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strawberryspence · 1 year

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happy birthday, @stevesbipanic! i am glad you were born, you amazing human being. I hope you get to drink the coldest, most delicious, bougiest milo you can have. ILY broccoli! 💛

Steve has never had a birthday cake. He doesn't count the first six cakes his parents had for him, because he's pretty sure it was only for appearances.

He remembers his seventh birthday. How badly he wanted to have a Flintstones themed birthday party, and how his parents called it tacky. Instead, Steve had a lavish tea party with all of their investor friends. He remembers hating it.

After that, there's— nothing. There were Nannies or Babysitters that tried to make him feel better by bringing him to Benny's and he's thankful for that. But there's always that heart wrenching rip in his system when he sees a child. Surrounded by family, singing happy birthday as they wait to blow on a cake.

And the thing is if Steve never gets to have that, it’s okay. It’s really, really, really, okay. That also means he’ll do his best to give all the kids the best birthdays they can have, so they can never feel what he felt. If El wants a day just full of craft making? Sure. Dustin wants to visit this damn planetarium in Indianapolis? Okay. Mike wants to dress him like him for an entire day? Alright.

Steve is happy that way, until Eddie Munson comes crashing into his life with a broken bottle. And okay, maybe it’s not a great idea to lie in the biggest and probably the most important relationship he has right now, but he’s not going to tell Eddie his little sad secret.

What he forgot to account for is the fact that his boyfriend is the biggest snoop to ever exist.

“Wha— What’s this?” Steve stammers as he enters his house. It’s almost always dark when he comes home, the house dull and empty.

Tonight, it’s different. After having his birthday dinner with Robin, Steve drives them back to his house so they can have movie night. Supposedly.

Instead, Eddie’s standing behind the long wooden dining table that never gets used, with 20 different cupcakes, all lit with a candle. There’s food and banners and balloons with streamers.

Robin pushes him forward with a smile, “So…” Eddie walks towards him, “I found some of your childhood pictures.”

“Oh.” Steve breathes out.

“Look, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe your parents just weren’t the kind of people that liked taking pictures and having to develop them. Maybe someday, you’ll tell me why you only have one childhood photo album or why there’s no pictures of your birthday parties past the age of six.”

Eddie says, hands nervously twisting around his hair, “But, on the off chance that I am right,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “On the off chance that you haven’t had a birthday cake or a birthday wish in 14 years, I got you 20 birthday cupcakes.”

Steve can barely hold himself anymore, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “Why 20?”

Eddie smiles at him, and his eyes sparkle at Steve like he hung the damn moon and stars, like he fucking created the whole universe, “One for every year my favorite person has been alive.”

Steve chokes down a half sob, half whine as he slaps a hand on his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers as he wraps Steve in a comforting hug. They stay like that for a minute before Eddie says, “I am so happy you were born. There’s a few more people that are happy, they’re all hiding in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Steve pulls back, hastily wiping his tears.

“The kids are all here. Nance, Jonathan, and Argyle.” Eddie tenderly wipes a stray tear off his cheek, “Even Wayne, Hop, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson is here.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to know, but he still asks, “Why?”

Eddie visibly softens, but before he can answer Robin answers for him, “Because we all love you, Dingus.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit behind the cupcakes and they’re going to come out from where they’ve been eavesdropping.” Steve laughs when Eddie emphasizes the word, and there’s a clatter in the kitchen followed by whispering, “They’re going to act normal. And we’re going to sing you a song. Okay?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie says as he runs to the kitchen and as Robin ushers him to sit in front of the cupcakes. She forces a birthday hat on his hair, and he doesn’t even argue.

They all come out from the kitchen, all smiling and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. Even Hop and Wayne are wearing them and it might actually be the funniest thing he’s ever seen. The kids have blow horns that fill the silent house with joyous sounds.

They sing him a birthday song. It’s loud and it doesn’t exactly sound good. Dustin’s trying a new other pitch and Lucas has never been a good singer. Max is drumming on the table and El has a small tambourine. Mike and Will are trying to do some kind of duet in their own little bubble. But it’s the most beautiful, harmonious sound to Steve.

