#this has been sitting in my inbox forever and somehow this is the best i got

[rosylix]

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, they're nerds, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.” 

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you. 

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze. 

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly. 

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look. 

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide. 

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts. 

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix. 

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working. 

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes. 

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.” 

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.” 

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.” 

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend? 

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months. 

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm. 

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you. 

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided. 

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up. 

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours. 

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

buy me a cookie if you enjoyed <3

[massieh]

          ( this was a meme, but i’m not linking it. ) @finalvlog​ said, ‘ but you kept trying , didn’t you ? ’

          ‘   you make it sound noble.   ’          a soft chuckle lends to his laugh lines, despite the grain of truth he feels the need to wheeze from the back of his throat. trying—it’s a funny concept no matter the use. and he can hear in echoes of his mind the recycling of the lionized phrase: there is no try.

then comes the guilt.

          it climbs through the cage of his ribs, a cold sweat threatening to break just to keep it from reaching his eyes. but malachi, as much as he may sometimes resent it, is nothing if not wholly honest. the smile does not drop nor wane. it remains as much of him as the growing pit in his stomach.     ‘   honestly, nothing changed until i gave up.   ’

[all4yoi]

Dear Jongseong,

pairing › jay x fem!reader

sypnosis › [name] has only ever known pain ever since her mother's passing.. but whenever she's about to lose herself, jay has always been there to her aid and remind her that life isn't simply about pain.

cw › 2.23k words - lowercase intended, fluff, angst, friends to ??, usage of substances, reader vomits, mentions of death, reader suffers from depression, su!cide attempt (overd0sing)

notes › it's okay not to feel okay, if you're going through something and you feel like ranting, my inbox is always open for you. i've just finished five survive by holly jackson recently so if you see any quotes of her here ikyk 🤞

"i don't want to, pa! just leave me alone!" you exclaimed as you threw the pill bottle infront of your father, messing up your hair as you breathed heavily.

the older man sighed, rubbing his tears away behind his eyeglasses before stepping forward. "you have to take your antidepressants [name]. it'll make you feel better." he calmly said, picking up the pill bottle you dropped infront of him.

"i promise."

"no, no, no." came your slurred response.

the elderly man let his tears escape silently as he saw his only daughter break apart in front of him, making no move to chase after you when you ran up to your room. he wondered what had gone wrong. instantly came to mind: indeed, his wife had passed away. three years have passed, and even though he was beginning to accept that his family would forever be incomplete, as he saw his daughter suffering from severe depression, he wished misun would enter through the front door, embrace him and [name], and reassure them that everything was just a nightmare and she's alive.

but a bad dream wouldn't last for 3 years would it? as much as he wanted his wife back, he desperately wanted his daughter back more.

So he dialed the only person that he was sure could calm [name] down.

"of course, i'm on my way." jay ended the call and instantly dropped the controller carelessly on his bed before getting his keys from his table and left his room.

"stop right there young man, where are you going?" his mother asked with a raised brow, putting the glass of water down on the counter and waited for her son's reply. his distressed face went unnoticed. "it's 11:30 in the evening." she added.

jay exhaled, opening his mouth but no words came out. he didn't know why he was so nervous.. was it because he got caught leaving the house so late, or was it because his head was full of you, you, you and only you?

"well? if there's no good reason.." the woman trailed off, extending her hand out, her palm facing the ceiling and gestured towards her son's car keys. this somehow made him talk.

"it's [name]! her father called and- ..a-and she's not feeling well.. fuck why am i stuttering?" he whispered a quick apology when he saw his mother furrow her brows with his foul language. "she just- i don't know mom! she just needs me okay? and the more i try to explain the more she's hurting alone!" he blurted out, brushing his hair back frustratedly.

his mother stood there startled, before nodding understandably. "okay, drive safe.. stay the night there if needed."

he nodded, hurriedly left the house and practically ran to his car and drove off.

jay held his tears back, his grip on the steering wheel tightening overtime that his knuckles were turning white. this had been a routine for 3 years straight. he'll either be in his room, out with his friends, stuck in a frat party before receiving a call from your father, and every single time.. he dropped everything and everyone who he was with to run to your aid.

he reminisced the past where everything was still all right. your mother and his sitting on a bench while the two of you pushed each other on the slide, or sneaking out and eating ice cream at a 24/7 convenience store. it hurt him that his best friend's whole word was taken away from her just like that, but he also didn't want to lose his own. he wouldn't forgive himself if something had happened to you. you were his job, his responsibility.

jay slammed the door of his car shut, running towards your house's front door and ringing the doorbell. instantly, your father opened the door, shooting jay a thankful smile. if jay had noticed the tear stains on the man's slightly wrinkled face, he didn't make it obvious.

"she's at her room, but she's locked it. it's been so quiet, and i'm so worried jongseong." with that, jay ran up the stairs and pressed his ear on your bedroom door once he has reached it.

and just like hajoon said, your father, it was quiet. too quiet for his liking.

"[name]?" knock knock. no answer

"it's seongie, can you let me in?" four knocks, still no answer. he was getting impatient.

jay didn't want to think the worse but he began pounding on your door, literally shouting your name again and again. his voice was cracking and sweat began forming on his forehead.

"call 911, please!" he shouted for your father who was already dialing the hotline. jay rubbed his face before breaking your doorknob.

once your door was open, jay's breath hitched at the sight of your body laying on the floor, unconscious. he had been too late. but he still ran to your side, pulling you up and tried shaking you awake.

it took him a moment to spot the pills on the floor beside where you were previously lying and shoved his index and middle finger in your mouth hastily, realization dawning him.

"i need you to throw up [name], come on, please." and once you've spilled your guts on your bedroom floor the paramedics has already arrived, the blue and red lights filling your room through the opened windows. jay choked back a sob, cradling your body. "you're okay, you will be."

he didn't know if he was reassuring you or himself.

"if i had just, chased after her." hajoon cried, his body shaking. jay's father pulled hajoon up, telling him that they should get some air together. hajoon complied and left the hospital with jay's father.

after the ambulance took you away, jay immediately informed his parents and they insisted they should be there for you and your father too.

"she'll be alright, jongseong." his mother rubbed his back. he didn't know why, but those three words angered him.

"she just overdosed herself with drugs and you're telling me she'll be alright?"

"well, i'm trying to be positive here!"

"well," he mocked, "it's not helping!"

jay has always been a mama's boy, so his sudden outburst shocked the both of them.

his mom exhaled and stood up with her purse, deciding to be the bigger person. "i'm going to get some food, call me if you need anything."

right when his mother left, a nurse approached him. jay instantly stood up, awaiting for the woman infront of him to start speaking.

"good evening, is any of miss [name]'s parents around?"

"nevermind that, is she okay? will she be okay?" the nurse blinked at him before nodding.

"yes, she will be. you were just right on time and it was a very smart move to make her vomit.. though we aren't sure when she'll wake up.. you can visit her right now if you'd like." jay felt like crying in relief, he thanked the nurse before entering the room you were admitted in.

he swallowed the lump in his throat and sat down on the chair beside your bed, the beeping of the machines were the only noise inside the room. jay didn't like seeing you like this, with all the wires hooked to you and your face scarcely displaying any color.. but at least you were at ease, finally, after three years, you were now experiencing tranquility rather than anguish.

"i'll wait for you.. but don't make me wait for too long, okay?"

it has been exactly 2 weeks since that night in the hospital. jay hadn't been himself ever since, he would space out during lectures, staying up all night hoping he'd get a call from the hospital or your dad.

jay was seated in the cafeteria with his friends when he received a call from your dad. he immediately excused himself, answering the phone as soon as he stood up.

"she's awake, jongseong."

that was all he had to hear before he was taking his backpack from the table, ignoring the questions from his friends.

sunghoon: dude if u were skipping u could've taken me w u :<<<

jay: shut up

jay: [name]'s awake

sunghoon: oh shit fr??

sunghoon: k dw we'll cover for ur ass

sunghoon: drive safe and send our regards to your gf ❤️❤️

jay entered the room silently and he had to hold back himself from tackling you in a hug and just cry on your shoulder, but he remembered this wasn't about him.

"hi." he whispered, sitting down on the same chair he last sat on and placed the food he ordered on the way on the table beside your bed.

your lack of response made him gulp. slowly, you looked at him, unshed tears resting on your tear ducts.

jay cooed, "oh, [name]," and got to his feet, embracing you. he stroked your hair while he resisted crying himself, and let you cry on his favorite shirt.

"please don't cry." he said in a whisper and pulled your head away gently, wiping your flowing tears with his thumbs.

"i-.. i'm sorry, jongseong." another sob from your throat escaped.

"you have nothing to apologize for."

"i almost left everyone.. left you."

he shook his head and gave you another hug, putting his lips on top of your hair as you whimpered inwardly, "but you didn't, and that's all what matters now."

"[name]?" you hummed in response, your breathing finally going back to normal. you did no movement to pull away from the embrace.

he pulled away, caressing your cheek, asking, "promise me you wouldn't do that again?" you simply nodded, and he smiled sweetly in your direction. he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, "good."

jay stayed by your side the whole day, feeding you, entertaining you, showing you jungwon's his notes, and filling you in with everything you've missed for the past 2 weeks.

it was the first time jay had seen you smile so much after 3 years, and he felt content, knowing he was the one who was able to make you happy like this.

the both of you were happy, until it was time for him to go home.

with his hand playing with your fingers, he murmured in a lovely voice, "i'll come back tomorrow with the boys after school, i promise." once more, he gave you a tender kiss on the forehead before releasing you.

he was about to leave the room, but your voice stopped him.

"hey, jay?" he turned towards you with a questioning gaze. "the night that i.. i- uh, wrote something for you." you played with the folded paper, avoiding his gaze.

"i don't think i want to read that [name]." he said breathlessly, shaking his head.

"please, everything i've wanted to say to you is in here. please read it, if you don't.. well, i won't stop trying." you blinked at him, finally looking up at him. jay gulped, wetting his lips before accepting the paper.

"it's nothing bad, i promise." he nodded, squeezing your cheek before finally leaving the room with a wave.

when his mother asked, "how was she?" once he got home, he simply gave her a peck on the cheek and responded, "she's fine," before heading up to his room.

he practically threw his bag on the floor before sitting down on his bed, opening the folded paper with shaking hands.

dear jongseong,

i'm writing you a letter because i don't think i'll ever be able to tell you everything i want to say to you if i said this in person.. first of all, thank you, for absolutely everything. for being there in the wake and letting me cry on your shoulder, for tolerating me for 3 years.. i know at one point you were probably so tired of seeing me ruin my life. taking substances, skipping school, shutting you and my dad out.. i'm sorry, i was a fool of thinking i'd forget everything if i took those.. i thought i'd be okay on my own. so thank you, for always being there whenever my dad calls, i've heard every single thing you've said to me when you thought i was knocked out, and i love you too, seongie. but it's so scary, i'm so scared of love, i'm so scared of you being taken away from me, just like how mom was taken from me. jongseong, please never leave me, i don't know what i'd do without you, you and dad.. you're all i have left, please help me. please don't ever stop helping me until i get better, i appreciate you so much and i love you so much. i'm so thankful for you and at the same time i'm so fucking sorry. am i selfish for wanting an ending that's just you and me? i promise i'll be better, for you and for dad, and for me too. i don't know if i'm still here once you've read this, but if i am, please run back to me. please come back and never leave my side. i love you, jongseong, forever and always.

yours forever,

[name]

[pokenimagines]

SFW Katy | Fic | Could I get some Found Family headcanons of Katy with a reader who is super energetic and is pure chaos who could (and has) Fight a Level 40 Pokemon with their fists and won.

Found family Katy is best Katy!

Rules | Discord Server (16+)

SFW Katy: The Feral Child

Katy couldn't help, but cover her mouth to hide her laugh, watching as you hung off the ledge of her gym. She would be worried if she didn't know you so well.

"Come here little one~" You cooed as you tried reaching for the little scatterbug that had somehow gotten itself on one of the support beams underneath the stadium. Katy had been the first to notice, and while she was going to have a pokemon get it, you were already one step ahead.

The small scatterbug began crawling onto your outstretched hand; it tickled you just enough to cause you to giggle. You watched as it climbed all the way to your head and it stood up on its hind legs, trying to reach up to get back to safety.

"Oh dear, come here." Katy said, bending down and picking up the bug from your head. The bug pokemon was more than happy to go with her, cooing happily as it was now back to safety. Once you knew it was in the clear you managed to haul yourself up onto the stadium. You grunted as you laid down, chuckling at the sun.

"You know, we could've gotten Vivillon to help it." Katy said once you were finally sitting up. That's when she noticed a scrape on your arm and walked over. She gingerly touched it and looked at you, "And how did this happen?"

"Oh well you see, the other day, there was this Tinkaton and they were trying to knock down this Corviknight, however earlier that Corviknight helped me out by giving me a potion it found, so I fought its attacker." You explained and Katy looked at you bewildered for a moment.

"Your pokemon...right?" Katy asked, making you look at her.

"...Let's go with that...sure I used my uh...my pokemon." You said, not wanting to admit that you forgot their pokeballs at home, and the only reason you needed a berry was because you had fallen off a cliff and needed a potion for the giant cut on your knee.

"Goodness dear...what ever shall we do with you?" Katy said, a bit concerned but also amused by your antics.

"Love me forever and ever?"

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Thank you for reading! Did you know we have a discord? It has everything from RPs, General Discussions, and even an 18+ area to go hog wild in! We even do announcements early for when the inbox is opening for requests, as well as other events! Come in and join us!

[poptod]

Hi, I hope ur having a great day! I’m rly enjoying ur writing and wanted to make a request! Could u write like a (kinda reverse) Cinderella inspired oneshot where Larry has allowed some of the human exhibits to go outside at night (with normal civilian clothes to blend in) just as long as they make it back before light. Ahkmenrah meets the reader and immediately catches feelings for them so he always goes to see them every other night but the reader gets suspicious when he’s always like “oh no it’s almost dawn I gotta leave!” then runs off dramatically (like Cinderella). But one night when he runs off they try chasing after him (like “hey wait I thought we were hitting it off🥺”) but loses him in the crowd but finds that he dropped his cool Egyptian bracelet or something else. Then the next night they’re asking everywhere if they knew who or where the bracelet belonged to and one person said it looked like it belonged in the museum so they go there and it’s like a whole Cinderella moment where Ahkmenrah comes down the steps in his whole gold Pharaoh getup. The reader is totally SHOOK but asks him if the bracelet belonged to him and ofc he’s like “yeah :)” And it’s just a fluffy ending. Hopefully that wasn’t too long and complicated of a request😅

notes: this has been in my inbox for... a year maybe? i'd apologize but i feel like that's inappropriate now for some reason. here it is lmao edit: no wait I do have to apologize, this isn't exactly the prompt because I didnt read it correctly (somehow, despite having it in my inbox for, again, a year) so theres a small change. sorry! hope you dont mind. they arent major changes.

also if ur worried abt the long request... this is a longer fic too lmao WC: 3.1k

+

On evenings and weekends Times Square was filled with people; native New Yorkers, tourists, shops, sellers, food carts, and pretty much every other sign of life, not limited to the occasional rat or raccoon. Sometimes that made it hard for you to commute, since Times Square stood at the direct intersection between your workplace and your apartment.

Tonight, Times Square itself was fighting against you, and packed humans like sardines within the free confines of the bright, commercial skyscrapers. Even going in a circle round the square would take forever, so the best solution––you decided––was to just walk straight through the crowd.

In the dark of the evening, giant, glowing billboards lit your way, acting as beacons telling you which direction to face. Passing conversation and bustling bodies tried their best to distract you, with their pushing hands and foreign words, but you kept your eye on the biggest screen; it was always to your left. Noodles and a rabbit awaited you at home, alongside the next episode of your show, and with that pleasant reminder you charged on.

"Wir mussen die anderen –"

"Quand reviendrons-nou –"

"But mom, she doesn't even –"

"Disini banyak sampah."

"Bakmak! şu elbiseye –"

So many voices.

Part of you wanted to know what languages they were speaking, but before you could really think about it––or center down on one of the languages––you knocked headfirst into another person walking the opposite direction, sending you both down to the floor in your previous haste. Your hand whipped up to your head as a jolt of pain rippled through your skull upon impact. You hissed out a sharp breath, pointedly feeling your tailbone against the cold cement and the carelessly shifting bodies of the crowd around you.

Looking up, you found a young man around your age sitting across from you, having ended up in the same position as you; legs splayed out on the ground, hand grasping the head. He was staring at you though, his eyes wide and shadowed by the figures around you. He tried to stammer out something as he stood, but before words could come out, he helped you to your feet, still clutching his head.

"I – I – I'm sorry, I didn't – I didn't see you there," he breathed out with a weak chuckle, his brow twisted in worry. He didn't move his hand from yours when you stood.

"Don't worry about it," you chuckled. "I didn't see you, either. Did I hurt you?"

"No more than I've accidentally hurt myself before," he said, earning a small laugh from you.

In return, a shy smile reached his face, and you got to watch as his eyes turned into a blue warmth in the billboard lights, framed perfectly above dark, freckled cheeks and soft lips.

"My name's (Y/N)," you managed to say, staring unblinking at the perfect man before you.

"I am..." he paused for far longer than you'd ever heard someone pause when telling their name, "... Teddy."

He didn't look like he was quite sure.

"Are you sure you're alright?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Yes, I just.. it's... been a long time," he said in a quieter voice, "since I've seen someone.. like you."

