#there’s something incredibly soft about him in vegas (that’s because he’s cold and needs to be cozy)

[rickybaby]

visacashapprb: The countdown is on ⏳

[mitchellpete]

Dating Maverick (Headcanons)

summary: What dating Mav is like. (In ‘86 and in TG:M)

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst

word count: 1278

A/N: if anybody wants a drabble/one-shot or for me to expand on any one of these (or if you wanna just talk about or exchange hcs), drop me an inbox! 

-

1986 (and a few years after-ish)

Maverick is a very gentle lover. It didn’t seem so at first, with how cocky and flirty he might’ve been to catch your attention, but after the second date? So vulnerable and soft with you.

He can sing! Like actually super well. You noticed one day and now you ask him to sing when you can’t sleep. He was kind of self-conscious at first, used to singing with Goose in a playful, rowdy manner, as opposed to softly to you. He grew more comfortable as time passed, and now he likes to sing you his mother’s favorite songs.

But also gets incredibly obnoxious sometimes and will loudly impersonate Elvis while you’re trying to get something done.

Spontaneous road trips on his motorcycle (when he’s able). Dinner in Oceanside. Lunch in Palm Springs. A pick up in Vegas. A day in Phoenix. When? Now! Now?!

Knows the Southwest like the back of his hand, actually. It’s not as fun as flying, but driving through the wide, open stretch of desert with you clinging behind him is one of his absolute favorite pastimes.

Is from somewhere in the Southwest, therefore he absolutely hates the cold. Will have the heater on in the winter time and is not opposed to getting wrapped up in blankets by you. You tease him on how easily cold he gets, and he’ll playfully go “Whatever.”

You frequently find random candid photos of you. Taped to his wall, to his fridge, suddenly framed on his bedside table. He almost never mentions them until you laugh and point them out, to which he responds, “I thought you looked pretty there.” (With a shit-eating grin.)

Definitely has one in his F-14, by the way.

Is very stubborn about his attire. Very insistent on dressing like a cowboy at all times. You had to buy him his first pair of beach shorts.

Loves seeing you in his clothes; he’s crazy about it, actually.

Very cute lunch dates. He knows the best diners.

He likes taking you out for ice cream. Sometimes you share a cone and watch the sunset and the planes soaring through the sky. 

He’s the best kisser. He prefers soft, sensual kissing and it definitely has its effect on you.

He has a habit of leaving paper planes everywhere. Some with love notes in them, others with funny doodles. Sometimes it’s just both of your names written, a little heart in between. 

He rambles a lot. He’s very, very passionate about flying, and about his plane. Though you might not know what he’s talking about, nodding along with a simple smile and asking him a few questions makes him so happy. “Well, no, you see..” And then he goes on and on again. 

At the same time, Maverick can be difficult sometimes. Especially after Goose. Sometimes he feels he needs to be alone, but don’t take it personally. He appreciates your support, but he’s been conditioned to “suck it up and move on.” It weighs on him to have to try, so expect him to be a bit quieter at times, a bit slower. You can sit around with him as he sulks, your head on his shoulder to let him know you need him, and that he’s loved. That he doesn’t have to isolate.

You get to watch him visibly becoming Bradley’s father figure. 

“Hey, about tomorrow’s date. Can I bring the kid?” 

Melting when he’s got Bradley in his lap in front of you, making airplane noises with a french fry to watch Bradley giggle and clap. Your heart swells at how good he is with him.

“Pete.. You can’t take him to watch that movie; it’s not for kids.” His signature grin. “Carole won’t mind.”

-

TG:M

Still sings to you. Or, in general, really. He likes to hum while making you breakfast.

He writes all your dates on his calendar. 

He’s very playful with you. Likes making you double over in laughter because it usually results in you wrapping your arms around him and kissing him.

But he also enjoys when you tease him. Tell him there’s something he can’t do as well as he used to and boy, he will prove you wrong. He insists he’s getting better with age.

He’s still as flirty as ever. Except, you’re already dating, so he does it to watch how flustered you get. He loves making you blush.

He likes pet names. Sweetheart and honey are the ones he calls you the most.

He still does not like proper beach attire. Will roll up his jeans and call it a day.

He loves beach days with you, though. He likes laying back on the sand and watching you sunbathe, or play in the water.

You’re almost scared of phone calls now, with the way you’ve been called and informed of the accidents he’s been in while testing his planes. Though most are minor, you can’t help but worry that the next one might not be.

You’ve cried to him a couple times, making him promise he’ll be careful.

He’s a bigger cuddler at his older age, with the habit of pulling you from where you stand, from whatever you’re doing, and tugging you into bed with him.

He likes it when you play with his hair. It’ll lull him to sleep sometimes. Especially when you gently massage at his scalp, and bonus if you’re giving him kisses too. The fastest way to get him asleep, truly.

Alternatively, he also likes playing with yours. He’ll randomly twirl a strand when you’re in front of him, will tuck another behind your ear, will softly intertwine his fingers in it while you lay on him. 

When he’s able, sleeping in together. As often as he can. 

He notices you so well. If something is bothering you, he’ll make sure to find out what it is. He’s also a very good problem solver (duh, but with mundane things too). You feel like he deals with a lot, so you don’t always take every single one of your problems to him, but boy, when he figures out something is wrong? Expect him to walk you through the simplest of things if that’s what you need. He has an unbelievable amount of patience with you. And if it’s something he can’t help with, he’ll at least want to be there with you as you deal with it. He can be the best listener if you need him to be.

Is a lot more domestic and able to settle down. Likes the idea of having a “home” with you. (Not that he didn’t when he was younger, but he feels more grounded now. More grown up. Able to breathe a bit better.)

He makes your coffee just the way you like it. If he’s up before you, he always wakes you up with it, and a kiss on the forehead.

The days spent in his hangar. 

Sometimes, in the summer, a late night thunderstorm will pass through, and there’s nothing more thrilling than cuddling up to him in the trailer, the both of you giggling at the sound of the rain pattering and the loud cracks of thunder. 

But also the days! Though he’ll be occupied with something, you’re always a mere 10 feet away, reading or sketching or entertaining yourself in whatever way you can. Other times you just watch him work. Other times you ask him to tell you his infamous stories, or about his dad. He’ll have sort of a sad smile as he talks, but you know that he loves talking about the past. You make sure to always make room for it in the tranquility of the desert.

[chaiiitime]

Ok, um, wrote this a long time, but never felt brave enough to post it. Baku 2018 sexual angst i guess?

Daniel had been looking forward to this alone time at home, but now the silence of the farmhouse just felt oppressive. The problem was, he wasn’t used to being on his own. There always had been people around him — Blake, Michael, whoever else happened to be his press officer, people whose life were more or less dictated by his schedule.

He’d been feeling so restless, he’d dug out an old lounge chair from the pool house and placed it on his deck. It was still early summer days, so the heat wasn’t so uncomfortable that he couldn’t be out in the sun. He’d even grabbed a cold beer to play into the whole pretence of him relaxing.

He shifted on the chair, feeling like his skin was too tight to contain him. He rubbed his chest, trying to get rid of that jittery feeling. The hairs there were rough against his palm, making a scratching sound, almost ticklish. He had more or less dropped his waxing regimen since he’d stopped racing, so the hairs there grew freely, swirling densely around his nipples.

His hand drifted down his chest, along his sternum, following the trail of hair to the waistband of his swim trunks. His fingers tangled in the soft mat of hair there as his hand hovered, tentative.

Maybe if he just jerked off once, it would help him get rid of that anxious energy.

The thought was tempting, but he wasn’t some teenage boy who’d jerk off only because he was bored. He slipped his hand into his trunks, cupping himself. The more he thought about whether or not to do it, the harder he could feel himself grow. He tipped his head back, groaning in frustration. Ah fuck it, he thought. He was a grown man and if he wanted to rub one off on his property in the middle of the day, he could.

He kicked his swim trunks to the ground and relaxed back on the lounger. He propped one arm behind his head, the other snacking down to touch himself. He started off with long, slow strokes, starting at the base, his thumb tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock to then swipe over the smooth head. He went through his mental catalogue of fap material. There was that one busty blonde he had fucked once in Vegas. She’d been incredible at deep-throating him. He remembered how good it had felt when his cock had touched the back of her throat, the flex of her throat around him, the gagging sounds she’d made that had spurred him on.

Shit, he needed some lotion, but he couldn’t exactly just walk into the house with his throbbing dick in hand now. So, he spat on his hand, adding a twisty motion as his strokes turned sharp and short. The sun was hot on his skin, and he could smell the musk of his own sweat as it covered his body in a shiny film. He lifted his head to look down to where his hand was frantically working himself over, his rose tattoo and the veins on the back of his hand bulging and flexing with each movement. The mushroom head of his cock was mottled purple, the veins running along his shaft fully engorged. He was leaking pre-cum so much that it mixed with his saliva, creating a slippery mess. God damn, he needed to come so bad — he just needed something to push him over.

His free hand desperately thumbed at his nipples as he screwed his eyes shut tight. He tried to think of something, anything but his mind drifted to thoughts of next year. Of the possibility of getting that second Red Bull seat. Of how it would be to finally have a fucking decent car under him. If they thought he would gladly roll over and play the perfect second driver out of gratitude, they had another think coming. He couldn’t care less if every race was a repetition of their crash in Baku — he was not going to be as nice as he’d been the first time around.

He grunted as he let himself feed on the anger from that race. He let it siphon through his blood, his body coiling into a live wire. He bent one of his knees, widening his legs to give himself the leverage for his hips to flex off the lounger. He could see the red of Max’s rear lights flashing in front of his eyes. He was furiously fucking his own hand now, chasing that release with the same singular focus he had chased after Max. Because beneath the anger that day, there’d also been that thrill of the chase. That need to show them who he fucking was. His whole body strained towards that white-hot pleasure that was just out of his reach. He reached down, his other hand tugging on his balls as he pumped his dick blindingly. He thought back to the petulant curve of Max’s mouth in the debrief afterwards, and he wished he could have the wet hot suction of a mouth on him right then.

Then, just like when his and Max’s cars had come together, he felt the impact on his body. Just like for that brief moment when his car had spun, sparks and brake dust flying around him, he felt weightless as he started to come in long waves. Mouth agape to the sky, he couldn’t help the desperate sounds he was making, the whimpers falling from his lips as his toes curled into the towel on the lounger. He was still coming, the thick white ropes of his cum spilling over his hands, spraying on his chest, tangling in the hairs on his stomach. He continued pulling on his cock even as the sensations started becoming too much. He wanted to relish that feeling he’d felt back then a bit longer — that almost maniacal vindication that he’d shown them not to mess with him.

He felt completely wrecked as he came down from his high, his spent cock lying where his hips met his thighs. Still twitching and sputtering cum in the aftermath. Shit, he thought.

Max Max Maxy

Max would be his teammate again — not the wide-eyed young boy who’d laughed at Daniel’s dick jokes, but a World Champion now. It would not be the same, he thought as he lazily carded his fingers through his happy trail, getting them sticky with the aftermath of his orgasm. He needed to get up, get cleaned but he stayed where he was, letting his cum dry up on his skin, the sun beating down on him.

[wonder-womans-ex]

When In Vegas

It was loud in the locker room the next morning, but Saint was quiet.

Three days had passed since someone else’s world had been turned upside down, and Saint wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or scared—or relieved that it hadn’t been him.

Those fucking pictures, god. He had stared for hours, maybe more, hands frozen around his phone. The knowledge was unbearable—someone had done this. Someone was out to get people like them.

People like him.

But, in a way, it was also liberating. If he had to guess, he would say that no one had known about Black and Lupin. Judging from the way Tremblay had acted at All-Stars, they probably hadn’t even told their team, and god knew Saint hadn’t told his.

So, really, who was to say he was the only one? Any of the guys here, unlacing their skates beside him, could have grown up amidst thoughts of don’t look and stay silent and focus on the hockey. Any of the guys here could have had boyfriends in high school or college. Any of them could still.

He reveled in the thought. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

Black. Lupin. Tweedle.

Three names on a list wasn’t many, but it was better than one.

Saint glanced up when he felt someone watching him. His eyes met a pair of gleaming yellow ones—before meeting Greyback, he hadn’t even known that eyes could be that colour—and he steeled himself, resolutely not looking away.

Greyback smiled, and Saint recoiled internally. If there were others on the team—others in the league—Greyback was certainly not one of them.

As if Saint would ever, in a million years, want him to be.

He pulled off his second skate with one good, sharp tug. His helmet sat on the bench beside him, and he rested one elbow on it briefly. It was common knowledge that playing professional hockey was difficult, but the thing most people didn’t know was how near-impossible it was just putting on and taking off the necessary gear.

Next, after his skates, were his shin pads—big, bulky things that got hot altogether much too quickly, but at least they protected his legs. Then his jersey, his shoulder pads, his pants, until he Saint could finally lift his undershirt over his head and make his way to the showers.

The warm water felt like bliss against his aching muscles, but a part of him still pleaded to skip this bit and head straight home. All he really wanted was to curl up in bed with a bowl of ramen—decidedly not on his diet plan, but, hey, a guy could dream—and an episode of Drag Race.

And, of course, Luke. But he wasn’t allowed to think about that. Not here.

Or maybe, he realized, mind darting back to pictures taken through the windshield of a car, he could.

He had just begun to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top—grey, with the Golden Knights logo on the front and his name and number on the back—when there came a shout from the other side of the locker room.

“Hey, Tweedle!”

It was Pettigrew, one of his teammates, brandishing a ring of keys in the air. “Need a ride?”

Saint forced a smile. “Nah; I’m good. My roommate’s picking me up. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Pettigrew smiled back. “All right. See you tomorrow, Tweedle.”

“Yeah,” said Saint as he turned back to his stall. “See you.”

He packed up his gear in a sort of half-trance, thinking less about where he was and more about where he was soon to be. Saint loved hockey, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love other things, too.

Other people.

The army green jeep was already waiting for him outside. He glanced around briefly, scanning the parking lot for any of his teammates, then pulled open the passenger side door. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d checked to see if anyone was watching—it was, after all, nothing out of the ordinary: just a completely heterosexual hockey player getting into his completely heterosexual roommate’s car.

“Hey,” Saint said, meeting Luke’s gaze in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“Hey yourself,” Luke responded, a teasing tone to his voice. “How was practice?”

Saint just shrugged. “Same as always, I suppose. What are we having for dinner?”

Many things could be said for Luke Deveaux, and one of them was that he was a master of recognizing a subject change when he heard one. “Thought I’d finally cook up that chicken that’s been sitting in the freezer. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds fucking incredible. You really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

They smiled at each other again as Luke pulled out onto the main road—the soft kind of smile that said everything for them. Carefully, Saint reached out, resting a hand on Luke’s leg. The simple contact was really all they needed as they both looked back out to the road ahead, letting silence envelop them.

Finally, when they came to a stop at the second or third red light, Luke looked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly—genuinely, in a way only he could.

Saint made a noise of confusion. “What’s what?”

“You’re thinking.”

This time, Saint didn’t say anything for quite a while. He kept his eyes forward as the light turned green and Luke began to drive again. Eventually, just as Luke had begun to think that he wouldn’t get a response at all, Saint spoke up: “What if I introduced you to my teammates?”

Luke had a feeling he knew what Saint was getting at, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ve met a couple of them,” he said, slowly. “Pettigrew. Reaves. Dearborn. Greyback—though I didn’t like him much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Saint said, and took a breath before continuing. “I meant like… what if I introduced you to them as my boyfriend?”

“Husband,” corrected Luke idly, jerking the wheel to the right.

“Right, yeah. But I’d still probably introduce you as my boyfriend, because, y’know—”

“Nineteen.”

“—Elvis.”

Another beat of silence. Another deep breath. “And I just thought—I was thinking that—that…”

Luke waited.

“Obviously I wouldn’t want to come out to the whole world. Not yet,” said Saint, starting again, “but… you know. People know about Black and Lupin—though they didn’t get to tell people; people were told for them. And if I said something, maybe… maybe, if there are others, they’d know… they’d know they aren’t alone.”

It was Saint’s turn to wait, now, as Luke took a left onto a side street and narrowly missed the curb. He swallowed back the slight lump in his throat—he’d said his bit; now it was time for Luke to say his.

“I love you.” Luke’s words were hushed, and, yeah, it was always nice to get reassurance, but that didn’t really clear anything up.

“I love you, too.”

“And I—” Luke sighed. “Can I have a little while? To think about it? Or, rather, not to think about it, but to think about how I’m going to say it.”

Tilting his head, Saint looked thoughtfully over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Yeah; of course. Take all the time you need. It was just something I was thinking about.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it for a while.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, if the better part of three days counts as ‘a while,’ then, yeah; I guess. Consciously, at least. Subconsciously… maybe longer.” He shrugged. “Who knows. All I do know is that I’m absolutely crazy for you, and I’d like someone who isn’t us or the guy who officiated our wedding to know that.”

“Especially because he almost definitely doesn’t remember either of us anymore.”

“Exactly.”

This next pause was different from the previous ones—more pause-like, though that didn’t make sense, even in Saint’s head.

“It’s like,” said Luke, thoughtfully, as he turned onto their street, “remember when we got married? And neither of us said anything about it for almost a month?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember why?”

“Um, because typically you don’t get married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and a half?”

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house. Luke pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. “Bingo.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Saint asked, tentatively, “And, uh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like that, because I could only see that going one of two ways: either we stayed in a marriage neither of us was ready for, or we ended both the marriage and the relationship. And so, of course, the solution my nineteen-year-old and slightly stupid self came up with was to ignore the situation entirely. You can’t annul a marriage that you don’t acknowledge exists, right?”

Saint furrowed his brow. “But… we didn’t annul the marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“...I think you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah; probably.” Luke sighed “I’m going about this all wrong. I suppose the thing I keep getting stuck on is that it would make everything more difficult if—you know.”

“No,” Saint said, “I don’t know.”

“If we broke up.” It all came out in one breath, and Luke looked anywhere but at Saint while he said.

Suddenly, Saint found it difficult to breath. “You—you think we’re going to break up?”

“No. No; god, of course not. It’s just one of those irrational fears; yeah? Like, you know the elevator isn’t going to break and send you falling to your death like Tower of Terror, but you still worry about it.”

“Not quite sure I follow.” Saint waited a moment, then added, “So… I take it you aren’t planning on breaking up with me?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled as he said it, popping the p. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“A lot longer, hopefully.”

“Amen to that,” said Saint, then reached to unlock the car door.

“Wait,” Luke said quietly. “I’m… there’s something else.”

Saint turned back, letting go of the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I just—it’s been five years—or it will have been in a week, technically, but still—and… and I guess I was wondering if you… might like to do it again. That. Without Elvis, this time.”

“What, get married?”

Luke took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Jesus Christ, Saint; weren’t you listening to anything I just said? It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just—forget I said anything.” Now it was Luke’s turn to begin to open the car door, a rush of cold air seeping in through the gap.

“Wait—Tweedle—”

Luke paused. Saint didn’t often call him that, and, even when he did, usually when he was trying to be serious. It was something Saint would say when they were fighting—it was his way of saying I love you; I don’t regret being with you. It was not something Saint would say to someone he didn’t want to be married to.

“Yeah?” Luke didn’t look over—he kept his gaze on the sliver of pavement he could see in the space between the door and the rest of the car—but he could imagine the look on Saint’s face.

“I want to.”

“What?” He knew what Saint had said. He wasn’t asking for clarification. He was giving Saint one last chance to change his mind, and hoping desperately that Saint wouldn’t take it.

“I want to marry you. Fucking hell, of course I want to marry you. Again. Preferably sober this time. Definitely without Elvis.”

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Luke’s lips. “Is that your way of proposing?”

