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gothcsz · 1 month

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Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to.

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA.

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart.

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut. “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior.

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright.

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly.

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.”

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves.

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about— he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence.

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating.

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it.

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold.

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary.

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a pronounced tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?”

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock.

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat.

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy.

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation.

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off.

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal smut

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painted-flag · 3 months

Text

A Preview

This man and his minute of screen time has managed to push me out of fanfic writing retirement. I do not care if he is not Benjicot - he will always be Bloody Ben to me. This is an unedited preview of what I am writing currently.

Anyways, this imagine was originally planned to be around 5k words but, as I started to plan and write, that has changed. It will be around 10k words. I'm still in the process of writing and then editing that, but here is a little preview of what's to come. (I'm also completely out of my depth in understanding on how to post on Tumblr, so apologies if things are formatted weirdly. I'm an AO3 cave dweller)

The loud clap of thunder followed in succession by the flashing of lightning illuminated the library of Dragonstone. In the late hour of the wolf, Daenys found herself entombed within the walls of parchment, scanning drawn-up battle plans and strategies written by maesters who had nary seen a single battle. The feeling of ever-present stress loomed over her, creeping from the shadows that were not illuminated by scattered candles. That feeling of anxiety - pressing down harshly on her chest - had been a footnote in her life.

Daenys did not need to be a dragon dreamer, like her namesake, to see the future of her house. War was coming, that much was obvious. She knew at the age of nine that her mother’s claim would be challenged and since then her life had been spent preparing. The intensity of conflict did not matter, Daenys would be prepared regardless. So, much like most nights, she had settled herself among the pages of books. Her body, worn from training all day, had relished in the feeling of sitting down in a plush chair.

The book in her lap, An Analysis of Ground Moves of the First Dornish War, had begun to kill her mood. The maestor who wrote it had no skill of explanation, nor seemed to have care for fighting in general. She cursed his weak analyses on certain moves and more outwardly she cursed the tone in which he wrote when speaking of her Targaryen ancestors - in particular the women. Daenys leaned back in her chair and repressed the urge to chuck to tome across the room. All that access to knowledge and training yet maesters still seemed to fall short.

The echoes of footsteps sounded between claps of thunder. Daenys glanced up to see her mother. Rhaenyra had her hair down in light waves. The nightclothes she wore were made from black and red fabrics and stitched in the fashion of dragon influences style, part of a matching set that the two women shared. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth set in a line. The heir apparent sat down in the chair beside her daughter and glanced at the book in Daenys lap. “The hour is late, yet you are out of bed?”

Daenys’ arms rested on the book, “Sleep could not come.”

“Or have you run from sleep? Increasingly so, as of late.” Her mother’s observation cut deep. It was true, for Daenys had become antsy. More and more nights were spent reading, and even more days training with the sword. Exhaustion had become her friend and respite her enemy. She felt behind, as her training had only started a few years prior - after years of requesting to learn. Any day a war could break, yet she sat about for most of her life doing nothing but sewing and other pointless tasks to be a good wife.

“Don’t you feel it, mother? That sinking feeling of... something clawing at your feet for that damned throne.” Daenys’ gaze rose to meet Rhaenyra. As her mother's only daughter by birth, they held a certain bond. The ability to understand what one another wished to say without so much as a word. A twitch of the brow, a quiver of the lip, or the tilt of their head was worth more than what any uttered words could convey. Mother and daughter, one unable to live without the other. Like bees and flowers or the moon and sun. A push and pull of exchange.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

That's a little sneak peak. I plan to have it finished in the next day or two - it largely depends on my coursework. Especially since I am entering my third year, things are getting heated.

#benjicot blackwood #bloody ben #house blackwood #benjicot blackwood fanfic #benjicot blackwood imagine #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #ben blackwood #benjicot blackwood x oc

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hyuckmov · 1 year

Text

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | preview

FULL FIC HERE

teaser wc: 783 (angst, suggestive) full fic genre: angst, smut, fluff (10k+) a/n: SURPRISE & let me know what you think for this :) also lmk if you would like to be tagged... i'm so excited to write rockstar hyuck!!! playlists for the fic | next preview

"did anyone follow you up here?"

haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word.

"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so."

he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out.

"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?"

feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop.

he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. and it's only because you're so pressed up against him, his hands roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips.

"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.

you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit.

his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?"

you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-"

"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his hands.

"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you.

he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes.

"y/n…i can't be your first time."

"but i want –"

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show."

you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his.

"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly.

"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle.

"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers move across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen.

he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts it down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.

"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?"

and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down.

-> read the next preview here

#please let me know if u like this #THIS IS A NEW HYUCK FOR MEEE #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan x reader #haechan scenario #nct smut #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #haechan au

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chompisatheatrekid · 9 days

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reasons to spam rb something:

agreeing (someone made a good take, has to show how much you agree)

appreciation (sorta like agreeing. good art / good writing has to show how much you like it)

following instructions (notes challenge or smth)

spite (‘I swear to god if this post is the one that gets 1k’ ‘10k notes to me’)

spite but different (‘I am going to personally kill you for putting what the sneef im snorfin here on my dash 30 times’)

funny (if the post is about spam reblogging, for example)

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 3 days

Text

Hello everyone! You all remember how I said I was working on something special to celebrate some tumblr milestones? Well, my surprise project is finished!

To celebrate both reaching 500 (500! holy cow!) followers and my 100th post, I decided to challenge myself! So, I joined @merlin-fic-server's Tournament of Champions, a challenge for Merlin fic writers, fan artists, and podfic makers! The challenge for writers that I chose was to write a new 10k fic based on a randomly generated prompt in 24 hours.

I've never participated in anything like this before, but it felt nice to challenge myself! The result is a fic both fits with the usual themes of my stories (like characters getting put in ridiculous situations), but it's also different from anything I've ever written before, feeling a bit more grounded than my usual silly writing.

So, I'd like to thank you all! I never could have imagined that this blog would bring me and so many people so much joy, and I wouldn't have been inspired to challenge myself if it wasn't for you support! You all have been amazing to me, and I'm looking forward to sharing more of my unhinged ramblings with this fandom!

For now, I hope you all enjoy this little experiment of mine! I'll see you all next time! :D

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merthur #tournament of champions

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lapislavender · 26 days

Note

Subject: Urgent Help Needed – Your Support Can Make a Difference

Hello, my friend. I hope this message finds you well. 🙏

I am writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for your help. My family is in a perilous situation due to the ongoing war and the famine we have endured for more than ten months. We are facing immense challenges, So please read my story as if I were a member of your family, if my family is your family.🥺

I'm Ola, a graduate student from the Faculty of Science at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, Palestine. I'm dedicated and passionate about becoming a good researcher and teacher.

Unexpectedly, after October 7th, my life took a drastic turn with the commencement of the cruel war on Gaza, transforming me from a passionate student into a person struggling for survival. 🥺

I have created a campaign to help my family rebuild their lives and meet our basic needs for food, drink, and other essentials in these harsh conditions. This will also help me continue my education. At this critical moment, I implore you to share my story with your network, both offline and on social media platforms. Your advocacy is vital to our success.

All I am asking for is your support. You can assist us by sharing the pinned post on my page or writing a post about my campaign. This would greatly help us reach more potential supporters, and I would be very grateful if you could share the campaign link with your friends and family via email or other social media platforms. ❤️

I sincerely hope you can empathize with our dire situation and consider supporting us. Please be assured that any help brings us closer to our goal, and no matter how small your donation might be, it will make a significant difference in my family's lives.

I would appreciate it if you could follow me to stay updated, as I will always need your help. 💔

This is my GFM link:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/empower-olas-pursuit-of-education-amid-crisis?qid=30ec4c502382b9962b96d698a687d9a8

My campaign has been verified by @ 90-ghost, @ northgazaupdates, @ el-shab-Hussien, and @ nabulsi's vetted list (line 205).

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview#gid=0

Thank you in advance for your kindness and support. I am waiting for your response. ❤️

Please donate and/or share with others. 🥺🙏🇵🇸

Sincerely,

Ola

❤️🇵🇸 Vetted gofundme, ONLY 10K AWAY FROM GOAL! Let's help Ola!

$40,060 USD raised of $50,000 goal

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hollandsfavbabe · 5 months

Text

Peter's Precarious Polyjuice Potion - part 2

Part 1

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis: in which you and peter are forced to take extreme lengths to protect your secret relationship with the help of your shape shifting powers

warnings: lying, extreme secrecy, a very flawed plan, made up asgardian traditions, end of a secret relationship

word count: 9.3k

a/n OMG IT'S FINALLY HERE! I'm so sorry for how long it took (life's a lot to handle sometimes), but isn't it so worth it?? Nearly 10K words, she's a big one. Stay tuned for a very special announcement tomorrow, possibly involving a new series about some very magical characters ⚡🦁! Without further ado, please enjoy this very lengthy part two! I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.

With only a little more than 24 hours to prepare for the impromptu family dinner, you and Peter wasted little time (other than the 30 minutes spent celebrating your stroke of genius). You spent the entire night practicing shifting in between forms; MJ for you and Flash for Peter.

While transfiguring your figure to match MJ’s wasn’t much of a challenge, you found it exciting getting to practice on another human, something you had never tried with your powers before. At first you had to retain physical contact with Peter to hold his transformation as Flash, clutching onto his hand as you perfected every portion of his to match the yearbook portrait reference you had of the obnoxious boy. Eventually, you started getting the handle on holding his transformation without touching him and then progressed to being able to change him from opposing sides of his bedroom with the simple swish of your finger.

Once all the technical work was figured out, you focused on perfecting the individual aesthetics and mannerisms of your faux significant others. For Peter, you stole one of Bruce Banner’s compression button ups that resembled something one of Flash’s butlers would’ve dressed him as and transfigured a lightsaber slap bracelet into the same ritzy watch that you’d seen on Flash’s sickly wrists from days he had haraseed you on Campus. Unlike Peter, who was fortunate to still attend school in New York, Flash had followed you to MIT which allowed you to develop a form for Peter that was closer to the person he was now and help him slip into character.

One of Peter’s flannels sufficed for your own transformation into MJ, but neither of you had quite the right dark bottoms outside of Peter’s Night Monkey suit from your SHIELD hijacked senior trip. You tried to call her as she had remained one of your closest friends, but it always went to her voicemail no matter how many times you tried. You figured she was still in school as resorted to a midnight trip to the nearest Target, picking up a pair of black jeans that you thought suited her. Of course becoming MJ to date Peter publicly wasn’t ideal, but it was so much better than having to change into Flash.

By morning you both felt confident in your disguise and focused on narrowing down the specifics of your plan. Before long, it was time for your scheme to turn into a reality.

As previously decided, you and Peter left the Campus under the guise of two platonic friends going their separate ways to pick up two beloved dates. In reality, while your father and Pepper were hard at work in the kitchen. You transformed your cars to resemble the area of forest around them and returned to Peter’s room to get ready, evading the cameras with the same transformative tactic. Simple objects like cars were much easier for you to transform, meaning holding it wouldn’t be a challenge. People on the other hand, were much more complicated and a successful heist of this nature would require full activation of your powers. It would be exhausting, but you knew you could do it. You were determined to succeed, another blessing that accompanied your inherited stubbornness.

You and Peter lounged about in his room undetected by the others for around an hour, the amount of time it took to pick up ‘MJ’, before it was time to start the show. You both dressed and hobbled over to Peter’s window where he jumped before you. Upon receiving his shout of survival, you also shimmied out and jumped into Peter’s waiting arms below as he caught you with ease.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, setting you down on the ground while keeping an arm locked around your waist. As your boyfriend, he knew what a transformation of this size meant in relation to your health and worried as the considerate person he was.

You enclosed his hands in your own and closed your eyes. With a deep breath, you allowed the familiar skin-tingling sensation to surround you as your form was replaced with MJ’s. You open your eyes to meet the dark sea of murky brown enclosed in Peter’s and shoot him an assured smile along with a nod of approval.

“Let’s do this.”

It was with his hand entwined with yours that you made your way to the entrance of the most hospitable area of the campus where you knew the kitchen resided. The normally undecorated door sported a festive green wreath with red bows and silver bells embedded on the small branches as you rapt upon the wood and stepped head first into the lion den.

“I’m back!” Peter called, and immediately you two were greeted by Steve at the door. He took Peter’s coat from him like the old-fashioned gentlemen he was and as he turned to get yours, you had to fight hard to suppress the urge to smile at him like usual. Your persona has changed, you remind yourself, and the girl you’ve taken on does not smile at strangers. Ever. Instead you acknowledged Steve as stone faced as possible in the same manner MJ would’ve if she had done it herself.

“Nice to meet you MJ,” Steve smiled as he extended his hand to you, gesturing towards the thick flannel you had on. “May I take your coat?”

You eyed him down and shook your head.

“No, I like the cold.” you mumbled and walked off to the main room where Peter and the rest of the Avengers were so anxiously awaiting you, your father setting the last dishes on the table as they came out of the steaming kitchen.

“MJ!” he bellowed through the mass of hungry heroes at the sight of you and you can't help but feel strange about being called something other than the several names he had given you over his many years raising you. “We’re so glad to have you. Peter’s told us so much about you!”

You looked at your father with the same expression you had seen MJ give strangers many times before and nodded as he came forward, careful not to match his smile. You had to be absolutely unreadable, especially around your father or else your plan was sure to fail.

“Thanks for the invite. I’m happy to be here.” you recited in your practiced monotone voice, closely resembling MJ’s, but not quite mimicking it. You could feel your heart start pounding as your father eyed you with suspicion, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Have we met before? I feel like I know your voice from somewhere.”

You gulped as silently as you could, fighting hard against your nerves as your palms began to sweat. You balled them up before the perspiration could drip and gave a simple shake of your head, trying to stay as close to MJ as possible.

“I don’t believe so.” you stared him down with a classic MJ look; eyes in a half-lidded gaze and lips upturned into a bored sort of state.

“Hmm.” your father paused to ponder, his eyes scanning down to your balled fists that gave off a contradicting message to the thoughtless aura you aimed for. It was by the grace of a higher power that Pepper finally swooped in to save you, laughing angelicaly at Tony’s antics.

“Give her some space Tony! She’ll never come back if she thinks she’ll be suffocated.” she grinned and latched onto one of the arms he held propped upon his hips to pull him away from you. Instead she pushed him in the direction of the nicely set table and gestured for the others to take a seat.

“We just finished setting everything up, except for the main courses, so you’re welcome to come take a seat, MJ.” she offered, plopping down to the left of your father once he was settled in the head chair. You took note of the others as Bucky, Sam, Steve, Thor, and Natasha took their respective seats, leaving four empty chairs reserved for the couples that were supposedly attending.

Peter was by your side in an instant as if he could read the thoughts of doubt racing through your head. He took your hand and squeezed ever so slightly to remind you that neither of you were alone and that he wasn’t going anywhere. You wished you could show him how grateful you were for him, but even the semblance of a smile would’ve given you away to the others. Yet even under your mask, Peter could read you. It was a talent he had adopted from years of being around you and no matter what you put off for others, somehow he always knew.

He led you to your seats and pulled out a chair for you before claiming his own seat in between you and Bucky. You began to dish yourself up small helpings of every dish that was indicated as vegetarian friendly, a gesture from Pepper after Peter had told her about the real MJs dietary restrictions. You were lucky most of her sides ended up being meat-free naturally as any extra miles ran for ‘MJ’s comfort would’ve been taken in vain. Afterall, you would have to eat for two people the whole night.

It was while you were buttering up a plump Hawaiian roll that you realized that all of the other Avengers were staring at you, an awkward silence enveloping the room.

“So, MJ, tell us about yourself.” Natasha prompted, growing tired of the tension. She wasn’t as suspecting of you as you father who was eerily silent as he poured gravy on his mashed potatoes.

You cleared your throat as you rehearsed your background, careful not to break from character for a single moment.

“You guys probably already know, I used to go to school with Peter. That’s how we met. We didn’t have many classes together, but we were on the decathlon team together, so I guess that’s cool.”

“So I’m sure you know my daughter as well, right?” your father brought you up from across the table. He would’ve startled you if you hadn't been in such control of your expressions. Instead you gave him a curt nod, turning your head to peer at him.

“Yep, I was friends with her before Peter actually.”

“Well that’s wonderful!” he grinned, though you were sure you could sense the slightest tone of insincerity. “You know, she's coming tonight, but she’ll be a bit late. She went to pick up her boyfriend. You should know Flash, right?”

You felt Peter’s thigh nudge yours from underneath the table as you hesitated to reply, a reminder of the story you were to recite as soon as someone brought up Flash. It was imperative, otherwise the pieces needed to assemble the perfect date night heist wouldn’t fall into place as you had planned them.

“Oh, I can’t be around Flash for too long. He’s a real creeper.” you deadpanned. The other Avengers froze in the middle of their meal, all setting down their utensils and staring at you with intrigue.

“Like in the mortal television program? What is its name … Mind Facts?” Thor asked through a mouthful of cranberry sauce that he evidently had not learned was supposed to be enjoyed with other foods.

“Are you talking about Minecraft? The video game?” Peter suggested, the only person present who was young enough to make sense of the god’s unintelligible examples.

“Yes! The Craft of Mining!” Thor exclaimed. “‘Tis a much enjoyable endeavor indeed.”

“No, I’m pretty sure she means that this Flash kid makes her uncomfortable.” Sam reasoned, stamping out the sidetracked babble at the source as everyone’s attention returned to you.

“What do you mean, MJ?” asked Pepper. Despite all your preparation, you were suddenly realizing how much you lacked an explanation for why you and Flash couldn’t be together other than the truth. Without completely reasoning through it, you conjured up the best lie and let it slip out of MJ’s lips as the immediate regret sunk it.

“I have a … restraining order.”

SIlence washed over the table as the Avengers looked at you in surprise. Even Peter seemed shocked, but he quickly morphed his expression into one of remorse as if he had already known about the tragedy you had just made up out of thin air.

“What happened?” asked Bucky curiously, before receiving a hard elbow from Sam for asking such an invasive question.

“I don’t want to get into it.” you replied, satisfied with the severity of your lie preventing any further questioning out of respect for your fantastical situation. “It's fine though. He can be here as long as I’m in another room.”

“That reminds me,” Peter stood, clearing his throat. “I haven't shown you my room yet. Wanna check it out?”

“Sure,” you shrugged and stood to take his arm as the two of you headed towards his room, leaving a table of conflicted Avengers in your wake. Your father parted his lips, nearly calling you back to the table long after you and Peter had snuck out of sight until the sudden blare of the doorbell rang out from the entrance.

