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meltwonu · 3 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 20] FINAL

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, shibari, dom!seungcheol, dirty talk, overstimulation/forced orgasms, squirting, degradation, name calling, daddy!kink, gags! 😍💕 ✨HAPPY NEW YEAR!!✨ Here’s to more fun fics in 2021! I can’t believe this is our last chapter though omg 😭 It’s been suuuuch a journey and a privilege to write this little series out! I’ve honestly thought about a camgirl/boy series for like, over a year now, and I’m glad I finally did it! I completed one of my goals! 🥺💕 2020 was definitely a wild one, but I want to thank you all so fuckin’ much for supporting me and stickin’ it out with me all year! Here’s to more in the coming year!💕 Also I was proofreading this at the dining table last night thinking my roommate wouldn’t come out of their room but they did(while I was making dinner and my hands were dirty so I couldnt close my laptop ☠️) and they walked past my laptop and now I’m convinced they saw my fucking smut fic right in the open so yes my little mini-break next week is MUCH needed cause I am ✨embarrassed✨ 🤣 I’ll still do my inbox roundup tomorrow and probably answer a bunch of small thirst posts ‘n stuff throughout the week but there won’t be any drabbles! For now, enjoy chapter 20 🥺, have a safe weekend, and remember that I love you~ ❤️🍒💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 COMPLETE

Seungcheol wakes up much earlier than you do the next morning; pressing a kiss to your forehead as you groan and snuggle deeper into your pillow.

“Baby, I need to go run some errands for a little bit, okay? Just keep sleeping, you don’t need to get up yet. But, I made breakfast and put it in the microwave for you when you decide to get up later.”

His voice is muffled and you can barely understand what he’s saying but you nod; a soft sigh on your lips when you drift back into dreamland. He takes his time getting ready, checking his phone notifications as he gets dressed and places a note on the nightstand knowing that you didn’t catch a single word he said.

‘Hey, did you get everything I asked for?’

Jimin🧍🏻: of course, who do you think I am? Jeongguk?

Jimin🧍🏻: and btw, i’m just giving you a crash course okay? We don’t really have a ton of time

Jimin🧍🏻: did you watch those tutorial videos I sent you?

‘Yeah, I did some practice on my breaks, but I guess you can tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.’

Jimin🧍🏻: okee, i’ll be waiting. Don’t get here too late!

‘I’ll be otw soon. Thanks again, Jimin.’

“Ow--damn, okay, you don’t need to tug on it so much!”

“Sorry, I’ll be careful! And why are we practicing on you anyway?! Couldn’t you just have shown me pictures or something?”

“How else will you learn if not on an actual body? It doesn’t work the same way, Seungcheol.” Jimin pauses, checking himself in the mirror. “Also, keep in mind she does have boobs so just… go slow, okay? It’s not gonna sit like this on her.”

Seungcheol blushes a crimson red; biting the inside of his cheek at how amateur he was at this.

“Okay…”

Seungcheol is gone for a lot longer than you anticipate and although he replies quickly to your texts, you can’t help but be curious about where he’d gone and what he was doing.

Especially knowing that the two of you had to film tonight and knowing that everything was up to Seungcheol.

A shiver rolls down your body at the thought and you quickly try to shake off the nerves that seem to slowly invade your body when your mind starts to wander.

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure…”

“I’m home!”

“Where have you--oh, that’s… a b-big box? Um, should I be concerned...”

Seungcheol grins, shrugging as he sets it onto the kitchen counter. “Just some supplies for tonight. I had to go pick them up from a friend but I had to make sure everything was right.” He notices the way you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the box; eyes twinkling when he makes his way towards you.

He tilts your head up to meet his in a searing kiss, lips easing into a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck and melt under his touch. You moan against his lips just before he pulls away; staring dreamily at him while his hands start to roam over your clothed body.

“We have a long night ahead of us, sweetheart. Let’s pamper you a little before then, hmm?”

j__min: ??? where’s the loverboy

j__min has donated $200

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

xcaliburDK has donated $75

xcaliburDK: is that the sybian? Haven’t seen that in a looong while

You bite your lip and nod, somewhat shy as you sit alone in front of the camera. “Seungcheol’s still… setting up but he told me to start! I’m a little nervous, to be honest…” Your eyes flit to Seungcheol who rummages through the box in the kitchen and from the angle you’re sat in, you can’t see a single thing he takes out.

Earlier, he’d cooked you your favorite meal and even took the time to give you a full body massage before the two of you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. To you, it seemed a little too suspiciously tame and you only found yourself more nervous when he made you drink two glasses of water and ever so quietly announced it was time to start getting ready for the camshow.

“He’s being so suspicious! He was even gone for a few hours earlier today…” You mumble; brows furrowed at the camera before checking the comments.

It still amazed you every time with how much money you and Seungcheol made from the camshows and videos and it made you feel even better knowing that everyone loved the chemistry the two of you had together. There were a lot of video requests and ideas mixed in with the comments at any given time and you were definitely ready to pitch some to Seungcheol now that you’d rebranded your channel to be a couple’s channel instead.

“Almost done, sweetheart!”

gc__koo: he told me to watch cuz he was being suspicious with me too

gc__koo has donated $50

alphagyu97: what is he even plotting

alphagyu97: i am excited to see the sybian again tho ngl

artist8hao: pretty baby gonna squirt for us again?

universe_WZ: hell fuckin yea let us see how fuckin wrecked you get on that machine

You feel your pussy clench around emptiness at their comments; already feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter with the anticipation.

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and Seungcheol walks towards the bed with a wide smile and the same box in hand. “Ready?” You can only nod back slowly, watching as he dumps the contents of the box right next to your body.

gc__koo: oy

chwenon: oh shit

sleepy_wonu: oh baby, you’re in for it now

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

Your entire body fills with warmth as you look over the various objects; unsure of where to really look first. “I, um--”

A stack of red ropes sits next to a small bullet vibrator that sits next to a ball gag that sits next to a pair of EMT shears and your eyes immediately flit up to Seungcheol who only smirks back at your shocked expression. “I had some other toys I wanted to use but I figured I should go easy on you, y’know? Since you showed me some mercy last night.”

Nodding, you reach out towards the ropes, touching them shyly. “Why red?”

“Thought they’d be on theme for you, babygirl.”

Seungcheol takes his time; remembering Jimin’s words when he tugs the ropes around your wrists.

“Colour, babygirl?”

“G-green… daddy…”

He nods, sitting up on his knees behind you as you sit on the sybian and face the camera. You bite your lip, somewhat embarrassed that you were already soaking the toy underneath you as Seungcheol worked to bind your arms behind you.

“D--daddy, where did you l-learn this?” You whisper, somewhat curious if this had anything to do with why he was gone for so long earlier in the day.

“Mm, daddy’s friend Jimin was kind enough to help me get the tools and teach me a few tricks to make sure I kept my babygirl safe. Wasn’t that kind of him?” You nod gently, gulping when you shift atop the machine slightly in hopes of relieving some of the growing sexual tension in your body. “Why don’t you thank him properly, sweetheart?”

Your hazy eyes make eye contact with the camera, head tilted slightly. “T-thank you, J-Jimin… for--for helping daddy…”

j__min: omg a shoutout ive made it

kitty_junjun: we never thought we’d see the day

tangerine_kwan: and here we all thought you were gonna be the bad guy huh

hoshi_tiger_xx: like when u only see previews of the book online but the rest of it is different ykwim

Seungcheol makes sure your arms are bound snug enough but not too tight; leaning away slightly to admire his rope work. “Feeling okay so far, babygirl?”

Nodding, you whine back slightly. “Y-yes, daddy… But… my--my pussy wants s-something…” He laughs in return, readjusting so that he’s sitting on your side this time to give himself easier access to start the rest of the bindings.

“Is that so? You’re gonna have to be a little more patient this time ‘cause daddy’s not done yet.” He starts working on the rest of the harness; going slow and checking in with you often to make sure none of the ropes were digging into your skin or making you uncomfortable. “You’ll have to forgive me a little though, I’m admittedly a ‘lil inexperienced so our pretty babygirl is only going to be tied up in this pretty harness for tonight.”

gentleman_josh95: the fact u even took the time to learn just for her

gentleman_josh95 has donated $100

artist8hao: seriously, the dedication

kitty_junjun: we stan a man who knows safety and etiquette

Comments of reassurance and donations flood in at Seungcheol’s small apology and although the two of you are in your own world; you can tell from just the amount of pings coming from your laptop that they all seemed to be encouraging him.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as Seungcheol continues to move around you on the bed to finish the harness and a smile graces his lips when he starts to secure the last knots in the back. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back at how neatly he’d done it for his first time.

“There. All done, baby.”

Your eyes flit to the laptop’s screen to see yourself; cheeks hot when you see how fucked out you already look and he hadn’t even touched you properly or turned on the machine.

The star harness Seungcheol had tied looks pretty with red ropes and you can’t hide your smile at how good it looks on you too either. “Ah, daddy made it really p-pretty… Thank you.”

This time, Seungcheol nods, letting you admire yourself as he silently reaches for the small remote for the sybian, switching it on.

Your entire body lurches forward as soon as the vibrations attack your clit and you immediately find yourself moaning and grinding down onto the machine as he gives you some relief.

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Now let’s really have some fun, huh?”

You need to cum.

Badly.

“Awww, is my pretty baby drooling? Does it feel that good on your sensitive ‘lil clit?” He teases, smoothing down your hair as you cry around the ball gag in your mouth; drool seeping out from the side of your lips when he raises the vibrations a setting higher.

You don’t know how many times he’d played with the settings and edged you by now, but all you do know is that the urge to cum only grows stronger as you grind against the machine, soaking it with your wetness as you chase the pleasure building up in your body again.

Surely cumming was okay, right? He never said you couldn’t.

You whimper around the ball gag, eyes fluttering shut when the tension in your body snaps in the blink of an eye and your thighs clamp down onto the sides of the machine. Throwing your head back, you moan against the gag and ride out your high as Seungcheol watches you from the side.

“Mm, bet that felt good, huh? But I know you want something in that greedy ‘lil cunt of yours, don’t you? You want daddy’s cock slamming into your tight ‘lil hole ‘til it’s full of my cum, right, sweetheart?” He licks his lips, turning off the sybian as you slump forward.

universe_WZ: shit shes so sensitive

chwenon: especially with her arms bound like that i bet she’s on cloud nine rn

gentleman_josh95: her cute lil head is probably all fuzzy already from all the sensations

therealchan99 has donated $100

gc__koo has donated $75

j__min has donated $150

All you can do is whimper and nod; teary eyes blinking back at Seungcheol as he smirks and leans in towards you.

“Mmm, you’ll get what you want eventually. But for now, you’re gonna cum again.”

He turns the sybian back on, licking his lips when he sees your body tensing again. It was always easier to get you to cum a second time and his point is proven when you mewl around the ball gag a few minutes later; chest heaving in stuttered breaths as you try to shy away from the toy still vibrating against your overly sensitive clit when you’re quickly thrown into another orgasm.

“You always cum for daddy so easily, don’t you, babygirl?”

Your head feels fuzzy after already cumming twice in such a short span of time but you nod, head lolling to the side as Seungcheol finally turns the sybian off for good.

Seungcheol gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s scooting in and fiddling with the clasps at the back of your head to take the ball gag off.

A thread of saliva connects your lips to the gag and you whimper at how good it feels to be able to actually speak again. “D-daddy…” Drool drips from your mouth as your lead lolls forward and Seungcheol is quick to bring a hand up to keep your head up as he looks into your lust filled eyes.

“Colour, sweetheart?”

“Still g-green…” He nods back, checking to make sure none of the ropes had shifted. “Would you like some water before we continue, baby?”

“Yes, daddy…”

He fetches you a glass of water, tilting it against your lips as you down the entire glass and you find yourself a little surprised at how needed it was. “Thank you, d-daddy…”

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Ready to keep going?”

You nod, a little bit more energized. “I hope everyone, mmh, l-likes the show so f-far~” Your teary vision prevents you from reading the comments and before you can even make an effort to, Seungcheol is already helping you off of the machine and helping you sit on the bed across from him.

alphagyu97: ugh she looks so fucking good in that harness

angelhan: right? That shade of red looks so good against her skin too

angelhan: so fuckin pretty

tangerine_kwan: pics for the private room later? Plz i beg

Seungcheol takes this time to take off his boxer briefs, cock curving up against his abdomen when he’s fully naked across from you. He wraps a hand around his cock, moaning and spreading the precum down his shaft as you watch. “D’you want this, baby?”

Your lips fall open in a silent moan as you watch Seungcheol jerk himself off and you can’t help but squirm. “Y-yes…”

“Tell me exactly what you want then. Let them hear what a filthy little slut you are for me.” You can’t help but feel miserably empty watching him and despite having already cum twice, you want his cock fucking you open and making you cum again.

“I--I--”

“Yes, babygirl?”

“I, ngh, I want d-daddy’s cock… Please? Ah, I--I wanna feel you fucking my--my pussy into the, mmh, s-shape of your c-cock… And I w-want you to c-cum inside my--my slutty little h-hole…”

Seungcheol scoffs, hips shallowly thrusting up into his enclosed fist. “That’s right. You’re just my slutty ‘lil babygirl that lets me use all her tight holes how I please, right? You like it when I cum down your throat and in your pretty ‘lil ass. But we all know you like it best when I cum in your hot ‘lil cunt. Makes you feel all warm and full, doesn’t it? You like it when my cum is dripping out of your spent cunt and sliding down your shaky thighs.” This time you nod furiously as you whine back in response.

“P-please… Can’t wait any--anymore!”

This time, the impatience takes over as you slightly tug on the ropes; whining when they don’t give. “Daddy!”

And this time, he gives in quicker than he anticipates, growling as he reaches for the EMT shears to cut you from the harness. “Don’t let your arms down, no matter how much you want to. You’re going to strain your arms if you move too fast so let me handle it, okay, sweetheart?”

The sudden gentleness in his voice has a giddy warmth pouring over you as you nod and sit still while he cuts at various points of the harness to make the ropes fall loose around your arms and chest. You keep your arms in the same position like he requested and you soon feel his hands roaming your skin and massaging your arms to get the blood flowing again.

“You’re so good for me, baby.” He whispers against your hair, leaning down to kiss your shoulder before he slowly easing your arms down from being folded behind your back.

He continues to massage your arms for a few more minutes before it’s you that’s getting impatient. “Daddy… Can you fuck me now?” Whispering, you slightly turn your body to the side to meet his gentle stare.

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, nodding. “Lay on your back for me, legs spread.”

You follow his orders as you quickly scramble to get into position; legs spread wide for him to situate himself between.

“Mm, your pussy is still so fuckin’ wet. I wanna taste you on my tongue, baby.” Whines spill from your lips as you shake your head ‘no.’

“No! My p-pussy feels empty, I need y-your cock, daddy… ‘n I’m so wet, you can probably, ah, just s-slide your cock in…”

He wraps a hand around his cock just as you wrap your legs around his waist and he guides himself until the head of his cock is right at your entrance.

Neither of you say a word as he slowly starts to sink his cock in; guttural moans on his lips when he meets no resistance and bottoms out in a singular thrust. “Holy fuck, your cunt is so fuckin’ wet. Shit, and so t-tight!” You clench around him, already feeling good with his cock inside of you as you beg him to fuck you hard and fast.

“Ngh, p-please fuck me like--like I’m your, hah, c-cocksleeve… I want it f-fast, daddy!”

He grits his teeth at your words; drawing his hips back before snapping them into you just how you wanted. “Fast, hmm? All you think about in that pretty head of yours is my cock pounding you open, huh? Slamming into you so fuckin’ good, it makes your toes curl when you cum.”

Seungcheol starts a quick pace, already feeling the pleasure building up for himself when you’re reduced to garbled noises and broken cries of his name. The heels of your feet dig into the small of his back as you try to press him in closer and he’s quick to reach for the small bullet vibrator left on the bed next to your body.

“Your body is so fuckin’ sensitive, I can already feel how tight you’re getting around me. So fuckin’ greedy to cum too. Already came twice and you still want more. You’re not satisfied until your whole body is shaking underneath me, huh, sweetheart?” He turns the small toy on, pressing it to your clit as you yelp and let out choked sobs.

“Ah, ngh, d-daddy, my--my clit’s t-too sen--sensitive! I--I can’t--!” Squirming, you feel the pressure building up obscenely quick; bottom lip quivering when he takes one of your free hands and makes you hold the toy to your swollen clit.

“Just a little more, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna cum?”

He angles his thrusts to graze against your g-spot and loud cries of his name leave your lips in a hurried, jumbled mess when he only doubles his pace.

The sound of donations and comments pour in like water and get lost within the ringing in your ears; unable to even warn Seungcheol that you’re about to cum when you feel your entire body starting to lock up underneath him.

Your lips part in a silent scream and your back bows off of the bed, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum for the third time. Seungcheol growls, fucking you through it as you squirt all over his lower half. He finds it harder and harder to thrust into you as you cum, but he feels himself quickly following suit with your warm walls fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, that’s right. Squirt for me, get me fuckin’ soaked while you cum.” He uses a free hand to make sure you keep the toy pressed to your clit, growling when he starts to unload his cum inside of you. “Mmh, gonna fill your cunt up with what you want, baby.”

A shaky moan leaves your lips as you feel him throbbing inside your pussy; walls clamped down onto him in a vice grip as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm.

“Ah, d-daddy’s cumming suh--so much inside of my p-pussy…”

Whining, you feel Seungcheol’s grip on your hand give way as he rides out his pleasure and you take the opportunity to turn off the small bullet vibrator while he doesn’t notice.

You watch his face contort in pleasure, hips still shallowly thrusting into you as his entire body shivers above you.

“D-daddy’s so h-handsome...” You mumble, cheeks hot when he cracks a smile through the pleasure wracking his body and chuckles under his breath.

“Thank you, babygirl.”

After you end the show, Seungcheol makes sure to cuddle with you on the bed for a little while longer.

“One more glass of water, baby.” You whine in response, pouting up at him before he gets up from the soaked sheets.

“But I already had a glass! If you have a piss kink just say so, ‘Cheol!”

He lets out a boisterous laugh at your comment, trudging back to the bed from the kitchen with another glass of water for you. “You need to be hydrated, sweetheart. You came three times and we played a little more rough today. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine, but you didn’t deny my comment.” You snarkily reply, taking the glass from him as you down the water.

“Don’t make me have to punish you again! I’ll have you know I still need to get you all washed up and change the bed--”

A faint pinging has the two of you turning to the laptop; still on your camming homepage from where you’d checked the revenues from tonight’s show.

A small [1] sits above your inbox and Seungcheol is quick to turn to you with an eyebrow raised. “I thought you turned off the messaging system on your profile?”

You tilt your head in confusion, handing him the emptied glass. “I did. The only messages I should get are from, like, the actual system admins or other creator accounts which, I haven’t received any ‘til... now, I guess?”

Seungcheol sets the glass down onto the nightstand before he takes a seat next to you, dragging the laptop closer as you go to check the notification.

“’Love&Letter Films’? Aren’t they one of the biggest adult film companies?” Mumbling, you click on the message, giving yourself and Seungcheol a second to process the message that stares back at you; a shocked smile on your lips.

‘Hello!

I hope this message finds Cherry and Seungcheol well.

We, at ‘Love&Letter Films’, have really enjoyed the shows and videos from your channel throughout the years and we really have enjoyed watching the growth of your channel and the addition of Seungcheol to it. The dynamics between the two of you are rare in this industry and we’ve yet to see anyone like the two of you in this market.

The shows from the last two nights have proven that the two of you have the right kind of chemistry to film together for bigger productions and we would love to hire you for a few film productions we have planned in the upcoming weeks as a feeler. Of course, all expenses paid by us if you would kindly take our offer.

We love the various scenes and roles that the two of you take on with ease and we would love to help propel your careers forward, should you pursue a career in the adult entertainment industry.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me as I’ve listed my contact information below. I’m excited to hear from the two of you and hope to work with you in the future on many projects.

Respectfully,

Kwon Soonyoung, L&L FILMS CEO’

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups #seungcheol #svt fic #seventeen fic

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angelguk · 4 years

Text

→ (better) left unsaid — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jeongguk

word count: 2.8k

genre: angst + pining + best friends au + yes i stole a whole song from terrace house 2019-2020 (thank you kenny for the lyrics and risako for inspiring the song) + lead singer of an indie band!jk + based on (roughly) 2 requests + i slightly altered the song kenny wrote please don’t judge me 4 my song writing skills + listen to the soundtracks it enhances the experience

soundtracks: why can’t i have you, gloria laing + angela, flower face

Jeongguk looks ethereal. Even from your position in the crowd, you can’t help but slip into a state of awe over the way the golden stage lights falter through his tousled curls. He glows, up there. An angel with a guitar and a charming smile. The music moves with him, gliding from the swift skip of his hand across the strings, coaxing out a melody that fluxes through you. You’ve heard this song a million times - he’d played it just for you before he ever hopped on the stage and began singing out those lyrics for everyone else in this cramped hall. And yet, tonight feels like the very first time. Neither of you had anticipated this type of turn out. In this small town, events like this made little impact; nobody cared about a loud boy and his even louder band. They were an invisible ripple in the lake of ordinary life. But not tonight. Tonight they are everything. There are people in this hall that you’ve never even seen before. You’d heard mumbles about someone driving in from the town over. Whispers of someone mentioning streaming them on Spotify. A girl squealing over a picture Taehyung posted on his Instagram moments before the show kicked off. It’s strange, gazing up at the boy you’ve known for over a decade in this sea of bodies that jostle you around. You feel a little faceless, a little distant. Like a lump of driftwood. But your eyes don’t leave him - they can’t. He just looks so perfect up there. Like he belongs on that stage, beneath the heat of those lights, singing his heart out through songs he wrote on the floor of your bedroom.

It’s bittersweet. This moment. And perhaps that’s why you start crying.

You don’t notice the tears until some girl nudges your shoulder, wordlessly passing over a packet of pocket tissues. Her gaze is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand instead.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” She tries instead. She has to lean in to your space to utter those words over the sharp rapping of Taehyung’s drums. Jeongguk silvery timbre can't drown out the shrill of her voice in your ear.

“Yeah. They are.” You choke over those words but you act like you don’t. The wan smile on her lips falters for a second before she swiftly picks it up. And then she’s opening her mouth again. You’d like it if she closed it instead. Something about this conversation is tainting the brilliance of this moment.

“My friends and I are gonna try and meet them after the show. Do you wanna come with us? I bet that’ll cheer you up.” You barely hid the scoff that slips from your throat. The little “I know them” sits smugly on your tongue. But you don’t want to give her that piece of information. She’d begin pestering for behind stage access immediately. And from her incapacity to read the hostility in your gaze you can tell she's persistent. That or just incredibly dim.

“No, thank you,” you say instead, handing back the pocket tissues. It’s in that instance that you properly take a look at her. Dainty smile, long straight hair, bright brown eyes and a figure you can notice without your gaze even dipping downwards. Jeongguk would like her. He always ended up liking girls like her.

She just gawks at you, a brief moment of confusion clouding over her features before she huffs and turns back to her friends. You don’t miss the way she pointedly aims her back in your direction, despite your bodies being right next to each other. You can’t even bother to pretend to care because you don’t. Your eyes float back to the stage before your brain can even register it. The song is nearly over, beads of sweat already forming along his hairline. Even with exhaustion dragging over him, Jeongguk looks good. He always looks good. Effortlessly so. And when he finishes the song with a little shake of his head and a pleasant note that pulls a vein along his neck with his eyes locked on the crowd, you feel it. A dangerous spark that pangs through your chest. Fast and hard and aching to be heard. You deafen it with the earsplitting roars of the audience, a remark from the girl beside you sailing over your head.

“He’s so hot.”

The short sentence is possessive enough for you to guess her intentions for attempting to go backstage with clarity. But she’s not wrong either. Jeongguk is hot. He’s always been hot. Hot even when he accidentally stained his scalp purple when he dyed it for the first time. Hot when he’s got an old stain marring his grey sweatpants. Hot when he’s camped on your couch playing video games when his house is right next door and the couch in there is empty. Hot when he’s dumping a whole pack of Hot Cheetos down his throat. Hot when he’s crawling into your lap, requesting for a post maths homework cuddle session for recovery purposes. Hot when he flings rocks at your window and asks you to come outside when he could just send you a text.

(Yes, he broke your window once. No, your mom didn’t come for his neck like she would have if you had done it - all because Jeongguk was the son she never had).

It makes the pang in your heart hurt even more. Because you’ve always looked at Jeongguk through that lens - even though you tried your best to never see him that way. And you’re sure he’s never seen you in that light.

Except once - once you thought you saw him look at you like that. Like you were his entire world. And he never wanted to lose you. You remember it vividly; it's embedded in your memory. A slither of hope that spurred the fire in your heart. Just that one moment. It’s all you ever needed. It’s all you ever wanted.

“New York?” There was a lilt of incredulity in his tone, followed by a quick straight snap of his spine as he examined your gaze. “You’re leaving for New York?”

You hadn't been able to say yes, your throat sealed with sentiments you’d never dared to express. So you hummed instead, the minute sound accompanied with a brief nod of your head.

He’d fallen silent, still looking at you as if you’d sprouted a second head and started levitating. And then his eyes hit the floor, soft curls tumbling into his line of vision, a strange stillness descended upon the both of you.

“New York.” He’d said it again as if murmuring it would make it any less true.

“It’s a great school, Jeongguk. I didn’t even think I would get in.” That’s a lie. You did think you had a chance to get in. You would have cried if you’d opened the email to a rejection letter instead of an offer one. But the despondency that had slunk over Jeongguk’s face made you hold onto your words. The fact that he still hadn’t congratulated you spoke wonders.

“Oh. Well, congratulations.” He had read the expectancy in your tone but there’s no jubilance in his. And when he next glanced up his gaze was guarded, like he’s hiding something from you. “If there’s anyone that deserves it, it’s you.” But he said it with his eyes trained on the wall behind you.

For some reason that didn’t feel compliment. And when you had attempted to launch into an explanation about the school and its perfect Co-Op program and all the things you couldn’t wait to experience, Jeongguk had halted you, spiralling into a monologue about the new song he’d written the day before. You couldn’t get another word in before he tugged his guitar into his lap and strummed out a melody. He was usually like that - but just for that day. Just for that one day, you expected more from him.

And then he’d given it to you. When he finally had to leave, he’d looked at you for a moment. A long moment. Something swimming behind the honey of his eyes. The sigh that fell from his lips was heavy, weighted down with words you felt trapped in your chest. The hug he’d pulled you in was tight as if Jeongguk was grappling for the words he longed to put his thoughts into. His chest pressed flushed into yours, an odd erratic beating echoing between the two of you. But the moment his arms lifted from your waist, whatever was ruminating in his head was gone. Vanished into thin air; nothing but a phantom in your room.

