#also fun fact! this guy is at least partially responsible for tris getting his arm ripped off

[jimxnslight]

The Crab Cult || Chapter 11

Summary: a new year of university has begun, but the crab cult remains the same as it's always been.

Pairing: archmajor!Jimin x archmajor!reader

Genre: university au, smau, crack

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

Taglist: @parapiop7 @honeybear-taetae @pastelpeachess

<< previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter >>

Jimin’s shoes thudded against the hard concrete beneath him as he jogged towards Fifth Street, the sound echoing throughout the empty campus in the darkness of the night. There was a slight sinking feeling in his chest as he got further and further away from his calculus building, the one he knew was currently filled to the brim with students taking the first out of the three block exams of the year. 

He should have been there too, stressing over partial derivatives and linear approximation. But he wasn’t. 

Instead, he was running towards you. 

Jimin came to a halt before the infamous Fifth Street, his gaze scanning the area before it finally dropped on your form. You were sitting on one of the benches, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while your shoe bounced against the ground restlessly. He had to stand there for a moment, hidden behind a particularly large building, as he caught his breath. You couldn’t know that he’d practically run across campus to get here, because then you’d think he liked you.

And he didn’t. He had tried to explain to Hoseok a hundred times that his feelings weren’t serious. Yes, he’d had a crush on you from the second Jungkook had introduced you as his best friend to the group in first year- Jimin was pretty sure everyone did at that time. Who could blame them? You were gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that turned heads and made people stumble over their words.  

Eventually though, as the friendships started to strengthen, the guys got over their crushes and the group fell into a very platonic harmony. You made fun of them, they made fun of you; all was right with the world. 

Your and Jimin’s relationship has always been a bit different from the others though, and that had a lot to do with the fact that you both were in the same architectural engineering program. Since that meant you had to take most classes together, and because both you and Jimin seemed very set on being the best of your class, your relationship had turned more into a rivalry. 

Jimin blames that rivalry for how much longer it was taking him to get over his crush compared to the others. Although he would never admit it out loud, he loved the teasing and bantering you both seemed to participate in so often. It was different than when he did it with the others; there was just something so enamoring about watching you roll your eyes at him, the edges of your lips twitching to suppress a smile while Jimin teased you over a 1% difference in grades. 

And then there were those moments when the two of you were alone, like the time at Hoseok’s party or the time you both went out for ramen and ice cream, when you both are too tired to keep up the rivalry and the walls start to come down. Those moments, to Jimin at least, are dangerous, because that’s when you both start to talk, really talk, about responsibilities and insecurities and anything else that he’d usually prefer to keep to himself. 

“Jimin?”

His once straying gaze raised suddenly to find you pushing yourself off the wooden bench. You jogged over to him while pocketing your cell phone, brows furrowed to form a questioning look. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. 

He also couldn’t tell you that he was here because the thought of you walking through Fifth Street by yourself put his mind into an excessively alarming state, especially knowing its unique reputation, so instead he stretched his arms overhead, trying to seem as casual as possible. 

“I saw your post on Twitter and remembered that I had to get some snacks for my dorm,” he shrugged, his gaze subconsciously scanning the area. It was mostly empty, nothing but the streetlamps making an effort to liven up the place.

Your head tilted at the response, “but… I thought you had a calc exam tonight?”

When you had gotten the text from Jimin that he was going to come with you, that had been the first thought to pop into your head. You’d taken that calculus class last semester with the same professor, and if you had learned anything about her in those months, it was that her late policies were non-existent and you doubted even the president could change her mind to be even a bit more lenient. 

“No, that’s tomorrow night,” he lied. He didn’t want you to feel bad about him missing the exam. In the end, it was his decision to ditch it, a decision that he would probably chastise himself for tomorrow, but for now he chose not to dwell on it. 

“Oh, okay then,” you said, a smile passing over your features before Jimin began to lead the two of you towards the only convenience store on this side of campus. 

You both walked in silence for a few moments, Jimin’s bare arm brushing against yours once in a while. He looked really good tonight, too good if you were being honest, with his black short sleeve t-shirt, baseball cap, and track pants. The light from the streetlamps were casting a soft glow on his skin, it was reminding you of that night at Hoseok’s party. Except this time you and Jimin were far from drunk. 

“So, how do you think Jin and Namjoon are at the moment?” He asked mindlessly, his steps in sync with your own as he pocketed his hands. 

The question made you giggle, “I bet they’re having a blast without us. Jin has always liked Namjoon the most anyway.”

“So rude of him to choose that nerd over us. What does he have that we don’t?” He joked. 

“Well, I’m hot, smart, funny and amazing company, so I can’t say anything about myself.”

“Humble too.”

“Yes exactly,” you said, fully aware of the delusions escaping your lips at the moment, “you on the other hand I can give a few reasons.”

You could tell Jimin was trying hard not to laugh at you as he raised an eyebrow, daring you to continue. 

“You’re not that smart, definitely not as smart as me, and you may be attractive, but you’re nowhere near as funny as-”

“Oh?” Jimin suddenly interrupted your senseless rambling, “you think I’m attractive?” 

You turned in his direction to shoot back a retort, something along the lines of “to an ogre maybe” because god forbid you compliment Park Jimin in any way, but the sight of him seemed to suddenly catch you off guard. The two of you had moved to the part of the street that was away from the streetlamps, bathing Jimin in nothing but the moon’s light. He looked almost ethereal as pale blue washed over his skin, emphasising the pink of his lips. You felt like a fish caught in the hook of a fishing rod, unable to look away from the image before you. 

You were only able to rip your gaze away from him when you both found yourselves standing in front of the convenience store, its lights casting a suddenly harsh artificial luminescence against your skins. Jimin cleared his throat, while you shuffled awkwardly in place. 

You mumbled a small thanks to him when he held the door open for you, letting you pass before he followed behind. It was empty except for one student who was sitting at the cashier, too focused on reading the textbook before him to even give the both of you a glance. 

You went straight to the back of the store, plucking some ramen and fruit gummies off the shelves expertly while eyeing the fridge of drinks. But your gaze caught Jimin’s form, who you didn’t realise was standing behind you like a shadow, hands empty of anything. 

“I thought you were going to get snacks?” You asked, raising a brow in his direction. You watched him survey the shelves momentarily before his eyes landed back on you. 

“Actually, I’m not in the mood for snacks anymore.”

Jungkook hadn’t been joking when he said that Jimin had gone broke from the night of ramen and ice cream you both had indulged in. He didn’t blame you or anything, technically speaking he didn’t have to pay for you and he knew you wouldn’t have minded paying for yourself at all, but Jimin loved spoiling others and spoiling you just seemed to make him extra happy for some reason. Besides, his scholarship money was coming in a few days, so he just had to survive till then. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, choosing instead to turn around and grab a few more packets of ramen and fruit gummies, and then a tub of cheese balls, before making your way to the cashier. 

“Y/N…” Jimin chastised with a frown, watching the student quickly scan your stuff, clearly eager to get back to his studying, “since when do you like cheese balls?”

You shrugged, tapping your card on the machine just as quickly as the student before Jimin could catch onto you, “I don’t, still don’t understand how you like them either, but who am I to judge? I’m about to eat ramen and fruit gummies together.”

You took the bags from the student, thanking him as you both made your way out of the store. As you both began walking away, you pushed one of the bags in Jimin’s direction, ignoring his protests. 

“Hey, you paid for the ramen and ice cream last time, this is the least I could do,” you said, pushing the bag onto him so much that Jimin had no choice but to take it from you with a frown. You laughed at his hesitant expression, “but this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for stealing those $2 from me.”

Jimin joined in on your laughter, “stealing? You’re the one who sent it to me.”

“It was an accident you thief,” you shot back with a grin, “I get that you're jealous of my spectacular grades, but stealing money from me is a bit low even for you.”

“Your grades? Didn’t you get 3% less than me in the last physics test?”

You sent a light punch to his arm, which only seemed to amuse him even more. 

“Just wait for the next one, I’ll demolish you, Park Jimin.”

“Ohh I’m so scared.”

You went for his arm again, but this time his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping it in its tracks. Jimin had only meant it playfully, but as your hand fell, his fingers brushed against yours, dangerously similar to when people hold hands. He let go of your wrist immediately, the odd feeling from earlier returning. 

It was your turn to clear your throat this time, although breaking free from the moment made you realise that you had arrived at your residence. You hadn’t even realised Jimin had been guiding you both here the entire time. 

“Well… that’s my dorm…” you announced unnecessarily, the building in question standing a few metres away from you both. 

Jimin turned to face you, “yeah, I should get going then.” 

A silence followed his words, one you couldn’t quite decipher. You got the feeling he was expecting something more, or maybe you were just projecting your own feelings onto the moment. It came as a surprise to you that you felt that way. That perhaps… deep down… you wanted Jimin to ask whether he could stay. 

But that wasn’t possible, so when he said, “goodnight Y/N” in a voice that was oddly similar to a whisper, almost as if not to break the peace of the silent midnight atmosphere, you weren’t surprised. 

You had barely remembered to reply back before Jimin began to walk past you, shoulder just barely ghosting over your own as you listened to his retreating steps. You began to take your own steps towards your dorms, but you only managed about a metre before you turned around suddenly, not able to hold yourself back. You could both continue your rivalry tomorrow. 

“Thank you.”

Because even though Jimin had claimed that he had joined you for the sake of snacks, a small part of you seemed to have a deeper understanding of his actions. 

Jimin, who had turned around to meet your gaze, gave you a small smile, and you couldn’t help but think it was one of the most genuine ones you’d ever witnessed. His voice was the same as it was when he had wished you goodnight as he replied. 

“Don’t mention it.”

[thesharktanksdriver]

Oh! When I asked about magical girl! Y/n in Teen Titans (2003 version), I forgot to mention about how she would interact, meet or deal with the Titans’ villains like the HIVE, Slade, Red X, or the Brotherhood of Evil

No prob, I was actually wanting to add a bit about the hive in my first response but didn’t want to make it too long lol. I’m just gonna do the hive and Slade for this since I can’t remember the brotherhood of evil very well and red x would need his own thing lol

Is it any surprise that y/n ends up befriending the light? I mean really? With her track record the light are probably the least Bruce has to worry about. But anyways she would have probably heard about them through the teen titans but kinda didn’t pay them any mind till she ran into them. They at first think she’s a potential “no good goody two shoes” set out to stop their fun until she pulls out a sniper rifle and quite literally blow off the head of a shadowmite on one of their shoulders, effortlessly scaring the crap out of them and also making them quite interested in her.

I’d say she’s find them to be pretty fun, but she’d especially get along with Jinx and surprisingly Mammoth. Y/n is tired and exasperated half the time making her a kinda low energy person who would take to answering their questions as long as they got her bat-burger which leads to some interesting conversations.

“Yeah Robin has been pretty miffed lately cause-“

“Wait so you know Robin?”

“Yeah, both”

“Both???”

“Well you guys are from a seperate dimension right? Well there’s a Robin from my dimension who’s a different Robin from your Robin but still Robin. You can tell them apart cause your Robin is adverse to any real violence while my Robin would try and cut your arm off”

“….your Robin has a sword?!?!?!?”

“Yeah he also used to be an assassin too”

Yeah after that they start to think that they lucked out in the Robin department knowing theirs wasn’t the type to possibly cause real injury. That’s not even to mention when you mention other hero’s in this world or hell even the villains. Cause Jesus, Joker wore his own face after it was cut off?!?!? Or that an end of the world scenario happened just about every year?!?!?

They’re starting to enjoy where they live in comparison to you especially after you explain Shadowmites to them. How you hunt these monstrous creatures by your lonesome (maybe not as much as before since one of the bats typically tags along but still, there are times you go off on your own) and how your the sole thing keeping these things from literally devouring the universe.

But with that comes with you saying something oddly sad that makes them pause

“Hey….if the Shadowmites end up in your world and a magical girl is defending against them? Tell her about me. Tell her that I wish I could have met her myself and that…it’s gonna be hard but to keep going”

Damn…..that’s more depressing than they’d like to admit nor think about.

Her meeting 2003 Slade would be an….odd scenario considering she knows the Slade in her universe. So it’s definitely an awkward meeting when she’s like “yo Slade how’s rose doing” and 2003 Slade is wondering who the fuck she is and how she knows about his daughter.

When y/n learns that this is 2003 Slade though….she definitely tries to avoid him for various reasons. Cause listen, as much as her Slade is an asshole sometimes and has some weird ass morals he doesn’t act like a creep towards literal children. When hearing what he did to Raven she is appalled, she did not think being a hired murderer could get worse before she had heard that.

She does not in the slightest want to be around him

But him on the other hand is interested partially due to the fact he can see she’s skilled and some of the techniques she uses are some of his moves.

Which means that she must have known and trained under her universe’s version of him

When y/n now meets up with her version of Slade she thanks the gods he isn’t the same one from 2003

(Y/n to 2003 Slade be like lol)

[albatris]

OK SO

THIS TURNED INTO AN UNINTENTIONAL RAMBLE the floodgates were opened I am very sorry

(and also trigger warning for body + existential horror and violent death)

at the start of ATDAO Jacob Greer is involved in a tragic interdimensional mishap that yeets him into an unreality BUT there is also another guy involved in the accident who is definitely in the process of getting yeeted into an unreality but he kinda only makes it halfway

so he leaves behind the lower half of his body pretty much which kind of just flops onto the ground from his car and spills some organs out and Tris is like "cool well that's an image that will haunt my nightmares from this day forward but at least I can be pretty sure this is the most traumatic thing this particular corpse will do to me" and he is of course WRONG

the thing about unrealities is they're essentially just stacks of interdimensional energy from all kinds of sources just goin round and round in a blender and things get WEIRD real fast 'cause you've got all these competing and contradictory laws of reality fighting to exist simultaneously. and anything inside the space, dead or alive, can't really exist there for long without getting tangled up with some real bizarre energy

and THIS poor motherfucker gets seized by some whacked-out energy that more or less just takes over his body and keeps it spasming and twitching and dragging itself around the place and ARGUABLY right on the very brink of death but Not Allowed To Die. n is just slowly and inescapably morphing into something monstrous and inhuman

what's this guy's deal? well, here!:

it is presently barely recognisable as a person

it has amalgamated and will amalgamate various other creatures and objects into its mass. just sucks 'em right up. as a result, this thing has, like, bird beaks and bits of fur and extra lifeless eyes just kind of sticking out of its fucked up flesh

if you do not touch it, it will leave you alone. it will not hunt you down, it does not care that you are here. it is just a bundle of pulsating flesh and extra parts and limbs bent the wrong way scuttling aimlessly around

if you DO touch it it will flip the fuck out and try to fucking kill you and absorb you. why? maybe it's angry. maybe it's frightened. maybe it's hungry. maybe it's just responding to sensory input. maybe you're just in a fucking nightmare hell dimension don't ask me

it still has an intact human voice box, which it will use to moan and scream

as far as horror goes he's a bit cliche but I think every surreal hellscape deserves a little creecher and I have fun with him

is this thing alive? is it sentient? is the original person still in there, no matter how twisted and deranged? is it simply a lifeless empty body now being jerked around by weird violent energies that burrowed in and made a home?

scientifically, logically, this is a dead guy. there's no one home in there. this guy got sliced in half, he was probably dead before he hit the ground and long before the energy got all up in his personal space. but like. this IS an unreality and things do NOT work right here, including human bodies and time

Tris firmly believes the half-corpse creature is Alive, and that it's essentially this guy's human soul trapped in a monstrous body that is not allowed to die, stuck in an endless cycle of pain and terror reliving the moment of its "death" over and over whilst screaming out for help

Tris is also prone to projecting lots of big emotional feelings onto situations and is under a lot of stress right now

I will not say one way or the other whether he's right. I don't actually know the answer myself! what fun

what this horrid little guy does is hmmmmmm..... well, I included him for a few reasons, first and foremost because Hell Yeah That's Freaky

and also because he's involved with some real rough character-arc-y spoiler things that I will not tell you

n also, because he helps establish a few key facts about the unreality, the first and most obvious being that it is a Very Very Very Bad Place For An Organic Human Body To Be

him showing up marks the halfway point of the unreality, and also where the story takes a well-earned veer into..... about as close as ATDAO gets to horror, though the majority of the horror is less Ooh Spooky Monster and more existential lmao

but ya, so, the unreality gets. progressively stranger and less stable the further you go. goes from Hey This Isn't So Bad to deeply unsettling uncanny valley territory to some sort of surreal nightmare zone. n like, ok, it's unstable at its edges, yes, but it also has to do with the fact that the longer you spend in there, the more your own senses and physical properties and relationship with reality start to unwind

you can FEEL your senses altering and your physical body changing and you're experiencing reality in a way that will be completely incomprehensible to you the second you leave, you look at yourself, you look at the wild unstable space around you, you look at this heaving mass of once-human flesh and bone and blood in front of you, knowing it's becoming increasingly warped and twisted as time wears on, and you think to yourself, well, this doesn't exactly fill me with confidence for my future now does it

another thing this lil creecher does, particularly if you lean towards the idea that it is entirely lifeless and non-sentient, is uhhh..... this guy helps establish the unreality not as something malicious or evil that wants to hurt you personally, but simply as something Inevitable

does that seem contradictory? maybe, seeing as this guy does a hell of a lot of damage and tries to kill my protagonist

but like. the unreality is just one little segment of gigantic grinding machinery - there's no malicious intent, it's not hunting you or targeting you, it doesn't even know you're here. you can't outsmart it or outrun it or reason with it because it is Everything. it's gonna twist you beyond recognition. it's going to crush you. it can't hear you, not because it's choosing not to, but because it simply doesn't have the capacity to

n this creature has been caught up in the gnashing gears of this reality, it's slowly being pushed further and further away from its human roots, n it just stumbles around aimlessly until it bumps into something, and even when it attacks you it's just regurgitating this empty mockery of human pain and fear that in all likelihood are just echoes of its last living moments. it's a product of a reality that Doesn't Care and It Does Not Care

or, I suppose, if you do believe the human soul is still kickin in there somewhere, then it's the sheer agony and terror of being trapped in and entirely at the mercy of this unfeeling cosmic machinery and watching yourself unravel with no escape

either way, y'know, not ideal

and lastly.......... oh, it's fun just to toss a weird little guy in there. my best writing advice? just toss in a guy

thanks for coming to my ted talk

thinkin about him...........

(the fucked up unreality half-corpse creature)

[canarygirl1017]

Ghosted - Chapter 3 (Teaser)

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook, Reader / Taehyung (past relationship, friends to lovers to friends)

Genre:  College!au, fluff, angst, supernatural drama, smut, friends to lovers, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort

Length:  2, 933k words (partial chapter)

Warnings:  language, episodes of anxiety, panic attacks, sexual themes in later chapters.

Summary:  Living in a world full of things only you have the ability to see, growing up with Jungkook has been your island amidst the chaos. But when your best friend makes an impossible request, your friendship is fractured, and your sudden decision to cut ties and move abroad changes everything. Three years later, Jungkook is thriving at university as he begins his junior year. He’s a star athlete, member of a popular fraternity, and every girl’s ideal boyfriend. He tells himself that he’s long forgotten you and the friendship he never had a chance to mend – that is, until you show up on campus as a transfer student with new friends in tow. It’s been three years, and everything has changed, but the biggest change is you. Your new found determination to use your abilities to help the ghosts you used to live in fear of, no matter how dangerous it might be, makes Jungkook fear he’ll lose you before he has a chance to fix what he broke. College AU.

Disclaimer: Just for funsies, I don’t believe in real-life shipping. But I like to write, and I like fandom, so here we are. Please do not duplicate this work or repost anywhere else without permission.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Ghosted Playlist

Chapter 3

“You ready to go?”

You turned to see Taehyung leaning in your doorway. He was wearing flared jeans and a green paisley silk button-down shirt. The open butterfly collar revealed a vintage Chanel gold medallion, and he’d added light green sunglasses to complete his retro look.

Taehyung had picked out your outfit – a short, cream colored wrap dress with an abstract floral design and long flared sleeves. Knee high rust red boots and pin straight hair completed the look, and for once you felt like a match to his fashionable appearance.

You held up a finger as you opened your jewelry box, looking for the vintage garnet drop earrings you’d found to complement the outfit. You slid them in, moving your hair back to admire how they dangled and caught the light.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, turning to find him behind you.

“Almost,” he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

“Tae,” you said reprovingly as he opened the box and took out a ring. The antique gold setting was beautiful – an oval opal surrounded by a halo of garnets – and it looked perfect when he slid it onto your right ring finger.

“Now you’re ready,” he said, looking pleased as he stood back to check your appearance.

You raised a brow. “When did you even have time to shop for this?” Taehyung’s little surprise gifts were something to which you’d become accustomed over the last few years, and your attempts to discourage him were usually ignored.

He shrugged and as always, his sheepish grin disarmed you. You reached up and adjusted his collar.

“You look like you’re ready for a Vogue shoot,” you said, smiling back. “The poor girls at this party won’t know what hit them.”

“That’s why I have you to protect me,” he replied.

It was Friday, the final weekend before classes started, and the welcoming activities had ramped up in the last week. You and Taehyung had attended some of them and declined others, but you’d committed to the biggest events of the weekend – tonight’s Musical Eras mixer and tomorrow’s Movie Night on the Quad.

The mixer was being held at the Kappa fraternity house, something that had almost made you reconsider attending because you were certain to run into Jungkook again as you had for the last week. While your anger had cooled, you still felt that knot of anxiety in your stomach whenever you saw him, wondering if he’d still be angry or if he’d just pretend you didn’t exist.

So far, his attitude fell somewhere in the middle – when he saw you and Taehyung together at the supermarket, he tried to hide his reaction, but the little muscle ticking away in his jaw was a dead giveaway. A couple of days later, you saw him in the park while you were walking Yeontan and for once, he didn’t look big mad at the sight of you. You were alone and had considered trying to talk to him, but he was with friends. Not wanting to invite public rejection, you waved at the group and hurried away, noticing the little wrinkle between his brows as he watched you go.

Jin, Jimin and Jimin’s girlfriend, Ayeong, had all been by the house a couple of times. Sera had also visited with her mother, accepting Taehyung’s offer of a house tour since Sera’s mother was interested in how the historical home had been renovated. Jungkook was noticeably absent, though Jin seemed certain that he’d eventually come around.

You weren’t so certain of that. In all the years you’d been friends with Jungkook, you’d never seen him so deeply upset with another person. If someone upset him, he might avoid that person for a while, but he always got over it, and you’d never seen him blow up at anyone the way he had with you.

You always thought you knew him better than anyone, and he you, but now you had to acknowledge the reality of this situation – three years had passed, and the truth was, you didn’t know this Jungkook. Worse, he didn’t know you either and you had no one to blame for that but yourself.

________________

Stepping into the Kappa house was like stepping back in time. The large house had several rooms downstairs, each of which reflected a different decade of music, and everyone had taken their costumes just as seriously. You laughed when Jimin and Ayeong met you out front dressed as Sonny and Cher.

“Very nice,” you said, gesturing to Ayeong’s dress.

“Thanks, I love yours too.”

Thought it was still early, the party was already a crush of people circulating between the rooms. Younger guys, probably freshmen, circulated with drinks on trays which they offered to guests.

“Pledges?” Taehyung asked Jimin as he took a beer.

Jimin nodded. “They have to put in an hour according to a schedule and then they’re free to party. That’s as close to hazing as we get here.”

When Jimin offered you a glass of wine, you shook your head. “I don’t really drink much when I’m…” you paused, unsure how to finish the sentence without being weird. “When I’m out.”

