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broken-balance-baby · 5 months

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star death: a bhadra-related excursive essay about my dlc fic

let's talk bhadra (because i haven't talked about her enough, i guess.)

as you may or may not know, i was dragged back into the far cry pandemonium brainrot back in september 25, 2023, in the midst of lies of p and oc related brainrot, against my will.

it started in a dream. or, well, the pre-emptive ending to a dream, the part where you switch premises last minute which makes you lose focus on the first few parts of the dream and shifts you to maximum overdrive in terms of memory and focus. i set the stage to an american high school hallway. the lights are dim. i am playing as bhadra, and i really mean playing as, not am, bhadra, all focal disconnection feeling as if i was holding a controller even if i wasn't. immersion stuff, i guess. anyway. bhadra walks down the halls, rifle in hand, bow strapped to her body. she comes across sabal on his knees, praying to a mirror with candles in it, and she realizes she doesn't see her reflection. then she blinks, the camera shot gets to her, she loses her weapon. the halls darken. the walls close in. sabal and the mirror are gone, and she looks around in panic as she realizes that she's trapped. all the while, the words "no escape" whisper in her ear, slowly but surely, then frantically but melodically, until the rhythmic chant breaks and starts overlapping each others' voices and she starts to scream. overwhelmed, confused, terrified.

and then i wake up.

that, my friends, was the demo version of the fucking bhadra dlc that my brain had pitched to me at a time where i was lusting over a wooden puppet and then some.

so what happened after?

well. as you can imagine, having balanced all types of brainrot in the process hadn't been something i'd ever done before. i had a job. i had video games to do. art to finish. but for the next few days i was frantic. by september 29 i was finished with the plot outline. by october 2, i finished writing.

in three motherfucking days, i was finished writing a ten thousand word fic on what if ubisoft released a whole ass dlc about the franchise's most doomed, most irrelevant-due-to-wasted-potential, most unindulged-or-barely-spoken-of -without-ajay-in-tow character, bhadra farcry4. and it was a fucking pleasure to work with, lemme tell ya.

but obviously, i couldn't have done this on my own. thanks to ros (u a real one) for enabling this absolutely jobless behavior, and now i have myself to thank, for adding onto MORE jobless behavior, as since i started writing this essay during my shift.

but because i love bhadra, and i love writing about bhadra, and also causing her unbearable amounts of pain, i broke through my current brainrot just to write about this fic. and whaddaya know, the playlist came in. you know its bad when a one-shot fic earns a whole ass MOTHERFUCKING playlist.

if you've all read my very eye-catching title, star death is NOT referring to bhadra being dead.

yet.

star death is the title of the first song of the playlist, and the lyrics from it is the fic's title.

there's no like, actual analysis on the song as of late cuz it isn't popular enough so this song has been made with the context of the cynicism found in the fic alongside the Horrors that come with being alive with a heart and mind that isn't there anymore (especially at a young age, i mean, look at these bars!)

I lost my heart at twenty one Dead like the stars in the night sky But they’re still bright (yeah)

but anyway. without further ado:

welcome to star death. and everything it has to do with the bhadra dlc.

so this is how the song starts:

I can see the television Lies to me and everything Ain’t what it seems So tell me why it feels It feels, it feels so real

the pre-chorus here talks about the blur between fake and real. off to a great start! trying to channel reality between the fakeness of it all is also a parallel towards the first few paragraphs of the dlc fic, talking about the reality that bhadra is stuck in, dreaming about ajay's first mission to save her but then it escalates into something that comes from "not quite it" to "definitely not it" (as all subconsciouses create when it comes to perspective.)

and yet it feels real, yeah?

That was the sound of the real world, though. Right now, you are sitting by your window sill trying to steer clear of the cacophonous music, still trying to keep your breathing in check, but you see all too much red; whether it be from rage or the royal soldiers or the blood, it’s never too late to call something “too much.” Evidence does suggest that there’s no other way to consider it until you’re actually watching, and, it seems that the royal army had ideas because you didn’t notice that the house was starting to burn until the room was starting to get unbearably hot, the air in your chest suddenly pumping out so hard you’ve been starting to cough, and now, oh, you’re on the floor because you didn’t react fast enough. [...]

So when the floor rips apart, and you do scream, you realize that this happened before, except a little more wrong than you could imagine. The wind of the fall puts pressure on your body, the open breeze and lack of leverage to help you is nowhere to be seen, and the only thing you can really do is scream and flail. You meet eyes with the floor, but it’s almost as if it’s going further down, the tantalizing thing. The floor is water, dark red water, only Kyra knows where the hell the red could have possibly come from and you just hope that it doesn’t matter because you’re landing in it— and now, water engulfs you.

continuing on, this happens to be the next part of the pre-chorus.

Maybe I’m the antichrist or enemy And everyone’s against me So tell me what’s the deal The deal, what’s the deal?

again. fun way to set up someone's presence in their head, right? bhadra is set to be her own mind's enemy and it's scattered all throughout the fic! trying to go through the reality and ending up stuck in this blurred line of in-betweens has turned her inner turmoil and conflict into something her head is KILLING her for, whether that be through the mental anguish or the pain of her reality, her trying to run away from that reality because dissociation is all she has... confuses her. she doesn't know what the deal is, why she's stuck in her own head, why her own inner world is thrown against her.

You nearly tumble into the ground as you take the sight in, landing on the ground. “What the hell? What happened to the statues?” “Your brain did that.” Ajay says. “Why?” “I only know as much as you do. Which means, you do know, but you haven’t realized it yet.” “Is this supposed to be my DIY therapy?” You ask. “Probably? You’re just trying to help yourself.”

let's skip the chorus for now-- it's important, yes, but so is the rest of the cynicism and Horrors Contemplation going on with the next few lines of the first verse.

I live high up like a thousand miles above ya Spoke with God and I know that bitch doesn’t love ya I know the universe do me no favors You know when the aliens don’t even phase us There ain’t a think that could save us Like yeah, yeah, yeah I know we’ll find a way To fuck this up again Or is it in my head?

honestly dunno if i can relate the whole other first two lines to anything in particular, although religious cynicism aside (something i doubt bhadra really has besides 'gotta be the tarun matara to help people' as a concept), she has a huge awareness around her that the universe isn't there to do anything for her. maybe even the marvels of the world (or other worlds) don't really entertain her like they used to, or maybe they haven't, because she's known that feeling of "doom" since she was young-- you see it in the way she's started smoking, having spent her time with the reality of adults who also had their childhoods robbed, nobody her age but the Golden Path members who were definitely her only company. but does she know that there's a thing that could save them? does she know that there's a way to fuck shit up again? she's genuinely anxious about it and you know that being caught between amita and sabal has all to do with it. is she too trapped in her head to think about it? is that why she resorts to ajay to help her get it out of her head that there's hope despite knowing something's gonna fuck up?

youtube

"and what do you wanna do?" "... i want a free kyrat." (she says, face filled with doubt and unknowing and childlike indecision.) "but i can't choose on my own." [...] "okay. i think i know what i have to do." (her face twitches into a smile, still holding back but now hopeful.) "thank you."

definitely.

so here we have the chorus.

Anyone? Who’s in my head; Is it anyone? I lost my heart at twenty one Dead like the stars in the night sky But they’re still bright

bhadra in the game hasn't exactly lost it. it's the bhadra in the dlc that has, she just doesn't know how much she was going to lose it. she loses her people, she loses her heart, she loses herself. scattered throughout the fic she has completely found out something is lost to her the only way she knows how: through ajay.

“Are you there, Ajay?” You ask— but you’re starting to get the feeling that it’s pointless to ask something that wasn’t there in the first place. Ajay was you. Amita was you. Sabal was you. It’s not anything that was up for debate— however your mind came to be, though these people have crafted it in a way that only made you feel like you could exist when they could, you simply had these versions that you knew of them and ran from there. And you loved them. You still love them. Amita was gone. So was Sabal. And now— “I’m here.” Ajay says.

[...]

“Then why am I not here, Bhadra?! Whoever I picked to help in the end and I wasn’t there— where did you think I went?!” He said, grabbing your wrist and pinning you to the floor. “Face it, Bhadra. I abandoned Kyrat. I abandoned you! I escaped but you never will!” “And now you’re trying to kill me?!” “You still don’t get it, do you? I HAVE to! You refused to let go so much that you made this place! I'd have to KILL you to keep you here! I don’t want to do that, I want you to wake up! Please wake up!” “So let me die here! You said it didn’t have any consequences! LET ME STAY!”

and just like her visions of her fate in both ends, she realizes eventually that there's no escape to it. dead like the stars in the night sky, but still bright. damned, but goddamn if it isn't an all-seen kind of damned. everybody knows she is, and so will she.

(bhadra dlc) (star death) (dlc playlist)

#wrt.txt #bhadra #bhadra dlc #far cry 4 #Youtube

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homieswithhades · 3 years

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you're one of the few i follow who talks about bucky and so here i am once again in your inbox because the whole way the MCU has approached bucky is just not it. you know? they wrote themselves in a hole. they don't know how to respond exactly with his popularity as a character and no homo'd his most important relationship so hard they're two dudes chilling in two different timelines because it's not gay. the whole 'made amends' thing is just wrong and terrible. bucky didn't do anything wrong! hydra did. hydra used him and yet the narrative has placed it on his shoulders. i enjoyed tfatws but i think there were quite a few odd character writing choices.

hiya !! lovely 2 see u in my inbox again <33

(two bros chilling in 2 different timelines cos theyre not gay killed me bdw)

oh 100% bucky has been mishandled by marvel, i wanna say since the very end of cacw. catfa bucky was splendid and amazingly written, super in character, like That's My Bucky.

catws bucky was obviously brainwashed but (even tho the russos had their grimy little hands on this one) again, amazingly written and handled esp thanks to seb.

it starts to go a little awry at the end of cacw. it was fine when bucky said "i dont know if im worth all this steve" nd steve replies "what you did all those years, it wasnt you. you didnt have a choice" bc this. THIS was the perfect way to be handling buckys trauma. and steve was the ONLY person who could do that. im sorry, but not even sam, whos a licenced councellor, could do that for bucky. the first red flag was before bucky went into cryo and NONE of his fears/feelings were dealt w beforehand. he just goes "i cant trust my own mind" and yoink into the freezer he goes! cacw wasnt terrible w handling bucky, but it did waste a lot of potential with discussing and exploring his character and what he went through. probably bc wuhhh a man cant have FEELINGS and GOD FORBID he show and express them in a HEALTHY WAY in a superhero movie !! (that should have been averngers: civil war, bdw. marvel u actually owe us ca:serpent society)

black panther end credits. what the fuck. is all im gonna say. russos overdosed on how can we make this guys "road to recovery" LOOK like its going like pure shit but not explain why, how, when, who and where.

infinity was a sorta a fucking joke iwel. there were some good parts like the steve and bucky reunion eg. "not bad, for the end of the world" (gives me catfa vibes 😭) and "steve?" being the last words bucky said before being dusted, ik bucky wasnt supposed 2 be the focus in this movie but the fact that they made him fight again after he was supposedly "cured" (see: "semi-stable 100 year old man") was cruel and lacked the exploration it needed to justify it.

endgame is self explanatory. shit movie all-round, pain for everybody in the audience!! it was more of a mishandling of steve rather than bucky, but if we're talking abt bucky specifically, he was more neglected than mishandled. not being bothered to do his metal arm? not showing us the convo he supposedly had with steve before he left? not showing us his reaction to steves joe biden cosplay? horrible. terrible, couldn't have gone worse. once again, seb did ALL the heavy lifting. he is 99% of buckys character.

all of this doesn't even take into account steve and buckys relationship. they are the absolute focal points of each other’s characters, and it was all not just swept under the rug, but the floor was then set on fire, the room burnt to a crisp, the house demolished and then launched into oblivion.

and now to adress what u actually asked, tfatws. i also enjoyed it, but that doesnt mean i think PERSONALLY that it was well written (and thats okay). i do understand it was supposed to deal w sam more than bucky, which it did, but if im being brutally honest, tfatws bucky didnt.... feel like bucky..... which isnt to say seb didnt do a good job, bc he carried what was left of buckys character from the writing, but it was like watching the wrong shoe being put on the correct foot, if that makes sense. bucky was treated like the bad guy, stoic and pissy. "guy with a staring problem", comic fucking relief. govt mandated therapy, constant dismissal, and being thrown back into a fights without it being acknowledged why first. i have no issue w characters who want to keep fighting regardless of trauma (see: john watson) but they NEED the verbal acknowledgement AND the right support system for that plot to be acceptable and sustainable. tfatws did none of that. they reduced bucky to Cap's sidekick again (even tho he wasnt steves sidekick, it feels like he is sams imo pls dont kill me 😭). none of what should have been dealt with was dealt with, because marvel tried to solve literally global, macro-scale problems without even acknowledging the ones at home.

as sweet and technically good the ending of tfatws was, it was badly writtten, at least for bucky. marvel will never climb out of the hole, to use your words, they wrote themselves into, because of 1) the thanos storyline, snap and blip (what the fuck marvel, genuinely) 2) timeline bullshit and 3) steve leaving.

its almost like his actual character development was put on hold for tfatws. it'll be forever up in the air, with no real closure, unless everything and more that i talked about is mentioned. he'll never have the ending he actually deserves.

please do remember, characters are supposed to have arcs, not 90 degree descents into the fucking ground.

#shit #long post #my bad 😭😭😭#this is the stuff that actually shifts my brain into overdrive but i like talking abt it so thank u for this ask !!!!#buckybarnesss #i could genuinely write a dissertation on this and it would fucking bang #anyway i hope at least some of this makes sense #meta #marvel meta #bucky meta #hades' asks

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

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OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #x reader #headcanon #helluva stolas #stolas x reader #stolas #helluva boss headcanon

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haus-seeblick · 3 years

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Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

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

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

#suptober21 #no vacancy #gotta love some cramped car kissing #scheming sam strikes again #destiel fanfic

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 12)

word count: 5k

slight angst, fluff

(part 11) (series masterlist)

the feeling of a someone's soft touch on your face rouses you from sleep, eyebrows furrowing and a small groan leaving your mouth as you bury yourself further into your warm pillow. or at least that's what you thought it was until it started chuckling, until lips gently grazed your head and caused your eyes to pop open in surprise.

you blink as you adjust to the brightness of the room and your heart reacts before you can even see clearly. racing and twisting and lurching at the sight of seonghwa, all messy hair and rosy cheeks as he smiles softly at you in your bed.

"hi," he mumbles, morning voice deep and gruff and making you even more shy. because if that wasn't enough, being buried in his chest and having your legs tangled together is surely gonna do it.

"oh..hey," you squeak out and now you're already trying to remember what exactly happened last night. because you can see in the way he's looking at you, soft and guarded and anticipating that it had to have been something tragic. and if that much didn't make it obvious, the way you're cuddled into his chest is the biggest indication you needed some sort of comfort last night.

the last parts of your night are fuzzy, you just know you threw up (you're still humiliated), that hongjoong was fighting someone (something to do with an apple?), you walked back with yeosang and got into a snowball fight and then-

"are you gonna kiss my cheek, too?"

your own voice rings in your ear and you resist the urge to slap your hands over your face in embarrassment. you didn't say that. why would you think it's okay to say that? or for you to do shots? or better yet, for you to just come here in the-

"if you had to kiss someone, would it be me or seonghwa?"

and now you really can't hold back the gasp that escapes your mouth, getting hit with the vision of yeosang looming over you. his head cocked to the side as he holds your arm in his hand, staring down at you with that rare look of soft brown in his eyes while they shift to your lips every so often and what the-

"are you good? do you...remember?"

the quiet concern in seonghwa's voice brings you back, shaking the thoughts from your head because you think your brain is about to go into overdrive. you peer up at him, biting your lip at his expression and you reluctantly shake your head.

"i..i remember yeosang walking me in," you say quickly because that's not a lie, you do, but it's nowhere near as concerning as what happened fifteen minutes prior. "and then-"

hazy memories of your dreams finally flash in your mind, or more so the bedroom that plagued your nightmare. you remember feeling the cold, hard bed underneath you, the pressure of a body on you, your broken pleas and his harsh voice echoing in your head.

"oh god," you mumble, "i...i dreamed of-" you can't get his name out but you feel seonghwa's hand on your arm immediately, rubbing over your warm skin slowly before slowly nodding his head.

"and then i...but how did you get here?" you squeak out because you can't remember anything else after the dream.

he grips your arm ever so slightly as he shakily exhales, licking his lips before explaining that yeosang had called him, just said that you needed him and he ran here to see you crying on the bed, puffy face stained with tears and the nervousness radiating off of him makes your heart tug.

"oh."

you don't remember any of that. you don't remember yeosang helping you or the phone call or telling him you needed seonghwa.

"i'm sorry i stayed," he's quick to say, unable to gauge your reaction right now, "but i didn't...you didn't...i didn't think i should've left you al-"

"no!" you say, far too loudly and quickly causing your cheeks to redden and a snort to leave him. "i mean...thank you..i'm-i'm glad you did," you say quietly, a shyness taking over you at the confession and it has his chest tightening.

"well, i'm glad you asked for me," he says and it's the first time you've ever heard him match your shyness, tone quiet and maybe even a tad unsure.

you peak up to see him watching you and you smile reassuringly at him. "are you really that surprised?"

"what do you mean?" his hand slowly reaches down to fix your messy bed hair, almost like he's doing it absentmindedly.

"you're joking, right?" you say, picking your face up off his chest and leaning your chin against it to meet his gaze head on, "i always seem to need you."

you laugh out and shake your head recalling the past few weeks of knowing him. "i mean defending my honor on a daily basis, teaching me how to ski and protecting my many falls, giving me rides in the rain, paying for this very trip...it's actually a little sick what a damsel in distress i am."

his quiet laugh rings through the room. "you really are, aren't you?" he teases, head cocked to the side as a giant smirk covers his face. because he'd be lying if he said he didn't throughly enjoy doing each and every one of those things.

(or at least, almost all of them).

"well, you're not supposed to agree!" you whine, slapping his chest lightly with a giggle, "what about like hey y/n, no you're not that big of a mess, don't worry."

he purses his lips to the side, giving you a skeptical look that warrants another smack to his chest. but this time, he catches your hand with a smile, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft peck in your skin.

"what about, i'll be there for you as long as you need me," he says quietly, replacing his lips with the gentle stroke of his thumb, "how does that sound?"

your heart jumps and you don't know if it's because of his words or soft touch. most definitely both.

"like you're gonna regret it," you tease, raising your eyebrows playfully.

"impossible," he says and then before you know it, he's flipping you onto your back and looming over your body. he does it so fast it causes a tiny squeal to leave your lips, your giggle ringing through the air followed by his airy chuckle.

"because if you haven't noticed, little one," he says lowly, looking down at you before moving his mouth to your ear, "i have quite a soft spot for you." wet lips graze you before traveling to your cheek and you feel his laugh against your skin when he hears your shaky inhale.

"stop laughing," you whine breathily as he pulls back to smile down at you. your eyes roam over his face, taking all of him in as the sunlight glows around him and you're absolutely convinced this man is an angel: all sharp angles and piercing, brown eyes and soft, radiant skin. "how else am i supposed to act when you say stuff like that."

he watches you take in every part of his face, gaze moving from his eyes to his nose to his lips, then back to his eyes. he lifts one of his arms up to trace the pink on your cheeks, slow and gentle and you bite your lip so another embarrassing shaky breath doesn't leave you.

"stuff like what?" his deep voice mumbles, his finger moving from your cheek to over your lip. he swipes across it before taking it out of your teeth's harsh hold, rubbing over the reddened skin gently and his eyes can't help but follow.

you swallow nervously, feeling far too warm and you can practically feel the buzzing between but you still freeze when you see him start to lean down ever so slightly, like he doesn't even realize he's doing it as his finger drags your lip down. but you don't realize either, how your neck craned up ever so slightly and your chest started to heave in and out from your nervous breaths.

"y/n," he mumbles and he's so close now, you feel his breath waft over your face, see every swirl of brown in his dark eyes and smell the natural, boyish scent that surrounded you all night.

"seonghwa," you breath out and if it were any other circumstance, you'd smirk at the sharp inhale of breath he took after hearing you say his name.

"can i please-"

a loud, incessant knocking at the door followed by a familiar piercing voice breaks you two apart.

"y/n! y/n! is seonghwa with you?"

"fuckin' wooyoung," seonghwa groans, looking over your face one more time and sighing before getting up to stomp towards the door; you're left on the bed trying to steady your breaths and calm your racing heart.

"fuckin' jongho," hongjoong grumbles when you gasp and asked what happened to his face a half hour later in the lobby.

"apple boy?" you ask san who nods his head enthusiastically next to you. "wow, you remembered!"

you narrow your eyes at him, smacking him lightly on the arm before scolding him for pressuring you to do that last shot in the first place.

"but it was peach," he whines, "you had to try it just once, y/n. wasn't it delicious?"

yes.

"no! and i can confirm that because i tasted it twice," you growl, causing the table of boys to fake gag around you.

"okay, that's just gross," san says before wooyoung reaches across the table to pat your head. "it's okay, we've all been a little sloppy and thrown up in a public trash can at some point."

"thanks, you're really making me feel better," you say dryly causing seonghwa to snort next to you. your harsh side eye has him throwing up his arms in clear defense, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"speaking of sloppy," hongjoong says, "yeosang, you made it."

