to pick up her paycheck for her. The guy looks nothing like anyone in Rose Hill ever has, a sleek black blazer over a white shirt with a slogan that Harley can’t read from where he’s standing, dark blue skinny jeans and a fancy kind of tennis shoes that don’t have a smudge of dirt on them, his hand extended towards Harley, head tilted to the side, eyes green and piercing as they scan over Harley in some kind of intrigue.

Harley’s been born and raised to be polite, so he shakes the guys hand and says, “Harley Keener. Nice t’meet you, Harry...?”

The ends of Harry’s lips curve, twist. “Lyman,” he fills in, brow quirking. There’s a quiet snort that fills in the gap of silence that follows, and then Harry is turning, hand still clutching Harley’s in an almost hand shake, looking at the guy sitting beside him and reading the menu with amusement on his features. “What?”

“Nothing,” the guy says, glancing towards Harry before immediately looking away and having to smother a laugh in his palm. Harley takes a moment to examine this guy, too - sticking out just as much as Harry is with his beige skinny jeans (kind of like khaki’s, but nothing like them, at the same time) and a dark grey hoodie, looking far too thick for the sunny day outside. His hair is swooped across his forehead in wisps of curls, brown eyes glimmering. “Nothing,” he says again, more insistent, though it doesn’t sound convincing as he giggles more.

Harry rolls his eyes, turning back to Harley with a grimace, though his eyes shine in a way that makes it obvious that he isn’t actually annoyed. “Don’t mind him,” he says, gaze flickering down to where Harley is still clasping his hand. Harley pulls back as soon as he notices, yanks his hand away a little too fast. It makes Harry’s nose crinkle, for a second, and then smooth. “That’s Peter.”

Giggles waves a hand vaguely in Harley’s direction, then looks away. Harley isn’t sure what to make of that. “What’s he laughing at?”

“Nothing important,” Harry assures with a shrug. “You’re from here, I’m guessing?” Then, with his newly freed hand, he gestures towards Harley’s clothes, the smudge of dirt on his cheek, the slight sunburn on the bridge of his nose and the freckles dotting his skin. “I don’t mean to assume, you just look a lot like a local.”

“Well, I’d bet I do, since you definitely don’t,” Harley muses, brow quirking, resting a hip on the edge of the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t mean to assume either, but neither of you are from ‘round here, huh?”

Harry’s smile widens while Peter flips a fork round and round between his nimble looking fingers. If Harley looks closer, he thinks he can see those fingers shaking, yet it doesn’t seem to hinder Peter’s ability to spin the fork with a flawless sort of ease. It makes him intrigued. Confused, too. A bit unsure. He doesn’t get the chance to voice any of it, though.

Julianna, the manager that’s working today, brings Harley his mama’s paycheck, wrapped up in a neat white envelope with Keener scrawled across the front in scratchy script. Harley tips his head in parting when he leaves, and he catches a glimpse of Peter leaning towards Harry with something forming through a whisper of his lips, so close that he brushes against Harry’s ear as he speaks.

He thinks of them the rest of the day. He isn’t quite sure why, but he does.

(Maybe it was the hand in his, or the way Peter couldn’t stop giggling under his breath like there was a joke that no one else knew but him. Maybe the curiosity that Harley felt bubbling in his chest had, for even just a fraction of a moment, filled that cavern the slightest bit.)

-

“You seem distracted, honeybun,” Margaret Keener says over dinner that night, swooping blonde bangs out of her eyes as she glances towards her eldest child, her eighteen year old son with his shoulders hunched down on himself as he uses his fork to push his food around his plate. Maggie keeps her eyes on Harley, but turns her head to address Belle as she says, “Doesn’t he look distracted, Tinker Bell? Looks a little lost in his head, don’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Annabelle responds, nodding her head politely before shoveling a bite of broccoli salad into her mouth. She speaks around her food, using her own fork to gesture towards her brother, and tells their mama, “Candy Jones was tellin’ me that her daddy saw Harley talkin’ to those city boys stayin’ at the inn.”

Harley shoots his sister a sharp glare while a flicker of understanding sparks in their mama’s eyes. “I see,” she drawls, setting her fork down to prop her chin in her hand, resting in the curve of her palm as she smiles at her son.

“It’s nothin’, Mama,” he grumbles, shrinking in his seat under her knowing stare.

Sounding amused, Maggie says, “Doesn’t sound like nothin’, honeybun. If Annabelle can tell me about her crushes, then you can tell me about yours.”

Instantly, Harley is looking at his sister in bewilderment. “You got crushes?”

Annabelle shovels more food in her mouth. “Maybe,” she says around it all, brows raising in a way that challenges him to say something about it.

“But you’re a baby,” Harley says.

“I’m almost ten,” Belle corrects. “Mama said it was okay, Harls. Right, Mama?”

Maggie nods. “Yes I did,” she says, though her eyes are glued to her son. “’Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with having crushes. It’s a natural part of life. So, Harley, why don’t you tell me about these city boys?”

“There’s nothin’ to tell,” Harley insists, looking at his mama with wide eyes. “Honest, Mama. I talked to ‘em for a few minutes while I was waitin’ for Julianna to bring me your check, but nothin’ happened. We just talked. I don’t even know how y’all know that they’re from a city.”

Belle lets out a huff. “Word spreads fast in this town, Harley,” she tells him. “You’d know that if you had any friends that you could talk to.”

“Annabelle Ray Keener, you watch yourself,” Maggie scolds, turning her eyes to her daughter with lowered brows. Belle ducks her head, looks away with red creeping up the back of her neck. “You say sorry to your brother. That was uncalled for, little miss. We don’t talk to each other that way, you hear me?”

Belle sighs. “Sorry, Harls,” she murmurs.

Harley’s head is bowed, ends of his lips tugged down in a frown. “S’alright,” he mutters in response, glancing up at Maggie through his lashes and sounding like nothing but a boy rather than the fresh adult that he is. “I ain’t got nothin’ else to say, Mama. We just talked for a few minutes. They seemed weird, but nice.”

“If you say so, baby,” Maggie softly replies, smile gentle and kind.

He doesn’t say much else for the rest of dinner.

-

Only a few days later, as Harley is strolling down the streets leading from his house to the mechanic shop that he works at part time during the summers, he sees them again. It’s a particularly hot day, and the weight of life is particularly heavy, and he sees them in the only park resting near the center of Rose Hill, small and meek but all that the town really needs. Peter is siting on one of the swings on the old rickety swing set that Harley has personally had to fix dozens of times since learning how to at the age of eleven, and Harry is pushing him, the two of them looking bright and happy under the sunlight. Laughter chimes in the air when Peter says something that has Harry doubling over, and the smug sort of grin that grows on Peter’s face says that he was hoping for that reaction.

Harley stands there for a few short moments, just watches in silent curiosity, and then he walks over without a second thought. Takes his time, doesn’t want to interrupt but can’t stop himself as he approaches, until they spot him, no more than ten feet away, and they quiet quickly, watching as he slows to a stop just a short distance from them. “You’re from the city,” he says - first thing that comes to mind, and the silence makes him itch, so he throws caution to the wind. Adds, as an afterthought, “My sister heard people in town talkin’ ‘bout it. Is that true?”

There’s a short pause, where Peter looks over his shoulder and Harry meets his eyes briefly, and then they’re looking back and Peter is saying, “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Which one?” Harley questions, curious. He makes a point of raking his eyes over their outfits, which still stand out just as much as the ones that they were wearing last time did. “Doesn’t look like anywhere in Tennessee, I assume?”

“Good assumption, cowboy,” Harry grins. “We’re New York, born and raised.”

Harley tilts his head, brows raising. “Cowboy?”

Peter clicks his tongue, tilts back on the swing until he’s practically hanging upside down, hair brushing against the wood chips of the playground, and then he kicks out his legs and uses an odd sort of momentum to swing back up until he’s sitting, grin wide and toothy as he meets Harley’s eyes. “Southern people use nicknames,” he says with a light laugh. “We thought cowboy suited you.”

“It does?” Harley asks, even more confused. “Y’all were talkin’ about me?”

“Y’all,” Harry repeats, an overjoyed and amused sort of look on his face.

Peter cocks his head slightly to the side, brows quirking, just a bit. “Of course we were talking about you,” he says. “Not everyday you meet a cute cowboy, right?”

That makes Harley freeze, heart stuttering over a beat in his chest, and it feels like what he always thought a stupid high school crush should feel like, his lungs weak and his face warm as he looks away, brings up a hand to run his fingers nervously through his hair. “Oh.”

Harry yanks Peter’s ear lobe lightly and snarkily asks, “What happened to subtlety, Parker?”

“What happened to transparency, Osborn?”

Instantly, Harry is shoving Peter’s shoulder, not too harsh but not exactly kindly, either. Peter exaggerates the push and falls out of the swing dramatically, tumbling into the wood chips with a bright laugh. Harry murmurs, “You’re such a dick,” even as he rounds the swing to help pull Peter to his feet, brushing off the dirt from Peter’s shirt and shaking his head with a sigh.

“You chose me,” Peter counters, grinning.