“I got it, ” he assured Steve who was eager to open the door until he was encouraged to stay at the table. This time your father went to open it and was met with you smiling in your normal form, your hand hooked in the crevice of a strange boy’s elbow that he had never seen before, Flash. Well, more accurately, Flash/Peter. In the two minutes you and Peter had been gone, you both managed to change into different outfits and transform into different people.

“Hey dad!” you greeted, leaning forward to kiss his cheek as you did all you could to separate yourself from the quiet stone-faced girl you had been pretending to be only a moment ago.

“Hey junior,” your dad smiled, pulling you into a casual hug before stepping back to motion you inside. You hurried in with Flash/Peter right behind you though he stopped in front of your father and held out one of his transfigured hands to shake Tony’s, grinning at him in a weird not even Flash like way that you supposed would have to do. “You must be the famous Flash!” your dad smiled back, accepting the shake before pulling the disguised boy inside.

Flash/Peter’s watch glinted in the artificial light of the dining room, the cherry on top of a perfect disguise. You had used a slap bracelet to make it, transforming the original green of the lightsaber blade it took the shape of into something that resembled a Rolex.

“Famous?” Flash/Peter quirked an eyebrow as he began removing his own puffy jacket. “I don’t know about famous. I’m a pretty mediocre guy if I do say so myself.”

You kneed your boyfriend in the leg, a not so subtle reminder that he was supposed to be a walking endorsement for the person he was presenting as Flash naturally was. He doubled over in pain and you ignored whatever strange looks your fellow Avengers sent your way.

“Ahh.” he groaned, keeping his whimper down so as to not give his real voice away.

“Isn’t he just the silliest?” you mustered another fake grin that was becoming easier to produce with each front you hoisted up to protect your plan. You pulled Flash/Peter back up so he could be straight on his feet once more and headed towards the table, sitting in the only two seats with empty plates. “He gets so funny when he’s nervous. I’ve been trying to remind him he can be himself.” you enunciated the last part for your boyfriend’s sake.

“Oh you’re so right sweetie,” Flash/Peter reached to hold onto your hand. “I just don’t want anyone to think I’m a conceded assho-”

“Turkey’s ready,” you heard Pepper announce as she brought the large bird out from the kitchen and set it on the table. You hadn’t even noticed her absence at the table throughout all the chaos of pretending to be two people. You were reminded of your alter-ego as she set down a smaller dish closer to where you had been eating before. “I also have a vegan substitute for MJ.”

“So, Flash,” your dad began, retaking his position as the head of the table as he began carving at the turkey. “MJ and Peter were here not long ago. I’m guessing you know about them?”

“Of course I do, Mr. Star- I mean Tony,” Flash/Peter corrected himself, careful not to slip up by calling your father a name that was all too easy to trace back to Peter. The correction however, was almost worst as you noticed your father’s brows indent into the glare of a skeptic. “I’m friends with Peter actually. He’s a great kid.”

“That’s funny. I could’ve sworn he was just saying the exact opposite about you.” Sam pointed out, crossing his arms as he set down his fork. He could tell something was off as the man rarely mentioned Peter without sneaking in a jab.

You burst out laughing as an attempt to ward off the growing tension. It was all too artificial.

“Isn’t he just the sweetest?! He always thinks the best of everyone!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around your boyfriend and flashing the table a false smile.

“Then how do you explain the restraining order?” blurted Bucky, joining Sam in the skepticism.

Flash/Peter’s eyes widened as he failed to provide an answer, nearly abandoning his impression of Flash’s voice.

“It was uhh… a total misunderstanding? I’m sorry, is MJ here? Like right now?” he asked, as if the information was new to him.

“She just went upstairs with Peter,” your father answered, though some of the cheer in his tone had been lost. He suddenly turned to you, and while you weren’t currently in your disguise, his stare felt like a flashlight as if he could see right through you. “I told you we were all going to be eating together. Why didn’t you tell me that she and Flash don’t get along?”

You mentally cursed yourself at the idea. Perhaps if you had spun your lies differently, you and Peter could’ve pretended for two seperate dinners instead of trying to juggling both to hold it together for one.

“I forgot?” you shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think the restraining order is that big of a deal anymore.”

“Great! That means we can all eat together,” your father cheered, the prospect of his plan coming together overpowering any suspicion he had of you. He stood from his spot at the head of the table and veered in the direction of Peter’s room. “I’ll go get them.”

“No!” you shouted, dread corrupting your face until you noticed the warning look from Flash/Peter to correct yourself. Any extreme objection would be a dead giveaway.

You cleared your throat with a laugh and stood, pushing away from the table. “I mean, no, that’s okay. I can go get them,” you offered. “Flash, do you want to come with me sweetie? I should probably show you where the bathroom is. He has indigestion”

“Oh yes, that would be lovely.” Flash/Peter agreed as he stood with you. He sent you a subtle wink, confirmation of a successful save.

“Okay,” your father agreed, settling more of your worries until his gaze slipped towards Flash/Peter’s wrist where you had forgotten about the transfigured watch. “Just remember to take off your slap bracelet.”

Your heart dropped as you looked down at Flash/Peter’s wrist to discover the enchantment had faded, a symptom of your anxiety. You had been so focused on keeping up the facade of his facial features, the watch detail had entirely slipped from your control revealing Peter’s extremely recognizable lightsaber slap bracelet.

Flash/Peter looked down at his wrist, his eyes widening as he came to the same realization and proceeded to hide his entire hand behind his back.

“I don't know what you mean.” he tried and it took every morsel of your remaining strength not to slap yourself in the face.

“That’s really funny, Flash, because I swear Peter has one just like it,” your father declared to the table, one of the detriments of having a dad that knew your boyfriend so well. “He’s obsessed with Leia’s green lightsaber.”

“No, the blue one is Leia. This one is Luke’s!”

Silence took over the atmosphere in the room accompanied by stares of shock as Flash/Peter’s correction landed. You knew he couldn’t help it, Peter hated when people got Star Wars general knowledge wrong, but boy was the timing inconvenient.

“Uh, I mean, that’s what Peter would say. He loves that kind of stuff. Oh god, my stomach hurts so bad. We should go babe.” Peter tried to cover, gesturing for you to escape with him to what was presumably the restroom though you were starting to think maybe there were better odds of your survival if the two of you booked it for the nearest remote village instead.

“Sure thing,” you nodded as you escorted him from the room, trying your best to ignore the suspicion that you could feel rising. The operation was still salvageable as long as you and Peter were convincing enough.

“Y/n said that dinner was ready?” Peter said only a moment later, reemerging into the kitchen as himself with you by his side in your MJ disguise once more.

“Yep! You guys can go ahead and take your seats.” Pepper smiled, seemingly the only person unphased by your slap bracelet slip up. You and Peter both did as you were told, sliding into your seats and digging into the meal.

“This is delicious Mr. Stark.” you deadpanned, offering a compliment to your father in hopes that it would subside his skepticism.

“Actually, I made it.” Sam interrupted in between bites, wishing for credit where it was due. You nodded in his direction, trying not to emote.

“Oh, well thanks Sam. It’s good.”

“How did you know my name is Sam?”

You shrugged in a manner that seemed aligned with MJ’s performed disinterest though inside you feel like you could explode on the spot.

“You just seem like a Sam,” you covered. “Or an Anthony, I just went with the first choice.”

“It’s Falcon to you, hot shot.” Sam returned, taking another bite of his turkey. You weren’t unused to harsh comments from him in your usual form so you simply returned to your own plate.

“MJ,” your father beckoned for your attention to which you gave it to him. “I thought you were vegan.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” you nodded. Panic erupted through your core, but you tried to contain it on the surface.

“Then why aren’t you eating the special option I prepared for you?”

“Yeah and why are you in Flash’s seat, Peter?” Pepper joined the questioning. It was then you realized that Peter had chosen the seat to your left where he had previously been dining as Flash rather than his assigned seat on your right.

“My bad, I didn’t realize he was sitting here.” Peter awkwardly rose and moved to sit in the correct spot.

“Yes, and while I appreciate the effort, I can have meat on Wednesdays so it’s okay.” you fibbed. Your father had never strayed from the path of being a practicing carnivore and so you hoped his lack of vegan insight was enough to be unaware that there were no breaks.

“So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” questioned Natasha, changing the dangerous topic of conversation though you supposed her reasons for asking we drastically different from yours.

“Four months.” Peter answered.

“Two weeks.” you chimed at the exact same time of Peter’s own response earning a conflicting look from the other Avengers.

“Uh we mean four months and two weeks.” he covered. “But honestly it feels like we’ve known each other for way longer.”

“Probably because we have known each other longer.” you elbowed Peter under the table, a stabbing reminder of the backstory the two of you had spent an hour preparing earlier that day. Perhaps the time would’ve been better spent constructing an exact timeline.

“Oh right, because we’ve gone to school together since middle school.” he smiled, reminded of your carefully constructed story that pulled from when he had first met the real MJ so many years ago.

“So that means you know my daughter!” you dad exclaimed, though the majority of the genuine excitement he had showed during your first appearance of MJ had completely disappeared. “She just got here with Flash. I know you can’t be in the same room as him, but you really should say hi. I can show you to her room.”

“Oh no need!” you assured him, though with too much enthusiasm. You had to swallow it down as you stood, returning to the character that resembled MJ. “I can go find her myself, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah and I really have to use the bathroom.” Peter stated, replacing his napkin from his lap into the chair likely so that he would know where to sit when he returned as Flash.

“I’m pretty sure Flash is in occupance of the lavatory.” Thor informed your boyfriend.

“Oh, well in that case, I’m going to use the one all the way across Campus.” he stated and at once the two of you were charging towards the exit. Overall, your confidence in your performance was starting to plummet, but you hoped it was convincing enough.

“What is up with these kids?” your father asked once you and Peter were far out of earshot. He consulted the table for any take similar to his own. There was something off about your and Peter’s dates and he intended to figure out exactly what it was.

“I bet it’s some kind of college disease that’s spreading around. You remember how crazy it can get.” Pepper shrugged, the least suspecting of the table apart from Steve who was always slowest to process anything out of the ordinary.

“I wasn’t that bad. At least I could hold a conversation for more than five minutes without running off.”

“I wish Wanda would’ve come,” Bucky stated, reflecting on her mind reading capabilities. “I swear she only scheduled that date with Vision to miss this.”

It was not even a moment later that you and Peter returned flushed from the quick change into the alternative couple, Flash/Peter taking the napkin-less seat.

“Feeling better Flash?” your father asked though his tone made it sound more like teasing.

“Hmm - oh! Yeah, much! This all looks delicious by the way. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you-” Sam had started to say, until he was abruptly cut off by your father.

“That would be me,” Tony took credit, and while you were confused by the blatant lie, you were sure it had something to do with his ever growing suspicions.

“Ahh yes, well, thank you Tony.” Flash/Peter eyed your father. As in tune with your boyfriend as you were, you swore the assumed first name basis was on purpose now to defame the real Flash.

“Except for the mead. Only the finest can come from Asgard-” Thor started, before he was shot down as quickly as Sam had been by the very same man.

“Speaking of compliments, I just love your T-Shirt,” your father praised, abandoning his plate to stare at Flash/Peter with curious gaze. It was even more frightening than any of your previous slip ups as he hogged every question to point out every flaw in your plan. “Does Peter know you’re borrowing his clothes?”

Flash/Peter looked down to the wrinkled shirt on his shapeshifted chest, the white text starkly contrasting the black cotton to spell out, “Right now I’m in a galaxy far far away…” You couldn’t believe he had forgotten to take it off. It was a dead giveaway as no one else in the campus, in the whole of New York even was as much of a Star Wars fanatic as your boyfriend as emphasized by his slap bracelet.

You stood up from your place beside Flash/Peter and pulled him away from the table with enough force that it might’ve ripped his arm off had he not had the strength of Spider-Man even when trapped in his school nemesis’ body.

“Oh that’s so funny. Flash must’ve borrowed it from the pile in my closet.” you rambled out an excuse.

“You have a stash of Peter’s weird nerdy T-shirts?” Natasha commented as she lifted her glass of wine to take an overly lengthy sip.

“They’re not weird! Just punny.” Flash/Peter defended in a voice that was all too reminiscent of his natural tone rather than the false falsetto that Flash spoke in. You elbowed him as the two of you ducked away to change.

“We’ll just go put it back now!” you shouted to the table before disappearing out of sight.

“Wasn’t Peter wearing that shirt tonight?” Steve wondered aloud.

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “I couldn’t tell with that goofy flannel he had on over it. How many years has he lived here and no one’s taught him how to dress himself. I think that should be the next operation.”

“Yeah, we could call it Operation Put Peter’s Pull-Overs to Death.” Bucky agreed.

“Guys, let’s look at the bigger problem here,” Tony interrupted as he quite frankly didn’t mind how Peter dressed. “Don’t all four of these teens seem suspicious to you.”

“Well I suppose a little bit, but it could be winter festivities.” Thor shrugged, unbothered by the whole affair.

“What the hell is a winter festivity?”

“He means Christmas.” Natasha filled.

“He’s not from where Christmas is celebrated.” stated Tony before turning to the god for further elaboration.

“In Asgard, winter festivities are when the finest of young people come together to fill the chilled night air with the sweet scent of love-”

“And I’ve heard enough of that.” Bucky forced the story to a stop, nearly running out of his seat quicker than you and Peter had.

“We’re at dinner for the love of God!” Sam looked at Thor with the most incredulous of expressions.

“That’s exactly what I mean, it is for the love of gods.”

“Quiet! I can hear them coming back,” Tony shushed, hoping that what the two of you pulled next would be enough to expose whatever you were hiding. Now, be super analytical here. Watch for any slip ups.”

You and Peter returned to the table, sitting back down in the seats of MJ and Peter once more carving into your meal. Peter was able to swallow a few more bites, but your anxiety surrounding being caught had caused you to lose your appetite.

“Wow, this is so good.” Peter groaned.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” Sam chided. He too was getting tired of the game at play as he started noticing the same signs your father pointed out.

“Right, well, I thought I should do it again.”

“I hear you’re studying literature, MJ,” your father sent you a question. “With a specialty in classical era Russian authors?”

You gulped down your food nervously as you nodded though you couldn’t recall ever telling your father about MJ’s academic choices. You completely missed the discrete screen he had opened on his lap under the table that he had used to look up all of your friend’s credentials. It was one of the perks of being Tony Stark, he could gain access to anyone’s personal information with the simple tap of a button.

“That’s right.” you agreed, determined not to break from your expressionless front.

“Did you know that Natasha used to live there?” your father inquired and at once you knew what he was getting at.

“No, I didn’t. What was it like?” you replied, hoping he wasn’t about to do what you thought he was. But you and your father were all too similar and if there was a move you suspected him of making, chances were he would do it.

“Well,” Natasha cleared her throat, setting down the silverware she had once used to sift through her mashed potatoes. “- other than becoming a child assassin and spending every day of my childhood being brutally beaten to a pulp everyday to withstand the worst conditions that a hit might include, it was awful.”

“Wow, I’m sorry.” Peter sympathized, caught off guard by the misfortune of the whole story.

“Yeah it’s tragic,” your father brushed off, turning back to focus on you like the lense of a telescope narrowing in on the target star. “Now, you should really practice some Russian, with Natasha.”

“Tony, stop it.” Pepper tried in an attempt to stop the ambush from going too far, but she knew him as well as you did. When Tony Stark had an idea, he was like a bull chasing the red of a woven cloth. If anyone got between him and his goal, they would be squashed from the sheer force of his will.

“What?” he asked, as if he was clueless to the exposing plan that was currently in motion.

“You have that look in your eye. You know that one you get when you think you’re onto something?”

“I’ve also seen him get it over a new microscope. While it was still in the box.” Peter added. You caught your laugh just in time, putting all your efforts into staying in character.

“Enough, we promised to keep that between us,” your father flashed angry eyes towards Peter before looking at Natasha. “Come on, Nat. Just one line of Russian? Wouldn’t you like that MJ?”

“No I wouldn’t…” you shook your head, though being MJ requires you to be less vehement than normal.

“Oh, but it would help you!”

“Fine, if it makes you shut up.” Nat gave in, before turning to you in your MJ form. You could feel your heart sink in your chest as if the growing weight from the pressure was starting to sink it.

“он думает, что ты лжешь” she spoke, and it didn’t take an expert in the language to know that her accent and inflections beyond perfection. She made a nod towards your father, a subtle attempt to warn you that he knew your plan was failing while she took your side. Little did she know, underneath the cool palette of MJ’s stone expression, you were panicking worse than ever before in your life which you could’ve conveyed had you ever learned to speak Russian.

“So, what did she say, MJ?” your father prompted.

“She dove a soak.” you replied in the best accent you could muster (which ended up being closer to a classic Californian tone than Russian), earning a stern look from Natasha.”

“Did you just say what I think you did?” she glared and you stood up with Peter, heading back in the direction of his bedroom.

“No - I - my notes are upstairs! Let me just go get them really quick.” you motioned for Peter to follow you, deciding that now was a good time for the two of you to switch as you feared being literally snapped in half by the Black Widow.

“See, I told you something’s off!” Tony exclaimed as soon as the two of you had vanished, his tablet above the table as he examined the real MJ’s Seal of Biliteracy.

“I hope you’re right. Otherwise Peter’s girlfriend just totally called me a fucking bitch in Russian and I don’t often let people get away after insulting me like that.”

“Cool it, Widow. I promise you, she did not understand an ounce of that conversation. MJ’s Cornell profile doesn’t even mention Russian,” he pulled up his screen to further inspect, zooming in on the certificate. “She’s actually studying Japanese.”

“Tony.” Pepper groaned at the sight of her husband holding the invasive tech.

“What?!”

“You are undoubtedly the worst iPad kid I’ve ever come across. And we live with Morgan!”

“Aren’t you more concerned with the fact that he can just access people’s private information on a whim?” Steve interjected.

“No. We’re all used to that.” Bucky shrugged as he was quite indifferent on the matter. He didn’t even have a personal phone for Tony to stalk.

“Got some embarrassing searches, Captain?�� Sam teased from beside him. But Tony was on it before Steve even had a chance to think about a response.

“None other than the fact that he looks up Bluey on a daily basis to watch clips of it on Youtube.” Tony switched to a new tab that contained a detailed review of Steve’s search history before switching back to MJ and looking up Flash’s profile on Harvard for further opportunities of exposure.