"don't think you should be talking shit when you're walking around like that, buddy," yeosang snarls as he makes his way to the table. you watch his eyes coldly glaze over you and seonghwa before quickly moving back to hongjoong.

"apple boy's only gotten stronger, huh?"

"shut up," hongjoong snaps, still bitter over the fact someone not only a grade lower but from their rival school gave him his worst black eye to date.

"yo, but actually," wooyoung says, "it's actually a little insane."

"he's not that strong," hongjoong mutters but san has already jumped to his feet to prove otherwise.

"he's strong AND huge," san exclaims, "he really looks like-" the shorter boy makes a show out of bending his arms out to the side, flexing them with a serious fighter look on his face; you can't help the girlish giggle that leaves your mouth at his stance.

"wow, okay sorry, hongjoong, i totally see why you got your shit rocked now," yeosang drones, causing hongjoong to charge at the boy who only chuckles as he quickly disappears off to the breakfast table.

you turn your head as your eyes follow him, feeling uneasy by the look you saw him shoot you and seonghwa. his words were sarcastic and dry per usual but something about him seemed...off, like he was tense or bothered by something.

"you want more?" seonghwa mutters and you jump at the sound of his voice. you turn to see him with a soft smile and you nod your head.

"yeah, i'm gonna get another bagel. do you want anything?" he shakes his head before thanking you and you get up after asking if any of the boys need another plate. with a chorus of no's, you pad over to the food nervously and snatch a plate before grabbing a bagel; you hesitantly walk up to yeosang who's fishing through the fruit bowl, noticing that he's actively avoiding pineapple.

"but pineapple's are good," you chirp and he turns to look at you blankly before forcing out a fake smile.

"nah."

your lips press into a firm line, squinting your eyes at him and feeling your stomach knot at his cold, shortness. but instead, you push it away and try again. because last night he was...good. and you find that for whatever sad reason, you hold on to the times he was nice to you.

"well, have you ever tried them?" you quip, voice sweet and questioning.

"nope."

a tiny huff leaves your mouth, looking up at him with a confused expression and he catches your gaze before moving around you. "what?" he asks shortly.

"i don't know, you're being..." he turns again, looking at you with a raised, questioning brow.

"nevermind," you say quietly, shaking your head before shifting on your feet nervously. "i...i don't remember much of last night, but..i wanted to thank you for calling him."

he hopes you don't notice the way his jaw clenches almost immediately, like he needed another fucking reminder that wasn't as obvious as watching him hold you, watching you melt into him and begging him not to leave. but what really fucked him, made him run out of that room and question himself completely, was feeling his heart sink when he realized you weren't talking to him, weren't begging him to not leave and stay with you. and if all of that wasn't enough, waking up to your high pitched giggle of seonghwa's name was the absolute kicker.

"i just did what you asked," he says, trying not to make his tone sound too bitter and icy; but he's really just feeling oh so bitter.

"yeah, that's true," you mumble before looking up at him and biting your lip. he swallows the lump in his throat as he meets your wide-eyed questioning gaze and he wishes you made it easier to be pissed at. wishes he didn't all of the sudden feel some sort of shift in his chest towards you. wishes he knew some other way to deal with it than lashing out.

"is that it?" he bites, eyes widening almost sarcastically and an uncontrollable pout makes its way on your face.

"oh..yeah..i'll just-" you grab your plate and walk back to the table, feeling like a dog with their tail between their legs. but then seonghwa's smile and quiet, "hey," greets you and your body relaxes, knot slightly unraveling in your stomach as you try to shake off the sinking feeling.

"hi," you squeak out, ripping off a piece of the bagel and holding it out to him. "you want?" he smiles at you, letting you feed him before muttering a quiet "thank you."

yeosang joins again a few moments later and you try to ignore the fact he sits as far away from you as possible. you watch san and wooyoung bicker, covering a giggle with your hand when san pegs a grape right at the boy's eye who then promptly shoots up to run away from a screeching wooyoung.

"i really cannot deal with them today," hongjoong growls.

"me and you, both," yeosang mumbles and their resemblance to grumpy old men has seonghwa chuckling before asking if they're doing anything as a group today.

"i don't think so, i mean i was gonna go snowboarding if anyone wanted to join though."

"even with your ugly ass eye?" yeosang quips with a smirk causing hongjoong to scoff.

"yes, you little fuck. and i'll still be better than you."

"uh huh, we'll see," yeosang says, eyes squinted sarcastically before looking at seonghwa. "why, you have something planned?"

"nah, was just wondering," he says before looking towards you. "you wanna snowboard?"

you shrug half-heartedly, your small "sure, another chance to break my leg," causing seonghwa to chuckle.

"if anyone's leg was breaking, it was mine," he says recalling the way you fell during the ski lesson.

you roll your eyes with a scoff, ripping off another piece of your bagel and throwing it at him; but he only smoothly catches it and pops it into his mouth with a smug smile.

"show-off," you mumble before san and wooyoung come barreling back over and seonghwa checks with them if they also wanna snowboard; with everyone on board, the group plans to meet back here in thirty minutes.

seonghwa catches your arm before you turn to leave and you look up at him questioningly. "do you wanna do something else?"

you turn your head to the side in confusion, eyebrows pulled together. "what?"

"we don't have too," he insists, "i just...there's a place we can go a few minutes away. you might've done it before so you have less of a chance of breaking your leg."

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth, lips pursed to the side at his slightly cryptic answer. "okay, well now you have me intrigued."

"good, wear a hat," he says, bopping the tip of your nose lightly and smiling when you scrunch it. "cute," he mumbles softly before telling you to meet him by the car in fifteen.

"so, wait, are you gonna kill me or something?" you ask him a half hour later, "is that why you wanted us to be alone?"

"yup, that's why, y/n," he says sarcastically, his glove-clad hands over your eyes as the snow crunches underneath you; he had gone as far as to make you tie your scarf around your face when you were five minutes away so you wouldn't see where you guys were going. you even tried to listen for any clues but there was no sign of other people or noises, just the occasional loud whip of the wind.

so pardon you for your thinking that this was a fairly good murder spot.

"okay, we're here," he says. your eyes pop open and adjust to the bright november sun before you gasp upon seeing a large frozen lake, snowy mountains and white trees in the distance.

"seonghwa!" you squeal, eyes roaming the sunny, snowy landscape before turning around excitedly. "this is so pretty!" you squeak.

"aren't you," he mumbles, placing his hands on your already cold, red cheeks. "but i told you to wear a hat."

"i forgot," you whine, "and don't think we're gonna graze over that cheesy line!" a giant smirk covers his face as he takes the black hat off his head to secure it over yours. you both giggle when he tugs it too far down, blocking your eyes for a minute and when he pulls it back up, he's bent down slightly so you're face to face.

"there you are," he says playfully and you roll your eyes despite the smile threatening to spread across your face. it's not until he takes your hand and walks a few feet behind him that you notice the two pairs of ice skates in the snow.

"is this safe to skate on?" you ask and he looks at you with a mock look of hurt, pushing snow off the bench before guiding you to sit.

"would i really suggest we do something that'd harm you?" he asks while taking off your snow boots.

"well i did just think you were going to murder me," you quip sarcastically and he rolls his eyes, shimming the skate on your foot and tying them up. "how'd you know my size?"

"i guessed," he says shyly and you smile down at him. "you were right!"

"you were wrong!" you screech, the sound of your high-pitched yelp echoing in the cold air, "i'm still gonna break my leg! there's no side to hold onto!"

"you haven't even stepped on the ice, y/n," seonghwa says, humor in his tone despite standing there with his arm outstretched for the past twenty minutes.

"i'm scared!"

"i told you i'm not gonna let you fall," he says, skating towards you and what is with rich people and their full capabilities for winter sports? "can't you trust me?"

and it's the soft whine in his voice, on top of the pleading look in his eyes, that has you taking a deep breath before grabbing his hand. you cautiously step onto the ice, then adding the other foot and slowly, very slowly, moving to him.

"okay, i'm doing it," you say quietly.

"you are," he says, his hands in yours, "you're doing good."

feeling cocky, you attempt to move to him a little faster and wobble underneath your feet. you let out a surprised yelp but his hand quickly wraps around your waist, not even budging as he saves your body from crashing down.

"see," he says, arm tightening around you, "not gonna let you fall."

you let out a little defeated sigh, standing up straight and tightening your hold on his hand.

"that wasn't the issue," you say, "i didn't wanna make you fall."

he intertwines your fingers, hearts jumping in two separate chests at the simple act. "i'd say it's a little late for that, don't you think, baby?"

you gasp as you shake your head at him, pulling him in front of you so you can glide around the lake. "cheesy comment number 2!"

and by the time you've skated around the pond until you're both dizzy, you've accumulated about twenty plus cheesy comments from him. but you suppose you egged him on really, giggling like a stupid, lovesick schoolgirl each and every time.

"stop!" you whine, "you've used that one ten times already!"

the both of you have been standing in the middle of the pond, instead of clasped hands, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his arm looking out at the snow-kissed mountain in the clear sky.

"you're the one who keeps saying how pretty it is," he counters; but he also can't deny that it really is a nice view.

"because i'm just not used to it," you say breathlessly, "it's like i'm just...not getting used it's beauty." he turns you by your waist, bringing your body into his as he looks down at you with soft, playful eyes.

"well now you see my dilemma, don't you, little one." his laugh echoes when your mouth drops open, a look of shock crossing your red face and it's half from the cold and half from the incessant comments he's been making.

"that's it, we're leaving! you're out of control today."

you're about to turn around and attempt to get off the ice by yourself when he catches you by the waist, both arms wrapping around your body.

"okay, okay, i'll stop," he says breathlessly against your neck and he's gonna pretend it's from the cold air and not the feel of your body pressed up right against his. you struggle in his hold for all of three-seconds before leaning into him, your head eventually falling back against him and humming contently at his warmth.

"you cold?" he mumbles, like he knew that's what you were thinking and you shake your head.

"no...but aren't you? you have no hat."

"i'm good, y/n."

you two stand in silence for a few minutes, his arms tightening around you when the occasional whipping of wind surrounds you; you're thankful he can't see you because you smile every time he does it.

the feel of your movement sometime later has him tearing his gaze away from the sky, watching you turn in his hold and smile up at him softly.

"hi."

you giggle quietly, licking over your cold lips before opening your mouth. "i just wanna thank you for bringing me here." he smiles softly and the look in his eyes alone has your stomach going crazy.

"thank you for coming with me."

you let out a quiet huff, bring your hand up to fix his messy, windblown hair.

"why are you so nice to me?" you ask him suddenly, turning your head to the side questioningly.

"why wouldn't i be?" he counters, eyebrows slightly pulled together; he's only met with a little shrug.

"i don't know...you just...you've been so nice ever since you met me."

"well....you can say i just have a soft spot for damsels in distress," he teases, tightening his hold on your waist just as you scramble to get away. you let out a huff, squinting your eyes at him as you shake your head.

"well, you're a mean rich boy!"

he laughs while looking down at you, moving his hands from your waist to adjust the hat on top of your head with a small smile before placing one on your cold cheek. you feel your breath catch in your throat at how close he is, how soft and gentle his touch is and how fast that buzzing feeling is back from earlier in your room.

"not damsels in distress," he hums lowly, "just...you." his finger grazes your cold red skin, his face leaning down ever so slightly as his eyes roam your face. "i don't know why, it really just seemed like the second i saw you, i was...drawn to you."

his comment makes you swallow nervously because you don't think you'll ever understand it. he's him and you're you and yet he's saying that; you're about to ask why when he speaks again.

"if i'm being honest, y/n, i almost just wanted to..."

"what?" you squeak after a few moments of silence, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat again when you realize you've both been leaning in inch by inch. now if you both just moved one more time, you could probably...

"seonghwa!"

his eyes close in frustration upon hearing his voice, clenching his jaw and his hand tightens on your cheek ever so slightly. you breath out the breath you were holding, disappointment creeping into your veins; you both turn your heads to see-

"mrs. choi?" you squeak out, squinting your eyes to get a better look.

"i gave you kids two hours!" she yelps across the lake, "two hours, seonghwa! it's almost been three!"

you and him both look at each other guiltily because your...compromising position isn't making you guys look any better.

"and what are earth are you doing on this lake! what if you guys fell through!"

"i told you!" you squeak just as seonghwa says "we wouldn't!" and just with her hands moving to her hips, it's a clear sign that has seonghwa guiding you off the lake and over to your snowy shoes; but not before mrs. choi smacks him on the back of the head.

you suppress a giggle the whole time watching him rub the back of his head as she stomps off to her car; you don't let your laugh ring free until you see her car completely drive out of the parking lot.

"i can't believe she just smacked you in the head!" you giggle, "that looked hard, too."

"it was," he whines, untying your laces, "i don't know how san survives that."

"san?" you ask, head turned to the side.

"yeah. that's his mom."

your mouth falls into an o shape, surprised to learn this but also thinking it makes sense. since they both have a shocking duality of being sweet and kind and then absolutely wild.

"that makes sense," you giggle.

what doesn't make sense, however, is that when you get back, there's no sign of yeosang anywhere. not at the slopes when you go to meet what was supposed to be everyone but was only hongjoong, wooyoung and san. he was also nowhere in sight for dinner at the restaurant next door nor did he ever show in hongjoong's room for a scary movie .

you pad down the hallway alone later that night, a loud yawn erupting from you. it's when your eyes pop open you see yeosang standing in front of his door, key card in hand.

"yeosang!" you say loudly, wobbling down the hall faster and not being surprised when he turns his head to look at you blankly.

"y/n."

"where were you, today?" you squeak, "you missed dinner and the movie. i'm 90% sure wooyoung peed his pants."

"hm, that sounds like him," he hums and you let out a small giggle as you nod your head; there's then a deafening silence for far too many seconds and your hands immediately start fidgeting into one another.

"you do that when you're nervous," he says quietly and you find yourself blanking for a minute for nodding your head.

"yeah...i don't know, but sometimes my nails even dig into them and then-"

"but why are you nervous?" he snaps and his tone is a little harsher than intended. but he can't help it as he remembers how you backed away from him last night, how you nearly ran to the bed when he guided you in but then was able to fall right into seonghwa and it's annoying the shit out of him that he can't stop thinking about it.

"i...i don't know," you say quietly, confused by his outburst, "you seemed...mad today."

"oh?"

"yeah, i don't know...maybe i'm wrong. but i..don't think i am."

he sighs as he realizes he has two options here: he can lie to you, pretend everything's just fine and say that he's just tired and hungover. or he can be honest, tell you he's mad but doesn't even really know why, doesn't know why he can't stop thinking about last night.

because it's not only the nightmare incident, but everything before that. the snowball fight, the stupid drunken questions you both asked, even him holding your hair back as you were puking; that one confuses him the most, why the fuck was he so willing to do that?

"you're right, you're not." is what he decides to say, a little bit of a lie, a little bit of the truth.

"well...do you wanna talk about it?" you reluctantly ask, "it might make you feel-"

"absolutely not," he growls and his tone instinctively causes you to take a step back. but that seems to make him even more mad. "especially not with you."

"oh."

"yeah, oh," he says, mimicking your last word mockingly before rolling his eyes. but you can only let out a humorless laugh.

"really," you snap, feeling anger flood through you at his nasty tone and dirty look. "you're going back to this yeosang?"

"you mean to tell me i've been a different yeosang?"

"yeah, you have. maybe even three different ones," you spit and you don't know what the hell made you so bold so quick, "the asshole. the nice one. and the one who asks if i'd rather kiss him or seonghwa."

his expression is blank one second, like he can't believe you remember that or said that, and then blazing the next, eyes fiery and hot and reminding you so much of asshole yeosang.

"you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"judging from your reaction, i think we both know that's wrong," you snap before advancing toward him ever so slightly. "so you care to tell me what that was about?"

"i was shitfaced, that's what that was about," he hisses before lowering his voice and causing it to deepen, "so i suggest you keep that to yourself."

"i wasn't gonna tell anyone, you asshole," you spit out, "i wasn't even gonna say anything to you but you've been a dick to me all day for no reason."

"well thanks for giving me one now, y/n," he growls, "you should really learn when to shut your mouth." he shoots you one last dirty look before swiping his key card and slamming the door in your face.

(part 13)

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez series #ateez seonghwa #moodboard

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butlerbarb · 4 years

Text

Sweets (Leviathan x Reader)

i suppose i should start this blog off with the first fic i posted on ao3!

Staring at yourself in the mirror as you fiddled with your uniform, you sighed. It just didn’t fit right! Diavolo had said he found the one that matched your human world size the closest, but apparently demons and humans were different in more ways than you thought. With another tug at the chest area, you groaned, deeming it good enough for now. You’d get Asmodeus to fix it later.

Exiting your bathroom, you grabbed your D.D.D just as it buzzed to life with a text. Catching Leviathan’s name on screen, you smiled and unlocked your device. Taking a quick look at the text Mammon had sent you – something along the lines of wanting you to skip with him again – before you opened Levi’s.

Leviathan: Gud morning. Are you going to RAD today?

[Y/N]: …I HAVE to go.

Leviathan: Why do you have to go? You’d have a better time skipping school and playing games with me all day.

You rolled your eyes. Really, what was it with these demons and wanting you to skip school? It was everyday that at least one of the more troublesome brothers asked you to skip and do something else with them. Even if some days you wanted to skip, you knew Lucifer would have you hide if he did, so you tended to avoid any of their persuasion.

[Y/N]: I AM a student, after all.

Hitting send on the text, you clicked your phone off and shoved it into your pocket. Pulling the door to your room open, you were immediately greeted by Mammon, fist already raised into the air to knock on your door. His eyes went wide, and he laughed, his hand falling and landing on his hips in typical Mammon fashion. His shocked expression quickly morphed into a grin that oozed confidence, again, typical Mammon fashion.

“Are you psychic now, Human? Or were you just that excited to see the GREAT Mammon, that you came rushing out of your room?” Mammon spoke, as cheerful and loud as ever. You stared at him, shaking your head at his overflowing confidence, he was very annoyingly cute.

“Yes, Mammon, I was just SO excited to see you this morning I came rushing out of my room as soon as I heard your footsteps.” You spoke sarcastically, hoping Mammon would catch it. He didn’t. Instead, your words only seemed to inflate his ego more. You watched in disbelief as his grin grew wider and a small blush dusted his cheeks.

“Ha-ha! Of course, ya’d be excited to see me! I am the GREAT Mammon, after all!” He boasted again, leaning down slightly towards you. You laughed, rolling your eyes again and reaching a hand towards his waiting head. You gave his hair a ruffle, bushing a part of it out of his eyes.

“Yes, yes of course, you are very great, Mammon. Now let’s go to breakfast please, I’m starving.” Mammon let out a quiet, happy cheer at your praise, refusing to pull away from your hand until you pushed him away. He took off down the hall, leaving you to walk by yourself, to which you wonder what the point of him coming to your room was anyway. With a shake of your head, you pulled your phone out of your pocket as it buzzed again.

Leviathan: OOH, GOODY 2 SHOES OVER HERE

You snorted at the text, getting read to type a reply when another two texts popped in from Leviathan.

Leviathan: Well, go on and go if you’re gonna go. Come back home quickly tho. Leviathan: I can’t do any of the co-op dungeons by myself, you know.

You laughed, smiling to yourself as you walked down the stairs to the first floor. You had forgotten that Leviathan had made you play on of his PC games with you the other day, claiming that it wasn’t cause he liked you, he just need someone to do the two player dungeons with and you were the most reasonable choice. He was cute.

[Y/N]: Roger, boss! <3

You watched in amusement as he read the text immediately and the three dots popped up, disappeared, popped up a second time and then disappeared again. Leviathan never ended up replying, much to your amusement, making you think he simply went into emotional overdrive and shut down. He was really cute.

You pocketed your phone right as you stepped into the dining room. Claiming the seat in between Mammon and Beelzebub, you greeted everyone at the table and began piling some food onto your plate. Beelzebub always made comments about how little you ate – although everyone ate very little compared to him – not realized that you couldn’t eat most of the stuff demons ate. Monkey brains, spider legs, you swore you caught Satan downing a vial of poison before. Demons ate things you were sure would kill you in the most painful way possible.

After breakfast, Mammon and Beelzebub accompanied you to your class – Mammon unwillingly, of course – and you spent most of the morning trying to get both brothers to focus on their work instead of slacking off. You felt your phone buzz a few times, but you made sure not to make a habit of checking your phone in class, you didn’t want your teachers, and subsequently Lucifer, getting mad at you.

Around lunchtime was when you finally pulled out your phone at Mammon’s insistence. He demanded you check out this new game he had playing, claiming you would like it as well. You noted that you had a few texts from some demon friends the brothers said would be okay for you to talk to, most just asking if you were busy after school, wanting to hang out. You would have, had you not had plans with Leviathan. Texting them back, telling them you were busy, you then proceeded to the app store to download the game Mammon wanted you to.

You opened it up, both Mammon and Beelzebub now leaning over your shoulder to watch you play. It was a rhythm game focusing on cute, demon idol girls. It also contained gacha elements, so you knew this was just another game Mammon would blow all his money on until he got bored. It was fun, and you had no trouble picking up how to play, having fallen victim to plenty of rhythm games back in the human world.

Mammon complained as you easily S-ranked even the hardest difficulties, claiming he was only able to do up to normal, hard on some songs. Beelzebub laughed at him, claiming he just didn’t have any rhythm himself, which of course, set Mammon off on a tyrant. You ignored Mammon’s insistent yelling, tuning both brothers out as you focused on a particularly difficult song. You tuned them back in once you were finished, only to watch as Beelzebub full-combo-ed an especially difficult song on max difficulty. You high-fived the younger brother, laughing as Mammon complained in the background.

