- the righteous and the wicked are the war and peace -
red hot chilli peppers
chi - she/they - 20s - nz - uni - queer -
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mdni!!! i'm not going to police every single one of you so please interact with your own discretion; blog may contain smut and will contain suggestive content + excessive swearing.
i write for fem reader, but unless there specifications of pronouns or anything like that, it can be read as gn. rules are here
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yes yes yes yes this man gives the best, most aggressive, largest hugs on earth
I’m imagining you’re not in the movie biz. He’s been out of the country on a shoot for months. you pick him up at the airport.
and as soon as he sees you coming down the escalator to baggage claim he is full on SPRINTING to you!!! Practically tackles you in a massive hug and picks you up off of your feet. Your both a crying mess and he’s telling you how much he loves you and missed you and can’t wait to just sit at home with you for a few days.
he’s just so warm and feels like home and UGH I NEED HIM
ryland grace x ares mission!reader PHM x The Martian crossover where you’re a crewmate on the Ares III mission and you’re now informing your boyfriend back home that you’re adding on 553 (i probably got that number wrong sorry) more days to your mission to rescue mark off of mars. the look on his face when you video call him shatters your heart. a tiny “oh…” escapes his mouth as his sad blue eyes make your chest hurt.
“he would have done the same thing for me,” you explain, swallowing to hide the tremble in your voice as tears threaten to escape your eyes.
you know the risk. your crew knows the risk. ryland knows the risk. yet even through the unimaginable pain of missing the other, millions of miles away, you both know this is the right thing to do. to risk your life to save a fellow traveler of the stars.
you press your lips tightly to continue the ongoing battle between you and breaking down into tears. it’s no use. unfortunately the all too familiar warmth of inevitable tears overpowers you and you let yourself succumb to your emotions.
“do you promise you’ll be watching when we fly by?” you ask, hand pressed to your chest to get your gasping under control.
ryland wasnt far behind on crying himself. “every night i look up at the stars and watch for you.” he says.
you let out another cry, looking at the live image of the love of your life in tears. you know you cant hog up the call time any longer. so after spending a few more moments exchanging sweet remarks, you two gently say you love each other and, reluctantly, hang up the call.
and in the lingering silence that follows, you continue to let the tears fall down.
i love love love ryland grace x physician!reader because thats just me projecting my love for medicine and human biology but i gotta admit that ryland grace x astronaut!reader is so insanely fucking buzzy like. middle school science teacher and his GIRLFRIEND WHO GOES TO SPACE
you see, ryland grace has a breeding kink because he really wants to be a dad someday. therefore, being deeply in love with someone and wanting to put a baby in them are so intrinsically connected in his mind they might as well be the same thing.
mark watney has a breeding kink because he wants his hot wife to get HIM pregnant like a loyal seahorse. peg him harder, queen, you can do it.
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word count. 1032
summary. tangerine takes his family on a little holiday to the west country during a heatwave. he’s not one for hot weather and turns into a particularly grouchy lobster.
note. tan my wife!!!! didn’t realised how much I missed writing him. just had to include mandy as it’s been so long (btw if people don’t know, mandy is tangerines daughter) mandy is short for mandarin… mandarin… tangerine
requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt ask is at the bottom of the post.
Hot weather is something of a luxury in this country, though some would hardly call it a luxury — some would refer to it as a misery. Tangerine was one of those kinds of people. Whenever a blistering annual heatwave rolls around, he turns into that very same angry red lobster that cannot seem to regulate himself. You'd have thought that with these thirty-some years, he'd have learnt how by now. But that's just not the case.
Every year around summertime, he and his would brother take some time off work — it'll always be a couple weeks booked off to spend with you, and more recently, your daughter also. And with Mandy failing to stay the same tiny two year old that she once was, Tangerine deems it now most important to cultivate memories. That's what the summer is about.
For the last few days, you'd all been staying at a quaint B&B in the west country, a cosy cottage to accommodate you all on your little beach holiday. You were nearing your last full day, and to say that Tangerine was putting on face, was an understatement. He was clearly over it, but pretended otherwise for the sake of his girls — both you and Mandy.
Though you know him well, you know he's grown tired of this trip. Nothing of a result of you, nor his brother, simply the fact that he could no longer take the heat. He had burnt a fair bit this week, his shoulders a shade of red that surely worried you. It's those very english genes of his.
