#this is being kept in the slideshow though

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Time Lords: A Summary

[eudico-my-beloved]

anyways

yippee!!!!

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Five

You struggle to re-establish a purpose in Jackson. But the Miller brothers will always keep you on your toes.

Words: 5.2k

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral (m receiving), kind of subby Joel maybe?, like shades of subby, whimpers and groans, carpentry

Minors DNI

You envied people who didn’t remember their dreams. Yours lingered with you, so much accumulated horror for your brain to draw upon. The crunching of dried-out fungus under boot. The squelch of blood running over clenched fist. The screams of your sister, reverberating with the screams of your dad, of your mum, of yourself. Formless and vacant of hope, a belligerent and unrelenting slideshow.

You woke with a start in your own bed, alone and trying to piece together how you got there. After Joel had taken care of you on the coffee table you had slumped towards him, head on his shoulder, and took in all the air your lungs could get. The exhaustion was overwhelming and you had felt yourself go limp in his arms, dimly aware of him lifting you, carrying you up the stairs. You’d had enough presence of mind to worry he was going to hurt his shoulder before he had you wrapped up in your blanket. You didn’t hear him leave.

You supposed you should be happy, but you had long started to suspect that it wasn’t really an emotion you were capable of. Even before outbreak day you’d had too much to worry about. You had already come to terms with the fact that happiness just wasn’t something your mind could do. Terror, though. That was your speciality.

At the bottom of the stairs, you peered through the front window at the rest of Jackson going about their day. Ordinarily, you would have been setting up for your first client, but you’d already cancelled them. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into the treatment room, hadn’t been in there since your table collapsed. The excitement of Maria delivering, the thrill of being somewhat useful, had allowed you to forget for a second that your vocation, the one thing that had got you into Jackson and probably saved your life in the process, was over. Without the table you were limited to straddling grumpy men in your kitchen, and that was a whole different job.

You glanced in at the living room, eyeing the coffee table suspiciously. You were running out of safe rooms in your house.

—

You kept your eyes down at the mess hall, only glancing up once or twice to ensure that the coast was clear. You weren’t surprised to see that Ray wasn’t there, assuming that he was manning the radio with Simon trying to scout any danger for Marla and the crew. The expedition was expected to take several days, longer if the weather turned. There was no cause for alarm, no reason to assume anything was amiss. But you knew Ray, and that that wouldn’t stop him.

Halfway through your porridge a tray dropped onto the table in front of you, and you startled, snapping your head up. You felt your stomach flip, the rolled oats no longer sitting comfortably beside the acid and bile in your stomach.

‘Mind if I sit?’ Ellie asked, already settling into the chair. You shook your head, swallowing heavily.

‘No, course,’ you said.

‘You looked lonely, you always look lonely.’

‘You’re very observant,’ you said, not sure if this was truly a compliment.

‘We just got back to Jackson,’ Ellie said, undeterred.

‘So I hear.’

‘I think we’re staying for a while,’ she went on largely without you. Her eyes had drifted to the middle distance, and you could see that she was thinking.

‘And how do you feel about that?’ you prompted. Her gaze shifted back to you, and she shook her head as if the thoughts were clinging to her clothes.

‘I’ve seen you around,’ she said, and you got the feeling she was starting the conversation over again, to see if she could improve it a second time. You let her.

‘Yup,’ you said.

‘You touch people,’ she said simply, and you blinked, had no idea what to make of it.

‘Umm…’ you started, and she interrupted you.

‘Dina says it helps people feel good,’ Ellie continued, as did your concerns.

‘What exactly did she day I do?’ you desperately tried to clarify.

‘You rub people and they feel good.’

Nope. Not better.

‘Massage,’ you spat out abruptly, ‘it’s a kind of therapy, physical therapy…but not like, it’s not…it’s good for your muscles, for your spine.’

‘Right,’ Ellie said, as if this was obvious, and you were very relieved to have got that sorted out at least.

‘You massaged Joel,’ she went on, and you wondered how hard it would be to jam your butter knife into your eye socket and remove yourself from the conversation, if not the planet, completely. ‘He told me it helped. Well he didn’t tell me, but he was all angry and sore…more than normal…then Tommy made him see you and he was better after that. He was his normal grumpy self, not his sore grumpy self.’

‘I’m happy to have helped,’ you said. You had given up trying to predict where the conversation was going, and now you were just tagging along behind her.

‘You did help,’ she said, leaning forward on her chair, up on her elbows on the table. ‘I want to help, too.’

‘You…do?’

‘Yeah I thought I could…I thought I was going to but, it didn’t…’ She looked around the room, flustered, and dipped her head lower to murmur underneath the sounds of the other tables. ‘I thought that I could help people one way, but it didn’t work out, and I just want to see if there’s another…fuck it actually, this is stupid.’

‘No, it’s not stupid,’ you said, and you reached out to put your hand on her arm, but she pulled it back like you had burned her.

‘You probably think I’m too young,’ she said, rolling her eyes but also really seeming to mean it.

‘I was your age who I started learning,’ you said, and watched as her eyes lit up, finally rising back to meet yours.

‘You were?’ she asked, and you nodded, grinning at her.

‘I think so, yeah. I mean, how old are you, Ellie?’

Like a shot her smile dropped, and she slunk backwards and away from you, receding into the chair and appearing to you to deflate to half her size. ‘What, what did I…’ and then you realised, cursed yourself and your remaining three brain cells. She hadn’t told you her name.

‘Who’s been talking about me?’ she asked, so quietly you only just heard. You swallowed. You remembered what it was like to be a teenager, to be relentlessly comparing yourself to your peers, to the women in magazines and on tv, to be relentlessly self-conscious, to be convinced everyone is talking about you and also worse, that no one is.

‘I asked Maria who you both were who you arrived,’ you said, deciding it was safer to talk about Maria then it was to talk about Joel. ‘I saw how Tommy reacted to Joel, and to you, and I didn’t understand what was happening so I asked.’

Ellie nodded, considering this, and you could see she had already worked out that it wasn’t the whole truth, but you hoped it was enough truth that she didn’t disappear on you.

‘What did she say?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast to think of a good answer. You would have preferred a minefield.

‘Just that you were Joel’s kind of adopted daughter and that you’d been out of town for a while…and that she was super happy to have you back.’ You prayed the last part would ring true in some way, that it would be enough to reassure her. ‘Maria cares about you a lot.’

‘Maria doesn’t know me,’ Ellie replied. I don’t trust that he’s not keeping her in the dark.

‘She doesn’t need to, she just cares anyway,’ you said, and you meant it.

A loud group of teenagers, slightly older than Ellie if you had to guess, pushed into the mess hall and you watched as she pulled away from you even further, taking up residence about three centimetres back from her own skin. Her eyes were hard, vacant. You had seen the same look on Joel, and you knew then that she was a quick learner.

‘Ellie-‘ you started, but she was pushing her chair back.

‘Never mind,’ she said over her shoulder as she hurried away.

—

The mood in the town shifted over the next few days. Neither Marla nor any of the other crew had radioed in since reaching the third checkpoint, and there had been heavy, low-hanging clouds threatening the mountains. You had wondered about going in to see Ray, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would be any consolation. You worried, perhaps unfairly but also perhaps not, that you would say the wrong thing, that in your haphazard if well-intentioned way you would lose him, too. Instead, you stayed away.

You also avoided Joel. You felt the urge to keep a respectful distance, to try and pretend like it had never happened, like you hadn’t grasped his shoulders and come harder than you had in literal decades. You weren’t sure if you remembered ever having felt the way he had made you feel in an embarrassingly short period of time, but also you weren’t sure what it meant, if anything. If this was just something that Joel did, how he kept himself busy at the end of the world. You didn’t want to be his distraction, and you didn’t want him to distract you, especially when you had so much to pointlessly worry about.  

You’d had boyfriends, one before outbreak day and two and a half in the years after. A lot of the time it was convenience, sometimes protection, but never passion. You’d read that during times of national crisis birth rates skyrocket and you’d never been able to understand why. Nothing about a brain-obliterating fungus was all that attractive to you. You wondered if what had happened with Joel was just about you finally feeling safe. If it was less Joel and more Jackson. You felt better about things, if that were true. You hoped it was.

You took the short walk to Maria’s, a tray of lasagne in your hands that you’d begged and borrowed at the mess to be able to make. There wasn’t any oregano or basil, so you just got generous with the salt and hoped for the best. You thought about your mum’s cooking, which wasn’t really all that great either. Her method was throwing Italian herb mix in to any pasta sauce in the hope that it would make it taste better than the sum of its parts. It rarely worked, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.

You stood on Maria’s porch, not sure if you should knock. You were worried about waking the baby, or waking Maria, or that the wrong Miller brother would be home. You worried that you wouldn’t be welcome, that you’d done too much at the birth, that you had overstepped in some way that you weren’t aware of but that would make it impossible for Maria to now be your friend.

Just as you were about to leave the lasagne on the front porch and make a break for it, the door swung open, and you were met with Tommy’s surprised face.

‘Umm, hi,’ you said, taking a step away from the doorstep without even noting. Tommy looked down at your hands, took the lasagne from you and put it gently on the console inside the door, then wrapped his arms tight around you and pushed all the air out of your lungs. You couldn’t even gasp in surprise.

‘You…’ he said, and he trailed off, and you felt the warmth and the comfort of his arms, and you suddenly thought you might cry. You pulled away, fast.

‘How are they?’ you asked, and Tommy beamed. Looking at him now, you realised he was absolutely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

‘Come see,’ he said, pulling you in and shutting the door behind you. You could hear humming, contented gurgling, and followed it into the lounge room. Maria was sitting up on the couch, son at her breast. She smiled when she saw you, and you looked down at the baby in her arms, and felt love physically enter your body.

‘Oh Maria,’ you whispered, and she grinned back at you.

‘I am so fucking tired,’ she stage-whispered, and you had to try hard not to laugh too loud. His little fist was balled up and resting on her chest, and you could see the tiny thumbnail, purple and deep red, and it was too small and too precious for the world around it.

‘I have to go…run an errand,’ Tommy said quietly from the doorway. ‘Will you two be OK?’

Maria waved him off.

‘I ran off the other night before I asked you his name,’ you said, coming to sit beside Maria so that she didn’t have to turn her head to talk to you. She leant into your shoulder, and it was peaceful and warm and the kind of thing you do with a good friend, and you wondered if she’d object to adopting you.

‘We were going to go with Joel Junior,’ she said, and you wrinkled your nose.

‘Too alliterative,’ you said, and she nodded.

‘Also still not convinced about him,’ she said, and you felt something shift in your belly.

‘He was good the other night, with Tommy.’

‘He saw a lot of me I never intended him to,’ Maria said, and your heart sank. Should you have got rid of him? He was there for Tommy, you realised, not Maria. Should you have objected, said something? Had Maria been trying to telepathically tell you to do something, and you missed it? ‘It’s OK,’ Maria said, sensing the way your body had tensed. ‘I wasn’t really paying much attention to him, in fairness.’

‘You were kind of busy,’ you agreed. You listened to the baby suckling quietly, little contented grunts coming from his throat. ‘So, it’s not Joel Junior,’ you prompted.

���Robin,’ Maria said. ‘There are so many here in Spring, and I love their little songs.’

You reached a hand out to cup his head in your palm. ‘That’s perfect,’ you said. For a long moment you just watched him, the peace of him, so wrapped up and warm and safe in the arms of his mother. You ached for your own for a second, before you pushed the thought away, told yourself this wasn’t the time.

‘It feels different out there,’ Maria said. ‘I can even tell, and I haven’t left the house in days.’

‘Vibes aren’t great,’ you agreed.

‘Tommy’s worried, but he won’t tell me.’

‘The expedition is just taking longer than it should,’ you said. ‘If there was anything to tell I’m sure he would.’

Maria regarded you for a long moment, and you realised she wanted more answers, but you had none to give her.

‘He’s like Joel, like his big brother,’ Maria said eventually, and you felt heat up the back of your spine. ‘Protective,’ she added. ‘To the point of locking you out in the cold to save you from the monster under the bed.’

—

You kind of wished Maria would stop dropping truth bombs on you, then leave you to work through the rubble on your own. You walked the long way back to your place, down behind the hall and past the lake, just to see if you could push her words out of your body through your feet.

It meant that you arrived back on your front step just as the sun was setting, and you were surprised to see the lights in your house on. You were sure you wouldn’t have left them on in the daylight. You pushed the door open, trying to remember if you’d locked it. No one did in Jackson, but you liked to when you were going to bed, partly to believe that you could do anything that might prevent some kind of harm.

‘Hello?’ you called down your hallway, thereby alerting any potential attackers to your exact whereabouts. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Jackson had definitely made you soft.

There were no weapons in your entry way. You considered whether taking your boots off and throwing them would cause enough of a head injury to get away, but it would be harder in your socks. In Chicago you’d kept a baseball bat beside the door, and used it only once.

‘That you?’ you heard a voice call, and you paused. Were you ‘you’?

‘Maybe?’ you called back, and you heard two sets of laughs. One deep and huffy. You’d recognise it anywhere. Your feet moved all by themselves.

Joel and Tommy were standing in your treatment room. The broken table was gone, and in its place a brand new, clearly custom made, massage table stood. Thin enough so that you didn’t need to climb on top of it to rearrange the towels, and just the right shape to give a body a warm and safe place to rest.

Your hand flew to your mouth, and you felt tears pushing hot onto your cheeks. Tommy grinned at you while Joel watched, careful and reserved. You didn’t have words, could barely wrap your head around what you were seeing.

‘You helped so well with Maria, kept her going when anyone else would have quit,’ Tommy said, while you were trying hard to breathe. ‘You did so good, so we wanted to say thank you.’

You let out a gasping, gulping, tearful laugh, nodding your head at him. ‘That’s OK, you’re welcome,’ you said, but you were laughing and crying simultaneously, so it was hard to know if you’d made any sense.

‘It was Joel’s idea,’ Tommy said, smiling at his older brother, who promptly blushed and looked ready to murder him. ‘Come look,’ Tommy said, extending a hand towards you and pulling you by the arm further into the room.

The massage table had built-in padding under a leather cover, that was attached to the wood with studs along the edges. The leather had clearly been something else in a past life, the stitching haphazard and criss-crossing over the base, but you would cover it with towels anyway. You pushed a hand out and pressed down on it, finding it delightfully spongey, and soft. You wanted to lean down and put your nose to it, inhale the leather, the warm sunshine on swatches of yellow and green fields. Inhale a different life, an older one long passed.