Turning back to your phone, you caught a glimpse of a notification banner sliding off-screen. Closing the rhythm game, you opened your messages, seeing Leviathan’s name at the top. Seeing as he completely ignored your last message made you chuckle.

Leviathan: What’s uuuup? Ur still at RAD, rite? Could you hit up Lament and get some Bufo Egg Milk Tea for me on your way home?

Smirking to yourself, you typed out your reply:

[Y/N]: My services do not go free of charge

You could feel Levi rolling his eyes at you as he typed his response. Once Levi had started warming up to you after making a pact with him, you realized he enjoyed it when you gave him playful responses and teased him lightly. He was always annoyed when his brothers did it, but for some reason played along when it was you.

Leviathan: FINE, be that way [Y/N], I’ll give you some cash so you can get something for yourself, too. I’m still gonna ask you to pay me back tho lol. Thanks in advance 👍

[Y/N]: Aw, you’re the best Levi! I’ll be home in a little, you better have snacks ready :3

After your conversation with Levi, the bell rang for the end of lunch. You headed back to your classroom with both brothers in tow, happily anticipating the end of the day. Your last classes were fairly laid back, meaning time passed by in a blur. Once you and everyone else were released, you insisted Mammon and Beelzebub take you to Lament, knowing you’d probably get lost on your own. You made the trip as quick as possible, knowing if you stayed there for any longer than necessary Beelzebub would try to order everything in the café. You got what Levi wanted, and a snack and drink for yourself with the money he sent you. Mammon demanded you buy him something as well and pouted when you told him you only had the money Levi lent you.

After waiting for an extra 15 minutes so Beelzebub could get his absolutely massive order, the three of you headed back to the House of Lamentation. You quickly ditched the second- and sixth-born brothers in favour of the third-born. You knocked on his door gingerly, entering quickly after you recited the secret password. Leviathan was reclined on his bed, phone in hand as he gazed up at you. He held his hand out expectantly, and you took the hint to hand him his drink. He shifted over slightly in the bed, allowing you room to scooch in beside him.

“What’d you get?” He asked, gesturing to the drink and paper bag you held in your hand. You only shrugged in response; you weren’t really sure what you got yourself. Mammon had pointed out the things that were most “human-friendly,” so you just got that. Explaining that to Levi, he only nodded in response before going back to his phone. You took an experimental sip of your drink, slightly scared about what it would do to you, only to find that it was actually surprisingly good!

You hummed happily as you continued to sip on your drink as Leviathan laughed beside you. Taking the pastry you got out its bag, you started at it in slight horror. It looked… strange to say the least. It was a cupcake that you had thought was adorned with a fondant eyeball and icing. As it turned out, this guess was very, very wrong. The eye seemed to follow you as you moved it around and to your utmost horror, it blinked. Had you not been in Leviathan’s room, you most likely would have thrown it across the room. With a grimace, you held it out to the demon beside you.

“Is this like… safe for me to eat? It feels like it’s gonna attack me if I do…” You spoke quietly, eyeing the cupcake warily. Leviathan laughed at your question, grabbing your wrist to bring the item closer to his face. He sniffed it, before letting go of your hand and shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’ll be fine, lol. I think it’s chocolate.” He replied, using his pinky finger to swipe a bit of the icing off of it. Bringing it to his mouth, he nodded in confirmation as he licked the sweet icing off his finger.

“Yeah that’s chocolate. The eye won’t hurt you, it’s not actually real.”

“But…”

“No buts! Just eat it or go give it to Beel.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly brought the dessert to your mouth. Taking a small bite out of it, your eyes lit up at the taste. Surprisingly, it was just as good at the drink! You happily took a bigger bite, no longer feeling creeped out by how it was seemingly living, you were free to enjoy how yummy it was.

“See? I told you it was good, normie.” Leviathan laughed, his hand reaching out to pick off a piece of the actually cake for himself. He hummed to himself, muttering under his breath about telling the guys on the forums to check this out. You snorted, was all that all he was thinking about? People he only knew through the internet? He was so lame, it was cute.

“What does your drink taste like?” You asked, now suddenly curious of the cup he held in his hand. His eyes widened as you reached out to grab it from him, jerking his arm away from you. You frowned, reaching out further for it, only to have him pull it further away from you. This continued until you were practically on top of him, yet he was still just barely able to hold it out of your reach.

“Levi,” you whined, sprawling yourself on top of him as you tried to reach for his drink. “Let me have a taste!”

“No way! That’d be like, an indirect kiss or something!” He protested. At his words, you practically deadpanned, staring him right in the face. No longer reaching for the drink, you let your hands fall to his chest as you continued staring at him. You watched as very noticeable blush dusted his cheeks a bright red colour, as well as the tips of his ears.

“What? Quit staring at me like that!” He pouted, turning his face away from you in an attempt to cover his quickly darkening blush. You nudged his chin with your hand, forcing his gaze back onto you. You stared down at him until he finally met your eyes again, a pout on his lips. God, when he looked like this you could have sworn, he was the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Envy.

“You’re so worried about an indirect kiss, does that mean you’ve never actually kissed someone, Levi?” You asked quietly, leaning down closer to the demon underneath you, watching him squirm in panic at your question. He refused to meet your eyes, the colour on his ears darkening more than you ever thought possible. Although, seeing as you were in the realm of demons, you supposed anything could be possible now.

“Quit it…” Leviathan muttered sheepishly, his bottom lip jutting out more and more. Moving your hand from his chin, you slide it up the side of his face and into his hair. Just like his older brother, Leviathan was weak to having his head rubbed and hair played with.

“I’ll stop if you want me to, Levi. I won’t use the pact to make you stay if you don’t want to.” You offered, backing off slightly and getting ready to remove yourself from him. He stopped you, however, his hands shyly resting on your hips to keep you in place. He refused to meet your gaze, but you could tell by the way his fingers dug into you slightly that he didn’t want you to leave.

“Tell me what you want, Levi.” You teased, using the hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair to trace the side of his face. The embarrassed glare he shot at you was so adorable, you almost cooed at him like a child, but you knew that would only ruin the mood. You slowly dragged your hand from his cheeks to his lips, using your thumb to pull at his bottom lip slightly. The noise that left his mouth, similar to that of a kitten, was adorable to say the least, and you could feel yourself swooning at his cuteness.

“Levi, you’re so cute.” You whispered, leaning down to ever so slightly brush your lips against his, watching in amusement as he stretched to fully connect your lips with his. You moved to brush your lips against his again, but right before you could, you swerved to the left slightly. Grabbing his once discarded milk tea and bringing the straw to your lips, you took a sip before scowling at the taste. You assumed it was probably because of the weird, slimy texture of the Bufo eggs, but something about it was off-putting.

From underneath you, Leviathan groaned, frowning up at you. You feigned innocence, tilting your head to the side as if to ask did I do something wrong? Before you could react to anything, Levi’s hands that were once on your waist moved to cup your cheeks in the blink of an eye. He then, suddenly feeling bold you assumed, brought your lips to his forcefully. The kiss was awkward, clearly showing his inexperience, but it made it more endearing to you.

Leviathan, the socially awkward, shut it nerd, was willingly giving you, a human, his first kiss. This was the best day of your life, really. You sure hoped Levi was enjoying it as much as you were, if not you were sure the situation would quickly become awkward. You definitely didn’t want this to ruin the friendship you had with him, and his brothers as well.

Demons, as you just found out, could hold their breath much longer than humans. When you pulled away from him, he was nowhere near as out of breath as you were, but you could probably blame that on your own excitement and the way he kissed you without warning. You weren’t complaining, though, you liked the bolder, confident side of the normally awkward and sheepish demon.

Leviathan frowned up at you, obviously upset that you pulled away when he wasn’t finished. You rolled your eyes at him, poking his cheek lightly as he tried to pull you back down to him. You rolled off of him, curling into his side. He sighed, wrapping one arm around you as his other grabbed his previously discarded drink. You didn’t realize when you had let go of it, more than likely sometime when he was kissing you.

“Weren’t we supposed to be playing games?” You asked, peering up at him from under your lashes. He glanced down at you, a hint of a smile on his face as he shook his head at you.

“We were, but you seemed more interested in stealing my drink from me. Can’t believe I let a normie like you kiss me.” He replied, setting his drink down of his nightstand to grab his phone. You watched as he loaded up a website, one you certainly didn’t recognize, and began furiously typing on his phone. You snorted at his response, batting him lightly on the chest.

“Oh please, Levi, you’re the one that kissed me. You’re so cute when you’re confident, by the way.” Levi’s typing slowed to a stop at your words, his cheeks flaring to life once again. He refused to look at you, his eyes staying focused on his phone screen as he tried to finish what he was typing.

“Whatever, it’s not my fault you teased me like that.” He spoke, trying to sound as confident as possible, although you knew he was freaking out on the inside. He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes, the arm he had wrapped around you tightening slightly. He was embarrassed for sure, but you found it all the cuter.

Peeking at his phone, you caught a brief glance of what Levi was typing and had to suppress a laugh.

You guys aren’t gonna believe but totally just kissed a super cute waifu! LMAO!

You didn’t know what a “waifu” was or why it was a “LMAO” moment, but it didn’t really bother you.

Leviathan really was the cutest.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #leviathan x reader #cross posted from ao3!#if you enjoyed this please feel free to send in a request!

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hasliaran · 3 years

Text

Undertale is owned by Toby Fox

Sooner or Later You’re Gonna be Mine is written by Staringback.

TimeHealsTale - Still a WIP by me.

Meet my undertale OC from TimeHealsTale which is an AU living rent free in my head. They are a canon MC that replaces the real Sans (age 5) after he got dumped into a tub of Void by Gaster to be forgotten.

Name: Comic Sans Du Font (Comic/Komi)

Age: 22 (5 years younger than canon Sans and 8 years older than Paps)

Job: Monster Healer that does House-calls. (Not a Judge; Sans disappeared because he was a Judge)

Profile in Game: Toriel’s Contact, The Smuggler, Summon Healer (after befriending; limited to 5 calls (diff. work phone no.); rapid calls will assume it’s a prank and not be picked up for a certain period of time.)

This is not her usual outfit but I just really wanted to post it.

In my head, the scene goes …

- she fell into the void trying to pull out a deformed still 5 years old Sans when she was going through her father’s stuff in his lab dungeon. (Occurred after the barrier broke)

- Sans was in a mega huge test tube floating in pitch black Void essence (frozen in stasis as no time passes through Void), so she couldn’t see anything or knew he was inside. Only after she accidentally tipped it over, smashing it to pieces, when trying to push it out of the lab that she realised there was an effing toddler inside it.

“Dad, seriously?” Comic got fed up already with the mess her father left behind after he got scattered.

- Cue her trying to grab the kid out of the muck only to fall in and be dropped down into another universe with the little one.

(Yes, this is the multiverse travel scene excuse and I love it)

Back then, Sooner or later your gonna be mine just uploaded a new comic chapter on YouTube. Hence, my brain went overdrive and said it’s a free real estate. So, I imagined the duo getting found by the skeleton brothers before the story started from rumours of them pillaging around trash sites, random food thefts and small skeletons offering up to do odd jobs.

Other skeletons than them, huh, curious.

Them skeletons in that story was already huge as heck though, now imagine a five a year old and a roughly five foot skeleton with a slight build running around what was essentially a mob era in the 1920’s.

The first thing that would go through their thick skulls was KIDS, THEY ARE KIDS, WHO HERE F***ED AND DIDN’T USE PROTECTION ?!

So much shenanigans from just trying to chase them down. ^_^

In the end, Komi and Void/V (little Sans; Komi’s not that creative at naming) were lured in by food, an offer for a roof over their heads and warm baths. Yep, tragic.

Little sans doesn’t look like a sans anymore here but a mere smooth skull shell with two big eye sockets and nothing else. I meant that literally. No lips or teeth as those were melted away and a pitch black body with stumps for legs. (look at Hollow Knight; Ghost but without the horns and has smoothen out round cheeks at least. I love that game.)

The last thing he remembered was that his aunt (step sister actually but he knows her as auntie) giving birth in the Underground Hospital and his uncle (Gaster) pushing him into a tub of black liquid, watching him drown.

And now he can’t talk since his lips is sealed shut.

Moreover, someone with his name who looks like a lot like his auntie and a bit like his uncle was dragging him around somewhere. It’s hella weird and confusing and he can’t cry properly. (Yes, HK reference here)

Yes, there is a story here for the duo that will coincide with SoLY’reGBM. Mostly, with Komi claiming Bara Sans courting skills were lame as hell no wonder Frisk ran screaming. This happen only at the time they were all comfortable enough to diss each other. Still, she and V were treated like sassy annoying younger siblings.

One’s assumed to be a teenager another a preschooler. So both were admitted to schools by force and with threats for Komi by Gaster since he didn’t want them in the house 24/7. Also to just enjoy the fact they have money now to send someone in their place to experience school. Papyrus here loves it that someone gets to experience and tell him all about while also not being the youngest in the family anymore.

Komi, in hindsight was 50/50 about it. Hating the idea at first before going, huh, maybe it’s not so bad… Hence the outfit up there. ^

She only has been to pre-school when her mother was alive and nothing else since, Gaster, her father, deeming it useless and only had been homeschooled by him. As much as you could call being locked in a room and told to read/answer these sheets of questions or not she’s never allowed to feed Papyrus as homeschooling activities. It happened in a period of when she was 10 - 14, so Paps would be 2 - 6. Damn well, she learned to memorise and spit everything out like a photocopier.

Seeing the Gaster in this universe sorta freaks her out. Making her wait to be ordered and when she doesn’t gets the order or the orders were just a pat on the skull and be told to behave, nothing else. She will proceed to look at him funny only to realise that oh, this is not dad. The three brothers can see that gal there has been through some shit and it’s not the fun kind. This also makes them question whether they should let them go back to wherever they came from, and that’s a whole other bag of fish to fry.

Komi knows they are a mob family, accepts it because hey her dad had a dungeon where he cuts up humans and eats SOULs for breakfast so why not this?

Only to find out they are pretty nice for a family and was this what a family suppose to be like? She liked it.

Komi with V/Void -, I will protect you my new baby brother that I have adopted at first sight with my body and SOUL. Which she does, she was raised with her Papyrus who was always aimed at gunpoint by her father. Basically, a rinse and repeat cycle situation in her eyes. Only to find out that no, nobody was out to get V!

She felt so gosh darn free in this universe but felt as though she was missing something all the time.

Yep, her found family from back home. So, definitely gotta get out of here somehow.

While also going to high school and befriending your adopted uncles’s enemy’s niece. Fuku Fire. Definitely not telling them what she did. They are gonna get so pissed.

Fuku - I have befriended the cool kid that’s not afraid to talk back against adults and was already a pro in home economics, who is also a skeleton Monster, meaning from a rival family. My parents and Uncle *pedo* Grillby must never know.

Comic will also be going through the motions of life here while figuring out how V’s powers work to send them back home and be getting a supply of Uncle’s favourite mustard since he’s been bitching about it every day by now.

He and Gaster will most definitely never know.

Nah, they know. Comic is a freaking blabber mouth that tells everything to this version of Papyrus just like she does in her own universe. Confirmed, she’ll be outed within 3 days by Paps and a fight about who she befriends was not their business.-at Gaster - who then sees it as an opportunity. Which leaves her storming out yelling they are all the same. Gaster and her Gaster.

Shit goes down that day, and everything went A-okay. Komi would make attempts to not overlap her father’s image over this guy because really, this Gaster is the farthest thing to her dad that’s a centuries old psychopath craving the secrets of the multiverse who would instead have not let her run out the house unscathed for yelling nor talked through things with her when she was brought back.

Darn guy was pretty nice.

Sans and Papyrus of this universe : who are you and what have you done to our brother?

G: What was that?

S&P: Nothing. S: (mutters under his breath) bias piece of sh*t

Then there’s that scene where they now got a new area to govern. Komi and V finds it weird but okay. *shrugs*. It felt like they were going to govern their territory or something. Sounds like basic Royal Guards one-o-one shtick her middle bro’s and friends’ kinda work. Seems simple enough.

It was not simple. I repeat, it was not simple.

G: No, we do not have to patrol the area.

G: No, we do not do shifts to monitor criminal activities.

G: It’s just an area that we will get a claim to.

G: But I need the humans here to be comfortable with Monsters, so I am going to let loose Papyrus on them. Since, we also have you two as well. Feel free to interact with the Humans. Tell me if anyone gives you three any trouble, Sans and I will personally deal with it.

S: wut? Yes? Yep, whatever he says goes. Better listen to your elders, brats.

P: Really, Sans?

C: So-, you want us to help around with the people in the area? Like charity work? Give free food and all that?

G: (how did she jumped to that? but otherwise, she’s not wrong.) … Yes-, that. Feel free to use your green magic on them as well if you have to but only when necessary. I don’t want you to suddenly disappear because your own loose lips.

C: Alright. (Does an excited fist pump) This is gonna be awesome~! …. Heyyy, did you just-

P: And I will be sure to guard them. (No arguing here from the other brothers)

V: (pouts and hand signed) N-O-T—B-A-B-Y

P: (could only stare at this being that barely reaches his kneecaps) Of course, little one.

All I know is, all of them are sassy sarcastic shits and there’s way more to be continued here.

So byeeee~

#timehealstale #undertale #undertale au #fanart #fanfic #fic ideas #sooner or later you’re gonna be mine au idea #do not repost #do not copy #multiverse #dimension travel

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aclosetfan · 3 years

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hi so like

“i saw this and thought of you immediately”

if you want to for any ship HDHDHDHDHD

@over-under-through1 Okay, so, I gave ya greens last time, and you said ANY ship, so I decided to give my rare pair some love. And it’s just sweet pure brain rot. Anyway, as always, thanks for the prompt!!!

Prompt: “I saw this and thought of you immediately” from the prompt list of ways to say “I love you” without actually saying it 😊 that whole list makes me go soft. Pairing: brick/bubbles

Word count: 4696// this was supposed to be a drabble :)))))

Summary: I’ve got nothing witty to say. Bubbles just gives our boy a gift and he almost hemorrhages.

(Bubbles’ love language would totally be gift-giving based on how crafty she is, my love language is definitely NOT gift giving so I hope this isn’t horrible)

Brick licked chip crumbs from his fingers as he flipped through the tv. On the floor, next to the recliner he had deemed his for the afternoon, his journalism partner—one seemingly disgruntled Blossom Utonium—was busy organizing their project into five hundred million different tasks. She was dividing them evenly, and despite her warnings and threats, he had already resigned to do his two hundred and fifty million assigned mini-steps last minute like usual. It was the same song and dance they did for every project they were paired up for, which was incredibly often and, frankly, not by choice, though now, he supposed he'd be a bit insulted if she went and picked a new partner after everything they had been through together.

Investigative Journalism 302 was supposed to be another blowoff class he had decided to take solely for the credits. Still, when it became clear to the professor that Brick wasn't going to be taking their class seriously, they had gone out of their way to ruin his life and pair him with Blossom Utonium. Despite the good A-quality content they churned out, it had not been an easy go around the first few times they had been paired together. They were too similar and too different in all the worst ways. She was too type-A to his type-B, and they were both too stubborn to admit when they were wrong. But, him and Blossom both had a penchant for sticking their noses in places they shouldn't, so somewhere along the line—probably around the time they had broken into More Co. to follow a lead and diffused a hostage situation at the Mayor's Manor—they figured it was easier to be friends, not enemies.

They were chalking up to be Townsville's resident Sherlock and Watson, except they both fancied themselves Sherlock and the other Watson, but, eh, what relationship was perfect?

This time around, they were investigating some strange chemical. The only lead they had come from Blossom's own father. He had apparently said something "cryptic" over Sunday brunch that had launched Blossom into overdrive. Eavesdropping on one of her old man's telephone conversations, she had listened to him mutter about the letter X, failed mutations, a strict deadline, and an explosion that may or may not have been the same explosion at the 'abandon' smelting factory two weeks ago.

She took the information personally since it involved her father, but Brick had met the man before and didn't think there was an evil bone in his body. The lab he worked for, though, was an entirely different story. H.I. Mechanics was one hundred different kinds of shady.

Three days from now, Blossom had decided that he would need to have the, again, two hundred and fifty million preliminary tasks done before their big stakeout. She’d be lucky if he decided to do three of them, but he entertained her ramblings anyway because the longer he stuck around her place, the longer he got to bum her cable.

That had become their routine. Meet at Blossom's place, let her rant like an anal madwoman, ignore her in favor of the reality trash tv that he loved but could not afford at his own apartment, and then have whatever painstakingly thought-out plan Blossom had concocted backfire on them in the near distant future. The process was like clockwork.

"—and if we go in at that time, really, why would they refuse us entry? The records we're looking for should technically be public record, though they're no doubt redacted. We're going to have to—you're not listening to me, are you?"

"Yeah," he hummed, more focused on the reality tv season wrap-up reunion he was watching, then whatever she was talking about, "that sounds good."

"So, you're not." She snipped, and the tone of her voice caught his attention.

"Huh?" He glanced at her for a moment before looking back at the tv, "Not what?

"Listening to me." She gave him a cross look, stepping in front of the tv, "You're not listening to me.

"Whaaa?" He tried sounding offended as he attempted to shoo her out of the way, "Noooo, what gave you that impression?"

