#because he juuuust starts to smile and stops himself with the blink

[innytoes]

Chaotic prompts! 57 + any combo of the boys!

I’m sorry, I wasn’t catcalling you, I was catcalling my buddy.

Alex wasn't even sure how it started anymore. He was pretty sure Reggie had been trying to boost their confidence, except all his usual pep-talks and 'own your awesomeness' had failed him that day. So he'd resorted to drastic measures.

Drastic measures apparently being cat-calling his bros.

It shouldn't have worked. Except then Bobby had let out the most uncharacteristic giggle, and that had just encouraged him. And then Bobby had started doing it too. And Luke had picked up on it. And listen, Alex was not about to be bested by these nerds.

And now instead of saying hello like normal people, Sunset Curve greeted each other in the worst possible way.

"Damn, baby, you got some fries to go with that shake?" Alex called, waving to Reggie as he was crossing the street.

Except right as he was shouting, this guy was skating by, and instead of making eye-contact with Reggie, he made eye contact with him instead. Oh no. Oh noooo.

His heart flew into his throat when the skater dude stopped, flipping up his board into his hand and pulling off his helmet. Waves and waves of beautiful, glossy hair tumbled down to his shoulders. He was gorgeous. He was radiant. He was frowning.

"Sorry, what?" Skater Guy asked, and oh, Alex was so dead. He was so dead, he was going to get beaten to death with a skateboard for catcalling the wrong person.

"It's just- I mean- I wasn't talking to y- I-" He started stammering.

"Catcalling is severely uncool, dude," the guy said reproachfully, just as Reggie made his way over to them. At least he'd have a witness to his death by skateboard-or-mortification.

"I'm sorry," Alex managed to get out. "I wasn't catcalling you, I was catcalling my buddy."

"It's our thing," Reggie said, leaning into Alex and wrapping a comforting arm around him for a moment, catching him in a side hug. Then he grinned and pulled back dramatically. "Damn son, I like that outfit, it would look even better on my bedroom flooooor." He even added some finger guns, as though Alex wasn't trying to will the earth to swallow him whole.

The cute skater guy blinked, before chuckling. His laugh was really, really cute.

Reggie didn't stop there, though, but kept explaining that is was funnier with Luke, because there were so many bicep and sleeveless jokes they could make, but the real challenge was Bobby, who was the hardest to embarrass. As if on queue, Bobby and Luke rounded the corner, and immediately started wolf whistling.

"Bro are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you!" Bobby called.

Beside him, the skater guy started laughing harder, and Alex gave into the urge to crouch down and hide his face in his hands.

"Oh dude, you totally got Alex," Luke said, before upping the stakes. "Hey boy, are you Goldilocks, because I've got something here for you that's juuuust right!"

"Kill me now," he said, looking up at the cute boy. Suddenly death by skateboard didn't seem too bad.

The guy bit his lip, mirth dancing in his eyes. That shouldn't be so hot, but it totally was. He leaned down to help Alex up, except then he didn't let go of his hand, instead pulling him closer.

"Did it hurt?" he asked. Alex stammered, too lost in the guy's eyes to give a coherent answer. "When you fell from the vending machine, because you're a snack."

The 'oooohs' of the guys around him ruined the moment they were having, except for how it totally didn't, because hot skater guy started laughing so hard his whole body wiggled, and yeah, Alex was totally gone for this dude. Still, he wasn't about to let himself be bested like that. Instead, he did his best to channel his inner Reggie, and he gave the guy what he hoped was a suave smile.

"Hey baby, is your name Earl Grey?" he asked huskily. "Because you're a hot-tea."

The giggle the guy gave was completely undignified and totally worth all the embarrassment. He tucked his hair behind one ear, revealing a little earring. "My name's Willie," he said, and man, who would have thought catcalling and bad pick-up lines could actually work?

#julie and the phantoms #willex #fanfic #vague polycurve vibes as well #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie throckmorton #I wrote a thing #just guys being dudes #catcalling the homies #this devolved into bad pickup lines because most examples of catcalling are just creepy and not funny

[aestheticsfandomsandmore]

In vino (beer) veritas

HE TIAN X MO GUAN SHAN FAN FIC.

Don't expect too much, really: I’m Italian, so I probably made a lot of mistakes (you can report them, I would be glad). There are few descriptions for the same reason and so this story could be a bit repetitive. There is not a proper ending. Maybe I’ll just leave it like this, maybe I’ll continue the fic some other day.

I posted it on AO3 if you want to read it there.

________________________________________

Mo Guan Shan hasn't heard from He Tian since the previous evening. Almost twenty hours have passed and he hasn't come to school. He's a bit worried, if he has to be honest with himself. The damn guy hasn't even texted to annoy him with random stuff, while he usually doesn't let him breath without interfering.

So Mo goes to his house. He's embarrassed, he's mad at himself for his dumb choice, he has no idea how to justify that choice to He Tian, especially when he's so damn sure the guy will give him a smirk and start assuming things, like that he cares about him. Whether it is true or not, Mo would always deny it until the end of times.

Still, the door of his loft is right there in front of him and he knocks, hoping for an answer so that he can stop worrying for that asshole.

However, the moment He Tian opens it, he only worries more and more.

The tall boy, always so handsome, with fucking perfect hair and fancy clothes, is now looking like he just jumped out of a hurricane: his shirt is wrinkled, the zip of his jeans is down (don't look, don't look, don't look), his dark hair are disheveled and his eyes are red and wide open.

“Ehy little Mo~ Wha-What ya doing here?” he asks him, so visibly confused that Mo wouldn't be surprised if he just fainted, right where he was.

“Stupid, what... what are you up to, what's goin' on?”

“Little Mo is worried about me?” even in that state he still manages to grin and to sound annoying.

“Move” Mo orders and the moment he gets in the loft he feels a bit shocked: a bunch of empty bottles of beer (at least five or six) are lying on the floor. He Tian is drunk. He turns back and looks at him. “Ohi, what is all of this about?”

He Tian closes the door and chaoticly walks toward the table before sitting on a chair. He laughs. “What do you mean?”

Is he fucking with me or what? Mo thinks, almost getting agry. “Why did you drink so much? Are you okay?”

“Suuure thing.”

Mo sighs. How much patience must he have with this guy?

“Okay. Let’s go to bed, shall we?” Mo Guan Shan reminds himself of how the doctors spoke to him when he happened to be in a hospital: like the things he was about to do were going to be a group thing or shit like that. He tries the same with He Tian, hoping it will work.

He Tian lets Mo putting his arm under his own armpit and then puts his around his neck, but it’s more like he’s grabbing it, like he’s trying to hold on to him.

“Okay, we’re moving.” Mo says and meanwhile counts more carefully the bottles of beer the idiot has drunk: eight. Eight fucking bottles. What the hell was wrong with him?

He carries He Tian to his bedroom and puts him under his sheets, but the right moment he tries to walk away the other boy clutches his wrists and pushes him to the bed as well.

“Ohi, the fuck-”

“Stay here for a while, c’mon~ You came all the way to my flat juuuust...” he seems to be struggling with making a coherent phrase. “... just to leave immediately?”

He can’t really say he is wrong, but he doesn’t want to stay either. “You’re wasted. I didn’t certainly come to babysit you.”

“You don’t have... to do... anything... just stay.”

He looks so weak and vulnerable, so different from his usual self.

He won’t remember anything anyway tomorrow, Mo thinks. “Whatever.”

He stays. He lays down on his right side and stares at He Tian. His eyes are closed but he is smiling. “Nice” he says, clearly happy he is going to stay.

“Why... why were you drinking so much?”

He Tian doesn’t answer. Mo almost thinks he fell asleep, but then he says: “I really want to kiss you.”

Mo winces. “What the bloody hell-”

“I won’t kiss you. Don’t you worry.” He Tian promises, his eyes still closed.

“Of course you won’t you chicken-”

“I don’t want you to cry again.”

Mo baffles. His heart starts ricing faster and faster. “What...?”

He Tian opens his eyes and looks at him with no smile of any sort. “You freaked out last time I kissed you.”

Mo blushes and gets furious. “Yeah - and whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” He Tian answers immediately. “I know it’s mine. I- I know.”

“Good.” Guan Shan says, but he’s actually pretty surprised He Tian admitted it so easily. He expected him to mock him and start making jokes about how he reacted back then. 

They stay silent for a while. Then He Tian asks: “Am I... still... disgusting to you?” His voice is so low and depressed Mo could almost burst into tears.

“I-” he swallows, super nervous. That was uncertain territory for him. Such honesty from He Tian demanded just as much from him as well. “No. You are not.”

He Tian looks relieved. “Really?”

“Yeah. Actually... you never were.”

Now he looks shocked. “You didn’t mean it?”

“I meant it when I said it” Mo replies. “I was fucking infuriated, He Tian.” Now he’s getting angry again, just by the thought of that moment. He felt so ashamed he just wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth. “But... I never really thought you were a disgusting person, I just thought you did a disgusting thing.”

“I get that” He Tian says. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have forced you. Sorry.”

An apology, Mo thinks. He Tian apologised before, but always with a smart smirk on his face or his hands on Mo’s body - never sounded very convincing. Now he is talking from the bottom of his heart and Mo believes him. “Okay. Apologies accepted.”

He Tian smiles. 

Mo smiles as well. He won’t remember any of this. He caresses his cheek with his thumb and He Tian shudders, almost as he punched him in the face. He stops immediatly, realizing what he was doing. “Okay. Now get some sleep, idiot.”

“Will you wait for me to fall asleep?”

He sounds like a kid. He was never good with kids. Way easier to go along with their insanity rather than question it. “Whatever. Now sleep.”

-

The morning after, the hangover is right there waiting for him to wake up in the most embarrassing way possible. His knees are pushing against his arms, his toes are crisscrossed, he smells like shit and he probably looks even worst. But none of this matters the moment he understands Mo is sleeping right next to him. 

His first thought is that he’s still dreaming. It has to be a dream. Mo never stayed over the night and even if he managed to make him do that Mo would have never slept in his bed. Too risky. 

But it takes him just a few moments to realize he’s not dreaming at all. He gets up, way too quickly - his head hurts. “Shit”. He goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower. He wears something clean and takes his time to get back in the bedroom, scared that he just imagined things and he won’t find Mo in his sheets just where he left him. But he does. He’s still there. 

He Tian smiles and takes a moment to appreciate that scenario, wishing it would happen again and again, every morning, preferably after a night of rough sex and sweet cuddles. Or just sex. Or just cuddles. Anything, literally anything to have Little Mo in his bed as often as possible.

“Ehy, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine~” he pats his head and ruffles his hair, foreshadowing a bad reaction coming from the boy. 

It comes. Guan Shan slaps his hand and gets up, a bit uncomfortable, and then rubs his eyes, still sleepy. “’Morning dick head.”

He Tian grins. “Is there an actual explanation for which you slept in my bed? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I see you went back to yourself” Mo replies, annoyed. 

He Tian doesn’t say anything. Went back to himself? What did that mean? “Uhm... what?” he asks, trying to sound entertained. 

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Okay, now he’s feeling a bit scared. What did he do? What did he say? “What should I remember? Did we have fun last night?”

“If you find funny getting wasted and unable to walk on your own towards your fucking bedroom, then yes, it was massive fun.”

He Tian laughs. He expected way worst. “Okay, so you took care of me, Little Mo~?” 

He draws closer to him, but Mo stops his approach by grabbing his wrists and says: “I didn’t plan to stay the night, but since I did... I guess we should talk.”

Talk? Like, a proper chat? Offered by Mo? Was the world about to end? “Uhm, okay? What do you want to talk about? Our future together?”

“Can you be serious for one fucking second?”

He Tian blinks. What the fuck happened last night? “Sure.”

He lays down on the bed waiting for Mo Guan Shan to do the same. He stares at him and then sits. “I- I have some questions for you. And then, if you have any questions... for me... I’ll answer. I mean, I’ll try, at least.”

He is palpably nervous and the way he’s speaking is a total surprise: things like that never happen between the two of them; it’s always He Tian the one who brings up more weighty topics for them to discuss. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Last night you told me...” Mo lowers his head, “that you’d like to kiss me.” He blushes.

He Tian is not surprised at all. “Well, is that a brand new information for you?”

“Cut the sarcastic crap out, thanks.” 

“I’m not being sarcastic! I mean it: was it honestly shocking for you?”

Mo still doesn’t look at him in the eye, but he shakes his head. 

“So what’s the question?”

“I was going to ask you if that were true, since you were drank, but apparently it was.”

“Yeah. What else?”

“You also told me that you won’t kiss me, even if you want to, because you’re... basically scared of my reaction. Is this true?”

Okay, he didn’t see this coming. “I-” he needs to think before answering. “I... kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“It’s just- I want to be sure you want that too.” He really means that. He never said that aloud. He never admitted that truth to himself. Heʼs waiting for someone’s permission to do what he wants. It is a weird and new concept for him. He knows that, being a kiss something that involves two people, it should just be normal to ask before doing anything. But he isn’t used to, anyway. 

“You never seemed particularly interested in what I wanted.”

Now, that sentence gets him mad. “Look at me.” he orders.

Mo does that and he looks more confident than ever. He’s almost proud to see him like that.

“What’s the point of this?”

“Wait. I have another question.”

He Tian rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“You apologised. For what you did. And... you asked me if I still thought you were disgusting.”

He Tian would blush if he wasn’t the way he is. “And what did you answer?”

“I- Wait, did you mean it?”

“Uhm?”

“Do you actually feel sorry for what you did?”

“I apologised to you when I was sober as well, did you forget?”

“You never apologised for something specific.”

He Tian is getting impatient, but he still says: “I’m not sorry to have kissed you, I’m sorry I made you cry.”

That answer makes Mo mad - well, of course it does. “I cried because you kissed me. Because you’re a piece of shit.”

“Call me what you want” he is getting heated as well, “but you didn’t cry because I kissed you: you cried because I didn’t ask you and you were surprised and you didn’t want to accept that you liked me. You still don’t, by the way.”

Mo tries to punch him but He Tian’s faster and blocks him right away, switching positions and standing onto him on the bed. 

“You have no idea what’s going on inside my head! You shit head, you have no right to tell me why I was crying!” 

Mo screams, trying to free himself, but He Tian is holding his wrists with his hand and impeding his movements with his legs. 

“Okay, hey, chill, calm down, please.”

It takes a while for Mo to actually stop moving. He grumbles and bites his lips. He Tian lets go of his right wrist to make him stop, touching his mouth very gently. “Don’t ruin it” he whispers. 

Mo blushes and turns his head. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that - I’m sorry.”

Mo blinks and looks at him doubtful and hesitant. 

“But now let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot it.”

“Why are you doing this? You could have just made up an excuse for staying here the night, as always, relying on the fact that I forgot everything. Why didn’t you?”

Mo observed him for a while and then said: “I- I wanted to know the truth.”

“The truth?“

“Yeah.”

