#and he says it was kevin's fault despite him not appearing at all in the episode

[doubledyke]

man i feel like eddy doesn't get enough credit for how funny he is

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[scripted-downfall]

It's Selfish Sam anon, I hope you're well? Sorry I went missing, I took an sm break. I was thinking about how D&S differ regarding responsibility. In s9 Dean took responsibility for Kevin's death because he (rightly or wrongly) felt his actions caused it and was devastated. In s10 Sam didn't appear to take responsibility for Charlie's death and didn't seem to feel bad about it, although that may be partly due to JPs acting. D&S appear to be polar opposites in this, it's always stood out to me?

Welcome back! I am indeed well --- busy, but well --- and thank you so much for asking! I hope the same is true of you :)

I definitely agree, as regards Dean and Sam's respective treatments of responsibility; Dean tends to take responsibility (often leaning towards too much responsibility), and Sam... Well, I'll admit that he's a bit complicated. It'd be really easy for me to say he never takes responsibility, but I do have to recognize that said statement wouldn't be fully accurate. He takes responsibility... but he takes responsibility badly. He either a) takes responsibility when he shouldn't, and then makes it everyone else's problem (e.g. him feeling guilt over Kevin and thus pushing all responsibility onto Dean), b) takes responsibility but learns the wrong lesson (e.g. when he consciously chooses a bad path --- as with the demon blood --- but acts like he'd had no choice in the matter and, thus, there must be something innately wrong with him), c) takes responsibility but learns no lesson (e.g. with Charlie), or d) takes no responsibility whatsoever (e.g. Purgatory).

Sam definitely has a different reaction to Charlie's death than Dean, and, while I do think some of it was probably Padalecki's acting, some of it was definitely in the script; he's supposed to feel bad... he's just also supposed to not do anything about that guilt. I do think he recognizes that responsibility for Charlie dying falls at his feet. But he also doesn't adjust his own behavior (despite Dean outright saying he should) to stop trying to remove the Mark of Cain.

The difference between the two brothers makes sense, given canon --- Dean has always taken responsibility for things more consistently/rapidly/extensively than anyone else in his family, and this largely stems from a childhood of raising/protecting/covering for Sam... whereas, on the literal flip side, Sam/John usually put that responsibility (knowingly or not) onto Dean --- but it's definitely part of why I don't like Sam. It's not fully his fault --- again, largely a product of how they were raised --- but it drives me off of his character. (And Padalecki's acting sure doesn't help.)

Thank you so much for the ask! Hope you're well :)

[frazzledsoul]

So I spend a lot of time on the This Is Us subreddit and people there have the weirdest view towards Jack: they treat him like their own absentee father who can never make up for the sins of not being alive and is expected to take on everyone else's burdens (especially Nicky, who is seen as a blameless teddy bear who was completely incapable of making any decisions on his own whatsoever so despite all the alcoholism, rudeness, and manslaughter, is perfect in every way). They also repeatedly claim that Miguel is the superior husband, that Jack never loved Rebecca but only saw her as the mother of his kids, and that Jack would have abandoned Rebecca and would have not cared for her throughout her illness, but Miguel wouldn't, because he TRULY knows the meaning of family and Jack never did.

So I was grateful to see that the Miguel episode acknowledged Miguel's flaws: he was not devoted to his family in the way that Jack was, and this is pointed out: he makes half-hearted attempts to bond with his son, but his son refuses, so he doesn't have to try anymore (he doesn't really appear to care about his daughter at all): he sees his mother caring for her sister selflessly and doesn't appear to understand the concept: he returns home to Rebecca and says he regrets moving closer to his kids and that he only really was homesick for her despite spending so much time separated from his family. Then he pours himself into her care partly as a means to make up for the other things he failed at. When he is dying, he doesn't try to amend things with his kids: it's Kevin, who has learned the value of selflessness by becoming a father and a husband himself, who does that.

I don't think the way he neglected his kids and completely ignored them afterwards or his inability to understand sacrificing for one's family members can be ignored completely. I am glad the episode points these things out, even if fans ignore it and proclaim it's all the fault of his evil ex-wife. He finally did something good for being there for Rebecca in their old age. But the mistakes he made earlier mattered, and he does bear responsibility for how things turned out.

[crystal-moon-101]

I wanna hear your take on Benlie and/or Benkai. You don’t have to ship them, just say a few things you could have done to make them smoother and healthier, friendship or romance. You could even have both if you have an idea on a better, cleaner break up story.

Ok, so I’m a Benlie person, 100%, and while I don’t ship Ben and Kai, I definitely think they deserved to be handled better. So I have rewritten how those relationships, along with a few others of Ben’s love life, have gone, and I’ll share it here. Warning, this does get a bit long, and does have some violence at a certain point, but I hope you enjoy my take on it!