You could see that Jimin understood what you meant. “Got it. We have a dry bar too if you want to call it that.”

Ayeong linked arms with you. “I’ll show her. I’m not really in the mood to drink either.”

The dry bar turned out to be pretty impressive, with lots of juice, sparkling water, club soda, and even fruits you could add. You settled for club soda with a splash of raspberry juice and slices of lemon, while Ayeong created a tropical drink.

“I know Jungkook is being… well, difficult. But I just want you to know that Jimin is so happy you’re back,” Ayeong said. “He said you were all friends since kindergarten.”

“Jimin was always one of the sweetest people at our school,” you replied. “It was really easy to be his friend.”

“Not much has changed then,” Ayeong laughed. “What about Jungkook? Jimin says he wasn’t always such a fuckboy.”

You choked on a sip of your drink. “Jungkook is a fuckboy?”

“Well, a nice one? I think he only hooks up with girls who want the same kind of no-strings fun, so there’s never any drama related to it. He’s not the type to get serious though, which is why I’ve told Erin she needs to move on from her crush.”

Fuckboy Jungkook wasn’t something you could really imagine, nor did you want to. You chose not to think too closely about why it bothered you so much.

But once you spotted him across the room talking to a group of girls, you couldn’t shake that image from your mind. He looked good. Really, really good. He was dressed in tight red pants, a black silk button down, and he’d completed his Michael Jackson Thriller homage with a red leather jacket trimmed in black. When he laughed at something one of the girls said, his dimples appeared.

“I’m surprised Jungkook is wearing a costume – he almost never does,” Ayeong commented.

“He kind of stopped wearing them by the time we were in high school,” you said. “But this kind of party, plus a Thriller homage, is pretty on brand for him.”

“Oh, that’s who he’s supposed to be! I’m really bad at guessing all of these costumes.”

You and Taehyung stuck with Jimin and Ayeong, who introduced you to people you hadn’t met yet. Everyone was welcoming, but two hours in you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise. There was also the fact that ever since Jungkook became aware of your presence, you’d felt his eyes on you. You’d hoped his neutral response to you at the park was progress, but you could feel his judgmental stare like a brand.

Every time you glanced over at him, his impassive expression was contradicted by some blazing emotion in his eyes. You reminded yourself that you’d known this would probably be a struggle – that Jungkook would likely be angry with you for leaving. Emmie had even said that no one mentioned your name to him anymore.

You’d just underestimated how much it would hurt.

___________________

Jungkook almost skipped Movie Night on the Quad because he was in a foul mood after the Musical Eras mixer. Seeing you there with Taehyung in your matching costumes had made him inexplicably angry, something Jin called him out on.

“Shouldn’t we be glad that she has good people in her life?” Jin asked him when he stomped around the kitchen the next day, slamming cabinets as he fixed a late breakfast.

“He’s right,” Jimin said. “Plus you know that she and Taehyung aren’t together, right?”

That made him pause. “They look like they’re together.” Fucking matching costumes and all, he thought viciously.

“They dated, but Ayeong said y/n told her it’s been a while since they were together like that. At least six months or so.”

“Who the hell follows their ex-girlfriend to another country? And buys a house?”

“If you took the time to get to know Taehyung, you’d understand that he feels like y/n saved his life. He’s committed to helping her with the ghost hunting because of that, but he also genuinely cares about her. So do Namjoon and Chloe,” Jin said. “They’re all good people.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook muttered, shoving cereal into his mouth.

“Forget it, Jin. He won’t admit the real problem, and we all know his anger default setting when it comes to y/n is because of that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jungkook demanded.

“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of anyone that got close to y/n,” Jimin replied calmly. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

Jungkook grit his teeth. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really? So every time a guy expressed interest in dating her back in high school, and you very pointedly warned them all off, that was you just being what? A good friend?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who? Like Lucas? You’re damn right I warned him off. He didn’t deserve her.”

“What about me?” Jimin asked, a challenge in his tone. “I told you that I liked her our sophomore year, and you shot down that idea so fast I was afraid if I pursued it, it would actually ruin our friendship.”

Jungkook stared at him, shifting uncomfortably. “Because you weren’t serious about it.”

“Says who? I was dead serious, Jungkook, and you know it. For that matter, I think even Lucas was serious about liking her. He never said a word about her that wasn’t totally respectful.”

“Yeah, because he knew I would beat his ass,” Jungkook said.

“You’re right – everybody knew that. Why do you think people steered clear of her? Why do you think Grace hated her so much? I told you that Grace wasn’t as nice as you thought she was. Yet you still held tight to y/n with one hand while you chased after Grace. And I figured it was just a matter of time until you realized how you really felt about y/n, so I let it go. But damn, Jungkook, you need to stop taking out your anger on y/n. Let her explain why she left.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Jungkook asked, “Has she told you why?”

“I asked her,” Jin said. “But I think she’s waiting to talk to you first.”

Jungkook tried not to think about what Jimin said, but now that he was here on the quad, and you were just a few feet away, it was all he could think about. Jealousy.

He couldn’t deny he hated seeing how close you were to Taehyung. The way the other man touched you, or kept a protective arm around you, pissed him off. The way you smiled at him made him even angrier. Still, beneath the anger was something else – a yearning for the way things had been. No one had ever understood him the way you did, and he missed that connection with you.

It was his fault you left. That little voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that you weren’t the only one to blame for this vast distance between you now. He kind of understood why you’d left, but he didn’t know why it had taken you so long to return.

He kept stealing glances at you rather than watching the movie playing on the large screen set up on the quad. You’d been to the concession stand, and he wasn’t surprised to see you eating gummy bears since that had always been your favorite movie snack.

You looked pretty. Your hair was a little longer now than it had been in high school and fell in gentle waves around your shoulders. You wore another floaty little summer dress, the kind you had always liked, small feet encased in comfortable flat sandals. You and Taehyung had joined Jimin, Ayeong, Erin and Jin on a large blanket towards the front of the crowd.

Stubbornly, Jungkook had opted to sit with some of his friends from the baseball team. He was still close enough to watch you – to hear your voice – to just observe you while his mind sorted through his confusing thoughts and emotions. You had glanced over at him a few times, as if feeling his eyes on you, a silent question in your own. And somehow, he knew that you understood that he needed some time.

At the intermission between films, you went with Ayeong and Erin to the bathroom. Jungkook got tacos from a nearby food truck and when he returned, he noticed that you were the only one missing from the group. A few minutes later, Taehyung was frowning at his phone after making a call that had gone unanswered.

“I’m going to go check on her,” he heard the other man say as he stood up.

Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds before following him. Taehyung had his phone to his ear again, though again there seemed to be no answer.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked as he caught up to him.

Taehyung turned and scowled at him. Then he sighed. “Ayeong said she stayed back because she got a call from her mom that she needed to answer. Maybe it’s nothing, but she’s been gone for almost twenty minutes, so I just want to make sure nothing happened.”

Jungkook nodded and then they were silent as they walked around the buildings that were still open. The campus was well lit, so it was easy to see the faces of people walking to the dorms or back to the quad. When they didn’t see you anywhere, Taehyung made another call.

“Chloe, I need you to ping y/n’s location and send it to my phone.” He listened for a minute. “Maybe nothing but I can’t find her and I don’t know – I’m getting a weird feeling. Okay, thanks.”

Taehyung’s unease was contagious, and Jungkook shifted from one foot to the other as they waited. Then Taehyung’s phone vibrated, and he studied his screen for a moment before gesturing for Jungkook to follow him. After walking for a few minutes, Jungkook realized they were heading towards a park where students often had lunch or relaxed between classes.

And there you were, a silent, ghostly figure swaying in the moonlight as you hummed a strange tune.

“Fuck.” Taehyung started running.

Jungkook was right behind him. When he reached you, he tried to take your arm to turn you towards them, but Taehyung stopped him.

“Don’t touch her,” he said, a note of warning in his tone. “She’s in a sort of fugue state, and it’s safer if she comes out of it herself.”

Rather than argue, Jungkook walked around to face you, but froze when he saw that your eyes were unfocused, and almost… glowing? It was clear that you didn’t see him, though he was standing right in front of you.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding now. “How do we make her do that?”

“There’s something else here,” Taehyung explained. “It probably tried to communicate with her. Sometimes, if she lets her guard down, or if the spirit is especially powerful, she gets sort of… pulled to the other side. It’s usually because they’re trying to show her something.”

Swallowing hard, Jungkook nodded. “Okay. How do we make her come out of it?”

“We can’t make her, and if we try, it can cause severe shock. She’ll already be in a state of shock when she comes to on her own, so we have to be careful. I’m going to go get the car. You wait here with her and just keep talking to her, okay?”

“Can I touch her hands?”

“Carefully,” Taehyung said. “Don’t pull her or shake her, and don’t try to make her move.”

“Okay.” Jungkook pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Jin, I need you to come to the park right now. The one behind the science building.”

You were still humming and swaying when Jungkook reached out to touch your hand. There was no response, so he carefully took both your hands in his.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he said quietly. “You never dress right for being out at night. You know that you get cold even when it’s not that cold, right?”

He squeezed your hands carefully in an attempt to warm them up. There was no response from you, your eyes still fixed on something he couldn’t see.

A/N: I know it's been a long time since I posted, and I'm sorry about that. If you're still reading, I'll get the rest of the chapter up this week, and there is some fluff in the future as Jungkook and y/n start repairing their relationship. I hope I remembered all the people who asked to be tagged (and got the tags right.) If you’d like to be tagged for updates, let me know.

Tag list: @ggukkieland @jikooksgirl19 @waves-and-woods @kookiesbreaky @koochiekoo @monvieesdaebak

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Movie Night

(Stiles Stilinski x Reader)

Request: Hey could I have a Stiles × reader where they are watching a horror movie. She enjoys horror movies but u know how Stiles would react while watching one..So she pranks Stiles and he gets mini heart attack and the reader gets into a laughing fit seeing his reaction..Somehow he finds out that she is ticklish and takes matters into his hands... something cute and little long. Thanks

Word count: 2,347

Warnings: so much fluff it’s nauseating

Notes: this is my first ever request so hopefully I did it justice!! I loved this concept so much & if any of you lovely people have something you want me to write for Stiles feel free to send your ideas my way!

———————————————————————

You snuggled up close to Stiles’ side on the couch, pressing play on the remote before setting it onto the coffee table that supported your crossed legs. It was your weekly movie night and you had finally convinced him to watch something scary.

You’d been dying to indulge in your love of horror films since fall began, and with Halloween now just around the corner, you were running out of time. Yes, you could technically watch them whenever you wanted, but it was always so much more satisfying during this time of year. 

Sadly, all your friends are babies. Every last one of them had refused your invitations. It wasn’t that you minded watching scary things alone, but seeing other people’s reactions was your favorite part of the experience. Finally, after a couple weeks of almost constant nagging, Stiles begrudgingly agreed. 

You were secretly elated that he’d been the one to give in, because he was your movie person. The two of you had kept your weekly date for two years now. It only made sense to do this with him. 

His rules were: the lights stay on, you have to warn him before scary parts, and you’d be watching any rom-com of his choosing right after.

You smiled to yourself as the movie started. You’d picked the scariest thing you could find, partially because it’d been so long since you were truly terrified of a film and you missed it, but also because you loved fucking with Stiles. He was already completely freaked out and the title page had barely disappeared.

He sat impossibly still beside you, staring at the screen with wide eyes. He was almost always on edge nowadays, and this whole thing was only exasperating the problem. Although everything on screen seemed peachy now, he knew it would take a turn for the worst when he least expected it.

Things like this always made his anxiety skyrocket. It’s why he tried so hard to avoid this very situation. He was honestly surprised it had taken you this long to force him into watching something other than your usual lighthearted flick. 

He’d already faced enough real monsters and demons to supply a lifetime of nightmares. The last thing he wanted was to spend his free time being scared, but he knew how happy it would make you to watch your favorite genre for once. Plus, he figured he owed you after you sat through Never Been Kissed three times in a row. It was only fair that he suffer a little bit too.

Stiles jumped with a quiet gasp when one of the characters popped out to playfully scare their brother, and you chuckled to yourself in amusement. You were going to have a blast watching him freak out at every little thing.

“This is awful.” He breathed from beside you, still stiff as a board. “There is literally nothing worse we could be doing on a Friday night.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “You mean like getting murdered by a supernatural creature?”

“At least that wouldn’t take two and a half hours.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

You just smiled and returned your head to its resting place against his shoulder. You guys usually took turns picking a movie, but he’d put a firm “nothing scary” clause in your movie night agreement, so your options were always limited. 

Yes, the two of you had actually typed out a document when you started this freshman year. 

There were only a few important notes in it. Neither party could cancel under any circumstances—with the exception of a life threatening event—nothing scary, and no one else was invited. Friday nights were for you and Stiles, and the two of you only.

About forty minutes in, you knew there was a particularly bad jump scare coming, so you let your eyes slowly sweep up toward his face. You considered warning him, but decided it would be way more fun to watch his genuine reaction.

When it happened, he spazzed so violently that he launched the bowl of popcorn you’d both been munching on across the room. You erupted into a fit of laugher, clutching at your stomach as you replayed the horrified look on his face over and over in your mind.

“You were supposed to tell me!” Stiles shouted accusingly, his skin growing warm with embarrassment as he shoved himself off the couch to clean up. 

He was trying so hard not to let this movie get to him, but the actors were really convincing, and he was scared shitless. Tears were streaming down your face as you finally forced yourself to settle down after a couple of minutes. You wiped your cheeks clean with a sigh, still fighting a few lingering giggles.

“I just couldn’t resist.” You admitted breathily before joining him on the floor to help pick up the remainder of the snack.

Not a single surface in your living room had been spared. It was in the bookshelves on either side of the TV, between the couch cushions, and even floating inside your parents’ fish tank.

By the time you both sat back down, you remembered that something way worse was about to happen. A slow grin pulled at your lips as you came up with a brilliantly evil idea. You leaned forward to grab the plastic bowl off the coffee table and popped to your feet.

“I’m gonna go make some more.” You barely even had time to think about taking a step before Stiles’ hand jerked up to wrap around your wrist.

“Are you out of your freakin’ mind? You can’t leave me alone in here.” He looked up at you with big, pleading eyes, something he knew you couldn’t resist.

The thought of watching this movie by himself for even a few minutes had his heart sputtering in his chest. He knew he wouldn’t last thirty seconds without you. You glanced away from his face, feeling your resolve crumbling at the desperate gleam in his eyes. 

You had to go through with this. It was just too good. “Stiles, I’ll be in the next room. You can literally still see me.”

He glanced toward the kitchen, only a few feet away, needing proof despite the fact that he’d been to your house enough times to have the entire floorplan memorized. With a skeptical twitch of his eyes, he let your arm slowly slide out of his hold. You spun on your heel and grinned triumphantly, practically skipping away from him.

You took a few moments to find a new bag of popcorn and place it into the microwave, wanting your excuse to seem believable. After starting it, you turned around just in time to see Stiles peering at you nervously over his shoulder.

It wasn’t that he actually thought something would happen to you in the three minutes it took for the popcorn to cook, but this movie seemed so much worse without you beside him. You quirked an eyebrow expectantly as you braced your hands on the counter, and he hesitated before slowly turning around with a pout.

As soon as Stiles’ back was to you, you dropped into a crouch on the tiled floor, silently crawling toward the kitchen doorway. You leaned around the corner to check on him before continuing. 

He scratched at the side of his head and squinted one eye closed when the music on the TV became slow and suspenseful. That sound had literally never come before anything good. His right leg started bouncing anxiously as he silently prayed you would be back before whatever horror was about to happen.

His attention was firmly planted on the screen as he sat on the edge of his seat and fidgeted with his fingers. You made your way out of the kitchen and shuffled quickly toward the back of the couch. Just as you reached it, the microwave went off with a high pitched beep beep beep.

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, heart lurching up into his throat at the unexpected noise. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He muttered to himself, putting a hand to his chest in an effort to calm his ragged breathing.

The microwave went off again a moment later, since no one had opened the door yet, and he turned to look into the kitchen curiously. He wondered what was taking you so long as his eyes flickered over the room. A moment later, his brows furrowed in confusion when he saw that it was now empty.

“Y/N?” He moved up onto his knees and turned so he could see better.

You scurried around to the other end of the couch to avoid being caught and put a hand over your mouth, having way too much fun already as a few giggles threatened to expose you.

“Y/N, this isn’t funny...” Stiles’ voice was laced with panic as he made a move to stand up.

He had no idea what could’ve happened to you only a few feet away, but your lack of response was troubling. His stomach tightened as he peered into the kitchen without actually getting any closer. He was honestly terrified, the chilling music behind him doing nothing to make the situation better. 

You knew this was your moment.

“Boo!” You popped up onto your feet with a jerk and wiggled your fingers at him.

Stiles let out a loud scream, his face crumbling in pure horror as he clumsily scrambled as far away from you as possible. He tripped on his own feet and somersaulted over the couch armrest, landing on his ass with a bounce. He stared at you with wide eyes and parted lips, honestly surprised his heart was still beating.

Meanwhile, you were in complete hysterics. You were laughing so hard you had to gasp for breath as you doubled over and rested your hands on the other armrest. Stiles glowered, annoyed with himself for not expecting you to do something like this.

He pursed his lips, eyes twitching as you just kept going and going. After about a minute, he’d had enough. He practically lunged forward and grabbed you around the waist before pulling you onto the couch with him.

You yelped in shock, not expecting the quick move since you’d been too busy cackling at your own success. You settled down and blinked up at Stiles with wide eyes as you now lay beneath him, caged in by his legs on either side of your hips. His lips twitched into a frown and your found yourself glancing down toward them.

“That was so not funny.” He tried to look upset, but he could never actually stay mad at you. Plus, despite being the butt of that joke, it was a tiny bit funny.

“Oh, come on, it—” You suddenly broke into a fit of giggles as one of his hands brushed against your ribs.

His eyes widened in recognition as an idea popped into his head. His lips pulled into a slow, wicked grin. “Wait, are you ticklish?”

You instantly sobered up at his question. You’d gone this long without him finding out about that secret and you did not want him knowing now.

“No.” The word rushed from your lips a little too quickly, your eyes wide with apprehension.

He only gave you a brief moment to prepare before he attacked, both of his hands wrapping around your sides. His fingers wiggled against you quickly and you immediately dissolved into another round of uncontrollable giggling. Your back arched up off the couch in an effort to get away from the overwhelming sensation.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile earnestly down at you. In this moment, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He decided right then that if your laughter was the only sound he could hear for the rest of his life, he’d still be a happy man.

“Say you’re sorry.” He demanded, watching joyful tears stream down the sides of your face.

Your hands clasped around his as you tried twisting free of his tight hold. “I-I’m so-rry!”

His grin only widened, loving the sight of you squirming beneath him as his fingers continued, unrelenting. “And you’ll never scare me again.”

“I’ll nev-never...scare...you a-again!” You gasped the words out, your stomach starting to ache as your muscles contracted repeatedly.

He stopped as suddenly as he’d started and you sagged against the couch with a heavy sigh of relief. Your heart was racing in your chest and it felt like you’d just done a ridiculous amount of sit-ups. Stiles smirked down at you triumphantly and pushed off the couch before offering a hand so you could pull yourself up.

Once you were both upright, he grabbed the remote and turned the movie off. You pouted a little, knowing there were still about thirty minutes left, but couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. You figured he’d be done after that. He quickly flitted through Netflix until he found what he wanted. 

You fell back with a groan as he clicked on one of his favorites: Clueless.

It wasn’t a bad movie. You actually enjoyed it the first five times you two had watched it. By now, though, you must’ve seen the damn thing at least a hundred. You could both quote the whole thing, something he was proud of while you were very much not.

“Payback’s a bitch.” He declared simply before discarding the remote somewhere on the floor. 

He leaned down on the couch and opened his arms expectantly. You rolled your eyes at the fact that he’d somehow gotten his way again, but didn’t hesitate to curl into his chest.

You chewed on your bottom lip to hold in a chuckle as the movie started, already plotting next years prank. You knew it would take at least that long to convince him into watching anything even remotely scary again.

You’d have to figure out a way to outdo yourself when the time came, and you were already looking forward to it.

[tigerdrop]

Cringe is dead, talk to me about the funny half-life men and their relationship

okay here is my essay. it is titled These Guys Actually Like Each Other, and Gordon Freeman Is Just Kind Of A Dick*

(disclaimer: these are just my 2 cents. dont take me too seriously! im just some guy online who has watched this shit too many times.)

first things first. these guys actually like each other. this is a key aspect of their relationship. benrey, obviously and textually, digs gordon freeman - you dont flirt that heavily with guys you arent into, and so much of what he says and does is geared around making gordon crack up. thats pretty gay.

but the counterpart to this is that gordon freemans pretty fucking gay for benrey, too. you may say, “oh, but word of god says its not requited!” and to you i will say: bull shit. gordon is uniquely obsessed with benrey compared to all the other characters. if gordon didnt like the fucking guy, he wouldnt giggle with him and share in-jokes with him and bring him up every 5 seconds when benreys not around. thats concern, bro. thats worry. thats real shit

but i cant blame people for thinking that gordon freeman genuinely doesnt like benrey. benreys partially responsible for some of the worst things that have happened to him, the Arm Thing among them. and gordons very insistent afterward that he doesnt like benrey. he even goes so far as to try to kill benrey a couple times. to this, i must argue that gordon freeman is just kind of a dick.

lets talk facts here. canon. Lore. from the moment we hop into gordons shoes, we can see that he is a jerk to every npc on his way into black mesa. this is his default: a dude who just runs his mouth and says rude shit. he calls tommy a freak within 5 minutes of meeting him. he infantilizes the guy and barely considers him a real scientist. he doubts that bubby is a real name for like no fuckin reason. in “real life”, this is because its funny, and wayne is trying to make a funny half-life stream. in a textual sense, this is because gordon “hlvrai” freeman is a dick. this is the way he acts, consistently, throughout the series.

(brief aside: this is why the whole “gordon is a nice guy and a great dad” characterization baffles me. the way he actually acts in canon is, in short, bitchy and lacking in self-awareness. and i love that for him, i really do. it makes the moments where he just tries to be a nice guy stand out. but thats the thing: his intermittent moments of decency and kindness are not the whole of his personality! this dude kind of sucks most of the time!)

the way that gordons general asshole attitude extends to benrey is complicated. in fairness, benrey makes it his job to annoy the shit out of gordon as much as possible, and that warrants a negative attitude, but gordons pretty paranoid and ends up blaming benrey for nearly everything that happens to him, regardless of if its warranted. this is a pattern he exhibits both before and after the Arm Thing. its a little bit of a dick move! especially considering that, prior to the whole “betrayal” subplot (which was not exactly planned very far in advance), benrey is no more malicious or annoying than anybody else gordons having to travel with.