“Actually, I think it was my way of accepting your proposal. And, either way, it was better than last time, when I think I just stuck my hand up your shirt and called it a day.”

This time, Luke really did laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“No kidding.” A pause, then, “Do you still have your ring?”

“Do I still have my—what kind of a question is that? Of course I do! I—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Why? Do you still have yours?”

Saint looked down, avoiding Luke's eyes. His hand went to his neck, where he pulled out a thin gold chain. On it hung the ring Luke had given him so long ago: slightly battered and riddled with notches, but in a way better than it was when they had exchanged them all those years ago, giggling on the alcohol. "Of course I do." His voice was soft—almost timid. "I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of it if I wanted to."

Luke let himself smile. “I wear mine, sometimes, you know,” he said, in a voice nearly as gentle. “When you’re not around.”

“Yeah. I—I do, too.”

“I love you.”

Saint didn’t even think before he did it. He knew, somewhere, that it was a terrible idea—that this was exactly where Black and Lupin had gone wrong—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luke was his husband, goddammit, and if he wanted to lean across the console and kiss him until he forgot his own name, then nothing in the world was stopping him.

Well. Nothing except his seatbelt, and even that only took him a few brief moments to discard. Then he was turning in his seat and reaching out and cupping Luke’s cheek in the palm of his hand and whispering “I love you, too,” against his lips.

"God," Saint said, pulling away. "How could I ever have stopped."

Luke quietly laughed, pulling himself away from Saint's lips. "I don't know, love; it could have been you withdrawing yourself from me. It… it almost made me think you—well, not hated me, but at least that you regretted ever getting married."

Saint made a small sound, as if Luke's words were paining him. "I would never." His eyes were starting to water. "I could never. Sure, we were too young; sure, we were drunk. Sure, it was stupid. But it was the best mistake of my life."

Another laugh, this one slightly louder. “Best mistake of mine, too.”

Luke leaned in for another kiss. “Wait,” said Saint, ignoring the noise of protest he got in return. “I have to…”

Saint reached around the back of his neck, sighing in frustration as he fiddled clumsily with the clasp of his necklace. It took him a good ten seconds, but finally he was able to lift it off and slide the ring into the palm of his hand.

The thin gold band fit perfectly around his finger—the weight was familiar; the cheap metal had already been warmed by his body heat, almost as if he had never taken it off.

“People—” Luke cleared his throat. “People will ask questions.”

“I know.”

“And what—what will—”

“What will my answer be?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” murmured Saint, leaning in to brush their noses together, “there’s only ever been one answer.”

“And what’s that?” At this point, Luke was just playing along—and they both knew it.

“You.”

.

amazing characters by @lumosinlove

thank you so much to @im-oknutzy-trash for being my #1 supporter while I tried to get the words to work (and letting me use some of their words when mine inevitably didn't)

note: this is based off that one ask hazel received literal months ago about how if saint were in SW he'd be on the golden knights bc he looks good in gold. no one else seems to remember it, however, so maybe I imagined it. who knows.

and, yes, Saint's last name in this is Tweedle.

[morganaspendragonss]

turn to dust all that i adore

whoops it’s a 2b spec fic based on two seconds in a promo love that

title from things we lost in the fire by bastille

ao3 | 2.3k | 2b spoilers

The fire continues raging whenever TK closes his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than the sight that greets him when his eyes are open. He wishes he could wipe that awful night from his memory completely and go back to where they were just a few days ago, happy and safe and in their home. They don’t even have that anymore, the house little more than ash, and TK would be okay with that - they could rebuild from that - if Carlos weren’t so silent and still in front of him. 

The fire was three days ago; TK hasn’t seen Carlos awake in four. He’d been in the middle of a 24-hour shift when the call came through, bickering with Nancy about the merits of various sitcoms, Captain Vega probably rolling her eyes in the back as they returned to the station. 

Nancy had quietly offered to drive when they found out the address, but TK had shaken his head. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he’d pressed down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator, praying he’d be able to get there fast enough. The house was a lost cause, if what dispatch said was true, but if he could save Carlos, then that would be enough.

He’d failed - of course he had. An explosion had ripped through the building just as they’d pulled up, the glass shattering as flames leapt from their bedroom window. TK had felt a cold dread settle inside him, and his worst fears had been confirmed when the team emerged with Carlos limp in their arms.

He’s alive, but the damage had been done. Too much smoke inhalation and multiple horrific burns left him hanging by a thread; it’s a miracle, really, that the heart monitor is still beeping out a steady rhythm. TK can’t be thankful, though, not when he knows everything could turn on its head in an instant. Not when they’ve already lost so much.

A soft knock on the door grabs TK’s attention. He looks up to see his dad standing there, a sad smile on his face and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. TK twists his face into a grimace and returns to watching the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Son -”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that for days,” his dad points out, walking over and pointedly laying the sandwich in TK’s lap. “Starving yourself isn’t going to make him wake up any faster.”

TK barely spares the sandwich a cursory glance. “Nor is forcing myself to eat.”

His dad sighs, crossing the room and grabbing the extra chair. He sets it down next to TK’s and, though he doesn’t look, TK knows he’s being subjected to one of his ‘dad looks’.

“TK, you’ve barely left the hospital since it happened,” he says. “I know it’s hard right now, but you can always come back and stay with me. You still have a home.”

“Not without him, I don’t.”

He hears his dad’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand running through his hair, but TK’s detached from it all. He studies Carlos’s face, every part familiar to him, but so strange and foreign now. Carlos has never been a restless sleeper - that’s all TK - but there’s usually some movement. A crease appearing between his brows as his face scrunches up, his muscles shifting as he pulls TK closer, his nose gently nuzzling the back of TK’s neck. This still version of him isn’t Carlos. This isn’t the man TK loves.

But it’s close as he’s going to get until Carlos comes back to him, and TK can’t stand the thought of leaving him. In all the months they’ve been dating, they’ve rarely spent a night apart, and most of those were either on shift or still in their bed, with a pillow that smelt like the other and the promise of seeing each other again soon. Going back to his dad’s house would only be bearable if Carlos were with him, but that’s not possible, so neither is leaving.

“TK, I -”

“If you’re just here to give me this,” he interrupts, waving the sandwich in his dad’s direction, “then, thanks, but you should probably go now. His parents are coming in a bit and the hospital barely lets three of us be in here as it is.”

His dad recoils, wounded, but doesn’t budge, much to TK’s irritation. He’s really not in the mood for any more meaningless talk or thinly veiled attempts to get him to eat or sleep.

“Dad, please.”

“I was contacted by the PD this morning,” his dad says instead. TK’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “They found out what caused the fire.”

TK waits, but his dad suddenly becomes very reticent, his eyes flicking between TK and the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t something as simple as the electrics blowing or the washing machine malfunctioning; it’s worse, and TK’s breath seems to stick in his lungs.

“Dad?” he croaks.

Their eyes finally meet, his dad’s face arranged into a sympathetic grimace. “It was arson.”

Time stops.

“What?” TK breathes, shaking his head. Arson. Someone burned their home down and almost killed Carlos, on purpose. And for what? To kill them? The only reason TK wasn’t caught up in it too, after all, is because he was fortunate enough to be on shift that night. “Do they know who?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, voice full of regret. “It’s been happening all over the city, no leads so far.”

TK sits back in his chair, a white-hot spark of anger flashing through him as he once more takes in the many bandages on Carlos’s body. He wonders if this was how Judd felt those weeks ago when he found out the guy who’d run them off the bridge was also in the hospital, because TK would very much like to go out and find the people who did this. He wants them to pay for what they’ve done to the love of his life.

As is sensing where his mind has gone, his dad starts rubbing gentle circles on his back, though it doesn’t calm TK like it usually does.

“I think I’ll stay here until his parents show up,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

It’s a non-question; his tone makes it clear that he’s not going anywhere no matter what, but TK doesn’t have it in him to put up even a token argument. He simply nods wearily, and settles in for another day of waiting - another day without his boyfriend’s comforting presence at his side.

*

A week after the fire, he’s told he can go back to the house, if he wants. He doesn’t, really, but he goes anyway, knowing that Carlos will have questions when he wakes up, and maybe he’ll be able to salvage something.

Probably not, but it’s never been the stuff that’s mattered to him. It’s been what the loss of it all represents, the memories that now exist only in his head and in the ashes.

TK stares up at the blackened husk of their home, something keeping him rooted in the middle of the street. Police tape is still up and there’s an officer waiting to escort him in when he’s ready, but TK just… He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“TK?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, turning to see Carlos’s neighbour from two doors down, Molly, her daughter trailing behind her. TK doesn’t know many of the people around here, but Molly and her husband are often to be found playing with Lilia on the porch, and they always make a point of greeting them. Carlos has even babysat for them a few times, though TK’s rarely there for that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling apologetically. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m okay,” he replies, and Molly seems to understand what that really means. “Carlos is still in hospital, but we’re, um. We’re hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

She nods, glancing at the house. “It’s terrible, what happened. You’ve got somewhere to stay, right?”

“I’ve only just moved out of my dad’s place, so I’ll just go back there while we figure something out. Guess he’ll be glad we don’t have to transport all my stuff this time.”

The joke is hollow, and Molly’s face twists in sympathy. “Well, if you need anything, we’re happy to help out however we can. Carlos has always been good to us - to everyone here - and we hate that you’re going through this now. Send him our love, okay?”

TK gives her a small smile, nodding. He’s about to excuse himself to finally go inside, when Lilia tugs at her mother’s hand, whispering something in her ear when Molly leans down. 

“We were baking when we saw you pull up,” Molly explains, straightening. “Lilia insisted on bringing these out to you, didn’t you, Lils?”

Lilia beams up at him when TK looks over to her, thrusting a small tupperware in his general direction. “Cookies!” she exclaims, by way of explanation.

TK chuckles and squats so he’s at her height, taking the box from her. She’s watching him expectantly, so he takes a cookie - clumsily decorated with mountains of sprinkles - and pops it in his mouth, making a show of enjoying it.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, licking his lips playfully. Lilia giggles, then, without warning, throws her arms around him, the force of it almost sending him on his ass. Molly gasps and reaches to pull her daughter away, but TK shakes his head at her, mouthing an, It’s okay.

Steadying himself, he gently wraps his arms around Lilia’s back, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck as she attempts to squeeze him within an inch of his life. It’s enough to pull a real smile out of him, though tears also spring to his eyes, a sudden emotion overwhelming him. He brushes them away hastily when Lilia unwraps herself from him, but it’s clear that Molly noticed, judging by the sad smile on her face.

“I hope Mr Carlos gets better soon,” Lilia says, her voice earnest in a way only a five-year old’s can be. 

TK nods. “Me too.”

“He gave me sweets.”

A laugh bursts out of him at the sudden comment. TK leans close to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret? He gave me sweets as well.”

Lilia gasps as though she’s heard something incredibly scandalous. TK laughs again, before standing back up and turning to Molly, who’s been watching the two of them with clear amusement.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming out and talking, and for the cookies.”

“It’s the least we could do,” she says, waving him off. “Like I said, let us know if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk. We’ll be there.”

TK thanks her again, waving at them both as they head back inside. He turns to his and Carlos’s place, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

He can do this.

*

Inside is much as he expects. The worst of the rubble has been cleared, but there’s still some detritus lying around, including a few of their things. TK stoops and carefully retrieves a framed photo from the floor, wiping the dust off the cracked glass. The picture inside is barely recognisable, the colours warped, but he knows the image like the back of his hand - a candid of him and Carlos taken by Marjan during one of their hangs. She’d caught Carlos mid-laugh, a grin plastered on TK’s own face as they’d stared into each others’ eyes.

Marjan had grumbled about how frustratingly lovesick they both were, but the photo quickly became one of TK’s favourites, and it had made its way into a frame less than a week later. TK’s heart aches at the sight of it ruined; he can always print another as it’s still saved on his phone, but it still hurts. Everything does, right now.

As he gazes around the space, eyes catching on mementos and remembering how it all used to look, TK is struck by how much this place had felt like home. He’s only been officially living here for a month, but it’s been theirs for far longer than that, TK’s stuff worming its way in among Carlos’s until it became natural to see two pairs of shoes by the door, two sets of keys in the bowl. 

This was theirs, and now it’s nothing.

He drops the photo frame on his way out the door, not sparing a look back as he walks away.

*

He gets the call halfway back to the hospital and TK forgets all about speed limits as he races the rest of the way. He sprints through the corridors, the path to Carlos’s room learned by heart, and skids to a stop in the doorway, his eyes filling with tears at the sight before him.

Carlos, awake and smiling and alive.

TK lets out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth. Carlos turns, his smile widening when he catches sight of him, and he wordlessly lifts his palm up in invitation.

And who is TK to refuse it?

“Hi, baby,” he gasps, before kissing his boyfriend, palms framing Carlos’s face. Carlos’s hands come up to clutch at his wrists, and TK presses their foreheads together, silently revelling in this moment.

There’s a long road still ahead of them - Carlos needs to heal, and they’ll have to do so much to get back on their feet - but he can’t care about that right now. Being here, right now, with Carlos’s warm touch stroking over his skin, is all TK needs.

Carlos came back to him, and that’s the only thing that matters.

[spencessmile]

Let Me In

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Reader 

Summary - Spencer takes you to visit his mother but it doesn’t go as planned.  

Warnings - Angst & Fluff 

Word Count -  2,510 words

All imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. 

Feedback and comments are always welcome. Happy reading! 

Requests are open!

**  

Even though you've been to Las Vegas for a couple of cases, but after profiling and catching unsubs you want nothing more than to go home so you never got the chance to spend any time exploring the city. 

You and Spencer landed in Las Vegas on Friday. Spencer dragged you around between Saturday and Sunday showing you some places here and there and all of his favorite places. 

It was Monday morning and you found yourself putting on too many layers of clothes. You looked out the window and noticed the trees blowing, indicating that it was windy. Even though it was almost March the forecast was between 36 to 40 degrees. You were used to cold weather but after being in warm weather and suddenly finding yourself in a colder environment, it completely messed with your body. 

"One steaming cup of coffee for my love," Spencer put the cup down, wrapping his hands around your waist. 

"Spence," You groaned. "Why is it so cold?" Spencer snuggled his neck into your shoulder. 

"We live in Virginia," He chuckled. 

You looked at him through the mirror. "Yeah, so?" 

"Virginia is way colder than Vegas." 

"Were in Nevada, this is the desert," You say. "It's not supposed to be this cold."

"Baby, the desert is known for the temperatures dropping below freezing." 

"Yeah whatever you say genius," You mumbled. "I'm still cold by the way," Spencer moved to his closet and pulled out a long royal blue scarf. He wrapped it nicely around your neck, pulling your hair out watching it loosely fall into your shoulders. 

"How about now?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. 

"Ohhh," You said, snuggling your chin in the incredibly soft scarf. "Much better." 

"Good," He said, kissing your cheek. "Have your coffee and then we'll get going, alright?" You nodded. 

You and Spencer have been dating for three years and Spencer told you about the condition of his mother. A couple of months into dating you introduced Spencer to your parents but you never pushed to meet his mother knowing the situation. You know that Spencer would take you to meet her whenever he felt the time was right. 

**

Your head was in Spencer's lap, as you both were watching a random movie on TV.

"Can I ask you something?" Spencer suddenly asked, you turned your face towards his. 

"Fire away." 

Spencer played with your hair, lingering with his thoughts. You reached up for his face. "What's wrong?" 

"Would you want to meet my mother?" You were taken back by his sudden question and Spencer took notice, immediately.  

It was at times like this that being an FBI profiler, sucked. You and Spencer read each other super quickly. You both promised each other that when you started dating that you would never profile each other but it's easier said than done. 

"Why did you ma-" 

"No," You sat up quickly and stopped him before he could continue. "I'm just taken back because you asked so suddenly." 

"Are you not ready to meet her?" He asked. 

"It's not that." 

"When what?" 

"Spence," You held his hands. "Just because you met my parents, I don't want you to feel that you have to introduce me to your mom. I want you to introduce me whenever you feel ready. I don't care if that takes seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, or decades. I want to meet her when you feel comfortable. I will never push you." 

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, "I love you."

"I love you too," You pulled back. 

"Can I tell you something?" 

"Yeah." 

"I'm comfortable with you meeting my mom." 

"Then I'd love to meet the woman who raised you." 

**

You and Spencer got to the facility where his mom was, but before opening the door Spencer pulled at your hand, halting your steps towards. 

"What's wrong?" You asked, the wind blowing your hair. 

"Before we go inside I need to know if you're okay with this?" 

"I'm fine." 

"I never know what type of day she is having but I always hope for the best Y/N," Spencer says. "I just don't want her to terrify you or say something that might offend you because she can sometimes do that." 

"That's not her talking," You spoke. "That's the medications she's on." 

"I know," Spencer nodded. "I just hope she's having a good day." 

"Well if she is having a bad day, I'm sure it'll turn around once she sees this beautiful face," You said, squishing Spencer's face and he lightly laughed. "Come on, I want to meet the lovely woman you raised such a dorky, intelligent, and handsome man whom I love so much." 

You reached up on your tiptoes and gave him a kiss, and you felt him relax. Spencer took a deep breath lacing his hand with yours. 

Spencer stepped into the facility first and you followed. There was a woman standing at the door and she greeted Spencer with a wide smile. You flashed the woman your ID and she nodded. 

"Spencer I should warn you about your mother's condition before you go in to see her," She said holding her clipboard. 

"Dr. D's/N, I already know the condition of my mother." You could feel Spencer tense up beside you. 

"There have been rece-" 

"If I have any further concerns I will speak to you," Spencer led you down the hall and stopped in front of the beige-colored door. Spencer carefully stepped into the room and you followed. Sitting on a chair near the bed was a woman, who was flipping through, what looked like a scrapbook. She had short blonde hair and was wearing a flannel pajama with a hoodie. 

"Hi mom," Spencer said softly, not wanting to startle his mom. She immediately closed the book and moved her chair further back. 

"Spencer?" She questioned. "What are you doing here?" 

"I came to see you," He said walking up to her. She flashed him a small smile and hugged Spencer. They stayed hugging each other for a few moments and you couldn't help but stare. Spencer's mom noticed you were staring and pulled back. 

"Spencer, who on earth is that? Why is she staring?" She pointed to you. 

"Mom," Spencer motioned for you to come closer. "This is Y/N, my girlfriend," You took a step forward. 

"No!" She said looking away from you. "Don't come any closer." 

"Hey, hey," Spencer said, putting his hands on his mom's shoulders. "It's okay, she's not going to hurt you. She's with me." 

You didn't move an inch from your spot. "Ms. Reid, it-" 

"Do not say my name from that disgusting mouth of yours!" She yelled at you. "Spencer get her out of here!" 

"Mom what are you doing?" Spencer said looking at his mom with concern, helping her sit down. "She's harmless," Spencer looked back at you. "Y/N, come here," You just continued to look at Spencer's mom. 

"NO!" She yelled, starting to panic. "She was here all last night! She was watching me through the door! I saw her, Spencer!" 

"Mom sh-" 

"She tried to kill me last night, she stood by the door all last night!" Spencer's mom threw a flower vase at you, but your quick reflexes were faster as you moved out of the way, watching it shatter into pieces beside you. 

"Mom, what are you doing?!" Spencer asked as she continued to throw things at you. 

"Spence, it's okay," You finally said. "I'll go, I'll just wait outside. It's okay." 

"Y/N, no wait," As Spencer tried to grab your hand Spencer's mom grabbed him by the arm. 

"Do not follow that wicked evil woman! She's pure evil. She tried to kill me last night Spencer!” 

"Mom Y/N didn't try to kill you last night. She was wit-" He tried to explain. 