"Listen," she snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times, and he felt his face scrunch up in distaste—he wasn't a dog, "both of my sisters are going to be home soon, and I don't want them to get mixed up in all of this, so we need to drill out the details of this plan before they get home!"

Blossom lived with her sisters—Buttercup, and Bubbles—in a two-bedroom apartment close to the University in downtown Townsville. All three went to TownU, which wasn't too surprising to Brick. It was an incredibly good school, and he'd admit all three of them were smart, but still, three for three had to be a little weird, right? And to think, people accused him and his brothers of being joined at the hips.

He gave her a dry look as she walked back to her spot on the carpet. "We both know that's not how this works."

Blossom slammed the book she had opened shut, "You're impossible."

"I think you meant to say consistent." He spared her one last glance before settling back into the recliner, "Really, Bloss, how in the world do you think you'd be able to keep this one from them? At this point, my brothers just assume I'm at the center of the mayhem."

She tsked, but the lack of argument was deafening. After a moment, she sighed, and her shoulders dropped, "I just don't want them to get hurt. Not like last time."

"Don't know what you're so worried about." He drawled, "I recall them saving us, not the other way around."

"And I recall the scar that's now running up and down Butters' back." She shot back, "This time, there will be no mess-ups."

"Yeah, wanna bet on—"

"Home!" Buttercup's voice rang throughout the apartment as the front door was slammed open and shut, "How we feeling about take-out—Oh, sup, Brick. You good with Chinese tonight?"

"We're working on school stuff!" Blossom exclaimed, scrambling to cover up the more elicit details of their ‘homework.'

Buttercup rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip, "I can tell. What's it this time, huh? Something normal or is there a bomb threatening to reactivate the volcano in Townsville Central Park that I should be made aware of?"

"It's norm—"

"—mutants." He interrupted Blossom, "The man funding your dad's company is sups sketch."

Buttercup shifted on her feet and crossed her arms, "Does this have to do with that Chemical-X stuff dad was talking about?"

"Don't you have a shower you should be taking?" Blossom huffed, glaring at the both of them, "You just finished a run, I can tell; you smell like a pig."

"That's what tipped you off?" Buttercup snorted, "Not the copious amount of sweat dripping down my face? Hey," she nodded her head at them, "ask me how my run went."

Together, he and Blossom rolled their eyes and sighed, "How'd your run—"

"Really well, wow, thanks for asking!" Buttercup smiled, "I beat my average, sooo think hard about what where you want to order from for dinner tonight. We're celebrating! I already texted Bubs," Buttercup stuck her tongue out at them, "she was much more enthusiastic."

"Then celebrate with her," Blossom frowned from her spot on the floor, fingering the edges of her notebook, "we've got a lot to finish tonight. I don't think we'll have—"

"Yeah, yeah. Listen here, hero-girl," Buttercup scowled, hands back on her hips, "you still gotta eat. Ima take a shower, you have till then to put the spy shit away. Speaking of spy shit," her glare shifted to him, "your brother done fixing my car yet?"

"Ask him, babe." He sniffed, looking pointedly at the tv, "I ain't the middleman."

He suppressed the urge to bulk as Buttercup lifted him up off the recliner by the collar of his shirt. A dark smile snuck its way across her face as she leaned close into him, "Considering the fact that you owe me for getting it destroyed in the first place, baby, then I think you are."

"A lesson in forgiveness would do you well, but fine, I'll ask." He sneered back, unwillingly to show the dread that ran up his spine when he saw the look in her eyes, "You do realize, though, it'd be faster if you just called—"

"Nope!" She sang, dropping him back down in the seat, like nothing had just transpired between them, "If he wants my number, he has to ask for it!" She walked down the hall towards the bathroom, "I don't make the rules."

He scowled, watching her walk away before turning his head back to Blossom, "She's lucky I owe her."

"You're lucky," Buttercup called from down the hallway, "that I saved your sorry ass!"

Blossom snorted, and he shot her a dirty look, "Don't encourage her."

"Oh, be quiet," Blossom snickered, "just watch TV like you always do, and I'll put—"

"I'm home!" A high, singsong voice rang through the house, as the door was once again thrown open, and his heart palpitated without permission. He forced his eyes to focus on the tv, and if Blossom noticed how he sunk low into the recliner, she thankfully didn't say anything.

"In here!" Blossom called back, and from the corner of his eye, he watched as Bubbles stuck her head around the corner. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the tv and tried his best not to seem at all interested as she practically danced her way into the room. She was always practically dancing everywhere she went. It was annoying.

"Blossy, oh my god, you will not believe what—Brick!" She exclaimed, shoving a finger in his face when she noticed he was in the room, "Wai—Brick Jojo! Do not move from that spot!"

He blinked and looked around at the spot he had forged for himself in their living room. His bookbag, snack bags, disregarded textbooks, and his jacket littered the space around him, and his body had imprinted into the recliner's seat cushions, so when he looked back at Bubbles and gave her a dry look, he meant it when he said, "Yeah, wasn't planning on it."

He looked away quickly when she beamed at him. Her smile was bright, sweet, and dimply, and also very annoying. People couldn't always be so immovably happy, could they?

Bubbles giggled and did a little hoppy-dance before she calmed down and looked back at him, "Ahhh, okay!" She wagged a finger at him, "You stay! I've got a surpriiiisseee for you."

"Again," He huffed, ignoring all the less-than-innocent surprise scenarios his traitorous brain played through, "wasn't going anywhere."

"If you're not going anywhere, why don't you actually do some work while you wait." Blossom's voice bit through the air, but he ignored her, going back to flipping through the tv.

"Yeeepp," He popped, his tone no drier than hers, "wasn't planning on that either."

Blossom mumbled to herself and looked at Bubbles, "Before you go, can you help me with these books? I'm putting them in my bedroom."

Bubbles held out her arms, moving around the recliner and out of his field of vision, "No prob-lamo, chica! What's this all for?"

"Don't worry about it." Blossom brushed Bubbles off, and her sister giggled again.

"What?" The blonde snorted, "Is there a bomb in the volcano?"

He could practically hear the way Blossom stiffened, "Why does everyone keep saying—do people think there's a bomb in the—"

"Blossom!" He groaned, "I'm fucking hungry, hurry up."

She hmphed and stomped out of the living room with Bubbles presumably following, so he relaxed in his seat, ready to blow out the deep breath he was holding when Bubbles' visage filled his vision.

Her smile crinkled the corners of her baby blue eyes, and the back of his neck instantly warmed at the proximity. He wasn't one for people invading his personal space, but Bubbles literally had no freaking concept of it. She was always shoving her face in his. So, unfortunately, Brick was very aware of the sun freckles that littered their way throughout her cheeks and it was particularly distressing because staring at her face made it easier to forget the No Touching Rule he was pretty adamant about people following.

"Stay." She reminded him; her tone tinged with lingering laughter. This close, she smelt like the physical embodiment of a bakery, and it took a significant amount of willpower to pull his eyes away from her.

"Whatever." He mumbled.

With another giggle—always with the dumb giggling—she was gone, and he was finally alone to collect himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a string of particularly nasty curse words at himself. Objectively, he was well aware that Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were…attractive, but he was never actually supposed to be attracted to any of them. They were the girls. They were just the girls. Ever since he had known them, they had been just the girls.

Blossom had a stick up her ass.

Buttercup could probably disembowel him.

And Bubbles giggled and smiled.

And it didn't matter if she giggled and smiled at him. Because she giggled and smiled at everything. She was one of those people, the kind of person that gave someone their undivided attention in a room full of people. She was good at making people feel good about themselves. She didn’t do it just for him. No see, if he was attracted to Bubbles, which he wasn't, it was because she was very good at making all people feel seen. So, he wasn't special. He wasn't. And it just—she would…he wasn't used to people just automatically assuming the good in him. People so optimistic tended to avoid him.

The positive attention was just making his head spin, making things confusing, and that was it. He wasn't one of those sad, lonely guys who mistook niceness for flirting. He had a clear head on his shoulders. It was just attention he was unused to. And it was a kind of attention he didn't need. Bubbles was just a nuisance. Her personality was too sweet. They were so different. Even if he did actually end up somehow magically liking her, it wouldn't work between them in a million years.

Besides, everyone already knew that pretty social butterflies didn't actually go for anti-social dweebs. Real-life wasn't an overdramatic coming-of-age rom-com. Realistically, she probably went for guys like Boomer.

He let out a shaky breath and turned up the volume on the tv. Some housewife was crying about something laughably petty, but he couldn't find it in himself to smile.

A second later, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands clasped together over his eyes. He only relaxed when he heard Bubbles voice nice and warm next to his ear. "Peak-a-boo," she laughed, "guess who!"

He ignored the way her breath tickled his neck and frowned into the darkness, "A heart attack?"

"Oof, so close!" She snorted, releasing her hands from his face and leaning around the recliner, so he could see her smiling at him, "It's Bubbles!"

"Hello, Bubbles." He droned, not resisting the way his eyes rolled but fighting the way his mouth was trying to twitch into a smile.

"Ready for your surpriiisse!" She sang, walking around the chair so she could stand in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back. He pressed his way further into the recliner after their knees knocked together, distancing himself from her.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "What is it?"

"It's a gift!" She rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, still smiling.

"Okaayyy." He reached a hand out with grabby fingers, "Let's get this over with, give it here."

She tilted her head back and laughed, a real honest belly laugh, before she looked down at him again, and suddenly, he felt tiny under her gaze. "Oh, my goodness, Brick," She chided, "I'm not just gonna hand it to you! Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

He adjusted the brim of his hat lower down his face and looked away, "I don't—"

"I said—" she repeated, reaching a hand out to pull his hat down completely over his eyes, "Close your eyes!"

"Fine." He hissed, trying to sound as grumpy as he was pretending to be and readjusted his hat as he shut his eyes, "They're closed. Happy?"

"Hold out your hands!"

He sighed but complied, and after a bit of shuffling on Bubbles' part, something small was placed in his hands.

"Okay," she announced, "now open your eyes!"

He opened his eyes and stared at the little…thing in his hands. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he figured it was some kind of fluffy…hat…keychain? He didn't know. He gave it a quizzical look before returning his stare to Bubbles.

"Ta-da!" she sang, accompanied by a pair of jazz hands, before she clapped them together, "Do you like it!"

"What…is it?"

There was a pause, and the smile on Bubbles's face fell away. "What is it!" She huffed, cheeks puffed out like an angry chipmunk, which was the worst angry face she could have because it just made her cuter, "It's a dog keychain!"

"This—" he held the keychain up for both of them to examine, "—is not a dog. It's a ball of fluff."

Bubbles' mouth dropped open, "It totally is! Look," she snatched it out of his hands, smooshing the fluff down so she could show off its' pointed ears, stubby little legs, and tail, "see! Puppy! A little Pomeranian! Baby puppy! Puppy, puppy, puppy!"

With something akin to bloodcurdling embarrassment pulsing through his veins, he watched as Bubbles continued to baby talk the offensive keychain, placing a tiny peck on its' small nose.

"And look!" She gushed, shoving it back into his face, "Look at its wittle red hat!" She squealed, bring it back to her so she could cuddle it to her face, "It's so cute I can't even!" Without warning, she dropped into his lap, which was around the same time his heart dropped into his stomach, "I saw it and thought of you immediately!"

He froze at the admission. He had never once thought of himself as someone who short-circuited very often, but people didn't compare him to a cute Pomeranian keychain very often either. In fact, he had been called a lot of things in his short lifespan—wiseass, smartass, punkass, there was a very consistent theme of derogatory titles thrown at him on the daily—but cute Pomeranian was not one of them. And, frankly, he couldn't say he was a fan.

"Are you comparing me to a Pomeranian?" He sneered, momentarily forgetting the fact that Bubbles Utonium was making herself comfortable on his lap, and he was neglecting to stop her.

"Duh!" She said rather flippantly, pushing the brim of his hat up and off his face, so they could look at each other. Another definite no-no that he was too flabbergasted to address.

"I would not be a Pomeranian!" He argued when he collected his jaw off the ground.

"Uhhh, yes, you would, lol." She argued back, playing with the fluffy little keychain in her hands. She kissed its face again, and in turn, his face only got hotter.

"Uhhhhhh," he mocked, "no, I wouldn't be."

She looked up from the keychain and gave him a somewhat patronizing look, "Yes, you would be."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

She laughed, "Brick, yes! You're just like a Pomeranian! You're super intelligent, curious, feisty, you like being the center of attention," she looked off for a second in thought, waving a hand in the air as she talked, "and you've definitely got some tiny dog syndrome in you."

He blinked at her, gaping, as his brain worked overload to find something to dispute in that analysis, but when he couldn't find any, he spat at her, "Why do you know all this shit about Pomeranians, huh?"

"They're one of my favorite breeds!" Her face lit up, "They're just so cute! I love them! And you remind me of them, so I got this for you!" She held the keychain up again, "It's so cute!"

His mind ground to a sudden halt as the words' cute' and 'love' and 'you' repeatedly echoed in his head. His heart hammered away in his chest, and in his panic, he contemplated throwing her off his lap and burning the whole apartment complex to the ground. What was one more arson charge on his record, anyway?

"Bubs—stop saying…so what?" He asked, floundering before changing tactics. She wasn't the only one who could say embarrassing shit. "Does that mean you think I'm cute or something?" He flirted with a smirk, but it was only after the sentence left his mouth that he remembered Bubbles Utonium didn't get embarrassed. She smiled and giggled.

And that continued to ring turn even now, as she laughed, wrapping her arms around hia neck, she squeezed him. Only letting go of him slightly, to the bring the keychain up to his face, so she could bop the little dog’s nose and his nose together. "Of course!" She agreed, "Cute as a button!"

"N-no!" He sputtered.

"No," she pulled away from the crook of his neck, tilting her head in question, "what?"

"No," he sneered, "I'm not cute like a button."

She considered this for a second, tapping the keychain to her face, before shooting him a broad smile, "Handsome? Is that better?" Mirth tinkled in her big doe eyes, "You're our handsome boy?"

"That's worse!" He complained almost hysterically, running a frantic hand through his hair, knocking the hat he had somehow forgotten he had on from his head.

"Aw, Brick, come on," She rolled her eyes, catching the hat before it fell to the ground and plopping it on her head, "what do you want me to say then?"

"The truth never hurt," He spat as if he hadn't lied through his teeth at least three different times this week to three professors that he couldn't attend class because his beloved family pet 'Insert Name Here' had died.

Bubbles pouted, "But I told you the truth! I think you're handsome!" She held up the keychain, and with a horribly fake and cheesy deep voice, she used the gift as a puppet, "You're the most handsomest boy in the whole world!"

She solidified her point by making the keychain kiss his nose once more before pulling back to gape at him, "Wow, see even Mr. Puppy agrees with me!"

"Oh, right," he shook his head, in mock agreement, "a handsome boy with little dog syndrome, right?"

"Well," she shrugged, waving him off, "I never said you were charming."

His retort was caught off with a giggle, and she made the keychain kiss his nose once, then twice, and then his breath hitched as a third wet kiss was planted on his cheek by Bubbles herself. She pulled back with a coy smile.

"Brick…" she hummed, trailing off, and something about her tone made him swallow thickly.

"Y-yeah." He finally pushed out after a moment.

"Can I play with your hair?" She asked, leaning forward, laying her head on his shoulder as she twirled a lock of his hair around her finger, and he swore his soul left his body. No one, absolutely no one, touched his hair. No one wore his hat. No one sat on his lap. And here she was. And here he was. And he wasn't stopping her like he should have been.

"Uhh, umm, I—uhh—"

"Bubs, jeez!"

He jumped, choking on his own spit, as Buttercup marched into the room, her hair still dripping wet.

"Seriously, personal space, you're making him uncomfortable." Buttercup huffed, one hand on her hip as he gestured to his face, which was probably redder than his hat.

"Uncomfy!" Bubbles shot up, and a guilty look flashed across her face as she took in his face, "Ah, shoot, sorry, is this too much?" She took her arms away from his neck and wrung her hands together, for the first time blushing, "I just get too excited sometimes! I have a lotta love in my heart, ya know?" She finished with a bashful chuckle.

The small distance between them actually made it a little easier to think again, but she didn't need to know that. Embarrassed by the noticeable flush of his face and his reaction to Buttercup catching them, Brick shrugged and looked away, "You're fine."

That was apparently not good enough for Bubbles because she pleaded again, "I'm sorry!"

"I said," he hissed, wishing she'd drop it, "you're fine!"

"I'm still so sorry!" Looking back over, he was surprised to see her lower lip wobbling, "I shouldn't have forgotten!" She put her hands on her face, squishing her cheeks, as tears began to well in her eyes, and he sent a frantic look over towards Buttercup, "I know you're not a hugger, I should have asked and—"

"—Bubs, he said he was fine." Buttercup interjected again, "Now, you're just making him uncomfortable all over!"

Bubbles looked from Buttercup to him, back to Buttercup, and then finally to him once more. "You're fine?" She clarified, “This is okay?”

And all he could do was nod, "Yep."

Visibly relaxing, her eyes became less and less watery, and she shot him a relieved look.

"Sheesh." Buttercup mumbled and walked away, "zero to one hundred. Bloss!" She called out, "Come save your poor counterpart from the clutches of cuddly evil over here and let's order the food!"

"What!" Blossom called from her room down the hall.

With an exasperated huff on Buttercup’s part and something more frantic on his part, they both yelled out, "Food!" and there was a scoff from the bedrooms.

"No need to yell!" She shot back, "I'm coming!"

Buttercup shook her head before jabbing her thumb in the direction of their tiny kitchen and announced, "I'm getting the take-out menus."

Bubbles nodded and then, beamed when she noticed Blossom had walked into the room.

"Blossom! Look at this cute keychain I got for Brick!" She cooed, her eyes bright and excited again, which would have brought him some relief if she hadn't opened her big mouth and kept talking, "Doesn't it remind you of him? It's a Pomeranian!"

Face aflame once more, he snapped, "I'm not a Pomeranian!"

"Ho—ly shit!" Obnoxious laughter floated its way out of the kitchen that only made him grind his teeth, "He totally is!"

"It's the little dog syndrome." Blossom agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder and ignoring the crude gesture he shot her way as she walked past him towards the kitchen, "BC, let's order from Lee's!"

"No way!" Buttercup argued, "Pa Changs!"

He turned back to Bubbles, who, despite it all, had yet to remove herself from his lap. He was about to make some remark about him pushing her off of his lap in the next three seconds, but the way her eyes flinted over his face made him pause. When she realized she had been caught staring, she smiled once more, bright and beaming, and his heart did another funny little dance.

"You like it, right?" She tilted her head, holding the keychain up so it dangled between them, "I…I can take it back if you want."

Her smile fell the slightest of fractions along with his heart.

"No!" His hand shot out, taking hold of the keychain, "It's—I like it, whatever." He sniffed and turned his head away, "So quit the kicked puppy shit, alright?"

Another smile. Another giggle. It felt like a sick joke, but Brick was pretty sure he was falling in love.

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

A/N: That’s right! It seems the only way I can write romance is with a shit ton of pining!!!! To love is to long, I guess. It’s a little awkward in some places, but it was for fun, so I decided to cut myself some slack and post it anyway! I hope you like it!!! The pairing doesn’t get a lot of love, but I think opposites attract dynamic is so so so cute.

Also, sorry this took me forever! First, I got distracted looking at cute dog pics and then halfway through writing the drabble I was like “hey what if I stuck Blossom in this and she and Brick solved mysteries??” So, then I lived with that AU floating around in my head rent-free, and now, finally, here we are. ANYWAY, in this AU, Blossom is in a very sapphic relationship with Princess, who, along with HIM, is the main antagonist. The Professor is the damsel in distress btws. Brick and Bubbles are disgusting cute. Boomer’s gay, who for tho?? Who knows! Not me! But he’s a freelancer, who’s hardcore freeloading off of Brick and Butch, and that’s all you really need to know. Buttercup has big Mom Friend vibes. Also, Butch is a mechanic and playfully flirts with Buttercup, which she thinks is funny until he actually starts really flirting with her, and then she’s like “um, sir, I am a maiden???” b/c she is actually both shy and a prude. (And you know I like my greens) Anyway, el oh el, it’s a good time.

inspo for the keychain (and brick):

#ppg fic drabble #i love you prompts #brickxbubs #my writing

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Respectable

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. Really, he was. He had a tie, after all. And the fact that he was wearing his boyfriend’s jacket and shifting through the contents of its pockets? Well... he had a reason for that. Totally.

Pairing: Romantic losleep Content warnings: They kiss once, food mentions Author’s note: Shout-out to the ever-lovely and amazing @blinksinbewilderment who inspired all of this with one (1) headcanon/idea and accidentally threw my muse into overdrive

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. He tried to avoid being overly affectionate in public. He made dinners on the nights he was supposed to, and sometimes on others when Remy seemed particularly stressed. He massaged Remy’s back when it was hurting worse than usual (which was nearly every night, but Logan didn’t mind, because within ten minutes Remy always melted back onto Logan and remained aggressively cuddly for the rest of the night, something Logan considered to be a definite positive). He wore a tie. He was respectable.

His explanation for the fact that he was currently pulling Remy’s slightly too big leather jacket as close around himself as he could? Well… it was comfortable. And it looked nice on him. And it smelled of coffee and cinnamon and, maybe, just a little bit like… Remy.

…

It wasn’t like anyone could see him, for Einstein’s sake! Remy was out of the house! He was still respectable, damnit.

