#the final shot of her onstage looking around at everything grinning her face off

[untimelyambition]

i owe my entire life to whoever filmed erika’s last show. that video is my everything <3 i see stars continues to reduce me to tears with every watch

[dandelionflower]

(Some salt fic september)

Francois DuPont was an artistic school. With talented students varying from designers, to journalists, to DJs, to comic artists and writers. The art room of the school was always the busiest, the loudest, and the favorite room of the school.

So it would make sense for the school to have a yearly showcase. It was called a talent show once upon a time, but eventually the staff and students agreed that ‘talent show’ didn’t suit the talents the students were bringing to the table. Thus, the Francois DuPont showcase was born.

Students worked for months on their piece for the showcase. More than fifty percent of the works in the art room were pieces for the showcase.

It wasn’t mandatory by any means, but most students with a talent in the arts would participate. But with almost all the students participating and some having more than one piece to showcase, the show usually lasted a few days.

Lila, of course, didn’t know any of that so when asked if she was participating in the showcase in a few months, she grinned and said “Of course!”

Alya lit up. “Great! It’s going to be my first showcase too, and I want someone who knows what I’m going through. C’mon, we have to sign up.” And she dragged her into the halls.

Sign up? But it’s in three months. Lila shrugged and allowed herself to be pulled to the sign up sheets.

Alya immediately wrote her name underneath the ‘verbal’ column, putting a ‘journalism’ next to it.

Lila surveyed the options. The easiest thing to fake would probably be photography, so she marked her name under ‘media’ and wrote a ‘photography’ next to it.

“Ooh, photography? What do you take pictures of? Because I know Mari’s been looking for a partner to take pictures of her designs with her.”

Lila bit back a grimace. “Thanks, but I prefer to take pictures of...” Art? Buildings? “Nature. I find that taking pictures of people is narcissistic as a society.”

“Aren’t you a model?” A judgmental voice came from behind her.

“I- well-“ She stuttered.

“It’s completely different, Felix! Lila doesn’t think her photo shoots are art worthy, she’s just doing it as a job.” Alya snapped, throwing an arm out to almost shield Lila from the chill radiating from Felix’s entire person.

“Very well.” Felix stepped around the two and signed his name in perfect cursive beneath Lila’s name and walked away without another word.

“That guy gives me the creeps.” Alix remarked as she scratched her name under the ‘performance’ column, then the ‘piece of art that cannot be moved’ section.

“And he’s doing photography too! Don’t worry Lila, there’s no way he’s better than you.” Alya grabbed her arm reassuringly and began walking with her back to class.

“Yeah, right...” Lila held in a wince as she found her way back to her seat.

Surely photography can’t be that hard.

—

It was that hard.

Lila had waited one week before the showcase to start taking pictures on her phone. She walked to the park and snapped a few pictures, called it a day, and went home.

They were terrible. Blurry, ugly, terrible.

The next thing she tried was looking up stock images and photoshopping the watermark off.

She was awful at photoshop.

Finally, she resorted to her escape plan.

“Sorry, Alya. But I completely forgot that I’m volunteering at the elementary school all day on the day of the showcase, and I can’t just cancel on them. I’m so sorry.”

“Girl, it’s no problem! Marinette told me that the showcase is going to go on for four days. We’ll just reschedule your slot. It’s no problem at all.”

“Great.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “See you then.”

...crap.

She had only one plan now.

And it was risky.

—

Lila walked into class on Monday, prepared for her showcase.

She explained to Alya that when she explained what was going on to the leader of her organization, they gave her a rain check.

“I’m just so thankful.” She brushed away a tear. “I really wanted to make sure I could see everyone’s talents.”

“That’s so sweet!” Rose cooed. “I can’t wait to see your pictures either!”

“I just hope they correctly portray the beauty of my subject...” Lila pressed a hand to her chest in modesty.

“Students, I need all of the media students to come to the art classroom with your flash drives and cameras.” Miss Bustier put her phone down and smiled. “And anyone who paired with a media student for their talent please also join the students in the art room.”

Lila stood and gave everyone a hug. “Wish me luck!”

She noticed Sabrina stand as well and accept a half hearted hug from Chloe and a nod of support from Max. Juleka stood too and hugged Rose tight.

“Bye Alya! Wish me luck.” Marinette appeared from seemingly nowhere and hugged Alya tight. “And don’t be worried about your presentation. We’ll find some time to rehearse before tomorrow.”

“Thanks girl. Look after Lila for me? She’s just as new as I am.”

Marinette’s eyes darkened for just a second, but she quickly broke into a grin. “No problem. And don’t be worried, Lila. I’m sure your photos are just unimaginable.”

“Thanks Marinette. That’s just so sweet of you.” They linked arms and waltzed out of the room.

The moment they were out of eye shot of any of their classmates, they stepped aside.

“You don’t even have pictures, do you?” Marinette growled.

“What do you mean Marinette? Of course I have pictures.” She smirked. Or at least, I will in just a minute.

—

The art room was bustling and chaotic. Perfect for a camera or flash drive to go missing.

Marinette was bombarded by a group of kids from Felix’s class.

“Ready to see the product of our hard work?” A girl with two dark buns on the top of her head asked.

“I hope so.” She gave them a bashful smile.

Lila stopped paying attention. She had a goal in mind.

Her eyes landed on an expensive looking camera sitting on a desk at the side of the room. A sitting duck.

With a side glance for witnesses, Lila walked right by the camera and slipped the memory card right out and into her awaiting palm.

With her goal met, she sat primly in her chair, waiting for them to be called to the stage.

“Alright, photographers, models, actors, directors!” The art teacher stood. “Let’s go!”

Lila skipped up to him, a look of concern on her face. “Sir?”

“Yes Lila?”

“My camera broke on my way here and all I have left of it is my memory card; is there still a way for me to present my photos?”

“Of course there is. Don’t you worry a bit.”

“Perfect!” She grinned.

Once backstage, each student needed to give the teacher their SD cards or cameras and wait to be called onstage to describe their works to the audience.

Lila spared a quick glance towards the onlookers. Talent scouts of every kind were sitting in plush, reserved seats, notebooks and pens at the ready.

She was the first one up, the first one they would see and, unless she used all of her charisma and improvising skill, the first one they would forget.

“...and now, Lila Rossi with her photography!”

Lila strutted out to the greetings of applause.

“Hello, and let me just say I am so honored to be here today, especially considering that a year ago I wasn’t expected to be able to walk to school every day. Photography was really the only thing that got me through the day.”

A murmur of pity rippled through the crowd.

“Pictures like this one.” She pressed the clicker and a picture appeared on the screen behind her.

A picture of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, mid-twirl in a beautiful hand-made dress.

Lila heard Alya gasp.

“I wanted to show simultaneously the mundanity of walking and the undeniable splendor of it. My dear friend Marinette had some designs she was willing to model for me to help achieve my goal. Marinette, come on out!” She held a hand out, daring Marinette to come out from where she was waiting to go next along with her other friends.

Felix stood behind her with a look of horror and disgust on his face; and a particularly fancy camera hanging around his neck. A very familiar camera.

“No? Okay then.” She turned back to the crowd. “She’ll be out with a different group; Mari doesn’t want me to have to share the spotlight, isn’t she sweet?”

The crowd applauded and Lila continued making up technical terms and thought processes for each photo, all of which were of Marinette in different designs.

“Thank you.” She bowed deep before walking off the stage.

Now to hold her breath and hope that Marinette, Felix and all their friends were too chicken to call her out onstage.

—

“Now, with their short film; ‘solving love,’ please welcome Bridgette Cheng, Claude Lambert, Mercury Bernard, Allegra Harthorn, Felix Culpa, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hey everybody!” A boy with brown hair and a blue striped shirt grabbed the mic and shouted. “How are we doing today?”

A scattered amount of applause.

“Nice! I’m Claude, and this is Bridgette.”

The girl with the buns waved.

“We were the main idea folks for this video; but the idea only came after the filming.”

Bridgette grabbed the mic. “We asked out friends if we could film them, and then a few weeks ago, we reviewed the film and noticed something... interesting.”

“Allegra here,” a girl with a long blonde braid waved, “did the music and Mercury,” a boy with dark glasses and a green beret, “did the narration. You’ll be seeing more of them soon. My cousin Mari,” Marinette waved, “and Felix are the main subjects of the film. You would have seen more of them, but for some reason Felix’s memory card went missing.”

Lila swallowed, this wasn’t great. The seeds of dissent were planted and now she had to risk either spinning another fake story or hoping that it all went well.

It’s not like they had any proof though; she should be fine.

“Anyway, here’s ‘Solving Love.’”

They all stepped to the side and the video began with a smooth piano.

“Love.” The screen showed couples going up to Andre’s and sharing ice cream. “The answer to everything. To ourselves, to the meaning of life, to the questions we cannot ask.”

“But how? How do we get from complete strangers, to people so close they are the same person?” The video changed to a showing of Marinette and Felix shaking hands, both with sardonic smirks. “People rarely get to see the entire process of when people fall in love; there are always pieces missing, hidden moments only for the people in question to recall. Love is left for the investigator to discover for themselves, when the time is right.”

“But maybe,” it showed Marinette talking animatedly, as Felix yawns beside her, “maybe one day, we’ll be lucky enough to see most of the picture.” Felix’s eyes droop and his head falls to rest atop Marinette’s, in the beginnings of a nap. Marinette flushes red.

The rest of the video shows the stages of Marinette and Felix’s relationship, from sarcastic rivals, to peers, to friends, to partners. The narrator described different relationships and how love is a constant through all of them.

The video showed Marinette dancing, twirling in a brilliant dress as Felix kneels and snaps pictures. “Ah, but is this all of it?” They lean down for a swift kiss. The image pauses there. “The full picture? Or is it only a snapshot,” the screen lights up white, “a minor clue, to solving love?”

The auditorium was quiet for what seemed like minutes. Then, the room burst into uproarious applause; a standing ovation.

Lila growled as she turned to sulk and maybe get her makeup so she could fake an injury and get some pity points to heal her bruised ego.

She ran face first into the grey suit of Mr. Damocles.

“Oh, hello sir.” She beamed. “Is there a problem?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes Miss Rossi, there is. Did you take those pictures of Miss Dupain-Cheng? Because that video tells a different story.”

“Yes sir, I swear it.”

“You swear it, huh? Well you best come with me to the office. Miss Dupain-Cheng and her friends will join us when they’re done.”

“What?”

“Miss Rossi, you are accused of stealing Mr Culpa and Miss Dupain-Cheng’s creative work. We will be calling your mother to discuss this.”

Back on stage the crowd of students and talent agents alike had taken to shouting questions to the group of students.

[spacedikut]

starstruck ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “Can I request some age gap Spencer x reader. Maybe he’s nervous about approaching her for a relationship bc she’s younger, but he’s so goofy for her it’s he’s in love obvious. Pretty pls 🥺💕” 5222 words

a/n: i didn’t specify ages cause i wasn’t sure what people would be comfortable with so i just mentioned an age gap and leave the rest up to you!! i would happily date someone twice my age but i also have daddy issues so :)

masterlist

The day has finally arrived.

Mollie can call you a nerd all she wants, but you know the second she lays eyes on Derek Morgan or Emily Prentiss she’ll change her tune.

This event has been in the university’s calendar since the beginning of the semester. At least two members of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit were promised to give a talk about their department, even taking you through a solved case like an interactive documentary, to encourage students to consider joining the academy post-graduation. There was whispers they’d even stick around after to answer some questions.

Your other friend, Jen, the one that understands your excitement, wrote your names down for tickets immediately. You’ve had a countdown on your phone ever since.

“They’ve announced a last-minute guest,” She beams, just as giddy as you. You’re wasting time at the coffee house near the auditorium, waiting for Mollie to arrive.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You almost drop your cookie in shock and stare at her, pupils blown.

“You’re a big fan?” She smirks.

As nonchalantly as you can, you lean back in your chair, “I’m a fan of his work, yes.”

“Oh, his work?”

“Don’t start.”

“I bet you love his work.”

“He’s well-versed and his papers are super interesting-“

“His papers are super interesting-“

“You are a child.”

Just then, Mollie appears, checking her watch. You wish you could kiss her in thanks for saving you from the teasing that would likely never end. “We’re gonna be late for your morbid seminar if you two don’t stop bickering.”

Jen downs the rest of her drink, you shove the last of the cookie in your mouth. Mollie watches your excitement in amusement – your heart starts pumping, whole body buzzing, the same nervousness you felt when you were a preteen right before your first ever One Direction concert. It’s the kind of nervousness that makes your palms sweaty.

Is it evolution or devolution to go from sweating over One Direction to sweating over FBI profilers?

+++

The seminar goes on for an hour, including the questions people ask throughout. It’s everything you could’ve asked for, entertaining and so, so informative and although you weren’t considering joining the FBI before, suddenly it’s all you can think about. Guest speakers have that affect, don’t they? They make you wonder if you should drastically change everything you’ve been planning.

Even Mollie, who you had to threaten to tag along, ended up enjoying herself. “Maybe I learnt a thing or two,” She’d said, rolling her eyes playfully.

You and your friends are some of the last to leave. There’s quite the bustling outside, which you assume is just post-seminar chatter, but you and Jen falter in your steps when you see the exact profilers that had been onstage several minutes ago in front of you, happily interacting and talking to fellow students.

“Oh, man,” Jen whispers, her and Mollie making eye contact across you. “I have to see if I can talk to Emily.”

Mollie encourages her with a frantic, “Go! Go!” while you’re rooted in place. Mollie jabs you with a pointed nail, “You in there, Y/N? I’m sure you have loads of questions for them-“

You stutter and shake your head, “N-no. I’m good. You can try and hit on Derek, if you want.”

You give a half-attempt at a smile, barely lifting the corners of your lips. Mollie recognises that look. She wants to stay with you, check you’re not too overwhelmed, but you shoo her away and send her towards Derek. You breathe a sigh of relief – you’ve been friends with her long enough that she knows when you need space.

There’s something about seeing people you admire so abruptly that totally throws you for a loop. All you had prepared for was seeing them from afar and subsequently talking about it forever, but nothing beyond that. In some circumstances, it’d be a pleasant surprise, but for someone that struggles around strangers and especially around people as admirable as profilers, you are not mentally prepared for this and have therefore shut down.

But then you see him.

He’s shuffling in place in the corner of the room, close to a large potted plant like it’s his only friend. He’s nibbling his lip as his eyes flutter around, never staying somewhere for longer than a second, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Why is no one talking to him? He’s Spencer Reid.

There’s a couple of people surrounding Emily, fully entranced by whatever story she’s relaying, another few people around Derek, chortling at a joke he just made. Spencer glances between them and their audiences, and you can’t help but wonder why he isn’t right next to them, chatting away, too.

Does he not want to talk to anyone?

You should talk to him.

No. He probably wants to be alone.

Or what if he doesn’t and no one else is talking to him which means you can have a one-on-one conversation? What about that?

Are you insane?

…

You have to talk to him.

Before you can change your mind, you’re approaching him with a tight grip on the handle of your bag, pushing it higher up your shoulder. He spots you and makes eye contact just as you stop in front of him, and you notice he momentarily tightens his grip on his satchel.

Was this a bad idea?

“Hi,” You breathe, “I’m Y/N. A big fan.”

His eyes widen a fraction, which you don’t understand because why else would you be here, but he smiles nonetheless, “Hi, I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know. That makes sense, because you were in the seminar. I saw you.”

Now you’re shocked. For as long as you can remember you never sit in the centre of a room, where most attention seems to go, so how did he-

“I-I always scan the room I’m in its.. it’s not a creepy thing, I swear. I’m not creepy.”

A laugh escapes you at that, making him visibly relax. “I don’t think you’re creepy. There was just.. a lot of people in there, so I’m surprised you remember my face.” You shrug.

I couldn’t forget such a beautiful face.

You don’t know what happens, but Spencer suddenly tenses up. His back straightens and he looks alarm, stiff.

Did he just think that? What.. why did he think that?

You wonder if you’ve said something wrong, so you try to change the topic.

“I-I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

Spencer nods with an of course, and when the question rolls off your tongue, his mind is still reeling from subconsciously calling you beautiful in his head. It’s not untrue, but it feels.. inappropriate. He doesn’t know why. But you are beautiful.

As he scans your face, now much closer than in the auditorium, he realises yeah, you are incredibly beautiful.

You wave a hand in front of his face, “Doctor Reid?”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. What are you studying?”

There’s a light in your eyes that Spencer recognises when you say, “Psychology.”

“Thought so.”

“You probably talk to a lot of psychology students. I-um. I almost went to Caltech,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, "After I read your dissertation, it really inspired me to look into it – your dissertation is incredible, by the way.”

Spencer smiles bashfully, a futile attempt to not allow the grin to overtake his face, and thanks you, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was sixteen when I wrote it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Your eyes widen, “You’re insane! You’re amazing!”

The praise bursts from you, and his blushing face makes you oddly proud. On the other hand, Spencer feels like you’ve set him alight, his blood pumping loudly in his ears, as he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your smile.

He desperately needs to change the topic.

“To answer your question…”

Derek notices you two interacting across the room. Mollie sees him looking and hums, “Oh, that’s Y/N, my best friend. She really likes Spencer.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he really likes her.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll collapse.”

They both watch you for a second, Spencer flailing his arms as he explains, you eagerly adding to his rambling, asking a question here and exclaiming some kind of encouragement there. It’s sweet, Derek thinks.

“Hey..” Mollie begins, a scheming look in her eye, “We’re planning to hang out in the campus bar later. It’s open to all and the drinks are cheap. If you and Emily happen to find yourselves looking for something to do and you drag Spencer along.. I’m sure Y/N would like it.”

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

“She’s getting hit on. Again.” You giggle, gesturing for Jen to turn around and witness Mollie get your drinks paid for by a random guy.

She’s always been a people person – it’s saved you hundreds on nights out.

All Jen does is glance over her shoulder, scoff, then turn her sceptical eyes to you.

“I saw you and Spencer Reid.” She says, twinkling eyes. She’s trying not to look smug.

“I almost proposed to him.” You joke, taking your drink from Mollie with a mumbled thanks.

“Oh, I bet you did,” She laughs, “You two looked sooo good together.”

“Alright,” You slide a shot to each girl, “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’m taking that compliment and cherishing it. Spencer Reid is cute, what of it?!”

You clink the shot glasses with your friends and down them, all wincing at the taste and giggling at Jen when she takes a gulp of her cocktail to wash away the taste of straight vodka.

“How did talking to Derek and Emily go?”

And then Jen starts chattering away.

You miss the bar door opening behind you, But Mollie notices. She’s been watching the door since they got here, conveniently choosing the table with the best view, just in case some profilers decided to stop by.

Derek catches Mollie’s eye and winks.

“Well I never,” Mollie fakes shock, “Look who just walked through the doors.”

You turn and choke on your drink. Emily and Derek look relax, like they’re home, but Spencer?

He looks just like he did earlier: like there’s a million places he’d rather be.

He’s lost the blazer he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a fitted purple shirt with a matching tie. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can see his firm hands and the silver watch that rests on his wrist – is it possible for a watch to be sexy? Or maybe it’s just cause he’s sexy?

That shot must be getting to you.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You hiss, a sharp whisper piercing the air as you turn and (terribly) try to hide your face.

But Spencer’s seen you. He spotted you the moment they came in – he recognised your clothes and your hair – and the second he did he turned right back around to exit the bar. Derek’s arm stopped him at his chest, like he does to unsubs, forcefully turning him around and laughing when Spencer tensed up.

“What, Reid? Scared of a pretty girl?” Derek teases, much like he’d been doing since he spoke to you earlier.

“I am scared of college girls, yes. Last time I was in a college bar I was twelve and downed shots of apple juice.”

“What?!” Both Emily and Derek stop short, looks of disbelief at the revelation. “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We,” Derek places his hands on Spencer’s shoulders, directing him to your table, “Are just gonna have a few drinks and talk to a few people, and then you’re gonna explain that apple juice story in explicit detail- hey ladies!”

Jen and Mollie look overjoyed at the new company, while you stare rigidly with distinctive what the fuck eyes.

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Emily asks, with a sparkling grin that no one could say no to.

“Of course not,” Jen grins, like it’s the most obvious answer.