And as they all urged him to make a wish, Steve is struck with awe and disbelief, a feeling of realization sparking in his veins. Steve’s got everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him. He just wants all of them to be safe and sound.

He smiles at his family, as he lets his eyelid flutter shut.

And for the first time, Steve makes a birthday wish.

Edit:

Steve smiles, happy and content, as everyone chitchats around him.

"Hey, Eds?" Steve calls out for his boyfriend who's busy stuffing his face with bread rolls.

"Yeam?" Eddie replies, still chewing on the bread.

"Can I have a Flintstone themed birthday next year?"

Eddie swallows his bread with water, before turning to Steve with a smile so bright it could blind him. He moves closer to give his temple a light kiss.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll be Fred, you'll be Wilma. It will be perfect."

#tw child trauma #tw child neglect #happy birthday b! ofc i got you angst for your birthday. are you even surprised??????#i hate the harringtons sorry #hope you enjoyed this #steve goes on and has 70 more wonderful birthdays #with his husband and family #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanons #steddie ficlet #dae writes #daeheadcanons

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intheorangebedroom · 1 year

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Pleased to meet you, a drabble

Summary: you and Benny have been dating for a little over three months when you finally agree to go hiking with him.

Pairing: Ben Miller x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: @nicolethered, this is a very humble gift for you, my dearest, dearest friend. I know smut is not my strong suit (unfortunately), and I wish I could present you with a much better gift, because you deserve the absolute fucking best, but I did do my very very best to give you the Benny I think you might like. You've given me and this fandom so much. Happy birthday season, ily ♥

I'm tagging every one, I hope no one will mind, because I managed to sneak in a little bit of plot, and, of course, subliminal mentions of Frankie 😜 (I can't help myself)

Count: 2.8k

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A drabble: Proud Mary

You’ve got to give it to this country, it really knows how to do autumn. And autumn is the one thing you love but could never fully enjoy in Paris. A city with a dense urban fabric, there’s not enough space for nature to perform its flamboyant swan song in crimson and golden gradient, the parks and public gardens too tidy, too tamed to your taste.

In your late 20s, you would rent a car and spend the last week of October by the Normand or Picard shores, on your own, and revel in the colours you’d find along the road. Until you met Éric and, a couple of years into your relationship, he started demanding you stay by his side and accompany him as he attended the many parties and diners of the rentrée littéraire, the most important time of year for French publishers.

That memory belongs to another life, however. Almost to another girl, it seems.

Comfortably sitting on the leather seat on the passenger’s side of Will’s truck, your forehead pressed against the window, you take in all the shapes and shades of trees and bushes you can’t name in any of the languages you know. Your new boyfriend’s solid presence next to you, driving under the fiery canopy of an undergrowth country road. A little too fast for your liking, but that’s just how he does everything and, to be honest, you don’t mind, really.

Benny likes the outdoor. He thrives amidst nature. As soon as you two started dating, back in July, he began asking you to come with him on hiking trips upstate, exploring national parks the size of your hometown. You can spend entire afternoons picking pebbles and shells underneath the chalk cliffs of Picardie’s coast, silently observing the rising tides of the Channel, but you’ve never gone hiking, so to speak. You didn’t even own a good pair of walking shoes until you had to gear up for this trip.

This time you said yes, your heart wrapped in an unknown, warm embrace at his enthusiastic and spontaneous reaction. A wolfish howl and a little jump, before he grabbed his phone to text his brother that he needed to borrow his truck, the Mustang far too precious to drive on graveled and dusty country roads.

What convinced you to come is precisely this: the undeterred fondness with which he steadily reacts, every time you try and push back. The space and time he never fails to give you to be you and do your things.

And, of course, the prospect of a real North-American autumn. You don’t care what everybody says, you just like autumn. It is, hands down, your favourite season. You’ve debated it over countless times with Rosie, who, of course, only loves summer, laughing at her perennial final and closing argument, “you can’t prefer fall because it’s basic, and you’re not.”

She says fall, you say autumn. Inches and centimetres, flat and apartment…

Besides, autumn has Halloween. And that’s the one holiday your gothic heart not only tolerates, but love. The hypothesis -the hope- of being visited by the dead, once a year. You were never good with closure, goodbyes or mourning. The concept of the departed lingering about you keeps you going.

