#all i have energy for is to lay down on a person and vaguely listen to things they say. i wish that's all the affection i need to give- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autism-corner · 1 year

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The Seven and a Half Morningstars

AO3 || 2.1K words || you/yours pronouns || Masterlist

Levi and Lilith have something in common. Something none of their brothers have. They both are the reason that 'the morningstar/demon brothers' doesn't really apply anymore.

transfem sisters figuring themself out together. although, not at the same time or without severe loss (and gain). <3

ft. you loving levi (either romantically or platonically)

Levi knew. She’d known for a long time, but she was content with the way things were. Until you came around. She could handle everyone seeing a gross guy otaku. She could not handle you, seeing her in a way that wasn’t her true self. It felt like lying to you, and that's the last thing she’s ever wanted. Part of her thought it was selfish, but she wanted you to love her. Not him.

—

It all began way back in the celestial realm. Back when they were known as the seven brothers. Ofcourse, everyone was siblings to each other in that place, but everybody could tell that these seven had something special between them. Lucifer, the morningstar, had basically adopted the younger boys, and it created a bond that few, if any, could break. While every one of them looked up to Lucifer, each angel was also steadily growing attached to the other 5. Mammon and Asmo were both extremely extroverted and found common ground there, and the twins were already close as could be. Lilith and Levi were both outsiders, and that’s where they connected.

Ofcourse, Lilith had the twins as well, but Lilith tended to wander around more, and he kept feeling like he didn’t really belong in heaven anyway. Ofcourse, Lilith loved his brothers, but sometimes he longed for a different life. A more free one. That’s why he drifted towards Levi. Leviathan always seemed to be in his own little world, and Lilith wanted to join him. So the two hung out a lot together, slowly creating a world away from everyone.

—

Lilith laid out on Levi’s bed. His arms reached out towards the roof, seemingly grasping the words to explain his thoughts. “You know,” He began. Levi sat in his chair in the corner of his room. Even though he seemed to be reading a book, Lilith knew Levi would listen to him. “I wish things were different. You understand, right?” A vague ‘hm’ came from the corner. Lilith sat up. He only ever did that when things got serious. “I don’t mean here.” A sigh. “I’m talking about like. Feelings and stuff.” This made Levi pause. Levi knew that he wasn’t the best with feelings or expressing things. But he also knew that Lilith understood that. He closed his book and waited. Clearly, Lilith had a lot to say about this, and the only thing Levi could do was wait and hear him out.

“I’m also not talking about struggling with feelings like you are. This is…” Hesitation. This was definitely a difficult subject for Lilith to talk about. He’d started biting his nails again. “More personal, in a way? I think.” He fell back down on the bed, still fidgeting. Levi slowly looked up.

This was so different from the usual Lilith. Lilith is often so full of energy that Levi could barely even keep up. This Lilith is trying to be calculated and calm, and it’s worrying Levi. “You should stop biting your nails.” A quiet response from Levi. A silent way that tells Lilith that he cares about him, and that he’s paying attention to him.

“Can you come here for a second? Just lay next to me. Please.” To many others this would’ve sounded like a simple request. But Levi picked up on the desperation that was hidden behind it. He slowly got up and walked up to Lilith, who was now curled up on his side. Levi joined him, laying, although stiffly, beside him. Levi wasn’t sure yet how to approach the situation, but he would stay and listen to anything Lilith had to say.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilith's hand move. An invitation (request?) to hold his hand. He sat aside the discomfort he might feel with physical touch, and joined their fingers together. He’d do anything to comfort Lilith.

“I don’t want to say it this bluntly, but I can't figure out a better way.” Lilith had pulled up a pillow and was clutching it against his chest. “I don’t think I’m a guy.”

—

It wasn’t often that people would see Lilith cry. Lilith often had a way of life that would brighten up every room, conversation and face. The ways that Lilith broke that day, in front of Levi, showed the weight of this issue. Clearly this had been bothering Lilith for a long time now.

Lilith began explaining to Levi about all the things she’d wish to be different. And Levi listened. What else could he do? Lilith explained that she didn’t necessarily want her name to change. She’d grown up with this name and had so many memories with it, it was impossible to be complete without her name. But she did want people to refer to her differently. She wanted to be called pretty and cute and beautiful. She wanted to be a little sister.

Levi listened and understood. Levi helped her alter her clothes, helped her pick out new ones. Together with Levi, Lilith became who she wanted to be. And together with Levi, she explained it to everyone else. Thanks to Levi, she became her full self.

Things were glorious for a couple of centuries. Everyone lived and laughed, now being known as ‘The Seven Morningstars’, rather than 'The Seven Brothers'. Everything was perfect.

Until she fell.

—

Desperation broke out. How could Father do this? How could He break up their family, their comfort. How dare He take away their little sister. It was unfair.

They had to keep living.

Dark times turned darker upon their arrival in the Devildom, strangers in a new world. But with the darker times, aside from the anger still flaming within everyone, new forms of warmth began to rise as well.

Lilith’s replacement, set free by the anger she caused, came to them. Ofcourse, no one but himself saw Satan as Lilith’s counterpart, but that didn’t soothe his anger. He raged and rampaged wherever he could, but slowly gained comfort in the sister he never had. He finally settled with a piece of Lilith in his heart, allowing himself to release the anger she could never express.

Like before, they started being known as ‘The Seven Brothers’ again.

All the struggles they went through together made them that much closer, now only having each other to depend on. Bond’s grew again and strengthened, setting them up for their new life. A new life that is better than they could’ve ever imagined back in the Celestial Realm. A life with freedom. A life that Lilith gave hers for.

—

Levi had taken it hard. Her fall. Even though the relationships with his brothers improved, to levels never even achievable in the celestial realm, an important part of his life became irreplaceable. Someone to actually talk to, someone who got him, someone who was like him. He never got the guts to actually tell her. How he related to her. How he too, wished to change.

It caused a silent suffering.

Until you came. Even though things hadn’t been all that bad, he viewed you as his saviour. The one who brightened up his days again, gave him everything they could. But most importantly, someone who understood him. You made him better. Like his sister had before.

That’s when Levi started to question things again. You were able to give him his confidence back. When you were together, it felt like nothing could tear you apart. It was a mutual understanding between the both of you. It felt like Levi was back with Lilith again, but improved. Ofcourse, nothing could replace Lilith, not even you. But you gave him back his feelings, familiar yet somehow more intense. More worth the risk.

During the healing you were the cause of, Levi began to find their truth again. The truth that they had always already known, but often pushed back, was being indefinitely resurfaced by you. You reminded Levi of her. And now, finally comfortable, she could rise & remain.

Lilith was the one to tell Levi about this. Levi was never good with her own feelings, after all. If she hadn’t indirectly told Leviathan that being like this was okay, that things could change for the better, that life doesn’t have to be a struggle, Levi might’ve never even known. And now, it’s time for her to tell you.

—

She wasn’t as brave as her little sister. She couldn’t possibly tell you this straight to your face. Praise to the devildom and its better developed technology. A voice message it’ll be. A regular text message did feel a little too impersonal for something like this.

“Hey. uhm. Right.” A clear fumble with paper can be heard. The clearing of a throat. With a robotic voice, certainly reading a script that’s been spent hours on, Leviathan started. “I don’t know how to properly tell you this. It’s hard. But very. very. important. To me. I. I am not. who you think I am. But I want to be. And I know you want me to be myself as well. You have told me that plenty of times. And I am grateful for that. It is because of your continued persistence in being comfortable with myself that I bring you this. That I trust you with this. Because I don’t think I can continue being a guy.”

It was a sudden and unprompted message to you, with an even more abrupt ending. Upon finishing her script, Levi pressed the send button immediately and directly shut off her phone. She couldn’t bear the thoughts about your response, but knew she’d have to.

It hadn’t even been a minute when you knocked on her door. Within that time, you had listened to the message, sent her a streak of five different messages in response, and raced through the entire HOL to her room. It only took two unanswered knocks for you to barge into her space, where you hurried to her bed to find her already sobbing.

Her emotional state, and her body finally being engulfed in your arms, made her spill everything. About Lilith, and how she was the one that planted this idea in her head in the first place. How hard it had been without her. How regretful she is for never having been able to tell her little sister.

She told you about how much you mean to her, and how she kept thinking, no, knowing, you only loved the wrong version of her. You loved the version of her that kept wishing he was different, that forced himself to be someone he only partly was. You loved someone that was not her. And she told you about how hurt that made her feel.

But she also talked about how loved she felt by you. How despite the rude comments Levi made, both towards Levi’s self as to others, it never made you love Levi any less. She talked about how lovingly and calmly you always handled her meltdowns, how you asked permission for every touch, how you didn’t grow annoyed anytime her energy was too low. She talked about all the things she would miss if she lost you. Things only you could give her. Things that made her feel like she was worthy of love, things that made her believe being herself might be worth it. You make her believe suffering doesn’t have to be.

—

It was an emotional and extremely draining rant. Many tears were shed, from both sides. At the end, you had simply kissed her head. It was enough for Leviathan to feel at peace. The mentally taxing questions could come later. For now the two of you would cuddle and rewatch TSL. No need to talk. Now was the time to simply lay embraced and at rest, as the both of you slowly drifted off thanks to the comfortable atmosphere. It somehow felt an impossible amount more loving than usual.

—

It was amazing to see her flourish. Huge bits of her anxieties were visibly taken away as soon as she grew comfortable in her new out and proud identity. She smiled and laughed more, talked more enthusiastically in her higher trained voice, and was more excited for the mundane joys. Life was easier. Life was better. Alongside you, thanks to you, she grew into herself. Nothing else changed much. She kept being her otaku self, she kept sneering comments anytime her envy flared up, and she kept the same bond with each of her brothers like she always had. Loving in their own special way.

Although, admittedly, one sibling-relationship did change. Anytime she found joy in her womanhood, there was a little part in her that felt more love, more similarity for her sister. A connection that was evergrowing. Despite never being able to tell Lilith, Levi knew she had known. Lilith had always had her way with people like that. Levi knew that somewhere, Lilith was smiling down to her. The exact same way she had once she started living her full life as herself.

#transfems my love <3 #also levi's hella autistic <3 #anyway although Levi's gender is so magical that it'll remain a secret to me personally. I will always firmly believe that Lilith is a tran #btw titel is not to call either satan or lilith half a morningstar. it just feels weird to put either 7 or 8 because neither feel true to m #urgh #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #transfeminine fanfic #transgender #obey me fluff #obey me leviathan #obey me lilith #obey me sibling bonding #obey me comfort #sillyposting #my work

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gonegrove · 1 year

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Thinking about heather x eddie bc I’m nothing if not a champion of rare pairs in this comm

But just the “god he’s so fucking LAME and CRINGE and EMBARRASSING I need him CARNALLY” energy is so intense. Heather who prides herself in being The Bitch™️ and boasting about how all the boys are thirsty for her but she’s Too Good for them realizing that she wasn’t into popular hot boys because her type was scrawny shaggy haired freaks with awful personalities and a huge gatekeeping streak.

Heather realizing that the only one who can go toe to toe with her in a vaguely toxic and absolutely mean argument about some asinine shit like A Movie or SoCiEtY is Eddie Fucking Munson and it’s also unbelievably erotic to her and being like “i need to kill myself IMMEDIATELY”

Heather and Eddie as Janet and frank n furter in a rocky horror production bc they’re both attention whores, both into music as a Serious Thing and Eddie just loves anything not mainstream and music related so like ofc he went in for it. And the whole thing quickly turns into a 2 man cats the musical orgy energy shitshow bc they both just get TOO INTO PERFORMING. She’s trying to act soooooooooo normal but sadly eddie on stage singing his heart out half naked is literally too erotic for her. The entire crews job turns into just keeping them from screwing back stage like the horny theater kids they are. Good thing too bc she’s always this close to giving him a bj and if she actually did she’d have to walk into the lake never to return.

She’s actively avoiding any place he’s preforming bc she cannot be held responsible for what she might do if she sees him on stage playing guitar and she doesn’t wanna be arrested.

Eddie realizing that the most popular girl in school (I stand by heather being the Main Bitch and Chrissy simply gaining her crown after her death) is HILARIOUSLY INTO HIM. LIKE ANGRY HORNY. And first being like wtf???? Before he sees the opportunity here for Evil and is immediately delighted. Decides it’s open season for revenge of several years of bullying but pointing out to her how she wants him sooooooo bad it makes her look stupid.

Eddie challenging her to read all of Tolkien’s works, and Heather who’s physically incapable of backing down doing it and coming back with notes like “fëanor is RIGHT actually, so is melkor. I cannot believe you like this pansy ass gay apologetics shit what are you catholic??” And he’s both LIVID ON SO MANY LEVELS but also WILDLY AROUSED. There’s just something about a hot popular chick confidently having the most vile takes on his cringe exclusionary nerd shit that gets him hard. He’s horrified by this fact but also knows she wants him bad anyway so like really it’s just a matter of self control and can his self-esteem/pride take it.

All of his friends hate her and he’s like “yeah 😍 me too 😍”

She gets roped into going to/preforming in Some Town Event oblivious to the fact he is too and that’s when she gets arc of the covenant’d with his guitar playing. Mind snaps. Will power gone. He’s the shittiest dude she’s ever met she doesn’t like him AT ALL but sadly he’s also the Perfect Man and she needs him IMMEDIATELY. Legit jumps him the SECOND she can.

The kinda ppl who’ll continue an argument during sex.

Eddie loving every second of little miss rich and popular being soooo down bad for him. Loving having this level of control over someone who’s usually so “out of his league”. Loving how he can turn her brain off and make her shut up like it’s a magic trick.

Eddie slowly realizing there’s parts of heather that she never shows to anyone but he’s gotten a peak of, intentionally or not, and getting kinda possessive of that.

Heather laying on his shitty gross ass bed listening to his music and taking it seriously and talking about it musical artist to musical artist.

Heather calling his dnd group shit like “his pathetic gay loser circle jerk” and he’s just like “baby I’m going to kill you with a brick 😍”

Heather bodily taking over his hair and skin care routine. Even brushing his hair sometimes and explaining it all for when she’s not there and he’s like “lol you know I’m not doing all that”

#eddie munson #heather holloway #idk what their tag should be yet ndmdm

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wreywrites · 11 months

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Tiger Shark

Part 3: The Crown

Chapter 20

****note from Wrey- this one's pretty heavy****

We don’t talk about the drawing contest. It was a little too soul baring. But we do start spending more time together, acting like real neighbors who don’t actively avoid each other. The closer my Victory Tour gets, the more time we spend together. There are speeches to write—a general, use-it-in-every-district speech, and then short, personalized additions for the districts whose tributes I was allies with—and emotions to deal with. And I finally understand what Finnick was really talking about with the shark that stops swimming forward. I get bogged down in the speeches, distracted in fragmented memories, Stitch’s laugh, Elsie’s unflappable demeanor, Mako’s face lighting up when we opened a parachute basket to find cinnamon rolls. I fade out all the time, so much so that there are whole days I can’t account for. I can’t fall asleep. I can’t concentrate. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Finnick, who started this endeavor with a very teacher-y attitude, soon gives up. When I fall asleep on the couch in the middle of writing a speech, he drapes a blanket over me and lets me sleep. On the days when I don’t want to think about any of it, he doesn’t make me. Instead we read or play marbles. Sometimes I don’t write, I just talk. And then, a week before we are due to leave on the Victory Tour, he hands me a stack of notecards, labeled by district.

“I just listened to what you said when you were in a talking mood, and eventually I got them cobbled together.” He smiles a little. “You do still have to read them out loud though, so… we should probably practice that.”

I nod, but can’t bring myself to do it that day. Instead, I sit on Finnick’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, playing a very slow and half-hearted game of solitaire. I sit there all afternoon. I don’t move when Finnick gets up and makes supper. He brings me a plate, and I push the shrimp and noodles around for an hour. Then we go back to sitting in silence.

At midnight, Finnick stands up. “Come on.”

I look up.

“If we achieve nothing else today, I’m making you get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” I mumble.

“Yes you are.”

I shake my head.

“Annie, I am still your mentor. You have to trust that in this instance, I know what’s best for you, and I am still trying to keep you alive, and I am helping.” And then he picks me up over one shoulder and walks upstairs.

I don’t bother resisting. It takes too much energy, too much concentration.

I notice vaguely that he has nicer pillows in his spare bedroom than we do. Except after he tucks me in, Finnick crawls into bed next to me and I have the oddly emotionless realization that this is his room. There might not even be pillows in the spare bedrooms here. What company would he have to ever be prepared for?

“Once when I was little, my mom was teaching me how to fillet fish. She had me up on a stool next to the kitchen counter, and she usually cut them up so fast, but that day she was being really methodical and slow and talking me through what she was doing. And then I blinked, and she’d cut her finger off at the knuckle.”

Laying on my back, I turn my head to look at him. “Please tell me you didn’t eat the fish.”

He smiles. “Better, she’d been planning it for days and had only very convincingly pretended to cut her finger off. She laughed and laughed, and I was traumatized. I had nightmares about it for a week. She felt so bad. But looking back… that’s just a good joke right there. And so well executed.”

I roll onto my side. I suspect these stories will require more reaction than the usual fare.

“Another time, she was trying to teach me how to tie my shoes—believe it or not, there was once a time when I couldn’t even tie a square knot—but I was so convinced I couldn’t do it, that finally one day she showed me how to do it, and helped me tie them, then untied them and made me do it myself. I got so frustrated when I couldn’t, so she agreed to keep tying them for me. But then she tied a knot and tugged on it to tighten it, and it just fell apart. She did it again, and the same thing happened, and the fourth time she just dissolved into tears and said she was sorry but she’d forgotten how to tie shoes and now I’d never have my shoelaces tied again. And I felt so bad that I’d done this to my mom that pretty soon I was comforting her and telling her it would be okay and that I thought I could remember how to do it, and then I tied my shoes. And that was when my fascination with knots started. Of course I found out years later when I realized that she’d been tying her own shoes just fine all that time that my mom had lied to me, but again, in hindsight, it’s a good joke and apparently a great way to teach your kid how to tie his shoes.”

I pull the blanket up to my chin and nod.

“And when I was eight, my dad gave me my first trident, which ended up being the trident I used to kill all those seagulls for Beck a few years later…”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming in through the window, curled up next to Finnick, who is snoring. I have to leave.

I don’t get far.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I come around in a closet full of coats that aren’t mine. Somewhere, a door slams.

“Annie?” The shout echoes through the house. “Annie?”

I wonder how long it has been. A while.

“Annie?” The shouts are closer. I wish I knew where I was. Then I would know how to leave, how to escape without encountering anyone. I shrink back into a corner of the closet, wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes.

The door opens.

“Annie!”

There is a hand on my shoulder. I try to escape, to scramble backwards, to run, but stupidly, I have already backed myself into a corner. I should know better than this.

Finnick’s hand is still on my shoulder. “Annie, it’s alright.”

“No!” I lurch for the door, pushing past him. “I can’t! It’s not-! Stop!” I yank my arm away from the fingers around my wrist. There. I am free to leave, to run, to… to what?

We stare at each other.

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I used to be happy! Do you understand? Happy!”

I get no reaction, so I keep going. “I had a normal life! Friends, neighbors, family! I had Mako! I’d never killed anyone and I didn’t want to and all I did was go to school and go to work and live my life! And now everyone treats me differently! They look at me differently, and they think I don’t notice but I do! And every day I wake up and the first thing I feel is guilty! Because I came back and no one else did! Not Zalea, not Merritt, not Elsie or Stitch, and not Mako! And every day I have to live with that! And sometimes I don’t completely hate myself and I think I’m getting better, but then there’s this-” I gesture wildly, “-I don’t even know what this is, but it makes me feel even more guilty, and what am I supposed to do? Just live with it? I-”

Something snaps. “You think I haven’t gone through all that too? That I’m not right there with you, drowning in guilt and what-ifs? This is life now! There’s nothing else we can do with it! I would love nothing more than to curl up and die and be done with it, but that’s not an option! I will not be the shark that drowns!”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

My house is quiet. I sit in the downstairs study and read the speeches on the notecards and whatever happens happens. It takes me a whole day to get through them. And then I spend another whole day getting through them again. Part of me thinks it is good that the personal speeches will be at the beginning, in Eleven, Ten, and Eight. But then I remember that the last speech will be in Four. And I remember that I will then spend Districts Seven through One knowing what the families of my allies look like, how they react to what I say about their children, how they look at me when they see me with a crown on my head, when it could have been their child instead. And I have lost Finnick. Dad does his best, but he’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t know what I’m going through, so he can only do so much. I don’t hold it against him. I can’t. None of this is his fault.

The week passes in a haze. And then my prep team arrives.