The empty seat next to you is taken by Spencer (Derek discreetly shoves him) but right before he’s firmly placed on the stool, Emily calls out, “Spence, why don’t you get us some drinks? You still owe us after you lost that game of gin..”

“I didn’t lose.” Spencer huffs indignantly, “You cheated.”

Despite his grunts, he stands to make his way to the bar, but not before-

“Y/N!” Mollie beams, “It’s your turn to get the round, if you’d be so kind.”

You know that look on her face. You hate her, you realise, but you also love her because being alone with Spencer sends a thrill through you.

Alone with Spencer. What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

You follow him to the bar. He leans against it with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“It’s uh.. it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother.” It’s a half attempt at a joke, followed by instant regret. But then you giggle and everything feels right in the world, even Spencer’s sucky joke.

“It has been a while, Doctor Reid.” You say. The bartender approaches, takes your orders, then you turn to Spencer, “What brings you to a college bar, of all places?”

“Well,” Spencer glances over your shoulder to your table. He makes eye contact with every single person there, all watching you two interact, and they all sharply turn and try to play it off like they’ve been talking casually. Spencer’s brows furrow a little. “Derek said the drinks are cheap and our hotel is only a couple blocks away. I don’t know, maybe Derek likes college girls.”

You laugh again, and Spencer has to take a second to realise you’re not laughing at him but at what he said about Derek. “Yeah, Derek seems like a real ladies man.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Spencer grins, “We once timed him to see how long it would take to get a girls number and he did it in five minutes. And he said he was having a bad day.”

The drinks are placed in front of you. Neither of you notice.

You unconsciously lean closer, saying, “Have you timed it to see how long it takes for a girl to approach him? That’s gotta be, like, maybe ten minutes?”

“Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Well damn. Has he always been so…” A hand gestures in the air, looking for the word.

“Promiscuous?”

“I was gonna say free.”

“Free?” Spencer giggles, “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrug, “I don’t judge.” Spencer agrees, and it slips out, “What about you?”

You wish you could shove the words back in your mouth. Even more so when his expression changes. You can’t entirely make out what it is, but even in the dimly lit bar you can see the flush of heat that spreads through his cheeks to his ears.

“Are you asking me if I’m free with the ladies?” He murmurs, suppressing a grin.

You give an awkward laugh, wondering if you’ve overstepped a boundary, “Yeah. But that’s kinda weird to ask, so-“

“I’m so popular with the ladies it puts Derek to shame.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “What? Really?”

Spencer caves. “No. Is it that hard to believe I’m a ladies man?”

“Compared to Derek? Yes.”

Spencer scoffs.

+++

“As adorable as they are, it’s been thirty minutes.” Emily sighs. “I want my drink.”

“They’re bonding,” Jen sends a wistful look, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m guessing Y/N isn’t the most social either?” Derek asks, proudly watching you interact.

“She’s the best, just a little shy sometimes.” She smiles at you, even though you can’t see, “She’s an idiot, but our idiot, you know?”

Both Emily and Derek laugh airily, nodding with a, “Yeah, we know.”

At once, three phones vibrate throughout the bar – Emily, Derek and Spencer. They’re instantly filled with disappointment; Derek can’t watch Spencer attempt to flirt with a girl he’s obviously interested in, Emily still hasn’t got a drink, and Spencer has to leave you and he can’t think of anything worse.

He’s clearly hesitant when he looks at his phone. How does he say goodbye? Does he ask for your number? Would that be weird? That would be weird.

“Uhh…”

You channel every ounce of liquid courage you have in your body and offer, “Would it be weird if I gave you my number? Just.. for anything. Anything at all.”

Spencer nods, a gentle look in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You mumble an alright, accepting Spencer’s phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

Please text me. You think. Please text me.

+++

He doesn’t text.

It’s been a week. A week. You know how cases are, some take longer than others and some are solved in literal hours, but it’s been a week, Spencer goddamn Reid, so why haven’t you texted me.

That’s when the doubt creeps in. Your friends keep telling you he’ll text, that he’s just busy (“He’s an FBI agent, Y/N. If you start dating you’re gonna have to get used to lapses in contact.” To which you’re too distracted choking at the mention of you two dating), but you can’t help but wonder if he took your number simply so he could leave quicker. He had a case to get to, after all. He had people to save.

Now you feel guilty. You forced your number on him, didn’t you? Oh God, he hates you. He hates you and you forced your number on him and he hasn’t texted you because he’s filing a restraining order against you because he hates you.

Mollie tells you you need a nap.

+++

Spencer spends the time on the jet back from the case staring at your number. He has it memorised, of course, and has had it memorised from the first time he read it, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything with it.

All he’s done is change your contact picture from the standard first letter of your name to a cute picture of a frog Garcia sent him. It reminds him of you.

Derek lowers his headphones, “You texted her yet, Pretty Boy?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer shrugs, locking his phone and placing it face down. “I don’t think anything would come from it.”

“Kid,” Derek leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, “You two talked for well over thirty minutes in the middle of a college bar about God knows what. Maybe I’m easy to impress, but that seemed pretty special to me.”

“How is talking in a college bar worth anything?”

“Because you’re Reid, who, most of the time, has to be physically dragged into a bar. You hate talking to strangers about anything other than work. Y/N? A stranger. What did you two talk about?”

“We talked about you a little.”

“Uhuh. About how good I am at my job?”

“God, no,” Spencer scrunches his nose, “We talked about your charm with the ladies.”

Derek falls back in his chair and scoffs, “I’m flattered, but that doesn’t sound like work-talk to me. So you’re comfortable with her. I saw you laughing, so she makes you laugh, too. Sounds pretty great to me.”

Spencer stares. Derek’s right, but..

“So what is it, Reid?”

Spencer licks his lips. “Do you think she’s too young for me?”

Derek rarely looks taken aback, but he does now, “Too young?”

“She’s in college. I’m-I’m-“

“A legal adult. As is she.”

Spencer slumps. “A 2014 Current Population Survey found the average difference for a heterosexual couple is two-point-three years, with the man older than the woman. Even if you double that, that’s still less than me and Y/N-“

“Four years isn’t a lot, Spence,”

“You just.. you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Derek’s conviction gives Spencer some reassurance, but he can’t help himself when he thinks that.. maybe.. you’ll find him boring. Most people seem to, with all his statistics and figures and facts, but with the added element of you living it up at college.. how could he compete?

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Reid. You haven’t even texted her, and you’re already worrying about stuff like age gaps?” Derek crosses his hands and looks at Spencer with determination, “She gave you her number. She initiated it. She knows who you are, so she knows how old you are and it doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable. So, why should it make you?”

Spencer just grunts.

“Are you worried people will say things?”

“I guess.”

“People always say things. You know that better than anyone. So screw ‘em.”

Spencer feels a smile creep onto his face.

And Derek relaxes. He’s planted the seeds, that Spencer is fretting over nothing, now all he’s got to do is wait for Spencer to let it sink in and allow the flowers to bloom and, next thing you know, Spencer’s gonna have himself the perfect girlfriend.

And Derek will take too much credit for it.

+++

“Heeeeeeeeey my precious Doctor…”

Garcia looks like her hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Spencer’s back straightens. “What did you do?”

She looks embarrassed, fiddling with the fluffy pen in her hand. She smiles awkwardly. “Derek may have told me about a pretty little college student that captured your heart, and then he told me you also haven’t texted her yet, so I did a little digging and…”

“You cyber-stalked Y/N?” Emily asks, casually. JJ seems unphased at the discussion. Does everyone in the office know about you?

“I did. I’m guilty. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She’s speaking a mile a minute.

Emily spares Spencer a glance, “Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

Concern fills Spencer. “Did something happen?”

“I just found some stuff she’d probably only tell a close friend and I feel really bad about it.” Her shoulders are by her ears as she tries to fold in on herself out of guilt, “But other than that she’s a genuinely sweet girl who volunteers at pet shelters and the college library in her free time and we have really similar music tastes so I think we’d make great friends.”

They all look to Spencer, waiting for his reaction. What? Is he supposed to be surprised that you’re the epitome of perfect? He’s not. He studied you the entire time you spoke.

“She’s also written several incredible papers on child development that I think are revolutionary and I totally emailed them to you because I think you should read them. She’s also a genius.”

Spencer’s hand twitches. He ignores the sudden need to check his email.

It’s silent as they just stare at him. He doesn’t say anything and tries not to react, but he does. They notice how his eyes flicker to his phone, how his leg fidgets, the longing in his eyes.

Emily brushes her hair back calmly and asks, “Hey, Pen, when does Y/N work at the college library?”

Penelope doesn’t catch on at first, casually replying, “Oh, basically every day from five pm onwards. They’re a twenty-four hour library and she combines working and studying.” When she sees Emily pointedly look at Spencer, she goes ohhh.

“Good to know,” Emily nods, “Good to know.”

+++

Spencer finds himself at the college library that night.

He wants to say it was an accident, or that he just happens to know there’s a special edition of a specific book here, but he’d be lying. He read your papers between reports, and found himself having a deep appreciation for the way you write – he wants to ready everything you’ve ever written. Every essay, every note, every formal and informal piece of work you’ve ever done.

He’s already fallen in love with the way you write. He doesn’t think he’s far from falling in love with you.

He wanders around the lower floor of the library. It’s impressive, he must admit, and he’s disappointed in himself for not visiting earlier. There’s students everywhere, but he notices some other people mixed in too – professors, businesspeople, as well as parents with their children.

He feels a little less weird for creeping around now.

Not that’s he’s creeping. He’s just.. there. To see a certain someone under the guise of looking for a book.

He moseys for a while, from the fiction section to the non-fiction to comics to autobiographies. You’re nowhere to be found – not between the rows of books, not working on any of the desks, not at the centre reception desk.

Until you’re suddenly behind him.

“Spencer?”

He jumps, looking up from the book he’s reading. Your voice is as calming and smooth as always.

“Y/N. Hi.”

“Hi,” Your brows are furrowed, but you’re not disappointed by the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts the book he’s holding, an Arthur Conan Doyle, giving a light lipped smile. “I’m just looking. I didn’t realise the college library was so plentiful – did you know the oldest library in the world dates from the seventh century BC?”

“I do, actually.” You point to a poster behind him, which displays that exact fact, “I thought dotting facts around the library would be interesting for the kids. They seem to like them.”

“Learning in young children is socially mediated, so good quality learning environments outside of their schools is crucial for children’s development. So, in a way, you’re enriching their lives beyond understanding.”

You’re flattered at his somewhat far-fetched attempt at complimenting you. It makes your heart flutter.

Why didn’t you contact me, you dimwit?

You open your mouth to ask another question, ask if there’s something he needs help finding, when he beats you to it.

With a firm grip, he slams the book he’s reading shut and says, “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come here to.. look around. I came here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to make of that. You haven’t awkwardly looked away, or stepped back to increase the distance between you. That means something good, right?

“You didn’t text me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” Your brows twitch, and you back-pedal, “Unless you purposely didn’t text me because you actually weren’t interested and you might be here to see me but for something book-related rather than me-related and I’ve totally humiliated myself.”

“No, no. You’re right. You’re right.” He fiddles with the book in shame, “I should’ve texted you. I just didn’t know what to say and.. Well, it’s stupid.”

Your head jerks a little to the side, something he’s noticed you do a lot, looking patient and too pretty for him to handle. “I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Spencer thinks back to his conversation with Derek, specifically the reminder that you gave him your number which means you initiated this so yes, you are interested in him.

It’s just.. when he looks at you, he struggles to believe it a little. You’re breath-taking.  

“I’m worried I’ll bore you.” He starts light, easing you into what’s been troubling him. He’s emboldened by the fact you’re clearly frustrated he didn’t text you.

You give him a look of horror, “The first time we met I told you I loved your dissertation on geographic regression. I definitely do not think you’re anything anywhere near boring.”

“Okay,” He nods, “What about our ages?”

You’re confused. “What about it?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “It doesn’t.. bother you?”

“Does it.. bother you?”

Usually, answering a question with a question is a sign of deflection, a sign of hiding something. However he doesn’t know why, but Spencer trusts you with his life. Maybe not his life. Maybe his heart.

“Does that silence mean yes?”

He shakes his head, “No. It doesn’t bother me. I just worry that, you know, college years are the so-called best years of your life and I don’t want you to regret being with me, someone older than you, and resent me for it, or something-“

“I think you’re getting way in your head, Spence.” You laugh a little, “We haven’t gone on a single date and you’ve convinced yourself of so much already. For the record, no, your age doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It never has and I doubt it ever will. I think you’re the most fascinating and interesting person on this planet, and if anyone is getting bored with anyone I’m pretty confident it’ll be you getting sick of me. And,” You take a breath, “I think I’m old enough to know what I want, who I want, and what I want is you. If you want me, too.”

Spencer shoves the book back into the bookshelf with a satisfying sound, then turns and quickly places a kiss onto your cheek. It’s completely unexpected and, quite frankly, not something you’d expect from Doctor Reid, but you blush and there’s a definite red colour to Spencer’s cheeks, too.

“I will never, ever, get sick of you.” He says, voice small but firm. “But I don’t want you to regret being with me. Promise me you won’t.”

You give him a look that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. “I promise that I won’t regret being with you. I’d like us to last as long as possible, if I can be picky.”

“I’d like that, too.” He murmurs. The thought of you wanting him for as long as possible almost sends him into a frenzy. He wants to kiss you all over.

You stand close and talk quietly for a while, a little more discussion on a possible date that weekend and a constant stream of compliments from you to Spencer and vice versa, before you realise the time.

“I should probably go. I have a paper to finish.” You smile sadly, a tiny pout forming.

“I understand. Do you think I could read it? When you’re done?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Do you know how terrifying the idea of the Spencer Reid reading my work is? But yes, anything for you.”

Anything for you. Are you trying to kill him?

You turn to leave, refusing to admit how sad leaving Spencer makes you feel, when you stop, “One more thing.”

Spencer hums. He’s not fully paying attention, praying to whatever Gods exist that killers take a break on the weekend so he can take you out on the sweetest date.

“If age is a sore area for you,” There’s mirth in your eyes and Spencer prepares himself, “Does that mean the nickname old man is off the table?”

His lips purse and move towards his nose as he narrows his eyes, giving you a look of faux annoyance, “I am not an old man.”

“Sounds like you’re sensitive, old man.”

As you walk away, you jokingly blow him a kiss to add insult to injury. His pretend glare lasts until your back is turned and he feels his gaze softening to something akin to love.

Spencer thins if the rest of his life is this, you teasing him with that twinkle in your eye and smile on your face, then life is truly the most beautiful thing.

[qslovebot]

Facing Music: Spencer Reid

Summary: Derek finally decides to tell Penelope how he feels about her and enlists your help in a musical confession. With all this performance and romance in the air, Spencer is inspired to tell the reader how he really feels... but words kinda suck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Confessions (two different ones), kissing, FLUFFY

"Are you sure this'll work?" A very nervous Derek Morgan asked you. It was the annual BAU break outing where the team would head to a fancy restaurant and dine without the burden of a case or a dead person on your shoulders.

This year was pretty much like any other; you'd eaten, talked with, laughed with the team like usual. There was live music and waitresses who complimented your makeup when you walked in. All of you dressed nicely for the occasion. JJ was in a beautiful purple dress next to Emily, whose dress was red, and Penelope, who sported a hot pink getup. Hotch and Rossi wore tux suits, looking particularly nice. Spencer Reid wore a white dress shirt and black blazer, his curly hair slicked and brushed semi-neatly the way it always was. He looked amazing, as per usual...

Derek Morgan, next to you, wore a deep blue suit- one that not many people would be able to pull off. That just left you, in your stunning iridescent dress that shone purple and blue in the ways the light hit you. This was your second year attending this event and everyone seemed to have forgotten how beautiful you were when you weren't hunting down unsubs, gasping when you showed up.

Looping back, Derek Morgan was hardly one to be nervous, however, this event entailed a surprise. One that only you and Derek were in on. "Of course it will, Morgan. Just take a deep breath and envision the outcome. I don't think it can go wrong."

Derek Morgan was confessing his love to Penelope Garcia through a performance. Through a song... and he had enlisted your musical expertise to do it. Sure, you were nervous too, but that was just a little stage fright. Took Derek Morgan long enough to confess, anyway. You were being a friend.

It was all arranged with the restaurant and musicians and you were to go on in five minutes. Derek spun to make sure he looked alright and you shot him a grin. "Derek, it'll be great. She'll love it, just don't dwell on the fact the song is from a children's song because she loves it."

"Children's show?" His face fell into shock. "There's no way, the song is too good..."

"Tell Andre that." You peered out. You were about to sing in front of the BAU, your professional team, with Derek Morgan. I mean, at least it was back up singing but you'd be up there in the light doing the small moves you and Derek worked on for so long. The team looked confused, as you and Derek had excused yourself to go to the washroom and hadn't returned yet.

The musician on the stage waved you on. "Derek, we have exactly twelve seconds before the song begins. It's time!" Your heart raced, but not as bad as his must have been. Derek Morgan climbed onto the stage quietly and you were by his side, flashing him a reassuring grin.

The song was Countdown by Andre from Victorious, Penelope's second favourite character. The team didn't notice you both yet, that was until the drumset hit three times and the song launched into action, diverting the team's attention right up to the stage.

JJ and Emily both covered their mouths with their hands when they saw you and Derek onstage. The song was upbeat, fun, loud, and soon seconds later the rest of the team had your attention. Garcia's mouth fell open in recognition of the song and turning to see Derek up there, she squealed. Hotch's mouth twitched a little and Rossi was already smiling- it seemed they had caught on. But hopefully not onto where the song was from.

Spencer, however, had dropped everything in his hands to watch his best friend confess, his mouth open in that gorgeous unbelieving smile. That's when the lyrics began and the real performance started. You were singing the backup and it was pretty easy, as you'd practiced.

Rossi was clapping along, Hotch was actually smiling and it was a smile like a proud father's. Emily looked at you, mouth open like 'really?' and you nodded back. You were entirely into this, not worrying anymore. You were grinning, exhilarated and performing.

Now, from Spencer's mind, he was surprised. First of all, he wouldn't have expected a song and dance from Derek Morgan tonight of all nights. Secondly, pardon his social cues but if he didn't know better he'd say Derek was confessing to Penelope, gesturing to her over and over as he danced. Third, how could he really focus on Derek when you stood behind him in that dress he liked so much when you walked in?

You were gorgeous to him tonight and it took him quite a lot not to stare at dinner. He watched you laugh with Emily and hid his smile, occasionally jumping in to make a joke about Emily in high school or make fun of the knowledge of you wanting to be a candle-maker in college. You told him it was a phase, scowling at him, but that interaction made his heart skip a beat. He didn't know that you adored him the same way.

He liked you, of course. He had for a while and was constantly kicking himself for accidentally ranting to you, afraid of what you'd think, but every time he did, you just listened. And that worsened his crush.

His eyes fell on you onstage, all-in to the performance in support of Derek who was now walking down the steps of the stage toward Penelope. She was flailing her hands around, freaking out, and you were up there smiling. Spencer's heart skipped another beat.

You can imagine how he felt when your eyes settled on him, noticing how he was looking at you rather than Derek and Penelope and shooting him a small grin as the upbeat song finally came to an end.

Spencer turned pink, watching Derek and Penelope out of embarrassment now. He should have been watching them and now he was caught staring at you in that dress with that intoxicating smile, breathing hard from the ending of it all.

You hopped down the steps and stood behind Derek supportively, the entire restaurant applauding. Spencer was too out of it, too lost in his mind to properly clap as Derek took Penelope under the chin, speaking into the microphone.

"We've spent too long dancing in circles, I think it's high time I tell you that I'm in love with you, babygirl." He announced. "Will you go out with me?"

Garcia took a breath, then squealed, "YES!" And the restaurant broke into applause again. Hotch actually sported a full smile now and Derek pulled into a long kiss. Spencer's mind just raced with ideas as he looked from them to you. As happy as he was for his friends, he couldn't stop thinking about how in the world he would ever confess his feelings for you.

Back in your mind, you watched the two kiss with a grin on your face. "Ew!" You laughed, rocking on your heels. As happy as you were for them you couldn't stop thinking about how nobody would ever do this much for you. You weren't supposed to be jealous of friends... so you shoved that feeling down.