(okay, this is kind of a subjective evaluation, but still. my point stands that benrey is not any more of a hindrance to his progress than anybody else in the science crew, and neither is he particularly more violent or murderous. hell, gordon freeman has probably killed more guys than benrey. benrey just tends to get.......special treatment.)

all that said, i am still convinced that gordon really fucking likes benrey. please consider with me the following: it would be remarkably easy for gordon to just ignore him and do what he has to do, but he doesnt. he could stop engaging. he could stop thinking about benrey. he could stop bringing benrey up to the rest of the crew every time benrey leaves to do his own thing for awhile. but he doesnt. and, again, yeah, the extra-textual reason for this is “two guys are doing an improv comedy thing and bouncing off of scorpy is kind of the point”, but within the text it reads to me as gordon not being about to get the dude off his mind.

and this is in addition to all the times we see gordon being genuinely nice and receptive toward benrey! its in the little things: laughing the hardest and longest at benreys jokes. only ever reciprocating that stupid underwater “BBBBB” thing with benrey. trying to catch benrey when he falls, despite his insistence moments earlier that benrey should hop in the wack ass crystal generator and get hypermurdered. fondly remarking that benreys sweet voice sounds beautiful. his sort of flustered responses to most of benreys overt flirting. none of this is the way normal people react to a guy they hate. this is all fuckin gay to me, man.

its this combination of the outward insistence that gordon hates benrey with his inner eagerness to be around him and think about him and engage with him that gives off strong “repression” vibes, to me. for whatever reason - pride, embarrassment, resentment - gordon maintains a front of hating the guy and wanting to kill him for a lot of the series, but it doesnt gel with the way he fucking giggles and plays along half the time that benrey starts fucking with him. its a game, and that game is one of the only ways gordon knows to manifest affection for him.

(remember “oh my god, hes got a knife!”? that was the gayest shit i ever seen in my life. tittering like a schoolgirl while benrey chases him around like “im gonna get you haha”. insanity.)

the cool thing about repression is that you can have it manifest in a lot of ways! and this is where things like “headcanons” and “my own personal affection for repressed bisexual men” come in. a lot of how i characterize their relationship is an extrapolation of a lot of things like gordons canonical insecurity issues/anxiety, gordons whole anti-bootboy thing screaming “internet wokeboy who means well but probably has a lot of repressed baggage” to me, etc.

how do you get massive amounts of sexual repression out of what you see in canon, you might ask? well. if wayne would stop having gordon talking about being jerked off by the suit, or talking about chugging a 40-gal drum of potion and having to hold his piss, or worrying about being eaten by benrey the moment he sees benrey at setscale 10, maybe i would have a higher opinion of gordon “hlvrai” freeman and whatever latent psychosexual issues hes got going on. but here we are

i havent even touched yet upon how benrey feels about gordon. this one is helpfully made a little more plain by the fact that benrey very much wants to suck his dick in canon. (i dont even have to go into details. we all know.) but IMO the best part about this ship isnt just that they dig each other, but how. benrey gets overtly flirtatious in the second half of the series, but IMO his preferred method of flirting is just fucking with gordon: chasing him with knives, shoving him around in a bathroom, trying to get scans of his feet. but all in like a slapstick, giggly, fun-and-games sense, you know? at least when it works.

a lot of the time, though, it doesnt work out that way. he clearly just likes doing it whether or not gordon responds positively. which is, you know, Weird. not very nice. but also in line with the way everybody else treats gordon freeman. gordons kind of the universes chew toy in any given universe, and the same holds true here. hes kind of helpless......subjected to 4 demons attempting to make his life as difficult as possible. in a way its cathartic.

sorry. i got sidetracked. anyway, benrey very much likes to mess with him and unnerve him and demean him and i will be perfectly frank with you: that is hot. i have problems and illnesses and one of them is that i am a masochist who goes crazy for that kind of thing. calling gordon a “dirty lil boy” and telling him to “look at the mess [he] made” is some straight up kink scene shit.

i like to imagine that a lot of this behavior isnt caused just by the guy who played him wanting to be funny and antagonistic, but by benrey as a character not really understanding what constitutes “pushing a joke too far”. hes not human, and whatever he is doesnt have a very normative way of understanding the world around him, full of people who actually get hurt for real and die for real. benrey expresses what seems to be genuine surprise and distress after the Arm Thing, as if he didnt know that his actions would have serious consequences. and it doesnt seem to fully sink in afterward, either.

it reads a lot to me like hes used to video game rules and treating people around him like NPCs. if they get hurt, its no big deal, because its not real. he likes jamming random buttons on gordons interface and seeing what comes out. its probably a lot of fun for him, the same way that seeing a streamer or a youtuber suffer for our amusement is fun. its like, you know, in my opinion, gordons very cute when hes frazzled. hes also cute when hes laughing. pushing gordons buttons has a 50/50 chance of either of these things. and this is how he ultimately flirts with gordon: by pulling his pigtails.

but at the same time, benrey does legit care about gordon and knows some boundaries. benreys the one most often shooting at enemies to protect gordon, and he spent most of the last act trying to convince gordon to turn around and not fight him because they were friends (best friends, to be specific). he just lacks a lot of the emotional intelligence it would take to express the feeling of “he digs gordon and likes seeing his face get all red and sweaty regardless of the cause”. and gordon lacks the emotional intelligence it would take to express the fact that he doesnt know if he likes or hates benrey and hes scared as hell that its the former

because, lets be real. unironic benrey-liking is a sign of problems disorder. just look at all these words ive written about it.

can you imagine? this bizarrely powerful, non-human entity that can shrug off gunfire and grow to the size of a building has decided that youre his new plaything. benreys the bored guy booting up skyrim and fucking around in the console, and gordons the hapless favorite follower that hes taken a liking to. its a really fun dynamic IMO

after all this, its safe to say my title is a little misleading. the asterisk stands for * and So Is Benrey, Actually. they are both kind of awful dudes who thrive off of teasing each other and they deserve each other. and i am crazy about it. thank u for coming to my TED talk

[builder051]

some things never change

Chasing ghosts

Warnings for mentions of alcohol/drug use and SA

__________________

James wakes in the LaZBoy in the corner lf the living room, his head barely supported by the throw pillow jammed between the chair's arm and cushioned back. Light streams through the cheap blinds. James wonders what time it is. Then, vaguely, what day it its.

He rubs his eyes, which feel full of the haze of leftover burning smoke. His mouth tastes like smoke, too. Sort of like tobacco. A little like weed. He's evidentially been partying, even though that's not typically his thing. At least, not anymore.

James stretches and punches in the chair's footrest with his heels. It makes a popping sound, and that arouses a gran from the sofa across the rom.

"God, you're fucking loud," a small, hoarse voice complains.

"Tash?" James squints to distinguish her mop of red hair from the mound of quilts and afghans. There's a trash bin on ghe floor near what would appear to be Tasha's head. James assumes she's been partying too. Maybe she's the reason he's been partying in the first place.

"Hmph," the pile of blankets replies. James takes it as an affirmative.

"Ok." James pushes to his feet. Dizziness threatens to send him reeling for a moment, but he manages to shuffle into the kitchen and pour water into the coffeepot before his stomach bottoms out and he retches into the sink.

James's mouth and nose burn with bile, and he stifles a hacking cough.

"You ok?" Someone asks from behind James's shoulder.

James tries to keep his natural fight or flight response at bay whilst also stopping another dry retch before it finds its way into his throat. "Huh?" he says quickly. "I-- I'm--"

"Buck," Steve murmurs apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," James chokes. He swallows hard and forces a smile.

Steve looks at him a little doubtfully. Then furrows his brows in an expression of real concern.

"What happened last night?" he asks in a low voice.

"I'm..." James swallows again, then turns back to the sink and spits. "Still trying to figure that out."

"You came home at two-thirty," Steve offers. "If that helps."

James shrugs. "My guess is that the supposed knight in shining armor wound up getting... pretty busted up."

"You're not all beat up, though," Steve says. "And you weren't that out of it. James is sure he's giving the mildest report humanly possible.

"I know I was high," James immediately admits, putting up his hands in honest innocence. "On what, I have practically no idea."

Regular cigarettes and pot can usually blur the edges for him a little, but it takes something heavier to drop him on his ass. Prescription grade, at least. Though he doesn't explicitly tell Steve that.

"Well," Steve says, glancing toward the living room to see Tasha's current grade of consciousness. "If you were high, she was fucking blitzed." Steve pauses. "And I don't know if it's, like, a thing, or something. I've never partied like that, but--"

"Just spit it out," James says with a sigh, taking the towel from the handle of the dishwasher to wipe his face.

"She didn't have any pants." Steve looks fairly mortified. "Like, you had her all covered with your jacket, like a dress, and all..." He trails off.

That partially explains why there are so many blankets on the sofa. Also why there are no sounds of the laundry machines tumbling all traces of last night out of Tasha's scant clothes.

"Meh." James shrugs. He puts the towel back. "Happens sometimes. Especially if there's something like... an unplanned interruption."

Steve takes a deep breath. "Wow." Then, "If you knew it was, well, that kind of party, why'd you let her go?"

"No question of letting her," James says, suddenly exhausted. "She's 18. She can make her own decisions."

"But, alcohol?" Steve ask. "Drugs? Guys?"

"She doesn't like guys," James says quickly, and with a snarky smile.

"But she was, obviously, well, you know--"

"Transactional," James says. "At least that's probably how it started." He looks into the living room to see if Tasha has stirred any more, which she hasn't. Drunken wakings are like that-- coming and going a bit before one knows what's really real. He hopes that's where Tasha is right now.

James glances at Steve, who still has the same curious look. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"y

"No," Steve says, "But--?"

"Well, share your body and I'll share my drugs is one thing." It still brings a disgusted look to James's face. "But when you go in there to get her and she's naked and trying to break her own thumb to escape the handcuffs and the second guy's dropping his pants to take his turn..." James squeezes his eyes shut. He feels sick all over again, though he's already emptied the contents of his stomach.

"You want to take her in?" Steve suggests, his eyes wide. "Do a kit or something?"

"You can ask her when she gets up," James says doubtfully. "But if she's behaving anything like her regular self, she's gonna say she agreed to the first guy, and all he's guilty of is being rough. I'm pretty sure I punched the second guy out before he got on her.

"That's just..." Steve pauses..."Nuts. That you know this. That you aren't freaking out about this."

"Yeah, well, I learned pretty quickly that there better be specific relevant details when I first tried taking her to the ER after she turned 18. Hadn't moved out of the home yet, but was still trying to party like a college singleton."

"How'd you... take that?" Steve finally asks.

"Went with her when I could. Surveilled from a distance when she wouldn't let me. Only took her to the ER once after a rough one, and I found out real quick that statutory didn't apply anymore. Of course she agreed she'd consented, and I was the one who looked like a fool."

"What're you doing?" a miserable voice comes from the vicinity of the living room. "Are you talking about me?"

"Shit," James mutters. He wonders if she heard him talking about last night. He hopes not, lest she think he's broken some kind of unspoken sibling confidentiality rule of which they have yet to factor Steve into as something between boyfriend and brother-in-law. “Morning, Tash,” he says, giving Steve a glare that’s clearly meant to say their previous conversation is strictly under wraps.

“Hi.” Tasha slowly gets to her feet from her couch bed, still wearing the bottom blanket as a sort of toga dress over James’s backward hoodie. She stumbles a little, and James practically runs to keep her from falling, even though he’s not completely steady himself.

“Hey,” Tasha groans, grasping James’s arm as he pulls her into a hug. “I feel gross.” She pulls away, holding her hand an inch or so in front of her mouth.

“Yeah, I’m not all sunshine and daisies myself,” James admits.

“What were you rolling on?” Tasha asks skeptically. “Tylenol?”

“Tash, be serious, please.” James wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his current headache.

“Oxy?” Tasha tries again.

“Hey,” Steve snaps, suddenly up with the program.

“Don’t worry about it,” James tells him. “My privacy really isn’t the issue here.”

“So you were finally giving in to your cravings.” Tasha touches her tongue to her upper lip.

“So maybe I was.” James does his best not to let anger creep into his voice. He goes with cold, hard honesty instead. “I actually can’t remember what the fuck I took last night. Did. Drank.” James runs his hand through his hair.

“The sink says Guinness,” Steve supplies. “And your clothes say weed.”

James nods. It’s a fair enough assessment. He’s pretty sure pills were involved as well, lest it not be his type of party. The oxy makes sense. He probably rolled a little ecstasy with it, as he thinks he recalls lying on the couch in the house for some unknown period of time before reality set back in and he had to find Tasha.

Lying on the couch. That’s what Tasha ought to be doing right now. More drugs than what piped through James have probably hit her miniscule system. The fact that shey’s up, no matter how unsteady, seems to be a feat to be reckoned with.

“And what’re you on?” James asks, though he knows he’s unlikely to get an answer. At least an honest one.

“Same as you.” Tasha shrugs. “Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less.” She nudges the not exactly empty trash bin beside the couch with her foot. There isn’t much in it substance-wise, but the yellow bile at the bottom appears to be streaked with blood.

Broken capillaries at the back of the throat aren’t necessarily uncommon, James reminds himself, but the whole scene is a little unsettling. Sort of like the fact that she’s still wearing her temporary coat-and-blanket dress, making no move toward increased modesty. It’s as if the partying of the previous night has, for both of them, brought on exhaustion and an expulsion of cold, hard honesty. Something of the type James is more likely to spill; something mature that implies she’s out-aged the fun of the previous night.

It’s weird for Tasha, acting like the miniature grown-up that James knows she isn’t. But then he thinks back to the way he found her last night, and how he’s told her story to Steve without her express permission. Guilt fills James’s stomach, and he doesn’t feel beyond vomiting again. He just hopes Steve does have the sense not to let her know what he knows.

“Do you want to go to bed?” James asks Tasha, gesturing down the hall. “I don’t know what time it is, but it seems as good a time as any to crash.”

“Hm.” Tasha looks at him skeptically.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol. Gatorade, even.”

Tasha gives him a long, hard look that turns her skepticism into something else. James can nearly swear he sees tears at the corners of her eyes, but when he blinks, they’re gone.

“Can I bunk with you?” Tasha’s obvious attempt not to look teary gives her away, but now she seems congested as fuck, wiping her nose on the sleeve of James’s jacket.

“Yeah,” James replies, pulling two bottles of sports drink from the fridge, then putting his arm around Tasha. “Of course.”

“You do too much for me,” Tasha mutters into James’s shoulder. “I know you know it.”

James shrugs. He still feels a little on the toasted side himself, and, to be honest, his little sister’s warm comfort, no matter how binged or beaten, is a positive presence in his life. He wants her to be ok. It makes him ok. If one day she decides she’s not, they’ll handle it. Together. But for now, sleep is in order.

Tasha sandwiches herself between Steve and James in their not exactly spacious bed, stealing the covers and complaining of hot and cold in cycles as the drugs work their way out of her system. She clings to James, then to Steve for a while.

“She won’t freak out if she wakes up and I’m the one with her?” Steve asks conscientiously.

“No,” James replies with purpose. “You’re nice to her, and there’s nothing to be gained by banging you.” James smiles a bit to buffer the ragged truthfulness of the words, but Steve just sighs and nods.

“She’s never had an ‘older brother’s boyfriend,’ has she?” Steve asks.

James shakes his head

“I mean, like, some non-relative to take care of her.”

James raises his brows, but Steve quickly cuts in with a “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, one that she’s not screwing or getting drugs from, or getting drugs for… There’s a reason so many of them in gangs, you know?” James says.

“You mean,” Steve starts. “She was—“

“Let’s pretend I didn’t bring that up.” James feels warm and sweaty, and Tasha’s unconscious body lies between them, lips subtly parted and hair draped wildly across the pillow.

“Ok,” Steve nods solemnly.

“Home life was tough. College seems like it’s maybe just as bad. Could be a little worse…” James shakes his head.

“And, well, you’re both better at picking at flaws on the other one,” Steve quietly points out

“Yeah,” James sighs. “That’s… probably the truest thing I’ve heard all night.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Steve says with a grin, “But it’s definitely morning. Maybe even noon by now.”

“Fucker…” James reaches over Tasha’s sleeping form to grasp Steve’s upper arm.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But I do suggest getting some sleep.” He nods down to Tasha’s curled, heavy-breathing frame.

“You’re kind of full of it, aren’t you?” James smiles. “Finding ways to take care of us?”

“Well, I have to somehow. And if it’s by throwing blankets on the couch and washing puke out of the sink, I’m here for it, I guess.”

“You’re—“

“Helpful?” Steve suggests, grinning. “Kind? Loving? Necessary?”

“Sure.” James reaches carefully over Tasha to give Steve a kiss on the cheek.

“Now,” Steve says, nuzzling James’s forehead as Tasha’s hair comes up to tickle his chin, “We get our well-deserved rest.”

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (10/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Life Lessons, Part 2}

“Regretting your life choices yet?” Sam asked as Danny scowled down at the still crying sack of flour.

“I've been a parent all of one day and I’m probably already down to a C-.”

“Life could be worse. You could be that guy,” Sam said, pointing to where the Nasty Burger’s mascot was being terrorized by a bunch of kids.

“Oooh! Nasty Nat! Let's get a family photo with him.”

“You're taking this way too seriously,” Sam said as Tucker pushed her and Danny towards the mascot.

Sam glared off the kids while Tucker asked for a photo, which Danny took for them.

“You want me to take one of you? Family photos help boost your grade.”

“Not without Val here,” Danny said, passing Sam the camera and rocking his still crying sack. “I don’t want to give Tetslaff the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea being the fact Valerie stuck you with all the work?” Sam asked.

“We talked about it. She has a job, Sam.”

“So she says.” When Danny shot her a look, she said, “Right, sorry. Giving her a chance.”

Danny sighed and looked down at the sack. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a dad.”

“Try supporting its top more.” Danny looked up at the muffled voice to see Nasty Nat standing near him. He gestured awkwardly at Danny’s arms.

Danny shifted his arms so its head was held up by his elbow and it started to quiet down. “Wow, uh, thanks, dude.”

The mascot nodded and waddled off.

Just in time as the trio’s ghost senses went off.

“Beware!”

As one, they groaned and shouted, “Not it!”

“We should really learn that that’s not going to work anymore,” Tucker chuckled.

“I’ll go,” Sam sighed and headed towards the back of the restaurant. “You two can manage the sacks.”

“You sure you’re not sticking Tucker with all the work?”

She turned around to walk backward and pointed at Tucker. “That’d be a good burn if it wasn’t for the fact he actually likes this stupid assignment.”

Danny chuckled and rocked the baby, smiling as she finally quieted down.

Then the explosions started. They looked up to see Sam fighting Valerie.

“Oh no,” Danny said. “Tuck, can you watch the kid for me?”

“Only because I don’t want Sam to get killed. Go stop your baby mama.”

“Sam’s right, you are taking this too seriously,” Danny said, handing over his sack.

He started to run off, but an explosion in front of him threw him back.

“Danny!”

He looked up with wide eyes to see the Nasty Burger sign falling.

Valerie grabbed him and pulled him out of the way just as Sam swooped down to hide Tucker’s intangibility.

“You okay?” the ghost hunter asked.

“Yeah, maybe be a little more careful with the missiles next time,” he said, shifting so he could kneel on her board.

“Sorry. The ghost kid was in one of their slow moods so I wanted to try and take them out before they could pick up speed. Besides, I’m only on a five-minute break.” Val set down behind the Nasty Burger and Danny hopped down so she could fold up her board. She pulled down her mask and looked him over. “Where’s the baby?”

“Tucker has her. I was, uh, about to go to the bathroom so I asked him to watch her.”

“Alright. You sure you’re okay?”

He smiled and set his hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine, really.”

She smiled back.

“Valerie?”

“Oh crud, that’s my boss,” she whispered and retracted her suit.

He glanced at her uniform. “You work at the Nasty Burger?”

“Tell anyone and I end you,” she hissed as she stuffed her guns into her backpack.

“I won’t. But why the secrecy? What do you do?”

“None of your business,” she said, elbowing him playfully. She looked down at him as she stood up straight and there was mischief in her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Have fun with the kid, honey. I’m headed off to work.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.

“Well now, this is unexpected.”

The two spun around to see Skulker floating behind them, a gun charging. Neither could react before it fired.

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

Danny groaned and sat up. “What hit me?”

“That would be me.”

The half-ghost scowled and turned to see Skulker standing over him. His breath caught as he noticed the cage bars between him and Skulker. He looked around to see he was in a steel cage that was glowing dark blue. And he wasn’t alone.

“What’s with the cage? I thought you wanted our pelts. And why’s Valerie here?” Danny growled, getting to his feet and marching towards him.

“There’s been a change of plans. You should be grateful. I had planned to have one of you fight to the death with the huntress, but knowing she is your mate makes you far more appealing for my collection. The pelts of your other sides will have to do.”

Danny gaped at the hunter ghost. “Okay, first of all, no one is ever going to be grateful to be in a cage, you creep. Second, Val is my friend, none of us would have killed her. Third, please tell me you mean mate in the British sense, because if Johnny and Kitty have been telling people I’m dating Val I’m going to kick their butts. Forth, gross dude.”

Skulker just smirked at him. “You cannot hide your relationship from me, ghost child. I heard you speaking about your child with your mate.”

Danny hit his head on the bars. “We’re fifteen. We don’t have a kid. Our school just makes sophomores partner up to take care of a flour sack. Teach us responsibility and stuff. We were joking about the assignment because we got paired up. Val and I are just friends.”

Skulker eyed him for a moment, then frowned. “Really?”

“Yes!”

“Teenagers,” Skulker growled, running a hand over his face.

“Sorry to inconvenience you. Now if you could just let us go.”

Skulker snorted and turned to leave. “Welcome to your new home.”

Danny glared at his back and tried to push his hands through the bars.

“And before you get any ideas, that cage was made with you halfas in mind. No phasing through it for humans or ghosts.”

“You know Sam and Tucker are going to come to get us!” Danny yelled as the ghost moved out of sight.

Skulker didn’t respond.

“Stupid frog.” Danny turned to the bars and tried to summon the energy for an ectoblast, to no avail.

After trying and failing to use the rest of his powers, he sat down next to Valerie.

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

“I’m going to tear that stupid ghost apart, then put him back together so I can take him apart a second time!”

Danny stared at the ceiling, not bothering to respond as it was the one hundred and thirty-seventh time Valerie had said those words, or at least that’s how many times she’d said it since he’d decided that counting would at least give him something to do.

And Sam thought zoos were bad. At least they gave the animals something to do.

They also gave them food.

“Hey Frogger, you do realize humans need food and stuff to survive right?” Danny yelled, cutting over Valerie’s one hundred and thirty-eighth rendition of her threats. “Also, do the words animal enrichment mean anything to you?”

“Don’t call us animals,” she huffed.

“Technically humans are still a type of animal. And I’ll call us whatever I have to to get something to eat. I know you feel the same.” If Danny -- who could partially sustain himself on the zone’s ambient ectoplasm even while in human form and had just eaten when he’d been grabbed -- was hungry, then Valerie -- who was fully human and likely didn’t have a chance to grab something after school with her job -- had to be starving.

“I won’t give in to a ghost.”

“Meh, I prefer to show rebellion through stupid nicknames and punny taunts rather than by denying myself the basic necessities.”

“You’re being far too calm about this,” she huffed, moving to stand over him.

He shrugged. “Panicking never helps and I already did the anger thing before you woke up so I’m mostly just bored now.”

“So you’re content to spend the rest of your life here?”

“You say that like it will be a long time, which it won’t because Skulker doesn’t seem inclined to feed or water us.” When she met his joke with a glare, he sat up. “We’ve already established neither of us has the skills or equipment to pick the lock or bend the bars, so escape’s not happening. Skulker wants to keep us, which is very creepy, but at least means we aren’t going to die. So all we can do is wait out our rescue.”

“You think someone will rescue us?” Valerie asked, sitting next to him.

Danny pulled out his phone. “It’s been fifteen hours since we were grabbed. Skulker can be sneaky, but someone still might have seen him bringing us to the portal. And even if no one human saw us, invisibility doesn’t work in the zone. We were definitely seen and gossip is crazy in the zone. Doppelgänger will hear about this soon enough.”

“So?” she snorted. “We’re Red Huntress and a Fenton. Why would they help us?”