Remembering that doesn’t help the pain gripping at your heart. Because today was your last day at home. You had to leave tomorrow in order to make it in time for Orientation Week. This was your very last night with him - the ending of your last summer with him. Summer had been summer; saturated with memories you’ll reminisce over on nights alone, even before your age reveals itself in the wrinkles of your skin. But something about it had felt lacklustre. Perhaps it was the distance Jeongguk kept from you, a sudden barrier erected in the middle of your friendship. He'd spent less time in your home, preferring to crash over at his band-mates or just avoid you altogether. You still gravitated towards each other whenever you happened to be at the same place, an invisible thread stringing your souls together. Yet, Jeongguk still held you afar, despite your attempts to tug him closer. Which is all you ever wanted to do - hold him closer.

The final soft note of the song is strung out, suspended over the crowd like reminiscents of silage. It coaxes you out of your thoughts, gaze gravitating towards the stage. There’s a jolt in your system when your eyes lock on Jeongguk’s. He’s staring at you hard, a strange determination lingering in the way he looks at you. You don’t even hear it, the thunderous applause that spills from the crowd too caught in deciphering what his eyes are telling you. Jeongguk does though, body falling lax at approval from the audience. His fingertips stay fiddling with his guitar as he launches into a transition speech, the smile on his face radiant. You let the words drone over you, mind commemorating the happiness that illuminates his face at this moment. Nothing can describe the bashful blush rising underneath his golden skin and the bright star-like glimmer in his eyes but you try your best to commit this to your memory. Jeongguk looks effervescent up there. Burning like a star on the verge of a supernova.

“This next song,” Jeongguk states, the baritone in his voice filling your chest. “Is for someone I hold dear to my heart. It’s a new one, and I hope you love it as much as I do.” That catches your attention. Jeongguk hadn’t played anything new at rehearsal. He hadn’t shown you any new lyrics either. There’s a sudden heat building in your chest - but you can’t distinguish whether it’s from betrayal or excitement.

Jeongguk gaze skips over you, and then he sighs, a soft sound that echoes from his microphone. “Sometimes, I find it hard to say what I feel. Especially when I feel strongly about something - or someone. I end up keeping it all to myself. But, I would just like to say, to the person who this song is for, I mean every word of it. I hope you don’t mind me saying it in a song,” There’s a huff of a laugh fumbling out of his mouth, “I just can’t find the courage to say it to you in person.”

It’s like your brain stops. Every function halted. You don’t miss the pointed glance he gives your way before he starts strumming again. Taehyung follows the rhythm, his drums producing a beat that syncopates with the thrumming of your heart. You’ve never heard him play those chords before, your palms already growing clammy as your eyes glue themselves to the stage.

When his mouth drops open, a delicate note gliding from his lips, your heart stops.

“Those nights you can’t sleep

I can see you’re feeling

Alone tonight, alone tonight

In exchange for those dark nights,

Without shining stars,

I’ll be your light, be your light.”

Your head feels hot; eyes warm with the torrent of tears you struggle to hold back. The crowd is silent, swaying along to the comforting sound of Jeongguk’s voice. You can barely breathe, throat clogged with the myriad of emotions you can’t organise in your head because all you can hear is the loud frenetic beating of your heart. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk’s gaze does not stray from your own, steady despite the tremor you notice in the fingers plucking out the chords of this song. Your song. It’s evident from his direct stare that he’s singing it to you. And you don’t know what to make of it. There are too many people in this jammed hall for you to let your feelings reveal themselves, but the faint smile tugging at your lips is enough for Jeongguk to keep going, a strange burst of confidence ebbing through his chest. He projects the chorus loud and clear. The words gently glide through the air, wrapping themselves around your heart.

“Wherever you are,

Whatever time of day,

I’ll run to you,

I’ll be there for you,

Tonight and forever.”

You’re suddenly aware of the new wetness covering your cheeks, a tiny sob drifting from your throat as your palm roughly wipes at the tears in your eyes. It’s sudden, this ardent rush of adoration that saturates your system. So fast that you nearly choke again, blatantly ignoring the pointedly appalled look the girl beside you throws in your direction. The bow of your head is automatic, palm holding back the sob that threatens to escape your lips. He’s still singing, pushing past the own clog in this throat because he’ll never get another chance to tell you this again. It hurts, even from up here, seeing the shudder of your shoulders as you cry. He’d noticed it during the previous song, your tears. The doubt in him had reared its head and Jeongguk nearly tossed this song from the set list. But it had taken a lot of determination on his part to pen out the things you make him feel. He’d never been able to tell you this but Jeongguk loves you. Loves you more than anything he’s ever had the chance to love. He’d first picked up the guitar because you hadn’t been able to stop talking about Hyunmin’s guitar skills after summer camp when you were nine. And it had just spiralled from there; Jeongguk doing anything and everything to get him to look at you as more than a friend but you never did. Not once. As a result, he’d given up. Attempted to erase the lens of love from his vision whenever he looked at you. It had been hard but Jeongguk had learnt how to keep that part of him buried, too afraid to lose the most significant person in his life with the greed of his heart. Then you told him you were leaving, and he felt himself shatter into pieces.

There are people that you think are going to be a part of your life forever, simply because you wouldn’t be you without them there. Jeongguk thought that about you. You’d seen all of him; the good, the ugly and the terrible. And you had stayed. Even when Jeongguk didn’t want to be around himself, you were there. So for you to just leave - leave like you didn't need him in your life in the first place, hit like a punch to the face. He’d tried to brush it off, smiled and congratulated you when he found out, but everything in him wanted to ask you to stay. Just stay, for him. But he knows he can’t do that - doesn’t have the right to do that. You’re too luminous for this small town, and you deserve to shine with the other stars in this galaxy, not fade away into darkness.

And yet, he still aches to ask you to stay. But he'd never do that. It'd taken him over a decade to tell you that he loved you. And he was doing it indirectly too. Jeongguk doesn't have the heart to be that selfish. Even though he's hurting inside, he knows the best thing he can do is keep that little desire to himself. Let the hand holding you tight grow loose.

“How can I mirror,

Everything you pour into me?

If there’s nothing more I can do

Then I need to set you free.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #jungkook fanfic #yeah this is uhhh something

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Seven: Clips 9-11

master list

...

Donderdag 18:03

Sander: Hey, how was your stream?

Robbe: It was okay. Were you watching me? Because I literally just hit ‘end stream.’

Sander: No, I’m just now leaving work. Did you want to meet up for dinner?

Robbe: I can’t today. I’m going to meet my mom for dinner. Thursday is our weekly dinner.

Sander: Right, of course. For some reason, I thought it was Wednesday. Which is all the more reason for my text.

Robbe: What text?

Sander: Pack a bag when you get home.

Robbe: What for?

Sander: It’s a surprise ;) But make sure you bring a swimsuit and some shorts.

Robbe: What? What do I need a swimsuit for? Sander?

Sander: It’s a surprise, Robbe. The point is for you not to know.

Robbe: I’m not the biggest fan of surprises.

Sander: It’s a good one, I promise. Just getting some alone time is all.

Robbe: Okay. Does that mean I’m not streaming this weekend?

Sander: Just Saturday. I’ll have you home in time to stream on Sunday ;)

Robbe: Okay, I’ll pack a bag when I get home from dinner.

Sander: Great :) I’ll pick you up at 17:30 tomorrow? My shift ends at 17:00.

Robbe: I’ll see you then.

Sander: Yes :) Call me later?

Robbe: Of course. Wouldn’t miss it :)

…

Donderdag 18:28

As soon as Robbe stepped into her apartment, he could see the knowing look on his mama’s face. Her lips were upturned into a smile and her eyes followed Robbe into the apartment. As they were sitting down to eat their takeout (because his mama had to work late and was too hungry to cook), his phone vibrated on the table. Once the vibration started, the chorus of Rebel, Rebel played shortly after. Robbe rushed to turn it off, knowing it was a text from Sander, and fought the grin he knew was growing on his lips.

His mama watched his actions with a knowing look in her eyes. In an attempt to hide the blush on his cheeks, Robbe ducked his head. But avoiding her gaze did not stop her from asking, with a teasing tone, “Since when do you listen to David Bowie?”

Robbe giggled, feeling his cheeks flush a little more. “I’ve been listening to him recently is all,” Robbe said, shrugging. He bit his lip and didn’t look up at his mother. “His music is amazing.”

“Ah okay,” his mother said. From the light tone of her voice, Robbe could tell that his mother wasn’t buying it at all. She crossed her arms at the edge of the table and turned towards him with a critical eye. “Well, you certainly look happier than you did last week,” his mama said. She leaned towards him with a bright smile on her face and asked, “Does this have to do with Sander? Did you two figure things out?”

Robbe could feel the blush rising on his cheeks and dipped his head down a little further. His mother let out a giggle as Robbe said, “Yeah, we did and we’re together now.” His mama grinned excitedly at him, her dimples popping. “After work on Friday, he came over and we talked about what happened.” They didn’t talk until the morning, but Robbe was never going to admit that to his mother. “He spent the weekend and we went out to dinner on Tuesday.”

His mother smiled. “That’s so sweet, I’m happy for you,” his mama said. As Robbe placed his phone on silent and deposited his phone into his pocket, his mama dumped the contents of her to-go container onto the plate in front of her. Once his mama glanced up, catching his eye, she added, “I can’t wait to meet Sander.” Robbe swallowed. “I can see that he makes you so happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“About that—” Robbe started.

“What? Does he not make you happy?” his mama asked, confused.

“No, no, he does,” Robbe said, smiling. “I promise.” His mama nodded her head. As Robbe struggled to find the words, she kept herself angled toward him as she cut up her food. “I was thinking about you meeting him.” His mama stayed quiet, keeping her eyes focused on him, but Robbe could still see the confusion and worry in her eyes… and he hadn’t even asked the question yet. “Sander and I were talking the other day and he has next Thursday evening off, so I was wondering if you might want to meet him then?”

“I’m not sure,” his mama said, taking a bite of her food. Once she swallowed, she continued. “I know how important he is to you. I want to make sure that I meet him on a good day so I don’t scare him away.” The words made Robbe’s stomach twist—because Robbe knew that she would never scare anyone away—but he kept quiet. “So, maybe, we’ll talk about it next Wednesday? That way we can put everything together and make sure it's a good day for me.”

Since the moment that his father had left them when he was 15, Robbe had vowed that he and his mama would be a package deal. Robbe loved his mama with everything he had and he wanted her in his life for as long as he could manage. Because his father left when things got too much, Robbe was left to help her with the pieces and took care of her on the days where she couldn’t get out of bed.

And his mother knew this.

Maybe it was why she put so much pressure on having a good day when she was meeting his boyfriends and why she was always sad when Robbe insisted on coming over on bad ones. On his mother’s bad days, Robbe felt it tenfold and took care of her because he knew that was what she needed. Sometimes, she welcomed his help, knowing that she needed to be taken care of occasionally. Other days, she despised it and it made her feel like a burden.

At the end of the day, Robbe loved his mama with every fiber of his being and he would always take care of her. His mama loved him just as much—if not more. Since the months she spent in the hospital, Robbe wanted to do anything he could to help her feel better. He knew that he could never completely help her the way that she needed—he wasn’t her doctor nor was he studying to become one—but he wanted to help with the little things, such as washing the dishes or helping with dinner.

And, if she insisted, he would wait so she could meet Sander on a good day, knowing that it would help relieve her anxiety.

It was why, instead of arguing, Robbe reached over to take her hand. She gripped his hand back, shaking slightly, and Robbe pretended not to notice. Running his thumb along the knuckles of her hand, Robbe said, “We can play it by ear. I just wanted to ask you before I asked him.” Smiling, Robbe added, “I just really want him to meet my mama.”

“I really want to meet him, too,” his mama said, sounding calmer. “Maybe we can talk on Tuesday and set it up.” Robbe nodded, grinning over at her. Before Robbe turned back to his food, she added, “But, if I’m feeling bad on Thursday, we can reschedule to the following week.”

“Alright, Mama,” Robbe said. “Whether it’s next Thursday or the one after, it sounds wonderful and I know Sander will be excited to meet you.”

His mama smiled, turning to her food. Letting out a laugh, she pushed herself to her feet and moved to the microwave as she took her container with her. Giggling, she said, “We talked so long that our food is getting cold. Do you want me to heat yours up, sweetheart?” Robbe shook his head and his mama smiled at him before turning back to the microwave.

…

Vrijdag 18:39

No matter how much Robbe asked, Sander remained tight-lipped about where they were going.

During their phone call after Robbe got home from his mama’s, he pestered Sander into giving him information but the only response he got was a teasing smirk and a, “Do you not know the definition of a ‘surprise,’ Robin?” Throughout the rest of the call, Sander had teased him about what they were going to do but gave no real details or explanations. The teasing had only increased the nervous and exhilarating buzz that was present beneath his skin.

Not knowing where they were going frustrated Robbe to no end.

However, at the same time, he was also eagerly anticipating whatever it was that Sander planned for their weekend getaway. Throughout his Friday afternoon stream—moved up to accommodate their trip—he was frequently phasing out of the match and getting killed when he shouldn’t have. About halfway into the second hour of the stream, his chat had a frightening realization and started screaming, or posting in all caps, “OH MY GOD, HE’S GOT A NEW BOYFRIEND,” which simply led to Robbe blushing profusely.

Once he ended his stream, right at 17:00, Robbe made one last check that he packed everything that Sander had told him to bring as well as other necessities. Swimsuit, shorts, shirts, underwear, phone charger, shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush… Robbe had packed everything. Now, all he had to do was wait for Sander to arrive at the flatshare to pick him up. As Robbe paced around his room for the fourth time, his phone dinged, announcing Sander’s arrival.

Sander: I’m downstairs ;)

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Robbe exited his bedroom and stepped into the hallway. Making sure to grab his phone and keys, he shouted goodbye into the nearly-empty apartment and practically flew toward the elevator. Outside the building, Sander was leaning against the passenger side door and grinned flirtatiously at him as Robbe approached.

“Where are we going?” Robbe asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

Sander leaned down to kiss him and Robbe eagerly stood on his toes to meet him. Sander’s arms wrapped low on Robbe’s waist, pulling them flushed together. Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s neck, tugging him closer. Sander let out a low noise before pulling back. “Come on,” he said. Sander stood from against the door, taking Robbe with him, and opened the door with one hand. “We better get going.”

Robbe raised an eyebrow. Sander’s hand on his waist guided him toward the door. “But where are we going?”

A teasing smile spread across Sander’s face. “Get in the car and you’ll see.”

“Sanderrrrrrr.”

Once Robbe got in the passenger side, tossing his bag in the back seat, Sander closed the door behind him and moved to the driver’s side. Before they drove off, Sander started the David Bowie playlist. While Robbe wasn’t surprised, he also recognized the playlist immediately. Whenever the two of them were together, the playlist was always playing. Sander turned up the volume, sending him a grin, as Robbe simply rolled his eyes. Before driving away, Sander leaned over to press one final kiss against his lips.

Throughout the drive, Sander held Robbe’s hand and quizzed him on the songs that came through the speakers. With each correct answer, Sander would beam over at him and squeeze his hand. Whenever he was struggling, Sander would give him hints and tease him the entire time. If he got a question wrong, Sander would tell him and remark that he needed to “study up” for his exam.

After an hour of listening to David Bowie, Sander exited the highway. Still gripping Robbe’s hand, he navigated down long roads without pausing. Even though he could sense they were getting close now, Robbe still did not have a clue where Sander was taking him. As Sander guided them with expert ease, Robbe stared out the window, his eyes finding the large trees that stretched to the sky.

Unexpectedly, Sander slowed down and the blinker of the car flipped on. After a few minutes of wandering down a dark, narrow road, they emerged into a clearing with a cabin perched in the middle of it.

The cabin was beautiful with a teal door that contrasted beautifully with the dark wood siding. The wall in front of them had large windows that peered into the living room and part of a beautiful kitchen. As Sander drove up to the cabin, Robbe could see a large backyard with a patio and possibly a pool behind the house. Once the car pulled to a stop, Robbe turned to Sander, who was staring at him nervously.

“Do you like it?” Sander asked.

“I do,” Robbe said. “But how much did this cost?”

“Didn’t cost anything.”

“Sander—”

“It didn’t cost me anything,” Sander said. He sat up in his seat and cupped Robbe’s cheek, swiping his thumb along his cheekbone and connecting the freckles. Without really thinking about it, Robbe leaned into his touch as Sander watched him with soft green eyes. “It’s Emilie’s cabin. When I mentioned getting out of town to surprise you, she offered the cabin. Normally, they come every weekend. I’ve been invited a few times. Alicia has a test on Monday so they aren’t coming this weekend.”

“Really?” Robbe asked.

“Really.”

Sander leaned forward, connecting their lips. At first, the kiss was gentle and chaste; but the realization of them being alone without having to worry about roommates or streams was enough to break the proverbial dam of emotions. They hadn’t stepped out of the car, but their kiss became deeper, needier, and borderline desperate.

Robbe tugged at the fabric of Sander’s work shirt, trying to pull him closer, but the hindrance of the console between them stopped Sander from being able to do so. One of Sander’s hands fisted at the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling enough to be pleasurable. His other hand dropped to Robbe’s waist, pulling his hips flush against the center, before slipping his hand beneath his shirt. Robbe gasped, trying to pull him closer, but to no avail. The console was still lodged between them.

Sander let out a sigh, breaking the kiss. “Come on,” he said, turning the car off. Reluctantly, he untangled his hand from Robbe’s hair and reached in the backseat to grab the bags. “Let’s go inside.” Robbe nodded. Before he could manage to snag his bag, Sander was taking it out of his reach and stepping out of the car. Robbe stared at him in disbelief before climbing out of the car.

As Robbe stared up at the cabin in awe, Sander wrapped an arm around him. Robbe turned toward him, snaking his arm around his waist. “So, you didn’t spend money on this?”

“Not a dime,” Sander said matter-of-factly. Robbe let out a sigh of relief. “If you and I go out to get some food to cook later, I definitely will pay for it though. But even if it was the priciest cabin in the world, I would still do it because there is nothing in this world that is too expensive for you.”

Despite already knowing the answer, Robbe said, “At least let me pay for something.”

“No.”

“Sander.”

“No,” Sander said matter-of-factly before pressing a featherlight kiss on his lips. Robbe whined, trying to pull him closer, but Sander simply smirked and moved to the front door. As Sander fumbled with the extra set of keys, Robbe stood back, watching him with an amused grin. After a few minutes, the teal door swung open and Sander pulled him into the safety of the cabin.

Immediately after stepping into the living room, there were two thumps somewhere behind him.

Robbe turned, catching sight of their bags abandoned on the floor, before Sander was claiming his lips again. Robbe wrapped his arms around Sander’s shoulders, bringing their bodies flush together. They stumbled against the wall—Sander’s hand protectively cradling the back of his head before trailing down his body. They could’ve kissed for minutes or hours or maybe even days, simply lost in the feeling of being together and alone.

After their kiss, which felt like a glimpse of forever, Sander pulled away from him.

His green eyes were blown wide and his lips were teetering on the edge of bright red. Robbe was certain that he didn’t look much better. But right now, he didn’t care. All he wanted was Sander, kissing him again, chasing that glimpse.

“Come on,” Sander said. He sounded as wrecked as Robbe felt, his impatience threatening to overwhelm him. Sander tugged at the hem of Robbe’s shirt, pulling him from the wall and into an unfamiliar hallway. Without question, Robbe followed his movements, walking backward with Sander guiding him. He bent down, his lips brushing against Robbe’s as he said, “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

#wtfock #wtfam #brenna writes #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #jij verliest fic #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander #sobbe #rosander #wtfock fanfic #multi clip

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 4 years

Text

Sunshine After Rain-- Connor (RK800) x Reader (Part 4)

Summary; After the death of your little brother, Cole, your dad hated androids. He blamed them for Cole's death. Hank couldn't stand to be around them. How the hell are you supposed to tell him that your soulmate is an android?

Warnings; swearing, shitty writing that has not been edited at all

Word Count; 2.9k

Notes; I’ll post the last part tomorrow morning!! Then I’ll move on to original fics lol

You sat on the bench and covered your face with your hands. That was not at all how you wanted it to go. You wanted to sit Hank down and discuss it with him— mainly when he was sober. Connor sat next to you. You let your hands fall into your lap and stared straight ahead. You could tell he was staring at you. "You seem troubled." You let out a sardonic laugh.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." You turned to face him and realized that he was actually concerned. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just... a bit stressed is all," you sighed. Connor nodded.

"I understand. I suppose I have been experiencing a sense of stress as well. I was designed to hunt down deviants. I'm supposed to be a machine, nothing more. Then I met you, and I've begun to doubt everything." You each looked into each other's eyes for a moment. You broke eye contact and looked at his hands, carefully taking one into your own. You turned to look at the city lights. This time, you saw just how beautiful they really were in their full color. You pulled away from him to stand, quietly walking away. Connor didn't move. He was too deep in thought... which made him the perfect target.

You knelt down and scooped up a small pile of snow, forming it into a sphere. A wicked smile crossed your face as you stood once more. You narrowed your eyes, focusing on the sitting duck before you. You were more aiming for his back, but the place it hit was even better. The snowball hit the back of Connor's head with a soft thump. The android quickly leapt to his feet. His LED was flashing. You laughed, scooping up another snowball. He seemed confused. "(y/n), what exactly are you doing?" You threw the snowball at him. Since he was anticipating it, Connor easily dodged the projectile.

"It's a snowball fight. You throw snow at each other until someone gives up. We used to have giant wars all the time when we were kids." While you knelt down to make a couple more snowballs, Connor grinned mischievously.

"Are you sure you want to have a snowball fight with me, (y/n)?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have started one otherwise," you scoffed. Next thing you knew, you were being pelted by perfectly round balls of snow. You squealed as some of the snow made its way down your back. You ran behind a tree for cover. You somehow managed to hit him a few times, but you were pretty sure it was because he was going easy on you.

About ten minutes into the battle, you tried to dodge one and ended up getting yourself hit in the head. Sure, it hurt, considering your mishap earlier, but you dramatized it. You fell to your knees and held your head, hissing a couple swears. You heard Connors footsteps rapidly approaching. He knelt down beside you, placing a hand on your back. "(y/n), are you-" He was interrupted by you shoveling snow in his face with a maniacal laugh. Connor did not look amused.

"I'm sorry, Connor. I just couldn't help myself," you explained in between laughs. Connor noticed you had started shivering and suggested that you head back. He helped you to your feet. The two of you started walking back to Hank's car, occasionally bumping shoulders along the way. As soon as you got the engine started, you cranked the heat all the way up and held your hands over the air vents.

"Should we attempt to track down Hank?" You shook your head.

"No, he's probably too drunk to reason with at this point. I'm probably just gonna head back to my place. He's a big boy now. He knows how to walk home. I'll just pick him up in the morning." You paused, turning in the seat in order to fully face Connor. "I know you don't sleep, so where do you go at night?"

"I usually stay at the precinct in the designated area for androids on standby." You wrinkled your nose.

"That sounds boring. You're more than welcome to hang out at my place if you want. It's not very big, but I have plenty of things to read. You can watch TV too if you want, or… I don't know," you rambled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Connor grinned.

"I would like that. Thank you, (y/n)." You smiled back at him, driving toward your apartment complex.

You groaned as your alarm started screaming at you to wake up. Your head was killing you, and you wanted nothing more than to chuck the contraption out the window. You reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. You swallowed two of the pills and returned the bottle to its place. As you sat up, a certain scent hit your nose that caused you to shuffle into the kitchen at a slightly faster pace than usual. Your eyes widened at the sight. A smile grew across your face. "Connor, you cooked breakfast?" The android held out a plate of pancakes alongside various fruits.

"I wanted to thank you for allowing me into your home last night, and, as the expression goes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day." He smiled at you. If he were any more adorable than at this very moment, you would have surely imploded. You gently took the plate from his hands, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you sat on the couch. After you finished eating, you quickly got ready for work. You still had to pick up Hank, and there was no doubt in your mind that he would be hungover and a pain in the ass to get up.

You parked his old car in front of his house. You and Connor used your spare set of keys to get into the house. "Dad! Wake up, it's time to get ready for work!" you hollered as the two of you entered the home. You walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bin full of dog food from one of the cabinets. Sumo padded into the kitchen and wagged his tail at the sight of you filling his food bowl.

"Hello, Lieutenant." You poked your head around the corner when you heard Connor greet Hank. Much to your surprise, he was dressed and ready to go. You opened your mouth to comment on it, but Hank raised a hand to stop you.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but the last thing I need is another document in my disciplinary file just for being late." You tossed him the car keys. He stuffed them in his pocket. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

Not long after entering the precinct, Hank and Connor were pulled aside to be given a new case. You sat at your desk and laid your head down for a moment. Your head was still throbbing, and the last thing you wanted to do was paperwork. You skipped out on doing any yesterday since you tagged along with Hank. Now the mass of papers on your desk resembled a mountain.

After what seemed like an eternity of doing paperwork, you felt like you were doing insane. You could've sworn that you were starting to smell sounds. Enough is enough. You stood from your desk and sauntered into the break room. As you walked through the bullpen, you heard Gavin mention to someone that he needed some coffee. You smiled and fixed your own cup. You quickly swapped the tops of the salt and sugar shakers. When you saw Gavin enter the small room, you snatched a donut from one of the many boxes littering the counter. He gave you a curt nod as he fixed himself some coffee. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing when he dumped what he assumed was sugar into the dark liquid. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced down at the mug. You burst out laughing. Gavin narrowed his eyes at you as he realized you had sabotaged his drink, but he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of it. Maintaining eye contact, Gavin lifted the drink back up to his lips and drank every last drop of the salty liquid. You gaped at him, shocked that he actually drank it. He set the cup on the counter and gave you the middle finger. "Try again next time, (y/n)." Gavin turned on his heel and left you dumbfounded.

You continued to eat the donut in your hand while nursing your coffee. You saw Hank and Connor walk in. Hank went straight to his desk, while Connor roamed around. He looked like he was looking for something. He turned towards the break room and caught sight of you. You had finished your snack and was throwing away the trash. Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around you and a head rested on your shoulder. Colors began to fill in the objects around you. You furrowed your brows, wondering what brought on this sudden burst of affection from the android. You turned to face him. He kept his hands on your arms while you cupped his face with your own. Something was seriously bothering him. "What's wrong?" Connor drew in a shaky breath.

"We were on the roof of Stratford Tower. A damaged deviant was left behind, and I tried to probe its memory. Then... then it self-destructed. Right after it shot itself, I felt it die." His grip on your arms slightly tightened. "It felt like I was dying. I was... I was scared, (y/n)." You gently rubbed your thumb against his cheek. He leaned into your touch. There was no doubt that he was terrified. You could see it written all over his face. You pulled him into an embrace, which he gladly accepted. He was still fighting an internal battle, trying to decide whether he was a living being or not. He needed comfort, which is something he saw in you. For the rest of the afternoon, Connor didn't stray far from your side. He almost reminded you of a lost puppy.