----

When everyone said goodbye in the parking lot, the air was sweet and the spirits were high. Most of the team remarked on your voice and how they had no idea you could sing at all. Hotch pat you and Derek both on the back, leaving happier than you'd all seen him in a while.

Penelope wouldn't stop thanking you, giving you a hug every few seconds. Eventually, she did leave with Derek, leaving you to sit and wait for a taxi. You pulled out your phone and sat on the bench, finding the number of the taxi company.

"I didn't know you could sing..." Spencer's voice said from above you. He had his hands in his pockets and he was rocking on his heels.

You laughed, "Neither did anyone else but Derek, I was surprised when he asked me."

"Can I-uh, sit?" He asked, gesturing to the spot next to you on the bench and you moved to the side to make room. He took it as a yes and sat down next to you. "I knew they'd end up together."

"It was inevitable," you replied, tucking your phone into your pocket to properly engage with Spencer. "One way or another he had to make her his official 'babygirl'."

His smile was a little crooked, but still sweet. Spencer's hands fiddled with each other in his lap and there was a moment of silence between you two. Probably because Spencer was racking his brain for the best way to say 'watching that confession gave me a spark of inspiration to confess that I really, really like you and have since your very first day at the BAU' without scaring you off.

"I-"

"You look-"

You spoke at the same time and both chuckled a little. You looked at Spencer for him to continue, but now he was rethinking again, so you continued. "You look really great tonight, I just wanted to say."

"T-thank you..." Spencer said. His mind was racing for something better to say.

Saying I love you is too much- he thought. Besides, he didn't love you yet. He just really liked you. He was already kicking himself for stuttering and you were just inches from him he could just grab your hand if he wanted to. But how would you react? That was Spencer's main worry. What would he say? How would he ever measure up to Derek's performance and would he even get the chance?

You and Spencer sat on that bench for seven minutes in silence. His inner thoughts were a mess and you were oddly at ease with his presence.

You turned to him and this was the moment his brain glitched. His entire IQ slashed down to about 34 when you looked at him the way you did. Tired, but glowing, was how you looked. Your eyelashes in focus as you looked over at him and rather than his heart skipping another beat, he could swear it stopped. And he malfunctioned.

He leaned forward and kissed you.

It was unexpected to both of you. Spencer didn't even seem to have had a thought about a kiss and you weren't expecting anything remotely like this. The first half-second, thoughts jumbled at the front of your mind, but the next, you kissed him back.

His thin hand came to rest on your jaw and cheek, keeping you in place. His heartbeat had risen in a complete panic as to how this was even happening, but you were here and you were in fact kissing him back. This was a lot better than the words of panicked confession that Spencer had semi-planned out.

So Spencer liked you. You could assume that from the frantic, sudden kiss. The world seemed to slow to allow this event and after about forty seconds of your lips on his, with gentle fingers and soft kissing, you pulled away.

"I'm-I'm sorry about that..." Spencer said, shrinking back a little. "I didn't even mean to, it was- it was on impulse, I didn't even think it through-"

But you kissed him again on your own will. It was your turn to go without thinking. His hand right back on your face and another good few moments passing of just that kiss. He pulled away this time, a grin spreading up his face. "Is this confession enough because words really suck," You smiled.

He went to speak and you kissed him again. He just started laughing that silent laugh, "Most effective way to shut me up and yes, words su-" he cut himself off by kissing you again and that lead to you both laughing through it. You hadn't seen Spencer this laid back and happy for a while- as you hadn't seen the rest of the team happy either. It felt good to be this close with him, to make him laugh. It felt good to have given the team something to be happy about.

The night just got better, it seemed, from the very start. And you kissed Spencer a lot more than you had anticipated, but that was alright because he wasn't expecting that either. It seemed like Derek and Penelope weren't the only ones with feelings out in the open now.

"How long?" You asked after a while of not letting each other talk. Spencer offered you a ride home and you walked to his car with him.

"Since your orientation," Spencer answered, cringing a little. Your eyes widened. "I remember you wore... a bell-sleeved blouse and flared dress pants. You asked me where to get tea." His car unlocked.

You gaped, "And I didn't know for two years?"

"I suppose not..." he chuckled. "And how long have you been trying to convince yourself not to like me?"

"Never." You hopped into the passenger's seat. "I was always just confused and never really knew what to do with it. But... I'm now a lot less confused."

He paused before turning the key to start the engine. You wondered what thought had slipped into his vast mind. He looked up at you, hair coming undone from its styling. "Are you... happy?"

"Completely." You replied with zero hesitation and he exhaled hard, seemingly of relief. "And I want to be with you... if you let me." You continued warily, but mostly with reassurance.

His cheeks flushed in the dark again. "Yes- I- wow..." He couldn't seem to form words, but that was okay. Words sucked. Words really, really did suck.

Everything worked out perfectly.

tags:@mercy-burning ,@ellyhotchner ,@laurakirsten0502

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Everything’s a Seger Song

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you try to convince Dean to do karaoke. He ends up putting on a performance you never would have imagined.

Warnings: FLUFF (Karaoke, but without the drunken shenanigans. Sorry, friends!); wingman Sammy :)

A/N: Apparently I have an obsession with drunk Winchester shenanigans and karaoke? Stay tuned because I’m seriously considering making a masterlist for such fics. lol 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Y/N, I’m not gonna freaking--”

“Please, Dean?” you cut him off and pressed your hands together, begging him to give karaoke a shot. “I promise it’s so much more fun than it looks. And you’re the one who wanted a night out with me and Sammy--karaoke in front of a bunch of drunk strangers is a non-negotiable right of passage.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow and shook his head as he looked at Sam.

“She’s got a point,” he agreed, pushing himself up from his stool. “Be right back. Anybody need another?”

You and Dean each raised a hand, turning your attention back to one another as Sam disappeared into the crowd.

“I don’t sing,” Dean said, tipping his head back to finish off the rest of his beer.

“You don’t have to be good,” you tried again. “It’s just for fun! And the fact that it’s in front of strangers means you’ll never see any of them again.”

“Well, I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“I can fix that,” you grinned.

"Still not happening, sweetheart.”

Sam was back at the table in no time at all, wordlessly taking a seat as he looked between the two of you. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean waved his arms and motioned at the empty space in front of his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I thought you were going to get more drinks.”

“Oh, right. Plans changed,” he smirked, taking a drink as he peeked at you over his bottle.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked.

Sam ignored him, turning his attention to the stage when the audience began applauding an older gentleman who had just finished a very off-key performance of Fly Me to the Moon. The three of you joined in on the applause, even though you’d tuned him out before he even made it through the first chorus. 

Another man appeared onstage and glanced at his a clipboard before addressing the bar. “Alright, looks like next up we have a, uh...Dean Winchester doing Bob Seger’s ‘Living Inside My Heart.’“

The crowd cheered and Dean’s face went pale as Sam doubled over laughing. Dean grimaced, slouching in his seat while adamantly refusing to go up to the mic.

“Dean Winchester? You still out there somewhere?” The man called again.

“He’s over here!” Sam yelled, standing and pointing at Dean. 

When he made no attempts to move, the crowd began chanting “Get up there” and you couldn’t help but join in.

“Sammy, I’m gonna kill you,” he groaned, finally rising from his seat.

“Hey, man--you said everything’s a Seger song to you. Now here’s a real test for that. I think you’ll thank me for the song choice later.”

Dean shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor as he slowly trudged toward the stage. He climbed the steps, staring out at the crowd with a timid, forced smile. In all the time you’d known him, you’d never seen Dean so nervous.

Wrapping one hand around the stand, he carefully adjusted microphone so that it was level with his mouth. The sound of a piano and a periodic drumbeat filled the speakers. After several seconds, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to sing.

When the sun came up this morning

And she smiled her smile for me

I felt it for the first time

Something deep inside of me

Unable to help your gaping reaction, you whipped your head toward Sam with wide eyes. Instead of the same shocked expression you wore, his wide grin told you that he was well aware of his brother’s talent. 

Of all the times you and the boys had cranked the volume and sung along in the car, you’d never had any idea that Dean could sing like this. His voice was deep, rich, and bluesy-- captivating everyone in the room with his heartfelt rendition.

So you can take your midnight ramblin' boys

And you can keep your winding roads

She's livin' inside my heart now

Livin' inside

As he surveyed the crowd, you could visibly see him growing more comfortable with each lyric he belted out. 

A table of people who appeared to be college-age raised their glasses, swaying back and forth and bobbing their heads with the beat. They had clearly had a lot to drink, but that didn’t change how deeply his performance was affecting them. How the entire audience seemed to revere every note.

When his green eyes met yours, something in his gaze made it impossible for you to look away.

Oh there's an easiness about her

There's a softness in her way

But she gets me through the hard times

We get closer everyday

I know I'll never be alone now boys

Cause even if I'm far away

She's livin' inside my heart now

Livin' inside

Yeah

The words stirred butterflies in your stomach. 

You and Dean had always flirted with one another, having some unspoken bond that was much deeper than friendship. Both of you knew it, but neither had acted on it for fear of how things might change between you. 

But there was something undeniably intimate about the way he was looking at you as he sang. Something that made you feel like each lyric served as a sincere admission from him. 

And I don't know what I did to deserve her

But I'll tell you this my friend

I'm never gonna lose her

Never gonna lose her

Cause every night...

You felt the crowd’s eyes on you as they began to pick up on the exchange between you and Dean, but you didn’t care. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you choked back the emotions swelling inside of you.

As his song drew to a close and he delivered the last few lines, everyone in the bar rose to their feet to give him a standing ovation. You and Sam cheered the loudest, earning a bright smile from him that was vastly different from the apprehensive expression he wore when he began.

“So...you signed Dean up?” you asked Sam slowly.

“Yep.”

“And you knew he could sing...like that?”

“Sure did.”

You pursed your lips and stole a glance at Dean, who had walked off the stage and was slowly making his way through the bar. You watched as he shook hands and thanked each person who approached him before you turned to Sam with one last question.

“And the song?”

“That was on purpose too.” He grinned at you and winked before nodding toward his brother. “Now go get that Travelin’ Man.”

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[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 43 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters here on AQ or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

And thank you again to our wonderful betas: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane

Chapter Summary: It’s finally the night of senior prom!! It starts out great...but will it end in disaster? (Spoiler alert: yes)

Chapter 43: I Just Wanna Dance

There were a million things Courtney loved about being in the The Scarlet Pimpernel--finally getting a chance to play a lead role in a musical, the songs themselves, the beautiful costumes they’d borrowed from a nearby university’s theatre company, the warm encouragement from Mrs. Maguire, watching her friends and castmates shine, when her dad surprised her by showing up for one of the weekend shows with a bouquet of pink roses…

But her favorite thing of all was being onstage with Adore. It was the first time they’d had multiple scenes together since playing Annie and Miss Hannigan in 5th grade, and for Courtney, it made the experience a million times better.

Closing night was bittersweet. In some ways, Courtney wished that it would never end. But she was excited for prom and graduation, their Mexico road trip and their first apartment. So even though it was a little bit sad, she didn’t cling to it. Instead, she focused on the excitement she felt about everything to come, and really tried to live in the moment, committing every single second to memory.

In the garden scene with Adore, she noticed the little wisps of hair around her face that were lit up by the bright stage lights, the way her hazel eyes gleamed, and when she leaned toward her, it was the closest they’d ever come to actually kissing in this scene. All Courtney wanted was to surrender, to just close her eyes, let their lips touch, but she fought it, finally pushing Adore away like she was supposed to at the last possible second, heart pounding, feeling a bit light-headed while she watched her sing. Really listening to the lyrics for what felt like the first time.

“Marguerite, don't forget I know who you are. We were cut from the same surly star, like two jewels in the sky, sharing fire. Where's the girl, so alive and still aching for more? We had dreams that were worth dying for. We were caught in the eye of a storm! Come again!”

Adore grabbed her hands, spinning her in a circle, and a lump formed in Courtney’s throat.

“Let the girl in your heart tumble free. Bring your renegade heart home to me. In the dark of the morning, I'll warm you, I'll rouse you . . .”

As they slowly stopped turning in a circle, Courtney swallowed hard, the dizziness getting to her, stomach in knots, and it was if Adore could sense it. She pulled her in by the waist, singing the last verse softly, directly to her. And something happened for the first time that Courtney couldn’t explain--a single tear began to slip down her cheek.

“Where's the girl? Is she gazing at me with surprise? Do I still see that blaze in her eyes? Am I dreaming or is she beside me . . . now . . .?”

The music slowly faded out, and Courtney knew that Adore was waiting for her next line, her eyes soft and expectant. She knew that she had to get it out; this was the script, and she couldn’t change it no matter how much she wanted to. So she mustered up all of her strength, squaring her shoulders and speaking, firmly and hoarsely.

“No. Get out.”

Adore’s eyes went cold as she turned and left the stage, and for a second Courtney really did think that she was going to fall, to faint or throw up or something else entirely unexpected. She knew she only had about three seconds before Willam and Gia entered, so she quickly swiped the tear from her cheek and took a deep breath, pushing down the terrible feeling that something had broken inside of her, something she wouldn’t ever be able to fix.

-

“Hey…”

Courtney whirled around as Adore touched her shoulder, a startled look on her face that softened when she saw Adore.

“Oh, hi.”

“Are you alright?” Adore asked. She’d noticed the tears while they were onstage, and had a feeling that it was more than just acting.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s...I guess just that this is the last time we’re gonna be doing the show. Kinda silly.” She wiped her eyes, looking a bit embarrassed.

Adore smiled softly, pulling her in for a hug. “Nah, I know how you feel.”

Courtney squeezed her back tightly. “Thanks, Dory. I love you.”

“Me too, babe.”

-

“You girls are just so gorgeous and grown-up,” Bonnie said, sniffling a little as she snapped photo after photo.

It was finally the night of their senior prom, and as a treat, Bonnie and Karen had gotten together and treated the girls to a little spa day: mani pedis - the fancy kind with paraffin wax and massages and rhinestone embellishments, lunch at their favorite café, and professional hair styling. Courtney had gone for a glamorous updo studded with tiny red roses, Adore for a half-up style with criss-crossing fishtail braids, and Tati for smooth finger-waves that made her look like an old-time movie star. Afterwards, they’d all headed back to Adore’s house to do their makeup and get dressed.

To Adore’s relief, Courtney hadn’t brought up her weird objections to Tati being her date, and she was friendly as can be to Tati just like usual, gossiping about their classmates, giggling, having a grand old time.

Adore was very pleased with the outfit she’d ended up with: an amazing thrift store find, a short, square-necked black lace dress, very bruja, and she’d paired it with studded black boots, fishnets, and the leather choker that Courtney’d gotten her for her birthday last year. Tati looked amazing as always, her skin-tight hot pink minidress really pushing the dress code limits, but the color so fun that she’d probably be fine.

And then there was Courtney. Adore was surprised when she’d chosen it, the sleek white two-piece so unlike her: no sparkly embellishments or flouncy girliness--just a simple, spaghetti-strapped, open-backed top and long slitted skirt that made her early summer tan glow. When she first put it on, Adore had to look away for a moment, so as not to get choked up about how beautiful she was. Then of course, she completed the look with sparkly silver star accessories, red stones in her necklace matching the roses in her hair. Before they’d headed downstairs for photos, Adore gestured to her charm bracelet, the rose-gold obviously not fitting the color theme of her ensemble.

“That doesn’t really match,” she noted, and Courtney bit her lip, meeting Adore’s eyes with a look that made her insides twist.

“I don’t care.”

Now, in Courtney’s backyard, they posed for the dozens of pictures that Karen and Bonnie insisted on. First all the girls separately, then together, then Adore and Tati, who were still posing when Roy finally rounded the corner in his white tux. The second Adore caught sight of his red pocket square she burst out laughing, unable to help herself.

“Thanks, Delano, exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” he said.

“No, it’s cause your pocket square is...Courtney, I fucking knew that you’d do that shit again!” Adore laughed, and Courtney just shrugged, accepting first a kiss on the cheek and then the wrist corsage with the requested red roses.

“I never denied it!” Courtney said. She reached out and adjusted Roy’s lapels, grinning. “I think he looks perfect.”

“Thank you, babe, and you’re beautiful,” Roy said, before ruining the moment by turning and blowing a raspberry in Adore’s direction.

“That’s mature.”

“Adore, please pull it together for two more shots!” Bonnie interrupted, and Adore put her arm back around Tati’s waist.

Courtney and Roy were next, followed by group shots, and then Karen insisted on a couple with Courtney and Adore.

Adore swallowed, letting Courtney take her hand and lean a head on her shoulder, feeling slightly awkward.

“It’s kind of funny, don’t you think?” Courtney asked, between shots.

“What?”

Courtney gestured to their outfits. “Black and white.”

“Oh yeah. Very fitting, huh?” Adore said.

Courtney gazed up at her, a starry-eyed smile on her face, and Adore could feel herself melting right back to the place she’d insisted she’d never go again as the camera flashed.

“Mom! I wasn’t ready!”

“It was cute!” Karen defended herself.

“Do you think we should call Pearl and ask when-”

“Limo has arrived, bitcheeeeeees!” screeched a voice, and everyone turned to see Willam at the gate, along with Trinity, Pearl, Fame and Violet, who all came bounding in, dressed to the nines.

Courtney squealed happily, clapping her hands. After about ten or twenty more pictures of the whole group, Bonnie and Karen finally dismissed them, letting them pile into the limo, laughing and screaming happily, music blasting.

Adore was the last one to go, turning to give her mother one last little wave, pretending not to notice the tears shining in her eyes as she called, “Bye Ma! Don’t wait up!”

-

The hotel ballroom where their prom was held was the fanciest place Adore had ever been. After looking up at the huge crystal chandelier over the dance floor, Adore turned to Tati with a look of confusion and asked, “Oh my god...is our school bougie?”

Tati laughed, pulling her onto the dance floor with the rest of their group. The DJ was surprisingly good, and they twirled and laughed, dancing for hours before Tati finally admitted that her feet were killing her and she needed a break.

“Ugh, same,” said Pearl.

“This is why you wusses should have worn more comfortable shoes,” Adore proclaimed, modeling her combat boots as they trooped over to grab some punch and sit down.

“Not everyone can pull that off, dear,” Tati told her.

“Or you can just do what Trinity did,” Pearl said, gesturing to her prom date, platform sandals kicked off to the side of the dance floor, her bright yellow dress hiked up with her hands as she, Courtney and Willam shook it to Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie,’ Roy awkwardly joining in with decidedly less enthusiasm than the others.

“Still think my solution’s better,” said Adore, settling down at the table with a glass of sugary punch.

They relaxed for a few minutes, chatting and giggling, before they were joined by first Violet, then Fame, then Bob, who came bounding over with April to hype up the afterparty.

“You guys are going, right? It’s gonna be amazing!” he exclaimed, and Violet shook her head in disbelief.

“You really think a school-sanctioned afterparty will be that much fun?” she asked.

“I’m telling you! Everyone says it’s the best part of the night.”

“Really? I would think the best part of the night is how sexy your girlfriend looks,” said Pearl, sending a wink in April’s direction, making her giggle and preen.

“Okay, yes, she does, but also...after the afterparty, there’s a pancake breakfast. So, come on...”

“Robert! Hello young man! Lookin’ slick!” Roy called, walking over to give Bob a hug and slap on the back. He looked a bit sweaty and disheveled, and it made Adore chuckle.

“Courtney’s giving you a real workout, huh?” she teased.

“That girl wouldn’t leave a dance floor if you paid her,” Roy answered with a sigh, dragging a chair over from a nearby table to sit heavily. “Luckily, Willam and Trinity have much higher endurance than me, so-”

“Guess again!” Trinity exclaimed, as she flopped into Pearl’s lap. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Aww, you guys all abandoned the blue-eyed devils,” Bob said, gesturing to Courtney and Willam on the dance floor, making April crack up.

“They’re fine,” Roy said, leaning back in the chair, eyes closing.

Adore looked over at the dance floor, watching them while everyone chatted. When the song ended, to her surprise, Courtney made her way over to the group too.

“Whoa, maybe she’s actually tired! Did someone slip you some Benadryl, Court?”

Turned out, she was only there to ask Adore to come back onto the dance floor.

“Will you come dance with me?” she cajoled, reaching out her hand, a soft and hopeful look in her eyes.