‘And here, this is the headrest,’ Tommy said, continuing his tour. ‘It sits in its own little track carved in here, see? So you can remove it or slot it back into place. Maria said that’s what the proper tables used to have, so you could lie face down.’

You nodded, confirming that this was indeed true. You reached out and put your hands on it, let your fingers reach underneath to feel the joins in the wood. They were smooth, carefully crafted. You knew they were Joel’s, carried his strong but gentle touch, his precision, his care.

You gazed at him, completely blindsided by the craftmanship and the generosity. The moment hung in the air, the two of you watching each other. You wanted to tuck your head under his chin and cry into his chest, wanted to rip his shirt off him and shred it with your teeth so he could never wear anything ever again, wanted to hold his face in your hands and keep it, not let the moment pass, let your hands on his skin secure the warmth there, hold the look on his face, for eternity.

‘I should head back,’ Tommy said, and you pivoted immediately towards him and threw your arms around his neck. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. ‘Now we’re square,’ he said, and you gurgled your acceptance.

After he left, you worried Joel would go, too. Worried that all of this had been obligation, had been at Tommy’s insistence, had been a way of winning Maria over. Worried at how badly you wanted him to stay, worried that it wasn’t just Jackson but that it was him, that it was always going to be him, and that right now every nerve ending was on fucking fire just because he was looking at you. You waited for him to grunt or nod at you and turn his back, but he stayed standing, his brows knitted together, one hand on his hip.

‘It’s beautiful,’ you said, because the tension was starting to mount now that Tommy had gone, and if he kept looking at you like that you were going to combust. Your voice wobbled, and you swallowed glue and razor blades to try and steady it. ‘Where did you get the leather?’

‘Found an old couch lying around, no bother,’ he said. His voice was low, like he thought you were going to run from the room, but in that moment you didn’t trust your legs. You nodded your head because words were failing you, but then suddenly you had too many of them, and they were all going to come out right now, all at once.

‘Its just that the massage table, I know it’s silly…but it was what I used to do before outbreak day, and it was kind of who I am or maybe I just think of it as that, but I just worry that if I don’t have anything to offer no one will keep me.’

Jackson. You’d meant to say you were worried they wouldn’t let you stay in Jackson. But that wasn’t at all what you’d said.

Joel took two steps forward, grabbing your face and rubbing at the tracks of tears on your cheek with one hand, the other snaking behind you to hold your back. You gasped, staring up into his brown eyes, the salt and pepper of his beard, the lower lip you wanted to nip with your teeth. You waited for him to say something, anything, but holding you was also enough. Under his patient gaze your breath slowed, you stopped feeling your heart thundering in your chest, felt your shoulders drop.

‘Joel…’ you whispered, and he was on you then, head dipping down to bite at the skin behind your ear, hand roaming over your hips to cup your bottom, grind you into him, where you felt him hard and heavy against your core.

‘Let me-‘ he started, but you stopped him, gripping him by the shoulder and pulling away.

‘No, let me,’ you said, suddenly bold under his wanting touch. ‘Table’s fixed now, so there’s no excuses.’

He cocked and eyebrow, blinking at you. ‘You want me on that?’

‘What’s the matter, don’t trust your craftmanship?’

‘Baby, a massage isn’t exactly what I-‘

‘Down to your boxers and face in the hole,’ you said, grabbing a towel from a nearby stack and putting it down on the leather.

‘You could at least help,’ he said, grumpy again, and you grinned happily at him.

‘I’ll step out and let you get ready,’ you said, in full-blown professional mode, just to fuck with him. He sighed, but he did as he was told, and you really fucking liked it, actually.

Once he was on the table you draped him, making sure he was comfortable. You rubbed your hands together to make them warm, then poured some cooking oil – the best substitute you’d found so far even if it did make the residents of Jackson smell like fried chicken – into your hands.

‘This might be cold, I’m sorry,’ you warned, and Joel grunted. You were glad he was face down so you didn’t have to see the expression on his face.

You started with his left leg, draping the towel over his hip and tucking it between his thighs. Straight away you could feel the tension there, the tightness of the calf, the hamstring ready to snap. You ran your hands in a vee-shape, thumbs tucked one over the other, up the back of his leg, stopping just below his glute, which you briefly considered leaning over and sinking your teeth into.

Joel’s skin was soft, and unbelievably hot to the touch, and you had to try hard to focus on what your hands were doing so that you could ignore the little whimpers, the little gasps, as you found and massaged away a knot. You ran your hands up the outside of his thighs, felt the muscles jump and tremor under you, dug your fingers into his hip flexors and heard him exhale, an almost sigh, as they released.

You got into trouble when you got to his back. You were aware of the fact that you were soaking your panties, worried that he would smell your arousal, worried that if he kept making noises like that you were going to drown yourself. You worked hard to keep your breath steady, remembered your lessons and imagined dousing yourself in freezing cold water, jumping from your back porch into the frozen lake below Jackson, hoping that might give you some relief.

The wide planes of his skin were marred by scars, by shadows of pain and hurt and memory. He carried a scar, an old one, on his right side, a graze that looked like a bullet, that you decided to ignore. As you pushed hard along his spine he grunted, the muscle seizing under your touch, and you worked against it, kneading at them like dough, lifting the fascia and breaking it down, working the adhesions, until it was buttery and smooth. You focused on Joel’s breath, saw the way his chest expanded as he inhaled, felt the enormous man, so scary and so gruff, so mean and so soft on the inside, gradually give in to you. You felt him relax, the tension leaving his shoulders as you worked them, careful to release the deltoid, to ease off the trapezius now that you could finally get at it properly.

You were tempted to leave him there, relaxed for maybe the first time in years, but you roused him, rolled him onto his back, put a folded-up towel under his head and another over his eyes to protect them from the light. With his face covered you could take your inventory of him. The scar on his right side, jagged and angry and new, the reason he’d been favouring it finally clear to you. The soft smattering of chest hair leading down to a light trail on his pelvis. The towel covering him, but not enough to hide the fact that he was hard, that he had tried to tuck his cock into the waistband of his underwear but that it was too thick, too long to stay fully hidden.

You moved up to his head, to his salt and pepper hair, and carded your hands through it, lifting his head and holding it in your fingertips. You watched as his eyebrows knitted together again, unsure, but then releasing, his mouth dropping open, as you heard his breath, ragged, escaping through his teeth.

‘Let me take care of you, baby,’ you whispered to him, right above his ear, mimicking what he had said to you on the coffee table, what had made you instantly wet and aching. You gazed down his body at the way his cock jumped. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

You let your fingers dig in a little to his scalp, a quiet little moan escaping him, the covering over his eyes giving him a sense of privacy as you unravelled him. You wanted to lean down and suck his bottom lip into yours, wanted to climb on top of him and sink your pussy onto his Roman nose. Wanted to come on his face and his fingers, wanted him to splash his come onto your chest.

‘This body that protects us,’ you whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead, on his cheek beneath the towel. Putting his head back down and moving to massage his left arm, lifting it by the wrist and rubbing your hands over his bicep and onto his chest. He glistened, the oil mixing with his sweat under the overhead light, and you couldn’t stop yourself, then, couldn’t help but to bend and place a kiss on his clavicle, licking up to nip at his neck. You felt him shiver, a soft whimper escaping with his breath. You moved your hand from his wrist to his palm, held his hand with yours.

‘This body that serves us all so well,’ you said. ‘Let me take care of this body.’

He gasped when you kissed his belly button, licking and nipping down his happy trail to where his cock was now straining hard against the towel. You pushed it away, taking his cock out of his underwear and pulling them down on his hips, so that you got your first proper look at him.

As you expected he was thick, the veins on the underside pulsing, straining against his want for you. The head was so red it was almost purple, and you wondered how long it had been since a woman touched him like this, since he’d been touched at all. His hand grasped yours, the other fisting the towel underneath him.

When you slipped him into your mouth, inviting him into you, he groaned, grunted obscenities flowing from him. His cock was hot on your tongue, salty as he dripped pre-come into your throat. You kept your eyes on his face, his still covered, as his stomach rippled and his body tremored underneath you. With your other hand you steadied him, reaching up and holding the shaft while you bobbed, sucking hard on the head. You took a second to breathe, leaving little kitten licks on his frenulum, feeling his free hand let go of the towel and grip you by the hair.

‘Fuck, baby’ he grunted, his hips thrusting, pumping up into the air.

‘So strong, Joel,’ you said, before reattaching your mouth to him. He threw his head back, and you considered the irony of him breaking the brand-new table he’d built just for you by coming so hard he splintered the wood beneath him. His body was quaking, his hips bucking up into your wet, warm mouth and it was everything you had dared imagine it would be, right down to his gasping encouragement, down to his needy little whimpers that turned into moans of outright pleasure, of the feeling hot and electric right down to his toes.

‘Jesus, you’re gonna make me…’ he gasped, and you looked up at him, the towel having fallen from his eyes and him staring down at you between his legs, his hand on the back of your neck gentle and guiding, supporting the muscles as you worked him. You kept your eyes on his and your mouth on his cock as he shook, hips rolling, rutting against your pumping hand.

You slipped him from your mouth. ‘Just let go, baby. I got you,’ you said, covering him again as he did just that, shooting ropes of hot salt and desire across your tongue, holding your hand, groaning at the relief of it, at the release, and in that moment you had him, in that moment he was yours, gasping for breath and so soft and languid, looking down his body at you in awe and in wanting, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat.

Taglist:

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[tippenfunkaport]

"She-Ra is bad bisexual rep because all the bi/pan characters end up in m/f relationships!"

Not true! Perfuma is bi/pan and she ends up with Scorpia!

"Oh, well I like to headcanon Perfuma as a lesbian."

...so then you understand that's not the show's fault, right? That that's just a problem you made up in your head?

-

Excuse me a second, I need to scream about this...

Because this has come up over and over (esp on Twitter and TikTok) with people who want to claim that every bi/pan SPOP character ends up in a m/f relationship... by conveniently pretending Perfuma is not canonically bi/pan herself. And every time they are asked to elaborate why they are ignoring her canon status, they give the same answer: that they consider Perfuma a lesbian because now that she's with a woman, she's "not bi anymore"

And... yeah... you know that's not how it works, right? That being bi/pan is not just a phase you get over? That a bi/pan woman dating another woman doesn't suddenly make her a lesbian any more than it makes a bi/pan person dating someone of the opposite gender magically straight?

The person you are currently dating does not change your bi/pan status. Ever. And insisting it does, especially just so you can score some points by making up an issue about a show to be mad about, is super GD harm harmful to the real bi/pan people in your life.

(This is the exact same thing The Owl House fandom does with Lumity and why Dana had to make Luz present a whole slideshow in the cartoon reminding everyone she is still very much bi even though Amity is a lesbian. TOH fans kept insisting because Luz is dating Amity now, she's a lesbian. Nope. Her and Amity can be married for a billion years and that wouldn't change Luz's orientation.)

"But I heard that someone's roommate's cousin who worked with someone on the show once liked a fanart that showed Scorfuma with the lesbian flag so it's basically canon!"

First of all, the legend of this grows daily and I think it's really telling that this archival obsessed fandom only talks about this mythical like and yet has never been able to produce a single screenshot of it.

But for the sake of argument, let's say that this really happened and actually exists, that someone related to the show, however distantly, liked fanart once that implied Perfuma was a lesbian somehow. That still doesn't make it canon. People related to the show and even ND himself have liked and reblogged all sorts of stuff that isn't canon, including g/a, and have been very clear that the only canon is what happens within the show itself.

And, in the show, Perfuma is canonically bi/pan. We see her crushing on Bow, She-Ra, Huntara and Scorpia. The fact that people want to pretend the Bow thing never happened when he's the only character we see her actually date over the run of the show AND it's a major Season 1 plot point is wild to me and just shows the lengths people will go for bi/pan erasure.

And I get that some people enjoy using Perfuma to tell a story about comphet or coming out as a lesbian later in life and I am fully in favor of doing your thing with your headcanons in fanworks. But when it reaches the point it has now where fans are attacking other fans for saying Perfuma is bi/pan or attacking the show for not having any bi/pan character in same sex relationships when Perfuma is CANONICALLY bi/pan is ridiculous. 

Keep in mind that your headcanon is literally just something you made up in your head. It's pretend. Fun, yes, but NOT something you can use as justification to attack people over!

Especially when it's something like this that causes real world harm by perpetuating harmful stereotypes about bi/pan people being "just a phase" or a temporary state that changes based on who you date.

[adorabluesposts]

Hi!!

I loved your Lucifer x death story and I was wondering if you’d write a Lucifer x Reader but they are Alastors daughter who he kept sheltered? Like they are innocent and such but they were hellborn so they can’t leave. I feel like Lucifer would definitely pine over somebody so maybe him trying to get her to realize he likes her while Alastor keeps him away?

Tysm for being my first request<3 love this idea!!

This is realllyyyy long because I had to give in a lot of context before getting to the point. Might turn this into a series just because this is too fricking long 😭

Lucifer X Alastor's daughter.

"You dare to touch my daughter?"

For the longest time, you were locked away.

Locked away by Alastor, a man who raised you with a certain paranoia, keeping a happy mask on as he taught you manners in his Radio Tower, never letting you leave.

Alastor had raised you in seclusion, shielding you from the brutality of Hell’s politics and power struggles. You knew nothing of the outside world, your knowledge confined to the ancient tomes in the tower's private library. You pretty much devoured tales of angels and demons, of forbidden love and cosmic battles. But your favorite stories were those of your father—the radio demon who had once terrorized the living world, because it amazed you; Your father was never like that with you.

Even aunt Rosie would often tell of shenanigans Alastor did, which surprised you at first. You were truly in denial, of how your father could do such things. You got used to it, even coming at peace with knowing you'll probably never be like him.

There wasn't much interaction that you did- only talking to your father and his shadows, Rosie (who was very much your favourite person in the world) and some of the Overlord's, every now and then.

It was mostly you, all alone in the tower. All alone. Lonely. Bored. All alone. Bored. For decades. Eons. You lost count, seriously.

--

"Dad." You munched down your pancake, Alastor looking up from the mirror hung on the wall , even though he was supposed to fix his tie. "We need to talk."

"Could this wait, deer?" He replied, turning back to the mirror. "I'm late to my job."

Ah, yes, his job. The job you never asked about, because every time you wanted to, he'd shoot you a glare.

"No, I can't wait." You said, getting up from your seat and walking over to him, fixing his tie. "Dad, this is important. My birthday's soon.. and I'm positive I'm old enough to go outside. I've read so much about Hell that I know enough about it. I've even made a slideshow if you don't believe me!"