In an essay about death and its perceptions throughout history, you once read that the idea exists, in one form or another, in many different cultures throughout the world. That it’s about the living convoking the dead to help them prepare as they enter winter.

Winter sure is bleak. Christmas’s supposed to be fun, you suppose, if you have a functioning family. Which you seldom ever had. No, winter is not your thing.

No light, no hope.

You wonder what this winter is going to be like. Probably the best you’ve had in a long, long while.

You’ve got pure sunshine sitting next to you in the truck.

A khaki cap worn backward over his overgrown blond strands, his last haircut a distant memory, he’s wearing his usual worn-out dirty blue jeans that have you questioning whether he owns a second pair, and a faded blue shirt over a camouflage t-shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, his strong forearms on display. His massive frame dwarfs the spacious cab of the truck.

He hooked up his phone to the car’s stereo and Johnny Cash’s Live at Folsom is blasting through the old speakers, his own baritone resounding in the cab and sinking into your chest as he sings along to The Long Black Veil. It’s one of your favourite songs from this album, and you can’t get over how fond of this man’s voice you’ve become in only three months. It’s warm and comfortable and when you try to describe his laughter, the only word you can come up with is “luminous”.

He sings more and more often when you’re around, and you wonder if you can consider it a tangible proof of your fast-growing intimacy. Or perhaps he’s always singing, and the only reason why you get to hear it more often is because of the increasing amount of time you two spend together. It doesn’t cross your mind you might be the reason why he constantly sings.

Forgetting about the landscape for a moment, you set your gaze on your boyfriend, his tall figure and his soft face. His brow furrowed over his dark eyes, mirroring the lyrics’ somber melancholy as he joins in the chorus.

She walks these hills in a long black veil

She visits my grave when the night winds wail

You found a common ground in music with blues, folk, old country and vintage rock. Old habits die hard and at first, you feared he would impose on you the music plastered in loud album covers on his band t-shirts, Kiss, Metallica, Iron Maiden. You’d been agreeably proven wrong. For that’s not Benny. Benny makes everything easy. Benny adjusts.

You reach out for his thigh and give it a little squeeze, affection expanding your chest. His expression shifts immediately as he takes his eyes off the road to look your way, flashing you a flirty wink and a toothy grin. Oh, he’s a performer, alright.

You can’t help but laugh and skate your hand a little higher along his leg.

Hank William’s Alone and Forsaken is next in queue on his playlist, but Benny’s mind is not on the music anymore.

Every so often, his eyes leave the open road as he throws sideways glances at your thighs with about as much subtlety as a kid trying to nick candy from the kitchen cupboard, and you observe this little choreography with a bemused smile.

“You know I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing leggings in the city,” you say halfway through the song.

“That’s a shame because your legs look damn good in it. And your ass–” he trails off, narrowing his eyes with an explicit humming sound.

“But what’s the difference with my black jeans, for instance, the skinny ones?” you ask casually, as if he just didn’t light up a small fire in your core.

“I don’t know. It’s just— it’s not the same,” his voice drags and dips lower on the last words.

It sounds like he’s still singing even when he talks. You start to blush like a bashful teenager, so you immediately counter, opening your legs wider and propping your left knee on the bench.

His eyes return to the road, with a shake of his head and a chuckle that says you’re not playing fair.

Ike and Tina’s Proud Mary come up on the stereo and momentarily interrupt the game.

“Oh I love this song!” you exclaim as you lean forward to turn up the volume, “sorry, but I’m gonna sing.”

“Why you’re sorry? You got a nice voice.”

“How would you know that?” you whip your head towards him with an accusatory look.

“Heard you sing under the shower. I love the smell of your shampoo,” he provides with an apologetic, endearing smile.

“Well I’m singing to this, anyway,” you reply, now downright flustered.

The song still at its spoken preamble, your voice is a little shaky as you tune in to the first Nice and easy.

You flick your eyes up to Benny’s and find him already staring you down with a hungry look.

But there's just one thing…

Pulling on the safety belt to give it some slack, you slide on the bench to get closer to him, his eyes flicking rapidly between the road and your lips.

You see we never do nothing nice and easy…

You rest your right hand on his inner thigh and bite down a victorious smile when he sharply inhales, straining his gaze straight ahead.

