#*smooches you on your cosmic face*
Note
1-5, 9 and 10 ^^
Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.
*squints at my archive* short stories with little plot and more character and emotionally driven narratives, and insane deep dives into relationship explorations
2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?
a charted and completed plot :)
3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?
hmmmm had to think about this but yeah tragic endings or unhappy endings? I don't mind writing open-ended stuff but definitely no tragedy bones in these hands although, like, maybe for the side characters but definitely not for the main characters, I'm too weak for that HAHA
4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?
HM- lmao i just got distracted by writing for like 2 separate wips because I was counting them HAHAHAH
this is just my orv wips i found so far and i have like a few here and there abandoned from old fandoms that i still keep around just in case the spark comes back. I also have a bunch of thoughts right now about tgcf and beefleaf but hmmm maybe when I'm not so busy HAHAH also mdzs but I'm waiting to finish all the novel first before actually writing anything for now
5. Share one of your strengths.
metaphors and similes! and making people cry from my special so sweet it turns bittersweet writing style LMAO
9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?
hmm the world in my arms, ever so fragile and loved was definitely a doozy to write and i was squeezing my brain with each line LMAO i kept having to rethink my understanding of jung heewon and kim dokja's relo over and over again and reaffirming myself that what I'm writing is a portrayal of what I think their relationship was like. I was really concerned about being too one-dimensional and trying to capture the points of their devotion-love, devotion-pain relation in a way i liked.
I was also really concerned about hitting the important relationship points and themes I wanted to write about their relationship, especially since i wrote the hospital conversation first and it was perfect but then decided i had to fit in a whole post-canon story sequence around it AND YOU ALREADY KNOW I'M NOT GOOD A PLOT! WHY DID I DO THAT TO MYSELF! aaaAAA! It's why it went a little crazy with 3k words compared to fly off the light between leaves and our shadows are cast together which was a beautiful snapshot I was able to pump out in like one or two sittings (and ten thousand small future edits) because that's what i'm good at!! *sigh*
10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?
to make lunch for you was so easy to write, i was struck by lighting or something i swear to god or like how much i crave the thought of kdj being allowed the grace of being sad and then loved and comforted by his just favourite being in the whole worlds and worlds out there
#ha mail#i didn't include any of my really old works cause tbh! don't remember shit about how i was feeling when i wrote them LMAO#thank you for the ask#*smooches you on your cosmic face*
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eddie munson having a crush on you and just not having the embarrassment to hide it. he doesn’t even care if you don’t realise, does NOT stop him from treating you like an angel (or maybe a sweet little elf from his fantasy games). WILL write you dumb little notes bc his older, now graduated, hellfire friends told him girls like that mushy shit. he once saw one of em smooch their gf on the back of the head and now awaits any opportunity where it’s socially acceptable (or passable bc cmon this guy doesn’t get a lot of social cues) to do it to u too
"Hi pretty girl," He croons, eyes alight with adoration as he leans against your locker, "Biology next?"
"Yeah," You nod jovially, "Don't you have to get to math?"
"I'm always late," He chuckles, plucking the books that you're gathering out of your arms and bundling them in his, "C'mon, I'll walk you."
"Thanks, Eddie." You grin, and it must have some divine cosmic power, because Eddie swears it shoots a beam of light into his chest that explodes throughout his entire body. He can feel it spreading through his limbs and flushing his cheeks as he carefully hooks his arm through your own, keeping your books tight to his chest with the other.
"Chivalrous," You glance down at your interlocked arms and giggle, "Which way to biology, sir?"
"Long way," He responds, his tone reminiscent of a dapper english nobleman as he leads you out the doors of the school, "We've lots to talk about today, m'lady."
"Oh? And what might that be, sir?" You barely suppress a giggle at his antics, letting him lead you around the back of the school to where your class is at the front. It takes less than a minute to find the inside door, but Eddie likes taking his time with you.
"I must know," He continues in his terrible accent, hand stuffed into his pocket. You don't notice him slip a sheet of paper under the cover of your biology textbook, "Would you like to watch Sixteen Candles or Grease tonight, m'lady?"
"Sixteen Candles," You gush, tightening your grip on him and pulling him closer to your side. It reignites the blush on his face and he relishes in the body heat you share with him.
"Your wish is my command," He stops outside of your classroom, carefully passing your heap of books over to you. Before you can part ways he untangles your arms, keeping your hand in his to press a kiss to the smooth skin of the back, "I'll see you after class, m'lady."
"I'll yearn for your presence, good sir," You sigh dramatically, backing into your classroom with your armful of books, "Don't be late!"
You're certain you hear someone in the back of the class mutter 'freak', and even though it's not aimed at you, it makes you bristle. You sit at your seat with a soft huff, flipping through your textbook to chapter seven. As you do, a sheet of paper is misplaced, and on the top is Eddie's signature, scratchy handwriting.
Robin said there's a pop quiz today on chapter seven. i got the answers from her here :) - the man of your dreams
True to his word, there's a list of numbered terms on the page. You scan them once, twice, thrice, until you're confident you know their order, and they play like a mantra in your head. Then you notice another pen stroke at the bottom of the page, P.S, it reads, I knew you'd choose Sixteen Candles ;)
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one-shot#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hc#eddie munson hcs#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson dialogue#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fanfiction
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cosmic disruption
summary: the eclipse happens, and everything changes.
Joel Miller x gn!reader // 1.5k
warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, reader and Joel are patrol buddies, cute handholding, a smooch, self-indulgent eclipse nonsense
thank you to @ezrasbirdie for telling me to write this and @saradika for the divider!
To say that “normal” had changed a lot in the two decades since the outbreak was a laughable understatement. Society had upended in every single way possible, reshaping itself into something brand new and most often focused on the basics of survival. Amidst the hard work of existing, Jackson sometimes afforded you a few moments that made you feel like your old normal.
As you thumbed through a yellowed astronomy almanac in the small town library, a date only two weeks from today caught your eye. “Globally, total solar eclipses happen every 18 months,” you read to yourself, “however they only occur once every 400 years in a singular location.” The little science nerd who still lived inside of you jumped for joy when you saw a list of cities in the path of totality for this year.
“Jackson!” you announced triumphantly to Joel as he walked through the door.
“Yeah, we’re in Jackson,” he confirmed with a confused look.
“No, look! Jackson is in the path of totality! We get to see a total solar eclipse in a couple of weeks, look here- Joel, look!” you held the book in front of his face, tapping the page eagerly.
Joel grimaced. “Well that’s fine, but we ain’t got time for all that seeing as that’s our patrol day. Who cares what the sun is doin’ anyway, as long as it rises and sets each day?”
You lowered the book, defeated. “I care. I wanted to be an astronomer when I was a kid, did I ever tell you?” Your thoughts drifted far away to that little kid who got their first telescope on their eighth birthday. The world seemed so full of possibility then.
Joel’s face softened a bit. “I don’t think you ever told me that. Hard to say though with all that yapping you do during patrols, sometimes I just drown it out.”