“Hey! That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Steve exclaimed as he crossed his arms against his chest. “I love the Heeler family.”

“But I pay for Disney+. Why do you have to watch it on YouTube?” Tony protested before tucking his tablet away again at the sight of Flash reentering the room, only it wasn’t your face that smiled at the group as you entered, but MJ’s.

“We’re back!” Flash/Peter exclaimed, holding your hand close to him as if you were actually his date. You clutched onto his bicep, missing the firm muscle of Peter’s normal arm as you squeezed Flash’s much more flaccid one. It was then you noticed the disturbed looks from the table of Avengers.

“What?” you asked, moving one of your hands to pat your cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but you are holding onto the wrong man.” Bucky pointed out to which you realized that you, MJ, were holding the person that you were supposed to have a restraining order against.

You let out a scream as you tore yourself from Flash/Peter and booked it back in the direction you had come from. Peter was only a few seconds behind you as he started calling your name in Flash’s whiny voice.

“I’m starting to see it now,” Thor acknowledged as the gaps in your plan started growing too wide to go unnoticed any longer. “These young mortals are not who they pretend to be.”

“I told you!” Tony exclaimed. “I think y/n’s powers are behind it. There is no way that she and Flash just happen to appear right when MJ and Peter leave.”

“Either that, or this is just one bad Disney Channel show plot.” Steve shook his head, earning a crude stare from your father.

“What? First I got scolded for not using Disney+ and now I’m getting scolded for using it? Make up your mind!”

You returned as MJ only a few seconds later with Peter at your side as you thought it too risky to change into your other disguises considering the possibility of admonishment.

“Sorry guys, y/n is taking care of the restraining order stuff.” Peter professed as the two of you stood behind your chairs, but opted not to sit down in case you needed to quickly change.

“Is she now?”

“Yep.” you agreed, pulling out your phone as a distraction, hoping the Avengers would just see you as a blatantly disrespectful teenager rather than a skilled liar. You hated the thought of besmirching MJ’s image, but it had to be done to keep your secret. After everything else that had fallen apart, it was all you could resort to.

“Alright, that’s it!” your father exclaimed. “The jig is up you guys, we know what this is.”

“What?” your heart started beating wildly in your chest as you looked up from your game of Subway Surfers.

“I know you’re not really MJ. And I also know that if I went upstairs right this second, that neither Flash nor my daughter would be there.” your father stated, standing and moving closer to you as he revealed your biggest fear since starting the whole operation.

“No, I am and they definitely are!” you countered, losing the quiet aggressiveness of MJ’s normal tone as you defended yourself.

“Then how do you explain your phone case, huh? It looks exactly like the one I got y/n for her birthday last year.”

You looked at your phone case that displayed a solid ivory background and was covered with silly nods to the Harry Potter saga, something your father knew you would love. You laid it case-down on the table so it could blend in as any ordinary phone once more.

“So, what if I’m just borrowing her phone case?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Like Peter just borrowed Flash’s whole outfit?” he returned and instantly all eyes were on Peter who was not in his flannel ensemble, but his counterparts silly con style instead. He looked down at his clothes and cursed.

“Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something.”

“This has been really funny, said no one at this table, but it’s time to give it up.” your father ordered, but out of the many traits you had missed out inheriting from him, stubbornness wasn’t one of them. You glared a deathly stare at him, your nose scrunching as you painted on your meanest face.

“I am MJ!” you glowered, slightly raising your tone so that he would take you seriously.

At that very second, your phone screen lit up with the familiar likeness of MJ’s contact photo and the swipe to answer button as she decided on the exact moment that you were trying to be deceptive to call you. It was all over.

“Answer it.” your father ordered and you knew you had no choice. You picked up the phone and put it on speaker as per his instructions.

“Hey y/n!” the voice of MJ greeted you through the phone in her usual friendly monotone that she often used when speaking to you. While you had only known each other the last few years of high school and didn’t go to the same college, you two were fairly close.

“Hi,” you replied shakily. There was no going back now.

“Listen, I don't have much time, I gotta get back to one of my classes, but I wanted to know what your plans are for the rest of break so we could find a space to hang out.”

“Uh yeah, I’ll let you know. I’m not doing much, just in a lot of trouble.” you confessed taking in the absolute fury of your father. If looks could kill, you would be six feet under. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was more mad at you or proud of himself.

“Oh, ok. Well can you pass the message onto Peter? He would be invited too of course. I’ve already asked Ned.”

“Great. I’ll tell him.” you swallowed.

“I’ll talk to you later, I’ve really gotta go now.”

“Okay, Bye.”

Your heart sank as you set your phone down again and faced the reality of your choices. Your father knew and there was no fooling him anymore.

“Alright, give it up you two.” your father ordered.

“But, I’m not-” you tried, but of course it was no use.

“Now!”

You sighed as you let the facade fall, crestfallen upon your revealed appearance. At once Peter was at your side as your curly hair returned to its natural stage and color and your normal face emerged from MJ’s.

“Busted,” Tony crossed his arms and stared at the two of you. “I’m guessing Peter was Flash.”

“What the hell is going on?” Pepper questioned, the only one who had fallen for the high jinks.

“It’s a scheme! They aim to commit high trickery!” Thor accused, slamming his fists on the table.

“Relax Thor, let Tony finish speaking.” Steve requested, much less disturbed than the others despite the fact that he had also been victim to your foolery.

You couldn’t even meet your father's gaze, far too embarrassed by the failure at your attempt at concealing your relationship. You knew he was eyeing you down with his startling stare, you could tell by his shifting posture. You looked over to Peter who was equally ashamed looking, wishing that you could hold him close.

“What is this?” your father inquired, his brown stern eyes burning into you like a brand into hide.

“Requesting clarification, sir,” Peter uttered. You had learned from past experiences that he often slipped into using strange vernacular when in an awkward situation.

“Peter, I caught you in a game of hooky. That doesn’t mean you become a robot.”

“Right, sorry….sir,” Peter apologized, using the name he had been wanting to call Tony all along.

“I want to know exactly what's going on here… from you.”

Sensing general attention shifting in your direction, you lifted your head to see his finger pointed in your direction. You knew there was no denying his authority though you didn’t think there was much to explain.

“I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.” Natasha interjected, but she was brought down by Pepper who wanted you to get your chance at explaining. There was very little you could get out.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

“Why don't you two have real dates?”

“We’re not really dating those people Mr. Stark,” Peter contributed, hoping to take some of the weight off his shoulders, though it didn’t help much.

“So when I asked you who Peter was dating, you made up an answer?”

“Yes.” you admitted, lowering your head in shame once more.

“I knew it! He is gay!” Bucky exclaimed.

“What?” gasped Peter as he sent the soldier a well earned look of absolute shock. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes.

“I already told you, he’s not gay!” you repeated your earlier statement, hoping it was enough to finally put the rumors to rest.

“Then why are you pretending to be his girlfriend?” your father asked and you knew you couldn't hide it any longer.

“I’m not, dad. I’m not pretending to be his girlfriend.”

“But you are quite literally in clothing you would never wear to try and act like someone else.”

“Yeah, if you two didn’t actually have dates, you could’ve canceled.” Sam pointed out though you suspected he only spoke due to his longing to be literally anywhere else.

“Right, okay so I did do that, but MJ is not Peter’s girlfriend. She never was.” you explained and at once you could tell the truth had finally snapped in place.

Your father’s eyes widened as he started to catch on to what you were saying. You nodded at him, taking a step closer to Peter and intertwining his hand in yours. He made it all obvious from the mere look he was giving you, soft and compassionate, two of your favorite parts of him. You could only imagine how in awe your expression was in return.

“I am.” you confirmed, though you hadn’t needed to say anything at all.

There was silence as the rest of the Avengers took in the reveal for a while before Tony broke the silence again.

“How long has this been going on for?”

You gulped.

“Three years.”

Your father nodded, pondering over the information before erupting in applause with the other Avengers joining just behind him and passing high fives all around as Tony shouted “I was right!”

You didn’t understand. He had seemed so angry at you seconds ago and none of it made any sense considering his ancient rule. No dating superheros, he had been preaching it long before you and Peter ever met. Yet it didn’t change the scene before you, the celebration played out as if they were footballers who had just won the championships.

“What the hell?” you cried?

“What?” your father paused all congratulations to turn to you.

“You’re not mad?” you questioned.

“Maybe a little about you lying for so long, but I gotta say, I am more impressed than I am mad. Why would I be mad?”

You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he forget his oldest rule?

“Because I’m not allowed to date him?” you stated as if it were obvious. It should’ve been, but somehow he hadn’t remembered.

“Why would that be?”

You stared at your dad in disbelief as the cheering instantly disbanded. The confusion you felt bubbles into a strange form of frustration. While you weren’t quite angry, you were blown away by the forgetfulness of your father.

“You said I’m not allowed to date superheroes! EVER! That’s like your oldest rule!”

“That's sad,” whispered Sam to Bucky, though it was loud enough that everyone heard it. You turned to glare at him before a large gasp erupted from your father and at once you could tell he remembered. You could feel it now, the shower of disappointment that awaited you, but instead all you heard was laughter.

Your father was laughing! Chuckling at the prospect of such a rule even though it was his very own. You stared at him, mouth agape as you waited for an explanation.

“Oh! Junior,” he chuckled, calling you by the nickname you had held from a young age. “I made that rule when you were obsessed with Loki. It doesn’t count for someone as harmless as Peter!”

Tony laughed as he gestured to your boyfriend who stood frozen like a deer in headlights. You expected the whole room to burst in the same hilarity, but what actually followed was almost worse. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as each of the present Avengers looked at you in disgust.

“Hey, you'd think he was hot too if you were 12!” you defended, though you felt silly.

“I, in fact, did not think Loki was attractive when I was 12.” Thor claimed, holding his proud mane of blonde hair high.

“You don’t count.” you glared at him.

“He literally almost took over New York and killed your dad?” Pepper recounted the events of the battle.

“I thought I could fix him,” you shrugged. “Still do actually…”

“Right, well moving on, if I had known you still thought those were the rules, we could’ve done this ages ago.” your father explained as if the information was a casual concept.

“Done what exactly?” you asked, requiring more explanation.

“You do realize this whole plan was to expose you and Peter right?” Natasha added.

And for what felt like the thousandth time in two minutes, your brain exploded from the new information.

“WHAT?”

“Well I wasn’t even that sure of it, I started to suspect it after I tried grabbing the Sorcerer’s Stone and literally all the Harry Potter movies were gone and I only know of one other person that considers them Christmas movies in this household.” your father eyed you as he explained it.

“Damnit.”

You really should’ve known. You totally had forgotten how similar you and your father were in that aspect. In many aspects really.

“So this whole time, everything with Operation Pair Parker, it was all so that Peter and I would confess?”

“Exactly. Though I must say, you had me convinced for a bit with the whole other partners thing. For a while at least.”

“I wasn’t convinced.” Bucky shrugged, crossing his metal arm over his chest.

“Yes you were,” Sam countered, calling him out. “You almost cried about it when you realized they might never be together.”

It was too much all too soon, but after a while you realized the whole plan of misdirection was equal in effort from you and your father as well as stemmed from the same intentions. A respect for the other and deep long running stubbornness. It forced you to crack a grin.

“So Peter and I were allowed to date this whole time?” you restated.

“Of course. In fact, I was surprised that you guys never dated in high school. It all makes sense now. Either that or Peter was gay.”

“What is up with people thinking im gay?!” Peter tried, but no one was paying attention to him.

“Thanks dad.”

“I am going to punish you for lying to me for so long though. You absolutely should've said something earlier.”

“That’s fair.” you muttered, gritting your teeth.

“Oh no it's not,” Pepper interjected. “C’mon Tony, it's the holidays! Can't we punish them later?”

“Fine, but I am going to make you expand your movie marathon to include the rest of us. Steve still has to check Harry Potter off his list.” your father required, reference the written list Captain America had been checking items off of ever since he had emerged from the ice.

“Yeah, as long as there’s a dog involved.” he agreed. You pictured Sirius Black in his dog form and nodded assuredly, omitting any of the tragedy that accompanied the name. You only nodded.

“Deal.”

And so your family date was rescheduled to the following night where instead of deception and stress, the space normally used for casual conferencing was transformed into a festive welcoming space. Snowflake decorations covered every corner of the ceiling and the chairs were arranged to all face a giant flat screen with loungers added around for you and the other Avengers to choose from.

Soon, the lot of you had settled down for the first few movies to kick off your marathon, sharing themed snacks and butterbeer from a recipe you had found online after your father declined importing the real beverage from Florida.

It was a better scenario than anything you could’ve imagined after revealing your relationship with Peter. Instead of drama and betrayal, there was light and laughter and just like always, Peter was right by your side in front of the others without a hint of bashfulness. You had just gotten to the third movie after spending the evening rewatching and finishing the first two.

“Which character was your crush when you were little?” you whispered to Peter, shifting closer to him in the oversized bean bag you two were sharing during the quidditch scene.

Peter sighed as he pondered all his options before landing on his final answer.

“Definitely Ginny.” he confirmed

“Good answer Parker.” you agreed, believing the girl was very similar to yourself. Or at least I’m a few ways.

“What was yours?” he returned the questioned, though you wouldn’t volunteer the information as easily.

“Guess.”

“Oh no,” Peter groaned as one particular person popped into his mind. “Don’t tell me you were a Draco sympathizer.”

“Don’t hate on his fan club,” you chided, remembering how strong of a chokehold Dracotok held over many in its active days, regardless if you felt bad for the pathetic blonde or not. “But no. I liked the twins.”

Peter chuckled as your answer made more sense than anything he had in mind.

“Which one?”

You opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your father beat you to it, his words sudden and unexpected.

“Fred,” he answered, popping a nerd gummy cluster into his mouth. “She’s got the Wattpad history to prove it.”

You turned in your seat to gawk at him as he offered the information to the whole room.

“You did not just say that.” Pepper scolded from beside him.

“How the hell do you have access to my Wattpad history?!”

Your father pulled out his tablet from seemingly nowhere and opened a tab that described every website you had accessed ever since you were an impressionable young teen.

“I have access to everything you did when you were little. I probably should’ve taught you about your digital footprint better.”

“Well anyways, he’s right.” you turned back to Peter, deciding not to bother with your fathers antics.

“But I’m nothing like them,” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low to prevent further eavesdropping. “Maybe you should make me taller and turn my hair red sometime.”

“You, Peter Parker, are everything I need you to be just the way you are. And I would take you over any of my fictional hallpasses anyday.”

You leaned in to nuzzle his nose with your own, sparring the hall from any intense PDA before your father spoke up again.

“That’s true. She still reads a lot of Spider-Man fics.”

“DAD!”

#tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x stark!reader #spider man #domestic avengers #fluff

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lavend-ler · 3 months

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BORDERLANDS: DEBT OR ALIVE BOOK REVIEW

I have read the new Borderlands book Debt Or Alive. I did not like it. In fact, I hated it so much I needed to pour out my thoughts in this review. It’ll be very long, so bear this in mind while reading through it because it’s been a while since a piece of media has made me this angry.

There will be spoilers to ALL of the book so you’ve been warned. I am going to analyze this book very thoroughly so everything that can be spoiled will be spoiled.

TL;DR – I hated this book. I accept Borderlands 3, I think it’s fine and I really like aspects of it. I wasn’t enthusiastic about New Tales From The Borderlands but in the end, I thought it was fine. But Debt Or Alive? It’s probably the only piece of Borderlands media that I won’t consider canon from this point forward. Half-assed story with shallow characters and ham-fisted message which retroactively ruins the events of the game(s). Don’t buy it, don’t waste your time on this just to see the worst version of characters you love.

A more detailed review will be under the cut. It’s over 10k long.

1. Tales From The Borderlands made even worse

I have a complicated relationship with Tales From The Borderlands. I think my best friend had put it in the best way – Tales From The Borderlands is good when you don’t think about it for too long. For me, it’s a fun game to play once every 4 years, remember the story and move on. The more you think about it, the more apparent the cracks get and the worse it becomes.

Debt Or Alive REALLY makes you think about Tales From The Borderlands in the worst way possible.

I have always thought that Fiona’s part of the story is weaker than Rhys’. It’s told in a way that sort of meanders until it’s reached its conclusion. The first sin Debt Or Alive commits is that the ending of Tales is its beginning. What should be the conclusion, the nice ribbon to tie the story is now the jumping off point. In my opinion, it’s always a terrible narrative decision to make your sequel start where the story left off. It always implies the fact that your conclusion is meaningless and that your characters didn’t learn anything. To write a new story, you need more challenges which also means that characters need new struggles. In Debt Or Alive’s case, it means that everything that happened in Tales isn’t worth a thing.

To me, nothing was more apparent of it here than the Vault scene. The Vault of the Traveler grants a wish to everyone who steps there. The Vault should be the conclusion to what we know of the characters and sort of “off screen” this happens to Rhys. We see Fiona hear that Rhys wishes for Atlas and that’s the end of his story in Tales. Though I will touch upon why I didn’t like this later, it does make narrative sense, he was supposed to be more independent and choose his own path instead of following others. It’s a ribbon that ties to his character in Borderlands 3 and New Tales From The Borderlands.

Then it’s time for Fiona and… Oh, yeah. What would SHE wish for? Throughout Tales, we see Fiona evolve as a character from the ragged con-artist who wishes to just go by, to the independent and certain Vault Hunter. Or do we? Yes, there is a moment in which Sasha dies which would be traumatic for Fiona but she’s from Pandora. She should know the dangers of living and instead, she should be happy that she came back as the hero. In the ending of Tales, we can hear Fiona say “This [Vault hunting] life…suits me” so she already reconciled the danger and in fact, she welcomes it. But to make this half-assed story be a thing, we have to disregard this entirely.

So in the Vault, Fiona is given a chance to wish for anything she wants. What does she wish for? Nothing, actually. Presented with an opportunity of a lifetime, Fiona has no idea what to wish for. I can’t even begin to tell you how bad of either an opener or an ending this is for her character. For an opener, we have a protagonist who doesn’t know what she wants and where she needs to go. Sure, it’s a start for an arc but not for Fiona who already DID have it. It’s an arc she had earned, so why would she have a restart and go through this all over again? And as an ending, it’s a terrible reminder that Fiona probably didn’t learn a thing. The time in the Vault was for nothing, Athena didn’t teach her anything. Burch doesn’t know his character well enough to think of anything for her to wish for.