The next morning, you walked out of the kennel that was located in the back of the precinct, only to run into a familiar face. You smiled up at the android. "G'morning," you greeted.

"Good morning, (y/n). Hank and I will be going to Elijah Kamski's residence in five minutes. Would you like to accompany us on this case?" You softly laughed at how formal Connor was. He watched your reaction curiously.

"Yeah, I feel like he'd be an interesting person to meet." Connor grinned at your response. The two of you tracked down Hank and followed him to his old, beat up car. You and Hank had yet discussed the whole soulmate situation. In fact, you both had kind of been avoiding it. He was too stubborn to bring it up first, and you just weren't sure how to approach the subject seeing as how he reacted last time. Despite this, the car ride wasn't too terrible, other than Hank forcing you and Connor to listen to heavy metal nonstop. As he parked near the front of Kamski's place, Hank got a phone call from one of your fellow officers-- Chris. Turns out, he was attacked by a group of deviants but ended up being saved by Markus, the leader of the deviant rebellion.

The three of you hopped out of the car. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself as the cold air and snow hit your face. As you all walked up to the front door, Connor asked why Hank wanted to meet Kamski. "This guy created the first android to pass the Turing test, and he's the founder of CyberLife. If anybody can tell us about deviants, it's him," Hank answered as if it was obvious. He rang the doorbell, and you three waited several minutes for someone to answer.

"This guy better answer soon or we're gonna turn into popsicles." Hank rolled his eyes at you. You all perked up when the door swung open, revealing a blonde android.

"Hi, uh, I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the Detroit Police Department. We're here to see, er, Mr. Elijah Kamski," he stuttered out. You gave him an odd look.

"Please, come in." She smiled sweetly and motioned you all inside.

"Very smooth, dad," you said in a hushed tone.

"Shut up, (y/n)." You followed the android lady inside. She told the three of you to make yourselves comfortable while she let Kamski know you all had arrived. Hank sat down in a nearby chair. You stared at the giant portrait of Kamski that was in front of you.

"Very humble man, wouldn't you agree?" You turned to Connor, sarcasm dripping from your words. He hummed, nodding.

"Yes, you can hardly tell he's a billionaire," Connor answered just as sarcastically. You beamed.

"Nice, you're finally starting to understand slang and sarcasm." Connor looked slightly proud, taking in your statement as a compliment. You took a seat across from Hank as Connor continued to analyze the threshold. Hank made a couple comments about Connor meeting his creator but otherwise stayed pretty quiet. You all looked up when Kamski's android returned.

"Elijah will see you now," she announced before leading the three of you into another room, which contained an indoor pool. You noticed that he had a couple more androids, all the same model. You all awkwardly stood off to the side, waiting for Kamski to finish his laps around the pool. As he climbed out of the water, one of his many androids wrapped a robe around him.

"I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson, this is Detective (y/n), and Connor," Hank introduced you all.

"What can I do for you, officers?" Hank informed Kamski that they were investigating deviants and that any information he had would be useful to them. He remained silent, thinking.

"Holy shit, he looked so much like Gavin," you muttered under your breath. Kamski hummed.

"Yes, my half-brother works in the same department as you two. Now, deviants... Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will." He went on to talk about how androids are better than humans, spouting a bunch of philosophical junk you didn't bother to follow. Hank asked Kamski to tell him something useful or you would all be on your way. Instead of addressing the topic at hand, Kamski approached Connor. "How about you, Connor? What do you really want?"

"I fail to see how that matters with what we are currently trying to discuss." Kamski said nothing for a moment, staring Connor down. He then called over one of his androids, Chloe. He explained that the Turing test is merely a formality. What interested him is whether machines are capable of empathy or not. He opened a drawer and pulled out a gun. Chloe sat on her knees. He handed the weapon to Connor.

"Destroy this machine, and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me." Connor held the gun as his LED flashed wildly. Hank tried to get Connor to put the gun down, but Kamski kept egging him on. "Decide who you are. An obedient machine or a living being endowed with free will? Pull the trigger, and I'll tell you all that you want to know."

"Connor." The RK800 turned his head to look at you. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it, thinking of the right words to say. "You already know the answer to who you are. I've seen it over the past few days. You don't have to be scared." Kamski's eyes flickered between the two of you. Connor lowered the gun, keeping his eyes trained on you.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

"Fascinating..." Kamski breathed. "CyberLife's last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant."

"I'm..." Connor trailed off, looking troubled. Kamski started talking philosophically again, and Hank grumbled about how you all should just get out of there. An idea popped into your head.

"I could tell you just how alive androids are in exchange for a piece of information." Kamski turned towards you, intrigue filling his eyes.

"Go on." You took Connor's hand into your own. The android visibly calmed. You gave him a reassuring smile before looking at Kamski once more.

"Androids have more in common with humans than you realize. They have soulmates too." Kamski's eyes widened as he stepped closer to the two of you.

"It's not possible."

"As much as I doubted it too, they're telling the truth." You looked over at Hank. He nodded at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Kamski stepped back, turning to look out of the large window. He was quiet for a moment but eventually held his end of the bargain.

"I always install an emergency exit in all of my programs. You never know..." he trailed off with a shrug. The three of you looked at each other, confusion written all over your features. When Kamski said nothing else, you all took that as your cue to leave.

~*~*~

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate au :)

Chapter 8 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

CW: mentions of verbal abuse, homophobia, alcoholism, jail time. instances of smoking.

some notes: I usually go through and italicize as necessary when I’m posting on tumblr because it doesn’t copy over from my og text, but this chapter is like 6200 words and i’m just not gonna do that. recommend reading on AO3 for the best experience!!

An Exercise in Futility

Three Years Earlier

Castiel was convinced that his life was one massive, cosmic joke.

He’d been considering the possibility for some time. Being the gay son of a homophobic pastor does that to a person. When he discovered, sometime around the age of twelve, that the girls in his Sunday school class were far less interesting than the boys, he could practically feel God laughing at him. Then there was high school, where the religious prattling was replaced by what felt like endless torment at the hands of his peers.

He felt like college was quickly becoming the third punchline.

Not that things were bad. Things were good, actually, better than they’d been in years. He was learning about things he cared about. He passed his midterms with flying colors. He even had friends. He spent a weekend watching all of the Lord of the Rings with Charlie. He had switched seats in accounting to sit next to Meg.

And, of course, there was Dean. Dean, who dragged Cas to a football game and didn’t drink a sip of alcohol the whole time in solidarity; Dean, who, after Tombstone, insisted on movie night every Tuesday; Dean, who, demanded that Cas print out a copy of one of his short stories and sign it (“When you’re a famous douchebag, this is gonna be worth so much money”).

It seemed that, on all fronts, Castiel had finally capitalized on the collegiate promise of a second chance.

But by his own estimation, he was doomed.

Because sometimes, his palms started sweating when Dean stood too close. Sometimes, his heartbeat skipped when Dean threw an arm across Cas’s shoulders. Sometimes, Cas woke up from a dream so vivid, he was disappointed to find himself alone in his bunk bed.

He could see how easy it would be to fall in love with Dean Winchester, what with the blond hair and green eyes, bright smiles and southern lilt, funny jokes and considerate actions. The prospect was utterly terrifying, and Castiel was doing everything in his power to stop dwelling on it.

He’d been down the “falling in love with your straight best friend” road before. AP biology class brought Cas a lab partner in Ben Wright. Soccer team captain, A-student, all around nice guy. Maybe Ben didn’t do anything to stop the constant verbal torment, but he never took part in it. At first, being around him was exhilarating. Sharing looks, catching smiles, trading inside jokes; Cas was intoxicated. He was so high on first love that he made the mistake of confiding in Bartholomew. Cas had always considered him to be a role model, friend and brother at the same time. But that night, when Cas came out, Bartholomew looked at him like one might look at spoiled food. He’d agreed not to tell their father, on the condition that Cas never speak about the matter again, that he figure out some way to “cleanse himself.” They hadn’t spoken since that night.

And so the feelings that once propelled Castiel to school with anticipation suddenly made him dread it. Not only did baring his soul to a brother get him a one-way ticket to estrangement, but Ben started dating someone else, a girl from his English class. Now every shared look was painful, smiles were false, inside jokes stopped being funny.

It was somehow worse, knowing Ben could never feel the same way. It certainly didn’t help the feelings of guilt and shame brought by his family.

Cas would do anything not to feel that way again.

He started by insisting that Dean invite Benny and Charlie to more of their nightly dinners. And while he honestly liked the both of them, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that their presence was, first and foremost, a distraction from Dean. He took up running again, as a way to get himself out of the dorm when Dean decided to stay in. He spent more time studying with Meg.

Meg was shockingly easy to befriend. She wasn’t nice — Cas had watched in shock when, once, she dumped a hot coffee on a skateboarder who had knocked her down on accident — but she never said a mean thing to Castiel. She was like him: a black sheep, the child everyone wished they could forget. Only, where Cas had become an agnostic and gone to college, Meg had become a Satanist and gone to jail for arson.

But this was her new leaf, she told him. Maybe it didn’t matter why someone needed a second chance, only that they were willing to take one.

They had been working for an hour when she threw her pen at his head and said, “Cas, you should come with me to Sig Ep’s Halloween party tomorrow. Be my date.”

Cas took a moment to process the meaning of party + date + with Meg. “Uh, I don’t — well, um, parties aren’t really —”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re allowed to say no, hun.”

Cas panicked. Meg was looking at him expectantly, her resigned smile making it clear she was prepared for rejection.

“Well, I… It’s not because of you — you’re very beautiful, and smart. Actually, you’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve met here.” She grinned at that. “It’s just, I don’t really… Go on dates. With girls.”

She studied him a moment before understanding lit up her face. “Oh.”

Castiel fidgeted with his pencil, refusing to meet her eyes. He’d only ever done this once, and it hadn’t gone well. But he liked having a friend, and more than that, he liked having Meg as a friend. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t interested because of any fault of her own.

“Cas,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she poked him in the arm. “Castiel.” He raised his eyes. “It’s cool. It’s not like you can just choose to like girls when a pretty one asks you on a date.”

“I… Understand, if you would rather not be friends,” Cas said, cautiously.

“What?” Meg’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Why would I not want to be friends?” She laughed a little. “That would be super ironic, considering I told you I went to juvie and you didn’t bat an eye.”

“Because I’m gay,” Cas said quietly, looking down again.

Meg grabbed both his hands. “Cas, hun, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

He looked up again, eyes wide. “What? I mean, I know that, I just… Not everyone does.”

Meg smiled sadly at him and gripped his hands a little tighter. “Well, I do. No biggie. We’re going to be iconic together, you and I. Sexiest gay-straight alliance of all time.”

Cas smiled weakly, relief flooding his entire body. “Thank you, Meg. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to make any judgements on your character. It’s just… This,” he motioned at the air between them, “has never gone well for me.”

Meg shook her head. “That’s a shame,” she said. “I haven’t known you that long. But I think I can tell that you — all the parts of you — are awesome.”

“You can still come to the party,” she added after a moment.

Cas shook his head, capping and uncapping his pen repeatedly. “Parties… They’re not really my scene.”

“All right. You know who to call if you change your mind.”

On Halloween, Castiel returned from his nightly run to find Dean pulling on a flannel. He checked his watch — he had barely made it. 6:57 pm.

“Right on time,” Dean said. “I was about to leave without you.”

“I would have never forgiven you if you did,” Cas joked. Then, “Are Charlie and Benny coming?”

“Nah, they’re both busy tonight. Halloween parties, you know.”

“Oh.” Castiel took a large sip of his water. “You’re not attending a Halloween party?”

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t really feeling it tonight. Plus, I have a feeling you’ve never seen The Exorcist?” When Cas shook his head, Dean rubbed his hands together. “Oh man, we are totally watching it tonight. Unless you’re busy,” he added, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

“I’m not,” Cas replied. Dean knew this already, of course, otherwise Cas might have made something up. The waters in which he tread got more dangerous each day. He couldn’t escape the warm feeling flooding his chest at the idea of Dean ditching the parties for a movie night.

It was precisely that feeling that caused him to hurriedly ask, “Would you mind if I invited Meg to dinner?”

“Who?” Dean asked, lacing up his boots.

“Meg Masters. She’s the friend from accounting that I told you about.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “Right. What, just me isn’t good enough anymore?” Cas thought he was joking, but it seemed forced.

“Dean —”

“I’m kidding, man,” Dean said with a short laugh. “Sure, she can come.”

Castiel hurriedly splashed his face with cold water and shed his sweaty t-shirt in favor of a hoodie. Dean feigned a sniff in his direction and made a face, to which Cas replied with an eye-roll. As they left their dorm, Cas sent a text to Meg.

CN (7:02 pm)

Would you like to get dinner with Dean and me?

CN (7:02 pm)

Unless you’re already at your party, in which case, be safe.

MM (7:03 pm)

Party not til later. hot roommate dean?

CN (7:04 pm)

...Is that a yes?

MM (7:04 pm)

Yes please ;) shocker dining?

CN (7:05 pm)

Yes. We’ll meet you there.

Dean grabbed a burger and an inordinate amount of fries while Castiel loaded his plate with spaghetti and a salad. Meg walked into the dining room just after he and Dean sat down, and Cas waved her over.

“Meg,” he said, offering her the seat next to his, “this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Meg Masters.” Dean smiled at her with a mouthful of french fries. Cas dropped his head in exasperation.

“Pleasure,” Meg said with a half-cocked smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean shrugged. “I am pretty awesome. Can’t say the same about you, though.”

Cas went bright red. He shot Dean a glare, then turned to Meg. “He’s joking —”

Meg’s grin only widened, and she giggled. “It’s all right, Cas, I’m not very interesting.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He became extremely intent upon eating his dinner.

Dean stared at her for a moment, chewing a bite of burger. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You know Cas from accounting?”

“That’s right,” Meg said brightly.

“So he’s your tutor or somethin’?”

Cas interjected. “Actually, Meg is far more capable than I am. She essentially taught me everything about liabilities.”

“Adorable,” Dean grumbled.

“Isn’t it?” Meg asked sweetly. “And you’re his roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Lucky you.” She gave him a wink. Dean choked on his diet Coke, and Castiel prayed to whomever was listening that he might cease to exist.

“Meg,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “did you finish the homework?”

She pulled her eyes away from Dean. “Yeah, I did.” She dropped her voice. “Did you want to go over it? At my place?” She winked at Cas, who stared at her in horror. Why was she acting like this? “You know,” Meg continued, “We can do other things too. Besides accounting.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “I’m gonna go grab some more fries. Do y’all want anything?”

Cas and Meg shook their heads. When Dean had left the table, Cas gave Meg a death stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” He hissed. “I thought we covered this —”

“Yes, Cas, hun, I know you’re extraordinarily gay,” Meg said with an eyeroll. “I’m not actually interested. I’m just conducting an experiment.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What ‘experiment’—”

He closed his mouth abruptly and leaned away from Meg when he saw Dean returning from the buffet line. He returned to his seat, looking between Cas and Meg suspiciously. Cas downed his water in one swift action.

“So, Dean,” Meg said after taking a bite of her pizza. “I hear you’re educating our friend here on pop culture.”

Dean didn’t bother to look up at her while he swirled a fry in ketchup. “Guess so.”

Cas cleared his throat to interject. This direction of conversation was much better. “Meg asked what my favorite movie was,” he explained to Dean, who still hadn’t looked up from his plate. “I told her about how much I liked Back to the Future when we watched it last week.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Yeah, that movie’s friggin’ awesome.”

Cas turned to Meg. “We’re watching The Exorcist tonight.”

Meg gasped dramatically. “So that’s why you blew off our date?”

Dean sputtered into his drink. “Date?” He said through a cough.

Cas looked helplessly at Meg, who unhelpfully smiled back. He was going to have words with her after this.

“I asked him to come to the SigEp party, but he said he was busy,” Meg said, feigning a pout. “But I get it, parties aren’t really Cas’s thing, anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flickered quickly between Cas and Meg. “All right, am I missing something?” He asked. His leg was bouncing against the table leg, hard enough that Cas’s plate was vibrating.

Cas looked at him, panicked, and stuttered out, “I don’t —”

“Like what?” Meg asked, sipping on her water.

“You his girlfriend or somethin’?”

This question delighted Meg. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Dean turned to Cas with an exasperated look. “Well?” He prodded.

Cas was sure he was about three different shades of red at this point. “What — I — no,” he sputtered.

Dean seemed to relax a little. Meg was still grinning like a madman. “There you go,” she said.

Castiel could not formulate a single coherent thought. He was confused as to how they even ended up here. The silence between the three of them was thick and awkward. Meg paid it no mind, just popped a strawberry in her mouth and gave Dean a sickly sweet smile. Dean excused himself to use the restroom, hitting his leg on the table and nearly tripping over his chair. Once he had left, Meg turned to Cas, her eyes sparkling.

“You are so in,” she said.

“What the hell was that?” He asked her. “What just happened?”

“He thinks I’m into you,” she explained. She took a bite of her pizza, then continued, “And he thinks you might be into me. And he hates that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cas scoffed.

Meg laughed, throwing her head back. When Cas fixed her with a glare, her eyes widened. “You really don’t see it?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to ‘see’. I already told you.”

“Yeah, right. Whatever, you’ll thank me later.”

“For creating what is perhaps the most awkward dinner I’ve ever had in my life?”

She waved him off. “Don’t be such a baby, it wasn’t that bad.”

Cas gave her a look that suggested otherwise. She sighed.

“Look, the way you talk about him…” Meg grabbed Cas's hand when he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. You like him, and now you know he likes you too.” She sat up proudly. “I just did all the heavy lifting for you.”

“Right,” Cas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Obviously, this interaction points to an inevitable romantic encounter. Except, and I think this is important, Dean is not gay.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Well, the way he looks at you, he’s not straight either. Plus, he apparently still thinks you’re straight, so you two haven’t had that conversation yet. He could be flamingly bisexual and you would never know.”

“This conversation is exhausting.” Cas felt like he was watching a Disney Channel Original Movie, and Meg was a fifteen-year-old matchmaker.

Meg laughed. “I’m sure you’ll survive. By the way, did you actually want to go over the homework this weekend?”

“Yes,” he said, relieved at the change in subject.

Dean returned then. “Are y’all done?” He asked, pointing to their plates. Cas and Meg both nodded, offering “thank you’s” as Dean took their plates to the dish rack. They followed him to the exit, the crisp air sending a chill through Castiel.

“Did you want me to walk back with you, Meg?” Cas offered.

She beamed at him. “You’re so sweet, but no. I’m getting an Uber to Sig Ep, anyway.” She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out something small and black. “Plus, if anyone tries anything, they’ll find themselves electrocuted. Just a little bit.”

Cas grinned. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“See you on Monday, Cas,” Meg said, giving him a hug that lasted just a touch too long. “It was good to meet you, Dean.”

“You too,” Dean muttered.

They watched her walk away for a moment. Cas wanted to avoid looking at Dean for as long as humanly possible. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain the previous interaction.

“So,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “She’s… Nice.”

“She is,” Castiel agreed earnestly. “Dean, I’m sorry, Meg can be a bit…” He struggled to find an adequate descriptor. “I think she enjoys others’ discomfort a bit too much, sometimes,” he finished.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal, man.”

They stood in silence, Dean looking at the ground intently, Cas tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Dean kicked a rock, then sighed. “You, uh, you ready to head back?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

The walk back to their dorm was quiet. Castiel couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Dean looked bothered. He felt bad — he had honestly expected for Meg and Dean to get along. He had thought them to be similar in their confident and boisterous personalities. Now, he wondered if that was precisely the problem. Too much personality at the same dinner table. He winced internally at his own poor judgement. Meg obviously took no issue with the encounter, but he worried that Dean might hold it against him.

Dean let them into their room, then wrinkled his nose at Cas once more. “Dude, seriously, go take a shower. You’re gross.”

“Actually, I enjoy the feeling of my sweat drying all over my skin. I was thinking of going straight to bed like this. It’s not as if I didn’t take a shower because of your constant insistence upon eating meals at the same time every day”

Dean made a gagging motion. “Hey, we had an appointment, and you were almost late. How is that my fault?”

Cas just rolled his eyes and gathered his things to head to the showers. He let out a muttered, “Crap” when he realized nearly all of his laundry was dirty. He’d been busy this week, and running every day tended to render his clothes unwearable after a single use. He made a mental note to do laundry first thing in the morning. He was able to find an old pair of gym shorts, but not a single t-shirt remained in his closet. Cas groaned inwardly. So he would simply have to sit next to Dean for approximately two-and-a-half hours, shirtless. Fantastic.

When he returned from his shower, Cas found Dean cooking two bags of popcorn, the title menu of The Exorcist already on screen. Dean stood up from the microwave when Cas entered, and was halfway into a thumbs-up when he did a double take.

“Uh… We goin’ shirtless tonight, Baywatch?” He said, tugging at his collar.

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, dude.”

Cas sighed as he sat on their beanbag. “I have a lot of laundry to do tomorrow,” he said by way of an explanation.

Dean didn’t respond, but made his way to his own closet. He ruffled through it for a moment before Cas was hit in the face by a t-shirt.

“Here, just wear one of mine,” Dean said. He coughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “‘S kinda cold in here, anyway.”

Cas held up the shirt. It was a Led Zeppelin graphic tee, vintage, from their tour in 1977. Cas raised his eyebrows at Dean.

“It’s pretty awesome right?” Cas donned the t-shirt. “Sammy got it for me from a Goodwill a couple years ago. Another of my prized possessions.” He looked at Cas with feigned scrutiny. “Looks good on you,” he said.

Cas played with the hem as he said, “Thank you.” Dean coughed again and walked back to the microwave to retrieve their popcorn. The air was palpable with awkwardness.

Dean turned out the lights. They settled onto the beanbag, as had become custom in the last few weeks.

Not even thirty minutes in, Dean’s phone began to ring. “Hey, my brother’s callin’, can you pause it?” Dean said.

Cas obliged, and Dean stood as he said, “Hey, Sammy, how’s it goin’?”

Cas sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap, doing his best not to eavesdrop on Dean’s conversation. Though, he supposed if it was private, Dean could have moved to the hallway. Instead, he leaned against the door, twisting the beaded bracelet on his left hand.

“He did what?” Dean suddenly yelled, and Cas jumped. Dean shot him a quick apologetic look. “

“Sammy, calm down, it’s okay,” Dean said, and Cas couldn’t pretend to not listen anymore. He looked at Dean with a silent question, but Dean was staring hard at the wall, his free hand balled into a fist.

“Put him on the phone,” Dean said in a low voice. A pause. “What, so now he’s allowed to treat you like shit whenever he wants?” Another pause. A slow exhale from Dean. “No, you’re right. I don’t… I won’t make it worse.” Pause. “Do you want me to come down there? Because I will, you know I will.”

Dean was silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?” He sighed at whatever his brother said on the other line. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, I guess. And Sam? I’m really fucking sorry. I should’ve stayed, I don’t…” He trailed off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I know. Yeah. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Dean lowered the phone from his ear. He stood silently for a moment, angry gaze directed at the floor. Then, causing Cas to jump once more, he turned and hurled his fist at the door.

There was a loud thud upon impact, and then Dean was yelling “Fuck! Goddammit!” as he cradled his hand. Cas stood abruptly, but had no idea what to do. He walked toward Dean, cautiously.

Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was heaving deep breaths. Cas put a hand on his shoulder. “Dean?” He ventured.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled, still not looking at Cas. “I just — Fuck, that was so stupid,” he said, shaking out his affected hand. “Sorry,” he repeated to the wall.

“It’s fine,” Cas said, even though he thought it definitely wasn’t. “What happened?”

Dean just shook his head. Cas’s hand remained on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, a little nervous that Dean might shove him off. “Dean,” he persisted. “You can tell me.”

Finally, Dean looked at him, and Cas thought if that level of rage was ever directed at him, he would promptly die. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Dean growled. “I gotta — I don’t know, I need to calm down. I don’t actually want to break something,” he said, motioning to the door. “I’m gonna go for a smoke.”

Cas dropped his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll go with you.”

“Cas —” Dean started, but Cas silenced him with a look. He grabbed one of Dean’s flannels from his desk chair and threw it at him. Dean caught it with a cross between surprise and irritation. Cas grabbed his own windbreaker and put it on, looking expectantly at Dean.

“Are we going?” He asked.

Dean looked at him as if he was trying to decide whether arguing was worth it. A sigh confirmed that it wasn’t. He silently pulled on his flannel and opened the door, ushering Cas through before exiting himself.

They walked in silence, despite the fervor of Cas’s concern and curiosity at Dean’s outburst. Dean’s jaw was set, and he took a long, slow breath when they hit the crisp fall air. When they reached the Impala, Cas silently moved to lean on the hood while Dean retrieved his lighter and a cigarette.

Dean joined Cas as he took a long draw. He exhaled the smoke upwards, his eyes closed. His face was still turned to the sky when he asked, “This really doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

Dean brandished his cigarette in answer, turning to raise an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “It’s not particularly comforting. But, there are worse things.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up thoughtfully. “Besides, you’ve been smoking for years. If anyone could convince you to quit, your random college roommate isn’t the most likely option.”

Dean gave him a strange look before exhaling another plume of smoke. He coughed a little. “I think you have long passed the line between ‘random roommate’ and ‘new best friend.’”

Cas gave a little chuckle. “That’s good to hear.” Inside, his world was falling down and rebuilding itself anew. Dean thought of Cas as his best friend. Cas had never known that feeling, to have someone care about him like that. Cas wondered if that could be enough, being Dean’s best friend.

He didn’t say anything more, though, just let Dean finish his cigarette. After throwing the butt on the pavement and stomping on it, he heaved a sigh.

“My dad…” He started, but paused. “He, uh, he said some stuff to Sam. My brother.”

Cas nodded, doing his best to keep his face neutral. Talking things through wasn’t Dean’s strong suit, and Cas didn’t want dramatics to make it more difficult.

“What did he say?”

Dean shifted and rubbed his hands together. “Bunch of bullshit. ‘It’s your fault your Mom’s dead, it should have been you instead of her.’” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I mean, he used to say that to me. He gets into these moods when he drinks, says a bunch of shit he doesn’t mean.”

Dean shoved himself off the hood and began to pace in front of Cas. “But I could take it, you know? Sammy’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Your father says things like this often?” Cas asked, a tinge of horror in his voice.

“He used to. But only to me. Never to Sam.”

Cas took a deep breath, trying to discern how best to proceed. “Dean,” he said slowly, “he shouldn’t say those things. Ever. Not to Sam, and not to you.”

“I’m just confused,” Dean said. “And pissed. Sam and him are usually okay. I mean, they’re not buddies or anything, but Dad leaves him alone for the most part.”