That’s what Logan told himself, anyways, as he sunk further into the couch and wrapped his arms around himself and pretended it was Remy hugging him and not just himself. He had been telling it to himself for a while, actually, but he was struggling with the ‘believing it’ part.

Logan sighed and let go of himself, already feeling much too silly as is, even if the only person around to judge him was himself. Instead, he tucked his hands into the jacket’s pockets. At least he could keep his hands warm-

Wait. Logan wiggling his fingers within the pockets, crinkling noises bringing a small smile to his face. He should’ve known Remy would have stuff in his pockets.

With a quick, guilty glance around- as if he might be caught- Logan grabbed at the various items, pulling them out and piling them in his lap. A few of them were just wrappers from some candies. With a frown, Logan pushed them off to the side. He’d really have to talk to Remy about his cleanliness later.

Next up was a crumpled ball of receipts. Logan unfurled them, unsurprised to find them all from Remy’s favorite coffee shop. He didn’t even need to read the order on them to know what it was- a mocha with one to three shots of espresso, depending on how tired Remy was. Logan smiled softly as he checked and found himself, as always, perfectly on-point. He moved the receipts to the trash pile. Remy would have an identical bunch of them within a week.

Logan’s smile widened as he picked up the next thing- it was a piece of paper, torn off of a notebook or something similar. It was folded over, but on the outside was written in Remy’s lazy scrawl, “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.” He unfolded it, still smiling as he read through the listed reasons:

Reason one: He’s Logan. Need I say more

Reason two: He’s super smart. Like, SUPER smart. Beat-a-super-computer smart

Reason three: He has THE most kissable face in the entire universe

Reason four: If I tell him I love him he says it back??? Insane???

Reason five: Gives quality massages, ten out of ten, would recommend, except I don’t, because he’s MINE and as such I am the only person allowed to get his massages, deal with it

Reason six: Soft warm cuddly warm VERY warm soft softie

Reason seven: He’s going to look even better when he’s my husband, which I almost didn’t think was possible but I just feel like… like it’ll be different when I’ve got his name or he’s got mine. Just a feeling. But a good one

Reason eight: Hands down the LOVELIEST blush

Reason nine: A somehow even BETTER smile

There were more reasons on the list, but Logan only got so much further before his brain ran into a metaphorical wall, his eyes scrambling back up to re-read reason seven. And then re-re-read it. And again and again and again for about two minutes before it finally, completely sunk in.

But it couldn’t- it didn’t really- no it- Remy couldn’t- it wasn’t-

Slowly, Logan folded the paper back up, slipping the list back into the jacket’s pocket. He could ask Remy about what it meant exactly later. He was already blushing enough right then and there.

Luckily, there was only one scrap of trash left- another receipt. Logan assumed it was for the coffee shop again, though he still unfolded it, surprised that it had fallen out of the ball from earlier. As he flattened out the creases in it, however, he realized the formatting of it was different from the cafe’s. It looked more… professional?

Frowning in confusion, Logan read it over.

Gentleman’s- Charms, rings, and classy things

Date: 01-21-XXXX

Cashier: Miranda

Transaction #: 552943

Item(s): Ring, model 9277 [special order]

-Size seven

-Titanium, black

-Star sapphire, blue, primary

-Silver flecking [custom done, see record 329943]

-Engraving [custom phrase, see record 329943]

Pricing: Fluctuates on customization. For exact cost, collect receipt upon actual purchase and pick-up of item(s) purchased.

Logan felt his breath catch in his throat. This was… this was a receipt. A jewelry store receipt. A jewelry store receipt for a… A jewelry store receipt for a…

For a ring. For a custom made, carefully designed, clearly tailored for him, ring.

And Logan knows in this economy, with how much Remy makes, there is only one reason he’d spend as much money as a ring like this must cost. And that reason paired very, very well with reason seven of “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.”

Logan… didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to react to this? He knew, of course, how he’d react if (when) Remy told (asked) him about it, but how was he supposed to react now, with the receipt in hand, saying everything Remy was planning to in much more concise, and much less romantic, terms?

Apparently the correct answer to his question was simply not, since all Logan did after that was… sit. Sit there, staring almost unseeingly at the paper, taking in the words again and again. He felt slightly breathless, which may have come from the fact that he stopped breathing a minute ago.

He was shaken from his stupor by the need to breathe, his lungs forcing in a breath and startling Logan out of his state. He looked the receipt over once more before he stuffed it in his pocket- not the jacket pocket, but his own.

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what he would’ve done next were it not for his phone suddenly ringing. He jerked his head to look at it a little too fast, but that was alright, all things considered. He quickly scooped it up, checking the caller and, unsurprisingly, finding it to be Remy. He took a deep breath and took the call.

“Hello, this is Logan.”

“Hiya babes. How’s my boo?”

Logan glanced down at the jacket he was wearing, thinking about all the secrets within. “Oh… fine. A little tired.”

He could almost hear Remy frown. “Tired? Didn’t you have work off today?”

“I did, yes, I just… didn’t sleep great last night, I guess.”

“Aw, hun.” Remy tutted sympathetically. “You should have told me. I could’ve stayed home and aggressively cuddled you into napping.”

Logan quirked his lips into a small smile. “It’s perfectly alright. I got in a short nap after lunch.” He said, which wasn’t a lie. He had napped.

He had also been napping in Remy’s jacket but that wasn’t something he was going to mention.

“Yeah, but we could’ve napped together.” Remy whined, and Logan chuckled.

“We can nap together soon enough.” Logan pointed out, waiting half a beat before he added, likely sounding a touch whiny himself, “Speaking of, how soon will you be returning home?

Remy laughed, and Logan knew his neediness hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Awww, miss me much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan said. Remy didn’t respond, however, and eventually Logan sighed and slumped further back against the couch. “Alright, perhaps I have missed you. Just a bit.”

“That’s my truth-telling nerd.” Remy said cheerily. Logan rolled his eyes, though he knew Remy couldn’t see him. “And pretty soon. I’mma stop and pick up some Chinese since it sounds like you’re not gonna want to make dinner, and I certainly don’t. And after we eat we can sleep the entire rest of the evening away, yeah?”

“I don’t know, love, that sounds horribly unproductive…” Logan trailed off, not even sounding convincing to himself.

“I promise to cuddle you the entire time.”

Logan let a moment pass before he answered, trying to downplay the fact that he had been ready to enthusiastically agree the second Remy said that. “I suppose that would be alright, yes.”

He didn’t need to see his boyfriend to know Remy was fistpumping in victory. “Yet another win for the gays!” He exclaimed. “I’m going to go get some quality fast food to celebrate this momentous occasion. See you in a few, alright?”

“Got it.” Logan confirmed. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Remy said, the pet-name sincere, before he hung up. Logan did after, putting his phone back down on the table. He didn’t move for another minute, still enjoying the warmth and familiarity of Remy’s jacket.

The minute ended soon enough, however, and Logan sighed as he reluctantly stood up and shed the garment. He put it back where he had found it- tossed over the back of the couch, clearly left there on accident by a Remy who had slept in a bit too late and had rushed to get out of the house and to work.

He then pulled himself towards the kitchen, pulling out plates and silverware to set the table. He knew they could just plop on the couch, attempting to use their equally poor chopstick skills to eat out of the containers, but the last time they did that they had stained the couch. Badly. And they could only use the ‘flip the couch cushion over’ trick once.

By the time everything was laid out, Logan heard the door opening. Remy was pushing it open with a greasy paper bag in one hand. He smiled brightly as he spotted Logan, quickly closing the door so he could hurry over. He more or less flung the bag onto the table before he latched onto Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan’s back and squeezing him close.

“Missed you!” Remy said energetically. “You and your warmth!”

Logan chuckled as he hugged Remy back. He was just in a t-shirt, and his exposed arms were cold. “Forgot your jacket?” He asked, tone lightly teasing.

“Only a little bit.” Remy responded. Logan didn’t respond outside of another quiet chuckle, running his hands up and down Remy’s back to help warm him up before he released his boyfriend.

“Come on, the food will go cold.” Logan said as Remy grabbed his wrist and refused to completely let him go.

“But can’t we eat and snuggle on the couch?”

“You know what happened the last time we did that.” Logan responded. Remy pouted, but he still let go of Logan, sadly sinking into his seat across the table from Logan. He kept the pout up the entire time they served themselves, it only going away when he finally started eating.

“I love when I’m cold and food is warm.” Remy said simply as he shoveled more rice into his mouth than Logan really thought was healthy. Logan ate slower, not in the mood to choke today, the conversation remaining nonexistent until Remy, finally, took a break from eating to prompt some small talk.

“So, how was today?” He asked casually as he wiped off the mess of grease around his mouth. He then smirked. “Aside from being so sad and empty without me in it?”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, though the gestures were fond. “It was fine.” He returned simply. “I mostly just read. The silence was a nice change of pace from your constant rowdy clamour.”

Remy raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’m pained you describe my natural noise levels as such! I prefer the term wild. Rowdy’s too undignified.”

“Yes, and you have no dignity.” Logan pointed out.

“I am aware, but we can at least pretend I do.” Remy said, slumping down in his chair dramatically. “Gosh, it’s almost like you love having a chaotic mess as a boyfriend.”

“I do.” Logan said, voice quieting a bit as he added, impulsively, without a first thought and much less a second one, “I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, tilting his sunglasses down so he could look at Logan better. “Whatcha’ say, darling?” He asked, sounding confused and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

Logan didn’t answer him at first, his thoughts and rationality finally catching up to him and demanding answers from him as to why he had done this. But they were still behind his mouth, which once more started moving without his permission, saying, “I said, I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy pulled his sunglasses off at that, dropping them on the table, allowing Logan to see now that his emotions had shifted into a mess of confusion, hope, and the tiniest bit of upset. “You gonna propose to me, babes?” He asked, words light though his tone was practically awed.

“No.” Logan answered, watching as Remy grew even more confused. His heart started to hammer in his chest as he reached into his pocket, fingers crumpling around the receipt he shouldn’t have seen but currently didn’t regret finding. He flattened it out before he pushed it towards Remy, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes grew as large as saucers as he recognized it. “I’m going to propose that you propose to me. Preferably sooner rather than later. Or right now. Right now works too.”

“I- you-” Remy pressed his lips together, stopping the stammered words from slipping out as he continued to stare at the receipt. Finally, he pressed his eyes shut too, letting out a shaky laugh. “Damnit Lo.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, feeling relatively shaky himself by now. He was relatively sure he hadn’t always been able to hear his pulse in his ears.

Remy laughed a bit louder, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze back to Logan. Logan gasped a little as he realized that tears had formed at the corners of Remy’s eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling as he said, “I had it all planned out. Meteor shower in two weeks. I was going to drag you out to the park for a midnight picnic to watch. It was going to be great. I was going to compliment you until you were so flustered you were refusing to look at me, get you distracted by some scientific ramblings long enough for me to get the box open and I- and then I was going to-”

Without even realizing it, Logan was suddenly standing, pushing his chair back so quick he was surprised it didn’t topple over as he moved around the table, Remy standing up just in time to catch him as he flung himself at Remy.

Remy caught him with ease, pulling him so close Logan could have sworn Remy could feel his heartbeat against Remy’s chest. Remy buried his face into Logan’s hair and Logan did the same into the side of Remy’s neck. Distantly, he realized that he had started crying too. Which was ridiculous, of course, given it wasn’t like Remy had even really proposed to him yet.

But he was, he was going to, in two weeks time, during a meteor shower, filling the time with compliments and space facts and ranting and everything all leading up to one thing-

“Yes.” Remy said, his voice only slightly muffled by Logan’s hair.

“Yes?” Logan repeated, torn out of his thoughts and confused. “Yes what?”

Remy laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound, even if it was a little congested sounding at the moment. “Yes, I agree to your proposal to propose to you.”

“Oh.” Logan said dumbly, before the words truly registered and he said, again, “Oh.” He pulled his head from where it had been slotted against Remy’s neck, looking up his face. “When?”

“Well, uh… you said now was good, right?”

Logan smiled. “I did, yes.”

Remy nodded at that, more to himself than Logan. A sheepish smile slipped onto his face as he gently pulled away from Logan. “One moment.” He said before he turned and rushed down the hallway, likely to their bedroom.

Logan made good use of the short time he had to collect himself by shoving his fist into his mouth and squealing into it. Not that he’d ever admit to ‘squealing’ per say. Just… a yell. That happened to be very excited and very high pitched.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that he was quickly losing the title of ‘respectable’ before Remy was back, a grey box clasped in his hands. He was fiddling with it between his fingers, clearly nervous. He came to stand in front of Logan, fidgeting in place, looking between Logan and the ground.

“You know, I think you’re supposed to get down on one knee.” Logan suggested as Remy didn’t do anything, seemingly stuck in place, stuck in the moment. Logan didn’t blame him.

“I know, I know, I just…” Remy paused, hesitating for a second before he quickly moved forward, kissing Logan on the lips. Logan didn’t react immediately, startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around the back of Remy’s neck, pulling him close and returning the affection. By the time Remy pulled away, Logan was breathless.

“Wh- What was that for?” He mumbled. Remy laughed, shifting the ring box to one hand as he cupped one of Logan’s cheeks with the other, bringing Logan to the realization that his cheeks were ‘suddenly’ startlingly warm.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re flustered. I don’t even remember why I was so nervous.” Remy murmured in response, making Logan only flush harder as Remy fully pulled away. He dropped to one knee, holding the ring box in front of him.

“Logan Dearest Darling Sanders,” Remy said, smirking just the slightest, though the majority of his smile was still caring, still adoring, still loving, “will you do me the highest honor and allow me to call you mine, legally?”

“And you say I’m the dork-” Logan started, though he didn’t get that far, considering Remy chose that moment to open the ring box. True to the receipt, it was jet black, and a midnight-blue star sapphire was set in the middle of it.

The custom silver job that the receipt had mentioned but not described was also there, however, and that’s what caught Logan- because on each side of the star stone, flecks of silver were placed extremely carefully, in patterns that were more than familiar to him.

“Ursula major and aquila.” Remy said, softly. “Your-”

“My first constellation and my favorite.” Logan finished for him, tone wonderstruck. “You remembered.”

“I’d wouldn’t dare forget.” Remy replied feverently. “There’s an engraving, too, but you don’t earn the right to know about that unless you say yes.”

“I wouldn’t dare say no.” Logan said, smiling and feeling more than a little silly at the echo, but not minding it much as Remy broke out in a grin and reached forward, grabbing Logan’s hand and pulling it closer. Logan knew he was probably going to slip the ring on, to make it official, but Logan let himself completely move with the motion instead, lightly falling to his knees so that he was on level with Remy. He reached forward and grabbed Remy’s wrists, pulling him closer so that he could lean his forehead against Remy’s, because it only felt right to be close in that moment, felt right to leave as little space as possible between them.

“What does the engraving say?” He asked, still sounding breathless, likely because he still was breathless for more reasons than he could be bothered to count.

Remy grinned, not removing his forehead from Logan’s as he pulled the ring out of its box, letting the box fall without a second care. He lifted it up so that Logan could see it, tilting it around so that the light caught on the engraved words. They were tiny, just barely able to fit on, but they did.

I bet you could sometimes find all the secrets of the universe in someone’s hand.

“And I know I can.” Remy said softly as Logan looked away from the engraving, Remy taking the moment to slip the ring onto Logan’s finger. It fit perfectly. “Because I found all of them and more in yours.”

Logan let out a little laugh, breathy and airy and light and not humorous at all but happy, oh so very happy. “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.”

“The engravement, yes.” Remy admitted. “The second part? That’s just me being a sap.”

“I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.” Logan replied, and he laughed, laughed even as more tears fell down his face. “Oh- I- I’m crying again.”

“Y’know what?” Remy said as he lifted up Logan’s newly adorned hand, entwining their fingers, the ring shining like the night sky against his hand. He tilted his head up just the tiniest bit, enough to meet Logan’s eyes more directly, his own shining with joy like Logan had never seen before and he was almost certain he would never see again (except perhaps one more time, one more time in a future that was far away and yet so close, one more time with more joy and love and each other). “I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.”

Logan was a respectable boyfriend fiancé. It was not very respectable to topple into your fiancé’s arms, crying, and insistently pull them closer to you while they hold you as tightly as they possibly could, also crying as they press kisses into your hair.

But then again, it also wasn’t very respectable to steal your fiancé’s jacket to sleep in, or to rummage through its pockets, or to spoil his proposal surprise to propose that he propose to you because you’re too impatient to wait.

So, yeah. Maybe Logan wasn’t exactly a ‘respectable’ fiancé. But he was a very happy one. And, really, that’s all he cared about.

#don't y'all love what my muse will and will not do for me sdbcshjbcsd #anyways #have this #and btw #there's a lot more going on in this story than the summary says ;)))#losleep #ts remy #ts sleep #ts logan #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blink

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ivystjamess · 3 years

Photo

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @julienschuester and ivy st.james WHERE: the choir room. WHEN: wednesday, march 10th. WHAT: following a long hiatus from one another, ivy says sorry in the best way she can think of how, and her and julien (finally) start dating again.

IVY: Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, it had been dragging Ivy down and enlightenment was a savior. Ivy St.James and Julien Schuester were tethered to two ends of the same rope, and as of late, there hadn't been much slack to give. Julien's hot and cold moods, tugging on the rope, and bringing it closer kept her up at night was rattling to say the least and it left Ivy tossing, turning, and thinking her brain away. While her actions showed she was sorry, and that she was obviously interested in Julien still, her lips hadn't uttered a formal, heartfelt, i'm sorry. With Spring Awakening rehearsals bringing them close, numbers for lessons, and just generally being back within the same school, Ivy knew something had to be done. What did her dad always say? Sing About It. Under the pretense of an emergency meeting, Ivy beckoned Julien to the choir room with a text. And although he looked surprised to find Ivy alone, she sat on her stool calm as ever and gestured to the red chairs in front of her, "Wanna like, sit? I have some stuff I want...need to say to you." Watching Julien cross to sit had Ivy furiously rubbing her lips as she prepared to place her heart on a platter for Julien. Rarely did she get nervous, but rarely did performance mean so much to her. "Julien, Jules, I just like..." Why couldn't she think? Why did her fingertips feel fuzzy? Ugh! "Sorry, I'm like, kinda nervous." she shamefully admitted, but this was all about honesty, wasn't it? "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for egging you, and for switching schools, and not listening to you, or trusting you. I was being selfish and guarded and whatever, and it wasn't cool." A breath, "But, I'm back now, and I'm like honestly going kinda crazy not being with you. I know who I am without you, and as hot and awesome, and mean as she is...I wanna be like hot and awesome and a little less mean with you." Still having more to say, she didn't want to waste anymore time, so Ivy began to speak rapidly, "But I think, as awful as it all was, I've really like, learned a ton from this! And I hope you have too and stuff. Even with like being sorry or whatever, I totally know the ball is in your court, so I guess I just wanted to like, give you my thoughts, and your space, so, yeah! I think this sums it up." Ivy flashed a nervous smile as she let out a breath and turned to the band. Softly, they began to play Duffy's Oh Boy. It was a simple performance with Ivy, Julien, and her heart speaking to him through song. Sure, she sounded polished, but there were no fabricated tears or elaborate choreography. Just her on a stool, trying to get a message across. And when that was done, and she knew she had tried her best, she clapped her hands down against her thighs, and looked at Julien with an anxious anticipation, "And that's all I have to say, I can totally let you go now, or like I can go, I don't want this to feel weird or whatever I just needed to do that."

JULIEN: When Julien received a text from Ivy about an 'emergency meeting' in the choir room, he sped through the halls of McKinley like his life depended on it. He paced through the hallways against the flow of traffic, narrowly dodging people with frantic 'excuse mes' and 'i'm sorrys' until finally, he busted through the door. "Hi! I'm here," he said breathlessly, fully expecting to find the choir room up in flames, only to find Ivy alone. He paused in the doorway for a moment when she spoke. "Uh oh," he responded as he hesitantly made his way to a chair across from her, "am I in trouble or something?" He was trying to be playful, but a tense energy hung thickly in the air and being around Ivy alone like this instantly made him nervous. Once he took off his backpack and set it down beside him, he sat down and relaxed. "Okay...I'm listening..." he drawled, waiting for her to continue. At her admission that she was nervous, Julien felt his cheeks starting to burn and his lips curving up into a slight smile. "It's okay, I'm nervous too and I don't even know why, so we can be nervous together," he encouraged with a nod, gently nudging her to keep going. It was no secret that things between them had been inconsistent and unpredictable as of late. It was obvious that they still had feelings for each other, however, it was also obvious that there was still a lot of hurt between them...and Finn had been right. Julien had been acting like all of the horrible Vocal Adrenaline stuff hadn't happened. Being with Ivy was just so easy and it felt so good and it was what he wanted...but if he just rolled over and decided to forgive her without her ever even really saying sorry, then what would all of his growth have been for? He had to stand up for himself. Even if it hurt. After Ivy had asked 'what changed' and Julien answered, the last thing he had expected was for her to summon him to the choir room for a genuine, earnest, and thoughtful apology. But here she was. And here he was—slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. "Ivy..." he said quietly, sitting up slightly as he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like his head was suddenly empty. Like she could sense his state of shock, Ivy kept talking and eventually that talking turned into singing. When the band started playing the opening chords to 'oh boy' by Duffy, Julien softened and relaxed back into his chair. As Ivy's crisp voice filled the choir room, he kept his eyes glued to hers and watched, in awe, as she sang directly to him. She chipped away at his hurt with each sweet lyric she sang until eventually, he was left with nothing for her but love and forgiveness. Julien was a soft and tender hearted person, so it was surprising to exactly no one that when the song came to an end, he was indisputably misty eyed. As she concluded her song with a finalizing statement, Julien rose to his feet and shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't go," was all he said before he placed his hands on either side of her face and crashed his lips into hers. He knew he would actually have to say something in response to everything she had said, but he needed to do that first. Once he pulled away, he smiled down at her and gently strummed her cheeks with his thumbs, "thank you. You know, like, for saying all that stuff and for the song." Before Julien could say more, he caught a glimpse of something sparkly dangling from around Ivy's neck. Looking down at it, his smile warmed and he shook his head. "You've been wearing this thing this whole time..." he stated, moving his hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain, "how come?"

