#I used to eat a whole lot of candy and nuh uh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Request summary: you are not happy about your daddies new way of keeping track of you, but maybe you could warm up to the idea of it

Warnings: Age regression; pacifier mention; sort of leashes but its like a baby leash connected to a backpack; baby has hurt feelings; I could have missed something so please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I really hope you like it nonnie, I really enjoyed writing it. love you buggy boos <3

You wanted to look at everything not matter where you went with your daddies. At the park it was every dog, every leaf. At the store it was every fluffy thing you could find, every piece of candy or toy. If you saw something you wanted to look at, you were gone. Steve and Bucky had discussed their options after the fifth time you'd run off from them. It wasn't that they didn't want you to look, but you're their baby and you needed one of your daddies to go with you. The problem with that? You forgot in your excitement; a lot.

That's how you've found yourself in this predicament.

You were ready to go to the zoo, tattered thigh jean shorts and a pretty tie-dye shirt with SpongeBob's crew with cute purple shoes. You were bouncing on your heels at the door, waiting impatiently on your daddies. You know better than to go out the door and wait for them by the car, so you're whining, rushing your daddies.

"Papaaaa, it's time to go! We not gonna get to see eb'ryfin'!" Steve came rounding the corner, Bucky trailing right behind him with a lavender backpack in his hand that seemed a little full. Steve picked you up, balancing you on his hip, "We're almost ready little one," he wiggled his finger on your tummy, "we just want to show you something before we go." Bucky held the backpack up, smiling innocently.

It was so cute, it was a shade lighter than your shoes to match perfectly. It was plain, other than the pins and small keychain fidget toys your daddies had surely put on. He opened it up and it had a coloring book, a pack of colored pencils, your favorite pacifier and Lincoln the Ram, the oldest stuffie you had. You reached for the ram, and when you'd pulled him out you saw a bag of candy. Bucky laughed when your eyes lit up, "No baby, that's for today, you can have some later." You jutted your lip out and he shook his head, "Nice try, but puppy dog eyes only work on papa."

When you accepted that, Steve spoke up, "This is a special backpack sweetness." Your brows furrowed as you looked at it, not seeing anything about it. Bucky pulled out a stretchy cord that ended in a scrunchy like bracelet. "When you put this backpack on, daddy or papa will put this on." He slid it on his wrist and tugged at the cord close to his wrist, "So you can't go wondering off like you always do." You whined loudly, "Won' run off!" Your face in Steve's neck, letting out another loud whine.

“Oh silly baby,” Steve kissed your hair, “it’s okay, you’re not in trouble for being curious, we’re just trying to protect our kitty.” You let out a heavy groan, “No, don’ wanna wear it.” You clutched to Lincoln, your chin wobbling on edge of tears. “Dollie,” Bucky said softly, stepping forwards to rub your back, “it’s dangerous when you run away from us, you forget in the pretty head to tell your daddies where you’re going and we can’t find you.” You let out a long groan in protest and stayed in the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky’s hand still on your back, “We can stay home instead of going and seeing all the animals, would you like that better?” Your head rose and you shook your head at him, “No daddy, I’ll wear it.” Bucky felt a strain on his heart when he saw the way your pout still rested on your face. “You won’t hardly notice it baby,” he kissed your nose, “not with all the pretty animals we’re gonna see.”

When you got to the zoo, Bucky unbuckled you in the back. You always sat in the middle because that’s where you were most protected, so he had to drag you out of the car a bit. “Okay baby,” he held the backpack up, “put ‘em in there.” You just stared at him a minute, “What if I pinky p’omise to be good?” He shakes his head, “Baby, you already are good. You agreed to wear it to be safe, we can’t go in if you’re not going to be safe.”

You huffed and put your arms in it, the band already around Bucky’s wrist. “Good girl, now listen to me baby, you gotta keep your backpack on, it can’t come off or it defeats the whole purpose.” You nodded deftly, body now trained on bouncing towards the gate. As you got around more people, Steve grabbed your shoulder and bent down to your face. “Did you hear daddy baby? That backpack doesn’t come off until we are back in this parking lot or you're in one of our arms, understood?” You nodded and Steve raises his eyebrows, “Yes papa, I understand.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb before giving you a quick kiss, standing back up.

It had worked remarkably well, you’d gotten distracted by all the animals as suspected. You were pulling Bucky around everywhere, and of course with Bucky came Steve. You pulled them to the lions rather quickly, jumping up and down, changing positions all over the outside of the enclosure to see them. “Daddy!” You ran to near the end of the enclosure, stopped dead in your tracks by the leash.

Bucky chuckled, but to you it was no laughing matter. “Wha’ you doin?” You pulled on him, shaking your bag roughly, “Baby, slow down okay, we’ve got plenty of time to look at the lions.” You made an angry face at him and continued to pull at the leash, “Come on! Wanna walk wif it!” You stomped your feet until he finally caught up with you. “Dis’ is why I always look wifout you, you too slow.” Bucky ignores your comment, mainly because you grab his hand and intertwined your fingers with his, shaking his arm and pointing at the big cat, “Take it home wif us?” Steve, who stood behind you, laughed in shock, “That’s a no from me bug, come on, let’s go see what’s next.”

With his recommendation you remember that there are so many more animals at the zoo. You squeak out a high pitched okay and take off skipping. Your long legged daddies had no problem keeping up throughout the next few hours, but then you had to potty. Truth be told, you were tired of looking at the giraffes anyway.

You glanced up to your daddy, who's whispering something in Steve's ear and laughing. You tug on him, and he turns toward you, "Gotta go potty." He smiled, nodding his head, "Of course bug, thank you for telling us without trying to run off." You grumbled and started walking to the bathroom, keeping the leash taught the entire time. You started to shrug off your backpack, irritation creeping up your spine before stopping.

You turned around to Steve and Bucky, a frown plastered on your face. You waited until they were dead in front of you, you slid off the backpack and pushed it roughly into their chest, stomping away to the bathroom. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, Steve commenting lowly, "Awfully grumpy." Bucky's mind swirled, you're not one to be outrageously bratty, so when you came back out, he knelt down and grabbed your hand.

"What's going on my buggy boo? Is something bothering you? You not feeling good?" You shrugged, pulling your hand back and taking the backpack with a wobbling lip. He made a clicking noise, smiling and took the backpack from you. "How about papa wears the backpack and I'll carry you, it's about time for lunch anyway, right?" You seem to instantly relax and let Bucky balance you on his hip, kissing your cheeks.

Steve slipped on the backpack, an odd and tight fit on his body but with the straps completely loosened, it had a millimeter of wiggle room. He starts to lead the way and Bucky whistles sharply at him. Steve turns around with raised eyebrows, but Bucky is looking at you with a 'can-you-believe-him' look.

Bucky turns to Steve, grabbing the bracelet part of the backpack and sliding it on your wrist, "You can't go running off either," Bucky looks down to you, giggling into his shoulder, "isn't that right sweetness?" You nod, looking up to Steve, shaking your wrist, "Papa we gots tuh know you safe!" Steve immediately catches on to what Bucky's doing, and smacks his forehead playfully, "How silly of me, huh dovey?" You pointedly nod, a smug look on your face, "Uh-huh, now nommies please!"

You're in a much better mood being carried by your daddy, shaking the leash playfully at Steve when you sit down at the table. He slid the backpack off of his back, laying it down on the table. "I thought maybe you'd like a dum dum while we wait on Daddy to come back?" Steve was bouncing you on his knee, already popping the sucker into your mouth. You laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed while enjoying the sweet lemon in your mouth, too asleep to notice it disappearing from your mouth.

Bucky sits down with Steve, smiling at your tired form, "I told you she'd tucker herself out and we wouldn't be able to get through the whole zoo today." Steve scoffed, "You act as if she's going to be willing to leave." Bucky kissed Steve softly before planting kisses all over your face, rousing you from sleep.

As much as you don't want to be grumpy, you can't help but frowning at Bucky. He just kisses your nose and tilts his head towards the food at the table. Your eyes land on the chicken strips first and your whole body bounces at sight of the large slushy on the table. "I-Buh-'S mine?" Bucky laughs at your apprehension to breaking the rules, don't have too much sugar. "Of course baby, we thought you'd like something sweet, like yourself."

When you are done eating lunch, Bucky tries to help you put your backpack on, but you run away from him, around the table. "Nuh-uh," you cross your arms over your chest and look to Steve with puppy eyes. "Baby," he starts, coming over to you, sitting on the metal seat, "what's going on? Don't you like your new backpack?" Your bottom lip wiggles again, tears in your eyes, "'S ugly." Steve looks shocked, "Honey, you love purple, what's really going on?"

That's when the damn broke, tears falling from your face and broken sobs coming out. Steve's holding his arms around you, and Bucky's found his way to rub your back. "Shhh, dove, tell papa what's got your head going so fast." You're hiccuping, letting out broken coughs with small gags, unable to form coherent words. Bucky grabs your chin, holding your straw to your lips, "Here baby, take a drink of your slushy." Somehow you listen to him, sugar is always a good bribe for you.

"Dollie," Bucky pulls you onto his lap, "what's wrong?" His eyebrows are raised, forehead against yours, noses almost touching. He's waiting for you to regain a normal breath to press harder. He doesn't get the chance, because you start talking before he can ask again. "J-jus- 'nother reason tuh ignore me."

Bucky's heart breaks, Steve's expression matching the hurt Bucky feels deep inside him. "What on earth are you talking about honey?" Your eyes start to tear up again and Bucky scolds you gently, "No, no more of that you hear me?" You nod and let Bucky wipe away one of your stray tears. "Honey, we bought the backpack because we were so worried, not so we could ignore you. You run around and poke at everything, you forget to tell your daddies what you're doing and it scares us. You understand baby?" You shrugged and Bucky sighed, kissing your cheek. He's about to say something else when Steve picks you up from Bucky's lap.

"Bucky, put the backpack on, let's go," he's gentle about it, but you're still upset. "No! Wanna see more pets!" Steve tries to lightheartedly chuckle, but it comes out dry, "Oh dove, we're not leaving the zoo, we're just moving on." When Bucky has the backpack on he puts the leash on your wrist, just as it was when Steve wore it.

Steve catches you shaking the band around your arm, and a lightbulb goes off in his head. "You see baby?" Steve starts, and you're confused, so he continues, "You're constantly playing with it, that means your eyes are on daddy at all times." You furrow your brows, a pout still resting on your face. "Go on Bucky," Steve nods in an opposite direction, and Bucky starts walking. When the leash reaches the end of its rope, your arm is pulled until Bucky turns around to face you.

You're hesitant, eyes flickering between Steve and Bucky, "No forgettin' me?" You're looking up into Steve's eyes, swimming with love, "Dove, you're everything on our mind every second of every day. We got it so if anything happened, anyone tried talking to me or Bucky, or we argued over dark or milk chocolate, we'd never be too distracted for you." You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling closely to him.

You can feel the leash pulling on you, and it takes your attention away from Steve. Steve doesn't move his feet though, Bucky playfully moving side to side to pull at the cord around your wrist. "Papa, daddy's tryin' to run off!" You could hear Bucky laugh as Steve caught up to you. "Whatdya say we get some of that ice cream you love so much Dollie, before we go see the rest of the animals?"

You beam at Bucky, a genuine smile crossing your face that lights up your eyes. "Dippin' Dots!" You shake and dance in Steve's arms, "Lemmee down, lemme down! Dippin' Dots! Dippin' Dots! Dippin Dots!" Steve lets your feet hit the ground, and you pout a little, glancing to the backpack. Steve seems to pick up on your hesitation, "How about daddy wears the backpack, you wear the bracelet and hold my hand? That way everyone is kept together and safe?"

You happily take his hand, all wariness thrown to the wind when you started skipping. "Dollie," Bucky stops, making you and Steve stop in place. He looks stern for a minute, but then breaks into a laughing fit, pointing to the righthand turn at the intersection. "You were so excited," he kept laughing, moving you to see the stand with many balloons and a sign that says 'Dippin' Dots', "that you ran right by it!"

You take off running, Bucky and Steve quick to follow. They didn't bother trying to gently reprimand you, they didn't care if you were excited and couldn't contain yourself. In fact, they loved it, as much as they needed a way to keep track of you with the leash, they wanted a way to make sure they never miss your bubbling excitement.

When you've made it to the stand, you are tugging on Steve. He looks down to you, watching your eyes flicker to the balloons. He smiles at you, adding your favorite color balloon to the order. Once you'd all sat on a bench, he starts to tie the balloon around your free wrist but you jerk away. "Daddy," you turn to Bucky, "we switch." You starting pulling the backpack off Bucky without waiting for a response, causing him to struggle to shuffle around his dippin' dots while laughing at you.

You've safely switched who holds what, now chowing on your dippin' dots in your hand and a y/f/c balloon on your wrist. You're starting to think the backpack isn't so bad, maybe you can convince them to buy you more of the things you want if they see you so excited over them.

Or you could always pout about the backpack and get what you wanted any ways.

1K notes · View notes

mc-the-bunny · 3 years ago

Text

Okay so hear me out this is my first ever story...

Have mercy on me please :')...

So i had the thought about lucifer being a winemom. And even though i dont particularly like lucifer i was thinking....

What if he would masterbate with the wine bottle and then mc walks 😳🍷

The story:

It had been a long tough day for lucifer.

All day he had been swarmed by paperwork,meetings, bills from mammon and Asmodeus buying things and making sure you dont get eaten or lose interest in him. After all he couldnt bare the thought of you losing interest in him or even worse you dying..

that would be the scariest thing happening to him after lilith died..

beel had also eaten everything in the house twice today. In response this had send satan in a rage, he had punched holes in cabinets and walls.

So now not only lucifer had paperwork he also had to scold satan, which was no easy task. The blonde demon had flung at him so many times (one hitting his abdominal area) before Lucifer could finally get him under control. He lifted his clothing up to reveal a nasty bruise grunting at the touch.

He would deal with satan later.

He also had to Prepare the repairing spells which required special ingredients they didnt have anymore due to beel eating everything including several dishes... So he'd have to go search for the ingredients.... Sigh* why doesnt akuzon have tge ingredients lucifer thinks while scroling to look if they did...

Akuzon had a lot from the east indian special black and red inc he used to the stuff his brothers bought. But sadly no spell ingredients... He could ask solomon if he could get some of the ingredients but he knew solomon would probably want to make a pact with him in return.... Not that he would ask for help otherwise, after all the Avatar of pride didnt need help from a sorcerer.

He walked up to his liquor cabinet

( which was massive)

First he had to drink some demonius to lighten his headache. (and stresslevels because lets be honest the poor man works way to much)

grabbed a bottle of demonius and sat back down behind his desk drinking straight from the bottle.

He hadnt even bothered to pore it into a glass because he would end up drinking the whole bottle anyways.

(bottles and time passed)

3 bottles of demonius later and lucifer finally felt at ease. His alcohol tolerance was naturally very high so if he really wanted to get black out drunk like mammon and Asmodeus sometimes did at parties he would have to at least drink 6 bottles of demonius.

No the 3 bottles just left him tipsy and on edge, feeling like he wanted to have some sexual gratification.

he took the empty bottle of demonius and looked at the shape. The bottles in the devildom (and human world) didnt look to different from those weird toys he saw Asmodeus walking with a few times.

He smirked opening his drawer he took some orgasm gel out. It was the gel he had wanted to use with mc, mc however was already wet enough on their own for him. Dripping down their legs before lucifer even entered them.

He smiled.

However he wasnt going to be dependent on some human to satisfy him.

He didnt want you to think he needed you.

No he was going to satisfy himself with this bottle of demonius, that was now covered in gel. He undid his pants, pulled off his underwear,

and let his hardening member jump out. He putting it on his desk and started to roll the cold bottle back and forth slowly.

his cock hardening at the temperature difference of the bottle. "Fuck " he muttered while pleasuring himself.

He would've been more than embarrassed if anyone would ever know what he was doing, no this was something only he would ever know about.

The only reason he didn't cum was because he didnt want the paperwork to be dirty with his cum. He would never stoop so low.

No he would never.

After massaging his cock with the bottle until it turned the temperature of his skin he looked at the bottle again.

Another idea popped up in his head.

The top looked to be the similar shape of the dildo he had bought recently for mc.

They had been very thankful and thrilled to try it out.

So curious that they couldnt wait to try it and he ended up watching them masterbate in front of him. He shouldve filmed it.

Such a gorgeous delicious sight should be filmed after all he thought.

He'd have to ask mc next time if he could film it.

Their moans of that night had flooded his senses remembering the lovely noises they had made, they seemed to feel so good with that toy inside their ass cumming on his sofa in his secret study.

He walked over to the sofa and looked.

mcs cum still visible on the dark red velvet.

He smirked positioning himself on the sofa ass up.

putting gell on the other side of the bottle now before slowly sliding the bottle in his ass.

A fairly loud moan escaped his mouth.

Its a good thing he had casted a spell to make this room sound proof for the time being otherwise his brithers might of heard him.

No that would be unbearable. They would definitely tease him over it, and his pride would be more shattered than ever.

Due to the orgasm gel his slit around it quite easily. He positioned himself feeling the cold glass reach deeper and deeper in his ass.

His body now felt like it was on fire with pleasure. Another loud moan escaped his mouth. Then he started thrusting the bottle in and out of his ass.

He could feel a orgasm going through his body at high speed.

Faster and faster rougher and rougher. As long as he was in control he didn't care how rough it was.

(nothing to rough for this sadist)

The sounds of his moan increasing in volume with every thrust.

He felt pure pleasure as he felt he was going to cum, he had preps for that to happen however and he Swiftly took the other empty bottle of demonius as he cummed into the bottle.

Putting the full bottle of cum to the side.

He was going to keep thrusting for a littke more he thought.

"Lucifer?"

Lucifer stiffened at hearing your voice, and looked at you like a deer in the headlights.

"what are you doing?"

"Nothing i i was doingbpaperwork "

"with that bottle up your ass? "

You couldnt help but laugh.

Not in a humiliation way but it was the last thing you had expected to walk into when opening his door.

After the knocking was left unanswered you had stepped in only to find lucifer with a bottle of demonius up his as and flushed cheecks as red as apples.

I can explain lucifer quickly pulled the bottle out and sad up, his pride scattered and fearfully awaiting your reaction. What was he thinking not putting a spell on the lock!?.

He would have to wash those bottles secretly later.

washing would be safer due to nosey brothers . you would never be sure if anyone found the bottles or would stumble upon it by accident.

They woukdve immediately known who the bottles had belonged to, after all lucifer was the only one having multiple bottles of demonius on him at all times.

"Lucifer, im sorry for laughing my beloved. Its just that i hadnt expected to find you.. In such state"

... Lucifer fell silent. he felt like his life was over. he was beating himself up for letting this happen.

What would you think of him now?

Would you turn away? He would never get over it if you did.

Sensing his worry you walk up to him and put a arm around his shoulder (not knowing if you should put them on his cock instead)

"Lucy i understand"

You smile at him.

With bewilderment in his eyes he looks at you.

"You do? "

"Yes lucy babe i do, you were under so much stress today. i already thought you had forgotten our date tonight so i initially came to remind you of it "

"im so sorry mc i shouldnt forget -"

"no its okay Lucy its not your fault"

You looked over to the second bottle of demonius on the ground, seeing what you were almost sure to be Lucy's cum in it.

"It is mc how can i apologise? "

"Ill take that bottle"

before he can say no or even think about it you grab the bottle crawl to the corner of the sofa and smell the liquid in it.

Now emerged with the smell of the last bits of demonius his cum smelled like some sort of delicate wine.

"hhhmmmmm it smells so good lucy darling"

He looks at you in shock for a bit but as soon as he realises you dont judge him for masterbating with a bottle he loosens up.

"Does it now my beloved? "

You look up happily

"Yes"

Lucifer chuckles he tries to take the bottle back but you see it comming and quickly run to the other side of the room.

"Nuh uh its mine now lucy"

Lucifer scoffs and makes his way over to you.

Before he can reach you however you already started drinking his cum out of the bottle. Your eyes still fixated on his to see his reaction.

He looks at you before regrouping himself and making his way over to you.

You run to the other side before you continue drinking his cum wine.

"Hmmm mm hmmmmmm, if water tasted like this i would definitely drink enough on a day"

"Mc, stop this weird behavior at once and hand me the bottle..

before i punish you."

He reaches to grab you but having spend so much time with mammon you know how to avoid getting caught. Running further.

Lucifer can't help but smirk, after all hes secretly really proud of you and himself. After all you said his cum is delicious and are getting quite protective.

it is as if lucifer has to take candy from a child.

"Be a good girl and finish it all then"

Your eyes sparkle in excitement

*Really lucy? Thank you!! "

You sit down on the sofa again tired from running around. Lucifer sits besides you rubbing your back waiting for you to finish it all.

You do finish it surprisingly fast and put down the empty bottle. You want to hug him but-

Lucifer grips your hands and handcufs them

"Lucy?"

"yes darling"

he smirks biting your ear softly.

You squeel

"Lucy what are we going to do? We have to be at the restaurant at 6 remember?"

He positions you in a way your but is sticking up. He squeezes it and this draws a moan from your mouth.

"I remember that, we still have 3 hours"

"but-" you stammer.

"i said i would punish you

so be prepared sitting might hurt a bit in the restaurant. "

He says as he takes out his whip ready to spank you senseless for not obeying him.

I hope you enjoyed.

Im sorry for spelling errors im dyslexic😣

#anime #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me texts #obey me mc #obey me dark #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me luficer #lucifans #lucifer #lucifur #lucifer fluff #obey me fluff #obey me smut

120 notes · View notes

jungwonenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

Field Trip

A/N: I’ve been working on this pic for a while, I hope you guys like it :)

Pairing: Jake Sim x fem! reader

Word count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, high school au

Warning: mentions of virginity loss and porn, occasional swearing, nothing else I think

“How many shirts should I take?” Jake asks you through your phone.

“Uhm, we’re there for three days so take four just incase.” you reply and you pack your suitcase as well.

You two were preparing for your five day field trip to New York which was happening tomorrow.

You packed your favorite jeans and hoodies and even a dress just in case. You can't help but romanticize the hell out of New York after being stuck in this small town all your life.

“How many pairs of underwear should I take?” he asks again and you giggle. He’s like a kid sometimes. “How many times do you think you’ll change your underwear?” you say while sitting on your suitcase to get it to zip closed.

“Probably three but I’ll take four just in case.”

“What a quick learner.” you say and you hear him scoff.

Jake has been your best friend since elementary school when you scraped your knee during tag and he took you to the nurse’s office. He’s been a sweetie since day one.

“I doubt I’m gonna get any sleep tonight,” you sigh. “I’m too riled up.”

“Same,” he sighs. “I wonder how many flashers we’ll run into.”

You laugh. “Why is that the first thing you think of you creep.”

“Hey now,’ he chuckles. “I thought that was the stereotype.”

You hop onto your bed and pick your phone up, it looks like Jake’s doing the same. All you can see are his eyes and a bit of his nose bridge. His dark hair has started to grow out and it was poking at his eyelids.

Your phone pings with a text from Jake. It’s a horrendous screenshot of you climbing over your phone to get into bed. You gasp.

“I’ll kill you.” you tell him as he’s holding in his laugh. “I will do it.”

His laugh bursts out of his throat, jolly and warm. “Why I love it.”

“I hate you so much. Delete it.”

“No way,” he bunches his brows. “You have an entire photo album dedicated to bad pictures of me.”

“And I also have an entire album dedicated to good pictures of you.” you roll your eyes.

“You do?” he asks. “That’s a bit fangirly of you.”

“Me? A fangirl? Maybe Madeline but not me.” you scoff.

“Madeline?” his voice perks up. “She likes me?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew this.” you swear that you’ve brought this up before. Maybe he just forgot.

“Nuh-uh.” he says.

“Well...” you say. “do you like her back.”

“I mean she’s nice but,” he hesitates. “not really.”

“Why not? She’s smart and super pretty. I'm so jealous of her hair.” you say. Madeline was a tan ginger girl with curly fiery hair down to the small of her back.