“Uh…” Adore knew this was a bad idea. As much as she tried not to, told herself not to, she’d already spent too much of the evening with one eye on Courtney with Roy, fixated on the way they laughed and flirted and touched each other--it was like regressing two years, and she just wasn’t in the right headspace to confront her feelings.

“Please?” Courtney touched Adore’s lace-covered wrist, adding with a twinkle, “I’ll be your best friend...”

Adore had to chuckle at that, standing up with a resigned sigh. “Good one, bitch.”

Courtney beamed at her, leading her to the dance floor. Of course, it was some slow, schmaltzy pop ballad. And of course, Courtney’s arms immediately went around her neck, pulling her close. Head resting on her shoulder.

Adore didn’t know where to put her hands. Courtney’s skimpy top left so much of her back exposed, she could feel herself panicking before finally letting them settle on her hips. Even then, it was impossible to avoid her waist, her thumbs grazing the soft bare skin a few times before she tried tucking them into her palms.

“I love you, Dory,” Courtney murmured, and Adore gulped.

“Love you too.”

Adore tried to get her heart to settle, tried to stop the churning in her stomach, the song dragging on for what felt like an eternity while she sweated and held back her tears. When it finally ended, she broke away immediately, mumbling about how she needed a cigarette, and bolted from the dance floor.

-

Courtney watched Adore go, misty-eyed, wondering why she always ran away just when it felt like they were getting closer, and couldn’t help the dejected feeling inside, stomach twisting with regret.

“Punch?”

Courtney turned around to see Roy, holding out a cup of red punch for her. Of course he was. He was always there: dependent, steadfast, the one person in her life that she could always count on. The guilt Courtney felt would be crushing if she didn’t love him so much.

She slid her arms around his waist, pulling him close, asking, “How did I end up with the best boyfriend in the world?”

Roy sighed, setting the cup on a nearby table and wrapping her into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Just lucky, I guess.” After a few moments, he ventured softly, “Do you wanna dance some more?”

“Yes,” Courtney said, arms tightening around him even more. “Yes, I really fucking do.”

-

“There you are…” Tati said, when she finally found Adore in the hotel courtyard, sitting against a stucco wall, smoking a cigarette. “You alright?”

She settled in beside her, maneuvering the best she could so as not to let her dress ride up around her hips. This didn’t feel like a conversation where it would be productive to have her underwear showing.

“Just fucking peachy.” Adore took a long drag.

“Yeah. Listen, I-”

“I really don’t want any advice right now,” Adore said, and Tati immediately closed her mouth.

“Ooookay,” she breathed, realizing that now wasn’t the right time to say what she had to say.

“Sorry. It’s just, my head is all-”

“Nah, I get it.” Tati patted her fishnet-covered thigh.

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Adore’s head leaning back on the wall, Tati watching the smoke curling up into the midnight sky.

“Can I ask you a question, though?”

“I guess.” Adore’s voice was tired and hoarse, so Tati tried to phrase it as gently and tactfully as possible.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen? If you, like, told her?”

Adore took a long drag of her cigarette, pondering the answer before saying, “I could die. I could literally die.”

“Alright.” Tati said, stretching her legs out in front of her. She wasn’t inclined to push it, adding a simple, “Just seems like something to think about.”

After a few more moments of tense silence, Adore sniffled, and Tati realized that she was crying.

“I should get out of here,” she said, stabbing the cigarette out on the pavement, using her lacy sleeve to wipe her eyes.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. It’s prom. Stay and have fun,” Adore said, and Tati was overcome with sympathy, wished there was something she could do to make her feel better--or at least, enough better to have a carefree and fun night like they all deserved. It had started out so well, and Tati still wasn’t sure where it’d gone wrong.

“Adore, come on, you can-”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Tati said, staying on the ground while Adore got up, resigned to just let her have her feelings, realizing that there really was nothing she could do in that moment.

-

“Yeah, I know! There’s just something off about his face!” Violet laughed, following Trinity out of the bathroom, still talking about an idiot jock who’d tried to feel her up on the dance floor.

“I think it would be an okay face if he wasn't such a jerk,” Trinity said.

“Okay face is probably the best he can hope for,” Violet agreed. “But don’t you think he-”

Violet stopped short, abdomen twisting when she spotted Fame, in the same location they’d left her outside the restrooms, looking beautiful as ever in her full, floor-length gown covered in a large-scale blue flower print. Only she wasn’t alone. There was a blonde girl chatting with her...a blonde girl in a short, sparkly pink dress who was acting awfully familiar, a hand on Fame’s bare upper arm, flashing a bright white smile.

“Who the hell are you?” Violet asked, and the girl turned to her, blinking her brown eyes slowly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said-” Violet began, but Fame jumped in.

“You know what? We should talk later,” she told the girl, mouthing ‘sorry’ in an annoyingly obvious way, clearly not caring that Violet could see her. Or maybe doing it specifically for Violet’s benefit. Violet’s nails dug into her palms at the thought.

“Alright. Later then. Can’t wait to hang out again,” the girl said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Fame’s cheek before sauntering away with a victorious smirk.

“Who the fuck was that?” Violet asked, and Fame turned to her with crossed arms and a crosser expression.

“Hey, I think I hear...something...uh…” Trinity stammered out, backing away so as not to get caught up in the drama, calling out to an imaginary person, “What? Oh, you need-okay, coming!”

She turned and ran back towards the ballroom, leaving Fame and Violet alone.

“Well?” Violet asked, her tone still hostile, but how else was she supposed to be right now?

Fame let out a long sigh, asking, “Why are you so difficult?” She began to walk away, but Violet reached for her, fingers closing around her wrist and tugging her back.

“Fame. Who was that?”

“She’s just a girl I know from working at the bakery,” Fame said, eyes closing as if the conversation was too exhausting for words. “She graduated last year, but I guess she’s here with a friend, so-”

“No. I mean, why were you flirting with her? I thought tonight was about us.”

“Vi…” Fame finally looked into her eyes, blue eyes a bit sad, shaking her head. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?” Violet could feel herself growing more and more agitated, more and more uneasy, the ground shifting beneath her.

“Talk about us, like that. You’re my best friend. You know how much I love you. But not...not like that.”

Violet didn’t like where this conversation was going, not one bit. She bit back her anger, her impatience, her jealousy, and made her voice as soft and calm as possible.

“But you agreed to be my date. You came here with me-”

“As friends.”

“I don’t get it!” Violet exploded. “You finally broke up with Patrick, officially, and-”

“This is not about Patrick!” Fame exclaimed, exasperation all over her face. “It never was. I guess it was easy to use him as an excuse, but...I just don’t think of you that way.”

Bitterness swirled in Violet’s chest, and before she could stop herself, she spit out, “But you think of that random slut that way?” She gestured angrly in the direction of the blonde, the girl who it seemed had single-handedly managed to ruin her night. “And what did she mean by ‘again’?”

“I...we kind of...hooked up last year,” Fame admitted. “When Patrick and I were on a break, after-”

“You hooked up with a girl and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck?” Violet said, anger and confusion combining, the whole thing like hands wrapped around her throat, making her eyes water and her chest constrict.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I guess I was wrong, since you’re being so understanding.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat out, turning and walking away.

“Violet, wait!”

Violet stopped walking, but she didn’t turn. She couldn’t bear to look at Fame’s face right now, not when tears were burning in her eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

“Look, I’m sorry! Okay? I guess I just...I didn’t want to say anything that would risk hurting you. Because I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I do love you-”

At that, Violet whirled back around, those angry tears streaking hotly down her cheeks.

“No you don’t,” she said. “You never have. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Vi-”

“Enjoy your prom,” she choked out, before breaking away and rushing towards the lobby. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she couldn’t go back into that ballroom, with those people. Not like this.

-

Adore trudged slowly through the parking lot, wondering where she should even go. This part of town was mostly new--lots of pointless high-end stores, yuppie restaurants, hipster bars.

“Hey! Where the fuck are you going?” demanded a voice, and Adore smiled to herself, turning around to find Violet, face streaked in tears, stomping from the hotel angrily.

Adore chuckled sadly. “You look like I feel.”

“Well you look like shit,” Violet countered.

“Okay, so I guess I look like I feel too.”

“God fucking damn it, why can’t we just have one night where we’re like, normal teenagers?” Violet exclaimed, face turned upwards, and Adore shook her head.

“I dunno.”

“Where were you going, anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know. Just...anywhere but here.”

“Same.” Violet took her hand. “I think there’s a diner a few blocks away that’ll be open. Come on.”

[authenticcadence18]

“A Thank-You Speech”

“Phineas and Ferb have just been awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics! After giving the audience at the award ceremony a few words of inspiration, they start thanking the friends and family who helped them along the way...and Phineas has a very special thank you to give to a certain someone he loves.”

(So I wrote the first version of this in 2015! Earlier today, I got the idea to polish and post some of my old Phinabella one-shots since idk when Chapter 8 of "Can't Help Falling in Love" will be finished, and is the first piece I'm posting! I hope you enjoy!) 

AO3

...

"Esteemed guests, it is my GREAT pleasure to introduce our next Nobel prize winners! These two step-brothers have wowed the world with both their countless advanced achievements in physics and the creative ways in which they accomplish them! At just 21, they are the youngest to ever receive this award! So, without further ado, the winners of this year's Nobel Prize in Physics: Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher!"

The tuxedoed presenter stepped aside to let the recipients of the award step onstage. Applause thundered deeply throughout the hall as Phineas and Ferb entered and waved. The presenter handed Phineas the medal and Ferb the microphone. The two brothers exchanged a wary glance before chuckling and swapping items.

"Hi, everyone!!” Phineas proclaimed as the applause died down. “First off...wow, this is amazing! Ten years ago, Ferb and I were just building inventions in our backyard for fun, and now we've become the youngest people to ever win the Nobel Prize for Physics for them??? How awesome is that?”

Ferb nodded at his side.

“We couldn't have won this award if we didn't follow our dreams and express ourselves,” Phineas continued, “so Ferb and I want to encourage everyone out there to get creative!!” He smiled as memories of summers gone by flashed through his mind. “If you wanna build a rollercoaster, go for it! Write a catchy song and become a one-hit-wonder, give it a shot! We believe EVERYONE is capable of greatness!! Some people just need a bit more help to realize it...and that’s what Ferb and I are here for!”

The brothers exchanged a glance and grinned as some of the audience members applauded.

“We couldn’t have made it this far without our friends and family!” Phineas stated when the applause died down. “First, we'd like to thank our parents for nurturing us and giving us a good home growing up--and for falling in love and bringing us together!!! We'd also like to thank our big sister Candace, who ALWAYS motivated us to keep moving and inventing when we were kids!!! Love ya, big sis!"

Ferb grabbed the microphone and added, "We'd also like to thank the friends who were there for every wild adventure and invention. Buford, Baljeet, the former Fireside Girls of troop 46231, Irving…”

Someone in the audience let out a high pitched squeal. "HE SAID MY NAME!!!!!"

Phineas and Ferb exchanged an amused glance. (They should’ve known Irving would be in the audience.)

Ferb finished off his speech with a sincere, “Without your encouragement and inspiration, Phineas and I probably wouldn’t be standing here tonight. So thank you!!”

The audience cheered as Ferb took a step back.

It seemed as if the acceptance speech was over...but Phineas wasn’t quite finished. He took the microphone back from Ferb before the presenter could usher them out and move on with the next award. "Before we go, there's one more person I need to say thank you to," he explained to the audience. “But it won’t take long, I promise.”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his ear...and then spoke.

"...when we were kids...there was this girl who lived across the street from Ferb and I."

Someone in the auditorium gasped.

"She was the leader of the local Fireside Girl troop and was certainly popular enough to hang out with anyone she wanted, but she just kept coming back to our backyard, every day, no matter what. I never really grasped the real reason why she kept coming back summer after summer, it was just how things always were. I always enjoyed spending time with her, but I’ll admit I might have taken her for granted… Frankly, I didn't realize just how much I loved having her around until one summer when she started coming over less and less.”

Phineas paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. (Revisiting this particular time in his life was more painful than he realized it would be.)

"I missed you...." he confessed to the special someone, "...and I finally understood I'd been falling in love with you all that time without realizing it. I didn’t think you’d ever feel anything for me, but, eventually I learned you loved me too...I just hadn't noticed. When I found out, I thought it was too late for us, but...well.....you still hadn't given up on me, despite everything....”

He smiled softly.

"The past few years have been some of the best of my life! And not because of success or the inventions or even this award, but because we were together every step of the way. I know I couldn’t have gotten to this point without you, and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for us next. Thank you so much for being there for me.

"...I love you, Isabella.”

His words of sincere affection faded into the auditorium of people. They were too stunned to applaud: how were they supposed to react to such a personal expression of gratitude?

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you this in person,” Phineas continued, “but, as soon as I get home…”

His voice trailed off.

In the middle of the auditorium, a woman with long dark tresses stood from her seat on the aisle.

She bashfully lifted a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear before waving and smiling shyly up at the stage.

Phineas's heart skipped a beat.

“Is...ISABELLA!!!"

Carelessly, he thrust the microphone back into the presenter's hands and flung himself down the stairs and through the aisles with reckless abandon.

Isabella barely had time to step out of the row before she was in his arms and they were embracing tightly. "Oh, Phineas....." she sighed into his shoulder.

“Isabella, what are you doing here??" Phineas asked excitedly, pulling away from the hug so he could gaze at her. “I thought you were watching the livestream of the ceremony from Danville!!”

Isabella grinned. "I couldn't let you win a Nobel Prize without me in the audience!" She shrugged and admitted, "I wanted to surprise you when it was over, but…” A happy tear trickled down her face. “...naturally, you surprised me instead.”

Phineas gingerly took his girlfriend's face in his hands as she sniffled, and he smiled sweetly, caressing the tear from her cheek. "Don’t worry, you DEFINITELY surprised me," he insisted warmly before drawing her into a gentle kiss.

For a few moments, there was no auditorium or award ceremony or crowd of people.

Isabella and Phineas were just that. Isabella and Phineas.

When they parted, they gazed at one another adoringly...and suddenly remembered the auditorium and award ceremony and crowd of people.

They both paled.

No one else was speaking...and they could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them.

"....we just kissed....in front of thousands of people.....at one of the most prestigious award ceremonies in the world......" Isabella voiced, eyes wide.

“Yes.....yes we did....." a flustered Phineas confirmed.

From onstage, Ferb snickered silently before taking the microphone and breaking the silence by gesturing towards the couple and announcing,

“My brother and future sister-in-law, everyone!!!!”

His bit of teasing did the trick.

Gone were the stares and awkward silence. Now, the audience members were clapping and cheering on Isabella and Phineas’s behalf...and Isabella and Phineas were blushing and smiling from ear to ear.

They glanced around for a bit before turning back to each other.

“...Ferb’s future sister-in-law, huh?” Isabella mused. She looked up at Phineas with a wry grin. “I kinda like the sound of that.”

Phineas returned the smile as he took Isabella’s left hand in his and examined it thoughtfully. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “.....was that a pun? A PROPOSAL pun??”

“Mmmmmaybe….” Phineas replied with a wink. “But! I don’t have a ring to propose to you with just yet, don’t get your hopes up…” he elaborated quickly. “...you don’t mind being my future-fiance for now, right?”

Isabella giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t mind at all,” she replied before leaning in to kiss him again.

(This time, the audience cheered when their lips met.)

“...Ferb’s never going to let us live this down, is he?" Phineas mused when the kiss ended.

"No...he probably isn’t...." Isabella agreed with a sheepish grin.

“Ah, well....." Phineas pulled her a little closer and assured her, "It was worth it. ...I love you.”

Isabella giggled cutely and replied, "I gitchee gitchee goo you too.”

...

THANKS FOR READING!!!!! I hope you enjoyed! I have no idea if this is actually how Nobel Prize ceremonies work but it's fine, LOL. Perhaps they work differently in Phineas and Ferb's universe anyway!

Let me know if you'd be interested in reading more of these! Revisiting this one today was a ton of fun.

[anonsleap]

Showtime

This is for an anonymous reader. I hope it’s okay, I wasn’t sure how to go about it. (Also yes, Mahiru zoning out was just so I didn’t have to write the acts I couldn’t come up with, thank you for noticing.)

Important! This is from Mahiru’s point of view!

Content: fireworks, clowns, contortionist, smoking, sad Hajime, knives,

I sat in my seat, waiting for the giant curtain to rise. As a press member, I got front seats to get the best pictures. There’s a kid sweeping sadly off to the side, with a button on his shirt that says “I’m sorry, I was born stupid.” Hajime, I think his name was.

From backstage I hear a deceptively sweet voice.

“Hey, ticket boy! Hurry up, will ya!?”

He just sighed. The kid wasn’t a part of the main show, so he got a lot of crap for it. He just cleaned up after the acts and sold tickets. He finished up and ran backstage.

Finally, the lights flicked off and everything was silent. The curtains raised, revealing a small stuffed rabbit. Click!

“Hello everyone! It’s nice to see you all here tonight! We have a very special show for you all, starting with an act from our good friend, Sagishi!”

The crowd cheered, and the curtains lowered once again. When they raised again, a man was sitting in the center of the stage, mocking several people in the audience as they roared with laughter. Click!

I rolled my eyes, lighting my cigar. His act was never my favorite. Something about it just seemed so… heavy handed. It was more like men’s humor. After what seemed like forever, a trapdoor opened up beneath him and he let out a comedic shout. Click!

I let out a sigh of relief as I blew a puff of smoke. Then, all of a sudden, I heard quite the commotion backstage. Then I saw the animal tamer, Gundham, walk onstage. Following him, there were four hamsters. One balancing on a ball, one walking on its front paws, and one standing on another’s shoulders.

“Behold, common mortals! Feast your eyes upon my demon beasts! The likes of which your souls could not even fathom taming! JOIN ME, MY VICIOUS LACKEYS! STAND BESIDE THE SUPREME OVERLORD OF ICE, AND SHOWCASE YOUR TRUE POWER!”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. I’ve seen his act before. The pictures for this one are always the publisher’s favorites. I hold up my camera for a perfect shot when the time comes. And then I wait.

First in line, a raccoon scurried onstage and scrambled up a wooden pole on one side of the stage. Two monkeys followed, climbing the opposite beam. The first grabbed a trapeze bar and swung to the other side, flipping halfway and holding the bar with its feet. The raccoon reached out and the monkey grabbed its hands. The other monkey, now also on a trapeze bar, reached out, and the first one threw the raccoon to it. Click! That was my best shot.

After a few more tosses, the animals came down and went backstage, and a lion walked out. It did the typical jumping through flaming hoops, Click! and then the tamer laughed triumphantly and bowed, letting the hamsters climb up his arms and then throwing back the curtain dramatically to exit. Click, Click!

The crowd was beaming. The next act was supposed to be that clumsy sad clown, but they had mentioned a special show at the beginning. A slender fellow with long black hair pushed the curtain aside impatiently. The crowd went silent, all at once. Click! He snapped his head over to my direction with an irritated glare. Must be camera shy.

He snapped his fingers and the previously mentioned sad clown stumbled out, pushing something under a cloth. She tripped and fell as the mystery prop slid into place and started bawling. The new man glared at her and she jumped to her feet and ran offstage. We then heard a loud crash and a few crowd members chuckled.

The man shook his head disapprovingly, and ripped the cloth off of the item. It was a wheel, with a man with fluffy white hair stuck to it. He pointed into the audience, signaling for the bystander to come onstage. The crowd cheered as a girl with pink hair and a pixelated hair clip walked up. He made a spinning motion and she grabbed the wheel and spun it around, the man attached wailing comically.

The tall man pulled a knife out of his pocket, gestured for the girl to move away, and… Click! He threw the knife at the wheel. The audience gasped, and the girl slowed the wheel down to a stop, revealing that the knife hadn’t come close to hitting him. This repeated several more times, before the knife thrower unhooked the man on the wheel, watched him collapse, and then dragged him backstage while the audience laughed. The girl walked offstage and sat back down. I got a lot of good shots there!

Then I saw a muscular looking woman cartwheel onstage. Click! That’s Akane, their contortionist. She laid down on the floor, and pulled her feet in front of her face, grinning wildly as the crowd reacted in both disgust and awe. She unfolded, then laid on her stomach and folded herself backwards. Click! The publishers will love that one.