You paused. Was he commenting on your skin tone or something? Your confusion––or perhaps your sudden discomfort––must've been obvious, because he quickly backpedalled to explain himself better.

"I mean – someone as beautiful as you," he sighed, scanning your expression as it lightened into pleasant surprise.

This man was a blessing in a dirty grey sweatshirt and jeans. It had been a while for you, too––a while since you'd met anyone new, since you'd had a genuine interaction and connection with someone. Excitement thrummed through you at the thought of the possible realities that could stem from this moment.

Alas, too good to be true. Someone yelled something above the crowd, and the young man's eyes darted up and away from you.

"Shit," he hissed, his gaze flickering from you to someone in the distance. "I have to – I have to go."

But he hesitated to leave. Only for a moment, but a hesitation nonetheless, letting his hand linger in yours for longer than strictly necessary. Again his eyes settled on you.

"I will never be sorry enough for this, but you are so beautiful," he blurted out in sincerity, his cool gaze drowned in a deep sorrow before he darted off into the crowd.

You tried your best to hold on, but all you caught was the thick bracelet round his wrist, and that pulled easily off as he disappeared. A sudden and sinking disappointment fell like an anvil in your chest. No one but a rabbit awaited you at home and you would never see that man again. You would never be sorry enough. He was so beautiful. 8 million people in New York City, thousands upon thousands crowded into 1,000 square feet, and you would never see him again.

Shit.

It was then, staring off into the crowd, that you remembered something heavy was in your hand. His bracelet remained with you, and in a split second you had a new mission. This wasn't personal anymore––it was manners. Clearly he needed this bracelet back no matter what, so you needed to find him. You didn't stop to scan the bracelet or anything––nor deduce that it was made of pure gold and carved with hieroglyphs––before you decided upon your new mission. Clearly this bracelet meant the world to him, and it was your duty as a good citizen to give it back. Clearly.

Not an excuse to see him again, at all.

You tried to run back through the crowd in the direction you came, but by the time you made it to the other side, he was gone. Different streets led in different directions and different blocks and it would be impossible to say which direction he'd taken.

Your search wouldn't end there, oh no; you would continue this.

After you got home and finally had dinner at 11 in the evening.

In the morning, in the half hour you had to yourself before work, you scanned the bracelet as you ate breakfast. Your sleepy mind could identify the Egyptian style and the genuine feel of the material, but you weren't sure what to make of it. Perhaps the man was a collector, or perhaps it was a family heirloom, or perhaps even a stolen artifact.

You bit into your lip, toying with it as you contemplated what in the hell you could do.

Maybe the internet might know something, but what if you ended up in the possession of a stolen artifact? If you posted a picture, would the police––no, wait the FBI––find out and arrest you with no evidence?

No, you decided. Most certainly not. Regardless you decided to keep it to yourself for a little while and do some quieter sleuthing.

To your immense delight, you managed to get off work early, and soon headed back home down your usual route. Again you crossed Times Square, and you found yourself helpless to the hope of seeing the man again. Your eyes scanned the crowd to no avail.

Somehow, your failure only propelled you further to continue your search. Your first idea was to check stores online; maybe he was just interested in Egyptian history and bought something for the novelty, but nothing online matched the design. Museum archives offered little until you ventured to wonder if the Natural History museum had an Egyptian exhibit. The Metropolitan Museum was your first guess, since they had an extensive archive of Egyptian artifacts, and the Natural Museum your last, since the last time you went there were no mentions of Egypt or the Middle East.

Yet here you were, staring at the newly re-released exhibit of the Museum of Natural History, and finding the exact image of the bracelet in your hand. A pair of them glowed on the screen.

Was it too late in the evening to try and return it now? The museum closed pretty early, these days, though you supposed they'd probably make an exception for a possibly stolen object.

The tiny clock on your screen glowed a faint white, displaying a time of 19:40. Not too late to go out, you decided, especially since you didn't have work tomorrow.

Pulling on gloves, a scarf, and a thick jacket, you left your home and headed on your way to the museum. It was a short train-ride away, but the whole time you were clutching onto the bracelet hidden in your pocket, terrified of being discovered and terrified of losing it. In every stranger's face you found a suspect, as well as the tingling hope of happening to see the man again.

He seemed like he'd be a good hugger, when you first saw him. His grey sweatshirt was a little large on him, and he had a hint of chub, which would make him a wonderful, soft pillow.

You shut your eyes and tried to erase the image from your mind.

Despite the lights glowing from within the tall museum windows, the front doors were locked, and shades were drawn that prevented you from looking inside. You sighed, the breath shaking through your empty chest. You had been expecting this, but you hadn't thought of what to do after it happened––once the doors were locked, how could you talk to anyone if they were all inside or at home for the night?

Well, the lights were still on, which meant it was likely someone was still there. You reasoned that if someone was inside, it would be illegal to lock them inside in case of an emergency, so there had to be an open door somewhere.

There were a few alternative exits and entrances scattered throughout the complex, but none worked until you found the delivery entrance. Here, giant trucks would back into the museum, bringing and taking new exhibits. Fresh footprints imprinted themselves in the mud surrounding the driveway.

God... damn it, you thought, your brain fighting turmoil at the idea of committing a crime. Was it really a crime? Would you be caught if it was? Would you be condemned even if it wasn't? What were you hoping to find here?

Some sort of answer. Part of you realized this wasn't just about the mysterious man anymore––it was about stolen artifacts and ancient things. In a way, you were doing your duty in returning something that might've been valuable to historians and archaeologists.

What you found instead––or heard, rather––was music distantly playing in one of the many rooms of the museum. You very nearly got lost several times, but eventually made your way to the museum entrance you first tried to enter.

The first thing you noticed wasn't the music genre, nor the volume, nor the bright, warm lights––what you saw were people both inhuman and uncannily alive, and animals ranging from the Cenozoic era and into the Paleogene and occupying environments all over the world. You could hardly believe what was in front of you, and for several minutes you stared with wide eyes, convinced you'd been slipped something in your latest drink.

Standing and gawking in the corridor eventually gained the attention of a nightguard, who jogged over once he spotted you.

"Hey," he said, slowing down as he approached through the crowd. His voice was somewhat familiar, but you couldn't place it at the time. "What are you doing here? Museum's closed, you're not supposed to be here."

"What... the fuck," you whispered, still staring past his shoulder to an ostrich trying to play soccer with... was that Christopher Columbus in bronze?

"Hey!" He raised his voice and snapped his fingers in front of your face, finally catching your attention. "What's up? Why are you here?"

"I, uh.." your sweaty hands clutched your bag, "I met a.. I met someone, and they – they dropped this."

You fumbled to grab the bracelet, pulling it out and presenting it with a firm grip to the nightguard. His brow furrowed.

"I couldn't find any information about it online, but it looked kinda similar to one of your exhibits here."

"Yeah, I..." He stared at the bracelet in your hand. "I think I know where that belongs."

How this nightguard managed to remain calm in the chaos surrounding you was astounding in itself, but you quickly and correctly surmised that he was used to this. The sudden appearance of magic in your life was alarming, to say the least, but somehow it paled in comparison to what happened next.

"How did you say you got this again?" The nightguard tried to ask, but lights reflecting into your eye drew your gaze away and towards whatever chandelier was glinting at you.

You squinted through the glamour, and at long last you finally found the mysterious man.

You never thought you'd find ancient Egyptian fashion attractive, but here you were, comparing his ratty sweatshirt to a cape and collar of gold, a serpent crown that shone bright in the museum lights, and finding you liked this version more. There was a regality he'd tossed aside when you first met him––now it held his shoulders up, gave his jaw and eyes a keenness you could see from across the room. His tanned hand reached out to the stair's railing, revealing a bare wrist that didn't match the other hand's bracelet.

In the crowd at Times Square and the crowd in the museum he could find you easily. His eyes zipped across the room and immediately you filled his mind; a recollection of memories, a remembrance of fantasies, and a reminder of his wishes to see you again.

He smiled. You saw none of the tumultuous thoughts and only received a wide but friendly smile, growing as you both wound around the exhibits to reach each other.

When you came face to face with him, though, you were at a loss of words, and stared at him for a good moment before you could speak.

"I think I have something of yours," you said quietly.

"Yes," he said with a nod, "you have my heart and I'd like it back."

Your eyes widened, and a burning blush instantaneously filled your cheeks.

"I meant your bracelet, sugar," you mumbled red-faced, shaking your head and hiding your face in one hand while the other presented the bracelet.

"I know," he chuckled softly, and pushed the bracelet aside in favor of taking your hands, pulling you closer to him.

"I gather your name isn't Teddy?" You asked.

"No. Name of a friend," he said, gesturing behind you with his eyes.

You checked and found the wax statue of Theodore Roosevelt you first saw as a child, only this time he was talking. To the nightguard. Of course. When your gaze returned to the man before you, he answered the question you didn't ask.

"My real name is Ahkmenrah. I was once Pharaoh presiding over all of Egypt. Now, I am a common man. I hope..." he watched intently as he intertwined his fingers with yours, reluctant to meet your eye, "... that seeing both these sides of me.. has not tarnished your image of me."

"Things like that don't matter to me," you chuckled. "But why did you run?"

He scoffed softly, rolling his eyes.

"Larry keeps a short leash on us all when he lets us outside the museum. He thinks we ought to interact with modern people as little as possible," he grumbled, glancing to the nightguard behind you. His tone grew softer as he spoke again. "I'm glad I ran into you. Even if it was a little painful."

You giggled as you remembered the headache you got from the impact.

"So am I."

"And... I meant what I said."

You gave him a questioning look, to which he replied with, "I'm sorry I left you there with no truth about me, no answer. And you are truly beautiful."

A deep yearning emanated from his gaze, heavy with the words he wouldn't yet say, and the anticipation to hear your reply. You didn't really understand why he found you attractive to this degree––he was a Pharaoh, and you imagined he was used to a level of beauty that could reign over countries of old.

You weren't like that.

"I'm not so sure about that," you chuckled sheepishly, "but thank you."

You always answered compliments so quietly; it annoyed your mother, but Ahkmenrah didn't seem to mind past assuring that you knew he meant it.

For the rest of the evening he danced with you to the music that lived within the museum's entrance, and reintroduced you to many of the exhibits, including his own. Seeing distant childhood memories and fantasies brought to fruition had its effect on you; not dissimilar to wine, intoxicating and thrilling to its core. Or maybe it was his hand in yours, thousands of years old and with it the accompanying wisdom, with which he chose you out of millions. He showered you in affections and twirled you any chance the music would give, just to watch you grin and giggle. It was as though he was trying to win you over, as though you weren't already enchanted, as if you weren't hanging on to his every word.

Eventually you got his explanation––a reason behind the magic, and why he couldn't leave in the daytime. And, eventually, the morning came, bringing the light of the sun just barely peeking over the skyscrapers.

"Come see me tomorrow night," Ahkmenrah asked, holding your hands as you stood by the door, your jacket and bag on your shoulders. "Please?"

"I don't know if I can," you said, already wringing your heart at the words. The feeling only worsened when you saw how his expression fell. "I have a lot of work to do for the next few days and I can't just go without sleep."

"I understand," he said quietly. "Please just.. come when you can."

"Of course."

When you arrived back at home, your apartment seemed more empty than it had ever been, despite the fact that nothing changed. Your rabbit was still waiting for you and there were still noodles in your fridge to be eaten.

As you dropped your bag, you heard a distinct clunking that sounded unfamiliar. It made you pause, and as you knelt to dig through your bag, you found the same Egyptian bracelet you tried to return to Ahk. Alongside it was a note.

Just a little insurance. Want to make sure I see you again.

You snorted. As if you could last more than a week without seeing him next.

[kaia-art]

------‘The Love that bind us’ ------ … ‘There is the scent I have longed for so long. I’d know you anywhere. Even here. You know’ The beautiful flute sound that was playing behind him began to fade as Glorfindel snapped back to reality. Reality. How could it be when the person he loves the most in this vast world. His fea-mate, who only left him by dying many millennia ago, was sitting right behind him. ‘Ethelë...’- was all he could mange to say. It could not be again some figment of his own imagination, or perhaps a dream but not likely. This was something different. This atmosphere was so real for him to dare call it a dream but he set those thought aside. He could not care no more because his Ethelë was here and that was all that matters... ‘What are you doing here?’ his voice weakened, wavered ‘Watching your back of course. As I have always been doing. Your look wonderful, my heart.’ ‘How could you tell? You have not looked at me, still...’ ‘Lord Námo often shows me the life you having there. I see Eärendil’s son has grown up well. You are doing great things’ He continued on ‘I am very proud of you. You are our hero.’ Glorfindel’s chest ached and whatever was left of his cool collected thoughs and control, gave way. It was one rare moment of weekness that he has never let anyone see. Except for his Ecthelion ‘Ethelë I ...I never wanted to be everyone’s hero. I...I am just an ellon trying to stay sane everyday remembering his lost love ones. Eru knows how much I missed you and sometimes I had to remind myself that this would not be last forever. In the end the dark forces will lose the war, Elrond’s line would be safe, and I would not need to bind myself with this duty any more. Then finally I could come back to you. It's always been your heart that I ever wanted to bind with. I...I...’ ‘shh hush love, of course you are always my beloved. You always were, and you shall be my love, my everything. And I shall wait for you beyond the sea, when this all ends, just come back to me.’ Still have not look back but Ecthelion’s words always have the power to soothe his soul like nothing else ever could and suddenly, it was almost like they’re back to the good old days, when they used to spend time together without talking much, just being in each other company was simply enough. For now, it was more than enough. ------------------------------------------ Well just another real shot headcanon of Glorthelion that I recently came up with. I always believe that Ecthelion could somehow communicate with Glorfindel in the world that was created by their love bond in their time of need. What could I say... There are so few Glorthelion Fanarts to I will do my best to change that. Glorthelion is my kink ------------------------------------------ Commission is Open. If you are interested do feel free to dm me for commission work. Also, I’m selling high quality version of every artwork. See my other Silmarillion artwork HERE Twitter https://twitter.com/sakurainguyen Payment method: PayPal (for overseas orders only). Other methods are possible but only for domestic orders from Vietnam **Please inbox or email me for details (sakurainguyen96@gmail.com or baokhanhnguyenjp@gmail.com) Please do not repost my art without permission.

[chronicxwanderlust]

get to know the author!

name: tabitha

pronouns: she/her

preference of communication: used to be a die-hard tumblr im's girlie but finally caught onto the discord train a few years ago! still stick to im's for like initial contact/plotting but definitely am reached better and interact more consistently on discord.

most active muse: that would be my bb marley! she's my longest active muse of about...four years now? i feel like it might be longer but that's as old as any of her blogs that i can find! but without fail she's always the muse i have the most inspiration for, and a foolproof way to get myself out of any writing slumps. will say though after really only exclusively playing her for like three years, this last year or so i've tried my hand at so many new characters/fcs and now have so many new muses that i adore!

experience/how many years: when i tell you that i have absolutely zero recollection of how i discovered rping on this hellsite!!! my middle school bestie introduced me to tumblr for sure but how i ever discovered rp will probably forever be a mystery to me, but i think i've been here since i 2011? do not remember if rping on omegle (PLEASE who let me be unsupervised on the computer!!!!) came before or after, but once i was here i started with glee rp (cannot interfere, it's a canon event) and somehow crawled my way to today and into my home amongst simple town rps asdfghgfghj.

best experience: this last year or so has probably given me the biggest giggles that i can remember ever having!!! i had the fortune of meeting some really great writers to brave this madness together and just getting to laugh and bounce ideas and plots off of them and also to have a front row seat to their work outside of what we've come up with has just been so cool and inspiring? like the fact that this is done as a silly little hobby but i genuinely am constantly left just in awe of their talent is just so beyond me!

rp pet peeves: lazy plotters or people who so clearly don't read your intro before just throwing connects out there (usually in order to face chase and it's like babe, if you read my intro i wouldn't have to tell you why x, y, and z does not fit for this muse like?)! i don't mind shipping certain faces together but wanting a ship solely for the faces and not caring about the muse themself is usually so blatant and obnoxious.

fluff, angst, or smut: big fan of both fluff and angst! i generally like more plot driven threads, which i feel usually lends itself to angst, but love balancing out the heavy stuff with something light and fun when it calls for it and def think those can help move a plot along as well! think it's kinda funny that before i was allowed to write smut, i wanted to do so more than i do now that i actually can? it's not that i won't, but it'd probably have to be a ship i really cared about and thought it'd add something to see what that connection is like when they're intimate?

plots or memes: i am the worstttttt when it comes to memes! i start off with such good intentions but usually they just build up in my inbox and i tell myself i should answer them...and then let them sit in my inbox for longer until it's really been too long since i should've answered them and tell myself i'll be better next time. but plots, i live for that shit! don't even need big elaborate ones, like one of my longest rp besties and i usually just send each other little blurbs of an idea and literally could spend forever going back and forth with musings and headcanons for it. 

long or short replies: i look back on like my 2016 rp days and literally do not know how i went from little one line responses to writing novels. like the #pls don't feel like you have to match length tag is v me coded bc i absolutely am not getting out of a response without at least a paragraph. love love love exploring my muses thought processes and reasonings and their inner monologue, which can lead to some pretty lengthy responses, depending on the thread!

time to write: tell myself all day at work that when i get home, it's time to write...and then i get home and i tell myself that it's time to nap instead! i have the most time to write in the evening/night time or during the weekends, and that's when i can get random little bursts of motivation to not wait until the suns gone down to start writing.

are you like your muses: i do like to give my muses tiny little parts of myself, like if they reference a tiktok that's ended up on my fyp, or some weird quirks or opinions, but as a whole, i don't think i'd consider myself too similar to any of them!

tagged by: @waveofstars thank you bb!

tagging: @sinsoakedsaints, @tinytriceratop, @kiplingwriter, + anyone who wants to!