“You have nice hair.” he says nonchalantly.

You touch it and rub it between your fingers. “It’s whatever.”

He scoffs. “You’re too hard on yourself all the time.”

“I’m a teenage girl, I can’t help it.” You defend yourself, but he isn’t lying.

“I’m bored, can I come over?” he says suddenly.

“Tonight? We have school tomorrow.” you reply.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep over.” he says while turning over in his bed. “I don’t think our parents would care.”

Sleepover? You two hadn’t done that since you turned eleven.

“Where would you sleep?” you ask him, already imagining how this would go.

“I don’t know on the floor.” he shrugs.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor I’ll feel bad.” you argue.

“I don’t care, I’m the one who suggested it, plus I miss you dude, I wanna hang out.” he says and you smile.

“I saw you on Friday.”

“Yeah, a whole two days ago.” he gets up off his bed. “Okay I’ll be there in ten.”

“What-” you start but he cuts you off.

He brings the camera up close to his face and he flashes you a smile. “Bye!” he hangs up.

Your palms feel a bit sweaty and you brush them off on your pants. Why am I nervous? You guys have had plenty of sleepovers before but the rest of the boys were always there, probably passed out from beer or a sugar crash.

You tidy your room up a bit and prepare a little blanket bed on the floor right next to your actual bed.

You hear knocking at the door right when you expected, Jake was hardly ever late.

“Hola~” he says as he walks in with his backpack on. He takes his shoes off before skipping over to your room. You giggle to yourself.

He falls back onto your bed with a big sigh. “I missed being here.”

“Why? There’s nothing cool here. Your house is way cooler.” you say and he smiles.

“Well I can’t deny that,” he shrugs and you punch him in the arm. “you’re the one who said it.”

“We get it rich boy.” you roll your eyes and sit down next to him.

“I’m just playing,” he sits up. “you know that.”

“I hope you showered after practice,” you say. “I don’t want you stinking up my bed.”

He whips his head to you, looking a little bit offended. “I am very clean alright? Here smell my hair.” he shoves his head into your face.

You let out a strangled noise and try to push him away. “Okay, okay!”

“No smell it,” he keeps his hair up in your face, it’s tickling your nose. “smells like mangos right.”

Admitedly, he's right. It smells like mangos.

“Yes it does,” you squeak out. “now please respect my personal bubble.” you spread your arms out and create an imaginary bubble between you two. He tries to tug at your arm but you bellow in a robot voice. “PERSONAL BUBBLE PERSONAL BUBBLE.”

“Fine, fine.” he falls back onto your bed again, laughing. “Lets watch something.”

You follow suit and tug your laptop into your lap.

“Hold on,” you get up and close your window, it was starting to get too cold.

You shimmy under your covers and pull up Netflix.

“Scary movie?” you click on the horror section.

“Sure but you probably won’t be able to sleep.” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“That was years ago.” you start to scroll through the movies.

“Mhm, and I’m never letting you live it down.” he says with pride.

During freshman year the gang decided to go to Jay’s house to watch It together and it freaked you out so much that you went to sleep in the boys room rather than the guest room.

You click on Hush, a movie you’ve been avoiding because it’s about one of your biggest fears, a home invasion.

“I thought you hated this movie.” Jake says, crossing his arms. “I do, but I need to face my fears eventually right?” you click on it and get up to turn the lights off.

Jake soon gets under the covers as well. You both cringe and slap each other every time your feet touch.

“Yo yo yo yo watch out!” Jake whispers and pulls his hood over his head, something you both do when you’re nervous. You weren’t wearing a hoodie so you settled with a spare blanket and draped it over yourself like a cloak.

“Oh shit,” you whisper. “look behind you!” you yell at the main character.

By the end of the movie both of your bodies are stiff and sore from being so tense for two hours straight.

“I thought she was gonna die.” you sigh and you shut your laptop.

“Nah, they couldn’t kill the main girl.” Jake says, comfy and cuddled up in your duvet. “She was so smart.”

“Yeah she was.” you yawn and then kick Jake in the side. “Go to your bed.”

He groans. “It’s warm here though.”

“Go and I’ll make pancakes tomorrow.” you say.

He perks up and follows your orders.

You relax into your mattress, but you miss his warmth next to you. You ignore that.

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 and Jake sleeps right through it.

“How the hell does he get up in the morning?” you whisper. “Probably Leila.”

He’s sleeping on his side, cuddling a stuffed animal he must’ve stolen from your bed while you were asleep.

You stretch your back before washing up.

Jake’s POV

My serene sleep is interrupted by pokes at my shoulder.

“Get up poop.” she says. I almost forgot that I was at her house. I crack my eyes open to find her crouching next to me.

“Good morning.” I croak out.

“You stole ginger.” she points at the stuffed bunny in my arms.

“I was lonely.” I say before sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“7:30,” she says holding in a giggle. “go wash up so we can eat.”

“What’s so funny?” I ask her as she walks away. “You’ll see when you look in the mirror.” she says.

My eyes widen. Did she draw a dick on my forehead or something? I thought we swore to never do that.

I scramble to her bathroom to meet some gnarly bedhead. I have no clue how guys have good messy hair, my hair is either boring and flat or just messy.

“Jesus.” I say to myself and try to run my head under the sink.

I brush my teeth and secretly use her facial cleanser.

“So fancy.” I whisper while lathering it up on my face.

I can already hear her voice in my head when I’m drying off saying “don't forget to put lotion on, and face lotion, not body.”

A stack of pancakes is waiting for me in the kitchen, just as she promised.

“Thank you mom.” I say to her before digging in.

She sits across from me with her own plate of flap jacks. She looks so pretty this early in the morning. Her face is fresh and sparkly and her eye bags somehow just make her prettier. It’s cloudy out and I can tell she’s cold she way her body is bundled up in her chair.

I still remember the moment I realized that I liked her. It was seventh grade and we were at our town’s annual fair. She got a bit sick after a ride with a lot of loopdey loops so I stayed behind with her while the rest of the boys continued to go on every ride they pleased. She told me to go with them and that she didn’t want me to miss out but I said that it was fine and that I liked hanging out with her anyway. She smiled her bright smile at me and rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. Then she threw up on my shoes. Like projectile cotton candy, funnel cake, and other miscellaneous fair food vomit. And I didn’t even get that mad, I was more concerned for her. After that I figured I liked her, because if it were Jay I would’ve beat him up.

“Did you have any nightmares?” I ask her and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I dreamt that Sunghoon married a dolphin. It was weird.” she sighs.

I choke on my pancakes. “A dolphin?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “his name was Jerry.”

“And it was a guy too?” I hold my chest, trying not to choke.

“Don’t judge their interspecies homosexual marriage. It was beautiful.” she laughs and takes a big gulp of water.

I’m almost crying at this point. “Best dream ever. I can’t wait to tell Sunghoon this.”

“No!” her eyes widen. “He’s gonna think I fantasized about it or something.”

“What?” I cock an eyebrow. “Everyone knows that dreams are uncontrollable sometimes.” “Still it’s weird. Imagine if someone told you that I dreamt of you marrying a dolphin. It’s be weird.” she says through a mouth of pancake.

“Did they have kids?” I cackle,

“I don’t know. How would that even work?”

“Maybe they had a surrogate or something.” I suggest.

“Oh god,” she shakes her head, smiling. “we need to stop. I feel like I'm violating him.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Should I wear this shirt or this sweater.” she asks me as we’re getting ready in her room.

“Sweater. It’s probably gonna be cold.” I say while tugging socks on.

“Shit you’re right. Then I won’t be able to wear this dress.” she holds up a little dress that flows out a bit from the waist.

“Bring it anyway and maybe you can wear it for a second so I can take pictures for you.” I suggest and she smiles.

“Good idea.”

We both settle of hoodies and jeans and say goodbye to her parents before hopping in my car.

We get to school right when people start getting on the bus to the airport. We throw our luggage into the bottom carrier and get in line.

“Yo!” I hear a familiar voice call as we get on. “We saved seats for you guys.”

Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki have already gotten comfortable in the back of the bus. Niki was already asleep. Y/N couldn’t help but pat his head before settling down next to Jungwon. The bus wasn’t a school one but one of those fancy ones they bring out once a year.

I sit down next to Sunghoon and dap him up.

“What’s up.” I say while putting my backpack down by my feet.

“Tired.” he says. “Valentina kept me up all night.”

I raise an eyebrow and he smirks.

“For real?” I ask and he nods. “No way.”

“Yeah way.” he says and holds up a fist.

I fist bump him and pat him hard on the shoulder.

“You’re a man now Sunghoon.” I congratulate him and he snickers.

“What does that make you then?”

“I’m taking my time alright? I’ll get there eventually.” I say, a little embarrassed.

I look back to check out what she’s doing when we start to drive off. She’s fast asleep with her cheek pressed against Jungwon’s shoulder. He looks like he’s about to dose off too. Cute.

Sunghoon and I watch a couple episodes of Death Note before we arrive at the airport. Sunoo shakes Y/N and Jungwon up.

She’s still groggy as we walk into the airport and grabs onto my arm for leverage. My heart jumps a little. It’s not often that we touch despite how much I think about touching her. I could stare at her back all day. She could ignore me for the rest of my life and I’d still be happy to be in her presence. Mental note to all of you: do NOT let your feelings get to this point.

Soon we’re on the plane and she chooses to sit next me. I silently celebrate. Sunoo and Sungoon behind us, Heeseung and Niki next to us, and Jay and Jungwon in front of us. Sunoo pokes his head over her seat.

“Do you have chapstick I can borrow.” he asks with his blonde hair flopping over his forehead.

She digs into her bag and hands him a small tin of lip balm.

“Thank you!” he says and she nods.

“Are you that tired?” I ask her.

“Mhm,” she sighs and shuts her eyes. “I forgot to drink coffee this morning.”

I put in my AirPods and start to watch Lady Bird. She looks over and takes an AirPods out of my ear.

“I wanna watch too.” she say and puts it in her own.

We take off for the six hour trip and soon Y/N is sound asleep. Her head kept dropping forward so I pushed it up and pulled it to rest on my shoulder. This was not on purpose. I can’t help but snap a picture of her and add it to the good pictures of her album. She looks so peaceful and comfortable and gorgeous. I lay my head on hers for a moment before continuing the movie.

Y/N’s POV

After two hours of unsatisfying sleep, and hour of gossip with Sunoo, and three hours of chit chat with Jake you finally arrive. You sit up and stretch as best as you can in the plane. You pull you backpack onto my back and get you luggage down from the overhead bin. It’s already five p.m. when we get off and your stomach is growling.

We take another bus to the hotel and you can’t help but admire the city life as we drive there.

You’re roomed with two other girls at the hotel but you don’t even bother unpacking. You know you’re gonna be in the boys’ room anyway.

Mrs. Gilroy gave us tonight to do whatever we wanted as long as we were back at the hotel by ten p.m.

You sneak into Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon’s room as soon as you can. And when you get there, it’s already a mess.

“Good lord.” you say as you’re met with clothes all over the floor and mini bottles of liquor on the beds.

“You guys are drunk already?” you scrunch your nose and drop your stuff in a corner of the room.

“No.” Sunghoon says to you lazily with a little smirk on his face. You can’t help but giggle. Sunghoon is pretty adorable when he’s drunk.

“Are you drunk too?” you turn to Jake and he shakes his head. His pink cheeks give him away though. “You’re all bad liars.”

“Lets go swim.” he says excitedly.

“There’s a pool? I didn’t bring a swim suit.” you say, bummed.

“Can we go later, I’m hungry.” Jay says and you agree.

“Me too.”

Jake tugs at your arm. “Come on~ we can order room service or ask Jay to get us something.”

“We can get you guys something.” Sunghoon says, pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Please?” Jake looks at you with shiny eyes. He’s and adorable drunk too.

You purse your lips and sigh. “Fine. But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Just wear shorts and a shirt.” Jake says as he tugs his swim trunks out of his suit case.

“I didn’t bring shorts because you said it was gonna be cold.” you complain, crossing your arms.

“Uhm,” he stops for a moment. “you can wear my boxers then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh?”

“What?” he looks at you. “They’re basically shorts. And they’re clean.”

You hesitate but then comply as always. He tosses you a pair of black Calvins.

You steal one of Jay’s shirts and make your way into the bathroom to change. You’re wearing a simple cotton bralette which should be fine for the pool. You bundle up the rest of your old clothes and stick them behind your backpack before heading out with Jake.

The pool is empty and huge and is only light by the lights inside.

“It’s so cold.” you rub at your arms as Jake sets your towels down at a seat.

“I’m sure the pool is heated.” he says and dips a toe in. “Yeah, it’s warm.” Before you can even reply, he tugs his shirt off and canon balls in. You turn your face to avoid getting splashed.

“How is it?” you call out as he emerges from the water. He shakes his hair around like a dog.

“It’s warm so come in, you look funny standing there.” he teases and you roll your eyes. You kick your sneakers off and try to make a peaceful jump in but you didn’t realize you were in the deep end. It takes you a moment to get your senses together and swim to the surface.

“Why is it deep?” you say, a bit out of breath.

Jake giggles at you. “Remember when we used to play and you were the mermaid and I was the-”

“Turtle companion.” you finish his sentence. “Yes, as clear as day.”

“Why couldn't I be a mermaid too? Why was a I a lame turtle.” he fusses.

“I’m sorry okay?” you laugh. “I was a mean child.”

“Yeah you were. I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

You burst out laughing, flailing your arms in the water to try to stay afloat. “You deserved it!”

“I did not!” he protests.

“You cheated in handball! It was one hundred percent deserved.” you say, swimming over to him.

“I barely cheated!” he calls out, starting to swim away from you.

“Barely? I would’ve won and been champion of our grade if you hand’t pulled that shit!” you say, still laughing and swimming after him.

“Why are you chasing me?” he says while hopping around the pool where he can touch the ground.

“So I can shove another clump of dirt in your mouth.” you try your best to get him but your heavy cotton shirt is holding you back. You don’t let it stop you though.

You finally get to him and tug his arm. He yells as you push him underwater. He finds the ground though, and shoots up soon after.

“Are you trying to drown me?” he looks at you, astonished but giggly.

“Maybe.” you shrug before tackling him again. It had been a while since you two wrestled like this.

You’ve got him under water for a bit until he finds your rib cage and plunges you in. It’s hard to hold your breath while you’re laughing. You feel around for him and pinch his thigh only semi hard. He lets you go after that.

“I won!” you celebrate with your fists in the air.

“You used pain, that isn't fair.” he rubs at the area that you pinched.

“Don’t be a sore loser. I won fair and square.” you cross your arms. “Fine.” he admits his defeat. “that pinch hurt though, come kiss it better.”

Your face twists. “Nuh uh.” you say plainly.

“Please?” he asks. “I will drown myself right now.” You laugh at him.

“I will do it!” he insists.

“Okay, okay! I’m not to going to kiss your leg you weirdo but I’ll give you a hug.” you float over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I even pinched you lighter than I normally would.”

“I’m sensitive.” he says into your neck and you giggle.

His arms feel so right around your waist and you struggle to decide when to let go, so you just don’t, and neither does he. He holds you decently tight and you feel him pat your back.

You’ve hugged plenty of times before but it felt a little different this time. Probably because you’re pressed up against his bare skin. It makes you feel a bit sheepish.

You pull away from him. “Feel better now?”

He nods with a smile. His cheeks are pink, but this time it’s not from the liquor.

Jake’s POV

I can’t help but feel disappointed when she lets go of me.

I shouldn’t have patted her back that's a dad thing to do.

Her makeup has started to run down her face which makes me giggle.

“What?” she asks.

“Your mascara is making you look crazy.” I say and her hands fly to her face.

“Shit I forgot I had it on.” she attempts to wipe it away but all it does is smear it across her face.

“Here,” I say and float over to her. “I’ll help you.” this was not on purpose.

I hold her face as gently as I can in my hands and rub the runny mascara off with my thumbs. I dip my fingers into the water to get all of the bits off.

I want to kiss her so badly, but I know that I’ll never do it. Sometimes I get irritated at myself for not being able to confess. I think Jay and Sunghoon get irritated about it too.

“You talk about her all the time man just ask her out.”

I don't know why I can’t do it. If she rejects me she’ll do it nicely and things would go back to normal pretty soon. But I don’t think I could live knowing that my feelings would never be reciprocated. Sometimes I get a feeling that she likes me too but I can never be too sure.

“All gone.” I say and she thanks me.

She lets her self float on her back. She has a small smile on her face and she’s so pretty I could cry. There have been multiple times where I nearly cried over how much I like her.

“What are your thinking about?” I ask.

“You know I never know how to answer that.” she bleats. “My mind always goes blank when you ask.”

“Well try to remember what you were thinking about then.”

“Us.” she says plainly. “Us?” I questioned. “What about us?” “I don’t know, just how I met you guys and how happy I am to be friends with you all.” she says.

Oh. She meant all of us.

“Yeah me too.” I agree, trying not to sound down. “Who’s your favorite?”

She snorts. “I don’t have a favorite.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “and it better be me.”

“Why would it be you?” she jeers.

I frown. “Because we met first.”

“I’m kidding, of course you’re my favorite.” she admits.

“And why is that?” I egg her on and she rolls her eyes.

“Because we met first.”

I sigh. “Is that all?”

“Mhm.” she says.

Y/N’s POV

You’re met with InNOut that Sunghoon and Jay got and also a room full of teenage boys. The younger ones were laying on their stomachs on a bed together, watching something on a laptop. Sunghoon and Jay were trying to watch t.v. You say trying because of the furious clicking on the remote.

“What the hell are you guys trying to do?” you and Jake plop onto the one empty bed.

“Trying to find the porn.” Jay grumbles.

“Infront of the children?” you look over at the younger ones.

“They don’t care they’re watching YouTube.” he says, still clicking.

You take a bite of your burger. “You have an endless arena of porn on your phone why do you want the t.v. one?”

“The t.v. makes it special.” Sunghoon says.

“Weird.” you mutter to yourself. “They’re probably gonna make you pay for it too.” Jake chimes in.

“Do you think it’ll go to the school’s credit card or whatever?” Jay asks with wide eyes.

“I don't know but if it does they’ll know it’s from our room.” he says through a full mouth.

You grab pajamas out of your bag and head to the bathroom to shower.

You come out feeling fresh and the younger ones have gone back to their room now.

“My turn,” Jake says, walking into the bathroom.

You sit next to Sunghoon on his bed and start scrolling through your phone.

“Should I get this sweater or this one.” he holds his phone up to you and shows you light blue sweater and a black one.

“Second one.” you say.

“Really?” he questions. “I feel like it’ll make me look emo.”

“You should become emo honestly. It would look good.” you reply and he chuckles.

“You’d have to help me with my eyeliner every morning.”

“Yeah,” you giggle “wait can I do it right now? I wanna see how you’d look.”

“Right now?” he cocks a brow and you nod. “Okay but don’t give me raccoon eyes.”

“I won’t I won’t.” you rush over to your bag and bring your make clutch to the bed.

“Hold still.” you tell him as you give him smokey winged liner.

“It tickles.” he says, trying not to blink too much.

“Beauty is pain.” you clean up the wing with your nail.

In a couple minutes you’re done. “Finished." you say.

“Lemme see.” he grabs a hand mirror from your clutch and holds it up to his face. “Hold on. This looks kinda good.”

“Right?” you had to admit it; he looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jay says from his bed.

Soon Jake came out of the shower and it was hard to deny how good looking he is especially with his damp hair. How could someone make a t-shirt and sweats look so good? He dumps his laundry by his bag.

“Does Sunghoon have makeup on?” he asks, settling onto his bed.

“Yeah doesn’t it looks nice?” you ask and he agrees.

“Y/N are you gonna sleep here or in your room.” Jay asks.

“I thought I would just sleep on the floor here.” you suggest and he furrows his brows.

“No that’s mean. Share a bed with someone.”

“You should sleep with Jake.” Sunghoon elbows you in the side and you shoot him a dirty look. “We all know he wants you to anyway.”

“Fuck off Sunghoon.” Jake looks over at him with a piercing stare, a contrast to his pink cheeks.

“Is it okay if I do?” you ask him and he nods.

“Yeah for sure.”

Sunghoon snickers.

“I hate you.” Jake scowls.

After a couple hours of watching movies and horsing around it’s nearly midnight and your eyes are getting heavy.

You crawl under the covers and scroll on your phone a bit before trying to sleep. Despite how tired you are it’s hard to sleep with the boys chatting and snickering to each other.

“Can you guys quiet down?” you ask them.

“Sorry.” Jay says.

After maybe an hour of sleep, you feel someone get on the bed. Probably Jake, you think to yourself. His little sighs as he gets comfortable are cute.

“You awake?” he whispers.

“Mm?” you turn on your side to face him. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” he says. The room is dark but the moonlight helps you make out the outline of his face.

‘What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothin.” he says and you giggle.

“Okay weirdo. Go to bed.” you close your eyes, stilling facing him though.

“I’m not tired.” he says.

“Count sheep.”

“That never works for me.” he sighs. “Sing me to sleep.”

You try to slap him in the arm but you end up hitting his face. “Oh shit sorry!”

“Ow!” he whines. “Why do you keep hurting me?”

“It was an accident!” you whisper and rub at his cheek a bit.

“Now I actually deserve a hug.” he pouts and you roll your eyes.

“You are not five years old.”

“I still want the hug.” he says plainly and you sigh.

“Fine.” you scooch over to him and pull him into your chest. You pat his back. “There there. Better now?”

He shakes his head. “It still hurts.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” you scoff.

“I have no shame when it comes to your affection, you should know that by now.” he smiles.

You feel his arm fall over your waist and his hand slide up your back. It gives you goosebumps.

You’re cuddling with him. You guys are cuddling right now. You think to yourself. No you’re not, you’re just...hugging. Right?

Jake pulls away to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

“Are you gonna say your mom again?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No,” he says giggling. “it’s something for real.”

“Okay what is it?”

He takes a sharp inhale. “I like you.” he winces.

Your heart jumps a bit. “I know.”

“What?” he laughs. “You’re very obvious about it.” you chuckle. “Are you rejecting me?” he asks and you shake your head.

“I would never.” you pull him in by the back of neck and push your lips against his.

#enhypen #enhypen jake #ehypen fluff #enhypen Jake fluff #Jake Sim fluff #Kpop fluff

219 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

42 notes · View notes

jade4813 · 5 years ago

Text

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 5

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 5/?

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me. Boy, you just don’t realize what you do to me,” Zoey sang at a volume approximating the top of her lungs as she danced around her kitchen, popping toast onto a plate and giving the scrambled eggs one more flip with her spatula before dumping them on top. “When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s all right! I-I-I-I-I’m hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing that you’re in lo-”

She broke off at the sound of a loud knock on her front door. She did a little boogie with her hips as she flipped off the stove in a smooth gesture. Then she danced her way over to the table to drop off her plate on her way to the door. At a much more reasonable volume, she continued to sing as she moved. “Your lips are sweet as candy and the taste stays on my mind. Boy, you got me thirsty for another cup of – Mo? H-hey! What’s up?”

He threw her a pointed look as he walked past her into her living room. “What’s up with me? I came over here to find out what’s up with you.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “I’m just getting ready for work, and -”

“You’re singing,” he finished for her.

She tried one more time to avoid the conversation. “So-o-o?” she asked, drawing out the word. “I…sing. On occasion. Sometimes.”

“Nuh-uh. I’ve lived across the hall from you for a while, and I can tell you one thing. You? Don’t sing. I sing. Other people sing. But you don’t sing.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he pointed one finger at her. “Zoey? Spill.”

“Oh, all right,” she huffed, collapsing into her chair to eat her rapidly cooling breakfast. “I’m in a good mood because, you know, it’s a beautiful day outside, and things are really going well for me at work, and also,” she took a big bite and ducked her head, hoping to obscure the words, “Max and I kissed.” Swallowing quickly, she looked up and threw Mo a wide grin. “So did you want a cup of coffee or something? I don’t have a lot of time, but -”

“But you are going to make time because I heard you, and you are not dropping that bombshell on me and then racing out the door.” Mo’s eyes were bright with excitement as he took a seat on the other side of the table. When Zoey didn’t say anything right away, he prompted, “So? Details!”