“Little Mo, you asked him if I wanted to kiss you, which you already know I do, you asked me if I was sorry, which I had already said I am, and you wanted me to confirm a sentence which I pronounced when I was drunk - and so, completely honest.” 

Mo looks pissed. “Listen, it wasn’t all this clear to me when I decided to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to play Mister I know-it-all, you’re already annoying enough.”

He Tian laughs. “Whatever.” He lets go of the other wrist and moves his legs away, still remaining on top of him. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Mo seems confused. “Which one?”

“Am I still disgusting to you?” he asks this with a tiny grin, but he’s actually desperate for an honest answer. He knows Mo doesn’t find him disgusting, but to hear him saying it is a totally different story.

Guan Shan snorts. “No, you are not. Happy now?”

He Tian smiles. “Very.”

“Asshole.”

They stay like this for some time. He Tian is almost leaning towards his lips, when Mo interrupts the silence. “Oh, right! Why the fuck did you drink eight bottles of beer?”

#19 days #fan fiction #19 days fic #19 days fan fiction #he tian x mo guanshan #he tian x mo guan shan #mo guan shan #he tian #tianshan #tianshan fanfic #old xian #my fic #i'm italian so please forgive me #i know this probably sucks

[teacupfulofstarshine]

every star a multitude

happy birthday, logan sanders!! this fic takes place in my little and broken but still good au! no content warnings for this fic, just pure fluffy goodness! thomas is thirteen, roman is ten, and logan is eight (it’s his eighth birthday!) 

read it on ao3! 

“Little astronaut! Little astronaut, are you awake?” 

Logan rolls over, sleepily blinking and looking up at the person waking him up. “Mmmmngh . . . Dad? What’s happ’nin’?” 

“Happy birthday, little astronaut!” Dad says, grinning wide and leaning down to kiss Logan’s head. “You’re eight years old today!” 

Logan’s eyes shift to the calendar hanging on his wall, displaying a photo from the Hubble Telescope of a nebula three galaxies over. The day is neatly circled in bright red marker, with the words “BIRTHDAY” printed inside the circle. “It’s my birthday?!” he gasps, sitting up. Dad pats his lap, and Logan crawls into it even though he’s probably juuuust a little too big for that now. 

“That’s right, little astronaut! It’s your birthday!” Dad cheers. “That means you can have aaaaaanything you want for breakfast!” 

“Crofter’s!” 

“Anything that’s an actual breakfast food, Lo.” 

Logan pouts. “But I want Crofter’s . . .”

Dad hums, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve been working on a new recipe for muffins filled with jam. Do you think if I baked you some Crofter’s-filled muffins you would eat those for breakfast?”

“Yeah! That sounds amazing!” 

“Good, because I already made them! Let’s go get them, okay? Do you want me to carry you?” 

Logan considers. “I’m too big to be carried, Dad. I’m eight years old today.” 

“You are eight years old today. But I’m super strong, strong enough to lift Thomas! I think I can carry you downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. It’s your birthday, kiddo. Let us spoil you, yeah?” 

Logan wants to argue, to prove that he’s a big boy now, but he also really wants to be carried downstairs, so he lifts his arms up. Dad carefully squeezes tightly under his armpits, lifting him up and settling him onto his hip. Logan carefully wraps his legs around Dad’s waist, looping his arms around his neck so that he doesn’t fall. Dad hums what Logan thinks might be the birthday song as they head downstairs. 

Roman comes running up to them as they enter the kitchen. “Logan! Happy birthday!” 

Dad carefully puts Logan down, and Roman almost tackles him in a hug. “Happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday!” Logan squirms underneath his older brother. 

“Ro, squishin’ me!” 

“Roman, don’t crush your brother on his birthday,” Dad chastises. Roman sits up, grinning and fidgeting apologetically. Logan sits up, putting a hand on his chest and taking a few deep breaths just like Papa taught him to when the noises are too loud and the lights are too bright. 

“Sorry, Lo! I just get so excited! It’s your birthday!” Roman stands up and pulls Logan to his feet, hugging him loosely and patting at his head. Logan smiles, letting his brother show him affection. “And Dad made muffins with Crofter’s - oh, was that s’posed to be a birthday secret?” 

“No, Ro, he already knew about those.”

Logan settles into the kitchen chair next to Roman, who’s quietly chanting fragments of the “Happy Birthday” song and kicking his legs eagerly. The oven timer beeps after a few minutes, and Dad pulls on the cat-paw oven mitts Logan had gotten him for Christmas. “Muffins are done!” 

Something else beeps as Dad sets the muffins on the stovetop and refills the muffin cups. “Is that the coffee maker? Can one of you turn that off for me?” 

“I’ve got it, Dad,” Roman says. 

Someone else shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing sleepily at their eyes. “Papa!” 

“I got th’coffee maker,” he says, pushing the button and pouring himself a cup. He takes a long, slow drag from the mug before turning to kiss Logan’s head. “Happy birthday, buddy.” 

“Thank you, Papa!” 

“Is Thomas coming to breakfast?” 

“Yeah,” his oldest brother says, yawning and pushing his sleep-ruffled curls from his eyes. “I’m here, Lo . . . happy birthday, bud.” Logan grins when Thomas messes up his hair, even though he normally hates that. 

“Who wants a muffin?” Dad says, setting a plate on the table. “I think we should give the birthday boy first pick, right? Then presents and surprise trip!” 

“Surprise trip?” Logan gasps. He knows the birthday tradition of the family, of course he does, but he still loves the idea of trying to guess where they’re going for his birthday. “Where are we going, Dad?” 

“Sorry, kiddo! I can’t tell you anything, it’s supposed to be a surprise!” Dad hands him a muffin, and Logan frowns but shoves it into his mouth anyway. “What do you think?” 

“Yummy!” Logan says, eyes wide as he shoves more muffin into his mouth. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, honey, but I’m glad you enjoy them!” 

Logan washes down three more Crofter’s muffins with a glass of milk before he’s finally done. “Lo, don’t rush your breakfast!” Dad scolds. 

“But I’m done now, Dad! Is it presents time yet?” 

“Don’t be greedy, Lo,” Dad says, ruffling his hair. “But yes, it’s time for presents. Go and sit on the sofa with your brothers, okay?” Logan nods, springing up out of his chair so fast that he almost knocks it over. 

There’s a stack of presents sitting on the coffee table, all neatly wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper patterned with gold and silver stars. Logan’s fingers twitch to grab one and tear open the wrapping paper, but he knows that Dad and Papa like to be there when he opens his presents. He sits on the couch, tucking his hands under his thighs so that he’s not tempted to grab a package. 

Roman and Thomas join him before Papa and Dad do, sitting on either side of their younger brother. “Are you excited?” Thomas asks. “Papa and Dad have a really good surprise planned for you this time!” 

“You know what it is?” Logan whines. “No fair!” 

“You always know what our birthday surprises are!” Roman says. “Besides, we had to plan our gifts for you! You’re not really mad, are you?” 

“Not really, I guess . . .” 

Papa and Dad come in from the kitchen, settling onto the loveseat across from their sons. “Okay, Lo. You can open presents now. One at a time, okay?” 

Logan eagerly snatches the box off the top of the little pile, carefully sliding his finger under the taped edge of the wrapping. He tears it open to reveal a brand new pair of knitting needles and several balls of soft, dark-blue yarn with glittering silver threads intertwined. “Do you like it?” Dad asks. “The yarn reminded me of the stars in the night sky, so I thought you would like it.” 

“I love it!” Logan squeals, kicking his legs eagerly since his hands are full. “Thank you, Dad!” 

“Mine next, little astronaut,” Papa says, handing him the box. Logan grunts when it lands in his lap. 

“Heavy, Papa!”

“Go ahead and open it, then!” 

Logan tears into the box and gasps when he sees the galaxy-patterned blanket. “Is this a weighted blanket?!” 

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “I know that you like to be covered in heavy stuff when you’re having a sensory overload, so when I found this space-patterned weighted one I knew you would like it. “Do you? Like it, I mean?” 

“I love it! I love it, Papa, thank you so much!” 

Logan carefully pushes the blanket off his lap and springs to his feet, running over to hug both of his parents tightly. He feels Papa kiss his forehead and Dad laughs. “We love you, little astronaut.” 

“I love you too!”  

“You still have presents from your brothers, little astronaut, so why don’t you open them?” 

Logan turns back to the table, picking up the package with Roman’s handwriting on it. Inside is a folded piece of paper with multiple drawings of the moon on it. “It’s a chart of the phases of the moon! I made it myself! I know how much you love space . . . do you like it?” 

“I do! I’m gonna hang it on my door! Thanks so much, Roman!” 

Thomas places his package into Logan’s lap, and he carefully sets the poster down on the table before opening it. Inside is a stuffed sea turtle with a galaxy-patterned shell. The name tag attached to the front flipper reads Celeste. “It had space on it, so I thought of you,” Thomas says. “And it feels like the soft material that you like to rub on your face when you’re having a really bad day, so I thought that you would like it . . .” 

“I do!” Logan squeals, eagerly pressing the turtle to his cheek and rubbing against it softly. “It’s so great, Tommy!” He sets the turtle down on the coffee table and throws himself at his brothers, hugging them tightly. “Thank you so much, Tommy, Ro!” 

“Happy birthday, Lo!” 

“Alright, boys, go and get dressed, okay?” Dad says. “We don’t wanna be late for our special outing, do we?” 

“Nope!” Logan squeals. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Can I take it off now, Papa?” 

Logan scratches at the blindfold tied over his eyes. “No, little astronaut. You can’t do that yet, you’ll spoil the surprise!” 

“You’re gonna love it!” Roman says. Logan fiddles with the fidget cube in his hands, eagerly awaiting the reveal of his surprise. The car slows down, slowly rocking backwards and forwards, and Logan begins to bounce. “We’re parking, aren’t we? We’re parking, we’re here, we’re here!” 

“That’s right, little astronaut,” Dad coos. “Don’t take off your blindfold yet, okay? We’re gonna walk you to the entrance.” 

Logan hears the car door open, feels someone gently take his hand and help him out of the car (probably Papa). They walk through the parking lot, periodically stopping and starting as they avoid the cars. “Step up here, Lo, there’s a curb.” 

Finally, finally, they stop. “Close your eyes so we can take off the blindfold, okay Logan?” 

“Okay!” Logan squeezes his eyes tightly shut and feels the blindfold slide off his face. “Are you ready, Logan?” 

“Ready!” 

“Okay! Three, two, one, open your eyes!” 

Logan’s eyes fly open, and he gasps as he stares up at the dome-shaped building in front of him. “Is - is this - are we at the planetarium?!” 

“Yep!” Dad grins. “We have tickets to the showing at noon, and then we’re gonna spend the day exploring the museum! Are you excited, Lo?” 

“It’s perfect, Dad! It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” 

Logan can’t stop himself from rocking back and forth eagerly, flapping his hands a little as he stares up at the planetarium. “This is the best present! Thank you so much, thank you thank you thank you!” 

Dad ruffles his hair, smiling. “Of course, little astronaut. It’s your special day.” 

*~*~*~*~*

They end up seeing the planetarium show about three times in a row before Logan is finally satisfied. When they finally make it to the gift shop at the end of the museum, Papa and Dad buy Logan a spherical lamp that projects the constellations onto his ceiling. That evening, after setting up the lamp and eating Logan’s favorite dinner, they all gather in the living room for a movie. Logan is wearing his unicorn onesie and snuggling underneath his weighted blanket with Celeste. 

“What do you want to watch, Logan?” Dad asks, wearing his cat onesie. 

“I wanna watch the star documentary!” 

“Do we have to?” Roman groans, pulling the hood of his lion onesie up over his head. “I don’t wanna watch more space stuff!” 

“It’s Logan’s birthday, Ro,”  Papa says, zipping up his bat onesie. “That means that he gets to pick the movie that we watch tonight, and if he wants to watch the star documentary then we’re all going to watch the star documentary.” 

“I’m making popcorn!” Thomas calls. Logan smiles as he settles into the couch, surrounded by his family as the documentary starts up and Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s voice fills their living room.

taglist below! 

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#starshinewrites #little and broken but still good #moxiety dad!au #logan sanders birthday fic #sanders sides #platonic TLAMP #background romantic moxiety #logan-centric

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT Oneshot: So, Two Mutants Are Waiting For a Bus-

(Also on AO3 if you feel like leaving a kudos/comment)

Plot:  They may have had completely different lives, but they still met the same fate. As someone who had managed to just recently find his way to the brighter side of living life as a mutant, Bullhop decides to give a bit of advice to the worm man sitting next to him, whether he wants it or not.

((Another fic I've been wanting to write for a while. Gotta love those character parallels ^v^ Enjoy!))

The night he mutated, Stanley hadn’t managed to grab much from his apartment in his panic. He’d already knocked over several trash cans and mailboxes on the way there, alarming people enough to start screaming for police. The sirens in the distance didn’t exactly lower his anxiety levels either. So, he just grabbed some clothes and undergarments from his dresser, not caring if they would still fit him, some leftovers and cans of food, and his spare change jar. He knew none of it wouldn’t last him very long, but at least it was something.

This time, however, packing his belongings had been much less stressful. ...Mostly because he didn’t have as much. Donatello had given him a homemade smartphone at the beginning of Bullhop Appreciation Day, and using that along with some money the turtles had scrounge up for him, he bought a bus ticket that would take him on a seventy-two hour drive straight to Etobicoke. Afterwards, he grabbed a few things from his tent before digging up a couple more coats and blankets (as well as a new hat and some shoes) from various dumpsters. He had smiled when he was able to find ones that just barely managed to fit his new physique, calling it a lucky break, or perhaps fate itself providing a sign that he was on the right path.

With everything he cared to take with him folded up and placed in a tote bag (save for one thing, which he kept hidden under his coat), Stanley - or Bullhop, as he was enjoying being called now - made his way to the bus station, managing to get there without knocking too much over. Though, he did accidentally dent one car but he left a note so, it was probably fine.

Sighing, Bullhop sat down on the bench, making sure to adjust his hat so it hid his horns. He still had about half an hour to wait, and since he wanted to save his phone battery for the trip, he resigned himself to just sitting and waiting. There were things he wanted to think about anyway, like how he was going pitch his ‘mutant ballet’ idea. What would his first show be? Maybe some sort of mutant version of Swan Lake? That could be a crowd pleaser! Or maybe-

The sudden coo of a bird followed by a loud yelp was enough to bring Bullhop out of his brief brainstorming session. “Oh for the love of-! How many of you am I going to have to barbeque before you feather-brains learn to take! A! HINT!” He turned just in time to blinded by a bright light.

Bullhop cringed, quickly covering his eyes. The pigeon screeched, flapping away as the smell of smoke filled the night air. “And STAY AWAY! You pest!” a man shouted after it. Daring to risk a peek, Bullhop slowly moved his hands away from his face.

Standing just outside of the station’s light, Bullhop could see a small figure - REALLY small! - with what looked like a big head and an even bigger fist that was still glowing slightly. “Whoa… That’s some bird zapper you’ve got there.”