They are all joyful screams and laughter, hugging me and telling me how much they’ve missed me. I can’t even work up the energy to respond. Even Marius looks happy to see me, but rearranging my face into any semblance of a smile is too much effort. They dress me and curl my hair and paint my nails and talk and sometimes I nod, but mostly I sit, staring into the space in front of me. I am drowning.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We get on the train the next morning. Mags is not there, and for the first time, I come to terms with the knowledge that Finnick was my mentor, and it is Finnick I am stuck with. I haven’t even seen him since our shouting match. And now we are on the train together. At least Casca, Marius, and the Preps are there. They create a sort of buffer between the two of us.

Finnick is back to his old self. He talks and laughs with everyone. This makes it easier to ignore him. I can spend the day in my room and come out only when I am so hungry I can’t stand it.

The train goes on all day, stopping only to refuel. I read the District Twelve speech over and over until I have it memorized. I wonder if I will be able to muster up any emotion at all when I read it. I probably should, but I doubt I will. I barely sleep that night, much to the horror of the prep team. It turns out I have looked terrible and sleep-deprived for a while now, and one more sleepless night has made it that much worse. They combat the circles under my eyes with lots of makeup.

All Marius has to say is, “At least we know you don’t have any food stuck between your teeth.” He’s not wrong.

The speech in Twelve goes about as well as I expected it to. I am flat, barely there, and I fade out for a good thirty seconds somewhere in the middle. The only good thing about this is that I have successfully matched the mood of Twelve. They have a reputation for the most lackluster parties because they are the poorest district and they never have anyone to celebrate. The bigger, richer districts have actual parties, but it is because they know that if they didn’t win this year, they probably will next year. Twelve doesn’t have that kind of hope, or that kind of budget. Add to that the fact that the boy from Twelve would have won if I had just drowned ten minutes earlier, and they are downright sullen. But so am I, so I doubt it matters.

We get back on the train and depart for Eleven. The mood is much more subdued than it was yesterday, even than this morning when there was perhaps still a faint ray of hope that I would be able to pull myself out of whatever this is. But I haven’t. I can’t. I am drowning.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I don’t even remember what happens in Eleven. One of the Preps tells me my little speech about Zalea was beautiful. I make a mental note to thank Finnick for writing it, then I remember Finnick and I aren’t talking to each other.

At some point it occurs to me that Mako would not be happy about what I’ve become. But what does it matter? He’s dead. He has no say over my life, if I can even call this existence a life.

In Ten, I read my regular speech, then I look at the families. Elsie’s mom looks just like her. Merritt… with Merritt’s family stands another man, who looks as worn down, depressed, and terrible as I feel. It is Alvan. Alvan, who is too young to be Merritt’s father, but could quite feasibly be his uncle. Who must be his uncle, from the resemblance between him and the older man who can only be Merritt’s father. I read two sentences from the speech, and then I crack.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are back on the train. I am in my bed, covered by a pile of blankets. I can hear the voices, the screaming, the sounds of death. I am the one screaming.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are still on the train. There is a doctor standing next to my bed, looking at a notepad. He is talking to someone I can’t see without moving my head. Moving my head is too much work.

“She’s fine, physically. Maybe a little underfed, but there’s nothing we can do if she’s decided she won’t eat. Mentally, though…”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We are back in Four. I am in my room in my house. I am still piled with blankets. I force myself to look around. This can’t be right. I’m supposed to be in… Nine? I wonder what day it is. I wonder if the Victory Tour is over, if we finished it and I just don’t remember, if I lived through it the way I’ve lived through so much, just drifting through in a haze. I roll onto my side and see him, asleep in a chair.

Finnick.

After a very long time, he wakes with a start, reaching for anything to use as a weapon. Then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming down. He looks at me and his face floods with relief. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“What?” I rasp. It must have been quite a while since we were in Ten. I sound like I haven’t talked in weeks.

“The doctor said you just shut down. Gave up. Something like that. They said they couldn’t help you, because you didn’t want to be helped. So all we could do was bring you back here and hope for the best.” He stands up. “Your dad told me to call him when you woke up and he’d come home and trade me.”

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Please stay.”

I am amazed when he obeys, sitting back down.

“What happened?”

“They cancelled the rest of the tour.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It was live. Everyone in Ten, and everyone who happened to be watching at home… they all saw it.”

“How’d they spin it?”

“Said you were sick. Had been for a while, but you were trying to soldier through for the districts because you knew how much they loved seeing their victors. You know, the usual pack of lies. Anyway, they said it finally just caught up to you and you were hallucinating because of the fever and then you passed out, and they sent you back to Four so the doctors could treat you at home.”

“What really happened?”

He takes a deep breath. “I think you noticed Alvan. And then I don’t know what went through that mind of yours because historically I’ve been bad at figuring that out, but you just… screamed. Like somebody was ripping it out of you. One of the Peacekeepers tried to help you, get you off the stage and inside, and you put up a good fight. So I stepped in and… helped. And we were walking you into the Justice Building when you just dropped. That was when they got a doctor and sent us on our way to the Capitol. We were there for…” he pauses, thinking about it, “…four days. You woke up once and went crazy on them. Attacked one of the doctors,” Finnick smiles a little. “You almost broke out of the med center. They had to send me after you.”

“Bet you enjoyed that.”

“Maybe a little. It’s been a while since I had a good fight.”

I smile.

“After that they kept you under while they ran every test they could think of and pumped you full of fluids and all that fun stuff. And when they decided there wasn’t anything wrong with you they could fix, they just announced that your illness was much more serious than anyone thought and that you were being sent back to Four for treatment and that the Tour was cancelled.”

“Oh.”

“The doctors wanted to make sure you weren’t faking, so they… they called everyone they could think of. Guess they all gave satisfactory answers because when they finally asked me about it, they believed me.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth.”

“That I was getting better and then the very idea of having to do the tour set me off?”

“I told them it happens all the time. Not usually this bad, but sometimes pretty bad.”

“But it doesn’t happen all the time. Or, it didn’t, I guess.”

He gives me a strange look. “It happens all the time. You don’t always go as far as hiding in a closet for four hours and not remembering any of it—most of the time we’re eating, or talking, or playing a game, or reading, and you look up and your eyes slide out of focus and you’re not there anymore. And it’s not for long, only a second or two. Sometimes you’re even still talking, but some part of you just steps out for a bit, then comes right back in.”

“Oh.”

He chews his lip and takes a long breath. “Annie… I’m sorry. About a lot of things.”

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. Just hear me out. Please.”

I nod.

“I don’t know how to help you. It is all I want to do, but I can’t. I barely got myself through being a victor, and I have no idea how to do it for you. I am trying my best, but it’s not enough and I’m so frustrated and sad and… sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you got reaped, I’m sorry Mako got reaped with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more while you were in the arena. I’m sorry you had to come out alone. I’m sorry you had to sit on stage alone and watch your Games. I’m sorry you had to come home and try to fit back into your old life even though it was impossible. I’m sorry I… about that night at my house.”

I should say something, but I don’t.

“When I woke up I knew… that was the best I’d slept in years, and I knew it was a mistake. And I was going to apologize, but you weren’t there. So I went to find you to apologize. To make it right, right away, because I knew what you were thinking. I knew how complicated it had to feel. I went to your house, and you weren’t there. I asked Mags and she hadn’t seen you, and neither had Beck, and neither had the old guys fishing at the pier. I went to your old house. You weren’t there. I went to your dad’s office on the docks and he hadn’t heard from you since the morning before. By the time I got back to my house I was… Annie, I was scared out of my mind. Four hours, that’s how long I’d been looking for you, and when I finally did find you, I was so relieved that you were there and alive and hadn’t, I don’t know, walked yourself off the pier or something because you couldn’t take it anymore, and I was so scared that you had snapped and you would just be a shell walking around going through the motions… I forgot why it was so important that I find you.”

He trails off. I don’t know how to respond to all that, but it does come with some concerning new information. “I was gone for four hours?”

He nods. “Honestly it might’ve been longer. It was a little over four hours from the time I woke up to when I found you hiding in the closet in my third spare bedroom.”

And I don’t remember any of it. “I had no idea. I thought it was, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour.” Wow. “I’m sorry I… lost it on you.”

“No need to apologize. We maybe should have had that discussion sooner. You had a lot of stuff to get out.”

I nod. “I just… I never felt like I could tell anyone how I was feeling or what I was going through because they’d try to help, and I didn’t want anyone to help, I just wanted them to listen and not look at me like I was going crazy. And I didn’t realize until after that it was always you. But being around you makes me feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t feel the way I feel when you’re around.” I stop. I just said that out loud. Now I really do want to walk off the pier.

But Finnick is smiling. A very small smile, but also a very genuine one. “I won’t tell anyone your little secret. And don’t worry, you snuck up on me too.” And with that, he stands and leaves the room. I hear him go downstairs and begin rattling around in the kitchen.

What does that mean? I snuck up on him? I’m good at a lot of things, but sneaking my six-foot, red-headed self around has never been one of them.

Finnick comes back in a few minutes later with an entire pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. He hands me the one that is already full.

“I know you’re crazy and don’t like coffee, so I made you hot chocolate. And I am going to drink this whole pot by myself.” He pours himself a cup. “Called your dad. He’ll be here as soon as he can. Said he was going to pick up chocolate rolls on the way.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Finnick does indeed drink the whole pot of coffee. He is on the last cup when Dad gets home, dripping with winter rain but triumphantly carrying a box of chocolate rolls. These he drops unceremoniously on Finnick’s lap when he enters the room and wraps me in a hug.

“I was so worried. So worried. Please don’t do that again.”

I nod into his shoulder.

“I know you can’t help it, but… Annie, we want to help you, if only you’ll let us.”

I nod again. “I know. But it’s hard.”

My father puts his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “I know. I know I can’t ever fathom what you went through and what it did to you and how you feel at any given time. But I can be here for you. Okay?”

I smile a little. “Okay.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I am supposed to be on bedrest, so we all stay in my room eating all the chocolate rolls until suppertime. Then Dad goes down and makes a quick meal of rice and clams and a new pot of coffee, which I sense is a point of contention between him and Finnick, and then brings it all upstairs so we can eat together. After supper, he asks if I want him to stay home from work the next day.

I shake my head. “Just because my life is completely upside-down doesn’t mean yours needs to be. Besides, somebody has to tell the crew I’m still alive and on the mend.”

Dad nods. “They’ve been worried about you. Wanted to come visit, but I told them to wait until you were ready for that much company.”

I nod. My crew is a lot to handle. “Thanks. Tell them to give me a few days and then we’ll see what we can do.”

He smiles. “That I can do. Now, I’m going to go to bed. One of the crews is short-handed, so yours truly gets to do some real work tomorrow.”

I wait until I hear his bedroom door close to turn to Finnick. “Will you stay?”

Finnick nods, pouring another cup of coffee. “As long as you want.”

****

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@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #dissociation #ptsd #it gets better after this i promise

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marmie-noir · 2 years

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Chapter 4: Heartfelt Mission

Aloy had been correct. Alva had been easy enough to spot amongst the people of Arrowhand. Not only did she not look like any of the people who called the small village home but she was also decorated in foreign beads of red with green detailing and something that looked like our Focus’ but appeared to be either an older model or was purely for looks. Walking behind myself but in front of Kotallo on the way back she didn’t pick up on any of the tension between the two of us, chatting away animatedly while going through the new focus we had brought for her. The Quen, her people, sounded odd and not like a place I personality had any interest in visiting. Kotallo seemed to think the same, the two of us sharing a few glances over the head of the bubbly woman in her rants.

I enjoyed her presence in a way that was almost surprising. She reminded me of Vana, a young girl hired by the house to do some cleaning in exchange for shards. Vana was all big eyes and wide smiles, her mouth never stopping as she asked questions and shared anything new she had learned every time she appeared to help with laundry or sweeping. I missed her even now, thinking back to my home in the Brothel. The loud men I could live without but the mornings where all the women gathered for food and any updates, the mistress seated at the head of it as she sorted accounts and took reports from both the girls and the few guards she kept around. I was always seated to her right, the one to inherit the houses, expected to take in everything she said and lock it away for future use.

Though I found Alva delightful, she was also a lot of energy to take in. I was either around soft spoken Zo or quiet Kotallo for the last few weeks or so and the Quen Diviner had a headache growing behind my eyes. I showed her to a room none of us had bothered using, raw data displayed everywhere, and she immediately made herself at home. Sitting on a low counter I found myself alone with Alva, my Tenakth companion disappearing the moment we entered the base, I’m sure also wanting a little bit of quiet. I listened a bit, hearing about her little sister and family, as well as the structure of her people, but kept my opinions to myself. I found it was not the best way to make friends by immediately insulting someone’s entire way of life in the first few days of knowing them.

Once I was sure Alva was comfortable (her wide smile and intense interest in the data proving that) I excused myself to head to the bathing rooms myself. The dust and scrapes from my tumble with Kotallo down the hill had left my hair in a rather unpleasant tangled state. I washed, detangled the large mass, and walked out of the bathing room with it down to let my long hair dry quickly.

It was late, our trip to retrieve Alva started mid day and between the hike there and back eating up the rest of the sunlight and giving way to the cool nights of the West. Erend was half asleep on the couches in the main gathering area, Varl and Zo already in bed, Alva and Kotallo probably both in their respective areas as well. I stirred Erend, not wanting to hear about how his neck hurt for the next few days for sleeping in such a position, and helped him to his bed. As I suspected Kotallo’s cot lay empty across the small room. Glancing at the familiar paint pots for a moment as Erend began to loudly snore I didn’t want to linger. I’d go speak with Gaia before I retired for the evening.

The hiss of the door opening was normal now, no longer having me on edge, and I walked up to the platform the AI used as her main space. With a swirl of beautiful golds and yellows she appeared, a being of light, and I could easily see how some thought of her as a goddess. Her face was aged in a way that was graceful, not from hardship, her expression soft, comforting, and I found it helped us see her as trusting. With my vague understanding of ‘programming’ and with how blunt Gaia answered questions it had to be intention on her creators part.

“Hello Anara.”

“Gaia.” I said with a small nod. “I was wondering if I could bother you for some information?”

She smiled, such a human gesture. “Of course, what is it you wanted to know?”

“Could you please send me any data you have on larger settlements in the West. I know Aloy’s probably been to most, I’m attempting to gather data to see if I can find a location that may be suitable to present to my mistress? I understand it’s a long shot, I don’t think the Carja born women will be of interest to the Tenakth anyway, but I need to at least give this an effort.” Once I had a list of establishments I could also go on a tour myself and check out these places to see if they had need of a brothel.

My focus made a small ping noise as the data was transferred, Gaia gesturing as if to sift through anything she was sending my way. “I do know there are a number of settlements from here to the sea, although I cannot speak on the exact number of people living there.”

“You are looking for camps?” Kotallo’s deep voice had me glancing over my shoulder to watch the man stalk up the stairs to stand next to me, facing Gaia as well. Her golden light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the scar on his lip, and I lingered there a moment before meeting his eyes.

“Yes.” Glancing at the data it opened a map, new markers on the map, I attempted to keep my eyes to myself and my new information. “Nothing nefarious, I assure you.” Biting my lower lip a moment to hide my smile I swiped the data to look at another portion of the map with the little dots where Gaia had indicated there were large settlements. “My mistress has to be wondering where I am and I’d like to prove that I’ve at least looked to see if there was a suitable place to create a new establishment.”

“And your thoughts?”

Unable to help myself I looked at him once more. Per usual Kotallo’s expression was serious and it was clear he was genuinely interested in what I thought on the matter. “I don’t think she will find business here. At least, not with the women. The West opens up a lot of opportunities, but a brothel doesn’t appear to be needed by the Tenakth, the Utaru, or the Quen from what I can find. Not that the Quen are native to the area anyway…” Puckering my lips a moment while I looked at the map once more I thought for a moment. “If the alliance between the Tenakth and the Carja ever happens we might have a place for our women, to entertain the Carja and Oseram people coming for trade, but that seems to be it. I don’t see Tenakth as a whole accepting Carja born women, and your tribe is well known for being against taking a partner outside of their own. I didn’t exactly get the warmest welcome.”

Kotallo put his hand on his hip, nodding a moment, before opening up some data and sending it to my device as well. “I cannot speak for how others treated you. We don’t always value physical beauty, at least most do not. Warriors want warriors for partners. It’s not necessarily uncommon for a Tenakth to pick a partner from another people, but once they are taken, they are Tenakth.”

“Like Fashav?”

He frowned at the name, clearly the loss of his friend still fresh, but nodded before I could apologize. “In a way. Fashav was a war prisoner, he fought to earn his place. The Tenakth will take strong warriors regardless of birth or people. But a taken partner, while in some situations may need to prove their worth, is normally accepted much easier.”

I opened his files to find pictures of people, normal looking Tenakth from my reckoning, but if I looked past the paint and unfamiliar clothing I could see some features that were distinctly Oseram, Carja, and potentially even Banuk. “Why is that?” He blinked at me, as if confused by my question. “Why is a taken partner accepted better than a war prisoner?”

“A Tenakth won’t take a partner unless they are worthy. If a warrior returns home with a new mate who previously was not Tenakth, they have proven themselves to the warrior.” He quirked his lips at that, a little smile as if he was thinking of a specific situation. “Although… I have seen a Tenakth born challenge the new mate to prove their worth, as they had wanted the warrior for themselves.”

“Oh?” He simply nodded but didn’t offer more. I didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask, especially in front of our AI friend, but filed that away for later, pleased with the newly gained information. “I’ll get that story out of you one day.”

“I look forward to your efforts.” His face relaxed, an easier smile pulling at his lips at my determined expression. For the first time his eyes flicked over to Gaia before settling back onto mine. “Did you get the information you needed or should I return later?”

“Oh, yes.” Turning to Gaia I thanked her, wanting to get out of his way. I walked out wondering what he needed from our AI friend.

Glancing over at Zo she gave me a subtle nod and I gave one back. Pulling my right arm back, the arrow leveling with the Watcher, I held it for two breaths before releasing. It flew straight, sinking into the eye-like light in it’s head, stumbling forward another step before collapsing. We waited a few more breaths to make sure another machine wasn’t coming to investigate before slowly moving towards our downed kill.

Zo got there first, quick fingers working loose the parts we needed, and I made sure to keep a lookout. Recently machines had become more aggressive, almost overnight, and I had a feeling it was because the sub function we were unable to capture, HEPHAESTUS, was being a dick. “I’ve heard the Banut do not let their hunts strip their own kills.” Zo says quietly to make idle conversation. “I think that would be inconvenient.”

“I agree.” Glancing around the small clearing surrounded by the thick trees of the forest I deemed it safe enough and gave a little shrug. “Your people and the Banut would probably get along though. Both of you believe Machines are living creatures.”

“The Vari do not?”

“Not like animals, no. They are alive in the sense that they move and have purpose, but they are not breathing beings. They do not have feelings.”

“Mm.” She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, handing me a bag of machine parts. I suspected that I got the heavier load due to my opinions but had expected it. Zo felt a connection with her Land Gods and while I could respect it, I didn’t understand it. My people hunted machines like all tribes did, but that was it. There was a respect owed to a machine that could kill a human easily but beyond that I didn’t pretend they were sentient beings with feelings. Although her Gods were different from the others that I had seen… Shaking my head slightly I shouldered the pack and we began our walk to the base. I was luckier than Erend, when he tried to poke fun at her Land Gods she laid him out. Entertaining but not something I was willing to experience.

We had been heading out the last few days together, foraging and hunting to get some fresh air out of the base. Alva hadn’t been inclined to join, Erend was too noisy to sneak around, Zo stated Varl needed to catch up to her studies, and Kotallo advised he was busy with a project that needed his attention unless we required he hunt as well.

I wondered what he was up to. He had been working away the last few days, only glancing up when I peeked in to see if he wanted me to take a look at his arm or to bring him some food. His focus was at least a good distraction so I could look at him without him noticing too much. I liked Kotallo’s scars and his tattoos, unable to pick a favorite, and although he remained focused on his task I had sat in the room for a bit studying to get away from Erend’s tipsy rants and Alva’s unending ramblings about her new information. I adored them both but not learning friendly.

My curiosity got the better of me after three long days. “Kotallo?” He made a noise in his throat indicating he was listening but didn’t look away from what he was reading, brows drawn down in concentration. “What have you been so concentrated on?”

That had him looking over at me. Breaking from the symbols showed me how tired he looked, like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep for at least a few days. Running his hand down his face he glanced back at the data before letting out a low sigh and turning to face where I had made a little seat in the corner. “I found an old data point that indicated the old ones would replace lost limbs with made ones.”

I blinked a few times, processing what he said. “And you… want one?”

“I believe so.”

“Oh.” Giving a little shrug I tilted my head to the side. “That makes sense, do you need me to go on a parts run?”

Something in his expression warmed and I couldn’t help my smile. If someone asked I couldn’t exactly point it out, it was like trying to watch a flower bloom, but I adored it. Like his eyes got warmer and the lines on his face smoothed a bit, but more of a vibe versus a facial expression. “No, but thank you. I am waiting for Aloy to return. The base where they found Beta seems to have some data I need to create the arm, and I have been told it is still heavily guarded by the Zeniths.”