So the start of Ben and Julie’s relationship in Alien Force is mostly the same, though I did adjust it that they somewhat knew each other before hand, having seen each other in school, especially since Ben’s soccer practice took place at the same time and same kind of area as the girl’s tennis practice.  Ben asks her out, Ship appears and becomes her pet, Julie starts understanding the alien better, sees Ben have 14 moth children, the basic stuff from canon. However, my major changes start during season 3 of Alien Force, the part of the series that took quite the nose dive in terms of character arcs. I still have it that Ben and Julie start to have issues and argue, but in believable ways, and they still clearly love each other. The issues arise when Ben does start to get cocky a little, due to all the praise he’s getting from saving the galaxy from the High-Breed, and his accomplishment surrounding that are huge, since he hasn’t won something like that before. Again, doesn’t help that half the galaxy keeps praising him and treating him like a God, but Ben does still be a hero, and even starts to get anxieties since now he’s starting to deal with bigger issues, more people demanding for him to help their planets around the galaxy, and Ben wants to be that hero for them...but there is only so much he can do. He does love the admiration from everyone, feeling special and all that, but he does start to make him feel different, in and odd way...He’s struggle to connect with his human grounds now, due to constantly turning into aliens and spending time out in space, his relationship with earth just isn’t the same anymore. And even them, aliens around him treat him as something else too, like he’s not human or an alien, he’s something else, and not knowing what makes him nervous. To mask all of these fears, he uses his over-confident nature like a mask, and it does get pretty bad for a month or two until Gwen, Julie and Kevin make him see reason. Meanwhile, Julie is struggling in her own right after the High-Breed war. She was happy to have fought in it to protect her home and people, but after seeing a proper glimpse of the alien worlds outside of earth...she will admit that scares her. She didn’t go off world like when Kevin, Gwen and Ben did, mostly waiting for them on earth and did missions there with them, even lending them Ship when they needed it. While she didn’t judge Ben and was willing to live with idea of aliens after their first date, like adopting Ship, she still have a lot to process about there being alien life. It’s much harder on her than it was for Ben, because he learnt about it when he was young, his entire family knew about it and could support him through it, and even the Omnitrix provided better understandings for him. Julie...she didn’t have any of that. It was just her dad, Ship and her, and while Ship was a good start, he was still just one tiny piece of the outside world around her. She knew she’d have to accept it over time, now that she knew the truth, and especially when earth starts learning that truth too, but at times it felt like she wasn’t allowed to process. She doesn’t blame Ben for it, as he’s so use to it all by now, but there have been many moments where he seems to forget she is very early to this whole alien concept compared to him. She was afraid she couldn’t catch up, and even has moments where she didn’t want to take a step forward, afraid of what she might find. So she started joining less and less missions with Ben, Gwen and Kevin, and while she still hanged out with them, she tried not to get involved with their alien business. She will admit, maybe a part of her wished she didn’t know about alien life at times, to have a life back when things seemed more simple.