Harry rolls his eyes, but a smile pulls at his lips, like he can’t quite fight it. “Dumbest decision I’ve ever made,” he says, pulling Peter closer to him, until they’re chest to chest. “And I let you talk me into this trip, so that says a lot, Pete.”

Peter huffs. “Play the part of the Negative Nancy,” he says, leaning in until their noses brush. “Act like I don’t know any better. As if I don’t know you better than you know yourself.”

“Cocky,” Harry grins. “Y’know, we could put some of that confidence to work if you—”

And then Peter kisses him.

Harley feels like he’s intruding on a moment that was never meant for him, standing a few feet away, feeling frozen and unsure. Part of him knows that the proper thing to do would be to walk away, to leave the situation before it can get too awkward, but there’s a pull, something in his gut that tugs and insists he stay exactly where he is. Not that he could resist that insistence even if he wanted to, because his feet are rooted to the ground like a tree that’s been growing in place for centuries, an unwavering and unmovable object.

Warmth climbs up his neck, blossoms across his cheeks as he simply watches, unable to do much else, while Harry brings up a hand to cup Peter’s jaw, as Peter rests his hands on Harry’s waist and they mould together, like they’re filling in the spaces of one another. It looks as natural as breathing, the way they lean together, the way they pull away in sync, how everything seems to be perfectly timed with one another. Harley feels it clog in his throat, that suffocating lonesome feeling he carries around so much—has to clear his throat in order to breathe around it, but the noise just draws two pairs of eyes to him.

There isn’t any surprise or embarrassment, like they had forgotten he was there—rather, there’s an equal sense of content, as if they were happy to see he hadn’t fled. He clears his throat again, looks over Harry’s shoulder to stare unseeingly at the trees behind the swingset. “I didn’t know...” he trails off, tongue tied.

“We don’t usually flaunt it,” Harry offers, hand sliding from Peter’s jaw to his shoulder, keeps it there even as they step apart. One of Peter’s hands continues to clutch the fabric of Harry’s jacket, like he simply refuses to let him go.

Harley swallows roughly. “Usually?”

A smile tugs at Peter’s lips. “Usually.”

“Huh.” Harley looks away, over his shoulder, rubs at the back of his neck. They’re intriguing, is the thing—something about them is pulling him in, making it impossible to walk away. He can’t place his finger on it. “Um, I... I heard—you said trip? That’s why y’all are here? On a trip?”

“A getaway,” Harry offers, tilting his head back and forth, nose crinkled. “Of sorts. I’m emancipated and told Pete that I was thinking about spending a few weeks away from the city, just to take a break before we start our first year at college. He thought of a road trip, and we just... we just started driving. No destination in mind, you know? Just enough shit to last a couple weeks and enough money to keep the tank full, and then we ended up here.”

Harley looks back at them suddenly, because that... he has always wanted to do that. To leave, if just for a little bit, and take a break from how empty and lonely he feels in Rose Hill. He’s always wanted to drive to the nearest city, drive out of the state, explore. But it costs so much, it takes so much time, and his mama... his sister... leaving them, even temporarily—

That’s why he stays. For them. Always.

It takes a moment for him to string together a response, struggling to remember the conversation, what he wanted to say. Eventually, he manages to ask, “Why here?”

Peter rakes his eyes over Harley, the farthest thing from subtle. “Seems interesting,” he says.

“Why not?” Harry asks, his grin wide, toothy.

Harley smiles back—slow, careful, but he does.

-

There’s an old backpack thrown over his shoulders, dusty and dingy from sitting in the hall closet for so long, but it’s stocked up with snacks, jams and jellies and crackers and a couple jars of his mama’s homemade lemonade, lids screwed up tight.

He tells himself he grabbed so much food because he knows he’s gonna spend the whole day at the pond near the edge of Mr. Samson’s property, the one that Harley helps maintain during the winter months that he’s been given permission to go swimming in whenever he wants. He tells himself that he goes to town first to grab a loaf of bread because he has the feeling he’ll be craving jam sandwiches later, too. Tells himself all these lies until he finally comes across them, sitting besides the road with ice cream cones in hand, chatting to themselves under the warm sun.

As soon as Harley sees them, he freezes, doubt creeping into his mind. None of this was for him, he knows—he packed so much and came up with excuses to wander around town in the hopes of seeing them, of inviting them, but now that they’re in front of his eyes, nerves start to crawl up his throat and lock his jaw shut. He tightens his fingers around one of the backpack straps, knuckles turning white.

Harry happens to see him while glancing around, and then he grins, featuring lighting up as if he was hoping to see Harley just as much as Harley was hoping to run into them. As soon as Harry’s posture changes, Peter spins around, scans their surroundings until he finds Harley, too, and then it isn’t a matter of Harley approaching them—rather, the two of them scramble to their feet and make their way towards him, instead. The hands that aren’t holding their ice cream cones are twisted together between them, swinging lightly.

“There’s—” Harley falters, scrapes his teeth over his lower lip and looks around anxiously. “I just... there are a lotta not-so-friendly people here. People that... frown on—on gay people, y’know? I dunno—I just... if you care, I, um—”

The sun bounces off of Harry’s emerald eyes on a way that might have been menacing, if it weren’t paired with the small smile gracing his lips. “People can think what they want,” he says with the wave of his hand. “We don’t care.”

Harley shifts his weight from one foot to the other, keeps glancing around nervously. “I don’t think you understand. They’ll get violent, if they see—if they see y’all holding hands. They’re ruthless. You could get really hurt.”

There’s something sharp and understanding in Peter’s features. “Have they hurt you?”

“I’m not—” Harley stops, bites back the instinctive denial that tries to claw it’s way out from the back of his throat. It’s been years since he told his mama and his sister, since he spit bloody globs of saliva onto the contrete and cried because the bullies weren’t just ruthless, they were right, they knew, somehow, what he refused to admit for so long. It’s why he hides it now, from everyone other than Mama and Belle. He never knows if they’ll hurt him or not. But there’s a genuine knowing reflected in both Harry and Peter’s eyes, like they could see his pain, like they’ve felt it. He doesn’t feel the need to lie to them.

That fact terrifies him endlessly.

He clenches his jaw, juts his chin up in a choppy sort of nod. “They used to,” he says. “Before I learned how’ta fight back. Still spout shit ‘bout me all god damn day, but words don’t matter. I know better ‘en to listen to ‘em. But y’all... you’re city boys, right? The guys in town, they’ll think you’re weak. They’ll start shit, and they always finish whatever shit they start.”

“I can take ‘em,” Peter assures.

Harley pauses. “Um...”

“He looks scrawny,” Harry says, “but he’s right. If anyone bugs us, he’ll win.”

Harley wants to protest that, mostly because Peter is at least three inches shorter than him and looks like he’d struggle to do a push up underneath the sweatshirts he keeps on wearing, but there’s so much confidence in both if their voices that Harley feels like it’d be stupid to disagree. Instead, he adjusts his backpack and wets his lower lip, battling internally for a moment before blurting out, “Do y’all wanna go swimming with me?”

There’s a short pause, before Harry shares a smile with Peter. “Come again, cowboy?”

Harley flushes, just a bit, and stares down at the toes of his shoes with narrowed eyes. “There’s a pond,” he says, tone almost defensive, already expecting this to go wrong somehow. “It’s a little bit out of town, but it’s nice, kept clean and looked after, y’know? And it’s never busy like the lake out past the school. I was gonna go, and it was brought to my attention that I don’t have any friends and I don’t wanna go alone, and I—I thought—”

“We’ll go,” Peter says. “Right now?”

Harley shifts the weight of his backpack again, glances up in surprise, but knows better than to question a miracle. “If y’all aren’t busy.”

Peter looks at Harry. “Are we busy?”

“Not at all,” Harry answers with a grin.

It takes a quick stop at the motel for them to change into something they can swim in and multiple stammered out reassurances that there’s plenty of food and drinks in his bag for them to share, but they eventually amble over to the pond on foot, Peter and Harry scanning over the place in appreciation while Harley sets down his backpack and starts to unload it all.

“Christ,” Harry says with a laugh when he sees just how much there is. “Were you planning on having a party or something? That’s a lot.”

Harley shakes his head, feels his face burn, just the slightest bit. “Nah, jus’ wanted to make sure there was plenty to last all day.” Then, holding out the loaf of bread, Harley asks, “Sandwich? I got blackberry jam, and raspberry, and—and some apple butter, and there’s—peanut butter and almond butter, so if either of y’all’re allergic to peanuts, I—”

Peter reaches over, settles nimble fingers around Harley’s wrist and smiles. “You packed all this food for us, didn’t you?”

“I...” Harley has to swallow the lump that forms suddenly in his throat. “I just wanted to make sure that there were plenty of options.”

“You’re so sweet,” Peter coos, bringing Harley’s hand down to rest against his chest, palm settled over his beating heart. Harley feels his own heart start to march over the contact, features burning with a bright blush that must look even more sharp under the summer sun.

Harley settles in that for a long moment, breathes in slowly, glances through his lashes to see the way Harry is watching them with intrigue and interest in his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Harley just clears his throat and croaks out, “Y’all wanna go swimmin’ now?”