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Hon' if you are accepting prompts (and only if you are!) can I have some spooky Sansa and Jon? I'm still not over them in spooky scenarios so I would love to read anything about it.

And for something a little more specific (in case that helps): maybe ghost!Sansa and Jon moves to her place and she is not happy, but also she loves his dog?

Or maybe Addams AU!

Or maybe Jon is the ghost and Sansa moves into his place?

Or they are talkshow hosts or something and a ghost is trying to get them together?

Or maybe YouTubers AU and their followed bug them until they agree to a Collab and it's Halloween or something like that?

Okay I went all over the place and clearly have too many ideas, but feel free to choose any of you do choose something!

First of all, I guess I'm sort of always taking prompts? I'll never turn them away, though they may also sit in my inbox forever (I'm looking at you, the last anon prompt from when I asked for them back in December...)

Second, spooky prompts! ❤️👻❤️👻❤️ If there's anything I love in this world, it's the supernatural/paranormal. And it may be the middle of summer, but I'm already longing for spooky season and I've been trying to vibe with it but it's hard when the days are so long, hot, and humid. (I desperately want to be able to go outside and not feel like I'm breathing soup, thank you very much.)

Before I get to the prompt itself, because I'm too wordy for my own good - your one prompt of Sansa/Jon is a ghost and the other moves in to their place... well, I've read that fic! It's actually locked on AO3 and I don't know if that means the author doesn't really want people finding it/linking to it, so I won't, but I guess DM me if you wanna know what it is?? I don't know the protocol for that. There's also Haunt Me, Then by the lovely @ode-to-an-inkwell which I read back when I was lurking and I loved it. It's the same base premise, but with a ton more plot!

The prompt I have chosen is the youtuber collab! Because I also love writing about/dissecting social media, apparently.

.

.

Sansa breathes – deep and even – and tries to stay centered in the middle of her group (away from the edges, away from the dark corners and the sounds coming from them and the people she knows are waiting for her there).

She wishes with all her strength that her followers had never found out that she's related to Robb. It's not something she was hiding, necessarily, but when she started her channel, she'd kept a lot of her personal life private. And honestly, she never thought it would get to this point – the point where she has millions of followers and Robb and Theon have millions of followers and those followers inevitably found out she and Robb are siblings.

A collab had been unavoidable. She just wishes it were any other activity than... this.

She lets out a strangled scream as something crashes to her right and she stumbles left, straight into the other person who's been dragged along tonight – Jon Snow. He catches her arm and keeps her upright and she almost thanks him until she hears him let out a laugh. It infuriates her and she rips her arm out of his grasp and sends him a glare, though it's short lived when she sees what looks like a jar of eyeballs on a shelf behind him and bile twists in her stomach.

She hates Halloween - she hates horror movies and jump scares and gore, and she especially hates haunted houses. But what else should she have expected for this collab? Robb and Theon have a dumb prank channel, of course they'd bring her – notorious wimp Sansa Stark – to a haunted house for the video. She thinks Robb got permission to film, because Dacey and Olyvar are flanking them with cameras to capture everyone's reactions.

“It's all fake,” Jon reminds her, though she barely hears his voice over the din of sound effects echoing through the dark corridor as they pass from one room to another.

“I know that,” she hisses, heart pounding wildly. They approach a doorway and – sure enough – right as she passes through, there's a person with heavy special effects makeup waiting on the other side to grab at her (another thing she resents – this is one of those places where the actors can touch you. They'd had to sign a waver). She screams in the actor's faux-bloody face and she swears he laughs at her.

In front of her, Robb and Theon are being obnoxious as usual. She doesn't really condone their prank channel and has often had to reign them in from doing something that would get one of them needlessly hurt (or would be considered, you know, illegal). Jon is usually an unwilling participant in their videos, and he has his own woodworking channel that has nowhere near the viewership that her makeup channel or Robb and Theon's prank channels do (she's told him, over an over, that if he showed his face on camera, he'd get more viewers, but he insists that he wants the focus to be on his work, not him). Jon walks next to her, calm, like nothing in this place fazes him, and she sort of resents him for this.

She understands it's all fake, she's not stupid, but that doesn't stop her fear response from kicking in every time something jumps at her, every time lights flicker or go out. It doesn't stop her stomach from turning whenever she sees the needlessly gory scenes like that doctor cutting a girl open, her fake intestines spilling out as the actress screamed.

“It'll be over soon,” Jon leans in close so she can hear him better, and for a moment a sense of calm washes over her. She loses it, though, as he moves away to give her space and she panics and reaches out and grabs his hand, tugging him back close to her.

A strange look passes over his face, but he doesn't say anything, just lets her grab onto his arm as they continue through the haunted house. She can't explain it, but with Jon next to her she feels... safe. She knows none of this is real, she knows none of these actors will actually hurt her, but it doesn't seem to matter, and it doesn't seem to matter that Jon won't actually have to protect her (though she somehow knows that he would if he ever had to, and that's a strange realization to have as she's walking through a room of terrifying clowns).

When it's finally over and they're outside, she breathes a sigh of relief and she feels muscles that she hadn't even realized were tensed relax.

“That was awesome,” Theon nearly shouts at one of the cameras. He and Robb talk loudly and animatedly for the cameras about the house, summarizing it for their audience (she knows they're likely to cut out a lot of the extreme scares and gore, since a good portion of their audience are kids and young teens).

“You good?” Jon murmurs to her and she realizes she still has a death grip on his arm.

“Oh,” she breathes with a forced laugh, “yeah,” and she lets go of his arm and immediately wishes she could have it back. (And then, some part of her brain whispers that she wishes she could have his arm wrapped around her instead, but she pushes that thought out because where did that even come from?)

Jon brings a hand up to scratch at his beard and shifts on his feet and she wonders if its because he feels awkward on camera. Jon's never liked being on camera, not really – it's why Robb and Theon always have to catch him off guard and why his videos – at most – only feature his hands and forearms (the comments on his videos about how attractive his hands and forearms are had been one of her main arguments for showing his face, but Jon had gotten weird after that and so she'd dropped it eventually).

“Hayride next?” Robb asks, which brings her back to the present.

“There's more?” she whines, twisting her face into a pout that always got her out of trouble when she was a kid, but Robb and Theon are already making their way towards the next attraction.

“You can sit next to me,” Jon offers, and she feels relief flood through her. “I'll be on the outside.”

She feels herself smile for the first time all night and nods and she's even more pleased when he – after a moment of hesitation – holds out his arm for her to take. She does so, curling her own arms around his and hugging it to her, keeping herself as close to him as possible as they walk through the fairgrounds to the haunted hayride.

They arrive right behind Robb and Theon and when Robb sees the way she's basically clinging to his best friend, there's a look that she can't figure out – it flicks from their joined arms, to Jon, then back to their arms, then to her, then back to Jon again and she feels Jon stiffen up next to her. Something silent passes between them and Robb looks almost... concerned? But then Jon shakes his head so subtly she thinks she's not supposed to see it and Robb nods back and turns around to face Theon and the cameras and Sansa's left more confused than anything.

The next tractor and wagon pull up to the entrance and the previous riders disembark. She waits with Jon, and though there's a slight fluttering in her stomach, she's not terrified like she had been right before the haunted house. Jon keeps his word and as they climb onto the open-topped wagon, he lets her sit in the middle and he takes the outside so she won't have to deal with the actors that run up to them during the ride. She settles into the hay and, without thinking, leans her head on his shoulder, arm still linked through his.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Robb and Theon shouldn't have made you do this,” Jon says back and his voice sounds a bit shaky. She can't see his face, she's too comfortable resting her head against him to look up, but she wonders why he sounds nervous. Maybe he's more scared of all of this than he was letting on? He hadn't seemed nervous at all in the haunted house.

“Don't worry, I'm going to have so much fun giving them a full face of glam makeup when it's time to make the video for my channel.” That's the point of this collab – she does a video for their channel and they do one for hers.

Jon lets out a soft laugh as the tractor starts up and the wagon lurches forward, heading into the dark forest. “Can I watch?”

“Definitely,” she says as she squeezes his arm tighter, her heart jumping at a noise off in the woods – a signal that the scares are about to start. “You should let me do your makeup,” she continues to try and distract herself. “I think glam makeup would look amazing with your beard.”

“Sure,” she can feel his shoulder lift into a shrug, and that does make her lift her head up and look at him.

“You would? I thought you hated being on camera?”

He shrugs again, but whatever response he was going to give is cut off as an actor takes a running leap at the wagon, latching onto the side and pulling himself up, and the passenger nearest to him (right in front of Jon) screams. Sansa sucks in a breath and tries to calm her racing heart (and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dacey with a camera pointed right at her and Jon, a smirk on her face).

She spends the rest of the ride (and all through the haunted corn maze), hanging onto Jon for dear life and she swears his calm presence is the only reason she survives.

(And when she finally gets home to her little apartment and gets into bed, she tries desperately not to think too hard about why that is. She tries not to analyze the safety she felt with him or the way her heart had been fluttering during the car ride home, sitting in Robb's back seat and staring at Jon's profile illuminated by moonlight in the front seat as he and Robb talked and joked around. She tries not to obsess about the way he'd told her to call him if she ever wanted him to be in one of her videos, tries not to read too much into the look Robb had given Jon when he said it.)

(She tells herself that the reason she can't sleep that night is because of the haunted house.)

(It's definitely not because of Jon.)

[gukyi]

the wedding planners (post-script) | jjk

summary: you and jungkook stopped keeping secrets from each other a long while ago, but when you go out to dinner to celebrate a friend’s third wedding anniversary, they may all start to bubble up. 

{married!au, pregnancy!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: alcohol mention a/n: a big thank you to @moonb0yy​ for commissioning this from me and for contributing to the#blacklivesmatter movement!!! i had so much fun revisiting the most iconic couple this blog has ever produced, and this sneak peek into their lives was the cherry on top!!

Yoongi has never been big on fancy celebrations or over-the-top parties, even if his wedding was both of those things combined. Nor is he as hellbent as his husband, Hoseok, on commemorating each and every possible anniversary there is for them to commemorate, from first meetings, to first dates, to first kiss, and everything in between. 

Still, wedding anniversaries are special, and, if Yoongi’s being especially honest, he’s never one to turn down a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, surrounded by his friends and his gorgeous, gorgeous husband. 

Which is exactly why you’re sat in a high-end Asian fusion restaurant in the center of the city, an old brick building renovated about a decade ago, a mix between contemporary and antique, celebrating both the success of your exhaustive wedding planning endeavor three years ago and the triumph of, above all, love. 

Hoseok and Yoongi like to keep their friend group small and their dinner bill reasonable, though, so you aren’t sitting at this gregariously long table where the people on each end have to scream to talk to each other, instead mingling at a round table with one of those Lazy Susan’s in the middle, everyone sharing dishes and laughing. 

“Our one-year is coming up soon,” Jungkook leans over and whispers in your ear, hands interlocked beneath the table. “Wanna do something like this?”

“Mmm,” you muse happily, tickled by the feeling of his breath along your skin, “maybe. Or we could just spend the whole day in.”

“I like the way you think,” Jungkook responds with a grin, giving your hand a squeeze. You don’t care what you do for your first wedding anniversary, whether it be an elaborate party (unlikely) or nothing at all (more likely), so long as it is spent with him. Not a day goes by where you don’t thank every higher power for blessing your life to be forever intertwined with his own. 

Hoseok says something outrageous and makes the rest of the table laugh, including the waiter, before ordering a healthy two bottles of rosé for the table with the promise that everybody will have a drink. 

But when it arrives, and the waiter comes to your side to reach out for your glass, you say, “Oh, none for me, thanks,” earning yourself plenty of bewildered stares from the table. 

“You alright?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shrugging it off as the waiter moves to serve Suran. You meet Hoseok’s eyes, see his positively skeptical expression, almost as if he isn’t believing what he’s seeing. 

“Did I order the wrong thing?” Hoseok asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“No, no, I’m just not feeling it tonight,” you say, a pitiful excuse as to why you aren’t helping yourself to a harmless glass of rosé. “You know how I get with alcohol.”

“Okay…” Hoseok says, suspicious, even if the rest of the table has forgotten about your blip. Jungkook’s already gone back to chatting happily with Yoongi as you play footsie under the table, and you suppose that he’s the one you’re most worried about finding out. 

In hindsight, perhaps an Asian fusion restaurant wasn’t the best choice of dinner location after all. Hoseok and Yoongi are sushi fiends, frequently ordering takeout from the local Japanese place two blocks from their apartment complex, and while you are normally all for your California and spicy tuna rolls, tonight is most certainly not the night. Here, the dishes are meant to be shared, transported around the table courtesy of the Lazy Susan in the middle, and you find yourself unwilling to eat about half of them. 

Not that there’s any shortage of food, because there isn’t. You’re certain that Hoseok and Yoongi will instruct everyone to take home a hearty serving of leftovers—but that won’t do you very much good either. 

When Suran offers you a plate of sashimi, everyone passing it around as you help yourselves, you shake your head, immediately handing it off to Jungkook who doesn’t question it whatsoever and placing two on his plate. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hoseok staring at you again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it’s just the fact that you’ve known Hoseok longer than you’ve known anybody else at this table, but he always seems to be able to read you like a children’s book. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, having downed two glasses of ice water out of pure nervousness, getting up from your seat and quickly shimmying to the restrooms. 

Inside, you dampen a towel with water and press it against your forehead and the nape of your neck, hoping it will somehow cool down the blood that is racing through your veins, burning up your skin. It’s not much, but it’s a little bit of relief. 

When you leave, you nearly wet yourself when you see Hoseok standing outside the door, hands on his hips as he glares at you. 

“Are you pregnant?” He asks, never one to beat around the bush. 

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You say in return, hand on your chest as you try to catch your breath. 

“You aren’t drinking any alcohol and you aren’t eating any of the sushi. Are you pregnant?” He repeats. 

You wince. Were you that noticeable? 

On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like Jungkook’s caught on. Not yet, at least. 

“I might be?” You respond awkwardly, not wanting to get neither Hoseok’s nor your hopes up. “I’m not sure, I have a test at home that I haven’t taken yet. But I just wanted to be safe.”

Hoseok’s face lights up, mouth opening into an unrestrained smile. “Oh my God, you totally are!” He cries out, making you lean down to shush him. “Oh my God, will Yoongi and I get to be their godfathers? Have you thought of names? I think Hoseok if it’s a boy and Yoonji if it’s a girl—”

“Hoseok, calm down,” you say, reaching out to grab onto his wrist before he jumps out of his shoes. “I don’t even know for sure yet.”

“You better know by tomorrow,” Hoseok says, and that’s a threat. “I expect results tomorrow morning, no later. You better take that damn test when you get home tonight.”

“I will, I will,” you say, voice trailing off as you feel your nerves come back, sending you into a tizzy. 

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, voice laced with worry. 

“It’s just—” You begin, but you don’t know what words to say. “Are we ready for this?”

Hoseok’s expression softens, lips curving up into a fond little smile. “Are you kidding me?” He asks. “I’ve never met two people more in love than the two of you. As long as you stay by each other’s sides, you’ll be ready for anything.”

Here’s hoping Hoseok’s right. 

Later that night when you return home, Jungkook heads straight for your kitchen to put away the plastic containers of leftovers in the fridge as you sneak into the bathroom, grabbing the pregnancy test from the undersink cupboard that Jungkook never checks and nervously opening the box, fingers shaking. 

Three minutes later, you have your answer. There’s no room for error, either, because the test you bought will either flat out say pregnant or not, no blurry lines or crosses. You nearly break down completely when you read the word. 

You are pregnant. 

“Princess?” You hear Jungkook’s voice call from outside, presumably sitting on the couch as he fishes through the late-night television, looking for something to put on in the background as he answers some emails. “You alright in there?”

“Fine!” You shout back, voice wobbly. You are clearly not fine. 

“You sure? You been in there a long time!” Jungkook checks again. 

“Yeah, coming out soon!” You say. Quickly, you clean off the test and open the door, palms so sweaty it takes you a couple of times to get a grip on the knob. 

Jungkook’s sitting on the couch, computer on his lap as he mindlessly scrolls through his email inbox, perhaps a little too hazy on rosé to feel like responding to any work-related requests. He looks golden in the warm yellow light of your apartment, at home. He belongs here, he does. He always has. And he always will. 

“Is everything alright, Princess?” He asks, eyes still trained on his laptop screen. 

“Yeah,” you say shakily, making him turn to you. Your eyes are already swimming and you haven’t even said anything yet, taking nervous steps towards him as your lip quivers. 

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” He asks, dropping everything and standing up, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, letting you press your nose into his collarbone. 

“N-Nothing,” you tell him. “I just have something to,” —hiccup— “to show you.” Wordlessly, you hold out the test, watch as he furrows his brows in confusion before he realizes what exactly it is you’ve got in your hands. 

“No,” He says, letting you go so you can turn to face him. 

You sniffle, offering nothing but a weak smile. 

“Are you serious?” He asks, face lighting up like New Year’s Eve. “Like, really, really serious?”