I remembered when Beta had been brought home by Varl and Aloy. A younger version of our savior, quieter too. The redheads did not appear friendly, every time Aloy returned to the base she either avoided Beta or their fighting could be heard in the upper levels. I hadn’t personally gone to meet her, Zo was soft so she made more sense. Varl had that kind aura that drew people in. I was just not as friendly, not as welcoming, and figured it would be better to avoid her versus cause more tension.

“Have you spoken to her lately? Will she be returning soon?” The thought of Kotallo and Aloy chatting all day over the focus was highly unlikely, neither really spoke much unless they had something they wanted to say specifically. But my jealous heart twisted around in my chest putting all sorts of unlikely scenarios in my head.

He studied me, taking notice of the emotion crossing my face for a moment before I could bottle it back up. Instead of asking if I was well he simply lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug, eyes moving down to the holo-map he seemed to be staring at more and more each day. “She is currently helping the Desert Clan with a water problem, but I am sure she will return soon.” He wasn’t wrong, Aloy returned as much as she was able, but I still worried for her. Regardless of my feelings towards her and Kotallo’s relationship she was my friend and I was concerned for her health. She didn’t rest enough and I wasn’t sure she was eating enough constantly on the road as well.

“Once this is all settled I am locking her in a room for at least a week.” I said with a small grin and shake of my head. His tired little half smile answered me and the two of us stood in silence for a bit. “Well… I’m going to turn in Kotallo. Do you need anything before I go to my rooms?”

“No. Rest well, Anara.” Ignoring how his sleepy voice said my name I gave him a last smile and disappeared from the room. On the way through the quiet halls an idea began to form in the back of my mind. Aloy wouldn’t be back for some time, especially if she was in the desert currently. I was sitting around like a useless lump but what if I went to the base? Vari were stealthy people and I was no exception, I was sure I could sneak in and out without alerting any Zeniths to my presence. Turning from my path I headed towards Gaia.

Pressing my back to a cool metal wall my furs did little to stop the cold from sinking down to my bones, but it wasn’t from the temperature. The Zenith’s machines, unnatural in a way that was completely alien, scanned where they thought I was hiding. Right after I had gathered the data it seemed to alert them somehow of my presence and two of these creatures slunk into the room to begin hunting me. It had been a bit of time as they continued to comb through all the areas as I snuck in the back rooms and gathered any parts that the focus highlighted. The pack was heavy on my back but I made sure to secure it tightly enough that nothing would move around and cause me to stumble or make unnecessary noise.

Watching them move gave me an impression that these machines were faster than their large sizes gave away. I had watched Aloy, Erend, and Varl’s focus data from their fight with them and I knew the weak points but would rather not take two on by myself if I could help it. Holding my breath for a moment they swung to scan another area and I dove towards another stack of abandoned boxes left by the old ones. Every few moments they shifted and continued to look for me but I had been able to slink around in the shadows and the darkness that the base provided, footsteps silent as I continued to make my way towards the exit.

Leaving the huge room I had gathered the data from I carefully made my way through the maze of halls and small off-shoot rooms. Thankfully I was able to create a pretty simple map thanks to Gaia and the data from the others and within a few minutes I was making my way up the odd tube-like entrance that the Zenith had dug directly into the side of the mountain. The cold winter wind howled and covered any movement I made. Never thought I’d be thankful for a snow storm.

Stepping onto the flat area on the side of the mountain I jumped into some tall grass just as another Spector rushed down the tunnel to help the other two look for me. Listening to it scrambling loudly down the tunnel I waited for a few more heartbeats before dashing from my hiding spot and towards the edge. I could climb down, although my hands and feet were already cold, but if I didn’t go quickly there was a chance I’d have to hide out here and try to keep warm while avoiding these machines for Stars knows how long.

Footholds and handholds were easy to locate thanks to the focus and I silently sent a blessing to Aloy as I picked my way down the side, the roaring storm creating white-out conditions that covered me enough. When my feet hit the ground I didn’t waste any time and turned, dashing towards the forest and where my mount was hopefully still waiting. As I hopped on and raced down the mountain hoping to get out of scan range my focus reactivated and the silenced setting I had turned on apparently shutting down now that I was within safe range. Multiple messages hit me back to back, everyone at the base asking at least once where I was, and a few from Aloy asking why she was notified by Gaia that I’d gone into the Nimah Research Lab alone.

Sending them all a response it was a simple symbol that Gaia advised was to be a ‘smiley face’, used to communicate a good mood among other things. That didn’t settle down Erend or Varl, both of them continuing to call me until I ignored them each a few more times. I rode hard through the rest of the night, ducked near the machine under me and feeling it’s metal parts rotate smoothly, lines and cables ensuring a smooth ride. It also helped that the machines were at least a little warm, providing some heat for my thighs as my large cloak covered myself from neck to billow around the creature to trap in all the warmth I could get. I still ended up covered in a thick layer of ice. The storm had bad timing but it also shielded my escape from the machines I’d left behind in the base, plus any that could have gotten in my way on the ride back, so I just clenched the warm clothing tighter and grit my teeth.

As the base drew closer I felt myself nearly slump over with exhaustion. I wanted a hot shower and my bed immediately. Stopping the machine near the tiny herd that Aloy kept for us to take when needed I climbed up the small cliff leading to the door. It hissed open and I walked in, warmth enveloping me and having me sigh loudly. Blinking a few times as my finger tips began to tingle I walked the rest of the way in, grimacing at the squishing noise of my fur boots. I was toeing them off when I heard Erend’s shout startling me out of my own skin.

“SHE’S BACK!”

Snapping my head up just in time to see Erend’s scowl he swept me up, Oseram strength pinning my arms to my side as he hoisted me up into a warm hug, swinging me side to side. The ice on my clothing broke off, making a mess all around us, but he didn’t seem to mind it or the cold. I squirmed, finally able to break free just in time for Varl and Zo step into the main area. It was early morning, too early to be making so much noise, but it appeared no one else was really resting. Alva peeked out before catching sight of my scowl and sending me a little smile before disappearing back into the information room. Kotallo came out next, hand on his hip as he took in my frost burned face and heavy pack.

Ignoring Varl and Erend’s questions I pulled up the data on my focus and pushed it to Kotallo, his own lighting up a moment later and displaying what I had found. I shrugged off the pack, the heavy parts making my arms jerk painfully against the weight before I held it out to him. That had everyone going silent, taking in his surprised face and my determined one, chin tipping up to look at him.

“You went alone.”

“Yes.” He took the bag from me, glancing inside before looking back up at me.

“Why?”

“Do you not want it?” I asked and moved as if to grab the bag back. Once I had a strap he didn’t let go either, using it to pull me closer. I flushed, stumbling slightly before catching myself. I glanced over my shoulder, shooting Zo a look, and she began to usher the other men back to bed. Once they cleared out, much to Erend’s dismay, I turned my attention back to the Marshal before me. “Kotallo I- I know you wanted to go with Aloy but I’m quick. I can get in and out of most places without being detected and with Aloy so busy I didn’t know when she’d be able to go and I didn’t like the thought of you waiting.” All of it true. If I could help I wanted to. Not that I wouldn’t have done the same to any other member of my party but for some reason helping Kotallo had me feeling a bit shy, eyes drifting down to the ground.

“You really got it all.” I looked back up to see him inspecting the inside of the bag. Glancing back up at me I felt a tension string in the air. He looked me in the eyes a moment before dipping down to my toes and then back up to hold my gaze. “Anara, I accept this.” His words held a weight I didn’t completely understand. My heart thundered in my chest and I swallowed loudly, my throat suddenly dry under his intense examination, unable to ask for clarification on what he means. Most people would say thank you, so what did he mean?

“I-Kotallo I-” Biting at my lower lip I swallowed the confession. I was about to tell him I’d do almost anything if he needed it, I would go further. I’d even brave the cold again if it would be helpful for him. I released the shoulder strap of the bag and let it fall, taking a step back. What was that all about? “I’m going to bathe and lay down, as you can imagine I’m cold and tired. Please, let me know if I can help with anything else.” He nodded but didn’t say anything else, watching me retreat towards the bathing area.

#Horizon #ForbiddenWest #kotallo #anara #Vari #Tenakth #KotalloxOC #fanfic #romance #OCcharacter #firstperson #Anaraisbadatfeelings #Thetrialsoflovingatenakth #TTOLAT

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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years

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Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

#mikey x male reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjirou x male reader #sano manjirou x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjirou #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years

Text

Obey Me Brothers + Little Affections

AN: Keep thinking about the little things each brother would do to express affection. Some warm fluffy stuff because we all need it. Enjoy!!

The hair drying one on Lucifer’s sparked this entire thing thanks

Lucifer

- Washing and drying your hair. You know if you get your hair washed at a hairdressers and they just. Go to town with a towel drying your hair? He finds it hilarious and loves doing that. You’ll hear him chuckle, unable to see him because your face is covered by the towel. He’s softer towards the end but initially when trying to get most of the excess water his only concern is not actually hurting you. He’s also genuinely trying to help, just having a little fun with it at the same time.

- Continuing on from this, Lucifer will ruffle your hair. If it doesn’t really upset you, he loves to make a mess of it, and he grins at you, your hair sticking out every which way.

- The second his brothers aren’t around, he seems to canonically love holding your hand under the guise of keeping track of you or comforting you. Its partially true - the MC gets into trouble easily, so its good to keep a hand on them. However, the comforting affect goes both ways.

- Sharing information with you implies a close bond (or at the very least, a strong curiosity, like when he hints at where Mammon’s card is / when he talks about the album) and it means Luci cares about you a lot. He likes to talk about his interests and introduce you to things he cares a lot about. A lot of the time this comes in the form of music, because it’s something he’s able to enjoy whilst still doing his work.

- Doing origami or other paper crafts together? Really relaxes him. It’s so peacefully intimate and cosy. You sit together at his desk, work documents hidden out of sight for now, and make whatever you can out of colourful little bits of paper. He likes making flowers, although he’d never say it out loud, but he makes you countless crowns with paper flowers of all different kinds. You walk in one day when he’s taking a break from work and he’s got paper cranes lining the entire length of his desk. He calls you over and puts one on your head for absolutely no reason before acting like it never happened.

- If no one else is around and he’s feeling a bit daft, he’ll sweep you up into his arms with no warning and just hold you like that, staring directly into your eyes with a daring and loving smile on his face. This happens most when it’s late at night and all the coffee he’s had is starting to wear off and he feels a little more relaxed and open. He’ll carry you to his room to cuddle, too, if you don’t have anywhere else you need to be. Just pray none of his brothers encounter you two because he’ll set you down on your feet immediately and he won’t help you up if you fall.

[[Other Brothers under the read more]]

Mammon

- Fist bumps!!! He passes you and holds his fist out, and pouts if you don’t immediately bump your hand into his. Do the snail or turkey thing once and he falls in love with it. Lucifer, tired and stressed after a lot of work, decides for once to go along with giving him a fist bump because he’s too tired and no one else is around, and Mammon does the snail thing. The look on Luci’s face is worth everything that happened after. But when its you, Mammon just smiles and beams at you. He’s really happy.

- Sitting so close together that you can’t possibly move without disturbing the other. Sides fully pressed together even if he doesn’t have an arm around you or your hand in his. He likes the constant contact, it’s healing. So heavily invested in whatever you’re watching that the two of you simply don’t realise how close you are until the episode ends and you realise you’re leaning your full weight against him and his face is red but he’s smiling so softly you can’t bring yourself to move.

- You’ll have to start the habit, but, tackle hugs. You see him in the distance somewhere and sprint over and tackle him full force. He’ll act mad at first, especially if he trips and falls over or he’d been talking with someone else, but he holds onto you tightly and his face is beautifully flushed. After a while he’ll do it too, although he’s a lot gentler, but if you hear him call your name you need to turn around quickly and hold your arms out. He’ll lift you up into the air and twirl you around once or twice before just, going on with his day as normal. You hear his laughter as he walks away, bright and bubbly and confident, exactly as he should be.

- The absence of insults is important for Mammon. He’ll tolerate it if it’s every now and then but he’ll really notice if you’re always kind to him, he pays attention and holds tightly on to every compliment you give him. When he feels low he finds you and holds you in his arms, fingers playing with the loops in your jeans, as he recites off every nice thing you’ve said to him, hoping you’ll reaffirm them. Did you mean it when you said he was one of the most caring people you’d ever met? When you said his eyes made you feel at home?

- He likes feeding the crows with you. It’s something he does without telling anyone, but one day he takes you out along with him and the crows take a liking to you instantly. He likes how you look with his crows standing proud and confident on your arm, your hair a mess from their flapping wings as you laugh and try to get the last bits of food out from the bag.

- If you style his hair and put random accessories in it - anything from silly plastic hair clips to flowers to feathers - he’ll keep them in all day. He doesn’t care who sees because his MC spent their time doing this for him, and he’s happy to tell anyone who dares criticise him.

Leviathan

- He’s awkward with any affection at first, but he actually builds up to quick tight hugs when he’s really happy. If he’s incredibly excited - just won tickets for something, or some idol liked his comments - expect to be tackled in a hug. He gets flustered after, but if you hold tightly onto him he won’t let go immediately.

- If they even vaguely relate to his own interests, Levi will try hard to be invested in anything you really enjoy. For example, he’ll watch your favourite shows with you or try and read things you enjoy, etc.

- At the same time, Levi will share his interests with you. It’s not something he can really avoid doing as it’s ingrained in him to ramble about his special interests, but it will come in seemingly smaller forms - for example, he’ll hand you his headphones one day, blushing, and ask what you think of this song, or he’ll show you a paragraph in a TSL book that has particularly good rhythm or evokes a lot of emotion. If he lends you his books or DVDs it’s practically a proposal.

- You two have full conversations with Henry as he swims about in his tank. About silly and pointless things or very serious topics, from jokingly scolding him to venting about the future and about school and such. It warms Levi’s heart.

- Horn pats. When he’s in his demon form, pull him down to your level and pat his horns. He’s so flustered he can’t move the first few times, but one day he’ll start coming up to you and asking you if you want to do it. He likes being able to be in his demon form, and likes that you’re comfortable with him even when he doesn’t look as human.

- When he’s very comfortable with you, he likes to wrap you up in surprise hugs and laughs if you try to squirm your way out of his grip, a brilliant mischievous glow in his eyes, any self-consciousness long forgotten.

Satan

- I’ve said this before on another post but Satan likes to pet your hair and run his thumbs over your palms, pressing into them gently like he’s touching the pads on the paws of a cat. He traces circles and presses kisses into your palm and over each finger tip and knuckle, like it’s his own form of worship.

- It takes a long time to build up the confidence to do so but I can see him like. Playfully nipping at your skin if he presses light kisses against your shoulders or neck. If it makes you laugh or blush he smiles against your skin.

- If you fall asleep somewhere he’s the first person to go get a blanket to throw over you - he’d rather just let you sleep if you’re somewhere safe instead of disturbing you to lift you elsewhere, and risking waking you up. Occasionally he’ll kneel down beside you and stay there with a book until you wake up, and he’s fallen asleep like that once or twice.

- Just. Talking. Laying down together and going from topic to topic, saying whatever crosses your minds with no filters and no judgement. Letting time pass by with the comfort of the other, laying on your back in the planetarium or library or in his room, wherever there aren’t books piled up. No responsibilities except to listen to the other, and every now and then you laugh and he feels like maybe this could be home.

Asmodeus

- Sharing things, whatever it is. Food, clothes, jewellery. Taking a necklace off and putting it on him because “this would go so well with your outfit,” or holding out your fork and telling him to try some of your food, it tastes heavenly. Perfume, as well, is a must - he wants the two of you to smell the same.

- Like Mammon, he likes to have some kind of contact with you at all time - holding hands, an arm across your shoulders, anything. But the main point of contact he truly adores is if he has his hands on the skin of your stomach or back, even in the most innocent way possible. If his arms are around you and you’re comfortable with it, he’ll tuck his hands under your shirt and trace shapes against your hips, stomach, back, lower ribcage. Wherever he can. It’s something he’ll do absentmindedly without everything thinking about it, and it recharges him when he’s low on energy.

- He actually really likes working alongside you, whether it’s school work or something related to a part time job, or a potential business idea. He’s smarter than anyone would give him credit for and he loves how you look when you’re deep in thought, trying to solve something, and how your eyes light up as you figure it all out. He’s not one to just give you the answer to things, so if he knows something and you don’t he likes to hint at it like it’s a game. When you guess the answer right he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and beams at you.

- Late night phone calls where you talk about whatever’s keeping you awake. He doesn’t mind who’s calling who, he wants to ramble or listen to you at any given moment and he’ll give up his sleep if it means you can get something that’s bothering you off your chest. Similarly, there is no greater comfort for him than getting to complain to you about something or other, something that’s genuinely bothering him and that’s stuck in his head. He feels like it only disappears when you take a hold of it for him for a little bit.

Beelzebub

- Sharing food, obviously, means a lot to him. Feed him bites of your food, give him anything you don’t want, and he’ll love it. He especially loves if you share food that’s important to you in some way, and you’ll find him giving you little bites of his food too the closer you two get. It means a lot to him when people embrace the fact that he eats so much, instead of scolding him for it or making jokes about it.

- He really likes holding hands. Your hands are so small in his and yet you trust him not to injure them as you pull him along. He feels possessive sometimes but isn’t outwardly affectionate enough to do anything about it, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. It’s the perfect thing for him.

- Stacking random things on the other. Sitting cross-legged in a park, pulling daisies out of the lawn that’s about to be mowed anyway and gently placing them into each other’s hair, on the other’s shoulders and laps. If you’re laying in his bed he’ll take random light objects off his night stand and place them on top of you. There’s no purpose and no intention, and yet it makes him smile and gives him butterflies, and he laughs if you glare jokingly up at him but let him continue.

- Run your hands through his hair, down the sides of his face, under his jaw. Anywhere. He melts in an instant, mouth slightly open as you poke his cheeks or tickle his neck and shoulders with feather light touches.

Belphegor

- Nap. On. Him. Any time, any where. Snuggle up to him, lean your head against his shoulder or bury your face into his neck or lay down on his lap and just rest. He blushes every time and it takes him a second to recover. Sometimes he’ll angle himself so he can lean against you two and he’ll fall asleep as well.

- He likes those kind of monkey hugs where you wrap your entire body around him and he can bury his face in your neck and hold on as tight as he wants. He’ll walk around like that until you get to the attic and he can throw you into his pile of pillows and blankets, and he flops down on top of you and clings onto you again, trying to hide his face because he’s smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

- He loves playful, back and forth banter. He’ll tease you constantly, loves if you pout at him, loves it more if you retort with something and keep it running for a while before the two of you start laughing.

- Being childish. He’ll stick out his tongue at you or pull a sudden face and he expects you to do it back immediately. If you don’t he’ll poke and tickle you, telling you how disappointed and hurt he is.

- Headbumps! But not too hard. Gently bump your head against his shoulder to get his attention and he’ll pat it. Bonus points if you nuzzle into his hands then - he’s hard to fluster but you can hear him swallow as he starts to go red. You’ll immediately have all of his attention to yourself.

- Belphie is the king of silent conversations. The tiniest gestures, nods, tilts of the head. He can pick up on all of them, knows exactly what you’re trying to say without you saying it, to the point where sometimes you won’t even realise you’re not talking aloud.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me Satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #I might do more later but this is all I can think of right now #obey me headcanons #my headcanons #my writings #queued #there are little bits of angst if you squint hard enough

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literaila · 3 years

Note

hi i have a fic request: the reader and spencer were dating and instead of emily dying the reader “died”. and during the time that the reader was presumed “dead”, spencer met maeve and they started dated and everything and when the reader came back there was a ton of tension and awkwardness. and after maeve dies the reader comforts spencer and like they grow closer and get together? ty ily<3

the art of knowing

spencer reid x gn! reader

warnings: criminal minds themes, angst, fluff, death. all that fun stuff.

a/n: its four am. i take no credit for any of this. thank you for the request, my love.

he couldn't let go of that tiny piece of paper.

vaguely, he thought it might smell like you, still.

through the ceremony, through the tears, the stains on the vinyl flooring that everyone was walking on, the fresh grass, and the silence that followed when everyone had said goodbye-- he just couldn't let it go.

it was just a small piece of paper. a hastily scrawled-out letter to him, from you, that was on something only slightly bigger than a sticky note. he knew the words by heart, and even if he didn't, he could’ve guessed what it said.

he knew as soon as he saw it on his desk, as soon as he noticed the lone flower, the organization of the flies he’d left sprawled out. he knew that you’d been there, and he knew that you were gone. how could he not have known?

he couldn't get the question out of his head, and he couldn't get this paper out of his hand.