The figure scoffed. “It does more than just zap birds, moron.”

“Oh… So, I guess the bird zapping is a bonus then? Heh…” Even in the dark, Bullhop could tell the small man was scowling back at his awkward smile. “Sorry… You okay?”

“I’ll be fine ,” the man insisted as he started walking - no, crawling towards the bus stop bench, dragging his giant fist behind him, “Once I get back to my apartment and get some shuteye…” Yet another awful day had come and gone for him… First his latest plan for destroying his teenage enemies was deemed a failure by his teammates, all of them refusing to even give it a chance. Then his so-called allies simply talked over him during their brainstorming session (because apparently their plans were sooooo much better!), leaving him rejected and aggravated once again. For the cherry on the horrible day sundae, he had begun craving his favorite Chinatown restaurant late in the afternoon, deciding he deserved a bit of a treat. Unfortunately, the place didn’t deliver, nor was it near any bus stops. He was ignored by taxis, and by the time he traveled through the various obstacles of New York, the restaurant was closed.

‘And now,’ he thought to himself, ‘I have to make small-talk with this bozo. Great. Juuuust great…’ As he got closer, Bullhop couldn’t help but gape a bit at the sight of him. Even after seeing plenty of mutants at Big Mama’s gala, he was still a bit shocked by something so drastic.

The man in front of him was a worm. A literal worm! With a purple jacket and poofy, well coiffed blonde hair that seemed sort of familiar, but Bullhop couldn’t quite place it. The worm narrowed his green eyes. “And what are you looking at, kid?”

“N-Nothing!” Bullhop replied, quickly looking away, “Just, uh… So, you uh… You got mutated too, eh?”

“Gee, what was your first clue?” the worm retorted as he crouched down slightly. With one mighty jump, he was able to hop onto bench. He also squished himself in the process, thanks to the giant fist, which Bullhop could now see was in actuality a metal gauntlet.  But the worm recovered before Bullhop could even offer to help get it off him.

“Right… Well, uh- Just, hang in there, buddy.”

“...” The worm turned to give him an incredulous stare. Bullhop winced. Okay, yep, definitely poor choice of words. “‘Hang in there’? HANG IN THERE?! Are you serious?! We’re both mutated freaks and all you can say is ‘hang in there’?!”

“I’m sorry!” Bullhop said quickly, holding his hands up in defense. The worm didn’t raise his gauntlet, but he sure looked like he wanted to use it. “I-I just meant, I know what it’s like to have rough days, a-and what it’s like to suddenly get turned into a mutant! But it gets better, I promise!”

The worm scoffed, looking away. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, kid… And even if you did, I highly doubt our problems are the same. You got mutated into a huge, strong, muscular bull! And what did I get? I got turned into, into-!” He stopped, gritting his teeth. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. None of it will matter! Not once I get my revenge for what they did to me!”

“Look, I- Wait, ‘they’? And, revenge?” Did he really mean-?

“And when I, Warren Stone, DO finally get my revenge, I’ll be praised as a hero by all the other freaks in this city!” Warren shouted, grinning wickedly, “And then it’ll be those teenage mutant ninja turtles that’ll have their names forgotten!”

“Wait wait WAIT!” Bullhop shouted, waving his hands, “You’ve got it all wrong! The Turtles aren’t the bad guys here, they-” He blinked. “...Wait, you’re Warren Stone? I was wondering what happened to you, but I just thought you retired or-”

“SEE?!” Warren screamed suddenly, making the bull flinch once more (and this time, nearly taking the whole back of the bench down with him). “This is what I mean?! I’ve been FORGOTTEN! Disgraced! Turned into a WORM that no one can even recognize! AND IT’S ALL THOSE STINKIN’ TURTLES’ FAULT!!!”

The worm’s voiced echoed through the nearly empty bus station. A worker behind the ticket counter glanced up from her magazine and a homeless gentleman a few benches back stirred a bit, but other than that, it would seem his only audience was the shocked bull sitting beside him.

“...You’re wrong,” Bullhop began, “And, I know that’s not what you want to hear right now but, I’m also not gonna just sit here and let you insult my friends.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “Friends?! But they’re the ones who-!”

“It wasn’t their fault!” Bullhop insisted, “The things that mutated us are the mosquitos! And one night, a whole bunch of them showed up to my hotel! Er, well, not really my hotel but… But it felt like mine in a way, you know.” Smiling softly, Bullhop reached into his coat and took out his Bellhop of the Month plaque. It was one of two things, the other being his tattered uniform, that he had decided to keep from his old life. Just because he was starting fresh didn’t mean he had to leave everything behind.

Warren stretched up a bit to get a good look at the plaque. “...That’s a really bad picture,” he stated.

“I wasn’t ready for the flash. Anyway, the Turtles showed up and tried to catch all the mosquitoes before they could bite anyone, and- well…”

“Aaaand they screwed up,” Warren finished for him, his expression now flat, “Because they’re idiots.”

Bullhop scowled. “Hey, they may not be the brightest guys, or even the most observant, but they’re not idiots. And they really did try to do their job, it just wasn’t enough. But, because of their mistake, my life was changed forever. I went from being the best bellhop in town to being a big, clumsy bull that couldn’t even take two steps without tripping all over himself or wrecking something.”

But despite this unfortunate fact, he still smiled as he thought about the past couple weeks. “But then, weeks later, the Turtles found me again, and they… They wanted to help me. To make up for their mistake, and to help me get back up on my feet. And they were so nice, without wanting anything in return! They let me stay with them, gave me food, introduced me this really cool dance game which, somehow, gave me both great dance skills AND confidence! And I was someone who had NEVER danced before! But now, well, I don’t want to brag but-” Seeing the glare Warren was giving him, Bullhop decided to just get to his point.

“Yeah, they sorta messed up my life but, but they also cared enough to help me find a new one! And now I’m going back home to Canada! I’m going to dance and find my own stage and, heh, and just not care if I end up stumbling all over it! Because I’m happy now, even as a bull, and I’m sure if you just-” Warren growled, suddenly turning away again. “...A-And I’m sure if you just asked them, they’d help you find a new life too? And, um, help you become happy with… being a mutant?” Bullhop winced again. Not exactly the most inspiring way to end a speech, and he didn’t need to see the worm’s face to know it.

“Wow,” Warren said quietly after a moment, scoffing, “You really don’t know anything, do you, kid? I don’t want another life, I want my life! My OLD life! You were some nobody working in a hotel, I was a somebody! The face of a city! The guy who brought people the news! The handsomest newscaster on local tv! You’ve never won an award like that! You’ve never been on tv or been famous enough to be recognized on the street! You DEFINITELY don’t know what it’s like to suddenly only be a few inches tall! You-! You-!” His tiny body was practically shaking with rage. “You’re not even from this country so what do you know?!”

“WHOA! Okay,” Bullhop said, glaring fully at the worm now, “Are you REALLY going to go there?”

“Ugh, fine, that last bit was rude, even for a New Yorker,” Warren grumbled. He rubbed his eyes, forcing his anger down somewhat. “But the rest of my points still stand. We might have both lost everything in our lives, but I had a lot harder to fall. So you don’t get to tell me that it’s all going to be okay, not when you and I have clearly had different experiences when it comes to this whole mutant thing.” His glare deepened. “And as for your friends… Hmph, those turtles can try to make up for their ‘mistakes’ all they want, but they’re still a menace. And I’m still going to be the one to take them out once and for all.”

“...Have you ever considered podcasts?”

Warren blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Podcasts,” Bullhop repeated, “I mean, I know it’s hard for you to get a job on tv now but, with a podcast, no one would know you were a worm, if that’s what you wanted. And if you didn’t mind people knowing, you could make that part of your gimmick. Help you stand out, you know?”

Warren just gave him another flat stare. “I used to be on tv. Podcasts are beneath me.”

“I dunno,” Bullhop shrugged, “A lot of podcasters get pretty famous.” A cold silence fell between them. One of the old lights above flickered as an oozesquito bumped into it. Bullhop watched it, not too worried. You couldn’t get mutated twice, right? The thing looked like it was at the end of its life anyway, just bumping into a bright, harsh light over and over.

Warren watched it too. Thinking about it, he did recall the feeling of something pinching that fateful day… But those turtles had still been around too. They had to be related to the oozesquitos somehow, they just had to! Maybe the purple one created them or, or maybe they released them onto the city as a prank and only started trying to wrangle them up when they got bored with the results. Whatever the reason, it had to be something. It just had to be!

Still, he wondered as he watched the bug above, out of all the millions of people in the city, why did it have to bite him? Why did it have to change him?

“I get why you hate them,” Bullhop started again, “I hated them too… But they really are good guys trying their best. And I mean, they are younger than both of us so… I feel like we could cut them a bit of slack. Teenagers don’t really deserve to get destroyed for dumb teen mistakes, even ones as big as this.” He paused for a moment as a thought crossed his mind. “So what did they say?”

“What?” Warren asked, looking back up at him.

“When you told them that they were responsible to what happened to you. What did they say?”

Warren huffed. “Those punks don’t listen when I threaten them and explain my plans. I’m lucky if I can even get them to remember my name!”

Bullhop blinked slowly. “...So they don’t know.”

“...If they don’t listen to threats and screaming,” Warren countered, glaring once again - though by this point, he hardly had any energy left to make it effective, “What makes you think they’ll listen if I tell them that they’re the reason I’m like this and that they should ‘be good guys’ and help me find my new purpose or whatever?”

The bull shrugged. “You never know if you don’t try, and maybe if they saw you less as an enemy-”

“ Greatest enemy.”

“-Greatest enemy and more as just a fellow mutant that need help, they wouldn’t ignore you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he sneered. It was just as Warren thought, this guy had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. And even if he was right, Warren was certainly not about to go crawling to his enemies and beg for their help.

His life was sad enough as is.

Speaking of which- His empty stomach growled as he placed a hand on it. Warren took a moment to think. He was pretty sure he still had some leftovers in his fridge, though he couldn’t remember how old they were. Maybe if he could sneak into his landlord’s office and grab some of his bread-

“Here.” “Huh?” Suddenly, a package of turkey jerky was placed in front of him. “I know it’s not the greatest but uh, I figured I probably shouldn’t eat beef jerky anymore,” he heard Bullhop explain. He had been saving it for the bus ride, hoping to make it stretch till their first rest stop but- “You can have some if you want. And uh, I’ve got some cheese-flavored potato chips too.”

Warren was silent for a moment. “You can keep the jerky,” he finally replied, “But I’ll take some of the chips.” Bullhop handed him the entire bag.

It wasn’t long before the bus Bullhop had been waiting for came rolling towards them. “By the way,” he said, a pleasant smile back on his face, “The name’s Stanley, but my friends call me Bullhop. If you’re ever heading up north for whatever reason and need a place to stay, call me up, eh?”

“...Seriously? Bullhop?” Warren shook his head. “And you used to be a bellhop. Just… Wow.”

“Hey, it works.” And if it really was going to be his new name for the rest of his life… Well, Stanley was just fine with that.

The air became a bit smokey once again as the old bus pulled up. Warren watched as Bullhop boarded, tripping on the steps and nearly taking the whole door off. It almost made him chuckle.

“Good luck, kid,” he mumbled, “You’re going to need it…”

Once it was clear no one else was going to board, the bus drove away, leaving Warren all alone once more. His eyes glanced back up at the light, but found no oozesquito. Instead it was lying flat on its back, dead on the ground with the bright green ooze within it now dark.

Warren narrowed his eyes as his tiny hands crumbled up the chip bag. It didn’t matter if he had lost everything… He would make sure to repay those annoying turtles in full. Ruin their lives before destroying them slowly and painfully. Maybe it wouldn’t turn him back into a handsome human newscaster and give him back his fans, but it would still be satisfying. It would still be a victory of sorts, and that would be enough.

The Bullhops of the city could let themselves become content with their new freakish lives, but Warren Stone was going to fight! He clenched his mystically-enhanced fist tightly, smirking at the burning power he felt within it. He focused on its power and warmth, which allowed him to also ignore the chilly evening wind that was starting to come in..

Yes… Bullhop may have found his own path with dance games and trips back home, but this. THIS was Warren’s path, he was sure of it. It was his new purpose in life, and he was going to reach his victory and destroy his reptilian foes, one way or another…

THE END

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #warren stone #bullhop #fanfiction #oneshot #my writing #once again I'm that person in the fandom that writes about the minor characters it would seem. lol

[lilyswritings]

Trust

anonymous requested: “Eggsy x reader request: could you do an imagine w the prompt "dont you trust me" where like they get into a fight and reader leaves, she gets in trouble because of her connection to him and he saves her juuuust before its too late (basically looaaads of angst and fluff)?”

author’s note: NOW WE’RE TALKING! I love angst, I love Eggsy, let’s do this. This is a little sad to read, guys. Get ready for some feels! This is longer than a drabble, let’s be real, but I got a little carried away. 

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

   Your heart practically stops at the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway, battered and bruised with a long cut on his cheek and his suit torn and stained red. “Jesus, Eggsy!” You exclaim, hand fluttering to cover your mouth as he steps into the flat, delicately removing his suit jacket.

   “I’m fine.” He manages, and you help him lie back on the couch, carefully undoing his buttons to pull open his shirt - revealing a smattering of purple bruises on his torso, and a few small cuts. “Can you -” He winces as he moves, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Can you grab some ibuprofen?” 

   You nod and hurry off to the bathroom, rummaging around the cabinet. When you finally re-enter the living area, your eyebrows are tugged together. “What happened?” You ask, handing him the bottle, and he shakes his head.

   “Got stopped coming home. Two blokes beat me up and took my wallet - they had knives too.” You bite back tears as you hear the lie. 

   “Bullshit, Eggsy.” You state, and he looks up, eyebrows furrowed. “So you can easily take out Dean and his goons in the local pub, but a pair of random men stop you in the street and you come home like this?” You gesture to his exposed torso and shake your head.

   “What the fuck is going on with you?” You question further, and watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. 

   “Look, babe, it’s nothin’-” 

   “Don’t tell me it’s nothing! You’re a goddamn tailor, not some boxer. I need to know what’s going on. Please, please just tell me the truth.” You beg, eyes pleading, and he sighs and looks down.

   “I got mugged. It’s the truth.” Somehow, the lie hurts more the second time, and you nod slowly, lips pursed.

   “So that’s it, huh? Don’t you trust me?” You ask, and you watch his green eyes soften as if you’d just hit him. “You know what? Don’t answer that.” You huff, stomping past him.

   You can hear him wince as he pulls himself off the couch, and he follows you into the bedroom where you’re throwing your stuff into your tiny suitcase. 

   “Babe, babe please-” He starts, reaching for your hand, but you tug out his grasp, fighting the tears that are spilling down your cheeks.

   “I love you enough to know when you’re lying.” You shout throwing things into the bag and zip it closed, pulling it onto the floor.