IVY: Although Ivy hadn't gone that long since meeting Julien's lips whether it be sneaking him into her room, or on stage for Spring Awakening, it had felt like a life time had passed since their lips connected like this. Both of them were absolved of tension and aiming their potential animosity at one another. Instead, it once again felt like they were just them, but better than ever. Like a tulip emerging after a long winter, Ivy felt like she was sprouting from the dark ground and up into Julien's sun. Changed, but the same. While there wasn't any verbal confirmation, Ivy knew that rejuvenated feeling was mutual. Julien need not say it. She could feel it in the pads of his fingertips brushing her cheeks, and in how tenderly he moved his lips against her own. Pulling away, in a post-kiss haze, Ivy blinked Julien into view and nodded, "I won't go. Ever." As one hand cascaded down his arm to lace their fingers, the other popped up as she extended her pinky, "Pinky Promise." Ivy said seriously, then shrugged. "Seriously like, don't mention it. I wanted to." There was still some response to be desired though. Did he hate it? Did he love it? Was he just being polite? Before she could push him into answer her, Ivy inhaled sharply as Julien roped the chain she was wearing into his grasp, then eventually moved closer to her to unclasp it. It took some serious willpower not to kiss him again, but she found the strength to answer his question. Now moving her own hand to cup Julien's cheek, Ivy made sure to lock up and into his stare so he knew she was being serious. "Because we like....made a promise?" That was the obvious answer, and the deeper one-- "It wasn't like I stopped loving you just because I was being stupid or whatever."

JULIEN: Despite not being together, Ivy and Julien had still been making an awful lot of time to kiss each other. Whether it be in the dark of night or under the glow of a spotlight, the universe always carved out a path for them to get back to each other. This kiss though, in the fluorescent choir room in the middle of the day, felt different than the rest. It wasn't tainted with doubt or stage directions or alcohol. It was just them—albeit a little wiser and a little more mature—choosing each other. Hearing Ivy confirm that she wouldn't go and then watching her raise her pinky caused a warm sensation to bloom from Julien's chest and spread through his whole body. "Ever," he echoed, repeating the promise back to her and linking his pinky through hers without any hesitation. With a sigh, he dropped her hands and swiftly shifted his attention to her necklace. He made quick work of slipping the ring off the chain to hold it in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the ruby jewel, a million thoughts running through his head, until Ivy touched his cheek and brought him back down to Earth again. Hearing Ivy say she never stopped loving him sent his heart into overdrive. "We did make a promise, didn't we?" he asked rhetorically, tilting his head as he glanced back down at the ring and reached for her hand. "I never stopped either," he admitted as he began slipping the ring back on to her finger, where it belonged. He stared at it for a little while longer before turning his attention back to Ivy and closing some of the distance between them by stepping towards her. "I owe you an apology too," he started, holding her gaze and shrugging, "I should've like stood up for you more and stuff or just...I don't know...talked to you more. I know I haven't always been good at that. But I will be now," he playfully raised his eye brows, "getting punched in the face kinda changes you like that." A breathy laugh escaped him before he pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck as he hugged her tightly. "I missed you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to look at her, "I don't wanna waste more time not being together." A pause as a doting smile danced its way on to his lips and he bashfully added, "you really almost made me cry with that song! It was like 'run to you' but more intense but in a good way and stuff because it was just us. But I mean, jeez, you're..." a dreamy sigh, "you're like...perfect. The song was perfect." He playfully bumped his nose into her cheek and then into her nose before bringing his lips back to hers for another kiss—one to seal the deal. "I love you," he said as he pulled back, "let's never do the whole breaking up thing again."

IVY: In full agreement with Julien, Ivy couldn’t have felt happier. Her only regret? She had to go away for Cheerios Nationals this weekend, and she couldn’t spend it tucked into her bed with him. Lots about them had changed, they’d both garnered a deeper sense of clarity, learned their lessons the hard way, but one thing that wouldn’t ever change was Ivy’s constant need to feel close to him. Enough of the apologies and reminiscing on their worse times, Ivy was completely wrapped up in staring down at the Christmas Present on her finger, “Yknow, this looks like, way better on my hand than on a chain on my chest.” Ivy commented offhandedly before shifting her gaze back to Julien. “Well I’m glad we’re on the same page and stuff. I totally missed being in sync. And being with you.” she admitted, welcoming the warmth that his breath brought into the curve of her neck. “You can’t help that you almost cried, I’m like really good, and I love you a lot.” Ivy explained, as if anything about this whole months-long debacle had been simple. Her entire expression lifted into a smile as he called her perfect and Ivy was quick to cut in with a “Only the best for my guy.” Her arms made their way back to the familiar place around his neck as she pulled herself fully into him. “i love you.” Ivy repeated, tone filled with adoration. And as her way of agreeing with the final sentiment, she shook her head, and whispered, “Never.” Into Julien’s lips as she pressed her lips to her boyfriend’s for a final, affirming kiss. And just like that, once again, all was well.

THE END.

#discord para #see that i have grown #julien #FINALLY #had 2 get this out before we close for biz!!#that's a wrap on high school ig!!!

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

Representation, Authorial Diversity, and more.

“I’ll take some beef jerky and a pack of menthols.”

Been a while since most of you thought about that line, hasn’t it? And for some of you it somehow sends some primitive lizard brain gaydar into overdrive and you can’t really pinpoint why, can you? It makes no sense, that line alone, and how it stands -- but between all of the talk of both Bobo Berens and LGBT media history, including The Celluloid Closet/Vito Russo or the Vito Russo Test, this moment actually puts a pin in a shift within our show, its handling of content formerly completely overlooked by creatives, and the importance of diversifying our writing crews that we all press for.

It was the moment our show leaned, and frankly-- should have been the moment the straights panicked. In fact, some of them did, just before it aired, and then everyone has played at oblivious since.

Before seasons air, we get news on new authors being added to teams, or other workers. Pre-S9 was no different, with fandom finding a tweet from Bobo Berens, our first open-closet LGBT author. I mean, Out And Proud. A true king.

The association if this is the mention of the Bechdel Test, a step aside of Vito Russo.

Now let us begin.

Well first of all I’m just gonna let everyone get a giggle at how Bobo handled the straight male knee coil:

But anyway the response to his initial tweet was a merry go round of concern trolling in the area of “OH DEAR I FEEL SO SORRY FOR YOU PLEASE ALLOW US THE NORMAL ASSBAGS OF THE FANDOM TO TELL YOU AN AUTHOR HOW STRAIGHT THE CHARACTERS ON THE SHOW YOU’RE WRITING FOR ARE” and I dunno, it’s comedy.

Whether or not Bobo was addressing SPN as a new project in particular -- and it, from a dark age of SPN I’ve covered the upheaval during -- this is important. Really, really important.

Let’s say that timeline does overlap Bobo’s, and he did implicitly believe it; he might have had to write them as Straight Guys; but his own deep-seated place in the LGBT community developed resonant text, he made change. Change enough that when his first script was put into motion, the showrunner took one look at it and, for the first time in recorded history, we had note of some sort of intent --

Misha went on to say “so that’s what we played there.”

Regardless of anyone’s misunderstanding about how the fandom riled themselves up prematurely and shot themselves in the foot by lighting a CW exec on fire in the middle of network level board/CEO rotation commotion, or whether or not it’s visible enough for anyone--

this, this moment, this content, created by this LGBT individual led to this first known forward motion of intentful creative subtext. People can hilariously try to argue semantics about it that summarily boil down to “I mean it could be metaphorical jilted lovers it could be this it could be jilted lover bros, it’s just a turn of phrase!” in a loop as they’ve done with this data for six years until it dies every time, but this was it. This was the moment.

There is a nuance in this sort of writing -- how easy would it be for Dean to come up and say, “I’ll take some beef jerky.” Dean’s the meat man, Dean loves meat! We’ve seen it in other, new, straight authors the first time they try to tick off the Dean checklist, but like many lessons, that extra line leading into that smile holds volumes of LGBT history unspoken.

I think several of us Old Gays(TM) have banged on about the necessity of reading the Celluloid Closet, because for as much as people think they’re chasing queer subtext around here, it’s like they have completely missed that there actually is like, a printed, accepted code of conduct on this shit, basically. That’s not exactly what it was released for, but if you’re LGBT and engaged in lit and over 40 like you’ve read and understand and know this.

I’m not going to sit here and over-needle that line; most of you felt it the second your eyes drifted over it; but the sum of it is -- why that, what charming secret comes with that smile, a dean we’ve never seen smoke either, how is this part of how Dean throws himself back before his ex buddy leaves more unseen, *why* is that the hook? These are ironically things that no lit crit study *beyond* excessive citation of Celluloid Closet will really capture. This is a form of queer coding -- not the villainous disaster type that queer coding actually *is*, but the subversive form as it’s begun to be casually addressed in the population with positive, resonant content by authors choked out by IP holders while trying to service an audience. Or sometimes, even starting to accidentally.

So you know, you can unironically double down on the simplicity of Dean implicitly probably being a smoker (a possible read of subtext!), and I think this is kinda where the bizarre split happened tbh, because dude bros double down subconsciously into each reading of this kind of coding-- Dean just smokes, or this or that, though it grows thinner by year. Not about why that line is tossed, and how, and does just set off some sort of TV pheremone we all swamp like a bee hive. None of these moments truly mean anything independently. But it is the perspective and voice the text begins to take. The difference between that and “Hey pal [chews on jerky before buying] marlboros and got any pie?” in one moment that knocked everybody around on their ass in the fray of it. And then it all just went gayer from there, as if framed by one sharp moment that set the rest of the tone.

Hopefully you’ve all read my giant post about the history of this all to remember what I mean by accidentally, but even Bobo posted on it before,

That’s all an aside to the general point but worth placing into the edge of the conversation here.

The simple fact is, an activist gay man joined the show, and possibly with ‘keep it straight’ notes wrote some stuff so resonant, due to his point of view in life and the world, that even the showrunner decided to further guide it in that direction. It blossomed a direction.

The direction was small and slow and meek at first, (well, in final product -- don’t get me started at how S10 looks if all the cut scenes were included) with subtext running as dull echoes in Colette (oh look he wrote that too), and maybe more obvious with classic heart songs -- but even this was more structured than “Misha inherited abandoned storyline they scrubbed the romance out of as best they could”, or “Sera Gamble is a dumbass” that just happened to feature great chemistry and some resonant elements, like Bobo mentioned, we all connected with. But to actually constructively choose to incorporate these, no matter how quietly, was... *new.*

And some called it queerbait and I’ve already given history lessons from other angles on why no, but also now why here, definitely, no.

By season 12 we gained Yockey, another LGBT man, another activist in his own way like Bobo, but his less in writing political stuff and more in writing LGBT specialist plays. And everybody loved him, and saw it, and Yockey gets a boat load of praise -- deserves a lot of it -- but sometiems I feel like Bobo gets trampled over without recognition of how he shifted the playing field, the calculated effort he started putting into mastering those accidental resonances into something new, and ultimately to guiding the new author crew, Yockey included, or Jeremy on this newest episode who thanked him.

The same man that picked up Wayward and connected Dreamhunter... back to his own work and moments. The insanity of yelling “HOW DARE YOU LESSEN DREAMHUNTER BY COMPARING IT TO DESTIEL!” when, dead ass, you’re looking at this author who has carefully incorporated work and, with an already resonant story, made another relationship familiar to us by making it similar. Because that’s how writing stories works! But either way, Bobo has been in here doggedly growing the breadth of the legitimacy of queer narrative in supernatural -- to the point that it HAS narrowly, quietly breached into text even if not “loud” or “visible” enough for some people -- and the point where the subtext is so wall to wall and flooding every piece of cinematography in shooting and not just set or lights but complete mise en scene -- a point where everybody OUTSIDE of fandom is just addressing this shit as what it clearly is --

...That’s something that came with bringing the scope of an LGBT male author into the show. Whether you like the volume he’s been allowed to take his work to or not is your own thing, but before yelling queerbait at any creatives, perhaps it’s time to play “sit down children, and learn to appreciate the activists who came before you and how they’re fighting for you right now”. You wanna yell at something, get organized, pelt the CW in a non-aggressive, non-light-on-fire way, do activism like the books Emily put together that are resultingly still on the current showrunner’s desk now 6 years later, but most of all, don’t take a shit all over content you would otherwise enjoy, at the expense of a man in the demographic you’re trying to represent, who has battled, LITERALLY, for both the women and the gays in this show. Wayward was his baby. This slow swing in S9 that turned into a loud din in S12?

It wasn’t magic. It was a gay author. A gay author that has now climbed to be an Exec alongside dabb and the others and SURPRISE now suddenly everything’s so gay the whole goddamn world is seeing it. Literally SEEING IT, not just guys looking at each other with stories, but intentful, meritful choice in extremely bold cinematography choices that don’t require chasing a post-it on the wall, but instead are shot with care and devotion. Be that 12.19 Mixtape (OH DAT HIS) or 13.5′s Never Too Late (OH DAT YOCKEY. check what antis said to Dabb in his mentions after, even they saw it). Be that 14.18′s het drama PR promo (OH OOP DAT WAS HIS), be that 15.1-3′s entire tension and the openly addressed and so-called by media sources break up (OH DAT HIS), be that 15.7′s low key textuality (to which the new author thanked the elder for guidance, huh), or 8′s heavily shot domestic separation moment loudly filmed in the choicefully hollowed out and dimmed kitchen bereft of family -- this change? This had a moment. And you can find it.

I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols.

So this has been eating at me ever since this whole topic came into play.

Anyway full circle them trying to ride Bobo to Keep It Straight probably wasn’t their smartest idea ever. We gays are contrarian by nature so tell me to do it again, motherfucker. And now here we are in Destiel Divorce Season 15 as heavily managed by Bobo.

Everyone got so fuckin dramatic when Yockey said he was leaving like, tolling the burial bells of Destiel and-- like??? hello? BOBO? JUST? GOT? PROMOTED? Like Yockey didn’t make that entire platform all by himself, and hell, he didn’t leave without laying out unironic empty space of it. Yo guys, Berens done been here a WHILE to the point he’s now *callbacking his own season 9-10 material wtih him and dabb*. Like. Lmao. Guys. Guys listen. Listen. Think.

Whatever your weird goalpost is I’m not promising anybody’s anything is about to get hit. Whatever clown nose expectations you all have enjoy those and honk those loud and proud but remember most of those are yours. But respect the fact that Berens has essentially cornerstoned an entire queer canon within Supernatural discussion, of which others are included in as they joined.

And yes, queer canon. Not the way fandom throws it around for weird kissing spots, but articles of discussion of queer narratives, of which we can literally draw a wealth of episodes from LGBT authors or their understudies and literally point and go “all of that right there, officer.” Whether it’s visible or textual or undodgeable or marketed enough or glittery enough or whatever for everyone’s very unstable definition of “canon” -- Berens has literally cornerstoned an entire architecture of queer canon within this legacy show.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #bobo berens #representation issues

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

the benefits of fake dating | p.p.

summary: although incredibly annoying, flash thompson’s arrogance was just what you and peter needed.

warnings: some cussing, flash being an idiot, and 5K WORDS I POPPED OFF SO HARD

+ + +

"Flash, I don't know how you got into this school with that pea-sized, misogynistic brain of yours, but somehow it still leads you to think that you telling me how I feel is attractive. Just fuck off, please," you sigh, shutting your locker with a bang.

"Alright, for now," the boy says, smug smirk on his face. "although I know you're just denying your undying love for me. I'll wait."

Your eyebrows furrow. "Did you not hear a single word I just said?"

"Nope," a new voice pops in and you turn to see Peter, words and expression monotonous as he stares at Flash.

"Aw, and the protector swoops in to save the day. Aren't you two a cute couple?"

"Oh-" the two of you blurt at the same time.

"We're not-"

"a couple," Peter finishes for you, roses blooming on you guys' cheeks.

"It's the only explanation for little Y/N's 'disinterest'. See you later, babe," Flash nods, walking off with a wink that only bewilders you more. You and Peter look at each other.

"Did he just call me babe?"

"Apparently," Peter shrugs.

Peter should be in theatre considering the acting he does around you. It enrages him to see such a jackass bother you constantly, and the pet names only make him even angrier. If it wouldn't ruin his hero image, he'd totally wipe Flash out during one of his patrols.

"I swear, that kid makes me question things I shouldn't have to even worry about. For example, why isn't part of the requirements for getting into this school common sense?" you ask, shaking your head.

"No clue," Peter sighs. "Sorry to cut this off, but I gotta go to-"

"Physics now, yup. See you later, shithead." you nod, shoving him the other way, laughing as he almost crashes into the cheerleaders.

You resume your way to AP Calc, letting your mind inevitably fall back into your conversation with Flash. Every freaking time Peter steps in, he immediately calls him your boyfriend. But, honestly, the thought of that didn't sound too bad.

+ + +

"MJ, you're not helping."

"All I'm saying is: you tell Flash he's your boyfriend, he leaves you alone. In addition, dating Parker doesn't seem so bad, especially to you, right?"

"MJ!" you groan, falling back onto the pillows of your bed. "It's fake dating. It's not like we'd..."

You suck in a breath.

"It's not like we'd actually date."

"Yeah," she scoffs, "tell that to the prolonged hesitation in the middle of that sentence."

Goosebumps ran across your skin at the gust of cool midnight air that rushed through your window, but you didn't bother close it. You were too comfortable.

"Whatever, MJ. I'm just saying, if Flash and the rest of the school thought we were dating, not only would that jackass leave us alone, but everyone else would. And maybe even Tony and the rest of the team."

And it was at that point that Peter, donned in his Spider Suit, landed on your fire escape. You didn't notice though, too preoccupied in your conversation with MJ to change your focus. He peeked through the window, the words "fake dating" immediately making him spin around against the brick wall, telling Karen to project your conversation to him.

"Imagine having the Avengers ship you with your partner in crime. Couldn't be me."

"MJ," you groan, "It's not like they actually think Peter and I like each other."

The boy's eyes widen.

"They just saw the opportunity and took it. We're each other's age and work well together. Seems like an easy target to me. Plus, they were probably getting tired of making fun of Nat and Bruce," you explain.

A small pain rips through Peter's heart. Even though he didn't act like it, he loved the way everyone acted like they were dating. It made him feel like it was real.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to get you to believe it, Y/N. But seriously, I don't see anything bad coming out of a fake relationship with Peter Parker," MJ states. You can practically see her shrugging smugly right now.

"Well," you say, firing up, "something bad that could come out of a fake relationship with Peter Parker-"

The poor boy outside, already looking stupid and stalker-ish, becomes even more flustered.

"- is that I could lose control of the feelings I already have, MJ. Do you realize how much that would mess up our friendship?"

Your words sting like icy-hot. On one hand, it sucks to Peter that you sound totally opposed to a relationship with him, but on the other hand, he's now 99% sure that you like him too.

He couldn't bare standing there any more. He swung home, all-consumed by his thoughts.

It would be a long night for Peter Parker.

+ + +

The bags underneath Peter's eyes were enough of an example of his insomnia last night. As if his brain didn't already love to overthink, the conversation he eavesdropped last night was enough to send him into overdrive, going over possibilities, how the two of you'd act, and just the very concept of fake dating itself.

Little did he notice, you shared the same look of under-eye bags (which you failed to cover with concealer), kept up by the same conversation.

The two of you were, obliviously, on the same page. You both thought that it was a pretty smart solution to the dilemma, but both were terrified of confrontation.

For being Avengers, the two of you sure were cowards when it came to love.

The school day passed quickly and slowly at the same time, the two of you fighting to stay awake as your history teacher rambled on and on about the Sokovia Accords. It was a Thursday, so the two of you kept your weekly plans to hangout at Peter's after school to study and just hangout. Needless to say, you two almost failed to miss your stop on the subway due to your sleep deprivation.

You enter the apartment, immediately greeted by May.

"Hi, you two," she smiles, grabbing her keys off the counter and swinging her purse over her shoulder as she talks. "I have a shift in a few minutes, so you'll be on your own, but I trust you."

"Thanks," you smile.

"Of cour-" she frowns. "Y/N, did you sleep at all last night?"

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and cringe. "What? Oh, yeah, I did, I'm just... stressed, is all."

"Okay.." she eyes you, half-playful, half-serious.

"She's fine, May," Peter nods, which eventually eases the woman.

"Okay, fine. Don't keep her here too long, Peter, you both need some rest."

You give him a look and the two of you say goodbye to her before you go to his room. You eye him closely.

"Peter!"

He jumps. "Goodness, what?"

"Why do you have bags under your eyes?" you furrow your brows.

"I should be asking you the same thing," he huffs.

His attitude catches you off guard. "I asked first," you retort.