“The ghosts might not know that,” Danny said, thinking quickly. “All Doppelgänger would probably hear is that two humans from their territory got taken.”

“I guess that makes sense.” She laid down and Danny followed suit.

He stared up at the ceiling, then his lips twitched up. “Want to know what I’m really worried about?”

She hummed.

“Is getting kidnapped by a ghost a good enough excuse in Tetslaff’s book for not taking care of the baby?”

There was a beat of silence then she laughed. “Oh my god! She’ll probably make us redo it from the very start!”

“I mean, I left her with a responsible sitter. That should count for something.”

“Tucker, responsible?”

“I mean, he’s working with Sam. She’ll kick his butt if he goes off the rails.”

“That makes more sense.”

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

Valerie eyed the food the ghost had thrown into their cage suspiciously. Her stomach felt like it was eating itself, but…

“How do you even know it's safe?” she asked, looking over at Danny, who was halfway through his own Mighty Meaty Cheesy Melt.

“Like I said, he doesn’t want us dead, so it’s not poisoned. And there’s no ectoplasm in it. Even if there was, that whole eat of the dead, become of the dead thing only applies to specific ghost fruits, which aren’t on here because he clearly stole it from the Nasty Burger and, again, no ectoplasm.”

“How do you know there’s no ectoplasm?”

“Ectoplasm has this strong citrusy taste that can’t be covered up with anything but mounds of relish, and there’s no relish on the burger.”

“Ho-How do you know that?”

“My parents aren’t as careful with pure ectoplasm as they probably should be.”

“That’s…”

“I know. Sam and Tucker refuse to eat over anymore unless it’s takeout and we bring it straight to my room. Really though, the food’s fine. Nothing weird in it, promise.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you to know what’s weird anymore,” Valerie said, but grabbed her burger anyways.

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

Val closed her eyes as she sunk further into the water. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or concerned that you literally annoyed a ghost into giving us a bathroom.”

“Grateful?” Danny suggested from the other side of the curtain that hid the toilet and bath from the rest of the cage. “It’s a gift, really.”

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

Danny snickered at Valerie’s glare.

“If I had my weapons…”

“Calm down, Val. They’re not doing any harm.”

“They won’t GET OFF!”

“They like you,” he chuckled and plucked off one of the blob ghosts.

He wasn’t sure how, but his usual swarm had found them and were now drifting about the cage. Some had attached themselves to the top like bats. Others had burrowed into their blanket nest. A few had made a home inside his jacket or atop his hair. A lot had decided Valerie was a very nice spot to sleep and had latched onto her.

The ghost in his hand vibrated, almost like it was purring except it sounded more musical.

“I’m going to smash them!”

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

“How does your phone even still have power?” Valerie asked as they watched Thor cut Thanos’s head off.

They were cuddled close in their nest of blankets with Valerie’s head on his shoulder so they could both see the small screen.

“Tucker upgraded it so it would run on ectoplasm for convenience’s sake.”

“Ectoplasm is convenient?” she chuckled, idly scratching one of the blobs curled up in her lap.

“It is in my house.”

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

Valerie gave the beast sitting on the other side of the cage a death glare.

“Yap!”

“You are so lucky I don’t have any weapons.”

Cujo rolled over onto his back and wagged his tail.

“Danny, make him leave with your annoying powers!”

The boy just reached over and rubbed the dog’s belly.

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

Valerie was tossing the rubber ball Skulker had given Danny -- and by given, she meant the ghost had thrown it at his head after four hours of constant complaining of being bored -- for Blobert to fetch when a soft sound reached her, almost like someone was shushing someone else.

“Hello?”

There was quiet for a moment, then a blue-purple flash came from around the corner. A second later Doppelgänger poked their two heads out, smiling. “Valerie!”

“Yep. You here for the show or are you actually going to help us?”

They scowled and looked at each other. “Can’t we just leave her here? We’d never hear the end of it if we did. She’s the ghost hunter, let her figure her own way out.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“We know,” they chirped.

Valerie sat up. “Listen here, you little -”

She cut off as she was reminded that Danny had been laying with his head on her stomach by a soft whine. She looked down to see him blinking up at her, his head now in her lap.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he yawned.

“Ghost kid’s here. They’re arguing with themself about if they’re going to help us or not.”

Danny stared at her, processing, then sat up and glared at the ghost kid, who raised their hands with guilty smiles.

“We were only kidding.” They flew over to the cage and looked it over.

“It’s ghost and human-proof,” Danny told them.

“How’re we supposed to open it then? It’s got a manual lock. We need to stop living in the digital age for once. Shut up.”

“They’re always like this,” Valerie whispered to Danny as he chuckled at their antics. “I don’t know if it's a ghost thing or if they’re just messed up in the head.”

“We think aloud, jerk,” they snapped as one came forward and pulled a pair of bobby pins out.

Danny moved closer as they knelt next to the cage’s door. “You know how to pick a lock?”

They smiled at him and pushed up their goggles to give him a wink before they squinted down at the lock and started fiddling with it.

Valerie was surprised their eyes were yellow. She’d assumed they’d be green like their goggles.

“That’s a lot of blobs,” they said, the one not picking the lock looking over the cage.

“Just over three dozen and they all have names,” Danny said cheerfully.

“They’re just random pun names based around the word blob,” Valerie chuckled.

“Blobbington. Blobby. Blobin. Blo-”

“We get it,” the ghosts snorted, cutting Danny off.

It took a few moments, but then the ghost kid was floating back and the door swung open.

“Freedom!” Danny cheered as they left the cage. He turned to the blobs and made shooing motions. “Alright, you lot, back home with you.”

The swarm made sad ringing sounds, but flew off in various directions.

Meanwhile, the ghost kid that had picked the lock fixed their goggles back into place and put away the pins as the other passed Valerie her backpack and pointed at the wall across from them. “Go straight that way. We’ll meet you on the other side.”

“You want us to go through the wall.”

“Humans can be intangible in the ghost zone. Just try, you’ll see,” they said before heading back the way they came.

Danny walked up to the wall and stuck his arm through. “They’re right.”

“I guess that’s what Skulker meant by human proof,” she said as she followed him over and tried it for herself. “He must have done something to the cage so we wouldn’t slip right through.”

“Guess so. Ladies first?”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her head through to make sure no one was on the other side. They continued like that until they reached a wall that only had a void on the other side. She put on her suit and they jumped through. She summoned her board before they could fall too far, then looked around.

“We should leave now while we have the chance.”

“Great idea. Which way do you think the portal is?” Doppelgänger asked with a snort as they flew up.

She sent them a glare.

“Thanks for the help,” Danny said, setting his hand on her shoulder. “Can you show us the way out?”

They turned to her, crossing their arms.

She crossed her own arms and stared back.

“Can we please save this for after we’re far away from the ghost who locked us in a cage for eight days?”

“We’re not the ones who got locked up,” Doppelgänger reminded them.

“Maybe so, but you are the ones who are going to be stuck in a thermos for an hour if you don’t knock it off,” he said. “Can we just agree to a truce until we get out of here? Please?”

“Fine,” they said and one held out their hand.

Valerie shook it. “For now. Get us out of this ghost zone, and we'll see how long it lasts.”

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

I'm sorry this has been a while. Hyperfixations are a B. I'm going to post what I have and hopefully, that will rekindle enough for me to finish this.

[dolce-peach]

Hi!! I love ur writing so much btw!💖😄 could do a Wanda x reader where he reader is bffs with Loki and always rants about her crush on Wanda to Loki and Loki is sooo done with the pining because Wanda also rants to Loki about y/n and in the end Loki is like so done lol. So basically they both have to go on a mission together 😏 and there is only one bed and and fluff ensues 😁

matchmade

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: fluff

a/n: kinda going out of order with requests trying to push through some writer’s block, but i had a lot of fun writing this, anon!  hope you guys like it! ❤️

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire​

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

“She changed her hair.”

Loki looked up at you from his book. “I beg your pardon?”

Your eyes were fixed on Wanda as she greeted Steve and Nat across the room.  She had just come home from a recon mission in Sokovia to help with the disaster efforts.  Though she looked tired, her long hair was lighter than before, lightly curled at the ends.

“Wanda,” you clarified.  “She changed her hair.”

Loki sighed and went back to reading his book.  “Women happen to change their hair often, Y/N.  It’s a fact of life.”

“Now that’s just sexist,” you pointed out.

“You’re right.  I suppose Stark spends more time grooming himself than you and Maximoff combined,” he snickered.

You rolled your eyes as Wanda walked over.

Her eyes were bright.  “What’s so funny?  Did I miss something?”

“No,” you replied quickly.

“Yes,” Loki groaned without looking up.

Wanda raised an eyebrow before quickly brushing her thought away.  “Anyhow, Cap wanted me to tell you that we have a mission tomorrow overseas.”

You glanced at Loki before giving Wanda a concerned look.  “But you just came back.”

She shrugged.  “Duty calls,” she said.  “Besides, I don’t mind going if it’s with you.”

“Sounds like fun,” Loki drawled as he flipped a page and continued reading.

Wanda sent you the smallest wink before going off to file some reports with Steve.

You found yourself exhaling sharply, realizing that you were holding your breath the whole time Wanda was in front of you.  You tried your best to catch your breath, but you kept thinking about her smile.

Loki glanced over at you and scoffed.  “You are absolutely smitten,” he said.  “And incredibly lame.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve felt the same way about someone before,” you protested.

“Kitten, I invented love, but no one here is worthy of it.”

“Of course,” you deadpanned.  “You and your incredibly high standards.”

He shrugged.  “It’s true.”

“Okay, but what am I going to do?” you groaned.  “I’ll be going with Wanda to God knows where, and I can barely function when she’s around me!”

“Right,” he said, setting his book down.  “Allow me to make a suggestion.”

You leaned closer, partially curious as to what he had to say.

He sighed.  “You’ve had your eye on Maximoff, and I’m sure she’s noticed by now.  Maybe you should stop worrying about that and just be yourself.”

“Be myself...?”

“Well, yes,” he said.  “You’re a lovely human, the best I know.  She���d be a fool not to accept you.”

You bit your lip.  “Okay, but if I make a move and it turns out badly, then I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“A reasonable deal,” Loki said with a grin before going back to his book, leaving you to worry about packing for your impromptu mission.

--

You yawned loudly, causing Wanda to laugh as she drove your tiny getaway car through the narrow streets of Edinburgh.  

“Sleep much last night?” she asked.

“A little,” you admitted.  “Just mission jitters, that’s all.”

She hummed.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly.  Truth be told, you got absolutely no sleep the night before.  Usually missions included at least a few more people, but now that you were alone with Wanda, it seemed too good to be true.  You were excited, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with her.

After a full day of scouting, the two of you checked into a small hotel.

It was a cozy building, the last of its kind on the bright, modern street.  It spoke of a time that was long gone, giving off an almost whimsical feeling to passerbys.  

And the rooms were small.

Very small.

You stared at the one bed in the middle of the room, gulping nervously.

It’s okay.

It’s just a bed, and we’re just friends.

You sighed.  Be professional, Y/N!

“Something wrong?” Wanda asked, observing your inner turmoil.

“No, of course not!” you exclaimed.

She set her bag down.  “Steve thought it’d be a good idea to get a smaller room.  Lower profile,” she said.  “I could take the couch if you want.”

I should’ve thought of that!

You shook your head, trying to act as cool as possible.  “It’s fine!”

She smiled.  “Alright,” she said.  “I’ll shower first, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you replied.

You found yourself looking out the window, and as soon as you heard the bathroom door close with a click, you sighed, sitting back on the bed.

“Maybe you should stop worrying about that and just be yourself.”

You nodded to yourself.  You hated to admit it, but Loki was right.  If you wanted to make it through the night without being completely incapacitated with awkwardness, you had to take a step forward.  Maybe you wouldn’t confess outright, but at least try to carry on a conversation without blushing madly.

You didn’t notice Wanda coming back out, drying her hair with a towel.

She sat down next to you, making you jump.  “You okay, Y/N?  You’ve been really weird all day.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.  You felt your breath hitch as she stroked your hair gently.  “Just on edge, I guess.”

“I get that,” she said.  “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have any sort of responsibility, you know?”

You nodded.  “But we’ve got each other, right?”

She smiled.  “Yeah.”

You smiled back, finding your body moving closer to hers until your lips brushed over hers.

You pulled back, your eyes wide.  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed before running to the bathroom.

You locked the door behind you, sinking to the floor.  Involuntary tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to stifle your cries.  You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

“Y/N?”

You hid your face in your hands.

“Y/N, can you please come out?”

You slowly stood, wiping your eyes before opening the door.

You barely had time to respond before Wanda backed you into the sink, her lips on yours.  Your eyes widened as she gently rested her hands on your waist.  

You caught your breath as she pulled back.  “Wh-what...?”

“I’ve loved you for the longest time,” she said.  “Just couldn’t find the right time to say so.”

Shock made you speechless.  You searched her green eyes for any sort of lie, but you found none.

“I always thought you and Loki would eventually get together, but after talking to him about it, he said that wasn’t the case at all,” Wanda explained.  She laughed nervously.  “I’ve ranted to him about you ever since, especially when I couldn’t necessarily contain my feelings about you.”

You thought you were dreaming.

“Sorry it took so long,” she said.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied.  “I’m sorry too.”

She laughed.  

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.  

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that was where you left it.  

The two of you cuddled comfortably on the bed, eventually waking up in each other’s arms.  The soft morning light made Wanda’s hair glow against the white bed sheets.  

It took a moment for you to remember what happened the night before, but when you did, you felt giddy all over again.

You just couldn’t believe it was true.

--

When you finally returned to the compound, the first person to greet you two was Loki, who was leaning against the door frame, smiling smugly.

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out.

“You didn’t need to,” you said.  You held up your hand, which was holding Wanda’s ever so gently.  “You were right.  You happy?”

A smile grew across his lips.  “Of course,” he said.  “And now I get to stab anyone who tries to hurt you two.”

You and Wanda exchanged glances before laughing.

Loki chuckled along with you, watching the two of you laugh together.

He meant every word.

You had to be protected.

[victory-cookies]

we were fools to think that nothing could go wrong (chapter 3)

Milo woke up from a restless sleep with a jolt, the sound of screaming still ringing faintly in his ears. His heart raced and he was breathing unevenly, each inhale and exhale shallow and shaky. He couldn't bring himself to be more than barely cognizant of the large boulder that had smashed through his bedroom wall at some point in the night, leaving a sizable hole that let the chilly morning air in.

He closed his eyes again, trying to steady his breaths, before he sat up and forced himself to get out of bed.

"C'mon, Murphy, you gotta get going," he murmured groggily, fighting back a yawn.

Once he had climbed down the ladder to the floor (thankfully without incident), he turned his attention to the boulder and let out a small, tired sigh.

It was a bit of a distraction, at least.

"Hey Mom?" he called as he walked to grab clothes from his closet, skirting the near-car-sized rock now sat in the middle of his room.

"Yes?" came her voice faintly from downstairs.

He pulled out a button-up, slightly beat-up body armour, and shorts and began to change into them. "Boulder came through the wall last night!"

"I'll call insurance!" she replied. "Also, breakfast is on the table whenever you're ready!"

"I'll be down in a sec!" He pulled on a sweater vest and grabbed his backpack, which he had packed the night before. "Alright, first day back to school," he said to himself. "Let's make it incredible!"

***

He tried to ignore how his voice shook a little on the last syllable.

"Milo!" came a chorus of voices as he walked up to the bus stop, hands tightly gripping the straps of his backpack.

He grinned as he saw who it was. "Hey Melissa, hey Za— oof!" He was cut off as Melissa rushed to embrace him, lifting him off the ground.

She put him back down. "Thank god you're back! It was getting so boring around here without you."

"Yeah, I think I woulda died if I had to sit through one more history class without anything catching on fire." Zack added. "You feelin' better? You had it pretty rough there for a while."

Milo rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm just a little tired. And my leg's still in a splint, of course, but at least I can walk without crutches now!"

"Oh yeah right, your leg! Didn't it break that when we got knocked out during the fight?" Melissa asked. She and Zack had been for a visit with Milo once while he was still in hospital care, but it had been cut short when a nurse had come in for a routine checkup and kicked them out. They hadn't exactly had time to discuss much beyond how Milo was out of his coma and how they all were glad that everyone was at least somewhat okay. Along with that, the fact that she was half-out when the whole leg-crushing event had transpired made Milo wonder if she had forgotten his leg had been broken entirely.

He assumed he was right, seeing her expression turn mildly embarrassed, as if she'd heard what she'd said and only then realized how it sounded.

He smiled softly at her. "Yeah. I was lucky that I only had my leg hit by that falling wall, unlike you two. That must've hurt."

"Yeah..." she replied, touching the back of her head and grimacing. "Good thing, too, because if you'd been out too we would have been screwed."

"Oh yeah, we heard about what you did, by the way, pulling us to safety after we got knocked out. Thanks for that, man. You... you definitely saved our lives there," Zack said. "And you did it with a broken leg."

"Eh, no biggie," replied Milo, laughing nervously, trying to push the resurfacing memories of the event as far out of his mind as possible. "All that matters is that you guys are fine."

"Dude, you saved us from some big-ass scary mechs while you had a broken leg! Don't sell yourself short," exclaimed Melissa. “If it weren’t for you, we would have been in some deep shit.”

Suddenly, a voice came from behind them. “If it weren’t for Milo, you wouldn’t have needed to be saved in the first place, you know.”

Melissa whirled around, glaring. “Shut your piehole, Bradley.”

Bradley leaned up against the bus stop signpost and shrugged. “I’m just saying, Milo's the whole reason stuff like that happens. Giant killer robots—"

"Mechs." Melissa corrected.

"—mechs, whatever, they don't just show up ready to go on a murderous rampage around normal people!" Bradley crossed his arms. "Half of downtown was destroyed, Melissa, and they're still cleaning up the robot—"

"Mech."

"Shut up. They're still cleaning up the robot carcasses and trying to find the bodies of people who died in the building collapses!"

Uncomfortably vivid flashes of memories from the battle were now rushing back to Milo, and he gulped. "Hey guys..." he said quietly, but he was cut off as Melissa took a step towards Bradley.

"So? None of that is Milo's fault!"

"Everything that could have gone wrong did, Melissa! Our city was invaded by robots from the future who, if I'm remembering their speech from the news correctly, were, oh right, looking for Milo!"

Melissa was beginning to look like she was going to scream. "Oh no, you do not get to blame Milo for this."

"Why not?"

"Because he's not responsible for anything that happened that day! In fact, he probably was the reason more people didn't get hurt! He's certainly the reason Zack and I aren't dead!"

"Guys?" said Milo again. "Could you stop?"

"Without him around there wouldn't have been people endangered in the first place! Him being there caused it!"

"Bradley, I will say this one last time: none of this is Milo's fault! He didn't hurt anyone!"

At that, Milo's face paled. He remembered Cavendish and Dakota's account of the post-battle destruction, remembered the mech he saw destroyed right in front of his own eyes, right after he'd hit it with a bolt of energy he still hadn't figured out how he'd created.

Oh, he definitely hurt some people. Maybe not the people Melissa was referring to, but still...

He wondered if he'd ever stop feeling nauseous whenever he re-remembered that fact.

Probably not.

"Well—"

"Will you two stop!?" Zack exclaimed suddenly. "Some of us don't want to hear it."

The two of them quieted and turned to face him.

He sighed. "Thank you." He then turned to Milo and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You alright?"

Milo realized he was shaking a little. "Oh, yeah, I— I'm fine."

"Cool. Just take some deep breaths, okay?"

Milo nodded and did as he was told, slowly breathing in and out until he began to feel a little less shaky.

They all stood there in silence for a moment, Melissa still fuming, Zack maintaining a comforting hold on Milo's arm, Bradley repeatedly curling and uncurling his plant hand and sulking, until Chad eventually walked up to join them at the bus stop.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Melissa sighed as the bus pulled up in front of them. "Shut up, Chad."

"What'd I say?"

***

The morning had been relatively uneventful, which Milo was grateful for, with only one thing in science class exploding when it wasn't supposed to. Sure, the blast knocked the mouse cage off the shelf and let the rodents free, but that was nothing that couldn't be easily dealt with. He could tell Melissa and Bradley were still mad at each other, as they had been intensely refusing to so much as make eye contact all class. He was also pretty sure he'd seen Melissa try to slam the safety goggle box closed on Bradley's hand.

As much as he appreciated her standing up for him, he felt a little bad, seeing as he was partially the reason the two of them were angry at each other. Plus, she'd been fuming all morning. That was never fun for anybody. Her fuming sessions were sparse but legendary, and he knew it would be a while before she'd even begin to consider making up with Bradley.

Cliche or not, he really just wished they could all get along.

He also knew from experience that having that safety goggle box slam closed on your hand really hurt. Even Bradley didn't deserve that.

Eventually, lunchtime rolled around, and he, Zack, and Melissa sat down at their regular table to eat. Milo rummaged around in his backpack for a second before pulling out his lunch bag, which was looking a little squished.

"Maybe next time I should pack the anchor nearer to the bottom," he mused to himself as he took his sandwich out of the bag. "Oh well, squished PB&J is just as good as regular PB&J."

"I'd even argue it's better," Zack commented, pulling out his own lunch. "It gives the sandwich character." He emphasized the last word with a quick, vaguely Italian gesture of his hand and a chef's kiss.

Milo laughed, and Melissa cracked a small smile before returning to her fuming.

They sat there, eating in silence for a few minutes after that, before Milo sighed and spoke up.

"Melissa, you don't have to keep being mad at Bradley. Sure, he said some not-so-nice things, but you know I'm used to that by now. Some people just don't get it, and that's okay."

She put down her sandwich and leaned her face against her hand. "I know, it's just—" she made a spluttering noise and waved her free hand around. "He's such a dick! None of that stuff was your fault! It's like he thinks that you control it or something, and then choose to let stuff go wrong! Which is so not true!"

"I know, Melissa."

"It's just— arrrrrgggh!" She pressed her face into her hands and muttered something that Milo couldn't hear but made Zack's eyes widen.

"I'm gonna pretend like I didn't hear you say that," he said, blinking incredulously. "Because holy crap."

"What'd she say?" asked Milo.

Zack shook his head. "I refuse to repeat any of those words." He then leaned as farback in his chair as he could, eyes darting around the room, obviously grasping to find something else they could talk about. "Sooo, uh, hmm... oh!” He leaned forward again. “Imagine if Milo really was able to control Murphy's Law, though! Wouldn't that be wild? It would be like a weird superpower!"

Milo felt like he was going to die, right then and there, but he forced a pained smile. "Yeah, imagine that..." He giggled nervously. "It would be pretty wild."

Melissa perked up. "Yeah, what if you could, like, shoot it all like—" She punched the air in front of her a few times, like she was blasting something. "—pew pew pew! And whatever it hit would get Murphy's Law'd, like with the mech suit you guys used on the pistachions but, like, smaller. And you wouldn't need the Flynn-Fletcher brothers for it." She grinned conspiratorially. "Maybe you could use it to give Bradley a little taste of his own bullshit theory!"

He didn't respond, unable to focus on the words, because for the second time that day, images of the battle with the mechs had begun to flood Milo's head, as hard as he tried to ignore them, only this time he couldn't help but imagine the consequences of hitting Bradley with a bolt of that energy too. Would he be crushed by a collapsing building? Flattened by a falling telephone pole? Would he spontaneously burst into flames?

Would he be hurt, just like every other person he'd hit that day?

"Ex-excuse me," he said, standing up abruptly and beginning to walk away from the table.

"Where're you going?" Zack called after him.