"Noooooooooo!!!" She yelled. Before you could even leave the room, nurses came rushing it. You decided to give them space and walked out of the facility. You walked outside until you saw a bench. 

You sat down waiting for Spencer. The wind had picked up a bit so you put your hands in your pocket and leaned your head towards your knees, looking down at your shoes. It stayed like that for a while until you heard the facility doors open. 

"Y/N?" You heard someone call out for you, you stood up and saw Spencer standing on the steps. "Y/N?" He called out to you again. 

"Spence!" You waved your hand until he caught your attention. As soon as he noticed you he ran to you as fast as his feet allowed him. He pulled you in for a hug immediately. 

"Are you okay?" You ask, rubbing his back and he pulled back.

"I should be asking you that." 

"I'm fine," You answer. 

You knew Spencer had a lot on his mind, you guided him towards the bench and sat down. Neither of you said anything. You could tell Spencer was building his walls. When he built walls he pushed everyone out, that included; you. 

Over the years you were the person Spencer would talk to everything about, you were his person. He shared almost everything with you. You once pushed Spencer to tell you about his family since you knew nothing about them and Spencer refused but you kept pushing and pushing, little did you know that while you pushed Spencer he had silently built up a wall from ever talking about his family. 

When Morgan and JJ told you about Spencer's mother, you immediately apologized for pushing. Ever since then you never brought it up. 

"Spence, you built up these walls when it comes to your mother and family. I will never understand how you feel," It was true, you would never know how he feels on a daily basis about his family but you always try to be there for him. "I know it's difficult for you to talk about it with people but you can't block me out. You have to let me in." 

Spencer laid his head on your shoulder, not saying anything but letting you know he heard you. 

"I'm so sorry," Spencer finally spoke up. 

"No," You said. "Don't you dare apologize to me." 

"I didn't know she was having a bad day or that she would say those things to you. If I had known I would have never brought you here to meet her." 

"Spence there is no way you could have known that she was having a bad day." 

"She's been confused when she meets new people but she's never thrown flower vases at them. I don't why she started to act that way. And the things she said to you," Spencer stopped to look at you. 

"I didn't take any offense to her words Spencer," You say, quietly. "We've had unsubs say shitter things to us and we're still here." You laughed. 

"I just didn't want her hurting you." 

"She didn't." You knew that no more how much you assured Spencer he'd still feel bad. "Babe you can't control whether she has good or bad days."

You could tell Spencer was drowning in his thoughts. 

"We can always try again," You said, his head still on your shoulder. 

"You might not have a next time," Spencer slowly said. You moved and Spencer lifted his head, looking down at his hands. 

"What do you mean?" Your heart started racing at his words. 

"The doctors said that her condition is getting worse. She's been more paranoid and acting out, as they say. They want to put her in another clinical trial but I know that she won't agree. She'll shut me out as soon as I even mention it. I had to pull her out of her last one," Spencer says. "I want to help her but I just don't know how Y/N," You moved and saw Spencer crying. 

You pulled him in for another hug, "I know you're not going to believe me when I say this but you are doing things for her. You write a letter and call her every day, you try to fly out whenever we're not on a case. You've been doing these things for so long that you probably didn't even realize that these are the ways you’re helping her." 

"Sometimes I wish I could take her home so that she wouldn't forget me," Spencer lets a few more tears fall. "I don-don't want her to forget me. I woul-wouldn't know what to do with myself," He sniffled. 

"Love," You wipe his tears and he kisses your hand. "She won't forget you. She may forget everything and anything else but please believe me when I say she is never going to forget you. You’re her son, a mother just doesn’t forget her children.” Your own words stabbed at your heart because there was so much history behind them but your story was for another day.  

Spencer nods, wiping his eyes. “How was she doing after I left?" 

"They gave her a sedative to calm her down," He replied. "Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For being so understanding. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"I don't know either," You say, shivering. "Would you happen to know any coffee shops around here? Your girlfriend is in need of a good cup of coffee and maybe one raspberry muffin." 

Spencer helped you up and wrapped the scarf around your neck tighter, "I might just know the best place," Spencer and you walked hand in hand as he guided you to his favorite coffee shop. He looked over at you and smirked. "Just one muffin?" He asked and you shook your head. 

"Okay okay, you got me, two maybe three," You replied as he laughed. 

"You know after we grab our coffee and you're still feeling cold I could think of another way to warm you up," Spencer whispered in your ear. 

You playfully hit his shoulder. "Spencer Reid!" He threw his head back in a laugh. 

You reached the coffee shop, found a table, ordered your coffees which came after a couple of minutes along with your raspberry muffin and Spencer's buttery croissant. 

"Can you promise me something?" You asked, grabbing his free hand. 

"Yeah.”  

"I know it'll be difficult for you but when things start to get tough I'm going to need you to let me in, promise?" He put his hand on yours and with the most adorable face he said; 

"I promise when things get difficult I will let you in."

** 

My walls are built up of stones but I swear for you I will tear them down - Unknown

[softboywriting]

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You and Nathan hit it off at a tech expo. One thing leads to another and the two of you pull a stunt, claiming you’re married. Things get out of hand, and you end up going to stay with Nathan at his home to avoid people trying to harass you about Nathan’s work. The time you spend together will allow for a real relationship to bloom. [Swearing] [Fake Marriage Trope] [Soft!Nathan] [F!ReaderxNathan]

Word Count: 3.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

One day you realize Kyoko is missing. You're not sure when she stopped appearing, in fact you can't remember the last time you actually saw her. Last week? No. A month ago? Wait,have you been here that long? Time seems to have lapsed here in the facility with Nathan. You worried about this when you arrived. Or maybe when you took the job. Was it really a job? Everything is a little fuzzy in terms of what you are. An assistant one might think, a housekeeper perhaps? No. You took the job as Nathan Bateman's wife. Yes. Job....well...sort of. Let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

Three months ago you met Nathan at the biggest tech expo in Las Vegas. You weren't exactly there for the inventions and hottest tech on the market. You were a handler, an escort of sorts for the creators and investors from companies attending. Your job was simple. Make things as smooth as possible while the people with disgusting amounts of money make big decisions. It was a great gig. It paid incredibly well for being temporary. But Nathan didn't think it suited you.

The second he laid eyes on you it was all over. You had been nervous for days after learning you were assigned to Nathan Bateman for Thursday, Friday and Saturday of the expo. The Nathan Bateman, creator of Blue Book and the AI Project. You may not be a tech genius or even understand most of the things on display at the expo, but you would have to be living under a rock not to know who this man is and what he has done. He is illusive, handsome, sought after by many people the world over. Nathan is the definition of a sugar daddy if you ever did see one. Notoriously single, generous with his money, beyond genius intellect. He is the whole package.

One thing lead to another after you met Nathan at the expo and before you knew it he had your collar bones a mess with hickies and you were dressed in his sweater to attempt to cover them up. It hadn’t taken long before he was all over you, hands in your hair, on your butt, lips on your neck. You and Nathan had just sparked the moment you got close and you let that fire burn as hot as it could.

Of course all things in life have consequences, good or bad, and as you were leaving the rest area for creators, where the little hands on session had gone down, some press junkie saw you together. Photos were taken. Nathan had not been seen with anyone privately in years. He was never seen with a woman, let alone a woman wearing his sweater and looking a proper mess. It was a scandal to be had.

By the end of Friday Nathan was introducing you as his wife, a plan he had come up with on the fly. He had even procured a huge diamond ring for you too. Somehow you were playing along with all of this. Nathan offered to pay you, just for the appearance because it would be good for the company that he was seen as a man like any other, nothing more needed to come of your relations. It was fine. You were getting paid more than you could hope to make in your lifetime and getting to hang out with Nathan Bateman who you actually clicked with and liked to be around. Win win. You had it made. In less than 24 hours you were to be done with all of this and have cash in pocket to do whatever you wanted with.

Until.

A week after you had your crazy weekend with Nathan you were being followed. People kept showing up at your part time job in the travel agency downtown. They asked questions about Nathan, about his work. You didn't know anything. You were half tempted to tell everyone it was fake, that he never even properly kissed you, but Nathan paid you to be quiet, to play along. You signed his NDA. After a man followed you home from work and watched your apartment for two days, that's when you decided to reach out to Nathan. You could call the police and have the man removed, but there would just be others. This wasn’t a matter for the police, it was a matter for Nathan to handle.

Reaching a man like Nathan wasn't easy. He had left you a business card. A number that went to Blue Book human resources. It wasn't a way of contacting him directly, but it was. On the card was scribbled a word. "REQUIEM" You called the number and listened to the prompts. None reached an operator or customer service line. It seemed that no matter what you did it sent you to an automated system. Eventually you got so annoyed you just said the word requiem as if it were a prompt. Sure enough the phone started ringing, connecting to a line.

"Hello?"

"Nathan?"

"How did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me. At the expo." You tell him that it's you and he sighs heavily in relief. "I need your help."

"My help? With what?"

"I'm being harassed because of the expo." Your voice trembles and you realize how much of a toll this is taking on you. "People have followed me to my home."

"Fuck. Can you get to an airport first thing in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, give me your email. I'll send you everything you need to get away. Pack your bags for a few months. I'll bring you to my facility as a guest until this blows over or we decide what to do next. It's the least I could do."

And that's how you ended up in his home in the middle of nowhere Alaska for the last month and a half. Your whole world uprooted because you decided that a few hundred thousand dollars was worth playing fake wife to the country's richest and most sought after man for two nights. It was so stupid at hindesight, but here you are actually the happiest you've ever been and connecting with Nathan on a deeper level than you thought possible. The two of you just understand each other, it's as if you're two sides to one coin.

______________________

"So, where is Kyoko?"

Nathan looks over from his desk, peering at you over his glasses. You're leaning against the door frame in a nightgown you know he likes. "She's in storage."

"Why?"

"Because I decommissioned her." He turns his attention back to the computer and begins typing.

You step in and he lets out a little warning hum. You know better than to bother him while he's toiling away on code. Being here for this long has been a learning experience with his reclusiveness, but also a lesson on reading his moods. He's not irritated, yet. "Why did you do that?"

"Kitten, you are distracting me."

Kitten. The nickname he picked out day one. Who gives a guest a nickname?

"I'm curious."

"I'm working. You know the rules."

You lean against the desk and he flicks his gaze to you for a moment as your nightgown rides up your thighs. His rules were simple. Don’t bother him while he works, no kissing, no sex. Really you thought the rules were ridiculous. You were meant to be a guest, hiding while the world forgets about your fake relationship. But things don’t go as planned do they? The two of you have been pushing the boundaries of entering a relationship, though it has never been discussed.

"We haven't talked in days."

Nathan sighs irritably. "I am on to something that could be the greatest breakthrough in AI history." He pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "Come sit."

You do as told and plop down onto his lap.

"Now, if I promise to go to bed in two hours will you stop asking questions?" He runs a hand up your back, fingertips dancing against your skin delicately and making you shiver.

"That's a long time. It's already late."

"My patience is wearing thin."

"Alright deal."

"Good girl." He swats your butt gently and you slide off his lap. "Go make that bed nice and warm for me."

You take one last look back and he's already returned to typing. "One more thing."

"Nope. Get out."

"But-"

"Out, Kitten."

"Nathan, come on."

He stops typing and even in the dim light you can tell he is tense and irritated. This is the time to stop pushing his rules. "Go, or I won't be nice."

You cross the room quickly to kiss his cheek and then hurry from the room. You know he is probably going to do something to get back at you for disrupting him amid a coding session. But that's fine. You like seeing him break his own rules just for you.

__________________

Nathan comes to bed some time late in the night. You just recently began sleeping in his room, it’s what really started to blur the lines of what you were to each other. He had invited you to sleep with him after you found that your brain seemed to wander when you were alone in your cold windowless room in the inner workings of the complex and sleep never came easy. Nathan's room is upstairs, with a view out to the forest should you wish to set the windows to day mode. His bed is huge, elevated on a platform, covered in blankets and plush pillows. One may think Nathan's bed would be neat and clean like the rest of the house but no. It's like a nest of comfort, a bog of pillows that you could get lost in.

"Hey, I can tell you're awake."

"Just woke up."

"Everything is okay, you can sleep."

You arch back against him, butt pressed into his legs. "I still wanna know about Kyoko."

"Don't worry about it."

You yawn and he wraps arm arm around your chest. "It's weird. You said she was fine."

"Hush." He kisses your ear. "Sleep."

You fall silent, stewing in your thoughts. What purpose could he have for decommissioning Kyoko? She seemed fine. He said she had been working for years seamlessly. It just didn't make sense.

_____________________

Morning comes and the bed is empty. Nothing new. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to a sleepy eyed Nathan. Bet he'd look so cute. He's so hot without his glasses on. Well, he is hot with them on too but there is just something different about it you can’t describe.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

You look to the doorway and Nathan has his cargo pants and a jacket on. "I'm not awake yet."

"Suit yourself sweetheart. Call if you need me."

"Yep."

You throw your arm over your face. Your dream is coming back to you. It makes you shiver. You had been riding Nathan, hips rolling down into him desperately, his cock filling you so full. God you couldn't wait to do everything with him, if you ever do. You haven't even kissed yet. Even at the expo, he kept his mouth away froms yours, letting his lips travel elsewhere.

Nathan made his rules very clear at the expo and again when you arrived at the facility. No sex. No kissing. You suppose it has to do with attachments for him. You're just supposed to be staying with him until everything settles down around your fake marriage stunt. It's not supposed to be a real thing, but like you mentioned, everything has become blurry and unclear around your relationship with each other. Of course you both know that you have feelings for each other. Head kisses, throat, shoulder and back kisses are now allowed. Bed sharing is allowed. Cuddling. Snuggling. Talking and sharing memories is allowed. You think it's a matter of time before one of you fucks up and throws caution to the wind. What kind of host shares their bed with their guest? What are you doing here?

You crawl out of bed and grab some sweatpants on the floor along with a hoodie. If you hurry you can catch up with Nathan on the trail. Assuming he took the trail.  

The air is crisp, a typical fall morning for Alaska. It's beautiful, so clean, so easy to breathe. Nothing like back home. You jog along the trail that leads away from the back porch and sure enough you find Nathan walking with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Nathan turns and stops, smiling softly at you. "Thought you were too tired."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh huh." He plucks at your hoodie. "This is mine."

"Yeah I just grabbed something in a hurry." You stuff your hands in the front pocket.

He runs a hand through your hair, fingertips lingering along the ends. "I like it on you."

"Thanks? It's just a hoodie."

Nathan pulls his gloves from his pocket and passes them to you. "Take these. I don't need you to lose a finger to the cold."

"You won't make me a cool robot one if I do?"

He pulls the gloves back teasingly. "Mmm, on second thought let's see if I can actually do that."

"No!" You giggle and he allows you to take them.

The two of you walk along in silence just enjoying the outdoors and everything it has to offer. Eventually you end up at the bottom of a waterfall. It's loud, beautiful, almost icy when you touch the water at the edge where it pools.  

"Do you want to know why I decommissioned Kyoko?" His sudden choice of topic startles you but it’s nothing new. He was always jumping on subjects randomly.

"Yes."

"Because of you."

"What?" You turn away from the water and walk to where he's leaning against a tree. "What did I do?"

"You took her place."

"What? She was your housekeeper and like an assistant or whatever. I'm neither, I'm just a house guest aren't I?"

“Just a house guest...” Nathan chuckles. "Kyoko was everything for me while I was here alone. A friend, a helper, my lover."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "She could fuck?"

"Of course she could fuck." He waves his hand dismissively. "When I say you took her place I mean in my life. I felt that she was unfair to you, that once you moved into my bed she didn't belong anymore. Kyoko is a great distraction but she isn't human, she doesn't think for herself, or feel for me. She doesn't connect like you and I do. It felt wrong to have her keep me company when you are here."

"But when I leave you'll bring her back out."

"No." He purses his lips and looks down. "Actually I wanted to ask you about that."

"Leaving? Have I overstayed my welcome?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"The opposite? I haven't stayed long enough?"

Nathan pulls his hands from his pockets and gestures for you to come closer. You do as he asks and he cradles your face. "If you're interested, I'd like to actually start a relationship with you."

"Does that mean we can stop dancing around the edges of whatever this is between us? Because I don't think house guests normally sleep in their host's bed, or wear his clothes, or get neck kisses and give shoulder massages."

He smiles and licks his lips. "I wanted to see how far we could go until one of us broke down and drew a line."

"Nathan, I think we probably would have started showering together next if you hadn't said something by now." You laugh softly. "But yeah, I wanna see where this goes."

"So you'll stay with me a little longer?"

"As long as you'll have me."

"Don't say that." He puts his hands on your hips. "I might keep you forever. Might make you my wife for real."

"I'm not doing much for the rest of my life, so why not?"

Nathan laughs and it makes your heart swell. He rarely does so, it's such a treat to hear. "Never thought I'd meet someone I connect with so completely. Really I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly social as you can tell by my living situation. But also I didn't think I deserved someone. Like I deserved to be alone, and be the way I am because I was gifted with such talent. I sort of accepted that it was a trade off for my intellect."

You lay your hand on his chest and his heart is pounding. "No one deserves to be alone. No one."

He smiles weakly. "When you called that day, saying you needed help because of the stunt we pulled, I knew it was you. I knew you were my chance at love in this life. There was no way I was going to let you slip through my fingers a second time."

"Second time?"

"I didn't want to leave you at the expo. I wanted to bring you home with me, I wanted to show you everything. But I knew I pushed it already with the wife stunt, and I knew you had a life and I couldn't be so selfish as to take you away from everything while chasing a high I got."

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "I probably would have gone with you. That was the best weekend of my life and I didn't want it to end."

"I'm glad you let me play with you in that rest area and we got caught. If we hadn't I don't think we would be here right now."

"Don't make it sound so dirty."

"It was a little dirty." He kisses your cheek. "Hot too. You were so ready to just let me do whatever."

"Nathan!" You giggle and he presses his lips to yours. The sensation takes your breath away.

He cradles your face and slides a hand into your hair. He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft whimper. You grip his jacket and he turns you around so your back is against the tree. "Thought this would go a little differently."

"Yeah? How so?"

He presses another kiss to your lips. "Thought we'd be in the house, maybe curled up by the fire or in bed."

"Nathan Bateman a romantic? I'm shocked."

"I live to shock people." He chuckles. "I shocked my investors and my agent with our little marriage announcement."

"You didn't tell anyone it was fake? Not even your agent?"

"Not yet." He grins. "I like to make him sweat a little."

"You're mean."

"Sometimes."

"Well now we've established that this is happening, why don't we head back to the house? Are you free today?"

Nathan takes your hand in his and steps away from the tree. "I'm free every day."

"No you're not."

"I'm free every day you want me from now on." He threads your fingers together. "I promise."

"That's a big promise to make."

"I'll keep it." He brings your hand up and kisses it. "I'm a man of my word, you know that."

"Yes you are."

"Come on, I'm tired of waiting." He pulls you along the path and you walk quickly to keep his pace. "The last month and half have been torture."

You get ahead of him and pull your hand out of his. He raises an eyebrow. He knows what you're thinking. He knows you're going to run for the house and make him chase you.

"Don't you do it."

"Too late." You take off and he follows in hot pursuit. "You gotta catch me if you wanna keep me!"

His arm encircles your waist the moment you reach the porch and he tumbles you both down onto the sun warmed smooth wood. He rolls you under him and pins you by your arms. "You're mine now."

"I guess I am." You smile big and he captures your lips with his once more. “I wouldn’t be anyone else's.”

End .

-----------

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[buginateacup]

Right. Let’s try this again shall we...

So. Roxanne is currently inhabitant numero 7 in the Lair. The first two being Megamind and Minion of course, three through six are the alligators and the bots “technically” don’t count as they’re a kind of hivemind thing.