You nod, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. At the sight of you, Jungkook also starts to cry, pulling you in and planting a great big kiss on your lips, hands wrapped around your waist before eventually moving to hold your stomach, palms flat against your belly. 

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers into your ear, like he can’t even believe it himself, the two of you swaying in the middle of your living room. 

 “I’m pregnant,” you assure him. He presses another kiss to your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks, filled with joy and fondness and love. It’s hard to believe that he’s yours. It’s even harder to believe that you get to spend the rest of your life with him. “I love you so, so much. You and our child. I love you both.”

Our child. You like the sound of that. You grin, smiling against his lips. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Stark Spangled Challenge: Bumps In The Night

Summary- 5.3k Steve Rogers x OC Katie (Stark) Rogers. Its Halloween Night! and the Roger Clan is busy getting ready for the night ahead. Once Steve and Katie have some time to themselves for more adult themed fun, there are some interruptions that might set them back. All a part of life in the Rogers Household though. Set in What-is-your-plan-today’s SSB Verse. Warnings- Hinted smut. Its really mostly fluffy fun for these two. Might be a curse word or two, cause lets face it, its who I am. Moodboard made by @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ and the lovely dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

A/N- Congrats on your one year anniversary @what-is-your-backupplan-today​. I know this year has had its moments, but I am eternally grateful I have gotten to know you this past year, and that you shared some beautiful stories with us, full of laughter, awww, and tears. (You know the moments I am talking about.) Thank you for letting me also dabble a bit in your OC’s lives, I think this is number 3? Also for basically just bullshitting random stuff in your inbox every week. It was a great challenge, a hell of a lot of fun. And as always sending you all the Love Babes. 💙  

Be sure to read the follow up to this by @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ called Stark Spangled Forever: The Devil Wears Nada 

Steve Roger’s Masterlist

Steve stabbed at the top of the pumpkin and cut around the top till he could pry it off, handing the pumpkin over to Jamie, who immediately started scooping out the seeds and innards, shaking his fingers a bit to shake off the sticky bites. Katie sat at the other end of the newspaper-covered table, wrinkling her nose. “I’m so glad this is your father’s holiday.” Flossie reached to grab a handful, and Katie scooped it over so the baby could squash it between her fingers. 

Rori nearby, who was told she could paint her pumpkin instead, leaned to dip her brush into the hot pink and then swirled it around her pumpkin with the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. “But it’s fun Mommy. In going to paint spiders all over for Auntie Nat Nat.” 

Harry gave a firm nod as he covered his pumpkin in hulk green color. “Yes mommy, fun. Hulk Smash!” He tossed his brush aside and started to use his fingers and hands, slapping green handprints all over it till it was covered. Soon his face was streaked with green and he looked beyond proud of himself. 

“Alright kids, you all know Christmas is your mom’s specialty.” Steve started to cut another pumpkin when Emmy came in, dropping her bag in an empty chair and rolling up her sleeves. 

“Moms christmas’s are the best.” She dropped a passing kiss to Flossie’s head, and then picked up a knife Steve had nearby, ready to take the pumpkin Steve was cutting the top off of. “But Dad’s pumpkins are really awesome.” 

“Thanks, Em.” Steve’s face flushed a bit at the compliment while he took the last pumpkin and opened it up, scooping out the innards just as Jamie started to finish his. Tilting it around, he looked at his mother. 

“Which side should I carve? I’m going to do a scary face this time.” He twisted his pumpkin back and forth, Katie studied it a moment and made a twirly motion with her hands. 

“Back that way, Yea. Looks flatter.” Jamie nodded and grabbed a sharpie, drawing a Jack-o-Lantern face on the pumpkin. “And your dad’s pumpkin’s do always look good on the front stoop. Why he does the pumpkins, and I take the pictures.” Moving to a stand, she patted a fussy Flossies back and took her to show her Rori’s and Harry’s wildly painted pumpkins. 

Emmy scooped out some more of the pumpkin guts and scrapped it all clean with a spoon. “Well I was actually going to ask you and Dad, how would you two feel about Peter and I took everyone trick or treating this year? It will be a warm evening, and Flossie always sleeps while being strolled around. You two could have an evening to yourselves, hand out some candy to kids, and spend time together.” The way she said it, Steve and Katie both knew she had given this some thought. When Steve looked over at Katie with a questioning look she gave a slight shrug and nod. 

“You sure you and Peter can watch over four kids?” Katie asked, slightly rocking Flossie back and forth. “Flossie can stay with us, she’s on a schedule, but I’m sure the other three would love to trick or treat with you and Peter.” 

Emmy gave a nod and plunged her knife into the face of the pumpkin. “I will message Peter and let him know, this was actually his suggestion. He was really excited when he mentioned it to me.” 

Steve gave a slight snort as he started carving. “And who are you two going as?” 

She grinned as she cut the grinning mouth and handed it to Flossie to inspect, who shoved the hard piece in her mouth to gnaw on, making a funny face at the taste. “We’re going as Han Solo and Princess Leia Dad. Pete’s a Star Wars fan.” 

“Course he is. Tony would have been thrilled to see Peter as Han Solo.” Steve turned his pumpkin to show Katie, who grinned as she leaned against Steve’s shoulder for a moment to look at his work. 

“He would have loved it and never let you live it down that you carved him a pumpkin.” She said softly, and Steve kissed her forehead. 

“Why I carved it.” Sitting on the pumpkin, was a carving of Ironman, Katie rubbed her face against his shoulder a second to collect herself. Memories of her brother still snuck up once in a while, but there were so many good memories that she didn’t mind. 

“It’s nice to see him still a part of the holidays. And this…” she pulled out her phone to take a picture to send to Pepper. “Makes me start to like fall a little more?” 

Steve gave a shrug, a bit of pink rising in his cheeks at how pleased Katie really did seem with it. “Jamie’s old iron man always ends up on the Christmas tree, and we started doing that sponsor a turkey in Tony’s name…” He drifted off, Katie giving a bit of a laugh. They always bought a turkey to be rescued, naming him Marv, it just seemed a fitting memory for Tony. 

It was starting to get dark. Katie was helping Rori dress in her outfit, giving a slight sigh and grin at her daughter’s antics as she stood in the mirror, inspecting her mother’s artistic skills. “I need more whiskers mom. Cats have more whiskers.” Katie leaned down again with the costume makeup kit. Using the black pencil, she etched two more on each of her cheeks and pointed to the mirror. 

“Okay how’s that Princess?” she asked, trying not to be sarcastic as Rori leaned in and stuck her ears on. 

“Perfect! Let’s go get Jamie and Harry, I want my candy.” She grabbed her trick or treat bag and marched out of the room, a girl on a mission. Katie followed to hear Steve talking to Jamie. 

“Okay, I’m trusting you to help Peter and Emmy look after Rori and Henry.” 

“Yes, dad I will, okay? I know I know.” 

“Sorry sorry, remember to have fun.” There was a rustling when Jamie scoffed and when Rori just slammed the door open and marched in like she was on her very own catwalk, you could see Steve holding a dinosaur Harry who took one look at his mother and held his hands out for her, which Steve passed over, and Jamie was straightening a wig he had on, having painted his face green, between him and Steve, they somehow managed to glue knobs on the side of his neck. Katie looked over her kids and gave a nod of approval. 

“Oooh, you all are spooky.” She shivered and Harry laughed in her arms giving a roaring sound. When Katie gave a fake scream, the little boy broke down in laughter, half hanging out of her arms. 

Rori started twirling around on her toes, showing off her costume. “What do you think, Daddy?” She sang and Jamie gave a smirk. 

“Don’t you know Stark chases cats up trees?” Jamie started teasing, and Rori stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Cats rule and dogs drool Jamie!” she retorted, and Jamie opened his mouth to say something when Steve cut them both off with a stern tone. 

“Cut it out you two or Emmy and Peter will just be taking Harry out. Rori lets see that spin again.” 

Both kids’ mouths snapped shut because they didn’t want to lose the privilege, Rori gave one more spin and gave her painted nose a wriggle. 

“Look just like a Halloween kitty Rori.” Steve smiled at her, Jamie quick to pipe up. 

“Year Rori, you look really cool.” 

Katie chuckled at their quickly changing attitudes and set her dinosaur down, who clamped right on Steve’s leg, looking up at his daddy giving a squeaky roar. 

“Oh! There’s a Trex on my leg!” Steve yelped and picked him back up, handing Harry his own trick or treat bag. “Okay, my Youngin’s, down to the living room to wait for Princess Leia and that boy.” 

“Han Solo Steve.” Katie rolled her eyes at him in passing, checking on Flossie who wriggled happily in her pack and play. “You hungry Little Girl?” She collected her and went into the living room with everyone else to wait, she had settled on the couch and was feeding Flossie while the kids all sat around watching Halloween Town when Emmy announced they were there. Steve pushed up from the couch to go greet them, all three kids rushing to follow him. Katie finished feeding first and turned her to her shoulder to burp her. Going out, she saw Emmy showing her costume to Steve, and Peter shuffling a bit in just Steve’s presence. But visibly relaxed once Katie had come out. 

“How do you think we came out Mom?” Emmy pressed in against Peter and hugged her arm around his waist, which he returned the gesture. 

“You two look great! Love the characters you two chose.” Katie genuinely praised and Rori swung her bag. 

“Can we go now?!” she whined and this time Katie gave her a reprimanding stare. 

“As soon as we are done talking to your sister and Peter. Patience Rori. And I want some pictures of all of you on the porch with the pumpkins.” Of course Rori perked up hearing that. 

“Can I wear my princess tiara?” 

“Yup, go upstairs and get it, we will take pictures afterward.” Katie smiled at her, and the little girl sprinted towards the stairs. Jamie was just about to say something when he caught sight of his father’s face clearly telling him to zip it. 

“I will be outside with Stark.” the boy patted his thigh, the dog pushing up from his bed and together they went out into the yard. Stark raced forward, diving right into a huge pile of leaves Steve had raked that morning, making Jamie laugh as the dogs head reappeared, half scattering the pile in his bounds back out to reach his boy for praises and head scritches. Steve, having watched all of this just shook his head with a chuckle before turning back to his oldest and her boyfriend.

With just the four of them left now, Steve remarked to both Emmy and Peter. “They are very excited, don’t let them run you over though.” 

Emmy shook her head with a smile. “Rori and Jamie? They won’t be an issue.” 

Peter was currently squatted down with Henry, playing a game with the little dinosaur. “They are always really awesome with us Mr.Rogers, I don’t see there being any problems. And were just staying in the neighborhood.” 

Emmy gave Steve a ‘See Dad, he’s responsible’ look, which Katie hid a smirk against the top of Flossie’s head, giving a gentle kiss. Steve gave a look of defeat, Peter was really good with all the little ones whenever he was over. 

“How about we head out to the porch? I hear Rori coming back down the stairs.” Katie suggested while sure enough, one black cat with a shimmering tiara bounded around the corner, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ready for my pictures!” 

Once pictures were done, Steve and Katie reminding everyone to behave for Emmy and Peter, they stood on the porch together waving. Katie leaned into Steve’s side, watching him closely as he kept an eye on the group till they were out of sight. 

“You all good Soldier?” she asked, and he glanced down in surprise, a smile forming on his face. 

“Yes, just weird not to be with them.” His hand rubbed down Katies back. “But we got the next couple hours to ourselves, how about we make it like old times? Except I will order us some take out. You go enjoy a bath while I put Flossie down, and we will watch a movie?” 

Heading back inside where it was warmer, Katie nodded, and handed Flossie over to Steve. “I think that’s a great idea, Steve. Is this pre or post dating old times?” 

“Post, cause fooling around on the couch is permitted. Italian or Chinese tonight?” 

Already Katie was reaching up to her ponytail and removing it. “Italian, get that penne arabiata, get extra garlic knots to.” She went to tiptoes and kissed his cheek before heading up the stairs to go pamper herself. Steve was already pulling out his phone to pull up their favorite takeout number when the doorbell rang. Looking out to see a group of trick or treaters, he set Flossie down in her pack and play, grabbing the bowl of candy they had set up earlier next to his pineapple bowl, and opened the door to the chorus of kids. 

“Trick or Treat!” the group sang out and bags were held up with expectations of candy to go flying in. Which Steve did, fistfuls of candy tossed in, praising each costume he saw, a cowboy, an alien, princess, and then a teeny tiny little Captain America stepped up, holding his bag up towards Steve. Steve might have given him a bit extra.

Finishing getting the order placed, sure not to forget the extra garlic knots, Steve gave Flossie a quick bath in the sink just to clean her up, and wrapped in a towel, he carried his sleepy daughter upstairs to put her down. So far they have been lucky with her, not too fussy lately, as soon as he laid her down, she settled right in. He poked his head in momentarily to check on Katie, who looked so relaxed in all the bubbles, that he eased away and back down the stairs. 

Steve set about opening a bottle of wine, and he went through the tv selections till he found one of Katie’s favorite movies. 

He never cared for the scary movies, so Stephen King wasn’t necessarily one of his favorite artists. But the first time she had him watch The Green Mile, he really enjoyed it, which thrilled Katie seeing how much she loved. And the film, well it had a special meaning just for the two of them. 

Get busy living, or get busy dying. 

Yup, this would be the movie tonight, and as he finished setting it up, the doorbell rang. Digging out his wallet, he gave the delivery kid a nice tip and started to take the food out as Katie made her way down the stairs. Hair braided down the back, loose sleep tank and fuzzy warm plaid sleep pants. Her nose was lifted with appreciation, and she danced over to the counter, opening the bag immediately of garlic knots. “Steve, you’re the best for not forgetting the knots.” Immediately she ripped into one of the buttery rolls and popped the piece into her mouth. 

“Would you like a glass of wine with that?” He asked, already knowing the answer, and started pouring. 

“Mmhh, a man who knows the way to my heart.” She took the glass and sipped before going to grab plates and forks to serve them up. 

“I hope after all this time I do.” Steve chuckled, grabbing things like napkins, the bottle of wine, a beer for himself and Katie’s garlic knots. She brought the plates with her to set them down on the coffee table before falling onto the couch. “Flossie all tucked in?” 

“Passed out as soon as she laid her down. I think today’s activities tired her out.” He pulled the baby monitor from his pocket, turning on the screen to see Flossie had already shifted in her sleep, but still out of it. He set it up on the coffee table so they both could check in on her on occasion. Katie glanced to the tv screen as she got comfy on the couch. 

“Ahhh, one of the best.” She cuddled up next to Steve, feet tucked up and her plate balancing on her thigh. 

“Well this is as spooky as I like getting with movies.” Steve admitted while hitting play, and Katie chuckled, looking up at her husband while she took her first bite of pasta. 

“Yea, you don’t seem like a ‘Scream’ kind of guy.” 

He smirked while sipping from a bottle of beer, his blue eyes glinting at the innuendo that fell from him next. “Only Scream I want to hear is you saying my name.” 

Katie rolled her eyes at him with a laugh, shaking her head while stabbing her fork into her penne. “You might get lucky and have that happen later. Maybe. Start the damn movie Soldier.” 

A wiggle of Steve’s eyebrows teased further while he hit play, and they both ate in silence for the most part, Katie giving up first and setting her plate back on the coffee table, sipping from her wine and settling back in against Steve. 

Katies arm went around the back of Steve’s neck, letting her fingers tangle in the short hairs, and then her fingers trailed along his chain, seeking out a tense muscle at the back of his neck and rubbing her fingertips over it. It felt good, enough for Steve to close his eyes, tilt his head forward and enjoy the sensation that it caused to ripple along his back. “Mmmhh, right there Baby.” Digging in deeper, she shifted, pressing in closer, and watching as Steve’s face twisted a bit with pleasure at the way her fingers were working the muscles. 

“You know Steve, it’s going to be a while before the kids get home and Flossie will be down for a while.” That caught her husband’s attention, his eyes opening back up to look at her as she licked her lips, and catching the bottom with her teeth. 

“We should really take advantage.” Steve started as he shifted a bit to offer more of his lap. “Come here Doll.” He grasped her hips and shifted Katie easily into his hold, a soft squeal of delight coming from her.

Katie was straddled in his lap, fingers moving to twist in his hair and large firm hands pressed against her back to pull her in closer, any words were lost between exploring lips, and soft sighs shared. This was familiar to both of them, fingers exploring, nudging of noses against the other to draw back into hungry kisses. As familiar as it was, it was exciting, Katie starting to rock herself in Steve’s lap, and his pants grew achingly tight the more his wife grinded herself in his lap. 

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” he groaned into her neck where he was chaining kisses down, and Katie bit on his earlobe, sucking it to flick her tongue against the sensitive spot, moving enough to trace the shell of his ear with soft lips and heated words. 

“That is the goal Captain.” a husky tone drove her point home, and Steve with his arm wrapped around her tightly, shifted the two of them till his larger frame pressed her into the couch. 

“How much time till everyone gets home?” Steve asked as he drew up Katies tank top, flushing kisses along her collarbone and tugging it over her head to discard nearby. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted his arm enough to look at the time.” 

“It’s just after seven now, so maybe forty five minutes?” letting go, she looked up at Steve, teeth pulling at her lips as her eyes roamed over his face. “You got time.” Wrapping her hand in his dangling chain, she yanked on it hard enough to draw Steve forward, crashing open mouths together and wrapping her legs around his waist when he lost balance and just about fell on top of her. 