So these deep feelings from both Ben and Julie spark arguments, because both are unsure with themselves, thus unsure in relationships with others, especially each other, with Julie thinking she couldn’t keep up with Ben, and Ben thinking he couldn’t slow down for her. And it all eventually led to a point where things had to stop... And unlike Omniverse’s god awful handle of the break up, I instead had it like this. Julie is the one who starts the conversation, having called Ben over to her. She’s honest with him, saying that it’s just not working out, and that they should find different people that work for them. Ben does beg a little at first, saying he’ll try better, but Julie knows that right now they can’t be a happy couple and need space, and Ben eventually agrees, but it still hurts. It hurts more when Gwen and Kevin leave too, and Julie also goes on a tennis tournament in France, so Ben has to deal with the loneliness he feels for a while, even when Rook joins his side. Meanwhile, Julie meets Herve in France, who was taking photographs for sport magazines. The two talk and eventually hit it off, Julie somewhat clinging a little as Herve is very much the down to earth and normal human guy she thought she wanted, someone who wasn’t related to any alien business. She does miss Ben, a part of her not letting go, and while the two agreed to remain friends, they did drift a little over time. They would still voice chat, send some text and Ben would check up on her tournaments when he could, but both of their lives got rather busy and they drifted away for a couple of months, though still dearly missing each other. Ben takes his time to heal, still dealing with all the other problems he’s facing, especially the whole “Am I human, am I alien, am I something else?” and “How much of a hero am I without the watch?”. His friendship with Rook grows pretty well, and he settles somethings with Gwen and Kevin since they moved to university. So most relationships of his are going well, expect for romantic relationships...  He struggles to settle and commit to most of them, and mostly dates around for a bit, spending some time with people like Looma, Rook Shar, even Attea on one date. He does eventually settle with Ester for a bit, and the two seem like a good match. Both fun loving, eager for adventure, and enjoy each other’s company. And Ben did try and make it work, he really did, Ester was a great girl and he wanted the best for her but...again, it was hard for them to keep up with each other. Ester is a girl full of energy, and very much wants to do something 24/7, and while she doesn’t fault Ben, she will admit she does get lonely when he spends so much time off on missions she can’t join in, and the two break it off when Ben couldn’t be what she needed. But they are still close friends and hang out pretty often. Again, alone in his love life, Ben felt hopeless in it. Was he cursed to be single for the rest of his life? So when Kai came back into his life, his first proper crush he can remember, he will admit that maybe he jumped into things too quickly. There was no Kenny time traveling nonsense in this version, no fate tying to together, rather just two young teens jumping into a relationship neither ended up wanting. But they stuck with it for a while because they felt like they had to, despite the arguments and bickering. Both were scared to be alone, as Ben couldn’t lose another girlfriend, and Kai realized just how lonely her work made her feel. They didn’t hate each other, they just weren’t in love. It didn’t help that, since Julie returned to Bellwood with Herve, Ben felt jealous at Herve. Which annoyed him, because Herve was actually a really nice person, and gave Julie a lot of love. Really, it was more Ben angry at himself that he couldn’t provide the things Julie needed...And while Julie and Ben did talk and hang out from time to time, Ben was distance often, even when Julie reached out to him. It was just...seeing her so happy, living a normal life, Ben didn’t want to taint that with his presence.  It wasn’t until one fateful day that things started to turn around, though the start was pretty bad. It was another day, another fight with Vilgax, who was rampaging through the streets, clashing with Plumbers, Ben and Rook. Julie and Herve had been nearby when it started, and the two decided to help get civilians to safety, splitting up at one point to cover more ground. Julie ran into Rook and Ben, who tried to usher Julie away, but unfortunately Vilgax noticed her, and saw Ben’s panic of worry for Julie to run. It didn’t take long for Vilgax to remember who this young teenage girl was, and decided to use her as hostage against Ben. Seeing his arch nemesis using someone he secretly still loved as hostage, not to mention he had a pretty bad week before hand, Ben just...kind of snapped. He didn’t go easy on Vilgax for once, switching between multiple aliens rapidly to stomp Vilgax into the ground. (Side Note: I have the headcanon that, while Ben can do rapid transformation, if he does so many in a short amount of time, he does get a mild side affect of his emotions being amplified, due to his brain having tumbled around from the quick transformations.)   By the time the Plumbers and Rook arrived, the two city blocks had been trashed and Vilgax was burred into the road. Due to the side affect of multi  rapid transformations, Ben was protectively holding onto Julie, who had passed out from some injures from Vilgax (Nothing major, but the stress of it did make her lose conscious). They managed to pry Julie away, while Ben was taken away to calm down, needing to give his body and mind for a rest. Julie was taken to a Plumber hospital, and she woke up fairly soon with mild injures that wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to heal over the next few weeks. Many visited her, including Herve, her dad, Gwen and Kevin, along with Ship her stayed by her the entire time. It took a long while for Ben to show up, mostly because he was nervous and felt ashamed by how he acted, but Gwen gave him a good peep talk and convinced him to go.   It started off a little awkward, but simple, Ben checking how she was feeling, with her also making sure he was ok too. They catched up a bit, even laughing over some old memories, which eventually lead into a small discussion about their past relationship, both finally properly apologizing for how they acted, even clearly up a few things that were worried over, like Ben admitting that he had been avoiding Julie because he thought it was better for her, and not because he hated her or anything. Buttt, one thing lead to another and well...the two kissed in the heat of the moment, both going in for it, and for a few seconds it was bliss...until they both realized what they were doing, and understanding that one, Julie was still dating Herve, and second, Ben was still dating Kai. Flustered, Ben rushed out of there, with Julie panicking over what they did.

The two keep it a secret, not wanting people to know what happened between them, and when Julie got out of the hospital, they kind of awkwardly avoided each other, needing to think about things. They clearly still held feelings, but they were both dating other people and were scared to mess up with each other again. Cue them somehow almost always bumping into each other, like the gods themselves were trying to make them suffer, and their feelings becoming more and more obvious, but neither making a move of any kind. Ben confides in Kevin, Gwen and Rook, even admitting to his feelings and the kiss to them, and while they give him advice, they know it’s up to him and Julie to sort things out.