Except for Pumpkin and Starlight. Who knows what’s going on with those two

Anyway.

Roxanne is living in the Lair, she’s got a week off work and by god she is going to do...something...about her feelings. What that something is? Nobody knows.

Least of all her.

But hey, there is a Swarm to hang out with and she doesn’t have to cook and her husband is very snuggly so far so good right?

Enter Aunt Helen. Well gatecrash. Well...look we need some kind of reason for Roxanne to yell about how wonderful Megamind is and ranting at xenophobic family members is always fun. So after Roxanne finds out the brain-bots have recategorised her as Designation Mama and Megamind has to rescue her from a very excited swarm its time to go back to the office because well shit there are MORE BOXES?

Does no one in this city have anything better to do than send them well wishes? Its getting creepy guys. Enough with the baby clothes already.

A wild Aunt Helen appears and its time for Roxanne to pay Megamind back for saying how much he loves her and how wonderful she is by doing the same mid rant and also sends herself into something of a spiral around family and self worth and feeling worthy of love and a whole mess.

So Megamind takes them for a drive to the lake where ooh remember that teaser I posted months ago about “tell me you love me?” Yeah that. This is gonna hurt kiddos I’m not gonna lie.

Of course Roxanne’s still under the impression he’s a very good liar and isn’t actually in love with her. And Megamind thinks she doesn’t love him.

They’re idiots your honour. Pining morons in love.

The other thing that happens is that Roxanne gets absolutely drenched by a speedboat that comes way too close to shore and lake water isn’t particularly healthy and she’s been under a lot of stress and is it any wonder she gets sick?

Roxanne doesn’t temperature regulate when she’s sick. This will mostly be played for laughs. I apologise for nothing.

Once she’s feeling better (and after she has essentially kicked Megamind out of bed for the weekend in the process, she feels pretty bad about that) she goes to apologise for kicking him out of his own bed an that somehow devolves into Megamind going into a guilt spiral about the cold and damp lair being no place for her to live and hands Roxanne the cash he won in Vegas and she storms out to find somewhere to live.

No dice.

She comes back home and they kind of dance around the issue for a bit before through a series of events including a punchingbag emblazoned with Metro Man’s face, supervillain capes and one or two other details I’m forgetting, Roxanne moves her stuff out of storage and into the Lair.

This is great except she’s not moving into the Lair per say, just storing her stuff here. Except then she gets an office.

Okay this is a lot more like moving in.

Have I mentioned these two soft idiots are finding it really hard to keep their hands to themselves? Because that’s a thing that keeps happening.

What it DOES lead to is a conversation between our two lovebirds where they finally admit uh...this is...kind of great? And I’m kind of into this? With you?

Is it wrong to want to date your husband/wife? Is that weird? Too bad we’re trying it anyway.

Minion would really appreciate if they would stop making out in the middle of his kitchen. He’s trying to bake here.

Megamind starts heroing without Metro Man’s support and wow no wonder the flying menace wanted to quit. This shit sucks.

Roxanne is kind of worried about him. She suggests maybe they take their private dating a little more public because people seem to leave them the fuck alone when its the two of them.

Megamind is incredibly in love with his incredibly smart wife.

Roxanne is incredibly in love with her incredibly fun husband.

Have they admitted it yet?

Fuck no what kind of story do you think this is?

Of course within 5 minutes of going public a few new villains roll into town and well, there’s still no new damsel for reasons relating to oh hell no Gerry, with a side of fuck you to the council, so Roxanne you’re up.

The first time it happens its funny. Or at least it looks that way. Its the first time Megamind has seen Roxanne get kidnapped by someone else and “I don’t care if the remote didn’t have any batteries in it! He could still have hurt you!”

Though good news it does get them to admit they are in fact actually in love with each other, have been all along, thanks for noticing.

Oh god you two idiots why are you like this?

Sadly that’s when a Council Endorsed Hero rolls into town, refusing to believe (and possibly has been a little tricked into thinking) there’s no way a villain could go good and he’s here to take down this psychic alien who’s tricked the city into thinking he’s a good guy.

What part of Megamind means psychic? Seriously?

Through a further series of events, mostly involving a battle and “You know what? You got me, I am still the bad guy, and you’re first on the scene so you’re the new hero! Hooray!”

They escape and wind up in Back up Six where you all finally get that tentacle sex I’ve been promising you since I first tagged it.

Also peace out we’re running back to Vegas to live in wedded bliss and Roxanne can run a Damsel Union and Megamind can keep inventing shit and they can establish the House of Minion.

Fin!

OK I’m really conflicted about them finally getting off as a kind of sexilogue. I am not about that life. but also most of this happens in like a week. And I coould do a sequel? I guess? IDK. Maybe we just spend a lot of time mutually getting each other off without actually getting naked?

I have no idea but I’ve written out how this is supposed to end four different times and frankly I’m done with the angst. Get cute you two.

[justapayneaway]

It took me a while to compile all these Ziam fics, but here we are with a long list of beautiful stories for everybody that is interested in reading Liam & Zayn fall in love or be in love a lot of times! 

A big shout out to every single fic writer out there in the world... You’re amazing and I thank you every single day for the amazing stories y’all write! 

Enjoy and have a good read ❤️

0k - 20k

There's so Much that We Need to Share by Lovelyziam (1k) The sight of snow didn’t make the cold worth it to Zayn, no. It was this: Liam’s body snug and soft in front of him, pressed tightly to Zayn’s chest while he sat between Zayn’s thighs. It was his arms wrapped around Liam’s waist and their fingers interwoven beneath their pile of blankets. It was the warmth radiating from Liam’s back and slowly seeping into Zayn, making him sleepy and languid despite the freezing press of Liam’s toes against his own.

Sunshine through my window by sunnysideup (2k) Fic idea about Liam being a happy puppy in the sun and Zayn hears him through his window, sees him for the first time and poof, he's in love.

Drive Safe, I Love You by JoMouse (3k) Liam surprises his son with a day at a Motorcycle Bike Show. While there, he finds out about Mini Moto and meets the man who runs a team.

I Know The Sound Of Your Heart by LibbyWrites (7k) Liam always adored the peace and quiet of his neighborhood. Until a new neighbor shows up and turns his world upside down with much more than just loud music.

Most Poetic Ride or Die Death Wish by LetTheMusicMoveYou (10k) Or the one where Niall convinces Liam to join Tinder and a slight miscommunication might make it the best mistake he's ever made.

Get a little bit nervous by louistomlinsons (14k) Ziam farmer's market au where liam, louis, and niall work at the produce stand, harry and zayn work at the bakery stand, and nobody's straight.

Favourite Entertainer by eternallyunleashed (15k) Zayn is a popular YouTuber well known for uploading song covers and original music on his channel and doing podcasts on murder mysteries. He’s amassed a couple million followers and dedicated fanbase. After endless requests from fans, he introduces them to his boyfriend Liam and does the ‘boyfriend does my makeup challenge.'

Just the two of us and a cute little cup of cyanide by orphan_account (17k) An I-accidentally-married-my-best-mate-in-Vegas fic, where Liam's completely oblivious, Zayn's completely in love, Harry's had enough, Louis plays mediator and Niall just wants his best friends to be with each other.

Only Place I Call Home by scottmcniceass (17k) Liam works at a coffee shop; Zayn is a homeless street performer who plays just outside the shop. Sometimes Liam brings Zayn coffee and donuts and in exchange Zayn sings for him.

20k - 40k

We are the quiet ones by englandziam (22k) University AU where Zayn is an English student and Liam is the football captain.

Until you believe it by lizee (23k) Where Zayn and Liam meet at a sixth form party and Zayn offers to tutor him. He doesn't expect himself to fall in love with the kid while he's at it.

Ridiculous by scottmcniceass (24k) They are every cliched high school story. The jock and the rebel. The popular boy and the outsider. They shouldn't fit, and they definitely shouldn't work, but they sort of do anyways.

Wake up the part of me that has fallen asleep by nooelgallagher & yoursongonmyheart (24k) The one where Liam discloses something incredibly personal about his sex life and Louis hatches a plan to help him - which may or may not include Zayn.

Can I Keep You by scottmcniceass (26k) Liam is always trying to do what's best for himself and his daughter, but raising a kid on his own at twenty-two, on top of juggling school work and a full-time job, isn't easy. Zayn just wants a chance to show Liam that he's not going to walk out on them. And Liam's daughter, Emma? She just wants to keep Zayn.

I just can't keep you too far from my thoughts by halleluzayn (28k) The YouTuber AU fic where Zayn is not a beauty vlogger, Liam types like an over excited teenage girl, Louis is a Harry Styles fanboy, Harry is basically Ed Sheeran, and Niall is Liam's video editor that really needs to get laid already.

Down the vista of years by ohthathurt (cloisterrific_221B) (30k) Zayn whispered, “So where do we go from here?”Liam shrugged, seemingly lost in thought. Then he smiled down at his boyfriend, “Forward?”Zayn smiled serenely, eyes twinkling like gold in the sun seeping through the open windows. He nodded, “Forward.”

I'll Be Strong For You by scottmcniceass (30k) When Zayn breaks his leg attempting to skateboard over Harry's car, he ends up stuck in the hospital for two weeks. The only thing he doesn't hate about the hospital is the gorgeous volunteer, Liam, who is almost annoyingly sunny and happy. But Liam's got a secret a secret hidden behind his impossibly bright smile.

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn by historyziam (30k) At a time in his life when Zayn thinks he has forgotten what genuine happiness feels like, Liam comes into the picture and changes everything.

Somehow I Still Carry On, Burdened By Fears by slashter (31k) Liam's been kidnapped but doesn't remember Zayn and Zayn struggles with loss and love and heartbreak all over again.

You Never Give Up On Me by sunshinexbomb (31k) In which Zayn is an English teacher tempted to write awful poetry about the warm coffee color of Liam's eyes, Liam is a primary ed teacher and single parent who thinks he's too busy to be in a relationship, Niall and Harry are the sickeningly cute newlywed teachers in the school, and Louis is a drama teacher who is not-so-patiently waiting for the day of his own wedding.

The Truth Will Set You Free by loveandbeloved (34k) Zayn wakes up the next day to the news that Liam has taken on the case of the kid, to oppose Zayn and prove that he isn’t a killer.To say he’s pissed beyond belief goes without saying, but somehow he thinks that he should’ve seen this coming.

So let's say, I'll come another day by sophieisgod (36k) Zayn meets Liam in 1999, swinging on the gate in his back yard. Liam meets Zayn in 2010, killing time in McDonald’s on the most important day of his life. They have adventures, conquer the world, and fall in love. A story about fate, timing, free will, wonky genetics, parallel universes, significant tattoos, emotional haircuts, sudden nudity, sex crying, and a Batman t-shirt from HMV.

Be cruel to me ('cause I'm a fool for you) by frenchkiss (37k) The one where Zayn is a stressed out single dad, Liam might just be what he needs, Louis and Niall are always happy to babysit and Harry's a loud snorer.

I’ll never stop choosing you babe, i’ll never get used to you by redsweater (37k) Zayn and Liam are happily married until they're not. 

Twisting to the sun and the moon by orphan_account (37k) (2nd part is also amazing!) Liam has three simple, non-negotiable rules when it comes to one-offs. And he doesn't ever fall for someone he associates with hotel sheets and lust. But this kid, Zayn, twists things inside of him he's not expecting. Suddenly, the rules don't make any sense at all.

My Reflection; All I See Is You by taecheeks (38k) (There is a 2nd part too!) This life, it's forever. That's what being immortal means, but Zayn didn't realize it would take him this long to realize it. What good is forever if nothing else is?

40k - 60k

Every Step by taecheeks (40k) Every step Liam takes, it's for her, Lily. And every path he's journeyed has somehow led him to Zayn.

Here I Stand by StormDancer (40k) Zayn lifts his chin, turns so that he’s facing Harry. He doesn’t look at Liam, because he can’t bear to look, and because he’s really not trying to be mean or pointed. Liam can do what he wants. But Zayn drew a line in the sand a long time ago, and it matters. “I’m not hiding, Haz. This is who I am. They can deal with it.”

You're The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly by Romancemesomeziam (40k) Zayn is a recently new single father, falling into his role without ease until Liam, his son's first grade teacher, helps him a little to adapt to the new lifestyle.

Lover Dearest by scottmcniceass (43k) "First rule, babe," Zayn says, leaning down. His lips slide over Liam's jaw, barely there, just a soft pressure, fleeting and gone as soon as it came. "Never trust a vampire."He's grinning as he climbs off Liam, heading for the door. Liam watches him go, thinking that he's wrong. The first rule should be to not fall in love with one.

Some moments are rare by orphan_account (46k) Zayn is spending a summer studying aboard; thirty days across Europe, with his best mate by his side. It's always been like this ― Zayn and Liam. And he's always been a bit daft about love, or the fact that Liam's always been in love with him. It's all a bit of a mess, actually.

Until two and two is three by orphan_account (47k) They're perfect for her, Lily, even if she's their best mates' daughter -- except they hate each other. But life plays out a little comically and a lot tragically sometimes. And Liam will never get over how much he loves Lily or how much he hates Zayn, but they're all she has left now.

Like Peter Pan (Or Superman) by orphan_account (48k) Zayn has spent most of his life up until now in a cloud of smoke, hiding from his past, being different. When a firefighter named Liam rescues him from a fire, Zayn starts to realize maybe Liam's saved his life in another way... and he's not quite sure he's ready to be that guy he should've been all along. But maybe, just for Liam, he can?

Good Thing At a Bad Time by scottmcniceass (49k) Zayn prefers to be on his own. It's easier to survive when you don't have to worry about anyone else. Liam leads a large group of people that have taken residence in an abandoned prison. When Zayn wakes up in a prison cell, all he can think about is finding a way out. Liam makes him want to stay.

It keeps my veins hot (the fire's found a home in me) by loveontherocks (51k) The one where zayn survives a fire and falls in love with the firefighter that saved him.

Not Happening by scottmcniceass (53k) Zayn and Liam are roommates. They hate each other. (Most of the time.)

And you take me the way I am by orphan_account (54k) Liam needs a date to a wedding. His family loves to match him up with blind dates. He doesn't want that. He needs a date... and, well, why not Zayn. Pretending to be boyfriends for a weekend isn't the worst idea he supposes. Liam is horribly wrong.

It's You by happily_missy (56k) Liam is a PA for a famous fashion designer and Zayn is their gorgeous new model. Or the one where Liam is in control of everything except for the fact that he keeps getting hard around Zayn and Zayn refuses to admit that Liam might be everything he's been looking for all along.

Your Lips On Mine by zipplekink (56k) The one where Zayn is a camboy, who likes to think about the fit mechanic with a liking for leather jackets and scruffy beards from uni during his shows. And Liam, the mechanic, who realizes his new roommate is Bradford, the man with the smooth skin covered in tattoos that Liam watches late at night with a hand wrapped around himself.

Face to Face by JoMouse (57k) Liam's fiance lost her ring. Zayn found it in his girlfriend's rucksack. What happens when the ring brings them face to face?

Floating On The Water by scottmcniceass (58k) Liam just wants to get through his last summer working at Malik Resort before University without incident. Of course, life is never that easy, and he ends up getting roped into giving the bosses son, Zayn, swimming lessons. That wouldn't be so bad, if Zayn didn't happen to hate him so much.

Hold on When You Get Love (and Let Go When You Give It) by orphan_account (59k) Where Zayn's studying Lit at Uni and Liam is a construction worker who catches Zayn's eye every day he passes by.

Let Me Drown Slowly by fruityoatey_bahhh (59k) The one where Liam's a prostitute, and Zayn just wants to be kept warm at night.

60k - 80k

These Faded Stars Along Our Horizons by ch3stpaynes (60k) Zayn isn't used to this; the buzzing feeling that comes along with pinched grins, cherry red lips and eyes like Sunday morning coffee. He's used to smogged out cities, not enough oxygen between each breath and perhaps a few spliffs with the boys when the weather isn't absolutely dreadful. And Liam Payne may just flip all of his priorities upside down.

Habits Of The Heart by taecheeks (61k) “I’ll be really good to you,” Liam whispers, sliding an arm under Zayn’s shoulder like he is a pillow. Zayn closes his eyes, remembering when Liam had said those same words to him while laying on his chest before they started dating. The same feeling rattles in his chest, the same uncertainty, the same need for his words to remain true.“I know,” Zayn whispers, massaging his fingers through Liam’s hair. “You always have.”Liam pushes up, brows furrowing together as he stares down at him, the humor in his face turning far more serious. “And I always will, Zayn.”

I See You Babe, But We Are Both Blind by SoftlyandSwiftly (61k) One Direction returns to London for a break from their Take Me Home Tour in August 2013, and after an unfortunate run-in at a coffee shop, Liam and Zayn find themselves in a fake relationship. Except, it ends up not feeling fake at all.

Run For the Woods Now by jmcats (62k) (there are other 3 parts to this one so read them all because they are amazing!) Zayn knows some of the best and worst moments start with one of Louis' ideas. Still, it's almost as if everyone knew where this, his life, was going when Harry and Liam moved into Wagner’s old flat, with that stupid plant sitting in the doorway, and too many cigarettes and Justin Timberlake for any of this to have been one of those classically clichéd love stories.And Zayn doesn't do clichés. Not until Liam, that is.

Some Love Wait Till Its Time by wasp (63k) University!AU where heart-in-the-right place but always-trying-to-save-people Liam Payne meets slightly pretentious hipster Zayn and tries to mend his broken heart.

Keep this love (in a photograph) by carissima (64k) The one where Liam's a fireman, Zayn's a photographer and yeah, there's a calendar shoot or two involved.

The bittersweet between my teeth by gaysubtexts (64k) Liam and Zayn grow up together, louis, niall, and harry tagging along later on. 

According to your heart (my place is not deliberate) by orphan_account (65k) A university-volleyball au in which Zayn hates the game but he does it for a scholarship. And for Louis. And possibly for the new freshman setter who keeps teaching Zayn new things.

The beauty of this mess by orphan_account (67k) Zayn loves this city, loves his boys, loves the salty taste of the surf on his tongue even though he hates the ocean... but he's not expecting to fall in love with Liam and all of his little secrets, too. Not enough to stick around in this sandy city of teenage dreams.

Let's pretend it's love by wafflehood (68k) Pretend!boyfriends fic in which Liam and Zayn get papped while hamming it up for Louis and Eleanor, and management decides the easiest way to deal with the resulting hysteria is to let it run its course.

Simple truths of belonging by soofyahn (68k) Liam spends ten years building the career for himself that he’s always wanted, and spends the same span of time falling out of communication with the one person he can’t reason why he misses. They find each other, again, stumbling around each other for a moment until they fall together in new, unpredictable ways.

Until the End of Time by theyinlove (68k) Zayn Malik lives a pretty decent life. He’s got an incredible family, a nice little place for him and his three sweethearted dogs, an amazing group of friends, and a good, stable job. Aside from the bouts of depression he may occasionally fall into and the intense anxiety he battles, he feels good about where he is in his life. But what do you get when a hunky fireman, who also happens to be a piece of sunshine on earth, walks into a bar? You get a cautious of love man realizing that, shit, maybe some people might be worth the risk of heart break.

The Prince King by ziamhaze (69k) At twenty, Zayn finds himself a widower and single father of one. It takes everything in his power to raise the three month old alone while also keeping up with his budding career as an artist. Five years later and Zayn’s more dedicated than ever to do whatever it takes for the little boy to have a better life than the one he had at his age. When that includes hiring a professional carpenter to build him a treehouse, Zayn finds himself having to figure out how to win the man’s game of cat and mouse before the structure’s complete, or risk missing out on someone who makes him want to spend the rest of his life mixing oil paints together in order to find the exact shade of warmth that the contractor exudes.