You slapped his arm half-heartedly as he smirked, his eyes bright with humor, and carefully put the book back on the shelf. “Did you come in here just to give me a hard time, Miller?” you asked.
He shook his head. “Long past lunch and I didn’t see you in the mess. Heard you might be over here gettin’ lost in the books again. C’mon, they’ve got those roasted potatoes you like so much. Saved you some.”
You thought about the eclipse on and off for several days but put it mostly out of your mind as you took care of your chores and went off on your patrols every three days. Joel had long been your preferred patrolling partner, once you figured out that his silence and scowl didn’t mean he hated you. He grumbled about most things but in a way that always made you smile.
He might give you a hard time for how much you talked, but it was Joel who was the true storyteller. He wouldn’t admit it for anything, but he came alive when you got him talking about music or his brother or even woodworking. There were many topics that Joel wouldn’t speak on, and you had gotten pretty good at not pushing even when your curiosity burned at you.
Today you were focused on tilling the soil for next month’s garden starts to be transplanted outside. You liked working with your hands, truth be told, and this was a job that no one else wanted. You were happily alone with your thoughts, humming a tune under your breath, when Joel walked up.
“Hey there, Miller. Whatcha got there?” you asked, laying down your backhoe and tugging your gloves off.
Joel shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he held out a plywood box to you. “Made you this,” he said without explanation. You took the box from his hands and marveled at how light it was despite being the size of a large microwave.
“Thank you? What… is it?” you inquired. Joel was not the gift-giving type, and this was surely one of the oddest things anyone had ever given you.
Joel looked uncomfortable. “Did I do it wrong? It’s been a long time since I made one.”
“Do what wrong? What is this?” you turned the box around, noting a large hole cut out of the bottom and an aluminum panel on one side.
“Today is eclipse day, ain’t it? That’s what the book said. I looked it up and it says it starts in about 20 minutes, and this will let you look at it without burning your retinas clean off. Unless you want to look directly at the sun which is your business, I s’pose,” Joel rambled hurriedly.
Realization hit you. “Oh, Joel. Did you make me a pinhole viewer?”
He nodded. “It’s for your eclipse.”
Your eclipse. You sat the box down carefully before practically flinging yourself at Joel, wrapping your arms around his neck. Emotion welled up in your chest. “Thank you, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Joel froze for just a moment before reciprocating your hug. He drew you in tight against his body, tucking his nose against your neck. “It wasn’t any trouble. Just wanted you to have something, not a big deal.”
You sniffled. “It is a big deal, Miller. Thank you.”
You both were hesitant to part, holding on to each other as long as you could. You had never so much as shook Joel Miller’s hand before today, but something about being in his embrace felt…right. Like you should have been there long before this moment.
Joel gave you a squeeze before you broke apart. “Let’s go over to the other side of that tree line there, you’ll get the best view,” he suggested. He picked up the box with one hand and reached out for you with the other. You laced your fingers through his without a thought and followed him towards the clearing.
“Alright now, what you do is turn your back to the sun like this and put your head inside,” he instructed, lowering the box to rest on your shoulders. You noted that he had padded the sharp edges of the cutout with fabric so that it rested comfortably. “And just move your head around til you see the sun on the paper inside there.”
You followed his instructions until the eclipse came into view. “Oh my god, there it is! Oh, Joel. You can see the Sun’s corona, and oh - I think that was a flare! Joel, you have to see this!”
You started to lift the box off of your head, but Joel stopped you. “No, sweetheart, this is just for you. Just tell me what you see.”
“You’re not staring at the sun, are you?” you asked with genuine concern.
“No I’m not staring at the sun, for Christ’s sake,” he responded gruffly. You just laughed.
Joel held your hand and squeezed every so often, humming in acknowledgment at everything you were saying as you watched the moon pass in front of the sun. At one point you just stared in an awed silence, thinking about how you wouldn’t have believed even an hour ago that you would be standing here holding hands with Joel Miller and looking at the sky.
The moon and the sun didn’t know that there was an apocalypse, and at this moment you forgot there was also.
Finally, as the moon continued its trek across the sky, you lifted the box off of your head. As your eyes adjusted to the light, Joel’s smiling face met yours. You had never seen him smile so big with happiness radiating from his eyes.
“That was…more than amazing. Thank you. How did you know how to make that?” you asked, immediately regretting the question as the smile faltered just a bit.
Joel cleared his throat. “Made it with my, uh, daughter for her third grade science project.”
He didn’t offer any more details and you didn’t ask. You just took his hand again and smiled sadly. You knew loss too, like everyone in this world, and you didn’t need to ask how much pain he had been through.
“You know, you’re awfully sweet, Miller. I’m going to have to tell the rest of the town,” you joked, watching the sadness lift just a bit from his face. “They’re going to expect you to be nice to them from now on.”
He laughed and shook his head. “They know better than to think that. Tommy said they know it’s just for you, anyway.”
“Just for me?” you asked quietly.
He looked away. “I’m no good at this, sweetheart. But I took a shine to you a long time ago and I’m not hidin’ it anymore. Do you…do you think you could take a liking to an old bastard like me?”
“Joel…” you breathed out, turning his head back so you could look straight into his deep brown eyes. “I never thought you would feel that way about me. I hoped, so many times, that you would just lean over and kiss me. Or that I would get the courage to tell you how I felt. I could do more than take a liking to you, Miller.”
Without another word, Joel Miller kissed you. Gently, deeply, a perhaps a little clumsily. It had been a long time since either one of you had done that. You hoped you would get the chance to do it again and again.
“Thank you for my eclipse, Joel.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart.”
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I just wanna say I love your artwork, especially creature!obi-wan! (Weirdly enough, it reminds me of “Muscular Hydrostats” by aaskada, even though there it’s the *vode* who become eldritch horrors.) But I really wanted to ask about your de-aged!obi-wan art - *does* Cody ever give him a kiss? Just a little peck on the cheek or a holy-crap-we’re-alive smooch only to pull back (“I shouldn’t have done that.”) and then get tackled and kissed for all he’s worth by an enthusiastic de-aged general?
Nonny!! Thank you so much for your sweet words! 💜
Ohhh yeah! That fic is amazing, I wholeheartedly agree!
*cracks knuckles* So Baby-Wan’s unfortunate condition of being babyfaced is just a lot of handwaving, happens to a Jedi of Force’s choice once in a while. No one knows why but they do know it’s temporary for about a month. The longest month of Cody’s life. He Tries His Best, alright? Twisting and turning out of the focus of the kid. He’s not proud of his dodging tactics but a graceful retreat is just not possible on a Venator that suddenly seems to be the size of a gunship.
Obi-Wan isn’t dogging his steps exactly but given his predicament and the overall situation, he’s not not always there.
Cody’s nerves might be as fried as his Venator. He hasn’t slept in his bunk in a month. Hasn’t talked to his Obi-Wan in a month. He misses him, on top of avoiding huge grey blue eyes that observe him. Cody is very familiar with that intrigued look. Just not with the current obviousness about it.
The night before, fingers crossed, the Force bullshit is supposed to end, Cody’s resistance shatters like so much cheap plastoid armor.