You're all on the a near desolate, hidden beach set up under an umbrella. Mandy sits at the end of your lounger, her attention locked on the mechanics of your sunglasses — her focus opposing yours. You study the back of your husband, stifling a smile as you stare at the phallic shape his brother had branded onto him with suncream earlier this week.
"What?" Tangerine asks, feeling the weight of your eyes on him. He peers over his shoulder to look at you behind him, salted, beach curls framing his face in the most perfect of ways. "What's so funny?"
You stiffen your face, and straighten your lips. "Huh?"
"Ha," he laughs sarcastically. "D'you find that massive nob on my back amusing or something?"
"We have young ears present," you scold, eyeing your daughter who has since moved on to chewing at the corners of her armbands. "What'd we agree about using that word?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. The pasty white willy on my back," he exaggerates dramatically, eyes theatrical with their movement.
You chew on the inners of your cheeks so as not to acknowledge the amusement you found in his rewording. "That's better, thank you."
Tangerine turns his attention away and to his daughter, eyes leaving yours as they grow in further adoration at the spitting image of him that sits between your knees. "Why is your mummy always telling me off, huh, Mands?" he questions her, face playful to match that of your daughters.
"You can't bad mouth me to our kid. That's not how that works."
"Yeah well, I'm sweaty and annoyed, I can say whatever I want," he picks Mandy up and settles her on one of his knee, propping her up as he wipes in the suncream you had not long applied. "Can't I, poppet?" he coos at her.
Though Mandy turns to look back at you, and so you decide to speak to your husband through her. Just like he did a moment ago, only you're allowed to do such a thing — your body made her. That gives you the right, you believe.
"Looks like daddy's sleeping on the sofa tonight," your voice soft and playful. "Ain't that right, munchkin?"
The sunhat nearly covers the top half of her face, but still she giggles, finding entertainment your tone.
You scrunch your nose at her as you smile, giving her an enthused nod. "That's right," you turn to meet the displeased face of your husband and shrug playfully. "You can't argue with that face, love."
"Yeah, well," Tangerine scoffs, and shakes his head — trying to get the last word, only he had nothing to say.
Fortunately for himself, Lemon has begun to make his way over to you all from his extensive time in the sea — doughnut floatie around his hips, exotic and neon tropical shorts sat beneath. His taste far brighter than his brotherly counterpart of blacks and navies.
"Why aren't you fuckers in the sea?" he calls out, hands either side of his mouth as if to amply his already booming voice.
Tangerine sets Mandy aside, placing her on the sand in front of a shovel and bucket. "You'll get a slap for that," Tangerine warns, gesturing back to you with his thumb.
When Lemon finally reaches you all, he stops just beside his brother, standing over him almost menacingly. He taunts him for a moment, extending his dripping arm to hang over his brother — droplets of salt water falling from his fingers and atop Tan's head. Lemon then goes with his thoughts of impulse and shakes himself, flicking cold specks of water over his very burnt, very cranky brother.
Though your husband decides against retaliation and rejects a reaction — he's simply in no mood with the sun behaving the way that it is today.
Lemon instead chooses to prod, quite literally. He pokes at his brother's burns and snickers, finding humour in the drawing on Tangerine's back he's since forgotten. "How you liking that dick? Bet you're not used to having such a massive nob, hm?
You knew better than to react, knew it best to keep out of brotherly bickering; especially with these two. You instead reach into the cooler at your side and pull out a few drinks and sandwiches that you had prepared before leaving this morning. Food was a good deflection, you thought, rather, you hoped.
And so you pass around tin-foiled baguettes, handing them to either brother with contents of their preferred fillings. Like you'd planned it, they grow quiet — the squabbling ceasing as you all enjoy your lunch to the sounds of lapping waves.
a race to grow up (summer '95) - court gentry x fem!reader
summary: you met court gentry the summer before high school. you were in love with him before classes even started.
tags: fem!reader, reader and court are teenagers, attemped rape but it is very vague, court saves you, court's younger brother's name is in fact courtland twins inspired but is not in that au, you and him are dumb and in love, allusions to abuse but no abuse is shown, just a little intro to our lovers
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Your momma always told you to stay away from those Gentry boys. They’re bad fruit, she’d tell you when you passed them on the street. All scuffed knees and bug bites and dirt on their cheeks. They lived just down the way from you, a little shotgun house that was no better than your place. But the grass was perpetually overgrown. The front window had been broken and broarded up for as long as you could remember. The siding was more green than white with grime. When you were little, the two Gentry boys and their father came home in black suits. You never saw their mom after that. And you avoided them just like your momma told you to.