She sighed and started pushing her congealing eggs around her plate. “It’s…complicated.” That word again. She was starting to hate that word.

“Uh huh. I’m sure. So who kissed who? Did that man finally give in to the burning passion that’s been building up inside him for years? Or did you decide it was high time to take him for a test ride?”

She rolled her eyes. “Neither.” She paused. “Or both? I don’t know. In answer to your question, he kissed me. But I kind of made him.” At Mo’s confused expression, she explained, “Okay, so you’re probably going to think this is ridiculous, but I kinda…sorta…asked Max to pretend to date me. Just until my dad…just to make my dad happy for these last few weeks.”

She expected a wide range of reactions to her confession, but he just blinked at her a few times, stunned. “You’re pretending to date Max.” She nodded. “And so that’s why you two kissed.” She nodded again. “Because you’re pretending to date each other.” One more nod. “Which is definitely a thing normal people do. And I guess the only way could convince your family you were dating at that moment was to kiss him.”

Zoey couldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, technically nobody else was around. We were…practicing.”

Mo leaned back in his chair. “Right. If you’re going to pretend to date someone, it only makes sense that you have to practice pretending to kiss them. So you can do it convincingly. Out of curiosity, how many practice kisses did it take?”

She winced. Splaying her hands, she tapped her fingertips together and said meekly, “Well, that depends how you want to count them. Do you mean incidents of practice kissing, or number of times our lips may have met during those incidents?” Mo just cupped his chin in one hand and threw her an expectant look. “So…we only had that one incident. Um, so far. And as for the other question,” she began scrunching her face in thought, “I’m honestly not sure.”

“Well, since you’ve been singing “Hooked on a Feeling” all morning, I don’t think there’s any need to ask you how you liked the kiss. Or kisses.”

Zoey felt warmth spread from her chest, up her neck, to her face, and she assumed if she looked at her reflection at that moment, she’d see she’d turned bright red. “In all fairness, Max is…skilled…in the…arts…related to…the lips. And tongue.” She hid her mouth behind her coffee and mumbled in an undertone, “And teeth.”

Mo threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I see. I had such high hopes for him. Good to know he didn’t let me down. So, I take this to mean you finally made your decision.”

“My decision?” she asked with feigned innocence, standing to take her dishes to the sink. She really would be late if she didn’t get moving. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t willing to let it go. “You’ve been torn between Simon and Max for months. I was hoping all this meant that you’ve finally decided to pick a side.”

“There’s no side!” she protested, throwing up her hands. “Simon is…a great guy. And attractive. And completely engaged to someone else. Max is,” she paused, waving one hand helplessly in the air as though trying to summon the words before continuing, “well, he’s Max. I’m not deciding anything because there’s nothing to decide! I am not in a place to get into a real relationship right now. This whole thing with Max is just…it’s all pretend. So that my dad doesn’t worry about me. And when it’s over…”

Mo’s eyes were sympathetic when he finished her sentence for her. “And when it’s over, the kisses stop. And eventually, he may move on to someone who doesn’t just want a pretend relationship. Is that really what you want?”

Zoey sighed as she shrugged into her coat and reached for the door. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I just…I can’t deal with anything real right now.”

Mo paused and put his hand on her shoulder as he walked past her into the hall. “Well, next time you decide to practice kissing with Max, you let me know how it goes. Soap operas have less drama than you do.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she jogged down the steps, though she found herself singing in an undertone again by the time she hit the street. “All the good love when we’re all alone. Keep it up, boy. Yeah, you turn me on. I’m hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me…”

Was it her imagination, or was Max avoiding her? She’d tried not to read too much into his behavior, but every time she tried to grab a few moments with him alone, he suddenly remembered a very pressing appointment he needed to make. Or phone call. Or conversation. On the other side of the building.

As she stood on the top of the risers and watched him work at his desk, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was she really that bad of a kisser? Sure, she was a little out of practice, but she couldn’t possibly be that bad, could she? Not bad enough to justify him doing everything in his power to avoid having to kiss her again. The very thought was demoralizing.

Giving her head a quick, determined shake, she hopped down the risers and approached his desk. “Max? Do you have a minute?”

“Oh, hey, Zoey!” he greeted her with false cheer. “Ah, you know, I’d love to talk, but I have something I need to deal with first. For, um, for Joan.”

That did it. She followed him to their boss’s office, but before he could walk inside, she darted around him. “Hey, Joan?” she asked brightly, poking her head inside the office door. “I need to grab Max for a few minutes, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Joan made a disgusted face. “I do not need to know what the two of you do on your lunch hour. Just leave me out of it,” she replied, waving the two of them away.

“Great!” she replied, grabbing Max’s arm and propelling him towards the elevators. “Max, I think you and I need to go for a cup of coffee.”

“Well, we have a -” he began, turning towards the coffee bar.

She shook her head. “Outside. Just the two of us.”

The silence that fell between them was strained as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor and headed outside. Now that she had Max alone, she wasn’t sure what to say. They were a few doors down from SPRQ Point’s entrance when she couldn’t take the silence any longer. Stopping next to some concrete stairs, she climbed up the first step so she could look him in the eye. “Okay, look. There’s something I need to – I’m sorry about last night. I know I – it was pretty bad, huh?”

His face fell. “Bad? You’d really describe it as bad?”

She barely registered his disappointment too wrapped up in her own self-doubt. It wasn’t every day that a girl found out her kisses were so awkward, her partner would rather avoid her than risk hurting her feelings. “I was just nervous, you know? And, okay, I’m a little out of practice. But I think if we just…oh, to hell with it.” Before she could embarrass herself further, she wrapped her arms around Max’s neck and practically threw herself at him, launching herself into his arms as she pressed her lips against his.

Max let out a soft sound of surprise, his arms wrapping around her instinctively as she landed against his chest. But a moment later, they tightened, holding her steady as she deepened the kiss. She curled her fingers into his hair, which was somehow softer than she’d imagined, and almost wanted to cheer aloud when he started to kiss her back.

Last night, he had taken charge of the kiss, overwhelming her senses as he pulled her deeper and deeper into the embrace. This time, she was determined to set the pace. She brushed feather-soft kisses against his lips until they parted for her, and when she felt him try to take control, she teased him by pulling away slightly. He moaned, but he relented, and so she ran her tongue consolingly along the curve of his lower lip and deepened the kiss once more.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, locked in their embrace, but the soft sound of someone clearing their throat a few feet away finally penetrated Zoey’s mental fog and caught her attention. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Max and looked over his shoulder, almost falling over when she saw her mom, dad, Emily, and Howie staring at her.

“Mom! Dad! Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, scrambling out of Max’s embrace and trying desperately to get her clothes in order.

Emily had her head tilted to the side, giving them both a considering look. Her mom looked amused, and though it was sometimes hard to read her dad’s expressions, she could swear there was both surprise and happiness in his eyes. For his part, Howie was looking at the sky, like he was searching for passing airplanes. “Emily had an appointment at the doctor today, and David’s hearing is running late, so she asked us to come along. We were just headed to lunch and thought we’d stop by and invite you to join us,” her mom explained. “You too, Max, of course.”

“If we aren’t interrupting anything,” Howie added dryly.

“Interrupting? Us? N-no! Of course not!” Zoey stammered, grabbing Max’s hand as she stepped down next to him. “We were just on our way to lunch, too. We’d be happy to join you.”

“You know, if you wanted some time alone, I could -” Max began, but Zoey squeezed his hand and threw him a threatening look.

“Don’t you dare.” If she had to face her family with the knowledge they’d just seen her make out with her fake-boyfriend in front of the entire world, she wasn’t going to do it alone.

They had walked only about a half a block before her sister-in-law commented, “So, I guess things really are fine between you guys.”

Feeling her cheeks heat, Zoey replied defensively, “Of course they are! We just…needed a little time. To get used to things.”

“Uh huh. Well, you better be careful,” Emily advised. “Last time David kissed me like that, I ended up like this.” She gestured toward her pregnant stomach.

Max let out a tiny, surprised puff of laughter, while Zoey inwardly cringed. “Ew!” she cried, only half-jokingly. She covered her face, though whether it was to avoid looking at Emily’s expression or to prevent Max from seeing her own, she wasn’t entirely sure. “I did not need to know that, thank you!”

“I’m just saying,” Emily remarked with an unrepentant grin.

In a voice slightly louder and a shade higher-pitched than usual, Max tried desperately to change the subject, “So, Mitch, did you see the game last week?”

Mitch shifted in his seat to look up at him, just as Howie said jovially, “So, Max. Mitch said you asked Zoey out using a flash mob. That’s pretty brave!”

Zoey’s stomach twisted into a knot, and she wracked her brain for a way to change the subject. She didn’t want to talk about this. Her family all thought that this story had a happy ending, but of course she knew it didn’t. She didn’t want Max to be hurt by the reminder.

She started to comment on the weather, when Emily interjected, “Especially since Zoey isn’t always good at dealing with big emotional moments.”

Her head whipped around as she turned to stare at her sister-in-law. “What are you talking about! I don’t have a problem with big emotional moments!”

“Which is why you ran away afterwards?” Emily pointed out. Zoey loved her sister-in-law, but at times like this, it was sometimes hard to remember that her bluntness was meant with kindness. After all, she – like everyone else in her family – believed that things had all worked out in the end, and Zoey had ultimately realized she reciprocated Max’s feelings. If she hadn’t, Zoey knew she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make light of such a painful memory.

Zoey wanted to console Max, but he was the one who gave her hand a quick, comforting squeeze. She looked up into his eyes and saw a quick flash of the heartache he tried to hide, but then he released her and shifted away. “Well, you didn’t see me dance. I only had three rehearsals, after all. Running away might have been the right call,” he joked, breaking out into a couple impromptu dance moves on the sidewalk. Redirecting the conversation away from her reaction to his confession. Making a mockery of his own pain to shield her from her own.

“Max, no,” she protested softly, reaching for his arm. Had he always done this, protecting her at the cost of his own feelings? She’d never thought about it before, but she had a suspicion the answer was yes, and it broke her heart. Determined to stop her family from unintentionally causing him further agony, she said loudly, “That’s not what happened. I -”

“Well, at least it all worked out, and you two realized you love each other. That’s all that matters. And it sounds like it was a wonderful gesture, Max. The kind of moment Mitch would have loved,” Maggie cut in, oblivious to her daughter’s inner turmoil. “He’s always been a sucker for those big, romantic moments. Haven’t you, Mitch?”

Her father indicated agreement, and the opportunity to clear the air was lost as the conversation redirected to more mundane logistical matters when they entered the restaurant. But Zoey noticed that Max didn’t reach for her hand again throughout lunch, or on the walk back to the office. She was only now beginning to realize how many small sacrifices Max made on her behalf. How many times she’d probably inadvertently wounded him, without even realizing it – not just now, but in all the years of their friendship leading up to this moment. What that must have cost him – and continued to cost him still, as he covered up his pain with humor and hid it from the world. From her.

She missed the warmth of his hand in hers.

Max groaned as he looked over at the clock. Curling his arm underneath his head, he glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. It was after two, and he was completely unable to fall asleep. He kept thinking about Zoey and their kiss. Kisses.

“They didn’t mean anything, Max,” he scolded himself, but even in the quiet solitude of his bedroom, his words lacked conviction. She’d kissed him earlier that day, hadn’t she? Of course, their whole pretend relationship was her idea, so that didn’t have to mean anything. But she hadn’t just kissed him. She’d kissed him. Like she meant it. Like she didn’t want to stop.

Maybe things had changed for her. They’d certainly changed for him. Maybe he should ask her. Would that really be so terrible?

Yes, it would. Because she’d already asked him for time, and he’d agreed to give it to her. He’d promised he wouldn’t allow himself to be confused by their fake relationship. She knew how he felt, and she’d already told him she wasn’t ready for more, and it wouldn’t be right to pressure her.

Plus, she’d said their first kiss was bad, earlier. And maybe she hadn’t mean it the way it sounded; he couldn’t be entirely sure. But still, he doubted anyone went from calling a kiss “bad” one minute to declaring their undying love in the next.

Bad. Bad? She’d thought it was bad? He’d thought it was pretty earth-shattering himself, but…no. He wasn’t going to allow himself to dwell on the thought she hadn’t been as moved by their first kiss as he was. Of course she wasn’t. Didn’t that basically sum up their whole relationship? That she barely noticed moments that left him wanting more?

So, no. He shouldn’t say anything. He should absolutely keep his feelings to himself. Keep repeating to himself that none of it meant anything.

But it felt like it had meant something.

Before he could resume his mental merry-go-round, torturing himself with questions that had no clear answers, he heard a sound at his front door. Sitting up, he strained to listen and heard it again. Light tapping, like someone faintly knocking.

Confused, he jumped out of bed and headed to the door. When he looked through the peephole and saw a familiar tumble of red hair, he caught his breath. Could it really be Zoey? Had he somehow conjured her there with his thoughts? Or was his sleep-deprived brain playing tricks on him?

He saw her shoulders slump as she stepped away from the door, her movements unsteady, and fumbled with the lock as he tried to pull it open before she could leave. “Zoey? What are you doing here?”

#zoey's extraordinary playlist #zep #zoey clarke #max richman #the lies we tell ourselves #clarkeman #zoman #zax #fanfiction #my fanfiction

39 notes · View notes

seabasstrash · 6 years ago

Text

Peanut Butter Eggs~ B.B.

Word Count- 2065

Warnings- fluff

A/N- This is for @buckysforeverprincess Hop Into Spring 3k challenge!! I so LOVED writing this one!! My prompt was “I can’t believe you’ve never had a peanut butter egg!” It is bolded in the story. This is my first writing challenge so I hope you enjoy it!!

It was almost Easter time and you were getting everything prepared in the Avengers tower. You had asked around to see what everyone’s plans were for Easter and when most of them said they were just going to be hanging around that day you decided that you would plan a little dinner for everyone.

You also decided that you were going to have an Easter egg hunt since you knew most of them had never done an Easter egg hunt and you had to do one at least once in your life. So before you did anything, you made a list of everything you needed to get to get ready for this. You had talked with Tony and he was all for it, he even gave you one of his credit cards to pay for everything. Which you weren’t complaining about at all.

You finished making your lists and grabbed your jacket and purse and were just about out the door when you hear someone yelling your name.

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” You hear that deep scruffy voice that you have fallen in love with. Then you see him as he comes around the corner. You couldn’t help the smile that lights up your face as you see Bucky come jogging towards you. In the few months that you had been here, you had fallen in love with this man. He wasn’t a man of many words, but then again neither were you. That’s what drew you to him in the first place.

“Hey what’s up?” You ask him with a smile on your face.

“I was just coming to see if you wanted some help?” He questions.

“Uhh.. sure…” You say, not really sure how to respond since you and Bucky hadn’t spent a lot of time together before.

He smiles at you and walks onto the elevator. You couldn’t help the blush that forms on your cheeks from being so close to Bucky in a small space like this. You hoped he didn’t really notice. It was silent the rest of the way down to the garage where the cars were. You didn’t really know what to say to Bucky. Especially when every time you tried to say something the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. So you just didn’t say anything.

You finally made it the garage and you pulled out your keys for your car. Bucky snatched them out of your hand and grinned at you.

“I’m driving.” Was all he said as you just looked at him kind of shocked at what had just happened.

“Ok then.” You whisper to yourself and head to your car where Bucky was waiting for you so he could open the car door for you. “Such a gentleman.” You thought to yourself, at least that’s what you thought happened.

“Can’t help it when a pretty lady is involved.” Bucky mumbles.

You just look up at him with wide eyes and you just knew your cheeks were turning the darkest red shade. Apparently your mouth didn’t know when to not talk because you said that out loud.

He just chuckles as you get in the car and he shuts the door and runs to the other side to get in himself. “Where to first?” He asks you.

“Well, just the supermarket, at least for now.” You say pulling your list out and making sure that was all that you needed. “We may have to stop at a drugstore to see if they have any Easter themed things, if we don’t find everything at the supermarket.”

��Sounds good.” He pulls out of the garage and heads in the direction of the supermarket. “So what’s on the list?” He asks after several minutes of awkward silence.

“Well, we need all the food to make dinner, then I want to do an Easter egg hunt as well, so we will need plastic eggs and all kinds of candy like kitkat’s, Reese's peanut butter eggs, et. cetera. Then I also want to get stuff to color eggs too!” You say getting excited as you pull out a pen to add that to the list as well.

“What is a Reese's peanut butter egg??” Bucky looks at you questioningly.

“What do you mean ‘what is a reese’s peanut butter egg’?? Have you never had a peanut butter egg??” You ask him incredulously.

“Ummm… nooo…” Bucky says slowly not sure why it’s such a big deal that he hasn’t had one before.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a peanut butter egg!!” You exclaim loudly.

“What? You act like it’s some kind of sin that I’ve never had one!” Bucky says.

“THAT’S BECAUSE IT IS! There is no way that you have gone your whole life without having one of these, I refuse to believe that.” You state trying to calm down.

“Well, you better believe it doll face, because I’ve never had one before.”

“Ok, well we will remedy that as soon as we get to the supermarket.” You state matter of factly.

You guys pull up to the supermarket and park the car and get out. Bucky grabs the shopping cart so that you can focus on marking the things off the list and finding exactly what you need. As soon as you got inside you headed straight for the chocolate aisle and found the peanut butter eggs. You grabbed a bag and started to open it so that Bucky could try one.

“Whoa whoa whoa what are you doing Y/N? You can’t just open a bag in the store before paying for it!”

“Oh relax, oldie, I’m going to buy it anyway. These are my favorite candy so I’m getting more than enough so I can have my own bag.” You look up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Excuse you, I am no oldie!” He gripes as you hand him one of the peanut butter eggs.

“Says the 102 year old man standing in front of me.” You tease him some more.

“Rude.” He says as he opens the peanut butter egg and sticks in his mouth. He chews down and you can see on his face that it is the best thing he’s ever eaten.

“See! I told you so!” You sass.

“I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without eating one of these, but holy, this is the best candy I’ve ever eaten!” He exclaims.

“I know! Now let’s keep going otherwise we are going to be here all day.” You turn around and grab a few more bags of peanut butter eggs and the rest of the candy that you needed to fill eggs and to have sitting in bowls around the Avengers tower.

You continued on through the supermarket teasing Bucky about different things. It took you a good few hours to get everything that you thought you would need for the Easter celebration and by the time you were done you were starving.

You got the car loaded with everything and then hopped in the passenger seat. “You hungry?” you ask Bucky once he gets in the car.

“Yes. Do you wanna stop somewhere and get some food?” He asks looking over at you.

“Yes! I’m starving, but we can’t be long because I don’t want the candy to melt.” You say getting excited about food, because you LOVED food.

“That’s fine, we’ll just stop at a Wendy’s and grab something quick and then head back.”

“Ugh, yes, I love Wendy’s!” You grin at him.

“I know…” He says and you see his cheeks turn a little red. You just smile and look out the window for the rest of the drive. It wasn’t a long one, which you were thankful for, because you could get quite hangry sometimes.

Bucky pulled into the parking lot and you both got out of the car. As you start heading inside you get more and more excited because you loved Wendy’s frosty’s, especially when you had fries to dip in it. You both ordered your food and waited for it to come out.

You sat and talked about the most random things while you ate. You couldn’t help the smile that was permanently on your face while you talked. You got to know each other more and more and you were hoping this wasn’t just a one time thing. You finished eating fairly quickly and then headed back to the tower. Bucky helped you carry all the bags into the kitchen, you both laughing at something that Bucky had said about Sam being a stupid bird man.

You got everything put away with the help of Bucky. Then you grabbed your bag that had the extra peanut butter cups and headed up to your room to stash them away from everyone else.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going with those!” Bucky states as he follows you up the stairs.

“I’m taking them and putting them in a safe place so that no one else can steal them.” You state matter of factly, heading towards your room. Bucky still follows you expecting to know where you stash the candy so he can have some too.

“Nuh uh uh, you don’t get to know where I hide it either, sneaky.” You say pushing him out of the doorway and closing your door. No one was allowed to touch your stash of peanut butter eggs or there would be hell to pay.

Later that night you were asleep in your room when you heard a strange noise. You slowly opened your eyes and kept as still as possible. You were trying to figure out who or what was in your room. You reached under your pillow and grabbed the knife you kept there for instances like this. You slowly pulled out the knife and sat up as quietly as you could. You walked over to the doorway and opened the door as quietly as possible. You stepped out into the hallway and made your way to the kitchen where you heard the noise. You peaked around the doorway into the kitchen and the sight made you gasp.

“Bucky!? What the heck!!?? You scared the shit out of me!” You yell at him. He hadn’t heard you come down the hallway, even with his super hearing so when you yelled at him he jumped and dropped the bag of candy that was in his hand.

He slowly turns around and faces you with a sly grin on his face. “Sorry doll, couldn’t help myself, needed more of those peanut butter eggs.”

You groan at him not very happy at being woken up from your sleep because he wanted more peanut butter eggs. “You woke me up because you wanted freaking peanut butter eggs! You better be glad that I like you too much otherwise I would have used this knife on you!” You exclaim very loudly, not realizing that you had just told Bucky that you liked him.

Bucky just stared at you for a second trying to process what you had just said. Once you realized what you said your eyes got really big and you just stood there with your mouth open trying to figure out what to say. Bucky takes a step closer to you and keeps getting closer until he is as close as he could be.

“Did… did you… just say you liked me?” He whispers, his voice so close that it gives you shivers.

“Ummm… maybe….” You breath out trying to not show the quiver in your voice at having him so close to you. He reaches his hand up and caresses your cheek, making your heart beat faster than it ever had before. You’re sure he could hear your heart beating, but you could only focus on the feeling of his hand on your cheek.

He starts leaning towards you and soon enough you feel his lips on yours. Your hands come up and wrap around his neck, running your fingers through his hair The kiss deepens as you both get into the kiss more. Soon enough you’re pushed up against the closest wall as the kiss gets more heated.

You pulled away to catch your breath. Bucky rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavy. “I like you too, by the way.” Bucky says as he leans in to kiss you again.

#hopintospring3k #buckysforeverprincess #writing challenge #k writes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfiction #imagines #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagines #marvel imagines

132 notes · View notes

axel-fics · 6 years ago

Note

could you do axel and female s/o dressing up as each other for halloween? and really well, makeup, clothes, wigs, platform shoes lol. i always thought that was funny

[y/e/c] = your eye color

[y/h/c] = your hair color

[y/h/l] = your hair length

Dopelgangers

Today was finally Halloween, a day you’ve been busy prepping for weeks. Ever since Terra and Aqua proposed a Halloween party at their place, you’ve been spending as much free time working on your costume as you could. Traditionally, you always dressed up as something in between cute and gothic like witches and vampires, but this year was a whole new level. It was pretty surprising that Axel was even remotely interested in a costume since Halloween wasn’t exactly his thing. Sure, he liked going to parties and eating as much candy as his stomach could handle, but dressing up? Not really his style. So when he threw out the idea to dress up as each other, you were shocked.

“Why not? We’ll go all out with wigs and outfits! And we can have everyone vote on who dressed up better between the two of us. A little friendly competition,” Axel had said one night over dinner.

“Okay, but you should know: I’m very competitive about this stuff. There’s no way I’m going easy on you!” Your excitement was building up while ideas started flowing through your head on how to come up with the perfect Axel costume.

“You’re on! Let the Halloween war begin.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, you had gone out shopping for various items that you needed to complete your Axel look. Some of the things you’d use were back at home, including his old Organization coat and chakrams, which you knew there’d be no way to recreate on your own. On your shopping list you had written down a red wig, a TON of styling gel for those natural spikes of hair, eyeliner, black leggings, platform shoes (because your boyfriend was a goddamn TREE) and finally green disposable contact lenses. Smiling to yourself, you knew there was no way you’d lose to Axel; you bet he wouldn’t even think to get [y/e/c] contact lenses!