   “Y/N, don’t do this - I’d tell you if I could, honest, but I-” He looks like he’s fighting tears now and as much as it stabs your heart, your wipe your cheeks with your sleeve and push past him.

   “When you decide you trust me enough to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, I’ll be with my mum, alright?” You say from the open door, and when he doesn’t say anything back, you close the door behind you and stride out.

   The streets are dark, and the chilly air bites into the exposed areas of skin that peek out from your coat, but you push yourself further, heading towards your mum’s flat. 

   “Y/N Y/L/N?” A voice calls out, and you turn and squint at the figure approaching you, hand digging into your pocket and clutching your can of pepper spray.

   “Yeah, and who are you?” You call out, and the figure only nods. Before you can ask again a hand clasps around your mouth from behind, and you feel a sharp sting in the side of your neck, the world slowly fading to black as you mutter, “Eggsy...”

   When you come to, the first thing that hits you is the odd sensation of something around your wrists - when you tug, they don’t move, which is enough to jolt you back into consciousness and realize that you’re tied to a chair, hands behind your back. 

   “Mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty.” The voice from earlier rings out and you snap your head to the side, finding the figure idly leaning against the wall, a knife in his hands. The man grins at you, teeth glinting in the dim light, and your breaths quicken as you begin to panic.

   “Where the fuck am I?” You ask, looking around the grey concrete room, and he tsks, approaching you. His hand rests on your shoulder, and you try to flinch away.

   “I’ll be the one asking questions here, love. You’ve been spotted with Galahad, and you’re going to tell us where he is.” You squint up at him, confusion settling into you. 

   “The fuck are you on about?” You ask, only to be met with a slap to the face. Normally, this would make someone cry, but you were a fighter, and had dealt with many assholes in your past, so you only spit at the man. “I don’t know a fucking Galahad, alright? Doubt anyone has since the 15th century.”

   This earns you a punch in the stomach and you wheeze, tears pricking your eyes as he grabs your hair and wrenches you head back. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

   “Look, Mrs. Y/L/N, can I speak to Y/N?” Eggsy sighs through the phone, fiddling with one of the necklaces you’d left behind. You’d left a few hours ago, and Eggsy had decided ‘fuck the rules’, and that he was going to tell you everything. “What do you mean she’s not-” His body tensed, hand curling into a fist as something slid under the door. “Nevermind. Sorry.” He hung up, eyes focused on the white paper.

   Gun held out in front of him, he wrenched open the door, turning to find whoever had slid the paper, but no one was there. When he turned back into the flat, he picked up the paper, and his blood ran cold. ‘Come and get her, Galahad. Alone, or she dies.’

   Cursing, Eggsy quickly redialed as he began to put his suit back on. “Yeah, Merlin, it’s me - Y/N’s gone, someone’s taken her or somethin’ - Yeah. Yeah. Thank you.”

   “Sir? He’s here.” A voice calls out, and you blink off the darkness creeping into your vision as another figure enters the room. 

   “Well well well, you’ve led him to us anyway.” The man from earlier coos, releasing your hair and letting your head sag again. “Much appreciated.”

   You flinch as gunshots ring out, just outside the door, and lean back into the chair instinctively as the door burst open to reveal - 

   “Get the fuck away from her.” Your tailor of a boyfriend orders, standing in the doorway with an even more bloodstained suit than before, an impressive-looking gun held out in front of him.

   “Glad you could join us, Galahad.” Everything clicks into place as you tiredly glance between Eggsy and the man, but when you follow Eggsy’s gaze you find him looking, not at you, but at a gun being held next to your right temple. Oh. 

   “Leave her outta this, yeah? You’ve got me now.” Eggsy - Galahad, your mind tiredly comments - says, green eyes briefly flicking down to meet yours, and you manage to give him a tiny nod to assure him that you’re okay. Sure, you have no clue what the fuck is going on, your stomach hurts like hell, and you’re pretty sure your lip is bleeding, but all he needs to know is that you’re alive and well.

   “Well, I could... Or I could just kill her right now, let her die while you-” You jump, tears coming to your eyes as a gunshot rings out in the room, and when you stop holding your breath you realize it was Eggsy’s gun that went off.

   Avoiding the body lying next to your feet, you let your gaze trail up to find Eggsy crouching next to you, cutting your hands and legs free, and with a tiny jolt you realize that he’s crying. The second your hand is cut free, you gently stroke his cheek, making him look up at you. “Hey, I’m okay, I’m right here.” You murmur, and he sighs, leaning his forehead on your thigh as he takes deep breaths.

   “God, Y/N, this is all my- I mean, what if I hadn’t gotten-” He starts to panic and you gently pull his chin up so he’s looking at you. 

   “The geezer punched me a few times. I’ve had worse. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” After a moment, you laugh slightly humorlessly and he narrows his eyes at you. 

   “What?”

   “Oh, it’s just - I get the whole secrecy thing, now. You’re a fucking spy.” A genuine smile tugs the corners of his lips up, and he gives you a signature wink.

   “I’m your fucking spy.” 

a/n: OH MY GOD this is such a cheesy, SHIT ending, but I promised myself I wouldn’t go back and rewrite any of these drabbles. I guess the cheesiness fits with Kingsman, so whatever. Hope you enjoyed!

#eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy imagine #eggsy x reader #kingsman imagine #kingsman x reader #eggsy unwin #kingsman 2 imagine #kingsman the golden circle imagine #kingsman the golden circle #drabble

[lesbian-sora]

Eligible and Illegible

Summary: In a world where soul mates are identified when their first thoughts about you appear in real time, radio personality Phil Lester knows that there’s more to life than finding your soulmate. However, when he discovers that he just missed meeting them in the tube, his tune changes a bit. Phil believes in fate, but does his soulmate?

Genre: Fluff, soulmates

Words: 7.1 K

Warnings: Swearing

Beta: Light and love of my life @theoceanismyinkwell

Author’s Note: Hello! This was prompted by some lovely anon, and I was thrilled to write it! I changed it juuuust a bit, so I hope that’s okay! I love soulmates and I love filling prompts! Thanks so much for sending it in. ^_^ If you have a fic you want to see, I’d love to write it so send it in! I’m doing an advent for Christmas, so I won’t get to any non-holiday themed fics until January, but I still want to see them! I’ll post a not about that later, but until then,enjoy this fic and happy Thanksgiving!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Check out my PBB!

“So, are you going to tell me about it, or are we going to ignore the dopey smile on your face?” Phil asked casually, swaying with the motion of the tube and tapping furiously at his phone. He was almost at a new highscore, and nothing would distract him. “I’m surprised you managed to get anything done at work today with your head in the clouds.”

“Her name is Sophie,” PJ sighed, and if he had been anyone else, Phil would have accused him of gushing. “I met her this weekend at that film festival.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s my soulmate.”

Phil jerked his gaze up and stared open mouthed at PJ. He distantly heard his phone let out a defeated trumpet sound as his character died. “You’re joking.”

PJ grinned and held up the back of his hand. There in delicate cursive were the words Oh my gosh, he’s the guy who did that film about the tiny planets; I should go say hello.  “Yeah, I was at the mixer they held and she came up to me and when I waved at her, I saw I had this written on my hand.”

“Lucky yours was so easy to spot,” Phil said. His own parents had their soulmate identifying marks, but not each other’s. As the marks were on their backs, neither had noticed they had met their soulmate that day until they got home. They had, of course, looked for their soulmates, but eventually they gave up and wound up finding each other. They always claimed that Fate did step in to bring them together, and Phil genuinely believed it.

“Even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been hard to find her,” PJ shrugged. “Between all the websites solely dedicated to finding missed connections and the fact that I would have had access to the guest list means I would have found her by the end of the week.”

“Yeah. Imagine having a missed connection on the tube or just on the street,” Phil shuddered. “You wouldn’t even know for sure if they were from England, much less London. You’d probably never find them.”

“The world works in mysterious ways,” PJ shrugged. “If the universe truly wants you to be with a certain person, it will put you together. Anyway, this is my stop; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, hey!” Phil said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a couple pound notes. “Can you stop by that bakery on your way in and get me one of those red velvet cupcakes? I love those things.”

PJ laughed and pocketed the money. “Yeah, all right, I’ll get you one. I’m surprised you haven’t found your soulmate in one of those cupcakes yet.”

Phil grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “I can’t help they’re so good. It’s not my fault.”

“You’re a menace, you know that?” PJ shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Phil.”

“Bye, PJ! Don’t forget my cupcake!”

PJ rolled his eyes, but he was swept up in the herd leaving the car before he could say anything. Phil shoved his wallet in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He frowned when he saw that he was less than 100 points from breaking his record, and started tapping away again. About 30 seconds in, he was distracted by a sudden itch on his bicep, and silently cursed the cold weather that put the puffy coat between his fingers and skin. He ignored it and went back to tapping.

A few more sad trumpets later, Phil beat his score right as the tube screeched to a halt at his stop. He pocketed his phone, and disembarked, happy to note that the crowd at his stop was rather thin. He wasn’t fond of crowds in any situation, but he’d moved less than a month ago, and still got turned around when trying to figure out which escalators he needed to take.

A hand clasped his shoulder and Phil whirled around to see a man with curly brown hair panting and Phil was sure this was going to be the last thing he ever saw. The man took a deep breath, and reached for something in his pocket. Oh god, please don’t be a murderer, I’m too young to die. Phil opened his mouth to scream for help, but the man just held out a familiar looking Astro Boy wallet and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “You, er, dropped this.”

Phil blinked for a moment and took his wallet. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

The man smiled, and Phil noticed that when he did, his eyes got sparkly. “All right, I’ve got to get back on that car before it leaves again. Bye, mate!” And then he turned and ran off.

Phil let a little smile linger on his lips as he waved goodbye to someone he knew couldn’t see him. He gently shook his head, and refocused on the task at hand: That is, getting home. He huddles deeper into his coat once he hits the street, and considers texting PJ about his wallet returning vigilante, but shrugs it off. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see him again. Instead, he goes home, scratches Thor between her ears, makes himself a pot of coffee, and sits down at his computer to prepare for tomorrow’s radio show.

He alternates between working, browsing Tumblr, and looking at cat videos until late in the night, only stopping to scarf down some leftover Chinese takeaway for dinner. When his phone buzzes to advise him that it’s bed time, he yawns and stretches his arms above his head. He closes his windows, gently nudges Thor with his foot and muttered, “Come on, Thor, it’s bedtime.” Thor got up from where she was sleeping under the desk, stretched, and scurried to Phil’s room and up her little badger stairs to his bed. Phil followed behind her, squirming out of his jumper to get into some comfier sleep clothes.

He was passing a mirror hanging in the hall when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. He then choked on air and quickly backpedaled to get a better look. Still there. He rubbed his eyes and checked again. Still there. He pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk. Still there. He stood there mouth agape for a solid minute before simply sighing out, “Well, fuck.”

Still there.

There, wrapped around his bicep in almost illegible scrawl, were the words, I wonder if that guy realizes he dropped his wallet.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Phil was very nervous on the tube to work the next day. He was subconsciously rubbing the place on his arm where his soulmark was and nervously counting down the stops until he got to PJ’s. He was also trying to covertly look around the car to see if he could recognize anyone from yesterday. He had a feeling it was the man who had returned his wallet, but truthfully, it could have been anyone. He knew it had to have been on the tube, though, as he definitely hadn’t had it yesterday morning and he miraculously only dropped his wallet once. However, he didn’t recognize anyone, and no one seemed to be furtively looking around like he was.

When the train finally ground to a halt at PJ’s stop, Phil was right by the door to grab his friend and drag him to a less populated corner. “Calm down, mate!” PJ laughed. “I know you’re eager for your cupcake, but this is ridiculous.”

Phil furrowed his brows. “Cupcake? What do you–” He glanced down and saw the blue and white striped pastry box in PJ’s hands. “Oh, right! I asked you to buy me a cupcake yesterday.”

PJ frowned with growing concern. “If this isn’t about the cupcake, what is it?”

“I met my soulmate yesterday.”

PJ’s worried frown quickly bloomed into a look of delight. “That’s brilliant! What are they like? Where did you–”

“It’s really not brilliant.”

PJ cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean it’s not brilliant?” A look of horrified understanding dawned over his features. “You didn’t notice, did you?”

Phil shook his head. “It’s on my upper arm, and seeing as I’ve been wearing long sleeves, I didn’t notice until I got home and took off my shirt for bed.”

“Do you at least have some idea who it might be?” PJ asked sympathetically.

Phil shrugged. “I think it might be this one guy who returned my wallet to me because my soulmate was apparently thinking about how I dropped my wallet, but there’s no real way to be sure. Could have easily been anyone else who saw me drop it.”

PJ sighed and pulled Phil into a hug, careful not to squish the cupcake. “Cheer up. We’ll get you online and you’ll find them again in no time.”

“That’s assuming they’re gonna go online and that I even saw them enough to have a thought about them,” Phil pointed out. “Plus, what if they’re already married or something?”

“Don’t be like that,” PJ chided. “Where’s the ever-optimistic Phil I know and love? We’ll find them, I promise. You can come over after work and we’ll figure this out together.”

Phil smiled. “Thanks, Peej. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, eat your cupcake and feel better.”

Work passed uneventfully. Well, as uneventfully as any advice radio host’s day can be, meaning he received a call from a woman claiming to have the ability to communicate with chipmunks and that they told her government secrets, and she needed advice on what to do next. Phil had dutifully stifled his laughter and told her to turn the treasonous rodents in to the nearest police station. His producer, Marge, had given him a very unimpressed eyebrow raise, but it was her fault for not screening calls better, so Phil figured he was good. Also, no fewer than four people had requested Christmas songs, and as it was hardly past Halloween, Phil was a little disgusted people were even daring to utter the C-Word.

As promised, PJ had dragged Phil to his house, and started filling out profiles on missed connections sites. An hour and a half later, Phil was less grateful than he had been that morning.

“Okay, tell me about it one more time,” PJ said, typing away. “You were on the tube and we were talking, and after I left, you dropped your wallet?”

“Yes, and then when I got off, that guy chased me down and gave it back,” Phil groaned.

“Okay, can you describe anyone in the car with you?”

“I don’t know. There was they guy who gave me my wallet who had brown hair and brown eyes, the business lady who carries that pink umbrella no matter the weather, and that guy who’s always eating the mustard sandwich when we get on. You were there, you tell me.”

“Anyone else? Did anyone get on after I got off?”

Phil dragged his hand down his face. “Honestly, I was too busy playing on my phone to pay anyone much attention. The only person I really paid attention to was the guy who gave me my wallet back.”

“Okay, one more question: Would you consider yourself more a Mario or Zelda guy?”

“Playwise, more Mario, but I think Zelda is prettier and has a better story– Wait, what does that have to do with anything?” Phil narrowed his eyes at the screen, and PJ frantically tried to minimize the window, but he wasn’t quick enough. “PJ, are you actually signing me up for a geek dating site? Is that what you think of me?”