With a playful grin and something sharp shining in his eyes, Harry says, “Sure, cowboy,” and reaches down to pull his shirt off.

Harley should have thought this through.

He should have—Christ, does he feel dumber than all hell right now, looking like those idiot pre-teens that burn scarlet at the pool parties in all those stupid movies, the blush reaching the tips of his ears in seconds as he immediately turns his eyes upward to stare at the clouds, almost holding his breath until he realizes that’ll just make his face even redder than it already is. How had the fact that swimming would likely entail a lot of bare skin not crossed his mind? He could have thought of anything else, like going to a movie, or—or roller skating, at the rink a couple towns over, or—

Anything other than this, because it’s a lot harder to act like he isn’t a (mostly) closeted gay dumbass when the most attractive boys he has ever seen are standing five feet away from him, shirtless and grinning like sharks, powerful and hungry and knowing the power they hold.

At least, that’s what it feels like when one of Harry’s hands wraps ‘round Peter’s wrist while Peter’s other hand taps a knuckle lightly against Harley’s chin, a gentle gesture that encourages Harley to lower his gaze—which he does, after a few moments, having to remind himself to breathe normally as he brings his eyes down to glance between swirling chocolate’s and dazzling green’s.

“You can look,” Peter tells him, head tilted, corners of his eyes crinkled with a lovable, boyish sort of grin. “We don’t mind.”

Harley’s mouth feels dry.

Before Harley can try to string together an attempt at a response, Harry cuts in, sounds matter of fact and damn near professional when he informs Harley, “And you can like what you see. It’s okay. We like what we see, too.”

“That’s...” Harley trails off, looks away and looks back because there’s a gravitational pull that he just can’t seem to fight. “That’s... allowed?”

With his nose crinkling up, Harry laughs. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Harley wets his lower lip. “‘Cause y’all’re... you’re together, yeah? And on a trip, gonna be leavin’ soon, I bet, and I’m—I’m the idiot from the close minded Southern town. And you don’t... y’all don’t know me. I don’t know you, either, really, jus’ that I—I, um—uh—”

It’s Peter that steps forward, head tilting to the side, just slightly. Almost puppy like, if it weren’t for the sharpness in his eyes. The ends of his lips pull back, until he’s sporting a soft and gentle sort of smile, but something about it feels damaged, too, in a way that Harley can’t quite put a finger on. “Give yourself some credit, cowboy,” he says. “Harry thinks you’re hot and I can’t get enough of your accent, and that’s just what we thought after three minutes of talking at that diner, alright? Sure, we don’t know you, and, fuck, you definitely don’t know shit about us, but there’s something, right?”

The thing is, Harley isn’t an articulate guy. His brain is capable of endless things, he’s smarter than anyone will ever be able to give him credit for, sure, but when he’s nervous, in a situation that’s unfamiliar and hard to maneuver, his instinct is to duck his head and change the subject. Which is why he freezes completely, even though he knows this is an opening, even though Peter and Harry just fully and openly admitted to being attracted to him, at least on a surface level, and Harley—he’s never had anyone interested in him before. None of the girls at school ever swooned over him, none of the boys tried to woo him with flowers and cheesy dates. He was just the Keener boy, with the blond waves that sometimes dry in ringlets that hang in his eyes when it rains, the sloped nose that’s just a bit crooked from breaking it a few too many times over the years (clumsy, at times; unlucky run ins with bullies, for the most part), the jean jacket that almost always has on, pulled over plain t-shirts in the summer, thick flannels in the winter, dark blue jeans that are old and ripped at the knees, but he can’t bother to replace them. He’s a graduate barely two months out of high school and his future’s already set, laid out and chosen for him.

Stay in Rose Hill. Die in Rose Hill. Maybe grow old, somewhere in between. Hopefully content, at peace, but he ain’t bettin’ money on that. Probably work at the mechanic shop full time once it becomes clear that he’ll never afford to go to college and he won’t get anywhere without a degree. Besides, Mama says that Rose Hill is home, and he says that home is wherever Mama and Belle are, so there’s no real harm in just going with the flow of things.

But it feels like being offered a taste of forbidden fruit (and, Christ, would his Catholic grandma turn over in her grave if she heard him using such a phrase, daring to reference the holy text in his sin) when gentle fingers brush across his cheek, bringing him back to reality as he sucks in a sharp breath and finds green eyes looking into his, brown ones scanning over his features just as closely, as intently.

Harry smiles, all lopsided. “Wanna swim?”

It’s an offer, an ability to ease the nervous (excited?) churning in his stomach. Harley swallows roughly, waits until his tongue no longer feels tangled up and knotted in his mouth, before saying, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

(They’re swimming ‘round the pond like little kids until sunset, and Harley walks them back to the motel, ‘cause it’s the nice thing to do, and by the time he gets home, his hair still hanging in his eyes in damp ringlets that Harry had called cute while Peter brushed gentle fingers through them with a grin, there’s a swelling feeling of contentment in his chest.

For a moment, it makes the pressure, weight, heaviness, and that chasm of emptiness in the center of it all that so often overwhelms him, pains him so much, seem like nothing.)

-

They go to the movies the next day, and rollerskating a couple days after that, just because Harley keeps wandering around town while his Mama is at work and Belle is with her friends, going to the lake and having sleepovers because it’s summer and she’s nine and, in a place like Rose Hill, kids start to wander off on their own around the place as soon as they hit first grade. Harley’s got the occasional part time shift at the mechanics, sure, but it’s only ‘bout fifteen hours a week if he’s lucky—five hour shifts, up to three days a week, and with his Mama working so much and Belle having the kind of social life that Harley has never been capable of grasping himself, it’s safe to say there isn’t much else to do to fill up his summer days. Usually, this leaves him terribly lonely, even more so than usual, spending most of his summers in the garage with things to tinker with and a haze over his every thought.

This year, though.

It’s that gravitational pull that Harley thought of before, an otherworldly source guiding him towards these city boys like it’s where he’s supposed to be. He’s always been in the belief that there isn’t a place for him, that he’s just a floater drifting his way among those who really belong, and these two... Harry and Peter are dating—have been for over two years, now, told Harley that they started dating when they were sixteen—and with them is, logically, the last place Harley should feel the most welcome. But, it’s like there’s a space with them, somewhere for him to nestle in, and it feels like it’s purely his own. It feels like his.

Peter is the first to kiss him.

It’s after a day where he wakes up feeling heavier than usual, brain hazed just a bit, chest caving in on that void of emptiness at the center of it all. Mama has a graveyard shift tonight so she passes him in the hall when he shuffles towards the bathroom, presses a kiss to his forehead like he’s a little kid and then makes her way to her room to sleep until it’s time for her to get ready for work, which means that Belle—and her plans to go a few towns over, to go to the sorry excuse for a mall that’s over there, with a couple of her friends—becomes his responsibility to drive around. Which is something he agreed to over dinner last night, but maybe he would have fibbed a bit and said he had his own shift at work if he knew he would wake up feeling like this.

But he takes them, Belle and her two best friends, and spends hours walking ‘round the mall, making sure they’re safe and don’t get lost, holding their bags and offering to pay for all their food when they get hungry at about lunch time, just ‘cause that’s how he was raised to be. By the time he finally parks in the driveway again, all of them having been dropped off at one of the the other girls’ house for a sleepover, his arms are tired, his limbs feel like lead, everything is unclear and slow in his grogginess. He sits behind the wheel for a long time, just trying to breathe like a normal human being, before making his way inside, being greeted bu lights off and silence—Mama already left for work, then. He’s alone.

He’s lonely.

This isn’t anything new—he’s been lonely his whole life, felt it carved into the cavity of his chest like a brand—but it really resonates as he stands there in the entryway, the only light in the room being the slowly setting sun as it shines through the window, illuminates the room with a golden sort of glow. His turns his head so that it’s angled down, curls falling in front of his eyes like a curtain, but even when blocking his vision he can feel it, can hear the distinct lack of sound like a gun shot, save for the distant sound of the washer spinning a load of Mama’s comfy clothes that echoes within his school like an eerie reminder of the fact that no one else is there, and it shouldn’t matter, he’s felt this before and been just fine, but he’s been getting all these little tastes and hints of feeling like he actually belongs somewhere when he’s with Harry and Peter, and knowing what a fraction of companionship feels like...

Harley doesn’t have a cell phone, ‘cause there ain’t no signal in Rose Hill unless you’re on the main road, but that main road is where the diner is, where the bars are, and, of course, the motel. And he happens to have the numbers of two city boys staying at that motel scribbled on a napkin from the rollerskating rink that’s sitting on his nightstand, only just upstairs.

There’s barely a minute of thought before he starts moving towards the staircase, grabbing the house phone along the way, and, a mere fifteen minutes later, he isn’t alone anymore.