"Washroom," he lied, voice weak, as he hurried away.

By the time he reached his favourite obscured alcove under the back staircase, he could no longer keep the memories of the battle at bay. He leaned back against the wall for support, breaths quickening as the events played out in wicked clarity in his mind. He could see every blast at him and his friends, feel the panic as they were knocked unconscious and the helplessness that followed when he had to stop running and hide. And the last few moments of the battle? He got to see those play out with the knowledge of exactly what he was causing to happen in that moment.

Eventually the memories began to recede, but his heart rate only quickened as he realized he could still feel his hands buzzing uncomfortably. He slowly brought them up, heart dropping as he confirmed what he had feared: they were surrounded by that red glow, small sparks jumping off of them.

He began to feel panicky again. He hated being panicky, too. It made being able to swiftly respond to danger a lot more difficult. Ironically, that made him begin to panic even more. His heart clenched.

Then, without warning, he felt something akin to a static shock travel through him, and a burst of red sparks flew from his hands, a few of them striking things nearby while most of them hit the underside of the stairs above him. He watched one of them hit a light in the stairwell, and the cables attaching it to the ceiling broke with a loud snap, causing the fixture to immediately fall to the ground, knocking over a garbage can nearby and spilling its contents everywhere. Milo cringed, but his attention was quickly stolen by a loud cracking noise from above him. He looked up to see a large crack spreading through the underside of the staircase.

"Uh oh," he breathed, before diving out from under the stairs just as they began to give way. With a school-shaking rumble, the whole flight crumbled and fell to the ground below.

Milo pushed himself to his knees, staring at the rubble in front of him.

There was no denying it anymore. What he had done that day hadn't been a fluke, or a fear-induced hallucination.

That red energy stuff, that focused destruction? It came from him. And now, somehow, he'd unintentionally done it for a second time.

Watching the dust settle in front of him, with his still-tingling hands stuffed into his pockets and the memories of the battle still lingering in his mind, he became acutely aware of how much the idea that he might accidentally keep doing it again terrified him.

[our-wargame]

take three steps to your left; take me with me you [2/2]

Read Part 1

summary:  Takahiro’s not sure why but he hates it when people get Matsukawa wrong. And they always seem to.

tags: rated t, pining, dialogue heavy now because oi-matsu-hana are three drunkards, maybe a part three from Matsukawa’s take?, dw matsukawa shows up yay, hanamaki/oikawa friendship and iwaizumi is yay

notes: the first chapter was supposed to just be that, just a short take on possible matsuhana relations, but then i decided why not make it a fic yknow. although part 1′s a good standalone!! this one’s much less serious but yeah! if you happen to reblog my work, i will most likely read your tags and then die of joy.

as always, ao3 link

Last chapter:

“Oh we forgot something,” Oikawa says, and this time there’s thoughtfulness sharpening the eyes sweeping over Takahiro. “We forgot about the part where you’re in love with him.”

Takahiro freezes.

Before Takahiro knows it, his arm is out. Is it really his fault though? It’s not like this was a first-degree planned nose-grabbing. One second Oikawa is saying some bull; and the another, Oikawa’s nose is just...in Takahiro’s crab-claw. His heart’s pounding a little faster than usual, but it’s Gucci. 

“Makki! That hurts my conker!.” Oikawa squirms into a sitting position and then scoots his ass back, pretty much over Takahiro’s lap to prevent his nose from getting torn off.

“Nice conk bro.”

When Oikawa wrinkles his nose, Takahiro lets go. He keeps wiggling it, exercising it with ugly ogre faces and complaining he can’t smell Takahiro’s teen reek or something like that.

“Hey, I’ve seen you looking at Iwaizumi after practice.” Takahiro shakes his head. “Just because he’s all sweaty-”

“That’s not-!” Oikawa jumps up, yelling. “He’s not-! You can’t just say-”

Takahiro laughs. Three years of friendship have given Oikawa neural damage, a better poker face, and a properly tainted sense of humor, but specially made mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime still sends him into a loud, quacky fluster.

“You know,” he says casually, comfortably stretching, splaying his arms out over the couch. “I’ve caught him staring back at you.” Leaving a soft pause for the atmosphere shift, Takahiro tilts his head to the side with a small, lopsided grin and waits.

Yes, he expects Oikawa to melt. Instead, Oikawa lets out a small sigh and plunks back down beside Takahiro. His gaze shifts from ground to ceiling and back again. A tiny, hard pit plunks into Takahiro’s stomach. Apprehension. He’s about to joke about how he never makes Oikawa wait this long when he’s teasing him, but the noise that comes out is a sad sort of wheeze that he ends up trying to pass off as a cough.

At last, Oikawa pursues his lips. Takahiro’s given him an opening and he’s taking it. “Makki. You’re in love with Mattsukawa-”

Takahiro’s breath hitches.

“And he’s in love with you.” Oikawa skewers him with his gaze, captain to one of his men, like they’re in one last match. “So. How about you save us spectators the time and-”

Never Gonna Give You Up rings shrilly through the air.

Oikawa’s mouth drops open. Takahiro he lunges for his phone. “Matsukawa,” he reads off the screen like they hadn’t both known from the ringtone.

“Huh. Well.” hums Oikawa. “I need to take a piss.” And he flounces off the couch with that.

Takahiro flexes his fingers, nails digging into his palm. They’re too long again, he thinks, drawing a long inhale. He’s not...he’s not nervous about taking a call from his best friend. 

Of course he’s nervous. After what Oikawa tried to imply-

He presses the phone against his ear. “Go for Makki.”

“Yes, hello, I would like some chikky nuggies.”

“Sorry, sir.” Takahiro yawns into the receiver. And into Matsukawa’s ear. “We’re all out. Does that make you hangry?”

“Little bit.” Matsukawa’s low voice sounds rougher than normal, like he’s got something caught in his throat or taken a pinch of Iwaizumi’s gruff soul. The line crackles. “What say you make it up to me?”

“Mmm? What’d you have in mind?” In his peripheral, he notices Oikawa stalking over here with a shit-eating grin Takahiro’s more familiar seeing on Matsukawa’s face.

“The usual. Pick you up in four?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro says, partially distracted with batting at Oikawa. He’s not going to give captain the opportunity to say something ridiculous like...stop flirting Makki! For one, they’re not flirting. And for another, Takahiro makes fun of Oikawa; the teasing in their relationship is strictly one way. To Matsukawa, he says “Wait.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m at Oikawa’s. It’s not rude if I tell him we don’t want him hanging out with us if I say it to his face, right?”

Oikawa leans over and gets his hands on Takahiro’s phone. He might be unable to rip it out of Takahiro’s grip,but he can, and does, bring his head down to yowl, “Fine! Enjoy your date without me!”

Oikawa’s going to die soon and it’s a shame Takahiro will be too busy disposing the evidence to attend the funeral.

“Okay make that five minutes. Also. Forgot to mention,” Matsukawa says, smooth as ever. “Iwaizumi’s sleeping over for the night. If you guys want, I guess we could make it a foursome.”

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Takahiro grumbles. “That’s almost as yucky as thinking about how Oikawa spends the entire time oogling Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oikawa huffs. “Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan, Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan without a shirt on! Everyone knows and all they do is bully Oikawa-sama about it!” Oikawa finally pauses to breathe. “Also, Makki says we’ll be there. And he says he wants to be sleeping with you guys tonight.”

“Cool. Gross but cool.”

“Yeah, great.” Takahiro says as flatly as he can muster. “Mattsun, hurry up and rescue me from the crazy man?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Static crackles over the line. Matsukawa’s probably has the phone awkwardly caught between his shoulder and ear, to free his hands. “See you soon, yeah?”

Takahiro opens his mouth. And closes it abruptly. 

It’s nothing new, Matsukawa waiting for Takahiro to sign off. Matsukawa knows Takahiro hates feeling burdensome. Matsukawa always lets Takahiro end the call, no matter how silly they start out to be. It’s nothing new, but it’s one of Takahiro’s many preferences that Matsukawa just never forgets. It’s nothing new, but for someone infuriatingly attached to simplicity, Matsukawa sure goes out of his way a lot for Takahiro. 

“Makki?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro bites himself in the tongue. “See you soon.”

He jabs the end call button before he can do anything else. When he catches Oikawa’s mouth twisting he asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa says, straight faced. And then when he can’t help himself, he wears a dopey grin.“Y’all are just so fucking cute.”

Takahiro rolls his eyes, even as a slow heat creeps up his neck. He gathers his things and gives Oikawa a quick hug before making for the door. Then he delivers a swift kick to the ass when captain makes the mistake of showing his back.

“Makki!”

“See you tonight!” he shouts, dashing out the door and right into his getaway man.

“Ow,” Matsukawa drawls, standing in a casual gray set of t-shirt and pants. He’s flexing his jaw because Takahiro friggen headbutted him. “I know you missed me but tone down the Iwaizumi-affection.”

Takahiro hardly thinks twice before snagging him by the wrist and hightailing them both away from the danger zone. “Stop slowing me down,” he chokes, and Matsukawa laughs. They almost make it.

“Oi!” Takahiro scowls, whirling around. “You asshat, Crocs only!” He snatches up the sneaker from where it’d bounced off his back and flings it at its owner. 

“That hurt, Makki!! My ass and my feelings!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Catch you later, captain.”

Matsukawa snickers and Takahiro elbows him in the ribs as they walk down Oikawa’s driveway. “You were absolutely no help, you big lug. Should’ve known...would’ve ditched you immediately.” 

“After I kindly offered a ride? Youch.” Matsukawa peers at him. He might only be a few inches taller but it does mean Takahiro has to pass over his lips to get to his gaze.

But since Oikawa’s said what he said...Takahiro looks away. Hovers and talks at the passenger side door. “Wanna give me the keys?”

They both know he hates driving.

Matsukawa snorts. Apparently he’s not even going to dignify the shoddy joke with a response.

The truth is, they both know a lot of things, Takahiro starts to think. He leans against the window, the glass cool to his skin. But maybe Oikawa’s right and he’s missed one.

...you’re in love with Matsukawa...and he’s in love with you.

Just to be practical, to seriously think about what it would be like, Takahiro takes a hot second  to hand control over to his imagination. Imagines himself turning his body, tilting his head, looking into dark eyes, a bright grin, pulling Matsukawa in and- Takahiro swallows. So he’s flushing. Okay. This is okay, hahaha...

They reverse out the driveway, Matsukawa shifting gears and into traffic with an ease Takahiro should be jealous of. But Matsukawa moves, does it all like it’s secondhand nature. The quiet confidence he wears is rare, but it’s the same kind Oikawa has, putting the ball in Iwaizumi’s hands without hesitation, without doubt, day after day. Each of them has the other’s confidence; are each part of the other’s confidence in himself.

Takahiro leans back and closes his eyes, lets the hot sun wash over his thighs, soaking through his shirt.

Maybe it’s not smart to compare, but Takahiro thinks he places a similar kind of trust in Matsukawa. Or at least the most trust he can muster. 

After all, he is a cynic. He’s the one who tells Oikawa they could never have won nationals anyways, and that the likelihood of going to nationals was made in the same ridiculous mold. He’s not a shonen protagonist. His faith is not in people; it’s in numbers, in facts. And that’s how it’s always going to be.

But. Takahiro thinks, thinks that if that was ever going to be different, maybe it’d be because of Matsukawa. 

“Hey.”

Takahiro blinks himself alert. Matsukawa’s turning the car around, sliding into the parking lot. They’re lucky there’s a spot right at the front of the diner, even if it’s a bit of a tight fit between two SUVs. “We’re here, meathead.”

“Meathead?” 

“It was that or meatball.”

“How hungry are you.” Takahiro springs his seat belt free and he’s got a hand on the door handle when all of a sudden, Matsukawa drops his phone into Takahiro’s lap.

“I’ll go. Do me a favor and text Iwaizumi back for me?”

Takahiro nearly unhinges his jaw. “Do you realize the amount of power you’re giving me. Do you know how much restraint I am being forced to perform right now.” Oh Holy Mother of Volleyball - he could change all of his contacts to Oikawa’s number.

Matsukawa grins his hey!-i’m-the-boy-next-door grin. The corners of his eye crinkling and all, and shit, he’s cute.

Okay, but he’s always been cute!! This is nothing new either!!!

“I am looking away,” Matsukawa says, hopping out his car. “The usual?”

Takahiro nods. Watches Matsukawa turn, watches his back grow smaller as he walks away.

And he’s in love with you, rings in his ears once more.

Is he? Because. If Matsukawa was. And they both...wanted to give it a try...

His shorts are suddenly shifting. He looks down, wraps his fingers around the phone starting to slide down his thigh and brings it up to examine.

The lockscreen’s an old blurry photo of the seniors previous to practice (but the picture changes often. When Oikawa’s bored or Iwaizumi’s feeling vindictive and finally ready to retaliate, or when Takahiro wants to. Often, like he said.). There isn’t a password because Matsukawa says he has nothing to hide, but mostly because Takahiro refuses to memorize any numbers he’s not going to use on a test and it’s more fun using Matsukawa’s phone than his own for some reason.

He makes a quick pit stop at the Photo Gallery, creating copies of some of the pictures of the guys and annotates extra dicks onto them. Most of them are actually photos he’s taken, he realizes. While he’s wondering if he should go ahead and delete some of the bullshit photos so Matsukawa doesn’t need to when he wants to download a new game and he’s got no space, Takahiro remembers he’s supposed to be replying to Iwaizumi. Contacts...there, Iwaizumi’s the first one.

You: so 8?

Iwaizumi: yeah. Iwaizumi: unless Iwaizumi: you know You: ?

Iwaizumi: you know. Iwaizumi: you and hanamaki take a detour

Iwaizumi: to talk bout your feelings Iwaizumi: you’re going to right

Matsukawa’s left it at that, left Iwaizumi on read.

Takahiro blinks.

Matsukawa wants him to answer Iwaizumi’s text.

Matsukawa’s giving him an easy out.

Takahiro closes his eyes. What. Is. Going. On. What does this even mean!!! He reads the text again and- Iwaizumi had said your. What.

He doesn’t get much time to think about the implications because Matsukawa’s walking up to him, passing him his order. The smell of hot food isn’t anywhere near as attractive as it usually is, so he place it on his lap. It can wait. He’s not sure if it’s appropriate to laugh out his nerves or glare, with Matsukawa slipping into his own seat, calm and collected as ever. From head to toe, in every piece of his posture and each inch of his expression, Matsukawa Issei tells the world just how perfectly at peace he is with it. Takahiro compromises by biting his own tongue, which triggers his swear-reflex.

Matsukawa snickers.

Ohoho, alright. Takahiro dials up his glare to the max. “Got something to say, asshole?”

“Yeah, actually,” Matsukawa’s lips twitch, a sign he’s suppressing a smile. Takahiro tries to do the same until the blocker says, “You’ve been kind of spacey. What’s up?”

“Ah.” Takahiro ducks his head. “Not much.” Just realizing I’d like to kiss you. Whaboutyou? ”Oikawa just. Said a thing.”

“Mm?”

Matsukawa’s not expecting a reply, he’s just offering Takahiro the opportunity to, should he want it. Affection, warm and rich, blooms in the spiker’s chest. His shoulders sink, falling lax. If he smiles, a little, sue him. “Pretty insightful thing too. Unusually helpful for a change.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It turns out, before you talk about your feelings,” Takahiro says, looking right at Matsukawa while his ears burst into flames. “You have to be aware of them.”

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa blinks. And then he slaps a hand over his eyes and starts laughing, his shoulders actually shaking. Takahiro should kick hit him or run for the hills, right, except Matsukawa is talking to himself. “Wow. Iwaizumi was...right. I mean. And I thought-”

“Issei.”

“I’ve.” He finally meets Takahiro’s eyes. “Had the biggest crush on you. Since end of first year. And you never knew?”

His expression must have answer because the silly guy starts laughing again and Takahiro honest to the gods, feels giddy enough to join in. “Were you going to tell me?”

A gentle shrug. “Don’t know. Wanted to though.”

Takahiro hums. Neither of them have said the real words though and maybe they should do the thing the conventional way? “So.” he begins. “What would you say if we called today a date?”

“Ask you when the next one would be?” Matsukawa puts a hand on the back of his head, an act which Takahiro recognizes as nervous. “Or ask, ‘wait, so you do like me, right?’“

He’s so silly, Takahiro marvels. So silly.

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

(Epilogue)

Five minutes past eight, Takahiro enters Oikawa’s house. With his boyfriend.

Boyfriend boyfriend boyfrienddd boyyyfriend boyfriend Matsukawa-boyfriend-Issei. 

These thoughts do not belong aloud, it turns out, when Oikawa spots them and immediately yells- nonsense at first, and then something along the same lines. Following up, is a demanding, “So?? Did you kiss yet? Yo! Answer the question! Did y’all kiss??” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and tells him to mind his own business.

“Do you really want to know, captain?” Matsukawa smirks. Takahiro’s fingers find his and they link. Watching Oikawa’s eyes expand to the size of dinner plates is just as satisfying as watching the cogs in his brain turning to try and figure out the answer on his own the rest of the night. In the meantime, they’ve taken their spots on the couch while Iwaizumi fiddles with game settings to accommodate the four of them. It’s game night after all.

(Yeah, Takahiro supposes he owes Oikawa; he’ll give the details captain is dying for later. OR. he muses. Maybe he’ll get Oikawa and Iwaizumi together and then call his dues paid? Matsukawa would be down for either.)

Iwaizumi is as characteristically Iwaizumi as ever. At the snack break, Takahiro sees him giving Matsukawa a shoulder pat, and thinks that’s it. After the two of them get knocked out of the Smash Bros round early he plans on sitting back to watch the defending champion and Mr. Kirby war. Instead, he finds his shoulder being tapped and follows, getting led into the kitchen.

Vice captain hands him a water and leans on the counter. “Congrats.”

“Thanks, Iwaizumi-kun.” he deadpans. “I’m sorry we couldn’t work things out but I’ll cherish the memories.”

“Hey, man, I’ll punch you. No boyfriend around to defend you, y’know.” Iwaizumi taunts.

Takahiro smirks right back at him. He’s not sure if he could be happier if he tried. “So what’s this about?” 

Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. “Oikawa tells me he helped you.”

“Yeah,” Takahiro can allow this. He nods. “Just like you helped Issei.”

“Ha! If only you knew.”

Takahiro raises a brow.

“You know the texts I sent him?” Iwaizumi’s grin is so very wolfish. “He asked me to send them. Fabricated all of them himself. He had me set you guys up.” And then he's calling out “See you later!” due to the fact Takahiro is hightailing out of the room.

Oikawa is absolutely beating the shit out of Metaknight, although Matsukawa’s still winning the trash-talking contest. But as Takahiro enters the room, he trails off, eyes leaving the screen for Takahiro’s. Taking his opportunity, Oikawa finally pushes Metaknight off the platform and whoops to kingdom come. It doesn’t really matter though, Takahiro has walked over, leaning down.

Matsukawa meets him midway. The kiss is soft and sweet but it still messes him up. In the best way ever.

Oikawa’s squeaks go ignored.

“You’re adorable.” Takahiro shakes his head as he sinks into the spot besides the blocker on the couch. He puts his head on Matsukawa’s shoulder and breathes in cotton and cool.

“Iwaizumi sold me out, huh?”

Another kiss stolen. “Dibs on him as my best man.”

Matsukawa snickers while Oikawa protests, “The hell? What about me? Makki, I had your back! I made the play of the year! I’m literally game MVP.”

Iwaizumi appears, nudging Oikawa to scoot over until they both have enough space. “I heard my name?” He gets himself two fistbumps. 

Oikawa scowls.

[headoverhiddles]

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You, your boyfriend Brian, and his best friend Jeordie are forced by lack of finances to share a hotel room one night while Brian's band performs in Miami Beach. You two have to be quiet not to wake Jeordie...

Notes: Set during Spooky Kids era!! Partially inspired by this video. **Twiggy wasn't a part of the band at this point in time, but fuck it. I wanted to include him.

July 17, 1992.

"I've got... thirteen dollars."

Everyone (aka you, Brian and Jeordie) is sitting around in a circle on Jeordie's messy living room floor.

You and your boyfriend look over to the bassist.

"Thirteen?" Brian sputters, "You stupid fucker, you had 500 dollars last night. Where the hell'd all that go, up your ass?"

Jeordie picks at a hangnail. "Hookers and blow." He begins to pat his leg, drumming a beat. "We should make that a song..."

"We have better things to sing about than hookers and blow," Brian snaps.

"I don't know, I think it'd go with your whole theme," you tease, resting your head on his shoulder. Brian glances down, gaze softening fondly as his fingers thread with yours.

"Yeah, says the girl who probably encouraged him to burn our valuable hotel money on dumb shit last night."

You giggle. "I promise, I had nothing to do with it. Besides, I was with you last night, remember?" Brian smirks, recalling the record you two set.

"Yeah. I remember making you come a bunch of times. What was the challenge again?"

"I dared you to make me come more times than my vibrator could in one night."

"Mmm, and did I pass?"

"With flying colours."

Jeordie whistles, then tries to flip one of the coins from the pooling pile on the floor. It pings off something then disappears into the pit that is his studio apartment.

"Twelve seventy five," Jeordie corrects, staring sadly behind him at the lost quarter. Brian shakes his head, scratching through his hair.

"Jesus Christ, what are we gonna do?! This is a huge stop on the tour. Daisy, Pogo, and Sarah are already there, and the Spooky Kids can't afford to cancel this show because we're... fuckin broke hobos!"

"I'm not a hobo..." Jeordie whispers, watching an ant crawl across his toe. Brian scrapes up some bills to count again, painted fingernails a blur as he shells them out. You count your own too, nodding.

"Okay. I've got 210. Together with your 600... we should have enough for airfare and hotel room, for one night."

Jeordie gives a punched out snort-laugh, staring at the ceiling like it's about to cave in. "Yeah, for one shared room between the three of us."

You and Brian look at each other, shrugging. Jeordie hesitates, then looks at you two in distress.

"Awww."

So, the next day, after successfully making it to the next stop on the Spooky Kids' tour by way of crappy budget airline, you get to the hotel to check in before the show. It's not awful-- it's a pretty good motel, at least.

"I can't wait til we can afford a tour bus," Brian growls miserably, flopping down on one of the double beds. It shoots his lanky body up four feet off the bed as the overly-loaded springs catapult him, and you double over with laughter. Though he looks ready to murder, your laugh is infectious, and Brian starts to chuckle too.

"What the fuck is this?" He goes on, picking up a towel folded into a swan. He turns it around, and pretends to stick his dick into it, humping it as he waddles around the room.

"It's a swan," Jeordie smiles, face smushed into his own bed opposite yours, "I requested the towels be made into pretty swans for us."

"Yeah?" Brian discards the towel in a heap. " Did you also request little chocolates be left on our pillow every night, princess?"

"Dammit. I knew I forgot something."

"Why did we let Jeordie book this?" you groan. "We all know I'm the responsible mom here."

"I beg to differ," Brian says, crawling over top of you and securing his stringbean limbs around you like a giant spider. "I'm more of a mom than you." You giggle.

"Says the man who just pretended to fuck a towel swan."

"What do you mean pretended? That slutty motherfucker's got my jizz all over him, he was begging for it." Brian grins, collapsing on top of you, and you shriek as he attacks you with kisses.

"Go put your makeup on, or you'll be late getting on stage! Then nobody'll ever know who the Spooky Kids are, and your career will never take off, all because you wanted to fuck your girlfriend. Again."

"I'll just tell the bouncers we were busy with hookers and blow, like proper rockstars," Brian murmurs, sucking a hicky into your neck. "They'll buy anything people like us feed em."