PJ rolled his eyes, and spun around in his office chair to look at Phil. “First off, I’m just widening our net. I specifically put in your profile that you’ve met your soulmate, but you’re open to meeting new people.”

“PJ,” Phil groaned, stretching the syllables out.

“Second,” PJ plowed on, “even if this wasn’t to find your soulmate, it would be a good idea. You’ve said yourself that you like going on dates because it lets you meet and connect with new people.” Phil just gave him a flat look and PJ sighed. “Fine. Do you want me to delete your profiles?”

“Profiles as in plural?” Phil gaped. “How many have you made?”

PJ shrugged. “Like four. There’s only a couple missed connections sites to make it less likely for you to miss each other.”

Phil let out a frustrated little huff, but said, “Don’t delete them, I guess. I’m not seeking out other people though, just so you know.”

PJ shrugged. “Fine with me. Just so long as you know that it’s an option.”

“Alright, then, budge up. I want to make sure you at least made me interesting on these things.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Phil was standing outside of a restaurant, rocking back and forth and checking his phone every few minutes. He hadn’t managed to find his actual soulmate in the week that he’d waited, but he did manage to connect with a lovely lady named Louise, and he was supposed to be meeting her for a date. They were supposed to meet about ten minutes ago, but Louise had called in a flurry and explained that her roommate was running late from a job interview and she needed him home to watch her daughter, Darcy. Phil had assured her he totally understood, and would happily wait for her. What he didn’t tell her was that he wasn’t going to sit down to avoid the potential embarrassment of being sat alone at a table for two all night.

“Phil Lester, what are you doing stood out here in the cold?”

His caution was apparently in vain, for when he turned around, there was Louise, looking like she stepped straight out of a children’s princess book with her sparkly skirt and long pink hair. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he had the decency to at least look sheepish. “I, er, wasn’t sure if you were actually coming,” he said, but with the last syllable pitching up and his hunched shoulders, it came off as a clear question.

Louise just smiled gently and patted him on the cheek with one mittened hand. “I understand. Trust me, we’ve all been there, love.”

Phil gaped at her. “You’ve been stood up? But you’re like the prettiest lady I’ve ever seen?”

Louise sputtered for a moment before laughing. “Are you trying to butter me up, you cheeky thing?”

Phil blushed and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, but he felt his cheeks split open in a wide smile. “I mean it, I swear. You really are very pretty.”

“A woman could get used to having men like you and Dan around,” Louise teased.

“Who’s Dan?” Phil asked, cocking his head to the side.

“My flatmate,” Louise explained. “He’s the same as you when it comes to endearingly awkward compliments. The both of you are absolute sweethearts.”

Phil smiled, and offered her an arm. “So, dinner?”

Louise looped her arm through his and said, “I believe that would be wonderful.”

And it was. It was wonderful. Louise was as bright and friendly as she was pretty. She and Phil didn’t share a lot of the same interests, but she was passionate when talking about hers and listened carefully when Phil talked about his. She was hilarious, and thought that Phil spouting off animal facts when he got nervous was adorable. She was kind and funny and smart and everything Phil could ever hope for in a girlfriend, but there was something just… off.

Louise must have felt it too, because when dinner ended, Phil offered to get some mulled wine and take her on a walk in the park, but she smiled almost sadly at him and shook her head. “I don’t think this is going to work for us, Phil,” she sighed. “And I think you know it, too.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “I mean, you’re great and I like you a lot, but I don’t think I like you in a romantic way.”

Louise chuckled. “I feel the same way. You’re an absolute dear, but it felt a lot like going on a date with Dan. He’s my best friend, and I love spending time with him, but I’d never date him.”

Phil bit his bottom lip and said, “Louise, would you like to go on a walk with me?”

Louise furrowed her brow. “Phil, I just–”

“I mean as friends,” Phil interrupted. “I really like talking to you, and I think I’d like talking to you even more if we weren’t on a date.”

Louise blinked at him for a moment, and Phil thought he might have seriously misjudged the situation, but her lips curled into a delighted smile. “Phil Lester, you have yourself a deal.”

Phil grinned and they walked together to a stand selling hot drinks, and Louise insisted on paying and Phil let her. They walked and talked and Phil listened to her complain about Darcy’s primary teachers, and in turn she listened to him talk about how much he was looking forward to the new Pokemon game.

Their conversation lulled as they sat together on a bench until Louise broke the silence. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to ask, but it definitely wasn’t appropriate for me to ask on our date, so I’m going for it now. What exactly happened with your soulmate?”

Phil self consciously rubbed his bicep. “It was about a week ago when I was on the tube. I dropped my wallet and someone noticed and they were apparently my soulmate. Unfortunately, it’s on my upper arm, so I didn’t notice until I got home that night.”

Louise clucked sympathetically. “Something similar happened with Dan. His mark is on the back of his neck, so he didn’t know it was there until I pointed it out to him the other day. He only just moved here, and before he lived alone, so he has no idea how long he’s had it there.”

“Well, how about you? What’s your soulmate situation?”

“Haven’t met them.”

“But Darcy–”

“Oh, Matt wasn’t my soulmate,” Louise cut in. “His soulmate is actually his little brother. He and I tried out the whole marriage thing, but it clearly didn’t work out.”

Phil nodded, and decided that he was done talking about soulmates and how disappointing they could be. “You said Dan just moved? What’s going on with him?”

“Oh, Dan’s great. He was living in Reading up until recently, but his previous flatmate moved out, so I convinced him to move to London,” Louise beamed. “He’s been job hunting, but nothing’s turned up for him yet, so he’s living with me and Darcy until he’s got everything situated.”

“Does he have any interest in working radio for the BBC?” Phil asked. “There’s some openings and I would be happy to give him a reference. They aren’t exactly glamorous, but they pay really well and it’s pretty easy to move up the ladder.”

Louise blinked at him in shock for a moment before she squealed in delight. “Phil Lester, you are an absolute gem,” she gushed, cupping his face in her hands and squishing her cheeks.

Phil grinned and happily accepted his cheek squishing. “Yeah, you already have my number so just give it to him and make sure he puts Phil Lester down as a professional contact.” He glared at her playfully. “He better be good, though. I don’t want to stand behind someone who’s going to make me look bad.”

“Don’t you worry one bit about that,” Louise assured. “That boy is a textbook perfectionist, so if he’s given a task, you can rest assured that it will be done well.”

They sat there talking for a while until Louise’s phone buzzed loudly in her pocket. She pulled it out and frowned. “Goodness, it really has gotten late. I think it’s best that we call it a night here, then.”

“All right,” Phil agreed easily. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Louise shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll be seeing you soon, Philip.”

Phil beamed. “I look forward to it.”

Louise smiled at him and then almost nervously bit her lower lip. “Good luck finding your soulmate, whoever they are.”

“Thanks.” Phil cleared his throat awkwardly and stuttered out, “Oh, uh, and, uh, tell Dan- tell Dan I said good luck with the job thing.”

“I will,” Louise nodded. She gave him one last parting smile as she lifted her hand in a wave and walked off. “Bye, Phil!”

Phil stood there, smiling and waving after her until she fully turned from him, and then he kept standing there, watching her with a small, satisfied smile. The date hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but Phil couldn’t imagine an ending he would have liked better.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

A month and three different disaster dates later, Phil was still in the same boat as he was before. He and Louise kept up sporadic contact – she had excitedly texted him every step of Dan’s hiring process, ending with him being hired at the station a few days ago – but they hadn’t had time to actually meet up again. He’d gotten exactly zero legitimate hits on the soulmate matching sites, and every person he talked to on the non-soulmate sites somehow managed to be exponentially worse than the one before. He was about ready to call it quits, but PJ was determined to find his soulmate.

“Look, just do this one more thing, and then I promise I’ll let it go,” PJ swore.

Phil narrowed his eyes and continued setting up his radio booth. He was lucky that they pair before him was in another booth, and he had all the time in the world to get ready for his show. When he first started he just did one show a week late Saturday night, and the guy who hosted before him was always incredibly lethargic about getting his shit together and getting out. Now, he had a late afternoon/evening show that played Monday through Thursday, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Fine, I’ll give whatever your new plan is a shot, and when it doesn’t work, you have to promise that you’ll never bring it up again. And you have to go through the hassle of deleting all those dating profiles.”

“Oh, come on. At least keep one dating profile. Dates are fun.”

Phil scowled. “PJ, the last guy I went on a date with told me he collected pigeons, and gave me a live one from his pocket that he’d caught earlier that day so I could start my own. Delete the profiles.”

“All right, all right.”

Phil sighed. “So, what is this brilliant Hail Mary you have up your sleeve? Gonna give me a sign and parade me around Piccadilly Circus?”

“Er, not exactly. Look, you promised, so don’t freak out.”

“Freak out? PJ, what are you–”

“Lester, glad I caught you before your show!” Marge boomed, bursting into the studio.

“Uh, me too? I guess?”

“I really like this idea you have for your show today,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want you to do it until the halfway point, though. Introduce it at the beginning and maybe get the hashtag going to get interest up, but don’t actually do it until act two. People are still expecting advice, and we’ve got to deliver. Got it?”

Phil furrowed his brow. “Uh, what idea exactly?”

“This whole thing about finding your soulmate!” she said, gesturing wildly with her tablet. “It’s all very dramatic and a shoe in to get some new listeners. You just keep building it up, and read out some Tweets from the hashtag. This is going to be a great show. Chin up, Lester!” And with that, she was gone.

Alone again, Phil wheeled around to face PJ with a dark scowl on his face. “I can’t believe you did that,” he hissed angrily. “You know I don’t put my personal business on the radio. There’s not much that’s more personal than this!”

PJ put his hands up in a surrender gesture. “You’re right, I definitely crossed a line and I’m sorry. If I had been thinking straight I wouldn’t have done it in a million years, and you have every right to be mad at me. I do genuinely think this has a good chance of working though, so please give it a shot?”

“I damn well do have the right,” Phil snapped. “And, yeah, I’m going to give it a shot because I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Marge is expecting me to be looking for my soulmate, and now I have to do exactly that. She’s probably already got the social media person working on Twitter. What is the hashtag that I supposedly came up with, anyway?”

“Crossrail connections,” PJ said. “People are just going to be sending in their own missed connection stories and such.”

Phil sighed and a tech person came in to do some final checks on everything, meaning it was time for PJ to get out. “I’ll talk to you after the show,” he said firmly. “I don’t care if I do find my soulmate, you owe me big for this.” PJ nodded meekly and scurried out of the room with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Phil took a deep, calming breath and got into the persona of AmazingPhil, advice radio extraordinaire. To practice, he shot a charming grin at the tech who just raised an eyebrow and refocused, causing Phil to giggle a bit. The tech was definitely new – Phil knew just about everyone who worked this shift – but there was something naggingly familiar about those brown curls.

“Lester, you’re on in thirty,” Marge said over the intercom. “Howell, time’s up. If anything needs to be done, we’ll do it during a song. Get out.” The tech nodded quickly, and scurried out the door faster than Phil had ever seen anyone move. He gave Marge a big thumbs up through the glass which she returned and the tech appeared at her side and started the finger countdown from 10.

“That was ‘What Lovers Do’ by Maroon 5 featuring SZA. I’m in the studio live, and you are now listening to, and hopefully watching, AmazingPhil on BBC Radio One!” Phil recited, already feeling his blood start to pump with excitement like it always did. He grinned and paused for a moment while the recorded man said One. BBC Radio One. “Hey, guys! It is a weekday at four in the afternoon, which means it is, once again time for Amazing Advice with AmazingPhil. In case you haven’t guessed, I am AmazingPhil and normally every day I help you all with whatever problems are in your life, but for the next two hours, we’re going to do something a little bit different.

“That’s right, you guys, today is all about soulmates. We’re going to talk about missed connections, worries about ever finding your soulmate, and what are you even supposed to do when you find them! We have a hashtag going on Twitter, so if you want your Tweet read out, be sure to tag it with ‘hashtag crossroad connections.’ If you’d like to call in our number is 03700 100 342.” He glanced up at Marge who was gesturing expectantly, and he sighed in his head. “But that’s all usual stuff. What makes today different is that today, you guys are going to get the chance to help me. That’s right, I actually had a missed connection with my soulmate, and in one hour I’m going to give you guys the details, so stick around! You can watch all of this unfold on BBC dot co dot UK forward slash radio one where you will see that I have actually sprouted cupid wings in honor of this episode. Now, here’s ‘New Rules’ by Dua Lipa.” He flipped a switch, pulled his headphones down, and let out a satisfied sigh and gave the camera a big cheesy grin. Two minutes down, 118 more to go.

The first hour passed fairly normally – Phil read some Tweets, played some songs, and might have accidentally advised a woman to leave her husband of five years because she met her soulmate in another young lady taking the same pottery class as her – other than the hashtag being almost too full of people wildly speculating about what exactly happened with Phil’s soulmate to find any Tweets they could actually use. One theory Phil found particularly amusing was that he had run into Queen Elizabeth somehow and they were soulmates and he was about to declare his quite literal love for queen and country on air.

He was about to go back on air from a song break when he realized his headphones weren’t working. He quickly grabbed the spare set and frantically gestured for the tech to get in there and fix them. He watched as Howell scrambled into action, grabbed a tool bag and silently went to work on the headphones while Phil turned his attention back to the camera.

“That was ‘Ready for It’ by Taylor Swift, which is rather appropriate, because I need to know if you all are ready for it,” Phil said with comical flair when the song ended. “Yes, it’s been an hour and I’ve been teasing you this whole whole way through, but the time has come. I’m going to tell you my hashtag crossroad connection.” Phil played the dramatic gong noise and the tech had to stifle a laugh. Phil cast him a small smile, then shook his head and went back to the show. “You’ve all been waiting, so here it is.

“My words are… ‘I wonder if that guy knows he dropped his wallet.’” He paused a moment to play the booing noises himself, but made a placating gesture. “Yes, I know. I was a little disappointed about the lack of romance too, trust me. Anyway, about a month ago, I was on the tube home, and I was with my friend and when we got to his stop I handed him some money to buy me a cupcake the next day. I went to put it away and happened to drop my wallet, and apparently my soulmate noticed. So, if you or a friend with really bad handwriting were riding the tube a month ago and rem–”

There was a small crash and Phil jerked his head around to see Howell gaping at him in shock, and suddenly it all clicked into place. The awkward posture, the curly hair, the sparkly brown eyes, everything. It was the guy who had returned his wallet to him. Howell seemed frozen like a deer in headlights for a moment before he turned heel and fled. As he retreated, Phil managed to see some very familiar script written across the back of his neck.

There was a quiet thump and Phil turned again to see Marge on the other side of the glass gesturing almost angrily for him to get the show started again. “Oh, uh, right. So, if you’re my soulmate, or you think you know someone who might be my soulmate, either call in at 03700 100 342 or Tweet using the hashtag crossroad connections. We have a caller coming in. Flint, what soulmate problems are troubling you this wonderful December afternoon?”