“I don’t want to overstep,” Cas said, “But it seems like your father used you as an outlet for misplaced rage. A punching bag, if you will. And now you’re gone, so Sam is the next best thing.”

Dean met Cas'seyes with a horrified look. “God. I didn’t… You’re right. Shit, this is my fault, I can’t believe I —”

“No, Dean,” Cas growled. He stood and grabbed Dean by both shoulders. “This is your father’s fault. Not yours.”

“But I left Sam, alone, with him,” Dean said, and Cas could see panic rising in his eyes. “How could I do that, why —” Cas interrupted him again. “Why did you decide to attend college, Dean? What’s the real reason?”

“What?” Dean gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know.”

Cas tilted his head down, skeptical.

Dean let out a long sigh. “Okay, all right. I went because Sam is smart, and he needs to go. But we don’t have any money. So I figured if I came and got a degree or some shit, I could make enough to throw him some cash while he goes to school. Get some summer internships and save up for his college fund. He’d probably still have to take out loans and stuff, but if I got a good job, I could help him pay them off.”

Cas wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but it wasn’t that one. He felt his heart break for the man standing in front of him, who did everything he could and more for the people he cared about and never felt like it was enough.

“Would Sam ever hold that against you?” When Dean didn’t respond, Cas continued. “I know I wouldn’t. I have four older siblings, and not a single one of them has ever done something like that for me.”

“But—”

“You’re making yourself miserable over something that isn’t your fault,” Cas said. “Did you have anyone protecting you when your father went on a tirade?”

“No, but—”

“Is Sam incapable of handling himself?”

“No, but Cas—”

“He’ll be alright, Dean,” Cas insisted. “You can’t live your whole life as his shield. You’ll break yourself trying.”

Dean was silent, and wouldn’t meet Cas's eyes. Cas dropped his hands and leaned back against the Impala. “Did you ever think that Sam might have wanted you to go to school simply so you could get yourself out? Did you ever think that Sam hates the way your father treated you as much as you hate what he did to Sam tonight?”

Dean pursed his lips together, but his jaw relaxed slightly. Finally, he muttered, “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

Cas felt relief wash over him. He’d never seen Dean like this — angry and frantic. Cas wondered if Dean always did this, shouldered the blame for every bad thing his brother had to endure. The thought made his chest hurt.

Dean’s hands were hanging limply at his side. He looked exhausted. Against his better judgement, Cas grabbed Dean by the forearm and pulled him into a hug. Dean was still for a moment, but then sighed and rested his head on Cas's shoulder.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I didn’t mean to act like that, punching things and shit. I just get so angry, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Cas was trying very hard to form a coherent thought. “There’s no need for apologies. I understand.”

A chuckle escaped Dean’s lips. “You must think I’m a complete nutjob, huh?”

Cas tilted his head in consideration. Dean’s hair tickled his cheek. “No. I think your father spent years verbally abusing you, and you’re doing your best in spite of that.”

Dean broke the hug abruptly. The sudden space between them felt criminal. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s abuse…” He started, but, at Cas's look, he trailed off. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly. “Honestly, dude, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Cas's cheeks warmed, and he shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.”

Dean gave him a small smile. Cas’s heart nearly broke with relief. “I’m beat,” he said. “Bed?”

Cas nodded eagerly. “Bed.”

When they reached the stairs, Dean broke the heavy silence.

“So…” He began. There was a false brightness in his voice; he was obviously searching for levity. “You hanging out with your girlfriend tomorrow?”

“If you’re referring to Meg, she’s still not my girlfriend,” Cas replied vacantly. “And yes.” He suddenly felt exhausted. First the mortifying dinner with Meg, then the heavy conversation with Dean. He hardly had it in him to field jokes about Meg being his girlfriend.

“She’s not your girlfriend yet,” Dean amended, giving Cas a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes.

And what was Cas supposed to say to that? Meg was funny and smart and beautiful. She and Cas studied together on the regular. There was absolutely no reason he shouldn’t be interested in Meg from Dean’s perspective.

Of course, if Dean knew he was gay…

Cas didn’t know if he could face the consequences of coming out to Dean. Would he be upset that Cas hadn’t told him earlier? Would he be uncomfortable with a gay man as his roommate? As his friend? Cas may have expanded his social circle, but he still couldn’t bear to lose Dean.

But, then again, Dean had defended him once already, without knowing whether or not he was gay. He’d sounded indifferent to the possibility then. And just tonight, he’d called Cas his best friend. Dean cared more deeply for his friends and family than anyone Cas had ever met. Cas was in that group. Dean wouldn’t shove him out of it because of who he loved.

Right?

As they reached the entrance to their hall, Dean poked Cas in the shoulder. “Hey, Earth to Major Tom,” he said. “You okay over there?”

Cas realized he hadn’t said a word since they started their ascent up the stairs. He sighed heavily.

Perhaps this was as good a time as any.

“Dean,” he said, but closed his mouth. He should just say it. He had nothing to worry about. This wasn’t Bartholomew. He knew that, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

“What?” Dean said, eyebrows raised. “Cas,” he prodded, waving a hand in front of Cas’s face.

“I’m not…” Cas swallowed. “I will never date Meg,” he finished, with a pointed look.

Dean side-eyed him as they walked to their door. “What, she’s not your type?”

Cas gave him a lopsided smile. “You could say that.”

“I dunno, man, maybe you should reconsider, you two are pretty adorable, in a gross way —”

“Dean.” Cas was about to rip his hair out. He wasn’t taking the hint. “She’s not my type. She’s a girl.”

Realization dawned on Dean’s face. “Oh,” he said.

“I apologize for not telling you sooner,” Cas said, bracing for the worst. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand —”

“What?” Dean practically shouted. At Cas’s look of surprise, he lowered his voice. “No, Cas, are you kidding? I thought I told you, after all that shit with Cole. It’s not a big deal.”

“Knowing your roommate might possibly be gay and knowing he is, indeed, gay are two very different things.”

Dean looked at Cas like he had just made the worst joke in the world. “I’m not gonna, like, try to move out.” As they approached their room, Cas stared resolutely ahead, walking with purpose. But Dean jumped out in front of him, a hand on Cas’s chest to stop him in his tracks.

“Dude, it’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me. I lost my shit and punched a door, like, an hour ago, and you barely even blinked.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

Cas met Dean’s eyes and found unparalleled sincerity.

“I don’t… You’re not the least bit upset?” Cas asked, slightly incredulous.

Dean shrugged. “You’re my best friend, Cas,” he said as he straightened. “Nothing’s gonna change that.” He pulled on his bracelet. “I do feel bad though, for making you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Not that you had to, or anything,” he added in a rush.

Cas shook his head vigorously. “It has nothing to do with you, Dean. I’m… I’m new at this,” Cas explained. “The first time, with Bartholomew… I believe he was, as you would say, a dick about it.”

Dean’s eyes turned stormy. “Bastard,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cas. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Cas nodded. “You’re right. It was rather unfortunate. I haven’t spoken to him since the night I told him I was gay.”

Dean moved back to Cas’s side and slung an arm around his shoulders. “His loss,” he said. “You’re friggin’ awesome, dude.”

Cas smiled. Dean patted him on the back and let the two of them into their room.

Cas brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Dean returned minutes later from a shower, and he flipped off the lights as he made his way to his own bunk.

Cas pulled off Dean’s shirt and threw it across the room. Dean’s head caught it, and he yelped.

“Thank you for the loan,” Cas said, smiling.

An odd expression crossed Dean’s face before he threw the Zeppelin shirt back to Cas. “Keep it,” he said. When Cas gave him a confused look, he put a hand on the back of his neck. “I meant what I said. Looks good on you.”

---------

tagging @nguyenxtrang :)))

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #spn

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jq37 · 4 years

Text

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 13 Family Ties

Regroup

Welcome back to Candia, y’all.

As the cast tries to get a handle on their giggles from whatever shenanigans happened off-screen between episodes, the PCs land back at the monastery of the Spinning Star. All the rescued civilians are grateful and the monks help to patch them up. The group is a little worried their enemies will follow them through the standing stones but only a high level Candian magic user would be able to do that so they’re probably fine. They also learn that all the weapons they stole are basically +1 to attack magical items--not useful to them but maybe for their allies.

Spearia tends to Joren (and we’re cursed with the phrase “wrist milk”) and then goes Full Mom Mode on Liam with a several minutes long hug. Theo joins the hug so he can ask Spearia if she knows any other Druids that could do that transportation (she doesn’t know of any in Buzzybrook but there could always be others she doesn’t know about) which turns into a discussion about the SPF. Ruby thinks the SPF is on their side but the others are more wary and Rina, as before, is specifically against her. She says the SPF gets her powers from the Bulb and the sharp division between the two is just a kind of distraction from the bigger issue. Ruby calls it a conspiracy theory (though Theo says Lazuli believed something similar) and stalks off. Amethar runs after her but, en route, stops to have a conversation with Joren.

He tells Joren that Rina is queen now and that he (as in both of them really) need to start doing the smart thing and not just the tough thing. Joren razzes him about the new attitude until Amethar says that Jet is dead which turns him sympathetic and basically gets him on board--it’s not the fight Liam was anticipating. He says that they’re gonna have to make a big show about recognizing Rina if this is gonna work and asks if they have any allies who can vouch. Amethar says the Dairy Islands are with them and they have a crazy plan that involves getting the Book of Leaves (St. Citrina’s Lasso of Truth book).

Theo runs to catch up with Joren and Amethar but, on the way there, catches Ruby and says they need to stick together. Then the three guys go and find Rina. They basically bend the knee to her and say they’re at her service. Rina is not as excited as you might think though. She accepts the endorsement while barely holding back tears, saying that she’s aware the support doesn’t come with enthusiasm but she appreciates it all the same. Then she goes with Gooey back to her contingent of followers to celebrate with them, not seeming like she’s in a celebratory mood at all.

Cumulus and Liam have gone to the library of the monastery to try and dig into the info they grabbed during the fight and Ruby goes to talk to Liam. She confides in him that she thinks this plan sucks because even if they are able to get Rina onto the throne, it still means they win on the terms of their enemies. They’re still working within the system and the people who killed Jet and killed Preston don’t pay for anything. Liam says he’s still super down for killing all of these people and he really doesn’t think the plan is gonna work. He thinks it’s going to end in war either way. They try to decipher the map but it’s hard and they recruit the monks to help work on it overnight.

Snicker-Snack talks to Cumulus and says--echoing his own thoughts--that Rina is crazy powerful and a possible heir to Lazuli’s title of Archmage. He wonders if they should swear themselves to her the way they were sworn to Lazuli. Cumulus thinks it might be a good idea and Snicker-Snack says that it’s Cumulus’s call since he’s the most senior monk.

Theo finds Rina again and asks if she thinks they’re in danger of getting ambushed by the SPF. Rina (after getting a head shake from Brennan) says no, not this night but she is worried that the SPF is working with the Bulb. She and her guys will be up all night keeping watch (and partying) so he can, “Go back to [his] family.”

Brain Food

In the morning, the monks have finished looking through all of the info the PCs stole last episode which means it’s time for a good old fashioned info dump. There’s a lot happening so I broke it into sections:

Military Movements

The south of Candia has been totally taken over by Calroy and his guys. He’s fully posted in Castle Candy and every state except for the Dairy Islands has recognized him as a legitimate ruler.

The only non-traitor Candian troops are basically all at the Great Stone Candy Mountains (bc they were on route to help Jawbreaker).

As in Ruby’s vision from Lazuli, the invasion of Castle Candy did fall apart due to discord. Specifically, it was a mix of Plumbeline’s troops and Bulbian troops and because the Pontifex held the position that there could be no Concord without all of the states of the OG Concord under the terms of the OG agreement (meaning including Candia) Plumbeline said, “Fine. If there’s no Concord, there’s no reason I have to help you,” and she withdrew her troops.

So, to be clear, Calroy did a coup. The Imperial soldiers that are there are not there to invade Candia. They’re there doing peacekeeping stuff. The non-Imperial bread soldiers are Ciabatta’s men--he went home post spy session with the girls and used the info he stole to assassinate all the obstacles between him and being dictator for life and then decided an invasion of Candia was a good way to keep the peoples’ approval. Candia was picked for no reason other than it was a sitting duck due to all the other insane stuff that’s going on (chief or which is loss of Concord protection). And the church is there cause...actually, let me start another heading for this because it’s a doozy.

The Bulbian Church

The Pontifex has decided that the Ramsian Doctrine is in full effect. The reason they’re in Candia is because they’ve called a crusade.

Kerradin has a fancy new title--Mace of the Faith--and is leading it.

She’s called open season on all Candians--not just soldiers, literally anybody. She’s calling for a full genocide. The church’s policy is, if you kill a Candian, your soul is saved. If you destroy Candian standing stones, your soul and your family’s souls are saved. It’s real chilling shit.

There’s been pushback from bishops and archbishops about the policy--obviously Candian ones but from other countries as well--saying that they can’t support this and please can she reconsider (they can’t really be more forceful than that without risking being killed themselves).

Calroy, sensing the way the wind is blowing, has sent out an official statement saying that he renounced his pagan ways and wants to be re-baptized into the Bulbian faith.

We learn that the reason the Pontifex is being difficult with Plumbeline about the technicalities of the Concord agreement and why it can’t just be back on is because she wants to stay in limbo for as long as possible so she has a chance to also call a crusade against the Meatlands--both for being so openly pagan and for the killing of Archbishop Raddica (mentioned in I think episode 3).

There was a lot of money that the crew ignored while looting last episode and that was money to be used to pay Meatlander mercenaries apparently.

Group Dynamics

So Calroy is kind of courting all three camps here. As I said before, he’s agreeing with the crusade and saying he wants to be baptized to court the church.

Cal is also saying to Ceresia that a crusade is needed to cleanse Candia and a new Concord could be formed if Ceresia were to conquer it and make it a part of Ceresia. Ciabatta in an intercepted letter says that Cal could possibly be governor of Candia as a province of Cersia--exactly what he wants.

Whenever Calroy talks about the new Concord, he mentions a Concordant *Empress* who could be anyone, which also gives Plumbeline what she wants. He’s basically like that Always Sunny clip about playing both sides so he always comes out on top.

Everyone is planning a meeting to talk about logistics and a new Concord and all that but Ciabatta doesn’t want to meet in Comida or Vegetania after the whole deal with his name being spoken and rejected by the Book of Leaves. Cal has opened Castle Candy as a meeting place.

The Pontifex is bringing Kerradin and guards to protect her and the Book of Leaves to make sure there’s no funny business happening (ie: Cal conspiring privately with Plumbeline or something).

And, to be clear, none of these people seem to like or trust each other. It’s all a matter of being able to use each other for mutual benefit. There’s lots of evidence of discord and resentment. [To that point, here is some very dope art.]

Misc.

The various baddies haven’t been able to figure out watersteel--it seems that Alfredi left something out of her notes and took the secret to her grave. They did figure out the bread constructs though as we saw last episode.

There are notes about the Sanctus Putris which is a church doctrine that runs counter to the Ramsian Doctrine and it says that to keep the Hungry One at bay, there has to be a certain level of rot in the world.

There is a letter between Onionpatch and the Sanctus Putris dudes saying that they have located the home of the SPF (the Ice Cream Temple) and will get there tomorrow (as in tmrw from their POV).

Finally, rumors of Rina are floating around and the policy is basically, “Who cares if she exists or if she’s legit or not? If you see her, kill her.” So Emily has gone from being a huge target to...being a huge target. That’s what happens when you play two heir apparents in a row.

And deep exhale. That was A Lot.

Gameplan

Joren thinks the best plan is to get all their armies together and publicly take the knee to Rina at Manylicks to help legitimize her. Ruby, again, is against this plan because it would mean, at least on paper, being on the same side as Ciabatta. Spearia gets where she’s coming from but says it’s just to get things settled and they can always leave the Concord again once they’re back in control.

Gooey brings up the meeting everyone is gonna be at and Liam suggests getting someone from the Meatlands there so they can force the Pontifex to say on the Book of Leaves that they’re her next target, winning them an ally. Rina pipes up that she has allies in the Meatlands so maybe she can help arrange that. Jawbreaker also wants to just spread the word that Rina exists to make things more politically complicated and give the Dairy Islands (and possibly the Meatlands) a legit reason to side with them/stop the Imperials since the Concord will be back on.

Rina, unprompted, says again that she doesn’t care about the throne, she’s just anti-Bulb and pro magic. Cara and Ruby kinda glance at each other while that is going on.

At this point, Jawbreaker is fully on board with her and toasts to her as queen. Liam warns her about the target on her back but she says she grew up abused by Bulbian nuns. She can handle herself. Cumulus also officially pledges the service of the Spinning Star monks to her. She’s just picking up allies left and right.

Anyway, Jawbreaker, Spearia, and the rescued townsfolk plan to go for Manylicks to rally the troops. Spearia asks for an escort so they send Jack and his sailors to protect them. Before they leave, Liam has a heart to heart with his dad about how war changes you and forcing yourself to be hard so others get to be soft in which Joren finally calls him the correct name.

Cumulus thinks that, if a crusade is happening, the monastery will be a big target so it makes sense for the monks to gather the artifacts and hang with Rina’s marauders for a bit. They also decide to disassemble the teleportation circle once they leave so they’re more secure.

Ruby and Amethar are up on the parapets of the monastery kinda doing that thing where you’re not fully talking but just being like, “*Huge Sigh*”/”Yeahhhhh” with someone you’re close to. Cara shows up and says she’s going with Jawbreaker and his people to Manylicks while the PCs go for the Ice Cream Temple. Ruby asks how long she’s known magic and Cara says Lazuli taught her. Ruby asks why she never taught them and Cara says she was going to when they matured but since they never did, she didn’t want to give them more tools to run away with. Ruby says maybe they wouldn’t have run away so much if she’d trusted them. Cara basically takes psychic damage from that and Rina, who is near enough that she can see what’s happening, catches her attention for some sympathetic eye contact because she knows what that feels like.

Amethar asks for a moment alone with Ruby and apologies for having been a bad dad. Ruby protests that he hasn’t been one but he insists that he has and says that he hasn’t known what to do to help her process Jet’s death. Ruby says it’s not his fault and there’s nothing he can do. The fact of the matter is she was never alone and now she’ll always be alone. Amethar says that’s not true. She won’t be alone because he’s there for her and Jet still is too, though in a different way. He can’t stand watching her push her friends away at every turn. He asks her to please, just be here with them. Ruby breaks down a little and says that she had to run away as the most important person in the world to her died and the only way she can even begin to live with that is by getting revenge. Oh don’t worry, Amethar says. They will be killing *all* of those people.

Sickly Sweet

The team to raid the Ice Cream Temple is comprised of the PCs plus Swifty, Jon Bon, and Gooey (who is having some mutually confusing dom/sub sexual tension with Theo which is a sentence I hate to type but posterity is the main goal here so I don’t have much of a choice now do I). They teleport as close as they can (the monks disassembling the teleportation mechanism once they get there) and then it’s still another 2-3 hours to get there. It’s very cold, like the Himalayas and everyone takes cold damage just by being there. Rina (Invisible) and Cumulus (tied to a rope held by Theo) are up front to try and keep everyone else from triggering traps as they walk up the steps.

They eventually come upon gates in front of an arch and a hallway with a huge locked doorway in front of it. And there is a symbol of a huge spoon in front of the door. Rina passes Winterscoop in front of it and it opens. They follow her down the hallway and Cumulus triggers a trap when he takes point but Rina, holding Winterscoop, learns that if she takes the lead, she auto-disarms the traps.

As they walk down the hall, Rina sees the eyes of the SPF and hears her voice in her head, “I can’t see you, but I know you’re here.” The SPF says the temple was made by those like her (Rina) but she (the SPF) is the only one who’s been there for quite some time and her pupils narrow to slits.

Amethar sees an image of Saphria who says, “Long way from home, brother,” before disappearing.

Because of how well lit the hallway is, Ruby currently has no shadow.

Liam, as they walk, smells a quick whiff of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

They get to the end of the hallway which branches off into three directions: there’s a staircase going up to a door (marked with the Sucrosi symbol for the SPF which Ruby recognizes because Laz shows up as a quick vision and tells her and Theo recognizes as having appeared in the sky before the battle that killed Laz--Rina also recognizes it and it is the SPF’s actual name, not one of her titles, so it seems possibly magically significant), to the right there’s some weird combo of illusion and conjuration magic which makes them think that there’s a combo of true things and tricks and like maybe some of the stuff they’ve been seeing out of the corners of their eyes as they’ve traveled would be there, and to the left there’s a locked door marked armory.

Ruby uses her thieves' tools and Mage Hand to get the armory door open and it turns out it’s actually a library (which everyone but Theo is disappointed about). Inside, they find a book in Bulbosi that’s filled with with ancient spirits of the other realms--the Jolly Giant, the Hamburger Helper, and (at Emily’s prompting) Wonder Bread. It’s basically a checklist of magical spirits from the other kingdoms that the church has destroyed and further proof that Candia isn’t more inherently magical than anyplace else. They’ve just fought to protect their magic.

On the last page, there’s again mention of the Dracoria Azucar with an inverted symbol of the SPF covered in spikes and surrounded by magic and then in the middle of the page a chocolate egg which Rina tells Liam is what they’re there for.

The book suddenly slams shut and flies away. Outside, they hear the door at the top of the stairs open. They get out and walk up the stairs into this chamber at the heart of the mountain. It's a massive room with huge icicles coming down, dim light, and a ton of mist. They're kind of on a platform suspended above a bunch of emptiness. In the middle, there's a tower of frozen ice cream scoops and at the center is a small opening. Surrounding it and floating around it are huge freezer burned ice cream cones and popsicles. At the top of the tower, frozen into it is a chocolate egg (a chocolate smear inside the ice indicating that it was incredibly hot).

The SPF appears in front of them in her cute glamour bearing the mended teacup, the note from Lapin, and the heartseed Liam left for Preston. She thanks them for coming and apologizes that she can’t bring Jet back but says now she can bring them to Jet. Ruby asks what that means and she suddenly sees figures in the mist--4 adult women with a younger adult woman along with a figure that looks like Amethar’s dad. There’s a brightly colored road made of illusory light going from where they are, down into the mist. The SPF says it’s a pure Candy-only place and she can take them there. The church means to burn everything sweet out of the world forever and this is the only way to keep them safe. She’s taken a lot of other spirits there already and everyone they’ve lost and love will be waiting for them and they’ll be together forever.

Amethar openly expresses suspicion at the SPF and the SPF says she’s only using the glamour to make them feel more comfortable. Rina says she’d like to see the SPF’s true form and the SPF says, “I bet you would,” seeming ticked off that she has Winterscoop. She compares Rina to Lazuli who wanted to take everything that made Candia special and let it get used and abused by the rabble (her opinion, not mine). Look how that turned out for the Jolly Giant and the Hamburger Helper.

Ruby, in Twinspeak, asks the misty figure of Jet, “Are you real?”

The Jet in the Mist (played by Emily who is on the spot drafted by Brennan to be Jet once again for this moment) says (with the knowledge to back it up), “It’s true, but I don’t know if it’s good.”

With that answer, Ruby gives the SPF a placid thanks but no. She’s grateful that she’s been protecting the magic of Candia but they need it now to keep Candia safe. The SPF says that that’s what she’s doing. If they go into the mist, they’ll be safe. No, says Ruby. If they go into the mist, they’ll be dead. The SPF doesn’t see a difference. Safe and dead? Safe and alive? To-may-to, To-mah-to.

“Are you mad at me?” the SPF asks, childlike.

“No,” Ruby says, evenly.

The SPF says she’s only ever tried to help. She sent Lapin to protect them even though she knew he’d die and they’d lose everything because she knew they wouldn’t come unless they lost everything.

Ruby pauses for a second that feels like ten minutes.

“Did you kill my sister?”

The SPF looks slightly sheepish. “Would you have come here if she was still alive?”

Ruby does the only thing she can do. She pulls her bow.

Looks like someone just jumped Ciabatta in her to-kill list everybody. See you next week!

Things I’m Concerned About

I mentioned this in an ask but I’m concerned Cara is about to pull a Cat’s in the Cradle--meaning, she keeps getting brushed off so I’m worried she’s gonna get really hurt and the PCs will suddenly care and it’ll be too late. This fear is based on nothing except what I would do to be mean to my players. I have a semi-similar fear about Rina but I’m gonna let that sit for a bit.

Ruby. Girl. I know what you’ve just been through but...girl. Please be smart here.

I never love a battle map you can fall off of. That always gives me anxiety--especially when your enemy can fly so it’s not equal footing so to speak.

I feel like “concerned” is a bit of a weak word to describe my feelings on a genocide but I named this section during episode 1 before I knew where things were going so yeah. Bad.

Everyone the group hates being in one place is hypothetically very good but also has the potential to be VERY bad depending on how it plays out.

I really wanna know what the Sanctus Putris is planning is to at the Temple. How aligned are they with the mainstream church? Their main tenant runs pretty counter to what they’re doing right now. Are they potential allies? Why would they be communicating with Onionpatch, known close confidant for the Pontifex? Were they trying to sway her with something there?

Five More Things

Woah! Oh man, that whole last scene with Ruby and the SPF? The music? The tension? The constant, calm No’s from Ruby until the SPF Said That and then the instant switch into Terminator mode? What a scene ender y’all! When I watched it again for this recap, I knew what was coming and it still bodied me. The immediacy with which Ruby/Siobhan grasped the, “This is death” thing was so impressive to me. I loved everything about that last 5 mins. So it seems like the SPF is the one who set up that letter. She might have been posing as Cara in that moment, or maybe it was a full illusion--that seems to be her school of magic. I knew this Fae was shady but man! Can you imagine the world where Lapin is still alive at this point? Would love to know his take on this.

There’s a bit I didn’t mention in the recap when they get back initially and Brennan tries to have the NPCs overrule the PCs on the cuteness levels of the corn monster from last ep that is so funny. Nothing like ganging up on the literal god of the universe you’re playing in. Also funny is him going, “No Zac, this is good,” when he starts listing out the other house spirits/brand names. Gotta love having a captive audience for your carefully constructed nonsense.

OK, so question. What exactly is Calroy’s plan with the church, huh? Because, you can get baptized all you want, you’re still cake my dude. Is he hoping they’ll let him, what? Die of old age while slaughtering his people? Yikes.

When Swifty opened his mouth the first time I was like, “Absolutely not,” but now I kind of love him?

So we learn in this ep that all other spirits get their powers from the Bulb or the Hungry One ultimately which is interesting conceptually. “Power is neutral except for how you use it,” is cool and also generally correct imo. Rina mentions the SPF, “Working with the Bulb” at some point and do you think she means the Bulb or the church? Because the Bulb is mindless but she doesn’t necessarily know that. And if she means the church that would also be wild considering what we learned this ep.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #a crown of candy #a crown of candy spoilers #the royal report

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savedbystyle · 4 years

Text

the man (t.s.)