But Ben avoids it again, not ready and unsure in himself. He already messed up many relationships before hand, including with Julie, so what if it all went downhill again...And Julie questioned herself, she had been avoiding space and alien life for so long, thinking it would make her happy, but she starts to realize that no...it’s not making her happy, trying to deny something outside of her bubble just wasn’t working anymore, especially with her feelings towards Ben. However, after some long thinking, Ben decides to at least do one thing. So he organizes a get together with Kai at a cafe, needing to talk to her. The two have a sit down and Ben explains that this relationship isn’t working, and that they shouldn’t keep trying to make something that isn’t there to happen. Kai agrees, both feeling some stress loosen from their shoulders, and they still decide to be friends, feeling much more comfortable with a relationship like that, even sharing a nice hot chocolate together at the cafe. And so while Ben goes to deal with the other problem in his love life, Kai may or may not end up catching up with Ester in the process~ While Ben makes plans on what to do next, he and Rook are ended up being called over to a Plumber Prison base, to make plans to move Vilgax finally. Little did they know, Vilgax prepared for this. You see, a part of him already knew he’d be capture again, sent to this base to await movement, so the last time he was here, he built up some allies on the inside, and eventually the outside. He also knew Ben would show up, so he made a plan to make sure the Omnitrix wouldn’t get in the way. After how Ben stomped him into the streets before, Vilgax was looking for some nasty revenge. Not really kill Ben...but something more traumatic.  So when Ben and Rook show up, surprise surprise, Vilgax isn’t in his cell. While Rook talks to some of the guards, Ben searches Vilgax’s cell for clues, only for it to suddenly turn on, along with it’s defenses, including an electric shock that surprises Ben, and causes the watch to bug out, unable to be used. Rook check on Ben, but next thing anyone knows, alarms start blaring and almost all cells open, and prisoners start running while. Since Ben’s watch is down, and many people here hate him, Rook wants to keep him safe and tries to escort off the base. But Ben being Ben, he wanted to help, and rushed off to try and help some injured guards here and there, with Rook following. However, some prisoners, who were secretly working under Vilgax, skillfully guide Rook and Ben away from each other, and eventually trap Ben in a lone room, but not by himself. There, Vilgax was waiting for him, and since Ben didn’t have the watch to help, he was screwed. Vilgax knocked him around a few times, though being careful enough to not instantly kill Ben with his strength, before deciding finally to make the hero suffer. (Warning here for those who are squeamish) He does so but taking the tip of one of his claws, and dragging it down Ben’s arms, damaging his nerves. He would have done more, if not for Rook, the guards and some Plumber bursting in and chasing him off, saving Ben before he could bleed out, but the boy did pass out and wouldn’t wake up for a long while. People were, of course, scared...particularly Ben’s friends and family, who visited him everyday, mostly Max and surprisingly Azmuth, who also fixed the watch to help in Ben’s recovery. Gwen and Kevin ended up being the ones to inform Julie what happened, when she noticed Ben wasn’t around, and hearing that Ben almost died...it scared Julie. She didn’t want to lose him, of course, but also the idea that he could have died while they still had issues to fix...she didn’t want it to end like that, for things to be so messy and unclear. So when Herve saw her look down and upset, and getting her to explain what happened to Ben, the two talked. Herve admits that for a while he knew Julie still had feelings for Ben, and could tell that things weren’t so cut and dry between them, especially when he got to met Ben himself. He also admits that maybe Julie and Herve are, in a way, maybe a little too perfect for each other. Their relationship is stagnant at times, with not a lot of growth because never healthy challenges the other. So with no hard feelings whatsoever, Herve says that if Julie wants too, the two can break up but still remain friends, and Julie thanks him, agreeing too and even asking that she hopes he can still be her photographer. And for the next few weeks, Julie visits Ben with some of the others from time to time, hoping he’ll be ok so they can talk... Eventually, Ben wakes up, Azmuth having been there when he did so, and helps to catch the young boy up on what happened. Ben notices that, while his arms have been healing finely enough, his nerves are a little slow in the process, having not fully recovered, shown by him unable to keep his arms and hands steady, constantly shaking when moving them. It scares him, even when Azmuth reassures him that they’ll heal thanks to the watch...Ben just can’t help but feel like if they don’t heal, then he may have to give up the hero business in the end, even if that’s just his fears playing tricks on him.  So during his recovery, people come visit him, making sure he’s ok. Until eventually, Julie shows up, wanting to make sure he’s ok, and knowing they had to talk. They couldn’t keep putting it off, especially after something like this, and Ben finally agrees to stop running and to finally clear things out. They discuss a little more about their past relationship, about their insecurities during it, and where they go from here, both mentioning they’ve broken up with Herve and Kai.  They talk some more, relaxing in each other’s company, and admit to their feelings, both deep down knowing they want to give it another go. And since they’ve had time apart, learnt from new experiences, they decide that maybe they can try, taking it slow and see where it will go. And the two kiss, and for once in a very long time...it feels right. As said, they take things slow, and after everything that happened in the past few years, things actually go well for them. There are, of course, hiccups there and here, but they’re matured enough to know how to talk things through, and solve problems together.  Ben does start to recover more and leave the hospital, and while he nerves aren’t fully healed by them, they will eventually. And while the two go one small dates during his healing, catching up and being blissfully happy with each other, they end up bumping into Kai and Ester, who appear to also be dating now. One thing led to another and the four end up going on double dates fairly often, having fun times together, Ben 100% supporting his two exs dating, seeing how happy they are. Julie, Ester and Kai even like to share cheesy stories of when Ben was their boyfriend, and he loves to play alone with it too.   And that, is my take on Ben and Julie’s relationship! 💚💗

[detectiveupstead]

What A Guy [Upstead One Shot]

Summary: Jay pays Hailey a visit when he hears about her break up with Adam. Because he’s a good partner.

“Man, this week felt like it dragged,” Adam sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he slid into the booth across from Jay.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jay said, leaning back in the booth, hands wrapped around the beer bottle as he played with the label. Molly’s was somewhat busy that night, given the weekend was coming up. Music was playing and he could see Severide and Casey playing darts on the other side.

Kevin, who swallowed his sip of beer, settled the bottle back down and let out a breath of his own. “Well, at least we got Shaw. And Gina got her meds,” he said, looking towards the brighter side of things.