These amber words on our fingertips by orphan_account (69k) Zayn's life in London is about one thing — making life perfect for his son. He's still finding himself in this city, with all of the noise and left behind dreams. He needs to focus and Liam is, well, distracting. He's different. Zayn's always liked that word.

These fading scars by lovely_ziam (69k) Vampire!AU in which Liam falls in love with a human.

But the sun comes up instead by blackwayfarers (71k) Zayn Malik, charming and confident fraternity vice-president, meets shy but achingly endearing high schooler Liam Payne at a kegger and everything just goes straight to hell.

The Only One Who Takes You Home by loveandbeloved (71k) The fluffiest stripper AU in which businessman!Zayn and stripper!Liam have a lot of feelings and they both get more than they expected.

Just let me know by SoftlyandSwiftly (72k - this one has two more parts so read them all!) Zayn wakes up in a hospital, eyes blurry and head pounding, only for a doctor to tell him he's lost two years of his life. And if that's not awful enough, something's different with Liam, off like something has changed, and Zayn doesn't understand. Until he does. And then it's somehow worse.

Money Moves by mmaree (74k) A Fake Engagement AU with Boss!Liam and Secretary!Zayn.

Give love a try, one more time by iwasnthere (75k) Zayn groans, "Liam, do you ever get tired of annoying me?""Nope" Liam replies, popping a chip into his mouth. "Because it's cute watching you lie to yourself""Excuse me?" Zayn looks at Liam bemusedly."You're lying to yourself when you say that ‘I annoy you’.” Liam does the quote unquote thing with his fingers, smiling. “Admit it, you like me.""You've been asking me out for the past year and a half,” Zayn states, “the answer you always get is no, and I'm pretending?" he asks incredulously."Yep." Liam grins, "I'll get that yes one day, Zayn." “Keep trying.” Zayn gets out, trying for snappy but it ends up sounding amused. Damn it.

Through the summertime, winter, spring, and fall by taecheeks (77k) They change with the seasons, burning bright during the summer and biting cold during the winter, but that feeling of being in love Zayn found in the summer clings to him through it all.

What We Become by scottmcniceass (78k) “Nervous?”“No.”“It’s okay if you are,” Harry says seriously. “I mean, I know I would be. Like, if there was ever a date that was destined to go bad, it’s probably this one. Werewolf goes on date with the son of a werewolf hunter, who’s also training to be a werewolf hunter when he’s older, while another pack of werewolves are practically massacring the town, and no one has no idea how to stop them. It's not a question of what could go wrong. It's a question of what could possibly go right, and I'm willing to bet the answer to that is nothing."

80k - 100k

Kick, Push by ziamhaze (85k) World champion street skateboarder Zayn Malik has been on top of the sport’s rankings since he turned pro at 15. So when the Olympic Committee announces that skateboarding will be included for the first time at the 2020 Games, he’s thrilled to take on the challenge while representing Great Britain. There’s just one thing standing in between him and adding another title to the record books: his crippling performance anxiety. But when Team GB Skateboarding’s awarded a physiotherapist with an affinity for experimental therapy methods and a crinkly eyed smile, Zayn thinks he might just have found his ticket to bringing home gold.

Pride by iwanttowriteyouafic (86k) The one where Zayn and Liam strike a deal to help each other through their dirtiest nights, but Zayn's perception of alphas may be preventing him from something purer.

Compartment 451 by ziamhaze (88k) Zayn’s a muggleborn wizard whose parents leave him to fend for himself once he’s made aware of his magical abilities. The Payne’s are an open minded wizarding family, who take him in and provide the boy with a loving home before he and their overly excited son Liam, go off to Hogwarts for the first time.

Tunnel Vision by scottmcniceass (90k) In which Zayn is an award-winning popstar with a knack for getting himself in trouble, and Liam is the bodyguard he didn’t want to hire who has a few problems with staying professional.

Z.A.Y.N. by ziamhaze (92k) For six years, international R&B star Liam Payne has topped the charts with his unique, upbeat songs. Even though he’s proud of where he’s gotten himself, he knows he can’t take all the credit; there’s one particular songwriter that goes by the name ‘Icarus Kalim’ that’s played a huge part in his success. Because of the writer’s ability to craft thought provoking tracks that touch Liam in a way he didn’t even know was possible from afar, the celebrity makes a musical exception for ‘Icarus’, buying the man’s songs for himself, even though he swore he would never put his name on something he had no help in creating. But what happens when Liam finally tricks the soulful poet into meeting him after years of not even knowing what the man looks like? Is ‘Icarus’ really all Liam’s made him out to be in his head or will he be unlike anything the singer could’ve ever dreamt up...

Colour my senses cherry red by thilia (96k) Zayn Malik, closeted gay pornstar.

+ 100k

Lost for Words by AGreatPerhaps12 (102k) The one where Liam has a stutter and zero self confidence, and Zayn has a carefully controlled temper (also starring Louis and Harry as that disgustingly-in-love couple and Niall as the only straight guy around, apparently).

Slow and High Tempo by taecheeks (103k) "I just want you, Liam," Zayn whispers, skating his lips across his. "Can I?"Liam's lips part more as Zayn's do, exhaling slightly as Zayn's words sink in. He doesn't understand what they mean, but he knows he meant it when he said Zayn could have anything he wants. His eyes flicker open to stare up at Zayn's dark ones, filled with a warmth that seems to consume Liam as he waits for him to respond. "Yeah, babe."

Deadpool by rorz94 (111k) Zayn Malik, a multi-millionaire good doer/artist, is targeted by a lunatic serial killer for no reason. Enter hot charismatic detective Liam Payne in the investigation of his case. Payne is assigned to protect Mr.Malik as a punishment from his supervisor but Liam does not think it's such a bad punishment to stay close to the attractive young man.

Permanent by scottmcniceass (114k) At twenty-six, Liam has made a name for himself as one of the best football players of his generation. He's in the prime of his game when a car accident threatens to end his career permanently. Depressed and hating the world, Liam heads back to his home town to take some time off and find himself again. He doesn't expect to find life pretty much the way he'd left it eight years ago, and he definitely doesn't expect to find something that might make him want to stay permanently, but that's what he gets.

Hello kisses sweet as wine by xxcaribbean (123k) Zayn doesn’t expect mr. payne to have all the answers, and he certainly hadn’t meant to leave an impression. So, this isn’t really a love story. Well, it shouldn’t be.

Intoxicate Me, Mesmerize Me, Obliterate Me by eternallyunleashed (280k) There was a certain heat obtained from rebellion that even the actual throes of heat never sparked. Keeping up an image of perfection; being the good kid, the perfect son to the Mayor and Chief of Police, the city of Lincoln’s sweetheart omega, it was all taxing to Zayn. Walking the thin line of danger was exhilarating. Was it coincidental that this danger happened to be an attraction to a certain alpha who was none other than the leader of the South Side Vipers gang, who seemed to despise him and the part of town he came from? Probably not. But when had anything ever stopped Zayn?

Can't Help Falling in Love with You by eternallyunleashed (518k) Zayn is an 18 year old just out of high school who is going to start pre-med in NYU in September. Liam is a 26 year old CEO of a major company and also an ex-football player. Their paths cross when Zayn lands an internship at Liam's company thanks to Harry and their lives are completely thrown off balance.

[sargentr]

crisp trepidation

wrote this thinking of the song fine line by harry styles.

read on AO3

"Parrish." the voice said, "Parrish. Wake up."

Adam jolted awake by two hands who shook him slightly. Around him he could only see the dark, pitch black sky, shimmering with stars and constellations that came with the Virginian night, miles away from the cities. He noticed then he was still in a car, seat let back completely and a leather jacket covering his bare arms. He didn’t turn to look at the person who called him; he thought about closing his eyes, hoping what had just happened was all a nightmare.

Adam did not move. Instead, he kept looking at the stars. Altair, Deneb, Vega, Arcturus. He could name half of the sky.

The silence lingered, almost like it made noise to him. "Adam." The voice was softer. Adam turned his head ever so slightly to look up at Ronan Lynch, peering down into the open driver’s door. Blood and black stains still covered his skillfully sketched face, and traced dots and lines down his dark clothes. Like this, Adam could only see his eyes. "Come on." said Ronan, quietly, unlike himself, or, like entirely himself around people he trusted, "You can't sleep in the car." Adam sat up, and just then realized he wasn't at the parking lot of St. Agnes like he was expecting to be. No, Adam found himself staring at a family house, posted in the middle of nowhere, with barns at its outskirts. He sighed, visibly. He wanted to ask Ronan why he had brought him here, ask why he would come back here right after his mother had just passed. Ronan Lynch, he thought, full of surprises. Ronan tapped a finger once on top of the car, then lifted his posture to start walking inside, irritated to a bare minimum because Adam was clearly still out of it, "You staying there, shithead?" and so Adam got out of the car, hesitating. His limbs felt sore, and his eyes felt heavy, but sleep seemed like a million years away from catching up to him.

The Barns, just like Ronan, was not a place to play with. He didn't know what that meant exactly. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him; of belonging, trusting. Those concepts were foreign to him. He was his own home. His body, his mind, his relationships. Home wasn’t a place to Adam, because he had never had a physical home. He didn’t know how it felt.

He had a hunch it felt like this. They marched up the porch in unity. God, that porch. Just to think that merely days before that he was kissing Ronan Lynch to death, a metaphor he then thought was harmless. Now, that moment seemed as distant to Adam as being a child. It had felt like peace in his troubled routine, to be a normal teenager for a night; being able to kiss the boy he liked, to cuddle on the couch and trace fingers across his skin and exchange soft words in Latin until life caught up to Adam like it always it. He should have known it was too good to be true. Too good to last. A wind had blown by, he remembered. Adam had shivered against Ronan's pressed up body as they kissed. A small frown formed on Ronan's face when they parted, and Adam almost lifted his hand to touch were his eyebrows met in worry that he might be cold. He pulled Adam to him even more that he already was, and slipped his arms around his hips, touching the side of their faces together. That was when Ronan's hands traveled upwards, and caressed his arms in hopes of warming him. Adam pressed the side of his face to his collarbone, hands drawn up to their close chests, and sighed. "We should head inside." he had said against Ronan's skin.

He couldn't describe it, and that panicked him. Not knowing what it meant to be that warm, numb and to lose the use of his body completely when his fingers and Ronan's were tangled, being pulled to the couch, and before he could even process what had just happened, Ronan's lips were on his already.

He remembers smiling against them, not even trying to contain it. Happiness felt like a prize Adam wouldn't have expected to receive, and yet this made Adam realize how incredibly euphoric he had been in that moment. And that had been their second kiss. Now, a thing like that seemed impossible. They stepped inside, and just then it hit Adam, "Where's Orphan Girl?"

Adam's voice sounded surreal. It was too quiet, making his already cracked voice sound unbearably unfamiliar. Ronan was by the kitchen counter, walking towards the sink before he opened the tap, "Upstairs already." he said, "You to sleep for another ten minutes in the car. So I let her into Matthew’s room."

He put a hand on the wooden island, sitting down on one of those rich people high chairs, "Why didn’t you just wake me?"

Ronan closed the tap and reached for a piece cloth, turning so he could lean on the counter. He crossed his legs, shrugging.

Adam knew Ronan was either arranging for him to sleep somewhere, or just needed some time to think. Ronan was not good with words; Adam didn’t needed to remind himself of that detail. Adam looked at his nails, bloody, probably from Ronan. He felt physically so incapable of moving he would gladly sleep on that kitchen island and only wake up by sunrise. His eyebrows met, eyes still fixed down, "Can I, uh, shower?" Ronan let out a laugh. Adam looked up, "Knock yourself out." he said, almost like Adam was supposed to, even before he asked, "You can use Declan's." They didn't say anything else. ***

Adam debated wether he should just lay down and sleep or walk downstairs to talk to Ronan.

He exited Declan's bathroom, towel hanging from his hips and paced to the bed. Adam sat down thinking about how his best friend had died and come back, merely hours ago; he didn't know what to think right then. Gansey, he thought, I should be with Gansey. Don't cry, he told himself. Quickly, Adam put on the clothes he had been wearing before; blood-stained shirts and dirty jeans were not exactly new to him. He walked outside, and when he was about to turn the corner and trot down the stairs, he saw Ronan walking up, and stopped. "Where do you think you're going, Parrish?" Ronan frowned a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. Adam said, "I was going to look for you.” Ronan frowned, looking at Adam's body, trailing up and down, "Why are you still in those filthy fucking clothes?" Adam lifted his eyebrows, thinking, "Well, I didn't exactly have time to pack--"

"Wait here." said Ronan, and before Adam could protest, he had sprung past him and into his own room. A moment later, Ronan came back with a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tee.

He took Adam’s hands from his sides and placed them on his palm, "I forgot to put these in Declan's room." Adam inhaled. Something inside him was poking his stomach. He said nothing, he just stared at clothes.

It wasn't the fact that Ronan had thought of something sweet to do --Ronan was, and not surprisingly, someone who cared about others-- it was the thought that Ronan had done it for him. Something as simple and intimate as letting Adam borrow his clothes.

Adam forgot, just for a fraction of a second, what they had just gone through. Instead, he felt giddy with surprise and affection that Ronan was giving him his clothes to wear. He was also dumbfounded to be so emotional over old sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Ronan noticed. Of course he noticed, "Fine. You can sleep in dirt, for all I care." "Wait." Ronan was going to take back the items of clothing before Adam pressed them to his chest, "Sorry. I’m tired, I can't function properly." Ronan's jaw clenched, "Go to sleep, Parrish."

Adam barely nodded, and when Ronan turned to walk back to his room, a wave of panic struck through Adam's body, "Ronan?"

He stopped and looked back. Adam knew Ronan hadn't brought him to the Barns so he could sleep in Declan's room and leave early to work, but he also didn't know what he wanted that exact moment. Kiss me, he thought, do something. In all honesty, Adam felt drained of whatever love he had left in him. It wasn’t fuel to simply run out, he knew that, but he felt empty. Deprived. Lost. Shaken. And God, he just wanted affection, for once in his goddamned life. He inhaled, and realized his eyes were starting to water. He gazed down, trying to control it, but Ronan had already walked to him. He wiped his tears; Ronan was too close, and still did nothing.

Adam let out a watery, breathless short laugh, peeking a look at Ronan's hesitant state. He had never seen Adam cry. He hadn’t ever had to deal with it, so Adam spared him, “You don't have to ask my permission to touch me, you know that, right?"

Ronan's expression changed, defensive, "I know that, asshole." There he is, Adam thought. He nodded, trying to contain a small smile of amusement at Ronan having absolutely no clue on what to do. Ronan just then moved huffed a laugh as well, and left almost no space between him and Adam. And just like that, they weren’t smiling anymore.

Adam didn't dare break eye contact. He hadn't realized being this up close to Ronan would leave him suddenly breathless, lips parted, waiting. Ronan touched the side of his face, fingers grazing his jaw ever so lightly Adam couldn't stop it when his breath hitched at it. His thumb found a still wet spot on Adam's cheekbone and wiped it, before leaning down and touching his lips to Adam's.

It wasn't like their other ones. No, this one was lighter, softer, something Adam was waiting for since their first hurried kiss; Ronan’s unmasked gentleness. His hands were placed involuntarily on Ronan's sides, bringing them closer and deepening the kiss just merely.

Ronan shivered under his touch. It was something Adam found quite exquisite, his effect over him. Ronan’s body was shaking under his hands, making something hot speed through Adam's whole body. Ronan stopped kissing him for a second, and Adam thought he might've done something physically that implied the feeling. "What?" asked Adam, voice rushed, light and sweet. Adam's eyes seemed glued to Ronan's blue ones, "Nothing." he whispered, a smile almost slipping. He exhaled, and let his hands slowly travel down Adam's arms until he had reached his hand, taking them in his own. "C'mon, loser." Adam knew Ronan was trying his hardest to hide a smile. Ronan led them into his room, to his bed, and sat down. Adam stood between his legs, and rested his hands on Ronan's neck, looking down at him. And just like that, it hit him. As Adam's hands rested on Ronan's neck, just above his collarbone, he could feel how swollen it was, how the colors around his fingers didn't match Ronan's skin. Adam dropped his hands almost immediately, and avoided Ronan's eyes, his own glued to the monstrosity he knew was his doing.

"Hey." he said softly, taking one of Adam's hand in his own, trying to stop him from stepping away, "Adam?"

When he looked up to meet Ronan's eyes, he knew his own were displaying how horrified, petrified, he actually was. Ronan, though, only expressed worry. He inhaled, almost nervously, "Adam, no." "I did this-" "You didn't." cut Ronan, taking his other hand and guiding Adam a few steps forward, "You'd never hurt me." Adam shook his head, eyes still fixed at how bad Ronan's neck actually looked and thinking to himself how he did not notice that before, "Ronan, I-" "Hey." he said again, soft as ever, and if Adam wasn't melted by fear that exact moment, he'd be starstruck by it, "It's okay." Ronan lifted both of his hands, and Adam knew where they were going, "Adam. Look at me." He did. Ronan's eyes were as trustworthy as Adam had been to Cabeswater. Slowly, Ronan touched Adam's fingers to his bruised neck. He flinched, "Ronan." his voice broke visibly, "S-stop."

"It's okay." he gave Adam's fingers a light squeeze before setting them. Adam's breath hitched, "It's you. It's okay."

It took him a whole minute to do anything other than just lay them there. After that, one of them slipped to the back of Ronan's neck, and the other to his jaw, "I'm sorry." he whispered. He knew Ronan was looking at him, appreciating whatever he saw in Adam that made him worthy of appreciating. Adam kept his eyes fixed on his hands caressing his jaw, "Why didn't you stop me?" "It wasn't an option." he said, not hesitating, “A guy finally kissed me back, Parrish. If he wants to choke me then that’s fucking fine.”

Adam let out an un-calculated scoff. He silently thanked Ronan for trying to lighten the mood, “Asshole.”

Ronan smirked, "If the situation were to be inverted, you'd do the same.” Adam frowned at that, "God, no." he shook his head, playfully, "You'd kill me twice as fast. Have you seen your size compared to mine?" Ronan's tipped his head back to look up better at Adam when he took a step closer. Ronan face was a centimeter away from his chest now. He smiled up at him, playfully, “You calling me fat, Parrish?" He smiled back. At that, Ronan placed his hands on the small of Adam's back. Adam got the idea and straddled Ronan, unhurried and calmly, letting them both appreciate new grounds. “This is okay.” he said, when they touched their foreheads together, “Right?” Ronan had closed his eyes. He gave Adam’s the softest smile, “Yeah. It’s okay.” Adam kissed him. It started off the same as the last one, though Adam knew it was going to end completely different. Kissing Ronan Lynch was different from making a bargain with Cabeswater, or doing something as crazy as finding a dead Welsh king. No, kissing Ronan Lynch felt like he was playing a game of chess, in which there were no winners, and the only way out was to break the pieces. Adam did not ever want to commit such a crime. They kissed, and kissed and kissed. This or that, Ronan made it feel like it was the first time he'd ever done it. This once, Ronan starting kissing the outline of his lips, then his cheeks, and down his neck, and Adam couldn't help but feel so incredibly comfortable he slowly made Ronan trail back before he ground his hips down. Ronan displayed a type of surprise, though he was violently trying to fight against it. Adam kissed him again, and felt how breathless he already was, "Is this okay too?” Their noses were still touching, too close. Ronan held Adam's waist close, "God." he breathed, "Yeah, asshole. You don’t have to ask every time."

Adam didn't know what he was expecting, or what he wanted for that matter. All he knew was that kissing, straddling and grounding into Ronan like he was that instant felt too good to be true.