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: You’re furious of the double standards between you and Tony Stark

warnings: some curse words, nothing much its just frustration no angst, secret dating

a/n: hi again! i really hope this does well because lately the interaction with my posts have been going down since ‘i forgot that you existed’ but this is my first tony fic! i really hope you guys like it and PLEASE comment if u like it and want to be tagged:) i also dont really touch on her actual job but just mention that shes a ceo so please keep in mind this is more about double standards not her job!

(gif credit to creator!)

i would be complex i would be cool they'd say I played the field before i found someone to commit to

“Y/n!” “Y/n, look here!” “Is it true you broke up with Justin Hammer?” You blocked your face as bursts of light showered your figure. You tried avoiding the paparazzi as you made your way to your car. “Is it true you dumped Hammer for Tony Stark?” “Why are you always moving on so fast from your ex boyfriends?”

You successfully made your way into the car and your driver quickly started driving to your penthouse in New York. You were rubbing your head when you decided to call your childhood best friend James Rhodes. “Rhode pick up” you muttered to yourself.

“Hey y/n” “Rhodey I just came out of Per Se and the paps bombarded me, they know about Hammer” “Y/n, darling, it’s fine it was bound to get out at some point. I think you should go home and get some rest Marla (your publicist) will deal with it” “Yeah you’re right” “When am I not?” You laughed at his sassy remark “Bye James, love you” “Night y/n/n, love you” You ended the call and rubbed your temple, annoyed at the circumstances.

and that would be okay for me to do every conquest I had made would make me more of a boss to you

You scrolled through instagram whilst sitting on your couch, waiting for Marla to get to your house. You stumbled on a video of Tony Stark. You watched it and were confused “Im a genius, playboy, billionaire, and philanthropist. I can get anyone I want and get whomever I want”

You were angry, not at Tony but the fact that the paparazzi demeaned you for moving on too fast when in reality you only ever had two public boyfriends with a year gap in between them. But when Tony Stark does it, it’s powerful and seen as a sign of winning?

You were waken from your thoughts by the knock on your door signaling that Marla was here. You opened the door to your friend who looked exhausted. “I’ve been up all night containing this mess the paps started. Everyone knows that you and Hammer broke up, and he even had something to say. Y/n, this is bad”

You took her phone and watched the video on the screen of your ex boyfriend “Me and y/n broke up earlier this month, it disgusts me that she moved on so fast, I mean come on! That’s not her character. That’s mine and Tony’s! Y/n, stay in your lane darling”

You were shocked at the false allegation and the fact that your ex attacked you for ‘moving on too fast’. “I need to speak up or do something about this Marla! What is this double standards for us, because i’m a women i’m not able to get as many deals as Stark and everything I do is scrutinized! I need you to schedule a press conference” “Alright y/n but if things go bad then,” “I know Y/l/n Tech will crash and burn but thats a risk i’ll take Marla. This is ridiculous”

i'd be a fearless leader i'd be an alpha type when everyone believes ya what's that like?

“James, if I was a man i’d be a fearless leader and the alpha type. I have always been attacked and multiple times been taken down because i don’t know what it feels like when everyone believes you, whats that like James? Really? I don’t know simply for the fact that i’m a women” “You’re holding the press conference right? You tell them this exactly Y/n, don’t hold back. It hurts me too that you don’t get enough credit for being the CEO of one of the most influential tech company in the world”

You sighed taking a bite of your hagen daz ice cream anticipating the conference tomorrow where you decided you were finally going to give the public a piece of your mind “I better sleep Rhodes, i’ll catch up with you later” “Bye y/n/n” You hung up the phone, with a pit in your stomach.

i'm so sick of running as fast as I can wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man and I'm so sick of them coming at me again 'cause if I was a man then I'd be the man i'd be the man i'd be the man

You saw the mass amount of press waiting for you inside the room and adjusted your suit before walking on the stage. “Wait y/n” Marla stopped you and showed you a video of Tony Stark commenting on you, “What do you think about Y/n’s recent allegations?” “Well I think none of you pricks should be inserting yourself into her business. So what if she’s dating someone? Why can’t she? Me and Hammer can but not her? Go do something better with your lives, please” You watched as the video ended, appreciating your competitor commenting on you. You felt a little better knowing you had the Tony Stark on your side.

“I’m here today to address the several rumors going around. First and for most, I am in fact not in a relationship with anyone but that shouldn’t matter in the first place. Please explain to me why I can’t be in a relationship or go on dates with someone after i’ve been broken up with? Second, I’m so sick of running as fast as I can simply to keep up with men because I get less opportunities and jobs because i’m a woman, and I truly wonder if i’d get there quicker if I was a man. We all know that if I was a man, then i’d be the man.

they'd say I hustled put in the work they wouldn't shake their heads and question how much of this I deserve

I run one of the most influential and highest grossing tech companies in the world and I that is what I want to be focussed on! Not the double standard and constant prying into my private life which will forever be private unless both parties come together and agree to talk about it. I hustled and put in the work, and I don’t need any more men shaking their heads and questioning how much of this power I deserve because I know I deserve it. So please, treat us as equals to men and have the same respect that you give men to women”

You finished with a big sigh, and looked up and asked the press who were in shock “There will be no questions, I said what I needed to say” You walked off the stage feeling the power surging around you as you hugged Marla “That was brilliant Y/n, i’m so proud of you!” “Thanks Marl, I actually need to go somewhere before I go back home so you can go” Marla smiled and nodded before heading out as you walked towards your car, “Go to Stark Towers. There’s someone I need to meet”

You got off the elevator and walked in the direction of Tony’s r&d lab. “Hi Tony” You said smiling at the man in front of you before setting down your bag and keys, going to sit next to the man. “Hi y/n/n, I was watching it live. You were amazing out there” You got out of the embrace and looked lovingly into your lovers eyes “Thank you for what you said Tones, it gave me what I needed. I love you so much” Tony smiled at you pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, “Always darling, cause if you were a man then you’d be the man”

----------------------------------------------------

I hope you guys enjoyed this! I wrote this in an hour with the prompt in my mind for a couple days. I really hope it resonated with some of you, because all of you are bad b!tches!!! For all my females out there, this one is for us! We are just as powerful as men and right now we don’t need anyone telling us were not.

#Tony Stark fanfiction #tony #tony stark #tony stark x reader #Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers fanfic #anthony edward stark #women

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Yuletide Fic 5/5

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan

What hadn’t occurred to Billy while planning for Santa was how long he and Steve would have to lie silently, waiting for the whispers around them to subside. The kids kept eating the Santa cookies, and then getting up to get more, and Will had the giggles about something. He kept wriggling out of the sleeping bags to put on more Christmas carols.

El kept sitting up at the slightest noise, staring suspiciously out the window, and Max wasn’t helping, all “What was that? Did you hear something?”

Jonathan’s shoulders shook suspiciously over on the couch, but at least he was quiet.

Steve didn’t let Billy throw anything at Max and El, and when Billy started to suggest knocking Dustin and Will out with blunt force trauma instead, Steve cupped his face with both hands, smiling at him in the light of the tree. They were scooted down far enough in the zipped-together sleeping bags that the edge shielded them from sight, their knees touching, and Billy let his eyes close as he leaned into Steve’s warm hands.

“Love you,” Billy whispered, almost inaudibly. “See, it’s romantic now.”

“It’s always romantic,” Steve whispered back, which Billy should have expected, honestly, from the man he’d had to flee earlier because he was professing his love loudly in the grocery store over Billy’s choice in mustard.

“Loser,” Billy sighed, squirming closer, and biting back a laugh at the feeling of Steve kissing his forehead, and his ears, and across his cheeks to his eyelids, and down his nose. Billy reached out and grabbed his boyfriend by the back of the neck, pulling him into a real kiss, but soft, so the kids couldn’t hear. “Merry goddamn Christmas,” he whispered, under the annoying, tinny tones of Marie and Donnie Osmond, apparently taped from the TV special. Steve snorted a laugh against his lips, and Billy could feel him grinning.

“Thanks,” Steve whispered, and Billy stroked his thumb over the base of Steve’s skull, and the shell of his ear, feeling the muscles move as he smiled.

“All I did was get out of your way,” Billy whispered. “But I get you tomorrow night, Harrington.”

“No, you—you did all this,” Steve whispered back. “I wouldn’t’ve thought of inviting the Byers. Or the tree. You invited Dustin.”

“Dustin invited himself,” Billy pointed out, and Steve nodded, squirming closer.

“You said it was okay,” he whispered. “I’d be...this’d be every other Christmas,” he laughed, a little catch in his voice, and pressed in for another kiss, murmuring against Billy’s lips, “Except for you. Love you. Babe. Billy Hargrove.”

“...I haven’t even killed you a reindeer yet,” Billy told him, his face so hot he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. “Jesus.”

“I love you anyway,” Steve whispered, kissing his face again. “I’m generous that way. Y’know. Even to losers who can’t even bring me a reindeer.”

Thank god, Billy thought, turning his head to kiss deeper, tasting frosting, and feeling Steve tremble against him, panting for breath. Thank god he shut up about loving me. Thank god he loves a loser who doesn’t bring him reindeer. He slid his hand up inside Steve’s shirt, under his sweater, and felt his breath hitch. Steve slid a socked foot over, hooking Billy’s leg by the ankle to sandwich their knees together, so their bodies were close enough to feel warm.

“Let’s sing carols,” Dustin said loudly, and Steve scrambled away, sat up in the zipped-together sleeping bags, and beaned him with a pillow he yanked off the couch, which had the fortunate side effect of dumping Jonathan Byers' ass on the floor. He yelled.

Billy should have expected the thankfully brief pillow fight, in which Will got the giggles so bad he fell over, Dustin took a three-pointer in the face from Max, and Jonathan Byers threw pillows at Steve, missing every time.

El smacked everyone indiscriminately, and Steve tried to be some kind of stealth ninja slithering around on sleeping bags while Billy called out plays like a sports announcer, but after they all flopped horizontal again, panting, the kid’s giggles finally petered off, and then there was silence.

It was time.

“How come I didn’t get a home run,” Steve whispered as they retrieved El’s bike from where Hopper’d slid it under the table, as Jonathan tiptoed off for the stockings.

“Didn’t hit the ceiling beam,” Billy whispered back, making it up as he went along. “Gotta hit the ceiling beam before it drops on somebody.”

“I should have got a penalty shot when they all ganged up on me,” Steve huffed, sitting out Dustin’s Commodore 64 games, and Will’s new markers. There was a photography book for Jonathan, and Billy waited until Steve wandered off to stick the two albums he’d bought him kinda behind it— Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and The Police: Synchronicity. Steve used one of his dad’s ski boots to make an ash print by the stove, before helping Jonathan prop stockings up not-too-near the fireplace, so the chocolate inside wouldn’t melt by morning.

Max had new walkie-talkies too, and Billy sat them out with mixed feelings, wondering who the second one would go to—her mom?! He hailed Steve over to have him write a note, too—Dear Max, it said, I have given your step-brother Billy a little Christmas spirit, so he’ll drive you to get a skateboard repair kit.

“Why am I writing it,” Steve hissed.

“She knows my handwriting, dingus,” said Billy, knowing she didn’t believe in Santa, but also buying in, a little, to the illusion.

Steve looked at him for a long second, and then yanked him in for a kiss.

They’d barely climbed back in their sleeping bags when Billy heard bells, and thought really, Hopper? Fuck you. Really?!

El sprang up, stumbling sleepily over Dustin and Will to the window, and from their grunts and muttered expletives, possibly doing internal damage. “Bells,” El mumbled, squinting outside just as they all jumped at the loud thud, and scraping noise, and El turned to stare at Max and yell “It’s his sleigh! It’s his sleigh!” before peeling off to run out the back door to stare up at the sky as Max fixed a sleepy, but extremely suspicious, glower on Billy.

“The fuck was that,” she hissed, and Steve said “Santa!”

“Go away, Santa, too early,” Dustin mumbled, and Billy’s liking for the kid grew three sizes that moment.

“It’s not even two in the morning,” Steve whispered, laughing, and pointing to the digital clock on the VCR, but Mrs. Henderson, Joyce, and Susan all stumbled downstairs, shivering and blinking sleepily, followed by Hopper.

He hummed as he put the kettle on, rubbing his hands together as his kid froze outside like The Little Match Girl, looking for Santa in her pajamas, and Billy finally went to the door with Dustin and yelled “El! Get in here, you’ll freeze!”

She yelled something back, but it got lost in the arctic wind, until she ran back, shivering, and held out a half-eaten carrot like she’d found the Holy Grail. “They dropped this!” she whispered, and Billy dropped a blanket on her head, and walked away to stand by the fire as Dustin pulled her inside, and Will saw his Santa-given markers and yelled.

Steve came up and threw his arms around Billy, either out of joy, or the realization he needed to stop his boyfriend from murdering the sheriff.

The kids all milled around the tree, Dustin’s fingers actually twitching towards the games, but they all noticed the time, and stared warily at their parents—except El, who was wrapped up in a blanket in the arms of the main offender, her snowflake-patterned socks sticking out as she yelled something muffled about Santa.

“Guess we’re opening presents now!” said Joyce Byers, grinning as she watched Jonathan catch sight of the photography book, and Will sitting, cross legged in front of his markers, his eyes wide and fixed on their target. El found her bike and yelled, snatching the note, and Max frowned at the handwriting over her shoulder, then fixed a startled frown on Billy, who shrugged. Max's eyes narrowed as El ran to show Hopper the note, and Billy looked away, watching Dustin rub his face briskly and trundle over to sit under the tree.

Dustin passed his mom a package, grinning up at her, and she crouched to hug his head.

“You’re all insane,” Billy whispered, warming to the idea of Christmas, a bit, as El passed him more hot chocolate, even though Jonathan immediately ruined everything by putting the Rudolph Christmas special on the VCR.

“Euuuugh,” Billy groaned, leaning his head against Steve’s.

In the ensuing melee, Billy ducked around flung Star Wars toys, Legos, what looked like a camping tent, a Ghostbusters baseball cap, and a rainbow of hats and scarves from Mrs. Henderson, who’d apparently made some for everyone there.

“How’d you have time,” Joyce breathed, running her fingers over a pattern in brown and green, and Claudia Henderson shrugged.

“Dustin’s cousins never send thank you cards anyway,” she said, grinning and handing packages to Billy, Steve, and Hopper.

Billy squeezed his, blinking at her, and she patted his shoulder. If Claudia Henderson could brave the wrapping-paper explosion, so could he, he figured, so he edged around to grab Steve’s stocking, and handed it over. “I’m giving this to you on one knee,” he whispered, and Steve blinked at him, then stared down at the stocking.

Instead of pulling out orange after orange, as Billy’d anticipated, Steve dumped it over his lap in a shower of fruit and walnuts, and burst out laughing at the ring-pop Billy’d stuck in the bottom. He yanked the wrapper open and put it on his finger, admiring the huge cherry candy gem, and leaned to whisper “I do.”

Billy flushed and scrambled away to find his actual presents for his boyfriend, rather than watch Steve stare into his eyes, swirling his tongue around his ring-pop, his mouth already red from the food coloring. Billy scrambled half under the tree and yanked out the first aid kit, and the cold-weather kit with handwarmers and foil blankets, and passed them up to Steve, who looked startled unwrapping them, then fond.

“I’ll be ready for anything,” he said, and Billy snorted.

“Can you be ready for anything in Hawkins?” Billy shot back, and Steve beamed at him.

Billy’s Santa presents for Steve, the albums, had been snatched up by Will and Jonathan, he realized after crawling around. They surrendered them after arranging some copies in trade, and Billy handed them over to their proper recipient while Steve stared at the pile of presents growing around him, and agreed to give one of his new walkie-talkies to Dustin.

Which made sense, Billy thought, it wasn't like Billy even knew how to use the damn thing. He didn't even know if he lived close enough to Steve for the damn thing to work, and it was probably more important to Steve that the kids could find him when they found monsters.

Steve was wearing one of his new mittens on the hand without the ring-pop, and the matching burgundy scarf, and Billy sat and watched him as he opened the note from Joyce, inviting him for New Years, and grinned at her.

Billy forgot he was in the middle of the whole Christmas mess until Max punched him in the shoulder, and shoved the note Steve had written in front of his face. “This true?” she asked, scowling. “You’re gonna take me to buy a skate kit.”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, and she stared.

“Santa is real,” she muttered, crawling back over to where El was trying on her new bike helmet.

Steve pushed his haul aside, pausing to blink at a wrapped package from Susan, and waved Billy over as he slowly ripped it open. Two packaged Hot Wheels cars spilled out into his lap—a BMW and a Camaro, and Steve looked delighted. "They're our cars," he whispered, grinning at Billy, his eyes sparkling in the lights from the tree as he ripped the cardboard off the backs, and touched their front bumpers gently together.

Billy shoved them down, hissing, "Don't make our cars kiss."

"But they're in love," Steve whispered back, bumping them together again, and Billy leaned his face in his hand and groaned.

He glanced over at Susan, sitting next to Max and El as El told his stepmom about things you could put in bike wheels to make noise. He couldn't picture Susan Hargrove going through the toy aisle, finding their cars, and he wondered for a wild moment if Max had, but that was even harder to picture. Steve kissed the cars bumpers together again, making a smoochy noise, and Billy elbowed him. He couldn't figure out what the cars had even been for—she wouldn't have given them to him—so the remaining option was Susan had shopped for Steve, intending the whole time to give him little toy cars in a mismatched pair.

Steve put both cars in his hand, their undercarriages pressed together, and rolled their tires together with a sly grin, and Billy smacked his hand again, reddening. “Okay, so,” Steve said finally, “—I didn’t know you’d want to come.”

“It’s fine,” Billy laughed, but Steve shook him gently by the shoulders.

“No, it’s not, but I gotta find you something better than what Bradley's Big Buy had, okay. All I got you was this—” he pushed a squishy package into Billy’s hands, and Billy ripped it open to find a soft sweater, clingier than the horse blanket Steve had pulled over his head earlier. “It’s the color of your—no, it’s not,” Steve said, squinting into his face, and Billy started snickering as Steve grabbed him by both arms and pushed him closer to the tree, then pulled him back, then walked him through the all the sprawled kids and around the other side. “There,” Steve said proudly. “It’s the color of your eyes.”

“I can’t see them,” Billy reminded him, grinning, and Steve stared at his mouth, licking his own lips, then groaned quietly in the back of his throat and stalked back to the couch, sucking on the ring-pop.

“Billy,” said Susan, holding out two rectangular department-store boxes with fancy bows, and Billy bit his lips together and sat down right where he was, lifting the lid on the top one. It was a button-down like he liked, the same brand he was wearing, in a deep oceany blue, and he bit his lips together, frowning into the box.

“Neil was busy, so I told him he didn't need to...supervise the shopping,” she said. “It should be the right size.”

Billy nodded, putting the lid back on, and opened the other, bigger box to see a wool coat, thick but tailored. He narrowed his eyes and put it on, and Steve whistled like a goddamn train. Billy ignored him, tugging at it and zipping up the front, and for once, dressed for the outdoors, didn’t feel like he was wearing an entire mattress tied to his chest. “...thanks,” he said, feeling his face heat, and avoiding looking up at her face by testing the size of the pockets.

“Don’t freeze to death,” Susan told him, sighing, and handed him his stocking. He pulled out Mr. T’s Candy Cups, and Nerds, and some oranges, and Starburst, and then felt something thick. He thought this better not be a fucking bag of coal, after she said she didn’t even think it was funny.

It was a pair of socks, warm and soft, and he considered them for a second before placing them in his lap, and reaching in to find a cassette of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. He was just pulling out some Twix bars when Max dropped next to him, and he pulled his candy back towards him, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I got my own candy, dipshit,” she said, rolling her eyes, and fiddling with her new, shiny walkie-talkies. "The hat's warm."

Billy grimaced. "We'll get you the board repair kit."

"...he told you not to buy it, didn't he," she said heavily, and Billy winced, opening his mouth.

“Everybody done?” Joyce yelled, and Max opened her mouth and closed it again, gripping the walkie-talkie, but Joyce walked by and patted her shoulder, calling out, “Everybody done with presents? Okay! Go the hell to bed.” Max scuttled away to her sleeping bag, and Joyce prodded Hopper in the side, which he ignored. She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting up at him. “Bedtime!”

“It’s morning,” Dustin said, snickering, but he covered a yawn, and Will walked over to his side of their shared sleeping bags, his arms filled with loot, and collapsed in a smiling pile.

“Fine, fine,” Hopper said, clapping his hands. “Everybody back to bed! G’night!”

Max opened her mouth, frowning at him, then sighed, and lurched tiredly to her feet, stumbling away. Steve came over and sat in her spot, throwing his arm around Billy, and sucking his ring-pop, and they sat and stared at the tree as the kids crawled back into their sleeping bags, Rudolph’s dad was terrible on the TV, and the adults all shuffled back upstairs.

“Love you,” Steve whispered.

“I heard those were invented to stop kids sucking their thumbs,” Billy whispered back, flicking Steve's hand with the ring-pop.

“It’s definitely been handy when I wanted to suck on things,” Steve said agreeably, and Billy choked, coughing, as Steve slurped away at his cherry ring-pop, looking smug.

Billy woke the next day alone in the sleeping bag, and tender where he’d rolled on his belt, and where the seams of his jeans had sanded his legs. He groaned into the soft blue-green sweater he was using as a pillow, and smelled food .

Nancy’d shown up, he found out, when he sat up like a groundhog blinking at the sun. She was on the couch with Jonathan, flipping through a different photo book in black and white. They both blinked at Billy, and then waved silently, and he waved back, looking around for Steve, and hoping Steve’s ex and her new beau didn’t try to include Billy in their conversation.

Steve was running back and forth from the kitchen, carrying plates and wearing an intent grin, and Billy watched him for a few minutes before clambering out of the sleeping bag. The others were rolled up, he noticed, and tried to zip his apart. He caught the ties in the zipper, somehow, and was trying to figure out whether he could just roll them together when Will dropped to sit next to him, eager to leverage his sleeping-bag-taming knowledge for copies of all Billy’s music.

Billy considered, aware of Nancy and Jonathan trying not to watch him repeatedly lose his battle with a squishy inanimate object, and finally agreed. “You figure this shit out and I’ll copy you the new Def Leppard,” he whispered, and Will hugged him, which was just—weird, so he waited until it was over, and walked away, trying to fix his hair by feel.

Lucas and Max showed up that afternoon, Mike was there, Billy registered vaguely, giving all the appropriate compliments to El about her bike, and Billy dozed on Steve’s shoulder in a turkey coma and let the Christmas carols float over him.

Just after he thought they’d left again, the floor pounded as Max stalked up to him and slapped the new walkie-talkie in his hand. “Everybody else has one,” she said, glaring at it, turning on her heel, and stalking off. Billy stared after her, wondering whether she honestly couldn't find someone to give it to. He'd seen Lucas', and it was twice the size.

“Ooo, I have one!” Steve said excitedly. “We can talk when you can’t get to the phone!”

Billy glanced up at him, and back down, imagining being able to call Steve when his door was padlocked from the outside, and bit his lips together. He nodded, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, yeah. I’ll...get some batteries.”

“I’ve got some,” Steve said, squirming away, then dropping beside him again to hand over an eight-pack of Energizers. “Dustin gave me some for mine.”

“...might use this thing a lot,” Billy said warningly, flicking the buttons, and Steve laughed.

“Good, I don’t wanna feel needy.”

Before everyone left, Billy got hugs from Joyce and Mrs. Henderson—he couldn’t think of her as Claudia, not when she was wearing an apron and reminded him so much of Mrs. Claus—a companionable shoulder-squeeze from Hopper, and a tense smile from Susan. El asked whether they could come back next year, explaining how Santa got lost sometimes without woodstoves, and Steve nodded seriously, agreeing to everything she said.

Jonathan shook Billy's hand like an awkward nerd, while Will tried to convince them to hang out and listen to music together, until El started questioning them all about music, and Hopper drug her away. As Jonathan, Will, El, and Hopper stumbled off in a hand-holding chain like Billy's paper-doll garland, Billy felt a tap on the shoulder, and turned to see Joyce Byers again.

"Jonathan and Will showed me the car," she said. "It looks really nice."

"They vacuumed it," Steve said, laughing and waving his hands, and Billy rolled his eyes.

"Steve fixed it so your battery will charge right, and changed your oil," he reported, and Steve laughed, grinning, then went wide-eyed as Joyce hugged them both around the necks, yanking them down even though she stood on her tiptoes.

"Thanks so much, you two," she said, sounding a little choked. "You're such good kids. You're such good kids."

Steve made a weird noise in his throat, and Billy's eyes skipped the stinging and went straight to blurry with tears, so he pulled away, clearing his throat, and made a show of lighting a cigarette.

"A-anytime," Steve said, laughing a little unnaturally. He folded his arms, unfolded them, and bit his lips, and Joyce squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, and he nodded.

Billy threw an arm around him as Joyce walked away. Dustin glanced between Billy and Steve and saluted, laughing and shaking his head, and Nancy waved again from the car window. Steve waved back.

“We look like the parents in a Christmas special,” Billy said, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve, and waving at departing cars. "Like a sitcom." Steve snorted a laugh, wiping his eyes.

After they’d all gone, Billy leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and the front room, watching Steve pick up a couple pieces of wrapping paper, and sigh. He sat under the tree, holding a piece of Mrs. Henderson’s ugliest wrapping paper, covered in brown and orange angels that looked like a hollow-eyed Strawberry Shortcake. Steve stretched it flat, and bit his lips together, before crumpling it, his shoulders a little bowed.

“...you don’t think Chriatmas is over, do you?” Billy asked, wandering closer.

“What?” Steve laughed, his eyes lowered. “I mean, it’s still the 25th. I guess. Christmas until midnight.”

“Yeah, that too,” Billy agreed, coming up behind him to reach around with both arms and take the sad crumpled Christmas paper away. He tossed it behind the tree, and Steve snorted a laugh, leaning back into his arms. “But we haven’t even gotten our best present yet,” he whispered, letting his breath tickle Steve’s ear, so he shivered. “This is the part I’ve been waiting for.” Steve opened his mouth, shrugging, and Billy yanked him around so they were nose to nose. “I got the biggest present under the tree,” Billy hissed, “—and I’ve been so patient, don’t you dare tell me Christmas is over now.”

Steve grinned at him, wide and delighted, and Billy squished his face with both hands, making his grin kissable.

Having had plenty of time to plan, Billy grabbed one of the sleeping bags, unrolled it, and tossed it under the tree, towards the fire. Steve pulled him over for a deeper kiss this time, soft and exploratory, as though he didn’t know every hitch of Billy’s breath, and the way he trembled when Steve bit gently at his lower lip, and let it pull through his teeth. “Jesus god of reindeer,” Billy whispered muzzily, and Steve burst out laughing.

