#quarantine had me digging ao3
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SEEING YOU, SEEING ME (2/7)
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Word Count: 1.4K
Summary: After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.
Warnings: PRE-TLOU setting so no show spoilers, Mentions of death and violence, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Angry!Joel, Eventual Smut, Enemies to Fuckers, Sexual tension
( Read on AO3 )
Previous Chapter / Next Chapter | Masterlist
CHAPTER TWO: BREAK IT TO ME GENTLY
The abrupt clang of a pan hitting the metal frame of a stove wakes you.
Out of your dead and delayed sleep you jolt, panicked and ready to run at a second's notice. Your chin whips around to find the source of the noise, accustomed to loud meaning bad, but you are met with the opposite:
In the open-wall divide of the apartment, Joel Miller stands only a few feet away. Dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, he sports a tattered olive rag draped over his shoulder. He busies himself with the black, worn pan in his left hand, only glancing under his brow with mild interest when the mattress creaks in the scattered fright.
“Thought maybe you died,” he greets with something that sounds almost like a hollow joke. His wrist turns, sifting the contents in the sizzling pan below.
You open your mouth to argue, but the aroma of food — fresh, real food — dissolves the thought into thin air.
He follows the trail of your eyes to the pan and speaks plainly.
“Had an extra egg in the fridge.”
Eggs.
The scent is scrambled eggs.
Your eyes round with interest. “You have eggs here?”
“Not anymore,” he says, lifting a spatula to push the food from the pan and onto a nearby plate. “Have to go grab more.”
Your stomach growls with need.
It would be rude to ask — right?
Except he doesn't give you a chance to: Joel leaves the stove with a plate in hand, half-full by a rationed scrambled egg. Without a word he sets it down at the dining table, cleared off from the night before.
At first, you don't move from the edge of the mattress. Bouncing your attention between him and the steaming plate of food, you wait for verbal confirmation.
Permission.
"Are you gonna eat it, or are you gonna waste it?" he absently asks over his shoulder when he returns to the stove, shoveling out a second egg to another plate.
You hesitate, stuck between calling a bluff and accepting what’s happening right in front of you: a gesture of kindness, even if it may not be his idea.
You slide off the bed to meet him in the tiny kitchenette, sitting awkwardly at the table once littered with drugs and alcohol.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. They're not good."
"Oh." You pluck a tiny piece with your fork, surveying the fluff of yellow. "I wasn't much of a cook either, before this."
Lifting the fork to your mouth, you taste test with a tiny piece.
It’s good.
Maybe not gourmet, but it’s good enough.
Melting at the taste of something rare yet familiar, you hum in appreciation and dig in for more.
“Christ, I haven’t had eggs in forever. They’re so fucking expensive at the mart.”
Once Joel picks up his own plate from the kitchen counter, the apartment is alive with the sounds of forks scraping at ceramic. It’s supplemented with a soundtrack by the outdoor hustle and bustle of the Fedra soldiers and the citizens of the quarantine zone.
It feels peaceful.
(It feels normal, in the irony of it all.)
Neither of you speak, too worried about making the food last, until he chirps up. Finished first.
“So are you gonna disclose what it is exactly that you did for Tess?”
Joel turns to discard his plate into the nearby sink, only to lean back against the counter. His arms cross over his broad chest, expectant.
"I think I deserve to know what it is I'm housing you for," he adds.
You look up from your fork, catching his eye.
“I don’t think she’d like that.”
"No?"
"No."
“Well she ain’t exactly the one here playing babysitter,” Joel counters, gliding the tattered rag off of his shoulder and down his chest to drop it into the sink.
You roll your eyes, stabbing at the last remaining piece of egg on your plate.
“I mean… I wouldn’t call this babysitting, Miller. I am a grown adult.”
His brows furrow, but he doesn’t argue.
Instead he asks a question that catches you both off guard:
“You know my last name?”
You pause, hovering the fork near your mouth as you formulate a response.
Is that supposed to be a surprise?
(As if it's a crime to call him as anything but a stranger.)
“Everyone in the zone knows you,” you reply with apprehension. “It's not exactly a secret who people go to if they want shit done around here.” Then there’s the obvious in the room, though it’s closer to a church mouse than an elephant in size. “And besides, we… have worked together a lot, so I've heard it once or twice.”
Or twenty, give or take a shift.
He stares, hard, before clenching his jaw.
“Yeah, I know we have. Just didn’t think you knew my name, s’all.”
Wait.
You blink.
“You mean you—”
Both of you still into silence as you cut off your question, eye to eye.
"You mean I... what?" Joel begins, suspicious.
You're going to sound like an idiot.
Eyes closed, you inhale a bit of strength before taking one last bite of what’s left of the egg on your plate.
"You know me?" you ask.
"Know you?" he repeats, and you nod. "Seriously?"
You nod again. Joel lets out a huff, adjacent to a humorless laugh.
“I know your face, sure. If I recall right, then you’ve been on a few of them jobs.”
“Oh.”
His brows knit as he re-adjusts his stance against the counter.
“Why? S'that surprising to you?”
“Very,” you admit under your breath. “I didn’t think you watched what I did or saw me at all."
He runs a hand over his face, scratching at the salt and pepper scruff lining his jaw.
“No, I didn't watch you, but I saw you,” he replies, matter of fact. “Probably the only one I get stuck with who actually puts some back into their shit."
The slight praise blossoms something warm in your belly, full from a cooked meal.
"Except," he starts with an uptick in his voice, "I didn’t peg you as the type to run around with Tess.”
You try not to smile, but it’s too late. "No?"
"Not in the slightest."
"I don't think a lot of people can peg me as any type of thing, 'cus none of these people really know me," you admit a little too honestly. "Not really in the market to be known."
(Kind of like you, you want to say.)
Joel nods at nothing in particular, contemplating with his attention to the floor. Abruptly he clears his throat and hikes a thumb back to the weather-worn refrigerator in the corner.
"I need to grab some extra food, then, if this is gonna be a couple of days."
Something flutters in your stomach; not as pretty as a butterfly, but something less twisted than a bee. Any conversation that isn't a fight is an improvement.
Maybe you misjudged the situation.
Maybe Joel just doesn't want to be known, same as you.
You shift in your seat to shuffle through the back pocket of your jeans. “I have ration papers if you need more to cover the cost.”
The corner of Joel’s upper lip scowls as he shakes his head. He pushes off the counter to walk towards the table where you sit.
“Keep ‘em – I got plenty.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He tugs the jacket off of the back of the unoccupied chair, flicking out the collar once it’s finally on his torso. “You put that in the sink, then, when you’re finished? I’ll get around to ‘em when I come back.”
“I can clean both sets of dishes, Miller,” you argue as he passes by you to reach the door of the apartment. “It’s the least I can do while I'm stuck here.”
Hand on the doorknob, Joel turns his chin to study you one last time.
"Right."
His lips purse like he wants to say something, as if it’s tickling the tip of his tongue, but ultimately decides against it. Instead he settles with a huff through his nose; a sound of resignation.
“Just don’t touch anything else.”
Author's Note: We've gotten the intro out of the way. Next chapter is when things start to get juicy, I promise. The response to this fic has been wonderful and the google doc is nearly 10K, so you KNOW we're in it now.
As always, comments & reblogs are adored. Thank you for reading!
#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller#the last of us#tlou spoilers#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#wip#amywritesthings#seeing you seeing me
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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023| DAY 1 | Roommates
Christmas Sweaters In June | @envydean
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1,500
Main Tags/Warnings: Laundromats, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, First Kiss, Secretly in love with each other, Mutual Pining
Summary: “Love,” Cas says suddenly in his ear. It makes Dean’s heart jump and his lungs constrict.
“Wha-what?” Dean stutters, head turning to Cas whose eyes are still fixated on the screen.
“L-O-V-E. Love, it’s the one you’re missing from this round.” Dean looks back down at his screen and sees Cas’ finger linking the letters together.
“Oh,” Dean breathes.
Take a Chance on Me | @nickelkeep
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5,186
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, They were roommates!, Idiots in Love.
Summary: After what could possibly be the worst date that Cas has ever had, his best friend Dean is there to help make things right. And how Dean makes things rights? It's the last thing Cas ever dreamed of.
You Are Safe Here, You Know | @sunshine-zenith
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 5,739
Main Tags/Warnings: Normal Human AU, Human Cas, Teacher Dean, Getting Together, Mental health issues, homelessness (past), minor injuries (past)
Summary: In which Castiel has a bad day at the Gas N' Sip and his roommate, Dean, cheers him up
light my candle | @demonmary
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 7,798
Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Teasing, Jealous Dean, Friends to Lovers, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Getting Together
Summary: Dean held out his hand, the perfectly dripped circle of dried wax laying in his palm. “You into candle wax, buddy? Never thought you’d be that type in the bedroom.” He remarked casually, fighting against the onslaught of images this new information provided the part of his brain that housed his Forbidden Cas Fantasies. Cas finally looked up into Dean’s gaze, and Dean was surprised to see the challenge presented behind those stupidly beautiful blue eyes. “Well then, Dean, could you tell me exactly what type you did take me for while you were contemplating my preferences in bed?”
Just Turn Around And Go | @porcupine-girl
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 11,320
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Brief mentions of other past relationships for both of them, Pining, No actual infidelity happens, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers
Summary: Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives. It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas. Well, here we go, he thinks as he opens the refrigerator and digs around for sandwich supplies. First day of the rest of your life. Time to move the fuck on. As he slams his meat and mayo and pickles down on the counter, he considers adding the bottle of whiskey he knows is hiding in the cabinet, but decides that he has enough self-respect to wait 'til five. Then he'll get fucking blackout drunk. Yep. Awesome.
Cuddlibus | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14,566
Main Tags/Warnings: Creature Castiel, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Bottom Castiel, Top Dean, Alpha Dean, Omega Castiel, Happy Ending
Summary: As a cuddlibus—a subspecies of incubi—Cas needs regular cuddles to survive. Dean is more than happy to let his best friend feed off him.
And they were ghostmates | @whichstiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 16,071
Main Tags/Warnings: Quarantine, Ghosts, Implied temporary major character death, Alternate universe
Summary: Castiel moves into his new house, looking for a fresh start. With cosmically bad timing, as quarantine descends he learns his house is haunted by the ghost of Dean Winchester.
Crush My Heart(Love on Tour Version) | Maetheheller (AO3)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 17,493
Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester A++ parenting, top Castiel/bottom dean Winchester, idiots to lovers, bossy Castiel, dean Winchester wears panties, Lisa and dean break up, past Castiel/mick Davies, Cas and dean go to a Harry styles concert
Summary: After responding to an ad, Cas Novak finds himself with the perfect roommate. Only, he’s not as perfect as he could be. Dean Winchester is every man’s wet dream— handsome, rugged, a good cook, and an even better person to be around. Only problem is, he has a girlfriend, who doesn’t like Castiel very much. Despite all that, Cas enjoys his company and through their budding friendship, maybe Dean can realize how good Cas can be for him. Through movie nights and bonding over Harry Styles, they’ll have to see what they make of living together.
Lucky Winner | @natmoose
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 31,741
Main Tags/Warnings: Roommate AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Rommates to Lovers, Summer Vacation
Summary: Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with. But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.
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Humor (6) Masterlist
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five
7 Places Not to Have Sex, a Guide by Dan Howell - ttathinker
Summary: because not every time dan and phil have sex results in careless whispers in the background and scented candles.
an elemental match (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)
Summary: “one moment can change a day, one day can change a life, and one life can change the world”
- not buddha
dan and phil, who like everyone else in their world have some level of superhuman powers, are out and about when tragedy strikes. they have powers, though. they can fix this, right? right.
(right?)
Baby, I'm a Star (ao3) - cactusgal
Summary: Phil is a lighting designer. Bored with the community concert gigs he has worked for a couple years, he applies at a touring company. He is assigned to a popular band, the dreamx, to cover a world tour. Getting paid to work on nearly every continent: how rad is that? Phil's excited until the first day of rehearsal when he learns something vital: the lead singer is a complete twat. Will Phil quit his job? Will Daniel, the lead singer, realize how much of a dick he's being? Will they eventually forget their differences and become friends? Who knows. Only time will tell.
can dan and phil nut (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)
Summary: dan and phil try no-nut november
Christmas with a few Kinks (ao3) - winstonlives
Summary: Phil’s a cheeky lil’ shit and inspires Dan to set them up with a Mrs Claus they only know for about an hour.
i jump for my phone every moment it lights up (ao3) - natigail
Summary: Dan left YouTube behind to become an actor, but years later when coronavirus hits and forces him into self-imposed quarantine he rediscovers an old passion of his - AmazingPhil. He hadn't counted on becoming internet friends with him, or falling in love for that matter.
It all started with a snake bite (ao3) - winstonlives
Summary: Dan accidentally turns Phil on. Ribena gets all over the couch. While cleaning it up Dan finds out some surprising, and arousing things about Phil's university life.
Kick Me While I'm Down (ao3) - jerseker
Summary: Dan and Phil meet in an adult kickball league. Phil is just there to make friends. Dan is - not.
Lipstick (ao3) - winstonlives
Summary: Inspired by an Instagram filter, Dan tries lipstick.
Moments (ao3) - TwistedRocketPower
Summary: Dan and Phil had a file. A file of moments that were for their eyes only. Until one day, they were broadcast to the world.
One Last Time (ao3) - greensweater
Summary: When Dan Howell moves in with Phil Lester to help pay the rent, Phil isn't expecting anything but a new friend. What happens, however, is a connection neither of them can deny, even as much as they want to. A Housemate!Phan au.
Practice Makes Perfect (ao3) - winstonlives
Summary: Phil said he would paint Dan’s nails in a live show, and doesn’t think much of it until Dan finds someone else to do it. Dan is surprised and amused at Phil’s reaction.
Reflections (ao3) - howlthenight
Summary: After the US TATINOF tour, the guys decide it's time for a day at the beach.
“This is perfection, isn’t it?” says Dan peacefully, feeling what he assumes others consider the lightness of being. Phil makes a noise of agreement. Serenity permeates the air. A cruise ship appears as if it’s sitting at the edge of the ocean. They dig their toes into the sand.
Ring It On (ao3) - ahappyphil
Summary: @danielhowell: come hang out with dizzle and pizzle while we tell you the true life tale of how phil desecrated our marriage
seasons change (ao3) - sadlybunny
Summary: The boy is irresistible. He’s got that “couldn’t be bothered” attitude that has always intrigued Phil, always made him want to know Danny a little bit better. Phil knows falling in love with his best friend’s younger brother is wrong. But he just can’t seem to do the right thing.
The Boy In The Garden (ao3) - orphan_account
Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester had nothing in common. But when the two of them end up working together in the abandoned school garden, will friendship- or something more- develop between them?
the money summits - LetGladnessDwell
Summary:
You might think you’re talking about numbers, but it’s always more than that, Kath had said.
(Or, what Dan and Phil talk about when they talk about money.)
You push all my buttons down. (I know life would suck without you) (ao3) - sinking_wthatship
Summary: Dan and Phil are together, but they have a fight. They don’t speak (only to argue), and have to film a video together. They act civil and what not but it is obvious that they aren’t as close. After the filming, there is a lot of sexual tension, so Phil kisses Dan and it ends up as angry/make-up sex.