“goodbye, spencer” was quite possibly the last thing he would ever hear from you.

no, it was. he knew that.

god, he was sitting at your funeral, watching other people cry over you. he’d been asked to say something and he’d refused because you wouldn't want him crying on some podium in front of everyone else. because he wanted to save that for when he got home. he knew all of these things, and yet he still didn’t understand.

he had to face the truth, teach himself the reality.

he was still clutching the paper when derek came over, when he offered spencer a hand on the shoulder, his never-ending support.

spencer was trying to wipe away any hint of water that might be left on his face even though he knew that it would only irritate his eyes more. that he would cry some more today anyway.

“i’m sorry,” derek said instead of asking him what everyone else had asked him today. as if there was a difference in the responses they might get.

“you didn't do anything,” spencer said instead of telling him that he’d already said that. that he already knew. that he was sorry too.

“i didn't do enough,”

“there wasn't anything else you could do.” spencer didn't know why he was reassuring him, but, at least it distracted from the flowers everyone was laying on the ground.

“reid…”

spencer stood up, he clutched the paper in his hand harder, willing himself not to think of those last words again. he didn't look at derek, but he didn't walk away. his body was numb, his fingers felt like nothing. withdrawal, he could have told you. this is what heartbreak was. withdrawal from chemicals he’d grown dependent on.

but somehow, the science wasn't enough.

“i feel like i should have known,” he whispered, letting his eyes sting again. he didn't have the energy it would take to blink the tears away.

“known what?”

the scoff that followed the question was anything but kind. “two years. two years spent with y/n and i didn't even get the chance to know-” he could feel the words leaking out of his chest, flowing like blood, like there wasn't enough pressure. “a whole different life i didn't even know about.”

he was mad. he was so angry. he felt so guilty, but he couldn't feel anything but mad at the little piece of paper in his hands. the goodbye you had known he would need.

“we all have secrets,” derek said, another reassurance that just made spencer want to scream.

“yeah, and i’m supposed to know everything.”

it was just a tiny piece of paper. it wasn't you, it wasn't anything like the person he had known. you had died, you were dead, and you had died someone that spencer had never even known.

really, how couldn't he have known?

he’d known about addiction long before that day. long before he could ever properly understand what it was-- that you could be addicted to a person, too.

but, he also knew, he learned, that you could stop it. that you could put addiction in a drawer far away and move on with your life-- that you would take it out sometimes, just to look at it, and still it would be okay. that you could have more than just a second chance.

he knew that, now, then, before all of this, even.

spencer was a genius, and he knew now how grief worked. he knew how the passing of time could really heal a person.

he knew that he was falling in love with a voice.

that there were multiple stages to addiction.

and one of those was leaving you behind.

he… he didn't know who this person was.

he didn't, he just didn't understand who was standing in front of him, who was there, why you were standing there right in front of him.

awkwardly smiling.

you didn't exist anymore. not to him-- not to anyone. you were dead, you were sitting in the ground somewhere, you were a ghost flying above his head, telling him it was okay to move on.

you were there, standing in front of him.

he didn't know you. he didn't know those eyes, and he didn't know that smile, and he didn't know who he was when you were here. he didn't know how you were here.

so he asked.

“how?” he swallowed, tried to get that dried feeling out of his mouth.

“y/l/n’s identity was strictly ‘need to know’ and Paris was a safe place to be reassigned until their security was assured.”

apparently, it was now because you were standing in front of him.

you were standing in front of him, and he wasn't addicted to you anymore. he didn't care, and he couldn't feel anything, even when he willed himself to. he felt like the corpse, like he was the one who was burried in the ground-- like you were supposed to be.

but, no. no, because you were alive and he felt nothing.

and when you spoke, his heart didn't race. when he looked at your eyes, he didnt even classify them as familiar. they were something else, you were something else.

he knew beause he had your last words memorized, and these certainly weren't them.

and god, he certainly didn't know you.

it didn't take long to understand. not for you, who had known spencer better than you’d known anything before. not for you, who used to study his face, watch his expressions until you got bored-- just for fun.

it didn't take long to understand that something had changed, to see the difference in the air between the two of you. to feel it.

there was something different in his eyes, and, something had changed. even from the first moment he looked at you, that first pass of his eyes, even then. you knew.

how couldn’t you know?

they were different-- the brown, the swirl of colors, the familiarity. it was different. it was strange and terrifying, the change.

those eyes weren't looking at you the same, he wasn't looking at you like he used to.

and you knew that, you could feel it. so half an hour later when you were all walking out of the room, you had to chase him down. no after how determined he was to get away.

“spence-” you followed him, focused on nothing else. “spencer, hey-”

he turned around. you were shocked, by his eyes, by his frown. you took a step back, and you felt more than you possibly could in a hallway at the bureau.

“what?” he asked, and you weren't sure. what else was there to say? what were you supposed to know? how were you supposed to guess what had changed?

“i…” you willed your eyes not to sting, willed yourself not to be affected by this certain feeling in your chest. “i missed you?”

and maybe it was the wrong thing to say, maybe it was. but the scoff from spencer, the scoff hurt.

“i missed you too, when i thought you were dead.”

you stepped back, hurt, concerned, anything but the happiness you’d hoped to feel when you finally saw him again. his words were unfamiliar, his eyes were unfamiliar, and you still didn't know what to say.

how were you supposed to fix this?

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking down. you felt small now. you didn't understand, no matter how much you thought you might.

you’d died, you knew. you were gone for months, but you’d missed him. you’d spent every day, every single one of them, hoping, dreaming, wanting to go back to him. you wanted to touch him, to hear his voice, to listen to him even if it was over a cellphone. you wanted to be alive to him, to be his still. you just wanted him back.

you’d spent every day wanting him back.

but now, now all you wanted to do was to feel bigger. you wanted to see him smile, to know what had changed. you wanted the truth and nothing short of it.

“y/n, i…”

and this. this wasn't anger. his voice, quiet as it always was, beautiful as it always had been, desperate like you’d never heard before-- his voice was full of guilt, of shame you couldn't recognize.

“i’m glad you aren't dead.”

“ha,” you deadpanned, angry now at the sound of his voice. angry now at the feeling building in your chest. you weren't used to him anymore, you didn't know him the same anymore. but still, you knew too much.

“really, really glad, but i’ve,” his voice cracked, his eyes fell, his body was slouching. you knew how to read this, you would’ve known even if it wasn't him.

you didn't want to hear the next words, but you had to, and you did.

“i met someone- i-”

and maybe it was grief, maybe it was anger, maybe it was desperation, but you smiled. maybe it was an effort to be enough.

“it's okay, spencer.”

those words were such lies, but you had to believe them, you had to feel like you believed them. you owed him that.

“if you’re happy, then it's okay. that's all i’ve wanted, all i could hope for in-” you swallowed, took a breath that was just enough to keep you from falling on the floor, from begging at his feet. “paris,” you smiled wider, you took a step back, but this time just to give him space. “its okay,” you repeated.

and that had to be enough. it had to be enough because you were walking away.

but, really, spencer was the one who was leaving you behind. you should’ve understood sooner-- because how could you not have known?

you didn't bother to look at him.

it had been three weeks. three weeks since you’d broken up-- officially for you since you’d never actually gotten the chance to before, but you supposed you couldn’t actually break up with a corpse. three weeks since you’d smiled and walked away.

it had to be what was best for him. if spencer could find someone who made him happy, if spencer could find someone in the minuscule months you’d been gone, if spencer could move past you, then he deserved to. you couldn't be the one to stop that, and you wouldn't be mad because, honestly, you’d done it to yourself.

and he couldn't be mad because you weren't. because you’d let him go and he had no more reason to be mad. he could even go back to pretending you didn't exist if he wished to.

so you were both content. you both worked with each other, you both avoided eyes. you couldn't bother to look at him or his eyes when all you wanted to do was scream at the feeling in them.

because you’d known that feeling--before. because you’d been on the other end of that feeling before, because your eyes had mirrored his before, and because you knew how that felt.

and you were desperate to get it back. you wanted to pull him back, force him to stay in the cocoon of the two of you. you wanted to claw at him and never allow him to move away.

but that was selfish. you’d already been selfish enough. you’d made him grieve you, and now you had to return the favor.

the difference between the two of you was that you didn't know enough about addiction. you didn't know that despite the time that had passed, your withdrawal had never actually gone away. you didn't know how it worked and so you didn't know that it was still there.

you just saw the look in his eyes. a look you’d used to create. the look of love, of admiration, of hope. love, you used to feel, you think.

when you looked at him all you could see was the feelings he had for someone else.

so no, you didn't bother to look at him.

here was what spencer knew about grief: it passed. it was just withdrawal until it wasn't. love was just another addiction, just some more chemicals in your brain, just an idea that you clung to.

it would pass, he knew.

but how could he have known this would happen again?

it would pass, eventually.

but how was he supposed to live through it twice, but really only once?

because you were still here. because you were alive, and not dead, and you were walking him home. you were making sure he got there safe.

and you weren't dead, but she was.

and how was spencer supposed to cope with that?

how could he grieve, when he really didn't know how?

if this had been a fraction of what it was like when spencer thought you died, if this was anything like that-- you couldn't bear to see it.

it was like repetition, it was like deja vu, like a memory.

you saw his eyes, and you saw his hopelessness, and you saw yourself reflected back in the colors of his face. you saw the grief, the pain, the anger, the loss.

you couldn't bear to watch this, not then, not now. not when you still felt angry, not when you were still angry.

they had all pleaded with you-- go talk to him, they said. talk to him, you’ll understand.

but that wasn't fair because spencer hadn't died for you. you’d left him and spencer had survived. it wasn’t fair because you still hadn't learned how to deal with any of it. you still couldn't let go, move on, as he had.

so then, why were you standing in front of his door, holding a card addressed to spencer from all of your friends?

well, you couldn't bear to stay away. and you almost couldn't bear to face him when he opened the door, but somehow, you did. somehow, you spoke first.

“hi, spencer,” you said, waving at him, moving back a little, just to give him some space.

“what’re you…” he looked around, looking for someone with you, someone else. his voice was rough like he hadn't talked in days. he looked like a skeleton, standing there in front of you. “...doing here?” he looked you up and down, but he wasn't really looking at anything.

you noticed the hand he had on the door, the subconscious way he had begun to close it, the hand he was holding over his chest, blocking you from him.

“the team sent me, they’re really worried,” your voice was shaking, and you had no idea why. “i brought a card from them, and- and i wanted to see how you were doing.”

his brows furrowed, like what you’d said didn't make any sense. you copied him, concerned with your own sanity. wondering again, why you were here?

“no offense,” he started, standing up taller, looking and sounding anything like spencer, anything but pleasant. “but we aren't really friends, are we?”

there was some irritation rolling up your spine at his words, but his face was innocent. he wasn't being malicious, he wasn't trying to make you feel ridiculous, and he wasn't trying to hurt you anymore. he was too kind for that, you knew.

you took a breath in, tried to smile. “i guess not,” you sighed, looking down at the ground with unmistakable shame, but then you looked back up. “but, i care about you. i want to be here for you. i- i want to be.. here.”

and no matter how closed off he looked, no matter how strange his face looked, no matter how much you knew he didn't want to, he opened the door and let you in.

and that was how it started. your friendship with spencer.

really, who could’ve known?

"i like your apartment," you said while the two of you walked through it. while spencer led you through whatever this strange place was.

"yeah, well, i couldn't keep the apartment after..." he trailed off, no remorse, no feeling in his voice.

you went to sit on his couch, strange and different, but he stayed standing. he paced around the floor, mumbling things under his breath you couldn't understand.

the tightlipped smile you had on your face was doing nothing to conceal your emotions.

"after i died."

he looked up at that, shocked by your crudeness. you rolled your eyes, pulling off your jacket.

"that's a shame, i really liked that kitchen."

spencer bit his lip, continued his pacing, muttered "i know" under his breath. his irritation would've made you laugh if he wasn't looking so insane.

you saw the bottles on the table, the mugs laying around, the papers and books thrown across the floor-- all the things you didn't want to see, you saw them. and you almost couldn't bear it, almost tried to pretend you still hadn't noticed them. but, you were familiar with this.

he did this before when he was still in love with you. when he was stressed.

despite how hard you might try, you couldn't just forget everything about him.

"do i need to ask spencer?" your voice was softer now, quieter. you knew him, and he knew what you were asking.

"do you really want the answer, y/n?" he retorted, rolling his eyes.

maybe sometime, you'd tell him that his defense mechanism was sarcasm. maybe sometime, you'd let him know how annoying it could be.

"it's not going to be what i want, but, neither is anything else." it was a subtle remark about the situation, you hoped spencer hadn't heard those last couple of words. "i don't want this for you, spencer, but i'm here to listen, and so i will."

he stopped pacing, stopped stepping over books and around paperwork. he stopped moving, and it reminded you of that night.

it reminded you of him collapsing in on himself, it reminded you of the anger you knew you didn't deserve to feel, the relief you knew you would never get.

it reminded you of further back when all you could do was smile and let him go.

you'd known him for so long, but you'd never seen him broken like this.

your thoughts distracted you from spencer, who was sitting next to you now, running an agitated hand through his hair, turning himself away from you.

"do you know what grief does to the body?" he asked.

yes, you could have answered. yes, im feeling it right now.

but instead, you said "no," and waited for him to continue.

he did, begrudgingly, a few moments later. "the shock factor causes a spike of adrenaline in your system-- a lot like someone gets in a bad accident --and then when the adrenaline wears off, your body has no choice but to succumb to the pain."

and you, well, you could have told him that, but you let him continue.

"a lot of people have documented actual inflammation which attributes to health issues after a loved one has..." he stopped there. he paused, and his eyes were gone. his feeling was gone, his words were gone.

you could practically see him disappearing on the couch, right next to you.

you could see him slipping away, the reality sinking in further than it could before, and so, you started talking.

you had to say something, and this would have to be enough. your remorse for him would have to be enough to get you through this.

because otherwise, how could you stand it?

"do you ever get that moment in the morning, when you've temporarily forgotten everything bad and it just feels... peaceful?" the words were a shock to both of you. the sound of your voice.

you weren't looking at him, but the wall, willing yourself not to feel that reminder. not to think of any of it. "do you ever get that?" you repeated, eyes off.

spencer nodded, small, hard for you to see when you were actively trying not to look at him-- but enough to continue.

"it's like our conscious and subconscious make a pact, to give us that split second of peace." you laughed, bittersweet, and looked at him. you turned towards him, making sure he was looking at you.

making sure he couldn't tell what you were thinking about, that this was about anything but him.

"when that relief happens, spencer, you have to grab hold of it-- just hold onto it."

he stared at you, brows furrowed.

"you reach, and you grab it, and you keep it." you nodded along with your words, feeling that sick crawling up your chest, feeling that grief along with all the guilt.

this wasn't fair to him, you knew that, but if this could help-- even a little bit --you had to try.

"why...?" spencer tried to start, clearing his throat to keep his word from breaking.

"that's how you get past it." you motioned to him, to the floor, to the things all around his home, and finally, to yourself. "passed all the shock, and adrenaline, and all the sick."

spencer was looking down, not at you anymore, not at anything.

you used to know those eyes, you were sure. you used to understand every thought that ran through his head, you used to remember the person you had been with him. you used to be able to think of him without cringing, without that sick feeling in your stomach, wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

you used to understand, and now you didn't. but this had to be enough. this had to be enough for you, to be here with him.

"okay?" you asked, softer, gently. "okay?" you repeated.

and he nodded.

you went over once a week. just for the first couple of months. you went over to spencer's, you watched movies, you held his hand and squeezed his shoulder.

you managed not to tear yourself into pieces, managed to actually smile when you were around him. you managed to do it all, managed to do enough to keep the nightmares away, to keep those circles from under his eyes.

and that's all you wanted, really. that's all you needed. as long as spencer was okay, okay as he could be, as long as he was coping, moving on, doing everything a normal human being should. as long as he was doing all of that, you didn't need anything else.

and, and if there was a tiny piece of you, locked away in all the dark parts you tried to keep secret-- if there was a piece of you that was hopeful, that was holding onto something other than just tiny moments, if there was a piece of you that thought maybe he would just-

if there was any piece of you that thought differently, well, you would ignore it.

you went over once a week, just to make sure he was okay.

and really, where was the harm in that?

"'the shining' tonight?" he asked, walking alongside you, carrying the coffee you had just bought for him.

"why do you insist on watching that at least once a month-"

"this is actually only the third time,"

"it was enough the first two." he smiled at you, and you couldn't keep the grin from slipping back.

"sounds good," he concluded, walking along.

and if you followed him, well, you were just being a good friend.

"do you think i should get a haircut?" you asked, walking around his desk, prancing more like. prancing like he was your prey and you were about to eat him.

the thought made you giggle.

"your hair looks fine," he answered, not really paying attention. instead, he was marking something off of a page, flipping to the next one in barely a second.

"real nice, spence. as long as you think it's fine-"

"did you know that the average person gets around 150 haircuts in their lifetime?"

"yeah, spencer, and all those people have dead ends," you groaned and he hummed.

and if you liked the way the light was reflecting off of his face, hiding the shadows you knew were there, well, you were just bored.

"spencer-" he was running away from you, running away from whatever ghost was following him.

you had to stop chasing him, but somehow, you knew you wouldn't be able to even if you tried.

"spencer, will you just-" you tried again, running far enough ahead so that you could stand in his way.

you couldn't bear to see the blank look in his eyes, the emotionless void you would never get used to.

"yes?" he asked, like you were a child like you were a little kid and you needed him to fix something.

it was condescending and rude and you just wanted to yell at him-- to yell at yourself for being irritated.

"are you okay?" you asked instead. you hated the words, but you hated this feeling more.

"i'm fine." and then he attempted to get past you.

"spencer, those girls, they were all-"

"all what, y/n? all shot? all murdered?"

"that's not what i mean-"

"that's the job, y/l/n. you should know that."

he was gone after that. disappearing, like you both had before.

and, if you wanted to scream, to bang your fists against the wall until it broke, to beg him to just listen to you, to sleep in his bed and watch him while he slept, well. you were going to ignore it. grief wasn't an object, and it wouldn't go away.

you would know.

some nights, particularly on the ones when spencer was busy, when there was a case and you weren't supposed to be sneaking into each other's hotel room, on those nights you felt colder than you ever had before.

you felt that feeling again-- the one spencer had taught you about.

the sick that almost made your insides collapse. the sick that was going to fill you to the brim until it couldn't anymore, numb you to the very edge. the sick that had been there for over a year, a long year full of death. full of life and nothing but destruction. the infection that should've been gone ages ago.

on those nights, you tried to hold onto reality, tried to remind yourself of what had actually happened.

it was all a chain of events, really. and it was truly all of your fault.

you couldn't be angry because if you wanted to be angry at someone, it had to be yourself.

it couldn't be spencer, or maeve, or hotch, or the universe.

just you.

and the sick would pass, you knew. the next day when spencer would hand you your coffee mug, when he would say something-- anything --and you would listen. it would all go away.

and if those feelings, if that reality that you kept trying to avoid, if that wouldn't go away, well. you were going to have to let it go because you couldn't keep going like this. pretending.

honestly, how couldn't you know?

recently, the effort you'd put into keeping at least a three-foot distance between you and spencer was tireless.

to give him space, obviously. to avoid bumping into him when you were walking, to keep yourself from tripping into him.

it was just convenient, you told yourself. nothing else to it.

except, on this night, after a long day at work, after spencer had sat down right next to you with a book in hand, so much closer than you wanted. well, you couldn't just simply move away.

there was no space on this couch anyway.

technically, you were supposed to be watching a movie. technically, spencer had picked this one out-- something about the discovery of water, you thought --and you had no interest in it. technically, he was completely ignoring it.

before, two years ago-- almost, that was. almost two years without him. before, two years ago, you would've bickered with him about it until he gave in. until he put down the book, clicked a button on the remote you'd misplaced, and lean in so close to you that you could barely breathe. it was a routine, you were sure, and back then you wondered if he brought the book out just so you would tease him about. like it was an excuse to kiss you if he needed one.

not that you were thinking about that. not that he was doing it again. not that it mattered, honestly.

just a memory that hit you, is all, as you stared at the screen, pretended to listen to the words when all you wanted to do was put some distance between the two of you.

it was getting hard not to feel that pull, not to let that feeling trap you.

"spencer," you whispered, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

he hummed instead of answering, didn't look up from the page.

"you're cold,"

he quirked an eyebrow at you, turning towards you only slightly. he was only a little bit closer now, but it only proved you were lying some more.

he was desperately hot.

"do you need a blanket?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

at least one of you was.

"no, just maybe a little more space. don't want to get hypothermia," you coughed, an attempted laugh maybe, and tried to move away.

"you're not showing any of the symptoms of hypothermia-- are you fatigued, or is your heart racing?"

you would've laughed if he wasn't moving his face closer to yours, trying to check your pupils discreetly.

