#if things get even slightly worse than they’ve already shown they can get

[can-of-w0rmz]

Sometimes I remember that my sanity is actually dependant on a few fictional characters from 200 years ago, like not a silly haha joke but that I genuinely don’t have any other support system or healthy coping mechanism other than reading about and engaging in fan content for these fictional Victorians, and then I am like “uh oh. Goodness me. I may be in a bit of a sticky situation. A pickle, if you will.”

Anyway ahahahah something something humorous tumblr post as a coping mechanism ahaha something something

[chronicsyd]

I think the problem that most people aren’t realizing (that’s probably going to bite them in the ass when S2 arrives) is the fundamental Problem when it comes to Vi and Jinx’s relationship:

Vi loves Powder, there’s No denying that. Every action she takes when she gets out of prison has been to find Power. And even though she has budding feelings for Caitlyn, Powder comes first. But the problem between the two is when it comes to Jinx. Because she Can’t love Jinx in the way that she loves Powder.

Which is why one of the last things she says to Vi, “I thought, maybe you could love me like you used to. Even though I’m… different.” Holds so much importance. You wonder Why Vi doesn’t say anything to Jinx before she leaves and fires Fishbones. You’d think that Vi would leap at the opportunity to insist that she still loves her, but she can’t. She can’t love Jinx. At least, not in the way Jinx Wants her to.

A lot of people have been claiming that “the trailer is lying to us!”, “She’s just placating Caitlyn!”, or whatever they’ve been saying when we hear Vi say, “My sister is gone.” People are seeming to think that there’s a sliver of a chance that the two could reconcile or go back to what once was or whatever. And the thing is… I Highly doubt that.

Vi not only has to deal with the Drastic ramifications that Jinx has inflicted on Piltover but I think she also has to realize that this is who Jinx’s been for Several years at this point. (Cuz remember in ep 4, other people Know who Jinx is and what she’s capable of at this point, she’s made a name for herself inflicting that kinda terror in people)

As much as Vi doesn’t like it, This is who Jinx is now. I truly believe that Powder died in episode 9. And from what Arcane has shown us, this can really only end in tragedy for the two (not in a death, there are certainly things that are worse than that). And I think they may show Vi emotionally disowning Jinx (as hard as that’d be to watch) because there isn’t Powder to save anymore, there’s just Jinx and Jinx is the one that needs to be stopped.

(I know that people bring up Jinx’s champion storyline from Legends of Runtarra with Mr. Bunny but the thing is I’m pretty sure that happens way after this and, while I may not know a lot of LOL lore I know that a lot of Jinx’s storylines recently are about trying to prod Vi’s memory cuz she has amnesia and doesn’t remember anything about her past in the Undercity and all that soooo that’s what I have to say about that)

Do I think at the beginning of the season Vi’s probably going to be in denial and try to find “Powder” again? Absolutely. The way Jinx says “finally got the name right… sister.” Is implying that there’s a scene between the two that they haven’t shown us yet because I doubt there’d be That much venom in her tone if the two haven’t seen each other from Ep 9 all the way to whenever this fight scene takes place when Vi’s already an Enforcer. Hell, even when Vi calls her “Jinx” in that last part there’s hurt in her eyes and she slightly shakes her head before doing so, clearly not comfortable with calling her sister that. (Also fueling my belief that this isn’t the season finale fight that some people think it is)

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“��tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[yjwhatif]

With the semi/cryptic confirmation of Ed and Barts relationship in the series I have a question:

Do you think everyone knows about them (in world) or do you think they’re keeping it secret from some?

It’s just a thought that’s been in my head recently. It is most likely fuelled by the whole drama of G&B not being able to depict a “specific character” (it’s definitely Bart) as gay. They’ve had to hide the relationship from their audience - because of ridiculous reasons - but there are still moments that bring up the question - Are they? Before the reveals from AskGreg, I kinda thought- well they are clearly not together yet, but perhaps they both have feelings for one another and are just waiting for the other to make the next move because they’re nervous idiots who don’t want to have read the situation wrong — all while their friends are like - seriously guys? just get together already. Kinda like they did in s1 with Wally and Artemis - and I guess early Supermartian as well - which I would have been okay with... though with the likelihood of there being at least another two year time skip you’d probably have missed the getting together moment - which would kinda suck. Anyway. With the information about the chances being they were supposed to clearly be in a relationship throughout S3 — which makes the whole structuring of ILLUSIONS just make sense — it’s got me viewing their moments with a whole new energy. Also, I saw this post by Greg —

And let me just clarify, I have no idea if this is actually referencing the Ed and Bart stuff, it might not be (probably isn't). This is purely me speculating.

My reading of this is they got told they couldn’t depict Bart as gay pretty late on and that specifically affected ILLUSIONS where they likely intended to confirm the relationship with that first shot - the kiss on the cheek moment. Even now that moment is just odd - because it’s there but it’s not - because technically there is no actual kiss… which I think is absolutely the point. It plants the seed without actually breaking any rules - all by keeping the momentum but removing the specific kiss frame. It’s the only moment that I feel is explicit in saying they are in a relationship - everything else you can just read into and imply there’s something - but they technically don’t confirm anything.

The whole thing is actually quite interesting - despite the reasoning for it being totally ridiculous. By keeping/showing what they did... People notice it. People talk about it. People reflect on it. More people talk about it. People writing. Make. Create. Discuss it. An entire audience is formed who want and support it. It’s a whole thing now because people noticed it and generated a positive response to it - and that was before all the AskGreg information. The whole reason YJ got a season 3 is because the fans fought to get it back. Enough people talked about it - and kept talking about it - to convince TPTB that the show should come back. Greg and Brandon know this. They know the power the fans have and maybe they hoped that power would help them again in freeing Bart from these ridiculous restrictions. #letbartoutofthecloset

Obviously, we can't know until S4 is released whether G&B got the permission to confirm Bart's sexuality the way they envisioned - but maybe the responses that came during the release of 3b were enough to convince TPTB that they were fighting a losing battle. But who knows, people in power can be very stubborn at times, so we will just have to see what we get. Fingers crossed they eased up though - and not just because of the Ed/Bart relationship (which I am obviously a fan of -- it's fine if not everyone is) - but because these restrictions on LGBTQ+ content shouldn't be a thing and need to stop -- there is just no validity in them.

Anyhow. despite their not being allowed to officially confirm the relationship, Greg's comment about Ed's having a boyfriend they can't name basically confirms the fact without technically breaking any rules again. Masterfully done Wiesman. With this, it implies the pair are in fact dating during S3 which brings us back to the original question... but who knows??

With the comments of Virgil during ILLUSIONS, it's easy to assume their friends do in fact know. They also seem to have no problem being close and interacting with one another whilst in the presence of others -- that is, except for one moment...

Ever since the first time I saw this episode (ELDER WISDOM) I have always found this moment strange - because Ed seems to get kinda awkward when Barry comes to check on Bart. (Or that's how I see it at least.) He realises Flash is standing there and immediately pulls his head down averting his gaze -- almost like he doesn't want to be seen by the elder. But why? Does Barry not know about the pair -- or maybe he doesn't know about Bart and Ed thinks their current closeness is too revealing -- who's to say Bart's even fully out to the world yet -- who's to say either of them are? We certainly don't since we weren't allowed to be shown. We can't know until we know - so until then we can play the speculation game while we wait.

Bart is certainly a bit of a secret keeper when it comes to being himself. I'm still convinced the Bart we see onscreen is merely his interpretation of what he thinks people expect from a speedster in this time. We saw 'real' Bart, he was snarky and cynical and nothing like the Bart we've had for the past two seasons. He said it himself - he's playing a character - and I don't think he knows how to break out of it - not while the possibility exists that it might hurt those he's grown to care about. Bart wants to be seen a certain way to avoid acknowledging the truth of the past - if people see him as happy and smiley, then no one will question him on things he doesn't want to talk about. The problem with that is you can't hide yourself forever - cracks begin to form and eventually, the truth comes out whether you want it to or not. So who knows how comfortable Bart is revealing any of his true self to those he cares about. Maybe his relationship with Ed will be the thing that finally helps him find comfort in being himself, whilst also trusting others to still accept him as himself... and maybe getting him that bit of therapy he really needs.

This brings us to Eduardo… First, can I just say it made me so happy to see Greg’s confirmation of Ed being gay - though it is slightly annoying that he was robbed of his explicit onscreen reveal in S3 thanks to the drama with Bart. His whole relationship to his powers in S2 to S3 fits the representation of coming to terms with your sexuality/identity from a very negative point of view. Feeling like it’s something that needs fixing or needs to be “cured” - to then finding the light and freedom in accepting yourself for you. His growth between seasons is brilliant. He understands the hate and insecurity the teens are feeling because he felt it himself. He does all he can to help them because he never felt he got that help when he needed it - and no one deserves to feel worse for being who they are. Obviously, the things he talks about are framed in the context of dealing with/accepting the meta-gene - yet there are certain moments where it seems he’s saying more than that…

All of which got me wondering - why did Ed originally runaway? It certainly wasn’t because of the meta-abilities he did not yet have. All he’s ever said on the subject was he thought he wanted to be with his father - the man it seems he barely had a relationship with. No, I think Ed has been running from himself for a long time and his dad just happened to be an actual direction for him to aim for. The way he speaks about his wanting to be “cured” and “praying to get rid of his powers” suggests an upbringing around religion and traditional ideas of there being a ‘normal/proper’ way to be — while anything that doesn’t fit that way is treated as other or something that needs to be changed or 'fixed'. Maybe he ran to avoid being found out and run the risk of being ostracised by those he loved. Or maybe he was found out and leaving wasn’t entirely his choice*. If this was the case, I can certainly imagine him not wanting to come out to his dad for fear of his reaction and completely losing all chance of that father-son relationship they’re both trying so hard to keep. It can seem easier to live in secret than risk the reality of loss. So while the meta-gene likely wasn’t the main thing he was angry about in S2, it was able to become a physical thing he could blame and focus his anger on - without having to think about where his issues truly lied… Though with a bit of time it also became the thing he was comfortable conveying his feelings through...

“I’ve learned to accept, even love my meta-abilities”

I love this line so much and it’s all because of the delivery by Freddy Rodrigues. There is the slightest hint of a pause before he says “meta-abilities”, which gives the impression he was about to say something else before then remembering himself and who he was talking to. Then there’s the small inflecion he put on “love”, which makes it sound like it’s the first time he’s heard himself say the words out loud. I don’t hear him talking about the gene - I hear him talking about finally accepting himself - all of himself - for the first time in maybe ever and finally feeling happy because of it. I hear growth... From being the angry 14-year-old skater who just wanted to run away and escape any way he could. To the 16-year-old councillor/Outsider jumping straight into the danger to protect and inspire those who need it. Both he and Bart are such strong characters with so much more to be seen - especially when it comes to the insecurities which lie behind their masks. They both compliment each other pretty perfectly - both powers-wise and personality-wise - meaning while they try to hide themself from others, I don't think it'll take long for them to realise they can't hide from each other.

Anywho, that’s all the speculatary nonsense I’ve got for today. This turned into such a patchwork of vaguely linkable thoughts I’ve had which barely relate to the one I started with - but that is usually how it goes. Take it as you will…

Also, completely unrelated to YJ, but Bi Tim Drake now exists in dc canon which is really cool - seeing all of the joy it’s sparked has really given me something to smile about this week… There is hope after all. 🌈

— LB ⚡️☀️

* OK so here’s a little random snapshot into the chaos of my mind— as I was writing the Ed stuff I had a scene pop into my head of Ed finally -for whatever reason- having to tell his dad that he didn’t leave his abuelo’s home - he got kicked out. His dads confused about this and asks Why? What did you do? And Ed’s like Nothing… I didn’t do anything wrong… he just… found out something. So Seniors like Found out what Eduardo? And Ed’s getting really nervous now because he doesn’t want to say it - That I, um… I’m… Senior step a fraction closer as he picks up on Ed’s anxiety but remains an appropriate distance - Son? Then after a tensening silence he finally says it - sounding the most vulnerable he has ever been - I’m gay… The silence is there again, heavy and unnerving, neither saying a word. Ed can’t move as he’s lock in his elders unreadable glare. Expecting the worse his head drops to take in the floor - anything that isn’t the disappointment ahead - he feels the urge to disappear burning up inside him - consuming him. Then just as he’s about to escape he’s suddenly grounded by a steadying hand rooting itself on his shoulder. Tentatively he lifts his gaze to witness his father, there, with nothing but love and support in his eyes - Mijo. The clamping in his chest dissipates as all the tension escapes at once, along with the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Ed embraces his dad and the elder embraces his son. Together. A family.

Anyway. That’s probably a load of rubbish but hey my minds full of it… but basically I really want to see a tender moment between Ed and his dad. For whatever reason. Something where Ed’s in a vulnerable state and in need of some emotional support from his father - and without hesitation his father steps up - because that’s what we haven’t seen from them yet. It would perfectly portray the strength of their relationship as father and son - despite their previous struggles - and prove that Senior is willing to support his son no matter the situation as the father - not just the scientist. Its the final step in their healing journey and I wanna see it so bad!!

[potteresque-ire]

This is a response to @rainbowsky​ ‘s questions about BJYX, as the original post got too long for reblogging (I hope this is okay!). 1) Should we be worried about GG and DD being outed? I often think about what it’s like to be in the closet and I know how it feels to need to be SEEN. But I also understand the reasons why that might not be an option for them. Still, I worry about them being involuntarily outed. There are so many antis after them.

 2) What would you speculate is the likelihood of this ever happening, and what might be the consequences if it happened?Is leaving an option for them, even as a distant goal years from now?

3)Does their fame and popularity hold any protective power in the situation (i.e. if they were to come out or be outed, would public opinion about what might happen to them have any impact on the outcome given the nature of the regime)? To what degree would that depend on how much money they are still able to make for interested parties?

My response is under the cut, as it got long, as usual ~

@rainbowsky, you’re among the first BXGs I followed! I’d like to thank you for your insightful posts as well!

Your questions ~ I don’t think I’m qualified to speculate because I’m still a very new turtle and also because of the volatility as well as inconsistencies of China’s sociopolitical policies. I do have a better sense of China’s politics than most international fans, but I also don’t live there and the only way to truly understand how things work at the ground level in a non-transparent country like China is to be there.

(For example, China has officially banned Christmas celebrations  for the last several years, but as we saw last week, commercials remain very “Christmas-sy” and Chinese fans happily said Merry Christmas to each other. It takes someone who lives inside to know where to draw the line — what is permitted by the state and what isn’t — when the line shifts and adjusts accordingly.)

Here’re my thoughts, as of today (2020/12/31): if the perpetrator is only some segment of the fandom and the purpose is merely to knock them off the popularity pedestal, outing isn’t a particularly effective way to do so. Homosexuality, being a highly regulated subject in Chinese news and social media, is likely to mean limit transmission of the accusations. The accuser also has to run to risk of being banned themselves first. Also, with BJYX + ZSWW + LSFY being the sizes they are, the people who will most consider turning against gg and dd, ie, the solo fans, have probably already heard something. Some will leave, but the news won’t be a bombshell to them.

The next possibility is if a legal case becomes possible, ie. if China suddenly outlaws homosexuality. This scenario may seem the most dire on the surface but is also one that I least worry about, because with China’s judiciary system being very biased to those in power, if someone wants to frame gg and dd, they do not need to use sexuality as the accusation and subject themselves to the same restrictions as mentioned above. Tax evasion, as @peekbackstage has mentioned with the actress Fan Bing Bing, is far easier, because it tends the turn the audience against the defendant: these stars are making so much money and yet they’re not contributing their share! And as long as the accusers have sufficient power — remembering that commercial and political power are married in the country — the accuser can make up any evidence to suit their needs for any crime.

The third possibility is what I see as the worst case scenario: that the government decides they don’t want their major stars / entertainment industry to be *perceived* as queer — whether the stars are officially out doesn’t matter — and signals the media and commercial companies to stop using any “suspect” star altogether. (Chinese term: 封殺). This is the case of career murder without blood —  laws aren’t changed; all the fans will hear are rumours confirmed by nobody. I see this as a possibility because of the Xi regime’s view of The Ideal Men , and my admittedly limited experience with dealing with older generations of Chinese, who I’ve found tend to confuse perceived femininity in men with queerness. I think, and this is only my opinion, that the sheer amount of adapted BL dramas in production (the so-called “dangai 耽改 101” phenomenon) and the heated discussions of them on Weibo will at some point trigger the government (which is made mostly of older generations Chinese). Even if gg and dd don’t do anything, should the government decide these adapted BL dramas, even after the elimination of their queer element, are “non mainstream socialist core values”, all the major people involved with the Untamed—arguably the classic and the drama whose success all these follow-ups are trying to imitate—can be cast as the culprit. If the same officials become aware of BJYX and if they’re somehow convinced that BJYXSZD, it can be easy be used as evidence of the bad influence these dramas can do—“they can turn people gay”—and it doesn’t help that according to reports, gg, at least, used to have a girlfriend.

Something more to consider: Gg and dd are also in a very special position now, in that not only are they immensely popular in China, no other native mainland Chinese stars have achieved this level of international fame with a native mainland Chinese production (ie, not a production from Hollywood, Hong Kong or Taiwan, or with a Kpop band). As such, they are likely subjected to high levels of scrutiny from the state. Depending on who’s in charge in the appropriate department, they may decide gg and dd have to be China’s image; they may have a set idea of what image it is and most likely, it won’t be queer. 2021 and the first quarter of 2022 are special times for China, image wise, both at home and abroad. 2021 is the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party, and gg and dd are both starring in its propaganda productions (dd as a police in BAH and gg as an army officer in AT). CCTV, the state-controlled TV station, is already promoting these shows. So, for 2021, gg and dd are slated to not only be the faces of Chinese entertainment, but also the image of Chinese uniformed forces. If gg and dd come out or are outed, their allowing themselves to be being perceived as queer while donning uniforms will most likely to be viewed by the current regime as an embarrassment; a career murder, then, is an apt response to such transgression. 2022 is the year of Beijing’s Winter Olympics, so again, it’s the time where image matters.

You may have noticed a pattern, as I have as I write this up: them being outed is something to worry about, but also ... nothing more than anything else. If someone wants to tear gg and dd down — and there will be, given their massive commercial power right now and the increasing evidence that they’re working more like collaborators than competitors (ie, they aren’t about to tear each other down any time soon) — they do not need their sexuality as a reason.

(And if these accusers really want to use homosexuality as a reason, the unofficial BTS is, IMO, more than enough, as long as the accusers have sufficient power.)