Jay flicked his eyebrows up, nodding in agreement. They’d just wrapped up the case the day before, and today had been spent finishing up any of the paperwork that needed to be filed. They all agreed it had been a bit of a difficult case, given that Gina and her husband Bob only wanted her to live and were wrapped up in Shaw’s schemes. It was rough, to say the least, to see how far a man would go for someone he loved. But Jay couldn’t fault Bob for that.

“Gotta tell you guys—after I down a few beers, I can’t wait to knock out,” Adam said with a shake of his head. Jay was inclined to agree with him.

“’Course you can’t,” Kevin said, shooting his friend a teasing look, eyebrows raised and smile coy. “You’ve got Upton right next to you.”

Jay hoped neither of them noticed the way his grip tightened on his beer bottle, feeling something clench in his chest as he took a long sip. He’d been doing a good job in not thinking about his partner and Adam together—and an even better job in not considering why he felt so uncomfortable about it.

Across from him, he noticed the way Adam’s expression faltered, leaning back. “Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue, avoiding eye contact with either of his friends. “Yeah, no, Hailey and I—we’re over.”

A startled expression crossed over Jay’s face at Adam’s news, blinking at him in incredulity, unsure if he’d heard him right. But judging by Kevin’s bewildered expression, Jay knew he’d heard Adam right. They’d ended things? When? And why hadn’t Hailey said anything?

He thought of how she hadn’t told him she and Adam were together until Jay walked in on them arguing, so he wasn’t too surprised that she didn’t tell him the relationship was over. Despite his disappointment.

“Oh, shit, bro, I’m sorry to hear that,” Kevin said with a frown. He patted Adam’s shoulder as he asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

Adam’s lips quirked to the side. “Nah, it’s fine.”

Unable to help his curiosity, yet maintaining sensitivity for his friend, Jay asked, “What happened?”

“We just. . .” Adam shrugged, lips puckering thoughtfully for a moment. “We didn’t mesh well, y’know? Relationship wise.” He let out a breath, offering a small smile. “It wasn’t meant to become anything more and I think we both realized that in the end. So we, uh, broke it off last night.”

Last night?

Jay remembered Hailey’s words, remembered how she’d told him that she hadn’t expected anything to truly come from her and Adam getting together. How it had taken her off guard. He wondered if this breakup took her off guard, too. Wondered if he should be there for her.

She was his partner. He wanted to be there for her.

Jay frowned, shaking his head slightly at Adam. “I’m sorry, man,” he said genuinely, echoing Kevin’s words.

He stayed at Molly’s for another forty-five minutes before calling it a night. He bid Adam and Kevin goodnight and as he walked over to his truck, he shot Hailey a text.

Hey, you awake?

She responded quickly. Yeah, what’s up? Everything good?

Jay opened the door of his truck but didn’t get in as he texted her. Mind if I come over?

He bit his lip, watching as the three dots appeared in the lower left-hand corner. Yeah, sure thing.

A quick smile lifted at Jay’s lips as he hopped into the truck, letting out a breath as the engine roared to life. The drive to Hailey’s place was quick, consisting of Jay tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel and running his thoughts through his mind, wondering what, exactly, he was going to say to Hailey. Nothing came up, but that didn’t stop him from pulling up in front of her house.

Jay pocketed his keys as he approached the door, ringing the doorbell as he let out a breath. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, telling himself he had no reason to be nervous. He was just checking in on his partner. He was allowed to do that, wasn’t he?

Unless he was overstepping. Unless this wasn’t something Hailey wanted to talk about and he was just going to make her uncomfortable.

He could feel himself beginning to panic at the idea of him shoving his nose in business that wasn’t his. But before he could back off, the door swung open, and there stood Hailey. She was in her leggings and an oversized Chicago Bears sweatshirt, looking all kinds of comfortable and homey, blonde tresses falling over her shoulders. Pretty, as always.

“Hey,” she greeted with a smile that hinted at her dimples, stepping to the side to let him in. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jay answered as he stepped into the warmth of her home, hands still shoved in the pockets of his jacket as he turned to face her. He offered a smile. “Can’t a guy drop by to chat with his partner?”

Hailey raised her eyebrows, though a smile played on her mouth. “At eleven at night? Maybe,” she hummed as they walked into the kitchen. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she asked, “Scotch?”

One drink wouldn’t hurt—it’d ease his nerves far easier than the beer ever could. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He watched as Hailey poured them two glasses, his gaze trained on her face. She didn’t look. . . Heartbroken. Not that Hailey ever wore her emotions so clearly on her face on a regular basis. But Jay liked to think he was starting to read her expressions the longer they were partnered together. And right now, she was guarded. As if she knew exactly why he was there and was doing her best in keeping herself in check. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do that—not with him.

As she slid the glass over to him, Hailey raised her eyebrows. “Seriously, though—to what do I owe this pleasure?”

They stood at the counter, Jay bracing himself with one hand against it and the other wrapped around his glass. Meeting her blue eyes, Jay started cautiously, “I was at Molly’s with Adam, and. . .”

Understanding flickered across her features as she nodded. “And he told you we ended things.”