Hence the whole journey moving forward truly is just a bad rehash. If Fiona didn’t learn a thing about herself and needs to do it again but worse, what’s the point of this story? To see her come to the same conclusion as she did at the end of Tales but worse? The answer is yes. As this story suggests Fiona is a protagonist who doesn’t know what to do with her life and just wants to protect her sister and that’s all. Which is the exact same point her character was at, at the beginning of Tales.

Actually, why did the Vault have to grant wishes, anyway? It doesn’t make sense for neither Fiona nor Rhys and even later, Gaige cements that this didn’t have to be the case. Part of the charm which Tales From The Borderlands brought was the story of everyday people. This wasn’t a story of glorious Vault Hunters with great stamina and luck, who chose the adventure for the guns and glory. This was a story of a middle manager and a con artist, two unremarkable people who were basically forced onto this adventure from outside forces and because of their will became heroes of their own stories. It’s a story of normal people who have made their own self-made destiny.

Debt Or Alive, of course, scoffs at this idea. Rhys’ Vault wish for Atlas makes no sense as he already has Atlas and already probably works under this trademark. It doesn’t mean a thing that he wishes for the whole legal action thing, when his character progression to have Atlas from Jack would be so good. But no, it’s cosmic power that grants him that wish fully. Fiona too, she was supposed to be a self-made Vault Hunter but in the end (or the beginning), she rejects this and doesn’t know what to wish for. Just an absolutely horrible way of planning out her character. No one wants a passive character and this is what this story makes Fiona to be – a bystander, rather than an igniter.

I also want to point out that the events of Tales and characters she meets are truly nothing but cameos. A big part of Fiona’s story was gaining independence when her father figure Felix turned out to be a snake who sold them out. Within Tales, it’s very clear that Felix was abusive towards Fiona and Sasha, forcing them into roles they didn’t want, favoring Fiona and making them live such a strict life, they thought it was the best they could get. Of course, none of this is ever touched upon in Debt Or Alive. It’s never mentioned that Fiona is an abuse survivor and how it would shape her as a person with her protectiveness and willingness to give up greatness for simply “good enough”, and being held to impossible standards. There are also barely any mentions of Athena and their time together. At no point does Fiona use tactics she had learnt from Athena or recounts their time. Those are passive mentions which make Fiona look like she didn’t learn a thing.

My own ribbon that ties this section will be the funniest thing that for me exposes how much Tales is made worse. Tales From The Borderlands is a game in which choices DO NOT matter. There are no consequences and each choice will yield the same outcome. Again, it’s just meaningless and it’s so funny to me that this book wants to wink at the audience becoming a “choose your own adventure” book in two sections, which both lead to the same result. It truly does not mean a thing.

2. Anthony Burch cannot write women and Fiona’s character assassination

Anthony Burch cannot write women. This is a fact that I wanna point out every single time I can because it was never more apparent to me than in this book. Let’s start with women in Borderlands and the stories which he had written for them. Maya has a good theme but falls flat when she’s only an object for Kreig to lust over. Nisha is Burch’s sexual fantasies coming true in a gross way. Athena in Tales is made only stone cold, no-fun character who is a liar to someone who loves. Janey in Tales is made to be an overbearing girlfriend trope but it’s progressive because she’s a lesbian. Vallory is a collection of tropes. So on and so forth.

Hence right from the beginning, I was very skeptical of a book by Burch which will have the most female-driven cast in all of Borderlands. My skepticism was proved not only to be right but also that it was much worse than I had realized. Because I haven’t even shown you the issues of Fiona and Sasha and trust me, there are some even in Tales. However from Tales I could very easily tell you what character traits Fiona and Sasha have and what differentiated them.

Fiona, as described in Tales promotional material is a con-artist with a heart of gold. She has been raised on streets, she loves money and she has a silver tongue to get out of every situation she’s in. Fiona also cares about those she loves a lot, as an older sister she can get overbearing but her situation in life made her realize that it’s justifiable. She can also be a nerd, she’s curious and fun, likes to joke around. Sasha is a character who loves danger far more than Fiona. She likes guns and has great knowledge of them, she’s more a doer than a talker. Sasha doesn’t want the con life and longs for something tangible, rather than just be a prize in the books. She also has an inferiority complex, due to Felix’ abuse which she masks with her forwardness and action personality. She shines through when she can do things she loves, becoming headstrong, honest and independent.

Do you really think we’ll get any of this in this book?

The answer is no and it’s very easy to tell it right from the start. I know I keep getting back to the Vault scene but trust me, this is the culprit from which I knew this book will be a failure. In this scene, Fiona doesn’t know what to wish for, so she “wishes” that Sasha was there. This wish is granted and it’s now both sisters in the Vault. From this you can see the issue – this book does not treat Fiona and Sasha as separate characters. They ALWAYS have to be together, always mention each other, they’re basically never given a room to breathe because whenever a scene calls for just Fiona or just Sasha, their internal monologue will keep mentioning the other.

I can’t even really make a case for either of the characters individually because this book itself makes such a bad case with them. I’ll give it my best shot because when these moments occur they are, well, bad. I’ll start with Sasha because I have less to say since the book itself had less to say about her too. There is a certain moment in which Sasha, being tired of Fiona’s carefulness, goes Vault hunting with Gaige. I was very happy at this, since I have shipped Sasha and Gaige before and I thought their personalities would mesh well. Yet, in this particular instance, Sasha isn’t enjoying anything regarding Vault hunting and the danger, while constantly thinking of Fiona. Why is that, why wouldn’t she be thrilled for the adventure and getting to know another person like Gaige more? They could bond and start a friendship but in the end, they barely talk and Sasha isn’t into it. Even guns don’t excite her that much. What happened to her?

I think even her reflections towards life after death are very much shallow and omitted. We get a sense of it, we get that Sasha is terrified that there’s nothing when she dies but we’re not given anything of it. I figured this would be her turning point, that Sasha will realize that if there’s nothing afterwards, it’s best to live her life to the fullest, going on adventures, not wasting chances. But nothing like this has happened. Sasha doesn’t enjoy Vault hunting, she shrugs at guns, she can’t have her own fulfillments, her relationship with Rhys is wishy-washy. You’d think that with sudden realization of death, Sasha would have a breaking point and start thinking if it’s all worth it and how her life should now be like. But that would require interesting philosophical questions that Burch doesn’t want to answer. Not when they lose the life-giving crystal, nor when Sasha dies a second time when she chooses to. It’d be such an interesting discussion of the meaning of life, how Sasha approaches life and what it all means to her but no. Not given any thought to this. At the end it’s not even unique to her as Fiona dies and is brought to life too so again, no point.

Another faucet to her character is the on and off relationship with Rhys and just… I was never a fan of shipping Sasha and Rhys together and this book reminded me of it in the worst possible way. Sasha is disinterested with Rhys’ world and they never mesh well together, having such different goals in life. She doesn’t even want to acknowledge their relationship, leaving Rhys to look like a sad wet sock (more on that later). It’s described how she’s used to acting a certain way and that’s fair, that’s a huge roadblock in a relationship. But we never see this roadblock get pushed. Sasha at the end of the book is still terrified of the potential relationship and doesn’t want this. We only learn that one time she calls him her boyfriend off screen, which is just such a cop out I can’t begin to describe it. I’m so sorry, Sasha, you deserve an actual relationship not just Burch’s fantasies.

So I move to the main character of the story, Fiona. And oh god, how badly has Burch treated Fiona, words cannot describe it but they will try. From the beginning, we see one of Fiona’s traits be amped up to 11 – her protectiveness which turns into overbearingness. Constantly, we are reminded that Sasha died and Fiona can’t forgive herself. Which is fair but again… We saw her happy and fulfilled at the end of Tales. But since Tales doesn’t matter and probably it’s better if it didn’t exist, it gets shrugged off. May I remind you, this book starts right as Tales ended. Which is a year later from the start. Which means Fiona is 30 and Sasha is 25. Their actions do not portray two characters of this age, especially Fiona’s towards Sasha’s.

Look, I’m 24 and I have a sister who’s 33, so close-ish range to them. If my sister would do the things that Fiona did to Sasha I would be pissed off as all hell because guess what, my adult sister does consider me an adult woman. Unlike apparently Fiona and Sasha. Because for Sasha’s “safety” Fiona puts her into a fucking jail on a planet they do not know, just towards her “safety”. Yes, it’s regarded as dumb and wrong in the book and that Fiona knows that Sasha would pull through but it’s just mind boggling to me that Fiona would even do that. She should know her sister. But then throughout the book we see Fiona acting like know all be all authority to her, constantly second guessing her actions and opinions and being completely overbearing. I’m sorry but her apology at the end doesn’t make it remotely okay to be so controlling of Sasha.

I guess that’s the point. In my opinion, this book is a character assassination for Fiona. People will whine and moan over how Rhys got ruined in Borderlands 3 and New Tales but no, I had and will always disagree with this. But Fiona in Debt Or Alive? Burch truly showed how he has no clue how to write female characters because she is completely ruined here. None of her actions make sense, neither do her choices, the little character she has is so unlikeable and I just can’t believe he thought it was all good.

The best way to show you how Fiona got ruined is to have a little overview of Fiona as a character before and her background. She is a Pandoran, born and “raised” there, through the life of crime and bribery. Her biological parents died, she only has Sasha with her. Thus she feels responsible for her and their wellbeing. Fiona also had Felix, a man who brought her and Sasha with him and raised them in a very abusive manner. Fiona all her life had lived in poverty, struggling to get by with her cons, constantly having Felix make her think she’s responsible for the failures or successes of the group all on her own. She lived in a caravan, she barely had any money to her name. She’s no stranger to the climate and cruelty of Pandora, having lived there all her life, though she herself prefers the “word” combat.

Got it? Well, now forget it because that’s what Burch did in his book.

I know that wealth can change people, I really do and the sum of money Fiona and Sasha received is enormous. What I don’t understand is that they both did a complete 180 on their perspectives. I do realize that living in poverty all their life, Fiona would start spending money on dumb things but to hammer home this fact, Burch tries really hard to show us how dumb some of the purchases are. But would she really act like this in this setting? First, it’s hard for me to believe that she would willingly move to Eden-5, seeing the corrupted system and life in which it operates. It’s just Pandora but with chrome paint on it. Yet, Fiona doesn’t see red flags and just continues on living, buying dumb shit. We don’t learn anything new about her through this either, it’s just a dumb thing after dumb thing. Why couldn’t it start with things that she really wanted and then move on to unnecessary things? I think it’s because Burch couldn’t even establish what her wishes would be from Pandoran times.

What also made me just want to throw this book away was that it took Fiona around 200 pages to realize that people who work for her are also bound by debt. It’s such a nearsighted thing, I cannot believe that she would do it. Especially since I think we’re led to believe that this book happened in the span of 4-5 years. For Fiona to be this bound by greed and wealth doesn’t fit her character at all. How could she just not see that people who work for her have been tortured by poverty? Up until this point, Fiona lived in poverty herself, she should KNOW that this is a thing people struggle with. Not to mention, in the book there are talks about how people have multiple debt cuffs on them. It’s unacceptable that Fiona wouldn’t care about those who were beneath her. And if she really did, do you think this makes her character any more likable? And do you think that her turn around is a moment of triumph when we’re led to believe she ignored those people for YEARS?

I think the story itself just makes you shrivel at one moment in particular. Fiona purchases a sapphire kitten, which shatters. Classic Borderlands humor, right? This moment truly disturbed me but not in a way that Burch wanted but for the implications. Fiona spends money on bullshit she doesn’t want just to have it. Who else spent money on unneeded bullshit just to show wealth? Handsome Jack. And when you’re comparing your hero to the most vile villain from the series, I don’t think it’s a good sign. Especially since in canon Handsome Jack loved and cared for Butt Stallion. Unlike Fiona.

Even the breaking point moment of Fiona, the destruction of Rustville, felt shallow. Reading this, I couldn’t help but to go back to the moment of Helios’ destruction in Tales. It was such an incredible moment for Rhys, seeing the destruction of a place that was close to him, death of people who he knew and respected. And seeing this “reprise” of sorts with Fiona just felt shallow. At this point, Fiona was in Rustville around 3 times if I can recall? She met people but didn’t form any meaningful relationships (because Burch doesn’t want either of the sisters to have meaningful relationships besides each other) or got to know anyone better. These were all one off interactions with random people. Unlike Rhys, it wasn’t Fiona’s choice to destroy Rustville. It was only an act that she maybe sort of allowed to happen but it was an action of one rich woman. Fiona had no agency in her actions, there was nothing she could’ve done to neither prevent it nor cause it. Thirdly, Fiona is a Pandoran. She should know the carnage, death and destruction, as it is ingrained in Pandora’s system and society. For her to act so devastated and shocked, it simply doesn’t make sense.

Another thing is that this story really dumbs Fiona down, to the points that I couldn’t comprehend how dumb she was. She goes alone to Tetanus Wilds, even if with Sasha she’d have more chances. Especially since she was going to Gaige’s stash and let’s be real – Sasha knows guns, Fiona does not. Fiona goes to destroy Rustville without any weapons and without any protection which of course results in her basically getting killed. Fiona takes a leap of faith thinking she’d die in the ditch but forgets that Deathtrap can fly and catch her. How would she forget if she was tinkering with him before? The same way she’d forget her weapons it seems.

I also wanted to mention how it always made sense to me that Fiona and Sasha would have a falling out in some part of the story, so both of the sisters would become independent and chase their own destinies. It would require Burch to stop thinking of them as a singular character, which does not happen. This part in particular made me especially angry. A skilled writer would make Fiona’s overbearingness and constant promises to be a start of Sasha realizing she needs to live her own life, Fiona as well. Anthony Burch is not a skilled writer so nothing of such happens.

Within Debt Or Alive we don’t learn anything new regarding neither Fiona nor Sasha. We are spoon fed information that we already know, seeing characters we love either devolve to their pre-Tales state or make terrible, nonsensical decisions. There are no moments in which either of the sisters can breathe on their own. They are thrown into situations where something just has to happen. Thus, we don’t learn anything about them as people.

I also want to point out that the writing of Gaige is fine. I’ll talk more about this later but she truly was fine and I didn’t see issues with how her character was carried. Granted, I think it’s very hard to screw up writing Gaige but it’s Burch, he can do it all. I’m still sad that she’s a lonely outcast like in Borderlands 3 but in general, I didn’t have issues with either her writing or the story.

3. There will never be another Handsome Jack and the death of a good villain

Some of you have already started to roll your eyes at the mention of Handsome Jack but trust me, I have a point here to make. Whenever you hear people talk about Handsome Jack a special kind of sentence emerges – a villain you love to hate. I think this sentence is a great guide to creating your villain so that they’re impactful, fit the story, be likable enough to want to be with them but you’re happy when you get to kill them. And nothing made me feel like it’s a craft long gone than reading Debt Or Alive.

Countess Holloway is a nothing villain. She truly doesn’t represent anything and I can’t tell you anything of what she is as a person. Actually, it can boil down to one sentence – she’s rich and she’s evil. That’s all there is to her character but I guess it goes to show that even then, Burch cannot write women.

Going a little deeper, we gotta discuss the parts that make a good villain. I’m sorry for the comparisons to Handsome Jack but we really need to talk about what makes him great and what makes Holloway shallow.

On the surface level, the points are there. A villain needs to be connected to your heroes in a specific way, having an impact on their lives. Holloway does meet that quota, as she’s not only the motor for this story but also is actually the reason why Fiona and Sasha got rich in the first place. She is a vain person, who loves to live for shallow things and doesn’t care about the rest. From this point of view, we could think that Holloway serves as a reminder to Fiona and Sasha of “be careful who you can become” but neither of them have this revelation. Throughout the story, Fiona and Sasha basically do turn into Holloway, yet nothing of it is neither stated nor explored. It’s not a revelation that characters have, it’s what we think when we connect the dots.

When we start to think more, it all begins to fall apart. The key thing that lacks here is motivation. Looking back at Handsome Jack, it was clear how his goals were stated – he was a nobody who became somebody by his charisma and cunning ways. Now he projects his awful world views on others and it’s your job to stop him. There’s also the fact that his daughter Angel works for him and killing her for Jack is the breaking point. You see him be cruel, vain and abusive but you see his more “human” side that does not excuse his actions (I am looking away from Tales) but makes you understand how much of a terrible person he is and how he deserves to die. It’s effective and fantastic storytelling and his personality makes you want to be around him, even if he’s an awful person who deserves to die.

Let’s go back to Holloway and examine her as I described the traits of a good villain via Jack. Holloway’s motivation is that 7 years ago Gaige murdered her daughter Marcie and now she wants revenge on her. This is already a problem, as this is a passive goal. Holloway is presented as an arrogant woman who doesn’t like to get her hands dirty, hence she can’t kill Gaige on her own. Understandable but also she doesn’t seem very interested in it anyway? She wants to kill Gaige but passively. There’s a bounty on Gaige but Holloway doesn’t have a squad to look after her. Wouldn’t it be more interesting if Holloway had people looking for Gaige and when they die she swiftly replaces them with another one? It would be active but instead we’re presented this information as “well, maybe Gaige dies or maybe she doesn’t, idk, it’s alright either way”.

Another point is that Holloway is a very shallow character. In general, yes but in her actions too. What do we really know about her? She is rich, vain, vengeful, powerful and likes to spend money on frivolous things. Sure but that’s so basic you could tell this about so many other villains it wouldn’t make a difference. There is nothing in her nor in her behavior that would be an indicator of any interesting persona or character. Holloway just exists and we’re told that she’s evil. Wonderful character writing, gotta say.

We’re introduced to Countess Holloway in a way that she is the potential buyer of the Typhon DeLeon Vaultlander figure. Why would she want this? We’re not told nor shown. Thinking of it logically, we could say that it’s supposed to show us that Holloway likes to spend money on whatever bullshit she wants, which is fair. But wouldn’t it make it more sense if after the death of her child, Holloway became obsessed with Vault Hunters, knowing the murderer of her child became one? How did she start researching stories of Vault Hunters and think about how much she hates them, which would lead to her gaining knowledge? This way, Holloway could’ve been prepared for the attacks of Vault Hunters and Vault Hunter wannabes, since she would predict it all. Or even set a lure with a promise of amazing loot. Nothing like this happens.