Phil went through the motions of the remaining hour of the show. He continued to dole out advice, and he listened to three different teenage girls claim that they were his soulmate. He just gritted his teeth through it, and he’d never been so happy to see Marge make the wrap it up gesture when all was said and done.

“Thank you all so much for joining me here today. As always, it’s been wonderful spending time with you, and I hope you got as much out of it as I did,” Phil beamed. “Thank you for sending in your Tweets and calls about your soulmate problems and advice for me. Up next is Newsbeat to give you all the worldly updates you’ll need. I’ll be back tomorrow, but until then I’m leaving you with my favorite song this week. I’m talking about Portugal. The Man with ‘Feel It Still.’ Bye, guys!”

Almost before he was off air, Marge blew into the room like a hurricane to give him a rundown. “Alright, that was one of your best shows yet,” she said, scrolling and looking at figures on her tablet. We actually got the hashtag trending in the UK, which we don’t manage very often, and there was a huge spike on the website when you talked about your own soulmate experience. We may have to do something like this again, but not very often. Almost everyone likes hearing about soulmates, but we don’t want this to become just a soulmates show.”

“Great, great,” Phil muttered, distracted. “Hey, who was that tech working the show today?”

Marge frowned. “New kid named Daniel Howell. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not going to get onto him about the thing with the headset, are you? It’s his first day and we all make mistakes. I don’t know what kind of look you gave him earlier, but he’s run off and didn’t come back for the entire show. It would do you good to remember your first couple months on tech when you started here.”

“Oh, no, no, no, that’s not it at all,” Phil assured her. Marge was kind and smart, but sometimes things went way above her head. “I’m pretty sure he’s my soulmate, and he figured it out too which is why he left in a hurry.”

Marge blinked at him for a minute with a furrowed brow before her eyes lit up in understanding. “Oh my god. He’s your soulmate? This is amazing! What are you waiting for? Go find him! Beat it!”

Phil laughed as she flapped her arms to usher him out of the studio. He gave her a quick salute and cheerfully said, “Bye, Marge! See you tomorrow!” before he was tearing down the hall. He knew from his own time on tech that Dan wouldn’t have gotten away with loitering without an assignment for long, and if anyone knew where he’d be it was Matt. Matt worked as head tech and he was the one responsible for making sure the station ran as smoothly as it did.

“Matt! There you are!” Phil gasped, running to catch up with him.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hey, Phil. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Phil started without further preamble. “Do you know where Dan Howell is?”

Matt furrowed his brow and started scrolling on his table. “Howell… Howell… Howell…” he muttered to himself. Then he looked up with a grin and snapped his fingers. “Dan! You mean the guy who started here today!”

“Yes, him!” Phil beamed. “Is he in there?”

“Unfortunately, he’s not in the system yet, but I remember giving him something to do,” Matt nodded. “He looked really shaken up – I’m guessing first day nerves – so I sent him to the basement to organize the spare wires boxes. I was going to do it myself, but he looked like he needed something simple and away from people.”

“Thanks, mate, you’re a lifesaver,” Phil grinned, then turned on his heel and ran to the basement. Sure enough, when he got down there, Dan Howell was sitting on the floor surrounded by carefully laid out piles of wires. He had two in his hands, comparing the ends before he untangled one from the Gordian Knot of cords and laid it with the others. Phil carefully rapped on the heavy wooden door to get his attention. He jerked and whipped his head around to look at Phil with wide brown eyes. “Hi, uh, so, I’m Phil.”

“I, uh, yeah, I know,” Dan stuttered. “I was kind of there when you introduced yourself live on radio. I’m Dan.”

“I know, I asked Marge after the show.”

“So, that’s her name. I’m kind of terrible with names and forgot.”

“Same. I called her Maggie about twelve times my first month here.” Dan chuckled before silence fell over the room. Phil cleared his throat. “Okay, so let’s get to the point–”

“You think I’m your soulmate,” Dan finished, turning his attention back to the wires in front of him.

Phil blinked at the phrasing. “Don’t you?”

“Things don’t work out like that for me, Phil,” Dan huffed. “That’s Hallmark Channel stuff, not real life. I don’t have my life together enough for anything like that to happen to me. Hell, I only got this job because my friend went on a lousy date with a stranger and the guy out of nowhere just offered to give me a professional recommendation.”

“Louise?” Phil asked eagerly. “Louise Pentland? Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Yeah? You know Louise?”

“Yeah! I was the lousy date who gave you the recommendation!” He thought over what he’d just said and frowned. “Did she really think it was lousy?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “No, she had a lot of fun, I promise. But you have to admit that any date that ends with you being solidly in a platonic relationship is pretty lousy romance wise.”

Phil shrugged. “I guess you have a point. But, Dan, look! It’s fate! We’re definitely soulmates.”

“What, because you were a weirdo who offered a desperate stranger a job? That’s not how that works.”

Phil huffed and folded his arms. “No, but out of all the people in London I could have gone on a date with, it happened to be your friend and roommate. Then we happened to get along well enough for us to talk about you and she actually did get you to use my recommendation. Then, you did wind up getting the job, and not only were you assigned to my show, your first day was the day I was talking about my soulmate, which, by the way, wasn’t my idea in the first place.”

“Just a lot of coincidences,” Dan muttered, staring at the same wire he’d been holding for a minute now.

“Look, will you just look and see if it’s your damn handwriting?” Phil snapped.

“And what if it isn’t?” Dan shot right back, finally meeting Phil’s eyes again. “What if I do take a look and it turns out that it’s not my handwriting? It was a crowded car, maybe someone else with shitty handwriting saw you drop your wallet. What exactly are you going to do if you hike your sleeve up and you find out you’ve gotten yourself all worked up and excited only to realize that I’m not the person you want?” He shot a hot glare at Phil and went back to his task, but Phil noticed the slight tremor in his long fingers.

Phil bit his lower lip and sat down, carefully avoiding Dan’s wire piles. “Well, I’d be a bit disappointed, obviously,” he said with a false casual air. He watched Dan flinch almost imperceptibly, and lowered his head until he met Dan’s gaze to offer him a gentle smile. “And then I’d offer to help you sort wires as an apology for bothering you.” Dan lifted his head, forehead crumpled in confusion, and Phil had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on how cute it was. “Yeah, I remember working as a tech, and wire duty isn’t any fun, but it’s definitely more bearable with a friend.” He paused in thought before deciding to add, “And maybe if we really got along, I’d invite you for drinks after.”

Dan sputtered and a pretty pink blush bloomed on his round cheeks. He choked on air for a moment before he cleared his throat and gave Phil a small smile. “I may take you up on the wire thing.”

Phil grinned at him. “And the drinks?”

“We’ll just have to see about that.”

They sat there talking and sorting wires for the better part of an hour. Phil was thrilled to learn that they shared almost all the same interests, while still having individual passions of their own. He had particularly enjoyed the part where he accidentally mentioned Kanye and Dan gushed about him for a solid five minutes. It wasn’t until they were almost done that Dan looked at him and asked the million dollar question. “Why is this soulmate thing so important to you, anyway?”

Phil frowned down at the wire in his hands and thought hard for a minute. “I… I don’t really know. I get that’s not really an answer, but it’s the truth. I know soulmates aren’t the end all be all of everything – my parents are actually both missed connections and they’re the happiest people I know – but when I thought that maybe you were my soulmate I got stupidly excited about it. I wasn’t even that interested in finding my soulmate before this.”

“You just went on a manhunt on live radio looking for them.”

“That wasn’t my idea, it was PJ’s,” he shrugged. He heaved a deep sigh and locked eyes with Dan. “Look, I want you to be my soulmate – like really want you to be my soulmate – but I would and do like you if you aren’t. If you aren’t into this 100% like I am then I’m not about to force you. Right now I feel perfectly confident saying that I’d be happy spending the rest of my life with you without even looking at my soulmark again. And I know that sounds crazy, and it honestly terrifies me, and maybe it’s just the adrenaline talking, but right now I mean it totally and completely.” He took a deep, calming breath and stood, offering Dan a smile an outstretched hand. “So, that’s me. Everything’s out, so I have one more thing to say. Dan, would you like to go on a date with me under the assumption that we’re not soulmates?”

Dan gave the hand a wary look then turned that look on Phil. “You aren’t allowed to look at my mark, either. If I find out you did, I’ll never speak to you again, soulmates or not,” he warned.

“The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Dan grinned up at him and took the hand. “Then, Phil Lester, you have yourself a deal and a date.”

Done-zel Washington

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#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #soulmate fic #phanfluff #bee writes

[imaginetonyandbucky]

On one of incorrect quotes blog I found this dialogue: Bucky: In 20 years, I guarantee you, I will be Tony's second husband. Tony: What happened to my first husband? Bucky: Nothing you can prove. Could you write a story with this dialogue?

Nothin’ you can prove.

Author note: Hi! I’m the new author/artist, wyvernfire! (Though you are likely to find my fandom works over at getmcfucked, haha.) This is my first fill for this blog. I adored this prompt and had to snatch it up. Hope I did alright!

[AO3 Link]

“I'm serious, Stevie.”

“I know you are,” Steve said, but he had that stupid little grin that meant he absolutely did not know how serious Bucky was. “I'm sure you'll be very good for each other.”

Bucky scoffed. “No shit. I'm not marrying him on a whim.”

“You're not even dating him yet,” Steve pointed out oh-so-helpfully.

(mobile users watch out for the readmore!)

Smug (not so) little punk.

“What, you think I won't?” Bucky challenged. “I'm going to date the shit out of him.”

The carrots on the cutting board didn't stand a chance. One of the orange circles flew off under the force of the blade and Steve caught it, popping it in his mouth happily. Bucky spun the blade to flick another piece of carrot-y debris at his friend. It hit Steve square on the nose, which cheered Bucky up considerably.

“What's his favourite flower?” Bucky tried to sound casual.

Steve snorted. “A bouquet? You're gonna buy the billionaire some flowers?”

“It's a classic courting gift, Stevie.” Bucky slid the carrot slices off the cutting board and into the food processor next to him, then reached for the bananas. They looked weird. Long and a little too pale yellow, but Steve had assured him that bananas had just changed since the 40s. Something about a fruit plague. It was weird. He started slicing them too. “You don't buy flowers for your pal, you buy them for your gal or your fella. It's romantic. A big giant 'I want to date you’ sign. Can't be misinterpreted. You remember that time with Masie?”

“Who?” Steve scrunched up his nose.

“That little brunette gal you liked. Got her a bracelet and--”

“She thought it was a swell birthday present,” Steve grumbled, looking suddenly glum. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem,” Bucky grinned. “I know you got memory problems n’all that. What with the old age and--”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve growled. Bucky laughed.

Apparently deciding that he could actually be helpful for once, Steve lifted himself off the bar stool and cleared away the banana peels, chucking them into a flat green bin that had 'Compost’ scrawled across the top in Bruce's handwriting.

“Remind me again what sparked this interest?” Steve asked, and the tone was a little off.

Bucky frowned. “Why?”

Steve shrugged, grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped off his hands. “Curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Bucky warned.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Steve said without missing a beat. “So spit it out.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve trying to figure out where the rigid posture and puffed out chest had come from. He mentally went over their conversation again, not finding anything that should've stepped on the man's toes but with Stevie? Who knew. Might be another one of those future things he'd have to research.

Well, in for a penny…

“Communal shower at the gym,” Bucky said with a wolfish grin. “Timed it juuuust right. That ass is a work of art.”

There it was. The disapproval that had been simmering since the topic had been broached. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to smooth down his instinctively raised hackles, and maybe not start a fist fight in the kitchen. It was only his second week in the tower, after all. No one needed to know how many issues between he and Steve got resolved by playing Bloody Knuckles. Yet, at least. Just seemed impolite.

“So you want to sleep with Tony,” Steve clarified in that same tone he used as Captain America.

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt. “No, I said I wanna marry him. Clean the gunk outta your ears.”

Steve frowned. “And you decided this based off of his ass?”

“Yep,” Bucky said, popping the 'p’ loudly. “Work of art.”

Steve's frown deepened into a full on disapproving scowl. “I don't think that's a good idea, Buck.”

“Oh?” Bucky widened his eyes with surprise and batted them as innocently as someone with a world class kill count feasibly could. “Why's that?”

“Tony's… been through a lot,” Steve started carefully.

Bucky nodded, the perfect picture of active listening, sliding the banana slices into the food processor and screwing in the plastic lid until it clicked.

“He may have a reputation for sleeping around but--”

Bucky turned on the food processor, drowning out the rest of Steve's sentence. The blond stammered mid-word then tried again.

“But he's actually quite sensitive--”

Bucky turned the food processor up from Grate to Grind, still watching Steve with wide patient eyes. Not much good came out of the whole Winter Soldier thing, but his poker face was solid. Steve squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was doing it on purpose. Bucky blinked back.

“And I think,” Steve practically shouted over the noise, “that stringing him along for sex would hurt him pretty bad. He's a good man--”

He pressed the Liquify button, willpower being the only thing keeping unrestrained glee off of his face. Steve's mouth snapped shut and he glared. Bucky bent his knees a little, leaning over to peer at the orange-y mush spinning around inside the food processor. He pretended to inspect it for a couple seconds before nodding approvingly. He pressed the off button.

Steve looked like he was ready to strangle him.

“Sorry Stevie, were you sayin’ somethin’?”

Steve puffed out a breath of air and honest to God closed his eyes and counted. Incredible. If only he'd picked up the skill in the 40s when he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.

“I'm saying that Tony is a good friend, Buck. He was my first friend when I woke up and…” His eyes gentled, looking down at the kitchen flooring. “I would hate to see him hurt. That's all.”

Bucky took the mixing component off the processor's stand and upended it slowly into the shiny metal mixing bowl that sat under a high powered mixing tool. Kitchen appliances these days were insane. He tapped the side, making sure to get all of it before putting the plastic in the sink.

“And I know you, Buck,” Steve said, that godawful 'please don't disagree’ undertone as blaringly obvious as the bright blue plaid stretched across his chest.”I know you can be a charming son of a bitch when you want to be--”

“Damn right.”

“--and if you pull Tony into a romantic relationship…” Steve floundered. “He puts his whole heart into things, is all. Even if he doesn't show it often.”

Bucky nodded slowly, considering. He pulled the fridge door open and grabbed two eggs, cracking them each into the mixing bowl before tossing the shells in the sink. He thought better of it then, fishing them out and shuffling towards the compost bin. Steve obligingly opened the lid for him, then handed him the towel after he rinsed his hands. He leaned against the sink, taking the time to make sure to get all the gooey bits out of the metal divots in his fingers.

Steve continued with a half smile. “So if you're just after a lay, I'm just saying that maybe he's not your best bet. Make sense?”

“Sure, yeah. Makes perfect sense.”

Bucky pulled a container of flour from one of the cabinets and carefully measured out two cups before dumping it into the mix. He could practically hear Steve's suspicion behind him as he worked and tried not to grin, adding a pinch of salt to the batter.