He gives them a quick tour of the house after letting them in, mostly because he didn’t actually think of something to do, had only been aching with the need to have someone there, and now he’s basking in the warmth of their presence while trying to figure out something to do in order to not give himself away, but Harry seems a bit more softspoken, Peter keeps brushing fingers against Harley’s shoulder’s, the small of his back, and—

(“I just...” Harley had said over the phone, completely unaware of the empty tone to his words, unable to see the way that the couple had looked at one another, concern and worry and troubled fondness in their eyes. “I’m not busy,” is what Harley had settled on saying, not a lie, but certaintly not the truth. “Are you?”

Peter had been sporting pinched brows and a slight frown. Harry had said, “Never too busy for you, cowboy. What’s the plan?”)

And they end up outside, because Harley takes them out on the backporch for a quick view of the yard and the garden that the Keener’s split responsibility to tend to, and Peter had seen the little campfire set up and insisted they get the stuff for s’mores and have a bonfire. There’s such a simplistic sort of innocent excitement that lights up his features, and it makes Harley wonder— “Have y’all had a campfire b’fore?”

Harry shakes his head. “Always wanted to,” he says. “Pete’s Uncle was actually gonna take us both camping for Pete’s fifteenth birthday, but... um—it didn’t work out, I guess.”

“He passed away,” Peter supplies, when Harley’s brows quirk just slightly, curious but unsure if he should ask. Even Harry looks mildly surprised by the admission, giving Peter a wide eyed look, to which Peter just shrugs and says, “What? I can tell when not to trust someone.” Then, back to Harley, he explains, “My parents died when I was four, so I was raised by my Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but Ben got shot when I was fourteen. I tried to slow the bleeding enough to keep him alive until the ambulance got there, but—yeah. Wasn’t able to, I guess.”

Everything else from before—the heaviness, the loneliness, the ache—it all goes away in an instant, morphing into a shocked sense of dread as he looks into the eyes of the guy he literally called giggles in his head when they met. His tongue is tangled. He has to untangle it slowly before he can ask, “You were there?”

Peter shrugs again, but he looks away.

“Christ, Darlin’,” Harley chokes out, shaking his head. “Yeah, we can have s’mores. We can—so many s’mores, as many as ya’want. Jesus.”

“Shit cards,” Peter says. “They happen.” Then, perking up like they weren’t just talking about him witnessing his uncle’s murder, he looks back to Harley and asks, “Do you maybe have some of those jumbo marshmellows?”

Harry rolls his eyes and groans, and, just like that, it’s like the heavy topic never came up. Not in a let’s just ignore that and let it fester uncomfortably below the surface sort of way, but in a that’s all that needs to be said for now so let’s just move on kind of way instead. It feels natural and comforting rather than cold and dismissive, and it makes that chasm within Harley’s chest feel a little less empty.

It’s after the sun has set, when there’s a fire that’s glowing across them and softening their features in the gentle, flickering light. Harley is sat in the middle because they always seem to want him there, the corner of his mouth sticky from melted marshmellow and the taste of chocolate on his tongue, feeling warm and full. Harry’s leaning into Harley, just a bit, but Peter is sitting a couple inches away, features a bit pinched with a thoughtful sort of expression.

Before Harley can voice his curiosity, Peter glances over at them, practically melts at the sight of Harry settling his head to rest on Harley’s shoulder, and slowly says, “Har...?”

“Mm?” Harry responds, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think—I mean, I wanna—do you think—?”

Harry huffs, one eyes squinting over to look at Peter. “Just do it, Parker. Don’t be a pussy.”

Harley barely has time to murmur a confused little, “Um,” before Peter’s brushing gentle fingertips beneath his chin and turning his head and Harley sees beautiful brown eyes getting closer and closer and—a few freckles, dotting along the bridge of Peter’s nose.

And then they’re kissing.

It’s a basic kind of kiss—lips pressed to lips in what often is only a meaningless point of skin on skin, but Harley’s heart races in his chest as soon as he realizes what’s happening, a tingle running down his spine and—warmth, so much warmth that envelopes him in somethiny soft and cozy and his, it’s his in a way that nothing ever has been, and he pushes in, presses into Peter with a hitch in his breath and kisses back like his life fucking counts on it, ‘cause it does.

Christ Almighty, it does.

(Harry kisses him next, while Harley is still dazed and blinking away the stars in his eyes, but Harry is half asleep and doesn’t do much more than hum against his lips before slumping back down, head on Harley’s shoulder, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, and it’s so much different yet entirely just the same.)

-

He didn’t invite them to stay the night.

He also didn’t tell them to leave.

When Harley blinks awake, rising with the sun like he was raised to do, there’s hair ticking his nose and a weight pressed up against his side. It takes a moment for him to clear his eyes of grogginess and make them really focus, but when he does, he finds Harry’s head resting on his chest, curled up against him, snoring softly.

Peter is separate from them, curled up on himself on the far corner of Harley’s bed, wide awake and shivering lightly. Harley feels choked up with the moment and everything that it is, everything that it can be, but the worry clouds over that when he hears Peter’s teeth chatter.

“Cold, Darlin’?”

Instantly, Peter’s head snaps up, wide eyed and sheepish. “Um—I, uh—I’m good, I’m—”

Harley lifts the arm that Harry doesn’t have pinned beneath him, shifts the blanket that they must have fallen asleep on top of and somehow manages to maneuver it from underneath them to over them without moving too much, then keeps a corner held up as he looks to Peter. “C’mon,” he coaxes. “I’ve heard I’m like a heater. C’mere, s’alright.”

Peter hesitates, but then he’s moving, crawling under the blankets and curling into Harley with a shaky sort of sigh. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Dunno how you’re so cold,” Harley mutters back, because you’re welcome feels a bit too obvious. “Summertime in Rose Hill can be brutal. Surprised we’re not all dyin’ of heat.”

“M’not actually cold,” Peter tells him. “Just had a nightmare. Almost drowned, once, and I always feel cold after I dream about it.”

Christ, Harley thinks—remembers so suddenly that he doesn’t really know these guys, feels it shock him like a taser. He doesn’t particularly understand why Peter is telling him this, or why he told Harley about his parents and his uncle last night—remembers the shock on even Harry’s face when he had—but it doesn’y feel scary or overwhelming. Just a bit hard to process, feally. Peter doesn’t really act the way Harley suspects someone would after that.

But Harry also doesn’t act like he’s all that traumatized, either, yet Harley can feel the exact moment he goes tense in the shoulders and his breathing takes a hitch. Peter lets out a hum, all too knowing and sad, and reaches out a hand to comb through Harry’s hair. “There he goes,” Peter practically whispers. “Almost had a full night’s rest, too. That would’ve been a god damn miracle, but he needs it, eventually.”

“What happened to you two?” Harley founds himself asking—not maliciously, not demanding, but curious and... upset, maybe, but not at them, of course, rather at the fact that he’s only know these two for a handful of weeks—a month, almost, which is just an odd thought to linger on—and if anyone deserves to never face a bad day in their life, it’s them.

Peter puffs out a sigh as Harry really starts to struggle, brows furrowed, features pinched. “I think we’ll tell you,” he says softly. “One day.”

Harry lets out a pitiful sort of cry in his sleep, and then that’s all that matters, Peter coaxing his partner awake while Harley tries to offer a soothing presence and coo calming words.

Even now, it doesn’t feel like Harley’s an intruder. It feels like he was always supposed to be right here with them, good mornings or bad.

-

Mama comes home from work with grizzy hair that’s sticking up at random spots and finds three eighteen year old boys curled up together on the sofa with a morning children’s cartoon playing on the screen. Despite the shock and the exhaustion etched deep into her features, she only blink once in surprise before smiling wide at them. “These’re the city boys, I’m guessin’?” she asks, plopping her purse down on the coffee table as she looks them over.

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter says before Harley can do much more than nod. “I’m Peter Parker. This is Harry Os—um. Harry Lyman. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Keener. You have a lovely home.”

“Honey, you can just call me Maggie,” his Mama assures. She flickers her eyes over to Harry, who is so obviously trying to offer a smile and focus on the conversation but is still so rumpled from his rude awakening, borrowed sweatpants and Peter’s shirt askew, eyes a bit glazed over and features a little sad. Still, his Mama gives Harry a smile. “Both of you.”

Harry looks a bit unsure and grateful by that, while Peter offers a quiet, “Okay, Miss Maggie.”

Mama chuckles, looks to Harley with a soft amusement in her eyes. “Honeybun, I think you must’ve found the only polite city boys around,” she says. “You boys have any breakfast yet?”

Harley feels scolded even before he gives an answer, looks down at his lap sheepishly before telling her, “No, Mama, we haven’t eaten yet.”

“Harley James Keener,” Maggie says—not just Mama, not with that tone of voice, sharp and sure but also exasperated and loving. “I know I raised you knowin’ how we treat our guests. C’mon, up you get, we’re cookin’ up some food before anyone starves into an early grave.”

It looks like Peter is about to protest, but he looks at Harry and bites his tongue, instead offering a grateful smile when Harley squeezes his hand lightly before getting up with a simple little, “Yes, ma’am,” and heading to the kitchen.

He’s flipping over the first of the pancakes when his Mama lets out a soft sort of sigh, glancing up from where she’s mixing together the egg wash for the french toast. Harley knows better than to voicea question just yet, waits patient and proper until she’s ready to speak up, though the last thing he expects her to say is a resigned, “You’re gonna be leavin’, huh?”