Your other question ~ can gg and dd’s fame, popularity, and ability to draw consumers protect them? My (slightly) educated guess of the answer, then, is that it’s very much a double-edged sword. Indeed, the one major thing that may be going for these adapted BL dramas, and for those who come to superstardom to it — with gg and dd being the prime examples — is the economic health of China, which, by some reports that can no way be verified, are far worse than what has been reported. This is the thing about countries lack transparency; without reliable news, there’s no way to get the facts. Reports on China outside the country tend to be either propaganda or demonising / filled with conspiracy theories, and the truth is probably somewhere in between. If the reports of poor economy are true, the commercial sector — which, again, is tied to those with political power; ie the money made in the former goes into the pockets of the latter — desperately needs stars like gg and dd to move products (based on those recent consumer reports!) and with that, it will want to keep gg and dd and these dramas that can potentially make more gg and dd around. This *seems* to be what’s happening so far, with the the state-run media happy to show gg and dd’s dramas (when it should know, at least, that they got to the height of their fame playing lovers-not-lovers) and gg and dd’s sponsors not-so-subtly wooing the BJYX segment of fandom, so I’m tentatively optimistic. However, the current regime has also shown a willingness to sacrifice the economy for the sake of political ideology, so it’s not something to be taken for granted. (What’s going on in Hong Kong is a good example of that.)

(I always think, eat each candy like it can be the last one. With this regime, it can be. We can wake up tomorrow and gg and dd have to break up BJYX to protect the fans.)

(I always think, treasure, treasure, treasure. Ask for more dy and lz and Weibo posts, but never anymore from gg and dd when it comes to insights of their relationship, even without considering it’s actually their private lives and they’re under no obligation to share.)

(They’ve shared with us far more than enough.)

There’s really no precedence for us to predict the future of an outed gg and dd from, as far as I know. Confirmed queer stars in Chinese entertainment (those with sufficient followers to make news) have all been from Hong Kong, Taiwan and other countries. The successful BL dramas before The Untamed — Addicted (2016) and The Guardian (2018) — didn’t have a real-person cp that truly took off. Addicted, a true BL drama (ie, it retained the queer elements), was banned before it finished its broadcast. The two actors were also banned from appearing together afterwards, and this “signal” from the government almost cost the two actors their career. Bai Yu from The Guardian, meanwhile, already had a girlfriend as he filmed, so there was never a Weibo supertopic dedicated to him and Zhu Yilong. gg and dd, along with their millions of turtles, are treading untrodden ground.

Something I should clarify ~ all the things I said above may sound very scary to international fans, but to those who live in the country, they understand it as the way things are, and they strategise and move accordingly. This is their way of life. What I wanted to say, in my first reblog, is that we who’re outside may not understand why they do things the way they do, why they don’t, for example, come out with all the candies they are spending so much effort to give out, but I do believe that gg and dd have a plan, not in the sense that they’re scheming or trying to trick anyone, but that they are moving things along at the pace necessary to meet the pre-requisites for the outcome they want. What this outcome is is anyone’s guess, mine being that they have the freedom to work together, not necessary in lover’s capacity — most of us are not required to perform our day jobs carrying our identity as so-and-so’s significant other and gg and dd shouldn’t be exceptions — but as colleagues, professionals and friends (lovers are friends). 

To some international fans, this may sound implausible, ridiculous: why do they need a multi year campaign for something as simple as this? As working together again? And I suppose, all these words I’ve typed so far is my attempt to answer this question, to ease the … unease, the frustration of those who may not understand. True to its marxist root, perhaps, many things that are considered mindless, effortless tasks elsewhere somehow become battles, grand struggles of sorts in China. That sea of sea lights on the night of Tencent awards, for example? It was the result of gg’s fans fighting, strategising in real time to smuggle those LED banners in when they realised the venue had forbidden their entry. They wrapped the banners around their bodies under their underwear because they were patted down by security at the underwear level; they hid batteries in their shoes. They ran batteries from one zone in the stadium to another during the whole show for whose who only managed to smuggle in banners or batteries. They fought the security guards inside the stadium, who continued to snatch away their banners even after seeing they were merely support material for the idols. They fought and fought, despite their identities were recorded by their COVID pass and facial recognition. Many confessed they had no idea what gg was singing during the show; they were too busy. They were there, some paying scalpers > 10x the ticket price, just because they promised the sea of red would be there for gg when he returned. When some realised dd’s banners were confiscated in high numbers because his fans happened to have seats right by the strictest security, they improvised, found an image of a green block to show on their cell phones to make makeshift green support lights for dd. They used Weibo to spread this trick to fellow fans. All these trouble, all these effort, all these planning and scheming and sweat and tears — all for one night, one concert and they laughed about it, called it a wonderful day.

(There are many ways for lives to be hard.)

The very first thing gg and dd need to accomplish, therefore, isn’t to announce what they do in the bedroom—the very first thing they need, for their plan to come to fruition, is to stay on top of the industry. How can they be on the same stage for the yearly Tencent Awards if either of them fails to make VIP? What’s their negotiation chip for a future collaboration, when the current norm is against cps like them working together again, if they cannot draw enough viewers and consumers, or if they offend Tencent and other media companies by refusing to see to the needs of the other side (for example, the need to promote new dramas)? So far, the two of them have accomplished this in flying colours. The other thing they need right now, the way I see it, is for their fans to get along. I think part of the reason they’ve made BJYXSZD so easy to believe in and love, in addition to their very human need to be seen when their careers may be safer otherwise (yes, I think they know what they’re doing, the candies they’re throwing), is because they want their fans to unite, as they have united. To make sure something like 227 cannot happen again, or at least, if it does happen again, their fans cannot be used as an excuse, as scapegoats. And this union is happening — slowly, but it’s happening. The size of BJYX (>2.8 million as of now, on Weibo supertopic) is a powerful indicator; I also had a wonderful time reading the comments of gg’s solo fans who went to purchase dd’s new song. This is the part gg and dd need their fan’s help. This is the one of the fews things we, as overseas fans who have limited access to their products, can help.

Your final question — sorry, this is getting so long again — about leaving. Of course, it’s always up to the government and It’s impossible to say what can happen so far ahead. But my perception, right now at least, is that gg and dd have no intention to leave, no intention to sacrifice their career for their personal lives and vice versa. After all, this is a pair who has answered those A vs B choice questions with a straight-faced “I want both” and “so annoying” without a follow-up reply. They’re right to want both. I like them for wanting both. And maybe, with their intelligence, charisma and hardwork and ambition and personalities that seem to clash but somehow complements each other’s, they will figure out a way. Maybe they are, as the Chinese turtles call them, the Chosen Pair, and they will be the ones who’ll change the perception fo queer artists in China, and we’ll one day get a biography about them and laugh at the candies we get right, laugh harder at those candies we get totally wrong.

(Dd ~ I want your honest opinion, in your own words, on the ones we get wrong.)

(Gg ~ videos of your expressions while reading the crazy theories the first time will be very much appreciated. By me.)

It’s a good day to look forward to.

[babygirlgalitzine]

i’d love you to love me (ao3)

it starts out with a pact. neither of them will date, until they can both find people to date. except, they don't expect to be honouring that years later, and when jay starts to fall in love with lola, he realises that it's time for ben to date someone too. in the most chaotic way possible.

or, a vague 10 things i hate about you au.

-

It’s a miserable day. The sky is an unrelentingly dark grey shade, cascading for miles and miles with no end in sight. The rain has been pouring down all day, and the wind mixes with it, causing the rain to hit against windows, creating a rattling sound all over. It’s that horrible misty spray that means Ben can’t even see that far in front of him, though he knows his way around Walford that well now that he really doesn’t have to look to see where he’s going. Jay’s walking out in front of him, a breaking leather ball at his feet, scraping along the wet pavement with an awful sounding scratch.

“It’s freezing!” Ben shouts over the rain, and he watches in awe somewhat, as raindrops fall onto his eyelashes, tiny little droplets clinging on for dear life. It’s true, it is freezing. The torrential rain bounces up off of the pavement and clings to his socks, climbing up onto his grey school trousers and staining them darker and darker as time goes by. There’s not a single part of him that isn’t shivering and wet, but he and Jay have a routine now, one that happens regardless of the weather.

The school’s over bell will ring out just after three, a shrieking tinny noise, one that’s surely going to be imprinted on everyone’s brain for years to come. Ben will stand next to the doors at the side of school, and then Jay will follow moments later, catching up with him. It goes unspoken, because this routine has been going on for so long without ever changing, that they’ll walk home together, strolling into a corner shop and getting as many sweets as possible, before going to their local park and staying there until they have to go home for whatever reason.

“Oh come on!” Jay turns his entire body and starts to walk backwards, the wind blowing his hood down within seconds and he scrambles to put it back up, though it’s in vain. “Are you telling me you want to go back home already? Because I know for certain you have science homework to do, and so does your mum.”

Ben looks to the ground, watching the raindrops splashing into the puddles and breaking into even tinier pieces before falling back down again. It’s almost relaxing to watch it, or it would be, if his hands weren’t currently frozen completely numb. “My mum’s got science work to do, has she?” He asks cheekily, but he knows Jay’s right. Jay’s always right. He knows that the second he walks through his door, he’s going to have to spend the rest of the evening doing his work for tomorrow, and he couldn’t think of anything worse than that, so staying at the park in the pouring rain wins yet again.

He manages to look up in time to see Jay roll his eyes, and he kicks his ball back towards Ben as they walk in the direction of the park. “You need a new ball, mate.” Ben comments, picking it up and throwing it back at Jay. He regrets picking it up, because the ball’s been collecting that much water as Jay kicked at it all the way home that it’s sopping wet and heavy.

“I know.” Jay replies, and they turn into the park. Ben’s got nowhere to sit, his usual place on the swing is collecting a puddle of muddy water underneath so the idea of sitting there doesn’t even cross his mind. Instead, he sits on the small brick wall, resting on the very edges of his coat to try and minimise how sopping wet his trousers are going to be when he eventually stands up. He realises that it probably won’t do anything sufficiently, and he’s going to be cold and wet regardless. There’s a silence that grows between them for a moment or two, but that’s normal. Jay kicks the ball against the wall that Ben’s sitting on and they both watch as chips of the bricks start to crumble away and swirl away in a stream of a puddle that runs downhill. “What happened in science today?” Jay asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ben huffs out a laugh, more sarcastic than anything else, because he’s been waiting all day for Jay to ask him, or at least, since the class directly before lunch. “Nothing.” He says, and then he looks down the road and sees cars driving slowly, headlights on full beam.

Jay nods slowly. “Right. So you’ve spent all day in a mood, for nothing? Makes a whole lot of sense that does, Ben.” He pauses. “I’m your brother. You’re supposed to tell me everything.”

Brother. It’s such a simple word. Of course, biologically, they aren’t brothers, but in every other sense of the word they are. They’ve been inseparable from the day they first met.

“I overheard Connor and Sarah talking.” Ben says, and he already he knows he sounds stupid for even being remotely bothered about this. “Saying that nobody would ever want to be with you, because I’m here scaring them off.”

“And you’re bothered about that?” Jay lets out a soft chuckle, resting his foot on the top of the ball. “Mate, I couldn’t care less about getting with anyone right now. Tell you what though, I wouldn’t be interested in anyone unless they wanted to be around you too. We’re a package deal, you and me.”

Ben looks up and rolls his eyes. “That supposed to be making me feel better, is it?” He laughs.

“If you were anyone else I’d be hurt by that.” Jay comments and kicks the ball a final time against the wall, so hard that Ben feels the wall shake slightly underneath him, and even more of the brick crumbles to the ground.

The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, and they’re both starting to get far too cold and hungry and wet. The grey sky does seem to be getting darker though, and that’s probably a sign for it both getting later, and the weather getting worse.

“How about we make a pact?” Jay asks, though it’s clear that he doesn’t think of the implication of his words before he speaks, if the shock on his own face is anything to go by. The wind blows down his hood once again as it whistles and swirls around them, causing ripples in the puddles.

“What pact?” Ben asks, getting to his feet and swinging his bag across his body.

Jay shrugs as he tries to think. “How about, we don’t date anyone, until we’ve both found people to date.”

It’s completely and utterly ridiculous, and they’re both well aware of that fact. But they’re also both just a few weeks away from turning sixteen years old and if they’re being completely honest, neither of them have anything better to do with their time.

There’s a silence between them for a moment as Ben tries to take in Jay’s words and then slowly but surely, he nods. “Yeah.” Ben whispers out, and he can barely hear his own voice above the deluge of rain, with heavy and harsh droplets falling around them. “Go on then.”

So that’s it. Ben agrees to the pact, and from that day on, it becomes Ben and Jay’s rule.

Neither of them would date anyone, until they both found someone to date.

It’s just that, the pact was never supposed to last as long as it has.

It’s over two years later, and Ben and Jay are still in Walford. They’re probably always going to be stuck in Walford really - they know far too many people who have tried to get out into the world, only to come back not long after. They’re both still just as inseparable, and again, that’s something that is probably never going to change. The pact is still there, it’s still something that they talk about occasionally, laughing at how ridiculous it is, and yet, it still stands, though not through a lack of trying.

Nobody has really shown Ben much interest over the last two years, besides the occasional man at a party or a club, but nothing long standing. Perhaps it’s because he still lives in Walford, around so many of the people he’s known his entire life. In such a small place, everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone. It’s not exactly the best place in the world to be finding a partner, even less to find a gay man.

Or it could be because of the fact that Ben's got this wall surrounding him, built up so high, guarding him and protecting him from any hurt that could possibly come his way. Probably both, really. But still, nobody has ever met Ben and shown an interest in wanting to break down his wall. Ever. The story was the same for Jay as well. Nobody ever showed an interest in him, but because everyone already knew about the pact. That was, until Lola came into his life.

They’re sitting in the Queen Vic, at a circular table right in the far corner of the room. They can see almost everyone else in the building, all at their own tables or standing against the bar, chatting away and laughing. There’s even people playing darts, walking to and from the board, doing the maths in their head. In their own little space, they’re sitting at a wobbly table of three: Ben, Jay and Lola.

It’s not unusual for the three of them to be sitting together, though it probably looks unconventional from the outside looking in, especially given the fact that Jay’s got one hand outstretched, holding onto the back of Lola’s chair protectively. Ben’s definitely more than aware that he looks like a spare part, a third wheel. He knows it too. But Lola was the one to invite him along for a few drinks, though they all know she’s got an ulterior motive. She knows about the pact now. It didn’t take long for her to find out, really. From the moment her and Jay started to get close, he told her about it, and although she laughed at first because really, it is a ridiculous pact to have, she’s now taking it upon herself to make sure the pact ends, once and for all.

Lola’s got her phone in her hand, scrolling through it with a smile on her face. She keeps looking up at Jay and nodding her head silently, looking at him expectantly and then, when he shakes his head, she continues scrolling.

“Really good conversation guys, thanks for this.” Ben jokingly states, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to The Albert after this?” Lola asks, sipping on her vodka and orange.

Ben glares at Jay, knowing that Jay’s told Lola about how he’s refusing to go in there after last time. “More than sure.” He says, draining the last of his beer. “Another?” He tries to stand up, but Lola’s too quick for him, dropping her phone onto the table harshly and reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“It was one idiot, Ben.” She says warmly. “Don’t let that ruin your experience.”

He smiles tightly, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He mutters something about going to the toilet, because he doesn’t want to hear about how his first time in a gay bar was ruined by some idiot starting a fight outside, throwing about homophobic slurs and punching anyone he could get his hands onto, including Ben. He takes his time in the bathroom, throwing some water on his face in an attempt to calm himself down, and when he feels better, he rejoins Jay and Lola.

“Sorry.” He says sincerely, sitting back down at the table.

Jay shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine mate. But Lo’s right, you know? You’re young and you’re single. You should be doing what everyone our age does and go out. Don’t let one prick stop you from wanting to do that. You deserve to be able to go to whatever bar you want to go to.”

“I know.” Ben says, smiling. “Just give me time, yeah? And then we can all go out together.”

Lola perks up at that, because she’s been begging and pleading to go to a gay bar for months now, ever since The Albert first opened it’s doors. “I could easily set you up with someone you know?” Lola says absentmindedly. “You just give me your word, and I’ll find someone.”

Ben huffs out a laugh at that, and his eyes flicker up to Jay, just in time to catch him rolling his eyes at Ben’s reaction. “Know every gay man in the area, do ya?” He chuckles, but at least it’s a genuinely happy laugh. He likes Lola, he really does. Jay really went and found someone that fit perfectly within their dynamic, and he loves him for that, because nothing would be more awkward than Ben not liking Jay’s girlfriend, or her not liking Ben. But Ben can see that Jay really likes Lola - really likes her - and they’re so good for each other. It’s obvious to see.

“That’d be impossible.” She berates, rolling her eyes. “But I definitely know a few!”

She’s looking at Ben with those puppy dog eyes and Jay’s chuckling under his breath because he knows that Ben’s going to break any second now. “Oh my God!” She practically squeals. “We could go on double dates too!”

Ben’s eyes go wide at that, and Jay just about covers up the splutter of his pint behind a cough, but Ben sees right through him.

Lola looks at Jay, practically begging him for his help to get Ben onside. “Look Ben mate, I love you, yeah? We’re not asking you to marry the next person who walks through the door, but at least try. Just go on a few dates, find out what you like. You never know.”

Ben knows he’s being stupid. He knows that now’s the time he should probably try and go on a few dates here and there, and make an attempt at letting his wall come down and try to be happy. He knows that. It’s still scary though. Terrifying, in fact. He looks between Jay and Lola, and gives in, sighing. “Fine.” He exhales, and he barely has a chance to breathe before Lola’s practically leaping over the table to hug him half to death, squealing right in his ear.

When Lola finally peels herself off of Ben, and he rubs his face in hands, Lola speaks giddily. “I’ve got the perfect person, his name is Callum.”

This is happening.

[wincore]

youngblood | lee donghyuck

pairing: haechan x reader

words: 9.1k

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: language, juvenile crimes (do NOT try shoplifting, speeding and vandalism, kids)

a/n: okay omg i finally got around to editing this and you guys should know by now this au doesn’t mean he’s bad and just.........annoying........... (also it follows troublemaker’s style but like............it might just be my fav troublemaker part aaaa)

The first day you meet Lee Donghyuck, he picks a fight with you. Or you pick a fight with him.

That’s not how the first day of high school should have gone.

It surprised you, just a little, to be toe-to-toe with someone so easily. Did he like picking fights for fun? You looked him up and down, the ink over his forearm meant to be shown and a strange friendliness in his eyes. Not exactly the bully type, you weren’t sure what to make of him. Movies spoil reality when it comes to things like this. Rumors are even worse. You took a slow gulp anyway, Donghyuck’s eyes on you unnerving.

He leaned in slightly to match your height. His tone was lilting and he phrased his words light-heartedly, a pretence you found funny. “I have no interest in you, kid. I’m going to keep it that way.”

“We’re the same age, you know?”

Your reply went unheard. It was just misunderstanding that got you there—you mistook his locker for yours and it’s not your fault you happen to have the same passcode (a little weird though, definitely). Lee Donghyuck said if you were allowed to take what’s his, he should have the same privilege, the word thief at the tip of his tongue. He was a little daunting, you suppose—taller than you were, in all black and several piercings and tattoos poking out on wrists. Maybe it was the undulating rage of being fourteen and at the stage of heavy regret in later years, maybe it was the wariness around strangers. You weren’t quite afraid of him; just that a fight on your first day didn’t seem like a very bright start in a new city. Although you assured him you didn’t touch his stuff, you handed him your bear-shaped keychain. (“You can have this if you want a gift so bad.”)