Katie knew she had caught Steve unaware, but he recovered quickly with a grasp to her hips and jerked her up the couch to give himself more room. Katie started to tug up his shirt to get to his shoulders, his chest, when the all familiar chime of the doorbell went off, and both of them froze in place. Steve hovering over Katie, his shirt half dragged off him, Katie arching her lower back to press into him. Both wide eyed at each other when the doorbell went off again, and a chorus of kids sang out “Trick or Treat, smell out feet, give up something good to eat.” 

Katie busted out in a giggle, and peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see the shadows on their porch. Steve dropped his head against her shoulder with a groan, and pushed up off the couch, giving a parting hissing kiss. 

“Don’t go anywhere Doll.” Off the couch and he pulled at his sweatpants to try and hide his semi erection, straightening his shirt. “Give me just a second.” Steve said with a raised voice when he grabbed the candy bowl. This time when he opened the door, there was ninjas, a witch, an angel, and a exhausted looking parent flashing a sorry smile at him. 

“Happy Halloween kids” Steve held out the bowl and insisted each kid take themselves some extra, now kind of looking for an excuse to be able to turn off his porch light for the night. But he didn’t have it in him to do it before they were out of candy. Giving a wave as the kids thanked him, he let the door close and went back to the couch to see Katie half watching the movie. But hearing him approach, she turned her eyes up to him and gave a crook of a finger with a grin. “Where were we Soldier?” 

Steve lowered back down onto the couch, pressing Katie to her back with caging arms, kisses going down from her neck to her shoulders. “Exactly right here.” He rumbled between the brush of his lips along that rush of her pulse. They only had 35 mins now, the thought danced in the back of Steve’s mind while his hands rubbed along her sides, then dipped his fingers into her soft comfy pajama bottoms to rub at her core through her panties, making her sigh and shift to tighten her legs back around him, her eyes softening to a lust filled haze as she pressed further against his fingers with the soft whimper of need. “Stevie…” Fingers tightening into his shirt and then she tugged at it, this time dragging it off so she could really touch him. That first push of her hands against his chest and down his stomach, it was hard not to control the tensing of his muscles, making Katie bite at her lip as she started to wriggle more, want more. Steve caught her lips with his as his hand withdrew, going to fold fingers into her bottoms and pull them off when a crash came from the kitchen. 

“What the hell?” His head whipped up and concern crossed his face. Katie tipped her head back to look in their kitchen, but couldn’t see anything. “I better go look.” 

As he got up, Katie twisted back to sit up and grabbed the baby monitor to check, and see Flossie still sleeping peacefully through the loud bang. Katie moved to grab her tank and tugged it on, as well as collect their empty plates, and called out. “Steve? Is everything okay?” 

Steve walked in a bit cautious, looking around to see nothing looked out of place. A frown crossed his face as his eyes searched the darker areas of the kitchen, his hand sliding along the wall to find the light switch and flicked it on. That’s when he heard something shuffling against the floor just out of sight behind the kitchen island. Going around it, there he found Stark with one of the pasta containers, chasing it around as he licked the sauce out of it. Katies voice rang out questioning, and he scowled at the dog, his hands falling to his hips. “It’s okay Katie, just Stark.” Turning his attention back to Stark who seemed to realize Steve was there, and he lifted his head from the take out box with a wag of his tail. “Yea, buddy you kinda just blocked me.” he sighed as he reached down to grab the box and scowled at him. “And when do you counter surf?” Stark just stared at him, then leaned forward to attempt to swipe his tongue against Steve’s face, but the man yanked back in time, shaking his head. “Nuh uh Stark, that isn’t going to fix it, i’m mad at you.” Moving to straighten, Katie came in with empty plates and opened the door to the dishwasher to put them away. 

“So what was it?” her eyes scanning around the room, Stark looking innocent between them and Steve stuffing the empty containers into the garbage. “Was it Stark?” Katies eyes narrowed at the innocent face while closing the dishwasher. 

Steve gave a nod. “But my fault, I left the take out boxes on the edge of the counter.” Why was he defending Stark? Well he did have a soft spot for the mutt. “Any why didn’t you wait on the couch?” This time he crowded her into the counter to lift her to perch on the edge, Katie looking at Steve with an arch of her brow as her hands seemed to have a life of their own, sliding palms over his chest, scratching lightly. “Because now we’re at 25 minutes before Emmy walks through that door with three exhausted kids, and we have to get them in the bath and bed. While keeping them away from the candy.” 

“You know I like a challenge.” Steve drew her in closer around him, making Katie giggle as they resumed their teasing from earlier. 

“You really think you can do all you want to do, and have me presentable for the family.” she locked her legs back around him and grinded herself against him. 

“Doll, you really doubt me?” Steve grinned a bit, cupping the back of her neck and tilting to kiss her breathless, once more the two of them playing a game of pull and push, bodies flushing against each other, and just about to take it to the next step. Steve grasping Katies clenching thighs around his waist when a cry emitted from above them, and next to them. The baby monitor was just seconds behind Flossies cries above them, and together they stilled, Katies forehead leaning against Steves as she drew in a frustrated breath. 

“She’s hungry, it’s her feeding time.” Breathing that out, Katie cupped Steve’s face and gave just a affectionate kiss, her emeralds shimmering with a hint of amusement. “We were not even close.” 

Taking a step back, Steve shook his head, lifting Katie off the counter. “I will go get her and bring her down Doll.” He offered, Katie giving a nod while she decided to make her a bottle this time. 

Upstairs Steve saw a fussing Flossie, little fists waving and big eyes filled with tears. Steve shushed Flossie a bit while he picked her up, pulling her into his shoulder where he felt his littlest snuggle with soft cries into his shirt. “Now now baby girl, are all these tears needed?” His hand which covered her entire back made gentle soothing circles as he rocked himself back and forth gently. “Moms downstairs making you a bottle right now.” 

Reaching for a soft blanket and draped it over his free shoulder while leaving the room. He was quick to go down the stairs, and back into the kitchen to check on Katie’s progress. Looking over her shoulder, Katies gaze softened seeing the two of them, and she tilted her head to look at Flossie who quieted once she saw her mother. “Did you tell Daddy that yes, all those tears were needed?” glancing up at Steve while she grabbed the bottle, he gave a confused look at how she knew what he had said, she nodded towards the baby monitor. “Heard you talking to her earlier.” Brushing past him, Katie got comfy in there makeout spot earlier, holding her arms out for Flossie. Earlier frustrations were gone as she pulled the baby into her arms, kissing the silky soft baby head while she offered the bottle. Eagerly, Flossie sucked on the bottle’s nipple, her eyes crinkling in the corner in happiness. Steve watched a moment before the doorbell rang once more. Dropping a kiss to the top of Katies head, he went to the door, automatically grabbing the candy bowl off the table and opening it. This time he was met with a black tiara wearing cat, one dinosaur, one frankenstein, a han solo and princess leia. Then behind them was one Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson grinning like idiots. “Trick or Treat!” 

Steve held onto his bowl and smirked at his kids. “Well aren’t these just the coolest costumes of the night… I suppose you all want some candy and head on home?” 

Jamie grinned and held out his almost overflowing bag, Rori marched past her father, and announced she was home with a loud “Mom! I got so much candy, and everyone loved my costume.” Bucky and Sam went around the two younger adults holding the dinosaur, Bucky grabbing the bowl from Steve’s hand. 

“Happy Halloween Schmaptain Schmerica. Damn Wilson, they have the good candy.” Bucky started picking through it, and Sam grabbed the bowl from his hands. “Hey!” 

“Let’s see what you call good, you old fart. If you’re talking about licorice, you’re certifiable.” 

Their voices drifted off as they went into the living room. Peter and Emmy came in next, in which Emmy grabbed her car keys out of the pineapple bowl. “Peter and I got invited to a party after we finished up. So I won’t be home till late Dad. The kids were great, no problems at all. I’m just going to go say goodnight to Mom.” Taking Peter’s hand, she pulled him into the living room, Henry hanging on her hip. Steve decided to step outside for a moment, take in a breath of fresh air, clear his head. 

It had been an interesting evening to say the least, but Steve wouldn’t have had it any other way thinking back on it as he tipped his head back to admire the night sky, the moon a full one this year casting everything in that eerie glow that just seemed to fit this night. Katie and him had fun together, even with the interruptions, the kids all had a blast as he could hear the laughter coming from behind him, and everyone was back home. 

Well… mostly. But Steve trusted Peter for the most part to take care of Emmy, although he knew she could easily handle herself and had them on speed dial. Speaking of, he could hear Emmy and Peter making their way back out the door,  talking to Katie who was following behind them. She paused at Steve’s side, leaning into his warmth as it got chilly out now. 

“Be safe, and have fun.” Katie finished off what she had been saying and Emmy nodded. 

“Of course, I will be home probably after midnight.” she assured her parents, and Steve pipped up. 

“Need anything just call.” 

“Yes, will do. Bye you guys, love you.” Emmy pulled away with Peter, and soon it was just Katie and Steve on the porch, together they walked off the steps and turned to look at the glowing pumpkins, their candles dying down to flickering flames. Steve’s hand rubbed against her bare arm, the tank top not protecting her much from the cold. “Ready to go back in?” 

“Go back in, collect Flossie from Bucky and Sam, get the other two into showers and one roaring dinosaur into a bath. Put them all down for the night? That sounds like something a task force is needed for.” 

“Yea, that kind of go back in.” Steve chuckled softly, knowing it was gonna be a bit of a fuss getting the excited kids all simmered down with how excited they were. 

“I left Sam and Bucky entertaining to catch a few extra seconds with you before the madness starts.” she twisted into his hold, hugging him and tilting her head back to look up at him. “But, if you’re up for it, I think tonight in bed we should pick up where we left off. Without all the interruptions.” 

“Only if you are still wanting Mrs.Rogers.” Steve assured Katie, who nodded and grinned. 

“Let’s blow out these pumpkins and get started.” Going back towards the house, where a loudly singing Rori and Sam sounded like they were doing a disney duet, Katie and Steve blew out the glowing pumpkins and went back inside to get everyone situated.

[captainjanegay]

Kasia’s Festival of Fondness - Holiday Edition ♥

It's super late on Christmas Eve (which is the most important day of holiday celebrations in Poland, just a fun fact dnsjjs) or early af on Christmas Day, depends how you look at it dhsjsj and I'm kinda in a food coma and having a beer with my brother. I've been thinking about doing this for a while and there's no time to share some love and affection than the Christmas times. So bear with my sappy self for a while, would ya?

This year sucked a lot. It's been the weirdest time all of us had to go through, it was filled with anxiety and worry and isolation. So now, more than ever, I'm so thankful to have so many incredible people in my life. People I've never actually met in my life but who make me so incredibly happy and brighten up every single one of my days. People who live miles and miles away but are somehow one of the closest ones to me. People whom I love deeply and meeting them was the best thing that happened to me. People who are going to get an incredibly sappy shoutout from me right now and will have to read through all my late-night, slightly-drunk but oh-so-sincere rambling. In no particular order, here we go:

@steverrogers

My sweetest Becky. I will forever cherish the day we first talked because it was a start of something beautiful. I love talking to you, you're such an amazing and interesting person, so smart and beautiful inside and out, so funny and supportive. Not one day passes without you making me smile by whatever lovely thing you say to me, by popping up on my dash or by popping up in my thoughts all of sudden (which happens a lot). You're so caring and sweet and 12 out of 10 times I don't know how to handle your sweetness. I love being able to help you with learning polish (and the fact that you're doing this is just so??? I'm in awe, this language is hell dhsjsj). I could talk to you for for hours or just sit in silence with you for hours and I'll look forward to the day you come to kidnap me :') I love you endlessly 💜✨💚

@hbalbat

I've said that already and I'm gonna say this again and again - you're such a ray of sunshine in the life of every person that has you in their life, Helena. You're so sweet and loving and you care so deeply about all your friends here. It's so amazing to see and being on the receiving end of your love and affection?? It's unreal 💚 I love hearing about your day or about your likes, dislikes or struggles. Even when the world feels overwhelming, you are always able to get up and face it and you're so much stronger than you let yourself believe. You're such a talented, artistic soul and I love you endlessly. You brought a smile to my face so many times and you were able to do this even when I was feeling so low and I'll forever be thankful for your bright and wonderful presence in my life. I love you so much, my sweet pumpkin.

@its-tortle

Luisa, my heart 💚 You are amazing and I'm in awe of you. You're such a beautiful force of energy, love and kindness and I'm always so incredibly happy when this force is directed towards me. You're such an incredible writer and every time you compliment my work I'm like "??? You say this is good but have you actually read your own writing?? How is this possible??". Your comments on my works make me cry real tears. And the card you've sent me? It's so sweet and I'll keep it forever, having something that you've actually held and wrote just for me is so great 💚 You have such a huge and loving heart and being your friend is an incredible privilege that I'll be grateful forever. Thank you for being so supportive and caring, you deserve all the good things in life and I love you to the moon and back 🥺💚

@buckybees

My loveliest Bee, you're so incredibly talented and both your fanarts and fanfics always makes me smile so much? You have the greatest ideas and I'm in awe of how creative and amazing your mind is. You are also so sweet and talking to you is always an absolute pleasure. And the fact that you're part polish makes me so happy? As you've once said, it's like we have this special connection and it's so amazing 💚 You're so nice and supportive and my heart always goes !!!! when you pop up in my notifs :') Having you as a friend makes me so happy and I can't wait for your card (even if it comes in July I'm gonna cry the happiest tears, just thinking that you've sent me one makes me so happy :')) 💚 you make me so happy and I love you loads 💚

@anna-wa

My lovely Anna 💚 I'm so so happy you're still puttin up with me even despite my fandom change and ironically (or not) I think we're now talking more than ever? And it makes me so happy? You're such an amazing person and I love hearing your thoughts and opinions. And you're also so caring and amazing. I've said this a milion times already but the day you've pointed out I probably have ADHD was life-changing and it really helped my mental well-being so much 🥺 You're amazing, talented and the best friend one could dream off. I love you so much and I hope only good things happen to you because you deserve all the happiness and softness the universe has to offer 💚 I love you a whole lot 💚✨

@farfromthstars

My sweet, amazing Pia 💚 you're one of my oldest friends on here and even though we don't talk as much as we used to you're in my thoughts a lot. You've always been nothing but amazing to me and I'll forever be in awe of all the kindness and affection I've gotten from you. I've became obsessed with so many things because (or thanks to, it depends dnsjjs) of you and I love how many of our interests align. I'm so proud of you and you're all of my all-time fave authors, you're so talented :') You're like an older sister I always wanted to have dhsjsj 💚 I love you so much and as messy as the 1d fandom can be, I'll forever be grateful that it brought us together :')

@ziallerslouve

Annika, my sweetheart! 💚 We don't talk as much as we used to but you're still one of my favourite people on here. I love that we can go for months without talking or interacting in any way but then we just go back to where we were and just catch up without any awkwardness (and for my weird af communication skills - or lack of thereof - it's the most comforting thing? 🥺). We have so much in common and I love that you always get me so well 💚 You're so great and it's so amazing to have you as a friend 💚

@mysterious-marvel

Milly, my sweetest! Every time I see you on my dash it puts the biggest smile on my face! You're so talented and sweet and I love and cherish every single interaction we have 💚 You're so supportive and incredible and beautiful inside and out, I'm so happy I've joined the marvel fandom and was able to meet you 💚

@metalbvcky

Mandy, you precious soul! 💚 We didn't talk as much but I love you so much? You're so sweet and kind and you always brighten up my dash. And the fact that you decided to organise a secret Santa event to brighten up this hell of a year is just so amazing! You have a huge and beautiful heart and I adore you so much. Also I'm soooo excited to read "Mercury in Retrograde"?? It sounds so incredible and since you're an amazing writer I know I'll love it :')

@sexiestvampirevictim

Lidia, you're an ethereal creature and I still don't know what have I done for you to bless my life with your presence. I love you so much and your continuing support means everything to me 💚 You're wonderful and amazing and nobody gets my uni struggles as well as you do fjsjsj you always make sure that I won't bury myself in a hole of uni-related self-hatred and I really wish things could be better for you but knowing that I'm not alone is really reassuring :') 💚 you're an unstoppable force and you can conquer the world (and you should tbh, it would be such an incredible place if you did) and I love you as much an many there are stars in the sky

@christmascap

Lauren, my love! I'm still in awe that you're following me, you're like the cool, popular mutual I've had and always admired from afar but then you started talking to me and I'm not sure what to do now? You're so talented and your edits and ficlets are so heartbreakingly good. I can't understand why they don't get more attention because there just so beautiful and everyone should see them. And you're such a warm and kind person, you're always so sweet to your followers and I bet you're so much fun to be around irl :') I know that no matter what obstacles the world throws your way, you're able to overcome them all. I love you loads and while I'm still kinda nervous while talking you (I don't even know why!! You're such a sweetheart! 💚) I wanted you to know that I adore you so much 💚💚

@hufflepufsh

Huffy, my little angel! You're also one of my favourite friends on here and even if were basically in completely different fandoms rn, I'm so thankful that you're in my life! We can go without talking for ages and they we just pop up into each others Inbox and declare our undying love and I think it's beautiful?? You're so amazing and we've known each other for so long and you're like a constant in my life and every time I see you on my dash it makes me so happy, even if I have no idea what you're blogging about dhsjsj I lava you and I'll give you everything 💚💚

@lepetitcomte

.