“I just,” Obi-Wan says quietly, shrugs, pulls the robe closer over hunched shoulders, “want to know. What it’s like. What he has.” He shrugs again and Cody might actually space himself. “You know?”
Force, that absolute bastard of a cosmic power, knows, but somehow Cody is sitting next to the kid on not their bunk, legs drawn up, and with a personal crisis to go with their late meal.
Okay. Cody swallows the sigh. Okay. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Obi-Wan asks, head whipping up and staring at Cody. Cody can see the cogs turning in that too young and already beautiful brain.
He makes them face each other, is glad but not his gloves are on the desk instead of providing a flimsy barrier.
Obi-Wan’s face cradled in his hands is nothing new, except all of this is. The kid closes his eyes, opens them again, undecided.
It’s the most gentle, fleeting brush of lips Cody can manage. Lips under his soft and giving at even the light touch. And over before the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm on his wrist can register.
“That has to be enough, okay?”
Obi-Wan opens dazed eyes, nods almost absently. Cody strokes the blush with his thumb.
“Good night, Obi-Wan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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Wednesday Friday Kiss Tag
Because I know if I left this to Friday, I might not get to it and it would sit in my drafts for another week 😅 Anyway I was tagged by a few peeps for this one!
@writingmaidenwarrior, here
@pheita, here
@talesofsorrowandofruin, here
Thank you all so much!
Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!
Tagging (gently): @justnerdy15 @crowandmoonwriting @heymacareyna @liv-is @sugar-phoenix and anyone else who'd like to do this!
This one is like mildly spicy so I'll put it under a cut!
From AASOAF 2:
The words flowed out of me with such urgency that I wondered if she could hear them over sobbing. She drew back and, with little warning, threw her lips against mine with a fury I had not thought her capable of. I didn’t know if there was anything to decipher from her gesture, but I didn’t care. I craved her more than air itself.
I shoved us down to the ground and felt how she tried to keep up with my energy, but quickly surrendered to me entirely. My hands found the buttons of her dress as she fought to breathe, but before I could do anything, a firework burst overhead, startling us both. It swiftly returned me to a state of sobriety, and I suddenly felt guilty. We should not do this here. It was dangerous; even if it wasn’t, she deserved better.
“Will ye follow me?” I asked her breathlessly.
“Yes.” She replied with equal labor in her voice as another firework exploded above us, lighting her features beautifully.
She appeared like a saint standing behind colored glass with that myriad colors from those cosmic lights scattered about her face. And here she was, blessing my undeserving being with the beauty of her gaze and the gentleness of her heart. I could kneel to her in servitude for the rest of my life, simply looking at her and never wanting for anything else because her appearance was an absolute feast for the soul.
#tag game#friday kiss tag#aasoaf#aasoaf 2#my writing#mariel#axtapor#spice aside#the last paragraph is one of my favorites#literally takes my breath away whenever i read it
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Earth X #10
If it were Roman numerals that’d be Earth X X but one of the sequel series does have an issue numbered X. Weird series, Earth X.
Aaron, John Jameson the astronaut werewolf, and the Celestials get the cover this time.
Astronaut werewolf. I love Marvel. So goofy.
So: Earth X. Bad Future. Blind Uatu. Machine Man Aaron Stack is the new Watcher. Turned against Uatu when he learned the Earth is an egg. The Celestials have manipulated humanity from the beginning to guard the egg. The Skull has killed President Osborn and taken over New New York. Captain America travels the world and recruits allies. Reed has discovered that the mass empowering event was caused by the Inhuman’s terrigen mist. Aaron has revealed the egg secret to him.
Earth X. There’s just so much going on. This is a very dense narrative.
Left behind on the Moon, Uatu immediately starts on manipulating John into being his weapon against Aaron.
He offers the same lie he did to Aaron, that humanity has a glorious cosmic purpose. And that Aaron is trying to stop it so John has to stop him. With the Ultimate Nullifier.
Captain America’s world tour continues to Wakanda.
T’Challa refuses to join Steve’s army. This is something Steve has to do himself because it’s about America or something.
I think T’Challa just doesn’t want to get involved.
He also refuses to return a Cosmic Cube Steve left with him because Past Steve said not to give it back no matter how dire Future Steve said the circumstances were.
You only have you to blame, Steve.
But at least Russia, Japan, Canada, Antarctica, and England lent their aid.
Reed goes to Latveria, to meet back up with the Inhumans and tell them about his recent discoveries. He learns that it was Black Bolt who set off the Terrigen Bomb.
He kind of underreacts to this, considering guilt from the mass empowering event has been driving him crazy for years. But he does ask Black Bolt a favor. That we don’t get to hear. And Medusa convinces Black Bolt to do it. And then takes off his mask and reacts to his face. Which we don’t get to see.
There’s a lot of new little mysteries popping up. Hopefully they won’t be drawn out.
Reed and Aaron take off to find Loki, to take Hulk off his hands to add to Captain America’s army.
Reed doesn’t think Loki will help them but Aaron says Loki will help them when he tells Loki why he’d never help them.
Lotta little mysteries in this scene…
In New New York, the Skull loses control of the Wizard and has him killed.
It’s apparently because the Wizard went insane. And the Skull’s powers don’t work on robots, the mindless, or the insane.
The Skull orders nobody else to go insane.
For some damn reason, there’s a ship tease between Spiders-Man and Iron Maiden.
The Skull tells them to, basically, get a room and Iron Maiden blows up. Calls him a brat and that she’d rather be insane than he controlled by him.
Like many brats, he doesn’t like being called a brat.
Right in the middle of his tantrum, Captain America arrives with his army and starts beating up the Skull’s forces.
Because the Skull isn’t letting them fight back. Because he’s in a snit. He only agrees to do something to save his helpless mind-slaves when Iron Maiden begs.
And then Cap’s attack immediately fails. Because the Skull can just control anyone he chooses. Minus robots, the mindless, and the insane.
The Hulk was Cap’s secret weapon because the gorilla Hulk is mindless. But the Skull takes Bruce and that gets him Hulk.
Cap despairs that he failed to stop the Skull and has basically handed him the world.
Your plan was bad and you should feel bad, Steve. All those issues of off-panel planning, that recruitment tour… and the best you could do was a frontal assault against the mind control guy?
I’m sorry to say but maybe the brat is right to say you should have an L on your forehead for Loser. Or maybe for Luigi. Maybe the Skull likes Mario Bros.
It’s not all a loss. Mostly one. 99% of one. But seeing the Skull smooching on a controlled May gives Peter the fatherly concern to not walk away sadly. And during the fight, a controlled Wyatt confides to Cap what the Skull’s limitations are. Also, Colossus finds Namor dying of not being properly hydrated and tosses him into the ocean.
But since it’s taken up so many issues, Cap confronting the Skull take two feels a bit like padding.
Aaron returns to the Moon with Reed in tow.
Reed has solved on more mystery with the power of being Reed Richards. And it’s relevant to Uatu’s interests.
The first mystery Earth X presented us with.
Who blinded the Watcher?
It was Black Bolt.