"um, no, spencer. i was kidding, i'm just going to--" you moved, an inch, and then another, smiling at him.

it wasn't too suspicious. and the movie was halfway over.

"okay,"

and you looked back at the screen...

only to feel his eyes on you a moment later. you turned your head slightly. he hadn't picked his book back up, hadn't moved an inch from before.

"aren't you going to read your book again so you can keep bothering me, reid?"

you didn't need to look to see the smile. "is it bothering you?"

you threw your head back, turning so he could see you roll your eyes. his brown ones, impossibly bright, impossibly beautiful were staring back at you, mischievous. you bit the inside of your cheek and then laughed.

"no, of course not, spencer." you turned towards the tv again. "i am very interested and equally involved in the discovery of water," you waved your hand for him to continue.

"that's not actually what..." he trailed off, freezing at something.

"are you okay?" this time, you didn't hesitate to move closer to him, to place a hand on his shoulder and get him to look at you.

his heat was excruciating and addicting. a dangerous combination.

but your concern beat your stupid feelings, and so, you didn't move away.

"deja vu..." he said, head-turning, eyes looking down on you.

"what?"

"we've done this before," was all he said, continuing to stare like he didn't know what was happening. staring at you with strange eyes, strange wide eyes.

it was only scaring you a little bit. you didn't understand.

"we've never watched this movie before," you reassured as if he was worried about that. as if that was the problem.

"no," he said, moving a foot closer, breaking the boundary you had put between the two of you. "no, but we've done this before."

he was too close, now.

"spencer... what?" you looked from the screen to him, nervously, trying not to feel intimidated, small. he hadn't been this close in so long.

"just-" and then he was leaning in. he was leaning close enough for his breath to trail across your skin, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his cheek, that you could barely see his eyes anymore.

close enough to kiss you.

but, you couldnt breathe like that.

and so, with all the grace you had, you moved back. so far back, and put your knees up as a barrier between the two of you. anything to keep him away.

"um, spencer i don't know if you forgot-" he tried to interrupt, but you weren't paying attention. "i died, remember? and then- and then, um, you moved on and, we haven't done that in a long time and-"

“y/n-"

"-we're just friends, right? and friends don't really get that close- we shouldn't get-" but he was, he was getting that close, and your stuttering was slowing because you couldn't focus on anything but him.

"i remember," spencer whispered, but his eyes weren't on yours anymore. no, they were on your lips, staring down at the place he hadn't bothered to look at in two years. at your face, which he hadn't seen until now.

"we cant-"

"can i kiss you?" he asked, instead of paying attention, instead of remembering, instead of understanding that this was going to tear you from the inside out.

"i don't think that's a good idea, spencer, i really don't..." you trailed off because he was moving back.

"i'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to," he promised, looking so beautiful, speaking so plainly.

and those words, they made your heart start beating again. because who was he to assume?

"no! it's just- we haven't kissed. we don't kiss, anymore."

it was a painful reality, and you almost felt bad for saying it when you saw the wince on spencer's face, but, it was the truth. you couldn't deny either of you from the truth.

"i know it's familiar, and maybe comforting, but i don't think it's a good idea." you breathed in once, wanted to scream at yourself for saying those words. wanted to scream because you'd wanted to kiss spencer since the moment you'd stopped.

"no, that's not why i want to kiss you," his voice broke on the word kiss, and you attempted to scramble yourself on the couch, to move so that he wouldn't have the opportunity to convince you.

it wouldn't take much.

"it'll just hurt us both more, spencer." your voice was monotone because you weren't sure if you could get this out any other way. the stinging around your eyes had to be fake because you weren't crying.

honestly, you didn't care.

and then, spencer got up, walked away.

and you had to care. you had to care because, despite the fact that he'd left you, that you'd been grieving for him for the last two years, that you missed him more than it was possible to miss another person-- despite all of that, he was your best friend.

he'd become your best friend, had been that since you'd first met, and you couldn't let that go now.

so you followed, you followed again, and called his name again, and begged him to come back, for the first time out loud.

but when he came back out of his bedroom, all you heard was the crinkling of paper.

you just saw spencer's never-ending serious face, but, mixed was the tiniest him of embarrassment. the pink splattered across his cheek, the hesitation to look at you.

he was holding something.

"what's that?" you asked, distracted from the issue, momentarily focused on just him and not the past.

except, when he held it up, you could see that it was the opposite.

"it's the letter you wrote me when-" he swallowed, smiling a sad smile at you and then looking down again. "when you left."

you'd left it on his desk, so he'd find it first. so that he would be the first one to know.

"oh," you breathed out, shocked, sick.

"i kept it because it was the last piece i had of you," he folded it into tiny pieces, then unfolded it along the creases. it looked like a practiced motion "i used to keep it in my shirt pocket, but when i met maeve, i put it in my bedside drawer."

goodbye, spencer. you'd wrote. you'd cried while writing it, cried while you drove away, cried when you woke up in the hospital, cried every night after you came back.

it was excruciating to leave without spencer, but you'd learned it was worse to have him leave you when you were still there.

you'd have traded that feeling for anything else.

you breathed in, shakily. you didn't like these memories, you didn't like that he was digging them back up, but you had to listen. you wouldn't leave, now.

"i put it in my bedside drawer because it's important to keep mementos-- its actually a method of coping, and some people believe it strengthens relationships, and you were gone, but i thought that-" he stopped. took a deep breath in, closed his eyes and counted to three. you could tell, you knew him that well.

you smiled, despite the stinging in your eyes, the pricks on your skin, the crawling up your stomach.

"i kept it because it was the last words i got from you, and i couldn't let that go. i still cant, y/n."

you couldn't process these words, you couldn't process this feeling. it was detrimental, and you had noting you could say.

"i don't know if you can ever stop loving someone, i mean," he snorted, looked right at you like he didn't know what he was saying. "i know you can learn to love someone else, but, i don't know if you can ever get rid of that feeling... of that-" and he was still looking at you, but he wasn't talking anymore.

and you weren't breathing because this was a dream, because you would not allow yourself to wake up from this, and you would not start crying in front of him.

you were selfish selfish selfish.

"i don't know how i couldn't have known i was still in love with you, but i didn't, and now," his eyes, his voice, his entire demeanor softened. he was molding, changing right in front of you. it had to be impossible. "i do. i know."

spencer had never spoken this much, he didn't confess, he didn't not know things, so this had to be fake. it had to be.

"spencer," you gasped out, shocked by the sound of your own voice. shocked to find out that you still couldn't breathe.

shocked to watch him move forward, smile the same smile you thought you might've fallen in love with.

"you know now, so, can i kiss you?"

you couldn't remember the last time the two of you had kissed. you thought that it might've been right before bed that night, that you might've kissed him on his forehead while he was sitting on his desk, that he might've kissed up your neck while you cuddled each other to sleep.

but you couldn't remember.

and so, it was painful to even utter the word "yes".

it was painful to feel that again. that lovely, lovely feeling.

his lips against yours, softer than you could remember, slower than you'd ever imagined possible. so much better than you could've thought another persons lips could be.

and you wanted to gasp, to breathe, but you didn't dare move away from him.

this was too good, this was too waited for, this was too painful to move back.

and so you didn't and neither did he. neither of you could.

you grabbed at each other, threaded your hands through his hair, held onto his face like you would never let go, and you kissed him like you loved him.

because you did.

and then, when you did break, when you were sure, you moved back and couldn't stop the slip of "spencer" that came from your lips.

your puffy, recently kissed lips.

and when you finally got the courage to open your eyes, the most beautiful smile you could've seen was there. waiting for you.

"you're my moment." spencer said, he whispered as if it was a realization.

"what?" you asked, still breathless, still addicted to a kiss you hadn't allowed yourself to think of, really, in two years.

"that moment in the morning, the moment of peace when everything is still good... you're my moment."

your heart stopped again. stopped, because this was you, these were your words coming from his lips.

"do you remember?" he asked, thinking of those words from those months ago, those words you'd told him in an effort to comfort yourself. to remind yourself that he was still there.

you nodded and spencer smiled.

"you're my peace and my relief, y/n," he pulled your face closer to his, leaned in, and it was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

his smile, his lips, his words.

this was a strange feeling.

"i'm holding onto you, now. i don't think i can let go,"

these weren't his words, but they were enough.

you were smiling, you realized. even with the tear stains down your face, even with the puffy lips, even with the heartache and the addiction, even with the years between the two of you.

you were smiling.

"i love you, spencer."

and so was he.

because really, how couldn't you have known?

my masterlist here.

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

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Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

#eeek #i hope you all like this #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan character #sebastian stan #James Buchanan Barnes #James Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst

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vien0w0 · 3 years

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my c!Slimecicle headcanons part 2 let's go!!

i have more hc for c!Slime and i wanted to share, hopefully they aren't too stupid didhdggxxsjdjv

Slime hates being alone too much, now that he can talk to people

that's why he's constantly hanging around the people of Las Nevadas when he's not on a mission Quackity assigned him

he doesn't really understand why, but it seems to fill a void (that three people left behind–)

he mostly hangs around Fundy, Quackity and Foolish

the few times that he copied some of Fundy's fox bits, Fundy told him to give himself dog ears and tail (specifically golden retriever) and to go see Quackity

when he did, Quackity nearly spat out his coffee, sputtering for an explanation and wondering wtf is going on

when Slime explains, Quackity starts to wonder what else Slime's – slime, can do

Foolish taught him to do the dog ears whenever he's asking Quackity or Sam for something

also puppy dog eyes

it does critical dmg to Quackity, and he becomes flustered and gives in immediately

Sam is affected by it, but does and he sometimes gives in after some more asking

Foolish uses it to his advantage and makes Slime ask for stuff for him

Slime once had a panic attack after Purpled gave him a poppy

luckily Quackity was there and calmed him down, but all parties involved were confused

"Slime, buddy, are you ok? what happened?"

"I– I don't know, Quackity..."

Slime's voice was so small and so soft that Quackity didn't press for more, but made sure than all citizens of Las Nevadas knew not to give Slime a poppy

Slime does keep the poppy with him, when Quackity asked why, he just responded: "It's a reminder, I think"

Slime sometimes forces Quackity to stop working and give him attention

he once just grabbed Quackity by his waist, picked him up bridal style and walked him to the Needle and to Quackity's room

Quackity was shouting and blushing and very much in awe of Slime effortlessly carrying him around and he DEFINITELY didn't have less than platonic feelings rn–

Slime just takes them to Quackity's bed, and flops down on his back and forces Quackity to also lay there, on top of him

Force Quackity to cuddles: MISSION SUCCESSFUL

Quackity was absolutely not gay panicking, whaaaaat?

when Sam went looking for Q, he found him sound asleep on Slimecicle's chest, seemingly comfortably cuddled up to him. Slime simply waved at Sam with a bright smile and told him to be quiet

Sam simply let Quackity rest and left

cuddles between Slime and Quackity became a regular thing afterwards

almost everyone who has hugged Slime agrees that he gives the best hugs

Slime enjoys trippy and disturbing music, but he also really likes the music Quackity listens to

once he sang along to a song with Quackity and now Quackity tries to get him to sing as often as possible

the citizens of Las Nevadas have terrible sleeping schedules, so Slime – as a guy who doesn't need any sleep – decided to make it his job to get people to their beds. whenever they fall asleep at random places at ungodly times, he just picks them up with his inhuman strength and takes to their rooms

he has woken Fundy up from a nightmare by doing this a couple times, Fundy is the only other person that knows that this is happening

Quackity does have an inkling that that is what's happening, because he distinctly remembers falling asleep at his desk, but he woke up cuddled up to Slime in his bed

Q ain't complaining, but he's kinda confused

one time Slime was actually able to fall asleep

he had a nightmare

Foolish was the only one to witness the aftermath

Slime was laying down in the sand, clearly deep in a nightmare. Foolish was just about to waje him up when a surge of energy shot out and knocked the demigod away. he recognized that type of power, it wasn't one mortals could wield

Foolish didn't bring it up with anyone, he thought he hallucinated it from lack of sleep

Slime's nightmare was vague, but he talked to Fundy about it when the fox couldn't sleep

he remembered seeing that one poppy being handed to him and to another person, by a figure in red. he remembered a man who looked similar to a ram, he remembered a storm, he remembered an apple.

he remembered a palace in the sky

Fundy was pretty confused, but tried to understand it. Slime was his friend niw after all

Fundy once convinced Slime to wear a corset and show it off to Quackity, he recorded tge entire thing and caught Quackity in 4k

the duck man was very flustered when he saw Slime in the corset, he was smiling at him and Quackity was a stuttering mess. and by Fundy's suggestion (devious fucker), Slime pulled Quackity flush against himself and Quackity was spiritually dead at that point, steam was basically coming out of his ears at that point and he was smiling dumbly and just resigned to his faith

Fundy definitely didn't use the the video ask blackmail to get better pay.

ajhzjhshsb that's all i have rn, if you want more then ask me for some and i'll provide

my brain is mush, please check in later i am in quackcicle brainrot hell rn, i might do separate hc for their relationship (platonic and romantic)

anyway, bye

#c!slimecicle #dream smp #dsmp fandom #quackcicle #slimecicle #dapduo #c!quackcicle #c!quackity #c!fundy #c!sam #c!foolish #c!purpled #i am in brainrot hell let's goooo #vienowo's cooky crazy writings #vienowo's headcanons

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moonchildridden · 2 years

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GusBew, army of two pawns in a warzone: cryptic people, twin-mirrored problems, 180 life turn, and another set of backstabbers (Episode 7)

To be honest, I haze zero idea on what I will write in this post, but I need to write something so let’s just pray that in the end I give you guys something coherent.

Hi! It’s moonchild here, back with another post about GusBew and this one will be a fucking mess because the episode itself was a fucking mess and my thoughts about it are also a fucking mess and is subject to changes at any moment. I spent days trying to think about what I could take from this episode to talk with you guys and, even if I have vague ideas, is not what I was imagining when I started watching the episode.

I just wanna say that when I used “army of two pawns” to describe GusBew in the title, I was mainly talking like that because of the pre-teaser, where we saw them dancing while imagery of people playing chess were accompanying them but after this episode, that’s exactly how I view them: pawns in a warzone that has nothing to do with them.

Onto my normal programming, let’s begin with the basics here, of me being a responsible adult and laying down the usual disclaimers: everything that you guys will be reading in this post is the result of my observations into very specific parts of the episode, frame by frame repetitive viewing and me getting to the most plausible conclusion after taking all in, meaning that most of the things will be on the speculative territory, others in (maybe) theory territory and some can (or so I think) be proven by in-dialogues and scenes arrangements, so take things with a grain of salt, ok?

This post will be divided into segments to make it easy for you guys to follow my thought process and also will follow the order of events presented in the episode, with things in bold being mostly dialogues and things in italic being me emphasizing or exaggerating my thoughts.

This episode started with this weird energy, and also a weird note, that practically laid bare the tone of the episode, that it was how well can you keep a secret: we have Gus speaking on the phone with someone, presumable his manager, and he says that he “doesn’t know yet”, that Bew was “busy reading for final exams” so he “did not suspect anything”, and because of that the person he was talking to “didn’t need to worry” because he was “good at keeping secrets”. This scene only raised a lot of red flags to me because it was implying that Bew was supposed to have suspicions about something but the fact that he was busy with his exams prevented him from doing so, and the expression on Bew’s face while he was listening to that conversation and when Gus disconnected the call also alluded to that.

What “bothers” me here is the fact that we are thrown in a situation where there is something wrong happening (not that we don’t know that there is in fact something wrong) and that Bew feels like there is something wrong but people around him are acting like there is no big deal. Gus does the same he did the night Bew heard their managers talking about the possibility or not of GusBew having a relationship, by saying that they were “dating for a month” and if Bew “did not trust him”, and when Bew tells him that he ”heard Gus talking outside, so he thought something was wrong”, Gus responds with a “you were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you up”, totally deflecting the subject that being discussed. The conversation, the way Gus tried to make Bew think that he was thinking too much about something that was not worthy, that he was “hurting his feeling” by not trusting him, gave me a very gaslighty vibe and I did not like that.

Seriously, Bew even answered Gus with a “if you say is nothing, then is nothing”, the baby just being his trusty self and believing in Gus, even when he feels like there is something wrong. If this alone does not raise any red flags, then the rest of the episode will do that for you.

Anyways, going to the themes of the episode, I managed to identify mainly two:

1. Working opportunities vs overworking vs actors’ health;

2. Managers ulterior motives and the inevitable clashing

1. Working opportunities vs overworking vs actors’ health

One thing that I love about WOY, at least until now, is the fact that some themes are a bit more difficult to assert and others are very on the nose. In our first theme, we have the second case, that is how the industry expects the actors to overwork themselves and be happy because they are still having something to overwork themselves with, or they wouldn’t be able to even have how to pay their bills.

The first sign of this is when we see Bew not being his usual happy self and, noticing this, Toon asks him “why don’t you look happy? You are the presenter” (meaning that the opportunity of being the presenter of a brand is reason enough for him to be happy) before asking Bew if he “was okay?”. Bew then said that Toon “promised him that she wouldn’t take any jobs for him during that time” (final exams) and Pla steps in, reminding Bew that “Hombre – the brand - chose them, they only wanted Gus and Bew together”, before Toon say that “if Bew didn’t accept the job, Gus wouldn’t get the job either” and the first thing I thought after hearing that was “imagine having on your shoulders the weight of being responsible for somebody else’s income and you saying ‘no’ to a job meaning that the other person may not have food on their table” (I may be exaggerating a bit here but the central idea is the fact that GusBew’s fame is intrinsically connected and they have more chances of getting more jobs together than they would have solo, so the pressure here doubles instantaneously because of that factor alone).

Bew is aware of this, by saying to Toon “I know” but then starts to explain that “those days, he’s been sleeping only 2 to 3 hours”, “that he’s not being lazy or not trying his best (fighting)” but he’s “scared that his body won’t be able to take it”, prompting Toon to promise him that she “wouldn’t accept any job for him for the next month, so he could take a long rest”. However, moments later, Toon says that “Bew’s fans call themselves his ‘mother’” and asks if he “could fight for his mother”, aka his fans, and Bew answers with a “just this one”, before both making a pinky swear.

(Now, making a small pause about the themes, I wanna talk about two things that I noticed in this part of the episode and, without knowing if it was intentional or not, I cannot guarantee that it actually is something that we should focus but, regardless of any intention or not, I feel like I should talk about it:

1 – In my previous post about GusBew, I talked about the parallels that existed between BewToon’s relationship (personal and professional) and Pun and the bitch that used to be his manager and how even if Toon is not doing to Bew what the bitch did to Pun, there are too many similarities to just ignore them. However, I realized that there is another similarity, this time between Pun and Bew, and that similarity is on their fandom names and how it represents the image each of them has in their fan’s eyes: Pun projected a sweet image, someone that is there to be taken care of, someone innocent, fragile, and his fandom name was “Mommy”. Bew is most of those things, in a practical sense, and his fandom name (according to the article about GusBew fanmeeting on episode 1) is called “Parents”, and Toon mentioned that his fans see themselves as his mother, someone there to take care of him, protect him, and stuff like that.

Considering the fact that both Pun and Bew seem to be the focal point of their story arcs (after all, we see the story mainly through their perspective or they have a bit more spotlight than their counterparts, Nott and Gus), this similarity strike me as rather intentional, like the screenwriters wanted us to view Pun and Bew as two sides of the same coin, different but very much connected.

2 – This was just a passing observation but in this scene, on the accessories they are using, Gus is wearing a necklace with a closed lock and Bew is using a necklace with a heart shaped lock, broken in the middle, and pierced by what seems to be an arrow. Considering that both necklaces seem similar, I assume they are both a part of the same collection and are used here as “couple necklaces”. However, what caught my attention was not the necklaces but the pendants on those necklaces and how each one of them represents the owner using them:

· * Gus’ pendant is a closed lock, and this could be a commentary on his personality and behavior. I mentioned in his character profile that he’s very ambiguous, meaning that we can never guess or see what he’s really thinking or what are the intentions behind his actions, almost like a closed book or, maybe, a closed lock. He keeps some people at arm’s length, but even those he keeps close don’t have access to the deep parts of his psych, what he keeps buried deep inside him. Gus is basically someone who can very much listen to other people talk about themselves, other people’s secrets and desires and even help them figure out things they didn’t even had idea but, in the end, would not really reveal something about him, something personal.

· * Bew’s pendant, on the other hand, is a broken heart and that is kinda obvious to analyze, because it shows that he’s someone that experiences heartbreak and is susceptible to experience it very often because of his personality. Bew is very gullible, he trusts people too much, he gives too much of himself, he’s a bit too selfless for someone navigating the industry he is in, and those are dangerous traits for someone to have while surrounded by the people Bew’s surrounded with; Bew is sensitive and, because of that, his heart feels more than other people around him.)