Alastor looked at you with an angrier expression. "My deer, we talked about this-"

"You can't keep me here anymore. You're not keeping me safe, you're ruining me."

Alastor sighed deeply.

"it's not fair, dad."

"it really isn't." He agreed.

Reluctantly, and with a lot of talking, you got him to agree. As long as you stayed by his side for a while, you'd be able to go out. You needed to sign a contract, though (father's orders), to swear that you'd try to stay safe.

"But how will I stay by your side if I can't accompany you to work? What is your job, anyway? Considering you're not working for the radio anymore." You asked, and he stayed silent for a few minutes. It was clear this was a big step, and he wasn't so happy about letting his little dove grow up.

"I work at a hotel." He sighed. "Do your research, darling. I'll tell my coworkers you'll be paying a visit."

"paying a visit? Does that mean I get to go there alone?" You eagerly asked.

"Oh, nonononono, I'm picking you up."

--

"You've got a WHAT?" The energetic voice of the blonde asked, jumping up and down.

"who knew smiles had it in him-" Angel earned a 'be quiet' glare.

"They'll be visiting today.. just don't get weird." Alastor's static buzzed lpudly. "I've been keeping them safe for as long as they lived. Their poor mind doesn't know how this all works."

"so they're a good person?" Vaggie asked, accompanied by Charlie's: "Does that mean we can get them redeemed?"

"Hahaha!" Alastor laughed. "They're a hellborn. And never in my mind mind would I let them leave my side and go to Heaven, even if they weren't."

"Did you know about this?" Husk's clearly too-sober voice asked Nifty, to which the girl just shook her head.

--

You nervously fidgeted with your hands as you awaited your dad's arrival. You were dressed nicely, wanting to make a good impression. What if your dad's friends were mean? Cruel? Evil? What if they didn't like you?

~

"Some of them are a bit odd." Alastor buzzed, his hand on the doorknob of the hotel. "You'll get used to it, deer."

You breathed in and out, calming your nerves as you walked in. "Woah, this place's not so b-"

"Hii, I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" A girl eagerly ran up to you, shaking your hand with excitement. "I was soo excited to meet you! You need to see the others! I need to make a tour!"

You were pretty confused and feeling many feelings about the first interaction, but thought Charlie would be a fun person to befriend anyway.

"Hi, I'm Vaggie." A girl next to her said, softly taking Charlie's hand from yours, which you silently thanked her for. "I'm Charlie's girlfriend."

You smiled. "Nice to meet you both."

"That's Husk, he owns the bar." Vaggie said with a calm voice, pointing to the creature who grunted at you.

"that's Nifty, she cleans." Vaggie continued, her girlfriend jumping up and down in excitement next to her.

"And that's Angel Dust, our first resident. Sir Pentious was our second resident." Vaggie said, her voice followed by the 'Heya toots' the spider said.

--

"Will you be staying? We'd love to have you. You're so nice I love you already!" Charlie said, after a successful tour. You lost your dad long ago, seeming as if he's gone to do his own business (you pretended to ignore how his shadow replaced yours in the meantime).

"It wouldn't be too bad." You said. "I could get a bit of a break from my dad for once."

"Uhh, speaking of dads." Angel poked his head in the room. "Charlie, your dad's at the door."

Charlie nervously looked at Angel. "Oh, that's great.. what does he want?"

"He said he wanted to revisit without Alastor, since word is he's out of town."

"my dad's out of town? Great!" You silently mumbled.

"Oh, well, I guess it's time you meet my dad, aha." Charlie told you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Who is your dad?"

A short figure walked into the room, eagerly hugging Charlie. He looked so much like her, ignoring the height difference.

"Oh my." You whispered, recognising the face from the books. "Your dad's-"

"Oh, hello." The man smiled at you, looking you up and down, "I'm Lucifer, The-"

"King of Hell, yeah, I know. Oh my Satan."

An awkward pause followed. Silence. More silence. Him looking you up and then down again, making you fix your posture.

"Well, ha! Dad, why don't I show you some new things we added to the living room?" Charlie practically dragged Lucifer out.

--

Your mind instantly lingered on the king for the next few days. It was no surprise why he was the most beautiful man in the world, truly gorge- snap out of it.

"Deer, I've been talking to you!" Alastor set his cup down. "Why aren't you listening?"

"Oh, sorry. I was zoned out." You excused, and his static buzzed louder.

"Strange. You're never like this." He sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you out."

His serene smile practically stared at you.

"No, dad, I mean-" You laughed nervously. "I just really miss the hotel, dad. It's really nice."

Excuses. More and more excuses every time you zoned out. Every day. And then he'd take you with him to the hotel, and you'd silently pray that Lucifer would be there. He never was.

--

"A party?" You questioned Charlie. Apparently, the princess wanted to throw a party to spread awareness and information about the Hazbin Hotel- people would come and have fun, Charlie and the crew would explain the deed, and we'd get more visitors.

If you ask me, Charlie's got the IQ.

"And you think I should come?" She nodded as an answer.

Your dad stood next to you, a protective aura lingering over his body. "I think it's a lovely idea, Charlie!" His static buzzed.

You looked at him, eyes widened. "You do?"

"we'll surely attend, Y/N." He smiled. "Would be good for you."

You shuddered. This was so unlike him.

"I don't have what to-"

"I'll help with that!"

"I don't know how to dance, either. And I'm socially awkward-"

"You'll be fine, come on!"

--

You looked at your clothes nervously. You looked good, better than ever, but what would others think? According to Charlie, a bunch of royalty would come (including Lucifer, the Ars Goetia.. Lucifer!!)

And all you could whisper out was fuck, because you were so nervous.

Charlie knocked at your door (technically her door, as you got ready in her room- the party started hours ago. It was the anxiety that made you stay), and practically begged for you to finally go.

You and her linked arms, to which you entered the main lounge area, where you saw people. So many people. And your anxiety rose.

You gave your best smile as she introduced you to a few people, such as Stolas of Ars Goetia (who you thought was very polite and nice, even through his sad smile), and a few of the Sins. Beelzebub was someone else you met, who instantly brought a grin and laugh to your face.

It was all gone when you caught Lucifer's gaze, and you both walked towards eachother. It was the second interaction you two would have- a chance to make a better impression.

"Oh, wow, you look dashing tonight." He said as he bowed to you.

That's right, he bowed. You internally screamed.

"You look quite wonderful, too." You said, and he rose up with a smile. He took your hand, your fingers brushing softly with eachother as he kissed it.

The music went silent, overshadowed by loud static. Everyone looked around confused as the room glowed red, and your father appeared behind Lucifer.

"You dare touch my daughter?" He growled. You could feel his anger and protectiveness in your gut. You sent him a reassuring smile and glance, to which he stopped towering over Lucifer, the music blasting again.

Everything back to normal.

Lucifer and Alastor exchanged a glare of pure hatred.

Shit, was Lucifer messing with you just to fuck with your dad? It was working, then. Alastor was beyond furious.

You looked into Lucifer's eyes and couldn't help but smile. It was like a spell. You were frightened, that you'd fall in love now, even though he was quite literally using you to get under your father's skin..

To be continued..

Okay that's it folks. This took a lot to upload but I've started the next part and ahhh I love itt. This is a bit rushed but I hope you like it so far :)).

[milesmoralesdotcom]

SHE FELL FIRST, HE FELL HARDER — MILES MORALES (1610) — PART I

miles morales x fem!reader

——————————-

(your pov - @ school)

i walked into my first day of sophomore year, shoving my backpack into my locker because my school decided we shouldn’t be able to carry backpacks in the hall.

(btw in this story miles goes to public school)

although i was very afraid of sophomore year, i was excited for a fresh start, maybe i can try to get back on my feet again. (i’m cooked)

my first hour was cooking class, across the fucking building from my damn locker.

i grabbed my cromebook, folders, and a weird planner thing that was mandatory for my core classes and way too expensive.

i passed popular boys, making my feet quicken, and then i accidentally bumped into this guy, i only saw his shoes, they were red and white jordan’s , they were really cute, but i was in a hurry.

i mumbled a sorry and kept walking, he didn’t even turn around though.

i passed the seniors, which also made me wanna puke.

then i finally found the cooking class, right next to the exit.

i walked in, after the bell, since, again, it was across the FUCKING SCHOOL.

anyway.

my eyes scanned for a seat, the only one being in the very back. yay.

i was pretty quiet, except for around my friends, but i didn’t have any friends in this class.

there was a cute boy, but he had a girlfriend and was very annoying.

there were a few other people i know, most of them were annoying though.

and some people i didn’t know, but none of them were very special.

other than that the teacher was just talking about a slideshow that was mandatory for the school to show.

the classroom had three kitchens in it, they looked kinda old, but they were cute.

and before i knew it four classes had passed and it was lunch time!!

i sat down with my normal lunch friend group, about six people, but the girl i knew best at the table was abby, friends since sixth grade.

they were all laughing while i was zoning out, scanning the lunch room for familiar and unfamiliar faces.

my eyes locked on a very, very handsome boy.

he had chocolate brown skin, big brown eyes, an afro-fade, and he was pretty tall.

and god he was handsome of my god.

i hope i have classes with him, i wonder what classes he takes.

probably weightlifting with those arms

OK BUD.

anyway..

he’s so fucking gorgeous oh my god.

there’s no way he would like me, but..oh god i hope he does

i’m not ugly, right??

no, but not pretty enough for him.

he’s so pretty, god i want him so bad

he was talking with his friend, i knew his friend, he was in my calculus class, i fucking hate that class, but that’s just because i hate math.

he was laughing, he looks so cute while he’s laughing, i wish i was making him laugh.

“throw your trash away, one minute left!!” the lunch monitor yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts.

——————————-

i walked into my last hour, AP studio art, my only AP class.

i looked around, only a few people in here, i hope that one boy is in here, this is my last chance to have a class with him.

“y/n!!” a familiar voice behind her called out, sage, another sixth grade friend.

“hey sage!” she smiled and hugged him.

“how have you been??” he sits down, next to his other friend Gianna, who i sat in front of, we were also friends.

“good, i think i have a crush.” i hid my face.

“already? what’s his name? or she.” he looked at me with a shocked face.

“uhh..about that..” my eyes locked behind gianna, the boy from lunch!! holy shit!!!

——————————-

AUTHORS NOTE

hiii! idk if this is good or not but hopefully it is idk 🧏‍♀️

this is a series btw obviously erm

oh and FREE PALESTINE

anyway bye bye

taglist

@allybuginarug

(if u wanna be added js ask)



[dizzyizzygroovin]

Satosugu makes me violently ill

I can and will go on and on about them I even made a google slideshow about them, most of the key points I mention are also from stuff I saw on tiktok so I don’t know exactly who to source

Same initials

Gege Akutami - “The names Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were made to complement each other as partners. A natural born genius and a genius through effort - one cannot coexist without the other. They are counterparts.”

Betta fish

“Two male betta fish (Siamese Fighting Fish) can’t be kept in the same fish tank because they would kill each other. In the wild, one always swims away. Geto was the one who swam away from Gojo, from jujutsu tech, from his old way of thinking. When he and Gojo did reunite again it ended up with his death at Gojo’s hands.

Geto’s fish is also black. Betta fish turn black due to stress and poor environment, which explains how distressed and thinner the black betta fish’s fins are compared to the white one, foreshadowing how Geto became more and more disillusioned with the Jujutsu world.

Geto closes his eyes instead of following the white betta fish which has the same eyes as Gojo, symbolizing that he’s convinced that Gojo wouldn’t understand his purpose while Gojo’s eyes follow the black fish, closely implying how even though Gojo wouldn’t follow Geto’s ideals, he would still follow his one and only friend. The fish act as a parallel for both Gojo and Geto’s character and also as a representation of yin and yang with white symbolizing Gojo and black symbolizing Geto.”

This

- Geto helps a young woman exorcising the curse, that has been terrorizing her. He calls her mother “Sato”, even though the older woman corrects him (her name is actually “Saito”), but Geto dismisses her, insisting on his variant and saying that “Sato is better”.

- Gojo calling out Geto’s name causes Geto’s hand to strangle Kenjaku.

“Suguru’s body fought back against Kenjaku, not because he was alive, but because protecting Satoru was like muscle memory.”

- The Imposter in Geto’s body chides Gojo for letting his mind “wander during a fight”. The sorcerer asks him about his real identity, but Geto’s imposter insists on being Suguru, mockingly accusing Satoru of having forgotten him. Gojo is not convinced: even though his Six Eyes tell him that the body and the cursed energy of the person in front of him must belong to no other person but Suguru, he does not believe his perception, it cannot be him, as Gojo’s soul knows it to be untrue.

“My six eyes tell me you are Suguru Geto, But my heart and soul know otherwise.”

[cor-lapis-candy]

@venusandsaturnsrings the fucken fantastic writer they are turned a spew of my words into wonderful filth and I wanna return the favour with something in return.

So here we have more nasty obsessed childe and his very not slimy lust for you!

I had this written for so long and just needed the push to give it to someone as a character and they deserve more Childe filth.

Minors DNI or I will block you.

If anyone was to look into his camera roll they would see the normal things, screenshots from his work, saved memes, and other random photos of various things, but one gallery was for him and him alone locked and kept behind a password that was several letters and numbers that would mean nothing to anyone but him. That gallery was his digital shrine to you and your form, every picture was taken either as a joke or when you hadn't been paying attention, a few even darker in how they show you vulnerable and sweet but those are for his eyes only.

But here and now in the dark of his room, PC abandoned as some stream plays in the background, phone in hand and pants just barely pulled down, there would be nothing stopping him from enjoying the pictures he had of you to the fullest. Letting the gallery play like a slideshow of your face and body, pausing on certain pictures where he can see more than just small slivers of skin, eyes glued to the beach photos he had managed to nab from your socials.

The sight of you drenched and smiling so widely at the camera had him spiralling, though blooming of how you would look fully naked in his shower, hair pushed back working his soap into your skin, laughing when you catch him staring, reaching out to him and pulling him into the water with you uncaring of how his clothes would get drenched.

The idea of you being in his home, bare, fluttering your eyes at him and letting him touch you as the water cascaded down your back had his cock throbbing in his hand, drops of white dribbling past his still-moving hand and covering his phone screen is the cum that his mind was still painting your form in, still filling his head and making his shoulders and highs shake as his hand keeps going, keeps flicking his wrist and wrings another orgasm from him.

When the pleasure turns to pain does he stop, hand falling away as his cock finally softens, sensitive and oh so spent, flopping back wards onto his chair, cringing at the mess he had made of his phone, white spots of cum coating the screen, edges and the desk around it, a true mess if he had ever made one.