He knows his way around the Moon. His voice of mass destruction means he’s the quietest dude, quiet enough to sneak up even on a Watcher. And considering Uatu was blinded a bit before the Terrigen bomb, hence not knowing about it, it gives Black Bolt a motive.
And now, he’s flying out to confront the Celestials even though he knows he won’t survive the experience.
Three issues left. The Skull is still at large with an army in the thousands. The Celestials are chilling above the Moon. Black Bolt is flying out to do whatever Reed asked him to do.
What else can possibly happen in those last three issues?
Probably a lot. I bet Earth X has more weird twists up its sleeves.
#earth x#liveblog#machine man#john jameson#uatu the watcher#captain america#black panther#hulk#colossus#namor mckenzie#Inhumans#black bolt#mr fantastic
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concept, male reader who is a knight for the noble Lord regal and in a secret relationship with him
Which one of you beautiful people put this in my Inbox? I - FUCKING - LOVE - THIS - CONCEPT! Originally, I was only going to write a tiny blurb, but it accidentally turned into 1000+ words and it’s the only thing that I’ve been working on for the past 4 days. Oops.
(A huge thanks to @cosmic--marmalade for helping me with the historical side of things. SMOOCHES.)
Nobel Lord Regal X Male Knight Reader
WARNINGS - Secret Relationship. NSFW. Spicy times. Yearning.
~ ~ ~
“Keep your arms raised!”
The instruction fell upon deaf ears, a wooden pole collided with the side of the younger knight’s helmet and sent them crumbling to the ground. Damn it. You withhold a frustrated groan as you watch your student stagger to their feet and dust themselves off. Months of intense training under the supervision of the greatest warriors throughout the lands had seemingly done nothing to improve their skills. They were still fumbling over the smallest task. If allowed anywhere near a battle-field, they would surely be the first casualty. But you refused to give up.
You were too consumed in observing your students to notice the man approaching you until he stood beside you. The Most Esteemed Lord William Regal. Out of reflex, you dip your head in a small bow that is quickly waved off so you stand tall and feign interest in your students again. It was a challenge to focus on anything other than His Lordship. To not gaze at him and trace the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes or count the faint freckles that became prominent during the Summer. With hands clasped behind his back, Lord Regal looked out onto the training grounds.
“Are the lambs finding their place among the flock?”
“They are… coming along, My Lord.”
A knight himself that had long since retired from combat, he ensured that anyone trained on his grounds were safe and prepared for their duties. As if planned by fate, both of you watched the youngest knight stumble over their own feet and fail to catch themselves before hitting ground. Again. You buried your face in your hands, out of embarrassment and frustration at your student’s clear incompetence. Perhaps they were not destined to be a knight. His Lordship chuckled under his breath and fondly patted your shoulder, lightly squeezing before letting his hand drop away. There was affection behind the touch that was only obvious to you.
“Not all flowers bloom at the same time.”
The sincerity in His Lordship’s voice made it impossible for you to argue against his belief. It was the same tone of voice that he used when whispering sweet nothings to you in the middle of the night. Warm and soft. Like an age-worn blanket chasing the chill from your bones.
Your romance began a scarce few months ago. During a storm, you were unable to sleep so you snuck to the kitchen in search of something to eat. His Lordship had done the same and the pair of you shared slices of bread dipped in honey. It’s difficult to recall who initiated it, but soon, you were falling to your knees for him. Things naturally blossomed from there. Lingering touches under the guise of correcting postures. Fleeting kisses stolen in secluded stairwells. Secret glances during tournament events. You cherished all of it.
Before you could continue the conversation, one of the students called your name and motioned for you to join them. No rest for the weary. The weight of his Lordship’s gaze rested on your back as you walked away and followed your every step. It was strangely intimidating, knowing that you’re being watched and scrutinised by an accomplished warrior like Lord Regal.
~
It was no surprise when a soft knock came at your door later that evening. You had patiently waited, long after the other residents of the Keep had retired to their own beds, to hear the light tapping. After brushing the imaginary creases from your tunic front, you opened the door and butterflies stirred behind your ribs.
“May I come in?”
Ever the gentleman, His Lordship made it a habit to ask permission before entering your quarters. There was no need for him to do it. It would be within his right as the Lord of the Manor to go where he pleased and that included anybody’s room. As soon as the door closed, you were pressed against it and your mouth was caught in a firm kiss. It stole your breath. Fireflies dance along the far edges of your mind as you drape your arms over His Lordship’s shoulders. No. Here, with you, he was no longer ‘His Lordship.’ He was simply ‘William.’
Honey.
Cherry Wine.
Dark Chocolate.
That’s what you’ve determined William’s mouth tastes like. Sweet and rich. Every kiss leaves your lips tingling and darkens the blush stretched across your cheeks. It was addictive. You wished that you could indulge yourself and spend hours memorising every inch of William. From the prominent scar above his top lip to the pale skin of the very insides of his thighs.
If you were more coherent, you might’ve been ashamed of the pathetic whine that slips from your mouth when William leans away from you. His hands cradle your face as his thumbs smoothed over your warm cheeks. You were tall and broad in the shoulders, chest toned from diligent training. And yet, you felt small - fragile - in William’s embrace.
“There you are, My Love.”
“I missed you…”
The confession is small, muttered between heartbeats, but you truly meant it. Every moment that you weren’t at William’s side felt like an eternity in Purgatory. This wasn’t a simple tryst in search of quick pleasure. Your feelings for each other ran deep with its roots wrapping tightly around your heart. Determined and unyielding. You barely separate whilst moving to the bed, William lays on his back and you hurry to straddle him.
Despite being a man older than yourself, it didn’t show in the way that William held you. There was still an undeniable strength in his hands as he grabbed at your waist and grinds his hips against your backside. Another small noise falls from your mouth before you could stop it. No matter how deep into the pleasure you sank, you couldn’t entirely forget to remain quiet and muffle any sounds that might alert others.
Perhaps in another lifetime, you’ll be able to love each other freely and you’ll proudly promise the rest of your days to William.
~
#Ask Answered#THANK YOU ANON <3#The Human Writes#Regal X Reader#Fanfiction#Knights in Love AU#This got out of hand...#Fluff#Spicy#Angst#Secret Love#William Regal X Reader#Fanfic#I'm back on my writing bullshit#This concept is...#^All the Chef Kisses^#William Regal#Male Reader
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“Will you make me happiest Eldritch alive, Trillian? Will you marry me? I promise to give you the universe and then some, every ounce of my love will be yours for eternity and whatever lies beyond the cosmic horizon?”
"Absolutely!!"
She is tackling the Eldritch and kissing her face a hundred times per minute, her words being babbled out a breakneck pace and getting all jumbled up in her tears of joy.
"Yes! *Kiss* Yes! *Kiss* Yes! *Chu* Yes! *Smooch* Absolutely yes! *Kiss* YEEHHEEESSSS! *Kisskisskisskiss*"
She doesn't want the universe or the cosmos or the heavens or any of that stuff. She just wants you Neon.
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Reviewing most of the FNaF Security Breach animatronics in a few words each.