Styling Axel’s hair took the longest amount of time, days to be exact. It took you three tubs of styling gel (you had to go back out and get more) and a lot of referencing at photos to finally get the wig to look the way you wanted it. It wasn’t perfect for sure, and not nearly as soft looking as Axel’s actual hair, but it was pretty damn close.

When it was finally time to get ready for the party, you instructed Axel to get ready in the living room while you locked yourself away in your shared bedroom. It had only occurred to you then that this would be the first time you’d see the whole ensemble put together all at once, but you weren’t overly worried. You sat on your bed as you pinned your hair back in a tight bun and placed bobby-pins all around to make sure no loose strands came out. Next came the colored contact lenses, which took you a bit longer to get adjusted in your eyes than you had planned. You then quickly applied the eyeliner thinly across the tops of your lids and then added the upside-down tear marks on each of your cheeks before you secured the red spiky wig on top of your head.

Halfway done, you thought. It’s looking much better than I imagined! You swiftly got off the bed to change into a black tank top and the leggings before throwing on Axel’s long leather black coat. Last but not least: the platform boots. They looked like the normal high black boots the Organization used to wear, but the heels were humongous for you. If anything, you were used to walking in something along the lines of 1 ½ inches tall, but these were ridiculous! As you stood up, you started wobbling around instantly and swung your arms around until you regained balance. You had practiced walking in them a few times before tonight, but only around your bedroom. Now, you had to walk around everywhere with them, and you started to get slightly nervous. Zipping the coat the way Axel did back in the days of the Organization, you took one final look in the mirror and smiled, extremely proud of how your costume turned out.

You creaked your bedroom door open and peered out towards the living room. “Axel, you ready for me?”

“Two more seconds!” You heard him grunt a little as he started finishing the final touches of his outfit. “Okay, let’s see how good I look!”

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and started taking baby steps towards him. Seeing Axel in costume, you couldn’t help but let out a loud snort and start cracking up. He looked so silly with a [y/h/c] [y/h/l] wig, loose strands falling in front of his face as he kept fidgeting around to make it sit properly on his head. There was no way he would fit in any of your clothes, but luckily your style was a simple t-shirt and jeans with converse, so it was no big deal to get those items in his size. The shirt, however, was of your favorite band’s logo which was a nice touch. He did his makeup your usual smokey eyes and even went to the trouble of applying mascara, but didn’t change his eye colors.

As he looked at you, Axel let out a low whistle. “Damn, I don’t think I want to go anymore. You definitely won!”

“Nuh-uh, we are going! I didn’t slave over this wig for days to wear it for five minutes,” you laughed.

Axel walked over to you, laughing at the new height difference between you. You normally came up to his forearm, but now you were above his shoulder and almost eye-to-eye. “Impressive. You make me look better than me.”

“Aww, well I hope you can keep your hands off yourself for the party,” you teased as you cupped his cheek.

“Har-dee-har, very funny. Let’s get going! I wanna get there before Roxas stuffs his face with all the sea-salt ice cream bars. Apparently they’re shaped like pumpkins!”

~*~

Walking to Terra and Aqua’s was…a challenge. The platform shoes slowed you down drastically, and they hurt like hell within a couple blocks. You’re pretty sure you felt blood sloshing around at some point, but there was no way you were going to miss this party. You continued limping and wincing through the pain before Axel finally stopped you. “Can you at least take them off until we get there? You can barely walk.”

“I’m good, really! Their apartment is only two blocks away,” you managed to smile slightly through your teeth, ignoring the pain in your ankles.

Five steps later, you felt your ankle bend the wrong way and you lost complete balance. Axel was a full step ahead of you and barely had time to grab your wrist to catch you before you crashed down to the ground and let out a yelp in pain.

“Are you okay?!”

“No, ugh! I-I think I heard something crack,” you said as you grabbed your ankle.

“Don’t move, let me see,” Axel bent down and unzipped your platform boot, slowly removing it to avoid any more pain. Your ankle was already swelling up and turning black and blue. “It might be broken, [Y/N]. We gotta get you to a hospital to have it looked at.”

“But what about the party?”

Hearing you whine, Axel couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? I’m taking you to get an X-Ray and that’s final. C’mon, Mini-Me, up on my back.” Axel perched himself on the ground with his back towards you, allowing you to carefully climb up and wrap your arms around the back of his neck before slowly standing up. He placed his arms underneath your thighs, being extra careful to prop up your injured ankle, and turned around to walk towards the hospital.

A few moments later, you felt tears sting the corners of your eyes. As much pain as you were in, you were more upset over yourself for ruining Halloween for Axel. For once, you had to be your usual klutzy self, didn’t you?

“Everything okay back there?”

“I’m sorry. I ruined everything,” you mumbled.

“What? No way, [Y/N]. It was an accident. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for being so damn tall,” Axel laughed.

You scoffed back and couldn’t help but smile. “Next time I’ll just dress up as a tree and say I’m you. I mean, I’m not wrong.”

“There’s my sarcastic girl,” Axel said.

Hours later, your had your X-Ray done and you were lucky to only have a fractured ankle. You still had to walk around on crutches though, much to your dismay. Before leaving the hospital, Axel had asked a nurse for an extra pair of crutches.

“Afraid I might lose the first pair?” You raised an eyebrow and watched him skeptically as you exited the hospital.

“Nope, I can’t be you for Halloween without crutches! I told you, I’m here to win!” Axel gave you a shit-eating grin and winked before he started off towards the party.

“You think you’re so funny, Axel?? Wait until I catch up to you!”

~*~

BONUS

“Uh…do I really want to know?” Roxas asked while looking at the two of you.

“Nope.“

#axel x reader #axel #kh axel #kh lea #lea #lea x reader #kingdom hearts #fluff #humor #halloween

34 notes · View notes

dangan-meme-palace · 6 years ago

Text

Yandere DRV3 Boys

I fucked up the ask but I hope whoever requested this likes it :’)

The girls can be found right here

(Trigger Warnings for the following: Abuse (Emotional and Physical), Kidnapping, Manipulation, Suicide, Self Harm, Eating Disorders, Implied Murder, and Implied Torture)

Rantaro Amami

Probably fell in love with you when you asked him for help with something and thanked him for it by helping him with something he was struggling with

Wants to feel needed 24/7 so he just kinda

Does everything for you

All the time

Whether that means doing your homework, bringing you a lunch, buying you expensive gifts, or just being a shoulder to lean on

God help the people you vent about though

He's basically your personal problem solver so when people are the problem there's only one solution

Doesn't really mind you having friends because they make you happy and that's all he really wants

But again, god help the ones he deems unworthy

Definitely introduces you to his sisters

The amount of attention and devotion he gives to you probably worries his sisters though, and can lead to fights between him and them

They realize he's running himself ragged trying to take care of everything for you but he doesn't see that as a problem

In his mind you're helpless and need his help all the time and since he loves you why wouldn't he try to help :)

Who cares if he's tired, you take priority :))

You have to be careful about trying to get him to take breaks because if he knows what you're doing he'll get huffy

So you have to be like “awww maaaannn I'm super tired, will you cuddle with me for a while?" and hope for the best

Make sure you put in some effort too

He has it in his head that he needs to be doing everything for the both of you so

Make!! Sure!! He!! Rests!!

He'll overwork himself if you don't

He also makes a lot of decisions for you so if Y'all go to a restaurant he's ordering for the both of you

Overall a good boy who I would die for

Kokichi Ouma

Did somebody say mind games?

Probably fell in love with you when you exceeded his predictions multiple times

I imagine he's a lot like Izuru and Junko when it comes to being bored so when you came along his heart just !!!!

Finally, someone who didn't bore him to tears

And that's when things went from bad to worse

Gets really clingy shortly after his obsession starts

Always making excuses to be near you

He just doesn't wanna lose the only person who isn’t absolutely boring, okaaayyy~?

That being said you're not allowed to talk to other people period

He takes it as a personal offense tbh

Wants you to talk to him, pay attention to him and just never look away

Talking to you is something he enjoys immensely btw

Bonus points if you can see through his bullshit

Not gonna lie he's probably gonna threaten you a lot

Don't get him wrong he loves you dearly but

He wants to be the only one you think of

Would kidnap you given the chance

Probably tried to get DICE to kidnap you but since they thought it was a bit much for a “prank" they didn't do it

He screamed and yelled when they didn't

They're terrified of him at this point but that doesn't matter because he has you!!

Have fun being locked in what used to be DICE HQ

He doesn't actually love you btw

It's just flat out obsession

Try your best to keep him entertained with you

If you don't he's gonna be sorely disappointed in you and you're gonna be horribly disfigured by the end of it

After all, what do you do with toys you don't like anymore?

: )

Kiibo

Probably didn't realize he fell in love until waaaaay later

All he knew was that you were really nice to him and caused him to overheat like a motherfucker

Poor Miu honestly

She's probably the one who told him about his feelings but we all know she gave him more questions than answers

Google: what is a smash and why do I want to do it????

Bless him

He just wants to impress you so he researches fucking everything he can about dating

Also if you like the more robotic aspects of him he asks Miu for hella upgrades

Would straight up do anything for you just so you would keep looking at him

Gets jealous a fair amount but he doesn't know what it is or why he feels it so he just acts pouty

That being said he's kinda indifferent towards your friends for the most part but he doesn't think they deserve you

He's done so much for you to keep looking at him and what have they done? Nothing, that's what.

You trying to leave him would be your downfall

Idk why you would but if you did that's when he fuckin snaps

He's tried so hard and you still won't look his way

Nuh-uh

His thinking does a 180 and now he expects you to do everything you can to make it up to him

If you don't he's gonna get real nasty with you

Not above blackmail and threats at this point

He acts like you owe him everything

Why couldn't you just love him for the jetpack??!?

Shuichi Saihara

S t a l k e r

Fell in love when you were consistently nice to him

Probably sees it as some sort of debt that he can never pay back

Like Rantaro he just wants to make you happy but unlike Rantaro he's doing it from the sidelines

Leaves nice notes in your locker, candy in your desk, and anything he can think to do to make you happy

Doesn't care if you know it's him

He just needs to pay you back for being such a kind person

If you find out it's him he's over the moon

Until you say you want him to stop

W hat???? Why????

He's near tears you fucking monster

When you explain it's just because you feel guilty that he's putting in all this effort he reassures you that it's fine

He would do anything for you after all

Now if you're not a cuntlord like me and you don't want him to keep doing this he's heartbroken

Takes it as a flat-out rejection

And that's when the emotional manipulation rears its ugly head

The worst part is he's not trying to manipulate you he's doing this because he feels like he needs to

And by this I mean he's eating and sleeping less and probably started cutting himself as a sick form of punishment for making you mad at him

You were just too kind to do it yourself so he has to do it

When you find out and tell him to stop again he's sobbing

He just doesn't know what you want him to do any more

You need to be real careful around him at that moment

Reject him and he will lose all faith in himself along with any confidence he ever had

Might kill himself not gonna lie

Choose to accept him and he's listening to everything you say like its gospel

If you want something done it gets done no matter what

Just… try not to abuse your power… he'll make himself sick trying to do everything for you

Overall he's a really big emo and I love him a lot; 10/10 would die for this man

Ryoma Hoshi

Another emo piece of shit

He's a lot like Shuichi except he doesn't stalk you

He just kinda stays at your side

Unless you tell him to go away; then he's stalking you

Fell for you for the same reason Shuichi did except you really had to give it your all

He sees you as his new reason to live and thinks that since you saved his life it's only fair that he spends it trying to make you happy

It's the least he can do

As a bonus, he would totally let you make a whole bunch of short jokes and would genuinely laugh at every one of them lmao

If you tell him to stop hanging around you he is crushed

Starts taking risks like no tomorrow

He smokes 2 packs a day and is right back where he started, if not worse, on the suicidal front

Doesn't even try to make it up to you because he doesn't believe he can

You were his second chance and he blew it

Now he's just stuck in this funk until he eventually just dies

He either kicks the bucket from health problems caused by smoking or doing something stupid like walking into traffic

All he wanted was to make you happy

Kaito “luminary of the stars" Momota

Fell for you when you both were talking about space and you managed to out-nerd him

Wholeheartedly believes he deserves you

Why wouldn't he? After all, he's a fucking astronaut

An astronaut

Who wouldn't want a cool guy like him?

Apparently, you, because when he started flirting with him you shut him down immediately.

Well shit

That's okay! He likes them feisty too!

Tries showing off but nothing's working

Okay, now he's pissed.

Great.

He still keeps trying but on the inside, he's starting to doubt himself

Why isn't THE Kaito Momota good enough for you

Truly snaps for the first time when he finds out you have a boyfriend

Why the Fuck would you pick some loser, who's not even an astronaut, over him: Kaito. Mother. Fucking. Momota.

He's done

Kidnaps you and tortures your boyfriend in front of you

He doesn't even care if you love him as long as your his, you can hate him all you want for all he cares

He might even hate you a little bit back tbh

You're nothing more than a trophy to him right now

Can somebody say yikes?

Gonta Gokuhara

Precious

Too good for this

I can totally see him kidnapping you and keeping you in a giant terrarium though

He would probably fall for you after you weren't afraid of him due to his stature. Also, if you say you like bugs (even just one bug like a butterfly or a ladybug)

After he started obsessing over you he also started killing his entire bug collection

Gonta only collects the prettiest of bugs after all

Why would he need all those ugly bugs when he has the prettiest thing he has ever laid eyes on locked away for his eyes only

Might realize it's wrong to keep you locked up but not before you lose hope of ever getting out and break

Actively tries to get you out of your cage now

Doesn't work though because you barely talk and don't move on your own

:’D

Korekiyo “I will rip out your nerves” Shinguji

Let's get this straight: He doesn't love you.

He's obsessed with you, yeah

But he doesn't love you

He wants to observe your beauty and nothing more

Actually won't kidnap you

Hurray!

He just intensively stalks you

Un-hurray!

It's gotten to the point where he can predict you with ease

He knows your schedule, your hangouts, your friends, and your mother's maiden name

Probably has tea with your mother on the weekends, just saying

He prioritizes watching you above everything, even food and hygiene

He's getting a little thin… :( your mom is worried about her new friend :(

Doesn't matter because how could he miss you doing laundry!! So exciting!!

The big drawback with this man is that all he does is watch

If you're getting bullied, beat on, made fun of, abused; does not fucking matter

Kukukuku the faces you make while you're in agony are exquisite

Overall he's not much of a problem unless you don't want to be watched 24/7

….

I still hate him tho

3K notes · View notes

honeylikewords · 6 years ago

Note

Poe being a perfect gentleman on the road trip, even when you end up at a horrible roadside motel with only one bed *wink*

OH, COME ON, I’M GONNA BLUSH!

But... I will admit, it is a little romantic to think about, and I’m all excited by the thought, so I’ll write a little something for it, because I can’t deny myself a teeny bit of self-indulgence on this rough road...

I like to imagine that if Poe were to go on a road trip with a certain someone he likes (before they’ve officially entered any kind of relationship or voiced their feelings because GOD I love some mutual pining), he’d be trying his best to show how romantic and fun he can be. He’d be running to her side of the car and opening the door for her before she can even get out, constantly asking if she’s comfortable (”You need to get out and stretch your legs? You wanna eat? Is it too hot? You need a break?”), making sure she’s well-cared for.

He surprises her with little gifts from the gas station as she comes out of the bathroom, presenting her with a box of her favorite candies at one station, at the next with a pack of novelty hair clips with cute fruit shapes on them, et cetera. It’s his quiet, small way of spoiling her just a touch.

If they pull up to nifty little roadside attractions, he’ll give her his sweetest smile and puppy-dog eyes and ask if they can take pictures together, and when she agrees, his heart flutters with joy. The smiles he wears in those photos with her are so genuine and loving that everyone who looks at them can tell that they’re pictures of a man deep, deep in love with the woman in frame with him.

One night, however, the drive gets long and they’re in a largely empty stretch of highway. Poe can tell she’s getting really, truly tired-- the kind of tired that can’t be solved with an in-car nap-- so he starts scanning the horizon for signs of a hotel. He quickly checks the GPS for any nearby hotels and frowns as he realizes that all there is for miles and miles and miles is one cruddy little motel. But it’ll have to do; Poe’s getting sleepy, too.

They pull into the parking lot and Poe heads to the front desk, asking for a room. Turns out the motel is tiny and largely full, seeing as a biking group had taken up most of the available rooms, but there is one room left vacant. Poe takes it.

He jogs back to the car with their key and opens the door for his crush, smiling at her sweetly as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers, taking her hand and helping her out of the car, his tummy in knots to feel her soft little fingers in his hand, “I got us a room.”

“Mm,” she replies, giving a yawn and stretching so that her back pops (which, sadly, pulls her hand out of Poe’s grasp...), then goes to the trunk to retrieve her bag. “Thank you,” she calls.

Poe quickly follows her and grabs both their bags, keeping her hands free, hiking both bags over to their room. It’s dumb, but he always insists on carrying her bags; he likes showing off, in however small a way, how strong he is, how caring, how chivalrous. It’s dumb, but it makes him feel good to do these small things for her.

When they arrive at the door, Poe unlocks it and flicks the lights on, then furrows his brow as his stomach dances in jittery, excited, anxious waves.

One bed looks back at them. And it’s not a big bed.

Poe apologetically smiles over his shoulder at the girl he’s sweet on, trudging in and placing the bags at the foot of the bed. He sheepishly rubs his neck and gives her a little shrug, chewing at his lower lip as he tries to fight back his giddiness at the idea of sharing a bed. Sharing a bed!

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “All the other rooms were booked and I didn’t realize it was just one bed and--”

“It’s okay,” interrupts the girl, stepping to his side and squeezing his bicep with an understanding hand. He tries to disguise the warmth flooding his cheeks by looking down at the sheets. “We’re both grown-ups, we can share.”

“I can seriously sleep on the floor if it’d make you feel safer, you know.”

“First of all, I already know I’m safe with you, Poe. You’d never hurt me.”

“You’re right about that,” he happily whispers, tempted to take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly, but he abstains.

“Second, do you have any idea how filthy these floors are? I... I don’t even wanna think about what might be in there. No way. Nuh uh.”

“Oh. ...Eugh.”

“Yeah. So, we’re sharing. Besides, it’s, um...” Poe watches her face as her words trail off, a certain nervousness coming over her expression. “It’s... well, you know, the air conditioning seems really strong in this room-- hotels are always so cold--and, um, uh... beds are warmer with two, right?”

Poe swears he’s floating on little clouds beneath his shoes, his stomach gleefully spinning with the same sensation he gets when he soars down the hill of a rollercoaster.

“Yeah,” Poe replies, biting at the swell of his lip. “Nice and warm.”

The two then unpack a little, but keep watching the other, peeking over their shoulders when they think the other isn’t looking. Poe gets the dopiest smile on his lips every time he glances at her, gazing lovingly as she takes her clothes for the next day out and prepares her toiletries. He misses it when she looks back at him and gets her own dopey smile as she watches him unfold his t-shirt and jeans for the next morning.

When she ducks into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, Poe collapses on the bed and lets out a dreamy, boyish sigh, his cheeks hot with the idea of being in such close proximity to her. Sleeping together-- no, not like that!, he corrects himself-- would be such an intimate thing, and the thought of it bubbles up in his stomach and into his chest like the sparkles in champagne. The door clicks open and Poe turns his head, sitting up as she walks into the main room.

She’s wearing the cutest set of matching pajamas, printed with sprinkle-y donuts. He loves donuts. She climbs onto the bed and sits in front of him for a minute, the two of them exchange wordless looks, each seeming to be waiting for something.

Poe clears his throat when he realizes he’s been staring at her (and her lips) for too long and turns away, standing up and heading to his side of the bed. He pulls down the covers, then gestures to her like a waiter guiding a guest to their table.

“You first,” he smiles, trying his best to put her at ease. No need to make this more awkward than it needs to be.

She nods graciously and slips between the sheets, turning so that her back faces the edge of the bed and her front faces him. Poe feels the tips of his ears go hot as he slides between the sheets, too, and mirrors her posture, facing her in the bed.

Once again, they stare at each other for a few silent seconds, Poe unsure of what to do. Then, she breaks the stillness by extending her hand, winding it up and out of the sheets. Her palm comes to rest on his cheek, her fingers curling and uncurling as she strokes the stubbly beginnings of Poe’s beard. He knows his face must be scorchingly hot, but he dares not move: he can’t bear to break this spell.

She stares at his chin and strokes her fingers along the scrape of his stubble, his jaw cupped in her palm. She follows the shape of his beard, tracing her fingers along the hairline, and Poe nearly shudders at the sensation. As her fingers brush his lips, he draws a sharp breath in, and her gaze breaks from his jaw and up to his eyes.

For a few seconds, she says nothing. Then, she smiles at him, pushing the pad of her thumb on the plumpest part of his lip. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

“You look nice with a beard,” she says. “You should grow it out.”

“I... I was thinking I oughta,” Poe retorts, trying to maintain his cool. “For that hipster look. Maybe we can make gas money if I play on street corners. The beard might help.”

“Maybe,” shrugs the woman in bed with him. “I was just thinking it’s handsome.”

“O-oh.”

“Mm.”

Her lids flutter rather heavily and she yawns, burying her face into the pillow. Her hand remains on his cheek, sleepily rubbing back and forth over the roughness of Poe’s stubble. She seems to enjoy the sensation, sighing pleasurably as she scrapes her nails gently along the wiry hairs. Poe lets a shiver slip down his spine.

“Poe?”

“Uh-huh?”

“It’s cold,” she mumbles, lips pushed into the pillow.

“You want me to tinker with the air-con unit?”

“Nuh,” she yawns. “Do you wanna cuddle?”

“...Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

Poe’s heart chases itself around in his chest, his heartbeat audible in his ears, his fingers twitching with the pounding of his pulse. He scoots closer in the bed, feeling the heat of her body radiating out into the sheets, and he puts his hand on the small of her back, staring with anticipation as he awaits her next move.

She pushes her face off the pillow and sleepily lands on his chest, wrapping him in a hug. Her legs tangle with his (he tries to control his trembling), and she lets out a contented sigh.

“You’re warm,” says she.

“So are you.”

“Good.”

“...Goodnight, princess.”

“Mm. Goodnight, flyboy.”

Her hands stroke up and down the expanses of Poe’s back, and Poe allows himself to rub at the small of her back and rest his cheek on the top of her head. He cuddles in and lets himself drift off to the sound of her rhythmic breathing, the hum of his heartbeat melding with hers. He’s wanted this for so long, and having it, having her in his arms...

He doesn’t move all night. He stays still and warm, cradling her close. As he falls asleep, the two of them naturally inch closer together, pressing into the organic shapes of lovers, safe in one another’s arms.

It’s the best night either of them has had for the whole trip.

Send Me Asks While I’m On My Roadtrip!

#long post #fave #mega fave #gif warning #poe dameron #this is INCREDIBLY SELF INDULGENT #Anonymous

9 notes · View notes

hitchell-mope · 5 years ago

Text

After joker and the thief

The crowds run away. The sky gets darker. Carlos loses all his swagger and confidence and hides behind jay. A flock of ravens fly down from a building towards the teenagers. The ravens grow closer together forming...)

Maleficent: well

Mal: um. I’m so sorry. We tried really hard

Evie: thanks for landing us in it magenta

Mal (to Evie): SHUDDIT. (To Maleficent). We did but

Maleficent (eyes glowing dangerously): I do not want to hear it. Once again. You have failed at the most basic and simplistic of instructions. Use your magic and that of your minions to bring down the barrier to free me from this prison. And you keep failing!

(During this little speech the four teens are doubled over in pain)

Carlos: we’re sorry we’re sorry we’re sorry

(Maleficent stalks over to Carlos and grabs him by the chin)

Maleficent: oh I know you are. Believe me. I know how sorry you are. No. No. Don’t cry. Sweet puppy. Don’t cry. It will just make what I have to say worse off for you.