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How’d you get into transformers originally? Who were ur fav characters when you first read or watched it?
ooh okay i've kind of answered this before so i'm going to go dig up an old answer
So back in the…faaaaall? of 2019? Probably before then but at least at that point, my friend Steph was trying to convince me to read Transformers comics again (MTMTE/LL) because the robots were gay, and I, longtime member of fandom and aware of how these things worked went ‘yeah, sure, the robots are gay.’ and then over winter break I was noodling around for something to watch while I put embroidery on a headphones case and hey, the Bumblebee movie is on Amazon Prime, that looks kind of interesting and I’ve seen enough bits and pieces go around Tumblr to have an inkling that it’s good. And it was kind of interesting! so from there I went and poked around the AO3 page, as one does–got vaguely annoyed that there was so little for Charlie/Memo, a complaint I continue to cherish–and not long after that someone I followed started to get really into MegOp in a fan-of-the-fandom way and I went 'ooh’, having now been introduced to Transformers as 'thing that can be kind of interesting’ so I went and read all of astolat’s MegOp fic. and that a lot of other people’s MegOp fic. and I maintained that I was only here for the 'robot Professor X and Magneto’ dynamic, and then I discovered Jazz Transformers was like if someone had taken my favorite character archetype of 'sneaky spy who is charming and friendly both because he genuinely likes people and because it is a good way to get information, who works happily as a second/third-in-command and may or may not be in love with his immediate superior and showing it through acts of service, and also capable of being really fucking dangerous’ and also mixed in 'musician, specifically bass player’ and I went 'this is an attack on me personally’ and then things….proceeded from there during quarantine. I watched the first season of TFP because it was on Netflix and recommended to me, I made my way through MTMTE/LL after a couple of tries and went 'oh you weren’t kidding these robots are gay’ and Steph and Rena went 'WE FUCKING TOLD YOU’ and then I started watching all of G1, which I’m still working on because I keep forgetting I’m doing that, and in about August of 2020 I mentioned to another friend, Jess, that I’d been getting into transformers and within a month I’d taken an idea we were tossing around for a random captured soldier/enemy general scenario and turned it into the first scene (and then the rest of the scenes) for Intelligence and it was the first thing I’d written in eight months and oops I was now a Transformers fan.
fav characters--transformers is such a tricky thing to answer this for because i really did get into this fandom-first and fanon transformers is such a different beast than canon; like i said up there, i loved megop and jazz and those get very different fanon and canon treatments and highlights. if we're going by JUST canon content, i still want more stuff with Memo--I also really loved Skids when I read MTMTE. I do have to say that G1 grabbed me with Hound and Mirage in the pilot and I'm still on this train.
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4 7 11
4. What is the plot bunny you've been carrying around the longest? Optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven't written it and experience deep existential dread?
Jeremy's freshman year bisexuality crisis... those first two chapters are still on ao3 but gods the progress I lost... maybe one day I'll dig up the scraps I could salvage and piece it together. It actually inspired another user (whose name escapes me, but they did ask if they could write it in that comment section) to write a fic entitled "sophomore year" way back in 2018 so it's kind of funny how the spiritual successor got completed while the original died.
7. Tell us about the plot for the first fanfic you ever wrote.
Technically the first one was this self-insert youtuber thing when I was 13 that was highly wattpad-coded, but I didn't finish it and I was physically writing it on paper and didn't share it to the internet (or anyone. For good reason.) Like, I needed to be kidnapped bc [redacted youtubers] thought I was keeping "government secrets" but really it was just fanart of them bc i was a ✨️#fangirl lol✨️ It made. No sense. But I was 13 so of course it didn't.
As for the first one I posted, it was started a few weeks after I got into bmc - like I hadn't even listened to all the songs yet, I was banking off of boyfs fanart, animatics, the wiki synopsis, and then LATER the script when I got to the Halloween portion. It needlessly erased the fact that Jeremy was crushing on Christine and that she'd "known him since seventh grade" via AGTIKBI. Like she had just moved and Jeremy was trying (and failing) to project his feelings for Michael onto her bc he lied abt wanting to join the play "because of his crush" and just.. made up the name bc haha theres not a Christine Canigula at this school. And then he goes to rehearsal and Mr. Reyes is like "lol new student this is christine canigula" and jer is all "oh shit shes real and Michael is supposed to think i have a crush on her GUESS I HAVE TO GO FOR IT NOW."
It's like... not quiiite the Christine erasure that I thought it was now that i think abt it, but it was still needlessly wishy-washy about her importance to the story. It was basically "Be More Chill but Jeremy got squipped trying to get with Christine specifically to get over Michael" which is like,, prime 2017 cringefail bc I started it when I was 15. It was,, stupid.
Though admittedly it had some fun ideas. Like ACTUALLY SEEING HALLOWEEN THROUGH JENNAS POV VIA A VLOG AND GIVING HER SHIT TO DO PRIOR TO THE PITIFUL CHILDREN!!! I POPPED OFF THERE IDC!!!
11. What's something neat you've learned while doing research for something you were writing? Also, how much do you worry about research in general?
This is actually recent bc of smth I wanted to do with Tales From The Lagniappe!! So in L4D2 the military calls the Infected "Whiskey Delta" as code for "Walking Dead" (despite them not being dead but not the point.) And in The Sacrifice comic that bridges the gap between the first and second game, they call the Survivors "Tango Mikes." I didn't know what the "TM" could've been code for so I looked it up and it's in reference to Typhoid Mary, who as far as I can tell is the first (known) asymptomatic carrier of anything ever???
She was a cook for hire and most of the families she worked for mysteriously got typhoid fever bc she had it in her gallbladder and didn't practice proper hygiene while cooking (it was the 1900s so it was like, weird but not weird weird). She was quarantined for like 30 collective years throughout her life and,, knowing the lethality of the Green Flu and that the L4D military nicknamed the Survivors after her brings an even darker spin on their view on carriers, as if it wasn't dark enough that they (spoilers) later resorted to killing carriers instead of just imprisoning them.
#asks#mj says shit#i dont name drop these fics bc the titles make me cringe so hard#but theyre still under my account so its not like theyre hard to find#be more chill#tales from the lagniappe#writing#fanfic#left 2 chill
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rec list for endhawks gems
as usual during this quarantine, i went through a challenging quest, searched through every single fic on ao3 about a single ship and made a rec list, ended up with around 25 works out of 630. nearly all of them should be free of explicit, problematic and triggering content besides one or two in the mature content sense. and i’ll note those down separately but i always suggest reading the tags before starting a fic regardless the rating, just so you know what you’re diving into. furthermore, there’s this author note at the end of a fic that i’ve found which pretty much sums up my feelings about a mess that’s called todoroki friggin’ enji:
“ I love Hawks and Endeavor together. They're a great dynamic, whether it's platonic or not. I'm a pretty open guy when it comes to shipping, and me and a certain lilviathan love going back and forth with dumb ideas about them.
And that's kind of where the contradictory feelings for the Flaming Garbage Man that is Endeavor kind of come from? Because I really do think he's a very interesting and well-developed character, but I also have a very strong urge to stab him at any given time.
I want to make his life miserable and hurt him, but I also want someone to sit him down and tell him that while he owes his family an apology, they do not owe him forgiveness. I want to see him grow. I want to see him face the repercussions of his actions and move forward. ”
—by Canarianyellow on archiveofourown.org
last notes; starred ones are my personal favorites, and i'm adding to this list as i go,, so look out for updates!! you can find a better formatted version of this list here on google docs.
that being said, here are the gems i found on a yet another holy quest:
Walk Alone by adastrad*
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3.6K
Summary: You've lost your wings, you've lost your speed, and in the crowd ahead, you've lost him too. How do you know what name to call out when you don't even know what to call yourself?
as usual, kick-starting the list with one of the first fics i’ve read about them. we have some pretty good angst related to the latest manga chapters in our hands and a fascinating second person pov here. the ‘stream of consciousness’ style of wording kicks you right in the ribs, in a good way.
&&.
It's Cold, I Don't Want To Be Lonely
by onlyatitagain
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3.7K
Summary: When in the presence of Todoroki Enji, it was easy to feel warm and overwhelmed by heat in more ways than just physical. Hawks was very aware of the fire burning in his heart that roared to life whenever he was with his childhood hero, who was now his best friend. The relationship they had was special in the way of how close they had become, Hawks trusted the number one hero with his life and could always count on him no matter the circumstance.
What would happen if he said something and ruined that trust, the friendship they had built over months of knowing each other?
You should never play with fire, unless you want to get burned.
truly a beautiful hurt/comfort fic. enji’s characterization is gentle and might feel slightly OOC, but give it a chance. there is also some pretty cheesy couple stuff at the end and that might not be your cup of tea, just a heads up.
&&.
Fallen by copper_leaf**
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 7.3K
Summary: Hawks’ attempt to infiltrate the League goes wrong.
Enji is the one he turns to.
both its part one and part two, this series can take my soul. literally 7K of sheer hurt/comfort, and a caring enji. hawks’ eyeliner is probably ruined by now. can i say this is probably the best fic i’ve read about them softness-wise? i can.
&&.
Burning Embers by copper_leaf**
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 6K
Summary: Hawks wakes up, wingless, in Enji's arms.
the continuation of the fic above, here’s more content that will make you feel all mushy. a beautiful excerpt from it:
“It’s a flicker of light in the darkness, the last ember left in the heart that still has the power to bring all else to flame.”
&&.
The Bird Who Swallowed a Star*
by angyhawks (Soll)
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 4.5K
Summary: Endeavor remembers Hawks' small hands, how they didn't burn as he danced on his palms.
How Hawks had whispered sweet nothing into his flames, words not important as his lips moved and his voice chirped.
He remember Hawks finding him, small and spent, and gifting him a feather to feed on.
Endeavor wishes a feather had been his only offer.
//in which Endeavor is a fire demon, Hawks is once again tied to the ground, and wouldn't it be nice if they could kiss?
&&.
Light by Caahs*
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2.1K
Summary: Since he was a boy, Hawks gathered an eternal distaste for darkness, which was preserved until his most recent days. However, the blazing figure of Endeavor always came up like his warm source of light, illuminating the most obscure paths and clarifying the most difficult decisions.
&&.
Emotions Are Hard, Love Even More So...
by aurora_whitlock
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 4.4K
Summary: Hawks and Endeavour at the end of a long week. Alone. Together. Its just some cute, fluffy bullshit basically. Warm your hurt little hearts.
&&.
Cuff me to the truth of failure
by Not_A_Valid_Opinion
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 3.4K
Summary: The kid’s eyes are so wide, Hawks can see the entire silhouette of his wings in their reflection. “I want to be you.”
Shit.
“No, you don’t, kid,” he can’t help but promise, can’t stop the sadness in his eyes from flickering into view.
Hawks has dinner with Enji after a bad interview.
&&.
Look at what amounts from the jump
(and I'm never coming down) by
Not_A_Valid_Opinion
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3K
Summary: He stares at Endeavour with something close to regret, maybe closer to suspicion, but before Endeavour can catch the look it’s gone and replaced with a pursed lip and a glance at his phone. “I’ve gotta go. See you around, Enji.”
But the burly man stops him with his name. “Watch where you’re flying,” he says gruffly, though it’s different. It’s not an order. It’s not a request.
Whatever it is, Hawks takes it as a challenge.
Endeavour is worried about Hawks. Hawks doesn't know what to do with that information.
&&.
You mesmerise me in red and gold
by Arayne
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 4.2K
Summary: Enji has never gotten to tell Hawks what's on his mind so he tries, in several ways, to make it clear how he feels.
&&.
We've got a good thing going
by lehnsherry
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3.7K
Summary: Enji is watching Shouto, so he notices the way his eyes snap to the kitchen doorway just before he hears the soft footsteps and the rustling of wings, and his heart jumps into his throat. He turns in his seat just in time to see Hawks walk in, eyes still closed and a hand scratching at his messy hair.
“Mornin’, babe, do you know where my -” Hawks breaks into a huge yawn, and then opens his sleepy eyes, and freezes in the doorway like Shouto used his power on him.
Enji’s mouth makes an involuntary sound of embarrassment, and Hawks flushes all the way down to his chest.
&&.
As He Lived by uzumae*
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2.3K
Summary: Hawks wants to imagine that he still has a place in a world he no longer belongs to.
&&.
future hearts by rire
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1.2K
Summary: When the rest of Hawks is putting on airs, it’s his wings that give him away.
&&.
Break off a piece of your heart by kettleowl
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 890
Summary: The High-End incident, but they are actors who are too emotionally invested in their roles.
&&.
to take a fall by rire
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2.3K
Summary: “What’s with that look, Endeavor-san?” Hawks smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Now I’ve got more free time than I know what to do with.”
&&.
A Thousand Flowers by adastrad*
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 440
Summary: "Let's hope the next time the cherry blossoms fall, we will all be smiling."
&&.
#fantheflames by adastrad
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 54.9K
Summary: Todoroki Shoto accidentally, on purpose, and with great regret helps make Hawks/Endeavor happen.
this is wholesome. one hundred percent cheff kiss. peak comedy with a dose of stan twitter. actually a shouto-centric fic and more like an outsider pov of slight endhawks.
&&.
This Gentle Earth by adastrad**
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 4.2K
Summary: Hawks buys a better excuse to keep visiting Musutafu, but damn it. Enji hadn't been looking to adopt.
guaranteed to melt your insides. enji ends up being a plant parent.
&&.
The Winner Takes it All by adastrad
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 25.2K
Summary: Endeavor's eye is gone. He may say his injuries are his own responsibility, but it's Hawks' fault, isn't it? He will give Enji everything he can. His top secret mission will take the rest.
slaps the roof of the fic this baby right here is a shortcut for a brain burn. with a complicated storytelling and equally complex characterizations, which results in a slow but satisfying reading if you’re looking for a detailed story!! there’s seriously so much pining that it keeps you on your tiptoes until the end of it.
&&.
Roasting the Roaster
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3.7K
Summary: Hawks gossips with the receptionist at Endeavor Hero Agency about what a dork the boss is, discusses Endeavor lookalike porn, and then ropes Shouto into lunch with Endeavor, whereupon Shouto just roasts his dad the whole time.
Can you roast a man who's already on fire? Apparently, yes. Yes you can.
(includes the hit single Did You Need Some Ice For That Sick Burn by Hawks, ft. Shouto Todoroki)
[Only tangentially related to the other fics in this series.]
slight crack fic for humor but it’s truly well-written. a shouto and hawks team up over endeavor was something i never deeply gave attention to yet it is gold and i need more of it. hawks writes a bop, endeavor’s whole agency thirst over the said man and everything leaves you with tears in your eyes from cackling at these dorks.
&&.
the fics listed below the cut are rated mature or
explicit by the authors, and therefore contain sexual content:
Penumbra by Nicolefrickle
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: Enji wants to touch Hawks' wings. Badly.
this one is rated mature but the theme is only minorly implied so i can say it is safe to read without worrying about the rating. more like a fluff fic with hawks being a happy birb.
&&.
An Imperfect Cage by Crandberrycrush
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 55.5K
Summary: Hawks is an orphan, brought up in a charity school and thrust into the world at eighteen to work as a governor for the Todoroki family, a family that has more secrets than he can hope to unravel.
*A gothic romance based heavily on the novel Jane Eyre*
&&.
Liquid Nitrogen by surveycorpsjean
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 23.8K
Summary: Enji can't figure out why the hell Hawks keeps sleeping in his office.
the plot? the writing? the characterization? everything is perfect. i’m normally uncomfortable with this much amount of smut and debated if i should put this on the list or not, since it might consist of triggering content for some. please read all the tags beforehand starting this piece.
&&.
Palindrome by Nicolefrickle
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 7.9K
Summary: Hawks doesn't realize just how much he needs Endeavor, or why it feels like he's still racing time.
//
A character study of Hawks with flashbacks and inner thoughts, heavy on the Endhawks, heavy on the hurt
#boku no hero academia#my hero academy#endeavor#hawks#todoroki enji#is an asshole#endhawks#endhawks fic#fic reccomendations#fic rec#bnha fanfic recs#takami keigo#todoroki shouto#makes an appearence in some fics#he is so done#quarantine had me digging ao3#bnha fanfiction#beggs' rec list
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🐙 29. from the 50 types of kisses prompt list if it is still open :)
Also wanted to say that I am always excited when I see that you have written something new 🌸
thank you so much, that makes me really happy! i hope you like this one too <3
29. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force
[read on ao3]
It’s late.
Usually, Eddie would start gathering Christopher’s things now, urging his son to say goodbye to Buck because he knows it can take a while to separate the two of them.
Tonight, though, Christopher isn’t here and Eddie has had one beer too many to drive himself home. He’s not drunk, and neither is Buck, but they’re both relaxed and sinking too deep into the couch to think about moving now.