But the sight gives him one last idea, making him whine as a tightness in his gut stirs, sure it may have only been a picture of you now coated in his cum but his mind whispers about what it would look like if it was actually your face or better yet the mess he could have made between your legs.

The nickname childe has for you flashes under the mess of his cum from your number and his cock is half hard again, now all he had to do was clean up this round of cum and answer you, hopefully, you were wanting him to come out to see you…

[peachpassionfruit]

entombed.

🏹 scaramouche x reader drabble

“it was said that the electro archon discarded him due to him crying upon his creation. he wasn’t worthy of housing a gnosis if he didn’t possess divine strength. if a god in the making dared to let tears fall from his eyes once again, was he worthy of this ascension?”

not proofread / written at 4am after i recently finished the sumeru story quest / so basically character and lore study / about when scara is “becoming” a god / previous situationship (?) / kind of suggestive but not explicit / angst ig / enjoy <3

you’d heard from him last before he fled inazuma with the electro archon’s gnosis. though the lack of goodbye pained you, you had since come to terms with the idea that it would be the last you’d see of him. that was, until you heard sumeru’s akademiya, in association with the fatui, was building a god.

your blood ran strikingly cold at the mention of it. the great balladeer was attempting to leave behind his past of being a discarded puppet and acquire the godly power that had once been his birthright. what his own mother had robbed him of; what he, in turn, took from her. you knew this about him, as before this sickening bitterness began to run through his veins and infiltrate his mind, he was the kunikuzushi you collected sakura petals and ate lavender melon with.

everything you had shared didn’t matter now. he was a traitor. the lasting impressions his kisses had left on your neck, trailing down to your collarbone; the ghost-like remnants of his fingertips brushing against your skin. the stories he whispered into your ears while resting his hands on the hilt of your hips, as if that slope was made for him to hold you. you missed scaramouche.

in these dry deserts and lush rainforests of sumeru, your dreams were not your own. the desires of your underlying subconscious weren’t something that could be indulged in during the comfort of the night; there was no longer solace to be found in the want of your imagination. it was taken from you; your mind leeched off of and stolen from in order to feed an undying desire for all the knowledge in the world. only to place it in the palm of his undeserving hands.

you had believed in him, once. you understood his pain. one that took root in the lightning bolts that came down in his past, in the strings that had long since been cut and allowed him to roam these lands himself. though you didn’t know what he saw in this time, you knew the hurt balladeer that came to you to seek out his own comfort; his own solace. and here he was, greedily taking that refuge from others.

this dream had been taken from you. one you woke up from with hot tears blooming in your eyes, staining your face, and you did not even know why you had been crying. somewhere else, deep in the akademiya, in a tangled mess of pulsating wires and mechanical whirring, that boy took in sumeru’s knowledge as if it was the very oxygen he breathed. and in that, he saw you.

he saw the dream your mind had harbored that night. they were flashes of white-hot feelings and energy, a flickering slideshow of memories that had since passed. moonlight illuminating a bare window, filling the shared bed with light. the feeling of goosebumps being raised wherever he trailed his hands over your skin, muscles flexing underneath his touch. he had shown you not just the stars, but the universe.

it was something sacred, of sorts. something sealed off and to be kept only by you two. they were unspoken promises shared by his lips pressing to yours, as if your lives coexisted in a mutualistic frenzy. every hushed whisper, every gasping breath, they were only yours to share. because, at your very core, you were his, and you were always searching for a way back to the home you dearly missed.

he couldn’t help but to share your consciousness. as your fingers delicately brushed over your burning skin, still shaken from your rude awakening, you saw the familiar purple glow as if it was right in front of you. you figured it was a hallucination; your mind was thinking up what you wanted to see so desperately. he only stared at you, and you were unsure what to make of the ghost-like figure lingering in front of you. and so you rested your head on your pillow and went back to sleep.

it was said that the electro archon discarded him due to him crying upon his creation. he wasn’t worthy of housing a gnosis if he didn’t possess divine strength. if a god in the making dared to let tears fall from his eyes once again, was he worthy of this ascension?

this was a life he had long since left behind now, accompanied by titles he had since relinquished. you were a thing of the distant past to him, and the electricity that existed between you had ceased. at once, it began to pour outside, lightning bolts raining down in harsh snaps, thunder rumbling through the earth as if the tectonic plates were shifting.

was this the raiden’s doing? or…

<3 M

[snakxreader]

hi ... so like .. im the only snorpy selfshipper afaik qnd i require food so .... can you maybe if you want to write a snorpy x reader scenario where he gets to infodump about conspiracies and all that jazz on a date while the reader (me) lovingly listens to him if you dont mind ,,, tysm hehe !!

A/N: SNORPY KISSER SO REAL. I don’t self-ship with him, but I do wanna be his friend and I have a bit of a crush on him. I forgot to do conspiracies and made it some show with a plot I came up with though…sorry ^^’

Snorpy x Reader (Infodumping)

You knocked quietly, hoping you wouldn’t disturb him while he was getting ready or startle him. “Snorpy? Hun? Ready to go?”

“In a moment, dearest!” Came the muffled reply, as the sound of scattering pencils and sheets from papers most likely knocked over in his haste. You can’t help but snort at your boyfriend’s antics, waiting semi-impatiently. You don’t have to wait for much longer thankfully, as he stumbles out of the room a few minutes later. He stands in front of you, giddy and nervous at the same time. “I hope I look presentable..?” He asks.

He looks adorable, handsome as well. His usual apron and cap were removed, with his locs being put into a nice little ponytail. His apron was removed in place of a red knitted sweater, from a close friend, and navy overalls, rolled up at the ends. And while you would normally tell him as much, his bashful, hopeful grin is too much for you not to kiss him. You gently cup his cheeks, and press your lips against his forehead, nose and lips in rapid succession.

“D-Darling!” He cries out, surprised glee in his voice.

“You look amazing as always, Snorpington.” And you mean it. You hold out your hand, and he takes it as you walk out the apartment you two share.

“So, where are we heading, anyways?” He asked. You’ve kept the location of your date incredibly secret so far, and you planned to keep it that way.

“Nowhere crowded, I promise~”

“That’s incredibly vague…”

You simply shrug, him snorting at your smirk. You both head inside the car, shift it into gear, and reverse out your apartment grounds. It’s not a far drive, just a couple turns and a few miles until your car reaches a deep forested area.

“Love?” Snorpy inquires, glancing around at what he presumes is an empty space. “I don’t understand why you’ve…” He turns out and you visibly see his breath get taken away. His pupils dilate. The little things you love about him when he’s flustered. “Oh.”

You hold a small bundle of blankets, as well as a picnic basket, kissing Snorpy before heading in front of him. “C’mon, this way!”

He follows after your brisk steps, nearly tripping over a tree root or two until you two make it to a cliff. You’ve chosen the perfect time, the sun setting as evening comes, it’s orange hue providing a perfect view on top of the large ledge you’ve chosen.

Snorpy sputters as you rest down the blankets. “H-how did you even find-?”

“Me and Chandlo found it after a hike in the woods, I thought it’d be a cute date spot.” You spread out your picnic, admittedly full of his favorite sweets as it has actual food in it. “Sit down!” You say, taking a seat on the blanket. Snorpy drapes himself across your lap.

“Mmmm…it is quite nice outside. Thank you, dear. I did need a bit more fresh air.” Snorpy hums.

“No problem. But hey, now that we got some time to ourselves, you wanna tell me about the theories for that new show you got into?” His eyes light up, and he rushes to unlock his phone. You’re so used to seeing it when he talks about his charts or Grump Peaks, it's cute seeing it for something else.

“Oh where do I even begin?! It’s just- The mystery is so gripping and the threads are connected and -ok, ok, the main character, I think personally she's the one that betrayed the crew because if you look at the beginining of the show-” Snorpy rambles uncontrollaby, pulling out a slideshow he had made on his phone for you to scroll through. The bright radiant joy from your normally so quiet boyfriend is something you cherish and care for.

“And then, it’s Grump Peaks right, where, uh, where…” His fingers snap. “Right! The-the-“ Snorpy flapped his hands squealing, before returning to his infodumping. You listen to him patiently, stroking his locs all the while.

“So, you’re saying this cyborg lady is actually the mother of…Jaxon?” You ask.

“Yes! Exactly!” Snorpy nods. He stammers for a second, before taking a breath and looking at you grateful. “Um…t-thank you. Y’know for listening to me.”

“Of course. I could listen to you ramble all day, especially when you look so happy, honey.” You giggle, smooching his nose. “Now go on, I wanna hear more!” The floodgates for theories open once more, as Snorpy stims with his hands, infodumping his heart out. His smile is infectious, and his eyes still gleam.

Yeah. You could listen to him ramble all day.

[ryanmarshallryan]

How to tell your boyfriend you like vore

————————

So I told my boyfriend that I had an unusual kink, but hadn’t explained it in detail to him yet. I was trying to think of the best way to explain it, so I started writing this story as a potential way to introduce him to it, but ended up making a funny slideshow fit with jokes and memes about it instead… But then he decided to break up with me for unrelated reasons before I could share either the story or slideshow with him… I’m missing him today and decided to finish up this story and share it. I still meant what I said, even if it just ended up being a moment that won’t happen with him again.

————————

Jason and I had been going out with each other for more than a few months. What had started with an innocent attraction became a regular engagement, with daily chatting online, weekly visits watching movies, eating lots, and cuddling just as much.

I wasn't looking for a committed relationship. The idea of it sounded nice, but based on my previous experiences with men I struggled to believe that a healthy relationship would be viable. But here I was, spending time with a man who wanted me, not only respecting my boundaries but being proactive about them. He never pushed me to do anything I wasn't ready to, or didn't want to do, and always made sure I was comfortable. When I had anxiety he was there to listen when I wanted to talk about it, and patiently waited as I worked through it. He bought me a dozen florist roses simply because "I thought you’d enjoy them," and kept my favorite ice cream, snacks and drinks stocked for whenever I came over. He didn't expect anything of me, but simply cared.

"My friends asked where you were on Saturday," I began telling him as we cuddled, "they expected that I would invite you to their party. I didn't even think to, because I've never really had someone to invite to parties and events. I'm used to being independent, I guess."

"That's all right. As long as you had fun," he replied.

"I did, but I do hope you'll come along to the next one! I'm sorry I didn't think to ask before."

"I'd love to go next time." Jason smiled at me, running his hands through my hair with his left hand and running his thumb along my chest with his other.

"I know we’ve been getting a lot closer, so I want to make sure I am fully open with you. You know I'm pretty vanilla of course, but there is one kink I have that is kind of weird I haven't talked about yet."

"Oh?"

"I'm not sure of the best words to describe it yet. It's pretty easy to misunderstand what it is."

"I won't judge you for it."

"I know you won't, but I still want to explain it well…” I began, “Obviously I love cuddles - "

"Of course"

"And I get turned on when we make out and you pretend to eat my face - "

"What can I say, you have a very eat-able face.”

"And naturally I am a fan of dad bods - "

"My diet of only carbs really comes in handy with that one."

"--- and we share a great love of food."

"Every time we've gotten together that seems to be a major focus of our bonding."

"Well if you put that all together… I get really turned on by a kink that's all about me being very close with a bigger guy who loves to eat food…”

“That just sounds like a normal day”

“Have you heard of vore before?"

"No, what is that?"

"It's the fantasy of being swallowed whole by another guy, or swallowing another guy whole… I'm more the first one though. I just find arousing the idea of someone I care about eating me.”

Jason considered me for a moment, "But it's just a fantasy? It’s not cannibalism?"

"Oh no, though I have had actual cannibals flirt with me, but they are creepy as f***. No, just the fantasy of being swallowed whole is hot to me. I think because it's so vulnerable to be that close with someone; you are literally inside them. I think my brain must have hinged on that intense trust and closeness, and mixed it up with eating food and I developed an interest in vore.”

"This doesn't change how I feel about you," he said, hearing the anxiety in my voice.

"- and it never has to play a part in our relationship. I obviously find you incredibly attractive and love everything we've been doing even if it’s not vore related. I just wanted to let you know since I like to chat with other friends who have the same kink sometimes. It's nice to have other friends who experience the same thing since it can feel crazy at times and I like to feel grounded.”

Jason’s eyes unfocused in thought as he replied, “How would we even put it into a relationship?”

“Oh - well, little jokes about me being good enough to eat, - or maybe food play - eating food off each other maybe, but we don't have to.”

“No, that could be fun”

“Really?”

‘Yeah. I may not be as into it as you, but if it makes you happy I'd be happy to try it. And I do in fact love food whether I eat it off you or not. Hey, it'd give me an excuse to have some dessert. Maybe I'll start with your face,” he said, pulling me in and passionately making out with me. His hands ran up and down my back, and his lips explored my neck and face, lingering on my lips for some time.

“You know what, let's try it,” he pulled back to say.

“Try what?” I asked, getting so caught up in the passion of the moment I forgot what we’d been talking about.

“I've got some Ben and Jerrys in the freezer and some chocolate syrup too. Maybe I'll make a little sundae on you.”

A short while later, following some refrigerator-light kisses, there we were in his bed, on a towel laid out for any melted ice cream mess. He pushed me down, spooned some ice cream onto my belly and chest and began to lick it off slowly. He worked his way up my body, enjoying playing with my nipples, eating the ice cream off of them. After the ice cream was all gone, his lips found mine again and we continued to make out, him crushing me under his weight.

He paused for a moment to nuzzle up to my neck and just lie there for a moment. I slowly kissed his neck and rubbed his back and body. We enjoyed just being with each other. And then he broke the silence.

“Alright then, time for the main course,” he said, climbing off of me and standing on the end of the bed. He picked up my legs and looked me up and down for a moment. He smiled and took a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“This - “ he replied shortly. He proceeded to shove my feet into his mouth and swallow hard. He leaned forward and pulled my legs down his throat with unexpected speed. I barely had time to register what was happening when his mouth was already past my crotch. My entire lower body was completely engulfed in his mouth and I could feel the still cool ice cream tickling my feet in his stomach. I had no words, as I was in shock; so horny I don’t think I could have made coherent communication.

He made eye contact for a moment and his eyebrows gave me a look as if to ask for permission to continue. I moaned “Oh my god, you’re so hot - “ and he put his hands under my back and began swallowing my torso. He used his thumbs to rub my nipples momentarily, causing me to tense and shiver in sensual elation. My wriggling body slid further into his throat, feeling his warm body encase me in saliva. I knew his lips so well, but I was experiencing them in a whole new way. I took a deep breath and for the first time, I saw his smile from the other side.

In moments I was completely encased in his stomach and I heard him moaning in delight. There was a large jostling feeling and I knew he had flopped onto the bed.