A situation that sums up perfectly the almost lack of agency some actors have in relation to the workload they get and how the industry expects them to be all the time is the conversation that Toon and Bew have with the influencer marketing specialist. She goes to them after the live ended and Toon thanks her for picking GusBew, to what the specialist says “you’re welcome” and after that asks “but today, Bew looks tired?”, making Bew explain himself with “I had an exam in the morning”. Toon steps him and tells the specialist that “although Bew looks tired, he fights. There has been a lot of work lately. He complains but he’s very happy” and that made me think that the actors are somewhat forced to feel happy for the amount of work they are having, even if that is happening at their physical and mental health cost, after all is good to have something to do, right? And when you add the pressure of that specific job they were having being a couple job, meaning that if one is not there, the other gets nothing, we are creating a very unstable environment, not only for the actors being subjected to that pressure but also the managers, that are obligated to work very carefully in regards to how to deal with schedules inconsistencies between their artists, precisely because GusBew’s fame is connected to one another.

And when the pressure doesn’t break the actors, it creates holes under the managers’ shoes.

2. Managers ulterior motives and the inevitable clashing

As soon as I saw Yo appear in the episode, I knew he was going to create problems. However, is not fair to just say that without context, so let’s get into it.

The first thing I found odd about Yo was the almost expectant expression when he was being introduced to GusBew and PlaToon (now that I put their names together, it sounds like I’m talking about a platoon, a team, a squad, people meant to work together towards a goal. I know it only makes sense in English and not in Thai, but it felt funny considering everything that happened in the episode and will happen in the next ones)

and how “intrigued” his expression became when Gus looked briefly at him and then averted his gaze, almost like he was not expecting that reaction from Gus.

Anyways, Yo was the one responsible for the creative team for the coordination for the event GusBew was going to do, so he proceeded to explain his ideas and how GusBew would fit in everything. One thing that I want to point out is that his ideas were perfectly fine until Pla decided to “suggest” a few alterations to the event, related to his artist, and after that, Toon stepped in and “suggested” a few alterations to the event also, related to her artist, getting only a “we will leave this up to you” from GusBew. The way their words were said in unison made it seem like they were used to that behavior from their managers and learned that the best course of action was to just let them do what they want to do, even if they don’t really feel comfortable with the decisions made in their name; I know that as managers, PlaToon are the one supposed to know exactly what they can and can’t do, their limitations and how far can they go but, this kind of things are supposed to be discussed between the four of them and not just decided like that.

From here on out, we start to see exactly how not a team PlaToon are and how Pla seems to be the one instigating most of the issues happening between them:

- The first issue is when GusBew are shooting something, probably promotion material to their event, and we see Gus carrying Bew on his back, and after Yo says “ok, cut”, Gus let Bew get off his back and for a few seconds, we see Bew using Gus’ elbow to steady himself, showing how the amount of work his affecting his body (but he tries to brush it off, after all is what he’s supposed to do, right?). Pla, then, looks at Yo and says that “I think when Gus stretches up and down, it looks weird, doesn’t it? How about alternating this? Let Gus ride Bew’s back, that might work”, getting a “this is good, interesting, so let’s try it” from Yo, while Toon touched Pla’s knee gently, trying to protest and Pla looked at her but decided to ignore Toon’s look.

Yo then tells GusBew to change positions and Bew looked very panicked after hearing that but then took a deep breath, preparing himself for it, and then gives a very forced half smile, like he was trying to convince himself that things would turn out ok, and Gus asked him if he “was okay?” and Bew said that he was, even if it was almost obvious that he wasn’t. Gus then gets on Bew’s back and, I don’t know if it was just my perception, it felt like Gus stayed on Bew’s back longer that Bew stayed on Gus’ back, almost like we were being put in that situation through Bew’s point of view, how it felt like time suddenly slowed down, and we see the moment his body started to cave in, when Bew’s eyes shines of desperation

and seconds later he falls down, with Gus still on his back; this particular scene reminded me of two specific scenes from “New Ship”, both involving Pun and stressful situation, and both from episode 2: the first one is the failed NC shooting scene, when Pun got a panic attack, at the second is when he fainted during the event.

I made these connections because in Pun’s case, he was feeling too much pressure for a lot of things happening at once, his fight with Nott, Tai’s presence in the set that day and his desire to gain his attention so he could get the contract with TTV, his failure of not being able to shoot the NC scene and then having to listen that that same mistake could cost him the contract he wanted. And in Bew’s case, adding the pressure for doing a good job, having to focus on his studies, he was also having to worry about doing couple jobs with Gus, or Gus would not get jobs and he knew that the best time to cement their names into the industry was exactly when they were gaining momentum, gaining more fans, when people were still interested in them and willing to spend money on them. In both cases, they ended up paying for pretending that everything was ok, when it wasn’t.

And the comparisons don’t end there, especially when the first thing Bew did when he woke up was ask Gus “why didn’t he continue?” and “why didn’t Gus woke him up?”, a clear callback to when Pun woke up and after Nott asked him if he “woke up or pretended to faint?”, he immediately asked Nott “how about the event?”, showing how both of them value their work more than their own health and how their partners are the ones “responsible” for keeping them in place when they show desire to continue working. Going even deeper, in Pun’s case, Nott started talking about how Pun cared more about people on the internet, forgetting to care about his body and his mind, about Pun not being really happy because of the wall he had built around himself, a speech that made Pun bring the infamous fanservice talk, and in Bew’s case, Gus told him that considering that he had been overworking himself lately, it was kinda expected that he would end up sick and that people would understand, but Bew starts saying that “if mother Toon understood him, would she force him to shoot even if he wasn’t well”, continuing with “seriously, if it was possible, she would’ve woken him up for shooting”.

Gus even tried to argue with that, saying “no”, but Bew said “he was not so sure anymore” because “the word ‘to take opportunity’ that mother Toon often talks about, means that he have to take advantage of the opportunity or that Toon wants to make money”, meaning that he was starting to question if his manager’s motivations were on his best interests (i.e., for him) or on her best interests (i.e., for her). Even still calling Toon as “mom”, Bew was starting to feel like whatever Toon was doing for him, to him, with him, was just for her personal gains and not because she wanted the best for her.

However, Gus asked Bew “why did he say that?”, as Toon “loved him, cared for him and had been stressed all day” and that Bew saying that “wasn’t very nice”, making Bew answer with a “I’m just being silly”, and after telling Gus what he was feeling lately, that he “just wanted to hear, ‘are you tired?’, ‘are you okay?’, ‘take a break’, just like before”, or, in simple words, Bew just wanted to feel like people were still caring for him, worried about him, and not just pilling work after work on him and making him work even when the best for him was to just take a few minutes of rest, so he could do better on his next work. Again, we have Gus going in defense of the managers, saying that “it’s a lot of work those days”, “moms are trying to do their best” and that if Bew “wants the managers to understand them, they also needed to understand the managers”, meaning that Bew needed to see things thought the managers perspective and not only his own. Unfortunately, things are not as black and white as Gus is trying to make it look like, because the thing he is suggesting – a compromise between them and PlaToon – could only be possible if PlaToon were also willing to compromise and, judging by the fact that Toon was using Bew’s fans to make him push forward just a little longer, when he was not ok to keep doing that, and also doing a bit of emotional blackmail, that was not happening so soon.

- The second issue happens after the conversation PlaToon had. Toon was showing concern about Bew’s physical health, saying thinks like “I think it’s too much” and “I’m scared he won’t be able to do” and, contrary to what was expected from Pla, that seemed to be a little hot headed, Pla actually agreed with Toon, saying that, honestly, “he was scared Bew would fall sick too” and suggested to “call K. Gap” – the influencer marketing specialist – leaving Toon surprised because she expected “to be scolded” and Pla asks her “why would he scold her?”, after all “he was a manager, not a dictator”, before telling Toon to “go and take care of her child, before he got disappointed” and Toon thanks Pla before leaving them alone.

The problem in this situation started specifically because Pla, instead of calling to the marketing specialist, called instead to the CEO of Hombre, the brand that requested for GusBew, and started speaking to him. We didn’t get to know yet what was the content of the conversation but, after that, we see PlaGus going to the place GusBew were supposed to rehearse for their event but not Pla or Bew are nowhere to be seen and, according to Pla, Toon was not picking up the phone; seconds later, we hear Bew’s voice and we are treated with the news that Bew became the new presenter for the Boss Burger and, the comments on that live were insane; we got people happy that Bew was chosen to be their presenter, people saying that the reason Gus wasn’t also a presenter is because the burger Bew was talking about, the new burger, had shrimp in it and Gus was allergic, so he couldn’t eat, people asking if that was Bew’s solo work and where was Gus, people saying something was shady because Bew was doing the live alone, stuff like that.

Pla, obviously, was not happy with that situation and went to talk to Toon, to understand what was happening, asking Toon “how dared her get a shrimp burger and slap him and Gus on the face?” and Toon calmly explained that “Gus was allergic to shrimp, he couldn’t eat it anyway” and because of that “the client wouldn’t pick him”, something that made a lot of sense because food brands depend on the presenters actually consuming their food to sell them so pick Gus wouldn’t be a very wise decision, business wise. Pla then counter attacks, asking Toon “how many jobs he hadn’t accept so Bew could take his exams?” and that he “never thought of accepting a solo job for Gus”, making Toon explain that “K. Gap had told her everything” and “on the day of the live, Pla was sweet talking to K. Noon”, also adding that “K. Gap was the agency but Pla handed their business card to K. Noon”; as an explanation to their actions, Pla said that he only did that because “he was scared the job would be off, because Toon and Bew were very hesitant, so he had to contact K. Noon first”, making Toon ask Pla “who said that was worried about Bew, that Bew would fall sick, etc”, before saying that “Pla was just like what P’Koon – this is the ONLY instance I will use that bitch name to refer to her – had said”, and Pla said that “he had gone there to apologize to her but after hearing Toon’s accusations, he was speechless”, leading Toon to say that Pla “didn’t need to say anything and they shouldn’t betray her again because if there were a next time, she wouldn’t be that nice” and Pla replied to her saying that “someday, they would have to separate anyway” and that “Toon knew that Y couples didn’t last forever”, and Toon leaving Pla without saying another word.

This exchange was important for two reasons: the first one being that it cemented the idea that Pla and the bitch that used to be Pun’s manager had some sort of history between them, and that history probably ended very bad, considering the fact that the advice she gave to Toon was for her to “be careful”, meaning that Pla’s behavior was recurrent and he had a history of betraying the people he worked with. The second one is that this conversation was the real beginning of the in-fight between PlaToon and also the beginning of the part of the episode that left me very annoyed.

Up until that point, I was feeling mainly uncomfortable, for some reason, with everything happening with Bew, the weird vibe around Yo and the way he seemed a bit more interested in Gus and how Gus and Toon were gaslighting Bew to make him think that he was exaggerating on his feelings and thinking too much about stuff. After the end of the first part of the episode, the annoyance came and came hard.

(Also, I want to comment about how the industry sells the idea of a shipped couple being obligated to do everything together until their “expiration date” comes along and as soon as one of them do something alone, the rumors of said person “going solo” start to fly around and people assume something is wrong, that the ship is broken and they won’t do anything together anymore just because half of the ship decided to have a solo work. The industry (and by proxy, the fans) see any solo work as a sign of problems to their shipped couple, to the point of, in Bew’s case, the poor boy did one solo job (a job that he was chosen to do and Gus couldn’t do because the man was literally allergic to the product being advertised) and became headline on the news:

“BEWBEW’S GOING SOLO

Not stopped shipping but want to try going solo!”

Seriously, look at the headline alone and tell me this is not fearmongering material to all the fans to eat up and start to speculate that something was wrong, just like that comment on Bew’s live, saying that “something was shady” just because Bew was doing the live alone. The industry blends the shipped couple’s personal identity to the point where thinking about each one of them doing something that does not revolve around being half of a shipped couple or the shipped couple in general means that the separation is more imminent that expected.)

The rest of the episode, surprisingly, was dedicated to Gus and, even if we had more than 80% of the episode seeing how Gus deals with the stress that he gets from the job, it also felt like we still don’t know anything about him. Taking Nott as an example, by the end of the first episode, we had some ideas about him, and the second episode confirmed some of them, but with Gus we are left trying – not even managing – to guess what exactly is happening with that man.

The first thing about Gus’ personal life that we discovered was the fact that him and Yo had met before, years before Gus got into the acting industry. In fact, the reason Gus even considered being an actor was because Yo invited him to go audition with Pla and Pla chose Gus instead of choosing Yo, creating a rift between them (they were friends at the time) and making Yo whine to Gus about that; and Gus only didn’t say anything about knowing Yo because he thought Yo was still mad at him because of that but Yo assured Gus that he was not mad at Gus, as he “were younger back then”, it was “stupid of him to whine to Gus like that” and that “Pla had chosen Gus, so it was not his fault”, and Gus literally changed his expression from apprehension (dude was really anxious about Yo’s answer) to relief, actually saying that he “was relieved, because he though Yo was still angry at him”. After that, Gus invited Yo to grab a drink sometimes, making Yo say “are you inviting me? Who would dare go drinking with a superstar?” and Gus kick him lightly before telling Yo that he was “still his old friend” and that Yo could “talk to him about anything”.

This small interaction laid one major detail about Gus personally: he values his friendships and having someone he considered as a friend being angry with him was like a weight on his shoulders, a guilt he was destined to carry for the rest of his life, unless he got the chance to change that and. Talking with Yo gave him that “closure” and as Yo was one of the few things about his old life remaining “intact”, so he would of course try to keep it on his side as long as possible.

The second thing about Gus’ personal life that we discovered is that he hates being an hindrance to other people and guilt is one of the few emotions he can’t hide very well, being very immediate when he is presented with the consequences of his actions in first hand: we see this during the dance rehearsal, when while Toon and Pla (that decided to go on a fighting spree) were fighting and between Pla telling Bew to slow down so Gus could keep up and Toon saying that Gus couldn’t dance or sing, Gus tell Bew to go rest and that he could practice himself. Pla then says that he couldn’t do that because him and Bew “were partners” so they had to “work together” and Toon says that that couldn’t happen, if “someone couldn’t do it, then he should practice” and “why should her let her child be tired”, but Bew tells her that he would practice with Gus and she should wait for him (if I’m not mistaken, this was the first time we saw Bew actually stand up for what he wanted to do with a very calm but firm voice). Unfortunately, Bew’s insistence ended up with him with his foot broken, something that caused another fight between PlaToon, with Toon accusing Pla (“this is all because of you, my child got hurt” and “if my child gets hurt, it’s on you, do you understand?”) and made Bew say that he “chose to dance” and “fell down himself”, and Gus asked if Bew “wanted someone to take a look on his leg”, to what Bew said that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t want to be there because the atmosphere wasn’t very nice and even if he could still dance, he didn’t want to, and so GusBew left.

The third thing about Gus’ personal life that we discovered (albeit is related to Bew also) is that his relationship with Bew, at least at the beginning, were almost like the one existing between PlaToon: while they are on Bew’s room, Bew expresses concern about what’s happening between their managers, saying that “he was not feeling good” because “moms have been friends, sisters, partners for a long time”, so “they shouldn’t be fighting like that”, to what Gus says that “sisters fight, they will reconcile soon”, before adding “look at us back then, there wasn’t a day Bew was not angry at him”, making Bew explain that “if PlaToon don’t stop fighting, he was scared they would be separated”. It was brief and I may be seeing things but before Gus answers Bew with “no way, I will not let that happen”, the expression that appeared on his face it was like a mixture of a bit of concern and fear, like he was worried about that same thing happening, just for reasons different from the ones being lifted by Bew.

Also, that short moment of the broken picture frame being showed before Gus goes to sit on the sofa with Bew, a picture frame that seemed to have their picture…when did that frame was broken and why do I think it was a commentary about the relationship between GusBew being broken as well?

(A small pause for a small hot take about Gus, our ambiguous baby: I feel like Bew is one of the very, but very few people that has access to the real Gus, and only with Bew Gus allows himself to be, well, himself, because when he is called for work and he gets up from the couch, the last smile he gives after looking at Bew immediately disappeared and was replaced by a worried expression, seconds before his usual “smug” expression was put in place, along with his glasses. The way he seemed to mentally prepare himself just to go to work shows that he is being affect by it as much as Bew but is better at hiding his reactions and his emotions, especially his eyes, using “covers” – the nonchalant expression and the glasses.; he literally took a deep breath before putting his glasses on.)

Moving on, we get a small moment between ToonBew, a “mother-son” day, and Toon tells Bew that he was going to be Pure Skin’s presenter, along with the top spender campaign, where the top 10 spenders would get a photobook with Bew’s signature on it. This prompts Bew to ask Toon “my signature? What about Gus, mom?” and “P’Pla, will they agree?”, to what Toon says “Bew, that sis of mine delt with hombre, if he can do it, why couldn’t they?” and Bew, exasperated, asks her “so, you are just going to take back at each other like this?” (look here Bew explaining the keyword for the episode, Copycat Manager), that “they are friends” and that “them fighting with each other like that wasn’t fun”. This is where Toon’s persuasive and a bit manipulative way of dealing with Bew comes in play: she reassures him that the client had picked him, that with top spenders, the more he needed to take that job and if it sold well, other clients would want to hire him, making his signature have a lot of value in a bit, before reminding him that his dream award, The Greatest Y Award (the one that Atichon was shown winning at the beginning of episode 1), was not a couple award and per year only one person would win it (that explains why Dew didn’t got the award with him, considering that they were a shipped couple), so if Bew didn’t fight for it, the chances of him getting it were slim.

Because PlaToon were still at odds with each other, in the next scene where GusBew are rehearsing, we see that Gus is still struggling to learn the dance moves, making both Pla and Toon frustrated with the situation, so Toon, being the snake, oops, the sharp-tonged person that she is, “suggests” that “if Gus can’t dance, how about let him dance in the back, while Bew danced with the dancers instead” but Pla refuses, saying that if things were to occur like that “Toon’s son would get all the spotlight” and Toon says that “because Pla is being stubborn, the concert was not coming together”, making Pla explode and ask Toon “if he’s that stubborn, then why hold the concert together” as she knew “Gus couldn’t dance or sing, so why having the concert with him?”. Remember that this conversation is happening while Gus is trying to focus on learning the steps, and when PlaToon continue to fight, he goes to turn off the music player and says that “whatever they are saying, could they respect him a little?”, because “he knew he sucked, he knew that he wasn’t good at it but he was trying” and after this he storms off the practice room.

(Another small break here, this time for me to talk a bit about this Gus’ situation. I won’t dwell too much on it because it’s not really something that deserves a full-on analysis but…can the industry stop forcing actors to do things they clearly don’t know how to do it? Yes, some actors can sing, some actors can dance and some actors can even do both and many more, and I know that concerts/fanmeetings are one of the few instances that the actors and the fans can have fun together but the amount of mental pressure this people are being submitted and the amount of criticism and hate they are bound to get if something does not please them is not worth it. These types of events are supposed to be fun and memorable for the right reasons, and not because one actor sucks at singing, dancing or both. It would be so much better if the organizers of these events were more concerned in showcasing the other talents of the actors, instead of just forcing them to sing and dance every time, like there isn’t anything else that could grab the fan’s attention to the people they follow – for example, Ohm knows how to play drums and, even if he sang with Nanon, he also got to show a talent that he really have and it was good to see that.)

That opinion stated, we are treated with another article, this time with the headline “ARE THEY BREAKING UP?”, and calls like “will their ship sink soon?”, “the ship has fallen” and pictures of GusBew in their fanmeeting at the back and two solo pictures of GusBew, with Gus being said to be the presenter for Hombre and on Bew’s case, the phrase “Bew LOVES Boss Burger’s X.O. Shrimp” (they could’ve just do with Bew the same they did with Gus, simply put “presenter for Boss Burger” but they had to put the word “LOVES”, in caps lock, for some reason) and this ties back with the comment I made when I talked about the article about Bew doing solo work and how it was being interpreted.

So, this is one of those moments where I see something and then start rambling about, without any confirmation but, in the scene where Yo and Gus were talking, I noticed that they were wearing similar glasses, with Yo’s glasses being a bit bigger than the ones being used by Gus

and, after Yo’s explanation as to why he was feeling stressed (basically, Pla had pestered him on the night before for Yo to add one more song for Gus, so that Gus and Bew would have equal numbers, and that would mean that Yo had to be constantly fixing things that were already discussed on the day he presented the idea for the event) and him being reprimanded for changing the key to the songs Gus were supposed to sing on the event, it felt like the show was trying to say that both Yo and Gus were feeling stressed for the same things (them being pressured to do their work and people only complaining about what they were doing, without paying attention to the effort made by them to get there), here represented by the similar glasses style, but their positions on same problem were not the same and one was bearing more weight that the other – Yo’s glasses being bigger could mean that his responsibility, as the event coordinator, the person pretty much responsible for everything, had more weight on the project than Gus’, whose glasses were thinner; I could just be pulling things out of thin air but coming from a show where nothing is out on frame by accident, I cannot stop thinking that it was an intentional choice.