Buck’s knee is digging into Eddie’s thigh, but it’s not uncomfortable. He can’t remember moving closer to Buck, or Buck moving at all, but throughout this movie, they’ve somehow ended up so close that all Buck had to do was let his legs fall open a little bit wider for his knee to press against Eddie. And instead of giving him more space, Eddie pressed back.
He’s not sure what they’re doing, but he hasn’t been able to focus on the movie for 20 minutes now, his eyes more or less stuck to Buck’s right leg.
It’s been a while since they’ve hung out like this, just the two of them with no Christopher in the middle. It’s been even longer since Eddie slept over at Buck’s loft, not since the early days of the pandemic, when they quarantined together. He already knows Buck will offer, though.
And, “You’re staying, right?” Buck asks without taking his eyes off the TV.
“I could call an Uber,” Eddie offers, and Buck finally looks at him, eyebrows drawn.
“Yeah, or you could stay. You wouldn’t have to leave your truck behind and I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”
Eddie grins. “But you could save yourself the trouble of making up the couch.”
“I could do that too if you’d just sleep in my bed.” Eddie feels his eyes widen, the point where Buck’s knee touches his thigh suddenly red hot. Buck clears his throat. “I mean, we did it for weeks not too long ago. I don’t…I don’t mind.”
It’s true that they shared Buck’s bed during quarantine, leaving the couch for Chimney. That wasn’t even two years ago, and yet it feels like everything has changed since then.
He and Buck have kept this distance between them for weeks now, months, ever since Buck moved out and things returned to “normal” after the worst part of Eddie’s recovery. It’s not intentional from Eddie’s side, or at least it wasn’t in the beginning, but the way they’ve been gravitating together all night is a reminder of why he usually keeps it up when they’re not working.
He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if they sleep in the same bed. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Buck touches any other part of him.
“Eddie,” Buck says, and there’s something in his voice that makes Eddie look up.
When their eyes meet, Eddie has to swallow harshly at the emotion he finds there. Buck is in pain, and Eddie feels completely helpless against it.
“What happened to us?” Buck asks, and Eddie has to look away. “We can’t keep...everything is wrong, Eddie, and we need to stop pretending that everything is fine. I’m not fine, and I know you aren’t either.”
“Buck,” Eddie starts, but he still can’t look at Buck.
“We need to talk about this, Eddie. All of it. You nearly died, multiple times, and we never talk about it. You told me about your will and then we just brushed it under the rug. I can still taste...I remember the day you got shot in every single excruciating detail and I just, I can’t-” His voice breaks, and Eddie shudders.
I can still taste...Taste what? The image of Buck’s face splattered with Eddie’s blood flashes through Eddie’s mind, and his stomach drops when he understands.
Buck’s knee is still pressed against his thigh and Eddie shifts, pulling one leg up on the couch so he’s facing Buck, even though he can’t quite bring himself to look at him yet.
“I know,” he whispers. “I know we have to talk, but...I’m scared.”
Buck grabs his hand and Eddie shudders again. It feels like Buck is pulling him back in from somewhere he’s floated away to, untethered and lost.
“So am I. I’m terrified all the time.”
“When did this become so hard?” Eddie is shaking, but Buck’s still holding his hand and he’s shaking too, gripping Eddie’s fingers tightly.
“I don’t know. And I want to help you, but I don’t know what you need.”
“I don’t know either,” Eddie admits. “I just want…”
“What?” Buck asks when he trails off. “What do you want? I’ll do anything-”
“You,” Eddie breathes, and he didn’t want to say it but he can’t keep it in any longer anymore either. Buck stills.
“What?”
Eddie tries pulling his hand from Buck’s, but Buck’s grip only gets tighter.
“I’m a mess,” he says. “We both are, I shouldn’t have said-”
“Shut up,” Buck says, and Eddie snaps his mouth shut. “So what if we’re both messed up. How drunk are you right now?”
“I’m...not?” Eddie looks over at the empty beer bottles on the couch table and thinks that he feels more drunk off Buck’s touch than the beers he’s had. “I could probably still drive.”
“Did you mean it?”
Eddie lifts his head slowly, tracking the way Buck’s throat moves as he swallows, the small white indentations his teeth make in his pink bottom lip, the careful hope in his eyes, the way he blinks slowly, mesmerisingly.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, eyes pulled down to Buck’s mouth again when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Yeah, I mean it.”
He darts his eyes back up to Buck’s to see his reaction and finds them trained to his own mouth. Eddie licks his lips and can’t help glancing down at Buck’s again, trembling with how much he wants to close the distance between them.
They shouldn’t, he knows there is too much they haven’t talked about, too much he still has to figure out, but it feels like now that they’ve breached most of the distance between them, they’re two magnets about to snap together.
“Eddie,” Buck says again, quietly, and swipes his thumb across the knuckles of Eddie’s hand he’s still holding, touch achingly soft.
Eddie sways forward and Buck’s lips part on a sigh. Eddie has spent months fighting to keep it together, and he just...doesn’t have any fight left in him.
He gives in to the pull and closes the last of the space between them, cradling Buck’s cheek. Buck pushes into the touch, his free hand grabbing onto the collar of Eddie’s shirt and pulling. Eddie looks away from Buck’s mouth for one second and sees Buck’s eyes close, sees the blissful expression on Buck’s face, and decides that they have time to talk later.
And when he kisses Buck, he feels tethered again for the first time in a long time.
#i didn't intend to make this angsty at all but it just happened#buddie#911fic#buddie fic#911#pia writes#pia's 1k follower celebration#ask#anon
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day 5 - Sick
a day late, whoopsies. probably gonna post two today. used one of the free prompts anyway. the team gets sick. Heavy takes care of everyone, including one person who seems mysteriously missing. obligatory ao3 link
Heavy has had experience with sickness, before. Sometimes he would go out to market with his sisters and get back and two days later the coughing would start—and after it began in one it spread to all, because space was little in the tundra and disease is relentless.
Thus, he already knows it is bad when little Scout begins coughing. Scout says, is nothing, and then he passes out in battle from not breathing, and after that Doctor comes out of infirmary sniffling after he does a check up and Heavy knows there is nothing that can be helped. Doctor calls a quarantine but it is already too late. The next morning little Scout wakes with fever, Engineer is coughing, Demo feels too sick to his stomach to even drink. Heavy will say to Spy: Is end of times. Spy makes his face and does not respond, and Heavy does not see him for rest of the day.
Heavy knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets sick, so he spends time helping instead of hiding out in little expensive fireplace room doing nothing for team. Most of the sick loaf around in living room, complaining. It is thankless job. Heavy makes soup and brings water and changes television if team cannot bother to walk.
“Mishaaa,” Doctor will call. Heavy will come. Doctor will wave hand at television, retreat father into blankets, sneeze six times. “Change the channel, please, just because I am sick does not mean I will watch this drivel.”
Little Scout lost his voice—Heavy is very grateful for this—but he snorts and coughs and shakes his fist.
“You have… bloody books or something, if you’re having trouble havin’ fun,” Sniper replies, with voice that sounds like sand. “I think this cartoon’s the only thing keepin’ Pyro alive. I wouldn’t take it away from ‘em.”
Heavy does not doubt this. Pyro sits in front of the couch, wrapped in no blankets. Occasionally they will make growl from the depths of hell, and sometimes after that they will sniffle for very long while. They seem to be having poor time.
“Pah,” Doctor says, “then get me soup. And bring more water. I am almost out and I do not want to have to resort to drinking out of his glass.”
Soldier spits into his cup every few minutes. Heavy is concerned he is not drinking, though he is keeping an eye.
“Doctor is cranky,” Heavy replies, and he digs through the thick fortress of pillows Demoman and Soldier have arranged on sofa to shake Demo awake and ensure he is still living. He is. It does not seem by much. “He is very lucky Misha cares so much.”
“Shut up.” Doctor seems a little bit guilty. Heavy will take it, and he smiles at him and goes to leave the room.
While Heavy is in kitchen he is not entirely sure, but he thinks he hears sniffling coming from back of base—and he notices Spy is not accounted for, and has probably gotten sick by now.
Heavy fills a bowl and wanders over, stopping in front of Spy’s door—the one he is never supposed to go in ever—and he hears coughing, sneezing, little grumbles of frustration, and he pushes the door open and sees Spy curled up into a ball in front of the fireplace.
“Merde—knock next time!”
“Heavy apologizes. He hears sniffling. You are crying?”
Spy looks back. His face is full of redness and snot.
“No,” he says, too big. “I’m fine. Leave me.”
“Normally Spy is good liar,” Heavy replies. “Is he sick?”
“… Why are you wearing that apron?”
“Is very pretty. Answer Heavy’s question now.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you are not.”
Spy crosses his arms and sneezes very loud and follows with a very shaky: “I think I’d know if I was.”
“You have proven not so.” Heavy sets the bowl he’s holding down on the table beside Spy’s chair. “Why is Spy so scared to tell me?”
“What?”
“Are you afraid of being seen weak?”
“Oh, not this.”
Heavy sets a hand on Spy’s shoulder, which is very quickly slapped off. “Heavy is asking real question. Answer does not leave room, do not worry.”
“No, I’m not afraid of… being… weak, or whatever nonsensical… thing you came up with. Are you happy?”
“Then what is it? There is a reason.”
“Because I don’t want to be seen like this,” Spy says, grumbling and also coughing very hard. “I’m not like the rest of them. I have an image to preserve.”
“So Spy is afraid of being seen?”
“No. Yes, fine, if that’s what will end this blithering conversation. If I am not seen at my best, that drags down expectation, and I become less. Alright? It’s not that important.”
“So he is worried he will not be good anymore if he is seen being normal human.”
“Thats an idiotic way to put it, but yes.”
Heavy thinks for a moment. “There are seven other sick men outside. More sick than Spy. Do you think they will be angry you are not perfect?”
“They’ll laugh at me,” Spy says, looking down at the ground ashamed.
“Yes. They will. But it is not because they think you are bad.”
Spy sighs and does not reply.
“If you think about it, is it not because you are good? Because—ah—what is word?”
“Expectation?”
“Because expectation is so high it is amusing to see you below it.”
“… That’s stupid.” Spy seems unconvinced by himself.
“Perhaps. Perhaps you are stupid too. It is alright to be.”
“Maybe.”
Heavy slides the bowl towards Spy, laughing. “I am going to go check on those in living room. You do not have to join me. You call me if you need me, yes?”
Spy looks ashamed, though there is definitely relief there. “Alright.”
As Heavy leaves room there is a very quiet “thank you”, which only seems to get louder as he walks away, and he cannot stop grinning on his way to the kitchen.
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Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic
Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D
To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!
Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!
--
Twelve months.
Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.
The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.
He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.
The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.
He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.
Still asleep.
With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.
“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”
He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.
Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.
Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.
For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]
He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.
Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.
“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.
He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”
“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.
The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.
He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—
Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.
With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.
“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”
“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.
“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”
Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.
“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”
Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.
Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”
When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]
He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”
Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”
The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”
The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”
Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”
He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.
“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”
They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…
“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”
He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.
With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.
He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.
“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”
Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…
“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”
Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”
“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”
The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”
Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.
“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.
“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.
“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”
He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.
“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”
“You can stay.”
He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.
“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”
“Just tonight then.”
His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”
“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”
“I…to…water the plants?”
“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”
Well. What could he say to that?
Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”
“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”
“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.
The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”
A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”
Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”
Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...
Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.
“Sleep well, Crowley.”
[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season.
[2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon.
[3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel.
[4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.
#good omens prime#good omens lockdown#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale and crowley#wake the snake#aziraphale/crowley#sleeping crowley#aziraphale#pov aziraphale#crowley's flat#crowley's plants#sleepy cuddles#2020 was a year#aziraphale loves crowley#crowley loves his angel#asexual good omens#pointy demon wants soft angel cuddles#good omens anniversary#my writing#ao3 fic#ao3 link
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Virtual Sleepover
Read Virtual Sleepover on AO3
Masterlist
Written for Maribat March Day 4 - Internet Friends
Quarantine had been rough at Wayne Manor, but for Tim Drake, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a bright light through it all. Tim was getting ahead of himself, though. The story of Marinette Dupain-Cheng started on March 20th, 2020. Panic over coronavirus was sweeping the nation. Bruce had gathered all of the members of the Wayne family into the dining room to explain the new rules of the house. No one was to go in or out. Groceries would be delivered to the house. There would be no superhero outings for at least two weeks. Tim didn't think his family would be able to survive, trapped in a house together.
So to preserve his sanity, Tim turned to the internet. There were hundreds of cold cases that he had put on the backburner and hundreds of forums and websites dedicated to solving cold cases. Tim turned to the most popular website and started dumping information, hoping for someone to show up and work through it with him. That's how Tim met Marinette. @MarinetteDC showed up on his page with a friend request, a wide range of technical knowledge about textiles and designs, and about seven different theories on a murder case Tim considered all but unsolvable. Her sleep schedule was just as chaotic as Tim's and she also drank a near-inhuman amount of coffee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng enthralled Tim. And when the chaos of his house threatened to make Tim lose his mind, Marinette became his lifeline.
"Can you hear me?"
Tim nodded. "Yep!"
"Nice!" cheered Marinette. Tim relished the opportunity to see her face, even if it was through a zoom call. "So what do we want to do first? I don't have class until Monday, so we have the whole weekend ahead of us."
"I think we should start with the iconic sleepover classic: truth or dare," suggested Tim.
"Alright. Truth or dare, Tim?"
"Dare." Tim was confident in his abilities to pull off any stunt she might come up with. However, his confidence started to fade as he watched a devious look grow on her face.
"I dare you to bake a batch of cookies - any kind of cookies you want - without using a recipe."
Tim blinked, trying to recall the last time he had baked. Besides a few times helping Alfred out in the kitchen, Tim wasn't certain that he had ever used the Wayne Manor kitchen for anything other than brewing coffee and heating frozen pizzas. "Could I have a new dare?"
Marinette shook her head, the grin on her face demonstrating exactly how much fun she was having, watching the panic in Tim's eyes. "I'll give you one hint on how to make them, but only one, so use it wisely."
Tim groaned, unplugging his laptop from its charger so he could move it to the kitchen. "I'm not actually certain I know all of the ingredients in cookies. Or how long you bake them for. I feel like an hour is probably too long, but I feel like half an hour might not be enough time."
On the other side of the screen, Marinette tried to stifle her giggles but was unable to keep them all in. "No offense Tim, but this is going to be a disaster. I can't wait."
Tim let out another groan. "Must you torture me?"
"How about you keep the laptop camera pointed towards the oven, that way I can tell you once something starts to burn?" Marinette joked.
Tim knew that she was teasing, but honestly, he knew he could use all the help he could get. Still, he wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. "Very funny," Tim said sarcastically, setting the laptop down on the kitchen counter.
"Start with ingredients," Marinette advised.
"What all goes into a chocolate chip cookie..?" mused Tim. He got out the flour, white and brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, and three different types of chocolate chips that Alfred kept stocked.
Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
Tim cast a wary gaze upon his ingredients. It didn't seem like enough, but at the same time he couldn't figure out what he was missing. Tim sighed. "I'm ready to use my hint. Tell me what I forgot."
"You forgot to get out the salt, and more importantly, the baking soda," advised Marinette.
"Can I have a second hint?" asked Tim as he gathered his two missing ingredients.
"That depends on what you're asking," teased Marinette.
"I'm going to start listing measurements, and you tell me if it's too much or not enough."
Marinette pretended to think it over before replying, "I'll do it, but only because I want the cookies to come out edible, not because we're friends or anything like that. There are no friends in the Dupain-Cheng kitchen," said Marinette, her voice filled with faux seriousness.
"Lucky for me, these cookies are being made in the Wayne kitchen, and we're all very nice here, and we don't let Tim burn his cookies."
Marinette giggled. "You have a point there," she acquiesced. "Start listing your measurements."
Tim grabbed the measuring cup and starting approximating. "Two cups flour?"
"That will make about five dozen cookies."
"One cup of each type of sugar?"
Marinette shook her head. "You'll want a 3/4 cup of each."