Freddy: Absolute father figure, 10/10 would hug again.
Roxy: Insecurities hidden behind a superiority complex. That's how bullying starts, kids.
Chica: Absolute mood, I ate a cosmic brownie out of the trash once in high school.
Monty: Hands rated E for Everyone and Everything, mans really said "equal rights, equal fights".
DJ Music Man: Somebody get this man a blankie, he's passed out in his booth uncovered.
Moondrop: Has the energy of a street rat gremlin who would fight you in the alleyway behind an Olive Garden half-naked over a single piece of garlic bread. I adore him.
Sunnydrop: Who the fuck gave this poor baby anxiety and made him insecure, I'm about to go Monty mode and throw hands. I will give him a little smooch on the forehead and a big soft hug.
Wet floor sign bots: I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.
Cleaning S.T.A.F.F.: Thank you for the second chance.
Security S.T.A.F.F.: Get your damn high-power long-lasting battery life LED flashlight out of my face.
Map bots: Jumpscare for the sake of jumpscaring, not for the sake of a game-over. I approve.
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some unspoken thing [starnovamora]
for @murdockquills & @novasforce, who introduced me to cosmic marvel - thanks for letting me hitchhike in your milano to the triumphant finish line.
--
Love was a weakness.
That was what she’d always been taught. Love was something that made men fall apart, brought kingdoms down, watered intent to nothing, and dulled the blades of a half-decent assassin.
Relationships, if they could be called that, were just other weapons to wield. Gamora knew the best grooves to press to make people fall apart — good ways and bad. She had no qualms about using those points of access to her advantage, either.
Like now, lying here, between two men on whom she and everyone else staked the hopes of the universe, Gamora knew best how to kill them — or give them, as Peter called it, “la petty more”, which Gamora was fairly certain wasn’t the right phrase, but who was she to argue with someone she—
Cared for.
It was still hard to say it. Love came easier to Peter, to Richard, than it ever would for Gamora Zen-Whoberi Ben Titan. She’d believed that for many years as she ran her knives together; sharpened their edges, honed her own. She had watched them haunt each other; two ghosts orbiting an empty galaxy, and waited for them to come into alignment together.
Because she knew how to press. And she knew when to pull back.
It had been a few hours since they’d left the party. Her skin still glowed from the last release, mossy; warm and flushed. The ceiling overhead had a glass pane through which she could see the tall peaks and spires of buildings in the distance — but it also magnified the stars beyond.
Idly, agate fingers stroked flaxen hair, Peter dozing off; undignified and utterly beautiful against her stomach. Beside her opposite, his arm wound around Peter and Gamora both, Richard mumbled something about needing to check the scanners. He lolled his head back with a dazed and hazy little smile, and Gamora felt everything inside of her soften.
To a dulled blade.
Was that such a bad thing?
It hadn’t occurred to her that she could be anything other than the one to kill. The vibe, the men, anything else. She was designed to finish things. To tactically strategize exits in the form of eviscerations. If she wanted to, while they slept or dipped into the happy lull of the Lovers reunited, Gamora could’ve ended it. Snuffed out the sun, smothered the light. She knew, after all, their every flaw.
But love was, as it turned out, their greatest strength.
It could stay the hand of a murderer. Peter’s pleading expressions when she felt far away; when the Stones called out to her, or when memories of her so-called father kept her icy and isolated. Rich relenting long enough to lie in bed beside her for ten extra minutes when the universe was once again on the brink of destruction.
Just some unspoken thing.
She realized, more or less, that they’d said it of one another. Two war heroes nursing their wounds and afraid to show one another their scars for fear of…what, exactly? Oh right. Weakness, she supposed.
But love brought Peter Quill home. Love brought Richard Rider back. And love —
Love made the Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy want to finally, maybe, change careers.
To encourage life. And growth. And — she wasn’t sure what else. Her father waxed poetic about gardens. Gamora’s were just yards littered with bones piled high toward the heavens. But whatever it was, growth, or garden, or the opportunity to simply keep going - all Gamora knew was that she wanted more.
“I love you,” she said, quietly. Finally. She whipped that knife out of its hilt and brandished it with a simple flick of her tongue.
It didn’t hurt.
Her fingers threaded through Peter’s golden tresses, traced lines across Richard’s back. The stars twinkled down through the skylight, the city lavender and indigo above them, slowly being swallowed by the faintest of fogs. But no need to venture outside. No need to go beyond this room.
Everything they had was within reach. Not power, not violence — but the tender way in which Peter stretched and squeaked faintly, in which Richard groggily yawned and shoved his head a little more into Gamora’s shoulder like a burrowing thing. She smiled to herself, arms still wound around her boys, and exhaled at last.
She had grieved them. Together. Separately. She had cursed herself for not trying harder. Being or doing or saying more. Seeing them spiral, watching them die or disappear — helpless to stop any of it, anything at all —
But here they were. Peter, grinning up at her, beardy and golden as a blazing sun, bare and shining. He glowed a little when he wasn’t thinking about it, sometimes — not unlike how when he went down on Rich, Rich tended to blue blaze to life himself.
How strange, even still, to think of herself as anything other than a black hole that devoured life with the swing of her sword, the firing of a gun. Total decimation shouldn’t have a chance at something more.
But as Gamora had seen the face of Death, she had seen that of Life.
That face had slept beside her, or was peering up at her now. Surrounded by the softness of it, Gamora thought not of how hard she swung her sword, nor the force with which she once kicked a Brood back into its crumbling nest so hard the entirety of it imploded. No - strength, at times, was a tenderness - notching an arrow just so, keeping your grip just loose enough.
You couldn’t hold too tight to things like Peter, for example. Just enough. Couldn’t push Rich too far, or he’d just refuse to come back down. In her own way, she’d been trying all along to reel them in - to get them to realize something she, too, was only just starting to realize herself.
Peter was wriggling upright reluctantly as Rich slouched closer, his hand catching Peter’s cheek in a soft grip. They kissed over her, and Gamora almost laughed.
“Oh, that’s fine, don’t mind me--”
“I’m starving,” Peter exclaimed as they broke apart, eagerly looking between each of his loves. “What’s around that’s open?”
“Everything,” Rich laughed. “Anything. I think we were promised free takeout for life.”
“Pretty sure no one said that,” Gamora mock-frowned. It was easy to fall back into this - as Peter smooched her stomach and [to her horror] made her scrunch into a baffled little ball, which made Rich throw his head back and laugh -
This was their love.
This was their world.
This was not a sword, but a shield. Not a gun, but armor. Or perhaps all of them were the bullet - she the sighted rifle, Rich the force behind it, and Peter the hand to pull the trigger of the galaxy’s greatest power.
“Let’s get room service,” Gamora murmured, and, stretching, rolled over slightly to grab the nearest communicator. Peter’s lips graced her shoulder, and Rich lounged against Peter’s back, snuggling in again. His hand found her hip, tracing silvery lines where parts of her weren’t - human.
But all of her was, with them.
And all of this was love.
Strong enough to see them through to the not-so-bitter end.