"Okay, okay, fine. I couldn't sleep."

Well, that was slightly underwhelming. "Why not?"

"I was... thinking about stuff," Peter shrugs. "not that big a deal."

"What stuff?"

A sigh of exhaustion and desperation falls from his lips as he shuffles through his bag, not looking for anything in particular, but rather a distraction. You clear your throat and hear his breath hitch.

"Do you want to date?"

Whoa there.

...

What the fuck?

The breath catches in your throat before your voices finally regains itself, a bit louder than you meant it to be. "What?!"

"No-" he sputters, eyes wide, "Like, fake date."

By some force of nature, his correction of fake dating surprises you more than just straight-up asking you to date him. Your mind becomes invaded by thoughts; questions about how he thought of that and oh shoot did he hear me last night? You sit down on his bed.

Silence fills the room that sends Peter into a thought spiral similar to your own, just about to make him break into a nervous sweat before you pipe up.

"Did you hear me last night?"

His chocolate eyes widen.

"You heard my call with MJ, didn't you?"

"How.. how would I even do that?" he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck with the hint of a crooked smile. You give him a look and he sighs. "Okay... maybe when I was on my way home from patrol I stopped on your fire escape, and maybe when I was about to come in through the window I heard you say my name, and just maybe that made me hide and listen to the rest of your conversation. And maybe I got Karen to hack into the call so I could hear it."

You shoot up from his bed excitedly, "Gotcha!"

"Whatever," he jumps back, startled, but with a smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him and plop back down on the bed, letting your back fall against the mattress. Peter marvels at how your hair is sprawled across the mattress before he, too, lays down next to you with a thud, making you laugh.

"So, fake dating, huh?" you tease.

"You're the one who came up with the idea in the first place!" he scoffs. A huff falls from your lips and Peter looks over at you. "Do you actually wanna do this?"

You shift your head to look at him. You feel that familiar feeling of the tingling in your stomach; the butterflies fluttering, the fireworks going off. Still, you hide it. "Eh, why not?"

The two of you sit up on the bed, legs criss-crossed and your foreheads less than a foot apart. Words began to fill the air as the two of you devised an intricate plan to fool everyone- well, except for MJ. And maybe May.

You came up with a set of rules:

1. No exposing yourselves to the public (duh) 2. Make it seem AUTHENTIC (hand-holding, nick-names, kisses on the cheek) 3. Go to and from school together 4. ONLY kiss on the lips if put under pressure and make it QUICK! 5. Love letters (????)

These were all scribbled on a scrap piece of paper from your journal, donned in your messy yet legible handwriting.

The whole process of coming up with this was a bit weird for the two of you. On one hand, you were super awkward with romance; your dream relationship was one where you could make fun of each other and laugh at rom-coms. On the other hand, as much as he hated to admit it, Peter Parker was a hopeless romantic. He wanted to be able to show you off and make you smile. Hence, rule #5.

He'd seen Instagram posts with clips of To All The Boys I've Loved Before. And, although he knew that movie didn't make sense to you, he found the idea of writing you love letters every day an incredibly good tactic to get you to fall in love with him.

Because, let's be honest, a huge reason that he was doing this was in hopes that just maybe the two of you would actually date. For real.

Little did he know, you felt the exact same way.

With a sigh, you folded up the scrap paper and handed it to him, getting a puzzled look in return.

"What?" you ask. "If anything, you're the one who's gonna mess up about this."

He perks up, an offended look painted on his face. "How would I possibly do that?"

"I don't know, you'd probably accidentally let it slip that this isn't real-"

Ouch.

"- or go too far with it. I've seen the look in your eyes whenever we watch rom-coms, Petey." you raise an eyebrow.

Jeez. Not only did you hit him with the already incredibly enforced friendzone (again), but you called him out for his love of rom-coms and called him Petey, a nickname that pulled at his heartstrings every time.

Guess he'd be hearing that name a lot more now.

He scoffs and shakes his head. "Whatever."

The paper crinkles as he unfolds it, scanning over the list one more time.

2. Make it seem AUTHENTIC

Hmm.

"Y/N?"

You hum.

"How are we gonna make it seem authentic if you can't even hear the word 'babe' without making a face?" he asks.

"Yeah, that's a good question. Maybe we should... practice?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you cringe. A crooked, smug grin tugs at Peter's lips and you scold him, only getting a boyish laugh in return before he pounces onto you, teasing you with lovey-dovey words and tickling you.

"PETER I WILL NOT HESITATE TO SEND A POWER BLAST RIGHT INTO YOUR CHEST RIGHT NOW!"

Your words make him freeze and he hovers above you, chocolate curls hanging over his forehead as the two of you pant, slight smiles on your lips. You raise a brow.

There go the butterflies again.

Peter's eyes light up and he plops down beside you, beginning to wrap his arms around you. You slap his wrist.

"What?" he asks accusingly.

"I should be the one asking that! What do you think you're doing?" you question, slightly bewildered.

"Jeez, Y/N, I'm trying to cuddle with you."

His blunt words practically knock the air out of your lungs, but you and your stubbornness refuse to let that happen. You relax slightly at way his eyes give you a look of "just let me do this" and you give him a small sigh and nod of approval.

Peter tries to hide his happiness and content as he turns onto his side, turning you with him. His arms wrap around your waist gently and pull your back to his stomach, lacing your fingers together.

As much as you hated to admit it, this was nice.

And it was especially nice when you felt him bury his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a relaxed sigh.

A few minutes pass and you lay there, eyelids getting heavier by the second.

"Pete?"

He hums.

"Are we supposed to fall asleep?"

He shifts, opening his eyes drearily. "Yeah, that's kinda the point."

"Alright, dumbass, I was just checking," you say with a smile, pausing for a moment. "Okay, my turn."

Peter furrows his brows at your words before he feels you shift in his arms, turning to face him and settling into his chest. He lets out a soft hum that makes you scrunch your face with a smile, feeling him pull you closer and entangle his legs with yours.

So, who's the one that made Peter Parker a god at cuddling?

You ignore your thoughts and eventually let sleep pull you in, relaxed by the soft breaths of the boy you were so close to- not just as best friends, but now physically.

When May got home late that night, she walked into her nephew's room to catch the sight of you two, having to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from letting out an excited yelp.

Naturally, she left the room with at least fifty pictures of the two of you.

+ + +

Despite the deepest sleep you two had ever had, your restfulness was broken within a split second by the piercing noise of Peter's alarm. You shoot up, eyes wide, only to be dragged back down by Peter's strong grip.

"Peter!" you yell.

"What?" he muffles into your hair, pulling you closer.

No time to fall into that. No matter how hard you want to.

"It's morning!" you exclaim, finally receiving the reaction you expected.

The boy practically flies up, expression matching yours. His eyes shift over to the clock, which, although inanimate, makes him jump out of the bed and begin hunting around his room.

"May!" he yells.

You snatch your bag and begin rummaging through it for your phone when Peter's door busts open, a very tired-looking May appearing in the doorway.

"Peter, what is it?" she pants, messy hair correlating with her exasperated expression.

"You let us fall asleep!" he exclaims, running his fingers through his hair.

Which- not that you notice- somehow looks even better in the morning. You completely ignore how its normally styled chocolate curls have gone wild and how it makes him even more attractive to you.

Yup. Totally ignored.

"Oh, honey," May sighs, a tired smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, "I called Y/N's mom last night to let her know she was sleeping over. I couldn't stand to wake you two up, especially considering the position you were in."

You whirl around to look at her, cheeks bright red as she wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

"May," Peter groans.

She laughs. "Not sorry!"

The door shuts and you two let out a collective sigh. You begin putting your bag together, feeling a bit out of place. The sounds of ruffling in the background makes you furrow your eyebrows.

"Pete, what are you doing?"

"Oh, uh," he turns from his dresser, shirt in hand. "I didn't think you'd want to go to school in the same stuff you wore yesterday."

Your breath hitches as he tosses you a t-shirt with a science pun on it. Classic.

You hum, smirking.

"Thanks, babe."

His expression is priceless.

"What? Might as well get practicing now," you shrug innocently.

Peter lets out a small laugh and the two of you resume with your routine, leaving the apartment with lunches from May and intertwined hands.

And, in addition, a sweatshirt from Peter that smelled just like him.

The two of you walk to school, sharing headphones and getting mildly surprised looks from the other daily commuters on the subway, surely pondering about how the quiet schoolboy from Queens was holding hands with a new mystery girl.

The looks only amplify once the two of you step onto campus.

Your hands are sweaty, fingers having been locked together for a solid twenty to thirty minutes. Still, it's easy to ignore when suddenly you're getting looks from mutual classmates whose gazes now have a weird magnetic pull to your hands. The two of you are mere inches away from your locker before MJ veers in front of you, smirking and clearly satisfied.

"Looks like the idiots finally got their heads out of their asses," she smiles.

"Michelle."

Her eyebrows raise in (impressed) surprise. You never call her Michelle.

"Fine, whatever, I know what's up," she shrugs.

Peter squeezes your hand reassuringly, a silent message of "everything's okay."

"However-"

Oh boy.

"Let's not waste time pretending you both don't want this to be real."

"MJ-" Peter blurts, pleading in his voice.

Right in time for Flash Thompson to enter the scene. Both MJ and Peter can practically hear your annoyed groan at his presence.

"I'll take that as my leave," the curly-haired girl winks before she beelines the other way.

"And that'll be my entrance," Flash smirks. "Parker, I see you've taken the whole protection thing up another notch?"

You practically feel the boy next to you puff his chest up in pride (whether it was fake or not was beyond you). "Well, as her- um- boyfriend, I'm pretty sure it would be a problem if I didn't stand up for Y/N."

You look up at him, smirk on your face. Maybe you were a little peeved at the idea of having to have a boy stand up for you, but you'd let it slide in this situation.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Flash asks, a hint of confusion written in his expression that you pick up on immediately.

"Boyfriend," you nod firmly.

God, if you and Peter were alone right now you'd totally intimidate him to get rid of his rising ego.

"Well then. If the two of you are dating, why don't you kiss her, Parker?"

Or Flash can do that for you.

You look over to see his cheeks bright red. He stutters for a second before Flash raises an eyebrow, prompting Peter to lean over and plant a quick kiss on your cheek.

There.

"On the lips, dumbass."

Nevermind.

"I... uh," Peter chokes out. He's not the only flustered one anymore.

"Oh, don't be a wuss, Parker. Just give Y/N a kiss or I'll do it," Flash smirks.

Whoa there, bud.

You squeeze Peter's hand both anxiously and reassuringly, frantically trying to silently tell him to just do it. Thankfully, he gets the message, taking a deep breath and turning to face you, fingers still loosely intertwined. You give him a slight nod and he slowly leans down, minty breath lightly fanning over your lips before a loud yell erupts in the hallway, making you two jump, as well as everyone around you.

"Eugene Thompson!"

You two, free-handed (which feels refreshing), look up to see Principal Morita speeding over to the boy in front of you.

"You're coming with me," he mutters angrily, grabbing a spluttering Flash by the wrist and dragging him down the hallway.

Grateful smiles bloom on you and Peter's faces and you laugh, resting your head on his chest.

"This isn't the end of this!" Flash shouts, pointing back at you two.

"Yeah, okay, Flash!" Peter yells back, donning a boyish grin. He speaks again, whispering, "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," you mutter, resting your head on his shoulder and smiling as he wraps his arms around you softly. "Jeez, cuddlebug."

Peter's face burns at the nickname, but he smiles, drawing circles on your back with his thumb.

"Whatever," he murmurs. "We're definitely not bad at PDA, though."

He got that right.

+ + +

You had everyone fooled.

The news spread quick, to both the school and the Avengers team.

You and Peter became relationship experts, holding hands in the hall, giving the other occasional cheek kisses, following all the rules you two had layed out.

Essentially, you both were living out your dream relationship.

You'd both be lying if you said you weren't trying to somehow make the other fall in love in hopes that the relationship would turn into a real one. You both went the extra mile- in your own ways. You'd make sure to give him plenty of kisses on the cheek- which he'd return- and call him Petey, all while wearing his clothes and using TikTok videos to guide your way (hehe). Peter would take extra thought into every word he wrote in his love letters and made sure to keep them interesting, writing them on leftover bags, old notes, or gum wrappers.

You open your locker, alone for the first time today after spending every second possible with Peter and talking to friends about your "relationship." A small, folded piece of notebook paper flutters to the ground and your face lights up, realizing it was your first letter from Peter. You unfold the paper with a smirk on your face.

"My favorite element is Uranium because I'm in love with U.

- Peter ;)"

The air in your lungs flies out. Of course he'd use a nerdy pickup line, but god, if it didn't make your stomach flutter.

"Hey."

You spin around.

"Speak of the devil," you say, waving the paper in the air.

He lightly smiles. "Was it good?"

"Are you made of Copper and Tellurium? 'Cause you're Cu-Te," you respond, getting a confused look from Peter before he's struck with realization.

"Nice."

"I know."

It almost made you want to write notes to him, but you'd figure you'd find a better idea rather than steal his.

The two of you walked into the Avengers Headquarters, fingers intertwined (as always).

"Well, well, well," Sam says, shifting his gaze from the TV over to the two of you.

The group was split in half when you and Peter announced the "news" about your relationship. One half was immediately ecstatic, running up to you with bright smiles on their faces and asking hurriedly about details. Opposingly, the other half didn't buy it one bit. When they heard the news, they gave each other wary looks and analyzed the two of you.

"Hi, guys," Peter greets, giving your hand a slight squeeze of anticipation.

"What on Earth-"

Tony is cut off by the sound of squeals from Wanda, Bucky, and Bruce, the group eagerly running to you with the biggest smiles you'd ever seen.

"FINALLY!" Scott yells as he runs down the stairs, ice cream covering his mouth and bowl still in hand.

It was a bumpy road.

You lay on your stomach, working on a physics worksheet, nearly falling off the bed when you heard a knock at your window. You raise your head to see Spider-Man gazing in. A sigh falls from your mouth as you roll off the mattress, stumbling over to the window and sliding it open.

"Peter, what are you doing here?" you yawn, falling back onto your bed and nearly crushing all of your papers.

He pulls off his mask. "Why are you so tired?"

"Pete, it's nearly one in the morning."

"Oh," he says quietly. Late nights never got to him.

You close your eyes. "Why are you here, again?"

"Well.. I uh," he hesitates. You grumble and he continues. "I was thinking about this whole relationship thing and it's authenticity and I don't know I kinda missed you and I was thinking maybe we could cuddle just cause it might help with the chemistry and stuff you know-"

"Just get in bed, Peter."

He shuts his mouth immediately, hesitating before piling your papers and neatly placing your things on your desk. Then he looks down at himself.

"Do you by chance have any-"

"Top drawer."

He pulls open the drawer to see a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt you'd stolen from him a few weeks ago. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth at the knowledge that you'd worn these and kept them. He glances at you before pressing the spider at the center of his chest, feeling the suit loosen and fall to his feet.

You open your eyes.

Of course, you and Peter had seen each other in just underwear; you'd known each other for ages. But it was different now.

Your eyes scanned over his body, just donned in a pair of plaid briefs as he dressed himself. You look away as he turns around, clothed.

The boy then walks to you, picking you up lightly and adjusting you on the bed, pulling the covers and sliding underneath them behind you. You let out a sigh of relief, easing into him and letting sleep overcome you.

+ + +

You should've seen it coming.

Sure, you did, but you never acknowledged it. Your subconscious was playing a manipulative game and you desperately wished to have a talk with it.

You were in love with Peter Parker.

It was known well within you, but you'd never fully registered it until now, here, in the middle of a training session.

Heavy breaths flew out of you as you panted, sweat dripping off of your forehead. Peter stood a few feet away from you, in fighting stance, panting and sweating just how you were. His front curls were getting soaked in sweat, hanging over his forehead as he bounced on his feet. You couldn't help but let your mind get pulled away from your session and towards the fact that he looks so incredibly hot right now.

And then you got angry.

It made you mad that you'd held these emotions in for so long. You'd loved Peter your whole life and never once thought about making a move. It was stupid.

You didn't even give him the nod you normally do, throwing a punch and just barely skimming him in the gut. His eyes widened.

"Jeez, Y/N! You know I have fast reflexes, but that doesn't mean you ignore the signal," he pants, exasperated.

Your hard gaze meets his soft one for a split second before you begin laying it on him, the hardest the two of you had ever sparred. The poor boy was trying to talk to you the whole time, letting out pleads between his pants of desperation, trying to get you to calm down.

"Wow, you two really like getting at it, don't you."

You pull back, snapping your head over at Sam, open door behind him and smirk on his face.

Peter stops. "Uh, now's not a good ti-"

"Get out, Wilson, or I'll shove my finger up your nose so hard that-"

"Okay, okay, jeez," Sam smiles, walking out and shutting the door behind him.

An exhausted huff falls from Peter's lips as he looks at you.

"Y/N," he pleads, "what's wrong?"

You shake your head, entering fighting stance again. He sighs, doing the same before you resume your session, taking a swing at him and barely missing.

"What's wrong," you huff, knocking him out from underneath and pinning him to the ground. "is that I'm in love with you, dumbass."

His eyes widen. You let out a sigh, relief and sympathy immediately washing over you. You look down at yourself, practically straddling the boy on the ground.

And then he flips you around, hands on opposite sides of your head and his breath fanning over your face. He has a soft look, mixed with exhaustion and what seems to be relief and joy. Finally.

Peter Parker smiles, tilts his head down, and lays his lips on yours.

Fake relationship my ass.

+ + +

goodness gracious that took so long to write

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Parlay | (Kuroo x Reader) | Chapter 7

- Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~3,800

Genres: Fluff, angstiest chapter thus far, general buffoonery

CW: Swearing

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kozume Kenma. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma’s volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay’s stakes only get higher each time.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

Kuroo tried. He really did. For his best friend’s sake, he wanted to distance himself a bit from (Y/N) and her feminine wiles. Earlier that day, he’d lounged at home watching TV. The news reported that a serial mugger was at large around Tokyo U. Kuroo, being a rather large male, didn’t think much of it. Besides, all he had on him was his phone, his notebook, and a wad of gas station receipts, and a boatload of student debt that he’d love for someone to take off his hands. To him, it wasn’t really a big deal.

What was a big deal was that today was Tuesday, and it was also the first day he resolved to stop walking (Y/N) to work. She was a big girl, she had pepper spray, and he shouldn’t be giving people the wrong idea. But that plaid yellow skirt was making him nervous.

Despite his reservations, he managed to choke out that he wouldn’t be able to walk her to work that day, and (Y/N) gave no indication that she minded. They talked as normal before going their separate ways after class.

Kuroo Tetsurou was a weak human being. The girl hadn’t gotten more than 20 steps away from him before the memory of that god-awful news story got to him, and he was sprinting after her.

“Kuroo-kun? I thought you had somewhere to be?”

“I-- Uh, I have a little time?”

“But I don’t want you to be late! I can text you as soon as I get there?”

Kuroo hesitated. He really needed to put some distance between them, but could he really leave her to walk by herself? It was getting dark. Would he be able to forgive himself if anything happened to her?

“Look, a dog!” she excitedly pointed out a woman walking her corgi across the quad.

“He’s super handsome!” she called out to the owner, who offered to let her pet him. (Y/N) wore an expression of pure joy as she played with the little dog who was basking in the attention. Kuroo looked from her, to the dog, to her pretty yellow skirt, and he cursed himself for being so weak. Standing up, she thanked the owner, and brushed the nonexistent dust from her skirt.

“Please, Kuroo-kun, I’d never want you to be late because of me.” She was too sweet for her own good.

Kuroo meant to say either, “You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” but decided to say, “It’s a pretty short walk.” Then, he made the mistake of looking down at the tender look she was giving him.

The next thing he knew, he had mixed the two and said, “You’re pretty.”

‘Welp, I’m gonna curl up under than bench over there and never move again.’

“Oh! Ahh,” (Y/N) cupped her cheeks in her hands. Avoiding eye contact, she stared down at her shoes, “Well, ah, Kuroo-kun, you’re not bad looking, yourself… Okay, I’m walking away now! Come with me or don’t,” she squeaked and walked briskly in the direction of Chisai. On instinct, Kuroo got his legs to follow closely behind.

‘At least she’s flustered too. But that’s not the point! Come on, Tetsu. Fix this!’ he scolded himself.

“Sooo… about that test next week--”

“Yes! I meant to talk to you about that! Okay, so what I was thinking is--”

Kuroo was bewildered by the sudden shift in mood. She’d been passionate about school since day one, but right now she was… radiant.

“--and since your notes are so objective, I think it would be a huge help for me if we studied together!”

“(Y/N)what’syourmajor?” he rattled out.

The girl beside him quirked an eyebrow, “Pardon?”

Kuroo cleared his throat, “What’s your major? You just-- You just are so obsessed with--! Wait, not obsessed, I didn’t mean that! I just thought--”

“Kuroo-kun, it’s alright,” she chuckled. “I get what you mean. I know I can be a bit much when it comes to school.”

“It’s really--”

‘--endearing’

“--not a bad thing, though!” She waved him off with an easy laugh. They observed the setting sun over the horizon. The shining light of golden hour hit her just perfectly to give her face an angelic glow. She looked stunning against the autumn leaves.

“No, it’s not a bad thing, though it can be a bit troublesome sometimes. I’m undeclared.” That wasn’t the answer he expected. If she had said, ‘criminal justice’ or ‘neuroscience’ or ‘making people adore me,’ he would have accepted any of those answers as legitimate majors he could see her in.