“Plus, folks these days don't make such a big thing outta casual sex,” Steve pushed his way through the sentence and the blush was audible. Jesus. “There are all these, uh. Apps.”

“That right?” Bucky said, because he couldn't help himself. “Apps?”

“Yeah,” Steve coughed. “Nat showed me. There's uh, Tinder, Grindr, uh--”

Bucky snorted, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. Steve spluttered to a stop, eyes wide and face red, spitting out protests as Bucky turned the mixer on high to drown out his words. The irritation that settled into Steve's face still hadn't changed from the first time Bucky had pulled his sorry ass out of a back alley dumpster. All righteous anger and pride.

He flicked the mixer off and pulled the motorized apparatus back away from the bowl. He let the batter settle as he fished around for a flat spatula, seizing his prize with a triumphant grin and waving it at Steve's face before getting to work scraping the less mixed batter around the sides the bowl into the center. Guess even with all the fancy equipment some stuff still needed to be done by hand. Pity.

Nah, Bucky thought with a smile. Tony could probably fix that.

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough Steve was still staring at him petulantly.

“I mean it Buck,” Steve warned. “Don't hurt Tony.”

Bucky turned to face him fully, leaving the spatula in the bowl. He tilted his chin out challengingly, and gave Steve his best appraising look. Like expected, Steve didn't even flinch. Idiot.

“Yeah?” Bucky said. “Or what?”

Shock flickered over Steve's face, followed by disbelief, rage, and then finally suspicion.

“The hell do you mean 'or what?’ Or I'll kick your ass, that's what.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “See you're missin’ somethin’ vital here, Stevie.”

“Yeah? And what's that?” Steve's eyes widened as soon as the words were out of his mouth, quickly morphing into a sharp glare. “The helicarrier don't count, Buck. I wasn't fightin’ back. I still think I could kick your ass--”

“No you couldn't,” Bucky said blandly. “Couldn't in ‘42, and that ain't different now. I don't care if you moved a hundred weight classes. You're predictable as shit.”

Steve let out an offended sounding noise but Bucky cut him off.

“But that ain't what you're missin’. I mean, you are missing common fucking sense apparently, but that wasn't what I was getting at.” He paused in his improvised lecture to start digging through cabinets for a baking pan.

Lots of cookie sheets, a couple cupcake tins, did they not have a--oh, there it was. Bucky's metal hand clinked around the side of the bread pan as he pulled it free. Steve was still going on about how he had plenty more experience now or some shit, like it could at all compare to seventy goddamn years of professional assassinations. He grinned. Some things never changed.

“Steve. Stevie,” Bucky interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “Deep breaths, pal.”

“I don't have asthma anymore, Buck--”

“You're still turnin’ bright pink.”

Steve scowled something fierce. “Y’know what, Buck? Go right ahead. Sleep with Tony. But don't expect me to help or support you in this. It's cruel and I can't believe you would--”

“Stevie, Jesus Christ, would you take a goddamn breath for a sec? Lemme speak.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, somehow managing to look just as annoying as he had in the 40s. Bucky fought off another grin. It was hard to stay mad when he was finally stable, finally able to participate in this insane future world he found himself in. Living the impossible where Steve was taller than him and they both recently celebrated their hundredth birthdays.

Same future where a man in a metal suit could soar through the air, leaving birds in the wake behind him.

“You seem to be forgetting that part where I said I'm gonna marry him,” Bucky mirrored Steve's pose, meeting his gaze evenly. “I ain't exaggerating.”

Irritation left Steve's face slowly, but the suspicion was still there. And honestly, it was a little relieving to be suspected of toying with someone's heart rather than stabbing it. Felt more normal.

“I don't get it,” Steve finally said. “You said you made this decision when you--”

“Communal showers, yep,” Bucky nodded, affirming. He chewed the inside of his cheek a little, doing a little suspicious staring of his own. He sighed loudly. “You really gonna make me talk about my feelings right now?”

“Yep,” Steve said evenly, popping the 'p’ extra loud in his best imitation of Bucky.

What a punk.

He groaned loudly, scuffing his feet on the floor as he moved, taking his sweet time dumping the batter into the bread pan. Steve could just sit there and wait. It wasn't like they were getting any older.

When he finally slid the pan into the oven and set the timer Steve had slid back over to the kitchen stools, perched there and waiting like an overgrown and judgmental bird.

“Well?”

Bucky scowled. He stalked across the kitchen, stopping at the sink so that he could stare Steve down properly, and let the humour leave his face. He sure as hell wasn't going to be having this conversation twice.

Steve flinched, looking behind Bucky towards the door. He opened his mouth, “Uh, Buck--”

“No, you want me to talk feelings? Let's talk about my goddamn feelings,” Bucky snapped.

Steve winced.

“Tony ain't just a mechanic with a suit. Sure, it's incredible, like somethin’ outta those sci-fi books I used to get. I mean, a guy flying outside of a plane on its own is something for the records, but he makes it look graceful. Effortless. And it is for him,” Bucky shook his head, reaching down into the sink to flick bits of debris down the garbage disposal. He didn't want to see Steve's reaction yet. “Everything is. That mind of his is somethin’ else, Stevie. But it doesn't stand a chance against his heart.”

Steve's eyes widened more, and he glanced at the door behind Bucky again. Bucky snapped his fingers to get Steve's attention back on him, feeling marginally more satisfied when Steve cringed and obliged.

“I dunno if you all just got used to it, or if there's somethin’ I'm missin’, but he pours his whole goddamn soul into the Avengers. And I don't just mean funding.” Bucky stepped to the side to open one of the closer cabinets and gestured to all the various and weird cereals, snacks, and internationally imported treats that were stocked in meticulous order. “He takes the time to know you. Figure out how to turn a tower into a home. I know for a fact some of this shit was discontinued, and Nat's weird chips are definitely illegal by FDA standards. But that doesn't stop Stark.”

A small smile crossed Steve's face and maybe he was finally getting it. Bucky closed the cabinet and shook his head.

“Thing is, Stevie, the world can't be saved. No matter how ready your heroes are, no matter how good your tech is. You put one fire out and it starts another.” He held up a placating hand before Steve could interrupt him. “I ain't sayin’ that that means it ain't worth tryin’. But it's just a fact of the business. For every Captain America, there's always gonna be a Winter Soldier.”

Steve's smile faded into a pressed grim line. So Bucky pushed past it.

“Tony does it anyway. He ain't got powers, ain't got enhancements, nothin’. He's just a guy with a suit. An awesome suit, but,” Bucky conceded a little, “no obligation. And he still goes into it just like you lot do. But he goes in with his heart wide open.”

The blond’s eyes watched him thoughtfully, still occasionally seeking the door, but calmer.

“And I ain't sayin’ that you all don't care. M’not. Just that there ain't nobody on this horrible planet that still goes into hell with his heart as open and vulnerable as Tony does.” Bucky shrugged. “Don't gotta be close to the guy to see it.”

Steve nodded slowly. After a minute or so, his eyes found Bucky's again. “So you're serious about him then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Christ, Stevie. I sure think so.”

Steve laughed a little, looking considerably more at ease. That whole 'fight me’ vibe had simmered and faded, leaving curiosity glittering in his eyes. Or trouble. Probably trouble.

“And you're gonna marry him, huh?”

“Yep,” Bucky said, popping the 'p’ extra loud. “So you better get on board, Rogers.”

“Oh, you got a plan now?” Steve grinned. “Know his favourite flowers yet?”

Bucky snickered. “I'll figure out the plan along the way. Tell you what though. In ten years? I’m gunna be Tony Stark’s second husband.”

Steve was giggling again in that way that only meant trouble. Bucky tried to look exasperated but his smile probably gave him away.

“What, punk? What’re you laughin’ at--”

“What happened to my first husband?” said a cheerful voice behind him.

Bucky froze. Steve's laughter was now generously peppered with wheezes and snorts. Of course. Of course.

Fuck it.

Bucky turned around and gave Tony his most charming grin. “Nothin’ you can prove.”

He held up his hand over his shoulder and Steve high fived him instantly. Good to know Rogers was on board, at least.

Tony laughed, a little under his breath, and shifted his weight back and forth. Like he was nervous. Bucky tilted his head and waited. Eventually those big brown eyes were back on him and the grin he'd seen plastered all over magazines and TV screens couldn't have held a candle to the one in front of him. Bucky's heart gave a traitorous little thump.

“Yeah, alright. I'll bite,” Tony said with a nod, looking genuinely pleased. His brow quirked just a little. “Favourite flowers are red Columbines. Remind me of something I'm pretty fond of. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip to try and keep from grinning like an idiot. “Red Columbines. Got it.”

“You can pick me up at eight on Friday,” Tony informed him, trying to keep the playfulness off his face and only barely getting any traction. “Wear something nice. You know what, just let Nat pick it out for you.”

“Aw, you don't think I could charm you all by myself?” Bucky asked and thanked every deity he could think of (including Thor) that his voice didn't wobble. “And here I was going to put on my best hoodie and everythin’.”

Tony laughed again and Bucky couldn't help the way his grin widened.

“Friday. Eight o’clock sharp. Don't be late,” Tony said, wavering a bit where he stood.

“Anything for you, doll,” Bucky winked.

Tony gave an embarrassing little giggle snort that Bucky would treasure for the rest of his goddamn days, then turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Bucky didn't need to look behind him to know that Steve was grinning.

“I did try to stop you,” Steve offered, not even able to get the words out without laughing.

“You're such a punk.”

Steve laughed at him some more and Bucky didn't bother trying to hide the dopey smile on his face.

“Though, he was probably coming to the kitchen to get food, not be proposed to,” Steve pointed out. “And I don't think he's consumed anything that isn't coffee in a couple days.”

Bucky's smile dropped off his face and he whirled around to check the timer. Fifteen minutes left of baking. Fifteen minutes to school his expression into something that wasn't gag worthy.

“I'll make sure to bring him some fresh carrot-banana bread. He likes all that healthy shit, right?”

“Mhmm.” Steve nodded.

“Good,” Bucky said, leaning back against the counter and trying to catch his breath. His heart was still hammering away worse than it had in years and he couldn't get enough of it. The dizzy feeling spread down to his knees as he realized Tony hadn't exactly said no to the whole accidental marriage proposal.

Well then. Ain't that somethin’.

“Good,” Bucky said again, the grin back in full spread. “Maybe I can cut down the plan to four years.”

Steve laughed and Bucky barely noticed.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #prompts #getmcfucked #Anonymous

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

The One Where Sam And Bucky Wake Up Wade-less

“Cold.” Is all Sam hears mumbled into his side as Bucky snuggles closer to him, he moved his fingers against Bucky’s hair.

“Hmm?” Sam hums, still mostly asleep.

“M’cold.” Bucky grumbles again, pressing his face harder into Sam’s skin.

“Mmm?” Sam hummed again, hearing Bucky but not really hearing him.

“My ass is cold.” Bucky growled grumpily into Sam’s side, his fingers brushing over Sam’s ribs as he wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer. Sam blinked his eyes hard, sleep finally falling away a bit.

“Well where’s your blanket?” He said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand.

“I didn’t need a blanket, I had a Wade.” Bucky mumbled, his lips moving against Sam’s skin and making him shiver. Sam snorted.

“Then pull him back on top of you.” Sam said, his eyes still closed as he leaned down and kissed the top of his head. Sam heard the sound of Bucky’s hand patting the mattress as he reached out for Wade, then he was groaning into Sam.

“Gone.” Bucky said, then lifted his head up and looked at Sam, Sam smiled down at him. He was looking up at Sam with sad puppy eyes. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head a little, then moved his finger down Bucky’s nose slowly before pressing hard and making Bucky scrunch his face up and pull back a little, making a little noise in his throat.

“You wanna go find him?” Sam asked, Bucky nodded and waited for Sam to sit up before rolling off the bed. He stood looking around the floor for a minute, turning in a circle.

“Shirt.” He said sadly, looking a little lost. Sam grabbed one of his own shirts and threw it to Bucky. Bucky smiled at him and pulled it over his head.

They took turns in the bathroom and were heading out the bedroom door when they heard the singing. Bucky stopped and side eyed Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and they walked to the kitchen. They rounded the corner and Sam saw Wade, standing at the stove in his underwear, they were covered in little hearts. Sam and Bucky each had a pair just like it, Wade had gotten them for all the three of them.

Sam’s eyes moved off of Wade and realized that the kitchen was full of pancakes. And when he says full, he means full, the counters were covered, chocolate chip ones, blueberry ones, strawberry ones, ones shaped like hearts. Sam wasn’t completely sure that there were plates underneath them, his instincts told him no, simply because it was Wade who was cooking. Wade went into a high note as he belted out “angel of the morning” while swaying back and forth and then flipping a pancake high in the air. Sam turned and looked at Bucky to see him smiling.

Sam loved when he smiled like that, Wade was one of very few people that could make him smile that way, his eyes shining and his lips parting just enough to see his teeth.  Sam could make him smile that way too, but it was always nice to have some else there too, to not be the only one making Bucky happy. Bucky was watching Wade’s back with that smile, then Wade spun around as he danced and apparently he hadn’t heard them because he screamed loudly as the pan in his hand flew through the air. Bucky laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Holy shit sticks!” Wade yelled, his hand resting on his chest.

“Umm…how long have you been standing there?” he asked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at them.

“Long enough to watch you wiggling your little ass in those heart covered underwear.” Sam said, Wade looked down quickly and then looked back up with a smile.

“Long enough for my ass to be cold because you left us in bed.” Bucky said grumpily. Sam smirked a little, knowing full well that Bucky had just been smiling and laughing. Wade smiled at him.

“I’d be more than happy to warm you back up. You just bring that ass right on over here.” Wade said, giving Bucky his best sultry look and a come hither motion with his finger. Bucky deepened his frown as he looked at Wade, Sam snorted and shook his head. Wade looked to Sam.

“Is he gonna be a grumpy butt all day because of this?” Wade asked, his voice teasing. Sam nodded slowly.

“Most likely. To be fair, nobody likes waking up to a cold ass.” Sam said flatly, crossing his arms. Wade wobbled his head side to side as he looked up to the ceiling.

“Shit, you’re right. I’m sorry!!” he yelled and then jumped over the pan and spilled pancakes on the ground and walked over to Bucky, making grabby hands the whole way there. He pulled Bucky in by the hips and kissed his nose gently.

“I made pancakes for you. It was a gesture of love…but I think it may have gotten out of hand.” Wade said, clearly trying to coax a smile out of Bucky, Bucky wasn’t having it. Sam moved closer, rubbing Bucky’s back and making him shiver.

“See I meant to make some and then bring them back to bed. But I just get so caught up. I fucking love making pancakes. It really shouldn’t be as fun as it is. See so it’s really not my fault. It was…” he paused and gasped for dramatic effect.