When Donghyuck laughed, giving it back almost immediately with a cheeky grin—you couldn’t decide whether to let the confusion show on your face.

“Don’t be a pushover, newbie.”

You frowned. “Who’re you calling a pushover?”

You don’t remember the rest of it but you found it very hard to not have mixed feelings about him. You’re trying to have a normal fun high school life for fuck’s sake. You didn’t think he was the awful sort of person—but it was almost as if he was trouble’s very own lovechild. There are better weapons against him than falling into pointless playfights.

Lee Donghyuck. Funny guy.

The school bully image was a lie, no doubt spread by someone more than annoyed with his antics. Of course, Lee Donghyuck either didn’t care or didn’t know, wits always about him like some sort of eccentric defence mechanism.

You admire him in a way, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling him that.

Lee Donghyuck is popular, full of jokes and fun but a little rough on the edges all the same. But you have to assume he must have some demonic heritage. You could say you have a strange relationship—friends but not. You hate him but don’t. While you’re sure there’s at least a little bit of sunshine hidden beneath those black T-shirts and inked skin, there’s a bit more than hidden sides to young troublemakers—things that don’t involve misunderstanding.

Lee Donghyuck looks like danger. (And danger attracts attention of all kinds, you’d noticed in a few unfortunate heart-eyed classmates.) You’ve seen him in enough fights to have respect for him, making you wonder why he doesn’t join the debate team already. It might have something to do with how his victorious smile gets on everyone’s nerves, the way they groan at Donghyuck’s sudden affections afterward. They don’t hate him—mostly. He’s honest and he knows exactly how to press people. That doesn’t change the innocence in his arrogance or the clear distinction of his spirit.

Of course there are bad people; Donghyuck just isn’t one of them. He just tries too hard to look cool. (“Sunflower,” he’d called you, pulling a face. “I know you’re dense. But maybe start being afraid of me so you don’t ruin my reputation.”)

The sunlight falls against the web of your thumb, your fingers rapidly moving to match the pace of the game on your phone. Five minutes to class, you’ve got nothing better to do.

“What, trying to beat my high score again?” Donghyuck pulls the chair beside you to sit, his arms resting on the desk as he continues to stare at you.

“Believe me, Donghyuck, not everything I do is for you,” you chuckle, tapping on the play again button, catching the look on his face out of the corner of your eye.

Donghyuck looks visibly irked and you think maybe your decision to be so annoyingly passive has been the right one if it bothers him. Ah, but you won’t tell him that. You’re having the time of your life this way.

“Well,” Donghyuck begins but frowns instead. “Whatever.”

It’s not every day you get to win—Donghyuck does get under your skin. You just don’t have to show it. Sometimes his own friends decide they’ve had enough, the classroom shenanigans making you laugh. You don’t want to get started on the chaos that unfurls every time Donghyuck walks into class and straight up picks a fight with anyone in his eyesight—even Jaemin has his “Lee Donghyuck!” moments. Donghyuck is friends with everyone and that means he gets to get on everyone’s nerves.

You smile to yourself thinking of Donghyuck yawning deliberately at Renjun trying to make a point. Call him a demon, call him a disgrace; he knows how to make people laugh.

You pass Red’s diner on your way back home, as usual, the unusual red and white checkers replacing the normal concrete sidewalk by it. It’s always soothed you to see bright colours in this side of the city, the beige and coffee aesthetic far too dominating for its cause—something to keep up with the larger, fancier (more pretentious) metropolises.  It’s also the oldest; your friends told you the number of baby pictures everyone has on the wine-coloured couches is, in more appropriate words, fucking astounding.

You wish you’d moved here earlier. The thing about little cities is just that—they’re not all that little. Something everyone seemingly loves to boast about, the romance of a small town and its delicate simplicities. It’s nothing alike. You’d know. You enjoy it more here. You like all the food outlets and stores lining the streets and further up, less congestion and more dog parks—all places you love breezing through in your free time. There’s an amusement park too, a forty-minute drive away into the middle of nowhere and if you’re not mistaken, the city centre has the best clubs and bars. Sunshine drips through every nook and cranny—it’s everything you’d expected a city to be.

You stop in your tracks at the sight of distinct brown curls in the alleyway between buildings. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be in the best of situations, a tougher, much larger guy shoving him against the wall. They seem to be speaking, and something about Donghyuck’s smile doesn’t give you a good feeling about what’s going to happen.

Before the guy’s fist meets Donghyuck’s cheek, you yell, two pairs of eyes shifting focus to you. You feel your heartbeat quicken, Donghyuck raising his eyebrow and shooting you a confused look.

“Don’t- don’t hurt him,” you say, cursing at the meekness of your voice.

The larger man laughs, a sound like nails on a chalkboard and you cringe. Donghyuck mouths at you to get away but immediately shuts up when the man turns to him again.

“You got a little lover come here to protect you?” he says, looking at Donghyuck with amusement.

“No, that’s not—”

“I hate little brats like you,” he huffs, shoving Donghyuck once more, this time a little harder. He lets out a pained whine, eyes squeezing shut as he drops on his knees.

You take a hesitant step back when the man makes his way to you, blood rushing to your ears when he raises his hand. Your arms go up by instinct and you’re met with a hard push, falling to the ground with a whimper.

You’re picked up by the collar, struggling to not let fear show on your face.

“Tell your boyfriend to stop messing around my store, okay, sweetheart?” he threatens, voice lower.

With that, he drops you and leaves, the adrenaline in you not quite down yet.

“Donghyuck?” you call, worried as you spot him lying still in the alleyway. You’re about to get up and go to him when he responds, whimsical as ever.

“I’m okay!” He raises his hand with a peace sign and you sigh, annoyed.

“Really?! What were you even doing?”

“I ate some cookies for free, big deal,” he says before he suddenly raises his head with a lopsided grin. “Is sunflower worried about me?”

You groan, dusting yourself as you get up and walk over to him. You throw him a light kick at the side to which he whines overdramatically and scrunches his face into something pained. Lee Donghyuck could be hit by a bus and he’d play it off with fingers guns and eyebrow wiggling.

“Become a chainsaw-juggler or something if you want to do something dangerous,” you complain, “And get up!”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “As always, you have such boring ideas.”

He does get up the next moment, although with a large show of holding his back and several whines about near-death experiences as if he’s not the one bringing it upon himself. You’re sure his back is bruised but he doesn’t acknowledge it as anything more than a joke. There’s also a gash on his cheek he must have received earlier. It’s no surprise he has a fresh batch of wounds—you think he spends more time in the nurse’s office than in actual classes.

“Why do you pick fights with people clearly stronger than you?” you grumble as he dusts himself off.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Donghyuck says, straightening, “I would’ve got out of this pretty clean without you.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure thing.”

Donghyuck frowns, a huff leaving his mouth.

“I don’t mean to brag but that guy would have been running for his life if you hadn’t butt in,” he shrugs, trying to sound less ruffled.

You laugh at his expression, forgetting about your bruised arms for a moment.

“You should treat me,” you say, the thought passing your head. You don’t have change and you’re really craving some strawberry milk.

He scoffs. “For what?”

“For saving you.”

You expected a retort, at least. Donghyuck pauses for a moment before a worrying grin floats up on his face. “Sure. Come with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him but follow nonetheless, walking side by side. The sunlight makes his skin glow, the hue on his cheeks perfect were it not for the dried blood from the gash. His eyes shine when he smiles, mischief or not, when he’s telling you about how you should try vandalism and robbery sometimes, they’re pretty fun. It’s a Donghyuck trait—to be able to live like this and still call it fun. You look at his lips once and immediately look away. What a silly thought. They’re regrettably pretty, though, despite being busted often. The sun has been kind to Donghyuck, with the colour of his skin full and the confidence you’d only find in someone made of sun flares.

So that’s why.

You stare at the motorbike parked at a clearly No Parking area, the metallic red gleaming under the late afternoon sun. You’ve never been on one before but something tells you Donghyuck would traumatise you far too much to try again. You cannot agree to get on that.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You hesitate. “Where are we going?”

“To the centre, of course.” He smiles brightly. “There’s a bunch of bakeries and eateries over there.”

“You can just buy me some strawberry milk from a vending machine around.”

“Well, I forgot my wallet,” he says, looking up to think, “I left it at my job.”

You furrow your eyebrows, not believing a word. It’s Lee Donghyuck after all, the opposite of predictable, and arguing with him will only cost you your breath.

“A motorbike and no leather jacket?” You smile, regaining your composure. “I mean, not everyone can pull off the leather jacket, of course.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes overstatedly. “I don’t expect you to be smarter but stereotypes? Wow.”

You do get on the bike, however, with some pushing on Donghyuck’s side. More importantly, you somehow don’t end up traumatised despite what you supposed. It felt good, wind in your hair and although your legs were stuck to the sides of the bike like glue, you found yourself enjoying the scene around you speeding by. The fact that Donghyuck can be careful was beyond your knowledge and understanding.

The buildings are a little taller here and while you’ve been here before, the sight never fails to make your heartbeat quicken. There’s something inevitably calling about this place. You’d love to explore when there are nightlights around each corner.

“Your wallet?” you remind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck feigns surprise, gasping. “Right! It was in my pocket. But I have no money.”

“What? We came all the way here for nothing?!”

“No. I have a plan.” Donghyuck grins, pointing towards the pretty glass door of the bakery across the street.

“Oh no,” you say quietly as the realization dawns, “We’re not stealing.”

“Then you came all the way here for nothing.”

You sigh heavily into your hands as Donghyuck tries to sweeten his grin, clearly trying to convince you.

“You really don’t have to be this annoying, you know that?”

“It’s a choice,” he says, pulling a face, “And I do it because I excel at it, thank you very much.”

You reluctantly follow Donghyuck into the bakery, people bustling in and out, mostly for their fix of evening coffee or tea. There are photo frames around pictures of coffee beans, tea leaves and pastries, all against a soft orange wallpaper. It’s not as small as it looked from outside, you realize, with its capacity for people quite enough. The smell of chocolate is predominant, hazelnut and coffee wafting in from the left side.

“Free samples!” Donghyuck gasps, before turning to whisper to you, “You know we can try one of each, right? That saves us some trouble.”

You’d be lying if his lips so close to your ears didn’t make you jump a little. You take short steps behind him as he eagerly walks to the counter.

“Ah, is this a new type?” Donghyuck asks, beaming at the woman behind the counter. She raises an eyebrow at the ear piercings and tattoos, gracing him with a smile nonetheless.

While he’s engaged in conversation, you stare at the two of them confused till you’re met with a light kick at your foot. You give Donghyuck a dirty look, who keeps pointing towards the samples with his hands under the counter.

“You’re supposed to shove some into your bag, you know?” he leans in to whisper, exasperated, when the lady leaves to enter the pantry.

“Well, how was I supposed to know, genius?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

Donghyuck looks around nervously before taking a few of the tarts and carefully placing them in your bag.

“Don’t move too much or you’ll crush them,” he warns in a hush.

The woman returns again, with a warmer smile and Donghyuck goes back to his clever, silver-tongued words. He’s so awful, you think. But you can’t deny the exhilaration in your chest, a giddy feeling of doing the wrong thing in a way that feels right.

You end up having the free samples afterward, pretending to contemplate buying as the woman looks at the two of you expectantly. It’s delicious, sweet chocolate manipulating your taste buds to want another bite almost immediately after you’re done.

“We do offer couple discounts, too!” she says, beaming.

There it is again, the unsettling implications—accusations almost. Since when do the two of you look like a couple? You’re obviously too young to be looking the sort of way most lovers do and where the fuck do they see any love anyway?

“Uh,” Donghyuck begins but can’t seem to form a sentence.

Before either of you can say anything, the woman is called by another customer and you look at each other at the same time.

“We should go,” he says, quickly, “before they realize we’re not buying anything.”

You nod and sneak out of the shop as quickly as you walked in, Donghyuck suddenly picking up the pace till you’re at least a few blocks away.

“You’re so slow,” Donghyuck teases, laughing when you reach him, out of breath. He adjusts his shirt, dark as always, such that it doesn’t stick out of his pants awkwardly anymore. The tattoos on his left arm catch your eye, muscles beneath flexing as his moves his arm, a strange pattern of ink. You don’t think they’re real if you’re being honest—that field of sunflowers. They’re too pretty.

You’re so annoying, you think, despite the smile forming on your face as you follow him down the lane.

What a frustrating personality, the thought crosses you at night, as you kick away the blanket at your feet. He ended up paying for some ice cream at a nearby shop anyway, right after you’d finished having your stolen goods by the dog park. He said summer needs some ice and he’ll oblige just this once with whatever few notes he has left. (“Summer just ended, idiot.” “I can’t hear you.”) The first bite had immediately given him brain freeze, a whine escaping his lips as he held his head in an attempt to soothe it. You found it cute—yes, cute, a terrible choice of words for him. It doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself. It’s almost within his personality to intrude upon your thoughts like this—gods, you hate even the letters of his name that form so easily in front of your eyes.

The buzz from your phone gives you a fright as you quickly open it to two texts from Donghyuck. You adjust the brightness before you read it, your heartbeat embarrassing you at its rate.

demon child, 11:36 PM

btw today wasn’t a treat you still have to pay me

food is expensive you know

You smile. A part of you warns you shouldn’t.

demon child, 11:37 PM

or you can pay for next time

Your smile drops. Next time? What is this, a date? You shake your head instinctively. Like you’d make it out alive of a date with Lee Donghyuck.

you, 11:37 PM

sure thing little stingy man

demon child, 11:38 PM

wow that was fast do you like me or something

You roll your eyes. You might have really decked Donghyuck in the jaw in another timeline, where you knew how to deck someone in the jaw.

You feel a certain static in your heart, hoping you’re mistaken as you respond to his texts for the rest of the night. Lee Donghyuck needs to have the last word all the time, and you lose count of how many times you huff, only giving in when the tiredness in your eyes seeps to the rest of your body.

You think you smile in your sleep that night but you can’t be sure.

The thing about bad days is that you notice nothing outside of them when you’re having them—but you forget you ever even had them when you’re not.

You end up at school with a lack of will to pay attention to classes. It’s well into the semester, and that means it’s time for you to get to some serious studying, except, well, you can’t. You’re decent at academics—or so you’d like to think. You’re average at best and there’s a nagging thought eating away at your brain at a painfully slow rate.

The college application deadlines are near.

It doesn’t help to be second and third best at almost everything. You nod along to everything Jihyun is saying; really, he aces every subject without trying. His words aren’t exactly…encouraging. You thought his notes would be your ticket to a dream college except he’s not quite the person you should be asking help from.

You’re suddenly not sure about all the friendly competitions you’re running.

You’re starting to feel too worked up these days, worry tugging at the back of your head every moment. It’s lonely when your friends are busy with their own struggles so you stay quiet. You’re a big kid, you tell yourself, you got this.

Except you really don’t.

“Woah,” Donghyuck interrupts you and Jihyun. “You look like you used the dryer on the wrong setting.”

Sometimes, it’s really not the best of situations to have your seat beside Donghyuck. You glare at him, keeping your notebook on the table with a loud ‘SLAM!’ You turn your head to find him smiling. Oh, he better not start now.

“Ah, (name),” he says, grinning, “what’s got you so upset today?”

“Nothing,” you insist, trying your best to control your scowl.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘hung out’ (committed minor crimes) at the bakery. Your friendly bickering since then has been not-so-friendly, you think with a grimace. He’s been getting under your skin—not a favourable thing when you’re against Lee Donghyuck.

“(name).”

You look up to see Jihyun, almost always devoid of any emotion behind the eyes—even if he’s smiling.

“The notes you asked for,” he says, keeping the notes on your table and turning around, almost as if he’s glad to be rid of conversation.

“Oh, and,” Jihyun turns back around. “If you’re hoping to get into any college at all, I hope you keep the right company.”

There’s contempt in his voice and your eyes trail to Donghyuck’s, a little confused if not bothered. You shouldn’t be surprised to find him grinning, laughing almost. You think Donghyuck’s confidence is a good substitute for a leather jacket.

“Hey, come on now.” Donghyuck leans back in his seat, smiling like a kid. You wonder where all that sunshine’s coming from. “Are you still mad about me beating you at that MUN thing?”

Jihyun smiles. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I wasn’t referring to you, of course. And there’s worse things you’ve done.”

Your teacher walks in, drawing everyone’s attention instead as they scurry back to their seats. Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a second longer, his face blanched before he turns away and rests his chin on his palm. You think you weren’t supposed to steal so many glances at him throughout the class.

The day somehow manages to draw energy out of you even further. Worries aside, Jihyun’s been strangely demanding—are you even that close? Should he be asking you to bring things this way? Should he be making you run errands? You’re so close to losing it before you realize you can’t. He’s helping you, sort of. You groan into your hands during break, ignoring Donghyuck’s eyebrow raise from beside you. It’s unfair and while you’re sure it’s all light-hearted, you have another name to curse when you run into a problem. Ah, the scorn of high school kids is truly incomparable.

You almost sigh in relief at the last ring of the bell for the day, getting up a little too enthusiastically. You get some admonishment from the teacher at that but you forget once you’ve reached the gates, almost running out faster than your friends. They let you go with a laugh, your desire to get home and take a nap triumphing every other thing on your mind. Some days are meant to be forgotten.

Cursed as you are, you bump into Donghyuck a few blocks from the bus stop. He adjusts the collar of his plaid shirt in a hurry, the black T-shirt underneath so worn out, you wonder how many years he’s been wearing that. The symbol on his baseball cap is probably related to a demon cult, you think. It being related to a metal band is also a possibility.

“(name),” he says, grinning. “What a coincidence.”

“Don’t pick a fight now, demon,” you huff before he can continue.

“I didn’t even say anything.” He raises his arms defensively. “Yet.”

You have the intense desire to punch him. When did the tables turn to this? Weren’t you supposed to be the calm one?

“You had fun running errands for President Snob?” he snickers.

“Well, I didn’t want to,” you say, your shoulders dropping, annoyed as you are. It makes you a little upset for something to affect you that much. You wish you were like the kids who barely cared about things like college applications, enjoying life either way. You wish you didn’t have this strange pretence of a person you are. You wish you were like Donghyuck.

There’s a pause.

“Come on. Don’t let anyone push you around like that.”  His voice comes off as exasperated. Donghyuck isn’t the kind of person to let worry show.

You look up, a little surprised. Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.

“There’s some festival going on at the centre,” he says with a shrug. “Lots of food trucks. Wanna come?”

You furrow your eyebrows, a frown taking shape over your lips.

“Stealing off others doesn’t exactly make me feel good about myself,” you say, hugging yourself. As fun as the adrenaline rush was, it’s better to stick to morals, whatever they may be.

“I’ll pay,” he says, his smile incredulous. “I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you got a credit card lying around somewhere?”

“Nope,” he responds, rolling his eyes. “No credit card. Don’t believe in money.”

“Then how do you plan on paying?” you ask, frustrated.

“Trust me,” he whispers, urging you to follow him.

It turns out Donghyuck happens to know every food outlet in the city and also happens to have been kicked out of half of them, which is oddly impressive. He’s also worked several jobs in local eateries, the old ladies more than fond of him. (“Who wouldn’t find my charming smile adorable?”)