Eventually Akane unfolded for the last time and walked on her hands off the stage. She passed by a tall, muscular man, Nekomaru, who hoisted her up onto his shoulders. He stepped down to his knees, and the previous owners of acts climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up and the crowd cheered. Click!

As he was letting them climb down, the sad clown tripped and fell into the audience and they laughed hysterically. The strongman pulled her back onto the stage and walked off with her while she burst into tears.

After this, I kinda zoned out. There’s one act I always looked forward to. A short girl with pigtailsand a giant rocket on her back and a chubby guy walked onstage, the girl blowing smoke out of a pipe into his face. Click! The strongman wheeled out a cannon, lifted the small guy up, and pushed him into the cannon. Click!

The girl walked up to me and grabbed my cigar, lighting the fuse with it. Click! She turned around, waiting for the cannon to launch. After a solid 5 seconds she started yelling at the guy in the cannon, who poked his head out to see what the holdup was, when all of a sudden it launched him into the air. Click!

She walked back to me, handing me my cigar, when I noticed that the hot ash from it must have lit the rocket on her back. Not three seconds later, I heard a loud boom and looked up to see a hole torn in the roof of the tent. We all ran outside and saw a firework in the shape of the girls head. A pink haired man next to me muttered,

“Well, I guess now’s as good a time as ever..” and pressed a button on a remote. The sky lit up with dozens of other brilliant flashes of color.

[foramomentonly]

20 or 28 from meet ugly prompts for Malex?

Prompt: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]

Author’s Note: I don’t love this one. It got a bit away from me. I hope you like it, though! Multiple anons asked for it, so I hate that I might not have done it justice. 

Alex is distracted. 

Ostensibly, the job is simple: arrange the music equipment correctly, hook it up, and stay out of the way until and unless something breaks. Maria set it up for him, some easy, part-time work in an industry he’s actually interested in to help him explore his options. Between an extended hospital stay and rehab, his honorable discharge, and falling into mind-numbing contract work for the past six months, his new normal is looking pretty bleak. But the environment backstage twenty minutes before a show is chaotic in a way that even an active war zone never felt—or maybe Alex had just grown accustomed to that particular brand of shitshow—and the physical element of the work is taking more of a toll on his leg than expected. And then there’s the guy.

Alex had done his research before agreeing to work for Michael Guerin, rising country-folk star. He’d listened to his music—twangy, and the lyrics were a little obvious, but overall Alex approved—and of course he’d seen pictures, candids from shows and promotional material. But all that is a very different experience from watching Michael lean with practiced nonchalance against the back wall just offstage, flirting lazily with the bassist from the open act. He’s no taller than Alex, really, but his body seems impossibly long, hard and lithe in tight, dark denim and a chambray shirt three haphazardly-fastened buttons away from hanging open. His curls are a little longer than Alex remembers from pictures, light brown and tousled in a way that makes Alex think of sex; and, judging by the way Michael’s companion keeps tugging at them as he grins down at her, Alex is not the only one. Michael’s smile is open and inviting, and he gives it freely, but it’s also practiced, a bit of a cipher that he passes off as innuendo. It’s a clever distraction to the poor stage manager's assistant who is hovering to the side, anxiously waiting to escort the main act; to the woman he’s talking to, who missed her cue and had to scamper onstage a full minute after the rest of her band; and, inadvertently, to Alex, who finds himself wanting to both wrap himself up in the warmth of that smile and fuck it right off Michael Guerin’s smug face.

In a way, it’s reassuring; Alex’s hasn’t experienced this kind of dizzying lust since before his amputation, and his path to reintroducing himself to his body as a tool of pleasure has been rough. Moments like this one, when Alex would like nothing more than to strip himself bare and drag every delicious ounce of gratification out of his own body—whether he does that with Michael Guerin or just thinking of him—gives Alex an intoxicating sense of hope and promise that goes deeper than the thrill of desire. 

It doesn't help him concentrate, though, and between the ache in his hip, the dim lighting backstage, and the haze of lust clouding Alex's vision as he shoots another glance at Michael, now onstage and mid-croon, it feels in retrospect almost inevitable. Alex fails to pick up his foot, to see the length of cords traveling across the floor from the stage to the impressive sound system in the back, and he trips, catching himself roughly against one of the pillars that supports the backstage balcony, but pulling out at least three different wires as he goes. There's an offensively loud, metallic screech, a deep thump of bass, and Michael's voice goes from clear and booming to soft, trembling, and completely drown out by his band.

Everything that follows is in slow motion. Alex raising his head as the band stops playing and locking eyes with Michael, who gazes at him hard and steady. Alex is the only person in the vicinity, not to mention the only one clutching a pillar like a life raft, cheek pressed uncomfortably against the rough wood; there’s no way Michael doesn’t know he’s to blame. Michael holding his gaze from onstage, tapping his index finger slowly against the mic resting on the stand in front of him. When no sound reverberates, Michael shakes his head, and Alex’s eyes widen. He hears whispered shouts and scuffling behind him, but he already knows the sound system will have to be completely reset. 

“Bear with me,” Michael says in a loud, clear voice to his audience, finally releasing Alex from the inescapable hold of his arresting gaze. He sweeps up an acoustic guitar from the side of the stage, waves off his band, and slides onto a stool he drags front and center from just offstage. And then he begins to sing; voice like gravel, deep and rough, projected as best he can. It’s an intimate venue and an adoring audience, and as they begin to crowd closer to the stage, falling silent all on their own and lost to the spell of Michael’s tune, it dawns on Alex that Michael Guerin is going to pull this off. 

He should feel relieved, redeemed even, considering the mounting enthusiasm of the shrieking crowd as Michael performs a full hour-long set completely acoustic, no mic and unaccompanied. But the memory of Michael’s eyes on him, hard and blazing, leaves Alex unsettled and, ultimately, unsurprised when Michael finds him just outside the theatre’s back entrance after his set, the roar of an extremely lubricated crowd pleading for an encore fading as the heavy door slams shut behind him.

“Alex Manes?” he asks, leaning his forearms against the railing of the small concrete landing in a mirror of Alex’s own position.

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck, man?”

Alex winces at the rasp of Michael’s overextended voice.

“I’m sorry,” Alex breathes. “First day.”

“I get that,” Michael says with a practiced patience, running a hand through his sweaty curls. “But—You’re Maria’s friend, right? Maria DeLuca?”

Alex nods.

“Look, she told me a little, uh, a little about you. You’re background.”

Alex turns to look at Michael, brow furrowed in confusion, and Michael’s eyes slide pointedly down to Alex’s leg and back up again, meeting his gaze openly.

“If the job is too much for you right now, we cou—”

Alex cuts him off.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hisses, anger and frustration boiling over at this man who thinks he knows who Alex is, what his limits are because he knows one fucking thing about him.

“Why’d you hired me, anyway?” he demands, shaking his head and pushing off the railing to his full height to face Michael. “You obviously aren’t a fan of the military.”

Michael as a figure is inherently political—openly bisexual, a self-proclaimed descendent of Lavender Country—and his lyrics and iconography further distance him from the uber-patriotic conservativism of typical American country. It’s one of the qualities of Michael’s brand that initially drew Alex to him; but in this moment, underestimated and called out, Alex is tired of playing nice and he lashes out.

Michael rolls his eyes.

“Could ask you why you wanna work for me,” he shoots back, dropping his pretence of understanding and standing upright, turning to match Alex’s aggressive stance.

Alex glowers at him as they face off under the dull glow of the building’s security lights. 

“Look, man,” Michael finally says through clenched teeth, “you want me to thank you for your service?”

Alex scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Then what do you want?”

Alex pauses. That question. That’s the million-dollar fucking question. The one Alex hasn’t been able to answer for a year, maybe longer; maybe not since he was 18 years-old and enlisting, making the decision not to choose any type of future for himself. It’s why Alex hangs out at the Pony most nights when his workday is done, desperate for distraction; it’s why he downloaded Grindr, but hasn’t set up a profile, why he jots down lyrics and music, but never plays them aloud; and it’s why Maria called in this favor with her favorite former regular who made it big.

What does he want? 

To stop fucking thinking about what he wants and take it.

“I want to write for you,” Alex blurts, voice insistent and sure, his tone nearly a command. “And I want to fuck you.”

Michael laughs, loud and disbelieving. He takes Alex in, eyes dragging slowly down the length of his body, roving every inch of him hungrily before catching Alex’s gaze, smiling broad and dirty. He stares at Alex with the same insistent, heated look he shot him from onstage, a challenge and a plea, and Alex thinks maybe Michael needs to stop performing as much as Alex needs to stop thinking.

“In that order?” Michael growls, and Alex grins. 

This isn’t the lazy, flirtatious Michael Guerin he saw backstage, entrancing unsuspecting underlings for sport; or the easy, charming Michael Guerin of the stage. This Michael is darker, more intent, and he pushes rather than teases as he stalks closer to Alex, crowding him against the brick wall of the building and kissing him hard and filthy, teeth and tongue and no mercy. Alex groans and fists his hands in Michael's sweaty curls, tugging them to direct the angle of his head for better access as he nips and sucks his way up Michael's throat, tasting the salt of his sweat when Alex soothes a fresh bruise with his tongue.

“You know I quit, right?” Alex pants, pressing his hips into Michael’s and smirking when Michael groans low and grinds back harder. Michael presses his palms against the wall on either side of Alex’s head as Alex reaches between them, working Michael’s belt and jeans open hurriedly. 

“As long as you know you’re fired,” Michael murmurs in reply.

Alex pushes his hand down Michael’s open pants and wraps long fingers around his cock, nipping at Michael’s lower lip and grinning when he gasps, dark eyes falling shut as his hips begin to churn in time with the twist of Alex's wrist. 

“Fair enough.”

Over coffee the next morning Alex shows Michael his songs, and Michael instantly re-hires him.

[hatsukeii]

OH MY GOD I JUST HAD A GENIUS SONGFIC IDEA

I am once again disregarding requests-

I’m sorry I love you guys but I HAVE TO DO THIS

Due to popular demand via a vote on instagram, I have decided who to write about:DDD

Disclaimer: This fic is inspired by a Levi one I’ve read before, I don’t remember the author but if you find them or they find me props to you!!

Remember When // Modern!Todoroki Shouto x reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Cursing, idk if this is a warning but aged up characters

Summary: In a world where everyone is reincarnated, your search to find someone special ends somewhere nostalgic.

The memories shouldn’t stay.

They just shouldn’t.

That’s not how the world works.

What was supposed to happen, was you were supposed to die, forget everything, and get reborn. Start a new life, with a new face, meet new people, fall in love all over again, get married, have kids, grow old, die, repeat.

So why didn’t that happen to you too?

Why did all the memories come flooding right back the second you turned three? Why did you look the exact same? Throughout your teenage years, you desperately tried to get rid of everyone in your memories. Mina, Bakugou, Deku, Kaminari, Jirou, and most importantly, Todoroki.

Ah, Todoroki Shouto, your first and last love. How could you forget him?

For fifteen years of your life, you’ve been trying desperately to find him. 

But who’s to say he remembers you too? 

That possibility didn’t stop you from seeking out every opportunity to figure out whether he was still the Todoroki you used to know. The Todoroki you used to love so dearly. You prayed every night, that you would finally meet him again, not in your dreams, but in real life. No matter how hard you tried to burn the memory of him out of your mind, he just wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t let go of how he stared at you, those heterochromatic eyes staring into your soul as it lit on fire. You craved to feel his hand on your cheek, his lips on your head, his arms around your waist, you wanted it all back. It made you feel greedy, it did, but could anyone blame you? You had everything taken away from you the minute he died. You wished to pass away, so you could forget about him and start a new life, but ended up with this mess. Your emotions are hard to suppress. You’re just as in love with Todoroki Shouto as you were in another life. 

You were unlucky to be reborn like this, all the memories from your past life mixed with new ones. The school days at UA high, fighting villains alongside your best friends. The day you got married. The day you had kids. It was terrible, having those images in your mind, but being unable to fulfil the hunger and constant longing to do it all over again.

Walking down the street, you stop at a cafe. It’s a really nice cafe. Reminds you of the one you used to work part time at in your past life. Warm, dim ceiling lights, timber wall lining, Swiss cheese plants, a nice little island where baristas were busing brewing up steaming hot mugs of coffee, plush couch seats and wooden chairs accompanied with marble tables, and a little platform for occasional guests that would perform. The entire cafe radiates a nice vibe. It reminds you of what you used to have. Giving yourself a tiny grin, you push the door open, letting the little bells ring. Grabbing a couch seat, you settle yourself down, putting your headphones on in an effort to block out the noise other customers were making. “Good evening, miss. Would you like anything? I suppose you wouldn’t want coffee at such a late hour.” You position one of the sides behind your ear. What time is it? You bring your phone up to your face, squinting a bit at the bright screen, showing 7:15 in bold, white numbers. “It’s fine, I’ll just have a latte and your apple pie.” The waitress looks at you in confusion. “Miss, I haven’t given you the menu yet?” Eyes widening, you go silent, before plastering a smile on your face. “Regular, just not at night.” Did that convince her? The waitress bites her lip, tilting her head a bit, before jotting down the order and shuffling away quickly. 

The cafe is buzzing with excitement, talks of a band performing in a bit filling the air of the cozy space. You roll your eyes, not wanting to deal with it. You just got back from five lectures that you surely didn’t enjoy. The cafe is supposed to be a way for you to get some downtime, not for a band to ruin the peaceful atmosphere. Pulling your headphone back onto your ear, you mindlessly go through your phone, bored and uninterested in anything on your timeline. Every single post is about your friends with their valentines date. To you, valentines is truly, the worst thing to possibly celebrate. Not only is it is about a man that was tortured and eventually killed, it is also a reminder, that you’ll never be able to love someone normally because of those stupid, idiotic, utterly pointless memories that held you back. It doesn’t matter how many people your friends set you up with. You’ve had to reject over eight guys you were set up with, all because you simply can’t let go of Todoroki. It doesn’t matter whether he remembers, as long as you do, you’ll never be free of this hell. You get made fun of for being too uptight, too picky, too dense, when in reality you can’t help it at all. Whenever you even have the slightest thought of a different guy, Todoroki’s name plays in your mind like a broken record. Thinking about it now, maybe you don’t want to leave the memories behind. Maybe you want to remember them, no matter how annoying, shitty, and irritating they can be. Losing them would be like losing a part of yourself, and you didn’t want that.

“Miss, the latte, and the apple pie. Enjoy your food.” Picking up the tiny spoon, you fiddle around with the utensil, admiring it in all its simplicity. It isn’t a peculiar spoon or anything, just a normal coffee spoon that has a gold brimmed green end. Sticking it into the latte, you give the drink a good stir, not even paying attention to the coffee foam art that was there a second ago. Leading the brim of the cup to your lips, you carefully take a sip of the hot liquid. Nothing about it has changed. It tastes just as good as when you worked here. If only you could introduce this to Todoroki all over again. Eyeing the pie with lidded eyes, you cut out a chunk, taking it into your mouth as you reminisced the days, where you would feed him the exact pie. It was pretty impossible not to feel nostalgic in this place. Way too many memories were made here. First dates, first kisses, first mini concerts, this was like a shrine of key events in your past life. You continue to savour the rest of your food, saving the drink for last. Exhaustion is taking over as you hear the sound of cheering, a guitar strum, and a half recognisable voice. Slumping into the couch, you doze off, headphones slowly falling off. From onstage, heterochromatic eyes stare at your figure, mouth hanging as the band sets up their instruments.

He finally found you.

After all these years, he finally found you.

Never has he ever been so thankful for fate.

His situation was the same as yours. He was reborn, then regained memories from his past life, except he was never able to get a certain someone out of his head. For years, he performed at this particular cafe, hoping you would be there to watch him. He hasn’t been able to fall in love with anyone, despite having hundreds of fangirls craving for his hand in marriage. He spent immeasurable amounts of time delving deep into those past memories, trying to scrape together the song you oh so loved to listen to. The song that represented your life with him. Hours upon hours of bass practising, just for the sake of reuniting with you. Uncertainties burdened him night after night. What if you’ve already become a different person? Would all his work have been for nothing? Would the only place he can ever meet you again be his dreams, and the piles of the memories he still had with you? All those doubts were washed away with the look he gave you. That was definitely the (Y/N) he knew. From the iconic band hoodie, to the order of the cafe’s secret apple pie and latte. That was undoubtedly you.

“Guys, please let me play one song first.”

“Hah? Todoroki, you’re seriously changing it now?”

“Do me a favour, would you? Let me do that song first?”

The drummer’s eyes widened in realisation. 

“O-oh! Yeah, sure thing. Good luck, you get one shot.”

Hands on the mic, the cafe goes silent as the first riff comes on.

Headphones fully slipping off your ears and onto your neck, your ears are no longer protected from outside noises.

This song.

Letting your eyes flutter open, you shake your head, rubbing your eyes a bit from your little nap. Adjusting your headphones to hang nicely around your neck, you sit up from your position, steadying yourself with your hands. How long have you been asleep for? You groggily grab for your phone, wincing yet again at the bright light that shone through. You weren’t even able to fully comprehend the numbers on your screen, when a voice rang loud and clear.

“Thought I saw your shadow under the door,”

This song, I remember it.

What is this? You absolutely love it. The way the lyrics resemble a long lost friendship, it makes your heart clench with every word. You pull your phone up, trying to Shazam the lyrics. The song sounds familiar, yet so, so different from anything you’ve heard before. Typing in the lyrics rapidly, your search fails as nothing comes up. 

Dammit, what is this?

“I can never tell what’s real anymore, anymore, anymore.”

There’s no way. It has to be a real song. You swear on your life you’ve heard it somewhere. It’s lingering in the back of your mind, waiting for the right time to pop out. Cold sweat drips from your forehead as you go through all the songs you know. Your head hurts, your sight is blurry. Hands go up to grab your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, your phone dropping onto the plush couch.

No, I know this, I definitely do.

“It seems so long, it seems so long,“

Colours flash in front of your shut eyelids, almost giving you an epilepsy. Your mind travels into those god forsaken memories from your past life. Mina, Jirou, Kirishima, Bakugou, Deku, Todoroki, everything crashes right down on you. Panting heavily, you grab the cup of coffee, downing it in one go, hoping it helps with easing your mind. An image flashes in your head, sending jolts to your body. You and Todoroki in a cafe, listening to Wallows perform for the first time. That was your first date. Remember When became your song that night. It was a staple of your relationship. It was like the background music of your life story. Was there no Wallows now? The nostalgia that song brought you was immeasurable, yet you didn’t know it would have such an effect on you. 

Oh my god.

A moment of epiphany hits you like a truck.

“All the places I’ve returned to,”

“All the faces that remind you,”

Letting your head spring up, your eyes dart around the cafe, desperately trying to find where the song is playing from. You should know fully well it’s coming from the band that is intriguing the audience excellently. However, you’re still in a state of complete shock, refusing to believe your ears. The familiar tune resonates in the cafe, a silky voice serenading couples in the audience.

It’s him.

Your eyes lock onto the band.

Heterochromatic irises stare back at your watery ones. 

He looks just as good as before. His hair is still groomed, red and white parting in the middle. His turquoise eye shines with the gloss of tears as he sings his heart out on the stage, letting the tears roll down his cheeks freely. 

Covering your mouth with a shaky hand, tears freely fall from your eyelids as your mind goes blank. You can’t seem to peel your eyes off him. Your heart beats wildly as you let out a tiny gasp.

It doesn’t matter if the two of you only just met. At a cafe. 

Right now, you’re looking at someone you’ve known your entire life, and it feels ethereal.

I found you.

Finally.

Do you remember this?

Do you remember when we were the ones watching?

References:

Remember When- Wallows

Lyrics to said song

Cafe interior inspo lmao

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @trashcanweeb @burnt-tomato @tiger1719 @bokutokoutarou @poppirocks @just-another-bored-writer @justachillgirl @itmekisuu @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @skyeackermans @macaronnv @mariechan123 @xonfusedsoul​ @inlwlevi​ @talks-a-lot-of-stuff​ @ewfilthymundane​ @emsvegetables @estherwritess @shoutsukii @sakusasgarbage @agentvicinity @thirstyvolleyballhoe @artsamber @sneezefiction

Feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

For once I’m proud of something I wrote, please feel free to give me feedback, hope you like reading this<3

[starship-squidlet]

Twelfth Night: Chapter Eleven, Pipers Piping

Summary: Back to work after Christmas! Things are a little tense, but everyone is just ready for the show to end...