It was a medium to calm rhythm. Both of them were exhausted, drained, incapable of wanting more than just each others presence. After what felt like an eternity of panting, of feeling each other fully and completely aroused, pressing together and hearing Ronan’s muffled groans on his neck, both of them came. Clothed, warm, entwined.

They were breathless, panting slightly, mouths touching but not kissing. Adam laughed, just merely, contented and sated. Ronan placed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled him to lay down. He had a feeling they were going to ignore the mess in their boxers, and found he didn’t really care.

Now, sleep was a second away from catching up to him. They faced each other, knees and noses touching, Ronan’s hand traveling up and down his back. He was already trailing away when Ronan's deep voice broke silence, "I'm not sleeping." he said.

Adam wanted to protest, he really wanted to, but he knew how many times Ronan wanted to do that as well when Adam worked and studied himself to death, and still did not dare say a word. Adam had warned him too many times those were not subjects his friends had sayings in, and Ronan would avoid a fight with Adam any day of the week.

"Okay." he whispered back, touching the side of his face just once before letting his hand drop between them, "Wake me up if you need anything." Ronan nodded, patiently. When he realized Ronan wasn't going to say anything else, he exhaled before turning his back to him and turning off the lamps.

Before sleep took him, Adam had the faintest feeling that they were going to be all right.

[thegildedkelpie]

- P R O L O G U E -

Rating: Young Adult

Warnings: Sexual assault, gore, various distressing themes

Summary: Humans have a lot of names for the Veil; the Other Side, the Great Beyond, the Heavens or the Hells, Limbo, Purgatory. The Norse had Niflheim and Alfheim, the Gaelic and the Welsh had  Tír na nÓg and Annwn. Nowadays, the slang is simply Veilside. Easy, quick, and it doesn’t come heavy with cultural ties.

Severed has lived with one foot Veilside and the other foot Humanside for as long as he could remember. He works and lives in an abysmal halfway place, a pocket dimension powered by brutal, messy magic, slaving away in a slaughterhouse to pay off a debt.

Niamh stepped unwittingly Veilside in high school, cutting his life abruptly short and ruining what remained. He works in a gilded cage, a beautiful, famous brothel, until one day he gets out.

When Severed lets Niamh crash on his couch, the precarious balance he’s managed to keep up begins to tilt.

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

“What is your name?” the nurse asked. She was wearing plain white from her head to her ankles; an apron over her dress, socks that hid the skin of her legs. Her shoes shone black.

Niamh stared at her, fingers tangled in the sheets of the bed he didn't remember waking up in. There was a horrible, sugary, bile-heavy taste stuck in his throat and his head felt heavy. “Where am I?”

She smiled. “The Gardens, of course.” She said it precisely, like a title. “What is your name?”

“What's the gardens?” he asked warily, looking down at himself. He had been in a hoodie and skinny jeans, but someone had stripped those off and replaced them with what seemed to be a pale cream gown. He pulled his legs up. A pang of nausea hit as his bare legs beneath – bare everything – brushed the fabric. “Where am I?”

“There is nothing to be frightened of,” she said kindly, setting a hand on his shoulder. She had pointed ears like he did, but the face was wrong. She was not like him. Even with barely any time veilside, he could tell. “Everything will be explained in time. Please tell me your name so that we can start the paperwork.”

“Is this a hospital?” he asked. Maybe he’d gotten sick, or passed out somewhere. The last thing he remembered were vodka shots and thumping music at a club he shouldn’t have even been at. He looked at her chest, at her simple, dated dress and white coat, but there was no name tag or ID badge. Purple, bell shaped flowers were embroidered on the cuffs of the white coat and the rounded collar of her dress, small pops of color.

She nodded, looking pleased. “We're here to make sure you're healthy. Now, your name?”

He stared at her and finally said, “Niamh?”

The nurse made a pleased noise and started scribbling on the clipboard. Unlike the humans he was used to, she did not ask him to spell it out for her. “Middle and last names?”

He ignored her. “How...how did I get here?” He leaned forward, heart pounding. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be able to walk into the front door of his house in Las Vegas instead of being forbidden from entry, or for his parents to look at him instead through him. The Veil had been fun until it wasn’t, the magic amazing until it had become frightening. “I don't remember anything but a party.”

She didn't look up from her clipboard. “We had to sedate you. You were getting sick all over the place.”

“Sick? From the party?”

Nothing but the scratch of a pen answered him. After a long moment of scribbling on the clipboard, she looked at him. Her smile had not changed in the slightest. “I'll be right back with your paperwork, alright?”

“Okay.” It was discharge papers, he bet. She would bring him his discharge papers, his vomited on clothes, and he would leave. The faeries he'd been travelling with would probably be waiting in the front lobby of the hospital, ready to laugh at him and slap him on the back and drag him off to another wild party, another few nights of trying to forget what he had given up when he’d made the choice to cross the Lines.

He watched her go because there was nothing else to do.

After a few moments, the door opened and he got a glimpse of high white walls and decorative moulding, gleaming mirrors and paintings in gold frames, before the door shut behind the nurse. She had a slip of cream paper in her hand and a pen.

She held it out to him. “Please sign this.”

He took it, expecting a discharge paper, but it was thicker than he expected and soft to the touch. The letters were incredibly small and the font was blocky and hard to read. The title was illuminated, colourful, and gilded, a green leafed plants climbing up the side margins to border the text, bell shaped purple flowers and black berries hanging between paragraphs. “What is this?”

“Your contract.”

“Discharge papers?” he asked. His head pounded but there was no music.

“Contract,” she corrected. “Please sign it so we can move you on out of here.”

“Am I going home?” he asked, but he had no home. Not now. Not anymore.

“You're already home,” the nurse said.

Niamh shook his head, stomach twisting. He teetered to his feet. The floor pulled him down and he stumbled, the nurse catching his arm. “I'm going.”

“Going where? There's nowhere to go until you sign,” she laughed.

The faeries had warned him never to sign a contract, never to trust a person with a hidden name, to avoid unmarked vans and unclear signage, swamps and bridled horses and will o' wisps, people with sprigs of rowan or ash pinned to their breasts, to not be swayed by the glamour of high courts or old money or the shiny, neon lights of the new money.

“What’s your name?” he asked dizzily.

“Tint,” she said smoothly. She couldn't lie, he knew, but she could obfuscate, tell him a nickname with no power or identification.

“Where are my friends?” He pulled away from her and found it difficult to remain upright. The room spun around him.

“I wouldn't know, you arrived here alone. I promise there are new friends here that you just haven't met yet.”

He looked around. The room was nondescript and plain but there were details he hadn't noticed before. The counters were white, the walls were white, the floor was checkerboard white and black marble tiles, and there was a strange stain in one white tile, rusty and shimmery and pale. Would the door be locked? Would he make it if it wasn't and he ran? “I prefer my old ones.”

“But everyone likes new friends, don't they?” Her head tilted to the side. “Please sit down, Niamh. You are dizzy.”

His stomach was sinking lower, lower. “Did you give me something?” he asked and realized at the same time.

“No,” she said, touching his elbow. He tried to stumble away from her. “You were unconscious when you arrived.”

He looked down at his inner arms. In the crook of one elbow was a little red dot – needle mark. He wasn't strong, always coughing and catching colds and bleeding all over his homework from his nose, but he was quick. He darted for the door and was out of the miraculously unlocked entryway before the nurse could grab him. The hall had high, vaulted ceilings, doors on one side and windows into a courtyard patio on the other, buttery sunlight pouring in. Another nurse was pushing a tea tray down the hall and she stared at him, mouth open.

“Are you lost?” she asked, but he was attempting to sprint down the hall before she finished. His vision spiralled, sending him skidding, knocking into the wall to stay upright. The gown had a back, which spared him some humiliation of running down a hall with his ass exposed to the world. It was a small comfort, but something nonetheless.

He had always been quick, pressured to join track team year after year despite his coughing fits, and the nurse was not fast enough to catch him. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open when he threw himself into them.

The air was not cold but it wasn’t warm, either. The sun was bright but not as blinding as it should have been. It was as if the weather was so mild that there was no weather at all.

Scattered across the patio extending into the green courtyard were tables, and other people in gowns stared at him, plates of sweets and pots of tea in front of them. A few laughed and pointed, snickering behind their hands.

“Niamh, get back here!” the nurse called, beetle-black penny loafers clacking on the marble floor, closer, closer.

He stumbled down the steps, darting around the placid people at patio tables, but the courtyard was surrounded on all sides with the grand building, a beautifully arranged cage.

His nurse had gained an ally in the nurse who was pushing the tea cart, and they hurried towards him together. Niamh, facing nowhere to go, splashed into the nearest fountain and scrambled up the tiered pools until he was crouched at the top, soaked from the waist down in freezing, mossy water.

“Get away from me,” Niamh shouted down at them.

“Niamh, please come down of your own volition or we will be forced to remove you,” his nurse called to him.

“Don't we have enough twinks?” an attractive man in a pale blue gown asked loudly, pouring himself another cup of tea. He had one black eye and a split lip. His companion, skin dusted mauve, muttered at him, kicking him under the table.

Niamh was not magic the way the other faeries were. He had only intent, but no real action, and therefore the nurses were not compelled when he said loudly, “Stay away.”

His nurse glared at him. “You will come down or we will have someone take you down.”

“Hey kid, just come down!” another person in a gown called from a table farther away. They had an IV pole connected to their arm and gently curling horns. They were so delicately pretty he couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl. “You're ruining breakfast. God knows that's the only good thing about this fucking hospice!”

Both nurses spared the person a hard look.

His heart hammered. The walls looked too high to climb, but could he try? “Where am I?”

His nurse, Tint, managed to sound patient when she said, “I told you, Niamh. You are in the Gardens. You need to sign your contract.”

“What's the Gardens?” he called down, fingers digging into the stone. He felt like he was a container filled with liquid, and the liquid was sloshing against the cracking walls. It was only a matter of time before something gave, either his stomach or his consciousness.

Tint put her hands on her hips as the other nurse went to a man in black body armour standing watch by the double doors and started talking to him inaudibly, pointing up at him. The man leaned his head down and talked into a walkie strapped to his chest. “Your new home and place of employment,” she said sternly, as the man began approaching.

“I don't want a job,” he said, but felt like it wasn't employment he was being offered. “I'm in high school.”

“You will be given the opportunity to finish your education here. We rescued you from the streets. By all means, if you would rather live in squalor until someone comes to take advantage of you, we can make arrangements, but first you need to come down here and get out of the fountain.” She glared up at him.

Niamh shook his head. “I would rather leave. I don't want to be here and I won't get out of the fountain.”

She stepped closer to the edge of the fountain, hands on her hips and eyes hard. “We want what is best for you, Niamh. That's why you're here. We know you're a changeling. The choice is always hard, and we are happy that you have decided to live life as you actually are. But Niamh,” her voice gentled when he gripped the wet, mossy artichoke decoration at the top of the fountain tighter. “Where will you go when we drop you off at the bar we found you at, passed out and covered in vomit, danced half to death? You don't know the laws, the culture, the language. Your friends wanted something to drag around, not someone to look after. We will look after you here, I promise.”

Some of the people at the tables were nodding along with her. Others had their eyes glued to the tables in front of them.

“I can look after myself,” he shouted down, throwing handful of algae. “I didn't drink that much!” It was half true. He had paced himself carefully but still couldn't remember the night.

Tint sighed, voice lowering. “Get him down.”

The guard approached the fountain, pulling out some sort of cylindrical tool. Niamh had classmates with allergies, at his high school, and the thing looked like an epi-pen. Somehow, he didn’t think it was wielded to save lives.

“Come on, kid, don't make this hard. Everyone else is just trying to enjoy their breakfasts.” He had a soft accent, something hard to place. Everyone on this side had an accent, though, and it was futile to try and place it. The languages spoken were countless, here, and all unfamiliar.

He clung to the artichoke. If he passed out, maybe he would fall and be too hurt for whatever they wanted of him. “You're the one making it hard.”

“That's what she said!” crowed someone from the tables. There was scattered, half hearted chuckles. People sipped their tea and watched placidly. He watched a scattering of them shake their heads and get up, retreating into the building.

The guard, whose nameplate read Duergar, sloshed into the fountain and waded for the centre. “Get down here before you get hurt,” he said, clambering into the first platform pool.

“No,” he hissed, standing slowly. He teetered on the edge, but there was nowhere higher to climb.

“Sit down!” The nurses both yelled.

“Get down here, you little shit,” Duergar the guard who was not very fast or good at climbing, ground out through his teeth, which were sharp. He climbed, sopping, into the second platform pool. Niamh was almost within his reach.

When Duergar's fingers poked over the edge to pull himself up, Niamh slammed his heel down onto them. Duergar yelped and the crowd down below cheered, clapping. Duergar grabbed his ankle and Niamh swayed. “You're going to get yourself hurt!”

“ You're hurting me,” he snapped, shaking his leg so violently the rest of him tried to topple the other way. He scrambled to hold on to the artichoke. The algae slipped beneath his hands, forcing his nails to bite into the stone beneath.

“I hate changelings,” Duergar muttered, yanking on his ankle. “Sit down before you fall off of this thing and crack open your head.”

Below, people were talking. He heard what is happening? and someone replied the new guy wants to go home. The reply was too quiet to hear, a murmur that felt like pity.

Niamh yanked his ankle back, harder, but he was not strong and this was not something he could run from. He said, half true, “I'll curse you if you don't let go.”

Duergar hesitated. “If you curse me I'll make sure you'll regret it,” he threatened, pulling on his leg.

“Doesn't mean you won't be cursed,” he hissed, panicked as he dug his nails down to avoid being dragged. A second hard yank made him let go. A third made him go careening over the edge only to be caught under one of Duergar's broad arms. He kicked and bit and scratched but was still brought down, landing with a splash into the water. He pushed onto his hands, sputtering.

“Little shit,” Duergar huffed.

Niamh glared up at him. He could see his pores widen into pox, his hair turn to straw. “I hope you rot.”

Duergar knotted fat, meaty fingers in Niamh's hair and shoved him under the water. Niamh struggled against him, panicking, but Duergar was stronger. He tried to pry his gloved fingers from his hair but couldn't.

He held his breath as long as he could, but the guard did not let go. In all his struggling, his mouth opened and water rushed down his throat, mossy and cold. Panic followed the water into his lungs, settling into each delicate bronchiole.

His heart kicked up another impossible notch and he tried to get leverage with his knees. They dug hard into the algae until they scraped, bleeding, on the stone bottom of the fountain and he attempted to heave himself upwards. Duergar's grip did not budge and Niamh was left in the cold, rushing dark, watching bubbles and bits of green float past his eyes

Duergar heaved him up before his blurring vision went black. He clutched at the mossy edge of the pool, the world spinning, and coughed up lungfuls of water until he was gagging, vomiting up bile into the water. Duergar made a disgusted noise.

The spectators were not laughing, anymore, but they didn't look surprised or concerned either.

“Still cursed,” he wheezed, heart pounding, terrified, in his chest.

His hand pulled on his hair and Niamh gasped, fingers tearing at Duergar's,  but Tint shouted “Enough!” before he could shove him under again. “Bring him down. He needs to sign his contract before we can perform a medical examination.”

Niamh tried to step over the side when he was pulled, stumbling instead, skidding across marble through the gown. “I won't sign,” he said again.

But he would sign, and back in the examination room he did sign. He wrote his name – first, middle, last – wherever prompted. Duergar lingered by the door as Tint left, carrying the paper contract with her. A doctor replaced her, a gold robed man following behind him, eyes tattooed on his hands, who stood in the corner and watched.

The doctor peeled off the gown and Niamh let him because there was nothing he could do to stop it. He jabbed and prodded and fondled at his body, took his weight and his height, looked into his mouth and his ears and his eyes. His ribs were painstakingly counted, each joint bent. He did a vision test, a hearing test, and took his blood. At the end of the examination, when his medical form was completed, the gold robed man held his jaw in his hands and stared at him for far too long before nodding and finally leaving, the doctor trailing behind.

Duergar dragged him out of the room and down the hall and into an elevator. It was a complicated series of elevators and stairs and turns until he was being shoved into what looked like a dorm room. Niamh had expected to be left alone, but Duergar came in, too, shutting the door behind him.

His hands went to his belt and Niamh, resisting the same way he had in the fountain, went to the bed.

His first impression was that he was going to be beaten with a belt like some of the parents in his shitty neighborhood had done to their kids, but the belt hit the ground, forgotten. Duergar's fingers unbuttoned his pants, pulling down his zipper, and Niamh curled his knees closer to himself.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - When in Vegas

Prompt: future!au

It’s cutting it close, but here is my first contribution to @spideychellemonth! I’m gonna try my darndest to keep up, but I’m so excited for this guys!! 

This is potentially going to be multi-chapter, mostly because it was getting too long and I was having just TOO MANY IDEAS lmao Let me know what y’all think! This is also based off of an idea an anon sent me a week or so ago about a marriage pact!AU that i just LOVED the idea for 

Basically, the 1.7k Waking Up Married in Vegas!AU nobody asked for pls enjoy! <3

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Fuck.

It’s the first semi-coherent thought that pops into MJ’s head as she’s dragged into a sluggish state that can barely be described as consciousness. Her eyes, feeling as if they might fall right out of her skull, squeeze shut in an effort to stop the sun’s merciless assault. The groan that leaves her mouth as she turns away from the window is almost inhuman, her tongue heavy and dry, throat feeling as if she’d just swallowed barbed wire. If she moves too much, she’s sure whatever concoction of last night’s activities currently residing in her stomach are going to end up on the floor. 

Three gin and tonics, two vanilla screwdrivers, and a few too many—who was counting, really?—shots of tequila seemed like an okay idea last night, at least past-MJ thought. 

That was a problem for future-MJ.

Future-MJ hates past-MJ.

It was true, it was all true, she reflects as her stomach gurgles violently, lurching into the back of her throat. 

It’s a simple explanation, really.

Over time, the enzymes required to metabolize all that booze have started to weaken, no longer breaking down toxins with the same vigor, leaving the elusive acetaldehyde to roam free. 

In other words, she’s thirty.

Gone were the glory days where she could drink the night away and wake up with just a mild headache. The days where she could have as many different cocktails as her heart desired and not wake up feeling like death itself. The days where she could drink just one glass of pinot noir and not feel like an angry bull is stomping on his hippocampus.

But it had been Ned’s 30th, one of her best friends since high school, a real cause for celebration. They were in Vegas, for crying out loud. Sin City. What was she supposed to do?

Not drink?

(Well, yeah. That would have been ideal.)

But where was the fun in that?

Her hand brushes across her bare stomach, and she realizes with a small start that she’s naked. 

She’s not sure if she’s ever been more confused.

Come to think of it, she’s not sure she even knows what happened last night. There’s flashes, very brief flashes of club music, Grey Goose, way too much glitter, and a lot of highly questionable, dumbass financial decisions involving slot machines and poker games.

She’s pretty sure she’s still alive, about 62%, but she’s also fairly certain that her brain has been replaced with cotton and sewing needles. An ache that starts right around her knees shoots up her spine, radiating throughout her body as she pulls the blanket tighter around her and buries her puffy face into the pillow.

When she realizes that any chance of sleep is gone for good, and that she can’t just will this splitting headache away with her own mind, she cracks an eye open. She immediately regrets that decision as soon as the harsh sunlight hits, shaking her head, throwing her arm out in some kind of half-assed effort to fight it off. 

Her heart nearly stops when her hand hits something soft and warm next to her. She yanks her hand back, eyes shooting open to see someone—a man—face down in the mattress, head of chocolate brown waves turned away from her. A rather uncalled for heat swarms her body as her gaze drifts to his exposed back and lingers on the taut muscles there, drifting lower, the thin stop-sheet just barely covering the curve of his—

What the hell happened last night?