“You hobgoblin,” you exclaim, huffing. His story about vandalism on the bleachers shouldn’t have been as amusing, or endearing, for that matter.

“According to our lovely folklore, hobgoblins can warm your heart,” he replies, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“That is definitely not true. You just have to respond with something, don’t you?”

“And what of it?”

A (surprisingly) within-speed-limits bike ride away, you end up in a flurry of colours and crowds—you gasp at the large line of food trucks lining the pathway leading to the people’s square. You’ve never seen this before, looking from place to place. A lot of them look like they’ve come from pretty far.

At the square, there are wooden stalls of food out for trial by the people, shopkeepers encouraging the few tourists there are to try the local food. You spot various fishcakes, dumplings and street toast with glimpses of strawberry and banana milk decorating the stands in between. There are old upbeat songs playing through the speakers attached to the electricity poles, faint enough to be drowned out by crowds but loud enough to enjoy a little dance to. You didn’t realize you were smiling till you turned around to see an amused look on Donghyuck’s face.

Time only seems to fly—like when you’re done with your favourite song and it just wasn’t long enough so you hit repeat. The truth is, a song is barely four minutes—and yet you feel like you saw a movie, a story in it; so very curious because you were so sure it was too short.

Donghyuck walks side by side with you to where his bike is parked. (You wonder if he ever travels without it. Gas isn’t exactly cheap.) There’s little distance between the two of you, something neither of you seems to notice. You bite into the sugar candy, the sudden crack sound in the quiet lane making the two of you laugh despite the surge of sugar on your tongue. You forget what you were talking about.

“Why do you even steal, Donghyuck?” You ask softly. You paid for some food today, some were free samples and mostly, there was nothing illegal involved. Donghyuck didn’t particularly want to cause trouble either. You don’t want to be a bad judge of character.

“Because I can.”

What an expected answer. Is there anything Donghyuck can’t do?

“Don’t you feel bad?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s always been so confusing, but when he starts to make sense, you feel like you should’ve seen it that way in the first place.

“Are you talking about our sweet bakery? You really think a company as big as theirs would notice some free samples are missing?” Donghyuck says, making a face. “In a city no one cares about?”

You don’t say anything, puffing your left cheek in contemplation.

“Look, I could spend the rest of my life looting as much as my arms could carry and I would never be able to make my crimes pose even the smallest threat to a single shitty millionaire.” Donghyuck waves his hands about in a gesture that implies indifference.

You suppose he’s right, walking up to him and continuing your journey up.

“I’m not justifying myself,” he says, voice softer, shoulders relaxed. “Stealing’s bad. Other people are affected. I know. It’s just that I like having more choices than they give us. We should try everything we can, you know?”

Is that why he’s always up to something? Flitting from club to club in school, running around the entire city like it’s his own?

He shakes himself immediately, cringing. “Ah. Ew. I can’t believe you’re getting to my head, sunflower. Yuck. You’re ruining me. Did I just monologue?”

“Oh, okay.” You cross your arms. “That’s my fault now. It’s a good thing to be honest, asshole.”

“La, la, la.” Donghyuck puts his fingers in his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Can’t lecture me if I can’t hear you.”

You punch his shoulders, his laugh accompanying the evening blooming in full colours above you as you forget you’re already on your journey back.

You reach Red’s before nightfall, a sort of pitstop for kids like you when it’s time to go home before the night soaks into you. Donghyuck feels lighter in his chest as he enters, the jingling pleasant and the smell of waffles even more so. He just can’t believe you’re the reason he’s here.

“Obviously, we’re going for chocolate waffles,” he says, crossing his arms.

The tables outside are better than the stuffy humid air inside. Donghyuck’s complaining didn’t let you take even a step inside.

“We just ate,” you reason, your eyebrows furrowed. “And honey is always better!”

“Eh, what do you know?” he says, resting his elbow against the table. “I was raised in this diner, newbie.”

“Yeah, you and a million other rats.”

He presses his tongue against his cheek to stop the smile, although he reckons he’s doing a terrible job of it.

Get yourself together, one voice pipes up in his head.

Or say it. Ask them out. Yeah, the other voice is a piece of shit. That’s not going to work out.

Donghyuck didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, a daze over his eyes. He blinks a few time to regain focus, the peach hue across your cheeks coming to his attention. It’s adorable, if he could just reach out and place his palm against your cheek, just lean over the table and—

Fuck. No way.

“Stop staring at me like some sleaze,” you huff, eyes flickering between him and the table.

“Why would I stare at you?” he retorts, resisting the heat on his face. “You’re not that pretty.”

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes as you hold your arm.

The lights lining the eaves flicker on almost at the same time, the sky still in transitionary lilac and you look up with your lips parted, something akin to curiosity in your eyes. Pretty. It could just be the reflection of the lights though—Donghyuck’s not exactly the poetic type. He wants to curl his lips at the notion, but it’s not very smart to have all his thoughts show up on his face.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” you say, eyes still on the lights, occasionally shifting to the sky.

“Your parents will worry.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment before mumbling, “It’s not safe.”

“Then drop me home,” you say, your eyes shifting to meet his, an unusual confidence in them.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the skip of his heartbeat.

Donghyuck thinks he should pat himself on the back for not speeding all the times you were with him on his bike. He loves the thing to death, although he’s had it for barely a year. The jolt of adrenaline and the freedom blooming in sprouts within his ribcage should be a dead giveaway to what he feels about speeding. Donghyuck’s never really cared about rules. Break them, bend them—it’s up to him and he loves that feeling of control. Whatever people think of him, they’re nowhere close to the truth. They’ll never know just how much he has everything under control.

Except you.

How annoying, he thinks to himself as he feels the speed picking up and your distant warmth behind him. He feels a little tingle in his chest, the way he always does when he gets the urge to do something reckless.

What if he were to speed up just a little? No, that would be childish. He should definitely not do that.

You wrap your arms around his waist with a squeak at the sudden jerk as he revs up the bike, a grin growing on his face despite his attempts to hold it back. You’re warm, compared to the sharp winds grazing him and he wants you to hold onto him like this a little longer. If he’s not childish now, when else will he be?

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep, faint sunlight hiding behind the curtains ready to present the evening to you. A celebratory nap for the end of the deadlines that’s been haunting you overextended a little bit more than you’d anticipated. Just a few more weeks and it’s the finals and then, it’s all over. You stretch your hand out to switch on the lights, groaning when you can’t seem to reach it and reluctantly getting up.

You startle, a little yelp leaving your mouth at the knock on your window. What in hell? Either you haven’t slept enough or you slept too much.

You let out another yelp when you see Donghyuck’s face. There’s a band-aid over the line of his jaw starting to peel off and another one over the bridge of his nose. His hair looks recently washed, underneath the cap he’s wearing the right way for once, a pleasant smell wafting off him. You wonder what the occasion is for him to have cleaned up like this.

“Did you just climb up to my window?!”

There’s a pause.

“Yes.”

There’s another pause.

“Anyway,” he continues, “Since you’ve been enjoying my premium Haechan recommendations lately, I’ve got another plan for you.”

“Haechan?” You tilt your head. “Full sun? Is that why you call me sunflower?”

Donghyuck’s cheeks colour. “That’s- That’s not- We’re going to the club today!”

You find the sudden fluctuation in his voice cute. You suppress your smile, before giving in to his constant nagging for you to hurry up and follow him. (“Why would I get out through the window?” “Won’t your parents, like, kill me if they saw me at your front door?”)

There’s no bike today. In a way, you’re sad it isn’t there; the memory of your arms around Donghyuck making you feel hot in the cheeks for wanting it again.

“I finished my budget for fuel because of you,” he complains.

“No one asked you to be a show-off,” you retort.

He opens his mouth but says nothing, resorting to pull a face at you instead. Public transportation it is today. Even if there’s, what, nine subway stations in the city, Donghyuck seems to have already planned out the route. He walks with a bounce to his steps, turning around to walk backward facing you just to laugh and call you slow.

You run up the stairs to the station, another evening beginning something yet anew. The clouds disappear, replaced with the tiles of the station roof as Donghyuck eyes something in the distance.

“Oh no,” you say, your gaze traveling to wherever his is fixed. “We’re paying for the tickets. Hell, I’ll pay.”

Donghyuck grins at you and before he can make the stupid decision of jumping over the faregate, you grab the back of his collar, a choked sound leaving his mouth. You pull him by the sleeves of his hoodie to the ticket machines, relatively empty when the old folk use the ticket booths instead.

“You’ll go to jail if you murder me,” Donghyuck says, whining as he massages his neck. “It’s not pleasant, let me tell you that.”

“You’ve been?”

“Not yet.”

The club Donghyuck was talking about turns out to be more of a music joint, really. The letters ‘No Smoking’ spelled clearly beside the entrance, you eye the guard nervously. A rather skinny man who seems to be in his early twenties, you wonder how Donghyuck knows him as he lets the two of you in. You don’t have time to ask as you’re pulled in, a gasp barely leaving your mouth at the force.

It’s different inside. It’s not as dark as you’d expect, a rather mellow set of colours spread through the place. There’s a band playing songs from the 80s, the sound of indie rock pulsing through the place. Some people are dancing, some sitting at the round tables, looking as if they’re waiting for someone or, at the very least, a pretty stranger.  

You look up at Donghyuck, a hum on his lips as he thinks.

“The song’s so boring,” he says finally. “Let’s change it.”

“It’s a live band, Donghyuck.” You deadpan. “You can’t press next here.”

“It’s called requesting, stupid.”

Donghyuck runs off before you can say anything, suddenly awkward about standing alone in a room full of people. You look around—the amount of people isn’t too much but at the same time it’s much more than you see in your average crowded room. Most of them are sitting, now that you see clearly, some with ramen on the tables, some with beer and chicken. There’s a bar at the other edge, people joking with each other over drinks.

You’re not sure how you’d describe it but it smells like people in here.

You look around further, curiously, at the beige wallpaper and vines decorating the edges—it’s larger than you thought a club would be. (But really, the only images you have are of purple and blue lighting on giant drunk crowds when you think of clubs.)

“Hey, pretty.”

You startle at the voice, an older man standing beside you. He seems to be a little old for a college kid, a rather impish look on his face with a very prominent grin.

“Uh, hi,” you say, unsure.

“You don’t come here often, do you?” He leans his left side against the wall.

“No, not really.” You’re a minor. Technically, you’re not even allowed in here.

Your nervousness seems to have shown up on your face because the guy straightens, a little smile on his face.

“Woah, don’t look so worried.” He laughs a little. There’s a scent of alcohol in his breath. “Will a friendly handshake make you feel better?”

You look on, a little unsure but definitely surprised. You go along with what he says, the movement of your hands in the childish pattern bringing a smile to your face till eventually, you’re laughing.

“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he says, “But you’re, like, a kid, right?”

You straighten, stammering out words of denial. You don’t want to be kicked out. You’ve never been kicked out of anything before.

“And that’s your boyfriend right there?” He asks, pointing over to Donghyuck having a conversation with the bass guitarist.

You think you turn pink, but you shake your head vehemently.

“Well, don’t worry, kid,” he says, laughing. “Enjoy it while you can. Not everyone gets to have a partner in crime.”

With that, he walks off to the bar after a wave of goodbye and a smile, making you wonder if adults really are the same as you. You smile a little to yourself.

You yelp when you’re grabbed by the arm, Donghyuck’s own arm linking through it.

“I’m gonna teach you how to dance,” he says, grinning. “Be prepared to thank me.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him and right when you open your mouth the next song starts with a drum solo. You look at the band, confused. They’re all grinning, however, and soon the song steadies into an upbeat sort of mood. You think you smile, but it’s probably just in the eyes.

“Eyes on me, loser,” Donghyuck says, smiling wide at you.

You turn back to him, an indescribable amount of emotions surging into you. Lee Donghyuck is a phenomenon of a person, you think, almost ready to voice it out loud.

More people join in with the dancing, the place seeming much fuller now that you see everyone up. You catch the man from earlier throwing you a wink and a finger gun in a friendly gesture. You laugh in response, Donghyuck complaining about your lack of focus. (If you’re being honest, you think he meant your lack of attention to him.)

You can’t count the minutes or hours—what’s the difference, really? Donghyuck smiles through his eyes, telling you you’re a terrible dancer (and that, of course, not everyone is born perfect like him). You learn to love the unknown songs, each note catching on to a new piece of your heart as Donghyuck shows you a move to copy, singing along gibberish lyrics to the songs he doesn’t know. It’s weird how you can mould into songs like this, songs you don’t even know—their beats pulling out different people and melodies making that person familiar.

There’s a soft halt when Donghyuck catches something through the corner of his eyes. He makes a face that spells out ‘yikes’ before leading you off the dance floor, snaking through the crowds till you’re back to the entrance.

“What’s wrong?” You say, eyes scanning his face.

“Oh, nothing, really,” he says, an unsure lilt to his voice.

Your question answers itself at the gruff voice barely audible over the music, a notch louder than when you’d entered.

“Hey, kid!”

Your heart jumps against your ribcage at the uniform of a police officer by the entrance, thinking whether everything really had to go wrong right now. Is underage dancing a crime? You didn’t drink and—oh, the entrance probably said 19+.

Donghyuck’s eyes flit from place to place looking for an escape when the officer confronts him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“You’re the kid that’s been stealing around the shops, aren’t you?”

“Uh, no?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, the expression on his face almost comedic. “You’ve got the wrong kid, officer.”

“And what might you be doing in a club? Where’s your ID?”

“About that…”

Donghyuck pushes the man with his elbow, leg extending to trip him, catching him off guard. You’d even be impressed if the loud crash didn’t make you yelp in surprise, looking at the two of them with terrified incredulity.

Donghyuck takes off running almost immediately after before backtracking and gesturing at you exasperatedly. “You know you’re supposed to run when I run, right?”

“What the fuck just happe—”

Donghyuck doesn’t wait to explain, gripping your hand in his and tugging you to match his insane pace as you exit through the entrance.

It takes a while to reach the subway station even at that speed and with the distant shouts of the police officer prompting you to move faster. The sky’s much darker now—you think it must be well into late evening before night gets ready to clutch the time. Donghyuck moves with careful calculation, taking turns in places you have no clue about and soon you’re running up the stairs with your breath barely caught in your throat.

The station lights are dim but you’re good as long as you don’t trip over something. You turn to the ticket machine in panic when you hear the officer’s voice by the gates.

“No time!” Donghyuck pulls you away, effortlessly jumping over the faregate and looking at you expectantly.

“I can’t do that, Donghyuck!” you complain, panic rising in your chest, adrenaline drowning the rest of it.

Before you can say anything more, Donghyuck reaches over the gate, pulling you up by the waist and grabbing your hand all over again to run down the stairs to the tunnels.

“Hey!”

You hear the shout of the lady behind the ticket counter, clearly having seen your misconduct as you pray for her to forget your face. You’d like to be able to use the subway for future travel.

The train’s about to shut its door when you reach. Donghyuck treads quickly on the stone before he jumps on, pulling you in just in time to avoid getting caught in between the sliding doors.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and the movement of the train on its tracks, the burning in your throat drowning out other senses. You slide down to crouch on the floor, your face hot and sweat drenching your forehead and neck. Your shoelaces are undone, you notice, no energy left in you to reach out and tie them into your perfect knots.

There’s a few moments of silence as you regain your composure.

“What was that?!” You laugh, unable to control yourself as you clutch your stomach. “You almost got arrested!”

He joins in with his sunny laughter, crouching down beside you. “Man, I really thought I was done for.”

After a few moments, Donghyuck sits with his legs crossed atop the passenger seat, the coach mostly empty save for you and an old couple at the far corner. He animatedly recalls a story of another near-arrest he had, with you laughing beside him.

A thought passes you in between jokes and stories—what if everything was like this always? Just the two of you, in a room full of people, in a room without people. You think you’ve started looking at Donghyuck a bit too much. You’re not sure about regretting it.

Donghyuck’s been getting the strangest of impulses these days.

He tilts his head away from you to check the time on his watch, the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder reassuring, even if it’s hard to admit. It’s half-past ten and he’s been staring at you for a little over an hour now. Who falls asleep in the subway? Sure, there being not many stops, the journey between each is longer but Donghyuck wouldn’t be caught dead drooling on someone’s shoulder like this.

You shift, Donghyuck immediately moving to cradle your head with his hand so it just doesn’t drop off. Your lips are puffed even in sleep as if you’re still caught in an argument with him. He chuckles to himself. It’s so like you.

Cross the line. The voice in his head says. Just dip your head a little and…

Your head leans into the skin between his neck and shoulder, a shot of electricity pulsing through him at the contact. There’s a race of thoughts within him, thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

What is he so afraid of, really? What is he, Lee Donghyuck, so afraid of? Love? That’s the lamest thing he can think of.

It’s true, though.

Fucking voice of his conscience—loud thoughts are more a pain in the ass than anything else. Donghyuck will resort to cowardice if it be so. He’s not going to be reduced to something he’s not just because he’s head over heels in his own feelings for you.

Donghyuck pushes the hair from your face, craning his neck to be able to see you better. Wanting to love, wanting to be loved—what a stupid thing to fear. He sighs, closing his own eyes and checking the time once again. He’ll wake you up in a few minutes when your station’s near.

You stop at the medicine to store to buy antiseptic cream and some band-aids. Donghyuck says he doesn’t need it, he has some at home but you must be good at convincing. There’s a little garden of scratches on his palm even he’s not sure when he received.

You sit in the empty parking lot, under the only streetlight that seems to be working in the area. The convenience store beside you is there to provide its twenty-four-hour lights if not anything else. There are some people out on nightly walks, you notice when you look at the sidewalk. It surprises you a little to see shapes of people against midnight blue.

You’ve never been out so late. You text your mom to remind her you’re still alive before you can turn your attention to Donghyuck.

“Okay! Enough!” He retreats his hand, complaining. “My hand smells like a pharmacy at this point.”

You lean back against the streetlamp, sighing.

“I can’t believe we ran away from a police officer,” you say, a goofy smile on your face as you stretch your arms in front of you.

“There’s always a first.” Donghyuck grin. “You don’t have to thank me for that, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll regret it. How long do you plan on being reckless?”

“How long do you plan on pretending you don’t enjoy it?” He asks, face leaning in with a sly smile.

You think you feel heat on your cheeks, you can’t be sure, but you end up scoffing, a rather losing response to someone who’s used to winning.

“You’re clearly into my devilishly handsome face,” he continues with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Does my recklessness turn you on? Don’t you think I look good? You can’t blame m—”

This brat.

You yank him by the cloth of his hoodie to get face to face, noses almost touching. Watching the confidence drain from his face, you’d laugh but it’d just give away the sudden adoration you feel. What a shame this demon was blessed to be so cute.

There’s a pause the length of a breath.

Donghyuck’s eyelids flutter close just as he presses his lips against yours, a soft sound escaping yours. He places a hand against your cheek as nimbly as possible, something pushing him to deepen what you have. You give in, humming into the kiss as you pull yourself closer.

For all the havoc he wreaks, Donghyuck isn’t necessarily a bad kisser. His lips are soft—his investment in lip balms improved since you first met him and the scent of whatever he used is delicious.