Jay pressed his lips together. “He did.” Hailey nodded again, dropping her gaze to her glass, tapping her nails against it. Jay ducked his head, trying to meet her eyes as he said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Hailey let out a short, breathless chuckle as she pushed herself away from the counter. She shot him a quick smile. “I’m fine, Jay,” she told him, turning to walk towards the living room with her glass.

He gave her a flat look, even though she couldn’t see it, as he followed her. “Yeah, that was convincing,” he said after taking a sip of the Scotch. Hailey sat down on the couch and Jay joined her, putting his glass down on the coffee table. Resting his arms on his knees, Jay looked at Hailey, who sat to his right. “Look, Hails—I know it probably sounds a bit hypocritical coming from me, but our little talks over drinks don’t just have to be about work, you know? If there’s ever anything on your mind, you know I’m more than willing to listen.”

She was always willing to listen to him, to get him to talk if there was anything on his mind. He didn’t often cash that in, but he did at times, and Jay could admit after talking to Hailey, he always felt better. Especially when they got together after a bad case and needed to vent. Talking to Hailey. . . It always helped. She never judged him, always listened. And they worked—always.

“I know, Jay,” Hailey said, her voice quiet yet the gratitude obvious. She looked down at her hands between her knees, blonde hair curtaining her profile. Hailey was silent for a few moments and Jay wondered if she was going to let him in. If not, he was fine to sit in silence with her. Her company was always a comfort, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

“It wasn’t meant to last,” she finally said, catching Jay’s attention. “We got together without expecting much, y’know? I mean, we work well together but just. . . Professionally, I guess.” Hailey let out a laugh, then, but it was fake and didn’t sound right coming from her. “But I’m not heartbroken or anything. I mean, it sucks, but it’ll be fine.” When she smiled this time, Jay saw the sincerity in it, feeling something tighten in his chest at it being directed towards him. “No big deal—you didn’t have to check on me.”

Jay knew Hailey kept a lot to herself; he was the same way, but that’s why they worked—they were able to pull each out. They were able to find that balance, knowing when to push and when to give space. So, Jay shot Hailey a flat look, one that told her what exactly he thought of not checking on her. “You’re my partner.” Then, jokingly he added, “It’s in the job description.”

Hailey rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered, the fondness that prompted her dimples easing something in Jay’s chest. “What, having my back on the field and when I’m going through a break-up?”

Jay flashed her a grin, quick yet charming. “Absolutely.”

She snorted, reaching for her glass, bringing it up to her lips right after muttering fondly, “What a guy.”

He tipped his glass towards her before sipping it as well, feeling his smile grow. Her guy. He was her guy, and Jay could declare that unabashedly and proudly as he leaned back on the couch, comfortable in her presence as Hailey settled back as well. And so they sat together in silence, drinking their Scotch and reveling in each other’s company.

When Jay glanced over her, he’d see the small smile playing at her lips, any lingering tension having long since gone. As if his company was enough to put her at ease, make her forget anything weighing her down. He knew that’s how it felt for him when she was with him. He loved knowing it was mutual.

And so he sat with his partner in the quiet of her living room, giving her his company for as long as she wanted it, not knowing that if Hailey had it her way, she’d never let him leave.

[mae-gi-writes]

Behind The Crown (Part Two) | Kevin Moon Imagine (The Boyz)

Prince Kevin Moon x Second-In-Command Reader. A Royal Kingdom AU.

Genre: fluff, royal kingdom au, angst

Words: 3K

Part One | Part Two

-------

The sun is shining a little too bright the next day as Kevin peels his eyelids open. For a minute, he allows himself to mull over the peaceful chirping of birds outside, the gentle lull of waves in the distance crashing against the cliff's edge. 

And then, last night rushes back to him like a tidal wave.

He'd held her and kissed her, kissed her till she was nothing but a gasping mess against his lips, until her legs had melted into jelly and his hands had found a way around her waist to hold her up and pressed against his torso. 

"Kevin," she had breathed, and that had only incited him to dip his head down and kiss her once more, addicted to the taste of her. She was pure art that he held against himself and Kevin was certain there was nothing more that he wanted if she was in his arms like this forever. 

"Wait--" she'd turned her head then, causing his mouth to kiss her jaw instead, "this--this isn't right. We shouldn't--" 

"Shouldn't what?" He murmured breathlessly as his lips trailed up her cheekbone, "I'm prince of Meridia, I can do whatever I want." 

Hands on his chest, she pushed him slightly so that she could look into his eyes, and that had only caused him to gaze down in naked adoration. Desire swam in the pits of his stomach, rushed through his veins like a drug that left him light-headed.  

"Don't," her voice was rough, "don't look at me like that."

Kevin gazed at her. His lips tilted up in the tiniest of smiles.

"Run away with me," he answered.

"What?" She pulled away from him, "how is that going to solve anything?" 

"I've listened to my parents all my life, carried out my duties without protest, and I'm so sick and tired of people telling me what to do," he said as his tone hardened slightly, emotion clogging up the back of his throat, "this is my life, I want to be happy with someone I love, someone I care about."

He had always been so open with Y/N, vulnerable enough to let her into his deepest fears and allowed her to treat his wounds like an injured animal. But this, this felt different. A good kind of different. The chemistry buzzing between their bodies was something he couldn't deny, and when he searched her face for any indication, he found the answer he was looking for. 