Even the death of Marcie isn’t exactly a driving point to Holloway. When Angel dies in Borderlands 2, you see the impact it has on Handsome Jack. You know he’s an abusive parent yet even within this, he still acts as sort of father of the year type and constantly manipulates you, saying this is your fault. For Holloway, it seemed that the death of her child just happened and yeah, she’s pissed but you know, things happen. She doesn’t mention who Marcie was, even in her shallow understanding of it. It could’ve made a very interesting character bit where she would tell lies about Marcie, as she was more of a commodity to and of Holloway than anything else. Instead, Marcie’s death isn’t really a drive for Holloway, it’s just a thing that happened and she’s kinda bummed about this.

Is Holloway an imposing force, a ticking clock of sorts? No, she is not. We’re told that during all their stay on Eden-5 (again, around 4 or 5 years), Fiona and Sasha are neighbors with Holloway and nothing is done with it. They’re not anxious that she could strike at any moment or that she could catch Gaige. They don’t care about Gaige actually. That’s why Holloway makes a very poor villain in the imposing sense. There’s no impact of hers and her power felt throughout the book, when Fiona and Sasha can happily live next to her and nothing happens.

The only interesting display of her power is during the gala at Fiona and Sasha’s place, where Holloway shows that she can very easily change the whole Elite’s perspectives regarding the sisters. Yes, it’s a good moment for Holloway but it also truly makes me think how shallow she is as a character. First, the fact that Fiona fell for the Claptrap Vaultlander is another testament of how dumbed down she was. Burch, you made a whole joke about how Claptrap sucks at the beginning and how Fiona hates him, the least you could do was to think that she’d immediately throw this away (especially since you’ve established that Fiona is frivolous with her possessions now).

Second, it’s such a bait and switch moment for Holloway and the whole Elite. I get what it was trying to accomplish, it was for us to see that the Elites are stupid and will follow anyone as it goes. But wouldn’t it be better that out of her hatred for Fiona and Sasha she would work behind the scenes, telling other Elites how they are just stupid Pandorans who can’t achieve anything? It could’ve been a carefully plotted plan with instances that the blackmail was happening hinted at throughout the story but that would require the time when Fiona and Sasha spent on Eden-5 to mean something (it does not) and Holloway to have an ounce of personality and planning skills (she does not).

Another thing that Holloway for me lacks is the backstory. To create a good villain you must make us believe that they had a reason to do all that so we can hate them even more. I think in general, Borderlands does a great job with this, with Knoxx, Handsome Jack, of course, Colonel Zarpedon and the twins. But Holloway? We do not know anything about Holloway’s life. It was probably done so the billionaire character is just a shallow representation of this world but it makes for a very boring and one note character. We don’t know how she got this money, if she lived all her life like this and hates outsiders who she thinks are unworthy of this. Or is it a thing she got later in life thus is so cutthroat about this because she doesn’t wanna go back to poverty. No, you just get a one note shallow villain with no motivation and nothing to play off of.

Even her death is such a nothing death too. Throughout the book we see everyone trying to get at her and eliminate her and not succeed. It’s why Gaige is here, it’s a whole moral dilemma for Fiona and Sasha to grasp upon. As much as Holloway is baiting them to do this but calling them cowards and the sisters just lamenting over how they should’ve done this, you’d think Holloway would get her way. Possibly being quite literally torn to shreds by the sisters, Gaige and the poor people of Eden-5. I mean, it’s Borderlands, deaths like these could happen! But no, she just falls to her death. Even Gaige didn’t deserve to get a shot at her, it seems.

4. The themes of why all billionaires deserve to die or lack therefore of

In a now deleted tweet, Anthony Burch describes Debt Or Alive as a book about how “all billionaires deserve to die”. Why he had deleted this, I have no idea and I’m not here to speculate. However, I did not forget this tweet and throughout reading Debt Or Alive I kept reminding myself of itt. It should be the credo of this book, right? Or at least it once was. That is why, I wanted to simply sit down and speculate, what does this tweet actually mean for the themes of this book.

(This screen isn’t mine, I didn’t get to screenshot it when it was up)

I am a leftist, my politics are very much so on the left. My expertise lies in environmental issues and I know less about socio-economics but it’s fine because it seems that Anthony Burch himself doesn’t know much about this. Hence while reading Debt Or Alive, I asked myself the same question over and over. Let’s say I’m a person who likes Borderlands, likes Fiona and Sasha, isn’t too involved in politics and now I read Debt Or Alive – will this book convince me to learn more of the theory or think that all billionaires should die? In a way yes but in none of the right meaning of such speculations.

On the planet of Eden-5, it seems that life is determined by money and social status. Even the smallest crimes (or rather inconveniences towards the wealthy) will result in you getting a debt cuff. The imagery is already very ham-fisted but let’s go forward with this idea. What are the debt cuffs? I can’t really tell you how they work. While reading I couldn’t have deduced how exactly they operate with that premise.

First thing is that a person can have multiple debt cuffs but it is never specified if the cuffs ever reach their limit in amount of money on it. As we see Fiona and Sasha get their cuffs and then we learnt you can get multiple, it truly got me thinking – how is that possible? How is it possible to get another, if the screens are digital (and they are described to be digital) how can they reach the limit and be forced to get another? In a highly technological society like Borderlands, nonetheless? How are the body parts chosen for this process? Fiona gets one on her ankle (I think, either this or arm, I forgot) but Sasha gets one on her neck. There are people who have so many cuffs they can’t walk anymore. How can they have so many?

Truth be told, we won’t learn anything about the cuffs or how people operate with them. We simply know they are very common and every citizen of Rustville is described to wear one. Even children, in an incredibly not subtle way, are described to wear “debt cuffs 4 kidz!”. We’re told the cuffs are very heavy but people live with them. We won’t learn who manufactures them, who is in charge of the law to give them away. We’re not even told about the ones who have paid their debt without help from Fiona and Sasha.

The moment when the book takes us to debt prison and the guard says there are some prisoners who can’t even walk because of their cuffs, I realized what these truly were. The cuffs were nothing but the least subtle visualization for us for the statuses of Eden-5 citizens. A literal ball and chain to be exact. For me it just serves as a very ham-fisted metaphor for what could’ve been an interesting concept. We could’ve seen someone pay up their debt but the cuff stays on because the Elites don’t want anyone to be free. We could’ve seen Elites wearing some as a “fashion statement”, mocking the suffering of the lower class. We could’ve seen an Elite who has an actual debt cuff and can’t pay it away, resulting in them hiding it from others. We could’ve had anything but the complete disregard Fiona and Sasha had for their workers and not realizing all of them wear at least one.

For all it’s worth, the book has a very black and white approach towards wealth and money, one that is very unusual for Borderlands. Though we get the usual for Borderlands “everyone is an asshole”, we have such a divide between Rusters and the Elites, it’s hard to mistake it for anything else. Because of this, world building suffers with this incredibly. There are only the poorest people around or the richest people around. There is no nuance or a conversation, there is either this or that. Even Gaige doesn’t offer any insider information towards it, even if she was born and raised there. Nowhere does her very outspoken politics mention the structures and Elites of Eden-5 which she should be completely against. And the fact that she knew Marcie and that she doesn’t wear any debt cuffs that are omnipresent on Eden-5 and the fact that Elites don’t want anything to do with Rusters makes me wonder – is Gaige actually rich? Because everything shows this, and if so, great work, Burch on creating a character whose identity is all over the place.

That was my big issue with showing the problems of wealth and social structures it creates. With no middle class, the conversation lacks another point of view. There are either the wealthiest around or the completely poorest lowest class imaginable. With getting rid of the middle, Burch fails to show us how daily life operates and robs us of the potential conversation. Where are the people who chase wealth and fortune? Where are those who would betray their whole class just to have that taste of top dog life? The only thing we are offered in this conversation are Face and Pick (you don’t have to know anything about them), who want to give Fiona and Sasha away for Holloway, just for the money. But that’s treated as a plot twist, rather than an actual plot point and the siblings already paralleled Fiona and Sasha, so there’s no conversation, just a very shallow shock.

Another point is how the Elites are presented to us. The Elites are the villains, of course and just like billionaires in real life, they aren’t good people. It’s more of how they are presented to us or lack of such presentation. Debt Or Alive doesn’t show us insides to the minds of the Elites because frankly, they don’t have any. I do understand that Burch wanted to show that these are stupid, cruel people, I get it, but even in real life, billionaires are stupid but not necessarily unintelligent.

In the book, we don’t see much of Elites, actually. We see them on the gala Fiona constructed and on Holloway’s gala at the end. At first, they are mindless people who cannot think for themselves. They’re either doing what Fiona wants or what Holloway wants. Secondly, they are quite literally used as meat shields for our heroes to hide behind. So in all senses, they have no personalities, either as a group or individuals. I think the biggest crime is that even in their rich years, Fiona and Sasha don’t interact with the Elites. We could see them be cruel to the lower class citizens, purposefully making them do things that would rank up their debt. We could see them spending money on idiotic things which Fiona and Sasha would point out as dumb. We could even have descriptions of Holloway’s house that are garish and grotesque because she has so much money, she doesn’t know how to spend it anymore.

Truly, the only billionaires whose mind we can read are actually Fiona and Sasha. But for this kind of story, you need a strawman, which is absent. I genuinely thought that Gaige could become their strawman but their relationship is so shallow and so one note I quickly realized it’s impossible. In stories like this, usually when the protagonists become rich and get to make stupid, meaningless purchases, there are already signs that something like this is bad. And though there are plenty of moments in which the girls make stupid choices over their greed, it takes them so damn long to wake up from that dream.

There’s also no critique of overconsumption or consumerism in general. It should be an easy task, regarding how Fiona and Sasha spend their money but though we never see the effects on them, for example throwing away new things or we don’t see the workers (besides that one lady) in such conditions. It’s all a very interesting subject that is brushed away at rich ladies’ boredom. Though we are told that these purchases are stupid, we aren’t given an answer to what they should do instead. And the only point of activism Fiona and Sasha do is to finally free the workers from cuffs. Took them long enough.

I simply can’t understand why this plot even had to involve the sisters, since it truly makes them worse by association. All throughout Tales we hear that Fiona and Sasha hate Hyperion and don’t want anything to do with Rhys. It’s a fair assessment, they’re Pandoran and Hyperion destroyed Pandora as they knew it and is personification of greed. So… Why were they so eager to live a rich and boring life? Was their issue only with Hyperion? Even more so, why were they so hateful regarding Hyperions? For all we know, Rhys is just a simple white collar worker who also gets screwed over by the system, yet they hate him for being part of the system even when it’s to also get by. Reading this story, I had a feeling that Fiona and Sasha simply hated Rhys for being a white collar worker and they had no problems with greed and destruction of lives via riches.

The story also really doesn’t want to take sides in this whole debacle. Fiona and Sasha lose all their money and want to start a revolution, killing all the Elites. This thought isn’t given any time to sink in or develop. At some point, the sisters realize no, we shouldn’t kill the Elites because that is how we’re gonna liberate the people, with their money. But then Gaige tells them they’re wrong? It’s very all over the place and the story really doesn’t want to take sides in this.

That does make me think, what kind of impact will this story even have on both Fiona and Sasha? All in all, it seemed that they didn’t learn anything. They have to be on the run because the Elites want them dead but also they’re still into the riches and spoils of the Vault. Since Rhys is rich now, wouldn’t they not want to associate with him? Or are we gonna play the “not all rich people” card? I love Rhys and I actually like fictional rich people. But while writing a story like this, you have to stick with your principals and make them call out Rhys’ practices, not side with him because he’s one of the good guys. You can’t lead a revolution and then make puppy eyes towards a rich capitalist.

I have left out the discussion of race, because I am white and I feel like this isn’t my place to be talking about this. Don’t listen to me regarding this, listen to people of color. I want to, however, point out that Burch stayed within the racial ambiguity of Fiona and Sasha and their racial identity is not spoken of, while we learn the ethnic identities of two white characters (Gaige and Felix). Not to mention that I can criticize that having two women of color be painted as rich assholes and drawing parallels between Fiona and Handsome Jack who is in canon called a fascist is incredibly insensitive. And within the revolution literally having them be called out on being “outsiders who want to lead revolution that isn’t theirs and they talk over the native people” is so bad I can’t believe Burch thought of this.

All in all, would this book convince me that all billionaires should die? With its heavy-handed metaphors and subtlety equal to a trainwreck, I truly don’t think it would. It’s a mess of themes and missed chances on having actually said something regarding the fact that billionaires should not exist and that they are vapid people who can’t look out for others. The story is just complicated when those people you criticize are also your protagonists, like Fiona and Sasha here.

We could’ve had interesting stories of class struggle and differences. The Elites could’ve been destroying the land, long before that laser hit Rustville. Destruction of land and resources for people to live is one of the oppression strategies real life rich people do. And just like the environmental issues won’t be solved with only everyday people making a change, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to make things better. Write better stories with better themes. Maybe it’s just a tie-in novel for a game from 10 years ago but it could’ve said something instead of giving us a caricature of a rich person who spends money on little whale serving dishes.

See how I mentioned my passion for environmental issues at the beginning and it came back here? Set up and pay off. Something this book lacks.

5. Writing not just a better story but A Story in general

I am a writer. Sure, I write fanfiction but that doesn’t disqualify what I’m about to say. Not everyone is a showrunner, you need screenwriters too. What is this book if not officially commissioned fanfiction regarding Fiona and Sasha? When I myself am writing a story to explore, I always ask myself what is my theme, what am I building towards. Every story is fundamentally about change, right? That was why, when I stopped asking myself if I think all billionaires should die, I started asking myself – what did I gain from reading this story? What did the characters gain from this story being told? The answer is actually nothing.

Some of you probably had thought “this is just a tie-in novel to the games, it’s not supposed to be high art” and I agree with this but it is supposed to be art, no matter what. You could’ve said the same thing about the original Tales From The Borderlands, it’s nothing but an addendum to the main stories within the Borderlands. Yet, it moved a lot of people, inspired them, wanted them to create and follow the stories of these characters. For years, I’ve seen people longing for a story of Fiona and Sasha post Tales and this is what we get. Maybe in this regard Debt Or Alive is a high art, since it’s been making me nothing but angry these past couple of days. Or maybe it truly is a nothing piece of art, since at the end of the day, the feelings are just of shallowness.

Coming back to the fact that every story needs change to be worthwhile, I mean it even in the smallest of sense. It doesn’t have to be a huge change, but there has to be one no matter what. After I read Debt Or Alive I realized there was completely no change involved in the process. We start this book with Fiona and Sasha not knowing where they are in life and at the end, they decide to be Vault Hunters. You can say it is a substantial change but think about it like this – it’s the same kind of character arc they’ve had in the original Tales From The Borderlands.

Nothing had changed, they’re still at the same point they were almost 10 years ago when we finished episode 5. What Burch does is a classic shitty storytelling technique of the sequel that is just forgetting everything that had happened before and rehashing the character arc from the first one, just worse. Fiona goes from a self-reassured con-artist to a confident Vault Hunter. Sasha goes from a closed off younger sister to someone with agency. Those are the same kinds of stories we’ve already been told but when there’s no one to bounce off of, you realize that the sisters didn’t need this journey to realize it, they just needed to think for 15 minutes.

There’s also no change to the dynamics between Fiona and Sasha, and every attempt at it is shallow and pointless. At the beginning, we see Fiona being anxious that Sasha literally died before her eyes. Fiona is basically patronizing, Sasha goes Vault hunting but dislikes this, goes back and they make up. There’s no sense of change between them or maturity. I’ve already discussed the sense that their “class consciousness” is meaningless when they at the beginning were lower class. But even between each other, it’s the same song and dance. Fiona is a little overprotective, Sasha wants to show that she’s not just the younger sister. I’ve seen this already, Burch, you’ve told me this in Tales.

It doesn’t help that Fiona and Sasha really are treated constantly as the same entity, so their “changes” just don’t appear. They’re bound by the hip, unable to grow because of their limitations of the relationship. It’s too bad that a story about siblings has to treat them like they can’t exist without each other, when it could be an interesting story about independence. What if Sasha decides that Vault hunting is for her and actually goes away with Gaige? What if Fiona realizes that she’s been too caught up in her sister’s life that she forgot how to live her own? Those are all interesting questions that get tossed off the window, when you realize you have to do Tales but worse.

Just like that, the sisters can’t form any meaningful relationship. Not with the cardboard cutouts of the supporting cast, not with Gaige, there really is nothing. Fiona and Sasha don’t interact with their environment in an interesting way, it’s just a ham-fisted need to show that rich people are bad. Yes, I know they’re bad, I just want to see them discover it on their own. But we get nothing.

You can also argue that Sasha’s story regarding Rhys is just a rehash. As I’ve said, I was never a fan of this couple but I can’t imagine being satisfied with a solution that Burch brings to the table. Through the story, we see Sasha denying her feelings, not being ready for a relationship until Fiona steps in and says “actually, you are or you’re not” and off-screen we see that Sasha decided on their relationship. It’s truly insulting to see the “will they, won’t they” scenario with adult people and solved not before us.

What you have to understand is that this period of life that we’re seeing, with Fiona and Sasha is not a brief period of time. Maybe Burch doesn’t want exact numbers but this is clear when you think about a certain fact – Rhys has a mustache. I’m bringing this up because in Borderlands 3, Lor is actually surprised to see him like this, which means that the Maliwan invasion is well on its way. Which Rhys doesn’t bring up, of course. But deducing from this single comment we can calculate that between the beginning of the book and the ending, 4 or 5 years had happened. That is a damn long time and the fact that during this Fiona and Sasha do not resolve anything, do not develop and only go forth with their very surface level resolution is just a slap in the face.

We finished when we had started – it’s just that Burch doesn’t want you to realize that we had started at the ending. And this itself has consequences that he doesn’t ever want to acknowledge.

6. Show me my silver lining

I think at this point it’s very clear to see that I very much so didn’t enjoy this book. It’s just that I can’t bring myself to give a fully negative review, when there is one thing that I have to actually compliment. That thing is the arc of Gaige and what she’s been through in this book.

How we see Gaige is an actual arc and change of the character. We start with her being petty and bitter, returning to her home planet of Eden-5 for revenge. She wants to kill Holloway for destroying her and especially for the fact that she had imprisoned her father. We see Gaige’s smarts play the role against Fiona and we actually see the unbeatable Vault Hunter lose. Her father died at the prison. She has to hide, plotting her revenge. At the opportunity to bring her father back with the life crystal, she takes it immediately. But when it fails, Gaige is avoidant and quiet. Not wanting to see that she had failed yet again.