(With that she launches him into the air. Missing the barrier by inches. The other three set the faces in an attempt to stop themselves from helping him. Jay bites his tongue to hold back the tears)

Maleficent: now

(Mal rushes over catches Carlos and holds him until he stops shaking)

Maleficent (unmoved by this display of blatant affection): follow me

(The four of the follow her into the building. They’re greeted by Grimhilde and Jafar)

Grimhilde: sweetheart I do so hope you weren’t eating while you were amongst the rabble.

Evie: n nuh nao

Grimhilde: you know how much I detest mumbling. Enunciate or I shall have to feed your tongue to Diablo

Evie (swallowing hard): I. Found a peach at the market. I took it. And threw it at a commoner.

Grimhilde: good. I have to keep you at the proper size of you are to ever find a husband on this trash heap.

Jafar: oh your majesty come now. (Much to Evie’s horror he caresses her chin with his hand). Your daughter has grown into a fine young lady that any man would be lucky to wed

Evie (small voice): mother. May I.

Grimhilde: permission granted.

Evie: thank you

(Her eyes glow bright sapphire blue and she sinks her teeth into the mans hand. He howls in pain)

Jafar (raiding his hand to slap her): you worthless little who

Jay (grabbing his dads wrist): don’t you dare touch her.

(Jafar stops and contemplates his son. Then slaps jay so hard the teen in knocked to the floor. He grabs his son by the hair and pulls him up to face him. There’s a small trickle of blood on the left corner of jay’s mouth)

Jafar: if you ever. Ever. Talk to me like that again. I will make you kill the pet. Do you understand me boy?

Jay: yes sir. I promise I’ll behave

Jafar: good.

Maleficent (rapping her sceptre on the ground): enough! We are off subject. Girls. Take him outside and clean him up. Nothing should ever blemish such a pretty face

(Once they’re alone. More importantly. Carlos is alone. Among three very powerful adults)

Jay (cleans himself up): there. I’m pretty again. Let’s go back inside and help C.

Evie: too quick.

Jay and Mal: do you really want to prolong this?

Evie: you both know I don’t. But we all know she’ll know if we don’t take our time. I’ve got the ointment. Mal you take the stitches.

(Back inside)

Maleficent: tell me boy. How long does it normally take the girls to clean him up after injuries.

Carlos: anywhere from thirty seconds to three minutes.

Maleficent: very well then. We shall wait three minutes exactly. Or. You are to go home with your mother

(Later)

Maleficent: would you look at that. And with 45 seconds to spare as well. Mal! Sit! Scalp!

(She sifts through her daughters hair growing more and more disappointed by the second)

Maleficent: still nothing. Not even bumps. You my girl need to try harder. The most important lesson I can teach you is how to be me

Mal (at the same time): ...how to be you. I understand mother. And I promise I’ll do better.

Maleficent: I know you will. Because you know what will happen if you don’t

(Carlos’s screams echo in Mal’s head)

Mal: yes

Maleficent: now. On to business. You four have been chosen to go to a new school. In Auradon.

Mal: what?

Jay: I don’t uniforns

Carlos: are there dogs there?

Evie (wistfully): or princes

Grimhilde: I told you my girl would take it well

Maleficent: like everything else in your pitiful little lives you have no choice in this matter or any other. It’s quite simple really. You go to Auradon. You get the fairy godmothers wand. Destroy all those who get in your way. Free me. And I will subjugate the survivors

Mal: what’s in it for us?

Maleficent: the knowledge that you and I have finally triumphed

Carlos: I think she means us?

(He does the “whole lot of us” gesture)

Maleficent: Oh. Well. I suppose Mal does need minions. So I guess I will allow you to live. Mal. Walk with me

(Mal follows her mother out to the terrace)

Maleficent: now. I never thought much of you. The incessant wailing nearly cracked my horns. But it was that wonderful piece of pettiness that convinced me you had it in you to be one of the greatest threats the realms have ever seen

Mal: Oh?

Maleficent: behind me of course dear.

Mal: Oh

Maleficent: my freedom rest on your scrawny little shoulders. Do not fuck it up. Oh for Lucifers sake. She’s back. Hide the human

(Mal looks down. She blanches. She runs back into the room and pulls Carlos into the sleeping area behind the curtain)

Carlos (fearfully): she’s back isn’t she?

(Mal holds his head in her hands. And he falls into a dreamless noiseless sleep. At that moment the door bangs open. A rather tall unkempt doddering figure stands in the doorway smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Her half black and half white hair tangled and greasy. On her skeletal frame hangs an unwashed moulting coat made of dog fur. She’s swaying slightly in a drunken stupor. Despite the six very powerful magic users in the room already the woman exudes an aura of menace that only a human mortal can have

Cruella: CARLOS. WHERE ARE YOU YOU FOUL LI(hic)TLLE WRETCH

Grimhilde: he’s not here De Vil. We sent him back forty minutes ago.

Cruella: well he isn’t there.

Jafar: listen you gin soaked bitch. You know damn well that it takes an hour to get to your hovel.

Cruella: very weh (brarp) ell the then. But I assure you that if he isn’t there. I will find him.

The other three parents: oh you will

(Cruella leaves)

Maleficent: she’s gone. Wake it up

Carlos: is she...?

Jay: yeah

Maleficent: are you quite happy now Mal? I kept the mutt from the drunk. After all I’ve done for you. Won’t you go to Auradon and do this one measly little thing for me?

Mal (resigned to her fate): how long do we have to pack?

Maleficent: to hours. Starting now

(Evie heads to the door)

Grimhilde: wait. You forgot the appliances!

Maleficent: well then open the safe

(Grimhilde, rolling her eyes, opens the fridge door. She chuck the spellbook at Mal who catches it)

Mal: there’re pages missing

Maleficent: Oh. I tore them out. They’re of no use to anyone. After all. Nobody loves you. And they only work if there are wretched feelings originally

Mal (realising what her mother means and feeling even more useless then usual): Oh

Grimhilde: Evie. This mirror can show you anything and everything you want. I assume you know the incantation

Evie: yes mother

Jafar: I don’t have anything to give to you. Frankly I don’t think you’re worth it.

Jay: ok pops.

Maleficent: So you lot pack. And in two hours meet back here for collection

(They teenagers leave)

Carlos: we’re not going to be here this time tomorrow. I. I want to. To dance. But

Mal: I know buddy.

Jay: where the hell are you going

Evie: I’m saying goodbye.

Mal: to what?

Carlos: I know. Don’t worry. I know

(Elsewhere)

Evie (speaking into the mic): hey. You’re probably still in bed and. Um. I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this but. Me Carlos jay and the one who hates me have been picked to go to Auradon. You know. The uh the place where with the princes. I’ll come back. Once I’ve settled in I’ll come back. This is a promise. I promise you that I will come back and get you and bring you back with me. And I would really like it if you came and said goodbye. But if you can’t. Goodbye sis.

(She darts back to Maleficent’s building)

Jay: got everything E?

Evie: yeah

Carlos: you said your goodbyes?

Evie: yes. I gave her the peach

Carlos: naturally

Mal: so how are we gonna do this?

Jay: I sit up front. You next to me. Carlos next you. E next to Carlos.

Mal: of course. Of course. But I was referring to this

(She opens the door and shows the the thousands of sweets and candy and junk food in the limos snack bar)

Mal: bon appétit

(The other three scramble into the limo. Mal looks back at the terrace to see her mother staring coldly down at her. They’re eyes glow in farewell. And Mal gets in the limo between jay and Carlos)

(Later. POV shot. Someone’s running hurriedly to Maleficent’s. They get there just after the limo leaves the barriers confines. Maleficent notices them and sneers)

Maleficent: you are too late my girl. You know she will forget you right. They all will. That illusion of caring she gives will disappear the moment she gets a taste of the life she thinks she deserves. You’d be better off forgetting about. Because you and I both know she will forget about you

(With that she stalks back inside and it starts to rain)

#disney descendants #mal bertha #carlos de vil #jay son of jafar #evie grimhilde #maleficent descendants #charlize theron #evil queen descendants #lana parrilla #jafar descendants #naveen andrews #cruella de vil descendants #zendaya!mal

5 notes · View notes

la-knight · 6 years ago

Photo

BOOKS I (RE)READ IN 2018: FURTHERMORE BY TAHEREH MAFI

"Alice Alexis Queensmeadow, 12, rates three things most important: Mother, who wouldn’t miss her; magic and color, which seem to elude her; and Father, who always loved her. Father disappeared from Ferenwood with only a ruler, almost three years ago. But she will have to travel through the mythical, dangerous land of Furthermore, where down can be up, paper is alive, and left can be both right and very, very wrong. Her only companion is Oliver whose own magic is based in lies and deceit. Alice must first find herself—and hold fast to the magic of love in the face of loss." "Red was ruby, green was fluorescent, yellow was simply incandescent. Color was life. Color was everything. Color, you see, was the universal sign of magic." "Love, it turned out, could both hurt and heal." "Narrow-mindedness will only get you as far as Nowhere, and once you're there, you're lost forever.” "Alice was an odd girl, even for Ferenwood, where the sun occasionally rained and the colors were brighter than usual and magic was as common as a frowning parent." "Making magic is far more interesting than making sense." So I actually read this book a few months ago and then recently reread it via audio so I could remember all the details for this review. I was first introduced to Tahereh Mafi’s work through her book Shatter Me, her debut novel. Ironically, it wasn’t through any of the ways I normally hear about books - Booktube, Goodreads, my best friend, Booklr - but from my husband’s aunt. She runs - or used to run, not sure if she’s still doing it - a book review blog. And she posted a review of Shatter Me and I was like, “What a weird, interesting writing style, lemme check this out.” At this point the entire Shatter Me Trilogy plus novellas had been published and I devoured all of them (still need to review those, too). So when I heard Tahereh Mafi was writing a middle grade book, I got super excited! Especially because this was during a time when I was too stressed out to read any YA, since most of the YA I like involves having to save the world and all the stress that entails. I need to lay out some trigger warnings real quick: the main character, Alice? Her mom is incredibly abusive, both emotionally and physically. It’s treated as not such a big deal in the book, which is honestly the story’s only real flaw, but it’s bad. It took me seven tries and resorting to an audiobook (and even with a fantastic narrator, that short audiobook took me almost a month to get through) because the abuse was so bad. So:

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE OF A CHILD BY THEIR PARENT

Let’s get started, yo! First of all, the setting. OMG. See, I love tthis thing called Victorian fairy tales, which is something you can find in books like Mary Poppins - these super fantastical bits of whimsy that just warm your heart and make you grin because they’re so creative and fun. In the Mary Poppins books, you can jump into chalk drawings and go to a circus amidst the stars and make friends with a woman who sells living candy-cane horses. In Catherynne Valente’s Fairyland series, there are shadow balls and talking phonographs. And in Furthermore, there’s light raining down from the sky in literal drops, sticks of magic you use like money, and forests full of invisible berries. The way the world is put together and described, so full of color and imagination, is awesome and beautiful and I could picture it perfectly. It reminded me in all the best ways of books like The Phantom Tollbooth (one of my favorites). But I wouldn’t want to live there, because Ferenwood is full of colorism and ick. Alice, the female lead, is an albino in a world where color is important and the darker you are, the more magical you’re considered to be. So Alice gets treated like garbage.

Also I think Alice may be autistic, but I don’t know if she’s deliberately coded autistic or if Tahereh Mafi did it by accident while trying to make Alice eccentric, but she comes across as autistic. I’ve actually begun to pay more attention to that sort of the thing in recent years, being autistic myself, and I see it a lot - authors giving their characters autistic characteristics, often without meaning to. I just touch on it here because Alice is already treated badly for being albino, but she’s also considered a freak because of the way she behaves - like an autistic preteen. And I wonder if Tahereh Mafi did that on purpose as a sort of commentary or not, because while Alice is treated badly by the people of Ferenwood for her behavior, the Narrator (who is an actual character in the story; love when that happens) always sides with Alice in this regard. The storyline is sweet and I love it. Alice tries to compete in the magical testing all the preteens do on their twelfth birthday, and so she dances. And her dancing is magical but it’s not Magical, you know? So she fails the test. Well, turns out a boy who passed the test the year before, Oliver (the brat), needs Alice’s help fulfilling a quest - rescuing Alice’s missing dad. So they go on a quest together, although Alice hates Oliver (and rightly so, he’s rude). They go to a dozen different and cool places, all of which are dangerous and all of which are different. I wish we could’ve spent more time in those places but I understand why we didn’t. The only annoying thing is there’s an origami fox on the cover but it only pops up in one of the worlds for like two pages and then it’s gone and I thought we could spend more time both in that world and with that creature since it ended up on the cover. But alas, not. I understand why - middle grade is often cursed to be short, especially if it’s the author’s first MG novel ever. Once you get big and bad like Rick Riordan you can start tossing out gihugic tomes like Son of Neptune or Blood of Olympus on the regular. Oliver’s reason for needing Alice was one I didn’t see coming, nor was her magical talent - a talent they hint at throughout the book but never explain until near the end, at the perfect moment. I thought it was an interesting commentary on how young girls perceive themselves, that Alice hates this marvelous, amazing talent she has of bringing color into the world from nothing...because she can’t use it to change how she looks. Society has trained her already, by the age of twelve, to discount something incredible about herself because she can’t use it to make herself into what society wants her to be. That’s pretty impressive for a book this short. I loved some of the more deliberate messages in the work - the thing I mentioned about society’s pressures on young girls, and also that it’s okay to tell boys to screw off if they’re mean to you, and to have hope and to look for second chances (Alice thinks she only has one chance to pass the test and believes her life is over when she fails, only to find out she can try again the next year). I love all of that, and the lyrical and whimsical quality of the prose, and the world building is so creative and also makes me a bit hungry (people eat magic in this book, among other things; I wonder what it tastes like). Now...let’s talk about the abuse. That’s my biggest issue with the book. Alice’s mother is a total bitch. And not in a cool, kickass way like the lady in the show Empire. She’s vicious, she’s cruel, and she’s abusive. Alice knows - and the Narrator confirms - that she turned bad when her husband went missing, and apparently the worry for him and the strain of raising four kids on her own is making her hard and sad, but I don’t give a shit. I was hoping Tahereh Mafi would’ve gone all Hansel and Gretel on this lady and when Alice comes home with her dad, the wife’s dead or something. She beats Alice (at one point she beat Alice for chasing a boy out of the place where she was sleeping, even though he kept staring at her in her sleeping clothes, because apparently the boy - Oliver - had the right to break into their barn at 3AM and ogle Alice???), she verbally abuses Alice, she sends her to bed regularly without dinner, is constantly criticizing, won’t hug her or kiss her, and - this one really got me, for some reason - forces her to do illegal things. Those invisible berries I mentioned? Alice can find them and bring back whole baskets because of her magical gift, and so her mom sends her out to pick them all the time. If she brings home enough, her mom smiles. If she doesn’t, her mom yells and calls her names and sometimes beats her. Guess what? Picking those berries is illegal. We don’t find this out until much later in the book, but it is. The thing I didn’t like about the berries is that Oliver, who’s thirteen, is less concerned about Alice’s mother beating her for not picking enough contraband berries and instead focuses on how her ability to find the berries in the first place means Alice has really impressive magic. NOBODY seems to care how much Alice is being abused, not even the Narrator. The Narrator sympathizes with Alice’s hurt feelings and despair over her missing Father, but it’s never objectively stated that her mom is abusing her AND SHE IS. Yeah, her mom is sooo glad to have her back after Alice almost dies on her trip with Oliver, but so what? My roommate’s mom is so abusive that my roommate’s clergy leaders, doctors, and psychological therapist all said my roommate needed to cut ties with said mom, even though my roommate’s mom has also exhibited the same kind of “oh baby I’m so sorry, I love you so much” bullshit. That’s what abusers do. So I hate Alice’s mom. She literally makes her daughter feel like if she doesn’t risk her life numerous times AND bring her father back, there is no chance her mother will ever love her. And if she pulls that stuff off (which she does), then MAYBE her mother will love her. Nuh-uh. Nope. Hate that bitch. Other than that, I really loved this book. The characters felt real (Alice is me, but without my anger), Even the ones I didn’t like were still REAL, and well-drawn. The world building and word choice is fantastic. Basically, if you can get past the evil mom, read this book. World Building: 1 star Realism: 1 star Word Choice: 1 star Plot: 1 star Characterization: 1 star - ¼ star because Oliver Newbanks is an obnoxious little creep - 1 star because the mom is AN ABUSIVE EVIL BITCH - ¼ star because NOBODY DOES ANYTHING ABOUT THAT +½ star because Alice is amazing and has a genius brain and I love her Total score: 4/5 stars Would I Buy It: Yes! I own it and loved it enough I got the sequel for Christmas (in...2017...I've been sitting on this review for months...)! Would I Recommend: yes, but with trigger warnings. Again, highly abusive evil bitch mom who somehow doesn’t die.

#books of 2018 #book review #aesthetic #Furthermore #Tahereh Mafi

10 notes · View notes

uas-fics · 6 years ago

Text

Title: Boyfriends Rating: General Audiences Summary: No matter what Bebe says, Tweek knows he and Craig are plenty old enough to be boyfriends. They're both six, after all. Ships: Creek Others: Very, very, very loosely inspired by the song of the same name from the Heathers musical. Very loosely, like jeans 3 sizes to big loose.

This is pretty much pure fluff. Enjoy your bonus Monday one-shot.

Read on ao3

~~~~~

"Sooooo," Craig drew out the word, rocking on his heels, "do you wanna be my boyfriend, Tweek?"

Tweek jumped, nearly stumbling back into the side of the jungle gym. When Craig had invited him to talk at the far end of the playground after arts and crafts, he didn't tell Tweek why, just to keep it a secret and that it was really, really, really important.

Tweek pulled at his sleeve nervously. "Boyfriend? You want me to be your boyfriend? Why?"

Craig shrugged. "I dunno. Cause I like you? I think you're nice. You're smart, too! You got a smiley face sticker on your math test!"

A blush crept up Tweek's face. "T-the math test wasn't hard. Adding numbers is really easy if you use your fingers."

Craig grabbed for Tweek's hand. "I did use my fingers, and I still only got a check on mine! You're super smart! I really want you as my boyfriend, please?" His eyes shown brightly. Tweek squirmed a moment before finally nodding.

"O-ok. I'll be your boyfriend."

Craig cheered and jumped up and down, still holding tight to Tweek's hand. "Alright! Yes! I promise I'll be the best boyfriend to you, too."

"T-that's great, Craig, but, um," Tweek pulled his hand away, "what exactly do boyfriends do?"

Craig stopped his bouncing and fixed Tweek with a curious look. He opened his mouth once, shut it, opened it again, and shut it once more.

"I don't really know." He admitted after a moment. "Um, I think they...oh! I know! Stay here!" Spinning around on his heels, Craig ducked under the metal bars of the jungle gym and towards the slide. Tweek watched as he fell to his knees and began to dig in the snow.

Craig returned a minute later, a wide smile across his face. He held out his hand.

"Here, for you."

Tweek held out his own hands, and Craig plopped a tuft of grass, roots and all, into his hands. Tweek looked up, eyebrows raised.

"I don't get it. Am I suppose to get it?"

"It's a gift!" Craig stated matter-of-factly. "Boyfriends give gifts. Usually it's flowers, but the only flowers are by the big kid playground, so I got you some grass to keep instead."

Tweek eyed the grass tuft. It was a really pretty shade of green, almost the same color as his favorite type of juice box. He liked how soft the blades of grass were. It smelled a little too much like mud, but Tweek guess he liked his gift well enough. It wasn't bad.

"Do I have to give you something, too, since I'm a boyfriend?" Tweek asked.

Craig shrugged. "You don't gotta, but you can."

Tweek screwed up his face in thought for a few beats then gasped. Moving the grass tuft to one hand, he reached into his back pocket with the other. He knew he still had at least one piece of candy on him somewhere.

"Here, this is for you, Craig!" Tweek announced, shoving the sucker into Craig's hands. "I only licked a little bit of it. It still has the bubble gum in the middle."

Craig's eyes went wide. "Wow! For real?" He looped his arm around Tweek's shoulders. "Tweek, you're the best boyfriend I ever had!"

Before Tweek could reply, the teacher called their names. Recess was over. It was time to come back inside. Craig rolled his eyes at her then made that gesture with his middle finger Tweek saw him a lot, and dropped his arm.

He put the sucker in his jacket pocket then held out his hand. "We can hold hands, if you want. Boyfriends do that, too."

"Ok." Tweek wiped some of the dirt from his hands onto his pants before taking the offered hand. They took a few steps out from under the jungle gym before Tweek gasped.

"The teacher won't let me take my grass in." Tweek frowned. "Help me hide it really quick. I'm a pick up, so I can get it went my mom comes to get me."

Craig agreed, and they hurriedly hid the grass tuft by the fence near a puddle, so the grass would be able to drink until after school. After being yelled at by the teacher again, the boys ran back into the classroom for spelling time.

The rest of the day Tweek went out of his way to be extra helpful and nice to Craig, like he supposed a boyfriend would do. He sat next to him during story time. He gave half of his cookie to Craig during lunch, and even went the extra mile to hold the stall door went it was time for the class' bathroom break. While Tweek was starting to think being a boyfriend was tiring work, he still really did like it.

Craig was just as nice to him as he had been to Craig. Craig would hold his hand went they walked down the hall, at lunch he gave Tweek his apple sauce, and he even drew a picture of the two of them just for Tweek to keep.

As the class waited for the end of the day to come, Tweek scooted closer to Craig on the carpet. He put his hand on top of Craig's and leaned over.

"Hey, Craig."

"Yeah?"

"How was I? Was I a good boyfriend today? Can I be your boyfriend tomorrow, too?"

Craig smiled. "Yeah! You can be my boyfriend for the rest of the week, if you want. Can I keep being yours?"

Tweek nodded. "Yes! You're a good boyfriend. You gave me your apple sauce and drew that awesome picture."

"You two are boyfriends?" A voice asked. The two looked from each other to the girl sitting in front of them. Bebe scooted herself around.

"Yeah?" Craig frowned. "What of it?"

"You can't be boyfriends." Bebe stated, shaking her head.

"What? Why not?" Tweek bit his lip, squeezing around Craig's hand. "I'm a good boyfriend. Craig said so."

"Ignore her, Tweek," Craig snorted. "She just wants me to be her boyfriend or something."

"Ew! You pick your nose and eat it. You're icky, Craig Tucker." Bebe wrinkled her nose up in disgust. "But even if Tweek is ok with you being icky, you two still can't be boyfriends. You're too little."

"Nuh-uh!" Craig snapped. "I'm the tallest kid in class!"

"Yes-huh! My mommy said so. She said you can't get a boyfriend until your at least a teenager, and my daddy says my mommy is really smart, so neh!" Bebe stuck out her tongue.

Tweek's voice caught in his throat. He wanted to ask if it was possible her mommy could be wrong, but before he could find his voice again, the teacher made a call for all the pick ups to go get their bags and line up.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stood and dropped Craig's hand. Tweek blinked hard a few times. He couldn't let himself cry in front of his boyfriend. Before the tears could come, he rushed over to his desk, grabbed his homework folder, shoved it in his bag, and nearly ran to the door. He didn't look at Craig the whole time.

As the pickups waited along the playground fence line for their parents to drive up, Tweek snuck over to grab his grass tuft. Looking around, he carefully placed it in the front pocket of his bag, away from all his school work and library books.

After zipping back up his bag, he crept back over to the line. He peeked around the the gaggle of first graders to look for his mom's car. Nerves twisted his stomach. Could he really be not old enough to have a boyfriend? Tweek thought he was plenty mature, and being mature and being old where the same thing! He ate all his vegetables, even the ones he didn't like. He helped his dad clean out the bird cage once a week. He remembered to brush his teeth almost every night!

If that didn't prove Tweek was old enough to have a boyfriend then nothing did. Clearly it was Bebe who wasn't mature enough. Tweek did once see her leave the bathroom without washing her hands, and she liked to talk when the teacher is giving directions.

Tweek nodded to himself. That had to be it, right?

"Tweek, your ride is here." One of the teachers called. Tweek jumped before darting towards his car. He crawled in the back, careful to take off his bag so he wouldn't hurt his grass, then buckled his seat belt.

"How was your day, sweetie?" His mother asked as she pulled out of the school parking lot.

Tweek kicked his legs absentmindedly. "Good. My boy--" He caught himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted his mom to know about Craig just yet. "I mean, a friend of mine, who is a boy, he gave me some grass. It's really pretty."

His mother chuckled to herself. "Did he now? That was very kind of him."

Tweek pulled his bag into his lap. He began to unzip the pocket as he spoke. "Yeah! Craig gave it to me. There is a broken coffee pot at the shop. When we get there, I'm going to plant it. See how nice it is?" He leaned forward, holding out the tuft.

His mother made a sound in slight surprised. "Oh, it's, um, it's a whole clump of grass."

Tweek frowned. "What's wrong. I like it, 'cause Craig gave it to me. I-I can keep it, right? I promise I can water it and take good care of it."

"Of course, Tweek. I'll help you plant it when we get back." His mother reached up and readjusted the mirror so she could see Tweek in the back seat. "Please, just don't let your little friends give you anymore, alright?"

"Craig's not little, Mom." Tweek rolled his eyes. "He's the tallest kid in the class."

With another chuckle, she said, "He might be the biggest kid, but a big little kid is still a little kid, sweetie."

Tweek stiffened. His chest tighten as he asked, "So does that mean I'm a little kid too?"

"You're a big boy, but still a little kid." His mother told him.

The worry Tweek had calmed moments before rose back up. He slumped down in his seat with a whimper. So even though he was way more mature than Bebe, he was still a little kid. It just couldn't be!

With eyes already wet with tears, he asked, "Does that mean I'm too little to have a boyfriend?"

The car lurched forward, sending the grass tuft and contents of Tweek's backpack to the floor of the car. Tweek gasped and struggled to reach them with the seat belt across his chest. Finally, he slipped the belt across his chest off and was able to at least get the grass tuft.

Tweek checked it over before letting out a sigh of relief. It was alright. He couldn't say the same for his homework folder, which now had a smear of mud on it.

"I'm so sorry. Tweek, are you alright back there?" His mother asked, driving forward again.

"I'm ok." Tweek nodded. "The grass is too."

His mother laughed, but it wasn't in that same amused way as before. When her laughter puttered out, the car lapsed into silence. Tweek squirmed in his seat. He didn't think he said anything wrong. It was just a question!

"Tweek, why do you want to know if your allowed to have a boyfriend?" His mother asked.

Tweek met her eyes in the mirror. It was time to let his mom in on his secret.

"'Cause Craig asked me to be his today, and I said I would, then at carpet time Bebe said we can't be boyfriend because we're both too little. " Tweek crossed his ankles nervously. "Craig said I was a really good boyfriend today, Mom! I held the bathroom door for him, and gave him half my cookie and everything! He told me he wanted me to be his boyfriend for the rest of the week, too!"

They pulled up to the coffee shop then. His mother unbuckled herself and turned around to help Tweek pick up his papers and books.

"Tweek, you should go plant that grass. There is some soft dirt behind the shop. Wash your hands when you're done, alright?" She put his folder in his bag and left the car with it. Tweek nodded, hopped out the car and started for the coffee shop. Half way to the front door, he spun back around, ran back, and shouldered the car door shut.

Tweek rushed past his dad to the back of the store where the broken coffee pot was. His father had tossed the pot in the back a few days ago after the plastic pouring lid broke off. Tweek set his grass inside before carefully picking up the coffee pot.

He never trusted himself with glass. It was way too breakable, and if he dropped it, it would shattered into a million pieces and he could cut himself to ribbons! Or that's what his dad told him when he was younger. His dad had no reason to lie, so Tweek knew he had to be super careful as he walked outside.

Tweek gently set the coffee pot down and started scooping up the loose dirt. There had been a wood box there until a few weeks ago. According to his dad, it was from when the store had been warmed by a fire place and not the hearts of everyone gathering together to enjoy a soothing cup of Tweak Bro's coffee, like it is today.

So his dad had some people come and take the big wooden box away, leaving a big spot of soft, dark brown earth. Tweek carefully removed the grass from the pot before scooping up the dirt and filling the it. He tried to avoid scooping up to much of the top layer, which had some ice covering it.

Once he finished, he planted the grass inside. Tweek sat back with a nod. His grass looked nice in it's new home. Tweek had even found a few worms to put in as well.

Just as carefully as before, Tweek brought the coffee pot back inside. He walked over to the front window and set the pot on a chair. He turned the chair towards the window so the sunlight could shine on it.

Now he just needed to water it. Tweek spun on his heels and trotted over to the counter. Peeking at his dad through the glass of the pastry counter, Tweek tapped his knuckles against the metal frame.

His dad and mom both looked down at him from over the counter.

"Can I have a cup of water?" He pointed towards the window. "The grass needs it."

His dad reached behind the counter then held out a plastic water bottle. Just as Tweek went to take it, his dad pulled it just up out of his reach. Tweek frowned but his dad just smiled at him.

"Son, come around the counter, I think we need to talk."

Nerves pulled at Tweek's gut as he walked around the counter. His dad nodded for him to take a seat on the step stool while he took a seat on the normal stool. Tweek pursed his lips, wringing his hands together. He didn't want to get yelled at for having a boyfriend. Even if he was too little and Bebe wasn't lying, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know!

"So, your mother tells me you have yourself a boyfriend." His dad rested his chin in his palms.

"Um, yes. I got him today. His name's Craig." Tweek replied nervously.

His dad smiled fondly before reaching over and ruffling his hair. "Son, you're in kindergarten. You're too little to be dating anyone."

"'D-Dating'?" Tweek echoed. "We're not 'dating'. We're boyfriends. We just hold hands and help each other and give gifts."

His father raised an eyebrow for a moment. His shoulders then began to shake as he chuckled. He shook his head.

"Oh, I thought it might be like that." He patted his head then reached behind him for the water bottle. "Well, go water your plant, then wash your hands."

Tweek took the water bottle, his eyes shining. "So, it's ok? I'm not in trouble?"

"No, you're not." His father replied.

Tweek bounced around, shaking the water bottle. "And, and, and I can keep being boyfriends with Craig? At least for the rest of the week?"

"I don't see why not, if Craig is alright with it."

Tweek hopped off the stool and hugged his dad, repeating "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" over and over before he rushed back around the counter. He nearly fell half way back, but he caught himself on a nearby table. Tweek glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide. He didn't think his dad noticed, but either way, he straighten up and walked slowly and carefully over to the table to responsibility and maturely water his plant.