Word count: 1,722

Disclaimer: Twelfth Night Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @prettyinlimegreenboots @fifty-for-the-racer @aggressive-bucky-barnes-stan (ask to be added/removed!)

A/N: Second to last chapter! This story has flown by so fast... I’m going to post the preface to the next story (The Green Fields of France, which will start posting 1/14 probably) I’m working on either tonight or tomorrow, so if you’re interested in being tagged in that please let me know!!! The sequel to Twelfth Night, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, will becoming at some point towards the end of February/early March, so keep an eye out for that as well!!! (Also coming soon: Space Pirates AU, and the New Music spinoff #2 and sequel!) Feel free to reach out and chat if you’re interested in knowing more about any of those, or if you want to be tagged when they’re posted!!!

Anyways, I hope this chapter isn’t too boring! It’s a lot of exposition and internal monologue because... at this point in a show... that’s about all you feel like doing 😂

Joke of the Day: What’s black and white and black and white and black and white and black and white and black and white? A penguin rolling down a hil!!!

Previous chapter: Lords A-Leaping

Next chapter: Drummers Drumming

No-one wanted to go to work on the twenty-sixth. Since Christmas Day had been so drowsy, they’d all had a hard time sleeping that night, so dragging themselves out of bed to get ready for work had been challenging. There was no lack of envy for Will, Alden, and Alan, who didn’t have to be in until two hours later than the others, although they still got up at the same time in a show of solidarity. Jack, Crutchie, and Elaine had to drag themselves down the block to the parking lot, almost completely silent save for the odd yawn or wordless grumble that escaped as they drove to the theatre. Inside, everyone else was just as still and quiet as they were—a “Christmas hangover”, as Race put it.

Jack moved through his pre-show preparations like he was moving through soup. Everything seemed more difficult than it should be, even simple things like rolling the cart-mounted carousel horses across the wagon house or rigging the carnival games. Elaine trudged through the wagon house, dragging the z-rack full of freshly-pressed dress shirts and scowling as the first performers began to arrive and fill the wagon house with their chatter—although even they weren’t as loud as normal. Not that anyone on the crew was complaining about that.

The only group that had even close to its normal level of energy was the child and teenage performers, who burst through the door in small packs, each one its own explosion of noise and color and force. Behind one of the little groups—the one containing one Leslie Jacobs—Jack had to hide a grin at the sight of an utterly exhausted-looking Davey Jacobs. When Davey caught sight of Jack, he perked up and smiled, giving the other man a small wave, before vanishing into the stairwell. A few minutes later, he was back, and sat down next to Jack on the bench by the stage right door with a sigh.

“How was your break?” Jack laughed.

“Well, we kind of crammed everything about Hanukkah—besides the candles; we did those during Hanukkah, but didn’t have time for anything else between working and finals and everything—into the past three days, and spent a lot of time on video chat with our parents. They wanted to come home, but decided it was probably best to just wait until the show closed because a lot of the time a second round of sick goes through in the last week just because everyone’s exhausted.”

“Great,” Jack groaned.

They watched Albert and Elaine walk past and pointedly ignore each other. Both of them arched their eyebrows at the odd interaction—or, rather, lack thereof—and watched the two head their separate directions.

“That was weird,” Davey observed.

“Yeah… I’m not really sure what it’s about. They were fine earlier.” Jack looked around and waved JoJo over. “Hey, what’s up with Albert and Elaine.”

JoJo shrugged. “Who knows. We’re all exhausted. They always fight when they’re tired. It’s probably nothing.”

Before the break, Jack had thought that the final Sunday’s show had been the slowest of the run. He had been wrong. The first show back was the slowest one—literally and figuratively; not only did it feel like it was dragging on, but, upon checking the time on his phone (repeatedly) he realized that was actually taking longer than normal to get through the show.

“Does the music sound slower to you?” he asked Race and Albert at one point as they moved the stage right house into place for a scene.

“Definitely,” Race grumbled.

“Even the band is out of patience with the show,” said Albert.

The second act, despite the high-energy start with the dancing and singing elves, things seemed to get even slower. From Race’s headset, Jack could hear the stage manager complaining about the lack of energy and speed—very loudly—and had to laugh. There was nothing to be done about it, after all.

The second show wasn’t much better, although the tempo picked up a little bit. They were still a few minutes longer than their normal run time, but had halved the amount of time that the day’s first show ran over.

For the rest of the week, things slowly moved closer and closer to normal. Everyone was still quiet and a bit lackluster, but the onstage energy picked up considerably the more shows they did—and the closer to closing they got. No-one ever figured out why Elaine and Albert were mad at each other, and Jack had a sneaking suspicion even the two of them wouldn’t have been able to answer if asked, but they were back to their normal scheming selves in a few days. Jack and Race decided to thank Mike, Ike, and JoJo for that, as another snowball war had been started—although this one was a stealth version that involved sneaking up on people before, after, and between shows; during intermissions; and even during lulls in the shows themselves and snipe-shotting one’s opponent with one of the little stuffed snowballs. Elaine always had a snow-puff in one of her apron pockets, and Albert kept at least one in the cargo pockets of his pants at all times. Jack guessed that Mike, Ike, JoJo, and Romeo—who was drawn into the war a little later—kept them on their persons most of the time as well. He never quite got used to the sight of fist-sized balls of fluff flying past his face in the middle of carrying props across the wagon house, usually followed by a startled yelp.

To everyone’s surprise, Elaine was the best participant in the war, and, when they were scolded by Weisel and called the competition off, she was declared MVP. Despite self-professed bad aim and poor depth perception—which the others could confirm, as other accuracy-based games that were played amongst the crew had illustrated her poor performance in these categories over the past months—she was scarily accurate with the light snow-puffs. It became common for her opponents to be in the middle of a conversation only to have a small ball of fiberfill and faux fur hit them in the back or head and to see a giggling, grinning Elaine dart around a corner or into a stairwell on the far side of the wagon house.

As they counted down to their final show, it was almost like everyone’s breath was held at the same time. The shows started to get faster now, and the protests by the stage manager over headset became pleas to slow down rather than speed up. Even the dancers commented on the increase in tempo, coming off from the tap number and elf sections breathless, sweaty, and laughing. A new energy seemed to be building up amongst both cast and crew, and Jack felt himself getting caught up in it without even noticing, the sort of energy that came with a storm on the horizon, with a wave about to crest in the ocean—with any sort of impending change.

Yet, with that nervous energy came an odd undercurrent of sorrow. As awful as so many of the parts of the show and its run had felt, as draining as the experience had been, as much as Jack wanted to be able to take a few days and just sleep—even though he knew that half of January was packed full of concerts and tours so he wouldn’t be able to do so for long—he was sad to see the show ending. Les Mis hadn’t felt like this, at least not that he could remember. He had felt ambivalent to tear that set apart after the final show, and happy to run his track for the final time. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had spent more time and energy working on the Christmas build, or just because he had grown so much more attached to the people he worked (and lived) with during this run, but he was truly sorry to see it go.

December 29th, 2019 was the second-to-last night of shows. Most of the performers spent more time than usual in the dressing rooms after the show, collecting personal belongings to take home with them. Many of them would be leaving the city or even state the next day, after the final show, heading for jobs at other theatres, as most of them weren’t permanent residents—the exceptions being two of the male singers, along with Alan, Alden, Will, and the show captain—of Santa Fe. One of the kid casts had had their final show the day before and had said tearful goodbyes to the adult cast members, each other, and even some of the crew. Some of them had returned tonight to see some of their friends on the other cast, and another round of tears went through the wagon house. Tonight’s kids cast had laid out their show t-shirts on the wagon house carpet and asked everyone to sign them. To his surprise, even Jack had been asked to sign several, and had reluctantly given in and done so.

Another reason that the ending of the show was particularly bittersweet, for Jack and his roommates, was that Will had told them, a few weeks earlier, that he would be moving back home to London in January, after accepting a job there. Despite jokes about having more space in the apartment and one less person to share the bathroom with, everyone was sad to see him leave, even Jack and Crutchie, despite only having known him for a few months. As the penultimate show drew to a close, Jack couldn’t help but notice Alan, Alden, and Elaine’s misty eyes as they prepared to say goodbye to their long-time friend and partner. He swallowed a lump in his own throat. It would certainly be strange to not hear Will’s accent somehow always discernible through the chatter of the entire cast, or run into him heading for the bathroom in the middle of the night at home. He’d be around for another week before leaving—it wasn’t like he was flying out after the last show, like most of the others, but quite suddenly it felt very much like he was going to be gone before they knew it. Maybe, Jack thought, that the show they had almost felt would go on forever was finally coming to an end…

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

“You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

[thisonesforfanfic]

Light in the dark (1/?)

Buky x Reader

Author’s Note: This first part is more of an introdutcion to the character. It might just be boring. Also I have no idea on the warnings I should make, please let me know and I will edit it in <3

Summary: You are working as a nurse on an american camp in Italy. Waiting for your brother to come back from a failed mission, you meet Captain America after a failed show he did on the site. 

Word Count: 2.3k

P.S. I was inspired by @webslingingspiderling​, thinking of a prequel to one of their series. I might be going on a differeent direction later, though 

You were desperate to find him, to see him again meant everything to you at that point. Your brother had left for an infiltration mission and no one in the camp had heard anything in days, it didn't take a genius to conclude it meant bad news, you wouldn't allow yourself to lose hope, though. While taking care of some of the wounded that managed to get back, you overheard some of them saying a huge part of the batallion was taken, and were being held captive.

This was meant to be a pleasent surprise, you had asked to be transfered to where Y/B/N's unit was, so you could be with him since you were both serving the country in your own way. He was a great soldier, no doubt, your parents had raised warriors, but you were definitely the best nurse there was with the American troops in Europe.

"Who would have thought" Y/B/N said proudly while putting his hands on your sholder "the kids of an immigrant going off to war to save the country that saved him" It was the first tour for both of you, you were terrified to be separated from him, sad you were not tasked with the enfermary at his battalion

Keeping your head down so Y/B/N couln't see the tears coming "Dad would be very proud of you br-"

"Proud of us!" He quickly cut you off, while putting a stran of your hair behind your ear, then raising your chin to look in your eyes " I might be running of with a gun in my hand, but you are the one that will be keeping us in one piece after all" he cuckles "but in all seriousness, I count on you to patch my ass up"

"Well you better not need it!" you stated, starting to get angry just at the thought of seeing him wounded "I might be good at it, but if you ever need to lay on my hospital beds I will make sure you regret it"

He laughed at your threats, "You know I'll always make it back to you in one piece Y/N"

He'd better.

Pulling you out of your memories, you heard quite a comotion outside of the medical quarters, you stepped outside to see the soldiers rallying around the stage.

"Go watch it!" Megan, one of the few people you would call a friend, whispered to you "You need some distraction right now, you look awful, plus, from all the posters, that captain guy looks like quite the eyecandy" You laughed at her comment, Megan was always trying to pin you up with some handsome soldier, ever since she got married to some airforce big shot she was trying to find you someone on a rank.

You understood her point of view, to her you were alone, not counting on your brother to help you out from now on, she wanted you to be protected, but you didn't want to think about it, and you knew you could fend for yourself if need be.

"Alright mrs. Nurse" you said with a laugh, you liked calling people mr. and mrs. as a sign of respect, even if you knew them on a name basis, especially when it made people a little uneasy. Megan hated it when you called her that way, so you laughed as she stuck her tongue out "I'm going, cover for me, will you?"

"Of couse my mrs. Y/L/N" as she practically pushed you out the door.

---

The whole thing was terrible. That is, he was a good looking guy, and the soldiers loved the girls dancing, but damn, that show was meant to be played anywhere else but here. When Captain America ended his speech, you could see he wanted to burry his face on the ground, the soldiers were mocking him, soon enough they were throwing stuff and calling for the girls to get back onstage.

"Bunch of animals" you whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes as you walked to the back of the poorly established stage, wanting to see if the man was OK after those soldiers' behavior 'it might have been bad, but the man's just doing what he was told' you thought. You quickly spotted the soldier sitting on the steps next to a couple of empty racks.

"Are you alright Mr. Captain?" you approached slowly, trying to make him feel a little better but he barely moved, he was focused on the notebook he had on his hands.

"I'm fine maam, thanks", you could feel in his voice and posture he was pretty sad about the whole thing, but still trying to be as kind and polite as possible. You spotted the circus monkey he had drew, with the same costume he was wearing.

Poor man

"I don't want to be invasive," you continued, wishing to make the man feel better "- but you did probably just present yourself to the thoughest crowd at their thoughest moment this week, so don't be so hard on yourself" you offered the kindest smile you could as you took a seat by his side.

"I was stupid to not have thought that awful speech wouldn't worked here", the soldier finally picked his head up and looked at you "But why would you say this is their thoughest moment miss...?" He was eager to better understand his situation, while still being as polite as he could

"Y/L/N, mr. Captain, but please, call me Y/N".  

"In that case, drop the mr... Call me Steve" he said while offering his hand out.

"Well Mr. Steve" you shook his hand while wearing a grin on your face, making him smile briefly "unfortunately, those guys just lost a lot of companions, they are maybe a quarter of the whole squad that was sent out a couple of days ago" now your voice was starting to shake with the terrible thoughts of what could have happened to Y/B/N.

"I should've thought..." He whispered to himself as you sniffed the tears away

Strugling to put the smile back on you continued "Well, if it makes you feel a little less pessimist, some of the guys I took care of on the medic ward said a great portion of those men are being held captive at a Hydra base.... Although I'm starting to think I will never see Y/B/N ever again" the smile faded with every word that went of your moutht, you couldn't even pretend to be optimist at that moment, your world was falling apart

"Hey miss Y/N, please don't be sad, you'll see your love again" he said, while putting his arms around you trying to console you. You let out a small chuckle with the comment, lifting your head up from your hands to say he was actually your brother. he hugged you thighter, offering a shoulder for you to cry on, but you just let him hold you for a while, it felt nice to have someone, possibly a friend, that understood your pain at that moment.

"This was meant to be a pleasent surprise, you know" you started to tell him as you pulled away from his warm and comforting hug. "These are meant to be my last couple of weeks in service before going back home for a while... You see, since I'm an immigrant nurse, people would hardly ever let me know the location of his battalion, under the belief I could be a spy, so we have barely written eachother" you paused to take a breath before the tears took control of you." When I finally discovered where he was and stated, I asked to be transfered here, to see him, since I don't have a clue when he's going home, and a letter would have taken way too much time. But he- he wasn't here" a few tears streamed down your face before you wiped them away "To my misfortune, his name is on the missing or presumed dead of the 107th"

You saw the Captain's eyes widening "the 107th you said?" He had worry, fear and pain mixed on his glance. You could see the million thoughts racing through your mind, as if you had just shot him in the stomach.

"Yes, Steve" An unfamiliar voice came from behind.

A beautiful brunnette was standing right above the steps you sat on. Despite the confusion in his eyes, you could see she made him feel more comfotable just by being there. You immediatly stood up to leave, but your body wouldn't move another inch. You could tell, judging by her face and uniform she knew at least something about the soldiers.

Quickly galncing at her name stiched on the uniform, you asked "Mrs. Carter, I do not mean to be indelicate, but do you know anything about them?" Your eyes were filling with hope and your heart was beating so fast you could swear both of them could hear it.

"I am sorry my dear, but I am not allow to talk to you about it, you should go tend to the wounded now" She sounded very harsh, but you didn't think much of it, most of your interactions outside of the medic ward ended that way

"yes, of course. Goodbye mrs. Carter, mr. Captain" so you nodded and started heading your way, trying to keep the tears from falling

---

"Her brother is in it Peggy, she's just worried" Steve said as he watched you go wiping your tears "Bucky is on the list as well, isn't he?" turning to Peggy, he had pain, anger, sadness and confusion all mixed up on his eyes, hoping the woman had answers to any of his doubts.

"Unfortunately, I do not know much, but I know who might" She motioned for him to get up as she walked towards the commander's tent

---

The enfermary was awfully quiet, there were not many soldiers for you to help. Most of the injured you tended to had been either estabilized and sent home, or were good enough to get up in a day or two. The few that were still there at the moment were, much like you, waiting for a miracle. No other missions were conducted ever since the disaster that took Y/B/N, so you had little to do there, especially at night. All you could do was look over at those who were sleeping or usually too high on medications to make any sound.

You sat on the edge of a french sargent's bed, changing the blood soaked bandages he had on where his right leg sould be, when you heard footsteps coming closer to you. It was definetly Megan, she would usually come in the middle of the night to check on you, she even transferred with you to Italy because she worried about you not getting any rest, Megan was like the mom you once had.

"Hey Megan, go back to bed, everything's fine", you said, not taking your eyes away from the wounds,

Probably woken up by his screams, those pillows were the worst to muffle the sounds of pain.

"Y/N..." you recognize the soothing voice, still concentrated in your actions you responded.

"I was not expecting to find you coming in mr. Captain, did the british lady already break that heart?" You said in a playful tone.

"Steve, please" He chuckled at your comment, but said nothing else, waiting for you to finish what you were doing.

"Give me a second, I am almost done" He took a seat on the bed opposite to the one you were. Gently covering the wound and closing the bandage, you looked to the sargent with a warm smile "C'est fini". You got to the sink and washed your hands before walking over to Steve, you noticed he was wearing gear, which could only mean one thing, really.

"So, what are you about to do?" you askes while drying your hands on your apron, shaking your head in disbelief. You knew exactly what Steve was up to, you just didn't know how.

"I'm saving them... Peggy has called in a favour and I will be dropped off close enough to their camp"

"You can't be serious, all by yourself? "That plan was nonsense, you both knew it, but you also knew there was barely any other option.

"I don't think I have much of a choice, there might be as much as 400 lives there, and no one else is willing to sacrifice" He was firm with his words, no one was changing his mind at this point. You never thought someone would be crazy or brave enough to do something like that.

"Well in that case...I should to give you something" you pulled your skirt up to take the knife strapped on your leg, but the poor lighting in the room made the captain feel extremely uncomfortable, not understanding what you were doing. "Relax" you chuckled as his cheeks got visibly red, then placing the weapon on both of your hands and offering it out

"Take this, my brother gave it to me for good luck" He was impressed by the bone carved handle and was hesitant to even touch it

"Please" you insisted "I will be right here for you to give it back once you're done, I know it will help you bring them back, it's not a gun, but it is still pretty pointy" you raised your eyebrows, practically waving it at him

Steve took a deep breath "Alright, I'll take it" he walked towards you "for good luck!" You couldn't help but smile at the man you wished to see again very soon. You gave him a peck on the cheek

"Now go, miss Carter is probably going to be jealous of you spending so much time with another girl" You saw his face almost catch fire at the sound of your words. "Good luck Steve, you better come back in one piece and with that knife on your hand"

You smiled as he walked out of the tent, looking back at you for a quick salute, making you laugh a little before going back to checking vitals as your mind drifted to memories.

[malumsmermaid]

Continuation of a text I sent the Baked Goods Hoes yesterday morning. Strap in.

Word Count: 2,160

Warnings: Poly!Malum smut (18+)

There was a break in the show, all four men running off stage for a short moment, midway through their set. After taking a quick swig of water, Calum leaned in, pressing his lips firmly to Michael’s cheek, both of them noticing you pouting after Calum pulled away from Michael, needing attention too. They both knew it was just a short break, Ashton already beginning to creep back towards his drumset, they need to go back out. Calum gives your hair a quick ruffle, a stern glance shot your way as he begins to walk back out with his shoulders squared and bass in hand, following Ashton’s first drum hit. Michael gives you a cheeky grin, just barely pressing his lips to yours before stepping onstage again.

You sigh as you lean against the wall, watching both your boys having fun, one occasionally running over to the other, dancing together for a moment before running back across the stage. There were quick, discreet glances of affection between them that you managed to catch because you were looking for one of your own, but they were focused on playing the show. Finally, after what seems like ages, the show ends and once they’ve finished waving goodbye, joking with Luke and Ashton, and put away their instruments and monitors, they walk up to you, crowding you against the wall, neither of them actually touching you, talking to each other for a moment.