What was a terrible point in Fiona’s characterization, the destruction of Rustville, is the moment where Gaige shines through. Being presented with a choice by Holloway, she actually altruistically chooses to get caught, so she won’t hurt anyone. Sure, Holloway doesn’t keep her promise but it’s what Gaige is doing what is important. Instead of her usual snarky demeanor, we see her give up, something she had never done on her own. And in prison we see her still fighting for her life, screaming at the top of her lungs, even if at that point both her father and Deathtrap are gone.

The one genuinely great moment was when at the gala, Gaige gets a chance to open up about her feelings to her ECHOtube (I think that was what it was called?) subscribers. She talks about her love for her dad and how much he meant to her. How she misses him but wants to avenge him and wants him to be proud of her. It’s a very powerful moment, in my opinion, the best in all of the book. Gaige, surrounding herself with cheap thrills and adventures, seeks something that is real and opens up. It’s a beautiful moment of humanity for her that is just lovely to see.

Why she decided to take up the job of a party planner, I have no idea. Even with her explanation it still didn’t mean much to me. Thinking of how sad and once more, avoidant and lonely she ends up in Borderlands 3 does make me feel regret but I wanna hold onto that moment. Of Gaige’s sass and positive spirit, the only thing that made me go through that book.

Also there was a moment in which Rhys admits that he had a voice surgery. Made me go “what the fuck” at first but then I kinda laughed. Nobody needed that but whatever. Also fuck Troy Baker, all my homies hate Troy Baker.

7. Lightning round of criticism

Having said all of that and more about this book, this little section is about criticisms I had but didn’t want to dedicate a whole section to them. It’s just a list of things that bothered me as hell there but that will be shorter to sum up:

- The humor of this book was unbearable. After several of those “jokes” you could very easily predict how the next one would go. It’s one person making a statement, another person contradicting it and then the outcome is a contradiction or first person admitting to the contradiction. Imagine this dry explanation but repeated over and over again and you get at least 40% of the whole dialogue. I don’t think it’s a good thing when you can sum up your entire humor in a descriptions like this

- The new side characters are so paper thin, I cannot tell you anything about them. I can guarantee that if you ask me who they are in a month or two, I simply won’t know. All of them were characterized by a gimmick and not given anything real to do. The sisters, too, don’t have interesting interactions with them. Side characters here exist for cheap scenes that sorta progress the bad plot. In the words of a streamer Oboeshoesgames “Katagawa Jr. What a crazy character. He’s almost as memorable as Chet Smith.”

- The way this book handled Rhys is horrendous. Equated to the kicked puppy who desperately wants Sasha’s attention, constantly described as stupid and worthless and then acting like a teenager when he’s pushing 30. I don’t think Borderlands 3 ruined Rhys. I don’t think New Tales ruined Rhys. But this? This is the worst written Rhys I’ve seen in years

- Speaking of, Burch trying his damn hardest to write as if he’s a gen z person throws out words that make him look like Steve Buscemi “how do you do fellow kids” moment. In one moment, he even calls Rhys a himbo. Burch, do you know what words even mean

- The narration style suffers from “tell don’t show”. Look at this example, here. Not only is this just flat out bad writing, we don’t need to be told three different times how badly Holloway treats people. A good writer would just show it to us via her actions towards her staff and juxtapose it with how Fiona treats her staff but of course, none of this happens

- Being a video game writer, Burch doesn’t know how to progress a story. For him, the more important things are side quests and instant gratifications, not real emotional bits. The story rushes to the next point and leaves no room for you to breathe. You can’t spend time with those characters, you can’t learn anything new because you have to do another thing

- Maybe that’s just me but I hate the non descriptive narration style. The world of Eden-5 feels shallow and pointless because the sisters don’t explore it and we don’t get any descriptions of it. Those are just empty phrases of wealth and dirt and nothing else

- Last but certainly not least, I gotta ask, what the hell was Burch thinking with making this healing watch be the same thing as the healing crystal from New Tales? I always hated the deus ex machina of the watch but here it just had gotten ridiculous. It makes no sense, it’s a contrived way to bring it together. How does it connect? We never know, it is never explored. Maybe in Borderlands 50 or something

8. Conclusion

I hated this book. I wish I could’ve said something more profound but sometimes being direct is better – I truly hated this book and I won’t consider this canon to the Borderlands storyline. You can take my word that the canon won’t acknowledge it either. It’s a shallow cash grab directed at people who love Fiona and Sasha, engineered to be as meaningless as it could be and not to say anything either about its themes or its characters. It’s not a character study. It’s not a jumping off point for meaningful class structures and struggles discussion. It’s not even a fun popcorn adventure for fans of the series. With huge letters stating that it was written by the writer of Borderlands 2, I think we gotta ask – maybe it’s time to stop relying on the past and have someone write a spectacular story on par and better than Borderlands 2? Just anyone but Anthony Burch.

#borderlands #borderlands debt or alive #debt or alive #fiona the con artist #sasha the kid sister #gaige the mechromancer #bl spoilers #debt or alive spoilers #fiona dillon #sasha dillon #gaige dimartino #book review #ed.txt #ed's edits #ed.png

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thatgirlwbraids · 2 years

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YOU MAKE THE RULES

read = manifest ur desires very soon 🤍

get off tumblr, insta & snap too many people’s opinions on manifesting builds your assumptions on it .. you can affirm once and get ur desire u don’t need 10k affs .. manifesting isn’t a chore it’s supposed to be fun , please work on your self concept . the law of assumption is just what u assume/affirm to be true is true if persisted on that doesn’t mean affirm a milli times till u pass out it’s just picking a story and sticking to it and that’s it ur desire will run to u … affirm cuz it makes u feel so damn powerful when u say it , one time it’s way better than affirming that excessively I manifested most of my desires when I repeated self concept affs whenever i thought about it or just said “ there’s no reason to affirm for it cuz it’s mine , just mine “ it’s really super simple whenever I put the least effort I manifest ( also an assumption ) but fr just have fun w it ! and get off tumblr or ONLY refer to one blog .. remember you make the rules . u wanna follow sammys assumptions go for it u wanna follow thatbitchlush assumptions go for it but u truly make the rules so why don’t u just make it fun and easy 4 u ? i write my aff 3 times and I get it .. BOOM ! u do . I personally luv @/meraskii on ig account cuz her advice has always worked 4 me when i put the least effort & get the max results lol . self concept is really key to getting all ur desires 🤍 do u think someone for ex . doing the 10k aff challenge ( using this repeatedly cuz it’s trending rn apparently ) would do the challenge + spend so much of their time affirming if they didn’t believe it works ? .. they made that rule that they have to affirm 10k times to get their desire they made it instantly when they decided to do the challenge.. it’s ur dominant thought whenever u think of manifesting now … u get it ? yea U MAKE THE RULES .

#affirmdaily #self concept #manifesting #law of assumption #manifestation #subconscious #void state #daily affirmations #48hc #affirmyourreality #10k affirmations

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sansxfuckyou · 1 year

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Compact Confessional

Summary: Mysterion is holding something from the rest of the Freedom Pals. They should respect his privacy, they really should- but they only take it as a challenge.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, privacy breach, betrayal of trust, swearing, feral behavior (in Kite), the authors attempt at humor, heavy guilt, interrogation, it gets worse but then it gets better guys, I promise

Authors Note: hurgh K2, with the additional flavor of kitesterion because I went batshit over the AU to an insane degree. I have no clue when the Ao3 port is dropping. Sorry if some of the colored text, isnt colored. And fair warning, this badboy levels around 10K words, tumblr starts to lag around 7.5K for anyone curious. it is almost 3 AM (do artists ever stay up insanely late to finish big projects and get so sleepy they forget the hotkey for the eraser tool? I wouldn't know, but somewhere along the line I kept trying to write segue way with a Q because I was fucking disoriented) I need to go to sleep right the fuck now

Mysterion is keeping something from the Freedom Pals, he's keeping something from all of them. Maybe if he was willing to talk about it with someone everyone wouldn't find it so intriguing. Maybe then everyone wouldn't want to know what it is that's so fucking important that no one is allowed to know about it.

Super Craig tries to act like it's nothing super big, aware that if everybody paid no mind to it that it might come out faster. Tupperware followed suite with the idea, Wonder Tweek tagging in as well. Other members of their franchise were a lot less… subtle, about their interest in Mysterions secret, whatever it is. The Coon is practically begging him every single day to tell him what it is, Call Girl even joins in. Toolshed is pretty sure the both of them are just making things worse it they want Mysterion to come clean.

Human Kite is the only one that refuses to meddle at all, even Doctor Timothy has tried getting a peek in Mysterions mind. The alien is the only one that sits there and listens to him bitch about how annoying they are. The only one that pauses to look and listen and take in every visual and audible cue because that's what he's known to do since he first landed way back when. It tells him a lot about his teammates if nothing else.

Still.

Mysterion- no, Kenny McCormick is hiding something from his friends. And given the fact that it's barely coming out even when he's in a state of delirium or terribly wounded, it must be something big.

It's starting to piss off Kyle a little bit.

-/-/-/-

"Thanks for letting me hang out for a bit man," Kenny said as he pulled on his orange parka. He opted to leave his bleached cargo shorts and purple everything else in a pile on Kyles bedroom floor. It was easy to do that when the alien offered to wash them, "Chilling with Cartman all the time definitely does not do wonders for ones mental health."

Kyle gives a laugh, the kind that leaves teeth too sharp on full display. "Totally, I swear to fuck that asshole needs therapy," He stills his tail from wagging like he's a little kid, except, when he was a little kid he tied his tail up so it wouldn't be exposed in an all too human world. An extremely uncaring world for anything different then what they know as normalcy.

"He needs so much therapy," Kenny answered with, "See you tomorrow?"

"On our patrol, I'll make sure your suit is washed," Kyle said, throwing an arm to the side, an invitation for a hug. He wouldn't be sad if Kenny didn't take it, but he still can't help the way his heart skips several beats when he gets one. An anchoring tightness enveloping him, squeezing a comfortable amount on his rib cage that would hurt if he was human.

"Thanks Kyle," Kenny said quietly, head propped near Kyles shoulder but not quite tall enough to rest it on top. He pushes himself on his tippy toes to press the top of his head to the bottom of Kyles chin. He takes a dramatic step back and maybe Kyles tail is swaying a little bit with a silky soft comfort residing on his skin. He clasps his hands together, "Tomorrow."

"Yeah man, see you then," Kyle said, the instant he realized his tail was doing the thing he stilled it entirely. He felt a slight singe of cyan embarrassment. Stupid alien anatomy. Giving away how he feels.

Kenny pivots on his heel and gives a wave, "See ya man!" His steps are light and Kyle is watching with maybe a little bit too much intent.

He has zero legal rights to do so, but emotional and psychological rights? He has plenty. The first one being that he might've imprinted on Kenny the second his family landed on earth. He might've latched onto both Mysterion and Kenny like an orphan duckling in his childhood era of existing- so much so that he couldn't help the absolute giddiness when he learned they were the same. Maybe he got a little bit too attached to Kenny compared to everyone else in a human sense. But in an alien sense, in his instinctual sense, he was the perfect amount of attached considering how he thought of Kenny.

The second reason he stared was because Kenny had an undeniably amazing ass. That wasn't just personal opinion either, they held a vote after a particularly odd argument in the Freedom Pals lair. Kenny won by an absolute fucking landslide in the votes and voter fraud having taken place can't be confirmed or denied by anyone.

Except for Doctor Timothy of course.

And if there is a god, Kyle is praying everyday that the human one makes sure that Doctor Timothy doesn't look into the legitimacy of the votes.

Kyle barely drags himself back from his thoughts, he's been told he can get lost in them sometimes. His tail is wagging again, the multicolored diamond-like frills undulate a little bit. He swings the front door shut reluctantly when he can't see Kenny anymore. He tugs off his gloves and tosses them in a pile alongside his hat, letting the splotchy cyan coloration of his skin show. He makes his way up to his bedroom, but he finds his impossibly human little brother standing in his doorway.

"Ike, get out of the way," Kyle said sternly, giving a bit of a growl under his voice. His adoptive brother just quirks a brow in that annoying manner he learned from the humans.

Ike clears his throat, "No."

"Well why not?" Kyle questioned, growl snuffed and replaced with something louder and more resonant, it vibrated in his brothers flesh. It was something that Ike long since lost the ability to be intimidated by.

"When are you gonna stop inviting over your little posse of partners eh?" Ike asked, crossing one arm over the other. His tone was nothing but accusatory, Kyle saw through it.

"Are you jealous?" Came Kyles instant reaction.

"No," Ike responded with far too fast to be true.

"I'll play some video games with you on Thursday," Kyle offered.

Ike moved out of the way, "Enjoy wallowing in your disgusting room bud."

Kyle ignored him with nothing more than an eye roll, he made a point of slamming his door shut. He kicked aside a small heap of whatever, a mix of something or other he'd been intending to clean up. He gently picks up a small stack of comics Kenny had lent him and places them on his desk. Right beside the Mysterion charm. And the Mysterion action figure. And the other pieces of shitty Mysterion merchandise he had bought.

Okay, yeah, maybe he had a little bit too much Mysterion merchandise. He was just trying to put some extra cash into Kenny's pocket for when money is tight around the house. He just wanted to make sure his best friend was living a decent life, it wouldn't be enough to give him the life Kyle knew Kenny deserved, but it would help.

He takes hold of Kennys outfit and empties the contents of the pockets into a small bin. Loose change, granola bar wrappers, pocket knife, lock pick, the usual stuff he carried around for hero duties and then some. Kyle shakes the hood loose of any twigs or leaves and something large enough to clatter as it hits the metal netting of the bin falls out. His pointed ear gives a flick at the noise, he's dropping to the ground and pulling it out in a second.

He's completely enveloped in the mystery of what was hidden in Kennys hood because A: fucking genius hiding spot, and B: this could be what Kenny was hiding. It could be exactly what Kenny was trying so hard to keep under the radar, what he successfully kept hidden from everyone's prying eyes.

He came up with a tape, jet black, scratched plastic and a cracked see through window bit. There are silver markings across the black, seemingly unpredictable and laid out with either sharpie ink or a paint pen. The paper label is coffee stained and reads the date, recorded last month (why it's still on Kennys person is odd). The log number is left blank, presumably stated in the recording.

It was a jackpot and somewhere in the back of Kyles mind he knew he should ignore it. He knew this was shattering every rule in the book and that he'd be shattering his friendship with Kenny, Mysterion and Human Kite would probably stop being a dynamic duo at that.

But, he needed to know.

He absolutely fucking needed to know.

He wouldn't dare speak it too anyone ever, and he'd return it to the hood right afterwards. He wouldn't even tell Kenny that he listened to it, he'd just sleep at night knowing exactly what Kennys secret is. And that would be more than good enough for Kyle, he wouldn't need anything else.

He reaches blindly for his cassette player, the one he's held onto since he was young. One of his earliest earthly possessions, one he still cherished and used every day. He popped out the cassette already inside and gently placed the pilfered audio into it. He eagerly grabs his earbuds before pressing play.

Professor Chaos is pretty fucking sure doing this shit is helping out my mental state or whatever He doesn't know what he's dealing with He doesn't know that he's playing with fire trying to get me to spill my guts on his fancy therapy chair But, here I am, sitting on top of the police station fully decked out in my Mysterion persona just chatting it up with myself again

I already know exactly what the problem here is Chaos, the center of this massive shitfuck that even paid therapy couldn't fix!

I've probably said that a million times in every one of these stupid fucking recordings... shit I forgot to do that log date ha!

Ahem, log three, topic. Whatever comes out of my fucking mouth.

Kyle presses pause hesitantly.

Oh god.

This is an audio diary, just for spilling Kennys guts.

And he's listening to it.

He should stop. He really, truly, should.

But he doesn't.

Instead he presses play.

Where were we? Right, right, just saying whatever shit that comes to my mind . . . I'm pretty sure that Kyle thinks I can't see him stare at me whenever I fucking bend over or walk away I'm not complaining, I'm flattered really But jeez man just say it outright if you think I have a hot ass

The pause button is slammed this time.

Kyles face is burning up because Kenny knew apparently, he knew that Kyle stared at him at every chance he gets. He feels his stomach twist a bit because oh man, he got caught staring and Kenny didn't even mention. The usage of 'you' makes Kyle feel even more called out on the matter.

He could drop out now, maybe that's the secret, that Kenny knows he stares. He could sleep at night saying that's the thing he's keeping hidden.

I can't talk much if you put everything into consideration But still! Human Kite himself staring at my ass . . . That's fucking awesome if I'm being honest I would hope I'm being honest cause who else is gonna listen to the truth aside from this stupid tape

Like, I'm just doing whatever and I can feel it He is staring holes into me, somedays it's like he's hitting me with those fucking laser eyes! That'd be hilarious actually One second I'm loading a dishwasher and the next my ass is on fire because he couldn't help but stare The Coon would be laughing about that till he's dead

So would Toolshed

And Call Girl

And Mosquito

We'd all get a good laugh out of it

Except for Human Kite

I think he would die of embarrassment if he lit my ass on fire It'd be adorable Bright blue face, ears drooping the slightest bit, maybe his tail would do something I don't know He'd probably say sorry a lot All I know is that after I'm done putting out the fire I'd say "it's fine!" And then I'd think about how cute he looks for weeks on end

Fuck he's absolutely amazing in every sense of the word God, I'm supposed to use these to rant about my shitty family Not gush about my partner in heroics . Oh well

He's perfect! I swear on my mothers grave he is everything That grin he gets whenever he's about to blow someone sky high I can see almost all of his fangs when he does it, which are fucking scary by the way But I'll be damned if it isn't a little bit hot to think about He could kill me and I'll love him He could do absolutely anything to me and I'd still want him so fucking much

And!

And, and, and There's this little thing he does whenever he gets happy Where the weird bits on his tail like, shake? They move, his tail also wags But the frills don't move unless he's actually happy He can fake the wag but he can't fake the frills moving

It's so fucking cute and weird and different I love it

Anyways! This is South Parks number one worst superhero coming to you live from the top of the police station!

. . .

Shit I think someone heard me

Kyle is paralyzed as the tape ends, letting every single word soak into his brain. His tail is doing the thing, it's wagging. Every nerve in his body is alight and he feels his stomach twisting into knots. His claws are digging into the plastic of the tape player as he just stares. His eyes end up resting on his desk, his laptop, with all of his external attachments.

There's a rush to his movements as he grabs it and the oddest, most useless, thing he owns. A reverse recorder of sorts, a simple thing he crafted but never thought he'd have a chance to use. He flips open the top and jams the plug into it's socket before sliding the cassette as gently as possible into the gadget. He should not be doing this, he really shouldn't be doing this.