“What,” he said. “What?”

“You,” Billy said hoarsely, and cleared his throat, trying to remember his script. “You wanna put on, like, your Christmas songs. Or—or movies. Or something.”

“...you wanna fuck me to Rudolph?” Steve asked, looking a little weirded out, and Billy gritted his teeth, and committed, for the sake of love.

“You want your Christmas shit playing when you get presents, right.”

“...jesus,” Steve whispered, head cocked like Billy was crazy, but beaming all the same. “Uh.” He flushed, biting his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the TV and VCR, and then the tape player. “Uh, just music, maybe.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about Rudolph,” Billy grimaced, imagining the little reindeer’s nasal tones, and the nitwit misfit song. “I mean, if you want to, but I’m gonna...good thing I already know how fucking weird you are—”

“I didn’t come up with—with this Rudolph sex orgy idea,” Steve hissed back, poking him in the chest.

Billy shrugged, rubbing it. “I really don’t know what’s weirder about that than listening to, like, The Carpenters, or John Denver and the Muppets,” he said, waiting while Steve blew the dust off the record player, and frowned between The Jackson 5 Christmas Album and A Partridge Family Christmas Card. “Or those,” Billy said, making a face at little Michael Jackson, and sitting on the sleeping bag, waiting while his dick strained against the inside of his jeans.

“Just don’t think too much about it,” Steve muttered, crouching down to put on A Partridge Family with pink cheeks, and Billy waited until the speakers crackled and Mr. Partridge started singing to grab Steve around the waist.

Billy pulled his boyfriend's butt half into his lap, where he could slide his hands up Steve’s sides, lifting his sweater and shirt, and kissing the skin between his shoulder blades. Steve laughed, and leaned his head back against Billy’s shoulder for a kiss. Billy gave him one—then two—then stared at Steve’s startled grin, and sighed, brushing their lips together as the magnetic pull hauled him back in, and Steve gave a muffled laugh and a contented noise deep in his throat, closing his eyes. He tasted sweet, like the cookies he’d been eating, even sweeter than usual, and Billy groaned and shoved Steve forward again in order to push his sweater and shirt up over his shoulders, white from winter, and scattered with birthmarks. Billy kissed a few of them.

“Better keep me warm,” Steve whispered, curling up in his arms, and Billy pulled him in as tight as he could, burying his probably goofy-looking grin in Steve’s hair.

“Oh, I’ll warm you up,” he whispered, and Steve snickered, relaxed against him as Billy slid his hands around Steve's waist, and down to undo his boyfriend’s jeans. Steve groaned, shivering as Billy pulled his cock out—it was already satisfyingly hard in his hand, and Billy rubbed the edge of his thumb across it, so Steve grunted and squirmed in his lap. “...guess the Partridge Family really does it for you,” Billy whispered.

“Shut your face,” Steve mumbled, panting. “You do it for me, we could be—we could be listening to like. Bird calls, I don’t give a fuck—”

“You saying Tweety Bird gets your motor running,” Billy whispered back, and Steve elbowed him, mostly hitting sweater.

“Fuck you,” he hissed, his hips jerking so his dick bumped against Billy’s thumb again, into his hand, and Billy squeezed it, the wetness letting his thumb slide easily over the tip. “Oh jesus,” Steve whispered. “God…”

“Lay down,” Billy said, biting his shoulder gently, and Steve arched against him, groaning. “Come on, your majesty, I’m not even done unwrapping you yet.”

“...nerd,” Steve snorted, panting, but he let himself be pressed back onto the sleeping bag, his cock sliding against Billy’s hand as Billy held him down, gently, by the lower belly, tugging his jeans off. Steve bent his legs up to let Billy yank the legs off without having to move, and Billy laughed as he tugged Steve’s socks off, and tossed them away. Steve grinned up at him, his face lit by the lights on the tree, making him look a little starry.

“There,” Billy said, rubbing his free hand up Steve’s thigh. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend’s naked dick, and Steve yelped, moaning in the back of his throat.

“What—about you,” he grunted, his voice a little rough. “You gonna raw me in your jeans?”

He sounded hungry at the thought, and Billy filed that away for later. “Nah,” he whispered, swinging a leg over so he was sitting across his boyfriend’s thighs. “Thought I’d make you watch me, for a bit,” he said, sliding two fingers in his mouth, and sucking on them.

Steve muttered “Oh, shit,” and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Now you got me in this damn...Mr. Rogers sweater,” Billy said, keeping his voice low as he drug his fingers down it, Steve’s gaze fixed on them as his dick leaked.

“Don’t talk about Mr. Rogers, gross,” he whispered, and Billy grinned, swinging his hips a little from side to side so Steve's naked thighs could feel the warmth of his ass through jeans. “Jesus,” Steve muttered, clenching his fists as Billy slid both hands around his own waist just under the edge of the sweater, lifting them up underneath against his sides, and Steve laughed a little unevenly, his eyes widening.

Billy lifted the sweater a little more, running his fingers lightly over his abs, and then his pecs as they flexed with his arms up in the damn sweater, and Steve swallowed visibly. Billy pulled the sweater off his shoulders and head, shaking his hair back, and flexed his arms as he pulled the sweater sleeves off.

Steve threw his head back laughing. “Love you,” he said, always picking the weirdest times.

“We’re boning to the Partridge Family,” Billy hissed, instantly irritated. “If this fuckery isn’t love I don’t know what is.”

“I know,” Steve said, his smile soft even as his cock dripped on his belly. “Thanks for boning me to the Partridge Family.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m stripping,” Billy growled, and Steve started laughing again, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and Billy swore and leaned in to kiss him, flattening him to the ground, and wiping the wetness away from his boyfriend’s eyes with his knuckles. “The fuck is wrong with you,” he muttered, and Steve snickered, sniffling. “You want me to hurry up?”

“No,” Steve laughed, swallowing a suspicious gulping sound, and Billy frowned harder. “I just like this,” Steve whispered, laughing, his eyes welling up again. “I like this Christmas.”

“Are you gonna do this every year?” Billy asked in horror, imagining his boyfriend crying through sex while puppets wailed in the background, and Steve laughed harder, wiping his face.

“You saying you’re gonna bone me under the tree every year?” he asked, and Billy felt his face heat. Steve grinned, reaching up to tuck Billy’s curls out of his face, behind his ear. “In sickness and in health?”

“Why are you so weird,” Billy groaned, rocking his hips, so Steve grunted, closing his eyes. “Yes. Yeah. Next year we’ll fuck to Frosty, can I get back to stripping now?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, sniffling. “I love you. Yeah.”

“Christ,” Billy muttered, wiping his boyfriend’s eyes and cheeks again, his own eyes stinging a little—probably with embarrassment, he thought, fairly sure he was gonna get a half-chub every time he heard the Partridge Family playing, for the rest of his life.

Steve was still hard, at least—which was more disconcerting than anything—so Billy sighed, and rolled his hips again, as a reset. Every time he did, his fly brushed the bottom of Steve’s dick, and he groaned, rocking his head back against the sleeping bag. He was starting to sweat, and the light of the tree made him glisten.

“Look at me,” Billy told him, and Steve folded his arms behind his head to see. Billy ran his fingers up his new blue shirt—cupping his sides like his hands were Steve’s, and then running his hands up along the buttons to undo the first one.

“Never seen you with your shirt all the way on before,” Steve whispered, his eyes fond, and Billy snorted.

“Can’t let up on the advertising campaign,” he said. “Gotta show you the goods.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve reached down to squeeze Billy’s thigh through his jeans. Billy undid another button, parting the fabric over his collarbones, and running his hands down his neck, and Steve leaned his head on one shoulder, smiling up. “I’m not gonna...forget, jesus,” he whispered. “Never gonna forget what you look like, babe.”

Billy grabbed the sweater and leaned in to lift Steve’s head into a kiss, tucking the sweater behind it as a pillow.

“God,” Steve whispered against his mouth, running his hands over Billy’s half-unbuttoned shirt.

Billy sat back upright again, while Steve groaned and grabbed at his shirt as he pulled away. Billy undid another button, letting his nails scrape along his skin as he scooped his pendant into his mouth, swaying his hips. He slid his fingers down over the remaining buttons to brush over the edge of his belt, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who laughed, panting.

“Yeah, I’m watching, loverboy.” Steve leaned back on one elbow, smiling smugly, and Billy watched the low golden light on his boyfriend’s face and hair.

Billy ran his fingers over his fly, and down in his pants, tugging his shirt tails out one by one, and swayed his hips in a slow figure-eight as Steve bucked a little under him, grinning.

“Gonna be New Years by the time you’re done, jesus,” Steve said, his gaze riveted to Billy’s hands.

“Can’t keep it up, there, pretty boy?” Billy asked, arching his back as he undid the lowest button, and then parted his shirt like a curtain and undid the one above it to show his taut belly and the trail of hair leading into his jeans.

“Not the problem,” Steve said through gritted teeth, the fingers on his free hand digging into Billy’s thighs.

Billy stopped, looking down to unbutton his cuff and roll it up a couple of times, humming carelessly as Steve squirmed under him, smacking his leg.

“Hurry up, you bastard,” he demanded, and Billy smiled, unbuttoning the other cuff.

“You gonna ask nicely?” he asked, and Steve laughed, shifting under him with a grimace. “You’re leaking like a hose connection with a bad washer.”

“Shut up,” Steve hissed. “Like you aren’t making me.”

“Maybe I should stop,” Billy said, stretching so his shirt lifted.

“Please, please, you dickhead,” Steve broke. “My legs are fucking going to sleep, and my dick’s gonna explode—”

“Thought you loved me,” Billy said, licking his lips, and leaning in so his stomach brushed Steve’s dick. Steve yelped, groaning, and bucking up into the friction. “Isn’t that what you were saying earlier? King Steve, the chosen one?”

“Love you a lot more if you let me touch,” Steve growled, laughing. As Billy sat up, Steve reached out and yanked at his belt, and Billy laughed, smacking Steve’s hand away.

“Thought you didn’t want Christmas to be over,” Billy whispered, and Steve laughed harder, his cock dripping across his stomach.

“Yeah,” he admitted, leaning back with a shaky breath. “Yeah, I don’t. Never want this to be over.” His knuckles went white as his fingers tightened on Billy’s swaying thighs.

The Partridge Family switched to Winter Wonderland, and Billy’s side was warmed by the fire. He knew the light of it gilded his hair and skin as he flexed his bare forearms, sliding a finger under the leather strap of his belt as Steve groaned.

Billy flicked it out of the belt loops, tugging it off the tongue of the buckle and slowly drawing it loose over his fly. Steve twitched under him, swallowing back a noise as Billy’s jeans brushed his cock. “You want me to fuck you?” Billy asked, undoing the buttons of his jeans one-by-one so Steve could see he was going commando, and pressing his thumb and forefinger together in a tight circle over his own dick, so Steve’s bounced untouched on his stomach.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, looking him over, and Billy grinned.

“Want me to do all the work,” Billy whispered, swaying his hips with the music, “—so all you have to do is lie there?”

“Anything,” Steve said. “Love you, jesus.”

Billy’s hand stuttered, and he leaned forward again, bracing himself over Steve’s chest. “Tell me,” he said. “You want me to ride you? What?”

“I want everything,” Steve said, his eyes wide and soft, and then he grinned. “I mean, we got so many leftovers to get through. Whatever we don’t do now—”

“How can you be such a romantic and such a shithead,” Billy muttered, reaching down to squeeze his boyfriend’s hand.

“Fuck me just like that,” Steve said. “Your party jeans and that shirt. You look like—you’re a wet dream, jesus.” Billy grinned, cocking his head and licking his lips, and Steve laughed shakily. “Yeah, come on, asshole,” he whispered. “Billy.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, scrounging around in the back of the TV cabinet where he’d hidden the lube, and pulling the condom out of his back pocket. He squirted some lube in his hand, and pushed Steve’s legs up to slide his hand between them, watching him squirm against the cold.

“Warm it up, dickhead,” Steve muttered, grabbing his wrist, but as soon as Billy started sliding his fingers up and down, Steve relaxed, going boneless with one leg bent up, the other sprawled to the side. His eyes went half-lidded as he grinned up in the starry rainbow lights.

Billy watched him pant in the light of the Christmas tree, and smiled, holding Steve’s hips flat to the floor with one hand, and bending to slip his mouth over his boyfriend’s cock.

“Jesus christ,” Steve grunted, shifting under Billy’s hands, and Billy hummed along with the song, knowing he could probably shove on in, but taking it slow, swirling his tongue around Steve’s dick as his fingers worked. He rubbed over the edge of Steve’s hole, over and over, until he was squirming, red-cheeked, and biting his lips together, and he finally said “Jesus, fuck me, god—”

Billy lifted his mouth off Steve’s cock with a pop. “His majesty’s getting impatient,” he said, and Steve yelled “Yes, I fucking am.” Billy laughed, leaning his head against Steve’s knee, and then kissed it, before crawling up to kiss Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” Steve muttered, panting, his skin gleaming with sweat in the light of the tree. “God…” he whispered against Billy’s mouth, whining softly, and Billy grabbed the sweater and shoved it under Steve’s back, pushing his legs up so Billy could push slowly in.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled, and Steve started snickering, grunting as Billy’s weight pushed the air from his lungs, but pulling him in for a kiss, bent nearly double.

“God, you feel good,” Steve grunted, as Billy narrowed his eyes, checking his boyfriend’s sprawled limbs for tension before thrusting his hips. “God, yes,” Steve moaned, kissing hazily at anything of Billy's he could reach.

It wasn’t so bad, Billy decided, boning Steve Harrington under the Christmas tree, and watching the Christmas lights reflect off his eyes. Even the music wasn’t too awful—he mostly tuned it out—until Billy went too hard, rustling the nearest branch of the tree as Steve writhed beneath him, and a popcorn ball smacked right between his shoulders and bounced off Steve’s knee, and they both had to stop while they laughed themselves breathless.

“Let’s do this every year,” Steve whispered into his shoulder once they’d finished, sweaty and smiling, and Billy snorted a laugh, pulling him closer.

“...yeah, okay,” he whispered back, running his hand around his boyfriend’s ass where it was still a little sticky, and considering Round Two. “You’re worth it.”

“Good,” Steve laughed, squirming closer. “You’re worth it too. This. Anything.”

“...love you too,” Billy whispered, hugging him close.

#harringrove #Finally the pornz #Found family #Boyfriend cookies #platypan FINISHED FIC

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guileheroine · 4 years

Text

all kinds of different

a friend/shippy gelphie (wicked) ficlet written last nov for the 2019 Femslash Exchange on ao3/dreamwidth (i just realised i forgot to post this here!) 💜✨// 1.4k, ao3

“You should do a charity ball! Always gets people interested,” Galinda suggests, offhand, before the sight of Elphaba working draws her focus. Elphaba decides, displaying what she thinks is commendable restraint, to concentrate on her task instead of telling her that no one in all of Gillikin is going to turn up to a dance for Animal rights. In any case, they are both too consumed in the transformation of the withered houseplant on the desk for that particular trail of conversation to survive. Galinda’s eyes are huge and keen and not a little wondrous, a more potent distraction than her comments.

“Amazing!” She sighs, with a soft clap of her hands.

“Are you jealous?” Elphaba says with half a mind, relishing the fruits of her effort.

“I couldn’t be, it’s too beautiful!”

The word, the feeling in Galinda’s voice, has Elphaba’s full attention all of a sudden. It makes her stomach stir and allows only for an awkward, perfunctory response to slip out.

“Well I mean, uh, exactly.”

At last, Galinda’s gaze drops away from the musty old flowerpot. From the little sapling, dead and crisp a minute ago, that Elphaba has just magicked before their very eyes into a bulbous, gleaming succulent bright purple with life.

“I’m not jealous, Elphie, I swear,” she sighs, a little forlorn. There’s a short laugh (too high) on the heels of the statement, before Galinda turns and swishes off to her class, leaving Elphaba to recover from the strange moment.

Once upon a time, Elphaba wouldn’t have believed such a statement because she was determined to believe the worst of Galinda always; and jealousy was, of course, a terrible trait that someone as inspicable as her would no doubt possess in excess amounts (even if it was very deep in her festering core where no one could see.) At a later time, she would have taken Galinda at her word, simply because it made a kind of sense deeper than Elphaba should really bother to resist anymore - what did someone like Galinda have to be jealous of her for?

Now , however, she’s beginning to know her well enough to circle back to skepticism. It is borne of a growing understanding of her roommate this time, not the projection of Elphaba’s own hatrification and insecurity, as reluctant as she had been to admit to the latter to begin with. The point is: the recognition of Galinda’s not so saintly emotions feels different, more because Elphaba is different than because Galinda is.

Different every day when it comes to her new friend, such that even these unperfect qualities come with a certain kind of clarity that makes them digestible, understandable - endearing even. (Is it really normal to find her so endearing?)

After all, jealousy is, of course, a perfectly human trait; and it should not be a surprise that anyone suffers it, even if Galinda is someone who takes great pains to hide such things. Knowing her as she now does, Elphaba thinks that those things that Galinda takes pains to hide tend to be all the more stark for her efforts. In any case, the comment sticks in her brain, quite a distraction. Elphaba is surprised to find how unhappy the thought of the whole thing makes her; even more surprised to find why. To realise that her own discomfort at being the subject of jealousy is in fact far outweighed by her sheer longing that Galinda does not feel inadequate.

Elphaba cleans the pot up so it’s as shiny as the leaves, flicking her fingers to curl the rim up into a more beguiling shape. She pushes it into the line of knick knacks against the back of her desk. They look better than new, and should go down fairly well at the sale tomorrow, if last week’s accounts are anything to go by. The weekly fundraisers for pro-Animal activist groups are facing a lot of pushback, but there’s nothing anyone can technically do to stop them organising, even if Elphaba anticipates the worst ever more of late. But if they play their cards right (Shiz students never do miss a good sale), even with a mere handful of organisers they can raise enough to get at least the same number of disenfranchised Animals the legal advice they need.

Upglitzing all this old junk up is a clever way to turn a quick profit, and she’s been working very fast on her free evenings. Doing it in the room with Galinda though - she can’t help but notice the effect it has on her friend’s mood. Even though Galinda hasn’t made it all the way to actually saying ‘I wish I could help’ yet, much less ‘I wish I could do that .’ Elphaba tries again to put it from her mind, but Galinda-thoughts are continually proving to be the hardest to shake off. Such a bother.

At the Friends of the Animals committee meeting last week, Elphaba had once again come up with an idea for improving the fundraisers. With the season changing, everyone is on the hunt for suitable apparel; and not everyone can afford the kind of finery that she’s seen Galinda’s friends hauling back by the sackful from the boutiques in town. There’s a demand here, prime for their affordable, eclectic supply. She gets everyone on the committee to scour their old wardrobes and the charity shops around for anything workable. And then she works on making them market ready.

It’s bitter work. It’s not until the early hours of the morning before the next sale outside Crage Hall that she’s finished - not satisfied but altogether too exhausted to keep at it, with all the frills and trims and cuts and colours swimming before her mind’s eye, none exactly right. Too short, too long, too drab, too shiny.

For all her sweat, and her frustration, she can’t quite be surprised when just one scarf and a beglittered belt is all that sells. What’s worse - she hears one student (hardly the picture of style, mind you) muttering something about how ugly everything on the rack is. She has to tamp down the fire on her tongue because how can she even tell if they’re wrong? She doesn’t have the eye for this. It seems as though anyone can see it’s all unrefined and unfashionable. Too Elphaba . Even Fiyero asks if there are any catalogues she could look at for inspiration, tells her that maybe they should go back to stationery and home furnishings or something next week, because we all have our strengths - and that’s when Elphaba sees the silver lining.

“Hey, I really need your help.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Galinda says from her bed, not looking up from her nails as they dry. Her tone has the kind of casual sarcasm that they have developed, a vague self-commentary on Galinda’s own typical eagerness, but once she actually realises what Elphaba has said, she cranes her head, piqued. “Oh, really? What is it?”

Her genuine curiosity puts Elphaba’s heart at ease somehow. It’s an effect too large for a simple reply to have, but Elphaba can think about it later. She dumps the pile of rejected clothing on the carpet and gestures helplessly towards it. “We have to upcycle these clothes. Can’t sell a thing.”

Galinda looks at her darkly. “You know I can’t, Elphie…” The silence strains and Elphaba winces, but then Galinda continues with a pronounced breath. “Your magic, I mean - you’ll be so much better than me,” she chokes out, diplomatically.

“Yeah, I know,” Elphaba replies evenly, despite the way that Galinda’s effort makes her fist curl with sympathy. “But, I mean, I’m hoping your fashion sense can cancel out... mine.” And she’s not kidding when she says, “I really - I can’t seem to do this. Please just work with me.”

After a second, Galinda fairly leaps from the bed. She rummages through the pile, and Elphaba experiences a most curious, stupefying moment of elation to see her expression caught between utter disrelish and pity. She can’t even muster a smile, but her heart beats hard at the sight of Galinda’s face now written with such intent concern and determination.

“Oh, Elphie…” Her head snaps up, stern, and she holds out her hand rather sweetly. “We have so much work to do.”

Suddenly, Elphaba can't imagine a more appealing evening.

#wicked #gelphie #elphaba thropp #galinda upland #**

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hornsbeforehalos · 5 years

Text

Waste Love: Part Twelve

Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff A/N: Smut warning for this chapter!

As expected, the morning the interview was uploaded, everyone went nuts.

Tiffany eventually disabled her messaging on all social media platforms, the constant buzzing of her phone’s notifications driving her up the wall.

While the majority of the reactions were positive, there were plenty of hate wishers. Comments ranging from “finally!” To “she’s only with him for clout,” and other things like “let’s see how long it lasts this time.” As well as even worse flooded her news feeds until she eventually just turned her phone off with a roll of her eyes.

“It’ll blow over in a few days, babe, calm down,” Colson reminded her as they sat at her kitchen bar eating breakfast, his smile reassuring and sweet, “Promise.”

“I hope so,” Tiffany sighed, her lips flapping together as she exhaled deeply, looking down at her cup of coffee, “I’d like to be able to check my Instagram without the death threats.”

“Smile,” Colson said suddenly, holding his phone up to take a picture of her quickly. She groaned and tried to reach for the device, but he quickly jerked it away and jumped from his seat, “‍Nice. I got this, babe.”

“Colson, no!” She argued with a whine, “I look like shit, please don’t post that.”

“Too late,” Colson snickered, mischievous grin curling his mouth as he typed away. He dramatically hit the screen with a pop of his lips, beaming his signature smile at Tiffany as he proclaimed, “Posted!”

Tiffany narrowed her eyes and shook her head at him before standing, collecting their now empty plates and dumping them in the sink before leaning against the counter to finish her coffee. Colson approached her slowly, his hand reaching out to grip her hip as he leaned into her. She pressed her face against his chest with a sigh, setting her cup down before wrapping her arms around him.

“Love you, Tiff.” He murmured before kissing the top of her head, squeezing her close to him.

Tiffany hummed in response, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of having him near her. That they were trying. That things were gonna work out.

“I’ve gotta get ready for work.” She stated with a groan, lifting her head to look up at him while still pressed against his chest, “What are y’all gonna do today?”

“Dunno,” Colson answered with a shrug, his face falling slightly as he caressed the side of her face with his fingers, “Prolly make sure everything’s set up for the flight back home and chill here.”

Tiffany nodded sadly at the reminder that he would be leaving soon, her teeth finding purchase in her lip as she looked away.

“Hey,” Colson started, tilting her head back to look at him with a finger under her chin, “It’s not gonna be for long.”

She nodded again with a sigh, swallowing the lump in her throat as she stood on her toes to kiss him. His lips pressed against hers softly, his hands on either side of her face holding her in place.

“Imma take you out tonight.” Colson declared after they broke apart, a new determination sparking in his crystalline irises.

“Yeah?” Tiffany asked, smirk painting her lips as she cocked an eyebrow at him, “Where to?”

“All over. Gonna show you off.” He replied, his hands snaking down her frame to grab two handfuls of her ass, “So don’t stay gone too late.”

Tiffany chuckled as she pulled away from him, turning to head towards the bathroom to get ready for work as she replied over her shoulder sarcastically, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Ya gonna get it, girl!” Colson called out with a silly voice as the door shut, the sound of her laughing on the other side of it making him smile even brighter than before.

—

“Hey, girl, you almost done?” Norman asked as he walked into Tiffany’s office, his face concerned as he looked up from his phone to the woman, who was wearing a frustrated expression as she clicked away on her computer, “Kels called me to see if you were still here. Why’s your phone off?”

“It’s been off all day,” Tiffany shrugged, clicking a few more times but still unsatisfied with the image in front of her’s contrast. Sighing deeply, she continued, “And yeah. I give up on this stupid fuckin’ thing for today, it’s pissing me off.”

“Take your time, lady, it’s fine,” Norman assured as he leaned against the side of her desk, “Go home and get ready for your hot date.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes as she exited the program before closing the laptop. She sat back with a huff, turning in her seat to look at her boss, “He tell you about where we’re going?”

“Nah, but he said for you to hurry cuz he made reservations somewhere.” Norman replied, reaching over and grabbing her hand, “So come on, let’s go.”

“Fine,” she sighed as she let him pull her up. She grabbed her bag and followed him out, helping him turn off the lights throughout the office space until they reached the parking lot.

“He goes back to Cali here soon, don’t he?” Norman asked curiously as he walked her to her car. The wrinkles around his eyes softened as he watched her dim, disappointment in her eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah, for a little bit before he starts the fall tour. It’ll be a little bit before I get to see him again. They’ll be here for a show in October though that I’m gonna go to.”

“That’s not too bad,” Norman replied as they reached her car, “I’m about to be gone ‘till November prolly for the show.”

Shocked at the new information, Tiffany recoiled slightly, “What? Not even for the weekends?”

Shrugging, Norman pushed up his sunglasses as he replied, “Diane and the baby are gonna be in Germany while she films this movie, so I really don’t have any reason to come home.”

“Well that fuckin’ sucks.” Tiffany huffed, yanking open her car door as she glared at Norman, “You’re just leaving me like that?”

“I’ll be back, sweetheart. Plus, I’ll probably even need you to fly down there for a bit at least once.” He answered with a goofy smile, his hands in his pockets, “You’ll probably be so busy you won’t even know I’m gone.”

“Whatever,” Tiffany growled as she squinted at him, “This is a betrayal.”

“Oh whatever, crazy. Get in the damn car and go. I’ll call you if I need you tomorrow.”

“Fuck you, Reedus,” Tiffany deadpanned as she crawled into the vehicle, rolling her window down as she closed the door, “This isn’t over with.”

“Byeeee,” He cooed, waving to her before turning around and heading in the direction of his bike.

—

“Are you fucking done yet, bitch?” Colson voice called out as the sound of the door opening and closing echoed through Tiffany’s apartment.