The rest of the measuring process proceeded smoothly, with Tim guessing measurements of fluctuating accuracy (he correctly guessed that he would need two eggs, but his guess of a half-cup of baking soda led to Marinette questioning whether he had ever been in a kitchen before). Once Tim got the cookie dough mixed, spooned out onto a tray, and put in the oven, they resumed their game of truth-or-dare.
"Your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
Tim tried to think of a good question to ask. "Since you've now seen how abysmal I am in the kitchen, I want to know one thing that you're terrible at."
Marinette scrunched up her brow. "It's nowhere near as bad as you're inability to crack an egg-"
Tim winced a little, remembering the painstaking process of digging out fragments of eggshell after he completely shattered it in his attempts to crack it.
"-But I have really bad depth perception. I trip over every little crack in the sidewalk. I'm probably the clumsiest person you'll ever meet."
Tim chuckled. "And here I thought you were perfect."
Marinette grinned. "Almost perfect. Truth or dare?"
"I'll pick truth this time, and hopefully avoid being humiliated again."
"I'll go easy on you this round. When was the last time you lied, and what was it about?"
Tim combed back through his memory of the past week, trying to pick out the last time he lied. "I think it was yesterday morning. Dick asked me if the coffee I was drinking was my first coffee of the day. I said yes, but really I hadn't slept that night so I just decided to arbitrarily count my start of the day at the time I would have woken up had I actually gone to sleep."
"So how many coffee's had you had yesterday?"
Tim shrugged. "Since midnight? Probably three or four. I've gotten away with a lot more coffee since I modified the Keurig in my room to stop making so much noise."
"I'm lucky," said Marinette. "My parents sleep so far away from me that they can't hear my Keurig."
"Truth or dare?" asked Tim, continuing the game.
"Truth."
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done because you had a crush on someone?"
Marinette flushed red, and Tim immediately knew that this was going to be a good story. "Once I accidentally sent a text to my crush so I stolehisphoneanddeletedthetext." Marinette rushed the last few words, so fast that Tim couldn't quite make them out.
"What was that?"
"I stole his phone and deleted the text before he could read it. In my defense, I made a lot of questionable decisions at that age."
Tim burst out laughing. "How old were you?"
"I was thirteen," admitted Marinette.
Tim couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of her claims. "You couldn't have asked him to borrow his phone and deleted it then?"
"I was in panic mode. It was between steal his phone or destroy his phone."
"Those were your two options?!" exclaimed Tim.
Marinette blushed even more furiously. "It's your turn. Don't expect me to go easy on you this round. Truth or dare?"
Tim kept up the trend. "Truth."
"What was the worst thing you did at thirteen?"
Tim thought back to his days as Robin, and the many, many stories he could tell. In the end, he settled on one that Jason still brought up when he needed leverage over Tim. "It's not as bad as phone thievery, but it's still a pretty funny story, looking back on it. You know how I have two older brothers, right?"
"Dick and Jason," Marinette confirmed.
"Well, one night I managed to convince Dick to let me drive Bruce's favorite car. Now, keep in mind, I had never actually driven a car before. Surprisingly, I wasn't that bad at driving. I made it home without incident - that is, until I tried to park the car back in the garage and accidentally crashed into Jason's motorcycle. For years after that, Jason used the threat of telling Bruce about my little car crash to keep me in line."
Marinette snorted. "You think that borrowing a phone to delete a text message is worse than borrowing and crashing a car?"
Tim shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion. Truth or dare?"
With a roll of her eyes, Marinette said, "Truth."
"What's one thing you would never tell me?" It was the sort of question that could only be asked during a game of truth or dare. In Tim's opinion, it was this sort of question that made the game worth playing.
Marinette pouted. "I don't like that question."
"Too bad. The rules of truth or dare state that you have to answer it."
"Fine." Marinette looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Just as she turned back to face her laptop, her face lit up. It was evident that she had an answer. "Usually I let people learn from their mistakes in the kitchen. However, I will now tell you - because I have to - that your cookies have been in the oven for too long. They're going to start burning if you don't take them out soon."
Tim jumped up to get his cookies out of the oven. They looked a little burnt, brown rather than the golden-brown that Alfred would make, but they still looked edible. "I'll accept your answer, but only because you saved my cookies."
"Now that your cookies are done, do you want to finish up our game of truth or dare?"
"One last question," decided Tim. "And I'll pick truth, to make it easy for you."
"What's the biggest secret that you've currently keeping from your family?"
After Tim's last question, he had expected Marinette to follow it up with an invasive question. Luckily, her question had a very simple answer.
"Easy question - my friendship with you."
Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Most of my friendships begin through the connections they have to my family. Because of that, I've never really had serious friendships that my family wasn't actively involved in."
"It's not because you're ashamed of me, right?" Marinette sounded unsure of herself. Insecurity was a side of her that Tim had never seen before.
"Of course not," Tim assured her. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for, Marinette."
"Good, because you're not getting rid of me that easy. I still have a lot to teach you about baking. I think we might try cupcakes at our next sleepover."
Tim laughed. "We'll see about that." He had no doubts that there would be sleepovers to come, and shenanigans involving baked goods to go along with them.
@maribatmarch-2k21
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Ticking Photobomb, T, 1.6k
Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley & TK Strand
TK loves Carlos, and wants their relationship to work out. Before they can recapture even a semblance of the bliss they shared, Carlos needs to fix his mistake and properly introduce TK to his family. Until then... Carlos deserves at least some punishment. He only hopes Buck will forgive him, for involving him in his and Carlos's first big fight as a couple.
Only it's not Buck's forgiveness he'll need.
ao3 link
based off of this post
He’s wary. He and TK are supposed to be enjoying a delicious meal outside at a nearby park, sun high in the sky, bright but not too cruel, as they sit together on a thin, yellow blanket, and Carlos cannot enjoy any of this beautiful date because a tiny voice in the back of his mind warns him that TK’s silence is a cover for something more sinister. His boyfriend’s smile, aimed at his phone as it has been since they arrived, means trouble. The small, continuous giggles that eke free sound like alarms. Giggles offered with every bite, where he’d type a short message and then set his phone down; only to grab it halfway through its jingling ringtone – TK never usually keeps that on. Carlos remembered him complaining how he hates ringtones, prefers having his phone vibrate. Why is it on now? And why is he texting while they’re on a date? And why does his laughter make Carlos cringe?
“Who are you texting?” he asks, finally, Carlos pushing the plastic container with his half-finished sandwich to the side.
TK glances up from his phone. “No one.”
“No one?”
“Just a friend,” TK says, pinning Carlos with a strange expression that squeezes his heart. It makes the sweat pricking his temples relocate and journey down, rolling towards his chin. Carlos wipes at his face as TK adds, “seriously, you don’t have to worry.”
It’s the way he said ‘you’ that does Carlos in. That has him dredging up what he already considered resolved since before they sat down. Discussed, at length, over the phone, with Carlos apologizing repeatedly. TK assured him they were good. “I thought we were good?”
TK sighs, “We are good.” Then, he mumbles, “As good as any two friends can be.”
Carlos’s frown deepens, mouth resembling a severe gash carved into his face. “I knew it!” Carlos cries, pointing at him. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I never said I wasn’t!”
“You said it was settled –“
“Because it is,” TK insists, a heavy glare drawing all breath out of Carlos’s chest. The façade he wore for their date has been pulled away, and Carlos sees exactly how distressed TK remained after he introduced him to his parents as his ‘friend’. Even with Carlos promising that he would remedy the situation soon, gather his boyfriend and family together and explain the truth of his romantic life, TK clings tight to the pain Carlos caused by letting fear sway his choice, both at the farmer’s market and when he let TK walk out of his home, relationship dangling from a fraying cord. It frays ever closer to breaking. “It’s settled until you work up the nerve to have that dinner you were talking about.”
Carlos splutters, “That’s not – you know, with the pandemic how hard it’s…”
His excuses further irritate TK, who retreats into his phone. He texts someone else. Perhaps the same person he’s been texting this entire time. “Then it’s settled.”
“If it’s so settled,” Carlos asks, “why even bother agreeing to our date today?” He gestures at their unfinished meals, probably cold and stale. If they weren’t, it’s not like Carlos feels like eating anymore.
TK stops texting, smirking at Carlos. Usually, it riles Carlos up in that he wants to kiss it off of him. Right now, Carlos swallows the urge to shove his boyfriend onto his ass. “A date?” TK asks, words languid and breezy, spaced out by palpable sarcasm. “Why would you think this was a date,” he continues, phone tapping against his chin, “we are just friends after all…”
Anger and disappointment converge violently inside Carlos, fighting for release. Neither can, as his vibrating phone pulls his focus from TK. He opens the message on autopilot, confused since it’s from TK. Confusion then drops into the cesspool of his emotions, like Mentos in Coke, and Carlos explodes.
“Why did you send me this?” he demands, showing TK a picture he sent to Carlos of himself. A picture they took, together, when visiting a lake one weekend long ago during the summer. A picture taken after they spent the entire afternoon swimming, bathing suits forgotten on the pier. A picture where TK’s chiseled physique was on display, skin dazzling as fading sunlight turned water droplets into diamonds, and TK’s sunglasses rested low on his nose as he smiled to the side where Carlos was. Was. As in not anymore. Only his arm, slung around his boyfriend’s shoulder, remained. Saved by being impossible to crop out. “Well?” Carlos asks again.
TK sighs, “Oh, I must have sent that by mistake.”
“You wanted to send me something else?”
“No,” TK clarifies, “I sent that to you by mistake. It was supposed to go to Buck, see?” TK shows Carlos his message thread, with the picture he sent Carlos, timestamped, showing he forwarded it to Buck first, then Carlos.
“…Buck.”
“Yeah, Buck,” TK continues, leaving his texts and diving into his photo album. He selects a group shot of the 126, plus a few extra members. He zooms closer on one face, Buck’s, enough that Carlos can distinguish the two birthmark spots above his eyebrows. “I’m sure I told you about him.”
“You did,” Carlos nods. He tears his gaze from Buck’s smile, fuming. “The firefighter who flirted with you.”
“I mean, he also helped me save my dad,” TK says, “but, yeah… he also flirted with me.” TK lowers his phone, chuckling, “We’ve just been chatting back and forth – as friends do – when I realized… y’know, I told him I wasn’t interested, because I had this really awesome boyfriend who I love, but since that’s not the case anymore, we’re only friends apparetly, I figured I might as well shoot my shot. Find out if he’s still interested. Maybe once quarantine is done, I can take some time off and… see what Los Angeles has to offer.” The eyebrow wiggle was completely unnecessary. TK communicated exactly what of Los Angeles he intends to see, regardless of how his eyebrows moved.
He’s better than this. Carlos knows what TK is doing. What the picture, and its delivery, was supposed to accomplish. What it’s succeeding at. He can win this, simply by ignoring TK’s teasing.
Except.
“You are not going to Los Angeles.” Carlos scowls, “Not without me. And especially not if Buck is gonna be there.”
TK scoffs, “What are you, my boyfriend?”
“…Yes!”
“Says who?” he asks, “Your parents?”
They’re outside. In public, surrounded by people who keep their distance. Unfortunately, their voices carry wide enough they draw a sizeable crowd. Carlos doesn’t notice until TK storms off and leaves him with the blanket, the abandoned food, and their audience.
Carlos blushes, hiding behind his hands. He wishes he never fumbled back then, in the farmer’s market. He also, briefly, wishes he and Buck switched places. At least then TK would be treating him to risqué pictures. At least Carlos would be having a good time, if he were Buck. He’d be receiving sexy photos from a certified dreamboat instead of suffering because of his own mistakes.
---------------------------
Buck stumbles over his words, stuttering, rushing out his explanation to a stone-faced Eddie. “Seriously,” he says, “I don’t – I don’t know why TK sent me that picture of him! It’s not like I asked! One second we’re talking about movies and the next thing I know – shirtless TK!”
“Yeah, I know,” Eddie huffs, arms folded across his chest, “I saw.”
He shouldn’t have. If Buck hadn’t left his phone on the table to help Bobby in the kitchen. If he didn’t hear his phone beep with an arriving message, almost vibrating off the table from it. If Eddie, along with Hen and Chim, weren’t climbing the stairs at the moment, and if he ignored Buck’s plea to hand him his phone. To punch in the code – which he knew, of course Eddie knew – since Buck was wrist deep in a turkey’s hole.
Buck washed his hands immediately, drying them on his pants as he chased Eddie the few feet towards the couch.
“So,” Eddie continues, “you and TK…”
He and TK? “We’re friends,” he says, repeating himself after Eddie’s disbelieving stare. “Okay, I mean – he did turn me down once, when we were leaving Texas. But he said he had a boyfriend –“
“He turned you down?” Eddie asks, “You flirted with him?”
“No!” Buck shrugs, running his hand over his forehead, frowning at the sweat that pooled there. “Well, I didn’t think I was. But he did? And – and he left before I could say anything, but I didn’t think it mattered since he, y’know, had a boyfriend!” He stomps his foot, irritation bubbling from the pit of his stomach and out his mouth. “Besides! Why does it matter if he sends me pictures?” Nice pictures. Distracting pictures that made Buck question exactly why TK misunderstanding his friendliness was a problem. “Why are you so angry?”
“Because… because…” Eddie looks past Buck, at the peanut gallery assembled by the kitchen. Hen and Chimney watching with interest while Bobby pretends cooking a turkey involves his whole focus. None of the seem keen to jump in and help. “Because… you…” Suddenly, Eddie stands. Buck recoils, stepping backwards. “You know what,” Eddie says, digging into his pocket, “I’m telling Marjan to unfollow you on Instagram.”
“What?”
“And!” he yells, phone free and on, “I’m telling her to block you!”
“What? No – Eddie, no! Don’t!” Buck follows his friend, pleading, “C’mon, she hasn’t even liked any of my photos yet… Eddie… Eddie!”
Eddie ignores him, furiously typing the end of Buck’s most famous connection online. In his haste, Buck forgets his phone on the counter. Eddie takes precedence over his phone.
Later, Buck will return to it. He will respond to TK’s picture, sending a tidal wave of texts at the Texan firefighter ranging between the immense trouble that picture landed him in and how TK can repay him by convincing Marjan to follow him again.
But that’s later. Now Buck slams his fist against the firetruck, yelling for Eddie to unlock the door.
Eddie doesn’t.
#911 on fox#911 lone star#carlos reyes#tk strand#evan 'buck' buckley#eddie diaz#tarlos#buddie#tarlos fanfic#buddie fanfic
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Coalitiongirl Swan Queen Fanfic Thread (by Season)
I’ve been meaning to do this for forever but I never had a chance and then I was away for so long! AO3 has great tags but it’s still kind of difficult to categorize fics by timeline in the way that I’ve always wanted them? So below, a list of my fics in some kind of order:
(Note: a lot of fics will span multiple seasons. If there’s one season that’s the main season for it, I’ll put it in there, but otherwise I have a section at the end for those.)
SEASON 1
grape-dark clouds and bitter frost (19k): AU S1, Emma has been in Storybrooke all along, Henry searches for his birth mother.
Oddish Little Thing Called Love (17k): Emma and Regina and Pokemon Go.
we’re nothing more than dust jackets (48k): As the curse is cast, Regina and Emma are each given a book in which the other’s life is written.
we were made to break (so what?) (3k): S1-mid S2, Regina and Emma wear the names of their true loves and greatest enemies, one per wrist, and they don’t know which is which.
the woods are lovely, dark and deep (8k): Emma leaves town with the apple turnover and Regina chases her down, stranding them together in the woods.
SEASON 2A (until the end of Queen of Hearts)
enemies with benefits (not dental, though) (15k): Emma and Regina have a strictly physical relationship. (hashtag they tried)
nobody (nobody) (17k): Emma spends a quarantine in Regina’s garage.
something to unearth (5k): After Regina absorbs the death curse, Emma and Henry go to check on her.
Synesthesia (35k): Emma is dared to coordinate her reactions to Regina with Regina’s outfits, shenanigans ensue.