“Wow, that felt great but took a lot of energy,” he said.

I couldn’t tell if my shivering was due to being hornier than I have ever been in my life, or if his clammy stomach walls were simply jostling me around so much.

“How are you feeling in there? Was it everything you hoped for?” He asked.

After a moment of heavy breathing I replied, “This is the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

“That felt so good, but I’m so sleepy now…” he said, with heaving breaths in between.

I felt around his belly and curled into a ball to cuddle up to him. The ice cream had mixed with the hot stomach acid and tingled my skin.

“That feels good… so good. Hey, how do I get you out later?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think this was actually possible enough to think that far.”

“ - we’ll figure it out later, then,” he said, moving about to get comfortable on the bed.

Stomach acid sloshed around as his belly gurgled. I shut my eyes to avoid the juices stinging them. At the same moment I shut my eyes he gave a great belch and the air around me vanished. His stomach muscles closed in on me and began squeezing more tightly. His belly rumbled ever more fiercely.

I tried to say something, to ask him to swallow more air, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Then I heard snoring. I could feel it too. As if the snoring was happening on top of me. I was torn between enjoying this vore experience, and realizing the scary fact that I was about to be digested by my sleeping boyfriend.

(transition)

I took a deep breath. "Wait a moment, that can't be right…" I thought. How was I freely breathing air? I opened my eyes.

I was staring at Jason's stomach, but not the inside. I wasn't being digested, but must have been asleep in bed with him, his arms tightly embracing me. My face was a little crushed up against his chest as he reflexively hugged me tighter in his sleep.

I must have dreamt up the whole thing. The loud stomach rumbles were actually his methodic snores, or perhaps actual stomach rumbles, but just from the other side. Being squeezed down his throat must have been when he began to hold me tighter, the kneading stomach muscles simply his belly and chest pushing against me as he breathed.

I tried to unpin my arms from my sides to embrace Jason back but couldn't get my arm between his torso and the bed. The sensation must have caused him to stir slightly.

"Huh?" he began, eyes still shut. His arms relaxed a bit and I was able to get into a more comfortable position. I rolled around a bit to be a little spoon, and wrapped my hands around his. He seemed to gain a bit more consciousness and gave the back of my neck a tender kiss before returning to his usual snoring.

It felt nice to be in his arms. It didn't matter whether or not vore was real. What made vore arousing to me was something I had, that was genuine. To be so close with someone I trusted and cared for. To feel wanted by someone, to feel safe with them, to be happy for being a part of their lives, and to have them feel the same… and to be cuddled up with a cute belly, of course…

[stationintern]

Rêverie

Draco Malfoy spends an afternoon ruminating on first meetings, vengeful houses, and moments spent twirling a landline cord. This fic is inspired by Bless The Telephone by Labi Siffre.

When Scorpius only measured up to Draco’s waist, he’d climb up onto the left side of the piano bench and situate himself next to his father.

Those stubby fingers would run over the keys in a childish imitation of Draco’s years of practice, and soon, a cacophony of chaos would drift throughout the house, filling every room with its imperfections. Pansy said, while they were expecting Scorpius, that Draco would get tired of the noise after a while. In truth, the opposite happened– he was tired of it from day one. Every day after was spent learning to love it.

Now, he’s learning to miss it.

During long sessions of ruminating on life, replaying old memories like slideshows in his mind, Draco likes to play Rêverie.

His muscles do the unconscious work while he, once again, wonders why Scorpius had to study in the states, of all bloody places. He’d promised that it had nothing to do with being across an ocean from his parents, but said parents had their doubts, and despite all of Scorpius’ protests, feelings of failure and pride still battled it out in their hearts. Failure, because their only son wanted to go somewhere so removed from them. And pride, because he had the desire to explore, to learn.

So, missing his son as the battle rages, Draco plays alone.

His childhood tutor had been stern and critical, hampering any growing love for the instrument he could have had. It took years, once he reached adulthood, before he finally sat himself down in front of one again– before he learned to let the music move him, instead of forcing it to move for him.

It fills his empty house with melody, and though it’s comforting in its own way, Draco yearns for the harmony of Scorpius’ chaos.

Though, chaos still comes in a new form today, as a repetitive ringing from the kitchen cuts his playing off mid-chord.

The old landline has stuck around, a reminder of a time when cell phones spontaneously exploded in the hands of wizards– more than a minor safety hazard. Once the technology was adapted for use around magic, they kept it for the sake of nostalgia. It kept them off their cell phones unless absolutely necessary, and there’s something sweet about wrapping a phone cord around your finger while you lean against the wall, chatting with someone you love. It keeps you in place, devotes you to the conversation at hand.

Cell phones are the norm now, and only one person calls the landline number anymore.

“Malfoy-Potter residence,” Draco says,  because old habits become inside jokes sometimes.

“Very formal,” Harry’s low chuckle crawls through the crackling line, “Hello, love.”

“Hi, dear,” Draco replies, and his greeting comes out more as a sigh of relief than actual words.

“How are things with you?” Harry asks, and Draco wishes he had that kind of power– the ability to fill the empty pit in Draco’s stomach that forms when he’s by himself, to clear away all those meandering thoughts and replace them with a warm feeling of ease, all in a single line.

“I’m good. A bit lonely,” he admits, wrapping the phone cord around an idle finger, twirling it, “It’s nice to hear your voice. How’s the office?”

“Hectic,” Draco imagines Harry hunched over his desk, twirling a phone cord of his own while the office whirls around him, papers flying in the air, “Can’t talk long. Just wanted to tell you that I love you, and make sure you take a break from playing all those sad songs by yourself.”

“I love you, too… and they’re not sad songs.”

“Whatever you say. Chinese tonight?” The end of his sentence tips upwards with excitement– an excitement that Draco shares. Another long day coming to a close, spent in the company of one another.

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“Love you.”

With that, they hang up, and Draco’s loneliness creeps back in as the phone clicks back into place, but he knows that Harry’s words will ward it off for a few moments more. He’s developed a routine after these calls. He puts on a record– today, it’s All Things Must Pass– and turns it all the way up, until it can be heard from every corner of the house. 

Then, he wanders.

Up the stairs and down the hallway, he peeks out onto the balcony to watch the cars pass for a bit, before turning back inside. The door stays open behind him, letting the morning breeze whisper life back into the stale hall where Scorpius’ room lies.

Pale blue walls surround him as he meanders, remembering the time spent renovating this house– the one they bought after Grimmauld Place began rejecting Scorpius.

It seemed the house was cruel enough to terrorize a five-year-old. First, there were bad dreams. Then, stairs that would melt the soles of his shoes. The whole ordeal proved too much when a bush in the garden tried to kidnap him, and neither Draco nor Harry thought holding onto a shitty, endlessly deteriorating heirloom could possibly be worth the lifelong trauma it would cause for their son.

They tried to move without feeling defeated, ejected. The townhouse in Balham became a fun project, and they’d done most of the renovations magic-free. It was a good lesson for Scorpius– that working with your hands could be just as fulfilling, if not more, than using magic– and a bit of a challenge for his parents.

The real problem with the move was timing.

Renovating a home was interesting and new, until they all got sick of sleeping on transfigured couches, living on takeout, and plumbing that only worked five out of seven days of the week. In January, they opened up the kitchen, then the entire first floor by June. Their migration throughout the house felt like a city expanding, creeping along the hills, building new bridges over rivers.

The last room they finished was the library, and, incidentally, it’s now Draco’s favorite room in the house– with oak shelves that touch the ceiling, squashy chairs, and the lantern they’ve affectionately named Tinkerbell that follows you around after dark. 

Harry’s desk sits comfortably, in front of a window that overlooks the street below, with a familiar, faded photograph perched in its left side. Draco doesn’t need to crack open the frame to know what’s scrawled on the back in Harry’s chicken scratch.

Gutman Publishing House Christmas Party, 2003.

They’d just begun dating, still had a youthful glow about them, and didn’t yet know what it was like to be awoken in the middle of a night by a baby that actually belonged to them. Harry’s hand is resting on Draco’s lower back as he places a misfired kiss on his nose.

It all started a few months prior in a crowded, stuffy elevator.

They said nothing to one another, at the time. Harry had recently earned his own office, and it just so happened to be on the same floor as Draco’s editor, who was finalizing the edits on his first novel. Neither were aware they had business in the same building, since Harry handled children’s books, and Draco very much didn’t write those under a pseudonym– his novels were pretty much the opposite of children’s books.

The fifteen-story building handled the majority of wizarding publishing in the UK, so they blame their crossing of paths on fate.

Draco remembers what it felt like in that elevator, the oppressive heat that rose to his cheeks when he saw Harry, with his messy hair, skewed tie, and dark under-eyes, squished between two strangers. At the time, they both thought they had it all figured out, didn’t they? That they were on the cusp of become true adults. They were wrong, of course. They made the same false assumption after Scorpius was born, after they finished the house, and after countless other achievements that opened doors to new aspirations, new lessons.

They still haven’t figured everything out, but they’ve survived, and, more importantly, Scorpius seems to have turned out all right. 

After that elevator, their office run-ins became more frequent, and Draco would admit– years later, drunk– that he’d pass by Harry’s office on purpose, despite his editor being on the opposite end of the floor. Awkwardness soon turned into a quiet truce, then almost-friendly nods, until one day, when Harry stopped Draco with a hand on his bicep and said:

“Hey, I got my hands on your manuscript.”

And Draco, ever so eloquent, replied:

“Oh.”

“Don’t ask how,” Harry continued, mildly frantic, “But, I just wanted to tell you that I liked it. A lot. I loved it, actually.”

And maybe it was the compliment, or the way Harry’s glasses were more than a little crooked, or that he openly admitted to reading Draco’s smut-filled novel to his face, but Draco fell for him right there. Not quite as hard as he eventually would, maybe just a trip-up of love. Still, it was a start.

It’s a bit funny. Draco always liked to imagine himself as an instigator, a charmer. But, Harry was the one who started every conversation, pressed through during the lengthier ones, despite the awkwardness or outright animosity. Harry was the one who, on a cloudy Thursday in September 2003, asked Draco if he’d like to get a coffee once he was done at the office for the day.

Draco agreed. That evening he waited, shivering– half from the chill, half from nerves– outside the building for half an hour, but lied to Harry and said he’d only just come back. They didn’t have much to say as they walked to the café, keeping a respectful distance between them as they traded pleasantries and comments about impending rain. 

The tension broke when Draco did, as he awkwardly admitted in words that stumbled over each other that he actually didn’t drink coffee after dark, citing caffeine and trouble sleeping. Harry stopped his ramblings with a laugh, and told him he was smart. They got hot chocolate instead.

Warm cups turned cold, and the sky opened up, late, as if telling them to run on home. And run they did, sprinting through the onslaught back to Draco’s flat, ignoring Apparition and choosing romance instead. Harry took off his coat, held it high above their heads, as Draco told him that the gods were angry, that of course this would happen.

Harry said he didn’t care what the gods would think about them, and when he kissed Draco on the stoop, he tasted of peppermint and cocoa.

***

Harry gets home sometime around six, just to find Draco sitting on his piano bench, right where he’d left him that morning. He drops his hands on Draco’s shoulders and begins to knead.

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

Draco doesn’t stop his playing– he’s chosen something light, relaxing, and all for Harry after a long day of work. A love song, in its own way.

“No,” Draco leans back into his touch, rolls his shoulders, “I took a walk, read a bit. I always end up here, somehow.”

Harry drops a kiss to the top of Draco’s head, “Well, this song isn’t very sad.”

Draco lifts his fingers off the keys, shy, and cranes his neck to look at his husband, “It’s a love song.”

“A love song,” Harry repeats, and smiles– it’s broad, unencumbered by past pain, yet forged in darkness.

Draco nods, kisses the corner of his mouth.

“I’m very much in love with you,” he murmurs into the crease of Harry’s cheek.

Harry laughs and kisses him fully– once, twice, three times.

“I’m very much in love with you.”

“How was work?” Draco asks, rising from the piano bench, resting his hand on the small of Harry’s back as he throws his arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“Tiring. How was writing?”

They move towards the coat rack in tandem, easing into a familiar, practiced pre-dinner brief.

“Nonexistent.”

Harry chuckles, “You’ll get back into it soon. Jameson rejected the Garrison manuscript without consulting with Faulkner.”

“No,” Draco gasps, disentangling from Harry to wrestle his arms into a coat.

“I’m serious. You wouldn’t believe…”

They slip into the street, where the rain is light, and the sun has just set over the horizon, and Harry tells him all about how Faulkner reacted, and Draco tells him that maybe they should just take a trip to the states to see what Scorpius’ fuss is all about. The loneliness ebbs, though Draco knows it will flow again someday.

But, none of that really matters, because Harry’s there to poke him in the side, there to say, in a voice so soft and low, “Draco,” and bring him back from his wandering thoughts.

Harry’s there, and just a word or two from him, or a quiet night spent eating Chinese, has always been more than enough.

If you feel up to it, I'd love to hear your thoughts over on ao3.

[nerdzzone]

Eyes Open Wide

Summary: After spending their lives as ‘just friends’, Chris and Madeline decide they want to be more.

Part of the Back To You series

Note: I think this is probably one of my favourite chapters so please let me know what you think about it!

-----

March 2011

To say that Chris was confused would be an understatement.

He tried to focus on the rhythm of his footsteps and the sound of his feet hitting the sidewalk beneath them, but nothing could pull his attention away from the thoughts bouncing around his mind. He knew he didn’t have long - the show ended almost fifteen minutes ago and he’d promised to meet her in the lobby not long after - but the theatre had felt suffocating and he needed some fresh air if he had any hope of making sense of his thoughts.

He was in love with Madeline.

The realization had hit him as he watched her float across the stage earlier that evening. It was her first performance as one of the American Ballet Theatre’s principal dancers and he’d been bursting with pride from the moment he walked into the theatre before the show. When she came out on stage and he felt his heart swell at the sight of her, he’d thought maybe it was just that - adoration and admiration that she’d achieved what she’d been working so hard for - but when the feeling seemed to grow and the endearment he felt seemed almost overwhelming, he couldn’t shake the idea that it was more than he first thought.

At the start of that year he’d decided to take his personal life more seriously. He didn’t want any more messy flings or casual relationships, he wanted to find someone that he could share his life with and start a family with. That decision had made most of his romantic endeavours pretty unsatisyfing so - if he was being honest - his first thought was that he was just a little too sexually frustrated. Madeline was beautiful and the years of intensive dance training had left her with a very toned and tight body and even though there’d never been anything but friendship between them he was still a man and would’ve had to be blind to not notice how attractive she was. He assumed that the way she stretched and pliéd across the stage in her skin tight leotard was just too much for him in his pent up state, but by the time they reached the intermission and he had a quiet moment to catch his breath, he realized that what he was feeling was deeper than just an attraction.