We always do it nice and rough…

Your voice turns husky on the last word, a smile lifting the corner of your lips. Head tilted upward, you softly speak into his neck, letting your breath fan the thin blond hair on his nape, and rear back just enough to see them stand up.

So we're gonna take the beginning of this song…

You scoot closer still, pointedly pressing your breast against his side, his hands gripping the steering wheel, a growing bulge straining against the fabric of his jeans.

And do it easy…

You poke out your tongue, tracing the shell of his ear, nipping at his earlobe, as he draws in a sharp breath with a hissing sound, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white.

But then we're gonna do the finish rough…

The last word comes out of your throat in a rumble, your hand quickly sliding over to his throbbing erection as you cup him through his pants, pressing down with the flat of your palm.

This is the way we do–

“Ok, that’s it!” he barks, and your laughter tinkles.

—

The truck is parked on a light slope where Benny steered it precipitously, on the side of the road, coming to a halt in the middle of nowhere, barely deep enough into the woods to hide it from view. You slide on the leather bench when you move your leg to straddle him where he came to meet you on the passenger’s side. Your leggings lie on the car floor in a rumpled heap next to your new hiking shoes, and you grasp the headrest to regain your balance.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he pants, unbuckling his belt before raising his hips to slide down jeans and briefs in one hurried motion. He’s fully erect now and his smooth cock bobs against his clothed belly.

“I was only singing,” you object, giving the blond curls at his base an innocent little scratch before taking him in your hand.

He feels heavy and warm between your fingers, and you want to play with it a little, but he already ripped open the condom’s wrapping in his haste. You take it from him, with a breathless whisper of “lemmedoit”, and you push him against the seat back, pinning him under your gaze to make sure he looks at you when you lick a broad stripe into the flat of your palm, and give him a couple of hard, long strokes.

“Fuck, woman, just let me inside you, already,” he exhales, his head lolling backward against the headrest. “When you gonna let me fuck you without a rubber, baby?”

You’ve only ever let one man do that, and it’s not something you want to be thinking about right now, so you shut him up, plunging forward and moulding your lips onto his, fisting him harder. He deepens the kiss immediately, licking inside you like a starved man, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he sits up straight and grips your ass, kneading your soft flesh.

He pulls out to ask, “You wet for me, baby?”

“Huh huh,” you answer, nodding, chasing his lips, but he’s not done talking. Benny likes to talk.

“Good girl,” he says through another cocky smile, “gonna fuck you fast and good.”

You’d have slapped Éric for calling you a “good girl”, instead you feel another rush of slick pooling down your core, trickling down your spread thighs, as he slides you back on his lap by the flesh of your bottom.

“Been wanting to rip them leggings off your ass since I picked you up this morning, you won’t be able to walk when I’m finished with you.”

You want to shoot back that it defeats the purpose, but he doesn’t let you, skating through your folds and sliding his rough fingers over your entrance, rewarding you for what he finds there with a broad smile. You jump lightly at the exquisite breach when he slides two digits inside you, a hand still loosely wrapped around his length, the one holding the condom lying limply on the car bench.

“Fuck, listen to that,” he says at the squelching sounds of your wet pussy, as he roughly thrusts his fingers in and out, thinning your clit, his eyes darted down onto where he’s opening you for him. All you can manage is a lewd moan and a hooded look.

“Come on, baby, wrap me up and put me in,” he orders in his musical voice.

He’s still fucking you on his fingers, and you chase his hand a little longer, rocking shamelessly into it, before you finally comply and unroll the condom down on his length.

“Don’t tell my brother what we did in his truck.”

“Jesus fucking– what exactly do you think we talk about when we–”

You can’t finish your sentence, for he just knocked the air out of your lungs, shoving his cock inside your warmth all the way down, after swiftly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, seizing your waist with one hand and lining himself up with the other. Benny moves surprisingly fast for a man of his size and his strength. Must be all that training for the fights.

Your forehead drops against his, your head heavy and weak with the sudden spearing sensation. There’s been no nice, straight to rough, his feet are planted firmly on the car floor and he fucks up into you at a dizzying pace, holding you down on his cock with both hands around your waist, a nearly bruising grip, and for a moment there’s nothing you can do but take it. Thinking about how much you like that he’s always in such a hurry to give it to you.