So we have Gus, somebody that spent almost one episode and a half without showing exactly what he was feeling, feeling pressured by PlaToon to do things right, having someone whom he just regained contact making him feel like he was worthless (and said someone was feeling the same on their side), making Gus almost start crying because of so many feelings he was having to manage at once. Bew, having gone after Gus, tells him that “he was the one that talked to Toon about him” and “Yo may have heard their conversation”, making Gus say “enough”, before Bew continues to explain his side, saying that “he didn’t thought Gus would be angry, he just wanted to help” and Gus replies with a “yeah, right, I am the problem”, making Bew deny, “not like that”. However, Gus is not exactly convinced about it, because he says that “isn’t it right? They why talk behind his back. If he is the problem, they don’t have to speak to him, just pretend in front of the cameras”, with Bew trying to make Gus see the other side of the story, “don’t say that, everyone is trying to help you here, they all wanted the event to turn out well” but Gus really does not want to hear any of that, so he pushes Bew’s hand from him and ends up pushing Bew and make him hit his hurt foot on the wall, prompting a “sorry” from Gus as soon as he realized what had happened, and Bew telling him to “nevermind”.

This then makes Gus, that has been feeling frustrated for a while, to say “who said being an actor is easy? I want to come to try for themselves. We must be happy in front of everyone, when inside I’m dying. There’s so much pressure”, and this reminded me of the conversation Pun had with his mother on episode 4, where when Pun asked if he could go back home, his mom said that Pun “would be better off where he was”, as he “had a good, comfortable job, and didn’t have to work as hard as other people” and how I mentioned that there was a misconception in some people’s minds that it’s easy to be an actor and that there is no effort behind this profession. Gus seemed to take things with the most patience possible, always calm and willing to wait for others to find their rhythm, but no one seemed to do the same with him, have patience with him and wait for him to find his rhythm. Bew then says to Gus that “if he feels it’s heavy don’t carry alone, don’t be mean to himself” and Gus apologizes again, saying that he “don’t know what’s wrong with him those days, he was always thinking negatively”, that he just “wanted to able to do it” and that “when someone tries to help, it feels like they are looking down at him”, in the end “he won’t look good”; this was the most emotional response we got from Gus until now, and also a very quickly view of his internal turmoil and how he kept accumulating things until it got to the stage it did.

Bew also says that “the reason he spoke to Toon about him is because he cared about Gus” and if Gus had anything, “should talk to him” because he was “his boyfriend” and Gus “didn’t need to prove anything to him and didn’t need to act strong with him”.

Ok, so…from here on out, things became very bad very fast, so let’s speed this thing up and talk about the important stuff:

- Regarding the solo jobs GusBew are having, it seems like Bew is starting to gain more notoriety between them two, considering the fact that the total amount gained from his Pure Skin top spenders live was 98, 342 Baht and the total amount gained from Gus’ Hombre top spenders live was 95,020 Baht.

- There is an account on twitter talking about GusBew, and the tweet in question is a voice tweet with the caption “BL-actor with upcoming concert, initial G. Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Manager pressures him so much he turned alcoholic . He got violent with his partner. Got him bruised. Not so sweet like in front of cameras. Who believe they are a real couple, go check your IQ!”. About this thing specifically, I got immediate flashbacks to the event in episode 2, the one Pun fainted, and how the interviewers were asking very specific questions, about things that they could’ve only know if someone that had been present in the moment those things happened had told them and how I excluded NottPun, their managers, GusBew and their managers from my list of suspects because it just didn’t make sense for me to suspect them considering a lot of factors; I also got immediate flashbacks to my surprise when I found out that two of the people in my exclusion list were actually the ones responsible for the information leak, so I decided to not make the same mistake again and everyone (except GusBew, for very obvious reasons) was a suspect, including Yo.

- People were starting to call Gus an alcoholic because of the tweet and even started trending an hashtag, with very divided opinions related to that, some people believed straight away on the things said in the tweet, others were skeptical about the veracity of those claims (after all, anyone can said things about other person in an anonymous account in social media) and others were trying to send their support to GusBew – I read this situation as a commentary into how easy is to create rumors about a celebrity and how some people, without proof, would believe in anything, as long as it fitted on the narrative they had on their heads regarding said celebrity.

- There is another article (I love how the articles showed on the episodes are only telling negative things about GusBew or creating conflict on the viewer about the information contained on said articles and what we are actually seeing), whose headline reads “BL-ACTOR ACCUSED OF BEING VIOLENT AND ALCOHOLIC” and a small section where there is a picture of Nott with the words “Nott said Gus doesn’t drink” and I asked myself why people went after Nott to ask about something that was not related to him, and this too gave me immediate flashbacks to episode 4, when the article about Pun was released, because of the viral video of him on set, and GusBew were interviewed about that. My opinions about this type of thing remain the same: it is very biased of the media to talk with pretty much everyone else except the principal character of the news they are after, like they are not worried about relaying information but to create drama and watch the world burn.

- The same account that posted the tweet that started this entire mess, had posted a quick video where it was possible to see Gus grabbing a flask from a chair, as a way of “proving” that Gus was in fact an alcoholic. This quick video was taken from a live that Bew had made on Toon’s IG account and the comments that appeared as soon as Gus grabbed the flask from the chair were insane, a few ridiculous even: we had people asking if it was liquor and if Gus was alcoholic, some people saying that it was an alcohol bottle, others saying that Gus had been exposed – about this, I couldn’t stop thinking why people were looking at a fucking flask, something that fits in a pocket, the size of a regular hand palm, like it was a full-on, real, alcohol bottle and also acting like the mere existence of a single flask was the sign of Gus being alcoholic. I don’t know if this is related to Thai culture, but alcoholism goes beyond a person having a single flask and we shouldn’t throw accusations of serious issues like this around just because we think that it makes sense. After all, just because it shines, it doesn’t mean that it is gold.

- PlaToon’s fights escalated to the point of them using GusBew to hurt each other’s egos (not that it wasn’t the case before, the difference is that things were getting worse by the minute, and it was affecting GusBew interactions). They were using the brand deals they were getting to GusBew to try to outdo and humiliate each other.

- Pla managed to get Gus to be the presenter of the same brand Toon bragged that Bew had managed to get and when Pla did to Bew what Toon had did to Gus the day the SoySung representative talked to her, Toon immediately told Pla that “the fight was between them” and Pla should “leave her child alone”. After Pla had left, Toon guaranteed Gus that the fight happening was with his manager, not him, and gave Gus brownies made by his FC – when I saw this, the first thing I though was “Gus, don’t take that, there is shrimp in there” but after a few rewatches, the red flag was not even what could be in those brownies but why would Gus’ FC give to Toon something that was specifically for Gus and Gus was not supposed to be in the SoySung commercial filming site on that day? Yes, maybe the “your FC” was referring to GusBew’s FC but, even then, everyone knew that it was supposed to be Bew in the filming site only, so her words are very suspicious.

- Gus had an allergic reaction and was sent to the hospital, a situation that reverted all the changes regarding the SoySung shooting back to when it was supposed to be just Bew. After Gus was discharged and went back to his room, him and Bew were talking about what had happened and Bew asked Gus what he had eaten to make him have his symptoms and Gus said that the only thing he had eaten was the snacks from the fans that Toon had given to him. Bew then asked if Gus had checked properly to see it there wasn’t any shrimp in there – are shrimp brownies a thing in Thailand? – and Gus said yes.

- Bew went to the trash to look for the packages of the brownies Gus had eaten and when he found them, he looked inside the rests and saw a shrimp in there. After being called back to the room, he tried to defend Toon to Pla, saying that she had no idea that Gus would be at the filming site today, but Pla said that Bew had gotten there too late because Toon had already confessed everything to them.

- Toon then said to Bew that she had seen the Line chat between Bew and Gus, then proceeded to apologize to Bew, saying that she “didn’t mean to”, before apologizing again and saying that she “didn’t knew Gus would need to go to the hospital” – about this part, even if Toon started crying blood I wouldn’t believe her because she intentionally gave food containing shrimp, something she knew could cause medical complications, to Gus, that was allergic to shrimp (a that fact was of her knowledge) and expect people to believe that she didn’t mean to. Yes, she probably didn’t meant to send Gus to the hospital but allergic reactions are different in intensity and scale, not to say highly unpredictable, because in some days can give you only a rash and others can literally put someone in a coma or kill them, that’s why people with allergies do their best to stay away from the things that can do those things to them. Toon intentionally put Gus’ life in danger just because of a fucking petty fight between her and Pla.

- Pla then says to Toon that after the concert is finished, she should get away from him and never appear in front of him again, basically saying that the concert would be the last couple work between GusBew. Toon tried to plead to Pla, asking him not to make any decisions in the moment but Pla responded with a “you made a decision the moment you gave my son the poisonous brownie”.

- Bew also tried to plead to Pla, asking if he could stay with Gus but Pla told him that he should also leave, making Bew ask why, after all the fight Pla was having (albeit now things had gone too far to be considered just a simple petty fight) was with Toon and Pla “had no right to stop him from taking care of Gus” because “him and Gus were in a relationship”. Gus then looks at Pla seconds before Pla asks Bew “relationship? What relationship?” (it is possible at this moment to see Gus’ face full of desperation and he looked like he was crying), Gus tried to stop Pla from continuing talking but Pla took Gus’ hand from his arm and continued his previous question with a “a fake one?”

- Bew then asked Gus if it was true, almost begging Gus to tell him that it wasn’t true and Gus grabbed Bew’s hands before revealing that it had been Pla’s plan, but he could explain better, if Bew just listened to him. I’ve managed to come this far without saying that Gus liked Bew, after all I haven’t been able to assert his personality and gather information that could help support this hypothesis but I swear – and I don’t know if this thought only appeared in my mind because the words he said reminded me of the confession scene in MonTeam’s second episode in Y Destiny or because it was something logical – that when Gus said that “everything he did with Bew”, I was expecting him to finish that sentence with a “I did it because I wanted to” or something that could serve as an indicator of Gus being in a “relationship” with Bew for over a month because he genuinely wanted to and because of some plan made by his manager.

- Bew asks Pla how could them to that to him, play with his feelings, when they had said previously that they were a family and Pla simply dropped the biggest bombshell since the revelation that Nott had slept with Fang: not only Toon knew of their relationship before they went to tell her (it was kinda obvious that she knew something was happening, considering the conversation she had with Pla, where she said that GusBew couldn’t be a couple because Gus liked women) but she knew of the initial plan of getting Bew drunk and make him and Gus have sex. I kid you not, I paused the episode right there and spent three whole minutes in pure silence, because everything that Toon did, her reactions, her words, her actions towards GusBew as a couple, her “hesitation” were just a part of the plan being acted by her; and it doesn’t matter that she “wanted to tell Bew”, she agreed with the plan and let things go to the stage they were at that moment.

I know I said that at least Toon hadn’t done with Bew what had been done with Pun by his manager and that Bew had literally dodged a bullet by not being under Pun’s ex-manager care but I legit didn’t thought that my comparisons between BewToon’s relationship and Pun and his ex-manager would become so close after one episode. The moment I saw Toon slide from behind Pla’s car seat, I stopped being annoyed and got angry instead.

- Toon tried to justify her silence, saying that “Bew looked happy being with Gus” and that “Gus’ feeling for Bew were real” but, by then, the damage was done and no matter what people told him, he would not believe them.

- Bew, hanging by the few hope he had left, asked to Gus if there was anything real among the things he had done but Pla answered instead, saying to Bew that he was “in the entertainment industry” and “no one liked the truth”, so “the more fake it is, the more it sells, the more people like it”. Bew then tells Pla that “if the industry is like that, then he didn’t want to be in it”, before leaving the room; a few moments later, he is almost run over by a car and the closing monologue sums this episode better than I could ever do it:

“Title: war of managers. Story starts from managers, but the people affected are not just the managers. Then like this, is it fair?”

***************************

To be honest, I don’t have much to talk about this episode, besides what I already said during the post itself and if I could forget this episode existed, I would. It took this long for me to write this post because my mind literally went blank, and I couldn’t think about anything about this episode. This is reason why this post probably doesn’t make much sense and it’s not my usual style of post; anyway, here it is, after a full week of delay and now I’m gonna eat some cake and clear my head while I think about Love In The Air’s episode on Thursday.

#warofy #war of y #war of y: war of managers #war of y episode 7 #gusbew #gus x bew #bewgus #bew x gus #megapost #analysis #theories

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nim-lock · 3 years

Note

WHO HURT BOBA WHY WAS HE HAVING SELF LOATHING THOUGHTS

YOU KNOW WHAT, I’ve impulse written enough for this to be a second prompt fill for Day 5, so hello @bobadinweek Day 5 Hurt/Comfort Part 2 !!!

Word count: 1171 [content warning: MENTAL HEALTH]

The entire day had felt off. It felt like many other days, in the endless drudgery of being alive. Boba woke to overcast skies over his area of Tatooine, normally a source of relief and contentment. He moved his body through the daily litany of meetings, beat up a comically ill-prepared assassin, and showed up to game night, organized by Fennec and some of the full-time staff. Din waved at him from his spot on the floor, and Boba's eyes skittered away from the helmet's visor.

Nothing was wrong.

Boba couldn't enjoy it.

It had been, by all accounts, an entirely mundane day. The issues that cropped up were all solvable. Boba Fett had consumed an adequate amount of nutrients over the course of the day, and he was now partaking in a social activity. This was fine.

As Fennec went through the instructions for the newly released bantha-befriending board game, Boba became increasingly aware of Din's presence by his shoulder. Or perhaps he was projecting, and Din wasn't paying extra attention to him at all. After all, their relationship was a relatively recent development. They really didn’t know each other well enough.

The game progressed; pieces were taken, traded, and moved; Boba made the appropriate noises of encouragement, amusement, and outrage. He interacted with Din a reasoned amount. He watched himself go through the motions as though through a thick haze of fog. Boba put his pieces back after the first game and excused himself, citing a need for routine weapons maintenance. Fennec flipped him off, and told him she’d see him the next morning.

Boba sits heavily on his mattress and lets his face contort into the positions he’d held off on doing the entire day. He takes off his armor with the routine amount of reverence befitting belongings of his father. He’s not sure how he feels about the lack of plated pressure on his chest. He hears a ragged gasp, and a sound like a wounded deer, and it takes longer than it should for him to realize it’s coming from his own wretched vocal chords. He’d make an effort to stop making this ambient soundtrack of his life, but it feels like more energy than he can give at the moment.

There’s a knock on the door.

Boba schools his face back into a semblance of composure, and is momentarily comforted by the knowledge that the soundproofing in his room is solid. He sees Din’s helmet through the peephole.

“Hello,” he says, opening the door a crack. He is confronted by smooth beskar. Din has taken off his armor, with just the helmet remaining. For the second time that night, Boba’s not sure if he can read the man’s body language. Or rather, clues point to Din exhibiting the emotion of “concern”, but that can’t be right.

“Can I come in?” Din says. “Are...you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” says Boba, roughly. Before he remembers the first part of what Din said. “Yes—you can come in. If you want. I don’t think you can help me, however. I’m not good company right now.”

Din regards Boba for a long moment, then slowly walks into Boba’s room. The room is sparse, and Boba is glad that it does not reflect the chaos of his mental state. He’s never had many belongings, what with his ready-to-go-at-any-moment lifestyle and understanding that attaching sentiment to too many things was even more loss to bear.

Boba remains standing near the door. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” says Din, awkwardly, fidgeting with the seam of his belt. “You don’t have to tell me anything, of course, but...I’m trying. To be a good friend.”

Boba stares resolutely at a plant to Din’s left, debating whether he should tell Din nothing. Whether he should just laugh it off and pretend everything was alright. But he’s not sure if that would help. He doesn’t want to see Din’s regard for him gradually deteriorate as he realizes that Boba could never be the right person capable of caring for him properly.

The air is tense. Boba knows he himself is the one making it so. If Boba’s going through this, he might as well rip the bandaid off the entire way. So he can lay down and fuck himself up and force himself to pick up the jagged pieces, and know, that he is destined to be alone. With the vaguely masochistic satisfaction of knowing he's about to twist a knife into his own figurative insides, he speaks.

“I’m rarely happy,” Boba blurts out. “I mean. You—you met me at a point where I was. Happy. Content. As good as it could have been under the circumstances. But that’s not me all the time. Most of the time, it’s like..... this.”

“Alright.” Din says, levelly. Waiting for him to go on.

“I’ll fuck this up. Life continues to happen and it’s not bad, but it feels like I can’t...appreciate it. It feels like I should. It feels like I should be glad to have lived beyond all expectations. I don’t—you know—I. I know I brought down the mood of the entire gathering today. I know I made everyone uncomfortable. And I can’t help that. It feels like I should be in control of my thoughts and actions but. There’s only so much I can pretend to be...a person that people want...to be near.” Boba’s heart rate feels way too high. His breath is too shallow. He thinks a heart attack right now would be quite nice, actually. So he can get out of this situation. His eyes are unseeing. Is his vision fading?

His brain is full of bantha wool and Boba knows some time has passed because the next time he is aware of his own skin, he is sitting down, and Din has his hand in his hand, and a hand almost touching his face, and. And it almost feels like reality is real, just at those prickling points of contact. Din’s talking. He’s been talking and Boba didn’t process a word of it before now.

“Hey—look at me—listen; you matter. Alright? Remember this. Take a deep breath for me.”

Boba doesn’t think he has the energy. Everything feels too much.

“It’s... okay,” Din says, a stilted attempt at saying the right things to make someone feel better, “Or maybe it’s not, but I’m not giving up on you just because you happen to be a person, Boba.”

Boba...sits. And tilts his head forward, and leans into Din’s shoulder. Arms encircle his body, and he breathes. It smells like laundry detergent, sweat, and a lingering hint of metal. Boba doesn’t know what he’ll say after this moment passes. He doesn’t know the right thing to say, and... maybe he doesn’t have to know. He breathes, and feels the pounding in his chest fade to a background lull. This? This is good.

#content warning discussions about depression #WHUPS I shouldn't have typed this much my hands hurty #lol I'll proof read this another day when my hands are working #bobadin #bobadinweek2021 #my writing #idk I don't think that's a tag yet because I do not often write things #but AHHHH fuck I have to get work done but my brain is to wibbly #fuck it byeeee

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iamnotparticularlyproud · 3 years

Photo

PPB Square: Possessive Behavior | @peterparkerbingo

word count: 1.7k rating: explicit warnings: rough s_x, degrading and possessive language, org_sm denial ao3 link: https://bit.ly/36dxXWh

“Do you have any idea how it felt, sweetheart? When I had to watch that piece of shit put his hands on you, and you fucking smiled like you do for me?”

Peter can barely listen, let alone respond. Although the gala just happened, the memory of letting that overly flirty businessman touch him a bit too much is so distant, it feels like a lifetime ago. All that matters now is the feeling of Tony drilling him into the mattress, pushing deeper than Peter ever thought possible.

“I had to pretend like I didn’t care, but I was seeing red, baby.” Tony continues, his breath fanning over Peter’s nape, “Had to keep talking to all those nobodies, when all I wanted was to show that asshole only I touch you like that.” His fingers dig into Peter’s hips, punctuating his point, “Isn’t that right?”

When Peter only gives a choking gasp at the combination of it all - Tony’s claiming words, his bruising grip, his unrelenting pace - Tony abruptly stops, mid-thrust.

“N-No, please,” Peter heaves, because it’s too good to stop, Tony needs to -

“Oh, now you talk?” Tony condescends, and when Peter just wriggles in response, shifting his hips back and forth in a mindless attempt to get that intoxicating feeling back, Tony adds, “Where was this enthusiasm when I asked you a question?”

Peter has to concentrate to recall it, and then to find the wherewithal to answer. When he finally accomplishes both, he responds, high and breathless, “Y-You, only you c-can touch me like that.”

Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he swears Tony growls before he counters, “Then why did you let him touch you?”

It’s still so hard to think - all Peter wants is the mind-numbing cacophony of sensations back - so instead of trying to find another answer, he begs, “I don’t - don’t know, ‘m sorry, jus’ please keep going,”

One of Tony’s hands comes up to Peter’s jaw, pulling his head up from it’s place against the sheets to meet Tony’s burning gaze. The angle is awkward, but Peter doesn’t even consider the strain as their eyes meet; the intensity of it all and the rawness in his stare surprises Peter, and a whine catches in his throat.

“I jus’ - “ Peter cuts himself off, trying to overcome the sudden wave of embarrassment, “I-I wanted to see what you would do.”