But dread starts to mix with the nausea gripping at her stomach as she realizes something about the naked mystery man in her bed.

She knows that curly mop of brown hair.

Immediately, she shoots up from the bed, gripping the sheet against her chest. 

A big mistake.

The nausea finally wins the battle, and she runs to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up as she empties the toxic contents of her stomach into the toilet. 

It’s a wonder Peter doesn’t wake up from her violent retching. 

She forces out a harsh exhale as she flushes down the remnants of her night out, hand reaching out to grip the bathroom counter as she rises on shaky legs. She grabs the complimentary bathrobe—how fancy—and shrugs it on before turning to the sink to splash ice cold water onto her face. 

And that’s when she sees it. 

The gaudy, cheap, obviously fake rock sitting smugly on her left ring finger, staring right back at her slack-jawed expression. 

What the fuck?!

It all comes back to her. 

They’d been so, so incredibly dumb. 

Both of them.

Peter looks stupid good.

He always has, of course, she wasn’t blind. 

But his late-twenties seemed to have been incredibly kind to him. He still had that boyish charm she’d always secretly liked, but now… now there was just something about him, standing under these neon casino lights, wearing a plain black suit with a white tee underneath, that brought back years and years of repressed high school feelings. 

Mutual feelings that neither of them ever acted on. Only joked about.

They would never have worked as a couple, they’d always say.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

So they both moved on. It was high school. They still had the rest of their lives ahead of them. 

Plus, the risk of ruining their solid friendship was just too great. 

So why, after nearly twelve years, is she having to actively fight back the stupid fluttering of butterflies when he so much as glanced in her general direction? 

It makes no sense. 

It isn’t like they haven’t seen each other since high school. Yeah, it’s been a few months since they last caught up, both of them being too busy with work and the like, but...

They were still friends—best friends, even.

She blames it on the second gin and tonic.

Yes, it’s the warm buzz of the alcohol running through her body that’s making her feel like she’s pretty damn close to walking on air. 

And she chases that feeling, returning again and again to the bar—sometimes with Peter, himself—giving up on actually counting her drinks after the first shot of tequila. 

Tequila was clearly not her friend in this case.

It could also have been the fact that she’s freshly single and she’s had to witness Ned and, now fiancèe Betty, making googly eyes at each other one too many times, and it’s entirely possible that she’s just feeling that creeping loneliness she’d tried so hard to stamp down.

She doesn’t know how they get here, maybe it’s somewhere between her second shot and her first screwdriver, but they’re alone in a booth in the corner. For the first time in a while, her liquid courage doesn’t help stave off the pressure of trying to come up with something cool to say, and she feels, once again, like she’s back in high school. 

It’s an incredibly frustrating feeling.

Peter ducks as he sees Ned looking for him, MJ snickering as she watches the whole ordeal. Ned’s drunkenly leading this poor, unassuming casino patron around, glancing around frantically as he wanders from room to room.

Odds are it’s just another person to try and hook Peter up with. 

Ned means well, he truly does, but frankly, Peter’s a little tired of the constant matchmaking. Yes, he’s been the perpetually single friend for a number of years now, but he seemed to be pretty content on his own.

And plus, he and MJ are having a pretty good time by themselves.

He doesn’t need anyone else.

“But, Pete,” MJ starts, words slurring ever-so-slightly, tone laced with sarcasm. “Everyone knows that being single in your thirties is one of the most shameful things in existence. It’s barbaric. You need to settle down, before it’s too late.”

He throws his head back, letting out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re right. My good years are gone.” 

She tsks, shaking her head. “Past your prime.”

“I’ve truly peaked.” He tips his glass to her, before taking a drink.

A smirk tugs at her lips. “What will you do now?”

“Well...” He laughs lightly, casually stirring the glass in his hand. He looks up at her, eyes glazed over, tilting his head as he fixes her with a fond, teasing smile. “We still have that pact.”

Ah, yes. 

The pact. 

The pact that they’d made—as a joke—when they were sixteen. 

It was simple.

If they were both single at thirty, they’d get married. 

That was the deal.

They even shook on it. 

But, official as that simple handshake was at the time for two hormonal teenagers, it wasn’t something that was ever in any universe supposed to be taken seriously.

Maybe it was just a ring, though. Maybe they didn’t get actually, legitimately, legally get married. They couldn’t have been that dumb. 

Or maybe this was some sick hangover hallucination her brain made up as punishment for drinking too much. 

The rest of the night is a blur, brief glimpses of drunken giggles, his hand in hers flashing through her mind. She vaguely remembers going somewhere outside the casino with him, stumbling through the streets as they pull each other along, bright lights dancing above them. 

Balloons everywhere. 

A corny chapel. 

A Tony Stark impersonator. 

Her expression is oddly calm, a contrast to the utter horror she feels in her gut as she stares at the sparkling ring on her finger. 

This isn’t that bad, she thinks. This can all be over in a matter of hours. 

An annulment was easy, right?

Right?

It’s not like they had sex or anything—

Wait, no, fuck, they did. 

Did they…?

Again, the later part of the night is fuzzy.

Another wave of nausea crashes into her before she has a chance to be confused, and in an instant, she’s hunched over the toilet again. 

And it’s while she’s puking her guts out, while she’s praying that the naked guy in her bed stays asleep where he’s supposed to be, does a boxer-clad-Peter step into the bathroom. He looks almost as wrecked as she is, his hair in wild disarray, bags under his eyes giving Gollum a run for his money. 

He hesitates, knocking gently on the doorframe. “MJ—?” At first, he looks as though he’s about to ask her why she’s in his hotel room, but his expression crumples into one of worry when he sees how sick she is. “Are you okay?”

She scoffs and gives him a weak glance over her shoulder, ready to throw a biting, sarcastic remark back at him, when she sees the way the color drains from his face.

He’s frozen in place, eyes wide, and she hesitantly follows his gaze, right onto that big, fake diamond on her finger. 

Fuck.

[supersoldierslover]

The Accidental Mrs. Rogers Part 5

Summary:  (Modern Au) To celebrate your birthday, you and your friends go to Vegas. After a very drunk night, you discover that your life changed forever.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Words: 1710 

Warnings:  Just fluffy for now

Thank you @unbetaedimagines for beta this for me,You are the best

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you look different than before; you look happier. You can’t stop smiling and there is now a spark in your eyes .

Today is your first official date with Steve, and you have all kinds of feelings going on inside of you. You are excited, you are anxious; you are feeling self-conscious but more importantly, you are feeling hopeful.

It was nice to feel like this, like everything was possible.

You know that Steve is a romantic at heart. You’ve watched him in past relationships and the little things he did for his lovers. The roses, the gifts, the midnight calls; all the little things.

Even when you think about your relationship with him, you’ve had a taste of this treatment. The necklace that he gave you on your birthday was never off your neck. It was one the most thoughtful presents that you ever got.

But even before that, you can’t count how many times he’s let you borrow his sweatshirt because you were cold, or how many coffees he bought you during college.

However, you never thought of him as a mysterious guy. He refused to let you know where you two were going tonight. All he told you was for you to dress casually and to feel comfortable.

So this is what you did, with a pair of black jeans and nice shit in the same color. You add the red lipstick as a final touch, and you are ready for your date.

At 8 pm sharp, Steve knocks on your bedroom door. He looks extremely handsome in his blue jeans and white jersey. But what really catches your attention is the fact that he is holding a bouquet  of white daisies in his hand.

“Hey… you didn’t have to.”  You say, picking up the flowers and smelling them; Daisies are your favorite. “Of course I did, it is our first date.” He says simply, making you smile “Thank you, Steve. So where are you taking me?” You ask, going to the living room and picking a vase to put the flowers in. He shrugs, following you around.

“There is only a place that I want to take you and you are going to find out soon.” He says, picking up his jacket that was on the sofa. As curious as you are about the date, you would be happy with whatever he chose. It doesn’t matter how simple or cliché, a dinner and movie with Steve sounds like perfection.

Outside of the apartment, instead of going downstairs and outside of the building, he takes you upstairs to the rooftop. You have been there a few times; once on Bucky’s birthday and the other was at a Halloween party.

The rooftop that is usually crowded is now empty. There are some candles on the floor leading to a blanket with pillows, and a picnic basket. It is the perfect night to have a picnic; the stars are shinning and the weather is warm.

“This is incredible, Stevie.”  You say, looking around. You could only imagine a date like this in your wildest dreams. “I wanted to make it special.” He replies, sitting on the floor and helping you do the same.

You smile as he starts to take the food out of the basket; he bought all your favorites, from the cake of the bakery down the street, to that wine close to his workplace.  He didn’t have to be this sweet, but you love that he is.

“This is already the best date that I’ve ever had.” You say, taking a bite of the croissant. “Better than your date with Ben? That guy from our second year of college?”   He asks playfully, and you roll your eyes at him.

“You know, that was the worst date of life, how dare you to bring it up!” You say, pretending to be offended, making him laugh. “Come on, I remember you saying it wasn’t that bad... You said that he was nice.” He says coltish; you know that he is messing you with you

. You remember the day after that date, you meet Steve at your favorite coffee place and you couldn’t stop complaining about the guy. That was the day you swore off  men.

“Should I remind you of your date with Natalie?”  You ask, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine. “She was a lovely girl, but not my type.”

You laugh;  Ben was a jerk who was very late for your date and in the end called you a bitch because you didn’t want to have sex with him; Natalie was crazy.

After only one date, she decided that she was totally in love with Steve and when he let her down gently, she slapped his face and told him that he was going to regret this.  For a whole month, she made his life hell, calling in the middle of the night and texting him nonstop.

“That is nice of you to say.” He shrugs, like what she did was no big deal. “Well, I didn’t really care about Natalie. She was not the one on my mind back then.” He says, looking directly at you. You bite your lip, putting a  piece of hair behind your ear.

“Stevie, when did you know that you liked me?” You ask, avoiding eye contact. This was something that was on your mind for a while now. He blushes, running his hand through his hair.

“Since forever, but I think the day I realized it was during that trip when we went to Spain. More specifically, that day we went to that beach , just the two of us.” You nod; that day in Alicante was perfect.

Before Steve started grad school, he wanted to go for one last adventure, so you and a few other friends went to Spain for a couple of weeks. You spent two weeks exploring the cities and all the country had to offer.

One day you, the two of you decide to do a little adventure. One of your friends told you that Alicante was beautiful. So you explored the city, taking silly pictures in the tourist spots, and at the end of the day you two were on the beach.

You never have felt so close to Steve. You two shared secrets and stories from your past and he told you a little about his family, especially his mom and you told him about yours.

You don’t remember much, but you know that you laughed a lot that day and that you felt good.

“What about you, when did you know that you liked me?” He asks shyly. You smile, but you don’t know how to answer that. Part of you has always liked him, since the moment you saw him at that party, sitting outside, talking with Sam and Natasha.

Still, you don’t remember the exact moment  you knew that you wanted something more with him. You two shared so many moments over the years, how can you choose one?  But when stop to think about it, there is one moment that you knew that you were in love.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there was one day that we were in your dorm. I was lying on your bed and you were sitting on the floor, reading a book and I was playing on my phone. We were just there, sitting in silence. It was nice, and then you looked at me and you smiled…  I knew then that you weren’t just a friend.”

He gets close to you, his fingers tracing your cheek and his thumb on your lips. “It’s ridiculous that we’ve been pining for each other for so long and only got together now.” You say, breaking the silence making him smile.

“I agree, but I think this happened for a reason. I don’t know how to explain it, but I think it was good for us to go in all the bad dates, go thru college and grad school to truly appreciate each other… “

You nod; you understand what he means. You two needed to grow up as people to truly to value each other’s company. You already love Steve; you never want to do anything to hurt him or to break his heart.

“Yeah, I really understand that.”  You say, caressing his cheek, getting closer to him. For a moment all you can do is stare at his lips; you want to kiss him, you want to know the taste of his lips on yours, but instead, you pull him in for a hug.

For the rest of the night, you two reminisce about the good times in college, eating the delicious food that he bought, laughing at the memories. If you were being honest, this was one of the best dates that you’ve ever had.

Steve always knew how to make you laugh and feel special, like you were the only person in the universe.  You love how thoughtful he was planning this date. He chose the perfect place for the two of you.

After you two finish eating, you gaze at the sky. Steve lays on the pillows, and you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You don’t know how much time you two spent like this, just enjoying each other’s company.

“We should get inside, it’s almost 1 am.” He says, caressing your back, you nuzzle into his chest. “But I’m so comfortable.” You whine, making him laugh. “Come on darling, it’s cold out here.” You nod, getting up and going inside.

“Thank you for tonight, it was really fun.” You say, stopping in front of your room, Steve smiles, running his hands through his hair. “I’m glad that you had fun and maybe we can do it again sometime?” He asks, hope in his voice.

Instead of answering him, you get closer to him, and you pull him in for a kiss. This is your first kiss since the night you two got married; the kiss was gentle and short. His lips are very soft and the kiss is everything you ever wanted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stevie.” You say, breaking the kiss and going to your room.

Part 6

I was so excited for this chapter, i wanted to do something that was pure fluff and i hope you guys enjoyed. Please leave feedback keeps motivated to write. 

[believerindaydreams]

in which some metafictional stuff happens

Inspired by some chat I was having with @sybilius and also an amazing ‘80s AU fic by @morgan-arthur although this can’t actually be blamed on either of them. Not least because it seems to be set in the ‘70s sometime instead.

so anyway, here’s a thing where Blondie and Tuco are draft-dodging, card-playing hustlers, and wow did I get involved in building up the situation for this. Also some racial stuff, hence the tagging. 

(edit: Tumblr in its infinite wisdom blocks the fic when I had the tagging in. I’m of the opinion that any fic where the POC protagonist is contemplating their own participation in screwed-up racial dynamics for the sake of pulling a fast one ought to be tagged racism, but I also want people to actually be able to read the thing, so no tagging.)

Ugh. 

Anyway, I feel that you can’t have Leone if the GBU characters are wandering around, so...

“Badlands,” Blondie says, holding the grey film can easily, as if it weighs no more than a dream; and Tuco privately seethes. 

They’ve been so careful about this little hustle, never entering a town together or winning too much from the same people. Blondie will show up at a bar’s back room first, play a few hands, let everyone there get a sense of him as a discreet, careful player, with a damn-near perfect poker face. 

Enter the sucker: one loud-mouthed, louder-dressed Mexican, twirling a mustache and flashing a roll (hundreds, wrapped around ones). Sometimes the other players will play it straight, and those nights they more or less break even. Other times, well...maybe he takes his time ordering the tequila, and gets to the table to find too many smiles, quiet sniggers behind the cards. And a couple too-good-to-be-true rounds to be sure of roping him in, with Blondie betting the most. 

So he wins those, and takes all the money, and tells them he’s quitting while he’s ahead. With a free round of tequila for everybody, to show there’s no hard feelings. If that’s not good enough, he has his gun; and there’s always Blondie’s if the situation got serious. So far they haven’t needed either, because the hustle they sell is never about the money. It’s something better, even more important, for the kind of men who hate the border and everything from south of it. Giving them the chance to look down on this cringing, incredibly superstitious foreigner who’d obviously love to play on, but santa maria, the Virgin Mary, she whispers in my ear and tells me no, go home now...  

(a joke in many layers; he’s from Brooklyn, not romantic Sonora, but even Blondie doesn’t know that part. There might be less dangerous ways of making a living; but none that won’t be just as insulting, Tuco figures. And the hours suit him fine.) 

Only apparently their reputation’s preceded them this time, because there’s no reason on earth that Bill Carson would just so happen to have a hot film print sitting in the trunk of his car. Blondie’s got next to no vices that Tuco’s ever noticed, but every man needs a couple, and his are Westerns. 

“Adequate stakes?“ Carson asks, with a hopeful, driving need in his voice- the jitteriness of a barely controlled addict, on something stronger than the whiskey he’s gulping like coke. Maybe there’s something to work with, then. If the stakes were worth it. 

“An old film,” Tuco says dismissively. “You tell me what I want with an old film, eh?”

“Badlands is New Hollywood,” Blondie says, not letting go to Carson’s pleading tug. “They’d never made anything like this before.”

Now that’s simply not true, Tuco’s well aware; he can date and place their progress across the country simply by what movie was playing when. 1967, Texas, Bonnie and Clyde. 1968, Colorado, and such a handsome bastard in Ace High. By 1969 they’d reached Las Vegas in time for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and spent more time sneaking into theatres than counting cards, the way he remembers it. There have been plenty such films before. 

Then again, he doesn’t know what it is that Blondie’s looking for, every time they sit before that silver screen and watch the pictures flickering by. To him they’re just a tolerable way to pass the time, a chance to rest his feet and fill his belly with hot buttered popcorn; but for Blondie, movies are meat and drink and eucharist all rolled into one, a gaping hole in the world’s tightly woven net, a wound that leads out somewhere that everything is upside-down, and their petty struggles for one more win, the indifferent hamburgers at forgettable lunch counters, sweaty nights at plastic-wrapped motels, all become the stuff of legend. 

But Blondie does have such a fine poker face; and that makes it worthwhile putting up with his foibles. “All right, all right,” Tuco says, a little more impatiently than usual; and lays down the covering stake. 

They win. Of course they win; and Bill Carson watches them take his prize with a strange kind of satisfaction, a relish that makes Tuco’s flesh prickle. All gamblers say they’re in it to win; not all of them are, though, and it fills him with unease when they play a man who begs the world to take everything he has. 

“Fucker had it coming,” he says afterwards, in the night-cold air of the alley (desert air is cruel like that, he’d discovered early on, while pretending that he’d known it all along). “But no match for us, eh Blondie?”

That’s breaking ranks. Even now, standing in front of the battered station wagon that will lead them to the next town, and another and another, they are not supposed to talk of their connection- but Blondie merely shoves an elbow into his ribs, a lackluster motion with no energy behind it. Talking’s no use, the man’s transfixed. 

Tuco curses under his breath, lights a cigarette to warm his hands and curb frustrated appetites. They’d plotted this one for weeks, planning and quarreling by turns, how to dupe the famous spendthrift Carson. He’d been dreaming of a month of steak dinners, real hotels with pile carpeting, enough money to let them rest a while and not have to do any thinking at all. 

Instead they were taken in themselves, just as broke today as they were yesterday, with a head muzzy from too much tequila and his stomach crying out with hunger. He has to be drunk, Tuco concludes, or he’d never have let Blondie dictate terms; not when they could have held out for money or a car or something practical, not a damned film that they can’t even watch.

(Briefly, he envisions reaching out and pulling the narrow length of Blondie’s black necktie into a choking knot; and the image fills him with too much bleak satisfaction.)

“You there,” somebody calls. Standing at the edge of the alley, where the street lights can outline his silhouette to maximum effect; it’s a nice theatrical gesture, Tuco notes, and tucks that one away in his memory for later.  

“You want us to put out, you’d better be prepared to pay up!” If that won’t get Blondie’s attention, nothing will. It doesn’t. 

The interloper comes closer, and Tuco recognises him now; the fourth member of their poker quartet, the one who’s spoken even less than Blondie. His mouth moves more than Blondie’s, but his eyes are just as verboten. “I have something you two might be interested in.”

“We’re not,” Blondie says, dropping the precious film into his game bag; and Tuco watches him move it from hand to hand, ready to toss onto a soft bulging trash pile if the situation degenerates into a fight. 

Angel Eyes smiles, at the both of them, and Tuco wishes he wouldn’t. “I have a projector. Someplace quiet to watch it, too. Sounds to me like we need each other.”

Blondie considers, pronounces. “Done.”