#starnovamora#star lord#gamora#nova#peter quill#richard rider#gamora zen whoberi ben titan#my writing#my stuff#gotg 2020#wednesday spoilers#AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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Hey friend! Anti-max/echo/Maria anon here again 🧡🧡 so I’ll definitely be back with salty thoughts later in the week, but today is not the day for salt… it is the day to FLAIL LIKE A FOOOOOOOOOL 😍🥰🧡😘😘 First we get Alex, Michael and Isobel in fatigues 😍😍😍 then we have Alex being all exasperated ‘I got this’ when Michael dramatically leaves the barn (the OTHER barn storing a coma patient…) and it seems like they’re going to fall back into their old dynamic… and then suddenly ‘I joined deep sky for you… for us’ WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT 🥰😍🧡🧡🥰😍🥰 Then we get MALEX HARDY BOYS (we knew it was coming after the drive in!!) and Alex opening up about his experiences overseas and explaining WHY he has to be in control, not emotional 🥺🥺 and then bringing it back to Michael… the look on Alex’s face when he says ‘you are the one piece that I cannot get through life without’ 🥺 and then the most charged hand hold EVER with Alex stopping Michael from killing Jones 🥰🥺 then Alex hitting Jones with Michael’s 🤭🤭 and then Alex DRIVING Michael’s truck 🛻🛻 and then them chatting (flirting..) over a beer about how Michael is more like Nora than daddy dictator and how Alex wants to WORK TOGETHER on the Lockhart machine… and then (AND THEN!!!!!!!!!!) ‘I’m confused though, what is the mission you’re working on right now?’…. *dramatically removes hat… smooches cosmic soulmate* 😍🥰🥰😍🧡🧡🧡😍🧡🧡 then Michael exhales… and Alex smiles… and they hold each other.. and Alex nuzzles Michael’s neck… and I screamed and screamed and then I died… and today I’m still screaming… we did it friend! We won 🧡 MALEX BABY 😍😍 ok I’m off to watch all the Malex scenes again and again… sending much love your way 🧡🧡🧡
Good morning, my friend!! I've been smiling like a fool all day since yesterday, we made it! We suffered through a year and a half of nonsense, 13 eps of season 2 and 8 eps of this season, but we finally made it! And to get such a wonderful scene, wow they really treated us. And honestly we deserve it!
I really was worried they were going to fall into their old ways when they started fighting outside the barn but nope! (Also a dear friend of mine said barns are the new bunkers lmaooo) They pulled out all the emotional stops for us and wow Vlamis and Tyler absolutely fucking delivered! They've been waiting for this moment just like us and they knew exactly how to deliver it for us, I'm so happy we have them!
I love that Alex's contingency plan was to just run Jones over, I love the way the humans have been dealing with the alien nonsense.
Sending all the love right back at you, my friend!!
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So cute, your name is SPACEY but I’m the one here in most of space? I’d tell you to check me out with a telescope but I think you’d just be staring at a blank spot in space at this size difference/distance. Know that I’m hugging your galaxy tho! (And maybe a lil smooch, even if it destroys some of the other galaxies around)
i may be too small to see your face but i’m 100% blushing at the thought of it
…..forget the other galaxies i’d love a cosmic sized kiss right now
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Minific of Kengo having Gentaro do puppy dog eyes at him
“Kengo!”
“Gen, what is it- oof!” Kengo found himself winded when Gentaro, in usual fashion, threw himself at him with exuberance. “Hey, be careful, I almost dropped my tablet...”
“I’ve got a super huge favor to ask!” Gentaro said. “It’s kind of a big deal, but if we can pull it off, I’ll be super grateful!”
Kengo groaned, putting aside the tablet he was answering some emails on. “What is it, Gentaro?” he asked, trying to keep his skepticism out of his voice. He was pretty sure whatever this favor was, it was going to require him to pull some strings and call in favors which may be more trouble than they were worth.
“Well... some of my students are wondering about Cosmic Energy and all that stuff,” Gentaro explained. “Since they all know I’m Fourze they thought I knew stuff about it, and when I said I didn’t they asked if I knew someone who did and if I could bring them ‘round sometime.”
Kengo blinked at his boyfriend as he processed what he said. “...You mean, you want me to talk to these kids about Cosmic Energy?” Kengo surmised.
“Uh-huh. I know you love talking about it...”
“To you, and just you, Gen,” Kengo said. “I don’t do well with public speaking, you know that...”
“Kengo, it’s just for my class, honest,” Gentaro stated. “Pretty please...?”
Kengo took a step back as Gentaro unleashed his secret weapon: the puppy spaceboy eyes. He pouted at him, lips jutting out cutely, going all teary and doe-eyed, his hands clasped together.
He cursed. “Damnit Gentaro, you know I’m weak for those eyes of yours...” If anything, that only encouraged Gentaro to pout at him more fully. “F-Fine. I’ll go... But only for your class!”
Gentaro immediately reverted to his usual cheery self, throwing his arms around Kengo. “You’re the best, Kengo! I love you!” He laid a loud, wet smooch on his boyfriend’s cheek.
Kengo sighed, wiping the spit from his face. “I love you too, Gen,” he said, exasperated, but fond.
#kamen rider fourze#kisaragi gentaro#utahoshi kengo#otp: when your bf is cosmic energy in human form#ask#askrikkaiandhyotei
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How did the Passenger become so successful? I'm an indie IF writer and getting any attention is v hard.
Oohh, this one will be long.
These are my thoughts on the subject, so I might be onto something or I might be getting it all wrong.
Taking a look at COG's forums you can see which threads are the most popular ones.
Unsurprisingly, they are all HG WIPs (I think there's a misconception about COG games being more popular than HG games when in reality it's the other way around) What do all these WIPs have in common?
• they are character-driven instead of plot-centered.
• they aren't gender-locked (you can choose your MC's gender and sexual orientation)
• some of the concepts are pretty weird.
• and what is, for me, the most important requirement for a WIP to catch the players' attention: they all have interesting ROs.
Players love their ROs (lately, I don't even try a demo if it doesn't have ROs, which might be pretty dumb of my part, but eh, I'm here to chew bubblegum and smooch characters and I'm all out of bubblegum)
Now that we have a general overview of what these WIPs share, I'll talk about The Passenger and my personal experience.
It's very hard for a first book WIP to be popular. HG has 2 top dogs in its line-up--there are a lot of amazing authors and stories, but these two are like 5 steps above the others in sales and fandom. One is The Wayhaven Chronicles by Mishka Jenkins, the other is Fallen Hero by Malin Rydén. Their first WIPs were somewhat popular, but I'm not sure if they got to be on the top 10 at some point (and we are talking about TWC and FH!). Their second books, on the other hand, are very high on the ranking (Mishka's is n.1).
So, what happened? Well, they already had a solidified fan base. If you like the first book you will want to know what happens next.