SEASON 2B (beginning with The Cricket Game)
Bloodless (3k): A vampire is terrorizing Storybrooke.
Far too late, I am forgotten (2k): Emma gets caught up in her newfound magic.
feel it bubbling from below (15k): Emma knows Regina is in love with her. It’s unrequited. Right? (Right?)
the fleeting shade (2k): Cora uses her love spell on Regina.
I’ve got you deep in the heart of me (31k): 2b-3b, soulmate AU. Regina’s soul mark appears on the morning that the curse begins, Emma only wants hers gone.
A journey, in three acts. (4k): Regina and Belle are taken captive by Cora and Hook.
kiss kiss fall in love (3k): Regina and Emma share a true love’s kiss that comes as a surprise to everyone, especially them.
marks on my heart (are yours?) (4k): marks appear on your skin after great heartbreaks. Regina’s dig deep, and Emma won’t let hers show at all.
Oblivion (400): Regina speaks to Emma and wipes it away.
tell my love to wreck it all (31k): A love spell backfires and Emma falls in love with Regina.
Windows (3k): Emma and Regina reconcile after Cora comes to town.
SEASON 3A (Neverland up to the end of Going Home)
A house is not a home (36k): Pan’s curse made Regina and Emma and Henry a family, and they have to cope with the aftermath of the marriage-that-wasn’t-real when the curse is broken.
the girl who believed in fairytales (13k): pre-series until 3a, soulmates AU. Henry is kidnapped as a baby and Regina and Emma have other names on their skin.
Interlude (1k): Regina kisses Emma to calm her down.
On the Mend (1k): Emma and Regina talk in Neverland.
The Stars Unceasing (2k): S1-3a, Regina and Emma in love.
such things held simply to be voiceless (1k): Neverland, after nightfall.
SEASON 3B (up until the start of S4)
apple turnovers, overturned cars (2k): Henry is in a car accident.
Beyond the Walls (28k): Emma and amnesiac Henry are brought back to the Enchanted Forest, where Henry becomes fascinated with the queen who can never see him.
Chiaroscuro (8k): Regina and Snow are held captive together in Oz (very secondary SQ).
counterfeit smiles (2k): Amnesiac Henry decides his mom must be dating Mayor Mills.
Freefall (118k): Emma descends into darkness and only Regina sees it.
a hushed sound (41k): Marian tries not to get killed again, watches Emma and Regina fight and figure out who they are to each other.
(in which Emma barely ever calls Regina) (1k): okay, yeah, she does.
Light (2k): Emma after Zelena’s defeat.
A Little Closer (2k): Emma and Regina after Marian returns.
Mother’s cages were never so large (7k): Zelena is held hostage after the season, Emma is the one to bond with her.
so does this make us both the other woman? (98k) (awkward idiots): Regina and Emma try their best to date men. It doesn’t work out.
Wingwoman (2k): Emma helps Regina get over her relationship.
you claw at your heart and yank it from your chest (8k): Regina is the one to try to collect Emma from New York.
Zelena and Henry and the [Other] Two Idiots (1k): Zelena tries setting up Swan Queen.
SEASON 4A (until the end of Heroes and Villains)
Begin Again (2k): Regina and Emma air out grievances.
emma swan is wearing a prom dress (2k): Emma attempts to date Hook, mostly thinks about Regina.
A Good Catch (True?) (4k): Emma plays matchmaker for Regina.
i met cupid (and he eats people) (32k): Emma investigates a murder and struggles to mend ties with Regina, and finds a secret club and falls for a masked woman inside of it.
Refraction (2k): Regina helps Emma regain control of her magic.
Someone has already claimed that username (11k): Pre-series until 4a. Emma turns Regina into a meme, Regina hoards the emmaswan url.
that’s my emotional support wasp, actually (9k): A wasp begins following Emma around in an attempt to help her patch things up with Regina.
Thaw (4k): A frozen Emma shows up at Regina’s house while they’re fighting.
SEASON 4B (beginning with the six-week gap before Darkness on the Edge of Town)
another life (1k): Regina and Henry go to save Emma in the finale AU.
In which Emma and Regina accidentally double date Ursula and Cruella (4k): they weren’t informed it was a date!!!
The Last Page (8k): Henry writes a story, Regina and Emma are not-so-obliviously in love.
She's Just Not That Into You, Hook (2k): Hook is oblivious, Regina and Emma are in love.
Snow knows (it's porn) (4k): Snow is sure that Emma and Regina must be dating.
someone whose soul can be molded (5k): Emma goes dark. Regina tries to bring her back.
soulmates and sisters and emma swan in the passenger seat (10k): Emma and Regina go on a road trip to find Lily and save Robin Hood.
To us (1k): Emma keeps inviting Regina on her dates.
whirling in the wind (6k): Regina goes undercover with the Queens of Darkness, Emma is her handler.
you can hear it in the silence (1k): the first time Emma says ‘I love you’.
young love (drive my car) (2k): Emma and Regina’s cars fall in love.
SEASON 5A (from the sacrifice until hell)
After the Storm (2k): Alternate take on post-Dark Swan.
Dark Swan vs. the Love Bug (1k): Emma and Regina’s cars play matchmaker.
The Day After The Darkness (1k): There are all kinds of rumors the day after the darkness comes to town.
Détente (2k): After the Jolly Roger visit in 5.03, Dark Swan goes to family dinner.
if it had to perish twice (2k): Dark Swan pays Regina two visits in bed.
Jacket (1k): Emma’s red jacket is missing.
Missing You (1k): Regina is careful to never, never miss Emma Swan.
post tenebras lux (14k): Dark Swan wreaks havoc in service of Regina’s happy ending.
Rewind (500): Emma goes back in time and meets Mayor Mills again, is charmed.
we're almost there (gonna be a while) (1k) Emma and Regina are dating. Emma doesn’t notice.
we'll ride them someday (2k): Soulmate AU. The last words your soulmate will say to you are written on your skin.
SEASON 5B (the underworld through the end of S5 before the split)
autocorrect claims another victim (and this one’s gonna be a bloodbath) (8k): Emma accidentally tells Regina she loves her and it only escalates from there.
Daylight (12k): Emma and Regina, estranged after the underworld, can only bear to speak secretly at night.
Don't Question My Evil Persona (10k): Emma and Regina break the Dark One’s curse too early, Emma has to pretend to be the Dark One.
i would wait forever and ever (1k): Ruby and Dorothy’s TLK awakens something in Emma.
mise en abyme (10k): After hell: Emma's journey back to herself, as told by her family and friends.
you belong among the wildflowers (2k): Regina’s father meets her family in the underworld.
SEASON 6 (Split Queen right up until Henry leaves town in S7)
Amor Fati (73k): After Emma’s engagement, Regina loses her memories and reverts to S1 Regina.
but for a moment (we were still) (12k): Emma and Regina love each other, Daniel returns to life.
the most powerful magic of all (by proxy) (4k): Split Queen. Henry begins to develop magic as his three mothers fall in love.
our tiktok remix is both atrocious and catchy (10k): Emma and Regina go viral while being mistaken for a couple and decide to milk it for the good publicity.
Say Something (I’m giving up on you) (8k): Emma is getting married. Regina is trying to be supportive.
someday when spring is here (11k): Wishverse’s Princess Emma is kidnapped by Regina in a desperate attempt to recover her Emma.
something old, something new (something borrowed, something blue) (7k): Emma and Regina meet their married future selves.
suffer me to go my own dark way (32k): Split Queen. Emma and Regina struggle to get a handle on the Evil Queen.
They walk as though they have glass in their knees (2k): Split Queen. The Queen is dead, and Emma and Regina are broken over it.
until the end of time (2k): goes AU right after Emma announces her engagement to Regina.
SEASON 7 (Henry leaving town until Regina is crowned)
any road can take you there (7k): Alice and Robin enlist past!Emma to help save the present.
last call (for a second chance) (2k): Emma arrives in Hyperion Heights and confides in Roni about her divorce.
like a distant star (i simply cannot hold) (16k): Dark Swan rules Hyperion Heights, is distant and cruel but she and Roni are still drawn to each other.
our story’s all wrong (4k): Roni and Henry take a road trip to Storybrooke to find Regina Mills.
when i see you again (2k): Lucy brings her father back to her mother and discovers her grandmothers in the process.
POST-SERIES
double dutch (71k): Parent Trap AU. Hope and Henry meet each other on an interrealm program and set out to reunite their divorced mothers.
haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds? (47k): Regina returns to Storybrooke to Emma and a baby with Regina’s eyes and magic.
Homecoming (and if my wishes came true) (33k): After Emma flees town and her relationship with Regina, Regina becomes a magical celebrity whose face is everywhere Emma goes.
i'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones (7k): Regina and Emma go realm-hopping love-falling road-tripping.
Through the Wet Woods (or: will the real emma swan please stand up?) (22k): Emma has been missing for years since Regina was crowned, and there is a chance that she might have been found.
SPANNING MULTIPLE SEASONS/NO DEFINED SEASON
and why i've spent my whole life trying to put it into words (2k): Regina, Emma, and all of us.
Captcha Me If You Can (3k): Emma and Regina and online polls.
The dog days are over (because the cat's out now too) (1k): The Swan-Mills family and pets.
every secret it keeps (45k): Future fic, established relationship. Emma finds herself impossibly pregnant.
every winter fades away (into the spring) (23k): A year in the lives of Emma and Regina, falling in love all the way through and doing every bit of it backwards.
five paragraphs of emma swan in love (with regina mills, an inevitability) (1K): that’s pretty much it.
five times emma swan noticed she was in love with regina mills (1k): first times over the years.
How To Get the Girl in Seven Easy Steps (4k): Henry asks Emma for advice on how to pick up girls, and Emma demonstrates on Regina.
in every realm... (8k): assorted ficlets
like sunrise, cutting through the night (3k): Established relationship, Regina doesn’t want kids.
scars beneath scars (beneath scars) (1k): Regina and Emma are offered a daughter.
so it's gonna be forever (or it's gonna go down in flames) (3k): Zelena decides to seduce Emma away from Regina.
something worth fighting for (1k): Regina is hurt, Emma comes to help her.
Storybrooke Singles (or: Emma Swan Decides Not To Die Alone After a Humiliating Snapchat Incident) (43k): Zelena decides to find Emma’s true love, a story told by excessive social media and just this side of crack!fic.
Swapping Genres (6k): the MCU and Storybrooke, S1-5.
the search for emma swan’s secret boyfriend (1k): the town speculates on who Emma’s secret boyfriend might be.
you gotta know when to hold ‘em (2k): Soulmate card AU. A pre-series Emma tries to scam Regina into believing they’re soulmates.
your perfect other (your perfect opposite) (5k): Mulder and Scully come to Storybrooke.
ALTERNATE UNIVERSES (CANONICAL)
Emma Enchanted (94k): Ella Enchanted mashup. Emma is cursed with obedience and taken from her family, finds Regina and loves her even as Regina becomes the Evil Queen.
glass-spun dream (176k): Regina and Emma are reunited after being legendary partners in a fighting tournament years ago, and now they find themselves on opposite sides of the tournament.
Satin Town (89k): Henry still brings Emma to Storybrooke– but Storybrooke is a magical kingdom where Regina reigns.
Some (Enchanted) Evening (3k): Princess Emma plays knight in shining armor to Lady Regina.
Swan Hood and the Evil Queen (232k): An alternate universe spanning pre-series until 3b in which Emma is Robin Hood, and she comes across young Regina on her way to marry the king.
this is my kingdom come (44k): Wishverse. Princess Emma and Prince Henry stumble upon the place where the Evil Queen is exiled.
ALTERNATE UNIVERSES (OTHER)
a distant voice in the darkness (27k): womanizer Emma and anonymous Regina meet at a tavern every night, each of them hiding secrets of their own.
certain as the sun (29k): Beauty and the Beast AU.
Cypress (14k): Hunger Games AU. Emma and Henry are forced to fight in the Hunger Games for a second time against the formidable Regina Mills.
Even Superman coordinates his primary colors (but your legs sure look nice in those tights) (24k): Superhero Swan meets supervillain Evil Queen while unassuming deputy Emma Swan meets Mayor Mills.
goodnight, dear void. (47k): Emma and Regina have an enemies-with-benefits relationship as they fall in love via anonymous text messages.
Henry Bobblehead and Gina Molinero ft. Emma-All-The-Time (22k): Preschool teacher Emma meets childhood crush TV star Regina (and does not recognize her at all).
like falling in love with a landslide (47k): Henry, a member of the queen’s guard, navigates political intrigue and the dynamics between the kingdom’s beloved queen and her reviled wife.
loathing is a kind of magic too (2k): Emma and Regina are professors at Hogwarts.
Miss Swan Goes to Storybrooke (230k): Regina is running a struggling political campaign. Emma is the new recruit that her brother brings in who might destroy the whole thing.
never mine (ours) (9k): Emma and Regina meet after seeing the same man– and when he dies, they wind up pregnant and living together.
Prism (8k): Soulmate AU. Regina meets two people at once at the moment she first sees in color, makes the wrong choice, and falls in love with the right one anyway.
Send Up a Signal (that everything’s fine) (117k): Regina and Emma are actresses who loathe each other on site. Shame their characters’ fanbases ship them ardently.
swan queen? wig (30k): writer Regina and youtuber Emma clash on Twitter and secretly fall in love in real life.
those who can't [flirt like functional adults], teach (56k): Emma and Regina are teachers who despise each other and are forced to work together to help Henry.
where dwell the brave at heart (12k): Hogwarts AU. Dark Witch Regina pretends to be dating Emma to save her from Regina’s family.
#swan queen#fanfiction#whew this is interesting.....i keep wanting to write 2a fic lately and now i know why LMAO i just haven't written v much!!!#though a lot of the fics from later seasons wind up going through s1-2 in the first parts#also i have written way more aus than i thought i did
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In Case of Emergency (Ch 2/10)
Ao3 | 1.2k | Eventual Buddie | Status: Incomplete
Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter
Chapter 2 - Twinkling stars and unfiltered complements
An additional moment from ep 2x06:Dosed of what happened in the hours after the pageant with the boys coming down from their hallucinogen high.
When Eddie gave Buck his key, Buck never would have thought he would actually need to use it. And yet here he was only a few weeks later, half supporting Eddie's loose frame to his door for the reason of drug incapacitation.
It was the day they were dosed by the reptile lady. After they had been cleared by medical, Athena had quarantined them all at the station and was waiting for the effects of the drug to wear off.
Buck had come back to his sense some hours later since the pageant incident with a grumbling stomach and a cottonmouth, feeling off-balance and confused as to why he felt like he’d been drugged.
He found himself on the couch with Eddie who was lying on his back with his head on the armrest gazing up at the ceiling, his legs lying across Buck’s lap, looking well and truly out of it. With one eye squeezed shut in concentration Buck thought back to the reason for his current situation, and eventually remembered a vague memory of being handcuffed and Athena saying something about a hallucinogen.
Buck groaned, scrubbing at his face before running his fingers through his hair, and then eased himself out from beneath Eddie’s legs, making his way to the fridge, noticing Athena on his way, still dressed in her uniform.
Feeling a warm fuzzy fondness towards her for no specific reason, he deviated from his path to give her a one-armed hug from behind eliciting a surprised laugh from her as her attention is taken away from her phone. “Buck? How are you doing there? You seem more with it now.”
“We were drugged. Am I remembering that right?” He asked as he continued on his journey to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, guzzling half of it before setting it down on the counter.
“That’s right, a hallucinogen in the brownies.”
“Well, I can safely say I won’t be eating any snacks given to us by the public anytime soon.”
He turned his attention to the pantry for the muesli bars that he always kept stocked and stuffed a few in his pocket before opening one to satisfy his grumbling stomach.
“No doubt.” She responded, giving him a once over before taking a sip from the mug sitting in front of her.
He leaned his forearms against the countertop and blearily glanced around realising how quiet the space was, “Where’s everyone else?”
“Next shift came in early, Chim took Hen home, Bobby didn’t want to leave until everyone else did so he’s in his office resting as well; and well, you know where Eddie is.”