“Hang on here,” Tuco says, more for the sake of the protest than anything else. “Blondie, it’s late, this is new territory for us. We need to find somewhere to sleep tonight, get out bearings and pick up some dinner.”

“I’ll take care of that,”  Angel Eyes says, an offer that’s halfway to a command. “Only fair recompense.”

“Do us both good,” Blondie says, now staring at Angel Eyes with that same lust he’d just been lavishing on a second-hand film can; and Tuco does not ask himself the source of that sudden raging heat that grips his body tight. Doesn’t ask what it means for their unspoken trust, if someone else can wedge a way between him and Blondie; doesn’t ask himself how long this deal with a devil can be expected to last, or how it’ll end. 

All he allows himself to know is that he’s warm now, and somebody’s offered them dinner, and just now, there’s nothing more he wants out of life. 

“Tuco will probably fall asleep, but never mind that, I’ll wake him up if he starts snoring,” Blondie says. 

There’s a flicker in Angel’s expression, then. “For a poker player, you sure don’t pick up on tells.” 

wouldn’t it be just my luck, to be the bystander in a tale of love at first sight? 

“It’s your call, Blondie,” Tuco says, letting the tension drip into his shaking voice (it’s cheap, and he’d make himself a damn sight cheaper, to hold what he has). “Who are you spending the night with, huh?”

“Who’s to say I can’t spend it with both you idiots?“

“And where do you get off,” Angel Eyes asks. “Calling me an idiot?”

“If you weren’t, you’d have won the film yourself and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Blondie says. He takes one of his little cigars from a shirt pocket, lights and inhales. 

Not with the slightest trace of desire. There’s a devastating, effortless charm to it, the glorious self-sufficiency of a man who wants absolutely nothing from life, and will never need to ask. Illusion, the ideal poker face, perfect and complete. 

Tuco sucks in a breath at the sight, same as he always does; besides him, simultaneously, Angel Eyes does precisely the same. 

They don’t even need to look at each other, to share the next inexorable thought. 

That one’s going to be trouble.

[alpxcamin]

1K Prompt List

Once again, thank you guys so much for 1k followers! We both love you guys so much and thank you for supporting us despite our messy posting schedule and random hiatuses. Here’s the prompt list and feel free to create your own prompt. However, please don’t pick over 2 since both of us are quite busy. I linked the original post where I got the prompts from on #1 and #66.

Please only choose 2 and send it in with any member you would like and we’ll write a drabble for you. If you have any other questions, please do send them in and we’ll do our best to clarify!

"You're really soft."

"You smell nice."

"I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

"Is it possible to love too much?"

"I don't wanna get up-- you're comfy."

"I will always be there protect you."

"I'm cold. Come closer."

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

"The stars look especially lovely tonight."

"I've never seen such gorgeous eyes before."

"May I have this dance?"

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"You'll never feel alone with me by your side."

"Let's get to know each other over dinner.

"All I want is you."

"I could never leave you, I love you too much!"

"A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face."

"I want to hear you sing."

"I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

"You look incredible in that."

"He/She's quite stunning, isn't he/she?"

"Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I think I'm in love."

"I’d like it if you stayed.”

"People are jerks, but not you."

"I'll share the blankets with you."

"I have never felt this way about anyone."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks."

"Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death."

"Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?"

"You can put your cold feet on me."

"Your stray red item turned my whites pink."

"A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightning/thunder so I’ll protect you."

"There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight."

"Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to go talk to the neighbors upstairs for being too loud."

"I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on."

"Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

"You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar."

"My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on"

"We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches."

"IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH."

"I caught the bouquet"

"My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years failing to get over them."

"We accidentally got married in Vegas oops"

"I’m really drunk, please help me get safely out of the way so I don’t ruin our friend’s wedding."

"I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to the whole proposing thing."

"I wasn’t planning on asking you, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me?”

"If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life."

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m so happy I can finally call you my wife/husband."

"I jokingly told you that the only way I’d marry you was if you did this weird outlandish thing, and you actually did it, and I’m kind of charmed."

"This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

"We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

"Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine."

"I know you haven’t had the best experience with dogs in the past but look at its face please please can we keep it?"

"I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong did go wrong."

"I beat you at Mario Kart and now you're banishing me to the couch for the night?”

"I surprised you with tickets to see our favorite band… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURPRISED ME WITH TICKETS TO SEE THEM TOO?"

"I know we had a big fight but we still need to decorate the house for the holidays."

"Oh! Hey! Could you come and taste this to see if it's okay?"

"We’re arguing over book versus movie."

"I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. Xo’"

"We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on a wrong day for the past nine years."

"You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?"

"We both have nowhere else to be so we get to spend our rare day off at home."

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"And I thought I loved you."

"And I thought you loved me."

"Angry. I'm...I'm angry."

"Aren't you even going to cry?"

"Are you going to cry?"

"Are you crying?"

"Are you okay?"

"Ask if I'm okay. Just ask."

"And this is why I don't want to stay anymore."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Are you afraid?"

"And now is the part where we say goodbye."

"And now you're going to leave me!"

"Are you just going to leave me?"

"Be friends with someone else."

"Boy/Girlfriend? Is that what you thought I meant?"

"Because you're such an ass and I- I just hate you!"

"But I've changed."

"But you've changed."

"Buy yourself something nice. Because I don't want this ring."

"But.. you're still alive?"

"Can't you just let me be happy for one?!"

"Can't you be happy for once?

"Can't you just be happy for me?"

"Come on, leave already!"

"Coward. That's all you are. A coward."

"Do you even know what you've done to me?"

"Do you have any remorse? "

"Don't you dare close your eyes on me!"

"Don't you dare die."

"Don't you care about me/her/him/them anymore?"

" Don't give me that look"

"Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Dammit! Everything was just starting to get better and then you do this!"

"Damn you."

"Don't lie to me."

"Dammit...Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! You fucking ass!"

"Everything is fucked up now- everything is fucked because of you!"

"Everything's gone to hell."

"Everyone hates me."

"Everyone hates you."

"Everything hurts."

"Everything's going to be okay."

"Everyone loves you, not me."

"Everything is falling apart."

"Everything fell apart and I can't pick up the pieces anymore."

"For someone who's dying, you seem kind of happy."

"Friends forever, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"Find a new place to live."

"Find a new girlfriend/boyfriend."

"Find a new best friend."

"Fine. I'll leave."

"Forever and ever. That's how long I said I loved you. But you never said it back."

"Fucking hell, I hate you!"

"Get lost!"

"Get out of here!"

"Go. Just go."

"How are you still alive?"

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"How long until you finally get lost?"

"How about I just leave."

"Hold up. You're breaking up with me?"

"Hell is the only place we're going to be going."

"How about you leave now?"

"Is this how you're going to treat me?"

"I can't believe you."

"I killed someone."

"I want to kill myself."

"I'm leaving you."

"I can't look at you right now."

"I hope you die!"

"I don't understand."

"I'm so angry/sad. But you don't care."

"I can't hear anything."

"I'm dying."

"I have cancer."

"I can't breathe."

"Just joking, I don't love you."

"Just leave me alone!"

"Just fuck off."

"Kindly get the hell away from me."

"Kind. That's the one thing you can never manage to be."

"Lie to me."

"Life is not worth living."

"Like I give a shit about you."

"Lies are all you're capable of."

"Lay down. It'll all be over soon."

"My heart is broken. "

"Everything hurts."

"My girlfriend/boyfriend left."

"My ____ is dead."

"Man, you're an asshole."

"My lies aren't working anymore."

"Never again."

"Never speak to me again."

"No. I won't do it."

"No, I don't like you like that."

"Now, now, is there really any reason to cry?"

"Now and again I really start to hate you."

"No. Stop crying, just stop it."

"Not how I wanted to spend my life."

"Never look at me again."

"People hate me/you.”

"Person? No, no. You're not a person. You're a robot."

"People like you sicken me."

"People like you deserve to die."

"Perhaps you should just leave, then."

"Piss off."

"Question: why are you still here?"

"Quiet. I'm getting sick of hearing your voice."

"Running away. That's what I'm doing."

"See? I hate you."

"See? You hate me."

"Sometimes I wonder why you stay with me."

"So...you hate me, then?"

"So this is how it ends."

"Shoot me."

"So why are you still here?"

"Took off with everything I had!"

"Time to go."

"This is the end. It's done."

"This is the end."

"This is why I hate you."

"Then why do you say you love me?!"

"Unlike you I have friends."

"Under the bed is where I have to hide from you."

"Utter it again and I swear I'll kill you!"

"Why can't you grow up?"

"Why can't you care about me?"

"Why do you hate me?"

"Why do I hate you?"

"What? You're dying?"

"Why can't you just be you."

"When am I supposed to get my time to be happy?'

"Well. This isn't how it was supposed to end between us."

"Whatever, you asshole."

"Whenever you decide you can stand to talk to me ago, please do."

"Well, I hate you now."

"Well, you hate me now."

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Zhenya works with a lot of other pilots. He prides himself on his ability to get along with anyone in the confines of a cockpit just fine. He’s a convivial guy, and he’s a professional.

But there’s something special about working with Sid. Whenever he spots those unmistakable shoulders in the crew lounge, he can’t stop himself from grinning ear to ear. There’s just something about him. Besides how good he makes the uniform look.

He’s an incredible pilot, for one. Dedicated and exacting in a way Zhenya knows drives other people nuts, but that Zhenya respects. Serving as Sid’s First Officer is an experience. Sid treats the mundane routine of a flight from New York to Pittsburgh with the intensity and precision of a military exercise.

And then there’s the other side to his personality. Warm, and dorky, and oddly shy. It’s charming beyond belief. Sid, once coaxed into casual conversation (and Zhenya is good at coaxing) can make a long haul flight feel short. He talks lovingly of his friends and family, he rants about hockey, and what he doesn’t know about his own profession isn’t worth knowing.

And, well. He’s beautiful. There’s that. Every once in a while, Zhenya will get absolutely lost in watching Sid’s gorgeous mouth and pretty eyes as he expounds upon WWII aircraft design or the current weather conditions and needs to rip his attention back to the controls and his, you know, job.

All that, and he’s kind. As much as he talks, he listens intently, with a patience not many people have for Zhenya’s occasionally stumbling English. He always asks about Zhenya’s family, he remembers personal details and he’s just….he’s just…

Zhenya is fucked, basically, is what.

EWR-MIA (Newark to Miami)

Sid has just given his perfectly professional greeting to the passengers when Zhenya snags the comm from him.

“And this your first officer,” he says cheerily. “Congrats for you, you have best pilot in fleet today. Today’s his birthday, so please embarrass and say happy birthday when you leave plane in Miami to enjoy beautiful sunshine!”

“Geno, oh my god, hang up—”

Geno replaces the comm with a cackle, and grins sunnily at Sid. He let go of the switch right after Sid interrupted and the passengers definitely heard that. “What? Is your birthday.”

Sid sighs deeply, but the corner of his mouth is twitching, he’s not fooling anyone.

There’s a crackle on the radio as Ground sends them their taxiing and runway information. Sid immediately focuses in on his tasks.

“Juliet, Zulu, Sierra, and short of Yankee on the way back. United 8771,” Sid replies to Ground, and Zheya really shouldn’t be this into Sid echoing back Ground telling them which taxiways to take to the runway.

***

When the passengers disembark in Miami so many of them lean in to congratulate Sid on his birthday that Sid gets brick red. It’s all awkward head bobs and Canadian thank yous, until it’s kids telling him and then he smiles and his eyes go all soft.

“Happy birfday!” says a little boy who can’t be more than five or six. He’s one of the last passengers to leave.

“Thanks, bud,” Sid says, in a gentle tone that makes Zhenya’s heart feel too big for his chest. “Have a good vacation, eh?”

“Imma see dolphins!” the child shouts gleefully before his parents walk him out of the plane.

Sid leans back into his seat and smiles out the cockpit window at nothing in particular.

“Thanks, G,” he says warmly. “Wasn’t too thrilled about being away from family on my birthday but that was pretty neat.”

“No problem,” Zhenya blusters, and ducks his head so Sid can’t see his rising blush.

IAD-LAS (Washington D.C. to Las Vegas)

“So,” Zhenya says with a grin. “Excited for two days off in Vegas?” Fuck yeah, he thinks. It’s February, and still cold as shit on the East Coast. He’s ready to lay out in the sun, poolside.

“For sure,” Sid says. “My best friend’s an air traffic controller and he had to transfer out there. I’m really looking forward to seeing him and his family.”

Zhenya is hopelessly charmed. Las Vegas, city of sin, and Sidney is enthusing about quality family time. “Sound great, Sid,” he says, inflection probably too fond.

Their conversation is halted by the need to do a few systems checks, but when they’re done Sid turns back to Zhenya.

“Uh, so. I know you probably have plans? But if you didn’t, you could come with me? Marc-Andre has a guest room, saves the cost of a hotel. And a pool, so. I mean, you’re probably no—”

“Would love,” Zhenya says quickly. Spend time with Sid outside of work? Hell fucking yes. “As long as okay with your friend. Maybe check?”

“Okay!” Sid says, and he seems a little excited, even? “His wife is awesome, and he has two kids—”

Sid spends the next hour telling Zhenya all about “Flower,” his great family, and he and Sid’s years working out of the same airport. Zhenya doesn’t care if they’re a family of trolls. He’s just thrilled that Sid invited Zhenya to spend time with him, on purpose.

***

Flower and his family are not trolls, they are a lovely family of French-Canadian expats who welcome Zhenya with open arms. They seem inordinately amused by the fact that Sid brought a friend with him, though. Zhenya is a little surprised. Apparently it’s not something Sid does, as a rule.

“He must really like you,” Flower says with a shit-eating grin.

If only, Zhenya thinks.

***

The visit is both wonderful and extremely trying to Zhenya’s soul. Sid in swim trunks, Sid laughing and scooping up little Estelle to gently dump her into the pool, where she shrieks delightedly for “Uncle Sid” to do it again. Sid with wet hair and water beading on his skin, collapsing into the lounge chair beside Zhenya for a breather. He sniffles and wipes water from his face.

Zhenya had been ostensibly trying to read a paperback but he’d be hard-pressed to even remember the book’s name at the moment.

“How’s it going?” Sid asks him quietly. “Not too boring for you?”

“Perfect,” Zhenya says, thankful that his dark sunglasses probably hide the way his eyes keep darting from Sid’s arms to his chest to his insane, perfect thighs. Which are stretching the legs of Sid’s trunks in a way that is in danger of giving Zhenya a heart attack. “Relax, read book. Lay around by pool. Everything I’m want to do in Vegas. And your friends are great.”

Sid beams at him. “Awesome,” he says, and leans back onto the lounge chair and closes his eyes. “Wake me up before I get get burnt?”

“Sure,” Zhenya says. “Sweet dreams.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sid mumbles, and Zhenya can’t help but feel his heart twist at the thought of Sid falling asleep next to him all the time.

EWR-PDX (Newark to Portland)

Zhenya loves flights like this, where they’re chasing the sunset. The clouds outside the cockpit windows are lit up in indescribably glowing hues of pink and orange. He makes the mistake of looking over at Sid, and the sight of him limned in gold light is enough to take Zhenya’s breath away, cliche as that sounds. Sid is smiling wide, delight bright in his eyes as he takes in the view.

“Makes it all worth it, eh?” Sid says. “The crazy schedule and the hours. The boring long-hauls. Everything.”

Zhenya looks out over the clouds. Sid’s right. It’s a grueling job, but they do it because flying is in their blood, written into their DNA. Because they love it.

“No other job for me,” he tells Sid in agreement, and Sid turns to smile at him. Zhenya stares at the way the way the sun lights up his eyes and skims over his lips, and almost does something stupid. Like lean forward over the instrument panel and kiss him.

Sid blinks, frowns a little. “What’s up, G? Is there…something on my face?”

“Just sun,” Zhenya says, quickly busying himself with his readouts.

“…okay?” Sid say, clearly ready to inquire further. Luckily, he’s interrupted by the need to check in with the Minneapolis ARTCC, and Zhenya’s off the hook, for now

ORD-YQB (Chicago to Quebec)

It’s been a while since they’ve been on the same flight. They’ve been texting some, but nothing beats flying together, the smooth efficiency of how they work with each other.

“Been a while, Sid,” Zhenya says once they’re at cruising altitude.

“I know,” Sid laments. “I got stuck with Dubinsky on a flight from Newark to LA. It was so bad, G. So bad.”

Zhenya laughs. “I’m best first officer,” he says, preening exaggeratedly.

He expects well-deserved teasing for that. What he doesn’t expect is the almost shy smile Sid gives him instead.

“Yeah,” Sid says softly, and Zhenya blinks. “You’re the best, G.”

Their conversation is subdued that flight, but not in a bad way. In a way that makes it feel like something is going to happen.

EWR-YHZ (Newark to Halifax)

“Boston, United 7187 leveling 1-3 thousand feet,” Sid tells the Boston ARTCC as they near it on their flight to Halifax. The radio crackles with the tower’s reply.

“United 7187, Boston Center, climb and maintain 1-7 thousand.”

“1-7 thousand, United 7187,” Sid acknowledges, and switches the radio off. He turns back to Zhenya to resume the conversation they’d begun.

“I live in Dartmouth,” Sid tells Zhenya. “Between Halifax and Cole Harbor, where I was born.”

“Parents still there?” Zhenya asks.

“Yeah, I’m excited to spend some time with them—my sister too.” Sid pauses for a moment. “We have really good seafood. Nova Scotia, I mean. You ever see much of Halifax?”

“Just hotel by airport,” Zhenya admits.

“The waterfront is pretty,” Sid continues. There’s another pause.

“Maybe…I should see sometime?” Zhenya says, not sure where this conversation is going.

Sid kind of lights up. “Oh man, you should! I mean, it’s not New York, or Moscow, or any big city really, but, it’s nice? You really should.”

Zhenya looks over at him, notes the almost nervous way Sid’s chewing on his lip. Zhenya blinks, then takes his gaze back to the cloudscape beyond the cockpit windows.

“You take couple days leave, yes? Maybe…I take some too? See more than airport?”

Sid straightens in his seat. “Yeah, G, that would be awesome. You can stay with me? I mean, if you want? I have a guest room. It’s not much and like I said it’s a quiet town and—”

“Sid,” Zhenya interrupts, hope and excitement starting to unfold beneath his ribcage. “Excited to see place where you from, would love to stay with you. Would visit even if you live in New Jersey.”

Their airline has its hub in Newark and they spend enough time there as it is. Sid glances over at him, then back to the flight log. His cheeks look flushed and the corner of his mouth is twitching like he’s trying not to smile. It makes Zhenya’s chest feel warm and tender.

“Yeah?” Sid asks, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Yeah,” Zhenya replies. “Anywhere.” His heart must be in his tone because Sid’s nascent smile blooms. It’s enough to make Zhenya brave. He reaches over the console to take Sid’s hand, and presses a kiss to his knuckles. Sid inhales sharply.

They stare at each other for a long moment. “Want to do that for so long,” Zhenya finally admits.

“Just that?” Sid says, looking a little shell shocked. Just from a kiss to his hand.

Zhenya snorts. “No. But—anything. Anything you want.”

“Go on a date with me?” Sid says softly.

“Yes,” Zhenya replies quickly. “So many date. Date you so hard.”

Sid laughs, the awkward almost-giggle that is, by now, pretty much Zhenya’s favorite sound in the world. “I’ll hold you to that. Now we had better re-focus on flying a tin can all the way to my hometown, eh?” He catches the stealthy movement of Zhenya’s hand and yelps. “And do not make a fucking announcement to the passengers, Geno, I swear to g—”

“Good afternoon, this is your first officer. Perfect weather and ideal conditions for our flight to Halifax. Also, I’m finally go out on date with your captain when we get there, so is best day ever—”