What does TP have to do with any of this? To be honest, I think I was very lucky. In part because the type of story I like to read and write is the type of story that happens to be very popular among forum players; in part, because TP sort of kind of got caught up in the Fallen Hero wind: FH fans read my game, and I think they low-key realized I'm a big FH nerd, so there's stuff there that feels very Fallen Hero-y. A main character that doesn't belong and has lots of secrets, the struggle between letting people in or shielding yourself, both stories are VERY trans (even though I didn't realize that was the case when I first started writing it because my subconscious is ok, but my conscious mind is really fucking slow)
So, yeah, FH's fans started to post about my game--word of mouth is quite an effective tool. People went to read it because people are always on the look for new WIPs, and they enjoyed what was there (because, again, I like/write the type of story that most people are into).
Other stuff that helps a lot:
• don't leave players in the dark. Always let them know how work's going because fan interest can only go so far and it's your story, so it's your job to keep players engaged.
• posting a demo and disappearing for months only works if you have a super successful WIP--two of my fave WIPs haven't been updated in years, but a lot of people (including myself) are still super pumped about them. That's the power of a strong demo.
• having a tumblr where you give a glimpse of the characters' minds does wonders to keep players interested.
• work on your demo. Writing isn't easy; sometimes your brain doesn't want to do its job, sometimes you feel like shit, sometimes a scene doesn't look right. You know what you do when that happens? You look at that scene in the face and tell it to go fuck itself. Then move on, write the next scene. You can come back later and fix it once you know what happens next. Like that writing advice says: "You can edit 200 words, but you can't edit 0 words."
• knowing this, be kind to yourself. You don't feel like writing? Do something else: watch a movie, play a game, work on your book's plot, listen to an analysis of a story you like. Use the downtime to unwind, and to learn about the craft. It'll make your stories a lot better.
• pace is key; you want your players to keep reading so try not to bore them with lengthy exposition; bring up questions every chapter and answer them as the story progresses.
• also, maybe don't compare your WIP's success to others? I know, funny after everything I've said, but hear me out: you don't know how successful the game will be once it's out. TWC and FH were less popular than they are today so who's to say yours isn't like those too.
There has to be a reason why you started to write your story. What was it? Mine was because I wanted to talk about a cosmic horror trying to "pass" as a human being (so basically an autobiography of sorts, ha!) And yeah, seeing TP hit that popularity line was awesome, but it wasn’t part of my plans. I honestly never thought people were going to look at my lacking world-building skills, and my underprivileged/gang-of-weird characters and think, "ah yes, finally the kind of story i've been wanting to read." I was very lucky and hopefully the popularity will help once the game is on sale because mama still needs to put a roof over her head.
That's all I can think of. Best of luck with your IF :3
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“Well, I’ve done enough damage around this popsicle stand for now! Great job today, Aisy-Daisy!”
Genie turns to give his Mun a pat on the back, when he sees that she’s gone. He blinks, looking around for her. He cups his hands around his mouth, calling her, voice echoing off the walls of the palace.
“Ah, hellooo?! Ya there, kid? Yoo-hoo~!
No answer. He scratches his head, wondering where she was. He then shifts into a receptionist with tons of makeup on, using a phone in comedic fashion.
“Hm...
Paging Miss Aislinn! Paging Miss Aislinn on line one~!”
Nothing. The djinn then shrugged, starting to head off when a sound reaches his pointy ears, making him turn his head towards it.
It sounded like...crying? Concern now came to his face, recognizing it as Aislinn. It was coming from Al’s room. He comes at the door frame, one hand on it, and sees her holding a photo in her hands. Her hazel green eyes were wet, small tears trickling down her cheeks. The cosmic being frowned. She seemed pretty upset about something.
“...Ais?”
His voice made her jump a bit, and she looks up and sees him. She gave an embarrassed look, wiping her eyes to try and get rid of her tears. He tilts his head to the side a bit, brows slanting in worry.
// O-Oh, Genie...Sorry, I was just...looking through family photo albums. *glances down* I missed my grandpa today...
Genie looked at her in sympathy, giving a sad smile and coming over to sit beside her. No magic, no poofing. Just normal talking.
“Ah. I see. I remember your grandfather. He was a good man. Great sense of humor, too.”
// *smiles a bit* Yeah....Genie? Do you think he’d be proud of me? Of how I turned out?
The blue man puts a comforting arm around her, then uses his other hand to gently tilt her head up to look at him. He gives her a kind and warm smile, and keeps his voice gentle.
“Aislinn, if your grandfather were here, he’d be more than proud of you. He would have marveled at the person you’ve become. A kind, beautiful, talented, and brave young lady. I know that for a fact. Because I’m proud of you, too. You’ve accomplished so much, and come so far in your life. Don’t ever lose that spark you’ve got. Alright?”
Something magical happened right then and there. A wide smile came to her face, as a few more tears came down her face. Genie smiled back, wiping them away for her. His words really resonated with her, and she knew he was right. She hugs him close, burying her cheek against his blue chest. He returned her hug, giving her a gentle squeeze.
// Thanks, Genie. :’) I feel a little better.
His grin returned, and he wiggles brows at her playfully, then pulls her into his lap.
“Only a little? Don’t worry. I think I can fix that.”
Aladdin was heading back to his room, when he hears a shriek and the sound of laughter coming from inside. He looks in, alarmed at first, but then grins and crosses his arms when he sees Genie was only tickling Aislinn in delight. His blue fingers brushed and wiggled against her sides and stomach, making her squirm around wildly, and the being laughs along with her, wearing a goofy grin.
“Tickle tickle tickle! Ha ha ha!”
// Hahahahaha, Genieeee! S-Stop! Ehahahahahahaha!! A-Aladdin, help!!
“Heh heh...Okay, if you say so...”
The street rat smirked, approaching the two before joining in with Genie. Aislinn laughed louder, as the two boys ganged up on her together.
// THAT’S NOT HAHA WHAT I MEANT!!! xD
Aladdin laughed, and after a minute of tickling the poor thing, they both let up.
“Okay Genie, I think she’s had it.”
Aislinn catches her breath, giggling a bit here and there. Genie chuckled, reaching down to pinch her cheek gently.
“Awww, aren’t you CUTE?”
She rolled her eyes, before letting out a yawn. Aladdin smiled, helping her up. Genie grins, putting her on his shoulders then winking to the boy.
“I got this, Al. Alllll aboard!”
He lets out a train whistle, jogging to the guest wing with Ais. Aladdin watches this with an amused and happy smile. She giggles happily, and once they arrive, the djinn lets her onto the bed. She looks back at him, then gives him a kind smooch on the cheek. He blinks, touching the spot she kissed in surprise.
// ^_^
The cosmic being then gave a warm, tender smile, then reaches over to pull the covers up over her shoulders. He watches her sleep a moment, caring smile still on his face.
“...”
He rubs her hair softly, then exits.
#Mun and Muse.#I just...love this boy <333#Its late but I'll be on tomorrow for Robin Williams' Birthday. Night all. Stay safe. <3333
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untitled JonMartin ficlet
1642 words
Fluffy af, kinda sad, smooching
For everything Jon had endured, his hands were much softer than Martin had ever expected them to be. For all the scars and burns and callouses that adorned Jon’s flesh, his hands were softer than they appeared. Maybe he moisturized to make up for how damaged they were, but when Jon’s palms brushed over the backs of his hands, there was something to it that made the contact feel even more genuine.