“Ah yes.” Buck looked back over to Eddie, who was still lying on the couch sleepily mumbling about butterflies. “I’ll drop him off at his place on my way home.”
Athena quirked an eyebrow at the statement, “I should hope that you’re not driving.”
He couldn't help but grin at her motherly tone, “Don’t worry, I’ll order us a ride.”
Athena stood up from the table at that and gave him a pat on the shoulder as she passed him on her way to Bobby's office, “Thankfully you’ve got the next day off to clear this out of your system. I’m going to try again with Bobby. Now that you’re heading home, hopefully he’ll be more willing to leave.”
“Good luck with that.” He called to her retreating form, getting an answering wave of acknowledgment in return.
Buck headed back to Eddie and tapped him lightly on the head. “Come on man, time to go home.”
Eddie peered up at him with a lazy smile making Buck think that either Eddie had a few more brownies than he remembered, or he was just feeling the effects stronger than he expected. Eddie thrust a hand towards him, Buck shook his head in amusement before gripping his forearm and easily pulled him to his feet before gently directing his body to the locker room to gather their things before leading him to sit outside while they waited for their ride.
Eddie leaned heavily into him once they were settled and tipped his head back to look up at the developing stars.
“When I was little I wanted to be an astronaut because I wanted to see the stars up close.” Said Eddie wistfully, cutting through the quiet are of the evening.
“I’ve always loved them, they always look like they’re twinkling.” He continued as he dropped his head on Buck’s shoulder with a fond sigh, “your eyes do that sometimes when you smile too.”
Buck glanced down at him in amusement, brow slightly furrowed at the clearly unfiltered complement. Before he had a chance to reply, however, the driver pulled up into the parking lot, distracting him from his thoughts for a moment as he focused on balancing both their bags on his shoulders while also steering Eddie towards the car.
The drive didn’t take too long, with Buck spending the majority of the time staring unseeingly out the window as he replayed that moment, wondering what Eddie meant by what he said while the man in question was slumped sideways in what looked to be an uncomfortable position against his door.
He thanked the driver when they arrived and asked him if he wouldn’t mind waiting while he got Eddie settled inside to which the man graciously agreed.
Buck groaned when they reached the door, realising that he’d have to dig around for Eddie’s keys in his duffle until he remembered latently that his own keys were in his pocket, holding the very key he needed to get into the house.
Huffing out a sigh of relief, Buck opens the door and drags Eddie inside, thankful that Christopher was already staying at Pepa’s place for the night.
Eddie was easy to direct to his bedroom and happy faceplanted bonelessly onto his bed without prompting leading Buck to chuckle as he pulled off Eddie’s boots before draping a throw blanket over him that he’d snagged on the way to the bedroom.
Quickly rifling in Eddie’s duffle that he’d dropped by the bedroom door, Buck found his phone and drink bottle and set them both on his bedside, putting his phone on charge and checking it for an alarm making sure it was turned on, knowing Eddie wouldn’t appreciate sleeping the day away.
Nodding to himself, Buck turned to leave, flicking off the light when Eddie spoke, half mumbling into his pillow, “I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Me too Eddie,” he answered softly, lightly rapping a knuckle once against the door frame before half pulling the door shut and headed back to the patiently waiting driver.
When he eventually got home, Buck typed out a message for Eddie to wake up to, pre-emptively explaining what had happened in case he didn’t remember, judging from how fuzzy he was himself, Buck wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
With that last task done, Buck fell into bed himself, looking forward to sleeping off the remnants of the drug still in his system, blissfully unaware of how much of the day Eddie turned out to remember come morning.
#jess writes#my fic#eddie diaz#evan buckley#athena grant#911 fic#911 on fox#911 fox#buddie#buddie fic#userkimmy#userkourt#userpauline#userjillian#eddiesdiaz#gracieli#sunshinestrand#tylerhunklin#thisissirius#officerrxyes#javachik#buddie4ever20#deluweil#useraninha
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The Butterfly Dome
Written for Kidgeweek 2021!
I won’t be doing all of Kidgeweek this year (though I am writing something for each day of the Kidge Spring Event), but I do have three one-shots written, including this one. (The others will be on the 19th and 22nd.)
This one is the prompt for April 17 - Botanical Gardens/Lake Time. I chose to go with Botanical Gardens.
Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.
❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀
The Butterfly Dome
As part of a deal with her mom, Pidge agreed to work at the Plaht Botanical Garden for one month in their volunteer program. In return, she would be allowed to spend her final month before college on a lengthy road trip with her friends. She thought it was a pretty great deal.
Pidge would be primarily working in the greenhouse to help care for seedlings and saplings alike, as well as to help quarantine everything new that came in until they were sure they weren't carrying unwanted pests or disease. It was hot and humid and Pidge didn't really care for that, but she didn't hate working in the greenhouse and that was all that mattered.
At the end of her first week, she was given a new task: deliver flowering plants to the caretakers of the Butterfly Dome, which was basically an even bigger greenhouse meant to do exactly as it sounded.
“Ask for Keith,” her mother advised as she finished loading up the cart. “He's in charge of accepting new arrivals. And also make sure he reads this-” (Colleen held up a folded letter) “-and don't go anywhere until he does.”
Pidge took the letter and stuck it into the pocket of her apron. “Is it a list of all the plants?”
Colleen shook her head. “No, it's instructions to take you under his wing for the day. We don't have much going on in here this weekend, but the Dome could use the extra hand and I promised them one of our volunteers.”
“Does this happen a lot? Just moving people around without asking if they're okay with it?” Pidge asked, disgruntled by the sudden shift in her routine.
“On occasion,” Colleen replied. “Most of our volunteers are here because they want to do a little bit of everything. I wouldn't send you to the Dome if I thought you would hate it. And just think of how good your experiences will look on your resume!”
“Yeah, I'm sure tech companies will be super impressed with my knowledge of flowers and butterflies,” Pidge said dryly.
Colleen gave her daughter a look. “You know what I mean, Katie.”
She did but she wasn't about to get into that conversation with her mom again. Instead, Pidge just sort of shrugged and grabbed onto the handle of the cart, waiting for the go-ahead to leave. She took it easy as she pushed the cart out of the greenhouse. It seemed pretty sturdy, but she didn't want to go too fast and end up with all of the plants on the floor.
Pidge passed a few people in the halls and offered up simple greetings to most of them until she finally arrived at the Dome. She carefully rolled the cart into the entry chamber and had to wait until the door shut behind her before she was able to enter the main room. Standing near that entrance was the Head of the Department, Takashi Shirogane. He had been a friend of the family for many years and was affectionately nicknamed “Shiro” because of all of the times he started to introduce himself by his surname first, only to correct himself partway through.
“Ah, those are the flowers Colleen was telling me about!” he said, smiling at her.
“I'm supposed to take them to Keith,” Pidge said. “Except, uh, who's Keith?”
Shiro gestured farther into the Dome at another man with black hair who was crouched over one of the flower beds with a hand pruner, carefully removing dead branches or flowers. “My Assistant Head, over there. I'm surprised the two of you haven't met yet. Do you want me to introduce you?”
Pidge shrugged. “Mom sent me with a note. And I'm a big girl, Shiro. I can handle talking to strangers.”
Shiro looked amused by that for some reason, but he nodded and told her that he'd be around if she needed anything before moving aside so she could roll the cart along the path. She made enough noise as she approached for Keith to hear and he stood up when he noticed her coming his way.
And it was then that Pidge wondered if she was in trouble.
Keith was far younger than she expected. She imagined someone a little older – closer to Shiro's age. (Not that Shiro was old.) If she had to guess, Keith was near her own age and also happened to be rather attractive.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I'm Pidge from the Greenhouse,” she said, startled into an introduction. “I, um, have your plants? And a note from Director Holt.”
Keith held out his hand and Pidge placed the note into it. She continued to stand by the cart while he read the message just like her mother instructed, waiting for him to finish and tell her what she would be doing to help out. (And if she happened to take a moment to check him out, then that was her little secret.)
“Looks like you'll be with me for the day,” he said, tucking the note into his back pocket. “I assume you already know the rules around here, but I'll remind you anyway: watch your step and don't touch the butterflies. They'll probably come pretty close to us while we're doing our planting, so keep that in mind.”
Pidge nodded.
Keith regarded her for a moment, his intense blue-gray eyes meeting her own. “We're replanting the Main Feature bed today. The pipes sprang a leak and ruined everything last month before we could get in and replace them, but that's all fixed now and we just got in the new soil. The locations for the plants have been marked with stakes, however, we will consult the planner before we do any digging. Sound simple enough?”
“So, basically don't do anything until you tell me to,” Pidge summarized, earning herself what was likely a rare smile. It was gone quickly as Keith nodded and gestured for her to follow. She pushed the cart along behind him and, as she promised, kept an eye out for any errant butterflies in her path.
It wasn't hard to tell when they arrived at the Main Feature bed. Not only was the soil smoothed out on top and staked with plant labels, but there was also a magnificent metal butterfly sculpture in the very center. A closer look showed that there were also tiny hoses winding their way throughout the bed, which she assumed was the sprinkler system. Pidge parked her cart where Keith indicated and then walked over to his side to view the planner he picked up from a nearby portable work table. She listened intently as he explained that they would start in the center near the sculpture and work their way out, carefully measuring the width and depth of each hole before placing any plants.
“All of the tools you need are here,” Keith said, gesturing to the top of the table, where there were several trowels, gloves, and measuring devices. “I recommend picking an apron so you can keep everything together. If you want a kneeling pad, we have those too.”
Pidge picked one of the green aprons and slid it over her head before tying it around her waist. She quickly grabbed a pair of matching green gloves and put those on, before sticking one of the trowels and two of the rulers (one wooden and one flexible) into the pockets on the apron. She didn't figure she needed a kneeling pad, though it was nice to know they had them on hand.
Keith briefly quizzed her on everything he'd just said and then they got to work.
It was pleasant to work alongside Keith. He didn't feel the need to constantly talk about whatever came to mind, saving his words for checking in on how her digging was coming along. It allowed plenty of time for Pidge's mind to wander without interruption.
All things considered, she enjoyed her time in the Dome and found herself disappointed when they finished planting everything on the cart.
“Not bad,” Keith remarked as he checked the time. “Really good, actually. We're ahead of schedule for once.” He lifted his gaze to eye her for a long moment. “Director Holt should have the next batch loaded up for us by now.”
“There's more?” Pidge blurted out.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “We'll keep going until the bed is full. Unless you hate being here that much.”
Pidge quickly shook her head. “No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I've only been here for a week but it seems like everyone else tries to take things slow, so I was surprised that we're going to keep going.”
“Ah,” was all Keith said as he turned his back to her and began removing his apron and tools, setting them all back onto the counter.
Pidge followed suit, hoping he wasn't disappointed in her. Neither of them spoke as Keith grabbed the cart and began to wheel it back to the Greenhouse and it was only when she heard her mother's voice that Pidge realized she'd let her slip into despairing thoughts.
“You're back sooner than I thought,” laughed Colleen, a pleased smile gracing her lips. “I have your next two carts loaded up and ready if you want to take them. At the pace you two are going, we'll have it all cleared out by the end of the day.”
“That's my hope,” Keith said, turning the empty cart over to her. “Thanks for sending Pidge to help, Director Holt. It would take me more than double the amount of time on my own.”
Pidge couldn't stop herself from jerking her head to look at him in surprise.
And there it was again – that soft, fleeting smile, and it was directed towards her. She could feel her cheeks heating up, but she didn't, couldn't, look away. Instead, she offered a small smile of her own and allowed herself to hope that once her weekend in the Dome was over, she would still get to spend time with him.
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Anal Fingering 101
Anal Fingering 101
By @paper-storm & @musette22
Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)
Word count: 6.6k
Rating: E (so 18+ only please!)
A/N: Yup. Anal Fingering 101. That’s what we’re calling it. That’s the fic. We're just still quarantine horny and got excited about this concept after discussing the above gif and then we wrote this. It got weird but also (we think) strangely sweet and hot. We hope you agree 🤷🏻
Summary: The one where Sebastian (jokingly) suggests they should make a sex tutorial video and upload it to PornHub, Chris (not jokingly) agrees, and Sebastian doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
Read on AO3
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Sebastian stretches languidly. Feels a slow moan rumble through his chest, unsure if it actually escapes his lips or if it dies before it gets there. He’s warm, and the sheets below his bare skin are soft, and it feels like hours, they’ve been at this, Sebastian laid out on their bed like a sultan and Chris down between his legs, two fingers buried in him. It’s leisurely, this time.
Certainly not always. They have their quick, we have to be there in less than an hour, hurry up! times and their intense, emotional times and their wild times where Chris is worked up and is rough and punishing, making Sebastian see stars and hiss in pleasure-pain and forget his own name six times before they’re done. Other times, like this one, Chris likes to go meticulously slow. Take his sweet time, sliding his warm tongue over every inch of Sebastian’s body, touching him gently and then taking his hands away to prolong it, playing Sebastian like a treasured instrument so that by the time he finally comes, eons later, it’s not with a kick and a shout but unhurried and deep and soulful, like it’s trapped in honey.
He loves every possible way they do this, every single thing Chris does to him and every single thing he does to Chris in return, but it’s possible this is his favorite way. When Chris just adores him, slathers him in attention and kisses to his hipbones and quiet, heartfelt praises. It’s also possible his favorite way is whatever is currently happening, and he’ll change his mind by tomorrow.
“Mm,” Sebastian hums, making a real noise this time, as the tips of Chris’s talented fingers find his prostate again and rub slowly against the gland.
“Feelin’ good?” Chris asks, Boston charm, sweetly eager to please him, while at the same time smug because he knows he is.
“Yeah,” Sebastian sighs. “You gonna get on with it at some point? Or just torture me forever?”
“Hmm.” Chris pretends to think about it. While he contemplates, he takes the head of Sebastian’s leaking cock into his mouth, and swirls his tongue around the head, into the foreskin, where it’s hot and sensitive. Then he slides down, taking Sebastian fully into his mouth, sucking just once before he rises up and lets it fall away. Sebastian swears in a whisper and pants, the tease lighting him up, the cool air on his now-wet dick making him shiver and ache for more.
“Chris,” he says, on a shaky laugh, draping an arm over his eyes.
“I’m undecided,” Chris says, even though he isn’t. He cups one of Sebastian’s legs, just under the knee, and lifts it, so he can slide his tongue along Sebastian’s inner thigh, leaving trails of moisture and blowing on them. The fingers of his other hand, still massaging Sebastian’s prostate, withdraw and press back in a few times, but slow enough that it couldn’t be described as a thrust. Just teasing him.
“You’re evil,” Sebastian tells him.
“You’re beautiful,” Chris returns, earnest against the junction of Sebastian’s hip and thigh.
It makes Sebastian shiver again, for reasons other than physical this time.
“Love this so much.” Chris puts Sebastian’s leg over his shoulder and leans back down, nuzzling into his heavy balls as he continues, “love this body. Love you letting me have it. Love the noises you make.”
His fingers search, again finding that fireworks spot inside and working it, a little more insistent, now, but still meant as a tease. It’s one of those times, Sebastian can tell. It will be ages before Chris lets him come. Chris might not even fuck him. They might not even get that far. He might just stay right where he is, massaging inside, until Sebastian gets too close to the edge of that cliff and can’t stop himself from tipping over it.
“You’re… oh,” Sebastian breathes, chest heaving suddenly, as Chris rubs harder unexpectedly, just for a moment, and then lets up again. “Fuck. You’re good at this.”
“I had a good teacher,” Chris says, earnest again, all that sweetness that ruined Sebastian so thoroughly when they’d first met.
Sebastian closes his eyes and smiles, remembering. Remembering how Chris had experimented a few times with other guys but it had mostly consisted of quick, shameful hand-jobs or hurriedly sticking his dick down some extra’s throat in a back office, before rushing back out onto a set feeling hot and wrong. He remembers showing Chris so many things, when they finally stopped dancing around each other and gave into what they’d both wanted since the moment they shook hands.