My most wonderful Mum 💚 I love you and I'd die for you. I suck at maintaining conversations but I think about you a lot. And I mean like a lot. I always send good vibes your way and when you feel a random warmness in your heart it's my vibes finally making it across the ocean. You're so incredibly smart and you've always been so supportive and kind and wonderful to me. Even when we don't talk I'm eternally grateful you're a part of my life. You've gotta piece of my heart and being your daughter is an honour I have no idea how I deserved 💚

.

Also a huge shout-out to @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier @ywecanthavenicethingsanymore @hannah-stagram @ceilingventclintbarton @lifeishell @reedstorm @justice-for-plums @samrhodey for being literal angels and brightening my dash with their presence and brightening my life with every single interaction we've ever had :') 💚💚

I'm probably forgetting so many people and I'm so sorry for that. It's been so long since I've started writing it in my notes and my brain power is getting low fjsjsj I love and cherish every single mutual and every single follower I have no matter if we ever interacted or not. You all make me so happy and you make my days so much more bearable. The unbelievable amount of love and support I've gotten from you warms my heart and it's going to make me burst one day :') thank you for putting up with me through this post and through every single day, I'm in awe you still follow this mess of a blog and continue to give me your affection and love. I love you endlessly 💚💚💚

[writeraquamarinara]

as with everything else in life, I’m late to making this post. I tend to make one around Jan 1st every year, but it’s now a few days after that, and all i can say for myself is that time is non-consequential during a pandemic, right? right.

anywho, this is my usual “thank you for keeping me going this year” post, but with even more fervor. 2020 would not have been nearly as tolerable without you all in it. and when i say all i really do mean all. thank you to anyone who follows me here or has read and supported my work on AO3 or has sent me a message or an ask or even just likes my posts. you can never know how many people’s hearts you’ve touched, lives you’ve made better, but i’m telling you now: you made me smile and laugh and feel love in a year that could have easily stolen all that. thank you for sticking around.

a few more specific shoutouts are under the cut to keep from flooding your dashes. i hope you’re all having a wonderful start to the new year.

much love, mari

to @anniemurphys: ria, i cannot thank you enough, for so many things. you played such a vital role in turning this year around for me. your friendship, and the friendships you’ve helped me make through book club, kept me smiling from week to week. i never wanted to leave our meetings, no matter how long they’d already gone. I could listen to your literary analyses and life advice for days on end. you’re such a kind, patient, loving person, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life. here’s to another year of freaking out over taylor swift albums and the power inherent in voluntarily turning oneself into vegetation.

to @bigdsgirl: heidi, you’re one of the sweetest, most hard-working people i know. you amaze me, and you graciously humor my latest hyper fixations—somehow always knowing, always reblogging content related to what i’m obsessing over at the moment. you give such great advice and have such a calming presence that i love being in chats and on calls with you. i cannot wait for more zoom movie nights in 2021.

to @hellodinoflower: raptor, you’ve supported me for so many years now, and whenever i feel down about my writing i’ll go back through the comments on some of my old fics and yours always make me tear up. you’re so thoughtful and kind and excited about my work that i cannot help but be the same. i hope you enjoyed the little dino reference in pride & publishing—i tried my best, i really did—and i hope you’re doing well. sending you so much love.

to @soyforramen: soy, i promise i’ll get to your head canon asks some day. i promise i haven’t forgotten them; i’m just uncreative and uninspired, but what else is new. you, however, are brilliant and kind and thoughtful, and your guidance in making both life and fic-writing decisions has been so important to me this year. wishing you so much luck with school this year, and even more happiness.

to @ithoughtyoulikedmereckless: rach, where to even begin? you’re the person i talk to when i’m feeling happy or sad or annoyed or angry or pretty much anything, really. our FaceTime convos are my favourite, no matter what time of day we have them at (somehow, the ones at 10pm are just as crazy as the ones at 3am, and i don’t really understand how or why, but i love that for us). i’ve learned so much about myself through my conversations with you, and you keep me level headed when i start doubting myself too much. you understand me on such an amazing level and i’m so lucky that you reached out to me so many years ago. i’m so lucky that we just happened to find each other on here and just so happened to move near each other this year. i still cannot believe i get to see you in person and go on walks in the woods with you. you’re such a talented photographer, writer, painter, baker, and all around artist; an incredibly kind and funny person; and i aspire to be you. i’m rambling now, but just know that i love you.

to @catthecoder: lav, my light, my love. seeing your icon and username on my dash makes me smile so hard. you just give off the best vibes and chatting with you always leaves me feeling like i’ve been basking in the sunlight for the past few hours. we need to make a resolution to sprint with each other more often this year, even if 2021 is going to be as hectic as ever, as i find so much joy in reading your snippets as we go along. you’re such a wonderful writer, and i often read your gift to me from years ago for inspiration and comfort. i hope you’re doing well and am sending so much love.

to @stirringsofconsciousness: stirrings!! i know you’ve had a super busy year, but you still made time to chat with me and i’ll be forever grateful. i often think about the advice you’ve left for me and the thoughtful responses you’ve given to my personal posts and find so much inspiration in your own words and actions. i also still cannot get over the time when you sent me a post of artful vases because you thought of me when you saw them. mortifying ordeal of being known who? anyways lol, i just wanted to thank you for being in my life and wish you a happy 2021.

to @heavy-lies-the-crown: alex, i just wanted to thank you for putting your time and energy towards answering my incessant questions this year. you’ve been an inspiration to me as a writer ever since i first found your work, but you’re also an inspiration to me as a person, and i’m always thinking about the advice you’ve given me. i hope you had a wonderful end to 2020, and that 2021 brings you even more joy than seeing your posts on my dash brings me. much love.

to @stonerbughead: maria, you brought so much happiness to my 2020. your support for my work took my breath away every time, and I swear I nearly cried when I saw your latest comments on pride and publishing. you put so much time and energy into this fandom, and into supporting the people in it, and I hope you know that it doesn’t go unnoticed. we all love you, and we’re so lucky to have you; your fics are brilliant, your podcast highlights are a joy to read, and your disdain for ras is hilarious. thank you for being you. sending lots of love.

to @sullypants: sully, it’s been years and i still marvel at how lucky i am to know you. you’ve taught me so much, from how to be more thoughtful to how to navigate therapy and self-love to how to be a kinder person in the world. you introduced me to ask polly and you send me really nice asks and you’re one of like four people who interacts with my posts on a consistent basis, which makes me feel a little less alone in the world, if that makes any sense. i’m going to stop myself from rambling on or else i might cry, but i just wanted to thank you for—here comes the cliche—changing my life (doesn’t everyone we meet change our lives, in some way or another? but you’ve changed mine considerably, and for the better). sending you so much love (in the form of both yellow and blue heart emojis)

to @justcourbeau: mel, our paths cross less frequently now than they used to, but that doesn’t mean i don’t think about you and the conversations we’ve had, or smile when i come across your posts on my dash, or when i happen to open up instagram once in a blue moon and see you’ve posted on your story. please never stop sending me sparknotes memes—especially cask of amontillado ones. your words of advice from the night i called you, distraught, a few years ago live in my brain rent free, and i will continue to carry them into 2021 with me. i hope 2021 treats you well, and that you achieve all you want and more. sending you an immense amount of love.

to @protectorofthesmoll: your string of comments on pride and publishing made me cry multiple times, i swear. i still read them back every so often, when i’m trying to muster the courage to start up on the new chapter. your support means so much to me, and it amazes me how far back it goes: I’m pretty sure I have at least two asks of yours sitting in my inbox, from back in 2018 when I had barely any followers or supporters, both of them writing prompts that I never filled. i promise i’ll get to them one day. anywho, i just wanted to thank you for your support this year, and every year before that. wishing you so much love and happiness in 2021.

to @panalegs27: 2020 was the year of figuring out that we have so much in common: a hatred of dating apps, confusion over tumblr’s obsession with the raven cycle, and an attraction to logan lerman with gray hair. thank you for chatting about all of these things, and more, with me; seeing that you’ve sent me a post always makes me smile, and our conversations make me laugh. wishing you even more love and laughter in 2021.

to @indiebughead: maria, it’s been so lovely getting to know you more over the course of this year. i love listening to your stories and living vicariously through you, lol. (i want updates on new neighbor boy, asap!) thank you for listening to my petty rants and for encouraging me to make bad decisions and be salty on main when i want to be. i couldn’t have asked for a more supportive conspirer ;) sending lots of love.

to @redundantoxymorons: iz, you’re one of the smartest, most eloquent, most supportive people i know. i know 2021 will be both stressful and exciting in many ways, and i wish you all the best. i know you’re going to thrive wherever you end up, and i’ll cheer you on as you navigate this new world, just as you’ve done for me all these years. i’m so lucky to have you as a friend, supporter, and beta, and all of our conversations bring me so much joy. pls continue to gush about taylor swift and rec books and send uquizzes with results that make me feel Known in 2021. i love you very much <3

to @cracklr: leda, i’ve missed your passive aggressive smiley faces, but your gushing insta comment more than made up for that, i promise :) sending you so much love and happiness in this new year <3

to @dottie-wan-kenobi: dottie, the posts we send each other make me so upset, but in a good way—the “if i just had to see this nasty shit then so do you” kind of way—and i love that about our relationship. who else would understand how disgustingly hilarious something is other than my wife? no one, that’s who. i often think about how you were the first friend i made in fandom, and i’ll be forever grateful for that: i couldn’t have found a better person. i love you so much, and am sending you all my love.

this list of shoutouts is really much shorter than it should be, but my brain is currently friend and i cannot seem to think properly anymore. therefore, i’m going to call it a day and reiterate my above statements that I love you all, and I hope you have a fucking amazing 2021.

[foramomentonly]

In the Dark I Know That You Do

Summary: I have a headcanon that Alex slept with a photographer overseas and, as a result, some tiny art gallery in New York is displaying artfully erotic black and white photographs of him. He signed the release form when it dropped in his inbox because the pictures made him feel powerful and sexy, and he figures no one he knows will ever see them.

Then I thought: What if Michael sees them?

Author’s Note: I feel the need to say that this fic, and all my other fics, like my blog, is Maria-friendly. Just putting that out there.

Title is lyrics from "I Want You To Love Me" by Fiona Apple.

Read on AO3

Alex hears a soft, shuttering click and turns his head. 

“This okay?” Josué asks, lowering the camera from his face and smiling softly. “You’re just—so fucking gorgeous, man.”

He’s squatting naked across the room, just returned from the studio’s tiny bathroom. His thighs are thick and meaty, the muscles corded as they support the weight of his body. The sight of them makes Alex burn, makes the vivid memory of him grinding down on Alex’s cock, riding him single-mindedly as Alex gripped those same thighs tight flood his senses. Alex feels weightless, somehow simultaneously above his body, and very much in it; he feels every scratch of the stiff sheets underneath him, every delicious ache from the evening’s activities, but they only serve to elevate this heightened feeling that Alex is good and right and glorious. Alex laughs, runs a teasing hand up the length of his own naked torso, his fingers catching in his dog tags. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and Josué grins, raising his camera again, the lens re-focusing and the rapid-fire, fluttering click resuming. 

Alex stares down the lens, willing the camera to stop time, to capture and hold him in this moment and this feeling forever and for real. He’s twenty years old; he’s free, he’s whole, and he’s alive within himself for maybe the second time in his godforsaken life, since the moment time failed to stop in the first place and Jesse Manes had crashed into the shed and into Alex’s sacred space, defiling it and him and the only thing that had ever felt right to him. The only person. Because time, unfortunately, doesn’t work like that.

Alex hears the soft buzz of his phone vibrate on the wooden table and looks down.

“Shit,” he breathes, picking up his phone and staring at the name and subject line next to the little e-mail icon: Josué Medina, Photo Release.

“Is something wrong?” Maria asks from across the table, and five pairs of inquisitive eyes focus in his direction.

 They didn’t plan this gathering, but Michael, Isobel, Max, and Liz were having a drink when Alex wandered into the Pony, and it seemed rude not to sit with them. Traffic petered out as the night went on, and Maria eventually joined them, and before he knew it Alex is nursing his third beer at a reclaimed wood table with five people who’ve been in his personal orbit for so long that it never occurred to him they haven’t actually spent much time together as a group. It’s awkward.

“Who’s José Medina?” Isobel asks, leaning shamelessly into Alex’s shoulder to better read his phone screen. Max, sitting on her other side, pulls her back.

“Iz, personal privacy?” he chides.

“It’s Ho-sway,” Alex corrects, sounding the name out phonetically. “And he’s someone I knew—Jesus, seven years ago?”

“Oooh,” Isobel drawls, “so he’s an ex.”

“He’s not an ex. He was—”

“An itch?” she supplies, and Alex kind of hates her.

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes and pretending to miss the way Michael’s briefly flash with something unreadable when they cross gazes across the table.

“So, this is a booty call?” Liz asks, chin in her hands and eyelashes fluttering suggestively. “Is he passing through town and never quite got you out of his system?” 

Alex forgives her much easier; her blood is basically tequila at this point in the night.

“Seven years ago,” Maria cuts in, redirecting the conversation kindly. “You were overseas at that point, right? First tour?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was on leave in Italy. He was—well, is a photographer, from the looks of the e-mail, but at the time he was just a student. I don’t know why he’s sending me a release form.”

Alex scans the e-mail. It’s brief pleasantries and apologies for popping up unannounced in Alex’s inbox, all written with that easy, magnetic confidence that drew Alex in so many years ago. And then there’s the ask:

There’s a call for submissions for this arthouse photo book on queer military personnel as erotic subject. It’s not fetish; it’s art. It’s a tiny press and less than fifty people will ever see it, but it would be a big deal for me. I want to submit the photo attached and I need your consent. I know it’s intimate and I understand if you aren’t comfortable. But a guy can try, right? If it helps, it’s just for us, you know? It’s not going mainstream anytime soon.

Alex doesn’t understand half of what he’s reading; well, he’s unfortunately very familiar with the dark side of fetish since he lost part of a limb and gained a prosthesis. It’s the reason he’ll never re-activate his Grindr account. But the rest goes completely over his head, so he just taps the icon to open the attached image file.

It’s. 

It’s intimate, all right. 

Erotic, for sure, though the image stops short of full nudity. 

And, before he can really fully process what he sees, it’s tugged out of his hand by Isobel’s bony fingers.

***

Michael is trying to focus on the conversation around him—on Maria, beautiful and loose by his side; on Max, reserved, but happy, flanked by his best girls; and decidedly not on Alex, staring at his phone with a dazed expression, lips parted softly and quirked in a barely-there smile. He shouldn’t care that Alex is receiving an email from a long-lost fling, or that he’s staring at said email as though transported. Michael is so fixed on not watching Alex out of the corner of his eye that he misses Isobel leaning over to pluck Alex’s phone out of his loose grip, and jumps at Alex’s cry of protest.

“Excuse me!” Alex says, turning towards her incredulously, but making no move to take his phone back.

“Damn, Alex,” Isobel whistles, tapping at his phone with two fingers to enlarge and then zoom in on the screen. “Save a horse, ride an Airman.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but there’s a proud, playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Lemme see!” Liz cries, reaching across Max for the phone. Max looks back and forth between Liz’s grabby hands and Isobel sliding the phone her way, then shoots Alex a plaintive, deer-in-headlights look.

Alex shrugs.

“Isobel probably already forwarded it herself,” he says easily, and Isobel nods shamelessly.

Liz picks up the phone eagerly, mouth dropping open in an exaggerated grin, hand on her chest, faux-scandalized. Michael watches Max’s eyes dart over in curiosity, then quickly away again, back straightening and eyes fixed forward. He coughs gruffly.

Liz passes the phone across the table to Maria. Maria hesitates, looks questioningly at Alex.

“It really is fine,” he assures her, eyes sliding to meet Michael’s gaze next and raising a brow, almost in a challenge. Michael gazes over Maria’s shoulder and inhales sharply.

The image is in black and white, maybe so it will pass as high art rather than cheap erotica. Though Alex in the picture looks anything but cheap. He looks—He looks fucking sinful. He’s lying on his back on a small, messy pallet bed in what looks like a sparsely-furnished studio apartment, clearly post-coital. His hair is short and messy, soft tendrils sticking out at wild angles. He’s clearly naked, but his closer leg is bent at the knee, foot planted on the mattress, preserving some semblance of modesty. Michael notices with startling clarity a small bead of sweat caught mid-roll down the crease of his hip. One arm is thrown over his head languorously, the other resting on his chest, long fingers tangled in his dog tags. He’s thin, the outline of his ribs visible thanks to the stretch of his arm, but his body is toned and tight, the small swell of his bicep and the curve of his quad and calf muscles evident even at a distance. His head is turned towards the camera, dark, hooded eyes gazing directly down the lens, full lips quirked as though in acknowledgment of his audience. 

It’s the expression that truly unsettles Michael. He knows that look. Intimately. Has spent hours and days and years, a whole lifetime coaxing that look onto Alex’s face with his hands, his mouth, his reverent touch, and all the other ways he’s pressed unspoken truths into Alex’s skin. Alex is at peace, lazy and comfortable and confident in his body, in its form and how he’s using it. This is an Alex blissfully alive and shameless in his own skin, absent the unrelenting control with which he holds himself back, the careful disassociation and denial of his own needs and desires. This is Alex basking in himself rather than swallowing himself whole. It’s intimate and sexy and, until now, Michael had thought only he had seen Alex like this. Only he had earned it.

Michael tears his eyes away from the screen, away from an Alex that’s no longer just his to focus on an Alex that isn’t his at all.

“So, this guy wants to display it or something?” Liz asks.

“Sort of,” Alex says. “There’s some kind of art book he wants to submit it to.”