Court Gentry wormed his way into your life the summer before high school. You spent most of your days that summer at the city pool, hanging out with your friends with no parents around. Practically drunk off the fact that you were old enough to not be escorted everywhere anymore. Thinking you were so adult. Addicted to your first bikini and the slushies from the pool’s snack bar. Court came to the pool nearly every day too, his little brother Colt in tow.
That summer, he didn’t look like that same dirty little kid your momma warned you about. He looked…Grown up. All tan skin and lean muscle and golden blond hair. Even from a distance you could see that he was taller than you now. He looked like Zach Morris. You never noticed, until you watched him from your deck chair in early June, that he was cute.
And of course your friends noticed you oogling at him over the edge of your sunglasses, slushie straw dangling from your lips as you watched the pool water glitter off his abs.
“Oh, my God, you are so staring at Court Gentry!” your friend hissed, swatting at your bare thigh.
Your gaze snapped over to her with a glare. “I was not!”
“Were too! Pretty sure the entire pool could see you making heart eyes at him.”
“I was not making heart eyes,” you argued lighheartedly before easing back into your chair and taking another sip of your slushy with a grin, eyes already trained on Court again. “There’s nothing wrong with admiring the male physique.”
All of your friends giggled, including yourself. But the real funny part, which you wouldn’t know until much later, was that Court knew that you were looking at him. Enjoyed it even. Showed off a little by doing a backflips off the diving board and looking out of the corner of his eye to see if you smiled or not. You usually did. He always thought you were beautiful, from the moment he first laid eyes on you struggling to roller skate down your gravel street. Colt thought it was gross. But Court really couldn’t help himself.
He’d been in love with you since he was eight.
It wasn’t until June was nearly over that you would finally talk to Court Gentry, after weeks of nonchallantly staring at him, convinced that your sunglasses hid that fact from him.
The both of you wished it was under better circumstances.
You were leaving the pool for the day, sunburnt and excited about your momma’s lasagna. There was no one else in the shower room, which you were thankful for. Even though it was for girls only, it still put you on edge that there was only a thin curtain between you and everyone seeing you naked. Your bikini that you loved so much still on, you rinsed off under the shower. Chlorine was the smell of the summer, almost like teenage perfume, but your momma wanted you clean before you stepped foot in her house.
What you didn’t know, however, was that a group of boys followed you inside. Just wanting to get a peak. Just wanting to have some fun. Just boys being boys. But Court watched them shuffle inside, all of them snickering to one another, with eyes narrowed and fists clenched. He knew you were in there, had watched you go with disappointment. He had only just gotten to the pool after his shift.
But now, he was pulling himself up and out of the pool with a grimace.
“Stay here, alright?” he told Colt, who was still clinging to the wall like Spider-Man.
He pushed up his goggles and cocked his head at his brother. “Why?”
“I gotta take a wizz,” Court lied easily, not tearing his eyes away from the shower room for long. “What? You wanna watch?”
“Gross.” Colt stuck out his tongue then swam off.
Court made his way to the pool house quickly, swim trunks still dripping and a fury blooming in his chest he knew his dad would be proud of, but his mother would hate. He was just going to tell them to get out, that was all. You didn’t even have to know that he was there.
He took one step inside the girl’s shower room and his vision turned red.
Most of the guys were still peeking out from behind the concrete wall that partitioned the entrance from the rest of the room. But one, Trevor Bennet, had you backed up against the farthest wall. He was older than both of you. A junior who would probably never grow up. You looked petrified, holding up your bikini top as Trevor towered over you.
“Come on, sweetheart, I know you want to,” Trevor sneered as he reached out a hand to touch you.
Court didn’t wait, he stormed further into the room, long strides carrying him quickly, then grabbed Trevor by the shoulder. Trevor didn’t even have time to turn around completely before Court punched him in the face, sending him to the floor with a thud. You didn’t even scream, you just whimpered. Trevor’s nose bled freely down his pretty face.
“Get the fuck out!” Court barked, pointing towards the door.
Trevor scrambled to his feet and only looked back at you for a moment before running from the room, the rest of his friends scampering behind him. Every guy in town knew better than to mess with a Gentry, especially an angry one. Apples didn’t fall far from trees. His dad would be so proud. Shame rose up in Court like a flood.
Court made sure they were gone before he tore a towel from the nearest hook and held it out to you, eyes trained on the opposite wall. You just stared at him for a moment, wide eyed and lip trembling. Then you took the towel tentatively, wrapping it around yourself to save what was left of your dignity.