The spaltula damn near slips from his fingers in his haste to look at he. “Wh—Mama, what?”

“You were never a Rose Hill kinda boy,” she says, smile soft and sad as she looks back down at the bowl she’s mixing. “I knew it when you were just a kid, Harls. Born and raised don’t mean that it’s home, honeybun, and a small town was never gonna be your place. Too much smart in that brain of yours to stay here.”

“Mama...” Harley trails off, only looks away in order to avoid burning the pancake. “I’d never leave you and Belle here. You gotta know that.”

Maggie clicks her tongue and shakes her head, action sharp as her tone. “Harley Keener, there ain’t no way in hell that I’d let you waste your potential just to stay here with us. Rose Hill’s where I wanna be, where I fit—but it isn’t that for you and you shouldn’t make it be. Hard to tell with Tinker Bell, she could go either way, but you? Honey, the world ain’t ready for you, and you’ve been hidin’ yourself here and not usin’ up all that potential you’ve got for too long. You’re gonna leave, honeybun. Stayin’ here was never supposed to be your future.”

Harley wants to fight tooth and nail against this, but the more she speaks, the more her words start to settle over him like a blanket. He’s always wanted to leave, and he’s always felt awfully selfish for wanting it, but the way she says it... there’s not argument. He doesn’t belong here. Up until recently, he just assumed he wouldn’t belong anywhere at all.

“Besides,” Maggie adds, glancing at her son with a curl to her lips. “You’ve got two city boys sittin’ in the other room waitin’ for you.”

“I—I don’t know ‘em all that well,” Harley says.

Maggie shakes her head. “I didn’t know your Daddy all that well when I fell in love with ‘im. Of course, your Daddy changed—wasn’t the man I loved by the time he left us, but that’s not the point. Love ain’t knowin’ someone all the way, honeybun. It’s learnin’ as you go and lovin’ all those bits and pieces that you learn.”

Harley’s face is burning. “I don’t love ‘em, Ma.”

“Not yet,” Maggie says. “But you will.”

-

Two and a half weeks later, as June turns to July, Harley finds himself packing his things.

“I’ve got an apartment,” Harry says, looking far too put together to be the same guy who was damn near silent in the aftershocks of his nightmare (and the three other nightmare’s Harley has seen since). “If you think you wanna move to the city, you can just stay with me until you either find your footing or decide to come back here. Pete basically lives there, too, with how much he’s stayed over since I got emancipated and moved into their at sixteen.”

Harley looks up from the shirt he’s folding, a single brow arching. “Sixteen?” he questions. “Same year y’all started datin’, you mean?”

The ends up Harry’s lips pull up, amused beyond belief. Peter’s snorin’ on Harley’s bed, tired (couldn’t sleep super well the night befors, Harley was told) and completely unaware of the way that Harry’s eyes glimmer. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “Probably got away with shit we shouldn’t have in there, but May was working and doing school to get promoted at the hospital, so there weren’t any adults giving us the you’re too young talk, you know?”

“Your dad...” Harley doesn’t keep talking, mostly because he’s only gotten a slight scratch against the surface with that topic, so he doesn’t want to push. Still, Harry nods.

“He wouldn’t have done much talking,” is all that Harry offers. “That’s why I was emancipated. I’ll tell you about it, probably, when Pete is up to sharing that shit.”

Harley glances at Peter, sleeping soundly still. “Peter had problems with your dad, too?”

Harry winces. “To put it lightly, yeah.”

“Any chance I can find this guy and beat his ass?” Harley questions—mostly for the way that Harry chuckles fondly, but it’s a semi-legitimate question, as well. He doesn’t take well to assholes who treat kids like shit, even more so when it’s his—when—when it’s Harry and Pete.

“He’s not in our lives anymore,” Harry says, stalks forward and brushes a kiss to the corner of Harley’s mouth. “No worries, cowboy. ‘Sides, Pete got a good few hits in, towards the end.”

Christ. “A sight to see, I’m guessin’?”

“Don’t know. I wasn’t there for it.”

Harley shakes his head. “So many stories.”

“So much time to tell them,” Harry counters, a wide grin growing across his face.

From the bed, Peter groans. “Stop bein’ sappy,” he grumbles, words slightly slurred from sleep as he turns his face into the only one of Harley’s pillows that hasn’t been packed yet. “M’sleepin’. Can’t sleep if you’re bein’ all—all fuckin’ gay.”

A light laugh rumbles out from the center of Harley’s chest, while Harry just rolls his eyes and walks over to the bed, plopping down next to Peter with a drawn out sigh. “Dramatic asshole,” Harry grouches, even as he pulls Peter into his side and curls an arm around him, features going soft when Peter doesn’t hesitate to lean against him with a happy hum. “We’re driving back to New York in, like, five hours, Pete. You can’t just wait and sleep in the car?”

Peter cracks an eye open, looking absolutwly scandalized. “And miss out on showing our favorite cowboy all our car games?”

“I already know car games,” Harley says.

“Not ours,” Peter says. “Not yet.”

Not yet. Like his Mama said.

Harley smiles. He likes the silent, unspoken yet powerful promise that comes with not yet.

He likes it a whole lot.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Autistic Magnus headcanons

ok so i got this big submission on autistic magnus which i absolutely love and i ended up breaking it down into parts so i would remember to address it all so uh, here we go. this is long lmao

submission made by @hasenfu

oof this got long lol

before i forget: i always saw Magnus as autistic. (or rather there was a post how Alec is obv autistic but Magnus could be, too?? address that?!?!) so i thought about it and… i guess he’s had longer to adapt and do smaller fidgets, unnoticeable, more healthy -if he allows himself to do such- and other things idk. i took a break of the show+fandom shortly after and never came back to the thought much.

it was mostly being hyposensitive to pressure, which is why he has those tight vests or flowy shirts with heavy necklaces and his array of rings. (definitely a hug person and should own a weighted blanket)

but also, opposed to this, being hypersensitive to touch, so all his shirts and his bedsheets are silk. (weighted blanket can go on top or be a spell)

that truly makes so much sense to me tbh like i’ve always envisioned magnus that way as well, especially the hyposensitive to pressure part. especially considering that at the point of show canon he’s so touch starved? like he’s been keeping away from most people and kinda trying to hide and i think that only added to that. i definitely agree with what you said about the vests/corsets:

you might have a full inbox once this is done lol # idk who figured this out first but one of Magnus/Raphael found out about vests, maybe Magnus wore corsets first (yes even as cis/amab demiman/gnc cis man, people wore corsets because fashion) and then opted for vests. or Raphael wore them first because Business Man and Important Stuff and told Magnus to stop wearing flowy shit with a million necklaces and just wear tight clothing like Proper Human Beings. amazing word count is full again.

(also don’t worry i’m well aware that cis men used to wear corsets lmao i even have an old post about it lying somewhere. not that i envision magnus as a cis man but anyway) and also want to add: tight pants. like the pants he wears are always slim fit and i think that has a lot to do with that too? just feeling grounded by the pressure, like he’s more steady in his steps. especially when he’s wearing the silky shirts and etc because those have barely any pressure (esp the open shirts and stuff. i mean obviously like you said the necklaces help make up for that, but like. it’s not enough imho) 

but also just like, nothing is as good as the good olde hugs tbh. i mean obviously the clothes are good and help him function and not have meltdowns or feel overwhelmed (because he’s had a lot of time to prevent having meltdowns, and tbh probably uses unhealthy tactics to avoid that) and he isn’t comfortable with just anyone touching him (we know that very well. also invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe-) but the people he trusts? somehow they always feel right

i love magnus and the immortal squad being into cuddle piles, particularly magnus&raphael (who’s also hyposensitive to pressure, plus he’s a latino immigrant so he’s used to quite a lot of casual touching, but once he got to the US that was suddenly Not Allowed anymore and god that must have fucked him up so much, the cultural shock mixed in with the hyposensitivity and then he lost his whole support network on top of that. like he feels absolutely smothered by the lack of pressure all the time and it makes his skin prickle and he wants to just. scratch it off just to get some relief from the constant feeling of deprivation. and magnus of course feels a similar way, since from what i looked up quickly indonesian people are also used to overcrowded spaces and casual touching, plus again, touch starved) 

like they’re both. kind of just functioning with this constant feeling of emptiness all around them, and they can’t really afford to be as touchy as they’d like because they’d be looked down on because of that, especially as downworlders, moc, etc. but when they’re in magnus’ loft and they’re alone? cuddling all the time. constant cuddling. not a single second goes by cuddleless. legs entangled, weight blanket over them, they might switch positions a lot because they might get fidgety - especially magnus, i feel like he needs to stim and etc a lot more than Raphael does - so at one second they’re lying down, the next they’re sitting, raphael is on top of magnus, magnus is on top of raphael, they’re side by side, only their legs are intertwined, raphael is lying across magnus….. it just keeps going and after like years of doing this they just do it effortlessly? 