"What about your parents?" She asked softly, "what about everything that you'd been working so hard for?" 

He hesitated slightly before responding, "I...I don't know." 

They had parted ways without a full conclusion to their discussion, but not without the prince tugging her over once more to kiss her goodnight until she had blushed straight to her toes, a spluttering mess against him as he watched her stumble her way back to her chambers.

Kevin lets out a dreamy sigh at the thought. He knows what he has to do. He also knows that the end result isn't going to be pretty. His parents have so much faith in his leadership, have trained him and built him to be the next king ruling over the land of Meridia. But what good does leadership bring, if he can’t lead with the one he wants at his side? 

“Kevin?” The queen gives him a quizzical look as she peers out of the royal chambers, having heard his knock, “what are you doing up so bright and early?” 

“I need to talk to you,” he says, and there must be something in his tone that makes her features grow concerned, before she pulls the door open a little wider for him to step through.

Inside, the King is busy having breakfast in bed, face lighting up instantly at his son’s appearance, “Kevin! What a wonderful surprise! You’re usually up by noon, at the very least.” 

“Father,” the prince bows, a sign of respect and courtesy, with a hand crossed over his heart. He straightens up and continues, “there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” 

“Good timing, because there’s something I’d like to give you.” 

Now is really not the time to be bearing gifts, is what Kevin’s mind is urging him to say. But he finds that the words die halfway up his throat when his father pulls out a black box tied with a royal blue bow, the color of Meridia’s flag itself, from his cupboard. 

“That’s all yours,” the King extends it out to him, and he has no choice but to take it despite the multitudes of protests screaming through his subconscious. 

“What--” Kevin swallows thickly, “what is it?” 

The box feels heavy and warm in his arms, a little too warm. Or maybe it’s just him, the uncomfortable prickle at the back of his neck urging him to tell the truth. 

“It’s a wedding gift,” the King motions towards the said box, “open it. Go on.” 

Wordlessly, the prince slides the bow off before gently peeling back the top cover. A gasp slips out of his mouth when he comes face to face with the crown-- or more precisely, the King’s crown. 

His head shoots back up, eyes wide with alarm, “you--I can’t--I can’t take that.” “Sure you can,” the King says jovially, “you’re going to be King of Meridia soon. People will look up to you, respect you for that.” 

“But--Father--” Kevin takes a deep breath, “there’s something I want to tell you--” 

“And everyone has been waiting for this moment. Just wait till they see you! They’re going to be so amazed--” “But father I--” 

“I can already imagine your crowning. It’s going to be a beautiful spectacle. People from all over the country are coming to see you--” 

“Darling, dear,” the Queen’s voice suddenly cut halfway through her husband’s speech to halt his ramblings. She gazed at Kevin, prompting him to speak up with a soft open smile on her face. 

And that smile breaks Kevin’s heart, for he knows that once the words were said, it would change their world -- their relationship -- forever. Would rock that safe harbour and turn it into a storm. 

So Kevin only dips his head down and bit his lip. His eyes flickered up to his parents, saw them waiting with mirroring grins, and only let out a shaky exhale. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles out and averts his gaze instead, “nothing at all.” 

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

The moment Kevin opens the door to let her in, Y/N knows that something is off.

“What?” she asks the moment she steps foot into his bedroom. If he thinks that she doesn’t notice the way his shoulders bunch up or the fact that he’s wound so tight she can practically see all the tension holding his body together, then he’s a bigger idiot that she thinks him to be. 

Her fingers are still thrumming with the aftermath of yesterday’s events. But she shakes her head, attempting to dissuade her thoughts from straying in places where they are not meant to go. 

“Kevin,” she says after a long bout of silence, not really enjoying the fact that 1) he hasn’t looked at her once since she got here and 2) he hasn’t said anything when usually, Kevin can’t shut himself up. When she speaks up next, there is a tinge of concern breaking through her soprano, “what is it? What’s wrong?” 

A pause. Then, he turns around like a culprit, eyes cast onto the ground as though he’s done something shameful, something worth being punished for. 

Air catches in the back of her throat, “tell me.” 

“I--” biting down onto his lower lip and shaking his head, he bristles, “I--I’m sorry.” 

Y/N frowns. Sorry? For what? For kissing her yesterday? For declaring the fact that maybe there’s something more than friendship between them? For having made a mistake he now regrets? 

“Look, I tried talking to my father about--” he gestures between himself and her, “about us, about what happened. And how I feel.” 

Y/N stays quiet. Her stomach clenches. 

“I can’t--” Kevin’s alto his shaky, practically trembling with emotion while he shakes his head, “I can’t tell them, Y/N. It--It would break their heart.” 

She’s expecting it. So she doesn’t know why it feels like someone has just gutted her, grabbed her by the insides and pulled out the entire contents of her stomach to leave her hanging and filled with a hole. 

Swallowing thickly and allowing the words to digest, Y/N just nods.

“Please,” Kevin murmurs roughly, “please say something.” 