He was in love.

It made perfect sense and as the idea began to take root in his mind it seemed so obvious, but he couldn’t figure out why something that had been so clearly in front of him for most of his life could be so blindsiding.

They’d always had a connection. They seemed to understand each other in a way that no one else did and he found that time with her always kept him centered. He favoured her opinion above almost anyone else’s and he knew that he’d always been a little too protective of her as the thought of anyone causing her any kind of pain got under his skin in a way that few other things could. He’d always told himself that it was just brotherly affection, but now that the thought of it being more had slipped by whatever defense mechanism his brain had created to protect the status quo of their relationship, it was undeniable.

There was nothing brotherly about the way he wanted her or the visions that were playing through his mind like a torturous slideshow. Visions of her curled up on the couch pressed against his side. Or of his arm resting around her waist, letting everyone know that she was his. Or of her stretched out in his bed, tangled up in his sheets. His imagination was running wild and he was grateful for a distraction when he reached the florist that he’d spotted on his way to the theatre earlier that day.

The feel of the door’s cool glass window under his hand as he pushed it open helped snap him out of his thoughts as he focused on the current task he faced. Putting his feelings aside, she’d nailed her performance. He knew that she could be her own harshest critic and he knew that she’d put a lot of pressure on herself as it had been her first performance in such a leading role, but even though he’d had the distraction of wrestling with his feelings, Chris knew without a doubt that she’d performed flawlessly. Flowers seemed a little overdone and far less than she deserved, but Chris made sure to pick out the best bunch of roses he could find before a quick glance at his watch had him practically running back to the theatre.

Hey! Where are you? I hope you didn’t leave without saying goodbye!

The text came in from Madeline just as he was opening the door to the lobby, but he heard her calling out for him before he had the time to answer. He turned towards her voice and felt his heartbeat stutter as he caught sight of her standing with her parents, her tights and leotard changed for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt despite the stage make-up that still graced her features.

“I guess you guys beat me to the flowers,” Chris observed as he walked over to their group, gesturing at the bouquet already in her arms. “But you were so good, I had to get you something.”

Any progress he’d made with gathering his thoughts was shattered as soon as she’d flashed him a smile as the pure joy on her face almost knocked the breath right out of him. He stood stunned as she handed the flowers that she was already holding over to her mother and threw herself into his arms. The feel of her wrapping herself around his waist and the familiar smell of her favourite hairspray pulled him back into the moment as she spoke.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his chest, lingering in his embrace for a moment longer than he would have expected, but not nearly as long as he would have liked before she stepped away and took the gift from his hand. “Did you like the show?”

“I loved it! You were amazing!”

“You really thought so? I was so nervous, I was worried the audience would be able to see how bad my legs were shaking.”

“Nah, you looked like a total pro.”

He could see her practically melt with relief at his assurance, but as she threw a barrage of other questions at him about what he thought of various moments of the show, Chris came to another realization. 

It wasn’t the time to share his feelings.

When he’d first accepted how he felt, he’d had a desperate urgency to tell her. He needed to know if she felt the same and the thought of how much time they’d wasted if she did filled him with panic. He didn’t want to waste another minute, but as he stood in front of her and soaked up her bubbling excitement, he knew it wasn’t the right time for the conversation he wanted to have. 

That night was about her and her accomplishments and he didn’t want to steal even a spec of her well-earned spotlight. 

There was also the chance that his confession wouldn’t be very well received and he didn’t want anything to put a damper on the triumph she was feeling or the gleeful smile on her face. So, he shelved his racing thoughts for the time being and answered all her questions - doing his best to convey just how incredible her performance had been - until a happy sigh fell from her lips.

“I’m really proud of myself…”

The words were soft - almost like she was afraid to admit it - and Chris rushed to agree.

“You should be,” he insisted as her parents echoed his sentiment. “You deserve this and we’re all really proud of you.”

“Thank you, Chris.”

Her eyes grew glassy as she spoke and as she looked up at him from under her dark, painted lashes the words ‘I love you’ were on the tip of his tongue as the feeling welled up inside him the same way that it had when he was watching her on stage. He had to practically bite his lip to stop the confession from slipping out and he was grateful when her dad’s voice pulled Madeline’s gaze away.

“What are your plans tonight, Chris?” Greg chimed in. “We’re going to get some food if you’d like to join us?”

It was a tempting offer, but while Chris was eager to spend as much time with Madeline as possible, he worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his newfound feelings under wraps if he lingered too much longer.

“I wish I could, but I’ve gotta leave early in the morning so I should probably have an early night.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but even though he did have a flight to catch he knew that sleep wouldn't be coming easily with all the thoughts bouncing around in his head. However, he turned his attention back to Madeline as he thought about when he would next be able to see her. “We start filming The Avengers in about a month. If I’m back in town in a few weeks, could we hang out before then?”

The question caught Madeline off guard as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Of course,” she assured him, her tone making the words sound more like she’d intended to say ‘duh’ than the polite words she’d chosen. “I’ll probably have rehearsals or training, but I’ll be here.”

“Great,” Chris smiled, pulling her into another hug. “Congratulations, Maddie. I’ll see you soon.”

He felt Madeline’s arm that wasn’t holding her flowers slide back around his waist and squeeze him tight. It took more strength than he was proud to admit, but he eventually managed to pull himself away from her and say goodnight to their little group before dragging himself towards the door, feeling like he was leaving his heart right there in Madeline’s hands.

-

April 2011

Something was wrong with Chris.

Madeline didn’t know what it was, but there was something strange about how he was behaving.

Even with their busy schedules, they usually checked in every couple days. It wasn’t always a full conversation, but they would regularly exchange texts even if it was just mundane things or silly comments about their day. However, since Chris had left New York Madeline had barely heard from him. He always answered her messages eventually, but sometimes it took him several days and he hardly ever initiated a conversation.

She knew it was weak evidence which was why she hadn’t brought her concerns to anyone else, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was bothering him - something that he didn’t want to talk about - and his behaviour when he arrived at her apartment once he returned to New York did nothing to ease her worries.

“Hi,” she smiled, opening the door. “You’re early.”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he dropped his bag by the door and strode into the living room. “I was gonna check in to my hotel, but I wanted to come here first.”

The nervous energy radiating off of him had Madeline on high alert and the way he began pacing around her living room only added to her tension.

“Is everything okay?” 

Her question caught Chris’ attention, but didn’t stop his movement and she snuck past him to sit on the edge of her couch.

“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded when he finally paused and shoved his hands in his pockets as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “Well, I hope so. I mean, everything’s fine right now, but I hope it stays that way.”

His anxiety was obvious and had Madeline’s stomach in knots as she hoped that she would be able to offer him some kind of comfort once he finally got whatever was clearly bothering him off his chest.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Chris,” she informed him gently, not wanting her concern to add to his stress levels. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

His only acknowledgement of her question was a firm nod before he returned to his task of wearing a hole in her floor with his pacing. Knowing that it was often better to give him the space to gather his thoughts than to hound him for answers, Madeline simply watched patiently for a few moments until he paused again and lifted his eyes to meet hers for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

His blunt and seemingly out of nowhere question left Madeline even more baffled than before as she struggled to make sense of all his odd behaviour.

“Like, romantically?”

“Yeah, like a boyfriend or whatever.”

“No,” Madeline shook her head. “I’ve been spending almost all my time training since the fall when I heard that the principal dancer spot was up for grabs and then when I got it, I wanted to make sure I really proved myself. I haven’t really had time for dating.”

It was more of an in depth explanation than she thought Chris might have expected, but she was too busy trying to puzzle out what could possibly be going on with him to worry about being concise.

“Okay, great. Well, that’s good.”

His shoulders dropped in relief, but his words seemed to be said more to himself than to Madeline and she was growing desperate for some answers.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

Her question had Chris stopping in his tracks as he scoffed out a laugh.

“A lot, it has everything to with this conversation we’re about to have,” Chris informed her, taking in a deep breath before finally blurting out what was really on his mind. “Because I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air between them as Madeline sat in stunned silence. 

She’d wanted to hear those words for so long. She’d spent so many years wishing for it to happen and spent countless hours daydreaming about it, but now it was happening she was so shocked that all she could do was stare at him with her jaw hanging open. There was a flicker of excitement somewhere deep in her stomach, but she’d managed to get herself so convinced that it was an impossible reality that the doubts immediately crept in and her blood ran cold.

“Is this a prank?”

The anxious look of anticipation on Chris’ face shifted into one of shock.

“What?”

“Did Scott put you up to this?” Madeline questioned. “Because it’s not funny, Chris.”

As the potential humiliation hung above her, Madeline felt tears well up in her eyes. Chris must have noticed them too as he suddenly moved from where he’d seemed to be frozen in place and rushed to sit beside her.

“No, I promise that’s not what’s going on,” he assured her. “I haven’t told anyone about this, I didn’t wanna tell anyone until I know if you’re gonna turn me down or not.”

Suddenly unable to meet his eye, Madeline looked down at her lap as she nodded her head, needing a moment to process what he’d just told her.

It felt unbelievable. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was dreaming. Or if maybe she’d slipped on her way to the door to let him in and she was currently hallucinating due to a head injury. Because both of those theories seemed more realistic than the thought of him actually confessing his love for her.

However, as he slid his hand over to rest it on top of hers, the warmth of his touch had her unable to deny it was real. She hesitated - still uneasy and worried that she’d misunderstood - but as she thought back to the look of tortured apprehension on his face as he announced his love, she knew there was merit to what he was saying. 

As she took a moment to steady herself, she flipped her hand to press her palm against his and relished the strange yet comforting feeling of their interlaced fingers before lifting her gaze to meet his.

“I’d never turn you down,” she admitted, the shake in her voice giving away her nerves. “Because I feel the same way.”

His eyes widened and she imagined that the expression of shock on his face probably mirrored her initial reaction as it looked as if he hadn’t expected her to reciprocate her feelings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Madeline nodded, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile as the reality of the situation began to sink in. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. A really, really long time.”

The sound that fell from Chris’ lips after hearing those words could only be described as a giggle and he hung his head for a moment before collapsing back against the cushions behind him. The anxiety he’d felt when he entered her apartment had clearly shifted into relief and his hand slipped out of Madeline’s grasp as he lifted it to rub his face before flashing her a grin.

“Oh, man,” he chuckled. “I really thought you were gonna laugh me right out of here.”

Madeline shook her head, almost offended by that assumption.

“No way. Even if I didn’t feel the same way, I would never have laughed at you or let it come between us.”

“Yeah?” Chris smirked. “So why did you never mention how you felt?”

The question earned a laugh and a shrug of Madeline’s shoulders as she knew the point he was trying to make.

“Because I was worried you would laugh at me and it would ruin our friendship,” she admitted. “But you never gave me even a hint of a sign!”

“Neither did you,” Chris pointed out. “But I really only had this epiphany a few weeks ago on your opening night. If you’ve felt like this for a while, I dunno how you’ve handled it because I felt like I was gonna explode tryin’ to keep it in.”

“Yeah, I noticed from the way you just barged into my apartment like you were about to tell me you murdered somebody or something,” Madeline teased, but as Chris chuckled and the sound caused a familiar fluttering in her heart, it also had the knots tightening back up in her stomach. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Well,” Chris shrugged. “I’d really like to take you on a date.”

The ear to ear grin that his suggestion put on her face had Madeline’s cheeks starting to ache in the best possible way and she wondered if she should pinch herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming.

“I’d really like that too.”

“Tonight? Do you have any rehearsals?”

“No, I don’t. I’m free tonight.”

“Perfect,” Chris nodded, as he quickly pulled himself off of the couch until he was standing in front of her. “I’ve gotta go check in and all that, but I’ll pick you up around six?”

Madeline nodded as Chris held out a hand to help her to her feet before pulling her in his arms. The energy between them was still a little uncertain as both of them tried to get their minds around the revelation that they’d had, but they took a moment to enjoy the calm they felt as they stood wrapped up in each other’s embrace. However, much sooner than Madeline would have liked, Chris dragged himself away and with the same chaotic, hurricane inspired energy that he’d entered her apartment with, he shouted a goodbye and disappeared as fast as he’d arrived.

-

Madeline spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze.

She’d felt almost giddy when Chris had left, but the more time that passed the more her doubts began to take over again. She couldn’t shake the thought that somehow she might have misunderstood him. That she would open the door to greet him later just to find out that she’d gotten it wrong and he hadn’t meant what he’d said. That still made more sense to her than the fact that after the years of pining away for him, she was finally getting what she’d always wanted.

It didn’t help that she was going through the turmoil alone. 

She’d debated calling Scott for some kind of explanation or guidance, but if Chris was telling the truth about keeping his feelings to himself then she didn’t want to be the one to break the news. She also debated calling her mother, but she knew that there were no secrets between her and Chris’ mom and she didn’t want the news to spread before they’d had more time to figure out what was going on. So, she persevered with nothing but her own thoughts and tried not to let her anxiety ruin the moment that she’d been waiting for since she was old enough to realize the depth of her feelings for Chris.

By the time he buzzed her apartment and she was headed downstairs to meet him, she was shaking with nerves. However, the comforting familiarity of the smile on his face as she walked out of her apartment building’s lobby helped put her at ease.

“Hi,” he greeted her, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning on as soon as he saw her. “Wow, you look amazing.”

His words filled her with relief as she’d spent more time than she wanted to admit agonizing over her outfit. She’d been tempted to message him to find out more about their plans, but her fear that he’d come to his senses and cancel completely stopped her from picking up the phone. She’d eventually settled on a short white dress paired with sneakers to keep it casual and a light coat to keep her warm in the evening spring air.

“Thanks,” she matched his smile. “I wasn’t sure where we’d be going so I was worried that I’d be overdressed.”

“No, definitely not. You look great.”

There was an air of awkwardness between them that Madeline wasn’t used to with Chris, but the edge of nervousness in his voice had her relieved that she wasn’t the only one thrown off by their new dynamic. Desperately trying to remember how she used to act around him, she slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she fidgeted under his gaze.

“So, where are we going?”

Her question seemed to snap Chris into action as his eyes left her outfit and lifted to meet hers.

“How does Italian sound?” He asked. “I made us a reservation, but if you’re in the mood for something else then I can think of something else.”

“Italian sounds perfect,” Madeline assured him. “Can we walk or should we get a cab?”