“Shit, that sweet pussy of yours,” he groans into your mouth, before kissing you again, and he makes it messy, bestial, licking into your mouth with unbridled hunger, it’s absolutely delicious, the way he devours you, always. Somehow your brain resurfaces and you brace a hand on his chest, tugging his hair harshly with the other. You know he likes it, when you pull, and scratch, and bite, and he groans with delight at the sting.

Fisting the fabric of his t-shirt, you shuffle your knees closer to him and start meeting him, rolling your hips in rhythm, fucking him right back, earning yourself a low and strained “fuck yeah” that reverberates in your stomach, the friction of the leather burning your skin.

His right hand skates around your curves to the cleft of your ass, and he tentatively presses there, but you shake your head no, and his voice is like sandpaper on wood when he asks,

“When you gonna let me fuck that gorgeous ass, baby?”

You tug on his hair harder, then let go, cupping his chin and sliding two fingers in his mouth to silence him. When he responds with an unexpectedly soft suckle, your cunt clenches around him, and his eyes flutter shut, his head rolling back as he groans.

You bear down on him and grip him again, as tightly as you can, and his hips fall out of their rhythm, his fingers clutching your ass in a twitch. You make a mental note of it, so you can give it to him again, later, before biting his jaw for good measure.

He puts all his strength into the following thrusts and a loud moan escapes you. You might not be able to walk once he’s done, after all.

“Make me come, Benjamin, I don’t want anyone to walk on us.”

He gives your fingers a hard suck and releases them with the popping sound you’ve come to associate with him.

“Ok but I’m fucking you again as soon as we get there, from behind. And I’m coming on your ass.”

He slides down over the edge of the seat and place both his large hands back on your hips, grinding you back and forth on his cock, ruthlessly, like you weight nothing, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. He’s stroking deeper, harder, brushing against that spot that makes you lose it, the angle is mind-bending, your vision turns white and you brace your hand on the car’s window, your whining voice desperate when you try to warn him,

“Oh shit Benny, I’m gonna come, shit, gonna be loud, can’t hold it–”

“That’s right, baby, sing for me.”

****

Taglist (thank you 💕): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin

#Francisco Catfish Morales #The Pilot™️#Frankie Morales #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #ben miller #benny miller #ben miller x fem!reader #ben miller x you #will miller #william ironhead miller #pedro pascal #garret hedlund #triple frontier

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theeultimatelifeform · 6 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

HI BENNY TY BENNY ILY!!!

#YIPPEE!!!!#benny.mail #assks

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dacergirl369 · 2 years

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AWWW OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY BENNY 💛💛💛💛💛

THANK YOU SAV ILY ♥️♥️

#:D

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beenyos · 2 years

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BIRTHDAY TWIN BIRTJDAY TWIN HAPPY BDAY BENNY BOY ILY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY YAYYYYY HAPPY INTERNATIONAL PEE DAY

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acanvasofabillionsuns · 4 years

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got a fascination (with you)

for @heavenly-roman!! happy birthday bennie!!!!

many thanks to @ratherstarryeyed for being a fantastic beta ( ˘ ³˘)♥ (and also to @figurative-siren-song for helping me with a scene!)

you can find a little bit of background here if you want! it’s not necessary to read to understand this fic but it might clear up a couple minor details!

Summary: Roman and Janus have a Tragic Past. (Roman’s words) (Janus would like to know who this guy glaring daggers at him is.) Warnings: accidental misgendering, vandalism? Wordcount: 2509

“Hey, who’s that?” Roman asks, knocking Remus’s shoulder with glows and nodding towards the guy.

“Hm?” Remus turns. “Oh, I don’t know. V brought ‘em, said they wanted to try it out or something.”

“Hey, new guy, what’re your pronouns?” Roman cups glows hands around glows mouth to shout, because Respecting People’s Pronouns.

“He/him,” the guy calls back.