one of my exes called this “dynamic cuddling” cuz yeah he was a huge cuddler but also kinda fidgety and so was i and most of his other partners (i Cannot lie in the same position for a long time which is why im usually not big on cuddling, and also prefer to be the big spoon) and i definitely see it for them. just, every time one of them (again, usually magnus) moves the other moves along and they’re just adjusting to a new position together, instead of the awkward “person A starts to move so person B waits and then they do a little adjustment afterwards” thing. ragnor in particular is appalled (especially since you know, british, so used to No casual touching whatsoever, also he clearly gets overwhelmed easily considering how isolated he lives, oh look at me casually throwing in autistic ragnor lmao i need to calm tf down) at how easily they do it but that’s just years of practice, knowing each other very well, and having very similar sensory issues for you

the one downside is that since they’re too similar they both want to like, be the little spoon diahdsiah so that’s why weighted blanket is a must, even if obviously they switch - magnus is perfect for raphael because he’s bigger and taller so he can envelop him pretty easily and cover like His Whole Back and just really crowd him in the best possible way? obviously that means that raphael being small is not as good for magnus but he can be in like fetal position and hug his knees and have raphael spoon him that way, and there’s the added Compression (?) of that. plus raphael always runs his hands over magnus’ arms particularly and that adds to the good pressure and feeling. he also definitely likes playing with magnus’ hair, which magnus is delighted by (btw it’s a huge sign of closeness in indonesian culture). the scalp is sensitive, okay. it’s perfect

with alec it’s perfect for magnus because i see alec as the opposite, he does not like a lot of pressure and particularly having things on his back (he needs to be able to Move) so he likes being the big spoon. also he’s one of the few ppl who’s taller than magnus and can envelop him perfectly, just like magnus does raphael 

also going briefly back to the vests thing, i really like the idea that it was raphael’s suggestion for some reason? i mean i kind of hc that magnus has had a huge influence on raphael’s style, but i also like it as the other way around. i especially like raphael helping magnus out with Autistic Problems™ because like you said magnus has had a lot of time to learn how to cope and hide his traits in order to be taken seriously, but he’s definitely foregone his own comfort in that proccess, and probably has a few coping mechanisms that aren’t really healthy. whereas raphael has a different perspective and grew up with a supportive family when it comes to that (i particularly hc rosa as being a great support in that sense, not letting anyone give him shit, giving him hugs when he needed, keeping people away when he didn’t want to be touched, speaking for him when he went nonverbal, etc) so he has a lot of better mechanisms. and i really dig him teaching those to magnus and helping him find better alternatives. like magnus knows about vests, has used corsets in that way before, why tf didn’t he think of that? because he’s used to ignoring his own needs :) but raphael helps him find good vests that make him feel, like, perfectly hugged and grounded and it’s Very Good. they probably share a lot during the time when raphael lives with him, since magnus can just magically adjust them anyway

plus other things such as not caring if magnus stims, and whatnot

i also think that he sometimes uses magic to handle the hyposensitivity problem, cause i mean, why not? especially when he’s in the flowy open shirts and whatnot, cuz again, like, the necklaces are good and they help a lot but they are Not Good Enough. but magic can make him feel more pressure and help him out with that, he can spell himself to have this kind of… constriction? that he likes. plus his magic kind of takes care of him on its own so i can definitely see it like, enhancing his sensitivity when he needs it, running over his arms and torso to keep him grounded, and whatnot. very useful, especially because he can do that unnoticed

that’s only what i had to say on hyposensitivity to pressure dear lord someone help me daiojdsoadjasodjadijaidoaj 

onto hypersensitivity to textures! again strongly agree. i kind of headcanon that all of magnus’ clothes are lined with silk underneath because they always look just a little stuffy when they aren’t silky and again it’s clearly his favorite texture - for his sheets, his shirts, just everything he can is silky. i know he can probably magick them up but i like to think he has a tailor tbh, maybe some other old warlock who never really wanted to give up that work? idk it sounds more authentic and even connected to his roots this way so i like to headcanon that. anyway yeah silk everywhere and all the way. pretty much every other texture other than that and the People He Likes is kinda overwhelming for him, imo. which can be a Huge Problem and is probably connected to why he hates people he doesn’t like getting into his personal space - he’s perfected the personal space distancing so he’s kept away from the Bad Textures and anyone getting into it uninvited is definitely unwelcome and perceived as a threat to his safety and wellbeing - and effectively is

same goes for jewelry, like, he pretty much only wears silver stuff? i think it’s his preferred texture as well, which is why we don’t see him wearing a lot of different things. that might also be related to the thing you said about colors:

maybe being hypersensitive to colours/visual influence but this might be a jab at smol book!magnus with his neon leggings and crop tops. but all his surroundings are either dark: dark red, dark blue, or black, or medium brown (wood) or smallll golden accents. nothing harsh.

like golden can be too much visually and non-metal textures aren’t really welcome. this is also related to the pressure thing - metal is great for weight, whereas every other accessory material is Not - but texture also plays a good part

(also ur so valid for wanting to jab @ book magnus tbh lmao i don’t acknowledge that bitch)

but i could see him hyperfocusing on translations. oof idk i haven’t interacted with canon in months or maybe years. i’ve mostly thought about his stims. like also the scratching on paper, his tai chi exercises, making/drinking tea, brewing potions.

i also dig that? i think most of what we’ve seen in Genius Magnus Bane is related to that in some capacity - being his hyperfocus/hyperfixation/special interest. like the portal thing? definitely a result of him hyperfixating. and he just goes on and on, which is why he isn’t particularly known for like, One Area He Expertises On (okay i do realize this is more ADHD than autism but look he’s been alive for centuries okay his special interests are gonna pile up) but rather a lot of very specific things that he knows a lot about and that end up broaching a thousand different and wildly unrelated topics

and whenever he’s working on a magical thing, it’s just- hyperfocus all the way, baby. sometimes when he needs a distraction or is feeling overwhelmed he just goes straight to brewing because it’s guaranteed hyperfocus and like, silence in his head, you know? and he can just get away from whatever’s overwhelming/upsetting him for a while. not always healthy to do, but. still a thing that he does. translating, brewing potions, summoning things, even tracking - it immediately takes his undivided attention and suddenly he looks up and realizes that ah yes, he is in a place and has surroundings, and has a name lmao. even if it’s something like tracking which is really quick, while he’s at it he doesn’t think about absolutely anything else. then he kind of has to blink after a few seconds and remember why he was doing it in the first place lmao

this is probably deeply intertwined with his magic - like it is related to how he interacts and perceives the world, so when he’s using it, he’s effectively channeling all of his attention into one of his senses, and directing it to a single specific purpose. it’s like inhaling deeply. everything else shuts down and he’s just focused and directed into this action, and then that mixes up with autism/ADHD and you’ve got guaranteed hyperfocus. it can be both good and bad, but it’s definitely grounding and something that helps him cope with a lot of things - like, sensorial overload? just feeling overwhelmed in general? too angry or tired? needing a distraction. magic time! even if it’s just making a small ball of light, it definitely helps him focus a lot

which of course leads up to stimming! which you already mentioned up there and also in here

(obv he stimmt with his rings and ear piece thingy all the time because it cool. i don’t think he’d disturb the necklaces because they make up for not wearing a vest so playing with them would do not enough good to make up for the loss of pressure)

again completely agree with the necklace thing, he’s never really seen playing with those, but the earpieces/earlobes/rings? hoo boy. all the damn time, definitely a good way to stim. plus yeah, magic like i just said, but not only in the sense of hyperfocusing on purpose, but also that he just stims magically? like keeps making sparks with his fingers, or making and reshaping a ball like we’ve seen him do in that scene where him and alec fight in s2, some light hand twisting that comes mostly in the form of an almost imperceptible rub of his fingers together, did i mention random sparks? or just having like, invisible tendons of magic running over his arms, focusing on how they feel and making them keep twisting over him like a snake or something? dadiahias idk if i can describe that very well but you know what i mean, it’s just wrapped around his arm and moving and he’s stimming that way, focusing on its motions (plus again good pressure!) and whatnot

i also think he clicks his tongue to make up for rarely ever verbally stimming, but sometimes he can verbally stim with like specific spells that feel good on the tongue when he’s alone - it takes him centuries to ever allow himself to do that one in front of anyone, even if it’s pretty innocuous

I’m very interested in reading more on your posts and how Magnus is ADHD in things that don’t overlap with either ASD or (c-?)PTSD!