“Would you get paid?” Maria asks, and Alex snorts, taking his phone back from her when she holds it out to him. 

“I posed for it for free, so I think that window is closed.”

“So you knew he was taking it?” Michael asks abruptly, and Alex furrows his brow.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. 

Michael is suddenly aware of several pairs of eyes on him, and he nods hastily and stammers, “Good. You know. That you weren’t—that you didn’t not know.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Isobel asks, examining her manicure. She seems bored with the conversation now that there’s nothing in front of her to ogle. 

Alex takes a breath, looks down at his screen again.

“I’m gonna sign the form,” he breathes, and Liz actually claps in delight.

“You sure?” Michael can’t stop himself from asking, even as Maria kicks him with the heel of her boot under the table. “Doesn’t seem like something you’d be into, is all.”

Alex narrows his eyes and quirks his lips teasingly, but there’s a bite in the tone of his voice when he asks, “You trying to slut-shame me, Guerin?”

“Never,” he drawls in return. 

Their eyes lock and their smiles slowly fade. 

“I would never,” Michael adds, softer and more sincere. Alex nods once, looks away.

“It’s a gorgeous photograph, Alex,” Maria says, smiling warmly at him. “If you want to share it with the world, I say go for it.”

“And I say let’s go for another round,” Isobel declares, holding up her empty glass, officially over it. “Michael, I believe this one is yours?”

“It’s mine, actually,” Alex says easily, effectively ending the conversation. He grips the table for support as he slides out of his chair and stands, pocketing his phone as he goes. “I’ll be right back.”

***

They’re saying hasty good-byes in the parking lot, Liz and Isobel piling into Max’s car, Max extremely sober behind the wheel. Maria heads back inside to help her staff close up, and Michael stands quietly with Alex, waiting on his rideshare.

“You seem pretty sober to me,” Michael comments, pulling his jacket tighter around his torso.

“I’m tired,” Alex admits, “and my leg is bothering me. It’s just easier for tonight. I’ll pick up my car tomorrow.”

He glances sideways at Michael.

“You don’t have to stand out here with me,” he says. “Go inside and help Maria.”

“Why’re you releasing that picture?” Michael blurts, not realizing the words he’s speaking until they’re out there, irretrievable, and Alex turns slowly to consider him.

“I liked remembering how I felt when Josué took it. I felt free,” he says quietly, and Michael is shocked he’s even deigning to answer. “I was far away from Roswell and everyone in it. I felt strong, like I was in control for once. Maybe if the photo’s out there, that feeling won’t seem so far away.” He smiles mischievously. “And, I mean, I looked good. Hadn’t been too long since basic.”

Michael catches his gaze, holds it.

“Did I make you feel free?”

Alex’s smile is small, but genuine.

“You used to,” he breathes. “For awhile you were the only thing that made me feel that way.” 

 Michael feels his whole body release, as though he’d been holding in a breath, clenching every single muscle unconsciously. Alex shakes his head.

“What?”

“That’s too much pressure,” he says. “No one person can be everything good for someone else.”

Michael looks down and kicks at the dust and grime of the parking lot with his boot, and thinks of Maria.

“I told you I couldn’t be your medicine,” Alex continues, “but I think I was doing the same thing to you. Maybe that’s why I reacted they way I did when you started acting out.”

They let his confession hang in the air between them before Michael, now in possession of a one-track mind apparently, speaks.

“So you aren’t worried someone you know is gonna see it?” Michael asks softly.

Alex shakes his head.

“That’s why it feels safe,” he says. “New York, the 'art scene.' That’s a whole nother world.”

Michael nods, stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“So, what if someone wanted to see it?”

Alex looks at him blankly.

“What if I wanted to buy a copy?” Michael explains. “I mean, you’re right. You were in spectacular shape back then.”

Alex bursts out laughing.

“Not like now,” Michael goes on, grinning as Alex’s shoulders shake. “You really let yourself go, private.”

The silence between them as their laughter dies is the most comfortable of the night.

“I’m okay with that,” Alex murmurs as a car pulls into the lot and a notification pings on his phone. “Good luck tracking it down, though.”

“Alex?” the driver of the car asks, rolling her window down an inch.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and pulls the car door open.

“Night, Guerin.”

“Sweet dreams, Fabio.”

It takes Michael three months to find the book after Alex mentions that it's out and his photo made the cut, and it takes some intense eBay stalking at that, plus he's out $60—indie press, my ass, he thinks as he clicks purchase. 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 84

Somehow I managed to get this chapter written, despite a pinched nerve that left me, essentially, on bed rest for two days.  I keep telling myself I need to make a buffer of chapters, but my life has decided not to cooperate...

I hope everyone out there is staying safe and healthy. Where I live, we are currently under a stay-at-home order, and my company (essential) finally got us up and running to work from home this past week. So I at least have that, and I’m aware how fortunate I am for that.

As always, my inbox and ask box are wide open, so feel free to drop me a line.  I love interacting with people on a normal basis.

Somewhat more disturbed than usual, I left Xiomara’s office with Charly in tow.  I was about to let her know she was okay to head home when I realized I didn’t really have a choice - Xio made it very clear that I needed an escort with me at all times.  Conor was still at work, Tyche stayed behind with my fellow Councillor, and Maverick was likely off work but at home.  Charly, however, was right here and one look at her face let me know she was taking her new duties seriously.

“I can call GK,” I tried in vain.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ emphatically. “I have a job to do, and ulterior motives. Ninja grandma isn’t taking my spot.” I arched a brow in inquiry, and wasn’t left disappointed. “Ma’am. Suspected cult leader? Attempted viking overlord? And this person clearly has it in for you? Do the guys know? Does Derek know? Hell, does Arthur know?”

“Why do I feel like Arthur outranks my actual partners in that list?”

“He was a warlord, and apparently your bestie in a past life? Stop stalling and talk. Start at freaking cult leader?”

“Alleged.”

“Sophia Michelle, I swear to - “

“That’s not my middle name.”

“And that’s not the point!”

Well, I tried. With a sigh, I surrendered to the inevitable.  “A bunch of people have been acting suspiciously lately, all over the Ark.  Anti-social, darting eyes, hushed whispers, all that stuff.  Tyche and I thought it was just us, until Noah and I were walking one day and a group of them just plowed into us.”  I stopped and ran a hand through my hair anxiously. “If it had happened even a week earlier, I would have just shrugged it off and been done.  The issue was this.” I tapped my temple emphatically.  “Tyche insisted that I get the proximity update to my implant, to avoid being triggered by people walking into me.”

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” she shrugged brightly.  “Not like I didn’t notice… I can’t exactly sneak up and hug you anymore.” She scowled comically.

I let a small smile creep onto my face before continuing. “Right. Well, this was a group of about eight people.  They either all ignored the alert, or somehow turned it off.  We - well, Derek and Zach - are still trying to figure out which it was. Either way, it was a cause for concern, so a bunch of us brought it to Xiomara. We suspected it might be a cult, so Grey was also consulted.  They agreed there was a possibility, but pointed out we need inside information. Jokull Bjornson, recipient of your feral tendencies, is our best guess for the leader if it is a cult. So, Xio said she would look into it, but essentially told me that anyone associated with me would be out of the loop.”

“So why is Tyche…?”

“I don’t knowwww!” I whined in frustration.  “And it’s not like she can tell me, so I can’t exactly ask, because I don’t want her to feel bad, right?”

“Ugh, that sucks,” she agreed.  “And you have no idea why this guy hates your kidneys?”

“Eyeah, as far as that goes? You know as much as I do, and I know that isn’t much right now.”

She shrugged before bouncing on her toes. “Don’t worry.  I’ll talk to Coffee, he’ll probably agree to shadow you some of the time.  And it would be from a distance, so you wouldn’t feel like a kid being walked to kindergarten.” When I looked at her, skeptical, she shrugged again. “He likes you.”

“He’s spoken maybe four words to me,” I pointed out.

“And yet, you understand him.  That means he likes you.”

My mind reeling, we made the rest of the way to my quarters with small talk.  However, when we arrived, Charly refused to head home until she saw Maverick and the door closed behind me.  I swear, I get confronted once…

“Why did Charly look like an attack marten?”

Nuggets. “There was an incident today,” I groaned before peeking up at the ceiling. “Miys? Were you recording in Xiomara Kalloe’s office between 1800 and 1900 subjective ship time?”

“I was not, Wisdom.”

Figures.  Special ops of whatever flavor Xio had been did not lend well to being surveilled.  “Okay, thank you.” I looked back at Maverick.  “I don’t want to explain this again, so give me a second.  I was recording, because I knew this would happen.”  After some fidgeting to isolate the conversation in Xio’s office, I flicked the file over to Maverick.  “It’s audio only, but it at least saves me some time.”  I left him to watch it while I wandered into the food prep area for a drink.

I managed to swallow my second sip of wine before an angry shout came from the living room. “What the hell!?” was followed by Maverick striding into the kitchen and checking me over. “Were you hit? Did he fucking touch you?”

My arm was tangled in my shirt before I was able to stop him. “Mav… Maverick.. Babe! Stop! I swear, I’m fine.  Even Charly is fine - “

“Charly being fine is Coffee’s concern - “

“But we are both okay,” I finished.  “I swear, he didn’t even touch me.  Charly shoved me out of the way before he could.”

“I’m gonna - I need to get Conor, we’re gonna kill - “

“Listen to the rest of the recording,” I begged.  “He didn’t just walk away, I promise.”

After a couple of deep breaths and another glance to make sure I was okay, Maverick nodded. “I’m going to play this entire thing when Conor is home, probably after securing him to something that is bolted to the deck.”

“Well, that’s one way to keep him from flying off the handle,” I mused.

“Uh huh,” he replied sardonically, not even a bit fooled by what I was implying. “I don’t think even that is going to distract him.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“I think French toast has a better chance.”

“Gotcha.  French toast and lots of restraints.”  

That got a laugh out of Maverick, and he finally let go of my shoulders.  While he shot a message to our third to skip the overtime, I started getting ingredients together for a hearty breakfast-for-dinner meal.  We managed to time it just right, so the main dish came out of the oven just as Conor was finishing his shower.

Any hope that we even partially fooled him was dashed right after he sat down and saw the spread.  First he grinned, then got serious, and one glance at the broiled tomatoes gave it away.  “Neither of you like those,” Conor pointed to the offending dish with a whine. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”  He glanced at our expressions before sighing and filling his plate.  “Alright, what gives? Another plague?  Ship stalled in space? Lost forever in subspace or whatever?”

“Something happened today,” I ventured carefully.  “I sent Maverick a recording, and he can play it if you want…”

To his credit, Conor held up one hand while he shoveled a piece of French toast into his mouth as fast as he could chew, quickly followed by one fried egg and two pieces of sausage. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Got enough to make sure I’m not reacting on an empty stomach.”

“I just ask that you listen to the entire recording, no matter how bad it is at the beginning?”

He sighed again, held up his hand, chugged a glass of milk.  “Okay. I will do everything in my power to sit right here and not touch anything fragile or talk until I hear the whole thing.”

I really couldn’t ask for more than that, so I nodded to Maverick. Once he pulled up the audio recording, we sat tensely until it finished.  The only sounds outside of the record were Conor grinding his teeth and both men clenching their hands tightly enough to pop the joints.  Their expressions were a kaleidoscope of emotions, finally settling on determination when they heard Xiomara insist that I have an escort until further notice.

Snagging seconds of everything, Conor nodded to Maverick. “Us, Tyche, apparently Charly.. You think that Farro bloke?”

“He would,” Maverick agreed, digging into his own now-cold plate of food.  “Don’t forget Grandma Kim.” Conor pointed emphatically with his fork at the suggestion.

“Wait, what are you two doing?” I sputtered.  “Putting together a hit squad?”

“Ach, no,” Conor dismissed my suggestion.  “Escort detail.  If we wanted to take the fucker out, we’d leave it to Tyche and Farro and be done.”

“Not you?” I was so confused.

Maverick shook his head, gesturing with one finger between the two men. “We would feel guilty and regret it, probably the rest of our lives.  Those two, especially with someone who is endangering you again?  Probably would sleep better the night they did it.”

Conor nodded enthusiastically. “But I’m rather fond of your sister, and the Farro fella is alright I guess, so I’d hate to see them sedated and popped out an airlock at FTL speeds.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. I expected to have to calm them down, not to see them make such merciless decisions so quickly. “Um. In that case.  Charly said she’d talk to Coffee about shadowing me some of the time?”

I jumped when Conor hit the table with one hand. “See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about! We’ll keep you safe, Sophie… Aw, shit…” He jumped up and knocked the chair over as I dissolved into tears.

My eyes were closed so tightly that I actually lashed out as arms circled around me.  It was only when a smooth cheek pressed against my own that my body recognized it was Maverick and surrendered to protection.  Vaguely, I could hear Conor speaking, but just enough to register that it wasn’t directed at me, so the words just didn’t register as important.

When I finally calmed down, I was curled tightly in a ball on a soft surface, black hair obstructing my vision.  Maverick’s voice was speaking, an almost-chant that was soothing me. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe. I’m right here…”  I realized he was rubbing me briskly, alternating between my arms and my legs.

With a sniff, I lifted my head.  “I’m sorry,” I started.

He shushed me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured me.  “It was a tense situation, and you expected one of us to get angry, so when Conor hit the table, your body didn’t realize it was a cheer and not anger.  You just heard someone you expected to be angry hitting something. It’s okay.”

“Conor…?” I started to ask, not able to make the words go.

“Not mad,” a voice from the door assured me.  When I wormed my way to see his face, Conor was sitting on the floor, back against the door frame.  “As soon as I saw your face collapse, I realized what I did.  I’m sorry, Sophie.  But I swear I’m not mad. Or upset, or disappointed, or any of those things that your mind is trying to over-pick at.  I just feel like an idiot, that’s all.”

“You’re not a idiot,” I insisted.

He grinned. “And you’ll defend me to your dying day, I think. But I should have been more mindful, and I will be. I swear. No loud noises when Sophie’s nervous - it isn’t a huge request.  I can leave the room, just like when I’m mad, right?”  That grin never lost its sunny nature, and I knew he meant it.

He stood to come over, and I felt Maverick’s arms tighten around me. “You upset her again, I’m going to knock your lights out,” a voice warned over my shoulder.

“I’d let you do it, mate,” Conor replied sincerely, holding out his hand.  I reached for it, but he merely squeezed my fingers before reaching further.

He wanted Maverick’s permission, I realized. Not just mine.  Tension flooded what I now realized was our bedroom before Maverick finally took Conor’s hand.  “I mean it,” he insisted with a warning tone.  “Do better, or I’m going to knock you out every time you, personally, upset her.”

“Someone should,” Conor agreed sincerely.

“Violence is not the way to handle this,” I sniffed. “There’s a learning curve, but it’s pretty steep with all the anxiety on the ship right now.” Wriggling so I could see them both, I tried to muster a stern look. “Episodes like this are going to happen. We’re just going to have to learn, together, how to navigate them.”

“Still, no loud noises when Sophie’s nervous.”

Maverick nodded. “That definitely seems like a good starting point.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

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[goodlucktai]

If you're still taking requests, could you do Kitanishi please? Maybe Nishimura trying to hide a horrible secret or something really bad that happened with his relatives because Kitamoto is finally getting time with his family or something? Bonus points if Natsume finds out there's trouble, rats him out, and there's gang feels before Kitamoto comes to get him. Or if you had another thought in mind?

me: oops its getting late, i better get to bed *checks inbox* On Second Thought– 

x

The thing is, nothing even happened. 

Satoru got woken up early in the morning, beating the sun by a good margin. Kiyoshi’s frenetic energy was familiar in a dread-inducing way, enough to jolt Satoru wide-awake almost on its own. 

He pulled his school uniform on while his brother shoved workbooks into his bag, heart pounding as he listened for the sound of footsteps in the hall. 

Kiyoshi hustled him down the stairs, into the dark of the kitchen. He gave Satoru a few bills out of his own wallet, told him to buy himself breakfast at the combini when he stopped to get a lunch box.  

Satoru pocketed the money numbly. Something in his face gave his brother pause. 

“He’s only here for the weekend,” Kiyoshi said. It was a moment that felt stolen and daring in this house where their father could appear at any moment. “Just stay with Atsushi, alright? I’ll call you when he’s gone.”

It was their usual arrangement. Most times, mom would tell Kiyoshi when their father had a flight home, but sometimes even she didn’t know. 

Satoru didn’t even sit down to put his sneakers on properly, just crammed them on so the backs were folded under his heels, and eased the door open as quietly as he could. 

“See you,” he said, and took off into the cold morning. 

What he didn’t say was that Atsushi had plans this weekend. His dad was well enough to travel, so the whole family was going away to visit Atsushi’s grandparents. Mana had asked Satoru to water her plants. 

What could he say? Kiyoshi was already worried and frustrated. The absolute last thing Satoru wanted was to give his brother another reason to pick a fight with their dad. The best thing to do was keep your head down.

The lady at the combini was coming off an overnight shift, but she stayed long enough to ring Satoru up. She and the clerk coming in to take over for her chatted with Satoru for awhile, keeping him company while he picked apart a melon bread and the sky turned rosy and bright outside. 

When the bell above the door rang, Satoru looked round to see Tsuji gaping at him. 

“Masa-chan!” he said brightly, spreading his arms for a big hug. 

The class president sputtered, but there was an involuntary smile starting on his face, and already Satoru’s horrible morning was edging a little bit closer to okay. 