They had been lost in the Lonely together for quite some time. At least that’s what Martin had suspected. Time here wasn’t really much of a factor or a concept. It was just a silent existence. It was precisely what Peter had been seeking. But it was not a place for two people to dwell in comfort. Thankfully, comfortable silence was something that Martin and Jon shared during their departure.
He did not doubt that Jon knew the way. Jon just knew things. And even if he didn’t have the clearest view of the way out, he would find it. Martin supposed that his desire to see them both out and see them both safe was all he needed to drive himself forward. Jon was an interesting one like that. When it came to only himself, he would panic, he would act rashly and over the top. But when the well beings of others were concerned, it was as if he’d forgotten all about his own hangups in those moments. And his focus was solely on the needs of others.
And so that was why they had stopped walking. For now at the very least. Time may not have been a construct within the Lonely, but ones body could only move so much before it would need a rest. It did not feel as if either of them needed to eat while they were here. The Lonely would keep its victims alive as long as it needed to in order to sustain itself. If it was anything like the Buried, there was never any concern for perishing within its confines.
But the Lonely did not like how Together Martin and Jon were. Perhaps that was how Jon knew the way. He knew the Lonely would not want either of them together in a place meant to isolate for long. Martin supposed he could see the way out now too. Or at the very least he could feel it. He needed a rest, however. If he wanted to keep going he needed to rest his weary legs.
There was nothing to lean against except each other. So he and Jon sat upon the sand of the shoreline, their backs pressed together. Martin’s head leaned back, craning just slightly so that Jon’s hair brushed against his face. He gazed toward the indistinguishable sky; it was masked by clouds and mist and haze so that even among the heavy shade of this place, looking to the sky for a sign of hope was beyond attainable. And so his eyes fluttered shut and he breathed. A slow, calming inhale that he hoped would tingle his senses with the cool, crispness of salty air. But it only smelled damp, like a basement filled of old magazines and cardboard that had fallen to neglect. There was no comfort to the air here.
“Breathe, Martin.” He hears Jon speak softly against his ear, his head tilted to the side so his voice could reverberate through Martin’s senses like the warmth he sought after. “Breathe and keep your mind clear. I’m here and I won’t let you slip back in.”
“Do you really think I’ll slip back that easily?” Martin replied quietly, but his words fall silent as he feels the surprisingly gentle enclosure of Jon’s hand around his own. There is no grit from the sand beneath their hands, only the warmth of Jon’s fingers closing around Martin’s hand, lifting it from the ground to squeeze in reassurance.
“There’s no saying how soon you’re free from the Lonely until we can leave together.”
But Martin does not keep their hands together for long. Because he has a better idea. His finger slip free from Jon’s hand and he hears a sound slip from him, almost that of disappointment before Martin moves to sit by his side. He does not want to turn his back on Jon again. Keeping his back to Jon was the hardest thing he had ever done and he never wishes to hides himself away like. Ever. So instead, Martin settles down at his side.
This is where he belongs. He and Jon make eye contact for a moment. Jon does not need to ask him anything, but Martin instead asks him a question that Jon does not answer so easily. Martin’s index finger brushes Jon’s in a cautious, hesitant stroke. “May I?”
Jon is taken aback, eyes shifting from their hands to Martin’s face -- studying his gaze, the way his eyes are transfixed on their hands. “Of-of course.” he answers after composing himself. Martin’s response is not verbal, but it’s heartfelt as he takes Jon’s hand with both of his, cupping it between his. The soft, smooth flesh of his palms. His pristine, trimmed nails. The light hair of his knuckles. He doesn’t even find the puckered scars of his burn mark unpleasant. He traces the ridges of the scar, reminding himself that this was just another one of the remarkable things about Jon. The pain he was willing to endure from others.
And Martin lifts Jon’s hand to his lips. He places a single kiss to the back of his hand. But he does not stop there. He knows what he said. He knows he told Jon he loved him. He wants to show it. He wants to show his gratitude and his adoration. Right now if he could. And Jon is here with him. So very real.
And Jon does not speak as Martin holds his hand to his face, peppering it with sweet, delicate and (dare he say it?) innocent kisses. It’s almost feverish before Martin presses Jon’s palm to his face and holds it there for a moment. His eyes close and he breathes. He breathes as Jon instructed him to.
“Even when I can’t see you, Jon,” he says, one hand lightly brushing down Jon’s wrist while the other holds his hand in place. “Even if I lose sight of you -- I need to know you’re with me. I need to feel that you’re with me. Whether it’s here, or back out there, or wherever we end up. I need to know you’re here.”
“Martin, I’m here.” Jon says, his weight shifting to bring himself closer to him. He follows suit and raises his other hand to Martin’s opposite cheek to let him feel his hands on either side of him. “I won’t let you stray from me, from the others -- not again. We, no, I -- I won’t allow it. You’re too valuable. To Daisy, to Basira. To me.” And Jon moves in close. He presses his forehead to Martin’s and breathes in the same air between them. His voice is gentle as the words come from him. “Your words did not fall on deaf ears, Martin -- I know how you feel. I know how you feel about me.”
“If this is a rejection Jon, just say so.” Martin’s eyes do not open. It’s as if he does not want to face Jon in the event that it is a rejection.
“It’s not a rejection.” Jon says, but the way he says it, there’s an air of hesitation. “But it is an affirmation. I need to confirm what I heard you say before you saw me. I need you to know what I heard you say.”
Martin finds himself pressing each of his hands against Jon’s as they rest upon his cheeks. He feels in Jon, the thrumming of his heart as his veins pulse with anxiety with each word he dares speak. “What did I say Jon?”
“You said you loved me.” Though with this, Jon does not hesitate. “You said you loved me. And Martin, I suspect I always knew you did. Or I suspect I had known for a while that you had some sort of feelings for me. And I need to know. Was that you or was that the Lonely using you to lure me in deeper.” His voice raises, but not in a hostile way. But in a way that is buzzing with the energy of someone who is risking their own pride for answers. In the way that someone desperate for the truth begs the almighty. “Martin, do you love me?”
Martin did not need Jon’s Knowing to spur his answer. He did not need any cosmic entity to intervene. All he needed to hear was Jon and Jon alone.
“Yes.” He answers, his eyes slowly opening to look at the man before him. He nods, his grasp upon Jon’s hands loosening as Jon trails a hand to his chin. “Yes, Jon, I love you. And I --”
But he does not speak. He cannot speak. He can only relax and do what Jon requested of him -- breathe. And he breathes as Jon’s lips find his own. And he breathes as he relaxes for the first time in months. And he breathes as he and Jon press against one another for both support and appreciation. And he breathes, as Jon pulls back, his thumb brushing over his cheek. And he breathes as he sees what he might describe as joy on Jon’s face for the first time in as far back as he can remember.
And Jon is smiling.
“Thank god, I thought I was the only lovesick one between us both.”
And Martin decides, that although his hands were soft, Jon’s smile is softer.
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