It’s a few moments of kissing when Donghyuck suddenly pulls back.

“I don’t deserve this,” he says, eyes flickering.

You look on, unsure. It’s not like him to falter. “What- What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he responds, looking at his hands, “that I’m really not good enough. I’m just- I’m not who people think I am. Hell, I don’t know who I am. It’s just- I don’t-”

You place your hand against his cheek, his rambling fading away as he looks into you.

“Even if you like me because you think I’m fun,” he continues, “I mess things up, you know? I mess things up really bad. If you get hurt- If- Ah, I don’t know what to say.”

“I really like you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, “but you’re making no sense right now.”

There’s a pause within the night air.

“I…I put a kid in the hospital,” he says, voice low and upset. “In middle school. I- I didn’t mean to! I can’t remember what happened but…we had to pay the bills and- and we’re still recovering.”

There’s a stifling silence. You lift his chin up so he faces you, the inability to see his expression troubling.

“I still feel guilty,” he whispers. “I do things for fun. And I fuck up the consequences.”

Donghyuck’s calculating and careful. You already know that.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, not finding any better words. “We’re big kids now.”

“But that doesn’t mean—”

“I’m not saying anything like that,” you interrupt. “We’ll still fuck up, you know? Adults fuck up. Doesn’t mean we don’t do things at all.”

“God, I hate you lecturing me,” he groans, looking away.

You crack a smile, still holding his face, the side without the band-aid. Donghyuck doesn’t say you’re right, a short chuckle on his lips instead before he leans in to peck you on the mouth, slowly turning into another kiss.

You think you hear the buzz of fireflies, spring’s darlings, although you didn’t know they’d be found here. Donghyuck looks pretty under the streetlight, as you connect mole to mole, an airy feeling in your chest, almost bubbling over.

You want to tell him he’s amazing, but you figure you’d tend to his ego some other day.

“Hey, you got that leather jacket!” you exclaim when you walk into class, Donghyuck’s head in Renjun’s chokehold.

He’s quick to defend himself, shaking Renjun off him and scoffing. “I didn’t get it because you said so, obviously.”

You shake your head with a laugh, sitting at your place. Donghyuck smiles to himself before dropping it to shoot some comments at Renjun.

“Nothing going on with our precious demon there?”

You look up to see Jaemin smiling at you, clearly onto something. You haven’t told anyone yet, every rendezvous a ridiculously honest secret.

You turn your head to see Donghyuck consuming a bag of hot Cheetos in what seems to be a competition with Zhong Chenle. You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the scene. What’s even going on in their heads? If anything at all, that is.

Jaemin clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him. He has some sort of expectation in his eyes.

You laugh, more than enough to answer him. Really, being fond of Lee Donghyuck shouldn’t feel so much a crime as the city lights in his eyes do.

[ninzied]

a kiss where it hurts.

for @lucyintheskyalone​.

Everything hurts.

It would not have been so unbearable – he’s had much worse, as far as injuries go – but when Frank comes to, and takes in his surroundings, everything starts to hurt in an entirely different way.

The place smells exactly like he’d remembered it, clean as spring, with the warm undertone of maybe vanilla. It’s safe here, quiet. At least it was until he came and dragged his sorry ass through her window again. Karen will be home soon, and the last thing she needs is this. Him.

It was a mistake to still come here, after. But he can barely keep his eyes open, let alone climb back down the fire escape.

Instead, Frank sinks his weight into her rug, grits his teeth against the pain, and waits.

Sometime after dark he hears keys, and the sound of her door being opened. A light flickers on in the hallway.

He senses the exact moment she knows. That someone’s here, inside her apartment. There’s a silence that comes over the place all of a sudden – a silence that feels way too still.

It’s finally broken by a soft rustling sound, the click of a safety as the tip of her shadow slips around the side of the couch.

“Frank?” she breathes.

She’s on her knees by his side the next instant. There’s the clatter of her gun as she sets it down hard on the table that’s keeping him upright.

“Hey,” he says, squinting an eye open at her. Christ. Even his voice sounds beaten beyond recognition.

She doesn’t ask him what happened. He figures that his current state pretty much speaks for itself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s shown up like this, all broken and bloodied. Waiting for her. Waiting to get put back together.

Karen scans him up and down, hands half-hovering over him like she can’t find a safe place to put them.

“’S’nothing serious,” he murmurs to her. “Nothing that hasn’t tried to kill me already.”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.” She keeps her voice light, but it takes an obvious effort, and the guilt burns hot in the pit of Frank’s stomach.

He feels her move away from him, and time blurs at the edges, lasting long moments that might not have been more than a minute. When she comes back to him, it’s to lift the edge of a chilled glass to his mouth.

His lip is split open, and the water stings a little before going down. Then something wet is touching the side of his face. For a moment, Frank thinks he must’ve spilled it. The water. But his vision clears, and Karen is leaning in close, carefully wiping the blood from a cut in his eyebrow.

He drops his head back, and lets himself watch her. She presses an ice pack into his hand, and he dutifully raises it to his other eye, his gaze not leaving her for a second. There’s concern in her brow. Probably some anger too, but she doesn’t give voice to it either.

Frank almost wishes she would. It would be but a fraction of what he deserves.

For all those times he’d come to her without warning – made her worry, made her care. Made her hurt when all he managed to do in return was to leave her.

This time – this time – was supposed to be different.

But Frank was always going to be the worst kind of shit magnet, and he should’ve known better than to start thinking otherwise.

Karen dresses another cut to his side. Her touch is so gentle that it brings on another kind of pain, one that feels too much like longing.

She’s examining his hands when she finally asks him.

“So what was it this time, Frank?”

There’s a tiredness to the question, as if she already knows. As if this is what they’ve always been – these small moments of coming together that were never meant to last. As if this is all that they’ll ever be to each other.

He opens his mouth to answer her. A part of him even believes that he’s about to tell her the truth.

“Let me guess,” she says. “Drug cartel? Sex traffickers?”

He doesn’t correct her. What would it change? He’s done putting this pain on her.

“Something like that,” says Frank. The inside of his chest twists up.

There’s always going to be something, with them.

Karen nods. She looks down and traces a finger along the raw skin of his knuckles, the veins running down the back of his hand.

And then she lets go, turning away.

She puts him to bed on her couch, refilling the glass and leaving it on the table beside him along with a bottle of Advil. He murmurs his thanks and swallows down three as she clears up bloody washcloths and packs away her first aid kit.

She only stops to look at him again when she’s showered and changed, pausing just outside her room.

“Good night, Frank,” she says, and closes the door.

It’s as good as a goodbye, for them. She knows she won’t see him there in the morning, and he doesn’t know how to give her any reason to believe otherwise.

Frank doesn’t sleep well, waking in the dawn’s small hours. He dresses carefully in the dark, folding up the fleece throw Karen had given him and tucking it under one of the pillows.

He turns to go, but something stops him, has him looking back for a moment.

The door to Karen’s bedroom is slightly ajar. He pictures her getting up sometime in the night to check on how he was doing, biting her lip as he tossed and turned, finally leaving her door open a crack in order to keep tabs on him.

He knows it wasn’t meant as an invitation, but he finds himself slipping inside, if only to catch a brief glimpse of her before he’s on his way.

She’s curled up under the blankets, at the edge of the bed that’s nearest the door. He searches her for any signs of waking, but she doesn’t stir as he steals forward, her breathing slow, and deep, and even.

Frank bends over her, ignoring the pain that stabs into his side. He lowers his mouth gently to her temple. And then he’s straightening, and ducking back out of her room.

He eases himself out her window, closing it behind him as quietly as he can.

The roses are still there where he’d left them, on the steps of the fire escape. Their petals are specked with dried blood. Those assholes last night – he’d let them take his phone and his wallet, but they weren’t going to get anywhere near the flowers. Not that it mattered, in the end.

Frank tastes metal, realizes he must’ve split his lip open again when he kissed Karen goodbye.

Chest feeling tight, he picks up the roses, and starts the long climb back down.

[amatchinwater]

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows. 

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?” 

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter. 

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island. 

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.” 

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.” 

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!” 

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely  capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate. 

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets. 

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance. 

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.” 

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals. 

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer. 

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation. 

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him. 

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more. 

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.” 

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him. 

“Quite the opposite actually.” 

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest. 

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t. 

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here. 

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful. 

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better. 

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him. 

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.” 

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.” 

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so. 

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?” 

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?” 

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him. 

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?” 

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?” 

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own. 

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if. 

[trashyswitch]

Distractions On The Job

Michael Afton had been hired to work at the Circus Baby's Pizza World. It's only day 3, and he's already feeling uneasy about continuing the work. Things get stranger as he's distracted for a long while during his shift.

There are a couple swear words, but that's about it.

Though this fanfic idea was mostly my idea, I'm dedicating it to @planet--venus, and @youngdrawingweirdo (both on Tumblr) because Venus helped me, and they've both been awaiting this fanfic. And lastly: Shoutout to @agarus-fallen-lershal because...I love them! <3

[There is no need to check on Baby tonight. Please refrain from entering unauthorized areas. Proceed directly to Funtime auditorium.]

Michael looked to his right and watched the three floor vents open. He bit his lip nervously, but proceeded to spite his gut feeling. As his legs passed the entrance of the vent, the sliding door closed.

[FUNTIME AUDITORIUM MAINTENANCE VENT OPENED]

Michael stood back up in the pitch black room and was given a light of some sort. As Handunit started talking again, Michael clicked the button and to his horror: the light only flashed and turned back off.

[...Funtime Foxy is motion-activated. For this reason, it’s important to keep the room dark, as to not accidentally activate her-]

Michael scoffed. Of course he- SHE...is.

[You have been provided with a flash beacon. Use it if you need to get your bearings and to ensure you don’t bump into anything. However, use it as sparingly as possible.]

Michael flashed the beacon again and widened his eyes at the brighter-looking Foxy that was shaking her head rapidly and menacingly at him.

[Proceed forward to reach the parts and service room.]

Michael flashed it again and stopped to let the creepy, shiny version of Foxy go by. Michael let out a quiet sigh as he realized Handunit was now done talking. He waited a few moments and flashed the beacon, smiling slightly as he saw Funtime Foxy shaking her head farther away from him. Michael proceeded through Funtime Auditorium.

He kept an eye on how much he was using it, and made sure to flash it only when he desperately needed to. He waited a bit longer before flashing it again. Michael widened his eyes but continued to walk, despite the creepy Funtime Foxy’s shaking body getting closer. He flashed it again and smiled. The fox was no longer in sight.

He continued to take slow steps towards the far door across the auditorium. He was trying his hardest to be very careful and precise. It was a long process, but he was hoping it would be worth the paycheck...

Oh what the hell...Why would any place like this be worth anything?! Look at this place! It’s partially abandoned! Baby isn’t even a singer because she caused a death! And Foxy-

OH NO!

Michael quickly stopped and covered the beacon. Foxy had gotten so close to him! Very slowly, Michael uncovered the beacon and gave it a quick flash.

She was still there, but not as close. So, Michael slowly started to walk again. He took a couple more steps more before flashing the beacon. Closer, but still safe.

As Michael made his way through, he began to wonder: would Michael be able to just take a run for it without the beacon flashes? Or would that be too risky?

Michael flashed the beacon again, and revealed that Foxy was getting farther away. The door wasn’t very far from him. Theoretically, he would be able to get to the Parts and Service room quicker if he ran. And if he desperately wanted to get there faster, now would be the chance to do it.

Very well. Michael flashed the beacon at the door one more time…

Target acquired.

Michael dropped the beacon right where it was and started sprinting towards the door. He ran with no fear, yet no sight of where he was now. How far was he to the door? It shouldn’t be-

<>

“OW!”

Michael flopped onto the ground and groaned in pain. His nose, head, chest and knees all hurt simultaneously. He wasn’t even sure if he could get himself up. Michael tried to reach up for some sort of leverage, but he couldn’t feel anything. Not even a doorknob.

Out of nowhere, a flash sound went off...A dim light reflected off the door for only a second before disappearing. Michael had looked up at the door just in time to see the fading light, and gasped in horror. Either he wasn’t the only human being in the room...or Funtime Foxy had just found the dropped beacon…

Shit.

Suddenly, a pair of hands had grabbed his ankles. Michael shouted loudly for help as he was pulled away from the door into the dark abyss that was the Funtime Auditorium.

“HELP! HEEELP! HELLO?!” he shouted.

But no one responded.

Michael started breathing heavily and started trying to fight and get himself away from the animatronic. “LET GO! RIGHT NOW!” He wiggled his body and kicked his feet as hard as he could to cause some sort of damage to the fox. But it only sounded like metal clanging with no damage being caused. His damned father made these animatronics way too overpowering…

Michael soon started to punch the animatronic. Half the time he was punching the air and hoping he’d hit something eventually. But other times, he was actually hitting something and making a clanging sound with his fist. The punches hurt a lot, and were probably making his fists all bloody. But why would he care about some cuts and scars if his life is on the line?!

Suddenly, one of his punches seemed to cause his arm to slide against something sharp. He tried to pull his arm out but to Michael’s horror: the sharp thing clamped down more on his arm.

“NO!” He started pulling on his arm desperately. “COME! ON! PLEASE!” He yelled with each pull.

His arm was completely stuck. The worst part was that he was able to predict what he’d gotten his arm stuck in. It felt like multiple sharp points being clamped onto his arm all at once. Only one thought came to his mind:

Metal teeth.

Michael grunted and growled with every pull. Yes, it hurt his arm to pull like this. Yes, it felt like pulling was creating more damage than the actual clamping. But he’s either getting out alive, or losing an arm trying.

But quickly, all his pulling paused as a thick, long nail started scratching at his armpit. Michael bit his lip and continued to try pulling again. But the scratching on his armpit was distracting him a little bit. “Foxy, p-please let me go. I’m sorry for disturbing you a-andyourpeacebut- aaAAAAGH!” Michael stopped pulling and covered up his mouth with his free hand. His eyes were squeezed closed as two more nails started scratching at his armpit.

Were they even nails? They sure felt like nails. They didn’t feel like the pointy nails you’d see girls wear to make it look like claws. They felt thick and rounded. But of course, he couldn’t confirm anything due to how pitch black the auditorium was. The man’s lips had started stretching out the sides of his face, giving him an uncontrollable, wide smile. His smile probably would’ve been noticeable outside of his hand. But again: the pitch black darkness hid that.

Despite that one tiny upside, the darkness was also working completely against him. This was further shown by how surprised and adrenaline-stucken he felt when the nails started digging deeper into his armpit. Michael let out a whimper of both surprise and restraint to hold his instincts back. It tickled so badly but he didn’t wanna break. He knew what Foxy wanted and he was NOT giving it to her.

But Michael could already tell this was not gonna end well for him. Funtime Foxy had chosen to scratch her long nails in the pit of the arm that was stuck, meaning he couldn’t put it down to cover it up. Even if he could, it’s likely that Foxy would just lift his arm up and tickle him more, making it even WORSE for the technician.

Michael started to let out small muffled titters. It was getting harder and harder for him to hold his laughter in. And Funtime Foxy wasn’t helping him one bit. In fact, Funtime Foxy decided to intensify things by digging a nail into his other armpit. Michael let out a muffled yelp and quickly removed his hand from his mouth to cover up his armpit with his arm.

Normally when someone tickles you, covering up the armpit with your arm leads to their thumb or finger getting crushed and as a result: either stops the tickling altogether, or leaves you being trapped in deep, endless tickles till you let their finger go. But when Michael covered up his one armpit...his arm COULDN’T crush her finger! Like, at all! The finger was still standing up, and digging into his armpit despite the arm pushing against it. There was just no stopping this fox from tickling him.

Michael’s smile started showing teeth and he finally started tittering and hissing. His laughter was finally breaking through the cracks, and he was NOT liking it. If he had proper control of his instincts, he would’ve stopped himself from reacting altogether! But nope! His body was yelling for him to breathe. But breathing would involve letting out the bubbles of giggles that were trapped in his lungs. So it was a win-lose situation.

But then...Foxy removed all of his fingers.

Michael let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness it was all over. He was so close to cracking too. If he had continued for a few more seconds of so, then he probably would’ve been a goner. But, he didn’t and now, he can rest in peace-

“NnaaaAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Michael screamed and bursted out laughing immediately!

Funtime Foxy’s fingers had touched back down on Michael’s body. But this time, on his sides. And on top of that, Funtime Foxy’s fingers had started scratching so rapidly, it felt like lightyear speed! That was what finally broke the man.

“OHOHOHO NOOOHOHOHOHOHO! FOHOHOHOXYYYYHYHYHYHYHY!” Michael shouted loudly and desperately.

All of a sudden, Michael’s arm was let go. “WELCOME, WELCOME TO THE FUNTIME AUDITORIUM!” the animatronic declared.

Michael squealed from being jumpscared, and instinctively covered his face with both his hands.

“MY NAME IS FUNTIME FOXY AND I HOPE, FOR YOUR SAKE AND MINE, THAT YOU’RE HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME.” Foxy declared next.

Michael shook his head as he laughed, not able to handle the intensely ticklish nails AND the deafening voice of Foxy all at once.

“I SEE HERE, WE HAVE A VERY TICKLISH BOY AMONGST US.” She added.

Michael whined in between his laughter at the ‘shoutout’ he got. “HEHEHEHEY! SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUP!”

“I WONDER: DOES THIS MAN HAAAAVE TICKLISH HIPS?” Funtime Foxy asked, looking at him with the white light in her eyes.

Michael gasped in absolute terror as he uncovered his red face. “No!” he whispered.

Foxy brought her nails up to Michael’s right hip and gave it a push. Despite his attempts to cover it up, Michael still instinctively jumped and let out a small yelp.

Foxy leaned her head closer. “I THINK THAT’S A YES.”

Michael quickly tried kicking Foxy and doing all he could to get the heck out of there!

“I SEE WE HAVE A TOUGH COOKIE! PERHAPS A LARGE WIGGLE WORM!” Foxy reacted. “IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I’VE COME ACROSS SUCH A FIGHTING SPIRIT!” She declared.

Michael gulped and widened his eyes at the white small lights in her eyes. There was NO WAY he was getting out of this alive.

“PERHAPS A FIGHTING SPIRIT LIKE YOU SHOULD LEARN WHEN TO PICK YOUR BATTLES?” Foxy suggested.

Before Michael could properly reply, Foxy had started digging both her thumbs into his hips.

Michael SCREAMED and arched his back as he grabbed the metal thumbs. “NOHOHOHOHO STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES SOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUHUHUCH!” Michael shouted at him.

“WOULD’YA LISTEN TO THAT?! A WORTHY OPPONENT TO BEAT MY RECORD FOR ‘MOST LOUDEST VOICE’!” Foxy teased.

“YOHOHOHOU FUHUHUCKIHIHING AHAHAHASSHOHOHOLE!” Michael spat back at her.

“OH MY GOODNESS! EVERY BOY KNOWS YOU SHOULD NEVER SWEAR AT A WOMAN.” Foxy warned.

Michael wasn’t entirely listening due to his super ticklish hips being exploited.