“It is way too early to deal with you,” Tsuji said, but the way he bumped Satoru’s shoulder on his way past said he didn’t mean it. 

Satoru heckled him while he picked out a lunch box, and then endured a lecture about healthy eating that had him picking out the same one. The clerks were smiling as they checked out, and didn’t charge Satoru for his breakfast, since, the first clerk pointed out in a kindly way, he didn’t seem to enjoy it. 

Tsuji was giving him a sidelong look as they walked to school together. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. “I stop by that store all the time this early in the morning, and I never see you there.”

“My phone died last night, so I ended up going to bed super early,” Satoru lied cheerfully, swinging the plastic shopping bag back and forth. “Couldn’t get back to sleep! At least I had extra time to finish my homework.”

Tsuji rolled his eyes, placated by an on-brand excuse. There was a hollow pit in Satoru’s chest, and it was a miracle his hands weren’t shaking, but it did help having a friend to talk to about an upcoming school trip and the latest chapter of a manga they both follow and whether or not Suzuki from class three is going to muster up the courage to ask Adachi on a date.

By the time Natsume steps into homeroom, Satoru feels mostly okay. He greets Natsume cheerfully, leaning forward over his desk on his elbows, and invites himself over for the weekend. Natsume smiles at him as he sets his bag down, and tells him sure, of course he can come over, Shigeru is away for a work conference and Touko would love to have someone else to cook for. 

Having a solid plan settles some of Satoru’s jangling nerves. He can’t focus during class, his mind darting away like a startled bird at every other second, but somehow he isn’t called on even once. He’s worried about Kiyoshi, he’s worried that dad might take umbrage with Satoru avoiding him, he’s worried that he’ll have to face dad before he leaves again. 

Natsume turns around in his seat, tapping Satoru’s desk with his fingers to get his attention. He looks fondly amused when Satoru jerks back to the present.

“We’re meeting the others on the roof, right?”

Satoru grins woodenly. “That’s the plan! You go ahead, I’m gonna stay here and finish my maths homework.”

Natsume tilts his head. “Tsuji told me you finished your homework this morning.”

When had that conversation happened? A glance around the room proves Tsuji has already bustled off somewhere. Satoru says, “I got most of it done. I managed to forget my maths workbook though.”

“Why didn’t you just ask to see mine?” Natsume asks, reasonably enough.

“‘Cause I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.” He sniffs haughtily, digging through his bag for the appropriate workbook so he doesn’t have to look at Natsume’s thoughtful expression. “I can’t believe you want me to cheat. I’m telling Sasada.”

“A new leaf,” his friend says dryly. He seems to buy it, though, and settles back in his chair. “Well, I’ll just wait for you to finish.”

Panic shoots through him, white-hot, like electricity. Satoru’s fingers seize, bending the cover of his book. He gives himself a second to try to tamp it down. 

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Satoru says, hoping it sounds casual. 

It must not. Natsume frowns. “It’s not a big deal.”

Of course it’s not. But if they don’t go up to the roof, then their friends are going to find them here instead, and Satoru doesn’t think– he doesn’t want– it won’t be good. Natsume is still looking at him, and his frown is reaching into his eyes now, so Satoru pushes himself out of his chair with a grin.

“You’re right! I’m just gonna go get a drink real quick. Be right back.”

“Nishimura– “

Natsume’s bewildered voice follows him out the door. Satoru tries to convince himself he isn’t actively running away, and he doesn’t really manage it; he’s a pretty bad liar, as it so happens. He weaves through the busy hall and wracks his mind for somewhere he can go and be left alone. Not the vending machines on the first floor, not the roof– the library? The bathroom?

Wait. Tsuji mentioned an empty classroom, he was going to use it for a club meeting after school. 

Satoru can barely get the door shut behind him, fumbling at the recessed handle so badly that it takes both hands. He’s dizzy, like he can’t get enough air in. He lurches over to the nearest chair, buries his face in his arms, and tells himself to stop. 

Nothing even happened. 

Kiyoshi got him out of the house, Natsume is going to let him stay over, everything is going to be fine. 

The door rattles open and Satoru doesn’t hear it. Chairs are moving around, and the door closes again, but it takes a hand on his wrist to alert Satoru to the presence of others in the room. He jerks his head up, and Kitamoto’s worried eyes meet his. 

Satoru quickly finds someone else to look at. Taki is right behind him, her arms folded tightly against her middle as if she needs the physical reminder not to reach out and snatch Satoru up in a hug. 

“You’re missing lunch,” he says dumbly. 

“Lunch has been over for five minutes,” Taki tells him in a gentle tone. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Tanuma and Natsume are here, too, looking anxious. They’ve pulled in chairs as close as they can, their knees and shoulders smushed together. Satoru is craning his neck to look around at them instead of Kitamoto. He’s quickly losing his grip on this situation, he can feel it getting away from him.

Satoru’s heart is still pounding. It feels like it’s going to give out at any moment. He’s senselessly, intensely afraid. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Satoru starts, and to his horror, his voice loses strength and sort of tapers off. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I’m being stupid. Let’s go back to class before we get detention.”

None of them budge an inch. Kitamoto says, “Satchan.”

Satoru bursts into tears. 

It’s an ugly, gasping thing. Mostly silent, a trick he learned early on. He’s always been quick to cry, ever since he was a kid. Kiyoshi’s been protecting him for a long time. Satoru tries to make it easy when he can. 

Kitamoto lets go of his wrist and wraps both arms around him instead. Taki makes a wounded noise and presses against Satoru’s back. The weight of them, the warmth of them, is grounding. It gives him something to focus on, something that pushes the lingering dread far away, then farther, until it finally falls off the edge of some precipice and Satoru can’t reach it anymore. 

For the first time since Kiyoshi woke him up this morning, Satoru’s heart begins to settle. He’s breathing slow and deep and even, buried in the familiar smell of Kitamoto’s laundry detergent and shampoo. It’s what Kitamoto’s bed smells like on the nights Satoru sleeps over. It’s an instant comfort. 

Kitamoto squeezes him tighter when the last little bit of tension in Satoru’s body finally goes away. 

“Okay,” he says evenly. “Talk to me.”

It really is that simple. With Kitamoto, it’s always that simple. That’s the whole reason Satoru was trying to avoid him. They’ve known each other forever; no one loves Satoru better. All it takes is one word from his best friend and Satoru is spilling his guts. He doesn’t want Kitamoto to feel torn in two directions; Satoru knows he’ll feel bad about being gone for the weekend while Satoru’s father is in town, but Satoru doesn’t want him to miss a trip he’s been looking forward to. 

“It’s only for the weekend,” Satoru says. “Natsume said I could stay at his house.”

“Of course you can,” Natsume says fiercely. “Touko would let you move in if you asked. One of us would probably try to smother the other with a pillow within one week of sharing a bedroom, but I’m sure we could work something out.”

“You could stay with me, too, Nishimura,” Tanuma interjects. “My dad loves having you around.”

“We haven’t had a sleepover in ages.” Taki is still nestled against Satoru like a barnacle, her voice a pleasant hum. “Isamu likes arguing about movies with you. You know my parents are overseas, there’s no one I have to ask for permission. You can just come over, any time.”

Kitamoto scoops the hair back off of Satoru’s forehead and plants a kiss there instead. He doesn’t care that Satoru is all sweaty and gross, or that their friends are watching. 

“See? Even if I wasn’t going to take you with me this weekend, you would have plenty of other places to go,” Kitamoto says. He messes up Satoru’s hair, his grin crooked and affectionate. “But I am. You and my grandma are gonna get along like a house on fire. Text Kiyoshi and let him know, okay?”

Taki makes an annoyed sound. Satoru smiles a lot sooner than he thought he’d be able to. 

When they get back to class, Nomiya-sensei just waves them to their desks. Tsuji is turned around in his seat to watch them cross the room, concern writ large across his face. He probably told Satoru’s friends where to find him. He probably let their teachers know they’d be a little late returning to class. He didn’t say anything, but he must have been worried since this morning.

“Alright?” Tsuji asks in a whisper as they sit down.

“All good, Masa-chan,” Satoru whispers back. The nickname makes Tsuji’s face wrinkle in that reluctant, can’t-help-himself smile; it makes Satoru feel a little more like himself. “Thank you.”

[firebrands]

Hi! Congrats on the follower milestone! :) I'm terrible at prompts so pls feel free to ignore this, but maybe a steve/tony bookstore au of some kind? TY 💖💕

peach, omg, this has been sitting in my inbox FOREVER anyway i hope you like this!!!!! (it… ended up much longer than i expected.) | on ao3

***

“if you don’t like people reading, then maybe you shouldn’t have opened a bookshop,” steve said evenly from where he’s seated, reading the newspaper. there was a cup of coffee steaming beside him that he’d prepared for tony, but before tony could even raise the mug to his lips he was distracted by a young man flipping through one of the books. he had cracked it open so widely that it had creased the spine, which steve knew tony hated.

“i didn’t say anything,” tony said, still wearing the scowl that had formed on his face when he’d see the boy open the book up.

“you didn’t have to,” steve smiled, putting the paper down and pushing the mug towards tony.

tony drank the coffee quietly.

they’d opened the store together a few months back, after finally finding the right spot in the middle of a university village. the place ensured that they’d get the foot traffic they needed to keep running. 

their friendship had spanned longer than that, meeting through common friends and finding a shared love for literature. through the years and books they’d lent each other, they’d formed a fast friendship, and steve fell in love with the way tony preened over new books, the way he had a manic air about him as he set about organizing. 

still, he kept his distance; it was a bad enough idea to start a business with a friend (even if the business was going well), but it just seemed too late to try for anything more. they’d known each other for almost a decade, now, and steve didn’t set out to fall in love, but that’s just the way it is.

“we’re getting a new shipment today,” tony said as he scrolled through his phone. “poetry. lots of college kids asking for it.”

“probably being discussed in english, then,” steve said, picking up the newspaper to stop himself from staring at the stubble that had grown on tony’s cheeks, meaning he hadn’t shaved this morning. it troubled him a little, still, that he’d notice these things. 

tony hummed in response, then moved to his desk to go through the inventory.

*

“you didn’t tell me the orders were for derek walcott,” steve said, standing over two boxes full of ‘Collected Poems: 1948-1984′ 

“i didn’t know you liked him,” tony said from where he was leaning on the doorframe and watching steve. 

without thinking, steve recited a few lines from memory: “the fist clenched round my heart loosens a little, and I gasp brightness; but it tightens again.”

behind him, tony sucked in a breath, surprised. “when have I ever not loved the pain of love? but this has moved past love to mania!” he quoted the next lines to steve excitedly. “i love that poem.”

steve bit his lip before plastering a smile on his face as he turned to look at tony. “never would’ve guessed,” he said, his heart hammering so hard against his chest it felt like it was cracking under the strain.

*

steve got in early, like he always did, and he flipped the sign on the door to from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ before he began brewing a pot of coffee. after a few minutes, he peered up at the sky as the first droplets of rain tapped against the window.

the cup of coffee was ready when tony came running in, shaking rain out of his hair as he shucked off his coat. “rain’s pretty bad,” tony said.

“i can tell,” steve answered, pushing the cup forward.

tony took a long drink before smiling at steve. “thanks,” he said, reaching over to squeeze steve’s forearm. “really.”

steve nodded at tony, smile tight. “any time.”

“no, really, steve. every morning, i always find myself looking forward to your coffee.”

steve continued to nod, not really knowing what to do with himself, hyper-aware of tony’s hand still on his, bare skin on bare skin, and they’d done this so many times, touched each other because it meant nothing but friendship to touch each other, except this felt different, somehow. all that’s going through steve’s head is tony’s voice, saying over and over again: “but this has moved past love to mania.”

steve gently pried his arm away from tony’s grip, thoughts flying unbidden to the end of the poem. hold hard then, heart. this way at least you live.

“i suppose we shouldn’t be expecting many customers today,” steve said, turning away from tony. “i’ll be at the back.”

and he was right; no one came in for an hour, and then another hour, and then it was lunch time and tony was standing by the door in his coat. he held steve’s jacket up to him expectantly. “how do you feel about getting some soup?” he asked, and he looked strangely chastened as he said so.

“soup sounds good,” steve answered, because he was a weak man when faced with tony’s sadness, no matter how nebulous.

“great,” tony said, brightening. “i have an umbrella that fits two and the perfect place in mind.”

the restaurant was only a block away, but it was raining hard enough that when they arrived, steve’s right arm was drenched, and tony’s left sleeve dripping water onto the carpet.

“he said it was big enough for two,” steve said apologetically to the waitress. beside him, tony huffed and stuffed the umbrella into the stand. 

the waitress smiled at them and led them to a table. “just give us a sec, we know what we’re getting,” tony said, because this waitress was new, and they were here at least once a month. 

steve leaned back on the chair and checked to see if his phone was safe as tony ordered a tomato soup for him, and pumpkin soup for steve. while waiting they talked about everything and nothing; updates on the book tony was reading, a story about a conversation steve had with sam after work.

“you’d think we’d run out of things to talk about,” tony says, laughing a little as their food arrived.

“yeah,” steve said, keeping the wistfulness from his tone. “that’s friendship for you.”

tony smiled back at steve, and began eating his soup. 

steve tucked in as well, trying to keep the food down despite the sudden queasiness. he felt very young again, all of the sudden, having these feeling stirring in him. he’d had a lid on them long enough, but it was almost cliche that a poem would send them surging back. but he knew, too, that there was nothing for it; he’d ride the crest of his wave like all the times the feelings roiled inside him. then it would be normal again.

tony looked up from his food to say something, then stopped and reached over to wipe a bit of soup from the side of steve’s lip.

steve startled so badly he dropped his spoon, splattering pumpkin soup all over himself. he noticed the shocked look on tony’s face before he stood up abruptly, and he meant to go to the bathroom, but his legs thought otherwise, and next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of the park, three blocks away from the restaurant, soaked through.

he felt, vaguely, like the heroine of a romcom.

except, the thought dully, this is where the story ended. tony wasn’t going to run up and sweep him off his feet.

steve stood for a few more minutes, calmed by the steady beat of raindrops on the crown of his head, and then walked home.

miraculously, his phone was working, and he sent tony a text saying he just headed home for a change of clothes. 

tony replied with a curt ‘ok.’ and steve was back in the shop in less than an hour (an hour he spent mostly thinking of an excuse for his behavior).

tony was standing behind the cashier when steve entered, and he raised an eyebrow at steve in greeting.

steve smiled, a little embarrassed, and then headed to the back room to pick up books that needed shelving.

tony, surprisingly, remained silent as steve set the box of books down and began filling up the shelves. steve let himself fall into the relaxed attentiveness of menial, repetitive work, and was jolted out of his reverie when he noticed a shadow over the now half-empty box of books.

tony looked at steve searchingly.

“you good?” he asked.

“yes,” steve said, standing up straight, confident because of the space between them. 

as if noticing this, tony stepped over the box, making him almost chest to chest with steve.

“because–” tony started, reaching out for steve’s hand, which was still on one of the books. steve didn’t mean to draw his hand away, but he did.

tony breathed out through his nose. “because that’s a thing that’s happening,” he said, sounding displeased.

“nothing,” steve said haltingly, “nothing’s happening.”

“tell me what’s wrong,” tony ordered.

“nothing!” steve said, and tried to move past tony to the front of the shop, where he wasn’t trapped in between bookshelves and the love of his life.

tony sidestepped and blocked steve’s way. “oh, there’s definitely something,” he said, placing a hand on steve’s shoulder, as if to ensure that steve couldn’t escape.

“there’s really nothing to talk about, tony,” steve said as he took a step back and shrugged off tony’s hand.

“you keep doing that!” tony snapped.

“and you keep doing that!” 

“so what?” tony yelled, hands thrown up in the air in exasperation.

“so what?” steve said shrilly, anger finally getting the best of him. “so stop touching me because it hurts because i love you!” he shouted, and then felt his breath catch.

tony took a step forward. steve took a step back.

they kept moving until steve was backed up against a bookshelf, neither of them saying a word as tony closed in on him, both of them just breathing, silent as if they were letting steve’s words settle in between them.

tony looked at steve defiantly. “say that again,” he said.

“no.”

“please,” tony whispered, but he didn’t have to; there was barely any space between them now, and the shop was quiet save for the rain tapping against the windows.

“tony–” steve felt trapped, and horrified, and embarrassed.

tony reached out to touch him, slowly, as if afraid to startle steve, and steve swallowed as he felt tony’s hand rest against his cheek. 

steve’s breath was coming in short bursts, and he swallowed again as he looked at tony, one of his best friends, who he’d basically seen grow up since they’d met in college, tony, his business partner who made sure that they’d be sustainable and that their friendship didn’t crumble under the weight of shared responsibility, tony, who liked his coffee with two spoonfuls of brown sugar, tony, whose eyes were warm and lovely, whose cheeks were dusted pink–

“steve,” tony said, calling his attention, right before sealing the space between them with a kiss.

*

another semester passed, and they received another order of poetry books. 

“it’s neruda, this semester,” tony had said from the back, where he was tearing tape off the edges of the boxes.

steve nodded distractedly as he filled up another order slip, only stopping his scribbling when he felt tony’s warm weight pressed against his side.

tony leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to steve’s cheek as he held up one of the books. he cleared his throat before he began to read: “te amo sin saber como, ni cuándo, ni de donde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo.” tony paused and looked at steve. “do you recognize this one?” he asked. 

“no,” steve said, smiling at tony. “will you translate it for me?”