"Hookers and blow?" Jeordie perks up, turning to you two.

"No," you and your boyfriend both say at the same time.

Brian does his makeup with a little help from you, and Jeordie does as well. Brian's lower face is covered in red lipstick, and he’s got his striped pink and black leggings on, with an unbuttoned vest and a cat in the hat top hat on his head, long hair brushed out and down to his waist. Jeordie's got one of his green ragdoll dresses on, dreads done up in pigtails.

You three meet up with the other band members, all dressed and ready for the show as well, and you can immediately tell Brian is slipping into his stage persona when he tells the bouncer to go fuck himself on a butcher knife after being asked for ID. (You display the IDs you've got in your purse with many apologies after your boyfriend and his delinquent band waltz in like they own the place, despite the fact that they're only the opening act.)

You stand in the front row of the make-do mosh pit of the dive bar, all big smiles and support. Despite what your family warns you, you have the utmost faith in Brian and his aspirations, and even though he's got an absolute clusterfuck of personalities making up the band behind him, it's a wild wonder of a musical act, and you just know the five of them are gonna go places someday.

"Good evening, all you crazy motherfuckers here in Miami Beach," Brian points out to the crowd, "Let's fuck shit up!" Their opener, Thrift, leads to Lucy In The Sky With Demons, then eventually to everyone's apparent favourite, if the cheering is any guage-- Lunchbox. You like that song too, bouncing around and screaming for it like one of the fans for the night. Brian keeps looking at you, and halfway through the song, he pulls you up on stage, obscenely groping his hands all over your breasts and sucking on them through your bra. You don't mind-- you make a show of moaning, squeezing them together, until you eventually slap him off, wag your finger, and slip back into the crowd, to the laughter and heckles from the crowd.

The show goes later than expected due to the enthusiasm of the crowd. After the show, everyone hung around the bar for a bit too, drinking a couple beers and doing a few lines of coke to mingle with any ego-stroking fans or labels that may have been scouting. 

The guys are still all riding the high of the adrenaline and drugs, but it's 3 in the morning now, and since you three have not only one shared suitcase and one shared hotel room but one shared brain cell as well, you all decided it would be a good idea to book a 7 am flight home.

Well. Blame it on it being the most affordable return time.

Once you get back to the room, some Judas Priest is cranked on the tinny room radio because "fuck the other hotel guests, I'm Marilyn Manson", and the air guitars are broken out.

Brian inspects himself in the mirror, making Herculean poses and sticking his tongue out grotesquely, checking for warts or something. He pinches his nipples, scratching down his pale torso.

"I need more tattoos."

"The ones you have now are rad," you mention, kicking off your shoes, "But a few more would make you look even more badass."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I already wouldn't want to fuck with you. More tattoos? I'd be terrified."

"I thought you were already terrified. You scream every time you see my cock."

"That's cause it's so big..." You playfully lick your lips.

"Yeah? You wanna suck it?" Brian unzips his pants. "Wanna suck on it, baby?"

"I wanna get into bed, is what I want to do," you yawn, peeling your top off and tossing it at Jeordie. Jeordie catches it and dutifully slingshots it into your great big shared suitcase. The neighboring hotel room tenants bang on the wall, mumbling something bitterly incoherent about turning the music down.

"I will kick down your door and skullfuck you, you entitled asshole!" Brian shouts back. The pounding stops abruptly, and you question how you haven't been arrested yet.

"Seriously, I think it's time for bed though," Jeordie mumbles, crawling under his covers like an elderly cat. He jumps and frowns at something on the wall, something you're glad you can't see. 

"Fine, grandpa," Brian rolls his eyes, and kills the volume on the rock station.

Five minutes later, you come out of the bathroom in one of Brian's oversized Black Sabbath T-shirts, and run a hand through your hair, walking over to get into bed with Brian. He's still scrubbing some of the eyeliner at the sink, and you beckon him. 

"Come here. I wanna cuddle."

Brian grunts, and rubs his face once more, walking over to the door naked save for his boxer briefs to make doubly sure it's locked.

"Only space for three psychos in this room," he says, then does a barrel roll into bed, sweeping the covers over you both. The light is turned out, and Brian snuggles into you from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"Bri," you whisper. He hums into your hair.

"Yeah."

You flip around to face him, your noses touching. He blinks, and you bite your lip, reaching under the covers. He bites back a moan, and you lean in to whisper. 

"I'm wet for you."

Brian immediately looks over, and tosses a pillow at his best friend's head. "Hey Jeordie, fuck off for the night."

"What? No! I'm... trying to sleep..."

"The one night he decides not to get shitfaced and wander the streets," Brian sighs.

"It's no fun to do that yourself," Jeordie mopes. "Actually, that's not true. I'm just tired." 

"Fuck," Brian mutters. You two let a few seconds go by.

"Is he asleep?" you whisper.

"I think so," Brian mumbles back, then gasps as you cup him again through his underwear, reaching in with the other hand to wrap around his half-hard dick.

"(y/n), I gotta be in you," he hisses, "Fast." 

"Just... shhh..." you giggle, and he bites his lower lip, rolling on top of you under the covers. His long raven hair curtains around you, and he reaches down to pull his dick out. You wiggle your hips excitedly, holding onto his forearms, and he takes a condom off the bedside table, rolling it on. He winces at the contact, the touch of his own hand to get the rubber on enough to make him harden even more. He moans, finally pushing into you.

"O-oh..." you try to keep your voice down to a squeak. "Bri... Bri, Bri, Brian, fuck... I love your cock..."

"Call me Marilyn," he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Call me Marilyn, I wanna hear you say it," he grunts, rocking his hips in again. He holds your wrists together above your head as his thrusts get deeper.

"God, please... fuck me harder, Marilyn," you breathe softly. His pace increases, both of you still attempting to be quiet so as not to wake your partner.

"Yeah... yeah, yeah," he whispers, "Fuck yeah, baby. You're so good for me. God, oh..."

Your eyes roll back as you smile in bliss, feeling your hands down your boyfriend's back as he does his best to make you come not in record quantity tonight, but record time.

"That feel good?"

"Uh huh..."

"Your pussy feel good now? Nice and full?"

"Yeah, oh my god. Mar... Marilyn..." You feel your orgasm coming, so you hook your feet just above his ass and smirk, thinking of something you know will do the trick. It may be dumb, but it's bound to work.

"It feels so fucking amazing getting fucked by the antichrist."

He buries his face beside your shoulder as his hips stutter, and you can feel him finish inside the condom, thrusting his hips erratically and quickly as he milks it. Each thrust is taking you closer, and you two breathe and pant together as Brian holds you, making you come with wave after wave of a gorgeous climax.

"Ah, fuck that was good," you breathe. Brian rolls off of you, depositing the condom and tucking it under his pillow. You wrinkle your nose. “Ew, man.”

"It'll make housekeeping smile. She can sell it on eBay, make more than we earn in a tour. Or she can jam it up inside her and call us for child support."

You giggle, and slap his chest lightly. He kisses you, and settles comfortably down beside you again, slipping his arms underneath yours.

"Do you think Jeordie's still asleep?" you whisper, stifling a laugh. Suddenly, a clear voice rings out. 

"If you two loud assholes think I slept through that, then you must think I'm fucking deaf," Jeordie blurts. "Assholes."

Brian starts laughing, even as his friend keeps calling him an asshole. "You're next," Brian teases, and Jeordie sighs.

"Leave me alone and let me sleep."

"Get the lube, (y/n), it's Jeordie's turn to be violated by the dirty man who broke into this hotel room, aka me."

"Fuck off!"

"Fine, fuck you, more dick for (y/n)," Brian grins, and you smile, holding him to you.

You listen to the white noise of the deteriorating air conditioner. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest tells you he's passed out behind you, dreaming and adorable with his face pressed into the back of your neck.

You glance behind you. "Jeord, babe? Sorry for keeping you up. Really."

Jeordie just smiles. "Honestly, I was listening the whole time to see what his secret is. How do you make someone come that much? It's insane."

You giggle into the pillow, and Brian wakes up long enough to croak: "Cause I am the God of Fuck."

[ymnfilter]

Let Me Take You In My Arms (You Can Cry Cry) [Klaine AU]

On ao3

Pt.2 Of Expensive Klaine

Summary: 

Glee Alternate Universe in which Elizabeth and Burt separated instead of Kurt's mother dying. Elizabeth's side of the family is crazy rich and she got Kurt's custody so he's also been raised in Luxury. Kurt is enrolled at Dalton when he reaches high school, where he meets and falls in love with Blaine Anderson whose family is equally rich and influential. This is going to be an entire series of Klaine just being expensive, but for now:

Burt Hummel and Elizabeth Alarie get a divorce, Nanna Alarie takes baby Kurt with her to France. Andersons find out their son is gay. Kurt and Blaine meet in middle school at Westerville and start to become each other's everything.

When Cooper Anderson was born to Devon and Pamela Anderson, they were ecstatic. Finally, they had an heir. Someone who would take over after Devon and become the next CEO and face of ANDRSN Publications, a fashion and lifestyle magazine that had been started by Devon’s great grandmother and was now one of America’s biggest names. Devon himself knew little about fashion, nor did he have any interest in learning about it. No, unlike Vogue or Elle or other magazines in the industry, ANDRSN didn’t have a fashion line of their own, instead giving big names in the industry like Marc Jacobs or Valentino or Alarie a chance to show off their collections in their magazines.

Cooper was difficult though. He preferred sneaking out to the dollar theater over finishing his school homework, he preferred dating and sleeping around with girls over after school clubs, he preferred fast cars and black cards over responsibility and common sense. By the time he was eighteen, neither Devon or his wife were surprised to find him gone one day after graduation, with only a single note that said,

I wanna act. Say bye to Blainers for me, will ya?

They weren’t surprised, really. Didn’t mean they were any less disappointed.

And so, Devon’s attention shifted from his first son to his second. Blaine was a jumpy, hyper eight year old kid when Devon decided he was going to be the next CEO of  ANDRSN, and for a few years, Devon had no doubt Blaine would be the perfect heir. He was a straight A student, he played football after school, he wore bow ties and suspenders and behaved appropriately and charmingly amongst guests of all circles. Blaine was the perfect son anybody could ever ask for, and he seemed perfectly happy to fill the role. Ticking all of his father’s requirement boxes with effortless smiles and a skip in his step.

Then Blaine turned eleven.

“I’m gay, dad.”

Devon remembered feeling like his entire world had stopped. They had been having their regular family dinners and Devon froze mid bite, his fork hovering somewhere in the middle of his plate and his open mouth. Next to him Pamela jerked, but she didn’t look very surprised, and Devon figured he was the last one to know about this.

Devon sighed, placed his fork back on his plate,

“You’re sure?” He asked his son, knowing it was futile anyway. No way Blaine would risk telling them something of this magnitude unless he was completely certain. Blaine jerked a nod, keeping his gaze on his own plate, tiny fists clenched on his sides.

“Okay.” Devon said, and nodded. Being gay… it may not have been in his list of requirements needed for the perfect son, but he supposed it couldn’t do much harm either. Blaine’s eyes snapped to his,

“Okay?” He croaked, Devon nodded,

“Well, I’m not exactly happy about it, but, it’s not like you can do anything to change it. So, I will learn to accept it.”

Devon knew he wasn’t the warmest of parents, but from the tears of relief that welled up in Blaine’s eyes, at least he knew what he had said was partially comforting,

“This doesn’t mean that you’re excused to date anybody you want to though, do you understand?”

Blaine blinked at him, “What?”

“I don’t care if it’s a girl or a guy, Blaine, but make sure that whoever you bring home is worthy of being a part of this family.”

Nobody said anything for a while, the tension around them didn’t break until Blaine nodded, giving them a small smile, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Blaine may not be a perfect son, but Devon figured he was as close to perfection as he could ask for.

Kurt Hummel’s parents start fighting when he’s five. The garage Burt opened just a couple of years ago isn’t doing very well and he’s almost always at work, leaving behind his wife to cook, clean, take care of Kurt and work at her mother’s company from home. It’s not fun, and Elizabeth’s exhausted, and Burt doesn’t understand because in his mind, if you’re not really going out to work, are you really working? Which leads to more fights and more lonely nights and Kurt finds himself hiding under his bed cuddling his Nanna’s soft cashmere sweater almost every night.

Elizabeth has never really been comfortable living as a housewife to a middle class man, but that man being Burt has always been enough reason to be happy. She loves her husband. Has loved him ever since he saw her in highschool cheering for the rival football team while he played quarterback and promptly asked her out on a date afterwards. Her mother did not approve, of course she didn’t, and Elizabeth found herself eloping with the man of her dreams right after highschool. They had been happy in the beginning. So happy. They had a lovely child, and Burt was working at the garage of one of his friend’s fathers and she was doing her best to not get bored out of her mind staying at home all day. But then Burt had wanted to open his own place, and Kurt had turned three and demanded a tutu and dance classes and everything had slowly unraveled.

Burt had started taking on mortgages even when Elizabeth offered to help him out, he and Kurt had started becoming more and more awkward with each other, both giving each other looks of confusion and hurt rather than the love and affection they had before. Elizabeth knew that if Burt just spent some alone time with Kurt he would be able to figure his own son out, but again, Burt hardly had any time for his family anymore, so the father and son remained practically strangers and Christmases and birthdays were filled with grossed out faces at unused boy-gifts and hurtful thank yous.

Looking back, Elizabeth honestly doesn’t know how she survived those years, but it was when Kurt was seven, and her mother had showed up for a surprise visit for her only grandson’s birthday, that everything finally came to a head. Burt hadn’t gotten home until an hour after Kurt’s bed time that evening, and after asking her mother to please tuck him in, Elizabeth was waiting for her husband on the living room sofa, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Elizabeth has become fairly good at masking her emotions when faced with her husband’s late nights, but none of their problems should affect Kurt’s birthday, she firmly believes that. But Burt hadn’t been there. And she doesn’t know what hurts more, his absence or that fact that Kurt had looked so much more comfortable and happy with just his mom and grandma to celebrate.

When Burt staggers into the house, he’s exhausted. He’s trying to get his garage to a more stable ground, while also trying to earn enough money with part time jobs at the dock to help with the mortgage, not that Lizzy needs to know that bit. She’ll just try to make him talk to her mother, and god knows Burt has had enough of that snobbish Madame Alarie to last him a lifetime. When he does get home though, he knows something’s wrong. The house is quiet. No sounds coming from the TV or the radio (and Burt’s house is never quiet. Not with the love his wife and son share for show tunes) he can’t hear Kurt’s high pitch giggles coming from the kitchen as he tries to help his mother bake cookies. One look at his watch tells him he’s late. Another at the calendar tells him he’s very late on the absolute worst day. He sighs, he knows he’s in for it now. Their screaming matches are sort of legendary in the neighborhood, and as embarrassed as he is about the commotion, Burt figures he’s too tired to care about it at this point.

The verbal back and forth that follows is legendary, but it doesn’t last very long. Just as Elizabeth starts crying, there are suddenly footsteps stomping downstairs, and Burt looks up to see Nanna Alarie rushing downstairs, his glare fierce and directed straight at him. He loses all the fight inside of him when he sees Kurt in her arms, crying and clutching at her sweater with a grip so tight Burt’s afraid he won’t ever want to let go,

“What in the world are you two doing?” She demands and Burt knows that the only reason she also isn’t screaming is because she thinks herself too dignified for it. Burt hates her. She’s rubbing comforting circles on his son’s back, and Elizabeth is sobbing in the corner and Burt honestly does not remember everything he said in his rage and exhaustion but from the way his mother-in-law is looking at him, Burt feels exactly 2 inches tall.

That isn’t new. Burt has always felt 2 inches tall under her gaze,

“You are-” She continues, completely floored at their behavior, as if they would even dare , as if he would even dare to raise his voice at her daughter, irrationally, he feels the anger simmer at the bottom of his belly again, “You both are parents how on earth do you justify screaming at eachother so loud that Kurt wakes up screaming- ”

Oh, and as if those words are just not a thousand stabs to his heart right there-

“ He tries to stay quiet and tries to hide under his bed What in the entire world is wrong with the both of you- ” Her tone doesn’t change, still remains low and harsh but there are tears running down her face too, tears for nothing and nobody but her grandson because that boy is still sobbing, she can feel her neck wet, but he still won’t make a sound-

Nanna Alaria shakes her head, her grip tightening on Kurt in a stance that is purely protective. Burt tries to take a step, who on earth does she think she is trying to protect his own son from him , but his feet don’t move. He watches her calm herself down with just a breath, and god does he hate how in control she always is, as if nothing ever shakes her for too long, and hears her say, “I’m taking him with me right now. I don’t care what anyone says, but he’s coming with me to France and he’s staying there until you two finish this. It doesn’t matter to me how this ends.” She says this as if she isn’t talking about her daughter’s marriage of eight years. She says this as if she’s talking about a particularly bloody wrestling match, “I don’t care if you decide to stay together or separate but Kurt isn’t staying one more second in a place that so completely terrifies him.”

Burt waits for Elizabeth to say something, maybe to protest. Burt wills himself to protest, but nothing follows his mother-in-laws proclamation except silence. They watch her scoff at their cowardice, as if they are children, but she doesn’t spare them another glance, just walks right of the door with their son in her arms. No need to pack or make arrangements. She’s rich enough that she’s never had to think about these things. Burt feels relief course through him, and the only person he hates more than himself in that moment is her.

They try to make their marriage work for exactly two days before Eizabeth presents him with divorce papers. Burt isn’t surprised. Doesn’t try to convince her to stay. The last two days without the buffer that was their child has made him realise how bad they actually are at this. How much Elizabeth has been keeping in and how annoyed and angry he gets at any and everything of hers that reminds of the difference in their class. Her stay at home job, her superior sense of style, her mannerisms and words of choice. Even after 10 years together, and living those 8 years with him in his rundown apartment, she’s still very inexplicably rich and he feels like a hick in front of her. Everything about her that he had found alluring and sophisticated back in highschool now serves as a reminder of how much better than him she is, and Burt hates himself for feeling this way, but they just don’t fit together.

It takes 4 months for the divorce to finalize, it would’ve been a lot faster if Kurt had been present, but neither he nor Lizzy had wanted to have that conversation with her mother. She leaves for France as soon as it’s done though, leaving behind only a phone number mumbling at him to call if he wants to speak with Kurt.

Burt stares at that number, wonders how long he should wait to call, wonders if he even should call. It’s no secret that he and his son don’t share any common interest, and all Burt’s ever done is make Kurt feel uncomfortable with his pushiness, but Kurt’s still his son and don’t all sons need their fathers?

He calls Elizabeth a couple of days before Christmas, demands that at the very least he still wants his son with him for the birthdays and holidays. If she wants to make a crack at his sudden willingness to be a father, she doesn’t do it. And if Burt is surprised at how easily she agrees to the arrangement, he doesn’t show it.

Kurt only comes home for the 25th and the 26th. And if Burt is angry at the beginning about how little time they will have together, by the end of it he’s only thankful. Kurt shows up at the airport with an airhostess next to him in a pair of pressed shorts, suspenders and bowtie, with his shirt tucked in and his hair in a careful side part. Burt can feel the airhostess in charge of his boy judging him when he picks up his son in stained jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. It’s the same look people gave him all the time when he walked beside Elizabeth anywhere. He hates that look. At 7 years old, Kurt already has more class in him than his old man.

The next two days, Burt takes Kurt to the garage with him and is pleasantly surprised at how fascinated Kurt is about everything. Kurt talks about his life in France while learning about oil changes, and Burt tries to pay attention to him as he goes on and on about his new school, and his new home, and how nobody makes fun of him and how everybody dresses so nicely, daddy.

Burt cringes slightly at the high pitched daddy but doesn’t say a word.

The arrangement works for a while but not for long. Kurt hates travelling so much. For Easter, for his birthday, for thanksgiving, for christmas. He hates that he can’t spend any of his holidays with anyone except his dad. His english is deteriorating slightly from disuse, and he rants in French when he gets too excited or too nervous. His mother-in-law refuses though to move him, though. Says Kurt is happy where he is and if Burt has that much of a problem with Kurt getting comfortable with French, maybe he should learn the language himself.

A few years later though, Elizabeth calls in the middle of September, when Burt isn’t expecting her in the least,

“Mamma’s opening a new branch of her fashion house in New York next year. She thinks it’s high time New York was graced by the beauty and power that is Alarie. I just think it’s because Kurt’s already been talking about going to college at Parsons. So, we’re moving back to the states this December. I managed to convince her that Kurt is old enough now that if he wants a relationship with his father, she can’t say no to him. We’re still not going to be staying in Lima. But, I’m looking for a house in Westerville.”

“You’re coming back?” Burt still can’t really wrap his head around it.

“Yes. Look, I need to go. I need to pick Kurt up from school. Good bye.” She says and hangs up before Burt can respond.

Blaine attends Westerville Heritage Middle school and is known amongst his peers as some sort of a boy wonder. He’s in AP classes and maintains a straight A grade card. He’s in football and is considered the ace even though he isn’t the quarterback or the captain. And though he isn’t in their school’s choir because of how religious and catholic the whole is, he does sometimes play the organ for them. Even if Blaine didn’t have any of those talents, he’s sure he would be popular enough just based on the fact that he’s one of the very few students who has a chauffeur picking him up and dropping him off every day. Blaine knows he’s not the only rich guy in this school, but he’s probably one of the richest and he’s definitely the least snobby about it. Rich kids usually like to stick to their own groups, but Blaine is too sociable to limit himself like that, so he befriends everybody and is well-liked in return.

It’s in his last year of middle school something interesting finally happens. He’s walking towards his math class after a bathroom break when he sees him coming out of the principal’s office. The hallway is empty because classes started 10 minutes ago, and the new guy looks incredibly confused by his schedule (and he’s definitely new. There is no way Blaine would ever forget a face that pretty). Considering how pretty the boy is, and how social Blaine is, it’s no surprise that he forgets all about math and starts walking towards the new kid instead,

“Hey.” Blaine calls out, and the boy looks up from where he was studying his schedule as if it was an ancient scripture. Blue eyes meet hazel ones and Blaine promptly stumbles on thin air, almost landing face first on the dirty floor,

“Hello?” The new boy’s tone is nervous and a little questioning, but Blaine is having trouble getting over how soft his voice is,

“Hi. You’re new?” Blaine asks, making the other kid blush and look away,

“I stand out a lot?”

Blaine wants to say yes. Yes because you look like an angel and sound like an angel and breathe like an angel excuse me, maybe, are you possibly an angel? But Blaine also really doesn’t want to look like a crackhead. Blaine shakes his head no, notices how thick the other boy’s accent is. European. But, his english is confident too, so at least, he’s fluent.

“Not at all. You just looked a little confused.” He says and motions towards the schedule the boy is holding,

“Oh. Yes, This is a little confusing. I am supposed to go to different rooms for different classes?”

Blaine chuckles lightly, the boy looks adorable with the confused furrow of his brows, “I take it you’re not from the States.”

“No. Yes- I mean, I am American. Just, I was in France for most of my elementary and middle school.”

“So, what brings you to little old Ohio?”

The boy smiles, as if Blaine’s just made a joke, “My Nanna needed to move to New York for a while, and my mom wanted me to get closer to my father who lives in Lima, so we moved here.”

“Hmm.” Blaine makes grabby hands for the schedule and says, “Gimme, I’ll show you how to figure this place out.”

The relief on the boy’s face is so stark it makes Blaine laugh, “Thank you so much. I’m Kurt, by the way. Kurt Alarie-Hummel.”