“BESIDES:” Foxy stopped her tickle attack and gave Michael’s body a somewhat firm squeeze...then she brought him closer to her head and changed her eyes from a white pure color, to a deep red. “YOU SHOULD NEVER SWEAR IN FRONT OF CHILDREN.”

Michael widened his eyes and squeezed the animatronic’s cold fingers in pure fear.

[Eggs Benedict: It seems that you’re not yet at the Parts and Service room. I’m afraid you’re running out of time to perform your maintenance duties. We understand this is your first week, so we will let it slide. However, we still require you to fix Funtime Freddy. As a result: we will need you to work a couple hours of unpaid overtime, to get your duties done before 8:30 the next morning.] The handunit suddenly told him.

Michael was barely able to focus and listen for what the Handunit was saying, due to his predicament. Thankfully though, Foxy’s eyes went back to white and her fingers had loosened off again. But unfortunately, the fingers had also gone back to tickling.

“HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHEHE!” He begged.

[I’m afraid I cannot understand you properly. Apologies for the error.] Handunit told him.

Michael growled in frustration and started kicking harder and harder to get the animatronic to let him go.

Wait, did he just say unpaid overtime?!

“FOHOHOXYYYYY! LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHOHOHO!” He begged.

“IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I’VE HEARD SUCH BIG BOY LAUGHTER LIKE YOURS. I’M USED TO HEARING LITTLE KIDS LAUGHTER.” Foxy told him.

“IHIHIHI KNOHOHOHOHOW!” Michael yelled back.

“I WONDER: WHERE ELSE ARE YOU TICKLISH?” Foxy asked as she stopped tickling.

Michael went limp in her arms and started panting heavily. Foxy held onto Michael with both her arms, and shown a light onto the limp man. Michael slowly brought his head up a little, only for his eyes to squeeze shut from the bright light illuminating from her eyes. Michael lifted his hand up and covered up his eyes with the back of his hand.

“OH! WHAT A WONDERFUL TICKLE SPOT SUGGESTION!” Foxy suddenly declared. Michael lowered his hand a little in confusion, before being overcome with laughter again. Foxy started scratching in his right armpit yet again, and even added scratching into his ribs.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! COHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHOHOHON!” he begged.

“OOOHOHOOO! I THINK SOMEONE’S A BIT TOO TOO TICKLISH!” Foxy reacted. “COULD IT BE THAT THIS BOY HERE IS TOO TICKLISH TO HANDLE MY PRETTY PINK FOX NAILS?” she teased.

“IHIHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHUCH! IHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIT!” Michael yelled at her.

“HE CAN’T TAKE IT, HE SAYS! OH NO! WHATEVER WILL HE DO TO GET OUT OF THIS TICKLISH DISASTER?” Foxy teased further, not taking his plea’s seriously at all.

“PLEHEHEHEAHASE LEHEHET MEHEHE GOOOOHOHOHO!” He pleaded.

“OOOOOH! NOW HE’S STARTING TO BE POLITE! RUNNING OUT OF BREATH, PERHAPS?” Foxy teased.

Michael nodded his head as he started to fall into fits of cackles from all the tickling.

“PERHAPS A LONG BREAK IS NEEDED?” She suggested.

“YEHEHEHES PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” He replied hopefully.

Funtime Foxy finally agreed and stopped tickling Michael completely. Michael went limp in her arms and panted heavily in her arms.

“SUCH A POOR, TIRED SOUL. PERHAPS A NAP WOULD MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER?” Foxy asked.

Gosh...a nap sounded amazing right about then. But he still had work to finish up! He was thankful to be alive and breathing though. He wasn’t ignoring that small appreciation.

[Funtime Foxy. Please put Eggs Benedict down. You had your fun, and now Mr. Benedict needs to finish his nightly duties.] Handunit told her.

“OKAY, SWEETY.” Foxy replied, putting him down. Foxy gave him the beacon back and walked away. “HAVE FUN! AND COME HERE ANYTIME YOU WANT ANOTHER TICKLE OR TWO!” Foxy told him before bidding him farewell.

Michael rolled onto his back and scoffed at her last words. There was no way he was getting into that mess again.

Michael slowly got himself up again and used the beacon to get to the door. When he got there, he listened to every instruction and followed them to a tee. But when it came to grabbing the power modules, Michael noticed that Bonnie was bouncing around and not letting him grab it.

“Come on, little guy…” He told him softly. “Come on out…” He whispered.

Swiftly, a blue figure had jumped at his face and flopped onto his chest. “HEY! WHAT IS UP WITH ALL YOU CRAZY-” Michael yelped and widened his eyes as he stared at the blue puppet with part of his shirt in his mouth. “Bon Bon...let go.” He ordered. But Bon was feeling childish and mischievous.

The blue bunny refused to let go and instead, started burrowing himself inside Michael’s shirt. Michael jumped and tried to reach in and grab him, but it was too late! The evil puppet had already started crawling his half-body around inside and was tickling his belly and sides.

“HEHEHEHEY! HAHAhahahaha! Whahahahat ihihihis uhuhuhup wihihihith yohohou guhuhuhuys ahahand tihihihicklihihihing?!” Michael asked. “Thehehe ohohold ahahanimahatrohohonihics dihihihidn’t dohohoho thihihihis! Thehehey juhuhust sahahahang!” Michael reacted.

The little blue pupper let out a little giggle in reply to that.

“OH BIRTHDAY BOOOOY!” Funtime Freddy suddenly declared, leaning in with his eyes opened widely.

Bon Bon crawled out from Michael’s shirt collar. “Calm down, and go back to sleep!” he told him.

Freddy straightened his back again and closed his eyes. Then, Bon Bon popped out of his shirt and showed him the module. Michael smiled and took it from him.

[Great job. You’ve acquired both power modules. This completes your tasks for the night. Please exit the building through Funtime Auditorium, and we’ll see you back here again tomorrow.]

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 10

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo

Chapter Warnings: Discussions of bullying, death, injuries, and other tragic things, offset by a lil fluff at the end

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

A/N: Just want to quickly apologize for the 2 week delay in updating this story, but also this will be my 99th post on this blog which is kinda fitting once you read it, so I guess some things are just meant to be...

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 10: Good Grief

He met her at the designated place that evening, barely able to contain the mixture of excitement and dread that welled within him. On the one hand, Crosshair welcomed any opportunity to spend time with Joan, especially after she had shown interest in wanting to grow closer to him. She looked as beautiful as ever when she joined him, wearing her cute little shorts and signature smile.

But on the other hand, they were running out of time. He deployed tomorrow afternoon. How could they possibly grow closer in such a short window?

And how could he possibly say good-bye if they did? 

He led her through the set of double doors and down a long hallway, keeping his strides as relaxed as he could, despite his every nerve being on edge. She walked fairly close alongside him, but nothing too scandalous. Not that it was likely they'd be caught. This part of the facility was more-or-less abandoned, only used to house the more rarely-used supplies for the maintenance crew. Half the walls were stripped of their usual white sheen, revealing cracked plaster and dirty insulation instead. Only a few like himself knew it was a good place to go when in need of some privacy.

But there was also something here he wanted to show Joan. A way to help her understand his life as a defective clone. He wasn't sure why the idea had popped into his head earlier; he should have just suggested the simulation room again, programmed it to a nice, romantic beach or something. But it was too late to go back now.

They neared the door in question and Crosshair punched in the code. He gestured for Joan to walk in ahead of him, wanting to keep an eye on her reactions.

It was barely considered a room, more of a corridor that was meant to connect this hallway with another. A motion-sensor light flickered on as they entered. Miscellaneous boxes and crates had been pushed up against the wall on the left, dusty and unimportant. It was the righthand wall that gave this space significance. It had long been reduced to its concrete foundation, and chiseled crudely over most of its surface were names and numbers. The largest script was in the top left corner, only two symbols.

"Ninety-nine," Joan read out loud as she stood in the center of the room and looked over the wall in reverence. "This is a memorial."

Crosshair nodded. "All the clones who've died here, never stepping foot into battle. Most of them defects, like 99. Their names won't be found anywhere else. This... is their only legacy."

She nodded at him solemnly in understanding. He watched as she brushed her hands over some of the etchings, fingers tracing the lines as she read them over. There were mostly numbers, many of them not having lived long enough to find a nickname. One of his own batch-mates had been like that, only living a few short years before his defective heart had given out. 

Crosshair tore his gaze away from Joan to find his brother's number on the wall. Beneath it was the second lost brother, who had made it just a little longer. Scraps, they'd called him. He brought his hand up to rest alongside their names, frowning deeply at the memories they gave him.

He felt Joan come to stand next to him and he swallowed hard.

"He was sick all the time, but he kept trying," he explained. "He was worse off than me, and yet I was the kid who cried every night, and he'd talk me down. He'd tell me we had to keep fighting, we had to prove them all wrong. And then one day... he was gone. He'd failed some test and they just... they took him and...."

He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Thankfully Joan didn't need him to. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed reassuringly.

"They told me I'd be next," he said, his voice getting lower. "The Kaminoans. The training Sergeants. The other cadets. With Wrecker, Hunter, it was obvious they'd be useful, their mutations were fine. But me? What was I good for? Who could look at me and know what I was capable of?"

His words hung between them for a short while before Joan gave another squeeze of his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Crosshair," she said and he knew she meant it. "You deserved better. They all did. But... I know this might not sound quite right, but without that pain, you might not have become as determined and passionate and committed and loyal as you are now."

He finally looked away from the wall and down at her, surprised that she remembered the words he'd once written for her, all those months ago. The words he believed embodied who he really was.

"You didn't let your past break you. You used it to make you stronger. You should be proud of that."

He had never been told such a thing before. He'd never been given permission to feel proud, to take ownership of his life. It made him feel... relieved. To know that all of his struggles could mean something made the burden of grief that much lighter to bear.

And to hear it coming from Joan made him feel things, too. He realized he wanted to kiss her. She was standing somewhat close, her fingers were still grasping his own. She seemed to be enough at ease, comfortable here with him, even in such a sad moment. But he panicked and looked away before he could act on such impulses. He still didn't know what she wanted, or any of the things she'd alluded to having gone through herself. It didn't feel right to make to such an intimate move yet.

"Um, we can talk about you now," he stuttered awkwardly, overly aware of how clammy his hand felt under hers. "If you want...."

She laughed a little, but it wasn't a joyful sound. "I'm afraid my story's not any happier."

"Oh."

She cocked her head a little and reached up with her free hand to lightly touch the tattoo around his eye. "Didn't get a chance to tell you before, but I really like this. It's perfect."

He smirked but kept his eyes carefully fixed on hers, waiting. She seemed to be deciding what she wanted to say.

"Not sure if you've seen my own." She tried to sound playful, letting go of his hand in order to turn slightly and show off the splattering of tattooed birds around the thick scar on her thigh. "It's... kind of a memorial, too."

Joan looked toward the wall and took in a measured breath. "When the war started, my family did what we could to help. But then comes the Republic with its grand, shiny new army, and they tell us they've got it from here. Go home. My parents listened... I didn't. I couldn't. No, I marched up to the first battalion I could find and I told them I'd be helping them whether they liked it or not. They were the 116th, led by Commander Crowe."

She held a small smile on her face, fondness peeking through the sorrow like rays of sunlight into a curtained room.

"Your brothers," said Crosshair knowingly.

"Mmhmm.... They were so good to me. They taught me everything I know. We went through so much together. And then one day..." she looked over at Crosshair apologetically as she borrowed his previous words to tell her own story, "my speeder exploded, messed up my leg really bad. I did everything I could to try and fix it myself, but we were short on supplies and it just wasn't getting any better. Crowe insisted I go to Coruscant for treatment. I didn't want to, I hadn't been apart from them in years, but there was no choice."

And then the curtains were snapped shut and all that was left on Joan's face was sorrow. Sorrow and darkness.

"They died while I was recovering. All of them. A single missile to their ship somewhere in deep space. And that was it. No more 116th battalion. No more family."

Instinctually, Crosshair reached for Joan's hand as she had done for him. She seemed surprised, breaking out of her haze and looking at his hand like it was the only thing grounding her.

"I should have died with them," she said in a hoarse voice. "At least, that's what I told myself for seven months. Until Cody came. He'd been good friends with Crowe, knew all about me. He told me to get over myself. That I was still alive for a reason and that I did nothing to honor their memories by letting myself waste away. And then he offered me a job, said I could help some of his other brothers, the way I'd done for the 116th."

Slowly her sadness was fading and Crosshair was grateful. It was easier to hold on to his own pain and learn to live with it, but seeing the same feelings in Joan had scared him. He didn't know what to do to help her. As she wrapped up her story, though, he began to realize that he already had.

"He said it was an experimental unit and that none of you would look like, well, the regular clones, so maybe it'd be easier for me to get back into it. And it was. I knew I loved all of you boys from the first day. You were all confident and eager. None of the battle-worn spirits I was used to dealing with. You gave me life again. Helped me rediscover my purpose. My passion."

She took a step closer to him, holding his hand back firmly.

"You were the tough one," she smirked. "You're so calm and relaxed, so sure of yourself. Any time I felt anxious or like I wasn't making a difference, I knew I could count on you to put me at ease. Even when you were a little sassy."

She giggled, but Crosshair's mind was reeling. She thought he was the assured one? This whole time she'd been seeing him the same way he saw her?

"And then, you know, you stood me up that one day," she sighed dramatically and then it was his stomach that started doing flips as the regret from his actions returned. "Which happened to be the, uh, anniversary of their passing.... And I didn't think I'd be able to do anything that day, except that I knew you'd be coming by, and so I actually got out of bed and did some chores and saw other patients.... And I was trying to think of ways I could keep you for longer than just a consult on your injury. I was going to have you teach me darts and maybe help me sneak some good snacks from somewhere or ask to get a tour of your new ship...."

She was looking up at him with bright eyes and the thought of kissing her returned. She was definitely close enough now, and as he made eye contact, she couldn't seem to remember what she was going to say next, her voice trailing off into short little breaths.

"I really am sorry," he said, stalling for time. He wasn't sure why he kept hesitating when it was something he wanted so desperately. So much for her thinking he was confident.

"I know," she said softly. Was she leaning closer or was he?

"I... I'm leaving tomorrow," he said.

"I know." Both of their hands were clasped in each other's now, pulses beating rapidly beneath hopeful grips.

"And," he kept going, even though the space between them was continuing to grow smaller, "I've never done this before."

"I know." She grinned, and that undid him.

Whatever self-conscious walls he'd put up for whatever irrational reasons came crumbling down as he finally closed the gap and pressed his lips against hers.

[baconpal]

pokemon rant time

this one’s about the 2 new things, and is at least slightly intended for people actually excited/interested in them, click keep reading or perish

Gonna try and keep stuff short cus there's a lot of topics this time and I've already gone off about how pokemon Isn't meant for me or meant to be a good video game anymore, but gamefreak is right back on their bullshit, so I feel I need to at least point it out.

I'd like to preface all this with, if you are a fan of pokemon still, please realize you can ask for more out of this series. Expect perfection, even if you don't think you'll get it anytime soon. Pokemon won't go anywhere, the old games won't go anywhere, and gaming is a hobby, not a necessity; don't accept low quality products from a company just because you feel like you're supposed to.

With this next wave of pokemon games, gamefreak is clearly testing how little they can put in to a $60 game while still keeping the 2 major audiences they've cultivated. By responding to the most obvious and vocal complaints from the community, gamefreak is aiming to make games that seems like what most players want, without having to put in the work on quality products.

GEN 4 REMAKES Pokemon BS (I am not calling this shit BDSP) is intended for the audience that put up with let's go and RS remakes. The most vocal and obvious complaints for these games is their failure as definitive versions of the games they are remakes of, such as missing features/content, or drastically changed story/dialogue/style. In a way, the recent remakes are inferior versions of incredibly old games, which shows a lack of improvement in pokemon as a whole.

To address these issues, BS is very, very, VERY clearly aiming for a more 1-to-1 recreation of the DS games, but with fully 3d graphics. Clearly the map layout has been transferred exactly, and gen 4 already had mostly 3d environments to begin with, and everyone knows about the future-proof pokemon models at this point, so the amount of effort required to create something like this is absolutely minimal. Assuming dialogue, trainer teams, move lists, etc. are also lifted directly from DP, then this game could be developed in basically no time at all, leaving the team time to ensure the product is of decent quality and includes ALL of the content of the originals, if not more, like the earlier pokemon remakes did to ensure they were truly definitive versions of the games. That being said, it is unlikely the team behind BS has been making use of this saved time to improve the game.

One failing already clear is that the quality is not very good, at least graphical quality. The footage we have shows environments lacking in color compared to the original, with messy, unpleasant textures that contrast poorly with the simplistic environments. The characters especially do not work. As cute and fun the fanart of tiny dawn has been, BS dawn and all other characters look awful. They have gorilla arms that reach down to the floor and lifeless faces, as well as incredibly stiff/simplistic animations. As it stands, BS is a visually inferior game to DP, though most consumers will simply see it as 3D>2D without any understanding of what an artstyle is, so this might not be a problem for many, but that doesn't mean you should accept it.

What remains to be seen is what content will be added/missing from pokemon BS. It is very possible that massive parts of the game, such as the underground, variety of online modes, postgame areas, and content from platinum could be missing entirely. We also do not know if pokemon from after gen 4 will be worked into the region, or even supported. Gen 8 still currently does not support a large number of pokemon, and the remakes may continue this limited dex trend.

Even assuming the remake includes everything from the DS games and doesn't add anything that slows down the story or harms the experience, it will still only be an exercise in forced obsolescence. The main reason people can't really play DP still is that the online isn't supported anymore. If BS turns out to be exactly the same as DP, then you're buying the same game for at a higher price, only to play it until the online service goes away again, or the next game comes out, if both don't happen at the same time.

Don't let yourself buy a 13 year old game at twice the original price.

GEN 4 NOT-REMAKE KIND OF NEW THING On to legends now, gamefreak is targeting the people who put up with sun/moon and sword/shield. The obvious problem with those games to most people was simply a lack of change from the standard pokemon formula. Even when changing the gyms to trials or stadiums, most people still understand that the format and story structures are mostly unchanged. Of course, this problem has seemingly been addressed by changing the game structure a fair bit, but almost entirely by removal.

Trainer battles, and by extension, gyms and tournaments/elite 4 have been confirmed to be absent, meaning all battles are only vs single pokemon, in spite of the player likely having a team of 6 pokemon. Even if battle difficulty is increased to compensate (doubtful), this will still drastically increase the simplicity of combat and make it even less likely for the game to include any meaningful challenge. Exploring towns and meeting NPCs is also seemingly missing, as the game is confirmed to have only a single village, which frankly looks incredibly boring and we've yet to see a single NPC inhabiting the village.

Battles now use an ATB format instead of a turn-based format (for those of you who don't know what that means, it basically means nothing, it's still turn based, it just means the speed state determines who gets more turns instead of who goes first, that's it), but beyond that there seems to be no noteworthy changes, pokemon learn 4 moves with limited PP, type advantage will still definitely be the most important aspect to battle, and the player being able to walk around during battle provides no meaningful impact. While the little dash the pokemon do to approach each other is cool, it is already a sign that gamefreak will not be addressing the issue of lacking animations for pokemon battles, as they can't even be assed to animate and program pokemon walking around the environment during combat, and lucario doing 1 kick for a move described as a series of punches isn't a great sign either.