“We can walk,” Chris shrugged. “Shouldn’t take long, if you don’t mind.”

It was strange how - despite knowing each other their entire lives - their earlier conversation had suddenly left them with the social skills of two people meeting for the first time. 

Madeline was used to Chris showing up at her apartment and demanding that she accompany him to whatever restaurant he’d been missing while he was out of town. He always made her walk regardless of how many hours she’d spent dancing that day or how sore her muscles were and she usually complained the entire time - whether it was three blocks or ten - and made fun of him for being too cheap for a cab despite his new life as a Hollywood superstar. 

Now, they seemed to be walking on eggshells around each other. Madeline was determined to break the ice, but she cringed at the first question that came out of her mouth as they made their way down the sidewalk.

“It’s really warm today, isn’t it?”

They were far beyond talking about the weather, but Madeline couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t a long rambled list of questions about how or why he’d suddenly decided he was in love with her.

“Is it?” Chris smiled. “After being in L.A. for the last few weeks, it feels like it’s freezing here.”

“I forgot that you’re a California boy now,” Madeline teased. “But compared to a couple of weeks ago, it’s really warm here now.”

“That’s the nice thing about coming back to the East coast,” Chris mused. “I prefer somewhere with actual seasons.”

“Me too. I couldn’t live in L.A. with its endless summer.” Madeline’s observation didn’t draw much of a response from Chris and her stomach started churning as a silence fell between them. They made it another block before Madeline couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer and blurted out another question. “Chris, this is weird, isn’t it?”

Biting her lip, she looked up at him and braced for him to breathe a sigh of relief, agree with her and take back everything he’d said, but his response was far different than she anticipated. His eyes widening in surprise, he quickly shook his head.

“No, no, it’s not!” His insistence felt forced and untrue and a sigh fell from his lips. “Okay, it’s a little weird, I’m sorry. I just really didn’t expect today to go the way that it did, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

Madeline knew that Chris wasn’t always as confident and self-assured as the persona that he tried to present to the world, but his shyness in that moment tugged at her heart. They were in it together now - both of them had said things that couldn’t easily be taken back - and they had to muddle through the mess they’d created as a team. Their walking had slowed when she’d put forth the question, but feeling a sudden rush of courage, she slipped her hand into his.

“I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen today so I’m definitely a little shocked by it all,” she admitted as they settled back into their pace. “But I think we just need to relax. We’re just hanging out, right?”

The fact that their hands were now clasped as Madeline leaned against his arm made it clear that it was a little more than that, but she felt Chris’ shoulders drop as his tension eased and he squeezed her hand as he nodded his head.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “Sorry, I’m just tryin’ to quiet all the noise in my brain.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Madeline assured him. “Trust me, I get it. I spent most of the afternoon trying to convince myself that I hadn’t hallucinated our entire conversation.”

She heard a soft chuckle slip from Chris’ lips and the sound had her unable to hold back a smile.

“I don’t blame you for that one, it was a little more chaotic than I’d planned on it being.”

“Oh, really? Did you have some big romantic plan?”

“Nah, I didn’t really have any plan at all,” he admitted. “Every time I tried to think about what I would say I got so nervous that I didn't think I’d be able to do it at all, but I thought even if I was just winging it I would have been able to come up with something better than what I did.”

“To be honest, I don’t think it would have mattered how you told me. I would have been shocked either way,” Madeline admitted, hoping that a reminder of her own confession would put him at ease. “I really have felt the same way about you for almost as long as I can remember, but I never thought you’d think of me that way.”

Chris led her around a corner and onto another street as he glanced down at her, his eyes skimming over her face as if he was searching for any sign of a lie.

“I can’t wrap my head around that,” Chris mused. “It never crossed my mind that you might already feel the same, I thought I’d have to convince you to give me a chance.”

“I guess I got a little too good at hiding how I feel, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“Well, that’s much more respectable than my strategy,” Chris commended her. “Bursting into your apartment on the edge of a panic attack and practically screaming it at you could have definitely made things uncomfortable.”

“I dunno, I’m pretty used to your dramatics by now,” Madeline teased. “And one of us had to take the plunge so I’m glad that you told me despite the slightly insane delivery.”

There was a smile on her face as she spoke, but as Chris chuckled and led her around another corner with the assurance that they were almost there, her smile faltered slightly.

“Chris, I only know one Italian restaurant on this street and it’s way out of my price range.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris shrugged. “I asked you out, it’s on me.”

“It does matter though,” she insisted. “Captain America isn’t out yet, it might be a total flop and I don’t want you to be in debt because you took me out to dinner.”

She tried to keep her tone light and teasing, but she couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt in her stomach. Her promotion had come with a decent pay rise, but being a ballerina hadn’t always been a particularly lucrative career and living in New York had always been expensive. Restaurants like the one they were walking towards were not somewhere she would usually even consider dining and she didn’t want Chris to waste his money just to impress her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His words were laced with sarcasm as he bumped his hip against hers. “But even if Captain America flops, I can afford one dinner here - especially if it means making a good impression on you.”

He shot her a wink that had her cheeks heating up and silenced her protests as he opened the door to the restaurant. She watched as he discreetly gave his name and followed him as he was led to a table near the back, choosing to sit with his back to the door to hide his identity if anyone happened to notice them. From her seat, Madeline had a good view of the place and - food aside - she could see why it was as expensive as it was. With the exquisite decor and impeccably dressed waiters, she knew it wasn’t the type of place that they usually went to and while it was unnecessary, she was touched that Chris was putting in so much effort to make it special.

Chris ordered a bottle of red wine for them to share and Madeline glanced over the menu, trying her best to ignore the prices. She didn’t want any further protests about the cost to be taken as doubt of his financial security and when the waiter returned with their wine and to take their orders, she picked a pasta dish in the middle of the price range to avoid the argument that she knew would ensue if she went for the cheaper option of a salad.

When they were finally alone once again, Chris raised his glass.

“Cheers,” he smiled, waiting for Madeline to copy his action with a smile of her own. “To new beginnings.”

Clinking their glasses together as they toasted before taking a sip, Madeline let the rich, full-bodied wine float on her tongue for a moment before letting his words segue her into the question that had been on her mind all afternoon.

“Speaking of new beginnings, we’ve established that I’ve been pining away for you for a long time,” she started. “But you said you had an epiphany just a few weeks ago so I guess I’m just wondering what sparked that?”

“I don’t really know,” Chris admitted. “It just hit me when I was watching you dance. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I was too stupid to see it.”

“You’re not stupid, it’s a complicated situation.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been super important to me,” Chris continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting to figure it all out and things were different between us even when we were kids. I was always making sure that Ma invited you to everything we did because I just felt this need to be around you and it hasn’t ever gone away. I think about you all the time and you’re always at the top of my list of people I want to see. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out why.”

He looked a little sheepish as he finished talking, but his words had Madeline feeling so full of love that she thought her heart might burst.

“I’ve always known we had something special,” Madeline agreed, reaching out to rest her hand on his where it rested on the table. “I think that’s why I was too scared to tell you how I felt in case it ruined our friendship. I was so worried that you’d be creeped out and I’d lose you forever and being your friend seemed better than nothing.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” he assured her. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I think we can be mature enough to stay friends.”

“I hope so,” Madeline smiled. “Because you’re, like, my safety blanket. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chris nodded, but as he flipped his hand to intertwine their fingers again as they had earlier that day, Madeline noticed a worried look had crossed his face.

“I have to leave soon though,” he reminded her. “I’d love to stay longer, but I’m leaving at the end of the week to start filming.”

“I know, but that’s okay,” Madeline shrugged. “I’ll miss you like I always do, but maybe I can come and visit you? May and June are a little busy for me, but I could probably come for a weekend and after our June performances wrap up then I’ll be free for at least six weeks.”

She’d already thought about it as she was getting ready for their date, but a blush rose on her cheeks as she realized how eager sounded. Chris, however, didn’t seem to notice as her words softened the anxious tension in his jaw.

“Great, that sounds perfect. I’ll check my filming schedule and we can make some plans, I might be able to sneak back here for a few days too.”

It was comforting to know that Chris was as desperate to stay connected as she was, but the way his brow stayed furrowed as if he was deep in thought told Madeline there was more he wanted to say. She rubbed her thumb against his skin and waited to see if he would come clean, but after a few more moments of silence she tentatively prompted him to open up.

“You look worried.”

He seemed a little caught off guard by her observation, but after another moment of thought he let out a sigh.

“I guess I am,” he admitted. “You know how anxious I was about taking on the role of Captain America and a lot of that was because of some of the less positive ways such a big role could change my life. If we give this a shot then you’ll be dragged into it all too.”

Madeline felt a pang of relief that his concern wasn’t due to any second thoughts and shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t care about that. I’ve already kinda been dragged into it with the fans you have now. They’re always curious about who I am or fishing for information because they assume we have some kind of history together. I can handle it.”

“But it could get a lot worse so I get it if you want to take some time to think it over.”

“I don’t,” Madeline insisted, her voice firm and leaving no room for him to argue. “I don’t need any time to think this over, I’ve been thinking it over for years. If you want this then so do I.”

“I do want it,” Chris assured her, squeezing her hand. “But if it gets too much at any point, you’ve gotta tell me.”

Madeline nodded and promised she would, but she was relieved to see their food arriving at the table and used the interruption to transition the conversation to things that made Chris look less stressed.

They talked about how excited he was to get back to work, she gushed about how thrilled she was to complete her first set of performances as a principal dancer, they chatted about their families and what everyone was up to and by the time they were done eating the awkward tension that had hung around them at the start of the date had vanished completely. Time flew by as they were wrapped up in each other as it always did when they were together and it wasn’t until they were walking with their arms linked back to Madeline’s apartment when they broached the subject of what would happen next.

“Thank you for dinner,” Madeline murmured, leaning against him for warmth in the cool evening air. “I appreciate you taking me somewhere so nice, but I hope you know me well enough to know that I don’t need fancy restaurants to impress me.”

“I know,” Chris nodded. “I just wanted to do something kinda special to mark the moment.”

“That’s really sweet,” Madeline smiled, feeling a twinge of nervousness as she forced the next words out of her mouth. “I found a really cute place the other day that’s a little more our style so maybe I can plan our next date?”

“Sure, how about tomorrow?"

His question had the breath she’d been holding - braced for the rejection that she couldn’t shake away her fear of - puffing from her lips with a laugh.

“Tomorrow?” She giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to play it cool and wait at least three days to text me again?”

“I think we’re a little past that,” Chris chuckled. “And we’ve gotta make up for lost time so I’m free tomorrow if you are.”

His eagerness was encouraging and considering he had to leave at the end of the week, Madeline was happy to make the most of the time they had.

“I have training tomorrow night,” she informed him. “But I’m free in the afternoon if you’re okay with a lunch date.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed with no hesitation. “I have no plans for most of the time I’m here so I’ll take as much time with you as you’re willing to give me.”

The sincerity in his voice had Madeline melting with relief as she felt the same way. Their new situation still felt so precarious - as if it could all be taken away any minute as fast as it had happened - and she felt the urge to stay close to him even more than she usually did.

“Perfect,” Madeline smiled as they reached her apartment building and their goodbye loomed over them. “The place is close to the dance studio, but I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

She slipped her arm away from his to reach into her purse for her keys and couldn’t help but wonder how the night would end. She was hoping desperately for a goodnight kiss, but as she lingered by the door waiting for him to make a move, she quickly began to lose hope.

“Well, thanks again,” she smiled, feeling the earlier awkwardness creeping back in. “I had a really nice time.”

Chris flashed her a smile of his own and she felt her heartbeat pick up speed as he moved closer towards her. She was sure that it was the moment she’d been waiting for, but disappointment washed over her like an icy cold wave as he murmured a soft ‘me too’ and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

-

By the time Madeline got to the dance studio the following evening, she was feeling disheartened.

She’d had another wonderful date with Chris and everything seemed to be going well, but he’d left her at the door of the studio with nothing but a hug once again. Other than the new addition of handholding, the shift in their relationship really wasn’t that noticeable and Madeline couldn't help but wonder why - if he was in love with her - he wouldn’t be as desperate for more as she was.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest as she went through the motions of changing from her date clothes into something more appropriate for the hours of dance ahead of her and she was relieved that she’d be able to bury herself into something that always helped clear her mind. Nothing helped her escape her problems like going through the familiar motions of ballet until her muscles were burning with exhaustion.

However, the deep sigh that fell from her lips as she pushed open the door to the studio she’d be training in that night hindered her attempts to run away from her troubles as it drew the attention of her friend.

“Hey,” Heidi called over from where she was stretching across the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Madeline nodded, walking over to join her in front of the mirror. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

It was a simple question, but it left Madeline feeling very conflicted. She felt like she was in desperate need of advice and keeping Chris’ confession to herself for the last twenty-fours had been a struggle, but she also didn’t want to share the news if it was all about to crumble out from underneath her. She debated her options for a brief moment before the clear concern on Heidi’s face won her over and she began to spill her tale of woe.

“I’m okay,” she assured her. “But I went on a date today, and last night.”

Heidi bit back a smile as Madeline’s vague explanation had her raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, that totally explains why you look like someone just ruined your life.” Her tone was sarcastic, but Madeline wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong. “Who was your date with?”

“My friend Chris.”

There was a moment of silence as Heidi gave Madeline a very suspicious look before posing another question.

“Your friend Chris? The one that most people know as the actor Chris Evans?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Oh my god, Maddie! Good for you, he’s seriously hot!” The enthusiasm in her response had a reluctant smile sliding onto Madeline’s face despite the turmoil she was feeling. “But I still don’t understand why that news has you looking so sad…”

“It’s gonna sound so stupid when I say it out loud,” Madeline warned her. “You’ll think I'm an idiot.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Madeline bit her lip as she leaned into the stretch she was doing, hoping to hide the rising blush in her cheeks.

“Because he hasn’t kissed me yet.” She blurted out her explanation, but quickly followed it up with a rundown of how their dates had come to be to give Heidi a little more context before she got to the root of what was bothering her. “It just feels like nothing has really changed. Our dates were nice, but nothing we didn’t do as friends other than a little extra hand holding. It seems weird.”

Taking a moment to take it all in, Heidi nodded understandingly until she lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

“Maybe he just wants to take it slow? You know, maybe he doesn’t want to make any big moves and really cross that line until he’s really sure that he’s figured out his feelings.”

“I think that’s what I’m worried about,” Madeline admitted. “He sounded so sure of himself when he told me how he was feeling, but he did say he only realized a few weeks ago so now I feel like he’s changed his mind after spending time with me.”