Blaine blinks, “Alarie? You’re from France? Alarie like the fashion house?”

“Yes, you know it?” Blaine nods,

“I’m Blaine Anderson. Like the ANDRSN magazine? My mother likes to keep on top of things like these.”

“Oh! I love ANDRSN! I started reading them a couple of years ago when I was stuck at my Nanna’s office and ran out of vogue. Their 2008 summer issue is probably my favorite cover of any magazine yet.”

Blaine laughed, and before he could question himself too much, he took Kurt’s hand and squeezed, “I believe we’re going to get along great, Kurt.”

And they do. Blaine helps Kurt adjust to the american school system, showing him around town on weekends, taking him to the mall where Kurt looked absolutely appalled by the selection of clothes they sell, he takes him to dinner in lieu of showing him diners and restaurants and places to eat. Neither of them call the outings dates. They’re just getting to know each other. Becoming close friends. But, sometimes when Kurt takes his hand in his across the table at a coffee shop or when Blaine insists on paying the bill for their dinner even though they’re both more than capable of splitting it, neither of them bother to hide their smiles.

Blaine doesn’t think Kurt is having a hard time at school. He has no reason to think so. So, he is definitely shocked at the scene he comes across one day coming out of his AP chemistry class,

Kurt is standing right across the hallway from Blaine’s class, no doubt waiting for him so that they can go study together (Blaine is in dire need of some French lessons, and Kurt is beyond fluent) when he sees 3 guys from the Hockey team coming towards him, carrying a bucket of something or the other in one of their hands. One of them points at Kurt and nudges the guy in the middle, snickering. The guys walk by nonchalantly, so much so that Blaine is sure he’s just being paranoid, but then the make a sharp turn, and just upends the bucket over Kurt, cold water and ice cubes raining on him as he freezes under the assault, head ducking down, and shoulders going high, his eyes are squeezed shut against the pain and mouth open to gasp out a breath,

Blaine doesn’t even think, he runs over, feeling a kind of rage building up inside him aimed at those stupid laughing buffoons like he hasn’t ever felt before,

“What do you think, princess? We’re just trying to help you live up to your name.” One of those guys laughs again, but Kurt doesn’t say a word, Just forces his body to relax against the cold and corrects his posture. His cold blue eyes regard them with no emotion, and slowly their laughs die on their lips,

“What the fuck you looking at, you freak?!” And that’s when Blaine steps in, pushing the guys away from Kurt when they start closing in on him and standing between,

“Back off, Reynolds.” He spits out, and though their looks of contempt don’t shift, the guys do take a step back,

“This doesn’t concern you, Anderson.”

“Fuck it doesn’t! You mess with Kurt again, I’ll have you pulled out of the hockey team.” Blaine says, then raises a brow, “The principle really likes my dad, you know?”

It’s a low blow, using his last name like that to get what he wants, and usually, Blaine would never do something so cliche. He likes depending on his skills and talents rather than his parent’s money. But, this is Kurt. And if there is anything Blaine has figured out about himself in the past couple of months, it’s that there are not a lot of things that he wouldn’t do for Kurt.

When the idiots walk away, Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and pulls him towards the boy’s locker room. Kurt stays strong and still till he’s in the hallway, but as soon as Blaine closes the door to the locker room behind him, Kurt’s shivering and coughing and getting out of his wet clothes as fast as he can,

“Here, go take a hot shower. I’ll get you some of my gym clothes, okay?” Blaine waits for Kurt to nod, and then goes to his locker to take out his towel, a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he keeps for gym. The shower starts running, and Blaine focuses on calming himself down. The confrontation is over. He would be no help to Kurt now by being angry.

Kurt turns off the shower, and turns around to see that Blaine’s already laid out a towel and some clothes on the bench. He quickly towels off and changes, walking over to the other side of the lockers to find Blaine shaking off his sopping wet clothes and trying to fold them without getting wet himself,

“You don’t have to do that-” He says softly, but Blaine’s already shaking his head, giving him a small, tired smile,

“It’s fine. Are you cold still?”

“Not anymore. Thank you for the clothes.” Blaine sighs,

“It’s fine, Kurt. You don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

Kurt flinches, and even though he knows Blaine means nothing bad, the word is too close to other meaner words, words like ‘uptight’, and ‘prissy’, and ‘ice queen’,

“I’m not trying to be formal- I.. I’m just grateful.” Maybe it’s the slight desperation in his tone, but it makes Blaine look up at him again, and when he sees the expression on Kurt’s face, he places the wet clothes on the bench and moves closer, placing warm hands on Kurt’s slightly cooler cheeks,

“Those guys, do they pick on you often?”

Kurt hesitates, feels his cheek burn at the lack of proximity between them, “Not- not like that. Never this much. It’s only ever some taunts here and there. It’s okay.”

“Taunts?” Blaine raises a brow,

“Yes, like-”

“Like ‘princess’?”

“Like ‘Ice Queen’ and ‘Prude’ and ‘That guy with the stick up his ass’.”

Blaine scowls, his eyes darkening, “Kurt-”

“I’m not trying to be, I swear. It’s just… It’s a little difficult for me to open up like this-”

“God Kurt, You’re doing nothing wrong. Those guys are just assholes, okay?”

Kurt doesn’t speak for a moment. Blaine is still holding him by his cheeks. He averts his eyes because he can’t turn his face, “You are very friendly with everyone here-”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be just as friendly. I just have this obsessive compulsion to make everybody like me. It’s not something I always enjoy about myself. Trust me. You’re perfect. You don’t have to have a hundred friends to be alright, okay?”

Kurt blinks, “Okay.”

“You just need me. I’ll be enough, okay?”

Kurt smiles, small and shy and tries to duck his head but fails,

“Okay.”

Kurt’s Favorite Cover Of The ANDRSN Magazine

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Imagine Samuel being a father

A/N: So, in my opinion... Samuel Drake as a father would a killer. I think that he would be somewhere between Ryan Reynolds (find his parenthood tweets, oh lord) and Josh Wolf (such a good stand up comedian).

He would love his children endlessly, he isn't his own father, after all, but he'll maybe terrorize them a bit. Like in a funny way.

Also, I might start a series of one-shots, because I have a ton of ideas for this one.

Warnings: Samuel being a kickass father. There's some weed mentioned in here, but it is meant to be fun.

You and Samuel were together for some time.

Let me say, you were that badass Californian couple - partying, drinking your ass off, smoking weed and doing a lot of fucking things.

Like, you were practically animals. Party animals.

And of course, you were on your pills. We don't want any accidents here, right?

But, if ya know and are aware of - antibiotics and hormonal pills kinda don't do a single shit when mixed.

You should let him know that when you were finishing your antibiotics after a looong illness.

But you somehow magically forgot when he started to nuzzle you on the sofa. You know the drill really well. But why not, you were horny as hell, you missed his weenie and his body. Boy, it shouldn't be a sin to make love with your boyfriend, right?

Ya know how this goes, don't you? You don't? But I do and let me tell you.

Nuzzling > nude dudes > just the tip > oops, I cum in you.

It wasn't a sin to make love with your boyfriend. But you didn't count on that you actually get pregnant.

Yet there you were, holding that goddamn stick in front of his hazel brown eyes.

"Alright, young man." - You went. - "You wanna tell me something about dat? Because I'm pregnant and I don't certainly didn't impregnated on my own." - You asked, looking at him with that you know what you have done. But he just slapped you in the face with his answer.

"Maybe it's God's will?" - Samuel asked and you didn't know if you were about to cry or laugh actually. There was a fucking baby on the way and you two weren't that couple who would get rid of it. Maybe it hadn't the most perfect timing, yet you two have done it, so it was your responsibility now.

"Are you joking me?"

"Babe, I have one question and I am scared of the answer." - He whispered and you waved your fingers as sing for him to go on. - "I've heard some... Rumors? Like... Will your vanana be the same when he or she gets out of your body? I kinda like your tight little girl."

So yeah. There were no fights, no yelling or tears. The only two things Samuel was concerned about was the health of the baby and how actually make your vanana tight again after that.

He's an idiot. Don't mind him. At least he was looking forward to being a father. He looked like the type who runs away directly after telling him - but he was fucking pumped for your child.

That didn't mean he would be a good father. Not at all. You could tell, you could fucking tell, that he'll be that prankster, pretty tough dad with some terrible fucking jokes and you were sure that when your child will be an adult, they'll have some freaking funny memories to share.

Let me say one thing - he read as many books about labor and pregnancy as he read on the topic of vanana. He has his priorities straight. And you couldn't tell otherwise.

But no one else could believe.

"I'm with a baby." - You told Elena and Nathan who has their daughter just a few months ago. She was gorgeous after her mother and you were all scared that she'll catch Nathan's attributes.

Nathan started to laugh hysterically, but you guys were looking at him with a frown. Elena slapped his back and her stare was like can you calm the fuck down, man?

"I meant that they were joking."

Nobody could believe that Samuel Drake is about to be a father.

But when your belly got bigger and bigger, they figured out you might not be joking at all.

Samuel loved when he could speak with your belly, whispering to it when the evening came and you two lazily lied on the sofa, watching some dumb movies with Bruce Willis.

"Hi there, little one." - He carefully descended between your legs, nuzzling your belly with his lips and nose. You unconsciously messed his hair with your hand.

"Had a crazy day, I tell ya, buddy. My head is blowing up with one thought at the moment." - Samuel sighed dramatically.

"What thought, daddy?" - You messed with him with a quiet laugh. You were all in about calling him daddy in the family way and in a naughty way as well.

"I was thinking about marrying mommy, little fellow."

It wasn't history's greatest proposal, but it was something, right? It was romantic in its own way and it made you really happy.

And when the baby moved under his palms for the first time ever, it made him legit cry like a little boy.

At the moment he officially started the age of Sam, the sensitive and loving father™ (even tho it was insanely lovely, it didn't stop you from making fun of him).

He acted around you as if he was walking around some porcelain which he could break easily. He made sure you don't drink, you don't even get close to some weed, he was cooking you the healthiest recipes and even bought you some pregnancy clothes.

You wanted to know the gender, of course, but Samuel was strictly against it. So you knew it would be a boy from the start, right?

But his curiosity almost killed him. He asked you many times during different events.

Once you made dishes? He asked. You were cooking? He crept being you and almost killed you because of freaking out. You were washing clothes? Dear, that man just magically stood next to the washing machine.

But in the end, you finally told him.

And he cried again - he was about to have a baby boyo. His own son. Someone to pass the legacy on.

That made him the happiest man under the sun.

When that day came and Thomas finally saw the light of the world, Samuel was under serious pressure, shaking and crying a big time, white as a fucking wall - and you were screaming that you'll kill him if he ever tried to have another child with you.

And yes, your firstborn son was named after a pirate - Thomas Tew.

It was a long and let's be honest, painful a fucking lot in the end, labor but there was a small little bean in your arms, both of you were crying like little fucking girls and you almost immediately fell asleep after breastfeeding the baby and having all of those pregnancy things out of your body.

"You can breastfeed me as well." - Samuel whispered wickedly, thinking about sexual stuff again, and you were so disgusted by it after baby just fucking crawled from your vanana that you smacked his cheek hard. He was mesmerized, shocked and partially amused.

"If you ever put your lips close to my boobs or your penis somewhere near my vagina, you better be sure that I'll cut your weenie off, you motherfucker." - You sighed painfully with your eyes closed. He chuckled.

"From today on I'll be a motherfucker, I solemnly swear." - Samuel said in a loving tone.

He called Nathan as soon as he left you when you fell asleep. Both of them cried and they decided to have a shot for the welfare of his son - which meant that Nathan vomited in the park at three am and Samuel tried to kick hydrant because that hydrant insulted him.

They were fucking high, having the biggest hungover of their lives, waking up on the beach and neither of them knew how the fuck they got there.

You came home after a few days with a baby in a safety cradle and you couldn't believe your eyes. Those little things which made baby safe about sharp edges and some fuses.

The funniest was when Samuel forgot how to open the one on your toilet. And he needed to pee desperately. 

He always thought that babies are more fun than just crying, eating and pooping - why would everyone want them then? 

He kinda didn't understand Nathans feelings about Cassie. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love his little baby boy, alright? He was just that kind of a man who thought that babies crawl out of the woman and they immediately do everything. He needed to learn that it takes some time before they walk and talk.

So when he was holding Thomas in his armchair, he whispered him his pirate stories and fact and that little one didn't understand a single word, but it calmed him down.

So be sure that Samuel was PUMPED when the boyo started to crawl around and saying those sweet nonsenses. Samuel also almost threw a huge celebration when Thomas said mama for the first time or when he did his first step.

“He's a genius! Have you heard the pronunciation? Our little boy is exactly like his dad - fast, charming and extremely good with ladies. Have you seen him with Cassie?”

“Samuel, I think that you're freaking out and overthinking it a lot.”

He was basically pumped every everything Thomas did. 

And when his boy started to draw? Jesus, Samuel was ready to call him Picasso. In his eyes, he was extremely talented (and you didn't ruin it by saying him that Thomas is completely normal, little boy).

You were pretty lit parents, to be honest. 

When you had a long day at work and Samuel was too sick from Thomas making him angry (like when he fucked up your beautiful white wall with Nutella and fucking ketchup), you just waited until your son fell asleep.

“Are you ready for it?”

“You bet your ass, Samuel. I just need to turn off my brain.”

And you two smoked some tree (weed, who doesn't know). You were high as a kite. You didn't smoke weed much, just sometimes and it wasn't even a lot of it. Just to make you feel ok, restart your brain.

But one day you came to the bedroom and Samuel was pale and looking into your closet. 

“What is up, baby? You look scared.” - You said and stood next to him, looking into that closet next to him. - “Babe?”

“You were... You know, eating our happy brownies what you've baked for today's evening?” - Samuel asked and you shook your head and his eyes and expression went to “What?” to “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Thomas ate your weed baked in brownies. There was not a lot of it, thank god, so he was mostly okay. He was totally fine the next day - but the evening, man, that was a wild one. You both didn't leave his side all night, watching him and you didn't even fall asleep. Nothing happened, thanks to god.

Even tho, years later you burst out of laugh when Samuel was talking about his baby boy getting high on accident.

Yet, from that day on, you started to hide your edibles and weed more carefully.

From that day on, Samuel sometimes didn't leave his side all day - he woke him up, prepared breakfast, took him to kindergarten, took him out, went out with him and so on - sometimes he even fell asleep during telling him a proper pirate story. 

Especially when you somehow got pregnant, again. What should I say? This man just has good genes and really good sperms. 

Nobody knew how it happened again. 

But Thomas was just about to have a sibling when he was four years old.

So Samuel took the role of father for 24/7 when you got really pregnant. It was nice and Samuel was a lot calmer this time. 

He was a self-proclaimed pregnancy expert since Thomas was born and he was pretty sure your vanana can be tight once again after labor because you were successful the first time.

Especially he loved to take Thomas out to the park. 

He was sure that his son will be like him. When he was five years old, he was pretty good with the girls his age and because he took after your beautiful face and he took after Samuels' eyes, he was good even with women. Thomas was an adorable boy.

But that's what made Samuel worried - if he would be like Samuel as a teenager, you will through some tough shit. 

But hey - for that moment, he was only five and he had a little sister named Anne after a pirate woman Anne Bonny. Sam did his puppy eyes for that one and he promised you endless nights of eating out if you name her Anne. 

And Thomas was like “Why the fuck should dad eat mommy?”. He was pretty scared at that moment.

When Anne was actually born, you had already learned from the mistakes you have done with Thomas. 

Your life went on - you got a house, Sam was still in the business with Sully and yet Sam wasn't exactly the youngest, he had a hella energy for his children and job. And he got a hella money from that. Sully knew really well what he was doing. Tom started to go to elementary school and it wasn't a much of time before Annie went to kindergarten.

You stopped smoking tree at home; Elena and Nate were looking after Tom and Annie and you just got off to the woods or you want on to some mountain cottage. But you have still done that only when life was too hard on you and you needed to relax really badly.

Sometimes you took Cassie to your house, planning the evenings of their life to them.

Samuel and Nathan even started a competition who will do it better - but let's say that Samuel wasn't as much pussy as Nathan. That prison made him crazy a bit.

But oh man, then it started. 

Thomas was twelve years old and he was a high-school boy. So watch out. Obviously, you are old as fuck and you don't know shit about his cruel, tough life.

He stopped telling you everything, but you know it was only a natural thing that you had to accept. Annie was seven at the time and she was Samuels little sunshine and princess and you were her best friends.

But Tom had a strong relationship with Sully and Nathan and Sam. And the older he was, the stronger it was. 

He wasn't that little boy anymore. He slowly started to be a man. And you couldn't be prouder.

He had his moods, yeah, but he helped you at the home, he cared about his grades, he even hadn't that much of a mess in his room and he was really well brought up. And he loved you more than anything else in the world - you were his mommy. 

But just as Sam, Nate, Sully, and Tom had their club, you, Elena, Cassie and little Annie got you a one.

But oh my fucking Lord, you loved the stories what Sam was telling you when you got to bed. He didn't tell you Tom's problems in from of him, but you two were still his parents and you know how the drill goes: what does your dad know, your mom knows too.

"Dad?" - Tom came to Samuel one evening and he was looking like a piece of shit. Samuel frowned immediately and put his newspaper on the table. He was still worried about Tom even tho he was really smart, pretty non-problem thirteen-year-old boy. He knew how to take care of himself.

"What's up, kid?" - Samuel smiled and massaged his son's shoulder with his palm, trying to calm him down.

"I, uh, oh damn I don't know how the hell I should start." - Tom said quietly and if you were there, you would look at your son and mouth language, but there was only the two of them, so it was cool. - "Okay, okay, okay, I have a problem. It's a huge problem. I think that there's something wrong about me." - Tom whispered.

"Why would you think that? Look at you, you're a handsome young lad, just as I was back in my days." - Sam chuckled and gulped a sip of beer.

"I just gonna tell it, okay?" - Thomas took his face into his palms and started to mumble. - "So my classmate Lindsay had a really nice, tight shirt on today and I saw her boobs in a coincidence and something happened in my pants, you know, with my weenie. And then it happened again when I was a math class and I don't know what to do, because it never happened before and I'm so scared." - He finished and Sam just smiled and patted his shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with that. Your body just tells you that you're ready to have a woman. But try something when you're underage and I'll kill you, understood?" - Samuel told him with a proud smile. - "And I don't know if this happens, but if you get hard for a man, I don't tell you it has to happen, it's just as good. I don't care whom you bang when you'll be an adult, understood? But you are still young for doing that, so try anything and I'll tell your mother."

He was so proud at that moment. His boy became an official man in his eyes. He wasn't little anymore. But still fairly young.

And you also worked as the biggest threat to Tom, so he was almost shitted because of fear at the moment. You were worse than a hurricane when he did something really bad, like throwing up on your mom's dog or when he broke a toilet at his school.

And you giggled when Sam told you that your son is a man.

He talked with Sam about everything as he grew up - he had told him about his first making out with a girl, about his first boob-touching session which he was really excited about (Tom hummed songs all evening, which wasn't a thing he would normally do) and he even asked for advice when he was about to touch his girlfriend's, her name was Carmen and she was a lovely girl, vanana for the first time ever. They had a big group meeting with uncle Nathan and pa Sully about that - it was huge for Tom and they just quietly remembered how it was for them.

But let me say - Samuel and Nathan aged like a fucking good wine. They maybe weren't the youngest around, but hell, they still did something to the women around and they had plenty of experience.

And it was three times more for Sully. Even he got married to a woman named Florence (@missdictatorme I had to) and when he was twenty years younger, he knew how to do her good.

"Alright, old man." - Eighteen-year-old Tom sat next to his father and grinned at him in the Drake-typical way with his corner-turning upwards and his eyebrows risen a little. - "Might I ask you for some tips and tricks? I think I really love her and I need to be gentle with her so she would enjoy as well."

"I might be an old man," - Sam grinned and looked at his younger brother. - "But I think your mom doesn't think so at times. Am I right, boys?" - He looked at Sully and Nathan, and every one of them laughed a bit. Sully was a really old man; each one of them was considered old, and he was now sitting on a wheelchair. He could walk, but those years of treasure hunting hadn't done any good to his poor knees.

"Ew, Jesus. That's gross. I don't wanna think about that at all."

But they got him some useful tips. Like: don't try to find her vanana on her stomach or when you stick a finger inside, make sure it's wet and don't your hand just, you know, stuck out there. Move it.

They had a great bond. Otherwise, he and Samuel would never talk about it this openly.

You two as parents got a lot of fun with your son, especially when he was nineteen and he was ready to try some new stuff. You knew he will get drunk - but when he vomited all over your terrace and when you heard him speak and say I love you for a million times while you recorded him, you had the fucking time of your whole life. Don't worry, you made it clean up after himself.

Samuel recorded all of his son's bullshit - how he spoke when he had eaten those weed-brownies when you were camping in the wood while he was eight and somehow he got his shit on his earlobe when he totally burned your Christmas sweets... Baby, there is a lot of your son's mistakes you had a proof for.

But the biggest fun actually came when he wanted to try weed. You and Sam acted a bit mad, but you knew it had to come at one point.

So, in the end, you told him "Okay, you're eighteen, so you're in law, but we'll do it together so when something happens, we are with you". And of course, he went like "Wtf no".

But you have all of that shit recorded, and when you have your bad day, you just play the speech of your stoned son. It's embarrassing and he wanted you to delete it immediately - so you knew you'll play it at his wedding.

But when it came to Annie, his baby princess and a flawless small girl being in the same age his son were when he started his sexual life, oh dear lord.

A boy looked into her direction? Sam was there, looking at him like "touch her and I would fucking break your hands, hands and penis, punk".

But you knew it is going to happen someday, so you went all in about hormonal pills, condoms, other sources of protection, you told her a hundred times that she shouldn't do it because every girl has done it but because she loves somebody... And she was like "mom, you've told me a million times and I'm not an idiot."

But you know - Tom, now a twenty-two-year-old adult, and his fiancée moved into a flat together, so you took care of Annie even more intensely.

Annie accepted your opinions if they were useful and not too idiot-sounding like. But you know girls her age - she was sure that Samuel is a huge dick who just wants to make her life harder.

And he almost fainted when she came home with a boyfriend. His name was David.

In your opinion, he was a nice boy, he was really nice to you and your daughter and polite to Samuel as well. They got through everything together - first kiss, boob-touching, making out, even first sex.

Annie even married him five years after that evening. And they moved out as well.

At the end of the day, besides for your son getting high as a kite when he was just five years old, your daughter accidentally drinking aid alcohol, losing your children in the mall a few times, a heck of bruises and a load of embarrassing, childhood stories... You were good parents.

And your son and your daughter knew that they were very lucky to have you because you taught them how to love and enjoy life and every time they need you for anything...

You were there for them.

[hunnywrites]

Arcade Dreams: Chapter Seven

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: The Christmas party is finally here! We’ll see a small appearance of Steve, a little more Cheryl and some seed are finally about to be planted in the Billy and Teddi garden. Enjoy!

“Warren, come on, buddy! Fingers out of your nose!” Teddi called down from her spot in the life guard’s chair. He jumped, turning to look at Teddi with wide eyes. He hid his hands behind his back. 

“Sorry, Teddi!” 

Teddi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as she shook her head. Billy’s class had ended around twenty minutes ago, and a few of the kids were still splashing around in the pool while they waited for their parents to pick them up. Thankfully they had all taken to Teddi pretty well. Even Sophia had decided she sort of liked Teddi after deciding there was no way she and Billy were dating with how often they bickered. 