~~~~

Tweek smirked when he saw Bebe sitting at her desk. After dropping off his homework folder and putting his bag in his cubby, he walked to her. He put his hands on his hips.

"I talked to my dad yesterday." He said. Bebe looked up from the unicorn coloring page she was working on.

"So? I talked to my daddy every day. My mommy too."

"No, I talked to him about being a boyfriend." Tweek told her. "My dad said I could stay Craig's boyfriend all week if I want, so you were wrong!"

Bebe narrowed her eyes. She set her purple crayon down before pushing herself up. She met Tweek's eyes with a glare.

"I am not wrong because my mommy is smart, and smart people can't be wrong." She growled. "You can't be Craig's boyfriend because you're only five."

"I'm six!" Tweek corrected. "That makes me mature enough to be anyone's boyfriend. Maybe once you're six, you'll understand."

Bebe stomped her foot. "You're wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

"No, I'm not!" Tweek snapped.

"Yes, you are!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

At this point the two had begun shouting at each other. Tweek knew he was right. He dad told him he could have a boyfriend! Bebe's mommy was wrong. Tweek knew it.

As they started to descended into name calling, Tweek felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the teacher angling her disappointed gaze down at him. She had her other hand on Bebe.

Tweek flinched back. He and Bebe opened their mouth's at the same time to defend their actions, but the bell rang, cutting them off. The teacher heaved a sigh before she walked Tweek and Bebe to the time-out desks in opposite corners of the room.

As Tweek scooted into his seat, he saw Craig sit as his own desk. Tweek vibrated. He couldn't wait to tell Craig that Bebe was wrong. Craig would be so happy!

When the teacher turned her back, Tweek waved his hand to get Craig's attention. Craig didn't see him, but Butters did. Butters looked up at Tweek, and Tweek pointed to Craig beside Butters. Butters brow furrowed a moment before his mouth opened into an o-shape. He poked Craig in the shoulder and then pointed at Tweek. Craig glanced over his shoulder.

Tweek waved at him. Of course, being his boyfriend, Craig would have to wave back. Tweek was pretty sure that was part of being a good boyfriend.

Instead of waving, Craig winced and looked away, back at his desk.

Tweek frowned. Was Craig upset that Tweek had gotten in trouble? That had to be it. No one wanted a bad boy for a boyfriend.

Following that train of thought, Tweek straighten up in his seat. He would do his best to keep still and pay attention, proving to Craig he was still a good rule follower.

And Tweek was! All the way until first recess he followed every direction he was given! He practiced his letter R's and number sixteens. He raised his hand when his pencil lead snapped instead of just getting up to go to the sharpener. He even managed to not bounce around in his seat, which was really, really hard for Tweek to do.

By recess, the teacher had noticed his good behavior and moved the popsicle stick with his name on it from the yellow, warning cup back to the green, good student cup with the other students. Tweek noticed with a smug satisfaction that Bebe's stick was still in the yellow cup. That was just more proof she didn't know what she was talking about.

~~~~~~

The class of kindergartners burst out into the playground with screams of excitement.

Tweek made a beeline for the slide where Craig was talking with Clyde and Token.

"Craig!" Tweek shouted, skidding to a stop. "Craig, I have good news!"

Craig winced and, like earlier, looked away. Tweek frowned and reached out to touch his coat, but Token grabbed his wrist.

"He doesn't want to talk to you." Token told him. "He wants you to leave him alone."

"W-what?" Tweek chewed his lip. "C-Craig. I-I'm sorry that I got in trouble. It's just Bebe is a liar! I talked to my dad. He said it was ok for us to be boyfriends."

Token released Tweek's wrist. He stepped in front of Craig to stop Tweek from getting any closer. A second later, Clyde stood next to Token. Mirror frowns crossed their faces.

"Craig wants you to leave him alone." Clyde stated. "Go away, Tweek, or I'm telling on you."

Tweek's eyes went wide. He just got out of trouble. If he got in trouble again, he would probably stay in the yellow cup all day! If he got in trouble after that, his name would go to the red cup, and then the teacher would have to pin a note to his shirt for his parents. If he got a note, then his dad would tell him he really isn't mature enough for a boyfriend and he would have to sit in time out!

Tweek swallowed hard. "O-ok." He whispered. "But, Craig, we're still boyfriends, right? We can hold hands when we go to PE this afternoon, right?"

Token and Clyde exchanged unsure looks before glancing over their shoulders at Craig.

"Right?" Tweek prompted.

Craig's shoulders shook. He spun around and threw Tweek a glare that made him take a shaking step back.

"No! We're not boyfriends anymore! My dad said I'm not allowed to have one. So leave me alone! Don't ever, ever talk to me again! I hate you!" Craig snapped.

Tweek blinked a few times as the words sunk in. His lower lips began to quiver. He tried to hold back the tears, but they came regardless. As Tweek sobbed, Token grabbed Clyde and Craig by the wrists and dragged them quickly off.

Tweek wasn't sure how long he had been crying before someone noticed and went to get the recess monitor, but it was long enough that his eyes were already red and swollen.

The monitor asked him what happened, but Tweek just shook his head, sobbing into the monitor's pant leg. He couldn't say that Craig yelled at him, because then Craig would get in trouble and hate Tweek even more.

The monitor then asked if Tweek wanted to go back inside. Tweek nodded. He lead Tweek to his classroom. After explaining the situation to his teacher, he patted Tweek reassuringly on the back and left.

The teacher let Tweek sit quietly in one of the reading beanbag chairs, sniffling while thumbing through a 'Clifford the Big Red Dog' book. By the time recess was over, Tweek had cried himself out. He still felt bad, but at least his wasn't sniffling anymore.

As his classmates filtered back in, Tweek pulled on his teacher's skirt.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He asked.

The teacher gave him a sympathetic smiled and nodded.

~~~~

Tweek set his bathroom pass on the side of the sink as he splashed water across his face. Only after his face was thoroughly soaked did he remember there were no paper towel dispensers outside the classrooms. He groaned in frustration then pulled his shirt up to wipe his face on that.

"Um." A voice said.

Tweek blinked and looked up. Craig stood awkwardly in the doorways to the boys' restroom. He shuffled his feet and rub his hands together. Tweek swallowed hard. A new wave of tears started to form.

"No! Tweek, please don't cry!" Craig pleaded, touching his arm. "I'm sorry. I'm super, super, super sorry."

Tweek shrugged his hand off, looking at the water draining down the sink. Craig sighed and crossed his arms.

"I still really want to be your boyfriend," Craig muttered.

"You do?" Tweek's eyes widened, turning to look at him. "Then why did you say you didn't like me?"

"'Cause, um, my dad said I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend yet. Not until I'm older." Craig admitted shyly. "He says I'll get cooties."

"'Cooties'?" Tweek echoed. "I don't have cooties. Only girls like Bebe have cooties."

"That's what I told him!" Craig threw up his arms. "But he didn't believe me." He sighed and leaned against the wall. "I don't think my dad has ever even had a boyfriend. He doesn't understand that boys just can't give each other cooties! It's impossible."

"Yeah..." Tweek chewed his lip then asked, "Do, um, do you think we could still be boyfriends then and just not tell your dad? Because I really liked being your boyfriend, Craig, and you liked being mine."

Craig opened his mouth, then shut it. He screwed up his face in thought before nodding sharply.

"Tweek, you're so smart!" Craig grabbed Tweek's hands in his own with a wide, toothy smile. "Yeah! That's what we'll do! I won't tell Dad, and you don't tell him, either. We can be secret boyfriends."

Tweek pulled Craig into a tight hug, and Craig hugged him back. It was the perfect plan. If they stayed boyfriends for long enough, then when they told Craig's dad, they would have already proven themselves.

With happy smiles on their faces, Tweek and Craig walked hand in hand back to the classroom.

~~~~

Over the rest of kindergarten, Tweek and Craig remained secret boyfriends. A few times they decided to stop and take a break, maybe even be boyfriends with someone else for an afternoon, but they always came back to each other.

It was at the end of year open house when their secret came out.

"Is your boyfriend here, Craig?" Clyde asked. Craig looked at Clyde in horror, then at his dad.

"Boyfriend?" His dad raised an eyebrow, looking away from paper Craig had written about his pet, Stripe. "What?"

The color drained from Clyde's face as he realized what he had said. Craig had told him before it was suppose to be a secret. Clyde slapped his hand over his mouth, as if he could put the words back inside, but it was too late. He shook his head and took a few steps backwards before turning on his heels and darting back to his mom.

Craig swallowed hard. He took a breath and squared his shoulders.

"Um, yes. I, uh, I have a boyfriend. He's, uuuh," Craig looked around before spotting the familiar head of sunny blond hair near the table with the class' art project, :there!" He grabbed his dad's hand and began to drag him over.

"Tweek! Tweek!" He called. Tweek looked up from showing his parents the lopsided clay cup he had made. He smiled at Craig a moment before his eyes went up to see his dad. His happiness fell away and fear took its place. Tweek took a half step behind his mom as Craig and his towering father neared. Craig grabbed Tweek's hand and pulled him out.

With an air of pride, Craig announced, "This is my boyfriend. His name is Tweek. I give him a my apple sauce every time we have it, and he holds the door for me. He's smart and likes 'Clifford' books, just like I do."

Tweek squeaked under Mr. Tucker's gaze. He hid his face in Craig's shoulder with a whimper. Craig frowned. He turned and wrapped Tweek in a hug.

"It's ok, Tweek." He reassured, patting his back.

"Oh, how adorable." Mr. Tweak laughed into his hand. "Isn't it, Mr. Tucker?"

Mr. Tucker shook his head. "No, I mean, yes, but, Craig, I told you, you can't have a boyfriend. You're too young to be dating."

Craig felt Tweek take a deep breath under his hand. Tweek pushed himself back before marching over to Mr. Tucker. He put his hands on his hips and with a shaking voice said, "M-Mr. Tucker, sir, I am a good boyfriend. I'm really responsible. I help clean out the bird cage once a week, and I do my homework and brush my teeth every night. Craig gave me some grass when we became boyfriends, and I've taken the best care of it ever! Ask my mom and dad. They'll tell you it's growing really good!"

Mr. Tucker open his mouth to reply but Tweek just kept going.

"And! I don't have cooties either! Not just because I'm a boy, and only girls can have cooties, but I gave Eric Cartman a dime, four nickles, and three pennies a few weeks ago for a cooties shot! So even if I did have them, I don't anymore." He clasped his hands together. "So, please, please, please can I stay Craig's boyfriend? I like holding his hand and playing with him at recess!"

He tried his best to hold Mr. Tucker's gaze, but he began to shake, looking to the side. Craig looked on in awe before grabbing Tweek's hand in his own. That was probably the most amazing thing Craig had ever seen, and he once saw Clyde eat four worms without throwing up.

Craig looked pleadingly at his dad.

"Craig," his dad started, "you're six. You can't be dating when your six."

"Oh, but Mr. Tucker," Mrs. Tweek smiled at him, "they're not 'dating'. They're 'boyfriends'." She chuckled. "Besides, like you said, they're six. Six year olds do these things all the time. It's not like they're going to go out and get a mortgage together."

His brows knit together a moment before he raised them up. "Oh, I see. I think I get what you mean."

It didn't sound like his dad really understood, but Craig didn't comment on it. Instead, he squeezed Tweek's hand tighter.

"So, can we still be boyfriends?" Craig asked.

Mr. Tucker looked a little uncomfortable for a moment before he sighed and nodded. "You can, if it's alright with Tweek's family. As long as you two don't start kissing. You are defiantly too young to be kissing."

Both six year olds crunched up their noses and made joint noises in disgust. Even Craig knew boyfriends didn't kiss each other. Only moms and dads did that. That just confirmed what Craig always thought. His dad really didn't know anything about being a boyfriend.

Tweek's parents chuckled at the display and even Craig's dad smiled a little.

Tweek took a step closer to Craig. He'd stop shaking and seemed a lot more relaxed. Craig squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Thomas?"

Craig's dad looked up from the boys as his mom wondered over. Trisha squirmed in her stroller. She thrashed her little fist, tossing her toy to the ground. With a sigh, his mom stooped down to pick it up.

"Trisha's getting tired, I think it's time for us to head home." His mom gestured to the infant as she dropped the toy in the bag hanging from the handle.

"Oh, um, right. Nice talking to you, Mr. and Mrs. Tweak." His dad nodded. "Come on, Craig."

Craig made a whining sound then sighed when his dad fixed him with a stern look. He dropped Tweek's hand and hugged him. Tweek hugged him tightly back, nearly picking Craig off the ground.

When Craig untangled himself from Tweek's grasp, he hurried over to his family. As they began to walk away, Craig spun around and shouted, "I'll miss you, boyfriend!"

Tweek blushed a little then called back, even louder, "See you later, best boyfriend ever!"

Craig took a deep breath, about to reply, when his dad dropped down and covered his mouth. He scooped up Craig in his arms with a shake of his head and a reminder about using his inside voices. Craig apologized, but kept an eye on Tweek from over his dad's shoulder.

Of all the boys Craig could have chosen to be his boyfriend, he really happy he chose Tweek.

~~~~

AN: I just wanted to write some fluff about little kids and their shenanigans. The world needs more of it.<3

#south park #creek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #fanfiction #fluff #one-shot

88 notes · View notes

whelvenwings · 7 years ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe

read it here on AO3 if you prefer!! Merry happy to all, I hope you enjoy my Christmas fic for this year <3

Summary: Dean and Castiel are locked in deadly combat, a battle that has raged for three years - a prank war that's been their Christmas tradition since their romance catastrophically failed to launch. Since they both work at the same huge grocery store, it's easy for things to get a little out of hand. This Christmas, however, things might not be as simple as covering up a fire they started in the dairy aisle; this year, Castiel is trying to deal with the fact that Christmas doesn't quite feel like Christmas anymore.

Also, Dean decided to wear mistletoe to work.

*********

The phone rang and Castiel, half into and half out of his horrible synthetic work sweater, groaned loudly.

He tried to fight off the blue acrylic nightmare as he searched half-blind for his mobile, knocking over a teetering pile of books and putting his foot through the wrapping on a large, beribboned gift as he stumbled across his room. Shedding the sweater at last, he threw it hard at the wall and located his phone by the light of it coming from under his bed. Of course.

With a huff, he dropped to his knees, grabbed for the phone, and read the name on the screen. Bestest Biggest Bro, it read; behind the letters was a close-up picture of a bent elbow, a contact picture that Castiel certainly hadn’t chosen.

“Gabriel,” he said, injecting his voice with as much happiness as he could as soon as he picked up. It wasn’t a lot. “Everything OK?”

He sat down on the floor, his back up against the side of his bed, phone pressed to his ear - and prepared to be irritated.

“Does something need to be wrong for me to want to call my little brother on Christmas?” Gabriel’s voice sounded tinny and distant on the line, and Castiel squinted as he struggled to understand.

“No,” Castiel said. But you mostly only call me when you need something, these days, he didn’t say.

“Did you like what I set my contact pic as? It’s my -”

“Elbow, Gabriel. I know it’s your elbow.”

Gabriel sighed deeply. “Come on, Cassie. It could have been my butt.”

“I saw you taking the -”

“Cassie. Come on. It’s Christmas. ”

Castiel sighed, heavily.

“It could have been your butt,” he conceded in a flat, weary voice. Gabriel snorted, and Castiel rolled his eyes. “Happy?”

“Sure, I’m happy. I’m sipping a margarita in Malibu. Like, this is the dream.”

“Same dream you’ve been having since you were sixteen, then,” Castiel said dryly, toying with a loose thread on the pair of jeans discarded on his floor nearby. “Don’t you ever want to spend Christmas anywhere else?”

“What, like whatever hellhole it is you’re in?” Gabriel chuckled. “No, thank you so much. I will take two large orders of nuh-uh and a supersize side of nope.”

“Massachusetts isn’t a hellhole,” Castiel pointed out. “It’s beautiful. And -”

“Aaaaand you have the unparalleled opportunity to take instruction from the finest minds in the anglophonic world,” Gabriel reeled off, quickly, bored. “Yeah, yeah, I listen. Occasionally. Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” Castiel said, a little warmth creeping into his voice. Gabriel was an asshole, but he was Castiel’s asshole brother, and he wasn’t that bad. “So, why’d you call?”

“Mostly to make you look at the butt pic.”

Scratch that, Castiel thought, he really is that bad. He pulled the phone away from his ear to quickly check the time on it - late, of course. He rolled to his feet and headed towards the bathroom.

“No, I’m just…” On the phone, Gabriel trailed off, sounding diffident for once.

“Just?”

“Just checking in. Christmas was always your thing. Like, you would actually pull your head out of your books for two seconds and open presents and eat candy canes and, like, actually smile. ”

“I’m still smiling,” Castiel said. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and gave the mirror a wan half-grimace, so that it was true.

“You still love Christmas?”

“I still…” Castiel closed his eyes, and sighed, and poured his best attempt at sincerity into his voice. “Of course I still love Christmas.”

“You sure? Because, you know, if they aren’t treating you right at big-boy school, bigger boy Gabriel can come and get you. This makes three Christmases without you, I’d go the whole works to get you here if you wanted, no expenses spared.” Gabriel put on a dreadful French accent for the last few words, for a reason that Castiel couldn’t fathom. “It’s not too late to send the jet down to you and -”

“No!” Castiel burst out, and then pressed his index finger to his lips for a second, regathering himself. “No, really. It’s fine. I’m fine. I already have lots of - uh - festive things to do. Of course, I’ve planned very hard for this, since it’s my favourite time of year.”

He closed his eyes, crossed his fingers, and hoped.