But he can't keep the cassette to keep hold of the audio, he needs too extract it if he ever wants to hear it again. Which is wrong, and bad, and he absolutely needs to stop but he isn't. He's clicking 'extract' and watching that loading bar fill up gratingly slow.

He places down his laptop gently and balls up the fabrics before leaving. There's a twist of wrong in his gut, but he ignores it as he swings open the washing machine door. He knows how fucking wretched this is, that he'll be absolutely ruined if anyone finds out. He won't be able to live down the shame of having anyone catch word that he knows the secret. That he knows what it is that's keeping Kenny wound up so tightly.

He'll just keep his mouth shut.

Real easy.

Real simple.

-/-/-/-

Kyle might be abusing the knowledge he garnered from the tape, maybe a little bit. He might be curling up next Kenny a little bit more than often, hunched under a flowing purple cape like a cougar despite the height difference. Just maybe he's resting his head atop Kenny's a little bit more than usual, purring a little bit louder whenever he comes into contact with Kenny.

He really doesn't care though, maybe there's a twisted sense of catharsis he gets from the knowledge that yes, it's reciprocated, despite doing nothing to change it. Being awkward homies acting like there's nothing going on below the surface is entirely acceptable and everything that he's wanted from Kenny the second his family landed. Definitely. Absolutely. He didn't imprint. He absolutely did not imprint. He killed off that instinct way back in fourth grade.

Right after he met Kenny.

One second too late. And he is one hundred percent sure everyone in his family can see it, even Ike! Except, the little shit will hold it over him if he gets a chance. Taunting and teasing that Kyle imprinted on his best friend instead of literally anyone else. Of course, the asshole knows better what with every member of his family sporting claws made to rend flesh.

"Kyle!"

The Broflovski perks up a bit at his name being called. Stan sits down across from him, sliding his safety glasses off as he does so.

"You good man?" Stan asked, Kyle nodded.

"I'm great, amazing even," Kyle said, he gestured vaguely as he spoke.

Stan stayed silent for a moment.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh, "I think I fucked up the first day I landed."

"That was years ago, and just now it's affecting you?" Stan asked. He kicked up his feet to rest on the table.

"Yeah, and Kenny's sort of being an ass. He can trust us, he can trust us more than anyone else in this fucking town!" There's an exasperated exhale as he comes down from the near shout, "How come he's not telling us?"

Stan shrugged, "That's his business, if he doesn't want to tell us, just respect that."

"But-"

"Respect it," Stan pressed, "He might fess up to you first if you just give him time."

"I doubt it," Kyle muttered, barely loud enough for Stan to hear. His tail is snaking around his waist tightly. Tight enough he can feel it sting just a bit.

"Dude. Firstly, calm down," Stan said, Kyle glared at him. The ravenette simply gestured to the prehensile appendage squeezing the air from Kyle's lungs. He drops it, "Secondly, you're his best friend. If he's telling anyone it'll be you."

Kyle gave a hesitant nod, "Yeah, that makes sense."

Stan gave him a grin, comforting, grounding. He dropped down his feet and leaned over the table, holding out a hand. Kyle placed his atop Stan's, his hand was larger. Cyan tinted fingertips tapping along an open palm, "It's fine man, he'll tell us soon enough. It's not like he can keep a secret forever."

"No, you're right man. He can't keep a secret from us forever," Kyle said, a small grin on his face as Stan tightened his grip.

"Now stop stressing so much," Stan said, "Go get some calamari or whatever."

-/-/-/-

Kyle finds the next tape in a vent on top of Unplanned Parenthood while he's on a mission. He's quick to slide it into his pocket before Mysterion can notice. He can't just, jeopardize this discovery, he isn't even sure if he can call it a discovery if he's sure of what it is.

A shoulder collides with him and he stumbles just a bit. His arms are quick to push Mysterion right back up again. There's a crack down his lips and he looks to Kyle, "Get your head in the game, Kite!"

A blast of something or other comes straight at them and there's a brief second of hesitation before Mysterion is tossed out of the way and Kyle is ducking. The blonde is easily caught again and placed down, "Gladly," He takes Mysterion's hand, "Show me how?"

There's a smirk, bone chilling to many but it only makes Kyle's stomach flutter. Mysterion tightens his grip briefly, "Let's go then."

He's quick to launch Kyle forward with a running start, the alien tackling down whichever thug is on them now. Claws detract and tear through silver hued gloves as he snarls, easily dwarfing the goon. They're shaking as Kyle bares his fangs, tail thrashing about and body hunched in a predatory stance. Is he snarling? He is, he's proud of it too as he brings himself to be face to face.

He rears back on his knees, clawed hand raised and ready to slash. He goes to tear open their throat, but a grasp at the back of his collar prevents him. It short circuits him a little bit as the fabric of gloves press against cool skin.

"My friend here isn't exactly human," Mysterion said calmly as he released Kyle's costume. He stayed still and glanced up to Mysterion.

There's a shaky nod from the thug.

"Now, you have two options," Mysterion said. His tongue briefly slid between lips to capture the blood seeping from the crack. He circled around the dropped person a bit more, "Number one, you leave. You run to Canada, and never bother us again."

No response.

"Number two, Human Kite kills you. Right here," Mysterion snaps his fingers and as practiced Kyle gnashes his fangs with a growl, "Right now."

"I'll run! I'll leave!" The convict practically screamed.

"Fine, Kite?" Mysterion said. Claws come down atop the goons eye, deep enough to scar and maybe to go blind in one eye. Kyle stands up, red contrasting the cyan of his fingertips, he watches them run and revels in it.

Once they're far off, darting down staircases and running through the streets, does Mysterion take a seat. He drops down on the roof and Kyle takes a seat beside him, frilled tail wrapping around Mysterion's waist. A hand comes to push back the hood and he leans his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude, being a hero is so sucky," Kenny said with a light laugh, "I just wanna get killed sometimes."

Kyle gives a hum.

"I just come back anyways, but we seriously haven't faced anyone actually dangerous in years," Kenny said, gesturing vaguely as he spoke to drive in the point.

"Definitely," Kyle said, Kenny dropped down onto his back. Kyle leans back to meet him in eye contact.

"I miss when this shit was fun," Kenny said, a sigh on his voice as he spoke.

"I think that most of us do," Kyle answered with. His tongue, forked, flickered out for a brief second.

"You're just like a snake man," Kenny said.

Cyan rose to Kyle's face, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like, your tongue. It looks like a snakes, forked," Kenny said, he did the spock thing with his hands as if to display forked. He stuck out his tongue at the same time, "It's really fucking cool. You got some scales right? And those weird little ridges on your back? All of those are snake-y things, Kyle."

"Yeah, cause I'm a freakish little dude," Kyle said extravagantly, as if to make his point he gave a set jazz hands, gloves off to expose to smallest bit of cyan webbing. He sticks out his tongue between too sharp teeth, "Absolutely monstrous."

"I'd hardly say 'little' is the word for you, ya six foot monster," Kenny taunted back, "And I love ya for that man."

Kyle barely beats down the intensifying flush on his face, "Well, won't stop me from being at least a little bit snake like. It's more fun to be a weird creature than a human anyways," He drops down and nudges Kenny's shoulder with his head until he sits up and nudges off the silvery cape. A hand rests in a tangle of red curls for a brief moment before the alien curls around Kenny's back.

"You're also very... Cat. Very feline. Very not human," Kenny said, words teasing but loving nonetheless.

He rested his hand on top of Kyle's head, gently sifting through a sea of red. He leaned back on his friends torso a little bit as he brought a second hand to run through Kyle's hair. He shifted around a bit to rest almost on his knees, facing Kyle just a bit more. His side pressed to Kyle's lower rib cage, his hands didn't leave the redheads hair for a second. He slid down his friends face just a bit, callused thumbs briefly brushing over the ever sensitive auricle fins he had. Were they fins? Not quite, just cyan flares at the base of pointed ears.

He let his fingers scritch just past the back of Kyle's ears, resting atop the buzzed patch of hair. Olive green eyes fluttered shut as Kenny just rubbed right there, the sweet spot. He slumps into Kenny's hands, chin resting at the heel of his palm (he can't see the gentle smile on Kenny's face).

The blonde nearly explodes when Kyle starts to purr. It starts soft, but it slowly grows, shaking Kenny down to his core with his side pressed against Kyle's diaphragm. Or his lungs. Or his whatever it is that makes that wonderful rumbling sound giving Kenny enough serotonin to live forever. He already will, but this is making that eternity sound a lot more bearable. Then he hears a thudding- three, soft thumps before it resets and happens again. His tail is wagging, Kyle really likes being scratched behind the ears apparently.

Kenny's pretty sure he's falling asleep with the pads of his finger, despite being rough and scratchy, gently rubbing behind his ears. He lifts his fingers for a second too long and Kyle opens up his eyes, "Why'd you stop?" He sounds groggy and disappointed, he stops purring.

Kenny picks up the motions, "You were falling asleep," He tosses his cape over Kyle's form.

Kyle lazily blinks, one eye, then the other. He shrugs the best he can, "And?"

"Good point," Kenny said on a hum as he twirls a finger through curls, a light tug.

Kyle's tail starts to thud again and he's sure the afterglow of this will never fade.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's feeling a little bit guilty about tuning into this tape.

Not nearly enough to make him stop though.

He drops down on his bed comfortably, he doesn't even bother to put in his earbuds. His parents are out for the weekend, his brother is at Kenny's to hang out with Karen, presumably fishing. He knows that he's bound to get a call from Ike sometime in the night for a ride, for Ike, Karen, and maybe even Kenny if it's really rough. But, he'll have enough time to listen to the entirety of it.

He presses play.

I think shits getting worse I'm not using these things properly I should be using these for literally anything else! I could talk about how much I worry about my sister, or my money problems, or whatever!

But I'm still using these tapes for just a few little things

Mostly talking about Kite Not gonna use his actual name this time cause someone heard me last week I'm pretty sure I ran them out of town For good

Do I feel bad about that?

Absolutely not

Gotta protect a mans privacy, even if that means blood and intimidation Which uh, I swear it didn't involve blood This time at least

Now, log number... nine? I'm pretty sure this is number nine I would go back and check 'em all out again, but I lost one of them No clue where the little fucker went But it's gone

Kyle pauses the tape. There's missing ones- he needs to find it before Kenny does. He can just put it back later, like he'll do with this one after he's done thoroughly listening to it. He put back the last one, slid it back into the hidden pocket and acted like it never happened.

Of course, since then he's always checked the hidden pocket whenever he got a chance to do so. But, he's been unlucky in terms of finding any up until this one which leaves him with the idea that the rest have been planted around town. He shuts off his rampant train of thought- he is not going to try and sleuth out all of the tapes. He still has some respect for Kenny's privacy, he still has some intention to keep their friendship intact, and most importantly, he still has full intention of never acting on any of what he hears in said tapes.

That would give away that he's been listening to them, a risk he can't take. He clicks the button again.

Look, I always knew Kite was a weird one Everyone does The guys alien, so we cut him some slack on human things that go mostly unspoken

Conversational subtext, call frequency, having beer on ice- simple shit

And in turn, we also try to learn a bit about his species culture I don't even know if species is the right word Does that make me racist? Are aliens even a race to be racist against? Could I even discriminate if only... Three, exist on earth?

So many questions, so little time

Of course, there isn't exactly a lot about his kind I doubt there's a lot of his kind His mom keeps making quips about how all of them would come to earth if it was easier to integrate But honestly? If you just got rid of the alien extremities I would not be able to tell that Kite isn't human

Same with his parents The lot of them blend in perfectly Don't know why she stresses so much And even if they didn't, they have a human to vouch for them A bunch of humans actually

There's a brief pause where Kyle let's himself think about that for a moment. He's never had a chance to think about it before. He doesn't really dwell on it for longer than a minute, flipping himself onto his stomach. His tail lazily sways back and forth as he listens/

I think I got off point there

Allow me to relocate and get back to what I was supposed to be talking about

. . .

There is a fucking line, Kite! You stay on your side of the line! You can't just walk over to my side! Just waltz on over like you own the fucking place! And just, act like it's no big deal! You just sit down right next to me. Like. Right next to me, are thighs are fucking pressed against each other and you lean into me! You just, push your head up against my shoulder like a fucking cat until I give you attention

Which I always do I'm weak

And then you start purring, and your tail does a dumb little wag! And I'm sitting there, begging and pleading, that I don't do something dumb You're putty in my fucking hands Asking me to just shower you in attention! I do, I always do- I always sit there and give you attention

Whatever it is you want I'd give it to you I'd do it for you Anything, for you

The voice softens just a bit, lowering itself. He sounded so very, very mad. Not even mad, just agitated. His voice is heady, wrapped into the narrative he's spinning so accurately. Kyle feels his stomach flip at the words droning so deeply into his skull. The notions made his skin tingle, heart pulsating so very fast he wouldn't be shocked if it exploded all at once.

But no! I stay on my side of the line Like a good boy

Because I don't wanna freak him out Or scare him off

I feel like such a fucking perv And I am a bit pervy I am fully aware of the fact that I am known to stare if someone fine is walking by

But.

To stare at Kite? To want Kite?

It definitely caught me off guard

And he isn't human He doesn't get it I touch him I feel like I'm dirtying him Even if it's just a high five! I have too much on mind for this shit

I see that idiot and you know what I wanna to do?

Do you even wanna to know what I want do to him?

Kyle slams the pause button, he can feel his nerves shoot up in shock. His tail has went from lazily thumping back and forth to wagging like that of a dogs. The minute ridges on his back are shaking, just a bit. He may be mildly cold-blooded, but right now he really can't tell.

He looks down at his hands and they're entirely cyan, normally just a little bit at the tips. The hue shoots up his forearms. He can practically hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest, the sound bangs back and forth in his skull.

Oh.

Oh he's opened up a massive can of worms with this tape.

He keeps listening

I'd just

I would-

Fuck man I can't even say it out loud I don't know what I was thinking!

I'm sitting on top of city hall and I was about to go off about how I'd fuck him!

Could I even fuck him? Are the species compatible? Do aliens even have reproductive organs?

They must They totally do How else do they, how do they reproduce? Eggs?

. . . Nasty

But I would fucking worship him I would do whatever he asked me too Even if he's too unversed in human reproduction to ask me too fuck him up I'd still do what he asks me too

You wanna go out at that new pizza place that charges by the minute? Let's go darling

You wanna go check out the newest arcade cabinet? Baby, the cars already running

You want me to get your logo as a tramp stamp? I might not do that one actually . That's a lie I'd do anything for him

. . .

God, I'm such a mess I need real therapy

Kyle has long since buried his face in a pillow to muffle his screams (although they're closer to high pitched squeals) and cover his ears. He feels like he's running a fever, a really, really bad fever. Every square inch of his body is on fire and he can't care much that he's clawing into his pillow, downy soft feathers spilling from gouges.

He's drawing a blank.

A complete and utter blank.

He hears the click signalling it's over and he feels his stomach twist in regret.

It's a lot easier to hide that you know something if said something isn't... that, whole thing that just happened. His ears are ringing a little bit as the words ping around the sides of his head, like a game of Pong. The pillow is still keeping his face covered as he rolls onto his back, then his side, then his front, and his side again, knees pressed flush against the wall. Fuck, he feels like he's sixteen all over again, and that was just three years ago! He's too young to be having moments like this.

He mechanizes his breathing, eyes wide open as he stares at the darkness of the space themed pillow case in front of him. Sheer darkness with the occasional blip of a lighter hue. His tail is still thrashing, whipping back and forth madly, he's sure it would scuff the wall if it hit it.

He has to come down from his safe space eventually. Even if that safe space is merely a pillow pressed to his face.

He tosses aside the pillow and rolls onto his back and just stares at the ceiling.

His entire existence has officially been flipped on it's head.

He hears his cell phone ring and he reaches for it, answering before even checking whose calling. He gives a cracked, "Hello?"

"Dude are you good? You sound like you've just been crying," Came Kenny's voice, concern laid on thick.

Kyle nearly hangs upon the spot but instead he bites his tongue and doesn't say a word.

"Look man, dads being a bit of an ass, and Ike was wondering if you could come pick him up for the umpteenth time," Kenny said. He gave a hum, "Could Karen tag along?"

"Totally man," Kyle answered with as he sat up, trying so hard to still his tail. It swiped back and forth atop the blankets, he felt a little bit wrong about not telling Kenny what he knew right now. But, this is a bad time to do that, any Kyle can lie his way out of it again. He hesitates before adding, "You need an escape too?"

"It'd be nice, but you already sound tired. Did I catch you at a bad time? Were you perhaps 'jacking it', my fine, alien friend?" Kenny asked tauntingly, his smugness was palatable.

Kyle wished he could just say 'yeah' and move on instead of carefully think over his next words. Life would much simpler if his head didn't catch on the usage of 'fine' in referral to himself. His mouth felt dry but he choked out some words anyways. "Dude, what makes you think I even have a dick? I got that weird ass alien biology, don't I?""

There's a laugh on the other side, "Hey man, not all of my shots are gonna be spot on. But really, if you don't want me over I won't come," There's an tenderness to his voice and the contrast to the almost gritty and desperate tone he had on the tape gives Kyle whiplash.

"You can if you want too, but I'll probably pass out pretty fast," Kyle lied. He'd just lay in bed, wide awake, for potentially hours with Kenny on the floor beside him. That's how it usually went at least.

"Going full on feral like you did earlier takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" Kenny asked.

Silence.

"Silent treatment, did I strike a nerve bud? Regardless, we'll be out front in ten," Kenny said, "I can make you some hot coco if you'd like."

"That'd be nice," Was Kyle's weak response.

-/-/-/-

The night was a lot more tense than either of them wanted it to be.

They usually shared a hug before actually getting into bed and trying to pass out. And if not that then Kyle would subtly demand some time to just, co-exist, in very close proximity to each other. In even more minimal situations, they would just share some words of 'love you bro' and call it a night.

None of that transpired.

"I can just go home man," Kenny offered at the break of two AM.

Kyle rolled over to the edge of his bed, leaning over it just a bit, "It's fine."

"Is something wrong? Cause like, you've just been acting... off, lately," Kenny said gently as he propped himself on his elbows, both resting on his pillow.

"Nothings wrong," Kyle said, he crossed his arms and rested his chin on them, "I am gonna ask my parents some questions when they get back."

"About what?" Kenny asked quietly, as though he were afraid of shattering the night if he spoke too loud. The navy walls cast deep blue across the room, reflecting the moonlight in a comfortable darkness.