“The pancakes.” He said, his voice dropping low like he was afraid the pancakes filling the kitchen would hear him. He pressed closer to Bucky’s front as Sam moved around to press close to his back. Sam saw the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitch and moved his hands down to cover Wade’s on Bucky’s hips.

“Oh! Was that twitch? It was! I saw that, come on gimme a smile! I know you want to I saw it juuuust…here.” Wade said, leaning forward and kissing the corner of Bucky’s mouth quickly before pulling back.

“Plus,” he started, moving his eyes to Sam and then back to Bucky.

“You’ve got Sam warming your ass now. That make you happy? Huh? Little bit happy with Sam on your ass?” Wade prompted, his voice going high. Bucky’s mouth twitched again and then he was smiling. Wade smiled back then ‘booped’ Bucky’s nose and turned away. Bucky made a noise of protest and pulled him back, pulling him close again and snuggling close. Bucky liked to be warm, always.

“He’s so needy.” Wade whispered to Sam over Bucky’s shoulder. Sam nodded and was rewarded by Wade kissing his cheek.

“Gah! And handsy.” Wade said when Bucky grabbed his ass hard and then smiled when Wade looked at him with his mouth dropped open.

“You made us pancakes?” Bucky asked quietly, as Sam snaked his arms around to Bucky’s front and moved his thumb against Bucky’s stomach, Bucky leaned back into him.

“Yes sir I did. For Valentine’s Day! To show my everlasting love for you both. Also I made lots of flavors cuz I didn’t know which ones you liked best. Also also I tried to make heart shaped ones, and some of them look good. But some of them look like what I would like if I fucked a bowl of tapioca pudding and then fell in a blender. And so I’m-“ He cut off when Bucky put his hand over his mouth.

“Two things.” Bucky said, holding up two fingers, Wade’s eyes moved from Bucky’s face to his fingers and then back again before he nodded.

“One, don’t talk about yourself like that, we’ve been through that right?” Bucky asked, Wade rolled his eyes.

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at him. We have been through it. You’re beautiful.” Sam cut in, Bucky nodded.

“And two. Thank you for the pancakes. They…there are a lot of them.” Bucky said, smiling as he looked around at the counter behind Wade. Bucky lowered his hand and then pulled Wade into a kiss.

“They smell good too.” Sam said, kissing Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky pulled away from Wade and looked at Sam.

“They do yeah, it’s like…I can’t pin the smell down…it’s like, pancakes mixed with something else…” Bucky said slowly, looking like he was trying hard to think of something. Sam sniffed the air dramatically and nodded.

“Hmm… yeah what is that? Do you smell that Wade?” Sam asked, looking at him over Bucky’s shoulder. Wade narrowed his eyes and took a sniff.

“No, all I smell is pancakes and y-“ he froze as Bucky shoved one of the pancakes into his face slowly.

“You two.” Wade finished, hanging his head as the pancake slid off his face and hit the floor with a splat. He bought his hand up to his face and wiped away as many little pieces as he could while Sam and Bucky laughed at him. He looked up at them slowly.

“Really? I slave away all morning to make you breakfast and express my love, and you shove that gesture of love in my face? Really?” he asked, his voice doing that over dramatic thing it does when he’s being…himself. Sam loved it. Sam and Bucky both nodded at him.

“Okay fine. I see how it is. You wanna do this? Let’s fuckin do this.” Wade said, his voice going low as he grabbed a handful of pancakes off the counter behind him. Sam and Bucky laughed and then ducked as Wade let the pancakes fly.

Sam grabbed his own fistful and threw them, they made a nice little thumping noise as they hit Wade in the back of the head. Bucky threw a handful from the other side of the kitchen, hitting Wade in the chest.

“Oh come on!?! You’re teaming up on me!?! How’s that fair!?!” Wade yelled, grabbing the spatula he had shoved into the waistband of his underwear and holding it like sword, smacking at the pancakes flying at him from both sides of the kitchen. He hit one that Bucky threw and it flew back and hit Bucky square in the face.

“Ha!” Wade yelled, pointing at Bucky.

“Aww.” He said seconds later when Bucky threw another one and hit him in the face again. He dropped down low and scrambled behind the island.

“Listen! I just wanted to make food and show my love! I don’t deserve this!” He yelled over the laughter filling the kitchen.

“Okay fine. Truce.” Bucky said, standing up slowly, he and Sam both walking over and then falling onto the floor next to Wade.

“We really done? Can I put down my weapon?” Wade asked, still clutching the spatula. Bucky laughed again and nodded.

“Yeah. We’re done. So…breakfast?” he asked, looking between Sam and Wade. They looked at each other and then back to Bucky.

“Sound good.”

“Fucking finally.”

They said at the same time.

They stood up and Wade grabbed some plates, shoveling pancakes onto each of them and then pouring syrup all over them. They sat on the floor, surrounded in pancakes, both full ones and pieces from the fight. Sam watched Bucky lean into Wade’s side and eye the strawberry pancake he was cutting into pieces and taking huge bites of. Wade raised his eyebrows at Bucky and motioned for him to have some, Bucky stabbed a piece with his fork and took a bite, humming with pleasure as he chewed, then smiling that genuinely happy smile again.

Sam felt his chest fill with warmth as he watched them, eating his own pancakes slowly. They’d somehow fallen into this weird rhythm with each other. And that rhythm had Bucky smiling more often, even starting food fights. And sure, sometimes he’d be grumpy, waking up with a cold ass, but Sam was pretty sure it was worth it.  

#sambuckypool #sambuckypool drabble #holiday fic #valentines day fic #happy v day guys i love you all #three of a kind #my writing #ficlet

[jemandthesingalongs]

jemcon inspired some sort of muse in me, so here’s more snippets of various jem characters. they vary in length depending on how many ideas i had for each prompt

i’m very proud of all of them so please enjoy!

want to see more? send a ship + prompt with my generator!

Synergy and no one - pull of attraction (show-verse; platonic)

Synergy understood the electrical brain functions named “emotions”, but did not experience them; or at least, what humans would consider “emotions”. When her Jerrica and her girls the other Holograms called on her for help, her circuits warmed at the thought of being needed by them. When they were in trouble, Synergy felt her entire hub freeze up in what she understands as a “fear” response. When they were happy, her lights and keyboard would flutter in a similar manner to a smile even when her purple avatar wasn’t visible.

But while she understood the cause and effect, she did not understand why she felt such a way towards her the girls. She knew she was created from day one to be a protector of sorts to them... but... is that why she felt happiness when Jerrica performed with her help and only her help? Is that why she felt protectiveness over Kimber with her various misadventures with boys that Synergy thought she should be consulted about? Is that why she felt pride when Shana created and showcased her fashion talents to the world knowing she’d achieved her childhood dream? Is that why she felt delight when Aja found a life-long passion for robotics and mechanics just like Emmett once did?

She wondered if it had anything to do with the word “Starlight” appearing in her memory banks over and over.

Clash and Video - things you need to hear (show-verse; platonic)

“You know what, Constance?!” Video seethed as she pulled out yet another piece of her ruined mastertape for the latest Holograms concert. Pieces had littered the floor from whatever plot her cousin had done.

The use of her “real” name wasn’t lost on Clash, as she seethed back with a sharp glare.

“What, Vivian!?” she snapped back, ready to pounce or come to blows or whatever may happen. Just like the Misfits were.

But no physical attack came, and maybe Clash would of preferred if her cousin took a swing or two at her, because instead of a punch with a fist, it was a slap of reality.

“They don’t care about you, “ Video spit, tossing the mastertape piece she was holding to the ground. “The Misfits, they’re just using you because you’re too stupid and blind to know better. When will you wake up, Constance? They don’t even like you.“

Clash blinked back tears with her mouth opening and closing to retort, before turning and bolting out of the room, unable to face the truth. Video sighed and began to clean up yet another mess made by her cousin.

Eric and Jem - shopping at IKEA (sf-verse; platonic)

After a certain very unfortunate incident, Jerrica and Eric decided to be more “friendly” with each other. Though Eric knew it was mostly Jerrica causing the rivalry between them, he knew it was easier to simply go along with talking part of the blame.

The first step on this “road of friendship” as both of them loathed to call it was replacing the furniture in their shared office.

This was in fact, a very bad first step. It didn’t occur to either of them how wildly different their tastes would be, and how they truly had yet to begin to work together.

“Errannn-- Eric I will NOT have this, this smootie tootie “art” in MY office!”

“Well Ben--... Jerrica, I’m not going to entertain the idea of having this ugly pastel pink lamp in my office.”

“IT’S SALMON PINK AND IT MATCHES MY DRAPES!”

“So you agree it’s ugly then?”

This, would be a very, very, very, VERY long first step.

Kimber and Roxy - mistakes were made (idw-verse; romantic)

"Shitshitshitfuckshitfuck--” Roxy cursed under her breath as she desperately  tried to shove her long-limbed girlfriend under her bed. She completely lost track of time having a rockin’ good time with Kimber, that she forgot her roommate Jetta was returning home from a trip to the UK at that very moment.

Said roommate, thought nothing of walking into their shared bedroom without a care in the world. Almost instantly, knowing something was off as she took one look at the bed and scowled.

Sheepishly, Roxy held her hands up in surrender as Kimber popped out from under. “Some mistakes were made Jetta...”

Clash and Eric - Domestic AU (show-verse; platonic)

Eric looked over the financial report for what felt like the millionth time in order to stare at the girl sitting on his office couch. The Misfits went through so many roadies and groupies he didn’t care to remember any names, though he at least remembered this one stuck around a lot longer than most did.

“Did you need something...”

“...Clash.”

“Did you need something, Clash?”

The girl with impossibly watermelon hair looked uneasy at the question before sighing and launching into an explanation.

“I uh, didn’t... pay rent on my place...”

“Don’t most apartments allow a grace period of--”

“For about six months, “ Clash continued, looking more and more sheepish with each passing word. “So I was wondering if I can stay with you? I mean I obviously asked Pizzazz first because she has that big mansion but she turned me down pretty quickly and then I asked Roxy but--”

The manager let out a deep, bone-tired sigh as the girl rambled on. He knew if he said no, Pizzazz would have his head. Sure, he knew she didn’t care personally about this groupie, but Pizzazz liked to keep the playthings she considered “hers” in good condition. The green-hared singer probably said no on purpose just to annoy him.

“Fine. You get one month. And you stay here at the office.” That’s where he found himself most nights. Managing not one, but two high maintenance bands was a lot of work.

Clash let out what Eric can only describe as a dying cat before she darted out and started to drag her things in. He should have realized there was no chance in hell he could have ever said no.

Stormer and Kimber - on Halloween (idw-verse; romantic)

”And THEN she says FOR THE OF GRAY SKULL-- and THEN SHE--” Kimber rambled on, enthusiastically explaining the entire plot and then some of a cartoon. Stormer smiled and nodded along as they walked down the street, completely lost but enjoying how happy it seemed to make her girlfriend.

Of course, Kimber was so into this “She-Rah” cartoon she bagged up until the last day before Halloween to “couple cosplay” as “She-Rah” herself and... “Kittyrah”? Stormer still wasn’t sure on the names. Kimber could talk a mile a minute and Stormer could rarely follow.

Still, maybe a date night in front of Netflix was in order. Any cartoon that had a six foot woman carrying a sword was certainly warranting of Stormer’s attention, and she knew Kimber would agree.

Blaze and Stormer - bake sale (idw-verse; romantic)

Blaze didn’t expect that Pizzazz would agree to let their bandmates participate in a charity drive, much less one for the Starlight Community Center, but she wasn’t complaining. It was a bake sale to raise funds for a new communal gym floor, and she was more than happy to put her catering skills to good use to help out for such a wholesome cause.

Though, only one other Misfit agreed to help out with the actual baking (instead of just taste-testing) her blue-haired girlfriend Stormer. Said girlfriend knew they needed to keep focus, they had nearly five dozen cookies needing to be done by 6 sharp that evening, but she couldn’t help but giggle at how serious Blaze looked, completely focused on mixing and measuring juuuust the right amount.

The blue-haired songwriter took a bit of batter she was working on and placed a healthy dollop onto Blaze’s nose with a grin. Now shaken out of her task, Blaze blinked and shot her girlfriend a questioning, confused look. Stormer let out another giggle before kissing the other woman as an answer.

Techrat and Jem - behind the mask (idw-verse; platonic/romantic/help???)

Techrat always had an eye for computers, technology, machines, the works and nothing else. Some thought this a very pitiable life, while Techrat knew otherwise. If people thought them weird, so be it, that just means they’d be left alone.

These skills are what lead them to an interest in one “Jem” of some band they didn’t care to learn the name of. Something about her was off (not the vapid, air-headed aura all pop stars give off in their opinion), but something... uncanny. “Jem” moved too well, too flawless, too... perfect for any human to do.

The eyes, her eyes are what first drew the hacker’s own eyes to her. They flickered, like one would expect a human’s to do, but they twitched very so slightly, like a glitching screen, if Techrat focused long and hard on the footage they collected they could see right through “her mask”.

They wanted to know more.

Jem and Jerrica - defective (au-verse; platonic)

Living as one person was a fact mostly every single person on the planet faced. But living as two completely different beings? Jerrica only knew herself facing that. At first, it was simple, just be kind, nice, sing, sign autographs.

It stopped being so simple, as her career moved on. Jem had to be involved in more of the celeb side of her life, while Jerrica needed to maintain the stable and responsible side. Such drastically different lifestyles could cause anyone to go crazy.

Maybe she already was.

No one else in the world had to ask themself “what would my alter ego do in this situation” or “would Jem really do this?”. These are things she should have known, but still found herself asking in her head. This should have been her, her life, but more and more it was becoming Jerrica’s Life and Jem’s Life. Two beings that should be one, becoming more and more torn apart.

Jerrica wondered if she was defective. Broken. Fucked up. Or maybe, no person was ever meant to live as anyone but themself.

She wondered would Jem would think of that too.

Jem and Danse - skinny dipping (show-verse; romantic)

The singer did her best to swallow the ground nervousness bubbling up in her core. This was so... so risqué. Skinny-dipping! As one of the biggest celebrities in Hollywood! If she was caught... then more of herself than she’d ever want to be would be on the cover of every tabloid from here to the East Coast.

But oh, how Danse giggled with innocent glee when she suggested it. Jem melted at the sound of her laughter and she was putty in the other woman’s hands. Even so... she knew the Jemstar Earrings functioned fine in water... but, she had reservations. Synergy could project the perfect, flawless body, and Danse wouldn’t know any better.

Though... she could keep the face of Jem, the body of Jerrica, but that could lead to personal questions that Jerrica Jem didn’t want to face.

‘When did revealing her secret identity become more intimate than being literally naked’ she thought to herself, ‘What if...’

All coherent thoughts flew right from her mind the moment Jem saw those very fit legs with nothing hiding them any longer. Jerrica had no worries any longer.

#jem and the holograms #jerrica #jem #kimber #shana #aja #synergy #idw jem #my fics #video #clash #eric raymond #stormer #blaze #roxy #techrat #starfight #jetta