Your cheeks burned as you stared down at your feet, tears blurring your vision. You hated Trevor Bennet so much — he had been a nuisance since summer started. Catcalling your friend group and making lewd comments. But you didn’t think he would ever go that far. You wiped furiously at your cheeks, trying to make the evidence of your tears disappear.
“Thank you,” you mumbled as you glanced up at Court quickly before looking back down.
“Yep,” he replied, rocking on his heels and still not looking at you. “You uh — you okay?”
You nodded. “I think so.”
“Good. Well…I’ll just go —”
He turned towards the door, took a few steps to leave, but your hand shot out to grab hold of his arm. You didn’t even know what you were doing until it was already done. Until your heart was in your throat from panic and your fingers were wrapped around his wrist. Court looked back at you with a furrowed brow and concern swimming in his blue eyes.
You didn’t know that his eyes were so blue. Like the ocean.
“Please don’t go,” you whispered, “What if they…?”
His skin was so warm.
You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he nodded. “Want me to just walk you home?”
“Y-You don’t mind?” you asked, fingers finally slipping from his wrist.
“S’long as you don’t mind my little brother tagging along.”
The corner of your mouth lifted in a smile. “I don’t mind.”
“‘Kay. I gotta go get him.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You gonna be alright? I’ll meet you outside. At the front desk.”
You took a deep breath as you looked around the shower room. A place that was once so safe now riddled with uncertainty. With fear. Trevor pulled you out of that shower. Backed you into that corner. You would never step into the shower room when it was empty again. You shook your head. He was gone now. Court took care of it. Punched him in the face for you. That was something that only happened in movies, in the ones your momma liked to watch and you secretly did too. But there he was, Court Gentry. Standing probably too close and still glistening with pool water. Offering to walk you home. To make you feel safe.
There was more to admire than just the way he looked now.
“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
You rushed changing into normal clothes, daisy dukes and a cutoff. People filtered in out of the shower room, either to change or use the restroom. Each time you heard a new voice you flinched. Clutched your bag or your clothes tight against your chest. Once you were done, you fled the pool house like there was fire licking at your heels.
Court was waiting for you just outside the front desk, just like he said he would be. He was still wearing his swim trunks, distinctly more dry with his hands shoved in the pockets. He had on a t-shirt with moth holes in the collar, chuck taylors with no socks, and a faded beach towel slung around his neck. His little brother, Colt, was standing not too far off kicking rocks with his arms crossed. He looked just like his older brother, only more chubby cheeked and paler skin. His nose was burnt bright red, bordering on lobster-esque.
You hurried over to them with a tight smile, bag stapled to your front with your arms like some kind of shield. On the other side of the parking lot was Trevor Bennet and the rest of his friends around the bike rack, he was holding a dilly bar against his face as he glared at you. You at least felt more comfortable with the backpack acting as a barrier between you and the world. And you certainly felt more comfortable in the presence of the boy who came to your rescue. Court was subtle about it, but he was definitely glaring right back at Trevor and his gang.
You nodded your head towards Colt as you came to a stop in front of them. “He okay?”
“He’s just got his panties in a twist about leaving the pool.” Court shrugged as you began your walk, Colt trailing behind you with a huff. “We weren’t there super long.”
“Oh…Sorry.” You looked over your shoulder at the younger boy, lip between your teeth. Then you called out to him, “Sorry, Colt! S’my fault!”
He sped up to walk in stride with the two of you with a frown. “No, it’s that dumbass Trevor Bennet’s fault.”
“Language, man!” Court hissed, giving you a sideways look that made you grin.
“What? You say dumbass, like, all the time!” Colt said, cheeks even more red than before. “You called your boss one on the way to the pool!”
“You have a job?” you asked as your grip on your bag loosened, one strap dangling from your hand.
You didn’t know anyone your age that had a job. None of your friends did. You were all too busy enjoying the summer before high school, feeling so adult without any of the responsibility. In some ways, past the first bikini and the lack of parental supervision, you were still just a kid. Playing pretend at being older. But Court wasn’t. He was the same age as you and he had a job. A real one, that paid money. You wondered if it was just for the summer.
Court just shrugged like the revelation didn’t shatter your world view. “Just construction a couple days a week.
“O’Hara?”
“Yep.”
It was the only construction company in town, you didn’t know why you asked. Half the town was employed by O’Hara, half the town was built by O’Hara.