On the topic of lacking animations, the new "pet simulator feature" for legends seems to be an advancement on the ride system from sun/moon, which presumably people missed from sword/shield. Being able to ride on your pokemon to do stuff sounds cool, but in all likelihood, this system will be limited to only a select few pokemon who will each do a select few actions, and is not a reasonable replacement for all the other pet raising features that have been removed in the past. Similar to BS, the total number of pokemon included may also be limited arbitrarily, in spite of the fact that no new pokemon need to be added, as these games are not claiming to be a new generation.

The largest issues I personally have with this new game is the horrible technical quality and gameplay quality shown in the initial trailer. Unfortunately, these types of problems seem to be difficult to explain to the average consumer, even though the issues seem incredibly obvious and inexcusable to people like me.  Most people were able to understand the problem with the berry trees in gen 8, because it was easy to explain, "this tree doesn't look like the other trees, and it sticks out, isn't that weird?", and so gamefreak has eliminated any immediately obvious issues like that, sticking with a very consistent artstyle for legends, making it almost impossible to easily explain its faults to the average pokemon fan.

People have been really quick to compare legends to BoTW; the game that invented grass, trees, and mountains. In spite of these comparisons, nobody seems to point out that legends looks dramatically worse than that almost 5 year old game from the previous generation. Plants are stiff and lacking in energy, draw distances are poor, colors are drab, and textures are messy. Many parts of legends seems to ape BoTW on just the surface, essentially just following market trends. Even the controls seem to follow after modern 3rd person shooters/stealth games, including a seemingly pointless roll and a clunky looking ball lobbing arc that feels unfun before even getting to play it myself.

The largest issue, painfully obvious to some, and impossible to explain to others, is the framerate. The trailer clearly was ran on actual switch hardware, and not prerendered, which would be a good mark for gamefreak if it didn't result in a trailer that never once hit 30fps. Even with empty fields, with only 1 or 2 characters on screen, the game was incapable of meeting the target speed, and had to resort to optimizations like reducing the frame rate of pokemon only inches away from the player to stop-motion levels of choppy. If situations with almost nothing going on result in slow-down, how will the game perform during actual gameplay? Even though slow-down is something everyone can feel, many people aren't capable of identifying it.

The major things to wait and see for legends is if the removed aspects of the series are made up for by some additional systems or content, and definitely wait to see if the performance improves. As with BS, preordering a game like this only shows that gamefreak only has to market the game by saying it's different, not improved, like they've been doing for years now.

TL;DR FUCK GAMEFREAK One major thing of note is that gamefreak is releasing 2 games based on gen 4 at the nearly the same time, meaning they have no obligation to design new pokemon or even include pokemon not from sinnoh, and also that the sales of each game can be used as an indicator for which of their 2 audiences is more loyal to them. Both BS and Legends are in a position to be pushes aside if they fail, but if either succeeds, gamefreak can continue in the direction of the more successful game and reap the benefits, without any need to innovate, improve, or adapt to criticism.

The last thing I feel I have to remind people about is that gamefreak is a company; you don't need to be "grateful" to them. I've seen that word thrown around far too much by people who seem to buy pokemon games like its a tax, and not something they want to do. You don't have to suck up to a company that made games you liked as a kid if the games aren't what you want anymore. Pokemon is so wildly successful that it can't possible die, so don't buy the games out of pity, or out of some feeling of obligation. Buy the video games you want to play and nothing more.

Basically, if you are considering getting any of these new games, please wait until the games are out before purchasing them, and decide for yourself if they are worth your money, and more importantly, your time. Preordering these games only lets gamefreak know their audience will buy and put up with anything. They have no real competition at the moment, so the only thing the audience can do to encourage improvement is show some of restraint.

[pynkhues]

Would love number 20 “in a moment of worry” for Brio touch prompts... thank you!

Ah! Such a fun one, anon (and sorry for the delay).

This is a post-s3 baby!

-

“Can you just - - hold still.”

“I am,” Beth bites, her gaze flicking sideways to where Annie’s fumbling with the alcohol swabs, the first aid kit cracked open between them leaving the faint, alkaline smell of chemicals to soak the air. Not that Beth can smell it that well over the metallic tang of blood, but she can see it on the twist of Ruby’s face where she sits on her scooter. Recognises it from long evenings at the hospital with Sara, when the smell of the space – somehow both pungent and sterile – sucked all the air out of the room.

“You’re holding about as still as Jane when she has to pee,” Annie replies, finally tearing open the plastic wrapping with her teeth and gagging when the taste of the swab hits her tongue, and good, Beth thinks, sniffing. It’s not like it’s her fault that they’re in this situation.  

“I can’t believe you went there alone.”

And okay, Beth thinks, a seed of guilt planting as her gaze snaps back to Ruby. Maybe it’s not not her fault.

With Ruby on her scooter, Beth and Annie have most of the (still) empty floor of Beth’s living room to themselves. The scattered pieces of furniture she’s been able to claim the place with limited to a tiny, frayed-from-cat-claws sofa that Annie had gotten in exchange for covering a co-worker’s shift, and Judith’s antique ottoman – the latter of which is shoved into the corner of the living room, home now to a bag of cash with a bullet hole in it and Danny’s solar system diorama for science class.

The pinch of the hour makes itself known in the lag of Beth’s head, and god, it’s gotta be past midnight at this point. The thought leaves the guilt sprouting as she takes in Ruby’s tired, worried face, and Annie’s pressed focus as she unfolds the swab, and there’s an apology somewhere on Beth’s tongue, because it might not be entirely her fault, but she’ll be the first to admit that tonight didn’t exactly go as planned.

As if on cue, Beth hears a car pull up outside. Hears the cut of an engine and then a beat, two, and a door open and close. The soft pad of feet up her driveway and then the quiet, gruff murmurs of Mick’s voice as he meets the newcomer, and - - newcomer? God, who’s she kidding, she knows exactly - -

Her cheek stings, and Beth yelps, flinching back before she can help it only to be met by Annie’s apologetic look as she presses the alcohol swab harder into the cut on Beth’s face.

“I told you to hold still,” Annie reminds her, and Beth sighs, letting Annie dab a little at her before she drops the now-bloody swab into the pile of torn plastic between them.

“You deserve that,” Ruby chimes in, and Beth just rolls her eyes, her hand travelling up to prod a little at the cut before Annie slaps it away. “Don’t. Your hands are like - - germ factories. I think this might need stitches.”

“You’re lucky gangfriend’s gang friend showed up,” Ruby adds sharply, and that’s a little harsh, Beth thinks, gaze travelling back up to her in time to catch the other woman’s look, but Ruby’s not looking at her, or - - she is, but more specifically, she’s looking at the gash on Beth’s cheek, and okay, it’s not that bad.

The bruises at her shoulder are worse.

She’d seen them in the side mirror of Mick’s car as he’d pulled her out of the warehouse, shoving her unceremoniously into the passenger seat as he’d whipped them out of there, and Ruby was right, she was lucky, but at the same time, it was supposed to be simple.

It was supposed to be a way for them to get some control of their operation again. They weren’t cutting Rio out by going around him this time, they were just - - getting to know their pool of clients. Exploring some potentially lucrative side hustles. If Rio hadn’t wanted them to do that, he would’ve done a better job at hiding that phone number on the paperwork he’d brought into Boland Bubbles, and he definitely would’ve like - - done something to stop her from setting up a meeting if he was already working with the guy himself.

Right?

Or maybe he’d just wanted to teach her a lesson, Beth thinks bitterly, pushing her leg out from underneath her as it starts to cramp. After all, she had been asking him a lot about the Boland Bubbles clients, and well - - 

Mick really had shown up weirdly fast. 

Still. 

“I had it under control,” Beth insists, her frown deepening when Ruby scoffs and Annie gives her a stupid look, and she doesn’t think the guy was going to kill her anyway. He only hit her when she told him he must be as stupid as he looked if he didn’t know a good deal when he saw one.

With a whine, the front door opens, and she knew it would be him, she reminds herself, she did, but still.

It’s something else, that’s all. To see Rio step through her front door, an eyebrow arched and his lips pressed into a thin line as he stops in the open arch entrance of her almost-empty living room and takes them in, and god.

She sits up a little taller, ignoring the complaint at the small of her back, because she’s sitting on the floor and this is not the way she wanted him to see her tonight, or ever, but then again, she reminds herself wryly, they’ve seen each other worse.

Still, she can hear Ruby inhale a sharp breath at the sight of him, Annie shuffle nervously, hear the neighbour’s son playing video games and a baby crying. Can feel the room shrink like it always does when Rio’s in it, and Beth does what she always does too.

She watches Rio.  

Watches as he closes the distance between them, and Annie’s barely got the chance to grab the first aid kit and scramble sideways as he does it, his sneakers scuffed in a way that reminds Beth of afternoons at the park, but nothing good waits for her at the end of that thought, and so she looks up at his jean-clad knees, his shiny, uncracked leather belt, his t-shirt, his half-open peacoat, and then - -  

His eyes are always so dark.

Beth swallows thickly.

Vaguely, she’s aware that Mick followed him in (a surprise given he’d spent the last half hour after bringing her home on her front steps), and Annie’s nervous energy and Ruby’s sunken shoulders, but any thoughts of it are dim, blurred, a smudge of sight, sound, feel in the background, because Beth’s looking at Rio, and Rio’s looking at her.

He clasps his hands in front of himself.

Rolls his shoulders back.

He looks down at her, statuesque, a million miles above her.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” 

And, well - -

It lights her up like a dropped match.

“Your associate is what happened,” she tells him, and the heat finds her tone too quickly, because if this was a test, if he knew - - her chest heaves: “He - - pistol whipped me.” 

From the corner of her eye, she can see Annie and Ruby stare at her, their own eyes wide and unblinking, and she can hear Mick snort, amused, which just - - god, it’s enough to leave a flush burning at her cheeks, but Rio seems unbothered. Unaffected. Just keeps looking at her like that. 

Like - - 

Before she has time to think, he steps forwards again, drops to a crouch in front of her and Beth jerks (and god, that makes her face sting, her shoulder burn), as Annie scrambles further backwards towards Ruby, and she can see the amusement on Rio’s face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and she’s still squaring her jaw when Rio hooks a knuckle underneath it. 

Beth’s exhale is trapped in her throat.

It’s worse than the looking – when he touches her. When he looks at her, everything else fades, but when he touches her, there is nothing else, and Beth hates it, hates the feel of the cracked skin of his knuckle behind her chin, hates the memory of it scraping the backs of her teeth once, a long time ago, in her now-empty bedroom, hates that she looks at him and his dark, heavy eyes and knows the memory’s close to the surface for him too.

“See,” he starts, his voice low and slow as he tilts her head slightly to the side (she hates that she lets him), getting a better look at her cut. “Thing I can’t get my head around is why you were even meetin’ my associate in the first place.”

He doesn’t emphasise the my, he doesn’t, but Beth hears it anyway, and it’s enough to make her blink, swallow, to hate the latter too for the way it pushes the soft underbelly of her jaw into his finger, and it’s like he knows that too, because suddenly Rio drops his hand down to his knee, and Beth looks at him, and - - huh.

Maybe he didn’t know, she thinks, taking in his closed face.

Maybe he just hated touching her too.  

“He asked for a meeting,” she tells him, and without his skin on her’s, she hears it when Ruby makes a low, strangled noise (but okay, it’s not a lie – he did ask for a meeting after Beth had implied she’d accept one on the phone).

“He asked for a meeting,” Rio echoes dryly, and Beth stares at him, and he knows. She knows he knows. But still she can’t quite swallow the lie.

“The pitch could’ve gone a little better.”

The grin that twitches at the corners of Rio’s lips is so fast she almost misses it – might have, if they weren’t sitting so close – and she finds something in her lurching with the knowledge, trying to chase the look even as his features resettle.  

“Yeah, he ain’t really used to people like you showin’ up at these sorts of meetin’s.”

“I thought self-starters defined this industry.”

At the words, Rio snorts, shaking his head at her, and it’s sudden – the shift in the look of him – any amusement leaching out of his expression and leaving him quieter somehow. His big eyes half-lidded, the points and angles to him softened, his lips just slightly open to exhale a breath and is it that, she wonders? The warmth she feels suddenly at her cheeks?

Beth wets her own lips, means to speak, to say something, only then his knuckle is beneath her chin again, tilting her head softly to the right. Holds her in place for a moment, and she lets her gaze fix on the far wall of her living room, tries to slow her breathing as she feels him look at the half-cleaned up cut, the aching bruises flowering like spring buds beneath her skin. Feels him - -

Just feels him.

After a moment, he drops his hand, grazing it ever so slightly against her chest as he pulls it away and leans back on his haunches, and Beth should look at him, should twist her head back to him, but she doesn’t – not right away. Drops her gaze instead to the floor, to the carpet, a little stained from where she spilt bourbon once. From where Emma’s tie-dye ballet slippers marked it too.

“You gonna learn anything from this?”

Beth blinks, glances back at him, and his face isn’t open, but it isn’t so closed either – an unfamiliar, familiar expression there instead. Something she doesn’t get. And just - - god. She sniffs, shifts her weight on the bristly carpet.  

“Learn anything from what?”

And she sees it then, the inhale, the way he pushes his tongue into his lower lip, before dropping his head and huffing out a laugh. He slaps his hands down on his knees and gets up out of his crouch, glancing over at Annie and Ruby, still staring tentatively at them from a few feet away, and then over to Mick.

“Take their cut.”

“What?” Annie squawks as Beth’s chest lurches, her sister finding her voice and standing up a little taller, hands still clutching the first aid kit to her chest. “Why?”

“You try to cut deals behind my back, I cut your pay, that’s how this works,” Rio supplies easily, shrugging a little, and Beth rolls her eyes when he turns back to look down at her and adds: “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

She leaves it just a moment, before she smiles, and even though it makes her face sting, she makes it look an easy, too-sweet thing.

“Right, boss.”

It’s enough to make Rio hum, and she knows he likes it – can read that much at least – and he sways a little closer again as Mick steps around them, a strange, stifled sound in the back of his throat when he grabs the bag of cash off the ottoman and starts towards the hallway, and she swears he swaps a look with Ruby, but - -

Oh, Beth thinks, a shiver erupting through her when she feels Rio’s fingers brush her temple, feels them push her hair back off her face, and she knows her eyes are wide when she looks at him, can feel her breath caught, and when he says:

“Maybe work on that pitch of yours, yeah?”

She thinks I will, and when he slips out afterwards, and Annie and Ruby erupt into chatter, she thinks - -

She thinks - -

Next time.

Touch prompts.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Deuxième Omega: Part II

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, illness, arranged marriage, divorces, talk of Alpha dominance over Omega, suspected eating disorder, past abuses, vehicle drama

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get this part out, my antique laptop decided to eat over 2,000 words and have had to piece back together from memory so hopefully it makes sense.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. 

Part I

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

The Next Day

Jensen waves his hand around again at that buzzing insect driving him crazy. He’s finally conscious enough to recognize the sound, it wasn’t a bug but his phone vibrating incessantly. Picking his head up and instantly regretting it starts patting around the bed for his phone.

“lo...”

“Are you still drunk?” A deep, honey-whiskey and way too damn loud for the morning voice barked at him.

“Jared?”

“No, fucking Misha.”

“Too early for your shit Jay...”

“Dude, it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“WHAT!” Jensen yells sitting up too fast, the pain ricocheting throughout his head sends him flying off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before regurgitating everything he ingested last night. The toilet automatically flushes as he sits back against the bathtub groaning like a dying water buffalo.

“Really wish you'd hung up before sharing that,” Jared quips in a queasy voice, “I’m gonna regret this but Face Time me.”

Jensen cracked his eyes open enough to locate the button and tapping it Jared appears dressed in his running gear with a bandana holding his hair back. “No offense but you look like hammered shit. I was gonna call earlier but Gen threatened to have my left nut if I did.”

Jensen grunts and closes his eyes against the bright outdoor light emanating from the phone.

“Are you…” Jensen tunes him out for a minute then,“ ‘cause there’s something you need to know about, it’s really bad.”

He opens his eyes and it’s worse than he could have imagined going by the expression on Jared’s face.

“One of your clan sold you out, got it all on cellphone video, social media’s blowing up. Hell, even Fox News Channel picked it up.”

Jensen listens to the description of his expressions at the surprise traditional ceremony, his drunken stumbling around the reception with his new wife submissively following, his scoffing at the speeches during the reception and ignoring his silent, veil wife sitting next to him.

“My favorite bit was Alan and Josh carrying you out of the can.”

Jared's expression turned serious, “People are talking, we can't cover for you anymore. I got a text from higher ups cause no one could get hold of you for obvious reasons. PR’s gotta get ahead of this.”

“I’m a fuckup.”

“Yeah but we still love you. So, what's her name?”

Jensen licked his lips, biting the bottom one.

“Please tell me you know her name.”

“I..I don't even know what she looks like Jay.”

Jared ran his hand over his mouth, “The first thing you do is get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Then you apologize, fucking supplicate yourself, to your new wife..unless you’ve already decided to put her aside.”

Jensen's head snapped up unbelieving that his friend, the man who was his brother in every way except blood, could think that of him.

“You really believe I could do that?”

Jared smiled, “No, you're too good of a man, an Alpha, to do that. I want you to remember one thing, in all this, she’s not the one who screwed you over.”

***

Jensen stepped out the shower forgoing shaving since the show was on a short break. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at this haggard expression and developing beer gut. I’ve got to get back on my exercise routine. Makeup and wardrobe could only mask so much.

Reaching for his bath kit he knocked a hand towel off the counter. Bending over to retrieve it he noticed a shoe with netting in the wastebasket. Pulling it out he saw a brown smear inside one of the heels, remembering how much trouble she had with them last night and made a mental note to inquire about her feet.

Washing his hands and searching through his kit realizing he’d forgotten his toothbrush. Opening on the cabinets he located the complementary ones. As he’s brushing Jensen sees another brush sitting in a glass by the other sink with a neatly folded hand towel and hanging washcloth.

Huh, she must have forgotten hers too.

Tossing his kit bag in the suitcase he dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a T-shirt. Quietly entering the common area the curtains set open just enough for him to see her curled up on the couch, still in her wedding dress, asleep. He walked over to check on her when a knock at the door made her bolt upright.

“It's room service, I asked them to text so not to wake you.” He answered the door and had a brief word with the waiter who apologized, the ticket didn’t say not to knock. They deposited a coffee decanter, several covered dishes, bottles of water and left taking the cart with them.

Jensen sat down and before he could ask how she took her coffee, his wife scrambled off the couch and was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands folded in her lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously, having never seen anyone do this before.

“Awaiting you instructions Alpha.”

“Instruc...get up!” He gripped her upper arm, shocked at how far his fingers wrapped around it and helped her to the other chair. Sitting back down Jensen got his first look at his new wife.