You can feel the heat radiating from their bodies and glance between them, waiting for any acknowledgement. Michael takes a half step closer, mainly shifting his weight as he continues talking to Calum, who’s reaching up to fix a piece of Michael’s hair. You can feel the damp of his shirt and grab for it, taking advantage of his surprise to pull him into you, your arms going around his waist. He grins at Calum as he slowly wraps his arms back around you, peeling you just slightly off of the wall so Calum can step in behind you, his hands finding your waist to at least satisfy you with his touch before pressing his lips to Michael’s, finally humming “guess we should all go get cleaned up before bed.”

There was a glint in Michael’s eyes as he agreed with the other man, both of them separating just slightly, wrapping their arms around you on either side as the three of you walked out into the hallway. None of the crew members paid you any attention, bustling past as they began breaking down the stage, taking apart Ashton’s drum kit and packing away microphones before they could bring down the speakers and lights to be packed away in the truck and driven to the next city. You entered the venue showers, water hissing from behind two of the stalls. Ashton’s voice was echoing off of the tiled walls as he sang along to Luke’s wind down playlist that was playing from his phone by the sink.

Calum’s arm slid from around your waist, the brown eyed man turning towards the sink for a moment to gather everything, effortlessly sliding the glittery suit jacket from his shoulders as his eyes met Michael’s through the mirror. Michael nodded, his fingers digging into your waist as he began leading the way across the room, and you had enough of a read on your two men that you knew that you were about to get the attention you had been craving for the past 45 minutes, and then some. The prospect of what was about to happen, added onto the possibility of Luke or Ashton catching on to what would be happening not ten feet away, sent shivers down your spine as Michael pulled you into the largest shower stall, not bothering to latch the door as he quickly pressed you against the cool tile wall, fingers grabbing at your shirt as his lips attached to yours in a hungry kiss.

You easily allowed Michael to lead the kiss, letting his tongue dominate yours the second he slid it between your lips. He’d moved a hand up to your chin, his touch gentle as he pressed closer, his thigh naturally slotting between your own. Your hands fisted his shirt, barely minding the squeak of the stall door’s hinges, or the loud clang of the bolt as Calum pushed it into place. You felt him nudge Michael’s body closer to yours as he passed, setting all three sets of shampoo and soap up on the bench inside the large shower. Your eyes opened halfway and you watched Calum slowly move around the stall, setting down the three towels and sets of pajamas on the second bench outside of the shower. He had already stripped down to his boxers, you and Michael still fully dressed. He turned, looking up from where he’d just finished setting everything down, catching you staring through lust lidded eyes.

He hummed quietly, slowly taking the step over so that he was pressed against Michael’s back, his hands pressing against the wall to cage you both in. His brown eyes were dark as he rested his head on Michael’s shoulder, his voice a rasping whisper for just the two of you as one of the two running showers cut off. “Mikey, you’d think your kitten has never had nobody pay her no mind, how much ‘ttention she needs. Eyein’ me up while you’ve got your tongue down her throat. Think we oughta give her some.”

You could feel the vibrations as Michael hummed in response, slowly pulling away from the kiss. You stared between them both, chewing your lip to keep down the whimper threatening to rise from your throat. His hand slowly trailed down from your cheek, returning its grip to your shirt as he muttered, “Better get ready for our shower then, huh kitten?”

Calum’s lips drew up in a smirk and he pulled away, giving you and Michael room to get undressed, his own boxers dropping before he stepped into the shower, turning the water on while he waited. You could feel his eyes on you as you and Michael both got undressed, buy you were surprised when Michael stepped up behind you. You could feel his bare skin against your back as his arms wrapped around you. He nestled his face against your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he cradled your breast in one hand, gently pinching and rolling the nipple while his other hand dipped between your thighs, dragging a single finger between your folds. You felt his cock twitch against your back, gritting your teeth as he barely nudged your clit before removing his finger from you, bringing it up instead to tap at your lips. You easily complied, allowing his fingers past your lips. He smiled against your neck, whispering, “What got you this worked up kitten? Watching Cal and I play, or the idea that Ash and Lu are so close, could work out what we’re doing, could catch us?”

Your eyes were half closed, tongue swirling over Michael’s finger, cleaning yourself off of him. He smirked, glancing up at Calum, the other man beckoning the two of you forward. Michael smiled, beginning to walk you towards him, his arms still gripping you tightly as he did so.

Calum had a devilish grin on his face as he took your chin in his hand, “It’s both, isn’t it sweetheart? That the answer to Mikey’s question? It’s always both with you.”

Michael removed his finger from between your lips, smiling as he whispered, “What’s the answer kit? Gonna tell Cal what he already knows?” You nodded, whimpering out, “Always both.” Calum smirked, pulling you to him, crushing his lips to yours. You gripped his bicep as you felt Michael crawling in-between your legs, his hair tickling the inside of your thighs as he moved into his spot. You shuddered as he began working you over, lips, tongue and fingers working together to give you the attention you’d been craving. Calum smiled against your lips, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth over your jaw. He slowly pulled out of the kiss, whispering, “Not a sound sweetheart. Getting caught is a fun idea, but we don’t actually wanna have Ash or Luke or anyone from this tour seeing us like this, do we? Think Lu is still scarred from the last time he burst into our room unannounced.” You could feel Michael’s low laugh through your entire body, clutching Calum’s arm tighter as you tried to hold back a shiver. Calum only smirked, continuing with his next thought, “Gonna wash you, then you clean me. Then Mike and I are gonna swap and you clean him up, ok, princess?”

You only nodded and he hummed, brown eyes looking at you sternly as he ran his thumb over your lower lip, eyebrow raised. “Yes Cal,” you breathed, “sounds amazing.”

He nodded, pulling away slightly to grab your shampoo, quickly beginning to wash your hair. He ran his fingers through your strands when it was time to rinse, coaxing out the suds before bending down to allow you to do the same for his curls. As you were rinsing the soap from his hair, you gave them a yank, Michael pushing you over the edge. His hands gripped your thighs, elbows wrapped around your legs to brace you as he continued working you through. “More to come kitten.” He said lowly, just loud enough for you to be able to hear him over the hairdryer now running in the main room.

You nodded slowly, opening your eyes to meet Calum’s. He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You both washed each other, you reaching your second high just as Calum finished rinsing his skin. He smiled, crouching down to take Michael’s place, gently rubbing his back. Soon Michael was standing in front of you, his touch replaced by Calum’s.

You shakily reached for Michael’s shampoo, Michael instead choosing to grab the bottle himself, pouring the liquid into your quaking hand. He bent down, allowing you to wash his wet blonde hair, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he whispered quiet praises in your ear. Calum’s pace was much more unforgiving than Michael’s, his lips sucking at your already sensitive clit as his fingers curled up against your g-spot, hitting it over and over. He’d brought you to your orgasm once and was halfway to giving you his second, your fourth when Michael was finished rinsing off. He made sure that Michael had a good hold on you before he returned to his feet.  “So princess, which one of us was it you wanted attention from?” Calum whispered, hands gently massaging the backs of your thighs.

“You Cal.” You whimpered, nails digging into Michael’s shoulders.

“Jealous of Mikey, huh, that it?” Calum teased, his lips just brushing against your ear. You nodded and he smiled, “Know you’ve got one more for me. Take care of Mikey while I take care of us, apologize to him for being jealous.”

You nodded, reaching up to caress Michael’s cheek as Calum shifted behind you. You could feel his tip running through you and you grit your teeth. The bathroom was silent now apart from the shower you were in, but you knew that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone outside of your stall. You gripped Michael just as Calum sunk into you, matching the pace you were using on Michael to the one Calum was using on you. Not too long after they were both leaning their heads on your shoulders, Michael biting his lip as you continued to bring him closer to his high.

All three of you came apart one after the other, Calum the last to fall over the edge. You went limp, both men grabbing you to keep you from hitting the floor, Michael’s hands going under your arms while Calum grabbed your waist, using his thighs to try and brace your legs. Calum pulled out, making sure Michael had a hold of you while he grabbed the extra towel he’d brought to clean all three of you off. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me and Mike, that’s what you are princess.” He cooed, placing gentle kisses to your face.

Soon all three of you were dried off and in warm pajamas, Calum carrying you to the bus, Michael running ahead. “Gonna let our princess watch her favorite movie, cuddle up and fall asleep, give you all the attention you deserve.” He whispered quietly, walking up the steps while Michael held the door open. He carried you all the way to the back, setting you onto the large sectional, grabbing blankets as Michael set up the movie, smiling as you cuddled up to them both once the door was closed and you were tucked in. You gave them both tired kisses, their arms wrapping around you as the movie started.

[red-pill-blue-pill]

The best of the class. Ruska Roma. John Wick.

A/N: Hello once again. I erased this by mistake (yes, I’m THAT person) and I had to rewrite most of it. I don’t remember what I wrote the first time but I tried to write it as similar as I could. I also changed this to a second person point of view since people liked it better (yes, the second part is still in third person). Anyway, I hope I don’t delete any other fic cause I’m going to throw myself out the window if I do. Enjoy 💖(again).

Word Count: 4929 

Part 2.

Sore muscles. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Twirl. Jump. No time to rest.

Ruska Roma had put their highest hopes in you and that meant practicing until you couldn’t walk and your feet were covered in blisters. You owed them. Being lost in the streets of Romania was the toughest experience you ever had to endure so when the Director took you under her wing when you were seven, gratefulness was the only thing you could feel. This was your way to pay it back.

“Stop!” the Director screamed in the empty theater, her harsh voice echoing in the air making the twirling dancers come to a halt. You all fell to the floor with a thump, relieved that the practice was finally over. “Terrible. Tomorrow I want it perfect.” her thick accent brought back terrible memories that no one dared to recall. Her footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floors as she exited the big space.

“Tomorrow?” Katya exclaimed. “Impossible. I can’t barely walk!” A chorus of agreements echoed between the other girls onstage. You and Katya had known each other since you were seven years old. You were brought in at the same time and you became best friends almost instantly. Now you were twenty one years old and it still felt like the first day. “C’mon, if we put our feet in hot and then cold water the pain will die down for a few hours and we’ll be able to practice.” You tried to lighten up her mood but she shot you a look that warned to you shut up.

“Okay okay. We’ll stretch and I’ll massage your legs. How does that sound, you moody bitch?” You helped Katya stand up and you grabbed your gym bags. “That sounds great.” she answered laughing and walking towards the backstage area.

The door opened and the darkness of the room flooded their eyes that needed a couple of minutes to adjust. There were girls sitting everywhere. Your group was the last one to dance which meant you had no free space to stretch and clean up after practice because there were girls talking, changing clothes and pulling out their toe nails. A not so pleasing sight that matched the smell. The air was thick with sweat and if someone who wasn't used to it came to visit, vomit was assured.

You kicked out some younger girls that were talking about stupid stuff. This wasn’t the place to chit-chat about your love life. Katya placed her gym bag on the floor right next to the chair you were sitting on. “Remember when we were like that? Those were good times.” she said as she unrolled the bandage around her ankles that kept them from spraining. You looked at the young girls as they left, the last one not missing the opportunity to turn around and shoot you a scowling look.

“They sure were.” Your teen years were the best of your lives. Hormones jumping around and eyes searching for cute boys to flirt with; mouths for gossiping after kissing a couple of them, for laugh fits born in the midst of thrilling situations. Ignorance is a precious gift with expiration date that you had tried to get the most out of. Being in the Ruska Roma meant little freedom but you managed anyway. Sometimes you looked back with regretful eyes, the possibility of not seizing it enough nagging at the back of your mind. Now you had other things to worry about. Soon you would leave this place and all you had was everything they had taught you: perseverance, patience, strength. You would be sent to a wealthy family to take care of obscure affairs, or maybe to a dancing company to dance all around the world. You didn’t really care as long as your life was sorted out and that meant being the best at everything you did.

You went upstairs, your quick footsteps echoed through the huge rooms. In some of them young boys were learning how to wrestle for the first time, some faces were already swollen and it wasn’t surprising; you learned the hard way or you didn’t learn at all. In others the oldest ones were fighting viciously, trying to earn their own spot at the Director’s rank of favorites.

Katya elbowed your side softly to get your attention. “Look who’s got his eyes fixed on you.” she shot a cheeky smile while you looked around the room, your eyes catching his. He was standing on the side with the other “students” that watched the fights. He was one of the best fighters in the Ruska Roma. His hair was damp with sweat and his eyes had something feral in them, a lion watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, his cocky grin letting you know he was capable of eating you for dinner the moment he set his mind to it.

You blushed furiously and averted your eyes, looking down at the floor instead and quickening the pace of your steps. Katya followed close behind smiling widely. Once you closed the door to the corridor that led to the dorms, Katya squealed excitedly. “Did you see that?! Jardani was totally checking you out!”

You shushed her “Shut up! Someone might hear you.” the blush returning to your cheeks

“Dude, if Jardani checked me out I would want everyone to know about it.” Katya giggled while walking up to her dorm’s door. “I mean have you seen his face?”

You walked to your door. A shiver ran down your spine as she thought of his stare and the way his jaw clenched when your eyes interlocked. He was a very good looking boy, one of the most handsome ones in the Ruska Roma. Every single girl was obsessed with him. You were positive at least 6 in 10 had had wet dreams about him. Why was he interested in you? I mean, you had walked past each other in the halls for at least a thousand times and not a single “hello” had exited your mouths. Why now?

“You owe me a massage!” Katya yelled from her dorm and you huffed as you closed the door shut, you needed to rest. You lied on the bed and closed your eyes. Jardani. Your eyes shot open. Jardani. Your brain said matter of factly. A groan escaped your lips as you pulled the pillow over your head.

-

The shooting range was empty. It was your favorite training. You could blow some steam off and clear your mind while shooting viciously at a piece of paper. Sounded good. You were one of the best when it came to gun fighting. Your shots were precise and calculated, your hands as steady as steel. It was mesmerizing.

The shots, and every outside sound, were muffled by the headset you were wearing. It was only you and the gun. Or at least that's what you thought.

The last round of shots had just been fired. The bullet holes were concentrated around the head of the person's silhouette drawn on the target. You smiled proudly as the rack brought it forward, extending your arms eagerly to grab the paper. You needed to get the hell out of there, you were already late to dance practice and the Director did not tolerate the lack of punctuality.

You removed the headset from your head and put the safety back so you could put the gun back in your bag. A pair of hands started clapping behind you and you knew right away who it was. Of course, who else could have sneaked here while I was shooting?

"That was really impressive." His deep voice knocked the air out of your lungs for a couple of seconds and you debated whether to turn around or pretend he wasn't even there.

The politeness in you won the battle and you slowly turned to face him, a small blush creeping on you cheeks. "Thank you, I try." He was leaning against the wall, his hands on his front pockets, his hair was combed back allowing you to take a good look at his beautiful face that had the same cocky grin. His hazel eyes looked at you and glinted with mischief, and a mix of fear, thrill and arousal ran through your spine. But you had no time for this. Not for boys, not even for Jardani.

"How come you're here on your break?" He asked as he followed you. You had walked past him clearly in a rush but he didn't care. He knew what he wanted and nothing could stop him.

"Helps me relax and I'm good at it." You stated with no interest. You knew you could come across as rude but the only thing on your mind was not making the Director even more upset than she already was. He was about to open his mouth again but you interrupted "Listen, I don't have time right now I'm sorry." He stared at you while silence settled between the two of you. You felt naked under his gaze, you were certain he could read your thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'll wait for you to finish dancing practice." He shot you his most charming smile trying to convince you. His sudden insistence was starting to get irritating. It was even more than "insistence", it was waiting for you after practice. Everyone would see (see what?), everyone would know (know what?). The thought of him leading you on to make fun of you made itself clearer. You were the wrong person to mess up with and you were going to make that very clear.

"Okay, cut the crap. What's this?" He was taken aback by your question.

"What's what?"

"All this sudden interest in me. We've seen each other around for like a thousand times." You were already late but it didn't matter anymore.

He thought for a moment before answering "How about I tell you tonight while we have dinner?" You snorted at his words. At dinner? The Ruska Roma was very strict. Dinner's at 8 pm, and by 9:30 pm everyone had to be in their dorms tucked into bed so they could wake up at 5:30 am. If one of the guards caught a student breaking the curfew the punishment was said to be unbearable.

"I'll take care of it. Meet me in the dorm's entrance at 7:45 pm?"

You hesitated. If they caught you it would probably ruin your perfect record, you had never done something like this before. You were 21 and had never broken the rules which was pretty sad if you gave it a second thought. The Ruska had gave you everything you had but also taken away the best years of your life.

Fuck it. You could always not show up if you backed away.

"Okay." You turned around catching a glimpse of the triumphant grin that Jardani had on his face and ran off to practice.

--

It went worst than you thought. The Director was indeed pissed when you ran onstage in the middle of a song and her anger grew each second that passed. Your mind was filled with that night's plans, with Jardani and with enough anxiety to make you mess up every pirouette. It was physically impossible for you to clear your mind and the Director could see it.

"Enough!" she waved her hand in the air and stood up walking towards the stage. "Go away." Every girl ran off the stage "Not you Y/n."

Katya turned around to look at you as she ran off the stage, a worried expression lacing her face. You swallowed hard, your mind racing a thousand thoughts per second. Does she know about tonight? Is she going to give me an ultimatum? You walked up to her with your head hanging low.

"What's wrong with you? You're a mess lately." The Director's gaze softened when she looked at you. You were her best student and not only when it came to dancing. Your fighting skills were impeccable and your shooting record was the highest of the whole Ruska Roma. If you started fucking up now it would be impossible to assign you to a family or dance company, you wouldn't have a future.

You looked up at her, your voice quivering slightly. "I'm sorry, it's been a hard week." You felt ashamed and disappointed on yourself. This was unacceptable for you.

She sighed and shook her head lightly. “It’s okay. Tomorrow I want it perfect. Go rest before dinner.”

Your eyes welled up with tears of relief and shame. “Thank you director.” You said before turning on your heels and running off to the backstage area.

Katya was waiting and she ran towards you with a worried expression as she saw you close the door. “What did she say? Is everything okay?” she said as her eyes widened with each word.

You smiled lightly as you walked past her. “Yes, she just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“And are you? You’ve been in wonderland these past couple of days.” she followed you close, dodging the girls that lied on the floor while they stretched.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine. It’s nothing.” you went to open the door that led to the corridors of your dorm but she put her hand on top of yours as you reached for the doorknob.

“Where are you going? You never miss stretching.” she raised an eyebrow when she saw your face blushing furiously. It took a couple of seconds or her to connect the dots. Her mouth opened in surprise. “You’re going to see him aren’t you?” you nodded slowly.

”Oh my god!” she squealed as silently as she could. Making everyone turn their heads towards you two.

You fake smiled and grabbed her shoulder to turn her around, hiding your face as you talked. “Yes. Please don’t make a scene. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.” you whispered and she smiled cheekily

“No wonder why you’ve been so distracted. He’s got you under his spell.” she laughed and you opened the door, tired of hearing her comments, you knew she was right, as much as you wanted to deny it.

“Have fun!” she said just before you closed it and rushed to your room.

-

You turned to the clock that hung on your wall. 7:40. The anxiety was overwhelming you, even more after the talk with the Director. You knew she worried about you and you were about to betray that trust it took you years to build. The “backing off” sign was shining as bright as ever. Three minutes. Who were you trying to deceive? You were all dressed up with your make up on point. You wanted this more than anything even if the feeling of guilt was burning a hole in your stomach. Two minutes. You sneaked out of your room and walked through the corridor, your heart thumping on your chest as you got closer and closer to the door.

The wooden floor creaked under your steps and you cursed under your breath. You opened the door and closed it trying to make as little sound as you could. You took a quick glance around the room. No sight of Jardani. A sudden fear of being stood up and laughed at took over your mind. You mentally scolded yourself for being so naive. Footsteps echoed through the adjacent room. You heartbeat sped up. The rational part of your brain wanted for them to belong to a guard who would tell you to go to the dinning room and end this nonsense. You would never talk to Jardani again, problem solved. No more distractions, no more anxiety. But the irrational part longed to see Jardani's face and, deep down, the thought of not seeing him made your heart break a little.