“Undeclared? But you’re so… So…”

“So, what?” she looked up at him expectantly.

“So… passionate. About learning. I thought you’d thrive in whatever major.” In fact, her insatiable thirst for knowledge was one of the things that drew him to her.

(Y/N) gesticulated wildly with her arms, “That’s just the thing! There are so many things I want to do, I think I could be happy with anything! But there’s so much to worry about, like whether I’ll get a job after university, how long I’ll have to be in school, how much money I stand to make. There are a million things I have to take into account, but… I dunno, I don’t want to make the wrong choice. I don’t want to wake up one day, and wish I could go back to where I am now and make a different choice. Does that make sense?”

Kuroo stared at her with wide eyes. He never would have guessed that the sweet, caring girl who could make friends with a pebble would be feeling so uncertain about her future. Strangely, though, he quite liked it. The fact that she was having such a crisis made her more human, for lack of a better term. Right then, she wasn’t Kenma’s perfect sweetheart of a girlfriend. She was just (Y/N). She must have taken his silence for confusion, as she broke into his thoughts.

“Ahh, Kuroo-san, I’m sorry for going off on you like this. I think pre-finals week is frying my brain, and I’ve just been babbling like an idiot all day,” she recomposed herself.

Kuroo grabbed one of her hands and clutched it in both of his. The taller male looked deep into her eyes.

“No! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you shared this with me.” “That’s sweet of you, Kuroo-san, thank you for--” “And you don’t have to go back to calling me Kuroo-san. Use -kun or you can even just call me Kuroo. I don’t mind.”

Realizing the position they were in, he dropped her hand abruptly. Their walk continued in embarrassed silence. They bid each other farewell at the front steps of Chisai Tea House, and Kuroo made sure he saw (Y/N) get through the shop’s doorway. His amber eyes lingered at the spot she was standing for a moment longer. At peace from his time with her, he turned his back on the shop and decided he might as well be late for this one practice. Behind him, the front door jingled. He turned.

“Good, you’re still here,” (Y/N) panted, “I was serious about studying together. Are you free tomorrow?”

“All day,” he heard himself say.

She made a face like she was trying not to smile too wide, “Great. I’ll text you later this evening. Have a great night, Kuroo,” and she was gone. He ended up not being late to practice at all, and his teammates were commenting on the stupid shit-eating grin he wore the whole time.

Kuroo’s eyes snapped open. When had he fallen asleep? The last thing he remembered, he was on (Y/N)’s bed poring over lecture notes and study guides reviewing the concept of binary fission and how DNA is read from the 3’ end to the 5’ end. If the pastel yellow walls were any indication, he wasn’t in his own bedroom, and the comfortable weight on his chest was definitely not normal. His heart nearly stopped when he looked down at his chest and saw a familiar head of sweet-smelling hair. The girl’s cheek was pressed against his muscular chest and she had one hand over his heart. One of their binders was wedged under her thigh and Kuroo felt a couple highlighters digging into his back. She was breathing softly, and Kuroo couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he felt in that position. Through the door, he heard plates and bowls being shifted around, but if (Y/N) was here, then who was out there?

It suddenly hit him, “Shit,” Kuroo hissed, ‘Oh my god, this isn’t Bro-Code, this is the exact opposite of Bro-Code. Crap, she’s so cute and-- No! This is my best friend’s girl! What happened to distance, Tetsu!? I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up.”

As gently as his haste would allow, he lifted the girl’s head and shuffled out from under her. Deciding he could come collect his stuff later, his mind went into overdrive, and he made a break for the door. He stopped mid-way and looked back at the girl’s sleeping form. Against his better judgement, he found himself removing his Tokyo U team jacket and draping it over her before making a swift exit.

“Hi, Kenma. Bye, Kenma.”

“Kuroo,” Kenma’s quiet voice stopped him from throwing himself out the front door. The middle blocker turned sheepishly.

“Yes?” he squeaked.

Kenma looked up from his breakfast, “Relax. Really, it’s not something to freak out about.”

“You saw that?”

“The door was open this morning.”

Kuroo sighed, “Kenma, I--”

“Stop,” his best friend cut him off, “You’re not a bad friend, Kuroo. Actually, about (Y/N)--”

It seemed the universe had a way of hitting Kuroo with the worst timing possible when the girl that was currently turning his emotions into a jumbled mess waddled down the hall sleepily, draped in his jacket with his name emblazoned on the back.

‘Nope. No, absolutely not,’ he could not have walked out the door any faster. It slammed closed behind him.

“Was that Kuroo that just left?” she yawned.

“Mhmm.”

“Thanks for your jacket, Ken-Ken, I was cold this morning.”

“(Y/N), that’s not mine,” he said through a mouthful of cereal, “It’s way too big.”

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed into her signature look. After a look of realization crossed her face, she raised her hand to her mouth with a quiet ‘oh.’ Her eyes drifted towards the door.

“But why would he--”

“Lately he’s been coming to practice sweaty and completely out of breath,” he told her.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“It’s only ever on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Kenma… What time are your practices?”

“5:30.”

(Y/N) gasped.

“You mean he--?”

“He’s never actually late if that’s what you’re worried about. I just thought you might like to know. Can’t you see how much he cares about you?”

(Y/N) slid into the nearest chair. She sat in stunned silence for a long while, with his jacket still wrapped around her, processing what Kuroo had been doing for her. Kenma waited a while before bringing her back to reality.

“I think you need to tell him about the bet,” he advised.

His roommate nodded, “I will. He really did all that for me?”

“Honestly, (Y/N)? I think he’d give you the moon, if you asked for it.”

“Do you need something, Tetsu-chan? Or are you just admiring my handsome face?” the setter asked. Kuroo’s stare had been burning holes in Oikawa’s back all practice, and it was really starting to get old, which is why the brunette waited until all the other guys had exited the locker room before rounding on his teammate.

Kuroo jumped in surprise. “Don’t-- Don’t be so full of yourself, bastard,” he grumbled. The boy hadn’t realized how long he’d been starting at his teammate.

Oikawa clicked his tongue. He waggled his finger at the taller male.

“Ah, is that any way to get the answers you want? You want to know about my relationship with (Y/N)-chan, don’t you?” Aoba Johsai’s former captain smirked evilly.

“Fine. Yes, I do,” Kuroo growled, “But I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

“That’s definitely true, my dear Tetsu-chan, but because I am a man so pure of heart--” Kuroo rolled his eyes, “--I can’t blame you for being curious about the ex-boyfriend of the girl you have feelings for.”

“I don’t have feelings for-- Wait, what? You two were together?” the taller of the two asked in disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. He understood how anyone at all could fall for (Y/N), but he couldn’t understand how (Y/N) could like the shallow, dramatic man-child before him.

“Yup! For a whole two and a half years,” Oikawa crooned. Two and a half years was a long time. Was it possible the two of them still have feelings for each other?

“I still love her, you know.”

‘Well, that answers that question.’

Honestly, Kuroo was disappointed, but not one bit surprised. If she and Kenma fell through, (Y/N)’s handsome and talented ex-boyfriend still had feelings for her. It wasn’t like he stood a chance when kind, doting Kenma and passionate, charming Oikawa were options.

“I hear you’ve been avoiding her lately. Is that true, Tetsu-chan? Because I know (Y/N) very, very intimately,” he purred that last word, “And I know for a fact that if you distance yourself from her, she will not chase after you. The choice to be in her life is one you alone have to make.” Oikawa’s chocolate eyes were dead serious, his tone was nothing like anything Kuroo had heard from him before. But he was right. After that disaster in her bedroom, Kuroo had been dead-set on cutting contact with her until he could keep his emotions in check. He ignored her texts, stopped walking to work, he even hung out with Kenma at his own apartment instead of theirs. Every minute of it made his heart ache. Her texts increased in frequency as she grew more and more concerned until one day: nothing.

“I can’t do that to Kenm--”

“Get your head out of your ass, Kuroo,” Oikawa snapped. “You wouldn’t be on this team if you didn’t have a good head on your shoulders. So tell me, has anyone explicitly stated that (Y/N) and Kenma were dating?”

Well, it was-- Wait. Kuroo cycled through a hundred different conversations with the two of them and could not come up with a single utterance of the words ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend.’

“You don’t know, right? Okay, have either of them hugged, kissed, or done anything that cannot be anything except romantic?”

Now that Kuroo thought about it… No. Not once. But what was he trying to say? Oikawa walked over and got right in the blocker’s face.

“If (Y/N) still wanted to be with me, she would be. But, she doesn’t look at me the way she used to. Now she looks at you the same way she used to look at me, so you need to stop acting like a middle-schooler with no problem-solving skills and actually talk to her!”

“And who are you to tell me all this?” Kuroo bit back. “I thought you still loved her. Why are you telling me to go after her?”

Oikawa took several deep, shuddering breaths and looked up determinedly. Kuroo was taken aback by the tears shining in the Grand King’s eyes, “I promised I’d do anything to make her happy. Apparently that involves you now. So, what’ll it be?”

The shorter male backed off first, “Are you going to face whatever the hell you’re so afraid of, or will you keep ignoring her and punish her for your own insecurities?”

With that, the brunette snatched up his belongings and stormed out.

The bonfire burned brightly and it felt like the entirety of the Tokyo U student body was there. After that conversation with Oikawa, Kuroo wasn’t sure what to think. Were Kenma and (Y/N) dating or not? Did (Y/N) have feelings for him? Did he have feelings for (Y/N)? He had spent so much time either being freaked out by her general existence or vehemently denying that he thought about her very much at all, that he hadn’t been able to work out his own feelings.

From: Kenma [9:36 pm]: Where r u? (Y/N) wants to talk to u

Kuroo wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. If he entertained the idea of being with her romantically, all he could picture was him giving her his heart and her deciding she doesn’t want it. Now, he was at this dumb bonfire watching (Y/N) party it up with her friends while he sat at the water’s edge getting sand all over himself. He felt the sand shift beside him and taking the drink offered to him, he said, “Whatever it is, I don’t think I’m in the mood right now, Kou.”

“Oh no, Bokuto-san’s been over there doing keg stands with his frat brothers,” said the absolute last person he was ready to talk to right now. Glancing over, he was met with moonlit eyes and a gentle gaze.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

(Y/N) set her drink in the sand beside her. Leaning back on her hands, she tilted her head backwards and stared at the stars. They sat silently in the cool night air for several minutes, each waiting nervously for the other to make the first move.

“Kuroo-kun? Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly, as if she hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

He sighed. This wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“No, it’s-- It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me? It’s been three weeks, Kuroo-kun.”

The boy beside her ran a hand through his unkempt hair and exhaled harshly through his nose.

“I know, I know, it’s just. I thought we needed some distance. I was just thinking about you and Kenma, and I don’t know what the hell is going on with that confusing mess of a relationship, and I recently found out that you and Oikawa were together for fucking two and a half years.”

‘That’s enough.’

Kuroo couldn’t stop. All his confusion and frustration was coming to a big, ugly head.

“We were getting close and Kenma is smart and basically internet famous, and Oikawa could have whoever he wants on this campus and he’d get back with you if you just said the word.”

‘Why am I saying this?’

"Every single one of my teammates has commented on how cute you are at some point and I just-- I didn’t want to be involved, you know?”

‘(Y/N), I don’t mean that, I swear.’

Beside him, he heard a loud crunch of plastic. (Y/N) had her red solo cup clenched tightly in her fist. The ripped plastic had cut into her palm and cheap beer was mixing with blood and dripping all over her exposed legs. Her jaw was clenched tight and the girl was shaking with rage.

“What the fuck, Kuroo?!”

“Huh?”

“You got all that crap about me and my relationships with Tooru and Kenma, and you’ve made all kinds of assumptions about me from shit your teammates say about me? Are you kidding me right now? You haven’t bothered to ask me shit! You’ve been skirting around me, asking the men in my life all about me and my relationships, and you say that I’m soooo cute and soooo smart, but apparently not cute and smart enough for you to come to me about stuff that concerns me!”

‘I didn’t know you felt that way.’

“And you know what? You should be fucking confused about me and Kenma because we’re not dating.” (Y/N) snapped to her feet and glared down the bridge of her nose at Kuroo.

“What, you broke up?” Kuroo asked, bewildered.

‘Shut up, shut up!’

“No, it was a bet, okay? Kenma and I made a bet that if we didn’t correct you, you’d never notice we weren’t actually dating.” It was Kuroo’s turn to stand up.

“I-- What-- You--? (Y/N), you made a bet over me?” he fumed.

“Yes, we did, and I admit, it was sort of shitty, but you know what? It wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t think you were so damn clever and actually ask me instead! If you were so confused, then why didn’t you just ask, Kuroo?”

He threw his hands up and huffed.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

“I didn’t think it was any of my business!” he yelled back.

“Oh yeah? But my relationship history is your business? I try to be kind and friendly and keep out of people’s way, and my kindness somehow gives people the impression I’m like some shiny handbag that someone may-or-may-not ‘deserve’ to have, but guess what? I’m a human being, and you know what else? I can make my own damn choices.”

If Kuroo was in his right mind right then, he might’ve thought she was right. He might’ve said so and the argument would have been over. Sadly, his mind was reeling from the anger and betrayal over a bet that had him in emotional turmoil for months now. He couldn’t stop now.

“Well, if you hadn’t--”

“I’m not done. I thought you liked me, Kuroo-san, and I can’t believe you think I’d run back to my ex at the drop of a hat. You think I’d go back to Tooru, what, because he ‘could have anyone on this campus’? It fucking blows my mind that we could spend so much time together and, you still think I’m that shallow?”

‘No, you’re not. I’ve never once thought that. I don’t know what I’m saying right now. Why? Why? Why can’t I stop?’

“Well--” he began.

‘Please don’t. Just apologize.’ Kuroo hated feeling so trapped in his own body. It was like he’d been possessed.

“--you were with Oikawa Tooru for over two years. You know what they say about birds of a feather.”

‘No. Anything. Anything but that.’

The (Y/N) he knew, or thought he knew, was gone. She’d completely lost her composure and she gaped at him, wide eyed at his audacity. He thought since she was subdued most of the time, that meant that she only had one layer to her personality, and that was a mistake. The girl in front of him was all fire and passion and burning hot rage.

“How fucking dare you? You barely know him. You just know him by the mask he shows others and the way they treat him. Just like me. You don’t know either of us.”

(Y/N) stormed off towards the parking lot. Her friends tried to intercept her, but they soon pulled back after seeing the irate expression on her face. Kenma reached for her hand, which she snatched back. Looking over at where she was coming from, the dyed blonde locked eyes with his childhood friend. The setter shook his head in disappointment and took off after his roommate.

Taglist: @joyful-jimin @nekomas-kuroo

#haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #bokuto kotarou #kozume kenma #oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru

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sparkyyoungupstart · 4 years

Text

Fictober 2020 (but make it Power Rangers)

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824045

Prompt number: 2 (“that’s the easy part”)

Fandom: Power Rangers Operation Overdrive, Power Rangers Beast Morphers

Rating: G

Pairing: Steel & Mack (friendship)

Warnings/Tags: New Humanity, First Crush, Post-“Evox Unleashed”

"Hmmm," Steel sighed despondently.

"What's wrong bro?" Nate asked, not looking away from the gadget he was assembling on his work bench.

"Oh, nothing. I'm fine," Steel said. He looked back at the magazine he was reading, then he sighed again.

"Steel, if something's bothering you then all you have to do is tell me."

"No, really! Everything's going great!" Steel insisted.

Nate could sense that wasn't the whole truth, so he turned around to look right at his brother. "You're sure? Nobody at the base is making you feel weird?"

"No way! Everyone's been really nice to me since I became human."

"Good. And the online classes you're taking are working out?"

"Yeah! It's a bit weird not being able to download them directly into my brain, but I like writing things down!"

"That's great! And how are things going filming your new TV show?"

"That's going good too!" Steel declared, before sighing again. Nate nodded.

"Okay, so there's something going wrong there that you don't want to tell me."

"No! It's all going fine!" Steel threw the magazine to the ground as he shot up. "Stop trying to tell me there's something wrong! I'm feeling fine!" Steel stormed out before Nate could catch up to his sudden shift in moods.

It wasn't the first time that had happened. Steel was half human since he was created, but stuff like actual emotions still seemed to be new to him. Nate sighed, worried that not even his brother realized what was going on inside his own head. He wanted to help him, but he had no idea how. He wasn't sure how a licensed therapist would be able to parse Steel's history - born as a cyborg and living like that for a year and a half, then only spending another year and a half as a human until now. And it's not like there were many people with shared experiences -

Wait! There was one person who might actually have an idea what Steel was going through. Nate pulled up the Grid Battleforce Address Book and started scrolling down to "H"...

****

Steel had been sulking in his room deep in the barracks of Grid Battleforce for the past 24 hours. It had fallen to Nate to call the director on Steel's new show and make up a really good reason for him not showing up to shoot that day. Then he stopped by his brother's door earlier that day to see how he was, and let him know that as far as the director was concerned, Steel was suffering from some really bad digestive issues. Steel hadn't responded, though, and was pacing through his room for the umpteenth time. Why did Nate keep insisting something was wrong? I'm fine! I decided I'm fine, so now I'm fine! That's how it works, isn't it? Steel groaned and threw one of his pillows across the floor. Why am I feeling so...so much? I used to be fine, but now my head keeps telling me to do all this stuff and I don't know what's going on.

A knocking on his door broke him out of his thoughts. "Go away Nate! I don't wanna talk!"

"I'm not Nate, I'm a friend of his," replied the knocker. Steel stopped and raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond. "My name is Mack Hartford. I think I can help."

Steel walked up to the door but didn't open it, instead peering through the peephole to see a guy in his late twenties waiting for him. "I don't need anyone's help," Steel pouted.

"Uh-huh. Nate told me you might say that." Mack leaned against the door frame. "You're probably feeling really confused about everything going on inside your heart, and you can feel your emotions running a mile a minute. That happened to me when I turned human."

Steel paused, and after a moment he opened the door to Mack. "You...were a robot?" he asked carefully.

Mack nodded and smiled. "It's a big change."

Steel stepped aside to let Mack in, who sat down on Steel's bed as Steel took to a nearby chair. "So. What's up?" the older boy asked.

Steel pondered how best to respond. "I keep feeling...well, lots of stuff. But I thought I was getting used to that."

Mack nodded. "Okay. That makes sense. I was programmed with emotions at the beginning, so I was used to normal stuff. It was when stuff my dad wasn't planning on me encountering started popping up that I got distressed."

"Right? Like, I always liked spending time with my friends, and I knew what it was like to feel sad, but there are so many other things that keep throwing me off." Steel sighed. "And then these new feelings make my old feelings start going haywire, and I get really mean with other people."

"Sounds familiar. Talk me through it." Mack leaned forward. "What kind of feeling do you have when these spirals start."

"It's like..." Steel held his hands in front of him, searching for the words. "It's a feeling inside my stomach. A really light feeling, like I'm full of helium or something. It makes me feel good, but bad at the same time? Like, there's something out there I really want, and I know what it is, but it's just out of reach. Ugh, I'm not making any sense."

"No, you're doing fine," Mack said with a smile. He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew what the problem was. "Keep going. What happens around you when those feelings start."

"Hmm...well, usually they happen when I'm on set. There's another actor there, his name's Jamie, and I usually get those feelings when I'm goofing off with him."

Mack smiled brightly. "Do you think he's cute?"

Steel looked at Mack with bewilderment. "What?! Why does that matter?"

Mack stood up and put a hand on Steel's shoulders. "Because it sounds like you've got your first crush, dude."

Steel balked. "What are you talking about? I haven't crushed anybody!"

Mack shook his head. "No, a crush. It's a human thing that happens when you interact with somebody and you start to realize you're attracted to them, but you don't think they feel the same about you. So you hold all those feelings inside yourself and then they burst out at the worst possible moment."

Steel stood up and started pacing his room again. "No, that doesn't make sense. I mean sure, me and Jamie are good friends now, and he laughs at the stuff I say, and we had a really good time when we went to the movies last week. And I guess he looks good for a human. His hair is almost as nice as mine and when he smiles I -" That's when it all clicked for Steel. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Did you have to go through all this too?"

Mack nodded again. "Yep. It was a few months after we beat our villains that I started acting up, and it took me a while to realize it was because I had feelings for one of my teammates."

"Dang. Who helped you out?"

"Nobody. I had to figure it out all on my own." He took a step closer to Steel and held his shoulders. "You know, turning human? That's the easy part. Or at least it seems that way sometimes. But when you're a robot you don't realize just how much that brain of yours can hold."

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that. Hey Mack, is it okay if I call you if I ever need help with other stuff?"

"Of course!" Mack said, and the words were barely out of his mouth before Steel had flung his arms around the older boy and was squeezing him into a hug.

"Thank you," Steel murmured. "I already have a brother in Nate, but you helped me the same way he does, so I guess that kinda makes you a brother too, huh?"

Mack patted Steel on the back. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Eventually Steel let go and waved goodbye as Mack left his room. As soon as he was alone, he grabbed his phone off his desk and started messaging Jamie. He had something important to tell him.

Meanwhile, Mack began leaving the base when he had to stop and catch his breath. He held a hand up to his eye and realized he'd started to tear up a little. "Huh."

Even after all this time, his human feelings could still surprise him.

#fictober20 #fictober #power rangers operation overdrive #power rangers beast morphers #mack hartford

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