Virgil gives both of them a death glare—probably for shouting when they’re trying to sneak around, but to be fair it would be awkward to walk up to him solely to ask his pronouns and not his name or anything else before walking away, and glo’s not close enough to ask without shouting—so Roman yells back, “Cool!” and then flashes Virgil a wide grin and mimes zipping glows lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and pointedly turns away from glow.

Roman’s smile is even wider as glo turns back to Remus and announces, “Score one for annoyance points!”

“How high are you going for this time?”

“Double however many he gets, at least.”

Remus snorts. “Good luck.”

“Thank you!!” Roman says, ignoring the fact that Remus thinks glo will actually need it. As if.

Glo grabs a few random cans of spray paint out of the bag (which is conveniently by Virgil) and sets two of them upright on the sidewalk and one on its side between them. Glo grins at glows handiwork, then digs through the bag to find the can glo wants.

“Who took the regal red paint?” glo hisses.

“Oh, sorry, did you want it?” Virgil asks, smirking as he turns to glow. He shakes the can victoriously and whispers, “Point.”

Glo squints at him and stands up, letting glows gaze drop down to the aerosol rendition of genitalia and then looking back up at Virgil, watching as his eyes follow Roman’s and then widen and narrow in quick succession.

“Point,” glo echoes triumphantly, snatching the can and definitely not running over to Remus. That would imply that glo’s running away, when Roman is simply evading any potential retaliation.

Someone snickers, and Roman looks around to see New Guy laughing. Glo hopes he can tell by the way glows eyes scrunch up that glo’s smiling at him. Judging by the way his eyes scrunch up too, he does. Glo nods at him, gets a nod back, and then goes to work.

About an hour later, Virgil’s phone beeps, and everyone packs up the supplies and gets ready to make their escape.

“Sonic?” Roman calls to the others as glo and Remus get in their car. No one protests, and so Remus pulls up a route to the nearest one as Roman gets glowself adjusted in the driver’s seat.

Five minutes later and they’ve reassembled at the picnic tables of Sonic. Everyone’s discarded their masks now that they’re unnecessary, and Roman looks around for New Guy, more than a little curious to see what he looks like under the mask and if glo recognizes him.

And once glo spots him, glo definitely recognizes him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I like your shirt,” someone says quickly. Roman turns around and spots a boy staring at glow. The boy nods as they make eye contact and hurries off to class.

“Thank you!” Roman calls after him.

Glo goes into glows next class with a smile on glows face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, hey, that’s the guy that complimented me earlier!” Roman tells Remus.

“Where?” Roman points, and Remus scrunches up his nose. “Dude, that’s Janus.”

“So?”

“So, he’s always sarcastic? I don’t know if he even can say something straight,” Remus says. Roman’s about to joke “a fellow gay!” when Remus tells glow, “He was probably being sarcastic and making fun of you or something.”

Oh.

The want to joke drains out of Roman. Glo’s sad for a moment (glo’s not really sure why), but then it flips to indignation, and glo huffs.

“Well, jokes on him, because an insult isn’t really effective if the person you’re insulting didn’t get it,” glo scoffs.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what he was trying to accomplish there,” Remus says, then shrugs and moves on. Roman casts one more frown at Janus before following.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You!” Someone calls. Janus turns to see someone—he recognizes him; he’d made him laugh at the start of the… get-together? He doesn’t know what to call it, and anyway he’s seen him in the halls around school a few times besides that. He thinks he has an R name?—stomping towards him.

“Me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

“What about me?”

“You complimented my shirt one time!” Is that... supposed to be a bad thing? Roger’s (?) frowning at him, so he guesses it is, though why is a mystery.

“I’m sorry?” Janus tries.

“Remus said you were being sarcastic!” Robert (?) complains, throwing a finger at another dude who looks similar to this one and also more familiar. He and Janus share a class, but they’ve never really talked in it, so where he got the idea Janus would snark at someone’s shirt when he doesn’t know them, Janus doesn’t know.

He sighs. “Look, I wouldn’t waste my time insulting someone who I’ve only ever seen in passing. They wouldn’t get it, so there’d be no point.”

“Unless they have a brother who shares a class with you, and therefore can explain that you were being rude!” Ruben (?) exclaims. Janus wonders if he knows how stupid that sounds.

“Dude, I didn’t even know Remus had a brother!” Janus tells him. “And that would be a lot of effort to put into a comment that I just said in passing.”