“Almost!” She yelled back, her reflection in the mirror staring back at her as she adjusted her the sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. She slipped her black flats on before smoothing the long, flowing skirt out one last time and exited her bedroom.

“Finally, God damn,” He huffed in faux annoyance, his eyes drifting across her frame as he held the joint between his fingers out for her. “Holy fuck, you look good.”

“Well thank you, Mr. Baker,” She blushed, taking the joint from him and hitting it as her gaze raked itself over his appearance as well. The black v-neck t shirt he wore with matching colored jeans making the blue in his irises ever more vibrant, “You look pretty fine, yourself.”

“Come ‘ere real quick,” He said, pulling her to him when she tried to move past him in the hallway. His hands snaked down her waste and to her ass to give it a squeeze as he breathed into her ear, “We can be a little late.”

“Oh really?” She smirked, feeling his lips brush against her neck as she hit the joint, exhaling as she spoke, “I thought we were in a rush.”

“Not anymore.” He rasped lowly, leading her back towards her bed while pulling her skirt up around her waist. She fell back onto the mattress, hitting the roach one last time before holding it out for him to put out. He disposed of it in the ashtray on the nightstand before returning his attention to her, his bottom lip caught in his teeth as lust danced around his eyes.

One of his hands found her foot while the other trailed up her other thigh, pulling her shoe off as she kicked off the other. His long fingers wrapped around the arch of her heel before yanking her to the edge of the bed, his nails on her thigh scratching her sensitive flesh.

“Mmm,” Colson hummed, licking his lips as he pulled her foot closer and kissed the top of it, eyes drifting as he watched her legs spread for him, “God damn.”

A whimper left Tiffany’s throat as her body shivered with anticipation. She kneaded her own breasts through the fabric of her shirt as he kissed and bit at her ankle while his hand between her legs found her core.

“No panties?” Colson smirked at her before pushing his fingertip inside, “Dirty whore.”

“Fuck you,” She breathed, rolling her hips into his hand when he crooked his finger, “You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He quipped back while his free hand worked open his belt to free his cock. A moment later, twin moans echoed through the room at the feeling of him filling her deep.

“Fuck yeah, Tiff. Take it,” He grunted as he bent her in half, her legs hooked over his shoulders as he leaned over her on the mattress, “Take it, baby.”

“Colsoooon,” She mewled as he thrust hard inside her, her nails finding purchase across his back under his shirt and making him hiss. “Fuck, baby. Yes.”

Her muscles tensed and released against his throbbing cock, sensations of bliss circulating through the both of them. He continued to push in and out of her, her pussy dripping with arousal as she neared her orgasm.

“Holy fuck, yes, that’s it, baby,” He praised as he felt her tighten around him, “Gimme this pussy, girl.”

“Fuck, Colson,” She gasped when he dug his hands into her hair with a sharp tug, her eyes rolling to the back of her head with the pleasurable pain, “Harder.”

“Yes mam,” He growled, his pace quickening as he drove impossibly deeper inside her body while tightening his grip in her waves, “Come on, Tiffany, come for me.”

“Shit,” She hissed, feeling her walls flex again as her vision began to blur and body began to quake, “Yes, Just like that.”

“Take my dick so good, baby,” He murmured against her skin, his lips dragging across her jaw to her throat to lick and bite, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours, Colson,” She keened in reply, vibrating as the waves of orgasmic bliss finally crashed over her. Wetness flooded between them and Colson growled, unable to handle holding himself off anymore.

“Fuck,” He barked, driving his hips into hers with a sharp thrust that knocked the wind out of her, his cock pulsing as it pumped his come inside her, “God damn, Tiff.”

“Fucking hell,” She breathed, her heart pounding and chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She tapped Colson on the shoulder to get him to move, the man breathlessly rolling off of her and onto his back.

“Okay, we really gotta go,” He chuckled, exhaling deeply before sitting up and looking down at her, “We’re gonna be stupid late for dinner.”

“You just killed me and expect me to be able to hop up and go to dinner?” Tiffany deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow at him, “Fucking hell.”

“Get up,” Colson commanded, smacking her on the bare thigh as he stood to tuck his dick back in his pants and buckle his belt, “Get up, get up, get up.”

“Okay, okay,” She replied, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair, “I’m coming.”

“Still? Damn, I really am good.” Colson teased with a wink, dodging the shoe she tossed at him as she stood.

She got herself put back together as Colson rolled another jay, the man yelling for her to hurry again as he waited in the living room.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Tiffany replied as she came out of the bathroom. She plucked the joint from his fingers before he had the chance to light it, holding it between her lips as she put on her jacket, “You’d be late to your funeral.”

“Yeah, probably cuz I was waitin’ on your slow ass.” Colson sassed, smacking her on the butt playfully before stealing the spliff back, “Now come on, we got somewhere to be.”

“Where are we even fuckin’ going?” She laughed as she grabbed her purse before following him to the door.

“To get as drunk as possible, baby.” He winked as he held the door open for her, “Tonight is gonna be great.”

Masterlist

Tags: @cobainscocaiine @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen@mgkobsessed@iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3@xxencagedxx@xxkellsvixen19xx @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @bvibunny138

*credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer

#colson baker x #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker x ofc #mgk imagine #mgk x you #mgk smut #mgk x ofc #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly x you #machine gun kelly x ofc #colson baker #mgk

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lenjaminmacbuttons · 4 years

Note

Hope you’re doing okay, I know there’s been a lot going on the past couple weeks. 🌈🌈💛💛

FOOF YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN

thank you for the good vibes anon, i love you and it means a lot to me. however unfortunately now im gonna use this to vent dump exactly how much has been going on the past couple weeks off the top of my head. this is actually pretty far from Everything thats happen but im so tired and dont want to think about any of it anymore

my grandma passed away last week. we were prepared for it and we know she’s at peace in a better place et cetera et cetera, her body was all full of restraints & impediments that she doesnt have to deal with anymore and the next time she’s in a body it’ll be all New And Improved and awesome. i missed so much work in anticipation of this that now i can’t get work off on the day of the funeral, so i can still go to it but i’ll have to go immediately to work right from it and have to pretend everythings fine and dandy and nothings going on.

everyone at work Does know there’s something going on however and the two coworkers i have who are actually like i consider them friends mostly they’re all like Hey Im Here For You Talk About Your Feelings Honestly with me and i. dont. want. to talk about my feelings at work. thats not what work is for and i dont like talking about my feelings anyway and i dont want them to ask anymore

the changes to the handbook and the honor code have completely sunk my heart. i had so much hope up until those hideous ridiculous unfathomably transphobic things they wrote and now i don’t feel like i can trust or have hope in ANYTHING the institution does anymore. ive been up all night going back and forth over whether i want to go to church today. or ever again. it’s not bringing me joy. it’s making me feel anxious and depressed and frustrated and alone. i keep seeing people just on the street or on facebook who are so happy and content with the church and whatever it does and i just…i get struck every single time with this thought of “they don’t care about me. they don’t care about any of these problems. they’re not affected personally by it and so they don’t care.”

and then that makes me feel like such a hypocrite because!!! ive been them too for so long!! what makes this moment so different!!!!! why is this the straw that breaks the camel’s back when the camel should have thrown off the whole burden and run to join its friends at the first strike of the owner’s whip!!!!!!

plus it’s making me feel gross about my mormon memes blogs. idk if i can keep running those anymore.

im failing this semester anyway and i keep getting emails about it. i was planning to take a break from school After this semester but ive missed so much class that i just really can’t go back to any of them so i guess im just dropping out right now. as much as i’d love to participate in all the incredible amazing protests going on right now i really really cant be on campus at all without feeling literally physically ill. and my Hope was to do really well this last semester and then submit mission papers and that way i’d know exactly what next to do with my life until i decide what After, and id be able to Get Out somewhere and travel someplace while still feeling like my life has some semblance of structure and direction. however! HOWEVER!!!!!!!!

i’ve been feeling so, so horrible and so worn down and i dont even know where or what my testimony is anymore. but that’s probably a lot lower on the list of Why I Can’t Serve A Mission, because a. i still don’t trust my Local Bishop enough to talk to him about things The Handbook says to b. i am finding it harder and harder and harder to be perceived as female. i never really have dysphoria about my body or my presentation or anything but like, when people say Sister and Ma’am and Miss and Daughter and Hey Pretty Lady It’s Me Your Relief Society President it’s like…that’s not me. that feels gross. and i wear suits and ties to church, have done so for a while and never get any flak for it, and im gradually working up the nerve to maybe start introducing myself as lev or levi instead of lillie buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut. socially transitioning apparently is not allowed.

not to mention my temple recommend expired ages ago anyway. anxiety about bishops prevented me from ever going in for an interview to renew it. i haven’t visited the temple once since before graduating high school. but every time i see it or think about it i long for it so badly and it hurts so much.

and also like, i get that same kinda horrible regretful longing feeling whenever i hear violin music? because i played violin for a few years and then stopped but i still have the instrument because it was given to me by my grandmother. who played it herself until sickness wouldn’t let her anymore and she entrusted it to me and i Stopped Playing but then i hoped to pick it up enough to at least learn how to play her favorite song and aw wouldn’t that be so nice to play that for her on her violin except i never actually got around to printing out the sheet music or practicing At All. and now she’s gone.

and one of the last things she said to me was that she would love to hear my book since her eyesight was too gone to read it so i said i’d record it as soon as i got the right software/hardware to do that and then i never did that either. also i promised alla yalls that book would be Published Published coming up on four months ago now and i still haven’t done that

i took a pair of safety scissors to my forearms as mentioned in a previous post and surprise surprise, the lines have not healed still, it’s getting warmer outside and thus harder to wear long sleeves, and guess what! a while ago on a separate occasion i complained that i kinda wished my self harm scars looked more like the classic cutter lines and Now They Do!! And I Hate It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a couple nights ago my little sister saw them and so i told her i got attacked by a spider-pawed bear and fortunately my brother Understands and backed me up like “dang what do they teach in schools these days i cant believe youve never heard of the spider-pawed bears that live in the mountains and are totally normal and real”

and steven universe is ending. that’s a thing.

and like….okay. not everything in my emotions right now is bad. some of it is just complicated. one coworker friend i have recently confessed that she’s had a crush on me for several months now. fortunately when she said this i was able to be honest and say that im not super eager for a relationship right now, im not ready in the slightest to settle down or anything, im still hung up on my high school crush and also dealing with issues from my last relationship, and she replied that’s all perfectly fine and she doesn’t have any expectations and she’s great being friends and we can take things at whatever pace is good

except i also now have a date with said high school crush loosely planned for tomorrow and i told this coworker friend about it and she admitted it’s making her a little jealous and then she said jealous is an ugly word and amended it to Insecure and i feel bad about that

but i also like. am really excited for this date. like it’s not really a for sure romantic capital-d Date and that’s fine, but i haven’t seen this friend irl for so long and ive been missing her so much over this past little while that we’ve been internet chatting and that ive been i guess officially falling back in love with her but i also like, i dont know what her deal is romantically right now i don’t want to presume anything but i really really really am itching to see her

work is stressful. it’s only gonna get more so as weather gets warmer. but we’re getting two new managers with loads of experience and glowing reviews next week. i have hope that they’ll makes things a little lighter.

and there’s also. good things. peridot took off her visor for the first time ever in canon and i saved like 50 different gifs of it to my computer cus it rocked my world. sonic has she-ra toys for the kids meals and i managed to snag a tiny inflatable version of the sword. i’m making cosplays of the tres horny boys from the adventure zone and they’re all very exciting and making things makes me very very happy. i’m finding joy in all the fanfictions i’m writing right now and in talking about dungeons & dragons with my brothers and friends. ducknerva is a very beautiful Good Ending version of marahope which makes me happy and taako is a super effective projection outlet. i bought cupcakes today and they were delicious. and when i think about those good things, when i think about any good thing no matter how small, everything else disappears.

whatever happens happens i guess.

she who lives will see.

#talkyllama #hey if anyone needs tags on posts like these please please let me know asap #i always forget that actual people see the things i post #i dont usually trigger tag cus i dont usually think i need to but if i do i will

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

Killing Time 4/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Mature

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Flashback: Weaver and Belle get a start on the case.

Notes: Meanwhile, back at the hall of justice... You didn't think I was going to give up the bed sharing goodness that soon did you? ;) Okay, I am in the next chapter, but I need to balance present with past. I might try alternating chapters if that seems reasonable? IDK. I'm winging it here y'all. For the Writer's Month prompt #7: sports.

Warnings: Nothing much for this chapter, just the usual references to the crime. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3]

12 weeks ago...

“Sports? Seriously?”

Weaver rolled his eyes and dropped his head back to look up at the ceiling before he turned around. He pointed at the television mounted on the wall of Belle’s office with the remote that was still in his hand.

“You said ‘no news channels’ because they’re too distracting,” he snapped. “Movies with guns and explosions seemed inappropriate, and if I have to listen to another home renovation show I’ll fucking shoot something. The city only pays for basic cable. That makes our choices the Weather Channel, that will repeat the same useless, and probably wrong, forecast every half hour, or...”

He paused to gesture exaggeratedly at the TV as though he was displaying it on a game show. “Premier league.”

She huffed and stalked to her desk. “Fine, but keep it down so I can think.”

He gave another brief gaze up to the ceiling and then set the remote back where he found it, echoing her with a quiet but annoyed, fine.

“Court today?” he asked, noting the slim, navy pencil skirt and suit jacket she was wearing, with what she always referred to as a ‘standard issue’ white blouse.

Belle sighed audibly and dropped into her desk chair. “Yeah. Branson’s lawyer is filing everything he possibly can, so I spent all morning fielding that, and then I covered a continuance this afternoon for Mal. But starting tomorrow, my caseload is officially down to just this.”

She swept her hand towards the stacks of boxes and the large, blank whiteboard.

Weaver stood by the leather sofa, his hands on his hips as his eyes moved over the veritable mountain of evidence they had to go through. All they’d managed that first day was moving things around in her office and dragging the largest whiteboard they could find up from storage. That had been trickier than anticipated when they discovered it wouldn’t fit in the elevator unless they squeezed themselves into the corners and put it diagonally. Of course that took them a solid fifteen minutes of arguing to achieve.

If they couldn’t even get setup without being at each other's throats, he wasn’t sure how weeks of building a case was going to go.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked finally.

She frowned and sagged a little in her seat. She was already tired and done with today, but they needed to get started sooner rather than later. This case was the kind that could make or break a career, and there were far too many victims and victims families depending on her, a whole city in fact. It was something she kept trying not to think about, but that succeeding in keeping her up half the night.

Stretching her arms up, she bent to one side and then the other, trying to work out the knots in her spine before she answered. “The board?”

He nodded slowly and then moved to the whiteboard. There was a large pack of markers sitting on the ledge and he wasted no time in opening it and dumping them all into his palm before turning and holding them up like playing cards for her to see.

“Pick a color, any color.”

He wagged his eyebrows, and she laughed in spite of herself. “Red.”

Three hours and thirty dollars in Chinese takeout later, they had managed to get through one half of one box, and about a third of the information they had on victim number one.

“Oh come on!” Belle exclaimed, popping up off the sofa and bouncing on her bare feet. She’d ditched her heels almost immediately, and then her stockings about an hour into their work. “I cannot believe it’s going to end in dual red cards and a fucking tie. What the hell?”

Weaver watched her, bemused, and leaned back on the sofa. “I told you not to cheer for bloody Arsenal.”

She shot him a glare and then sat down, reaching for one of the takeout boxes. The chopsticks rattled around inside it, and she tipped it towards her to find it empty. “Did you eat the rest of the noodles?”

He held up his hands, feigning innocence. “Don’t look at me, oh, Queen of the Spicy Peanut Sauce.”

Her feeble swat at his leg only made him snicker. He relaxed against the sofa, and watched her from the side as she stacked the containers and tucked them back in the plastic bag they’d been delivered in. They’d spent so many nights like this, both at work and at home. If he closed his eyes, it could almost be four years ago, when another case introduced them and eventually brought them together, but there were far too many miles between then and now.

Weaver had lost the leather jacket minutes into their work, and rolled up his sleeves. It should have distracted her all that much, but for some reason it did. There was a weird intimacy in seeing someone be comfortable in your presence and your space. She wondered if he thought the same of her, and then pushed it aside, dumping the bag into the trash bin by her desk, and then turning to face the board. She read over what they had posted and arched her back, pressing a hand against her spine in a vain attempt to crack something.

Overall, it was going to be a fairly standard case board, with a picture of the first victim, a woman named Molly Macreedy. She was everything people loved about cases like this; she was young, pretty, and full of hope. Even her name sounded good, with a nice little bit of alliteration that made it easy to stick in people’s minds. It was a sad but true fact about anything like this, it helped when the victim was likable. They’d taped a picture of her at her college graduation under her name, written in red, and listed out all the particulars of the general crime scene, and a brief timeline leading up to when they believed she was killed.

That was the crux of the issue.

Nick Branson had been caught red handed - quite literally as his hands were covered in blood - trying to dump the fifth victim’s body. Later, they found Henry Mills, unconscious and tied up in Nick’s apartment. It was easy from there to tie Branson to the others, but his lack of confession meant they needed to work out the details of each murder on their own. DNA was great, but it wasn’t always enough. People wanted to know the where, when, and how. They wanted the existence of the DNA explained, and, in their minds, why any of it happened in the first place.

As if it was possible to find reason in something so senseless.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Weaver said.

His voice was soft, and Belle blinked, only just realizing that he’d turned off the television. She sighed. “I’m not sure they’re even worth that.”

He ran the back of his up and down her arm, shoulder to elbow, a light soothing motion. She wanted to lean into it, let his knuckles press just a little harder and ease some of the tension she’d been carrying all day. That was something he’d always been willing to do for her, a neck rub here, a foot massage there, purely for the sake of touching her and being close to her.

“There’s just so much,” she said finally. “I don’t know, you know? How to get through all of it.”

Weaver resisted the urge to put his arm around her. He knew she meant more than she was saying. It went beyond how to physically get through the boxes and folders and reports. It was how to survive the whole exercise, how to read about blood, injuries, wounds, and causes of death, and go home at the end of the day not feeling like you’d been through it yourself. It was how to live with it, and how to move on from it when it was all done, if any of them every really did in this job.

He swallowed and let his hand drop to the sofa, a hair’s breadth from Belle’s. “The same way we always do.”

Except that was a bit of a lie. Sure he’d probably finish of most days with a scotch, neat, but it would be at Roni’s instead of home, and there wouldn’t be a second glass with red wine in it for Belle, or the comfort of cool sheets and a warm body. But they would both still understand, still be able to look at each other and know from the dark circles and endless pots of coffee, the toll it was taking on the inside.

“Yeah.”

Her voice was barely above a breath, and then he felt something touch the edge of his hand. He glanced down to see her pinky brushing against his, and he turned his hand over to catch it between his thumb and index finger. She looked down suddenly, and then her eyes flicked up to his face. He tried to hold it back, but his lips twitched in amusement anyway, and she smiled.

“Sorry.”

He shrugged, letting go of her finger, somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t be. You always fidget when you’re thinking.”

“Yeah,” she said again, her head dropping for a second. Then she looked up, her stare fixing on Molly’s picture as she took a deep, steadying breath. This was the most civil they’d been to each other in a while, and also the longest amount of time they’d been in the same room. They didn’t even sign the divorce papers together, just shuttled them back and forth between lawyers.

“We need a plan,” she said.

Weaver pushed to his feet and walked over to the rest of the boxes, still neatly stacked under the window of her office, organized by which ones went with which victim.“Divide and conquer?”

He looked back at her over his shoulder at Belle, with raised eyebrows. “I’ll do the timelines, you do the lab results?”

“And we’ll do the autopsy reports together?”

She sounded almost hopeful, as if looking at the grittiest details together might lessen their blow on the psyche. It wouldn’t, but at least they’d weather it together.

His mouth curved crookedly. “Whatever the lady wants.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #killing time #fic #i has a banner now

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 4 years

Text

A Place To Call Home, Ch 3.

Fandom: Rosewell, New Mexico.

Summary: A canon divergent take on Roswell, New Mexico, and the relationships between Isobel, Noah, and Rosa; later parts will shift the focus to Michael and Alex, as well as Michael and Noah. What is it like to share a body with another alien? Can broken trust be mended? Do the ends really justify the means?

Rating: M.

Tags: Canon divergence, minor character death, not really character death, body sharing, polyamory, hurt/comfort, addiction problems, sickfic, revenge, fix it, friends to enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers, Noah is complicated, cw: dubious age stuff for a little bit considering Nasedo/Noah is who-the-hell-knows how old.

Word Count: 2413

Rosa Ortecho was a hurricane.

She lived every moment as her last. Her smile was pure light, and she was every single inch the sort of person Nasedo could see Isobel falling head over heels for, especially since Rosa had dumped her junkie boyfriend and gone clean in March. Of course Nasedo had been doubtful at first. Rosa was human. Still. Rosa loved astrology and music, dancing and poetry. She was an artist, but the kind of artist with a fire in their soul. Rosa loved hard, lived hard, hated hard. Everything about her was power, fast and intense and exhilarating. It was impossible not to adore her.

Max was in love with Rosa's sister, Liz, so of course he always went to the Crashdown Cafe where Liz and Rosa both worked. And because Max went, Isobel went, too. Rosa, with her wide, dark eyes and deep laugh, had grown fond of Isobel. That much was clear. She'd sneak Isobel free fries. They'd share a milkshake that had been made a little wrong. They would look up funny videos on Isobel's phone, and play music on the cafe's jukebox while Max and Liz were distracted elsewhere. It was good to see Isobel laugh, after everything she had been through. She deserved to be happy, and it made sense that Rosa's kind-hearted, wild spirit would bring Isobel that happiness.

What Nasedo hadn't anticipated was how much he would find himself feeling affection towards the human, too. Nasedo pretended that the emotions belonged to Isobel, and Isobel alone. It was easier that way. Besides, Isobel was under the terrible stress known as 'senior year'; between Isobel trying to deal with her own internalized homophobia and school, it was all Nasedo could do to keep her held together. He couldn't take the time to look too closely at his own feelings or bother Isobel with them. Isobel's health was all that mattered.

At least, that was until a Friday night as the Crashdown.

Isobel never admitted that she went there to see Rosa. She didn't admit it that night, either. "I just need to relax," she complained. "There's only half the year left, and I've been studying for like, three days straight."

Nasedo withdrew, as he always did when Isobel wanted time to herself. The nerve-searing pain was easier to deal with, when he knew that he would be escaping it again soon enough. Sooner than he expected, in fact. It hadn't been very long when he was snapped back to Isobel, waking up in a daze; the transition was usually slower, smoother. What had happened that has caused Isobel to panic so much?

"Isobel? Are you okay?"

Rosa. Nasedo blinked, scrambling to recover. "Sorry, Rosa. I'm a total space case today."

"It's okay." Rosa frowned. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her gaze away. "Uhm, if you don't want to go to the movies, it's okay. I just thought that maybe... Maybe we'd have fun."

What would Isobel want? He knew Isobel was falling for Rosa. He also was certain Isobel would never go on her own. But, well, Nasedo wanted to go. What harm would come from a movie? "Sure," he replied with as charming of a smile as he could muster. Rosa's eyes fluttered. "I'd love to go. Text me with the info?"

Rosa snatched Isobel's phone and entered her contact information, the frown on her face replaced by a sunny grin. "Cool. It's a date."

Their eyes met, and Rosa's grin turned shy. Nasedo smiled back, his heart racing as he left the cafe and headed home. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from feeling a flicker of joy. That was, until he got home and Isobel returned, pacing in their room as she took the body from him.

"Why did you do that?" she groaned. "I can't believe you."

"I thought you'd be pleased."

"I kind of am, yeah. I don't know. Things are complicated."

"She likes you and you like her. What's complicated about that?"

Isobel stopped, taking a deep breath and curling her arms around herself. "Besides Roswell being a fishbowl full of jerks? I... I like you, too."

"I would hope so. We share a body."

"Nasedo."

He paused at the strain in her voice. The meaning of her words became clear, and he felt almost queasy. No, no, he wasn't good enough for her. He'd been in stasis for almost a hundred years total, by human years, and was practically a damn rotting corpse on top of it. "Isobel..."

"I love you. You don't have to say it to me, but I love you."

The word made him wince. She was so young, and full of so much hope and promise. He couldn't do that to her. He would never be able to hold her, to take care of her the way a real, living, whole person could. Like Rosa could. "I will always protect you," he answered, his voice gentle. "I will always be here for you."

Isobel said nothing. Thankfully, a text came through right then, the metallic chime saving them. He looked at it through her eyes, intrigued. Pirate Radio, 9pm showing tomorrow. Sound good?

"It's your choice, Isobel."

Isobel fiddled with the phone. "You like her, too. Don't you?"

Nasedo didn't answer. He didn't know how, especially after Isobel's confession. He cared for them both, in their own unique ways. How to explain that? But in the end, he didn't really have to; Isobel was connected to his mind and thoughts, as he was connected to hers, and he felt the moment she accepted the strange situation they were in. A tiny, wry smile tugged at her lips as she opened the text.

Sounds fun. I'll meet you there.

A few minutes later, another chime. Great! Goodnight! <3

Nasedo stayed quiet as Isobel went about her bedtime routine. He knew it by heart. He knew her favorite products, the order she used them in, and the exact number of uses left in each bottle before she would need new ones. He knew how hard she was working to accept the little mole by her nose, because it was part of her and she refused to take a knife to her body to please silly beauty standards. He knew the story behind every scar on her body, like the curved burn mark by her pinky finger she got when she was seven, newly adopted and ignorant of what an oven was and the fact that heat would hurt her. Her homework, in their bedroom, would be stacked just so and color coded and triple checked for any errors. The outfit she planned to wear the next day would be folded neatly over the back of the desk chair. Their bedroom window would be open exactly two inches, to let in the cool nighttime air.

Favorite things, dislikes, habits. The way she'd smooth her hair when she was anxious. Each and every aspect of Isobel's life, he had memorized. Each, he found more and more endearing as the days passed. Was that... love? Was that what love was, in the end? It wasn't the same excited, nervous feeling Isobel experienced when she thought about seeing Rosa. It wasn't the passionate fireworks that were in all of the human movies, books, and songs. No. It was quieter, calmer. They shared a connection that they would never share with anyone else, and that was... special. Precious.

Thankfully, Isobel didn't comment on his thoughts. She tuned them out, giving him privacy to mull in peace. Not that it did much good. They fell into a restless sleep, and spent the next day on edge. Isobel was refined, intelligent, elegant, proud, orderly. Nasedo was supposed to be the dauntless one. Regardless, even he found himself starting to get nervous as 9pm drew closer. He still had no idea what he was doing, but at least he and Isobel were in the same boat.