“I bet that’s not the problem,” Heidi insisted. “It’s not like he’s never spent time with you before, he already knows you pretty well.”

“Exactly, what else would he need to figure out?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a big step to cross that line and really become more than just friends. He could be following your lead and waiting for you to make a move.”

As the idea had Madeline’s stomach twisting in knots, her brow furrowed with displeasure.

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, he already put himself out there by sharing his feelings in the first place, right? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the next move to show that you’re really on the same page.”

“But I’ve already told him that we’re on the same page and that I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Yeah, but showing is different to telling,” Heidi pointed out. “When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow,” Madeline sighed. “And probably on Friday too, but he leaves Friday night to start working on his next movie.”

“Okay, so when you see him tomorrow why don’t you kiss him and see what happens?”

Again, just the thought of being so bold had Madeline almost overwhelmed by anxiety.

“Because, what if I try and he just pushes me away.”

“I have a pretty good feeling that he won’t, but if he does then at least you have your answer,” Heidi shrugged. “Then he’ll leave to go back to work and by the time you see him again the dust will have settled and you can pretend it all never happened.”

Madeline swallowed hard as she blinked back the tears that were suddenly swimming in her eyes. It felt like an all too real possibility and she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle.

“That would break my heart,” she admitted. “I love him so much.”

“I know, sweetheart, and if it happens I’ll be here for you,��� Heidi assured her, pulling her into a hug. “But that’s, like, the worst case scenario. I’m almost a thousand percent sure that he’ll be all over you once you give him the green light.”

Her confidence in that statement pulled a giggled from Madeline as she felt some of her tension ease. It did seem a little unlikely that Chris would have changed his mind so quickly after he seemed so sincere when he told her how he felt. Their dates had gone well - there were no major hiccups or issues that should have made him backtrack - and the fact that Heidi didn’t seem to think she should give up and run away had her feeling slightly less hopeless than she had when she’d arrived in the studio.

Once her feeling of dread had been dampened and the other dancers arrived, Madeline let herself get lost in their training. She pushed herself until there was no room in her mind to think about anything other than the task at hand and the time away from her thoughts left her with much more clarity. Heidi was right. She needed to have a little faith in Chris’ feelings, but making a move and being rejected was better than letting him leave town with everything still feeling so uncertain.

Heading back out the door of the dance studio, she felt far more centered than she had when she’d arrived and she had a fierce determination to end her date with Chris the next day with more than just a hug.

-

Staring at the woman across the table from him, Chris felt like a complete idiot.

He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been for so many years or how it was possible that he hadn’t realized what had been right in front of him for his entire life. Every smile, every giggle, every happy sigh that fell from her lips had his heart fluttering in his chest and it left him stunned that he hadn’t let himself fully appreciate all the warmth and joy she brought to his life. She’d been with him through the tough times when he struggled in auditions and felt like his career was going nowhere, she’d been there for his parents’ divorce when his whole idea of his perfect family was shattered, she’d always been a source of calm when his anxiety reared its ugly head. She was the person he went to when he needed to feel safe. She understood him better than almost anyone outside of his family. He really couldn’t believe that it had taken him so long to understand the depth of his feelings for her.

He was also still scratching his head about how he got lucky enough for her to feel the same way. He thought there were two options when he got to her apartment earlier that week - she would either completely reject him and want nothing to do with his newly discovered feelings or be neutral and willing to be convinced - but he didn’t even entertain the idea that his admission would be met by Madeline’s own confession of love. She was funny, kind, intelligent, feisty and absolutely gorgeous. She was passionate about her goals and dedicated enough to be achieving some of her biggest dreams before she was even thirty. He had no idea what he’d done to be worthy of her love, but he was grateful to have it and willing to do anything to show her that she wasn’t making a mistake by giving him a shot.

Because he was completely head over heels for her.

Everything about her seemed to stoke the new fire that was burning inside him and her flirtatious mood was driving him wild. Maybe it was the cocktails she was sipping on or just the comfort they’d slipped into after their first couple of dates, but she couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself. They’d always had a very physical relationship - all their time spent together as kids had shattered some of the spatial boundaries that many adult friendships had - but there was something different about it after what they’d both shared and the way she kept rubbing her foot against his leg under the table was proving to be very distracting. 

However, her tactile mood did put him at ease. He’d been dying to kiss her since the moment he’d stormed into her apartment, but he was worried about pushing her too far too fast. He knew it was quite a bomb that he’d dropped by announcing his feelings so out of the blue and he didn’t want to overwhelm her. The lingering fear of rejection was also a contributing factor because it had taken more courage than he thought he had to confess how he felt and if Madeline had just been swept up in the moment, but turned him down when he really tried to make a move then he wasn’t sure he could handle the pain that would cause him.

He knew he needed to seal the deal before he left - especially since he didn’t know exactly when he would see her again - and the affection she was showing him was giving him the confidence he needed to finally cross that line.

It wasn’t until they were walking back towards Madeline’s apartment that Chris felt the nerves begin to creep back in. He’d been so close to breaking through that last line between friendship and more when he’d dropped her off at the dance studio the day before, but he’d chickened out at the last minute. He was determined not to make the same mistake again, but he could feel the anxious thoughts creeping into his mind.

“So,” Madeline interrupted his thoughts as they turned onto her block, arms linked once again. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Late afternoon, I think.” Chris sighed as the thought of leaving her now had him feeling quite morose. “But we could get breakfast if you’re not dancing?”

“No, I’ll be dancing in the afternoon so that’s perfect.” 

The way she squeezed his arm a little tighter as she spoke had him looking down at her to see her gazing right back up at him. 

“What?” He asked, a soft smile sliding onto his face.

“I don’t want you to go…” Her words were soft and her eyes widened as they slipped out of her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to say them out loud. “I mean, I’m so happy for you and excited that you get to work on such a big project, but I wish you’d be closer.”

“Me too,” Chris agreed. “But we’ll make it work.”

“But they film lots of movies in New York, I don’t understand why they can’t just film it all here instead.”

The pout that slid onto her face earned a chuckle from Chris as they stopped outside her building.

“I dunno either, but I don’t think I have quite enough sway yet to get them to change it for me.”

“Can’t have the Avengers without Captain America,” Madeline pointed out. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

She slipped away from him to dig through her purse for her keys and Chris immediately missed the warmth of her body against his. As their goodbye drew closer, he knew what he needed to do, but the doubts in his head were holding him back. He felt frozen where he stood with his hands in his pockets until he noticed her watching him - keys in her hand - with an expectant look on her face.

Moving closer, he slipped his arms around her as he had at the end of their previous dates and he felt her tense slightly before she lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck to pull him close. She felt so good, she smelt good, everything about her just made him want her more and he leaned back enough to glance down at her. It seemed the expectant look on her face had shifted into disappointment and that had Chris unsure of his next move. The hug was lingering, dragging on longer than seemed reasonable and he knew he had to act quickly, but in his panic his insecurities took hold and he felt his earlier bravery slipping away.

He dipped his head, aiming to press a kiss against her cheek, but a shift of her head had him catching the corner of her lips instead. Even that was enough to have his heart racing, but as he tried to pull away, he felt Madeline’s hand on the back of his neck holding him in place.

“Please…”

It was hardly more than a whimper, but Chris knew what she was asking for and the simple word filled him with courage. He needed no further prompting to lean back in and press his lips against hers and her immediate response pushed any doubt from his mind. 

Feeling a spark seemed like such a cliche, but it was really the only way Chris could think to describe the moment. The rush of love and desire he felt had his grip tightening on her waist as her hand slid up to his hair as if both of them were desperate to be as close to each other as physically possible. He felt consumed by her like he would crumble if she ever pulled herself out of his arms and when she broke the kiss to catch a much needed breath the sight of her slightly swollen lips had him unable to resist diving back in for more.

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed as they stood on the doorstep of her building completely lost in each other. The need to stay connected had them both too wound up to even think of walking away, but as Chris struggled to find the willpower to force out a ‘goodnight’, Madeline had another suggestion.

“Do you wanna stay here?” She asked as she fought to catch her breath. “If we’re meeting up in the morning anyway you may as well save yourself a cab ride.”

Her reasoning had a smirk sliding onto Chris’ face, but he was too relieved by the offer to make fun of her ulterior motives.

“I like the way you think. I’d love to stay.”

Madeline flashed him a grin before stealing another quick kiss and slipping out of his arms. She found her keys on the ground where they’d slipped from her hands in their frenzy and hurried to unlock the door, leading him through the hallways until they reached her apartment where they spent the rest of the night exploring all the things they’d missed out on in the years they’d wasted pretending to be just friends.

-

Next

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[dandelionpixels]

Hey!!! Can I request hcs for being Britta’s sibling please? Here’s a bit about me:

Struggles with anxiety and depression

Can be awkward with new people but can open up quite quick to people and can sometimes over share but don’t mean too lol

Love deeply, and quickly.

Can be hyperactive sometimes with interests and can over talk about them sometimes too.

Just love me some found family! And animals!

Hope that’s ok! Thank you in advance!

YESS!!! i luv britta sm shes my number one girl <33 i’ve got some with just you and britta and some with the whole group!! lemme know if you want more of either <33

- always sticks right by your side when you guys are out and about, she’s always trying to link arms or interlock pinkies

- when you go through depressive episodes, she’s always tended to come sleep on your floor. it makes her feel better not having to leave you, and it means you guys can stay up and watch tv together

- she talks about you incessantly to the study group. like she’ll just go on and on and on. they think it’s mildly annoying but there’s nothing they can do to stop her

- loves to hear you talk about whatever your newest interest is, and will tell you about her gossip from school in exchange for hearing your stories

- omg.. okay one year for the holidays you had just gotten over a really bad depressive episode. britta spent months convincing your guys’ parents to get you a cat. she wrote papers and made slideshows and drew pictures and eventually they agreed and britta got to give you a cat as a gift. she was sooo happy about it and definitely barely managed to keep it a secret.

- eventually she brings you in to meet the study group. you had nothing to do and you needed to get out of the house so she dragged you along with her. you had made them some sort of cookies and even though you were super anxious to give them over, troy’s eagerness was so genuine that it put you at ease

- abed appreciated the movies/tv shows britta had told him you made her watch, so he was already a fan of you

- jeff had been hearing britta talk about you for months but he was pleasantly surprised by your sense of humour and kept trying to pretend like he wasn’t laughing at your jokes when he clearly was.

- shirley and annie were excited that there were finally the same amount of girls and boys, and insisted that you should come to game night next time they have one

- everytime you felt like you didn’t belong, someone would bring you back into the conversation until you felt oddly comfortable with them.

- when you finally left, they all hollered goodbye after you. britta showed you the groupchat later

Troy: btw ur sibling was super awesome im so down for them to come to game night!!

Abed: ^^

Annie: Yes!! They were awesome and I need to know where they got their shoes :-)

Shirley: You should’ve introduced us earlier! Or told us they were coming, I could’ve brought dinner! Yes on game night. ♥️🤗

Jeff: They’re cool. Game night. 👍

[topgunreacts]

The flight to PASSOT departed San Diego at three in the morning, arriving at MCI at half past four due to the wonders of time zones. Ice and Maverick didn’t do much talking during the journey; Ice kept to himself with a book of crossword puzzles, and Maverick spent most of his time second-guessing his packing and hoping that Chicken Nugget wasn’t having too terrible a time in the cargo hold. He also spent time fretting over his marriage. Naturally. It was a long time coming, but being in withdrawal had kept his attention focused squarely in the present for the most part. So it wasn’t until Maverick had the quiet, contemplative environment of a red-eye flight that his new life truly sunk in.

He was married. To Iceman. Who was a male omega, which meant that Maverick was now responsible for his health and well-being, under pain of…scolding? formal reprimand? No, they’d hit him with something worse. This wasn’t Maverick’s last chance to settle down in the official sense (probably), but he knew better than to think any sort of failure as Ice’s alpha would be taken lightly—not by the Navy and certainly not by Ice himself. The stakes were high. Add to that the fact that Ice was pricklier than a hedgehog orgy and Maverick found himself neck-deep in nebulous questions that had no satisfying answers. What would happen when Ice went into heat? Did Ice have a slideshow of his own prepared or would Maverick’s body just know what to do? Would the heat force Maverick to feel an attracted to Ice, or would Maverick���s sexual inclinations remain the same? And above all, what exactly was PASSOT’s end goal, here? Would Maverick’s own career forever take a back seat in favor of Ice’s? 

They were all questions that technically had answers, but Maverick had a feeling he wouldn’t understand their implications in full until he experienced them firsthand. Even the schedule was up in the air, apparently. Hormonal synthesis took time, but never a set amount of time. It all depended on the couple. So they said.

“How are you holding up?” Maverick asked Ice when they landed. He’d already taken off his seatbelt, even though there was nowhere to go with the cabin door still latched tight. 

“Fine,” Ice said. He didn’t look Maverick in the eyes when he said it, though. Was Ice feeling confident? Worried? Fatigued? Maverick couldn’t tell. His nose detected a sharp tang that possibly suggested worry, but Maverick’s nose was far from sophisticated in these matters. The fact that his undulled scent glands picked up more information these days didn’t mean Maverick knew how to parse it all. So mostly, Ice smelled like a living human man, and nothing more. Perhaps one day, Maverick thought as he watched Ice collect his bag from the carousel, one casual sniff would uncover Ice’s deepest desires. For now, Maverick was out of options. Like everything else, where exactly Maverick stood with the man he’d just married would have to wait.

read more on ao3

[thedawningofthehour]

How exactly did Draxum plant the fake memories in Galois' head?? Because in my head me either A) wrote incredibly detailed stories about their 'life together' and read it like a childrens storybook to a very unconscious Galois or B) made a slideshow like the one they show in serious business meetings and Draxum presented it as such to a very unconscious Galois. In both scenarios Huninn and Muninn are bullying Drax relentlessly.

It was more of the former. Donnie wasn't really 'unconscious' per say-he was still taking in information and processing it, but he wasn't processing it normally and he wasn't able to really think on his own. Draxum put headphones on him when Cass came in so his conversation with her wouldn't fuck with anything. We do learn more about the actual process later on.

He absolutely did make up stories-part of the reason he kept Donnie on the table so long was to gather details about his life that he could weave into his fake version of events, that way Donnie's brain would connect it with something familiar and more easily fill in the gaps. I am fucking dying at the thought of Draxum giving a very drugged-up Donnie a powerpoint presentation though.

Huginn and Muninn are fucking thrilled that he did this, honestly. They love having Galois. They love being weird uncles and they love how much happier Draxum is with him around. They withhold their judgements out of gratefulness.