Kyle stayed silent.

"Alien stuff?" Kenny asked.

Kyle nodded, "Yeah, alien stuff."

"Fun," Kenny answered with a scoff. He dropped back down again and turned to face Kyle, Kyle's bed frame at least, "But for real, you're just- somethings going on in your head. I can tell."

Kyle shrugged, "It's stupid."

"I won't judge man, you're my best friend," Kenny said. And he said it in such a way that for a brief second Kyle forgot about the tapes entirely.

"How are you supposed to talk to someone about something you don't want too?" Kyle asked, trying to withhold and give equal amounts of information.

Kenny paused, "Work out the words in your head. Practice once or twice, maybe even record it. Figure out what needs to be reworked. Write it out if you must- just get it out of your head."

Kyle nodded.

"Trust me man, the second it's out of your head and off your shoulders, life will be easier," Kenny explained reassuringly, "Even if it's only for a second or two."

"Thanks bro," Kyle said quietly.

"Least I can do," Kenny said.

There's a beat of hesitance, "Love you man."

"Love you too," And then Kenny turns away from him, tugging the blanket up to his shoulders.

-/-/-/-

Kyle's pretty sure that Kenny is onto him at this rate, but, he tries to ignore the terrible slithering sensation that he's been caught.

He just focuses on whatever comes next.

This time it's none other than The Coon himself deciding he needs to bring something up with Kyle. Silence drenches the room in the worst way possible as he sits across from the hybrid. Furred ears are swiveled to face Kyle and it makes him feel impossibly nervous, he knows that Cartman can hear his heartbeat. Can it hear pick up speed when Stan sits down beside him, even more so when Wendy joins.

And then Clyde, Timothy, Jimmy- all on one side of Cartman.

Tweek and Craig sit down on the side with Wendy and Stan, Scott as well.

"We know you figured it out, Kyle," Cartman said calmly, tone frigid in a way that makes Kyle feel paralyzed. The hybrid clasps his hands together in front of himself on the table.

"Figured what out?" Kyle snaps back with, trying his hardest to muster the usual snarkiness he has around Cartman. Bute he fails, miserably at that. He just sounds pathetic, grasping at straws if nothing else.

"Don't play dumb," Wendy said, she sounded sharp. She may be tough as nails, and normally Kyle respects that, admires it even, but when it's directed towards him? He gets why people run from Call Girl.

"Why in the cosmos should I tell the likes of you?" Kyle answered with, feebly trying to defend Kenny's privacy.

A privacy that he had already thoroughly breached and ravaged, alongside the unspoken trust they had. He had wrecked it, ruined it, destroyed it- but he could salvage it from the fact Kenny didn't know that Kyle knew.

"You can trust us, Kyle. We're your best friends," Clyde said. And he was right, he was so right.

Kyle's tail snaked itself around the chair leg, "Really guys, I don't know what you're talking about-"

"His secret, Kyle," Cartman said, "Tell us."

"I," He hesitated, "I can't."

"You've already fucked up your relationship with him enough, Kyle. I got Wendy to do a deep dive on your species, and of the few things she could find, she discovered this," Cartman said. He raised a folder, an awful beige and orange hue, and slid it over to Kyle.

The alien hesitantly took it. It was three pages thick, presumably doubled sided. He opened it and skimmed through the headings, he knew every single trait in and out. He paused at the highlighted one, "You're joking."

"This is serious man," Stan said, "We wouldn't just accuse you of imprinting of Kenny without any basis."

"That's stupid. He's my best friend. That's all, that's our dynamic- the kind of dynamic that rakes in loads of cash," Kyle defended with, hoping that pressing on Cartman's one pressure point would make him let up. He slammed the folder shut and slid it back, "Even if I did imprint on him, it would ruin the franchise and never be reciprocated."

"Then tell us what the secret is, you have nothing to lose, no? Just a friend, they come and go on earth," Cartman said. He was calling Kyle's bluff, did he even realize it? He probably did, or if he didn't, he'd snoop until he did.

"Ask Professor Chaos instead, he knows more," Kyle said, trying so, so hard to deflect. The tension pooling everywhere under his skin was agonizing. He needed an out so bad, he needed an escape so, so fucking bad.

Cartman scoffs, "Already done, he said he was sworn to some oath of secrecy, sent us to you."

Kyle stays silent, forcing eye contact with the sleaze in front of the him. The trash eater himself, scraping tactics from the bottom of the barrel.

"Just tell us, no harm will come from it," Cartman said sternly.

"It'll destroy my friendship with Kenny," Kyle snarled out.

"No new harm will come from it, we all know the damage has been done my friend, it's just yet to be discovered," Cartman said, words cutting into Kyle like a knife.

He bites his tongue, Cartman's right, "Give me a week to collect more information on the subject, then I'll report back with the news."

There's a smug and satisfied grin on Cartman's face as he leans back, "See? That wasn't so hard, was now?"

Kyle stands up and pushes away from the table, "I'm going."

"Don't forget about your patrol with Mysterion tomorrow evening, Kite!" Cartman calls out, head leaned back on his chairs backrest.

Kyle's tail is swaying angrily, "Fuck off."

His fangs are grinding against each other as he storms off, if it weren't for the fact he was in suit he would punt the closest chihuahua like a football. Or do something else just as dumb. Maybe kick a fire hydrant and hope it doesn't dent, or punch a tree. Something to make the tense feeling uncoil, to let himself just relax for one second.

He doesn't deserve that though.

He's been uprooting the very foundations of his friendship with Kenny, all because of some morbid curiosity. And Kenny doesn't even fucking know. Kyle is just getting away with it cause he's being awfully slick with how careful he is to put everything back exactly where he found it.

The worst part is how long it's taken for him to feel genuine guilt about it if nothing else. He's such a fucking snake, biting onto his relationship with Kenny and refusing to let go. Sinking fangs deeper and deeper, searching for more even though it's cannibalizing itself. And the first taste is all that it takes to get someone hooked, shame that the thing he got a taste of was metaphorical guts. Kenny just hasn't realized he's stuck in this ouroboros of a relationship.

Despite that, a really twisted and messed up part of him persists in wondering when he'll find the next tape.

-/-/-/-

He finds the next tape almost a week after the interrogation.

Although, we're using the term 'find' rather loosely here. Instead it sort of, fell directly into his lap. And despite knowing better and not wanting to go any further, he still held onto it and didn't let go.

"Thanks for washing my gear man," Kenny said as he stood at the door, Kyle held the bundle of purple fabrics in hand.

He gave a smile, as convincing as he could manage, "No problem man, least I can do."

"See ya tomorrow bro," Kenny said before pivoting on a heel to leave which struck Kyle as odd. The blonde usually loitered for a little bit, chatted casually about whatevers on his head. But none of that came today.

Still, Kyle closed the door and walked down to the luandry room before shaking out the purple. There was that clatter, plastic against unfinished flooring, it was just concrete at the moment. He tossed in the clothing and flipped on the spin cycle with a bit of lavender scented soap. He slid down the front of the washing machine and stared at the tape.

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't.

He does.

He grips the tape and slams it into the player and hits the play button before he can further question his actions.

I know you're hearing this, Kyle I don't know how long you've been listening to my diary for But it's you It has to be you

Kyle swears his heart stops dead in its tracks. He barely registers that the grit Kenny forces when he's acting out Mysterion has disappeared. That this is just Kenny now.

Who else would be messing with my tapes They're never just right when you put them back You leave scuff marks on the plastic I can fingerprint things, Kyle

I planted this one And log number twelve The rest though? I don't know how many of those you've heard

I'll admit I never meant for number three to fall into your hands I just thought you'd be kind enough to not listen in

. . . How wrong I was

And it's a real shame too You better not have told the rest of the team, Kyle I will make you regret every single breath you've taken if you have

But, that's only if I can get that intel from the gang Do be warned that Cartman is very easy to persuade It won't take me much longer than ten minutes to make him crack

The rest will go even faster Although, I'd give Wendy much longer Craig? He'll be shattering in seven minutes, tops Tweek? Three, maybe four Stan? He trusts me more than you'd expect, he won't even fight

I hope I was right about you being smart, Kyle

Kyle's blood turns to ice.

He is so fucked.

At least he didn't tell Cartman.

You already know my big secret And you have two options, Kyle

Option one: Meet me at Starks Pond tonight to confirm how you feel about the contents of these logs. I'm probably sitting there right now

Option two: Don't. This horrible relationship limbo can remain just like this, on my end I've been stuck here for years

Look, Kyle, what you've done here You're forcing my hand I don't have any other options

Do what you want

I clearly can't stop you

The tape is flung from the cassette player to the other side of the room, it hits the wall and cracks. A thousand regrets pool in the pit of Kyle's stomach and he wants to vomit. He also wants to curl up in a ball and die. Or live in Cartman's basement instead, those are all good options.

But in the same breath...

He's being given a choice when he was sure this whole thing he had with Kenny would simply implode, collapse in on itself and die. He has one chance to make this better than it is. He'll never be able to make this right, but, he can at least try and reinforce the breaking pieces before it's entirely broken.

He picks himself up off the ground and starts on his way up the stairs. He freezes at the door, is he gonna do this? Is he gonna go out to Starks Pond and talk like he should've far too long ago?

Yeah, yeah he fucking is.

The real question is if he's actually gonna say whats been fueling his co-dependency with Kenny for so long.

He isn't sure if he'll manage to fess up to the stupidest biological function he has. He'll try, he'll make an attempt to explain exactly what's been conspiring inside of his head without him even realizing for so many years. He'll at the very least get out a couple words to explain the dumbest thing he's been roped into by his own genetics and unfortunate timing.

-/-/-/-

The ever-present snow and ice crunches under Kyle's boots, but that's the last thing he's focusing on. His eyes are trained ahead of hi as he walks along the edge of Starks Pond. His tail is still, a very rare occurrence.

When he reaches the edge of the pond that Kenny's standing at he's lost his words. The blonde is just staring at him, looking for tells. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his orange jacket, bright orange, pumpkin orange. Kyle can't focus on anything.

"It worked, you nosy little shit," Kenny said, words weaponized with ease.

"Yeah, it worked," Kyle said. He took a step closer, "I'm sorry," and then another, "For everything really," A third step and Kenny tenses, flinching back just a bit. In turn Kyle steps back.

"For what? Did you tell them?" Kenny asked defensively. He sounded scared more than anything else.

"I know better than that Kenny, they did interrogate me though," Kyle explained stiffly.

Kenny gives a hum, "That gets that problem out of the way."

Kyle nods, "Yeah, that it does."

"So, you listened to three, nine, twelve, and seven, right?" Kenny asked.

"Sorry," Kyle said.

"At least have the decency to dignify me with an answer man, you just fucking ruined me. I had to record that final tape five times before it was good enough to use. I swear to god, normally I'd cut you some slack and now you know why, but not this time," Kenny spat sharply, "So, you listened to those tapes, right?"

"Yep, the four that you listed," Kyle said, his attempt to stay professional just made him sound stiff and disjointed.

This time Kenny faltered before speaking, "And your opinions on them?"

"Positive," Kyle answered with faster than a bullet. His tail flicked as he spoke.

"Anything else?" Kenny asked, desperation heavy on his voice. Thick like molasses.

"I think I imprinted on you- which means something different then it does for the ducks!" Kyle was quick to backtrack on his words, Kenny just looked intrigued, "My species has a 'thats the one' instinct. If we find the right person, it activates, and according to my parents at least, it's usually subliminal. When we landed, I imprinted on you- so, to me, you're the one. And for all I know, unless you die and stay dead, that stupid ass hormonal flux won't go down."

Kenny stayed silent.

"I'm stuck fixating on you until one of us dies, my kind mates for life, and unless I submit myself to experimental science the animal part of my brain is gonna keep screaming that you're mine. Which is kind of annoying, and dumb, and gets in the way- and I didn't even realize it until I found that first tape. I've just been infatuated with you since grade four and I don't know how to make it stop," Kyle spilled, some words meshing together in a blend of syllables. Cyan progressively rose to his face the entire time he spoke. He dropped down to the ground, facing away from Kenny and towards the water, "I'm so fucking sorry Kenny."

Kenny took a few tentative steps closer to where Kyle sat, his tail lay curled around him yet limp on the ground. His ears were drooping a bit and he looked ashamed of himself, a little bit distraught at that. "I'm not gonna disown you, Kyle. That'd just be fucking stupid."

"I didn't mean to ruin your life man, you could've been scoring. God, I probably scared off so many people without even realizing it," Kyle choked out weakly. He pressed his nails into the heel of his palm, "I swear I didn't mean to imprint on you. I swear man- I can try and suppress it."

"It's fine, Kyle," Kenny said as he crouched down beside Kyle. He bumped their shoulders together.

No response.

Okay, that was worrying. It struck a particular chord in the depths of Kenny's chest. One very, very similar to the 'my sister is hurt' chord, which unlocks a specific subset of reactions. Those reactions include:

A: Unbridled violence on whoever caused this B: Giving tried and true advice C: Terrible jokes and playful punches D: Just listening with or without a glass of warm milk

None of those options seem optimal, so Kenny improvises.

"I mean, the whole 'imprint' thing doesn't bother me," Kenny said as he sat down behind Kyle. His knees were bent and he rested his head on Kyle's shoulder.

"Dude I fucking ruined your life," Kyle got out quietly, his tail snapped to punctuate his sentence. It wrapped itself around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Beg to differ," Kenny said as he slowly raised his hands up. He gently placed them at the base of Kyle's skull, he tensed but didn't move. Kenny slowly rubbed circles in just behind Kyle's ears in the hopes it would calm him down.

Kyle leaned back into Kenny a bit, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Half of those tapes were me going off about how much I adore you and want you, Kyle. I know you have a brain in there, put it to some use," Kenny said, a small grin on his face as he spoke. He could feel Kyle start to purr, "Just think about it."

Kyle paused for a moment, to just let all of the data sink in. He felt like a total idiot when the conclusion formed in his head, "Oh."

"Yeah," Kenny answered with, "Good thing."

"I'm such a fucking idiot," Kyle said with a laugh on his voice. He squeezed a bit tighter around Kenny's leg, constricting, like a snake, "Can't wait to confirm my families suspicions."

"Do they think we're a thing?" Kenny asked as he combed his fingers through Kyle's hair.

Kyle nodded, "Probably, apparently I've been signalling some very, very vulgar and subtle things to you with my tail for the past six years. I didn't even notice my tail was moving half the time, but it was- mom and dad had to explain that to me which was fun."

"Did you stop?" Kenny asked.

"Naw, definitely not," Kyle answered with smugly, "You never knew anyways."

Kenny gives a hum, "I would say I was giving some vulgar signs myself, but humans don't have a good way to do that discretely."

"I've noticed," Kyle said, "I can read half of you like books with all the tells each of you have."

"Guess Ill have to be even more mysterious so the guys don't catch on," Kenny said as Kyle started to purr, the vibrations rapidly picking up in volume. It felt nice.

"They aren't idiots dude," Kyle said, "They'll catch on soon enough."

"Or we could just walk in there holding hands one day, wait for someone to point it out and go 'yeah we're dating now' and just act like nothing has changed," Kenny said, "Even if we don't go to the movies or eat out at restaurants- that'd be funny."

"We'll see what happens first," Kyle answered with. He holds his breath for a beat, "Love you, Kenny," There's a veritable depth to the words now.

"Love you, Kyle," Kenny answered with the same as he always has, Kyle just never noticed the subtext. He presses a brief kiss to Kyle's forehead.

-/-/-/-

Stan is the first one too notice that Kyle and Kenny are different. A good different though. They're more synced up on the field, better at silent communication, just predicting each other in general. It definitely benefits the team as a whole for the crime-fighting, but whether or not the development is good for the franchise is a whole other story.

He's the first one to ask around about it too.

"Hey Wendy, Kyle and Kenny-"

"Are acting off? I noticed," Wendy said, cutting Stan short with ease. She glanced up from her phone, "I'm already scouring about for details."

"Anything actually come up?" Stan asked.

Wendy shook her head, "Nope, you'd assume that there'd be something; but most searches are coming up dry."

"Worth a shot," Stan said with a sigh.

"You should go ask Craig, he's pretty close to Kenny," Wendy offered up and before she could finish her sentence Stan was looking for Craig.

He was sitting at his desk as usual, cruddy costume and all.

"Craig whats up with Kyle and Kenny?" Stan asked.

And without skipping a beat Craig answered with, "They're homosexuals, Stan."

"What?" Came Stan's dead response, words hollow and in disbelief.

Craig nodded to the aforementioned duo walking in, "Go ask why they're holding hands."

Stan faltered.

"Listen, if you're afraid I'm right you should've asked out Kyle sooner to avoid it," Craig blatantly accused, the words forced the air from Stan's lungs like a sucker punch.

Now aware that Craig is going to keep mentally gut punching him, Stan just heads on off to Kyle and Kenny. They are indeed holding hands, and Kyle's tail is wrapped around Kenny's thigh, just above his knee.

"Look, you two," Stan began with.

"Yeah man, what's up?" Kyle asked, and he's hiding a grin poorly. He's sure that it adds to the confusion Stan is displaying.

Kenny was right.

This is pretty fucking funny.

"How come you guys are holding hands?" Stan asked quietly.

"Kyle imprinted on me," Kenny said bluntly, "We're dating now."

"How long has this been going on for?" Stan asked.

Kyle shrugged, "A month, we were waiting for you guys to notice."

Craig gives a smug, "Told you so!" from his desk.

"Were you guys betting on what was happening?" Kenny asked, an undertone of a snicker to his voice.

"No, even if we did Craig would've won," Stan said spitefully.

Kyle grins a bit, "No need to be sour man, you can still break the news to Cartman, I'm sure it'll be hysterical to see his reaction."

"Dude. Let's go find Cartman," Kenny said eagerly, he was practically vibrating where he stood. Hes grinning that gap tooth grin, "I need to see his reaction right now."

"Wanna tag along?" Kyle asked, holding out a hand to Stan.

He refrained from taking it, "Totally man."

Craig sidles up beside the three of them, "I got a camera to record it."

#south park #south park k2 #sp k2 #south park fanfiction #south park fic #kysterion #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw mild gore #tw swearing #tw betrayal #as you all know i was once again staring at artwork by kennysdeadbody. as i usually do writing K2. specifically those kitenny doodles.#kite is really just a creature. big ol' cat. he purrs.#kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #small headcanon that craigs gaydar is off the motherfucking shits (also wanted to let him say faggot(I didnt))

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