doijadoadsoaj and now that i’ve written this huge ass disconnected manifesto on a bunch of shit i realize that that was your question all along. great great great. this is fine

if you’re interested in ADHD magnus as a whole i definitely recommend reading @thesorrowoflizards‘s fantastic ADHD Magnus Manifesto which already features a lot of my headcanons anyway daoisjdaojdsaoi also i have both an adhd magnus tag and a general meta as well as a magnus meta tag (shut up i like keeping things organized okay) so you can read more stuff ive written on/that includes the subject if you want. but anyway! let me scramble up some particular headcanons out of my little peanut brain

ok i guess i can start with what i said about him having like, a lot of expertise on a bunch of unrelated topics that ends up on him having a curriculum that’s like. invented the portal, fluent in 14th century albanian, specialist in rattlesnake venom, healing magic, and endocrinology, knows how to build one (1) highly specific model of plane, PHD in the javanese herbal flora and a master’s in wormholes… and it just keeps going lmao 

i kind of envision magnus having the type of adhd where his hyperfixations last a long time and are usually related to like, Solving A Problem or Figuring Out Something - take the portal for example. he set his mind to it, right, he wants to create teleportion! and he’s gonna hyperfocus on that and learn everything there is to learn until he figures out how to do that, and then he blinks and 10 years have passed and he’s just, like, been doing that. but now that it’s done, great! onto the next topic! and it begins again daoids

i mean over time he probably got better at managing hyperfixations and still like functioning, especially because you know, as high warlock he can’t go around getting distracted and immersed in whatever the fuck he finds fitting, but that’s definitely his natural state, so to speak. he’s naturaly curious and he likes to create and alter the world around him, so he’s drawn to sciences and inventions, but pretty much everything inside that is fair game. also languages! they are useful, especially but not just for a warlock, and uncover so much about a culture and their worldview. i can definitely see him hyperfixating on translations and languages and getting absolutely immersed in those, not stopping studying until he’s absolutely fluent, even if only in a specific dialect from a specific time lmao. it’s not like it’s a problem because as a warlock he reads a lot of ancient texts. and understanding the language means understanding the exact workings of whatever spell he’s using, so again, very useful! 

also like, this is 100% projection, but jesus, time blindness. like i’m time blind as all fuck i’m the time blindest bitch i know it’s incredible, and i hc magnus as having a huge problem with that. and as an immortal, it only gets trickier. was this yesterday? was it in the 18th century? who knows! certainly not him. and after a while of immortality your notion of time is bound to get thwarped, in the same way that a year seemed like a long time when i was a kid and seems like nothing to current me - the more you live, the shorter any length of time seems to last. so he’s going to be like “this was two weeks ago” when in reality it was in the 30s. it might get him some pretty bad shocks, too, like for instance when one of his cats dies of old age - they already live so little, and the more time passes, the less that seems to be to magnus. and he might even feel guilty over that, like, i didn’t even enjoy that cat’s life, it felt to me like i found them yesterday, and now they’re gone, what kind of person am i 

that’s not true of course, he’s always taken care of his cats wonderfully, but it might feel that way for him sometimes, feel like he barely registered they were there and it all passed so quickly even if that’s not really what happened 

and sometimes panicking, like, how long has it been since i met (mortal)? are they close to dying? how much time do we have? how long did i spend worrying about the portal instead of being with them? and just spiralling into anxiety because he can’t trust his own perception of time and it’s like, suddenly, he doesn’t know

not gonna think about magnus waking up in the middle of the night before alec becomes immortal worried that it’s been longer than he thinks, that he thinks it’s been a few years but it’s actually been decades, and what if he turns around and finds that alec is greying and dying and he’s going to lose him without even noticing? is this going to slip through his fingers before he notices, because magnus will never forgive himself if it does. haha yeah definitely not gonna think about that, nope. i’m fine

but also just stupider things with time blindness, like being like “oh wow, did that restaurant i liked close? has it really been this long since i’ve last been here?” “hm. it says here that this has been a residential building for the last 30 years.” “has it???” 

getting centuries mixed up, even if he has very obvious cues to figure out where something took place (like clothing and whatnot) but sometimes he doesn’t think of doing that and just spits out however long it feels like it has been (because like idk about other people but for me time blindness comes with a very clear sense of certainty? like i’ll be like i am absolutely, completely sure that this was a week ago. but then i look and it was two months ago or last year or when i was a kid) and it’s just wildly wrong

over time he learns to always do actual calculations in his head instead of trusting his gut so as to avoid embarrassment and even scorn - oh look i’m making myself sad again god damn it - and he becomes very quick at calculating and figuring it out from cues, like “ah this clothing is from the victorian era, this material wasn’t invented before (x year), i met this person on that year…. so it’s year x”. he kind of has annotations on that so he can keep up. he doesn’t know the years and dates because of his own memories, but from like, a history-studying standpoint lmao it’s a little wack but he manages

every once in a while tho, especially when he’s with alec or his friends, he slips up, and it’s funny. especially because alec has like. an annoyingly good memory, especially with dates, so he can say the exact date that they had a specific conversation without even thinking. so magnus will be like “alexander remember last week when you made me soto ayam?” and alec will give him that shit eating grin and be like “the last time i made you soto ayam was 3 months and 12 days ago” and magnus is just like UGGGHHH and alec makes fun of him for it lmao 

but hey at least they can make up for each other’s weaknesses when it comes to that duahsda but it’s frustrating because it’s one thing that alec is effortlessly good at while magnus is very bad at, and there aren’t a lot of these - especially since magnus has had so much time and so many interests, he’s way more likely to know his way and be good with something than alec, who’s been raised in a military society where interests of any kind weren’t welcome. so it’s frustrating and by god is alec smug about it

and okay i think that’s big enough for now doaijdsaodaj i apologize for the huge incoherent ramble and also for taking so long to reply, i’m just Like This. i hope you liked my answer anyway doauhdaihdsa and thank you again for this wonderful submission, few things make me happier than getting lengthy headcanons shared with me :) 

[virgosaturn]

how the venus signs behave when they like someone 💗

actual user testimonials. 

aries venus

“I’m really irritating if I’m interested 😂 like I gotta push all your buttons, tease you, and I looooove some witty back and forth. gotta find out if they can keep up! I can also be very touchy, but not in a sexual way?? like in a playful ‘let’s wrestle’ kind of way 😂 I know I know wtf” 

“I’m very jealous, I don’t want someone to touch or to talk with who I like (a lot). I’m Taurus Sun, so even if Aries is like ‘CHARGE’! Taurus is like ‘Calm down man’. I’m possessive and I give everything I have, of course. I’m very passional and protective with I love the most. I love hugs. Sometimes I do things too quickly and I don’t want to wait too much.”

“I tend to be very teasing and like to make fun of my crush (not in a mean way, just in a fun way)”

taurus venus

“I tend to either cut a romantic relationship after about either a day or a week OR stay in the relationship, I fall in love over and over again. Very "tsundere" type in relationships (personally), takes a lot to let someone in. If I'm really, and truly into someone I pursue it methodically (sometimes). Bonding over food, sleep, intimacy, feeling safe. I notice little details too, I like to nurture A LOT. I adore comfortable silence the most.”

“I'm warm and caring towards all people (gemini sun) but I love touch, holding hands, flirting, kissing. Friends to lovers is where it's at. And loving friends like lovers. Sharing tea, watching the stars, dancing, listening to music, good conversation and laughing can make me fall in love with anyone.”

gemini venus

“When I like someone, I will talk their ear off. Of course, I’ll try to get as close as possible to them, but I always feel like communication is key + its the easiest way to flirt for me”

“I am normally outgoing but when I like someone I just tend to ignore them tbh. But I would start dressing nicer, or saying hey in the hallways or wherever, and try to get close to them physically. But act nonchalant towards them and talkative to everybody else.”

“Usually kind of take on person x’s personality traits without thinking about it, if they regularly use slang like ‘homeslice’ or ‘chief’ i’ll unknowingly start using them in everyday conversation”

“I try to make them laugh, I try to seem like I’m interested in the things they’re interested in, and tell them a bit about my interests. The night I first met my boyfriend I was watching an nfl game and I explained all the rules of football lmao I just try to seem interesting I guess”

“I act very flirty and try to make witty jokes and make them laugh and try to have conversations with them whenever possible”

cancer venus

“Im super picky about who I like and at first I can be very like ‘ruN away and never be near them’ at first when I actually find someone I like but then I get SUPER ‘I want to make you feel so 100000% supported and loved and I’m gonna knit you blanket n give you so many thoughtful gifts and show my affection by caring with my whole heart’”

leo venus

“I try so much harder to look good! i start fluffing my hair, wearing makeup, thinking through what i wear. i try to become the center of attention in any situation in a lowkey way.”

“I'm a very reserved and shy person, but when someone I like is around me I don't go all shy and passive... My bold and flirty side comes out hungry for their attention, I don't even know how it happens. I want to show I'm the best. You can see it in my voice, eyes, corporal gestures and even how I talk (vocabulary and some insinuations). Love gives me the strength to be what I want to hide.” 

"I approach it the same way as you — focus more on appearance. I also make sure to pay more attention to them in case they're upset or anything & ask if they're okay 😅”

virgo venus

“I usually make a lot of eye contact and try to find a subject of discussion with the person i like. i also giggle a lot and become a little extra sarcastic”

libra venus

“I get shy around them. I usually try not to make it known, and when we are alone, I get super awkward, and introverted. But around when we're around other people, I unintentionally flirt a lot with them, and crack jokes like its no one's business.”

“At first I will just be really nice and friendly. Once we've become closer as friends I'll start joke flirting and looking for any excuse to touch them. Usually, softly rubbing their arm in a distracted way so they don't think it's intentional (but it IS 😏). I can sometimes feel myself getting too obvious and giving "those" eyes and I can't stop myself?? Like bitch stop!! But she won't.”