“The student has become the master,” Sebastian jokes, and Chris rumbles out a chuckle. “I mean it. You should do like, one of those sex tutorials on PornHub. ‘Finding the G-Spot 101’, except for anal fingering.”
“Ooh, baby, say anal fingering again,” Chris says, faking a moan, and Sebastian giggles and covers his face, his whole body flushing, but in a good way.
Chris returns to his task, dragging the flat of his tongue up the underside of Sebastian’s erection, digging the tip in below the head. Then, in a contemplative voice, he says, “maybe we should.”
Sebastian laughs again, and reaches down to thread his fingers into Chris’s hair, soft right now because they’d showered earlier and Chris hadn’t put any product in it. “Sure,” he says.
Chris looks up at him. Blue eyes shining, through his thick eyelashes, blinking at him with an expression that takes Sebastian by surprise. He pushes up to his own elbows, so they can exchange a more significant look. Not breaking their eye contact, Chris licks at him again, making a show of sliding his tongue in a zigzag across Sebastian’s dick, apparently intent on breaking Sebastian’s brain.
Chris replies to the question in Sebastian’s eyes with a shrug. “Let’s do it,” he says, and Sebastian can’t, for the life of him, work out whether Chris is still kidding.
But then Chris crooks his fingers while his soft, lush lips close around the head of his cock again, and for a while Sebastian forgets everything that isn’t heat and slide and wonderful, delicious pressure.
---
“So, about that video.”
Sebastian lowers his book and looks up at Chris upside down, from where he’s resting his head in Chris’s lap. “Huh?”
“That tutorial you mentioned last night.”
Instead of replying, Sebastian gets temporarily sidetracked by Chris’s ridiculous eyelashes, fanning out delicately over his cheekbones. When the words finally register, he blinks.
“Tutorial? What are you – oh.”
“Whaddaya say?” Chris asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Sebastian’s own eyebrows rise slowly towards his hairline. “You’re not serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Come ooooon, Sebby,” he cajoles. “It’ll be fun.”
“So,” Sebastian says pushing himself up into a sitting position and turning to look at Chris. “You wanna like… roleplay? Pretend we’re shooting some sort of porn video?”
Chris shrugs easily. “Who says we’ll be pretending? You know me, I’m a show off. I kind of like the idea of showing other people how to please their partner.” He raises an eyebrow. “Plus, I’d be showing off my beautiful boyfriend in the process, right? And you can’t tell me you don’t like the idea of me putting you on display and having my way with you in front of thousands of strangers.”
Sebastian swallows. There really isn’t any use trying to pretend he doesn’t like the sound of that – Chris knows him far, far too well for that, judging by the devious twinkle in his eye.
“Think about it,” Chris goes on, slowly running a hand up Sebastian’s thigh. Sebastian helplessly lets his legs fall open a little bit wider. “I’ll lay you out on the bed, make sure the camera captures all of that beautiful, smooth skin. Spread those beautiful legs wide to give ‘em a good view, hm? And then I’ll slick you up and rub on you a little until you’re all pliant and relaxed, slide a couple’a fingers inside, one by one, open you up slowly for everyone to see. And then I’ll show ‘em how to find your sweet spot, all the way up inside you, rub it nice ‘n slow until you start makin’ those pretty little noises for me…”
“Jesus, Chris,” Sebastian breathes, blood rushing in his ears, dick throbbing in his sweats. “You’re a fucking menace, you know that? Everyone thinks you’re this big, happy golden retriever, but really your mind’s in the gutter twenty-four seven.”
Chris’s grin isn’t repentant in the slightest. “Only when I’m around you, sugar. Can’t help it, you’re just so fuckin’ sexy all the time. ‘Sides, there’s no need to act all virtuous, baby. I’ve got your number. I know you need it just as bad as I do.” To prove his point, his big hand slides over the bulge in Sebastian’s sweatpants, squeezing it lightly.
Sebastian curses, hips jerking into Chris’s grip, which only makes the smirk on Chris’s handsome face that much more smug.
“So?” Chris asks again, leaning in to press his nose into the spot just below Sebastian’s left ear. “You in, sweetheart? You gonna let me show you off?”
“Fuck you, Evans,” Sebastian says weakly, tilting back his head to give Chris better access. “Of course I’m fucking in, what do you think?”
“I can’t decide whether you’re being a good boy or a brat right now,” Chris rumbles in his ear, teeth nipping briefly at his earlobe. “But I guess it doesn’t matter so much if I’m getting what I want.”
Before Sebastian can object, Chris is climbing off the couch, his big, lean body towering over him as he holds out his hand. Sebastian takes it instinctively and Chris pulls him up so quickly Sebastian stumbles a little.
“Whoa, we in a hurry or something?” he asks, steadying himself on Chris’s tiny waist.
“To get you naked?” Chris grins, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. “Always.”
---
“Move up a little higher for me, baby.”
The instruction comes from where Chris is squatting behind their side table, looking at Sebastian through the lens of his expensive camera, which he propped up against a stack of books – Foucault’s History of Sexuality among them, Sebastian notes with faint amusement. He wonders briefly how Michel would’ve felt about his seminal work being used for this particular purpose, and then decides that he probably would’ve cheered them on.
“Shift that pillow a bit to the right, don’t want it hiding that pretty face of yours.”
Sebastian still blushes like Chris hasn’t called him pretty a thousand times before, and does as he’s told. “Like this?”
Chris regards him critically, tilting his head a little as if he’s assessing the shot. He’s got his director’s hat on, Sebastian thinks, and something about that, about Chris looking so capable and in charge, has him feeling hot under the collar. Well, that’s if he were wearing one. As it is, he’s not wearing anything at all. He’s stretched out in the center of the king-size bed, propped up a little on a couple of pillows, as naked as the day he was born.
“Perfect,” Chris decides. “Stay right there for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Sebastian mumbles, and Chris shoots him a look that says, don’t get smart with me, sweetheart.
All that does is make Sebastian squirm, which earns him a raised eyebrow, which only makes him want to squirm more. It’s a vicious circle, really. Chris can play him too easily.
“Now what?” he asks, eyes tracking Chris’s movement through their bedroom. Chris is wearing dark wash jeans and a white, short-sleeved t-shirt that strains across his shoulders and biceps but hangs loosely around his waist. His proportions are so ridiculous, it’s damn-near impossible to find shirts that fit him properly. Sebastian thinks he should probably mind that Chris gets to be fully clothed for this while Sebastian’s got all his most private parts out for everyone to see, but he can’t find it in himself to object. If he’s honest, he likes it. Likes it a whole lot.
Chris grabs the lube from the nightstand, tossing it onto the mattress. “Patience,” he says, belatedly replying to Sebastian’s question. “All I need you to do for this one is lay back and look pretty.” He comes to stand at the side of the bed, one hand on the mattress as he leans over Sebastian and brushes a feather-light kiss over his forehead, his cheeks, the cleft in his chin. “You think you can do that for me, Sebastian?”
Sebastian exhales, feeling a little unsteady. “Yeah, I think so,” he nods. He tilts his face up, shamelessly angling for a proper kiss.
Chris laughs silently but obliges, catching Sebastian’s lips in a soft, fairly innocent kiss that still leaves Sebastian feeling like there’s an electrical current running through his skin. When Chris pulls back, Sebastian runs the tip of his tongue over his tingling lips. He wants more, wants Chris to climb on top of him, kiss him again, devour him, but Chris doesn’t, and other parts of Sebastian are left tingling as Chris turns his attention toward the camera and Sebastian realizes again how utterly naked he is while Chris is still fully clothed.
“So, hi,” Chris starts. His voice is different. Higher, clearer, like he’s performing. Which, Sebastian realizes with a swoop in his gut, he is. “I’m, uh, Chris. Evans. You probably know that already. Or maybe you don’t, I don’t wanna act like I’m some big shot.”
He chuckles, and shrugs modestly, and Sebastian snorts. “You’re Captain America,” he reminds him.
“Yes, I am,” Chris agrees, grinning down at Sebastian, and then back at the camera. He gestures at Sebastian, who cringes as he’s slapped in the face with how completely ridiculous this is. “This gorgeous slab of man-meat is Sebastian Stan, my – oh. I guess technically most of you didn’t know, yet, that he’s my boyfriend.”
“Well they fuckin’ know now,” Sebastian cracks up, a little delirious at the notion of what a completely insane way this would be to come out to millions of people. “Man-meat?”
“I also said you were gorgeous,” Chris points out, winking.
Sebastian laughs. “That makes it better.” He feels crazy, like he’s spinning around on an amusement park ride and can’t get off. They’re not going to actually post this. There’s no way Chris was serious, Sebastian thinks. But he doesn’t know. And that thrills him a little more than it probably should.
It’s all hot and confusing and Sebastian is undeniably turned on even though Chris has barely touched him below the shoulders, his cock thickening where it’s laying against his belly.
“Today, we’re going to show you how to… God, how do I even say this?” Chris giggles, embarrassed, and then gives himself a shake and restarts. He points authoritatively in the direction of the lens. “No, this is important. Today we’re going to show you how to make your biologically male partner feel real good using just – ” he wiggles his thick fingers, “ – these.”
He sits, making the mattress dip next to Sebastian’s hip, and looks down at him. There’s nerves and excitement swimming in Chris’s clear turquoise eyes, and he smiles a little, and Sebastian feels like that one is just for him. He’s likely pleading again, with his own eyes, for a kiss, because Chris braces a hand next to his arm on the bed and leans further over to slide their mouths together. His tongue slips in, and Sebastian moans quietly around it, bringing his hands up to hold Chris’s face.
Chris is smiling into their kiss and whispers, “love you,” barely loud enough for Sebastian to hear. Then, louder, talking to the camera and their future audience again, he says, “you gotta warm them up first. Never wanna just dive right in, gotta get them feelin’ good and relaxed and turned on.”
Again, Sebastian is about to say something, add to the commentary somehow, but he’s too embarrassed so he doesn’t. The heated flush travels all the way down his chest. Chris follows it with his lips, sucking small bruises into Sebastian’s neck, collarbone, lips finding a nipple and closing around it. Teeth squeeze the bud and then his tongue soothes the sting and Sebastian gasps a little and buries his fingers in Chris’s hair.
“Not all guys are into this so much,” Chris says, as he moves over to the other nipple. He turns his head to look at the camera, adding, “try it out, though, so you know for sure. ‘Cause he is.”
“I’m –” Sebastian begins, searching for something to protect his dignity, but the words die in his throat as Chris closes his lips around his other nipple and sucks, hard. Sebastian twitches, and pleasure rolls through him, and he whimpers.
Chris lingers, for a lot longer than he needs to, like he forgot himself a bit and got lost it kissing and licking at Sebastian’s chest. By the time warm fingers curl around his erection as Chris sits up, Sebastian barely needs them before they move onto the reason they’re actually here. He’s already hard, moisture already left in trails across his hip, but Chris strokes him anyway, looking down at him with darkened eyes that leave Sebastian shivering. Chris squeezes, twists his fist, works him just perfect, and Sebastian reaches out, patting his forearm.
“Chris,” he breathes. Get on with it, is what he’s trying to communicate, if you want me to last. It’s hardly been anything, it’s humiliating that he’s this worked up already, but it’s everything. Sebastian can’t lie even to himself, the idea that a camera is rolling, that thousands, maybe even millions of people might watch this, has his head spinning. It isn’t news to him that he has tendencies like this, that he likes being on display and appreciated, consumed by hungry eyes and maybe embarrassed a little. It’s news to him that he likes the idea of strangers watching him quite this much.
“Kinda wanna do everything to you,” Chris murmurs to him, probably loud enough that the microphone will pick it up, but soft enough that he’s talking to Sebastian and not their audience. “Show ‘em how to suck you off, how to eat you out, how to fuck you.”
“Chris.” Sebastian shivers again, hot and cold running through him like a fever, and gets dizzy at the thought of it. At people he knows seeing him like this. Seeing him laid out and cherished, brought to orgasm in any number of ways by Chris’s talented hands and mouth and cock. Seeing him loved, but also used. It’s a confusing, desperately arousing tangle of emotions deep in his gut.
“Make sure your fingernails are short and clean,” Chris instructs, suddenly all business again, focusing back on the camera and his task, “and use lots of lube.”
Sebastian can’t even tell if he’s also turned on, because he’s still in jeans and Sebastian can’t really see his lower half from this position. Sebastian almost wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t – if Chris was taking this so seriously, so earnestly, like he does everything, that it wasn’t even affecting him in that way. Too busy being a professional, too busy caring about what they’re doing as if it’s actually important. That thought thrills him too. That in a way, this isn’t even really sex. Not if Chris isn’t getting off on it, too. It’s entirely performative.
“Especially if they’ve never done it before. It’s gonna feel a bit strange at first, before he gets used to it and knows what to expect, so making sure it’s nice and slippery helps. You don’t want it to hurt.”
“Speaking from experience?” Sebastian asks, finally finding his voice enough to make a shadow of a quip.
Chris grins at him. “Yeah, I am.” He looks back at the camera, but nods his head toward Sebastian. “He’s pretty good at this, too. Maybe we’ll have to show you that, sometime.”
Sebastian shudders at the thought. He’s pretty sure he’d be so embarrassed he’d melt right out of his skin, if he was expected to run this show. He’s also pretty sure he’d love it. Getting his hands on Chris’s body and waxing poetic about it are kind of two of his favorite things in the world, after all.
“Now,” Chris goes on, “find a position that works for you both. Your partner could be on his front for this, which could give you easier access, but Sebastian here usually prefers to be on his back.” He pauses and quirks a cheeky eyebrow at the camera before adding, “he likes to watch.”
He’s not wrong. Sebastian can never get enough of watching Chris’s face while they make love, seeing the awe and hunger and adoration there as he lavishes attention on Sebastian’s body, wringing every last drop of pleasure from it. It’s humbling and intoxicating and so goddamn sexy. Still, Chris saying those words to the camera, in that tone, makes Sebastian feel almost dirty, like he’s some sort of voyeur, peeping on his own life. A voyeur and an exhibitionist, it seems.
Chris is kneeled on the mattress now, between Sebastian’s spread legs. “As you can see, Sebastian likes to keep himself nice and tidy. Some people will opt to go natural – not everyone’s going to like waxing or shaving and that’s completely fine, as long as you make sure you’re clean.”
Oh God, Sebastian thinks, a trickle of shame running through him. This shouldn’t be hot. He’s discussing intimate hygiene, for crying out loud. Chris talking about whether Sebastian washed his ass before he presented himself like an offering should not be turning him on, and yet it does. It’s something about the detached tone of Chris’s voice, his almost clinical instructions, that have Sebastian feeling like he’s there just for Chris’s convenience and enjoyment. Like he’s a prop; an instrument that Chris is teaching their audience how to play. It makes Sebastian so wildly, unreasonably horny, it’s almost unbearable. He tries to hide how much it’s affecting him, to steady his breathing as much as possible, but Chris doesn’t even seem to notice, focused as he is on his task.
“Lube’s naturally quite chilly,” Chris states matter-of-factly, as he squirts a generous amount of it onto the fingers of his right hand. Some spills onto the comforter, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. “So you’re gonna want to warm it up a little, by rubbin’ it between your fingers. It’s not imperative, but it is the nice thing to do.”
Sebastian huffs a breathless laugh. “Thanks,” he says weakly.
Chris winks at him. “Anytime, sweetheart.” His expression turns a bit more serious. “Ready?” he asks, as if making sure that Sebastian is still up for this.
“God, yeah.”
Chris smirks and turns towards the camera. “If you’ve done a good job warming him up, he’ll be pretty eager at this point. That’s good, ‘cause that means he’ll be more likely to be relaxed and receptive.”
Sebastian’s face is flaming. He can’t believe Chris is calling him out like that, basically calling Sebastian a needy bottom, but fuck if that isn’t true, at this point. He almost wants to tell Chris to hurry up, to put his fingers inside him already, but stays silent. He doesn’t get to make demands right now. He just gets to lie there and look pretty, let Chris use him however he sees fit.
The next moment, Chris is reaching down, sliding his slippery fingers between Sebastian’s cheeks and starting to slick him up. Sebastian shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his body at finally being touched where he’s been aching for it.