Roy (?) downright scowls at him, crossing his arms with a huff. “Remus doesn’t have a brother.”

“Oh,” Janus says, immediately backpedaling. “Sorry.” They sniff, but their shoulders relax a little so Janus counts it as not a total mess. “Can I ask what your pronouns are?”

“Glo/glow,” glo says, and glo looks a little sheepish now. “Sorry for accusing you; I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly when I don’t even know you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve,” Janus agrees, “but I accept your apology.”

Glo smiles, uncrossing glows arms. “Do you think we could maybe start over?”

“Sure?”

Janus isn’t really sure what glo means by that, until glo sticks glows hand in his face and chirps, “I’m Roman! I use glo/glow/glows/glowself. It’s nice to meet you, Janus!”

“Nice to meet you too? Janus, he/him.”

Roman’s smile has progressed to a beam, and Janus thinks maybe he’d made a mistake somewhere along the line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman weaves glows way through the crowd, looking around for Janus. Glo thinks about the situations leading up until now and winces. Glo should’ve known better than to think badly of someone glo didn’t even know! Glo’s fixing that now, though.

Glo spots Janus and makes glows way over to pop up next to him.

“Hi, Janus!”

“Hi, Roman,” Janus says, sounding slightly exasperated. And Roman knows that that’s probably because glo has insisted on befriending him and that maybe it would be better if glo just left him alone since it doesn’t really seem like Janus wants to be befriended, but Roman is Determined to make it up to him, okay, so Janus doesn’t really get a choice in whether he’s Roman’s friend or not.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come to the next Sonic excursion with us?” Roman leans in and winks a few times to make sure glows meaning gets across. “The plan’s looking like we’re gonna go on Friday right after school, but if you wanna come and can’t make it, I’m sure we can reschedule!”

Janus raises his eyebrows. “What, you’ll change the entire plan if one person, who isn’t even really part of the group yet, wants to come but can’t?”

“I mean… yeah?” Roman says. “It wouldn’t be as much fun if we knew we were excluding you when you wanted to join.”

“Huh.”

Roman waits a moment to see if he’ll say more, then prompts, “So?”

“I’ll join,” Janus says, and glo fistpumps before realizing that maybe glo’s coming off as too enthusiastic.

“Sorry,” glo tells him, rubbing the back of glows neck sheepishly.

“No need to apologize,” Janus waves glow off, squashing a smile. “Don’t you have class?”

“Oh, hey, I do!” Roman realizes, pulling out glows phone and wincing at the time. “I gotta go, bye Janus!”

“Bye!” Janus calls after glow, and Roman smiles to glowself as glo races through the halls. Glo thinks glo’s got a pretty good shot at befriending Janus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a disaster. Janus thinks he might actually be friends with Roman. He doesn’t know how. Last he checked, Roman was still vaguely annoying, like a puppy who kept yapping at you to play when you were trying to concentrate on something else. But they didn’t have any classes together, and they didn’t often have time to talk in between periods, so Roman hadn’t been able to bother him for very long unless they hung out outside of school, which also didn’t happen often.

But then Janus had been added to the vandalism group chat, and Virgil had started pulling him into his hangouts with Roman and Remus, and now Janus has to deal with the fact that he actually likes hanging out with Roman. Disgusting.

The best way to immediately deal with it is, of course, to drop his head onto his desk with the most dramatic groan he can make, so that’s what he does.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asks, poking him.

“Help me,” Janus says, swatting at Virgil’s arm when he tries to poke him again. “I think I actually like Roman—”

“Duh,” Virgil tells him, like the horrible, horrible friend Janus just realized he is.

“—‘s company,” he finishes, sitting up so he can swat at Virgil from a better angle. “What do you mean, ‘duh?’”

“I mean, it’s really obvious that you’ve got a crush on Roman and you need to actually do something about it.”

“I don’t have a crush on Roman!” Janus protests. He tries to think about how that would even work. He likes spending time with Roman, sure, and yeah, Roman’s got an objectively nice face, and it is really cute to see glow light up when one of glows favorite songs come on, and— “Oh my goodness, I’ve got a crush on Roman.”