The searing look in Tony’s eyes turns incredulous. Tony moves his hand from Peter’s jaw to his hair and pulls hard, so much harder than he’s ever pulled before, and he starts thrusting into him again, still so rough but edging on frantic, now. Peter falls back into the bed, unable to hold himself up against the onslaught.

“What the fuck did you think I would do, sweetheart?” Tony’s angry tone is undercut by the breathless edge to his voice, “You know I don’t like sharing my toys.”

Being referred to as a toy - as Tony’s toy - sends a sharp spear of pleasure through Peter, and his cock leaks precome where it’s pressed between him and the bed. He can barely understand his own muttered words as he tries, “M-Mr. Sta-”

Tony cuts him off swiftly, pulling his hair again and saying, “No, none of that shit. I’m not fucking around. What the fuck did you think would happen, Peter?”

Peter can’t respond, because it’s all too intense in the best way possible. The slick slide of Tony’s cock in and out of him, hitting his prostate head on with each push forward while his own dick rubs against the soft sheets, is about to take Peter over the edge, and he can’t find the voice to warn Tony, only to moan wantonly -

But he knows, anyway. Tony uses his grip on Peter to pull them both upward, effectively sitting Peter onto his lap while leaning on his calves, then squeezes his hand around the base of Peter’s cock. It pulls him from the precipice and rips a mangled groan of frustration from his lips as he jolts in Tony’s embrace.

“No, precious. You’ve gotta answer me, first.”

Peter feels tears prickling in the corner of his eyes as he drops his head back onto Tony’s shoulder, face somehow burning hotter, “I ca-can’t remem - “

Tony doesn’t let him finish the question, saying into his neck as he gives sharp, short thrusts into Peter, “Did you think I’d roll over and let you pull that shit?”

Tony doesn’t even sound like he believes it as he says it, and Peter would laugh at the mere suggestion, but he’s too busy trying to push back onto Tony’s cock, to get him as deep as before. He only manages to shake his head, just a bit.

Tony hums, exaggerated, then continues, “Maybe you wanted me to get jealous? Did you act like a cheap whore to get a rise out of me, huh?”

The shame that courses through Peter from the words is piercing, but thrilling. He nods, hoping it’s enough for Tony to keep going, but he does Peter one better; he moves his hands to under Peter’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift him and drop him back onto his cock.

“Then I’ll treat you like a cheap whore, baby boy.” Tony promises, and Peter only has time to shiver before Tony’s moving him up and down like he weighs nothing, forcing his dick so, so deep into Peter, he wonders if it makes a bulge in his stomach.

Tony completely ignores his cock as Peter writhes on top of him, and when he tries to wrap a hand around his aching dick, Tony catches his wrist and pulls his arm behind his back, holding it there for just a moment before dropping his grasp and trusting Peter to keep it there.

“Nuh-uh,” he teases, “whores come hands free.”

Though Peter tries to blink them away, the tears fall, now. He’s so hard it aches, and it’s beyond any frustration he’s felt before. It makes Peter appreciate the toe-curling pleasure he gets from his cock hitting his prostate even more, and he starts rolling his hips in time with Tony’s.

“Fuck,” Tony groans, “you feel so goddamn good, my own little slut.”

Peter can only choke out a wet gasp in response. He’s lost in the pleasure of it all as they move together, Tony’s large, sturdy hands on his hips the only thing grounding Peter.

Tony pauses while he’s buried balls deep in Peter to grind into his prostate, keeping the pressure intense and relentless, and Peter knows it’s just moments, but it feels like hours before he’s coming with a strangled sob.

Although Tony stops aiming for Peter’s oversensitive bunch of nerves, he doesn’t let up his momentum, and Peter doesn’t have the energy to do anything but fall limp against his chest. He’s only distantly aware of Tony’s thrusts becoming more and more frenzied.

“You’re mine, angel,” Tony rumbles, “all fuckin’ mine.”

Peter tries to agree, but he can’t get it to come out, so he settles for a desperate, pitiful cry. All the sensations - Tony’s tight grip on his thighs and his warm body pressed against him, Peter’s burning lungs, his too sensitive hole filled to the brim - leave him convulsing, needing more and less simultaneously, and it has more tears spilling down his cheeks. Tony is lost in his own haze of pleasure above him, ignoring Peter’s quiet hiccups and squirming, as he keeps bouncing Peter on his cock.

Then, before Peter can realize what’s happening, Tony pushes him back into the mattress, wrapping his arms around Peter’s torso to pull his back to his chest. Tony drives greedy, aborted thrusts into him, and Peter barely musters the strength to bring his hands up to hold onto Tony’s arms, otherwise laying boneless below him.

With a deep, guttural moan, Tony comes inside of him, his hips jerking in uncontrolled, hectic movements. Peter whimpers as Tony’s pulsating cock nudges his prostate, making his dick twitch valiantly, despite Peter knowing he’s too exhausted for a round two.

When Tony starts to pull away, Peter has a difficult time letting him; his hold on Tony’s arms are tight, tighter than he thought he could hold right now, and he leans back into Tony as he tries to separate them. Tony wins the struggle, though, and as he eases his flaccid cock out of him, Peter can’t help but give another soft cry.

Peter’s hardly aware of Tony’s gentle shushing as he turns him over with accommodating touches and soothing murmurs of affection. He feels Tony reach across the bed, and then he’s easing Peter’s legs open and lifting him up carefully to clean the mess between them.

Peter whines as Tony grazes over his sensitive rim with a cursory wipe. He thinks he hears Tony speak, but it’s too far away for him to listen. Tony leans back, away from Peter, taking his comforting presence and heat with him. Peter feels the shifting of the bed as Tony gets off, leaving him alone in the expansive bed and soiled sheets.

Time is just a vague notion as Peter waits for Tony to come back, but he does eventually. If Peter had the energy, he’s sure he would’ve sobbed with relief - the return of Tony’s hands against him is grounding, and he’s suddenly filled with a desperate need to speak.

“’m sorry,” Peter mumbles, remembering the fierce look in Tony’s eyes when he admit why he let the stranger at the gala touch him too personally.

Above him, Tony sighs. “No, baby. I should’ve -- ” but he pauses before he finishes the thought, continuing instead with, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Peter nods weakly, then starts as a warm, damp cloth touches the skin of his inner thighs. Tony uses his free hand to stroke a line along his side as he cleans the remaining moisture, and Peter’s chest tightens with his overwhelming love for the man.

“Y-You’re -- ” and it’s Peter’s turn to cut himself off, swallowing hard and turns his eyes to the side, because although he needs to know, he feels too vulnerable asking it, “you’re mine, too... right?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for several moments. Peter’s heart falls a bit, but then he looks up to meet his gaze. It’s soft, a bit melancholy, even, and filled with so much fondness, Peter doesn’t know what to do with it.

“For as long as you’ll have me, angel.”

#peterparkerbingo2021 #starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark x peter parker #tony x peter #nff #i hope blanked the words out right so this shows up in the tags lol #that soft ass ending snuck up on me too okay #my writing

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jekacatrina · 3 years

Text

Fate don't know you like I do

Hello, guys, have this super cheesy and self indulgent piece I wrote for Bakudeku day! I'm so happy to be part of this fandom and all the wonderful content creators out there, so here's my little contribution, enjoy! I wrote it super fast so sorry for any mistake or typo!

Also, the title is a song I love, please check it out, it inspired the whole thing!

Izuku wakes up to the sight of his bedroom ceiling, body aching and mind restless. He’s no longer wearing his hero suit, except for the undershirt and his pants, everything else is gone. Slowly, the yells of the crowd infiltrate his thoughts and he wishes to run away, to go to where he can’t hurt anyone he cares about.

He has to leave. He is being selfish. Izuku props himself up on his elbows.

“That’s the face of a rabbit ready to bolt,” the gruff voice startles him, and he turns to see Kacchan sitting on his desk, frowning. It adds up that they wouldn't leave him without someone standing guard.

Kacchan has changed out of his hero suit, and a dark grey long sleeved t-shirt hides the bandages on his shoulder and stomach, but Izuku is keenly aware of the wounds he was sporting as he flew around trying to keep him from leaving. By the end, his childhood friend was bleeding through them. That was Izuku’s fault; both Kacchan reopening his injuries and the fact that he has them in the first place.

“Kacchan, I'm so-“

“Save it, nerd,” he abandons the desk chair and shuffles closer.

Izuku takes him in; after weeks of agonizing over the state in which he left Kacchan, seeing him do a perfect arch in the air and stop a villain with a precise AP Shot, filled him with a relief so strong, it paralyzed him, and he was only able to stare in awe.

During the following fight, if Izuku can call it that when it was against his friends, Kacchan was everywhere; coordinating different maneuvers, and he even had a new move. Izuku told his friends they couldn’t keep up, and he remembers vaguely that he apologized, because in reality they’re miles ahead of him.

Still, nobody is like Kacchan: certain and absolute, pure will held together by his convictions. He never backs down, and he never gives up, only marches forward. Izuku never stood a chance against him, in more than one way.

Kacchan kneels by the bed, putting an elbow on the bed, close to his hips, and lazily resting his head on his hand.

“Kacchan, I can’t stay here,” he mumbles, trying to convey all his inner turmoil. He wants to stay, he is so tired and scared, but he will not risk anyone for his sake.

Kacchan frowns in response.

“You can, and you will, dumbass,” he states, surprising him by clutching his forearm. “I’m not chasing your sorry ass around anymore.”

“Then let me go,” Izuku turns his arm, grabbing him as well.

“You’re not going anywhere, Izuku.”

The name travels through his body, lighting him up on the inside, coursing through him with the violence of the first time he used One For All, equally exhilarating and terrifying.

It all comes back to him; the rain, his words, his bow, Izuku collapsing and Kacchan appearing in time to support him.

Izuku.

“You apologized,” he whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “You said all those things in front of the whole class.”

“I had to, asshole, you left before I could tell you in private,” he doesn’t look embarrassed or regretful. Kacchan doesn’t shy away from his decisions once he makes up his mind. “Only a shitty letter for explanation and that was it.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t even let me go with you, idiot.”

“You’re still dealing with the outcome of the last time I let you come with me.” The tears are running freely down his cheeks. “I had to watch how he almost took you away from me.” He scrubs his eyes furiously with his free hand, not letting go of Kacchan. “I can’t allow more people to suffer because of me.” He’s on his way to a full on breakdown, struggling to get air in his lungs, and blood roaring in his ears, the noises muffled.

Suddenly, Kacchan is hovering over him, shoving his shoulder firmly.

“Hey, Deku, scoot over,” Izuku only glances at him through his crying, baffled. “Give me some room to lay down, like when we were kids.” He’s already in the process of climbing on the bed, and Izuku manages to slide his body closer to the other end, grabbing the bed cover when the weight of his childhood friend laying down almost makes him roll over him. “Jesus Christ, you stink,” Kacchan complains.

“I know,” Izuku turns on his side, creating more space between them. Hygiene wasn’t that high on his list of priorities, not even eating or sleeping was, and he feels awful. He didn’t have the energy to shower before passing out.

“You smell like dirt and sweat.” Kacchan scrunches up his nose. “Worst of all, you reek of that goddamn martyr complex, and it pisses me off.” he turns too, and traps Izuku in his red gaze. “If you’re choosing to ignore all I said before, at least pay attention to the last part.” He’s not sugarcoating his words, he’s as brash as he always is. “We all want to fight, because we’re heroes and we want to protect everyone, including the fucking chosen one, whether you want us to or not. I’m not asking for your damn permission, and neither is any of the rest. So, you can either play nice and make it easy for us, or be a self-sacrificial idiot, making it all the more annoying. Your call.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Izuku grimaces, reaching for him with a shaky hand, and awkwardly squeezes his arm. “I’m not ignoring all you said, Kacchan” he chooses to focus on that, gaze in his All Might covers. “I, I forgave you a long time ago, mostly because I wanted to focus on the good parts, so in a way I let go of it for me.” He forgets about his smell, and scoots closer, resting his forehead close to his shoulder. “But thank you, Katsuki.” He hasn’t said that name in ages, but that doesn’t come from any animosity on his part. Kacchan has always been and will always be Kacchan. Izuku feels him move as Kacchan places his chin on top of his matted curls, and they stay like that for a while, with their past laid to rest at last.

Kacchan speaks up first.

“Listen, Deku, everything is getting pretty fucking real,” he pauses for a moment. “Shit is really dangerous for any of us, but for you it is like a thousand times worse. Your ass is a fucking death magnet, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“One For All is a big responsibility, Kacchan, but it’s not yours.” He does his best to keep his voice low and soft, the weight of the legacy crushing him.

“The Hell is not!” Kacchan retorts vehemently. “You made it my deal the moment you told me!” Izuku winced. “What’s up with that? Wasn't that the biggest secret ever? Are you that much of a blabber mouth?”

Izuku clutches his arm harder.

“I wasn’t going to let you think I lied all those years.” He explains, and in a moment of bravery, he continues. “I’ve never been anything but honest with you, Kacchan.”

The anger in his voice disappears as fast as it came.

“I know that, idiot.” His bigger hand finds Izuku’s hip. “One for All is your responsibility, but you are mine.” Izuku is pretty sure he stops breathing. “Since we were fucking four years old, and you were this quirkless little shit that wouldn’t quit chasing after me, no matter how much I pushed you away.” Kacchan scoffs and his breath tickles him. “Well, congrats, dumbass, now you have me and I’m not going anywhere.” His heart flies to his throat and doesn’t let any word come out. Kacchan growls, clearly bothered by his silence. “All for One VS One For All is the fucking shit show for the ages, and of course you, Deku of all people, have to be right in the middle of that crap.” He talks through clenched teeth, and Izuku longs to soothe him, but there’s nothing he can say to fix the situation. “All those who fell against that fucking maniac and now you have to-” Kacchan chokes up, and punches Izuku on the arm. “Whatever, there's nothing I can do for those nobodies that came before you, but you have an advantage over them.”

“What’s that?” He whispers in a small voice, not believing he is having this conversation in bed with his childhood friend.

“You have me,” Kacchan utters, and Izuku feels like he hit him with an explosion, sweeping his feet from under him. “Just let me set something straight, Deku, I’m not going to be your fucking sidekick, you hear me? You watch my back and I watch yours. I don’t trust anyone to keep up with you.”

I don’t trust anyone else to protect you.

“Kacchan-”

“You deal with this crap once and for fucking all, Deku, and we come up on top.” Kacchan declares, Izuku can hear the smirk in his words, and he has to smile back. “I don’t settle for anything but the best, and taking down fucking evil incarnated, I’m in, Deku, I’m all in.” He disentangles them, leaning back with a vulnerable expression, and offers his hand for Izuku to clasp. “What do you say?”

Izuku wants to say no, push him away from danger and lock him somewhere where he is going to be safe, but he knows Kacchan. He is determined, stubborn to a fault, and braver than anyone he has met. If he sets his mind on protecting Izuku, nothing is going to stop Kacchan, not even him.

That’s why Izuku loves him like he does.

In this space, with just the two of them, Izuku can be honest with himself: He is scared, and he has been for a while.

Scared of not living up to All Might’s hopes.

Scared of never mastering this power.

Scared of letting down all the people that gave up their lives to take down All For One.

Scared of being the wrong choice.

At the end of the day, Midoriya Izuku is terrified of not being enough.

In the midst of all the fear and doubt, he sees Kacchan; the person Izuku admires the most, the hero he has chased since he was four years old, and the driving force behind his progress. Kacchan, who knows all of him, and understands him because he sees Izuku for who he is, all the good and bad parts.

His Kacchan, who is now offering to help him and ease his burden, risking his dream, his precious life in the process, to stay close to Izuku and protect him.

A part of him, the one that imitates All Might, is screaming at him that he has to reject the support, to do it on his own. He should hold the weight of the legacy by himself. However, the other part of him, the one that believes Kacchan is what victory looks like, tells him he isn’t All Might and he doesn’t have to be.

He is Midoriya Izuku, and he is allowed to live his life and fight his battles on his terms, just as Kacchan does.

He clasps his hand, and Kacchan smiles, without a trace of mockery or anger, just plain happiness and relief lifting the corners of his mouth. Izuku hasn't seen him smile like that in years, and he needs to say something. He means to say yes to his offer, maybe thank him, but what comes out instead is:

“I love you.”

The punched out gasp that Kacchan lets out shocks Izuku more than his confession does. He can’t believe the words he has hidden for so long in his heart escaped that easily. More shocking is the fact that he doesn’t want to take it back. Even if he is scared of many things, Kacchan isn’t one of them. Yes, Kacchan frustrates him, he worries him, and makes him nervous, but Izuku is not scared of him, never has been. He can die any day now, any of them can, and he is done with silencing his feelings.

Kacchan is not screaming or scowling, neither he is leaping out of the bed and running away from him, so Izuku would say he is mostly stunned, although he doesn’t see why. His feelings for him are a key part of the person he is. Izuku admires him, cares for him.

Izuku loves him.

“Do you mean it?” The question seems to pain him. He hasn’t released his hand.

“Yes, Kacchan.” Izuku is not hiding it, not anymore.

“After everything?”

The words strike his heart and cut deeply. Izuku doesn’t hold any grudge or resentment, and he can’t tolerate the idea of Kacchan thinking he can feel something for him despite their past.

“Because of everything, Kacchan,” Izuku replies, touching their joined hands with his forehead, shying from the red eyes. “The past doesn’t disappear, but that’s not our present, and definitely not our future.” He takes a deep breath to calm his heart. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t say it to get an answer.”

“Deku, you can do so much better,” Kacchan says, bluntly.

Izuku doesn't let the obvious rejection deter him from speaking with the truth.

“I don’t see how,” he stares at him, mustering a wonky smile. “You are you, Kacchan; you’re brave, honest, loyal, brilliant, and hardworking.” The words spill without filter, and he drinks the sight of his pale skin blushing. “It’s not about doing better, just who I choose, because when it comes down to it, I chose you a long time ago, Kacchan.”

Kacchan tips his head up, the blond strands cloaking his eyes. Izuku refuses to regret coming clean about his feelings, but as the silence grows between them, he starts to fidget. Little by little, he realizes the true weight of his confession, and the bridges he might be burning.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, Kacchan.”

“It changes everything, Deku,” he replies, not missing a beat.

Izuku curses his luck; it was just like him to confess his love right when Kacchan finally came back to him, something Izuku hadn’t dreamt in his wildest dreams. Dealing with these feelings much longer, when they are so powerful and consuming is not possible. Still, he should have tried, for the sake of their friendship.

A callous finger touches his chin, breaking his spiral of thoughts, and lifts his face. The fiery eyes are wide and defenseless, embers instead of the wild inferno Izuku expected.

The first touch of chapped lips is an awakening, and his first kiss is over before he can finish tasting it.

Kacchan leans back, and for the second time in his life, Izuku’s mind goes blank and his body moves on its own, chasing after him. Their second kiss is messy, they don’t have any experience, but Izuku is lost to it. He tries to commit to memory every brush of their lips and ragged gasps, how soft is his blond hair, and the feeling of fingers sinking in his curls, guiding the kiss.

They break apart, but stay close.

"You didn’t have to do that, Kacchan,” he says against his mouth.

“I never do shit I don’t want to do, Deku.”

Izuku grabs him again, bunching up his t-shirt, so full of love that he fears he is going to float away if he doesn’t get a firm grip.

“Deku, I-“ his voice quivers and Izuku kisses him again, softly and reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Kacchan, you don’t have to say anything yet.” Izuku told him because he wanted him to know, but he has had years to come to terms with it. He’s not expecting Kacchan to figure everything out right now.

“You better stick around after that, you damn nerd,” he touches their foreheads together. “Or take me with you. Two options, I’m magnanimous like that.”

Izuku giggles, the sound so foreign after the past weeks.

“Okay, Kacchan, for that I’ll stick around.”

“Or you’ll take me with you.”

Izuku is still terrified of anything happening to him, but he trusts him the most.

“I’ll stick around or take you with me,” he promises, and Kacchan nods satisfied, wrapping Izuku in his arms and hugging him closer. “I thought you said I stink.”

“You fucking do,” Kacchan says immediately. “When I think about this, the first thing that is going to pop into my mind is that my first kiss smelled like a wet dog.”

Izuku laughs until he cries, and Kacchan joins him.

At one point, his back is to Kacchan, and he’s playing with his hands. Izuku’s so relaxed his eyes are drifting close, sleep taking over.

“Hey, Deku,”

“Yes, Kacchan?” he says drowsily.

“You have magnificent taste.”

Izuku snorts, pulling his arm tighter around him.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he murmurs, and he jumps when Kacchan buries his face on the crook of his neck. “Wake me up if something happens.”

“You can trust me, Deku, nobody is going to pass through me.”

Izuku believes him with his entire heart, but he still chooses to only think and not say what crosses his mind before falling asleep in his arms:

I would die before letting anything happen to you.

#bakudeku #bkdk #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha 322 #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #happy bakudeku day guys!

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