“Like I said before, it’s important to use lots of lube, make sure he’s nice and wet. When that’s done, you can start by rubbing on him a little, to try and relax the muscle as much as possible before you penetrate it.” He does exactly as he says, rubbing slow, insistent little circles around Sebastian’s entrance with his thumb, before switching to his forefinger and finally pressing the wide tip of it inside.
Even though this is hardly the first time Chris has done this to him, Sebastian still clenches instinctively around Chris’s thick forefinger, and Chris reaches for Sebastian’s cock with his left hand, slowly stroking him as he pushes his finger in deeper.
“Always start with a single finger, and go slow when you push it in. It’s normal to feel resistance, it’s the body’s natural response to an unusual intrusion, but do make sure your partner is comfortable and try to help him relax as much as possible.”
“Mmm,” Sebastian sighs, wiggling his hips a little bit to spur Chris on.
Chris chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “For some people, it might take a while before they get used to the feeling, so make sure you give them time to adjust before you try to up the dosage. Other people, like Sebastian here, are more… experienced, and will want you to start moving right away.” He demonstrates by pulling his finger most of the way out again before pushing back in, rotating his finger as he slides it in and out of him easily. “As you can see, Sebastian has no trouble taking a single finger. He also likes it when it burns, just a little bit – don’tcha, baby?”
Already, Chris is lining up a second finger next to the first and starts to push against his rim, forcing his middle finger inside, too. Sebastian blows out a quick breath, trying to relax. It still burns a bit, because Chris’s fingers are solid and wide, but like Chris said, he does like the sting.
“Uh huh,” Sebastian groans, gritting his teeth.
“Yeah,” Chris replies, sounding almost contemplative, “that’s it. See how well he takes it?”
That last bit is aimed at the camera again, and Sebastian has to stifle a moan. Jesus. Hearing Chris talk like that, as if Sebastian isn’t even there, is so much hotter than he would ever have anticipated.
“Now, with two fingers, you can start scissoring a little. Don’t try to force anything, just incrementally widen your fingers, gently loosening that tight ring of muscle, coaxing him open. Be patient. Don’t rush, and don’t forget to keep checking in on your partner, see if he’s doing alright. You want to be making him feel good, first and foremost. If he’s not feeling good at this point, chances are you’re not doin’ it right.” Chris has been mostly watching either his own hand or the camera up until this point, but now he’s looking up at Sebastian, his expression earnest and attentive. “You feelin’ good, sweetheart? Nothin’ hurting?”
Sebastian, struggling to keep his breathing level, shakes his head. “Nothing hurts. Feels good.”
“Good,” Chris hums, satisfied. “That’s good, baby.”
It’s not even really praise, and yet Sebastian lights up at Chris’s words. Chris is pleased with him. He’s being good. That knowledge alone feels almost as good as the two thick fingers buried in his ass, rubbing against his inner walls as Chris starts to slowly fingerfuck him.
Getting distracted from his lesson plan for a moment, Chris leans down and licks up the underside of Sebastian’s dick. He takes it into his mouth, the same way he had the other day. He sucks, slow and controlled, and Sebastian swears and covers his face. It’s so good, and at the same time it feels dangerous, because they didn’t discuss him doing that.
Chris lets it fall out of his mouth again, and turns back toward where the camera is still rolling, faithfully capturing every inch of this hot, confusing, crazy thing Chris managed to goad him into. “Seb likes just being fingered for a while, not having it immediately leading anywhere, just enjoying the sensations. Other guys might not be into that, so keep communicating.”
He does as he says, just slowly sliding his fingers in and out of Sebastian, slippery from the lube, catching on his rim, Sebastian’s whole body still thrumming with the dirty thrill of having an audience, even though that audience doesn’t technically exist yet.
“When you want to find the prostate,” Chris says, a little quieter, the only sign he’s affected at all by any of this, “you wanna aim about two inches in, and upwards. It’ll feel like… you’ll feel it, when you find it. Kinda unmistakable. Then crook your fingers up and towards yourself, like you’re doing that ‘come here’ motion.”
He does it, and Sebastian gasps.
“Right there?” Chris asks, a self-satisfied grin apparent in his voice.
Sebastian nods and feels like he can’t open his eyes or the room will spin away into space. “Fuck, yeah. There.”
“It feels really good,” Chris tells the camera. “Orgasms from just this are out of this world, I’m tellin’ you. You can also provide additional stimulation of the prostate from the outside, by rubbing your thumb over his perineum, applying light pressure.”
He keeps talking as he fingers and strokes, but Sebastian can’t hear him anymore. It’s just more instructions, more tips, and it all falls away into the white noise rushing through his head. He’d meant what he said, when he made the comment that started all this. Chris is good at this. Too good at it, and Sebastian’s whole body is on fire. Warmth spreads out, his skin prickles, and he wants Chris’s mouth back on his dick but at the same time, like this, he can focus solely on the other sensations because there aren’t competing ones.
“Chris,” he mumbles, feeling it bubble up unexpectedly fast, whether because Chris is paying so much attention to the gland inside or because the idea of doing this on camera is so hot and shameful all wrapped up into one, he couldn’t say, but his gut is clenching. He tries to warn Chris, tries to stop it, but then Chris’s fingers press right there, unrelenting right on the perfect spot, and Sebastian loses it. He grunts and comes in slow, all-consuming waves, cock spilling over his quivering stomach as his breath comes in pants so harsh they burn in his lungs.
Chris stops mid-sentence, and his fingers stop moving, and when Sebastian opens his eyes Chris is staring at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Sebastian wants to hide. To recoil into himself, dive under the covers and never, ever come back out. He wasn’t supposed to do that. They’d discussed it, all the details, this morning. It was meant to be educational, Chris had dutifully insisted with doe-eyes, not actual pornography. Chris was going to demonstrate what needed to be demonstrated and then turn the camera off, and keep the ending just between them. Chris may be a show off, as he’d said, but he’s also possessive, and didn’t want anybody else to see what Sebastian looks or sounds like when he comes. Chris wanted that to remain just his.
Renewed embarrassment flies like wildfire over Sebastian’s bare skin, and he covers his face with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he whines.
Chris is quiet just for another moment, and his fingers slowly retreat and leave Sebastian’s body, and Sebastian prepares himself to be scolded. Instead, Chris’s fingers drag through the mess Sebastian left on his stomach. Sebastian looks down at it, the mess of sticky white on his own skin and Chris’s fingertips in it, and then up at Chris, blinking in confusion. Chris looks back, his mouth still open and his eyes wild.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, shaking his head, and then he’s surging down, mouth crashing into Sebastian’s so hard it hurts, devouring his lips in a ravenous kiss.
“That felt so good,” Sebastian breathes, admitting it into the space between them, and Chris growls low in his throat.
“You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I can’t stand it,” he says, sounding almost pained.
It’s a half hour at least before they remember the camera is still rolling.
---
They take a shower, and a nap, and order a pizza. Neither of them brings up watching the recording, but Sebastian knows they both want to. Chris doesn’t mention it, so Sebastian doesn’t either, but it remains unspoken between them. Finally, well after the sun has gone down, Chris just grabs the camera and an HDMI cable and starts hooking it up to the T.V. in his living room, without a word. Sebastian gets nervous all over again, and excited, and ashamed, that confusing jumble of emotions returning in his chest as he settles on the couch and Chris plops heavily down beside him.
“What if it’s awful?” he asks, with a laugh, trying to make it a joke to hide how unsure he is about it. He’s heard horror stories, of people making their own sex tapes and finding out they don’t look nearly as good as they thought.
“Then we delete it and never speak of it again,” Chris says. He puts an arm around Sebastian, pulling him in and kissing his hair. “But it won’t be. You’re gorgeous. Everyone thinks so.”
“Everyone hasn’t seen my dick,” Sebastian points out, and Chris chuckles warmly.
“I’m glad to hear it. But, that’s gorgeous too.” He presses a button on the remote, and they appear on the screen, Sebastian naked on the bed and Chris’s voice behind the camera.
The thing is, Sebastian is an actor, and as such he’s used to seeing himself on the screen. Not that he watches his own movies in his spare time or anything like that, but since he has to attend his own movie premieres, he sees all of his movies at least once. So he’s not a stranger to watching his own face. Watching his own, stark naked body on a T.V. screen, however, is a bit of a novelty. He’s been pretty damn close to fully nude on camera a couple of times but between the combination of movie magic and stunt doubles, it was nothing like this. This is just him. No filters, no clever angles. Bare in a way he never has been before, the shot immobile and continuous and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“That’s what I look like naked?” He’s seen himself in the mirror, but somehow this feels different from that, too.
“It is,” Chris says into Sebastian’s hair. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I look…” Sebastian hesitates before finishing, “…pretty good.”
Chris huffs, jostling his shoulders. “You don’t gotta be so modest, baby. Admit it, you look incredible.”
“I don’t look incredible,” Sebastian protests, but that’s the moment when on-screen Chris leans over on-screen Sebastian and kisses him, and Sebastian transforms. From one moment to the next, he goes from self-conscious and tense, seemingly hyper-aware of the fact that he’s naked and being filmed, to just melting into Chris’s touch. The Sebastian on the T.V. positively flourishes, turning into Chris like a flower turns to the sun, moaning softly as Chris kisses his neck, his chest and then pays special attention to his nipples. Real-life Sebastian’s skin prickles watching it, like feeling ghosts of those lips on his body right now.
And suddenly, Sebastian thinks Chris kind of has a point. Together, they look pretty stunning.
“Oh,” he says, softly.
“Wow,” Chris whispers, seeing it too, just as captivated as Sebastian. “I’ve never… I mean, I see you, all the time. But never like this, never get to just sit back and watch you… fuck, sweetheart. So responsive, so perfect for me, I can’t believe-” He trails off, distracted by the scene unfolding on the T.V. screen.
Sebastian’s not sure whether to focus on the way Chris is lavishing attention on his chest as Sebastian arches up to meet him, or the way Sebastian can see his own cock thickening against his stomach the longer Chris loves on him. It’s mindboggling and strangely exciting at the same time. Watching Chris turn his attention back to the camera, going methodically through his instructions about lube and clean fingernails, fills Sebastian with the same dirty thrill as it did at the time. Although watching it back, he feels a lot less like he’s just a body for Chris to demonstrate on. He sees love in Chris’s open expression, that he hadn’t noticed when it was really happening.
“See that?” Chris asks, as if there’s any chance Sebastian could not be watching the screen right now. He couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried. Chris is so close to him, still with his arm snug around Sebastian’s shoulders, talking reverently into his hairline. “Now you see why I can’t keep my eyes or my hands off you? You’re fucking gorgeous, Seb, especially when you’re naked and laid out like that, all open and willing. Wanting me so badly.”
“Needy, you mean,” Sebastian murmurs.
“Sexy as hell,” Chris corrects, lifting Sebastian’s left hand to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of it. He nods towards the screen. “Look at yourself. Look how turned on you are from just one of my fingers inside you. Imagine how that makes me feel.”
“How?” Sebastian asks breathlessly, eyes still glued to the screen, where Chris is now pushing a second finger into him, all the while describing what he’s doing while Sebastian tries his hardest not to burst into flames.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Chris turning his head to look at him. When Sebastian does the same and meets his gaze, he shivers at the naked want and adoration reflected back at him.
“Like I’m the king of the fucking world, baby,” Chris tells him in that almost painfully sincere way of his, leaving Sebastian with no choice but to attack him with kisses, breathless, rash and joyful.
A loud moan from the direction of the T.V. pulls their attention back to the screen, just in time to see Sebastian’s eyes rolling back as he comes with his dick untouched, spilling onto his own stomach while Chris looks at him like he’s one of the seven wonders of the world. With a rush of heat in his gut, Sebastian remembers how embarrassing that was, and how hot it was at the same time. How intense it felt, how intense it looks, his own chest rising and falling as on-screen Chris reaches out to drag his fingers through the mess Sebastian made of himself.
“Holy shit, Sebastian,” real life Chris curses, and Sebastian – surprising even himself – giggles. It’s just all so absurd. Hearing himself moan like that and watching himself having sex on T.V. like he’s in some sort of cheap, homemade porno (which he supposes this is, actually) is just a bit of a trip, really.
His laughter is infectious, it seems, because soon Chris is giggling right along with him, pulling him into his arms as Sebastian winds his arms around Chris’s waist and buries his face in Chris’s neck again.
“So yeah,” Sebastian says dryly, once they’ve calmed down a little, “we’re probably not going to actually put this online, are we?”
Chris snorts into Sebastian’s hair. “Probably not, no. This was really fun but also really fucking weird.”
“So weird,” Sebastian agrees, then feels compelled to add, “but I kinda really enjoyed it, too.”
“I had an inkling you might have, yeah.” There’s a pause, before Chris asks, “So we’re totally gonna make more of these, right? Just for us?”
“Fuck yes.”
“God, I love you.”
And then Chris is pushing him back into the couch cushions, while in the background, on-screen Chris and Sebastian are getting increasingly noisy. It’s kind of odd, the notion of having sex to the soundtrack of themselves having sex, but it’s like, good odd. Sebastian and his body are fully on board with it. No one ever claimed actors were not slightly narcissistic creatures.
Read on AO3
#evanstan#rpf#chris evans x sebastian stan#chris evans#sebastian stan#smut#ao3#my fic#paper-storm writes#mandie things#evanstan collab#we don't know what this is either#🤷🏻♀️#enjoy!
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🎥, 🎶, & 📌 for if/then !!
🎥: do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?
i think i already answered this but here are some more!
"i think she is doing something. she's working out the problem. that's what liz does." ("you learn to live without")
"you weren't going to tell me about the divorce?" "fuuucking lucas" + "but i've had love. you two are the loves of my life. and i can't lose that." ("love while you can")
the final refrain of "always starting over". i get chills every time i watch that scene.
"there's half a dozen of us now that we adopted huck!" "you cannot name a child huckleberry" + "i miss you and me" "there's always you and me" ("what if?(reprise)" lv)
"you know i'm no good with secrets!" "you spill, i kill you. slowly" ("what if?(reprise)" bv)
"my friends are…" [lucas and kate turn around to talk to each other] "…very understanding" ("what if?(reprise)" bv)
not necessarily a scene more like blocking but. that part near the end of what if? rep where lucas and david walk up to each other
🎶: if your hyperfixation has songs/an ost, what is your favorite song from it?
"ain't no man manhattan". all versions. but i'm somewhat partial to the longer dc preview version of it.
📌: how did you find your hyperfixation?
the year was 2018. the summer of 2018. and i was knee-deep in my rent hyperfixation. so i was going on a fanfic binge on ff.net, and i read this fic that made a vague mention to if/then. so i thought. "what the fuck" (lmao) "is that?". so i did some wikipedia digging and found that it had both idina menzel and anthony rapp in its obc. and my interest was piqued. so i made a mental note to listen to it.
but i actually only ended up listening to the ost in 2020 when quarantine started. and i really liked the soundtrack so i checked out the wikipedia article which was. super confusing and, in hindsight, misleading (see: that one post where i fix the if/then wiki article). i turned to ao3 to try and figure out the plot using fanfics. six fics, only two of which were not crossovers. ff.net, mostly rpf. it had like two or three gems, but that's it. all i could find on wattpad was rpf *shudders*.
so basically i lost interest a few months in bc i couldn't figure out the plot. i gained interest in it on and off every few months.
then. march 2021. i was studying for an ap chem test. kinetics. and i was looking on yt for smth to play as i study. background noise. and i found, drumroll please, a very good quality bootleg of if/then, obc except with jackie burns as elizabeth and deedee magno hall as anne. so i watched it. and i was hooked. things started falling into place left and right. "oh! this stanza is actually in liz-verse!" "oh! this song is actually in both timelines!". (i got a 100% on the test dw). and then i went on a tumblr rabbithole. a month later i started posting about it. and here we are!
hyperfixation asks!
#i spent so much time looking for that linked post abt the wiki article......no regrets#ask game#draughtsdyke
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