“My dad works at the quarry; provides limestone for them sometimes.” You smiled up at Court shyly. “He also thinks your boss is a dumbass.”
Court laughed, and it filled you with a pride you wouldn’t understand for a long time. You were on your street before you knew it. Your little shotgun house in sight, as well as the Gentry’s. The gravel crunched under your feet as you came to a stop at the end of your driveway. Your dad’s truck was parked under the carport.
You turned to the Gentry boys with a heat burning your cheeks. “Thanks again. I…”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” Court states with a shrug, hands in his pockets. “What happens at the city pool stays at the city pool.”
“Okay. Yeah — okay.”
He waved with a few fingers and an easy grin that made his ocean eyes sparkle. “See you around, darlin’.”
By early July, the two of you were inseparable. Anytime you ended up at the pool at the same time, usually after a shift, you were together. Watching Colt play with other kids from some deck chairs, talking and sharing a slushie on his dime. Taking turns on the diving board, seeing you could do the most impressive thing. Swimming and splashing one another with giggles and arms around waists. You and Court grew closer with every shared sunscreen bottle, bag of chips, joke, and touch.
It was the weekend after Independence Day, when it was barely still acceptable to have patriotic decorations still up. The only teens that practically ran the place during those summer months, at least, didn’t care to take them down just yet. Red, white, and blue banners still dangling all over the place, the pair of you sat at the edge of the pool with your feet dangling in the cool water. It was almost dinner time, your momma was going to start worrying soon.
But you didn’t want to leave Court just yet. Didn’t want to leave that feeling he instilled in your heart just yet.
You sat close. Close enough that your friend group you all but ditched whispered to one another behind palms and giggled about it. Close enough that his thigh pressed against your bare one. Close enough that your elbows knocked together anytime either of you moved. Close enough to mean something.
Colt was playing in the water with another kid. Some game about saving the world or getting to the finish line first. You couldn’t really tell which. The conversation between you and Court had lulled minutes ago, morphing into a comfortable silence that left butterflies where your stomach should be.
Court was wearing sunglasses. Had been since he showed up at the pool that afternoon. Snug up against the bridge of his nose and pushed up at every chance he got. They were practically glued to his face.
You were just trying to be cute. Trying to flirt like you saw in TV shows. With a mischievous grin, you snatched those sunglasses right off of his face and put them on yourself.
You heard Court shout, “Don’t!” way too late.
By the time you looked up at him curiously, you could see, clear as day, the massive purple thing that was once his left eye. You slipped the sunglasses off, held limply between your fingers in your lap, to see if they were just tricking the light or something. But they weren’t. His eye was swollen shut and angry, black and blue and green around the edges. You swallowed thickly as he turned away from you.
“Court…”
You reached out and touched the top of his cheekbone, where the bruise came to an ugly stop, gently with the tips of your fingers. He flinched away from your touch, staring at his feet as they disappeared into the blue water.
“Who…Did Trevor do that?” you questioned.
“No,” he scoffed. “Trevor’s too much of a piss baby for that.”
“Then who?”
“I really don’t wanna talk about it.”
You cupped his cheek fully then. Turned him to face you with a furrowed brow and a willingness to do anything he asked. It broke something inside his chest to see you looking at him like that. No one looked at him like that. Not anymore. All the sincerity in the world that he probably would never deserve. That he was taught he didn’t deserve.
It just made him all the more in love with you but made him hate himself more.
He was just going to ruin you.
“I just wanna help,” you whispered, so soft over the noise of the pool.
With a shake of his head, Court snatched back his sunglasses and slipped them back on. “You can’t help with this.”
Your hand fell from his face. Your gaze went back towards the water. Good. He didn’t think he could handle anymore of your kindness that you so openly gave.
The two of you were quiet for a while after that. In that silence, out of the corner of your eye, you began to notice things about Court you never had before. It was like a veil was torn from your vision. You felt so stupid for never recognizing any of it before. The almost healed, barely there bruise on his ribs. The scabbed over cut in his hairline. The little raised, perfectly round scars on the top of his knee. How had you not seen? How had you not noticed?
Something inside your chest ached. Ached until it physically hurt. Until you couldn’t take it anymore and you placed your hand on top of his. Threaded your fingers together and squeezed, hoping he knew that you understood. That you were so sorry. That you wanted to flip the world upside down just so he would never hurt again. You leaned into his side, placed your head on his shoulder as you sighed.