“... OK,” Gabriel said, sounding convinced, and Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go attend to your Christmas festivities, feasting and gifting et cetera, et cetera, eggnog. Take care of yourself. Oh, you got enough cash to treat yourself to something nice, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel said, trying as hard as he could to sound completely at ease.

“Why do you always talk like a candy cane got lodged somewhere unsavoury? I can send -”

“No, Gabe, I don’t need anything.” Castiel could hear the slight edge to his tone, the potential for it to drift into petulance. He cleared his throat, and tried again, his voice deeper. “I don’t need anything.”

“You sure?”

“I got this,” Castiel confirmed, and rang off.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror - half into his work uniform, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes, and an hours-long shift ahead of him. Christmas festivities? Sure.

“I don’t got this,” he confided to himself, and shook his head, and went to look for his sweater.

***

Half an hour’s drive across town, Dean Winchester was humming to himself as he combed his hair.

“... mmmmhmm mmhmmmmmm, singin’ a song, walkin’ in a winter - dammit.” He shook his head as if to dislodge something, and determinedly set his lips closed as he kept combing.

Ten seconds later, he was humming the same song again.

“... mmmmhmm valley we can build a snowman… mmmmhmmm hmm that he is mmmmmhm Brown…”

“HE’LL SAY ARE YOU MARRIED, WE’LL SAY NO, MAN,” burst in a second voice, at the same time as Dean’s bedroom door crashed open. Dean gave a little yelp of fear and thrust out his hand, comb-first, at his carolling assailant - who was tall, and lanky, and grinning all over his face.

“Sam -”

“Oh, God, no,” Sam said, eyeing the comb with mock-fear. “Please, sir, it’s Christmas. I’m too young to get… combed to death.”

“Sam,” Dean said, still aiming the comb right at him, “you got that dumb song in my head, and you just scared the crap out of me. I’m sorry, kid, your days on this Earth are over.” He shook his head sadly, levelled the comb - and then pulled it back sharply as though recoiling from a shot. “PEW.”

“Oh, GOD, NO,” Sam said, clutching his chest. “RIGHT THROUGH THE HEART. OH, THE PAIN. AND ON CHRISTMAS. IS THAT MY LIFE FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES, OR IS IT THE FAIRY LIGHTS REFLECTING OFF THE COLD STEEL OF YOUR BETRAYAL. Oh, Dean… Dean, my favourite brother…” He staggered forwards, and grabbed the hem of Dean’s work shirt. “Dean… you must… make this right…”

“I swear, I won’t rest until the comb that did this is snapped in two,” Dean swore, grasping for his brother’s hand, and shaking it. “I swear.”

“You… asshole…” Sam whispered dramatically, and then collapsed to the floor.

“And… scene, ” Dean said, turning back to his mirror and pushing his comb through his hair one last time. “Beautiful work, really. You made me really believe I’d actually finally got rid of you.”

“As if I’d let it be that easy,” Sam snorted, propping his head on his hand and grinning up at Dean from the floor. “I’m practically indestructible.”

Dean spritzed himself under each arm with his deodorant, and chucked the can at his brother’s head. Sam caught it, inches from his face.

“What was that?” he demanded. “Slowest throw ever. ”

“Worth a try,” Dean countered, tucking his shirt in.

“Do, or do not. There is no try,” Sam said, attempting a creaky Yoda-like voice. Dean couldn’t help a laugh escaping as he checked his hair for roughly the hundredth time that morning.

“Mmmhm lane, snow is glistening… a beautiful sight, we’re - oh, come on. You owe me brain bleach for playing that to me last night.” Sam grinned - but his smile faded as Dean checked his watch and blinked at it.

“So… what time do you think you’ll be back?” Sam said, false-bright.

“Oh, you know, never maybe,” Dean said casually. “Like, I might just leave you to the wolves.”

“Ha, ha,” Sam said. “And actually?”

“Actually… as soon as I can. Should be at ten. Sooner, if I can persuade my favourite coworker to cover for me.”

“Your favourite… oh, ” Sam said, a whole new kind of smirk appearing on his face. “Is Castiel working today?”

“He sure is. As if my Christmas wasn’t already going to be joyful enough,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I was wondering why you were doing your hair. Oh, is this why you stole some of next door’s mistletoe off their porch last night?”

“I - what?!” Dean demanded, deciding to go with affronted and offended as his best defence. “That’s… that’s ridiculous , Sam. And I am not doing my hair for him . I hate him, you know that. The guy’s an asshole.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Oh, look, there! Out the window!”

“What?” Dean spun around on instinct, peering out past the glass. “What?!”

“It’s flying pigs! I guess Santa must have swapped them for the reindeer this year.” Sam grinned, and Dean reached for his comb.

“Don’t make me shoot you twice in one morning,” he said threateningly.

“I’m already dead, what are you gonna do?”

“Shoot you in the head, zombie boy.” He leaned down and ruffled Sam’s hair as he passed on the way out the door, and Sam fought him off half-heartedly. “Don’t open the door to strangers.”

“Does that include you?”

“Sammy, you should know by now,” Dean called, as he jogged down the stairs, “I’m not stranger. I’m the strangest.”

“Have fun with Castiel!” Sam yelled back. Dean rolled his eyes, hard, and didn’t deign to reply.

***

Castiel walked through the doors of the biggest grocery store in his town, and breathed in the scent of recycled air and plastic. Here he was: home sweet home for the next eleven hours, just as it had been for the last two Christmases in a row.

He headed towards the staff break room, tugging off his scarf as he headed past the customer service desk and the checkouts. He nodded hello’s to Charlie, Jo, and Claire, who waved, grinned, and scowled at him in respective order. They were all standing idle, customers thin on the ground on Christmas Day. And at the end of the line, hands clasped behind his back, stood the figure that Castiel was least keen to see; tall, well-built, irritatingly good-looking and unfathomably annoying, Dean Winchester bounced on his heels and offered Castiel a smug smile in greeting.

“Welcome, Mr Novak,” he said, and nodded his head. Castiel noticed the headgear he had on: a pair of ridiculous antlers, and between them was strung a large amount of -

“Mistletoe?” Castiel said, frowning and coming to a halt near Dean to stare.

“He’s been waiting here for you, wearing it,” Claire said flatly, chewing on some gum and inspecting her nails as she spoke. At the next checkout, Jo sniggered.

“You have?” Castiel said - and the colour rose in his cheeks, and he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped.

“Sure,” Dean said smoothly. “And may I just say, Mr Novak…” He stepped closer, and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder; his eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips and back up. He leaned in slightly, the mistletoe on his antlers dangling between the two of them. Castiel blinked, his heart racing, but didn’t move away; his eyes were tracing over Dean’s face, trying to understand - “May I just say… that this year’s prank war has officially begun.”

Castiel groaned, and shoved Dean away.

Dean fell back a pace, laughing. He shook his antlers, so that the mistletoe danced crazily. “Pranked! See?” he said to Claire, who was watching him stoically and chewing her gum. “See, I told you it was for a prank. And it was a good one.”

Castiel swallowed hard and set his jaw, determined not to show that the prank had thoroughly landed. For a split second there, he’d really thought that Dean had worn the mistletoe to work just so that he could come up to Castiel and have an excuse to - to -

Of course not, though. Castiel chastised himself for being taken in so easily. Meanwhile, Claire was rolling her eyes, and pulling out her phone.

“Come on, it was a good one.” Dean insisted.

“Whatever, old man.”

“She’s too young to understand. She’s just a child,” Dean explained to Castiel, who had been watching him in glowering silence, hoping that he wasn’t blushing and that the pounding of his heart wasn’t somehow perceptible. “But you get it, right, Cas?”

Castiel felt all eyes on him, and opened his mouth. This would have to be good.

“It’s Castiel,” he whipped back. “And no, I don’t ‘get it’. Because for the prank to be a good one, I would have had to actually want you to kiss me. And we all know I’d rather kiss Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’s rear than you.”

Jo snorted; over at the customer service desk, Charlie sucked in an audible breath; Claire looked up from her phone, and gestured towards Castiel with it while looking at Dean.

“See,” she said, “ that was a pretty good one.”

“Phone away while you’re at work,” Castiel said to her, and then turned to go and put his stuff in the break room.

“He’s so much cooler than you,” he heard Claire say to Dean, and smiled to himself. Imagining the look on Dean’s face hearing that was more than Christmas gift enough.

***

“So, now that my first prank has been successfully completed…” Dean said, leaning one elbow on the top of Charlie’s counter at the customer service desk and wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“First prank?” Charlie asked absently, wiping at the monitor of the computer on her desk with a soft cloth to remove the dust.

“The mistletoe, Charlie, the mistletoe. Keep up with me here,” Dean said impatiently. He shook his head so that the antlers, complete with their garnish of mistletoe, wobbled in Charlie’s direction. Without looking over at him, she reached over and whipped them off.

“The mistletoe?” she said.

“Yeah, you know… I just pranked Cas with it.”

“Oh, right, that was a prank. ” Charlie gave him an exaggerated wink - very exaggerated, her whole face getting in on it.

“What?” Dean demanded, flinching internally at his tone - definitely a little too quick and much too defensive. Come on, he begged himself. Be cool.

“Yeah, it was totally a prank,” Charlie said airily. She began to polish her computer monitor again, flapping the cloth casually. “Totally. And you totally weren’t hoping he’d actually kiss you, and you totally haven’t been mooning over him since forever…”

“Jesus, Charlie. Are we actually having this conversation? Seriously?” Dean tried to interrupt, but Charlie was apparently warming to her theme.

“And when we went out for work drinks two Christmases you two totally didn’t spend the whole time flirting with each other only to be too awkward to ever address it again -”

“Hey, I tried to address it!” Dean cut in, stung - and then realised what he’d admitted, and winced.

“Dean…” Charlie leaned over the counter, too busy looking sorry for him to even celebrate her victory. “I’ve seen you play it so smooth with so many people. Dude, you could charm the hind legs off a donkey.”

“Isn’t it - talk the hind legs off a donkey?”

Charlie shrugged, and grinned. “Either way, there’s ass involved, if you know what I mean. But then Castiel comes along, and suddenly you’re, like… how do I put this nicely… a total idiot?”

“Super nice, Charlie, good job.” Dean gave her a sarcastic smile, which slid off her like water down the back of the proverbial duck - she was eyeing him more solemnly than he’d ever seen her do before, the twinkle in her eye almost completely gone.

“How about this. I know the prank war is part of your little tradition, like, it’s awesome. But what if we cut out the part of the tradition where you never get around to actually telling him how you feel? ‘Cause, like, I don’t run your life, but literally, dude… it’s been three years. I’m dying here. Empires are rising and falling. Apple products are being made and breaking, and being repaired and breaking, and being repaired again and breaking again. I’m getting wrinkles. Like, seriously, I have crows’ feet coming in and I call the crows ‘Dean’ and ‘Castiel’. Just. Tell. Him.”

“I just - I don’t want - it’s not -” Dean attempted to start a few different sentences in quick succession, none of them heading anywhere he wanted to go. He swallowed, and avoided Charlie’s eyes. “I can’t.”

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, sure, you can’t . Did you forget about the donkey?”

“This isn’t just about…” Dean slashed a hand up through the air, cutting his sentence dead. He didn’t need to talk about how he felt. He just needed to ignore it as hard as he possibly could. That way, he might never get to be with Cas, sure - but he would also never lose all hope of being with Cas. And after three years of angrily and reluctantly falling in love, he wasn’t sure he could handle being that hopeless.

“Dean, you need to talk to him,” Charlie said. “And this is coming from me. I’m, like, the queen of finger guns and not saying things.” She pew pew pew ’d a volley of shots at him, to prove her point. Dean smacked his hand on the counter, and began to back away.

“What I need,” he said, “is for you to do that announcement like you said you would. Come on, didn’t I already pay up?”

Charlie pulled a thoughtful face. “I was expecting something fancier. Like, I’ve seen LARPers with genuine swords, and you gave me…”

“Hey, come on, a miniature catapult is better than nothing! It’s got reinforced elastic and a frame made of mahogany, and the -”

“God. You’re such a nerd. Fine, fine , I’m doing the announcement. Go on.” She grinned at him; Dean smiled back winningly and gave her a return pair of finger guns.

“No violence in the workplace,” said the dry voice of Castiel behind him. Spinning around, Dean repressed his immediate urge to stick out his tongue, and tried to come to a stop in a cool way so that he could put his hand on his hip and have a cool conversation with Castiel where he would provide witticisms and sarcasm and irony, and generally be very aloof and desirable.

He wobbled, half-fell, and - somehow, cruelly, from the pit of his brain - there arose the phrase, “Oopsie-doodle!”

Castiel blinked at him, apparently caught between amusement and confusion, and seemed to decide not to engage. He carried along on his way, arms full of boxes.

Behind him, Charlie said, “How’s that donkey, Dean?”

“Super,” Dean growled, and walked off.

***

Castiel dropped the stack of cardboard boxes in the trash, and dusted off his hands. He made a mental note to send another email to management asking about implementing a recycling policy, and headed back inside.

Oopsie-doodle? his brain said softly to itself, and Castiel did his best to ignore it. Every now and then, Dean stopped being an asshole just long enough to be flustered and sweet, and Castiel hated how much he liked that.

Back on the shop floor, he dodged around a couple of customers as unobtrusively as he could and headed back to aisle seven, where he was planning to stack up the dairy shelves.

“Hey, where’s the sugar?” demanded a big guy in an oversized leather jacket walking down aisle six. Castiel repressed his instinctive response - oh, aren’t you sweet enough? - and calmly gave the man directions. He wasn’t thanked.

“Happy holidays,” Castiel said half-heartedly to the man’s back, and returned his thoughts to the dairy shelves.

“This is a staff announcement,” said Charlie’s voice over the tannoy, crackly and emotionless. “Urgent cleanup on aisle nine, please.”

Castiel stopped, and sighed, and allowed himself a brief moment of internal exasperation before stepping out smartly in the direction of aisle nine. He was sure to be the closest worker, and Charlie would see it on her monitor if he didn’t go sort it out; and he’d made a point, ever since his promotion, to be a store manager who wasn’t too good to do any job.

Unfortunately, that occasionally meant that he had to slop a watery old mop over copious amounts of spilled mayonnaise.

“Study at Harvard!” Castiel muttered under his breath as he rounded the corner to aisle nine. “It’s nothing but glamour, sophistication, and -”

He came to a dead halt.

On the floor, in a pool of red that was slowly seeping larger and larger, was a person.

Castiel heard himself make a noise, deep and wordless and full of horror; he ran the last few steps over to the body, and dropped to his knees in the spreading slick of scarlet liquid, and reached out a hand to place it on the chest of a man -

Seeing the face for the first time, Castiel felt his whole world shudder.

Dean.

“Oh, God, no -” he managed to get out, wretchedly -

And then Dean’s face moved; those green eyes cracked open, and his body convulsed. For a second, Castiel thought that he was having some kind of fit - and then he heard the noise Dean was making.

Laughter. Dean was laughing.

“You - you -” Castiel scuffled away from Dean’s body, grabbing onto the nearest shelf and using it to pull himself upright. His knees felt weak; his world was still churning. He watched Dean, who looked insufferably smug and full of jollity as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Pranked! I can’t believe that worked,” Dean said, through his laughter. “Jesus, Cas, you should’ve seen your face.”

“You - you absolute -” Castiel couldn’t seem to get a grip on himself long enough to find a word bad enough. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the moment he’d seen Dean’s face, completely still and calm and void, pale against the red of the blood.

“Hope you like ketchup,” Dean said, jerking his head towards Castiel’s knees, his laughter finally subsiding.

Castiel looked down, and saw that the ketchup had completely soaked the material; he’d be needing a change of clothes.

I honestly didn’t think anything could make me hate Christmas more than I did this morning, Castiel thought. And I was very, very wrong.

Out loud, he said, “I’m sending you my dry-cleaning bill.”

Dean shrugged. “Sure, man,” he said. “If you want it to never get paid.”

Castiel was about to retort, but he was cut off by a baleful voice coming from further down the aisle. Claire, striding down the shiny floor and chewing her gum, met Castiel’s eyes as she held out a mop.

“Charlie says you’ll be needing this,” she said. “And Dean, she said yours is in the break room. You don’t deserve to have it brought to you.”

“I don’t deserve to clean this up at all!” Castiel protested, finding his voice at last. “This was all him. ”

“ Him has to go and change,” Dean said easily. “I got a little something on my back.” He turned, and Castiel saw that he was dripping with ketchup from head to toe.

“Hurry,” he growled, and Dean grinned at him - damn that smile - before walking away.

Castiel began to mop the floor with a vengeance. Dean Winchester, and his ridiculous Christmas prank war and his stupid plans and his stupid face. Lying dead on the floor. Laughing. Lying dead on the floor. Laughing. Castiel wasn’t even sure why it bothered him so much, the sight of Dean like that, bloody and still. There was a twist in his chest that felt like an echo of someone else’s feeling - as though he’d seen that blood and stillness before, somewhere else. Maybe in another life.

The thought was too grand for the sauces and condiments aisle. He tried to return his focus to the wet slap of the mop onto the floor, desultory and ordinary.

It was only then that he realised Claire was still standing nearby, fiddling with some bottles of ranch whilst keeping half an eye on him.

“What?” Castiel asked, frowning. His shoulders sagged. “Do I have some ketchup on my face?”

“You like him, right?” Claire said baldly, watching the ranch bottles. Castiel went still.

“Who?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Claire flicked her gaze over to him, big blue eyes taking no prisoners.

“So, tell him?” she said, like it was that easy. “What’s the big deal? He’s just, like… a guy.”

Castiel began mopping again, to give his hands something to do. Claire took advantage of the fact that he wasn’t looking at her to turn towards him more fully.

“I can’t like him,” Castiel ground out. “When he’s not being unnecessarily mean, he’s either being stupid or he’s being rude. He’s not - he’s just not -”

“Didn’t he once come into work literally half an hour after clocking off, just because you asked him to cover for you?” Claire said.

Castiel mopped.

“Isn’t this the same guy who puts little old ladies on his arm and walks them personally to the right aisle when they’re lost? The same guy who kept a packet of your favourite cookies out back for you last Christmas so that you still had some even though we sold out?”

Castiel mopped harder.

“He’s not a jerk. He’s just a guy doing a bad impression of one. Trust me,” Claire said, “I know the difference.”

Castiel stood up straight, and met her eyes.

“Why do you care?” he said - but gently. She was only a kid, after all.

“I don’t,” Claire said at once, rattlesnake-fast. “Just… whatever.” She walked away; at the end of the aisle, she turned back. “You know, I make that two pranks to none,” she said. “You’re losing.”

Castiel gripped the handle of his mop, and the smallest of smiles flickered over his features.

“Not for long,” he said quietly.

***

Dean finished changing, and headed back out onto the shop floor. He helped a few customers, restocked a few shelves, attempted and failed to get his mistletoe antlers back from Charlie - she had them hidden behind her desk.

He waited. He knew that there had to be some kind of mischief headed his way. Castiel wouldn’t let a pair of pranks like that go unavenged. Half-nervous, half-eager, Dean kept his eye out for anything unusual. Maybe Castiel would sneak up behind him and blast Africa by Toto, like he’d done two years ago. Or maybe he’d make another box of cupcakes spiked with chili. Or maybe he’d plant another fire alarm in Dean’s pocket, and then deliberately set it off with another fire in aisle thirteen -

That had been pretty wild. The cover-up for that one had been intense; it was amazing what the pair of them could get done when they worked together and didn’t want to lose their jobs.

The point was, whatever was coming Dean’s way - he knew it was going to be good.

But nothing seemed to happen. For a whole hour, he was left alone to work. He stocked shelves, wary of any hidden surprises waiting in the store room or among the produce - but it was all perfectly normal. He moved from the food aisles to the cosmetics aisle to the entertainment section, and gave up checking over his shoulder every few minutes.

Another uninterrupted fifteen minutes passed. This was boring. Dean put down the stack of DVDs he’d been restocking and wended his way up and down a few aisles, trying to walk as aimlessly as he could.

“Castiel is in aisle eighteen,” said Jo, as she passed him.

“I wasn’t -”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She kept walking, ignoring his protests. Dean swung his arms out to the sides exasperatedly, and shook his head - and then shrugged, and made his way to aisle eighteen.

After all, if everyone expected him to go and find Castiel, to the point where they weren’t even interested in hearing that he wasn’t trying to find Castiel - well, in that case, going and finding him would barely be giving them satisfaction. It’d just be doing what they thought he should be doing.

It was a tenuous logic, but Dean didn’t scrutinise it too hard. It was a logic that would win him some more time with Castiel, in which he could possibly make back some cool points after the Oopsie-Doodle Incident.

When Dean rounded the corner to aisle eighteen, however, he found Castiel standing with a huge pile of festive things in his arms, groaning under the weight and obviously trying to figure out how to put the whole lot down. The pile towered above Castiel’s head, glittering and sparkling under the fluorescent strip lighting overhead.

“Cas?!” Dean said, moving forward instinctively with his own arms out, ready to help. Castiel turned, and almost lost his grip on the whole lot. “Hey - no, wait - come here, let me -”

“Take, uh - take this,” Castiel grunted, half-dropping a big, bright red coat into Dean’s arms. “And - and this -” He tipped a big, beribboned box after the coat. “And this -”

“Wait, wait...” Dean looked around for somewhere to drop the coat and the box, but they were standing in one of the furniture aisles and every surface he could see had Christmas decorations or sale signs scattered all over. “Uh…” In a flurry, he swung the big red coat over his shoulders and gripped the box more firmly; Castiel let another one fall, and Dean caught it. The pair of parcels were so big that he couldn’t even fit his arms around them, and they were incredibly heavy; the second box had blue wrapping and a big gold bow.

“What - is - in these?” Dean panted, and only then noticed that Castiel had dropped everything else he’d been holding, letting it fall to the floor like it didn’t even matter. “Wha-”

Slowly, Castiel smiled - and Dean drew in a breath as he realised too late that he’d made a big, big mistake.

Castiel pushed him. Dean lost his balance; the giant parcels he was holding didn’t help - and next thing he knew, his feet were out from under him and he was falling backwards. He braced himself, clenched his eyes shut, gripped the boxes more firmly purely by instinct to keep them safe; and when he landed, safe in the gentle hammock of a deck chair on sale, it took him a moment to crack one eye open and verify that he hadn’t, in fact, actually and ironically met his death a mere hour after faking it.

He seemed to be alive - and he also seemed to be having something forced over the top of his head, and dragged down over his face. He frowned, and tried to struggle against the weight of the huge boxes on his lap.

Snap.

Dean looked up, disoriented, to see Castiel taking a picture with his phone and smiling down at it smugly.

“Uhhhhhh,” he managed. “No - what? Is this…?”

“Pranked,” said Castiel smoothly, airily. He turned his phone around for Dean to see. “It’s a good look on you.”

Dean glared up at the phone screen, peering through the - the thing, whatever it was, on his face - and seeing an image of himself in a big fluffy red coat, holding a couple of presents, wearing a large fake white beard and Santa hat combo along with an expression that was somewhere between dazed and horrified. His mouth was indignantly half-open, his eyebrows were pulled down, and one of his eyes was half-squinting, the other wide open and wild.

Dean only realised that Castiel’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter because the phone was moving up and down. He leaned out and kicked at Castiel’s shin half-heartedly, trying to look appropriately angry. He refused to see the funny side, here.

“You asshole,” he griped. “Get this - get all this crap off me, you jerk. Come on, help me!”

“You look... “ Castiel managed, and turned the phone around to look at it again himself - and then his little snorts of laughter resumed. Dean had never seen Castiel so at the mercy of his own sense of humour; normally, the guy would barely crack a smile, even at the best of his pranks.

Just the sight of it was enough to make Dean want to laugh, too, but he forced back the urge. Instead, he tried to reach up an arm from behind the overlarge gift boxes and tug off his beard and hat. He managed to succeed in getting it caught over both eyes.

“You look -” Castiel tried again, and then he must have looked up and seen what Dean had done to himself, because he completely lost it; Dean could hear him huffing with laughter, occasionally letting out a snort. It was the quietest, strangest, least dignified laugh that Dean had ever heard, and it was completely infectious. He couldn’t help it; he broke, and let his own laughter escape.