"If our parents find out..." she muttered as she adjusted her hair in the mirror. If she kept messing about, they'd be late. "God. Are we really doing this?"

Nasedo shook his head and gently took control of the body, only long enough to steer her out of the bathroom and towards the door. "They won't find out. People go to movies all the time."

Luckily, Max had went with their parents to some country club thing. Disgusting. Nasedo checked their outfit one last time before heading out; basic black blouse, dark wash jeans, black boots. Perfect. They strutted down to the movie theater, flashing a bright smile as they saw Rosa waiting by the door. Rosa blushed as Isobel held the door for her; they paid for the tickets, but went double dutch on the snacks. Nasedo watched from his corner of the mind, fascinated. In the four years they had shared bodies, Nasedo had never seen Isobel so... open. Carefree.

It was when the movie let out that Isobel's bravado faded. They were walking to the park, the streetlamps lighting up the night with a soft glow. "I want to show you one of my favorite places," Rosa said, giving them a mysterious look as she headed into the park. "C'mon."

Curious, Nasedo followed, shifting to the front as Isobel hesitated. Maybe Isobel cared about curfews and closing times, but he didn't; most human laws were based in fear, anyways, not in common sense. Rosa led them to the center of the park, to a gazebo. It was pretty, with lattice work along the sides and shining white against the darkness. Rosa twirled in the center.

"This is your favorite spot?" Nasedo asked. "Why?"

Rosa leaned against one of the posts and shrugged. "I have a lot of favorite places. Spots where it's quiet late at night. Places I can go to think. I can just exist here for a while, you know?"

"I don't know. I hate being alone."

"I'm guessing you've never had an overbearing dad."

Nasedo thought back to the Evanses, and to his own family. "Not especially. My family is more of the seen-not-heard type."

"Maybe we should trade."

"You wouldn't be any happier. They treat you like a disgrace if you use the wrong fork at dinner, or can't name three pro golfers."

"Wow, I'd fit right in." Rosa wrinkled her nose. They both laughed; Rosa sighed after, digging around in her purse and pulling out a few pens. "My dad means well, but sometimes it makes it hard to move on when he keeps treating me like I'm broken."

Nasedo watched as Rosa took the pens to the gazebo post, a blank canvas for her bleeding soul. "What are you doing?"

"Mayhem, mischief, delinquent behavior. It's how I get my highs now."

"Can I try?"

Rosa arched an eyebrow. "You? Isobel Evans?"

"Maybe I'm sick of being the person everyone thinks I am."

"Yeah." Rosa frowned, offering her pens. Nasedo picked the black one, turning his eyes to his side of the post as Rosa spoke. Her voice was increasingly bitter, upset, as she colored in her drawing. A rose, covered in sharp thorns. "It's, like, a Roswell rite of passage. One day, everybody in this town gets together and they, like, decide who you are, and that's who you get to be. Forever. End of story. Doesn't matter if you change or improve or figure out that you're not even who you thought you were to begin with."

Nasedo began to sketch the symbol of his homeworld. Three circles, connected in the middle and forming a triangle. "And who are you?"

"I don't think I know that yet. Do you understand who you are?"

"Some. Less than I'd desire."

Pausing, Rosa leaned to glance over Nasedo's shoulder. "What is that?"

"Just something I've drawn since I was a kid."

Goosebumps formed over Nasedo's arms as Rosa's breath moved along his neck. Isobel sensed the flicker of distress from him, and moved to take control again. In the nick of time, too. A cop car drove by, slow, forcing them to scamper out of the park before they were caught. It was, Isobel would later admit, a thrill. Enough of a thrill that she finally seemed to get over her shyness, happily chatting about the movie as they walked towards Rosa's home. Everything was fine until they got one street away.

"You don't have to come with me the rest of the way," Rosa said as she stopped underneath some trees, standing safe in the shadows. "I mean. Aren't you afraid that somebody's gonna see us?"

"If I'm being honest? Yeah, but that has nothing to do with you. My parents would freak out if they knew I went out on a date with a girl."

"Was this a date?"

Isobel stared at Rosa. Rosa didn't seem angry, or grossed out or anything. More... tense, inquisitive. And, maybe, a little hopeful. That tiny tinge of hope what what bolstered Isobel's courage. "Do you want it to have been?"

"I think so. It's just... I've never done this before. With a girl, I mean. And it's the first time I've liked someone since I've been clean. I'm not sure I know what I'm doing."

"Would it make you feel any better if I said this was my first time, too?"

Rosa smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, it helps."

They walked the rest of the way to the cafe, each lost in thought; Nasedo kept his senses open, watching for trouble. The street was empty. They were safe. When they got to the door, Rosa turned and wrapped Isobel in a hug. Isobel froze for a split second, then hugged her back. "Goodnight, Rosa."

"Goodnight, Isobel."

Slipping into the cafe, Rosa locked the door behind her and headed in. She paused, turning and glancing at Isobel over her shoulder. She smiled again, and gave them a wave; Isobel and Nasedo both felt their shared heart beat faster. Then she was gone, vanishing into the diner and heading to the apartment above it.

For a moment, Isobel didn't move, her hand pressing against her chest as she sucked in a long, slow breath. Rosa's parting smile was stuck in her head. Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile, too. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"Yes," Nasedo replied, desire and dread mixing together in his chest. "We are."

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seelenvollpilot · 5 years

Text

Here, laid out a small oneshot. While I post here because I have difficulty with uploading to the site. Cherik and Christine. This is their first lesson.)

It was already late evening when Christine was returning to the room under the stage temporarily provided by Jean-Claude. The work is not dusty, but tedious. Her heavy duty costumes lay on her elbow. Reaching the table, she dumped clothes on it, sighing with relief. Here the pebble fell off, it is necessary to embroider it, but here the fabric has gone all together! Yes, there was a lot of work and time was running out. Hanging up the costumes, mentally putting off all worries for tomorrow, Christine remembered the man that she had met two days earlier. On the girl's face flashed a glimpse of reverie. He appeared to her like a spirit, silently stepping on the floor. He admired her voice; about this Christine didn't even dare to dream. He is probably a theatrical person and knows a lot more. The musician, he wears a mask, trying to keep incognito, declares that he doesn't want to teach anyone except her. Right, he is a strange man...

Leaving the skirts and preparing for them boxes of sewing, she sweetly stretched, covering her mouth with her hand. After extinguishing the light everywhere, Christina went to the room with props. There she is today and will spend the night. In crowded but not mad. A pleasant, loved smell of skin and stage make-up hit the nose, causing the shadow of a smile to slip on the girl's face. Finding a candelabrum in the twilight, Christine struck a match and a dim light lit up all around. But suddenly, from the depths of the room, someone's fast breath came, and then a soft voice called her.

- Christine...

The girl shuddered in surprise, looking into a dark corner. Everything froze, plunged into the tangible silence of the night. Slow steps were heard on the floor, and Christine saw how darkness dissipated and the murmuring light revealed a tall figure in a black frock coat. A white mask that opens only the lips and a rounded chin with a small dimple.

-Is it you? - embarrassed by the sudden appearance, Christine lowered her head.

- Goodnight. - the man said, coming closer, but when there were two steps to the girl, he stopped, as if an invisible wall had grown in front of him. - I was not mistaken and found you.

Christine wanted to argue, but something stopped her. Light blue eyes looking at her with awe and slight embarrassment.

- Let's go, - he said, turning to Christine. - we need to hurry. And I so want to devote you to the secrets of Music...

He stopped at the door and looked at the girl. Christina, amazed to the depths of her soul, still stood on the spot, but then she woke up as if from a drowsiness. She hastily pulled off her shawl from the crossbar, and hurried to follow the man. Passing the stairs, the rotunda, a tall dark silhouette and a small bright figure disappeared in the corridor. They did not go for long, the man cautiously warned Christina to be careful. He stopped in front of the high doors.

- I ask you to. - the man leaned slightly, opening the door.

Christine, nodding, walked quickly past, being in the dark. She felt the slightest hesitation in the air and a light breeze. In the distance, a small light began to glow and now two, three such lights flashed on the chandelier candles, reflected in the mirror surface of the piano lid.

- Come on, mademoiselle.

Christine, a little slow, modestly approached the instrument. The man watched her every step, as if noticing something for himself, and from this, it seemed, the air left the lungs faster from excitement. He jerked up his head and, stroking the ruffles that had got out from under his vest, said:

- Christine, do you want to continue? - in a deep voice slipped a spark that runs only in anticipation of something new.

Smiling nervously, the girl nodded and lowered her head, folding her arms.

- Perfectly. - suddenly briskly on the exhale said the man. His hand jerked in a strange gesture, as if he wanted to touch her back. - Then I would like to start playing you something...

Christine watched in amazement as he sat down on the couch at the piano and opened the lid. A light touch of thin fingers to the keys and a soft melody filled all the space around. Something gentle, quiet, having its own charm. The first minutes of the game the man followed his hands, and then raised his head, peering into the eyes of the girl. There was something in those eyes that made Christine look at their expression for a long time, and then hide her gaze in confusion. Good and so sad...

But then the melody ended and Christine regained consciousness from obsession only when the man was beside her.

- I will teach you to sing and develop your voice to unprecedented heights. You will be tired, but believe me, you will become the Music itself...

Touching the fingers of her hand lightly, he led the girl closer to the instrument.

- Position yourself so that I feel comfortable.

Christine stood in the deepening of the piano and crossed her arms on her stomach. But the man was silent.

- To sing well, you need the right position.

- "Singing lessons? Look how she is standing!" - Madame Carlotta’s mocking words surfaced in the girl’s head, and she lowered her eyes shyly.

- Raise your head. Straighten and lower the shoulders. Stretch out.

Christine felt like one of his palm touches her back. Fingers flew up to the chin, forcing an invisible gesture to stretch the neck.

- Relax, Christine. - he was silent, as if he did not dare to say something. - You are too tense. Feel the fullness of peace.

Christine turned around facing the views of a man. Frightened by such closeness, she lowered her eyes and smiled. It could not be hidden; he, too, was embarrassed, correcting her tense posture.

- And now I would like you to sing this line.

He returned for the instrument and sang notes.

Thoughts in the girl's head messed up. She closed her eyes for a moment and turned her head away. His voice was not like everything she had heard before. A little sat down, velvet and incredibly soft. What is this?

Driving off awkward embarrassing thoughts, Christine tried to focus on the notes. He bowed his head and held out his hand in an inviting gesture.

Four first notes... fifth. Her voice suddenly broke. The man looked up, trying to say something, but Christine interrupted him.

- Ah... - she paused, picking up a word. - M-maestro, I do not think that I will succeed.

The girl saw his eyes open, and then quiet, frightening tenderness splashed into them. What struck him so?

- Christine, - he replied after a while. - Do you really think so? Never dare to humiliate yourself. I believe in you. Try again.

He was preparing it for a long time, and Christine felt his indifferent singing and inaudible instructions. Two hours passed completely unnoticed, as if one moment. The exhausted but happy girl breathed a sigh of relief, looking into the teacher's eyes with a smile.

- I think today should be finished. I advise you to drink hot tea so that the next day your voice will be as light as it is today.

He nodded discreetly and turned, heading for the door. But almost at the very exit he was called:

- Maestro, - the girl took hold of her dress and sat down in a cubicle. - Goodnight.

The man bowed his head to the side, but the corners of his lips rose up, and his light blue eyes continued to look with a quiet sadness.

The door slammed behind him and Christina was left alone. What feelings this first real acquaintance, the first lesson caused in her. Maestro. The girl giggled awkwardly, remembering this tall slim figure. For the first time Christine lived in anticipation of a miracle...

#cherik #erik 1990 #fanfiction #erikthephantom #poto #charles dance's erik #christine

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dancingkirby · 5 years

Text

In which Bolin adults

Chapter 3! And I still have no idea whether this story is actually decent or a pile of hot garbage, but here it is anyway! :D This one has the embarrassing sex stuff at the beginning for which my cat was judging me. There are also some minor continuity errors with Chapter 2, which I fixed before posting it on ff.net.

As soon as their apartment door was closed behind them, Opal turned to face Bolin.

“Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Eska?” she asked. “Besides the obvious. I didn’t want to press you last night because you were already so distraught, but I…I feel like I need to know.”

Bolin gulped and snuck a look at her face. She didn’t look angry, just confused.

“Yeah…” he began, and winced at how hoarse his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Yeah, I mean, you should know. Let me just…oof! Pabu!”

The fire ferret had jumped onto his shoulders, and voiced his displeasure that his dinner was late.

“Okay, I guess I have to feed him first.”

After Pabu was chomping away, Bolin and Opal sat on the couch.

“So…uh…where to begin? You know about the general stuff that went down at Harmonic Convergence, right?”

Opal nodded.

“And how much did you know about Eska before this?”

“Well…I knew of her. And Mako hinted once that something unpleasant had happened between you two.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He didn’t go into details, though.”

That was a surprise to Bolin. Mako had always treated the whole situation with amusement at best and disdain at worst. Pabu, now satiated, jumped into his lap, and Bolin began to stroke him absentmindedly. He was glad to have something to do with his hands to alleviate the nervous energy.

“Well, we met at the Glacier Spirit Festival before,” he began. “I was the one to talk to her first. Things were a bit rough, but then they were better the next day, so I thought hey, this might actually work out. Then I hugged Korra and Eska…kind of flipped out.”

He paused as he decided how to phrase the next part.

“So…I kept trying to break things off with her, but she’d never listen; she kept threatening to feed me to the dolphin piranhas. And Korra and Asami and Mako…they weren’t any help.”

He looked at Opal to see if she was still following the story. She motioned for him to continue.

“And then I did work up the courage to say something, but I must have gone wrong somewhere, because the next thing I knew, she was trying to marry me! And that’s when…well…you know…” He figured that his face was approximately the color of a radish.

“I see,” Opal said. Having no Pabu to occupy her, she picked at a thumbnail.

All right. It was now or never.

“Is it normal for there to be blood?” he asked in a rush before he lost the nerve.

Opal blinked.

“Are we talking about yours or…hers?” she asked.

“Uh…hers. I was going to ask Mako about it, but then I never found the right moment to ask and I was afraid he’d laugh at me, so I thought I was just terrible at sex, but then it didn’t happen with you and…�� He had to stop here to gasp for air.

Opal gave a nervous giggle.

“It’s okay, you can calm down!” she said. She thought for a few seconds.

“She was probably a virgin,” she said at last. “I heard that in the old days, when a high-born girl would get married, they’d show everyone the bedsheets the next day to prove that the husband hadn’t been cheated.”

“Eeew! Why would anyone want to see that?”

“I don’t know. It is pretty stupid.”

“But then…why didn’t you..?”

“It usually doesn’t happen if you’re doing things right,” Opal told him. “We used lube, remember? And I’d…already experimented a bit before.” Now it was her turn to blush. At least she looked cute when doing it.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Was there anything else you wanted to add?”

“Well…I got away before she married me, of course. Then I was really angry and kind of a jerk for a while, but then we met again at Harmonic Convergence, and when that was over I asked if she wanted to move to Republic City with me, and she said no. And then the only other time I saw her was at the coronation, and she said nothing about a kid then.”

“Wow. What a terrible thing to go through. Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Opal inquired.

“I guess I kind of thought it was in the past.”

“You poor thing. You poor things, really. It’s weird, but Eska…kind of reminds me of Huan.”

“Your brother?”

Opal shot him a Look.

“Bolin. Do you know of any other Huans? Yes, my brother. He was always…different, and someone always had to keep an eye on him. I guess he was lucky that he grew up in a place like Zaofu, but still…he gets overwhelmed easily. And then he shuts down, and can even lash out if it gets really bad.”

“You think Eska’s like that?” Bolin asked as he scratched his head. Eska had almost always seemed to be in perfect control of her emotions. Except for that one instant of shock and pain in her eyes before she recomposed her expression; that was seared in Bolin’s memory forever. And the time on the boat, but he didn’t like to think about the time on the boat.

“Well…to be honest, you were easy for her to control. You saw her with Tahno. I honestly don’t think that he meant any harm…but she seemed to be oblivious to any innuendo.”

“Don’t worry. She’s perfectly capable of defending herself. I know firsthand.”

“Well, physically, of course…but emotionally?” Opal mused.

“I dunno.”

After that, they ran out of things to say, so they spent the rest of the evening cuddling, eating takeout, and listening to the radio. It wasn’t really a sexy kind of night after that discussion.

The next morning, they were abruptly jerked out of sleep by the phone ringing.

“I’ll get it…” Bolin sighed as Opal snapped on the light. He stumbled over to the kitchen and slammed his hand on the light switch there. Pabu followed close behind, because if the humans were awake, that must mean it was breakfast time.

“Hello? Whozis?” he mumbled as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“We require your assistance.”

“Eska? What are you doing calling so early in the morning? It’s…” -he glanced at the wall clock-“5:30! We were still sleeping.”

“You may attempt to convey that information to Kinalik, but I doubt you would succeed,” Eska remarked drily. “She awoke at four, and has been running all over the house asking ‘Where’s Bolin? Where’s Bolin?’ Attempts to return her to her somnolent state have been futile.”

As usual, Bolin wasn’t sure he understood all her words, but he thought he got the general idea.

“Well…uh…not much I can do now…YES, Pabu, I see you…but maybe later in the morning? Wait, hold on a minute…who gave you this number in the first place.”

“Korra. She and her partner seemed greatly displeased about Kinalik’s intrusion into their bedchamber.”

“I see. Pabu, I swear…look, I have to go now. Call you back later?”

“I suppose.”

“’Kay, bye.”

He hung up the phone, dumped what he thought was a reasonable amount of food into Pabu’s dish, and went back to bed.

A few hours later, feeling somewhat more refreshed, Opal went off to Air Temple Island for practice while Bolin called Asami’s house back.

“My cousin mentioned an establishment by the name of Narook’s,” Eska informed him. “Perhaps you could take Kinalik there for lunch.”

Narook’s. He’d only been there a handful of times since…The Incident. But maybe enough time had passed that they’d forgotten about it. Whatever would make Eska and/or Korra less likely to murder him.

“Narook’s it is, then,” he said, “Should I pick her up around eleven? I had a thing I wanted to do before.”

Eska confirmed it, and they hung up again.

Now…it was time to face Mako. He’d been avoiding him for too long.

He wasn’t sure whether his brother would actually be in the office today, and had been prepared to leave a message, but Mako was right there at his desk. Bolin gave a condensed version of what had taken place since their rushed phone conversation not quite 48 hours ago.

“I have to say I’m surprised, bro,” Mako had when Bolin had finished talking. “I have to admit I was really pissed at you, but I like how you’re accepting responsibility on your own. Good for you.”

“Awwww…thanks!” Bolin gushed. He gave Mako a hug, which his brother accepted, albeit somewhat stiffly.

“Just remember,” Mako cautioned, “It’s not all going to be fun and games. Kids that age throw tantrums. They make messes. They say embarrassing things.”

“Gee, it’s almost like you have firsthand experience or something.”

“Maybe I do. Anyway, how’s the job hunt going?”

Bolin looked away. He’d been afraid of this.

“Not great,” he admitted. “I always have trouble filling out the applications.”

Mako seemed surprised.

“I can help you with those, Bolin, you know I will! All you have to do is ask.”

“I just…I guess I wanted to do it myself. And I thought you were busy.”

“I’m never that busy. You know how important this is. You can’t just rely on probending or movers. Especially not now with your new…obligations.”

“Yeah, I get it. I hear you,” Bolin said; in fact he had already heard it several times before. “I’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“You know the family reunion in two weeks for Grandma’s birthday?”

“Well…of course,” Bolin said. Who wouldn’t know about it? All twelve of Grandma’s surviving children, plus those children’s children and grandchildren, would be there. In total, there would be well over a hundred people.

“I was thinking…if we took Kinalik and Eska there, Grandma would be over the moon. You know how she is about royalty, and if she found out that one of her own descendants was royal…”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. I’ll try; I’m not sure Eska would be too keen on it.” He glanced at a nearby clock. “But right now it’s 10:30, so I gotta run. Nice talking to you, Mako!”

He had to hurry, but got to Asami’s house just in time. Eska answered the door. Kinalik, newly outfitted in Earth Kingdom green, was clutching her hand.

“She is slightly nervous,” Eska told him. “The anticipation caught up to her.”

“Does she still want to go out?”

Eska asked Kinalik, who nodded.

“I can drive you!” Korra shouted out as she ran into the front hallway, accompanied by Desna. “There and back. It’s his turn to go shopping today. And I’ve gotten much better at driving, so don’t look at me like that!”

“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, Korra.” Then Bolin remembered what Mako had said. He turned to Eska and inquired in a low voice, “So…what about diapers?”

Eska looked affronted.

“Kinalik has been fully toilet-trained for three months now,” she announced more loudly than Bolin would have liked.

“Well, um, congratulations then!” But Eska wasn’t done talking.

“And remember. If you leave her unattended for even one second, and harm comes to her, I will personally disembowel you.”

Now that was more like the Eska Bolin remembered. He tried to make a joke to ease the mood.

“No dolphin piranhas today, huh?”

Eska blinked and tilted her head.

“They are not indigenous to these waters,” was all she said.

“I believe that he was making a weak attempt at humor,” Desna told her.

“Oh.”

Bolin thought he was starting to get what Opal had said about Eska being oblivious.

For all he knew, Korra was actually “much better” at driving, but he soon found out that this was relatively speaking.

“You okay?” he asked Kinalik once they had reached their destination and he was lifting her out of Asami’s old booster seat; she looked a bit green around the gills and didn’t reply.

“Let’s just sit here for a bit,” Bolin offered as he patted a nearby bench. They sat there for a few minutes until Kinalik’s color returned, Bolin doing a running commentary on anything that he thought might be of interest to a three-year-old.

“Look at that rooster pigeon!” he said as he pointed. “See how fat it is? I bet that it got kicked out of the nest because it kept stealing food from its brothers and sisters!”

Eska would likely have opined that the rooster pigeon had eaten its siblings as well, but Kinalik just giggled.

“Speaking of food…want to go eat now?” he offered.

“Okay.”

“Now I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!” he exclaimed as he helped his daughter off the bench. He remembered Eska’s threat, and added, “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?”

Narook’s was just a couple of blocks over, in a new location since the old one had been destroyed in the battle with Kuvira. Narook himself was working there today.

“Why hello, Bolin!” he said. “And look at that pretty young lady who’s your guest!” He was evidently tactful enough to not ask questions as to their relationship.

Kinalik hid behind Bolin’s legs.

“She’s pretty shy,” he explained as way of apology, but Narook waved it off.

“You having the usual?” he asked.

“Yeah. And the kid’s size for her.”

They sat down at the nearest table, Kinalik still obediently clutching onto Bolin’s hand.

“We don’t have to hold hands while we’re in here,” he clarified. “Just when we’re outside.”

Their orders arrived shortly. Kinalik looked uncertain at first, but once Bolin had persuaded her to taste it, she ate with gusto.

After they were finished and the bill had been paid, Bolin was unsure what to do next, since Korra wasn’t picking them up until two. Thankfully, Kinalik decided for him.

“Shiny!” she exclaimed, pointing at a glimmer in the distance.

“That’s the pro-bending arena. You wanna go see it?”

“Yeah!”

“Sounds good. It’s a bit of a walk, so I’ll carry you, okay?”

Once Kinalik gave her consent, they set off. Bolin was relieved that his leg only bothered him slightly.

Kinalik was mesmerized once they reached the building. It was touching to see her reaction to it as a newcomer, since Bolin was so thoroughly used to it. She dragged him over and put her hands against the wall, staring intently at her slightly distorted reflection. She would have licked the wall too, but Bolin caught her in time.

“Pretty neat, huh? Did you know I used to work here?”

Well, that was a dumb question…of course she didn’t.

“And I might still be working here, but…” he sighed, “I hurt my knee a few months back during a game. They’re still not sure whether I’ll be able to play again.”

Kinalik tore her gaze from the wall long enough to shoot him a look of concern.

“Boo-boo?” she asked.

“It was a bit more than that,” Bolin replied.

“Wow,” said Kinalik, as it was difficult for her to imagine any greater injury than a boo-boo.

Just then, they heard a yell.

“HEY! Hands off the wall! I just cleaned that!”

“Ugh…we better go. Yeah, I know, I know…” Bolin said as he dragged a whining Kinalik away from the building.

Now it was nearing time for Korra to pick them up, and Bolin felt a sense of satisfaction about how the day had gone. And he’d gotten through the whole outing without Kinalik having to use the…

“Potty?”

So much for that. Okay, don’t panic, don’t panic…he was panicking, wasn’t he?

First he had to ask where the nearest public bathrooms were, then he was paralyzed with indecision as he tried to decide which bathroom would be the least bad option. She was a girl, so the obvious choice would be the women’s room, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be in there even with a small child. But men’s rooms were so gross…and full of man parts…

“POTTY!”

Men’s room it was. Bolin clapped a hand over Kinalik’s eyes and ran inside with her as fast as he could. Thankfully there was a stall open…and thankfully the seat was clean.

He hoped that waiting outside the stall didn’t count as “unattended.” He didn’t think that anyone would be able to hurt her in there, unless someone were to descend from the ceiling on a rope. He instantly regretted thinking that thought.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Bolin was getting nervous. What if people recognized him? He did not want to have to deal with the paparazzi with such a timid child in tow.

“You need any help?” he asked the stall door. No answer.

“Hey, buddy, what’s the holdup?” a rough-looking guy demanded.

Bolin tried to look as threatening as he possibly could and replied, “My kid is in there.”

He’d hoped that this would scare that man off, but no such luck.

“You look familiar,” the guy said. “Now where have I seen you there before?”

Yikes.

While the guy was trying to puzzle this out, Bolin was finally bailed out by the toilet flushing. Once the door opened, he hurried Kinalik over to the sinks and held her up so she could wash her hands. They had to get out of there before…

“HEY! I remember now! You’re that probender that got hurt!” the man shouted, causing several heads to turn.

“Okay, Ki, that’s enough washing,” he told her. They ran out, Bolin not even bothering to turn off the tap. Thankfully, their “friend” didn’t pursue them.

They were safe for now. But there was going to be talk. Bolin doubted that this guy would keep their encounter a secret.

Despite this challenge, Kinalik was returned to her mother in one piece; she didn’t even get carsick on the drive home.

After enduring several disconcerting questions from Eska about Kinalik’s bathroom visit (“Foolish turtleduck. You are a parent now. There is no longer any such thing as ‘too much information,’” she scolded him when he complained), Bolin was at last in the clear to leave.

“Just so you know, I won’t be available for a while,” he told Eska. “I have to go job hunting for the next few days.” He made a face.

“But you will be at the Avatar’s relocation gala?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I suppose Desna and I shall encounter you then.”

“Yep!” Bolin said cheerfully. He felt proud of himself as the door closed. He had tackled some adulting, and he hadn’t messed it up!

#legend of korra #fanfic #eska #boleska #bopal

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