“That Brian kid keeps staring at you.” Teddi rolled her eyes at the sound of Billy’s voice. She looked down to see him leaning against her chair, sticking a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth in lieu of a cigarette. Teddi knew this already. Brian was in the same grade as Teddi and Billy. He was on the soccer team, and he was kind of an idiot. But he looked like Patrick Swayze, so all of the girls liked him. 

“And what of it, Hargrove?�� she asked in a bored tone. Billy crossed his arms, watching Brian from across the pool. 

“And I think he might wanna ask you out, weird girl.” she chose not to let him know how annoying she found it that he sounded so amused. Teddi was mostly just glad that there was no sign of awkwardness between them since that day outside of Melvald’s. They were right back to their normal routine and she couldn’t have felt more grateful. 

Teddi thought about the idea of Brian asking her out for a moment before shaking her head. “Yeah...no thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re not a lesbian?”

Teddi rolled her eyes. “I’m not a lesbian.”

“Fine. So if Brian isn’t your type then what is?” he huffed, turning to face her. 

Teddi shrugged. “Rob Lowe’s pretty hot.”

“Oh, so you’ll bang Rob Lowe, but not me?” the tops of his ears were getting red again like they usually did when he got annoyed. 

“Anyone would bang Rob Lowe over you. And I won’t sleep with you because you’re an asshole. I’m fairly certain we’ve been over this. Besides, you don’t even like me.”

“You think I like any of the girls I hook up with?”

Teddi couldn’t help but laugh. “Hargrove, that’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. And what do you care anyways? Shouldn’t you be over there hitting on the moms?” Billy only scoffed. “And why are you suddenly so interested in my love life anyways?”

“I’m just thinking if you get laid maybe you’ll stop being so uptight.”

Tedd rolled her eyes. “God, you’re a pig, you know that?”

Billy completely ignored the comment. “What, you don’t want a date for the party this weekend?”

“Do you have a date to the party?”

He shrugged. “I might take Cheryl.” he didn’t really want to take Cheryl. He was pretty sure that a blow up doll had more personality. But she was a sure thing, so who was he to pass that up? He felt a wave of satisfaction when he noticed how annoyed Teddi looked. 

But she didn’t say anything. “I’m not really looking to date. Guys our age are way too needy and stupid.” and on top of it all even if she wanted to date she didn’t have the time for it. There was also the added frustration of her home life and the fact that she would have to be insane to try and drag some guy into that on top of the fact that she was planning on leaving Hawkins in the next few months. 

“Mr. Myers more your speed?” he asked with a grin, nodding over to where Mr. Myers was pacing up and down the length of the pool in his speedo. Teddi and Billy broke out into a fit of snickers as they watched him try to catch the attention of all the women lounging poolside. 

“No, I’ll definitely pass. I'm just not interested in dating I guess. Maybe in college or something.” She said with a shrug.

Billy pushed off of the chair and shook his head. “Whatever you say, weird girl. It’s my turn up in the seat. Freddy said you can head off to the arcade.”

“Awesome.” Teddi hopped down from the chair and rushed off to the locker room to change. She was back out of the locker room in record time and almost outside when Brian stopped her. 

“Teddi, hey. How’s it going?” Teddi almost felt horrified when she realized that Billy had apparently been completely onto something. 

“Uh, it’s good. Just got off my shift so I’m off to the arcade…” she was trying to be as polite as possible, but Teddi did not want to have this conversation. 

“Right, sorry. I just wanted to ask, uh, are you going to that party this weekend at David’s?” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Yeah. Heather invited me a few days ago. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can go at least.” she should have just lied and said she had to work. 

“Cool, cool. Uh, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me? I could pick you up at the arcade?” the thing was that Teddi was bad at saying no. Well, she was good at it when it came to Billy at least. And even though she really, really didn’t want to go to the party with a date, it was a little too hard to look at Brian’s dumb, pretty face and tell him she wasn’t interested.

“Um...sure, alright. I get off at eight, okay?”

“Dope...well, later then.” he gave an awkward wave and walked off. Teddi looked over to where Billy was sitting. He was grinning at her from ear to ear. Teddi shot him a mocking look and flipped him off before she ducked outside and rushed over to her van. How did she keep digging herself into holes like this? Before she could stop herself she got this horrifying image of going on double dates with Brian, Billy and Cheryl. She groaned and dropped her head down onto her steering wheel. God she hated Hawkins. 

---

It was Friday, the night that she had been dreading the entire week. She could barely focus on her work. The kids in the arcade could have staged a full mutiny against Keith and she wouldn’t have realized it was happening. She felt stupid for being so nervous. It was just a party. Teddi had gone to plenty of parties back when she lived in New York. But then things had been different then. There hadn’t been the pressure of money and responsibility that she had now among other things. 

The fact that she had a date wasn’t making things any better. She would be stupid to say she wasn’t attracted to Brian. He wasn’t exactly her type, sure, but still he had one of those smiles that made you forget what it was you were talking about. 

Teddi hadn’t really had a good idea of what to wear either. It was just a house party, but the added date aspect made her want to put a little more effort into it. She ended up choosing a black, off the shoulder top with a plaid mini she had just bought not too long ago. If she paired it with the same pair of boots she could usually be found in she would look nice, but not like she had tried too hard. She ended up changing out of her work uniform in the arcade’s break room and deciding to hang out behind the prize counter to wait for Brian. 

“Wow, you actually look like a girl.” Keith had said once he saw her.

“...Thank you, Keith.” she sighed. 

“You got a hot date?”

“Brian’s picking me up for that Christmas party. You know, the one that you said you’d rather light yourself on fire rather than go to?” he wasn’t wrong to think that way either. Teddi kinda wished she could do the same right about now. 

“Brian Jean? How’d you swing that?”

Teddi let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I knew.” it wasn’t like she was ugly or anything. The idea of a boy asking her out wasn’t so completely insane. She was no Nancy Wheeler or Cheryl Burns, sure, but Teddi just kept to herself mostly. She was sure that if Brian hadn’t had a little brother that was in Billy’s class at the pool he never would have known that she existed. At least now she could technically partially blame Billy. That made her feel a little bit better. 

“Look at him,” Keith said as Brian walked into the arcade. “He’s like...prince charming. You have got to tell me how this party went tomorrow.” 

Teddi looked over at Keith with an amused grin. “I thought you didn’t want to go?” 

“I don’t. But I still wanna know what happens.” he gave her a pointed look as he disappeared off into the arcade as Brian walked up to the prize counter. 

He flashed Teddi one of those dazzling smiles of his. “Hey. Man, you look totally hot.” 

Teddi let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, thanks. I mean I’ll freeze my ass off, but at least I’ll look good, right?” she joked. She grabbed her coat, smiling when Brian helped her put it on and followed him out to his car. He even opened the car door for her too. Teddi had to admit that she was impressed. Although with spending so much time around Billy lately she’d probably find anything halfway nice was impressive. 

It was a short ride to the party. Brian made polite small talk with her during the drive. As dumb as he was, Brian was a fairly easy guy to talk to. She could feel her anxiety about all of it fade a little bit the more they spoke. Maybe having a date wouldn’t be so bad.

When they got to David’s house there were a few dozen cars already parked in the lawn. Teddi wasn’t sure when exactly the party had started, but she was sure that by now it had turned into a rager. The Christmas lights that had been hanging from the roof were now hanging halfway off and strung down the driveway. There was a light up Santa that was face down in the lawn, and three of his reindeers were nowhere in sight. Three guys that Teddi recognized from the football team were all passed out in the driveway with beers clutched tightly in their hands. 

“Wow, guess we missed out on some fun, huh?” she asked with a small laugh as they weaved their way up towards the front door. Brian opened it and stepped aside to let her in. Jingle Bells was playing far too loudly inside. 

“Oh don’t worry, dude. I’m sure we can catch up,” he said reassuringly. “You want some punch or something?” Teddi nodded, peeling off her coat and tossing it into the pile that sat by the front door. She didn’t envy David for having to clean all of this up tomorrow. I looked like a tornado had passed through his living room. 

Brian gave Teddi a thumbs up and disappeared into the crowd. This was the part that she hated most about parties. The awkward waiting around. She also didn’t really recognize anyone there. There wasn’t any sign of Heather so far. She’d spotted a quick flash of Steve Harrington when she had walked in, but he had quickly disappeared into the sea of people. She and Steve were pretty good friends. They’d met through Max and her friends. But Teddi hadn’t seen too much of him during Christmas break since Steve was working with his dad for a little extra cash. Eventually Teddi guessed that no one would really notice her standing there. They were all far too wrapped up in whatever they were doing to notice. But she still felt super exposed somehow. And besides, it felt like Brian was taking a long time.  

“Well Goddamn, Larsson. You clean up nice,” Teddi sighed loudly and turned to face Billy. She had to admit, he looked good. His leather jacket hung over a black button up shirt that was of course unbuttoned low on his chest. The same necklace he always wore dangled against his bare skin, and she was pretty sure his jeans were a full three sizes too small. She could also smell his cologne from where she stood. “How come you don’t dress like this for me?”

“Shouldn’t you be balls deep in Cheryl Burns right about now?” she asked, rolling her eyes. Teddi was a little surprised that she hadn’t spotted Cheryl yet. She was sure that Cheryl and Billy would’ve been attached at the hips all night.

Billy flashed a devilish grin at her. “That what you think about in your free time, Teddi? Me balls deep in other girls?” Teddi scoffed. Billy smirked, shrugging and looking at the room around him. “I lost her a while ago. She was starting to get on my nerves. Where’s loverboy?”

Teddi cast one more hopeful glance around the room. “He was supposed to be getting us drinks, but I think he might have gotten distracted by something shiny.” she said with a heavy sigh. Billy only held out his beer to her. Teddi raised an eyebrow.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Just take it. I’ll get another one,” Teddi only eyed him suspiciously. “Jesus Christ, Larsson. I didn’t drug it or anything. I’m trying to be nice.”

Teddi almost suspected Billy was drunk. But he was still a little too grouchy and seemed too alert. Maybe hell was freezing over. She hesitantly took the bottle from him and mumbled a thanks. Before Billy could say anything else, Heather had run over and was grabbing Teddi by the wrist. “Ohmygosh. You came! This is such an awesome party isn’t it? Come on, we’re playing beer pong and I need a partner!” and suddenly Teddi was being dragged through the party and outside to the back patio to play beer pong. 

The rest of the party was sort of a blur. Teddi wasn’t great at beer pong. She never really had been. She also had way too many of the red and green jello shots that had been passed around. And there hadn’t been any sign of Brian the entire night. Or at least if she had seen him she didn’t remember. Mostly she just remembered drinking with Heather and dancing to Jingle Bell Rock with her on the dining room table. Billy had joined in on a game of beer pong towards the end and he was of course amazing at it. 

After that, Teddi had seen him a few times here and there. He hadn’t been drinking that much. Mostly nursing a beer and one of the green jello shots after Teddi had practically forced it into his mouth. But after Teddi and Steve Harrington finally found each other and belted out a drunken duet of Baby It’s Cold Outside, Teddi had lost all track of Billy. 

But now it was late. And even in her current state, Teddi had no idea how she was supposed to be getting home. She was lounged out on the couch and trying her hardest not to fall asleep when someone shook her a little too roughly by the shoulder. “Christ, what?” she complained, trying to shove whoever it was away from her. 

“Wake up, Larsson,” it was Billy. “Where’s Brian?” he asked. 

“There you are!” Teddi said, her hands latching onto Billy’s arms as if he’d disappear at any second. Teddi narrowed her eyes as she tried her hardest to spot Brian in the living room that was slowly emptying before she shrugged. “Ugh. Who knows. God, what a dick. He like totally abandoned me. I can’t believe Keith called him Prince Charming.” she crossed her arms. 

Billy rolled his eyes. He hadn’t seen Brian himself the entire night. Maybe Teddi had scared him off. Even Billy had been impressed with how hard she could party. She was constantly surprising him. But it was getting late now. Teddi needed to get home. He’d looked everywhere for Cheryl already, but he hadn’t seen her in a few hours and Carol had said she’d seen Cheryl leaving about an hour before. So he pulled Teddi up into a sitting position. “Alright, Larsson. I’m gonna take you home. Can you stand?” he was sure if Max saw this she’d shit a fit. He was being nice. 

“Yes I can stand,” Teddi huffed. She braced herself on his arms and tried to stand, but her wobbly legs gave out from under her and she fell back onto the couch laughing. “Nope! Guess not!” she giggled. 

Billy shook his head. “Let’s go, Ted. Up you go.” he grunted a little as he scooped her up into his arms and headed for the door. 

“Wait, wait! My coat!” she complained, trying to reach for the pile of coats by the door. 

He huffed and stopped. “Which one’s yours?” Teddi narrowed her eyes again before jabbing a finger at her puffy, black coat. Billy yanked it from the pile and handed it to her. Teddi was a pain in the ass when she was sober, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that she was even more of a pain in the ass when she was wasted. The kids in his classes at the pool were less of a mess than she was. 

Teddi gripped onto both Billy and her coat tightly as they made their way outside and to Billy’s Camero. “You’re strong.” she sighed out. Billy couldn’t help but smirk, his chest puffing out just a little bit. Alright, so maybe drunk Teddi wasn’t so bad. He opened the passenger side door and gently set Teddi inside before buckling her seatbelt so she wouldn’t be sliding all over the place. 

He got in after her and lit a cigarette before driving off. In a million years he would never have guessed that he’d be driving a drunk Teddi Larsson home. But he guessed there was a first time for everything. 

[roxannepolice]

But yah rey as a character is just so frustrating you know? Cause like, yeah sure she could be complex with a powerful arc where shes forced to come to terms with the fact she wasted years of her life on self-imposed delusions in a cathartic way, or she could be a flat piece of marketing cardboard which Disney is banking on vagina+superpowers=profit without having to go through that persnicty character flaw overcoming or the like. Because like you said, hearing shes a nobody (which ngl, her assuming she was a somebody wasn’t really ever supported in tfa, just that her family was coming back and she desperately wanted them to) is apparently the worst thing but it changes absolutely nothing, not her approach, not her demeanor , if vaguely sad is the absolute worse a character is gonna experience in a goddamn space opera then yeah, full offense ill take the l on Mary sue discourse but her character will definitely be a boring ass wash. We all make fun of whiny new hope Luke but him being a kinda nuisance to both the audience and those around him is what made is transformation into full blown Jedi knight so powerful. With Rey so far what weve got is badass perfect cinnamon roll finally get her due as such, which is clearly working for some people, but I fail to see how that isn’t spectacularly tone deaf to make a protag in this genre such. Operas about drama, not patting you on the back. Rey (assuming she remains as is) would’ve been fine as a protag s the only piece of Star Wars media we ever got was a new hope. But rn she a chosen one architype (and I know that bunch of ppl are gonna go but the series ‘but shes not the chosen one, Anakin still is, the new series isn’t trying to make her one!’ but lets not beat around the burning bush, if u got a character that walks on water and the reason why is because god said so, ur dealing with a chosen one trope and if a character is star wars is made ultrapowerful in lore breaking ways because force said so? Yeah were dealing with a chosen one.) when we had both the deconstruction and the reconstruction done. Shes a straight hero when the success of the ot rest on hitting the formula near perfect the first time. What exactly is Rey, the individual character, bringing to the table? What makes her story supposedly so important the a perfectly good ending had to be made invalid to tell it? A bunch of ppl will say heroines’ journey! But if that’s the case I gotta say, wheres all the feminine shit? Im serious, if the heroines journey is reintegrating the feminine and realizing ‘oh shit mom had a point’ there where is both the feminine skills/coping mechanism and the mom? I mean I saw some ppl arguing for leia in a ‘reys Persephone!’ meta (she isn’t, you can make a much better case for ben himself as Persephone to be quite frank, yall are focusing so much on the trees ((girl gets abducted by guy)) that u forgot the forest existed, the actually story ((girl winds up queen on the underworld, well gee whiz which character just took control of that after leaving the world of living and a grieving divine mother behind, it’s a mystery apparently) behind, it’s a mystery apparently) ((but seriously though even if we hope for dark rey does anyone assume its gonna be taking control of a dark/dead coded org at least partially at this point, do you, do you really??). but given the fact she had what, one line of screen dialogue that’s breaking ur arm with that stretch. As far as skills go I guess you could make an argument for scavenging, but if that’s the case dlf did a shit job of conveying that as female-coded. Everything about rey in tfa seems deliberately androgynous, and yeah, she had her hair let down/mascara moment, but that’s tied to her ‘failure’ on the supremacy thus something nw.SPEAKIGN OF FAILURES ON THE SUPERAMCY AND LACK THERE OF. I find it kind funny that bunch of reylo bnfs (you know who they are) are all ‘hur dur fanboys/antis are dumb and don’t get story structure.’ And then going, ‘why are yall asking how/assuming rey fucked up in throne room/climax of her story in the second portion/darkest point of her character arc? Why do you hate women/ur own ovaries so much?’ because it like walking into a prefurnished house and being told by the relator ‘HERES THE LIVING ROOM’ and having no damn couch. It’s a living room, I expect a couch here. And in a movie where it’s the low point of a character arc and they drag puppet yoda out to tell me the movie is about failure, I expect a damn failure in whats clearly the climax of the characters arc for this movie. As it stands now there are three possibilities imo. 1st, rey had no failure, she is the pure badass maid o light ppl want and every inch the boring cardboard she is accused of by fanbros, remains static, and is relegated to an also ran to benlo taking the most compelling character trophy this trilogy in 10 yrs2nd possibility and the one im hoping for, failure speech wasn’t just thematic explanation but also foreshadowing, rey fucks up big and dramatic in a way that makes her manage to stand out as unique with both her contemporaries and her predecessors(last part, if its ever to much lemme know pls im sorry i just gotta get it out) 3rd and most likely possibility, rey isn’t the main character, benlo is and that’s why his failure both moral in the throne room and logistic on criat take center stage for the last third or so of the movie. Rey is merely a pov character to tell the dramatic villain protag story they wanted and have their very marketable unproblematic Disney heroine cake too.

Ok, so this discourse kinda died down by now, but thanks to that it’s possible to maybe have a calmer look at it I’m totally not trying to justify my late response.

Anyway, the good result is that quite recently my brother, who’s not overly taken with Rey - or the sequels in general, for that matter - said something which really stuck with me as a possible crux of the problem: 

She’s neither comical nor tragical. Just bland. 

This neither comical nor tragical really struck me. And the more I though about it, the more it was appearing to me that this qualm really applies to the sequels as a whole. The thing is that DLF are essentially telling a straightforward story that they’re trying to make captivatingly convoluted. And not just make, but keep this appearance over four years. And this is... a narrative teeth crasher. Like, when you’re honest about the endgame (in the context of the most structural meanings of comedy and tragedy), you can maintain a decorum, though you can also play with it, of course, whereas when you don’t want to be honest about the endgame, you end up mixing the styles somewhat messily. You can’t break or discuss with the rules without acknowledging them, so to speak. Because the originals were honest about the happy/hopeful endgame (the first episode is title A New Hope ffs), they could allow themselves deeply tragic moments like Larses’ deaths, Han getting frozen, destruction of Alderaan, etc. Because the prequels were open about being a tragedy, they could allow themselves lighthearted comic relief for the sake of lighthearted comic relief. 

The sequels... badly want us to consider the possibility of FO winning and Ben dying unredeemed while simultaneously insisting we root for those things not happening, while appearing conscious we’re definitely not buying the former and the latter only somewhat. And it’s tiresome. Dishonest. And indeed, bland. If the story is a tragedy it will be a bloodcurdlingly real one, if it’s a comedy it will be a borderline grotesque one. 

But yeah, returning to Rey, I guess as the main character she’s a lens which focuses the above problems. A very bitter tragedy of what her parents did t her prevents her from being comfortably comical whereas whoohooos I like thats and prancing like a husky on red bull over idols and visions because it’s for children so it must be hopeful prevents her from being intriguingly tragical. So I guess the intentioned effect was tragicomism but, from pov of an engaged casual fan that is my bro, it’s neither. 

As far as Rey’s heroine’s journey lacking some of the usual elements, I blame it on Disney being... a bit too ambitious, maybe. I think they tried to make a heroine’s journey that isn’t ostentaciously seeped in traditional feminine/masculine traits, maintains the structure without what could be called accidentals. On the one hand, I would point out that hero’s journey has pretty much desexualised itself over time, we are rather accustomed to “shero’s” journeys, but on the other... maybe Disney set out on a too novel a territory and may crack their teeth on it, alongside trying to out-Vader Vader at redemption. To elucidate, “toxic femininity” in which a heroine is supposed to find herself in the beginning of her journey, in Rey’s case is uprooted from any of our usual concepts of feminine-masculine social roles (it’s space, duh). My interpretation is that Rey’s version of toxic femininity kind of exists in contrast with Kylo Ben’s version of toxic masculinity - and since the apparent focus of the story is the attitude towards the past/parent figures, toxic femininity would mean her clutching onto the past. Which is why I predict that some act of IX will find Rey inebriated with apparent success in masculine world, meaning she’ll be the one rejecting the old gods this time - and I would point out that panel in Poe comic where she shows herself more sceptical towards idolisation of past don’t mind me, I’m just expressingmy trash dreams for a proper sith lady Rey.

Then again, Rian Johnson said she already found perfect balance between Luke’s clinginess and Kylo’s rejection of the past, so... idk, maybe I’m giving DLF too much credit again.

As for the Persephone thing, I guess the rub is that this reylo reading focuses less on the traditional reading of the myth (where Demeter is the actual main character and Kore is a Princess Peach MacGuffin) and more of an interpretation of it as one of the eldest (at least in Europe) versions of story depicting a transition of a girl into a woman, making Persephone more of a protagonist. 

Like, y’know, this Persephone (D. G. Rosetti, source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proserpine_(Rossetti_painting))

I’m no expert, but myths can lose their original meanings because of power relations (anyone still remember about Dionysus, the god associated with excessive drinking, going through a very Christ-like death and resurrection?) and I think it’s possible that this is the case with the story of Persephone becoming a pre-scientific explanation of seasons changing over the year. So teah, that’s how I always understood the Persephone theme regarding Rey.

But yes, I must agree that I’m confused about Disney’s handling of the mother figure, which... Look, SW became a legend of a modern myth because of how epically Lucas handled the hero dealing with his very explicit father. So yes, I don’t understand what exactly is their game with Rey Nobody from Nowhere in this regard. It’s one thing that they had a cool idea with giving her no lineage, another that parent figures are an essential element of archetypal journeys and from symbolic viewpoint the case of a female character the biological relationship is even more crucial than in male’s. And I swear to all the ewoks and porgs in the galaxy, I do hope Disney’s idea of Rey healing the mother/daughter divide isn’t through her healing the divide between Leia and Ben. Again, this isn’t the idealistic sphere. Just... no. 

Anyway, I still maintain hope (this whole meta blog is built on hope) that Rey will indeed turn out to have a proper personal mistake which will make her stand out in the saga. I do have to admit, though, that I find your last theory very likely. I mean, even when I read all the reylo metas going oh, Rey is going to have such an exciting arc in IX, she has so much to deal with though of course it’s not going to compromise her morally, it will be sooo exciting, I just... f*ck’s sake, what you’re describing isn’t a dramatic character only a dramatised role model. It’s great if that’s your thing, but don’t claim it is space opera-worthy, in operas people drown themselves because of cursed sailors, kill over a break up, decapitate over a bad dream and get dragged to hell over a dinner, not persuade their fallen lovers to change their ways, let alone patienly wait for them the understand the error of their ways (and if they do it’s doomed to end in someone dying).