What the hell was a fifteen-year-old girl supposed to do? She couldn’t fight back. She couldn’t save Court and Colt. She couldn’t do anything. But she could hold him. It felt like the only right thing in the world in that moment. Court flipped his hand so he could hold yours completely and squeezed back.
“Why don’t you just leave? You’ve got a job.” you whispered after a while.
He shook his head. “They’d just take Colt away. I’d…I’d never see him again.”
“So…What? You’re just gonna wait until you graduate?”
“That’s been the plan,” he sighed, “When I’m eighteen I can take it to court; become Colt’s legal guardian.”
“Then where’ll you go?”
“Far away from here.”
You didn’t know anyone your age that carried that kind of weight. None of your friends did. You were all too busy enjoying the summer before high school, feeling so adult without any of the responsibility. In some ways, past the first bikini and the lack of parental supervision, you were still just a kid. Playing pretend at being older. But Court wasn’t. He was only fifteen and he carried so much. The abuse. His brother. A job. It wasn’t just the summer. It was his entire life.
His hand was so warm in your own. It already felt like home. It already felt like something more than just getting too close.
“I’ll miss you. When you’re gone,” you said, plainly and honestly.
Court looked down at you, perched on his shoulder, and smiled. “You will?”
“But you’re not leaving just yet…Right?”
“Not yet.”
That summer, you had your first kiss with Court Gentry, sitting on the edge of the pool while the sun went down. That summer, you completely went against your momma’s advice.
You couldn’t stay away from those Gentry boys if you tried.
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buying vinyls with Harvey could be amazing date idea
It really would be, because it's such a Harvey date in a subtle way.
°❀.ೃ࿔*°-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
I can picture him taking you to a little record store on a Saturday afternoon.
The sun cutting through the window, casting long, dusty rectangles of gold across the wooden floor. Harvey standing in front of a crate marked “Jazz & Blues,” his fingers trailing over the spines of the sleeves with the kind of deliberate, almost reverent touch he usually reserves for contract signatures.
His suit jacket is off, draped over a nearby stack of albums, and his sleeves are rolled twice—the better to dig through vintage vinyl.
You watch him from the next aisle over, a stack of rock albums balanced on your hip.
There’s something almost obscene about the way he handles these fragile, aging records: the careful tilt of the cover, the way he blows a speck of dust off the inner sleeve, the low, appreciative hum when he pulls out a mint-condition Coltrane.
"You know most people would take their date somewhere normal."
Harvey barely glances up from the record in his hand.
"Most people aren't me."
You roll your eyes and reach for an album.
"You own three copies of this."
"This one's the original pressing."
"You literally said that about the last one."
"Because the last one was also an original pressing."
And suddenly it turns into a competition. They're wandering through aisles, teasing each other's music taste, trying to sneak ridiculous albums into each other's stacks when the other isn't looking.
Harvey acts annoyed when you pick something completely unexpected.
"Lana Del Rey? Really?"
"You're judging me while holding three different jazz records?"
"That's culture."
"That's old man behavior."
The offended look on his face would be priceless.
Then afterwards you'd get coffee and sit on his couch while he insists on playing every record they bought. Harvey would absolutely become one of those people who gives a five-minute speech before each album starts.
"Harvey—"
"No, seriously. Listen."
And halfway through, you'd realize he's not talking because he's trying to impress you. He's talking because he genuinely loves it.
Those are always the best Harvey dates. The ones where he's sharing something that actually matters to him. The expensive dinners are nice, but spending an afternoon digging through vinyls and listening to music afterward feels much more personal. It lets you see the version of Harvey that most people never get to see. ♡
Imagine Rocky figuring out that you and Ryland have a thing for each other so when you three are in the same space together on the Hail Mary, Rocky starts to come up with 'excuses' to leave just to get you and Ryland alone to see what happens. He's trying to be subtle, but unfortunately for the Eridian, nothing about him is subtle.
"Need inspection tool."
"Need calibration set."
"Rocky need not be here."
Ryland, god bless him, remains pretty oblivious to it and just mutters a small, "yeah, okay pal." to Rocky when he leaves but you pick up on the behavior pretty quickly and start losing your mind because talking to Rocky about it will be admitting to your feelings which... You're absolutely not ready for lol.
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if you're sitting on a fanfic idea because you think it's "too weird" or "too niche" I need you to understand something: the internet is VAST and FULL of people with your exact brand of weird. that crackship that makes sense only to you? there are at least 50 people who will read it and go "oh my god FINALLY." but even if there were ZERO? you still deserve to write the thing that makes your brain light up.