Sleep tousled, dark blonde hair frame cheekbones overly prominent for the shape of her face, wide set eyes a blue-grey color with amber rings around the pupils. Her lips were full, the bottom lip slightly off center. She was not the Hollywood standard of beauty he was used to, and if compared to them, she’d only be considered moderately pretty.

“I was only doing what is expected…”

“Kneeling at my feet like an obedient dog!” He barked as she said, “..of the Omega.”

“What’s expected?”

“In the book..”

“Please look at me when speaking.” She raises her eyes but doesn’t meet his, “..it states that the Omega is subservient and the act of humbling ourselves shows respect for the Alpha, as is their due.’

Jensen sat back shocked, running both of his hands through his still damp hair, making it stand up to resemble a hedgehog. He was in over his head and, for one of the few times in his life, didn’t know what to do and the first person he would have turned to for advice had banned all communication.

He took a deep breath to refocus and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs to look her in the eye, “I need you to forget what I said last night. I..I’m angry, feels like I..we..were ambushed by this situation. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand, are you apologizing to me?”

“It’s what people do when they’ve done something wrong and what I did was unforgivable. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me and hopefully we can make a go of this.”

She looked at him dubiously but nodded once.

***

Jensen finished the last dregs of his coffee while packing, having decided to head back to Austin tonight. Clif had texted him he was ready whenever they were.

Sitting down on the bed he listened to the running shower and reaching his phone picked it up to start recording a video message.

He apologized for his atrocious behavior the last two years, asking the fans not to take it out on the show, this was all on him. To his coworkers for having to cover for him, they should have never been put in that position and if he had better character they wouldn’t have had too.

He next apologized to his family for his inexcusable behavior last night, which should have stayed private within their clan, and fully accepted his banishment by the clan leader, his father, for however long he deemed fit.

He lastly apologized to his new wife, they were irrecoverably tied together and he’d do whatever she demanded from him to make up for the horrendous treatment he’d shown her and hoped she’d give him a chance to make a go of their marriage.

He uploaded the video to his few online accounts and turned the phone off, wearily running a hand over his face. Getting up to take one last look he found his jacket from the wedding hanging in the closet.

Folding it he hears a crinkling noise and reaches into the inner pocket finding the marriage certificate. Tossing the jacket on the bed he unrolls the certificate reading his wife’s name Iseult.

“It’s pronounced Ee-sult Alpha.”

Jensen's head jerked up in surprise, “Hey, um, we're heading out as soon as you're ready.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll need you to button my dress Alpha.” She said repacking his bath kit she'd borrowed.

Jensen furrowed his brow, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in something else, I mean, I’m telling you what to wear but it’s a three hour drive to my..our home.”

Iseult looked down playing with one of the pearlescent buttons, “When I married my hus..ex husband, our prenup stated that I only got what I had in my possession at the time. Apparently, he disposed of my things at some point,” she fanned out the shirt, “this dress, shoes and veil, your mother purchased them otherwise the media would have had a lot more to exploit at my..our expense Alpha.”

“Let me give you something of mine.”

“Anything of yours will swallow me, you're much more solid. There is a Walmart on..” she abruptly stopped at Jensen's raised eyebrow, “I’m sorry Alpha, I overstepped my place.” She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, exuding the scent of fear as if she is expecting punishment from him.

What had happened to this woman to make her believe she should cower and gravel? Jensen manages to keep his anger in check, not wanting her to be more scared of him than she was, thinking who the hell is her ex-husband and what had he done to make her like this?

Jensen slowly walked behind her and gripping the fabric was once again dismayed at how prominent her shoulder blades were, his gut telling him her slenderness wasn't something natural.

As he fastened the buttons he spoke in the gentle voice he used when Jared's daughter Odette was upset, “If you can survive till tomorrow I’ll take you to get whatever you need.” She nodded once.

“Can I make one request Alpha?”

“You don’t have to request anything, just ask.”

“I have a prescription I need refilled, there’s a pharmacy on Wilmont, it’s on the way.”

He plucked the jacket off the bed and held it open, “Please, it's getting chilly.” She slid her arms into the sleeves and Jensen saw she was right about being swallowed. He put on his ball cap and headed out.

When they got off the elevators Jensen went deeper into the hotel. He stopped at an employees only entrance off the kitchen and knocked twice. A double knock answered and he pushed it open to reveal a waiting SUV. He introduced Clif and handed him the bag, taking it to the vehicle's rear and loaded it before getting back in.

The wind had started picking up ahead of the late autumn thunderstorm. Iseult grabbed her whipping hair in one hand and her skirt in the other as Jensen opened the back door.

“Iseult?”

“I was waiting for you Alpha, its proper etiquette.”

“I was raised it’s proper for a lady to enter first, please,” he held his hand out to her.

Iseult released her hair and hesitantly took his hand. Jensen felt a skittering sensation go up his spin as Iseult quivered, staring into his eyes as a whirling wind intermingled their scents, enthralling them.

Clif politely coughed, “We need to go before the bottom falls out.”

A tremendous thunderclap sent them scrambling into the car as the heavens let loose.

***

The trip to Austin was darker than usual, the weather slowing the drive back and with the incident at the pharmacy, Jensen still couldn’t believe it, refusing the prescription now that she was married to an Alpha, needing his verbal consent.

Clif interceded before he went off about the subjugation of Omegas in modern society, reminding him they were in predominantly conservative Texas, where this thinking was considered normal, not California.

Jensen glanced over to see Iseult staring out the window when his phone vibrated. Picking it up from the cup holder he saw a text from Josh.

>Jenny, know I’m not supposed to be in touch but call me!!! Need to know the shit going down here.<

Josh picked up on the first ring, “Man, all hell breaking loose. Your wife's ex didn't notify his clan that he was divorcing or remarrying her and they’ve filed an appeal with the Pack council to get her back.”

“We were married in the Traditional...”

“The fuck Jenny, did living in La La land make you forget everything? Your the second son of a clan leader, you know Pack law supersedes all federal, state and religious laws. They’ve dug up some obscure sub-clause that states a clan has first right to remarry an Omega within the clan and if they don’t whoever takes them must pay settlements.”

“What are settlements?”

“Has your brain fallen out of your ass? The bride price.”

“Josh, that's insane, it's 2020....”

“No shit Sherlock, but this is Texas. Fuck, dads back already. I’m gonna leave my phone on, keep your goddamn mouth shut or it's gonna be my ass too!”

Jensen can’t make out anything then his mother clearly says, “..they are asking what for her?”

“Ten million.”

“Your shitting me!”

“Joshua, language young man.”

“Five of it’s compensation for damages done to the Omega.”

“What damages? Jenny’s got a temper, what Alpha doesn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was forced to.”

Alan cleared his throat in the manner Jensen had come to know that something’s making him uncomfortable. “It seems the Omega was..unsullied when she married her ex-husband.”

“Holy shit! You mean she’s never been with an Alpha before Jensen?”

“Joshua, I will not tolerate that language and we will absolutely not discuss your brothers new wife’s...virtue.”

Jensen hears the tinkling of glass, “Donna, did you know about any of this?”

“Well..no, of course not.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing.

“Donna, what are you not saying?” Alan’s Alpha voice resonated, he only used it when his mate was being evasive about something she’d done.

“When Danneel wasn’t willing to reproduce for Jensen I put out some feelers about finding him an Omega…”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Even if it is acceptable for Jensen to have a second wife with Danneel being a Beta, he would never agree to it.”

“I’m not telling you again about your language. I might have, at one of my appointments, casually indicated to Brent that I wanted an Omega like his.”

Who the hell is this Brent?

“Wait, Brent Worthington?!”

Jensen dropped his phone. It smacked against his other hand turning on the speaker allowing everyone in the car to hear.

“Donna, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

“I never thought he'd actually offer her, they always seemed so happy together.”

“He took your casual indication as an actual offer for his wife. You do understand that while we have to deal with each other they are still our rivals.”

The Ackles and Worthingtons were two of the original founding clans of the Dallas Pack, and rivals for centuries. Iseult had been married to the only Beta son of Abraham, the Clans Alpha, like Alan.

Josh’s voice shook as he spoke, “Mom, if the council decides to return her do you have any idea what they’ll do if Jensen’s already mated and claimed her?”

There’s a ringing phone and Alan answered, his voice loud then faint, apparently pacing around the room.

In the SUV dim interior Jensen could see Iseult shaking, awaiting the decision.

“The council sided with the Worthington's stating the law…”

Jensen’s inner Alpha raged, loosening a wrawl causing Clif to jerk the wheel, swerving across the wet lanes, throwing Jensen against the seat in front of him, landing on the floorboard before the vehicle was under control and stopped on the shoulder. Twisting around he sees Clif opening the back door checking on Iseult while Alan’s voice filled the otherwise silent SUV.

“...but taking into consideration today’s social climate they came back with the final decision since she remarried another clan leader's son her status is unchanged, so if we send her back there’s no penalty for damages. If we choose to keep her, it’s five million due to the Omegas age.”

“What did you tell them dad?”

“I told them we were keeping her, I won’t be the cause of anymore upheaval in my son's life. However,” Alan’s voice turned hard, “the council has ordered additional financial penalties set against both clan leaders for the transgressions committed by their families.”

“How much?”

“I paid twenty-five million for a Deuxième Omega.”

tbc

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​​​​​​​

[jackandthesoulmates]

Cabin Birthday

requested by my wonderful mutual @all-4-wincest

Okay my friend, here’s your prompt for your 300 followers celebration!! Congratulations again!!

Okay, so first time Wincest is my biggest kink!! LOL, my AO3 history proves that!

Anyways, Weecest when Sam is maybe 15 (if you’re comfortable with that. If not you can make him older). The first time Dean kisses his baby brother, and oh ohhh wow they both think ‘this is perfect. I finally feel whole!). You can take it as far and as NSFW as you want!!!

Here’s a gif that you can use. I think it’s perfect for a first time !!

word count: 1855.

Read on AO3.

“Dean, how does kissing feel like?”

Dean freezes. He just took out the Winchester Surprise out of the oven for him and Sam to eat. It’s Sam’s fifteenth birthday today and Dean tries to make it as good as possible. Dad’s gone again, ditched them in a cabin deep in the woods. They’ve been alone for days already. 

Sam’s birthday is close to Beltane, a witch sabbat, of course dad is hunting. He’s always hunting when little Sammy turns a year older. 

“Mh, Sammy, that depends on a lot of things.” Dean turns around, carrying the steaming hot casserole to the table. He feels nervous somehow, that Sam asked him this question. It’s an easy question, easier to answer than Sam’s latest question why he sometimes wakes up and ‘wetted’ his boxerbriefs. 

But Dean has to give Sam the Talk, because no one else does and he tries to be as competent, rational and not embarrassed as possible. Sam had seen him with girls already and that even made it worse. The questions. The whys. The hows. 

And that Dean has an aching in his chest, for his brother, that just won’t go away.

“On what, Dean? Please tell me.” Sam’s cuddled up on the couch, staring on the old grainy TV screen. The series is muted. He’s looking at Dean with big, curious eyes.

Dean shows him to sit down at the table. 

“Come here, eat something and I’ll tell you, okay?”

Sam nods. Gets up and takes a seat at the table. His stomach is grumbling, Dean can hear it very clearly. Sometimes Sammy has troubles with eating, when he’s stressed or in a bad place emotionally. Dean notices so much but he feels like he never does the right thing. He never does it right. Sam is still not eating. Sam is still crying at night sometimes. He’s still cuddling up in Dean’s bed when he had a bad dream. 

Dean sighs and fills Sam’s plate. “Eat, please. I promise you I’ll tell you everything you want when you finish lunch. And I have a gift for you, too.” 

Dean smiles at Sam and Sam smiles back. It’s a clouded smile and it’s gnawing on Dean’s heart. He’s been rioting, rebelling for years himself, but Sam is different. He’s calm, he’s sad, he’s somehow dark sometimes. He’s often not here. Like he’s daydreaming. But worse. Far away.

“Just because you ask me to”, Sam says. 

Lately Sam started growing the first facial hair, so far it’s still soft and blonde and patchy, but Dean had shown him already how to shave. Sam doesn’t seem to like what’s happening to his body during puberty. Dean hated it at first, too. 

They finish their meal in silence, because Dean doesn’t know what to say, but when Sam takes the last spoon full of the Winchester surprise he keeps his promise. 

“So, kissing, Sammy. I wonder you haven’t done it already. The girl at school, Linda?, she seemed to like you.” 

Dean has indeed watched his brother and Linda way too closely. How she gave him this adoring glance, playing with her hair, laughing a little too loud, a little too long. Brushing Sam’s hand with hers. And Dean feels a raging jealousy when she does. And Sam smiles at her. 

“Yes, she does”, Sam replies, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “But I don’t want to kiss her.”

He looks up and his hazel eyes burn holes in Deans face. 

“Why not?” Dean asks, standing up and clearing the table. He puts everything in the sink and the rest of the casserole is put in the fridge. 

“I don’t think I like her how she likes me, you know?” Sam sounds guilty.

“Yes, I totally get that. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. That’s one thing about love and the whole thing with, you know, being intimate with each other.”

When Sam’s not looking, Dean sips a beer. He’s old enough to drink but it’s barely late today and John told him not to drink in Sam’s presence. 

But John drank so much himself and he never gives a fuck who’s there. If Sammy’s up, if Dean’s out and gone, and who of his brothers finds him laying in a puddle of booze or - worse - his own vomit. 

“Dee, how does kissing feel then?”

Dean sighs and sits down at the sofa. “Come ‘ere, Sammy I’ll tell you.”

Sam accompanies him on the couch. He cuddles up again in his blanket. It’s still a bit chill somedays in May and they’re quite far up north. Dean considers to light the fireplace. “Shall I make it warm for us?”

Sam nods. “Yes, Dee. I’m a bit cold.”

Dean likes being the man in charge, looking for his baby brother. That’s his purpose he thinks. Nothing else matters but Sammy. And that Sammy is safe. And he will always be as long as Dean is alive. Even if being safe just means lighting some wood and make Sam feel warm. 

It doesn’t take long for the flames to linger and warmth fills the tiny cabin. 

“Kissing, Sammy. I think it depends on who you kiss. I imagine that, when you kiss Linda and you don’t like her that much, it won’t give you anything. But with a person you’re in love with or that, you know… makes you feel very hot and bothered, we talked about that, right? When someone drives you crazy already and then you kiss… you will feel like melting. It feels like hot jolts down your body, actually also cold. Both at the same time. It will feel amazing and breathtaking and you don’t want to stop ever again.” 

Dean turns around to Sam who’s looking right in the flames, cheeks red and lips slightly parted. He looks like he’s daydreaming again. 

“You heard me?” Dean asks.

Sam nods. Slowly. 

“Yah, sorry, I just imagined it.” Sam tilts his head. “Dean, I want to try beer.”

Dean frowns. “No way, Sammy. You’re too young for that and you know.”

Sam’s glance shifts from the fireplace to Dean and suddenly he looks way older than sweet 15. Dean gulps. 

“You started drinking when you were 13 years old, Dean.” 

Dean knew Sam had noticed it. And he wasn’t exactly proud of it. He was a bad influence and an even worse example. 

“That’s true, but you know it also got me in a lot of trouble, too.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “But I’m here with you and I’m not asking you to help me do some funnel drinking. I just want to know why you and dad like it so much.” 

Dean gives in and hands Sam his can of beer that’s almost empty anyway. 

Sam takes a sip and he obviously hates it because he frowns and then swallows with a disgusted look on his face.

“That’s disgusting.” He says and hands Dean the can. 

“We don’t drink it because it’s so delicious, we drink it to make the world less… sharp. Less edges. Less hurt.”

Dean falls silent immediately. That sounds way too serious to tell Sam. 

“Sorry, that was a bit depressing.” 

Sam just laughs. He’s a teenager, he probably understands anyway. 

Then he leans onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels the jolt he just described to Sam and it’s good and bad and wrong and the only thing that makes Dean happy. And feel loved. Then Sam’s hand reaches for Dean’s and they hold each other for a moment. It’s still silent in here, only the cracking of the fireplace makes noise. It feels romantic, this moment. It shouldn’t. 

“You feel it, too. Dee? Please tell me you feel it right now…” Sam’s voice is soft but so brutal at the same time. 

Dean breathes in and out. “What do you feel, Sam?”

And Sam sighs. Loudly and painful. “Look at me.”

There’s no saying ‘no’ for Dean right now. He turns around and sees in his brother’s deep and quiet eyes. 

Sam’s so close now, he can smell the bitter taste of beer in Sam’s breath, sees the spreckles in his hazel eyes. His body heat. Dean’s heart is racing and he feels the jolt of heat and ice running up and down his spine, he can feel the tickling in his arms, like electricity. 

He wants to say “no, please, Sam, don’t make me do it.” but all he manages is a weak “Sammy…” before he kisses his brother’s lips. 

It’s an instant firework around them, inside them, something ignited and is going off at full power, full speed. Burning hot and consuming them. Sam is shy and his lips are trembling when Dean presses his lips on Sam’s, harder. Just a little. And then Sam swings his leg over Dean, sitting on his lap now. 

“No, no, Sammy,... don’t…” Dean whispers. It feels like the worst lie he’s ever told.

“Dee, please”, Sam breathes against Dean’s hot lips. “I want to know… I need to know…”

The world turns upside down. Inside out. And Dean’s arms pull Sammy, his Sammy, closer, kissing him again, this time he can’t hold back his tongue carefully sliding in the other’s mouth. 

Sam moans. 

‘Oh my God’, Dean thinks, ‘I’m gonna die for this.’

It’s a shy, a messy kiss, Sam is clueless and innocent and Dean is full of suppressed desire, full of doubts and self loathing for wanting this. Wanting his brother. 

When Dean needs to breathe, he stops for a moment, panting and his whole face feels like it’s burning off his skull. Sam clings onto him, silently moaning, or sobbing? A shaky little mess on his brother’s lap. 

“Dean, it feels like you told me…”, he says, sniffing. “I can feel it.”

“Me, too”, is all he can say right now. 

His body is raging with all the sensations, it’s almost too much to handle. He can feel his hard member pressing against his jeans and also Sam is clearly excited. 

Dean presses his forehead on Sam’s, both panting and saying nothing more. Sam’s skin under Dean’s palms is hot and slightly sweaty. 

“It’s wrong”, Dean says, he sounds bitter.

“I don’t care.” 

Sam grips him tighter. “I only want to kiss you. Not Linda. Not anyone else. No one makes me feel like this.”

They hold each other on this sofa, the world shrinks to the size of their bodies, there’s nothing else. They’re alone and lonely in here. No one matters, only them. And Dean can’t fight what he’s feeling now, what he had started feeling years ago.

So far, the yearning has only gotten worse. But now it’s found some relief. In Sam’s arms, his panting breath and the sweet moans whenever Dean’s tongue slides in Sam’s warm and eager mouth. 

It’s only a matter of time until Sam’s a moaning mess, mouth watering, eyes teary. Humping Dean’s lap. 

‘Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.’

And then Sam gets up, legs shaky. 

“Please let’s go to bed…” 

Whatever Sam wants. He will get it.

It's his birthday and Dean is lost in his brother's eyes.

*