“Let me - let me -” Castiel got out, and Dean felt hands tugging at the beard. “It’s - you’ve got it stuck -”

Their laughter got louder. Dean bent over, and rested his bearded face on one of the presents. “You got me stuck in a Santa beard,” he said, his voice a little higher pitched than usual through the laughter. “You’ve ruined my Christmas!”

“You are Christmas!” Castiel said, pulling behind Dean’s ears.

“No, no, you’re bending my ear, you’re bending my - ow, no, let me do it, take one of these stupid presents -”

“It’s almost -”

“I’m gonna drop it on your foot, you asshole, what did you put in these? How long have you been planning this?”

“Since last Christmas,” Castiel said, “obviously. I smuggled them in through the back. There were supposed to be three, but I accidentally put my foot through one of them this morning. I blame my brother.”

“I blame you. For everything.”

“All’s fair in…” Castiel said, and his voice dropped for a second, and then quickly picked back up. “... war. Prank wars, especially.”

“Am I nearly out?” Dean said, still completely unable to see.

“Just - looped it - yes!” Castiel said triumphantly, freeing Dean from his fluffy white prison and throwing the thing away. It fell to the floor a few yards away, looking like a sad yet festive furry animal.

Dean dropped the heavy parcels to the ground, and they made a noise like falling rubble as they landed. Ignoring this for the moment, Dean held out his hand for Castiel’s phone to see the picture again. Castiel, his eyes bright, showed him the snap - but kept the phone just out of Dean’s reach. He’d learned since last year, then, Dean thought ruefully, remembering how easy it had been to delete a picture of himself doing something that had looked a lot like drinking from a bottle of rum in front of a horrified-looking middle-aged woman with a let-me-speak-to-your-manager haircut.

This picture was almost worse than it had seemed at first glance. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen himself look so utterly absurd. Castiel was laughing again, nearly-silently, shaking his head.

“Rocks, by the way,” Castiel said. He put his phone away, and offered Dean a hand to help him get up. “There are just rocks in the boxes.”

Dean considered spitting on Castiel’s hand - but instead, he allowed himself to take it.

It was warm, and strong, and Dean’s stomach swooped.

“You asshole,” he managed to say out loud - except the tone was all wrong. He said it like it was a good thing, like he was being affectionate and not irritated. He swallowed and quickly added, “You better delete it. Like, now.” Short, blunt, annoyed. Much better.

“No,” Castiel said frankly. “I’m going to go and show it to everyone.” He smiled - a good Castiel smile, eyes sharp and full of fun, lips pulled into a little smirk. Damn that smile.

“Please?” Dean tried, as Castiel began to walk away.

It didn’t work.

***

“This is a staff announcement,” said a crackly voice over Castiel’s head. “Could Castiel please bring five of our beautiful Golden ‘O’ For Her rings to the customer service desk.”

Castiel sighed, and put his phone away. He’d been looking at the photo again - he couldn’t stop enjoying that ridiculous look on Dean’s face, the way he looked so completely thrown. Cracks in Dean’s cool asshole facade always warmed Castiel’s heart, and this one was a giant fault line of a crack; it was absurd to feel it, and Castiel knew it, but he found it almost painfully endearing that in the photo Dean was so utterly unguarded. He didn’t look especially handsome or charming. He looked natural and silly and full of - full of feelings, full all the way to the top.

Castiel had never felt more in love with him. It was so frustrating.

His mind fell back to those work drinks, two years ago, when they’d spent the whole evening - as Castiel had thought - flirting with each other. They’d swapped numbers; Castiel had hoped that Dean would text first - but he didn’t. He’d eventually sent Dean a text late the next day that said, Hello, Dean. This is Castiel. I listened to some music by the band you recommended and I especially liked ‘Kashmir’.

He’d received, in reply, haha nice.

He hadn’t texted again. That was such a blatant shut-down that even Castiel, famed for missing social cues, couldn’t miss it. The next time they’d had a shift together, Dean had come straight up to him - Castiel’s heart had thudded painfully in his chest with sudden hope - but all Dean had said was, you know, my mom liked my dad because of his appreciation of Led Zep.

Castiel, of course, had said oh, that’s nice. And they’d stared at each other for a few seconds, and then he’d walked away. What was he supposed to say, after his text being thoroughly rejected and then Dean’s opener being all hey, have this fun fact about my family! Tune back in next time for information about my mother and father’s music taste.

And they hadn’t got along, at all, ever since. The best way that Castiel knew how to cover his feelings was to be overly dry and caustic, and Dean seemed to thoroughly enjoy being a total jerk in return. Mostly it worked; it was just at times like these, when Castiel was forcibly reminded that Dean was still very much the sweet, kind, nerdy guy he’d flirted with at work drinks, that it felt thin.

“This is a staff announcement,” said the voice on the tannoy, for a second time. “I repeat: could Castiel please bring five Golden ‘O’ For Her rings to the customer service desk, urgently.”

Castiel snapped back to reality, realising that he’d been standing and staring, spaced out, at the festive candle selection. He headed towards the jewellery section, half-dragging his feet, only bothering to walk smartly when a customer came into view.

The rings were easy to find; Castiel took them up to the service desk. Charlie smiled at him as he dropped them on the counter.

“Thanks!” she said brightly. “Five gold rings, nice.”

Castiel walked away, feeling vaguely suspicious for a reason that he couldn’t put his finger on.

He carried on working for the next fifteen minutes, his eyes peeled for any sign of unusual activity. He’d almost forgotten this, from last year: how it felt to be on high-alert, just waiting for the next prank to fall.

The score so far was one all; he wasn’t counting Dean’s mistletoe antlers as a prank, because it was low investment and low result. If it wasn’t practically a heist, it didn’t get the kudos of a prank during the prank war, and that was final. Also, as Castiel had said before and still agreed with, it would only have been a good prank if Castiel had wanted Dean to kiss him, had raised his hopes and then subverted his expectations. And that, of course, hadn’t happened.

Well, it had, but Dean had no way of knowing that, so…

Castiel sighed.

It was two-one. The mistletoe thing definitely counted.

“This is a staff announcement,” interrupted Charlie’s voice overhead, again. “Could Castiel please bring twelve Kids Do Love ‘Em number 56 dolls to the customer service desk, please.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

Charlie was well-known at this point to be an ally of Dean’s in the prank war - she frequently helped him pull off his more intricate capers. However, it was also fairly common, at Christmas, for someone to call ahead and ask for a certain toy or book or DVD set to be kept in reserve until they arrived to pick it up, just to make sure they got it.

Twelve of the same doll, though?

Castiel couldn’t risk not doing his job - he was fairly sure higher management were just waiting for a complaint from a customer or two to come in this Christmas. They had to suspect that some strange things occurred between the aisles on Christmas Day. The fire incident couldn’t have gone completely unnoticed, as invested as Dean and Castiel himself had been in the cover-up.

And so Castiel made his way to the toy section, and picked up twelve of the dolls. He eyed them carefully before picking them up; they seemed completely normal, no trip wires or alarms rigged to go off as soon as he touched them. Number 56 in the range proved to be one of the boyband dolls, who came with his own drum kit and bandana. Castiel picked up twelve of them, stacked them into his arms, and walked them all the way to the front of the store.

“Strange request,” he remarked, as he set them down carefully on the counter in front of Charlie. Her eyes were too carefully solemn as she replied,

“Yeah, man, weird. Who need twelve drummers drumming for their kid? Do they have twelve kids?”

“Wasn’t there a movie about that?” Castiel said. Again, something about the words she’d just said stuck in his mind, but her tone and inflection had been so casual that he was second-guessing himself. Maybe it really was just one of those odd Christmas requests.

“Oh, yeah. The one with Steve… uh… what’s his name.”

Castiel hated himself for answering, “Martin.”

“Wasn’t it Carell?”

“No, he was the one in Evan Almighty.”

“Oh, right. Man, you really have the whole actors in subpar comedy movies thing down pat.” Charlie sounded impressed, in a surprised and vaguely confused kind of way.

“I haven’t seen either of the movies,” Castiel confessed. “I just had to restock shelves with them once too many times.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “Makes a lot more sense,” she said. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks for these.” She patted the dozen doll boxes beside her, and Castiel smiled wryly as he walked away.

It took an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what was happening.

Charlie managed to ask him for two ornamental china doves, eight cans of Milkmaid, eleven children’s panpipe sets, and nine copies of Women’s Jazzercise (Three New Routines!) without him figuring out what was going on. The penny only dropped when, finally, Charlie asked him to bring a fake stuffed partridge dog toy and a large amount of pears to her customer service desk. He even collected them up without realising; it was only as he dropped them on her desk, a partridge and enough pears to almost be a tree, that he groaned and dropped his head onto his hand.

“Wow,” Dean said, rising up from behind the counter like a genie appearing from a lamp, summoned by Castiel’s exasperation and understanding. “I honestly thought the twelve drummers drumming was going to be too much. This wasn’t even supposed to be one of the big pranks. Dude, you strung it out for…” Dean checked his watch, “... an hour and ten minutes. We actually had to do the partridge in the pear tree.”

“I thought…” Castiel started, and then shook his head. He had no excuse.

“Just… I don’t even think this feels like a victory any more. It feels like taking candy from a baby, pretty much.” Dean picked up one of the pears, tested its firmness, and then bit into it and grinned.

Castiel pulled his phone out, and unlocked it, and silently presented Dean with the picture of himself as a very confused Santa once again. Dean choked on his bite of pear, and Castiel smiled in victory.

“It’s not a prank if we have to go to the hospital,” Dean said, thumping his chest and coughing, a little red in the face. “We made that rule last year. So no trying to choke me out just to win, alright?”

“I just thought you might want to see it again,” Castiel said smoothly. “It had been a while.”

Charlie, who had been sorting papers on her desk and half-watching her monitor, turned to them with an almost-amused little smile - an expression that Castiel caught often on her face when she was looking at him and Dean together. He could never figure out what she was thinking; probably, she was figuring him out as easily as Claire had, seeing how he felt about Dean and pitying him soundly.

“Hey,” she said aloud. “I’m just going to go on my break. Can you guys watch the desk for me? I don’t wanna have to go find someone else. Last time I got Claire to do it, and she somehow screwed up my filing system.”

“She’s just a kid,” Dean said, at the same time as Castiel offered,

“Well, she is very young.”

They met each other’s eyes. Castiel tried to keep his expression all irritated and not at all warm.

“It’ll be for ten minutes, max,” Charlie interjected, when the stare drew out a second too long. Castiel cleared his throat, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he said gruffly.

“Of course we’ll watch the desk,” Castiel added.

“We’ve got it covered.”

“Covered in papers, from your filing system, left just the way you ordered them,” Castiel said.

“No worries.”

“Not a problem.”

Charlie eyed them both, hard, and leaned down towards the microphone on the far side of her desk. Pressing the button, she spoke into it clearly.

“This is a staff announcement. Would Jo please go to aisle eleven and continue restocking.” Her voice echoed throughout the store. On the monitor, Jo could be seen tidying away her mop and heading for aisle eleven. Castiel, who had been trying to shelve stock there between his strolls up and down the store looking for items from a Christmas carol, gave Charlie a little nod of thanks as she walked out from behind the desk and headed for the break room.

Dean and Castiel took their places behind the desk.

Silence fell.

Dean started doing a little dance, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, but quickly stopped.

Castiel cleared his throat.

Twice.

Dean let out a long sigh.

Well , thought Castiel dryly, at least this isn’t awkward .

***

Jesus, thought Dean, this is so awkward.

He swung his arms a bit, and then stopped. Castiel didn’t need any more reasons to think he was a total weirdo, after that ridiculous photo from earlier.

“So,” he said, when the silence was too oppressive and he couldn’t take it anymore. “Got any plans for when you get out of here?”

“Just… going back to my dorm,” Castiel said, and to Dean he sounded dissatisfied. “I have an essay due in the new year that I could start on.”

“You’re going to work, on Christmas?” Dean asked incredulously - and then realised what he’d said, and snorted. “I mean… even more?”

Castiel lifted a shoulder. “I enjoy my studies,” he said flatly.

Dean couldn’t believe it. The guy was getting out of work, just to go home and work? Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing that whatever was happening between the two of them had never worked out. If Castiel was this much of a workaholic, they wouldn’t exactly be compatible.

“Yeah, but… come on, man,” Dean said aloud. “Christmas is for, like, trees and stuff.”

Raising an eyebrow, Castiel shot Dean a glance.

“Maybe, in that case, I’ll go walk around in a forest.”

Dean huffed. “ Christmas trees. You know what I mean. Like, you’re not supposed to work on Christmas by choice, you know? You’re supposed to celebrate and whatever.”

Castiel shrugged. “Maybe it’s my way of celebrating.”

“Don’t you have family you can go see?”

“My brother is in Malibu. My parents also live in California. I came here to study, even though they didn’t want me to, so they wouldn’t be thrilled to see me even if I could make it back in time.” He offered Dean an askance smile. “Do you think I’d take so many shifts here if I had parents who supported my life and my choices enough to want to see me at Christmas?”

Dean frowned, looking confused. “I thought… don’t you go to Harvard?”

“I do.”

“And your parents… didn’t want you to come?”

“They’re very traditional. They wanted me to take over the family business. An arts degree from Harvard isn’t what they pictured.” The facts came out hard and short, rapid-fired like bullets.

Dean laughed again, a little bitterly.

“Family business… yeah, I know how that goes.”

“And you?” said Castiel, his tone inviting the conversation to continue. “Do you have plans after work?”

“Oh, yeah. My brother’s waiting up for me. We’re probably just gonna play games and eat crappy food and watch some TV specials or something, but it’s something.” Dean smiled to himself, inside, just thinking about it. For him, Christmas had never really been so awesome - just one day much like any other, albeit with a few more lights and sparkly things everywhere - but for Sam, it was important, and that made it important for Dean in its own way. Even the crappy, sugary TV specials didn’t feel so terrible when his brother was beside him.

Castiel nodded. “It’s something,” he agreed, after too long a pause.

“So… you just never been big into the holidays, or… ?” Dean said.

With yet another shrug, Castiel sighed.

“Actually,” he said, “Christmas is my favourite.”

“It is?” Dean asked, surprised. He watched Castiel’s face; watched the movement across it, the flickers of feeling.

“I…” Castiel started, and then looked at Dean. His expression made his next sentence into a confidence, a secret. “Actually, I… hate it.”

Dean blinked.

“You can’t tell anyone!” Castiel added hurriedly. “I - Christmas has always been my favourite time of the year, and it’s - I just - I don’t want that to go away.”

“You stopped liking it?” Dean asked, a little bemused by Castiel’s urgent need to have this be kept on lockdown. What did it matter?

Castiel, however, was quiet. Very obviously, it did matter.

“I’ve always loved Christmas,” he said. “I don’t want that to not be me.”

“Okay,” Dean said, patiently, trying to understand. “So…?”

Castiel shook his head. He seemed to be gathering words together; for a second, he caught Dean’s eyes. He must have seen something in them that was worth talking to, because he started to talk.

“Look at this,” he said, waving his hand up and around at the store. “Look at where we are. This isn’t Christmas. I loved Christmas because everyone was all gathered in the same room, and it was warm, and safe. And we gave each other presents and ate food, and it was so good and so noisy and so messy. And everything just seemed to glow, and this…” Castiel shook his head. “This isn’t Christmas. Not the Christmas I loved. It’s not just that I have to work. I wouldn’t mind, it’s just... even if I went home, it still wouldn’t be Christmas. It’d just be me sitting in a room with people I only know well enough to be sure that they’d judge me if they really knew me.” Castiel raised his hands helplessly. “Maybe part of growing up is losing Christmas. But I don’t want to. I just miss…”

He sighed, and broke off. The words had obviously been pent up for so long that it had almost hurt to let go, like gripping onto a rope for too long and having to uncurl cramping hands with skin too tight. Dean swallowed hard, and said,

“You miss feeling safe with your family.”

Castiel gave him a look that said yes, and hurt.

Dean wasn’t sure what his look was saying back, but his heart was saying I’m sorry, and stop hurting, please, I like you too much for that shit to fly.

For a few moments, they just stood together in silence. Dean, for one, enjoyed the simplicity of the quiet. Eventually, he said,

“You know… I don’t know a whole lot about families that work good. Mine’s - well, let’s just say, we don’t get most of it right. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Christmas like the ones you miss. But I always thought that one day…” he swallowed. “One day, I’d get to have my own family. Start my own traditions, make my own food, do it all just perfect. So… maybe you’ll do that too, one day. You know?” Dean paused, and bit his lip for a second before adding, “Like, maybe it’s not growing up that makes you lose Christmas. Maybe it’s just that Christmas is kind of… hard to catch hold of.”

“It’s like trying to catch smoke,” Castiel said.

“Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands,” they said together, and then groaned and smiled.

“Remember when that clip was on repeat on every single TV in the entire electric department for six weeks?” Dean said, his tone saturated with fake nostalgia.

“It was the best time of my life,” Castiel said solemnly. “I miss it so much.”

“I haven’t even read Harry Potter.”

They both fell silent again; they’d managed, somehow, though, to bring themselves back to the shallows, and the silence was easier. Castiel turned around and perched himself on Charlie’s desk; Dean tried to watch him without watching, and ended up just staring at him for far too long. Luckily, Castiel was too busy trying not to dislodge Charlie’s filing system to notice.

“ In the valley we can build a - oh, no, come on,” Dean said, half-humming and half-singing the words and then cutting himself off angrily. “Not that song again. Come on. ”

Castiel looked up at him, amused. “I take it you’re not a fan of Christmas songs.”

“Nah, man. I’m into Led Zep and that’s about it.”

And suddenly all the tension was back - because neither of them had mentioned the band since the work drinks, the texts, the silent and confusing crumbling of the momentum they’d slowly been gathering way back then. Dean could see Castiel’s eyes slide away, his cheeks colour a little; for himself, he felt his heart leap and then sink, somehow both at the same time.

Damn that text that he’d sent. “ haha nice ”? It had seemed like a cool, inviting response at the time; looking back, it had been a catastrophe. And Dean had looked back at it, so many times - had wanted to send a follow-up text, or an explanatory text, or just a joke about butts or something, whatever. But whenever he was on the verge of doing it, he remembered saying to Castiel, you know, my mom liked my dad because of his appreciation of Led Zep. And he remembered Castiel brushing him off, utterly and performatively disinterested. Dean had understood: Castiel wasn’t interested in Dean in the way that Dean’s mom had been interested in Dean’s dad. It just wasn’t gonna happen. And that was the end of that.

Or at least, it should have been. Except that Dean’s heart wouldn’t just let it be.

“Hey,” Castiel said, reaching back behind himself on the desk. “Look what I found.” He pulled out Dean’s pair of antlers, still festooned with mistletoe, and waved them wryly in Dean’s direction. “Prank number one.”

Dean snorted. “Right,” he said. And then, because his guard was down, and the mood between them was softer than usual, he said, “I shouldn’t have put the mistletoe on them.”

And - damn it, damn everything - it came out sounding like a secret. Because it was a secret.

Castiel could have said no, you shouldn’t or probably not or hmmm, you’re right , but instead he said, “Why not?”

Dean could hear it in his voice - Castiel knew that Dean was regretting saying those words. He had sensed the heavy weight behind them.

“Uh,” he said intelligently. “Uh - no, just - nothing. I just -” He couldn’t decide whether to brush it off or answer properly, and he was trying to do both at once, and he was making a fool of himself. Again . It had to be moments like this, when he looked like a complete idiot, where any warmer feeling Castiel had for him had to be at its lowest point. If that warm feeling even existed at all.

He looked up, and caught Castiel looking at him with eyes that were soft and kind and fond. His stomach swooped.

“Because,” he said. “It was a bad prank.”

“We’ve definitely done better…” Castiel said, allowing it to pass for truth. “But -”

“It was as much a prank on me as it was on you,” Dean said. He was sailing dangerously close to the wind, here; he could feel the temptation, the sudden intense rush he felt along with fear - the urge to just do the thing that scared him most, get it out the way, get it over with. He wanted to just say even one of the thousand things that had been on his mind for three years. He wanted to say, I shouldn’t have worn the mistletoe to work because of your smile. He wanted to say, I shouldn’t have worn the mistletoe to work because of your eyes. He wanted to say, I shouldn’t have worn the mistletoe to work because of you, your whole you, everything about who you are, you complete ass -

“Dean?” Castiel said. “What does that mean?”

Dean gulped. Three years of saying nothing. Three years of being too scared of pain and hopelessness to allow himself to hope.

If there was a time to hope, Dean thought, wasn’t it supposed to be now? Wasn’t that the whole point of Christmas? Even here, in this big ugly stupid grocery store with its garish lights and its greed and its horrifying banality, even in here, couldn’t it be worth something that it was Christmas?

“I shouldn’t have worn the mistletoe,” Dean said, “because I wanted to - you know - yeah. I kind of hoped we’d somehow just end up doing the - the thing. I’ve wanted to… I - yeah, I pretty much pranked myself.” It was awkward, and too short, and lame, and flustered.

“Dean…” said Castiel; he sounded numb, confused, shocked.

“I - Cas, I’m -”

And Castiel’s hands were suddenly in Dean’s hair, pushing something onto his head.

At the top of Dean’s vision, green leaves and white berries danced. His mouth fell slightly open.

“Mistletoe?” he said, and then looked at Castiel.

“You... didn’t just prank yourself,” Castiel said. He still looked shocked, disbelieving - but as Dean watched his lips lifted into a smile - gentle, understanding, warm, thoughtful, hopeful - damn that smile -

“I didn’t?” Dean said, his voice rough. Castiel was close; he hadn’t moved away.

“You got me, too,” Castiel said. He reached up his hand, and softly, tentatively, cupped Dean’s cheek. It was such a simple touch, so easy. Three years’ wait, and it left Dean’s knees weak. “I wanted to kiss you too.”

They stared at each other. Slowly, Dean felt a smile creep onto his face.

“So… does that mean… you… ?”

“I - like you, yes.” Castiel’s cheeks were pink again. Dean’s heart squeezed.

“I like you, too,” he confided. No flustered half-sentences or syllables. Just a fact.

“Like… ?”

“Like.”

“ Like like?”

“Like, like like like.”

They both snorted a little laugh. Dean couldn’t feel his legs; he was floating, floating in pure happiness.

“We’re so dumb,” he said. “So freaking dumb.”

“We are,” Castiel agreed, matter-of-factly.

“We wasted so much time.”

“I know .”

“Like, what were we thinking?” Dean asked; every word he spoke was giddy and happy and beautiful. He reached out and put his hand just above Castiel’s hip, because Castiel was near and because he could. And Castiel leaned into the touch, swaying even further into Dean’s space. His hand was still warm and steadying on Dean’s cheek. His thumb gently stroked, and the movement was sending sparks down Dean’s back.

“You know,” he said quietly, dryly. “The mistletoe might still be good for another go.”

“You reckon?” Dean said, his grin so wide he thought his face might crack. “It’s got the juice?”

“It’s worth a try, at least, don’t you think?” Castiel said, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips and back.

“OK. I’m gonna - I’m gonna try it.” Dean squared his shoulders. “You ready?”

“Hmm. Maybe it hasn’t quite been long enough -”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“OK,” Castiel said. “Do it.”

“I’m gonna - just - do it.”

“I’m ready,” Castiel said.

“I’m just gonna -”

"Yes."

"I'll just..."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm going to -"

"Go on."

"I will, I will."

"Right."

"OK."

"Good."

"Excellent."

“ Dean. ”

And Dean leaned in, close enough for their lips to almost brush.

“May I just say, Mr Novak,” he said, and then said nothing else at all - only pressed forwards, and kissed Castiel, who kissed him soundly back.

#whelvenwingsfic #thebloggerbloggerfun #purgatory-jar #destieldrabblesdaily #destiel #fluff #mutual pining #miscommunication #i hope you enjoy it!!!!#<3

578 notes · View notes