“I start to dress super nice and flattering, make sure my makeup is PERFECT, and make extra sure to smell super nice. I make shy eye contact, get interested in what they're saying, compliment their fashion taste, help them out when they need it, and laugh at their jokes. I also make sure not be around them too much. Like I make them want me and want to see me again by doing all those things above, but also by not being always around. (idk my English is mediocre lmao)”

scorpio venus

“I'm a Scorpio Venus and I'm actually the worst person to when it comes to crushes. As soon as I realize that I like someone I go and act like I don't care about them. Not ignoring per say, just sort of playing hard to get. I think as soon as you become more elusive, people take an interest. It's only when I get more comfortable with that crush/they get more comfortable with me or start pursuing me, I start playfully teasing or making jokes. That might just be my Sag Sun though lol”

“I try to get their attention as much as I can, weather it be by wearing a nice perfume around them, dressing a little more provocative, if I know they like me then I’ll get WAY more risky and tease them a lot. I like playing hard to get, make them want me, you know.”

“When I like somebody, i try to know all of their secrets and thoughts that they keep to themselves.”

sagittarius venus

“I like to Make people laugh and I’m very friendly and outgoing when I like someone but at the same time it’s in the 10th house so I like to play hard to get”

“I like it natural and casual. I do not force it too much but whenever I can, I try to make the other person laugh. I like to play a little hard to get too. I like the chase. I like games, I like teasing, I like jokes, laughter. I want a partner in crime. I like making out close to nature.”

capricorn venus

“When I like someone I tend to start giving them a lot of gifts and become a lot more willing to do favors or other things for them, As far as like appearances go I get more relaxed about the state they see me in”

“When I like someone I do not make eye contact. If I do though, things get too heavy for me and I look away immediately. I won't really go near you in fear of looking desperate or out of place in any way. I may also seem too serious and self composed but it's only because I'm scared to look like a fool when I want to impress someone. God damnit Saturn 😅”

aquarius venus

"Someone being authentically themselves and not smothering me is ideal, also talking about deeper things versus small talk is really important to me”

pisces venus

“When i have a crush on someone i can’t help but get nervous around them, but even then i’ll still try/want to be around them. i’ll want to joke around with them and unknowingly AND knowingly flirt. but mostly i just like to mess around and have fun and be cute together”

“I’m always very playful around the person i like. i’m more likely to make very silly jokes and tease them. i also like to make things for them or give gifts? i tend to be a lot softer & sweeter towards them than other people. i’m also indirect and shy as fuck and will rarely approach them or reach out to them first, and instead wait until they notice me”

“It can be very hard to tell when i like someone because i HATE getting rejected?! usually i put more effort into making them laugh (or laughing if they would rather make me laugh) and i'm always wanting them to feel understood/nurtured. Can be flighty depending on mood but when i am around them i put a lot of effort into making it quality time™”

“When i like someone im quite shy around them like one time i was walking thru the school hallway and i saw my crush was walking my way i literally dash and ran away from him yea..... 🙂”

[kpoptionate]

skz ➾ boyfriend!changbin

stray kids masterlist // official masterlist

07.17.18

requested: anon

a/n: thank you for requesting babes <3 sorry it’s not as long as i had hoped it would be, but i’ll have the hyunjin one up soon :)

woojin // bangchan // minho // changbin // hyunjin // jisung // felix // seungmin // jeongin

so help me mister if you don’t put that damn tongue back where it belongs

s e o  c h a n g b i n

sigh

idk where to start with him tbh

this boy was and is shy so he didn’t talk much to you at all

but you thought he was cute and you liked his dark personality and you wanted to talk to him but he always kinda ignored you

and you weren’t having it

so you walked up to someone you knew to be his friend one day

his name was minah or something, you couldn’t really remember

“hey, changbin ignores me a lot, you know anything about that?”

turns out his name was minho

and all he gave you for an answer was a goofy shrug as he tried to hide a smile and walked away

so you knew something was up

and you were gonna find out what it was

you and your friends set out on a mission

they started hanging out with changbin’s friends

and one got some dirt that the reason changbin was ignoring you was because he likes you ! and he’s shy ! how cute

but of course this gave you all the more reason to try to talk to him

so that’s what you’re trying to do

at first he was really awkward

but he warmed up to you soon enough and you found out his personality is actually quite soft and bubbly

eventually he gathered up the courage to ask you on a date

nothing special or romantic, the two of you ordered chinese takeout to his studio while he showed you some stuff and how he worked on songs

the two of you just talked and chilled the whole time and had fun

talking about everything and nothing

til you decided it was time for you to go

it was late at night so he walked you to your apartment

before you opened your door you turned to face changbin, hesitantly leaning for a kiss before ultimately deciding a hug was a better option

which he noticed

and definitely didn’t like

as you went to go inside he grabbed your wrist and turned you around and smashed his lips against yours

wow where did this confidence boost come from

shy binnie no more

since he was already on the track, he decided to ask you to the big question™

“y/n i know it’s kind of sudden and we haven’t known each other for long but do you wanna be my boyfriend/girlfriend ?”

okay now that y’all are a thing

this boy is soft™

if you ask him for anything at all he’ll get it for you in a heartbeat

likes buying you things and making you feel special

mostly jewelry and watches

loves it when you wear his clothes

especially his hats and sweatshirts

you look so cute asdhjfkdfd he loves you so much aww

he might be the first to say ily, he might not, it could go either way

if you were the first one to say it he would feel obligated to return it

if he was the first one, you two were probably cuddling late at night while you were asleep

he gently ran his fingers through your hair as he kissed your temple, whispering “i love you” before nuzzling his face in your neck and falling asleep as well

you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were awake the whole time tho

y’all probably wouldn’t argue much only because he leaves the room when he gets upset or angry

him being upset at you either comes from:

a. he has a really bad day and you trying to help just annoys him and bothers to him to no end (if he has a bad day pls just let him rest)

b. he got jealous

probably b tbh

he definitely gets jealous easily

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he does with his life

he just doesn’t want anybody else to get your affection

or for anybody else to have the thoughts of being with you

because you’re his and only his

so when he sees someone flirting with you and you’re completely oblivious to it, he kinda sees it as you just letting it happen and going with it

so he gets pretty pissed, probably ignores you until you confront him about it and tell him he’s making it a bigger deal than it needs to be

you didn’t mean for it to come out rude

then he starts yelling :’(

”goddammit, y/n, because you sat there and flirted with another guy in front of my fucking face, how the hell do you expect me to react !?”

listens to you when you burst into tears in front of him, he feels responsible for making you feel hurt and he probably wants to cry too

then he’ll take you on a fancy date to make up for it and y’all probably won’t argue again for a whileeeeee, he did his best to control his emotions afterwards

he only does fancy dates on rare occasions, only after arguments or on anniversaries

but the majority of the time it’s little dates like takeout at the studio or coffee at the cafe or a walk in the park

then he’ll take you out for ice cream then y’all will go back to the dorms

watching movies for hours snuggled on the couch together

he is always touching you

a l w a y s

doesn’t matter where you are, who you’re with

he has to be touching you in some way

lacing your fingers together, an arm around your shoulder as you walk out in public, but if he’s around the guys he’s completely comfortable cuddling and smothering you to death

likes being the big spoon and the little one, it depends

if you’re sitting on the floor or something he likes to feel his back against your chest and his waist in between your legs

likes it when you run your hands through his hair while looking him in the eyes

and being kissed behind the ear

and the cheek

and forehead

likes you kissing him in general

he absolutely loves it when you baby him, it makes him feel loved when you want to take care of him

when he’s the big spoon, expect his face nuzzled in your neck

doesn’t like kissing you in front of the members though

but when you’re alone 

oh boy ;)

he still doesn’t kiss you often lmaooo

idk if it’s because he’s shy or what, he just doesn’t strike me as a heavy kisser

but when you do, lordy

prefers you straddling his lap while his hands rest on your hips

def a tease

will kiss you on your cheek and make a trail leading to the corner of your lips, then just as you prepare for a kiss

he goes to the other corner

slowly and lazily leaves hickeys down your neck and collarbones

lightly swipes his lips against yours like he’s gonna kiss you but doesn’t

giggles when you grab his face and hold him still so you can kiss him

lazily grazing your tongue with his

groans a little if you lightly suck it or bite his lip

loves running his hands underneath your shirt

definitely a boob guy

lowkey loves it when you press yours against his chest (if you have them)

goes crazy when you roll your hips against him

tries not to but can’t help bucking his hips up against you

probably more grinding than sex tbh

he reserves it for when he’s had a long day at work and needs it to relax

but when y’all do

oh boy

you’re in for a ride hun

but that’s a story for another time ;)

overall changbin is somebody who cares for you a lot and would expect the same back to him

although he can get angry at you sometimes, just know it’s only because he loves you so much and couldn’t bear to lose you or see you hurt

please take care of him, he just wants the best for you

feel free to send in any requests, asks, comments, i don’t mind, i’ll answer anything :)