When you saw him come around the corner you let out a sigh of relief. A big smile made its way through his face. His hair was combed backwards, the same as when you saw him in the shooting range. His white shirt tightened around his arms and put on display before your eyes his muscled chest and broad shoulders. It was tucked inside his blue jeans. He looked straight out a 60's movie.

You snapped out of your trance knowing you were staring a bit too much and he was completely aware. "Let's go please." You whispered trying to hurry him up.

He smiled cockily. "aren't we eager?" He said but before you could answer he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him "Come on."

You walked silently through the building, dodging the guards and sneaking into the first floor to jump out the window. He jumped first and held his hand out to help you land safely on the ground. You smiled at him and thanked him softly.

"There's a park two streets away, let's go." He said as he started to walk, you following him suit. It was only now that you noticed he had a backpack. The thought of him kidnapping or murdering you had never crossed your mind. It would be the perfect occasion though. Only Katya knew you were out the Ruska Roma but she didn't know where. You could fight him. He was one of the best and strongest fighters but you had mastered the technique and could match his expertise.

"Here we are." He stopped and swung his backpack off his shoulder. He kneeled on the floor and opened the zip to get out a picnic blanket and laid it on the grass. He also pulled put a couple of chinese take away containers and a big bottle of water.

You were in awe. Not only was he risking getting caught right now, he had sneaked out to get the food and then sneaked back in to meet you. You heart warmed at the thought and all that dread you felt towards him before melted away.

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you sitting here with me?" He asked patting the free stop next to him on the blanket. You rolled your eyes and sat down next to him. The golden hour sun shone on your faces. His long lashes casted shadows over his cheekbones and the light stubble that covered his chin and jaw stood out. His brown coffee eyes seemed lighter. He was so beautiful you couldn't hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds.

"Alright, tell me. Have I suddenly become irresistible?" You asked before stuffing your face with noodles. It had been a while since you had eaten something that good.

"What?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

You shot him a knowing look and he sighed.

"Look, I saw you, thought you were cute and asked you out. It's not that deep."

He shrugged his shoulders and took a big gulp of water.

You snorted at his response "Jardani, c'mon, we have seen eachother a thousand times. I know there's more to it."

He turned to look at you and his gaze softened. “You can look at people without actually seeing them.” he paused for a couple of seconds, thinking how to put his words together. ”Everyone talked about how you were the best in Ruska Roma and when you walked past wrestling class and I looked at you properly I thought you were really cute. So now we’re here.”

You chucked lightly and swallowed the food in your mouth. “Yeah right.”

“Oh my god. If I knew you were this stubborn I would never have asked you out. What is it now?” he said while rolling his eyes.

“I saw how you were staring at me.” you said in a burst of confidence. You were rarely the one to display vanity but this was an actual fact. He looked at you waiting for you to finish “Your eyes were… almost feral, filled with lust.”

“Did it turn you on?” he asked with a stoic expression on his face.

Your eyes widened and your face grew hot at his sudden question. You hand slapped his arm harshly. It would be embarrassing to confess something like that to someone like him, so filled with self-importance and in full knowledge of what his looks did to the ladies. “Jardani!” you screamed as he laughed at your flustered face.

“I’m just messing with you.”

Dusk was starting to set in, darkness flooded the sky and stars made their appearance. The food was long finished and you just stared at the sky, shoulders brushing slightly every time any of you moved a little bit. You tried your best not to get carried away. He was intoxicating and you needed to remain as rational as possible. You couldn’t face more distractions right now.

“I really like this.” you murmured without even thinking.

“What?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the night sky.

“Being outside, freedom feels good once in a while.” you said chuckling at your own words. You knew freedom was unreachable in your life but it comforted you to think that maybe you had experienced it at least once.

He didn’t say anything, he just leaned more into you, his arm flush against yours. The feeling of his skin on yours sent electric jolts down your spine. Your brain was clouded with confusion and you struggled to keep your tough façade. You thought about anything that could keep your mind out of this situation but the sound of his breathing always broke your concentration. That was the first time you noticed his scent. He smelled of mint and deodorant. Clean, fresh.

He lied on the blanket while letting out a loud sigh. You breathed in slowly, thankful for the loss of contact between you two, it was taking all you had to not jump his bones right there. Just as your relief came it went away as his hand rested on the small of your back, drawing small circles with his thumb. You heart threatened to jump right out our mouth and you were positive he could feel it.

You kept your back turned to him, trying to ignore his presence as much as you could. This was being some kind of test from the gods. A very mean one. You couldn’t even remember the last time you got laid, hell you couldn’t even remember the last time someone laid their hands on you. You were completely touch starved and your oversensitive skin reacting to his touch was sweet torture.

He squeezed lightly your skin “Lay down with me.” he whispered, his voice was like honey, cloying for your unaccustomed ears. Your mind rushed, trying to think of an excuse but nothing came so you just gave in and braced yourself for what was to come.

You lied down, his arm was against yours again. Your eyes scanned his profile. It was unbelievable how someone could look so good with such little effort. His gaze was lost in the vastness of the sky, his lips pursed lightly. You could only think about how badly you wanted to kiss him, to feel his soft lips on yours.

A sigh left your parted mouth as you looked back into the darkness.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as if he was reading your mind.

“Nothing.” Your face grew red at the unspoken thoughts.

“You were thinking about kissing me, weren’t you?” he turned to look at you with a soft smile on his lips.

He was truly a smooth talker. You could tell he had a lot of experience in the flirting field. The way the words rolled off his tongue, how he knew when to whisper, when to lower his voice. He knew how to get you weak on the knees. And what was more important he knew how girls thought of him.

“Oh my god are you always like this?” you tried to hide the embarrassment in your voice with a laugh.

He joined you with a chuckle. “What do you mean? I’m lovely.”

“Yeah, sure.” You laughed even harder. “I’m actually having a good time, the company could be better but I’m not complaining.” you said when you managed to calm down.

“Me too. It’s been a while since I had last done this.”

The smile that was plastered on your face faltered a little. A pang of jealousy in your heart. Were you jealous? For a boy you just met? Well, that was new.

“Oh, so you do this often?” you asked trying not to sound too upset.

“Are you jealous?” he smiled cheekily. “I’ve done this a fair amount of times but never with someone like you.”

You could see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. You breathed in slowly. “What am I like?” You turned your head to meet his eyes, there it was, that feral look once again, that look that made you wet your panties. You said it. Jardani made you wet your panties.

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your face. “A good girl.” it was barely above a whisper but you heard it as clear as if he had screamed it.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the combination of touch and words, and let out a shaky breath. You were going to combust at any given moment. He ran his thumb over your lips, his eyes studying your flustered face. He knew the effect he had on you and was taking complete advantage. It was a delight for him to see you completely at his mercy.

It was getting hard to control yourself, your brain had hung the “on vacation” sign and the feeling of his breathing on your face was making it even more difficult. A sudden rush of lust ran through your body and you couldn’t help but to take his thumb into your mouth. His breath hitched at the unexpected action and you opened your eyes to meet his darkened gaze, watching you closely as sucked on his finger, running your tongue up and down before releasing it with a light pop.

His eyes pierced through yours and it felt as if he was trying to look beyond them. His thumb rested on your lips and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan “Jardani.”

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. His breathing was ragged as he waited for your reply, almost impossible to hold himself back.

“Kiss me.”

Before you knew it his lips were on yours. Teeth clashed and tongues met in a heated kiss that surpassed your expectations. Even though it was rough and full of lust you felt how soft his lips were and how good he tasted. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled you to straddle him while yours were tangled in his soft hair. When you broke the kiss you stared at each other, trying to steady your altered breathings.

Laughter erupted as you thought about what you had just done. His eyes gleamed with curiosity, and his ruffled hair added a touch of innocence that made him look like a guy that was making out with a girl for the first time. He was genuinely confused by you not-so-good-anymore attitude. You looked wild, sexy. The small beads of sweat that rested on your neck and forehead glinted under the moonlight.

You leaned down again to kiss him softly as his hands travelled down to your ass, squeezing it through your jeans. You rolled your hips against his crotch in response, eliciting a loud moan against your mouth. You hands rested on his chest, occasionally scratching him through his t-shirt.

“How about we go back?” he asked in between small pecks making you smile.

You pulled away, biting lightly his lower lip, and rested your forehead against his. You obviously knew where this was leading to but you couldn’t care less. Some steamy hot sex with the Jardani was everything you needed right now to blow some steam off and relax a little.

You nodded and got up, helping him up to his feet and swiftly picking up all the picnic stuff. You had no time to waste. He put away the take away food containers and put the blanket back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and holding his hand out for your to take it.

When he enveloped your small hand with his he pulled you against his chest and kissed you again. You rested your free hand on his chest and you felt his heartbeat thumping against your palm. When you broke the kiss you looked up at him and chuckled lightly before starting to walk back to the Ruska Roma.

“What?” he asked with an amused expression plastered on his face while he let you drag him along as you walked.

“It’s stupid. It’s just, when I saw you at wrestling class you looked so wild and feral, like a lion waiting for his prey, and I had the feeling that you could eat me for dinner if you wanted to.” you said brushing it off and chuckling again.

He spun you around and looked right into your eyes, his mouth curving upwards lightly. “Baby, I’ve already had dinner. You’re dessert.” he clashed his mouth against yours again, this time in a domineering manner, letting you know who was in charge.

[trashcanmarvelfan]

(Not-At-All) Dirty Little Secret

Summary: On National Coming Out Day, Richie gathers the Losers together for dinner before the first show in his new stand-up tour.

After the show, he & Eddie have a Conversation.

Warnings: Usual Richie trashmouthing.

Word Count: ~2200.

Author’s Note: How many different fix-its can I write that involve Reddie getting together? Idk, but I’m having a blast doing it. :D.

In honor of National Coming Out Day. To all my LGBTQ+ friends & readers, you are seen & heard. Don’t let anyone ever let you feel like you’re less than your worth.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

Richie Tozier checked his phone one last time as he finished rehearsing for his new stand-up show, pulling up the Losers group text thread and scrolling back to the beginning of the conversation about his show that night. Hey so, uh, my new tour is kicking off at the Laugh-Out-Loud Comedy Club in San Antonio on October 11th and I'd love for you all to be there. I'll be there all weekend if you guys want to come.

He had held his breath as the replies started rolling in from everyone but the one person he most wanted to hear from.

BEV: Ben and I will be there!

BEN: We wouldn't miss it for the world.

MIKE: Of course, man.

BILL: Absolutely.

Finally, after what seemed like forever (although it probably was really only 20 minutes) the last reply came.

EDDIE: I'll be there.

Richie had let out a huge sigh of relief and responded with, Thanks, guys. I'll tell my manager to arrange everything and get you all VIP tickets. Thinking we can do dinner before the show. 

BILL: Sounds great!

MIKE: I'm down.

BEV: Losers' Reunion Dinner! :) <3

EDDIE: No Chinese though. I still have an aversion to fortune cookies.

Richie had laughed before replying. I'm with Eddie on this one. I'll check for some recommendations.

They had ultimately decided on The Esquire, a tavern near the club that had come highly recommended by some of the locals from the club. 

Richie's manager had booked everyone at the same hotel that Richie was staying at for the weekend, at Richie's insistence. Since Richie had to rehearse, he had told the other Losers that he would just meet them for dinner and had arranged for a car to take them from the hotel to dinner and the club and back. He had arranged for his own transportation just in case what he had planned tonight didn't go well.

A new message came in. 

BILL: Richie, you said a CAR was picking us up from the hotel. This is too much.

Richie grinned. Technically, a limo is a car. Besides, I told you guys you were getting the VIP treatment.

EDDIE: What he means is thank you.

BILL: Richie knows what I mean.

EDDIE: We'll see you soon.

Richie's mouth went dry. He grabbed the bottle of water he had stashed by the microphone and took a long swig. Showtime.

He climbed into the Uber he had called and greeted his driver, then practiced the speech he had prepared in his head the entire ride over to the Esquire, his hand shaking nervously. Come on, Tozier. Get your shit together. You can battle a psychotic killer space-clown twice, you can do this.

Soon (too soon?) the car stopped in front of the Esquire.

Richie thanked his driver and headed inside, taking a deep breath as he headed to the private room he had reserved for their party.

"What's up, fuckers?" he said, entering the room.

"Richie!" a chorus greeted him.

Ben wrapped him in a hug first, followed by Bev, who also gave him a kiss on the cheek. Mike, then Bill shook his hand, then finally, Eddie. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Eddie was wearing jeans, a button-down shirt that was open at the collar, and a black leather jacket, and Richie honestly thought that Eddie had never looked hotter. He suddenly got nervous again. Fuck, I can't do this, he thought.  Actually, shit, I have to. It's not right to let them find out later with everyone else.

They sat and ordered drinks, with Richie making his a double. He had promised his manager that he wouldn't get drunk before the show, but he never said anything about a little liquid courage.

After their drinks were delivered and they had placed their orders, Bill had raised his glass. "I'd like to make a toast to the man of the hour -- Richie, who has brought us together -- but we're not fighting a multi-dimensional demon clown this time, are we?"

Richie looked around. "Well, no, I don't see Eds's mom anywhere, do you?"

"Hey, fuck you, bro," Eddie said, but with no heat to it.

Richie cleared his throat. No time like the present. "Actually, I do have something to talk to you guys about."

Five pairs of eyes watched him expectantly.

He fiddled with his glass. "I, uh… I'm, well…" He looked up to the ceiling as if it could give him the courage to say what he needed to say.

He felt a hand on his wrist, then glanced down to see Eddie's black leather-jacketed arm give him a gentle squeeze before retracting. Suddenly his own words came back to him: You're braver than you think.

He took a deep breath. "I'm gay."

Silence followed his statement until Beverly stood up, walked around the table, and wrapped him in a hug. "Thank you for being brave enough to tell us," she said, which prompted the others to also get up and give Richie a hug and their own words of affirmation.

Richie was probably imagining things, but it felt like Eddie lingered in his embrace a little longer than necessary. He didn't have time to dwell on the thought though because soon after, their food arrived.

Dinner went normally, with the only mention of Richie's sexuality being Ben asking politely if Richie was seeing anyone.

Richie shook his head. "No, no, not seeing anyone right now. Honestly there really haven't been too many guys I've been interested in lately." He had shot a quick glance over at Eddie, who was currently studying his gluten-free turkey burger like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Just one in particular.

After dinner, Richie joined the others in the limo on the way to the club. With six people in the car, it was a bit crowded, but Richie definitely didn't mind Eddie sitting close to him.

Once they had gotten to the club, Richie headed backstage while the Losers went to their seats.

Soon it was time for the show. Richie pumped himself up while he waited to be announced. You fucking did it, man. You came out to your friends and the world didn't end. You're not dirty, or wrong, or broken. You're still Richie.

He was surprisingly calm as he made his way onstage, knowing that he had the support and love of the people who mattered most to him.

"What the fuck is up, San Antonio?" he greeted the cheering audience. "How you guys doing tonight?"

He grabbed the mic off of the stand. "It's so fucking great to be kicking off my new tour here. So I was near my hotel earlier, and…"

Richie fed off of the energy of the crowd, getting more laughs with his all-original jokes than he had ever gotten with his old writer's stuff.

"So I had my sexual awakening at 13," he continued, grabbing ahold of the mic stand for support. "And I'm gonna preface this by reminding you guys that I grew up in the 80's. Any Gen-X'ers in the house?"

Hoots and whistles pierced the air.

"Awesome, Ok, so yeah, anyway, I had my sexual awakening at 13. I had this group of friends, and the summer I turned 13 we all went swimming at the quarry in my hometown, and this group of friends had this one particular girl - you know the type. I mean she was beautiful -- milky white skin, fiery red hair, she was just gorgeous." He sent Bev a cheeky wink before continuing. "So anyway, all us guys are staring at her while she was sunbathing and all of a sudden it hit me -- I had no attraction towards her what-so-ever."

He paused and let his words sink in before continuing. "Then I look over to another one of my friends and it was like a chorus of angels started singing. Beautiful, amazing girl -- nothing. Pale, skinny little white guy -- instant boner. You guys have no idea how hot a pair of long legs in some short-shorts and a fanny pack were to teenage me. They say if you jerk off too much you could go blind…" He exaggeratedly pushed his glasses further up oh his face. "Well, I guess that was pretty much the truth in my case." He paused as the crowd laughed.

"So yeah, in honor of National Coming Out Day, surprise, motherfuckers!"  Richie chuckled as the audience cheered. "Thank you so much for being so supportive and such a great crowd -- I'll see you next time!" He waved before making his way off stage.

"Richie, that was brilliant!" his manager said, handing him a napkin to wipe the sweat off his brow. "You killed it! Listen, I've already been fielding calls from Out Magazine and a couple of the late-night talk shows…"

Richie shook his head. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he said. "Tonight I just want to celebrate with my friends." 

"Sure, sure. I had them escorted back to the limo since you already did your meet & greet with the other VIPs."

"Thanks, man." Richie tossed the napkin in a nearby bin and made his way to the back of the club, where the limo was waiting for him.

He threw open the door and climbed in. "So what did you guys--" he cut himself off.

The limo was empty except for one person. Eddie looked up from where he was sitting. "Hey, Richie."

Richie looked around. "Where's everyone else?"

Eddie looked uncomfortable. "They, uh, they said they'd meet us back at the hotel and went ahead and got an Uber. Can we talk?"

Richie froze. Shit. "Um, yeah, sure Eds." He closed the door behind him and made his way over to the seat, leaving a good bit of space between him & Eddie. "What's up?"

Eddie bit his lip. "I didn't announce this during dinner because I didn't want to overshadow you coming out, but… I divorced Myra once I got back to New York."

Richie had been so distracted by Eddie in his black leather jacket, exuding just a *hint* of bad-boy appeal, that he had never really looked at Eddie's hands. Sure enough, Eddie's ring finger no longer bore the gold band that he had been sporting the last time Richie had seen him. "Holy shit, dude. I honestly wasn't sure if you had it in you."

Eddie smiled softly. "Well, a wise man once told me that I was braver than I thought, so as soon as I got home I packed the rest of my stuff and told Myra that I wanted a divorce.  I played it safe for so many years and was so warped by my mother that I pretty much wound up marrying her clone. Myra was just like her, even down to her buying my clothes."

Richie blushed and cast his eyes downward. "Um, yeah, I kind of noticed you looked different tonight. You uh, you look good."

Eddie shrugged and smiled shyly, then took Richie's hand. "Tonight, in your act, when you publicly came out… You said you had been attracted to one of your friends who wore short-shorts and a fanny pack. You were talking about me, weren't you?"

Richie squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Um--"

"Rich? Please tell me that wasn't just part of your act." Eddie's voice sounded so hopeful that Richie's heart squeezed. He dragged his eyes back up to Eddie's. "No, not at all. Shit, Eds, you have no idea how much I lo--"

He was cut off by Eddie's lips on his own.

Hoooooooly fuck. Richie melted into the kiss, scooting closer and reaching up to gently caress Eddie's face. "Oh my God, Eds…" he muttered against Eddie's lips.

Eddie broke the kiss. "I know it's probably obvious by now, but I'm gay too," he replied. "And I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for over 28 years now. Ever since we were kids."

"Fucking Christ, I love you too," Richie said breathlessly, pulling Eddie back to him for another kiss. He licked his way into Eddie's mouth, savoring the taste of mint (wait, did Eddie actually fucking brush his teeth while he was waiting on me? he briefly wondered) and Eddie.

Once breathing became a necessity, they broke apart and Richie leaned his forehead against Eddie's. "Jesus, this is like the beginning of every single one of my childhood fantasies come true," he panted, his hands still on Eddie's face.

Eddie wrapped his fingers around Richie's hands. "Mine too." He turned and placed a kiss against Richie's palm where his oath scar used to be, a kiss so tender that it made Richie want to cry. 

Suddenly the limo stopped and the driver's voice came over the speaker. "Mr. Tozier, we've arrived back at your hotel."

"Uh, thanks," Richie replied, before turning to Eddie. "So what do we do now?"

Eddie smirked. "Well, first we need to go have another coming-out with our friends in the hotel bar, then after that I'm dragging you upstairs, where we're going to fulfill the rest of our childhood fantasies."

And they did. Repeatedly.