Virgil bursts into laughter. Janus is going to disown him as a friend.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me and you just let me make a fool of myself, probably, oh my god, how big of an embarrassment have I made of myself without realizing it, Virgil, stop laughing and help me, you’re the worst—why do I have a crush on Roman of all people, oh my god—”

“Janus, calm down,” Virgil tells him, while still laughing, which fails to help Janus calm down in the slightest. “It’s okay, Roman’s as oblivious as you, somehow, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself at all except just now. I hope you know I’m never letting you live this down.”

Janus hisses at him. Virgil bursts into laughter again, and Janus lets his head thunk back against his desk.

This is a disaster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman is Very Excited. Janus agreed to come over and watch Monsters Inc. with glow! Well, glow and Remus and Virgil, but still!

“Dude,” Remus says, throwing something against Roman’s head that glo decidedly doesn’t look at, not wanting to know what it is. “What’s got you so excited?”

“The movie!”

Remus snickers. “You really want to be Janus’s friend, huh?”

“Yeah!” At first glo’d just wanted to be his friend to make up for misjudging him, but now that Roman’s gotten to know him, glo has even more reasons to want to be his friend. Janus is clever, sharp-tongued, talented, and even though Roman now knows he’s a dork who makes atrocious puns when he sees the opportunity, Janus still emanates Cool vibes. Not to mention how pretty he is, or how cute he looks when he’s snickering to himself over the terrible pun he’d just made, or— “...Wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I just want to be his friend,” Roman says slowly, feeling for the truth of it on glows tongue. Glo thinks about kissing Janus and, no, yeah, Roman has definitely gotten off the platonic feelings train. “Yeah, no. Dammit.”

Remus bursts into laughter.

“Remus! This isn’t funny!” Roman grabs the nearest wouldn’t-do-serious-damage object—an empty Coke can—and hurls it at him. “Stop laughing and help me!”

“Don’t know what you want help with, Roenby!” Remus practically sings. “I’m not the one who caught feelings!”

“I didn’t catch feelings! They hit me in the face! Just now! Stop laughing at me!”

Remus is a terrible brother and very lucky Roman is too busy trying to figure out how glo wants Remus to help to smack him in the face with a pillow. Roman lands on “Plan. Help me think—wait, no, you’d be terrible at wooing. Nevermind!”

“Hey!”

Roman sticks out glows tongue and zooms to glows room.

“I could woo if I very well pleased!” Remus calls after glow.

“No you couldn’t!” Roman calls back, slamming glows door to ensure that glo got the last word. Ha.

Brother sufficiently bothered, Roman turns glows attention back to Janus, scrambling around for something to use to write. Glo finds a marker—not ideal, but there’s no time to worry about things like whether glo has the perfect writing utensil— and then digs around for something to write on. It’s only when glo’s about to scribble down ideas on an already-full page of school notes that Roman forces glowself to slow down and think. Realizing glo has a crush doesn’t suddenly put glow on a time limit, and speeding around to make a plan and start wooing Janus will likely have less-than-optimal results, as evidenced by the nearly-just-destroyed-glows-notes thing.

So, although part of glo wants to run to Janus’s house (which… glo doesn’t even know where that is) and serenade him until he either agrees to be glows boyfriend or rejects glow, Roman turns on some music, pulls out glows colored pencils and Enchanted Forest coloring book, and spends the next ten minutes tuning out everything else with the sweet tunes of Beyonce and colored pencils swishing against paper. By the time glo’s done, glo’s calmer, ready to think through making a plan to woo Janus, and has a bomb-looking new page done.

As it turns out, though, making plans to woo someone is difficult. Glo comes up with ‘subtly gauge his interest’ easily enough, but then what? Confessing? Straight Gay up telling Janus glo likes him? No thank you.

Instead, glo expands upon the first part, until glo has:

Step 1 - call him pet names

Step 2 - see how he reacts to the idea of them dating

Step 3 - ???

Step 4 - profit

This is definitely a foolproof plan, glo decides. After all, by the time glo’s done the first two steps, surely glo’ll have come up with what to do next!

chapter 2

#happy birthday bennie ily!!#next chapter should be posted soon #my fics #my writing #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #ts virgil #roceit #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic anxceit #sanders sides

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