What does he want her to say exactly? It’s not like she has any choice in the matter. She opens her mouth, closes it when there’s nothing she finds worth saying. Taking a deep, shaky breath and forcing her expression to be wiped blank, she finally murmurs out: 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, your highness.” 

“Y/N, please don’t do this--” 

But she’s already swivelling around and walking out of his room before her legs give out and before her heart cracks in two, feeling like a dead weight she’s carrying lodged inside her chest. She can still hear Kevin’s protests behind her, shouting at her to come back, but it’s not until she hears his running footsteps on the marble floor that she takes off into a sprint, running blindly and as far away as possible as he can possibly be, until she stumbles out through the stables and keels over to catch her breath. 

Tears brim through her eyes like a film blurring the ground before her, and as a soft sob falls from her lips, her head bows in a desperate attempt to regain some of her sanity. She hadn’t known this would be so hard, hadn’t known that there is such pain gripping her heart with icy fingertips before practically wrenching it out of her chest. It leaves her bare, it leaves her vulnerable, and she can’t help but curl her arms over her middle, a pathetic move of self-defense as her knees fall to the ground. 

It hurts. The tears fall silently, a steady trail cascading down her cheeks. It hurts like she’s never ever been hurt before. She loves him, always did. And yesterday night had proved that he’d returned her feelings.

And now? Now it’s even worse, because she knows there’s something great that she’s lost. 

But she should’ve seen this coming. It’s her fault, after all, for believing that maybe her ending would’ve been bathed in happiness. She guesses that it is the price to pay for having fallen in love with a prince, of all people. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes until she can finally lift herself to her feet. Taking another shaky breath and allowing her chest to rattle with the aftermath of the pain, she swivels around and strides back into the castle.

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

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” 

The King looks up from his daily scroll of news transcribed by his attendants, a list of duties to be completed folded in his lap, and catches sight of Kevin striding into the hallway reeking with agitation. 

“Don’t think I saw her around,” the King glances up at his attendant, who only shrugs in response, “maybe she’s training. She usually is whenever she’s off duty.” 

“She wasn’t present at all yesterday, she should’ve been around,” Kevin all but stomps his foot. He feels like a child who hasn’t gotten what he’s wanted, but he doesn’t care. Not right now. The only thing he wants to do is try to talk it out with Y/N. His heart is messy enough as it is, torn between his parents’ expectations and the girl whom he cares for deeply. It doesn’t help matters that he hasn’t been able to see nor hide or hair of Y/N from her escapade yesterday morning. 

“Your highness!” 

Kevin’s head quickly whips back to see one of the soldiers running in with a paper in hand. He hands it over, breathless, as the prince’s eyes scan over its contents. 

“What?” his jaw falls slack in surprise. He turns to the soldier, who automatically bows, “where did you get this?” 

This isn’t happening, his mind chants, no no no, she promised, she promised--

“She gave it to me herself, your highness,” the soldier stuttered with averted eyes, “said that she didn’t want to work for the Kingdom of Meridia anymore, then handed me her resignation--” 

“You’re lying!” Kevin blurts out in a yell, heart skipping in panic. 

“I--I swear I’m not. She--She even signed it.” 

Indeed, as the prince scans to the bottom, he notices her initials. Anger blossoms through his stomach and without hesitation, he crumples the paper into a ball and throws it to the ground, “where is she?!” he hollered, “I want her brought here, this instant! Now!” 

“B--But your majesty, she’s gone back. It’s too late now, she’s already heading to--” 

But Kevin isn’t listening, already walking away with rapid footsteps and all too wrapped up in his own world of desperate pain that he almost misses his father’s words booming from behind him, “Kevin! Where are you going?!” 

That causes him to halt by the doorway, one hand on the smooth Victorian column. He glances back through his curly bangs, sets his gaze upon his father’s for a full minute. 

And proceeds to dash out before anyone can stop him. 

-----------

“It’s so nice to have you back Y/N,” Jacob bustles around her like a mother hen as he sets the hearty potato and beef stew freshly made from this morning. Y/N forces her lips into a smile but only manages to pull up a grimace, which her brother doesn’t fail to notice as he sits down opposite her. 

Jacob’s place had been the only solution to her after she’d calmed down enough to stop beating herself up about how she isn’t a royal and will never be. Of course, he’d welcomed her with open arms and a bright smile, so bright that it had almost wiped out any negative feelings rolling through her. Almost.

However, as much as he loves seeing his sister present and in the flesh -- they always joked that one day she’ll come back to him with one less leg since she’s always been too brave for her own good -- it is clear from her countenance that there’s something more bothering her, other than her pathetic excuse that she apparently ‘missed’ him. 

Y/N’s life had always revolved around castle walls. She’s never really been homesick. 

“Tell me,” Jacob gazes at her now, eyes filled with understanding when hers decide to concentrate on the rice bowl before her. There are blue shadows imprinted underneath her eyes and though she has spent the entire day acting cheerful and somewhat carefree as she usually is, he hasn’t failed to notice the puffiness of her eyelids or how her face gets shadowed in sadness whenever she thinks he’s not paying attention. 

“Y/N,” Jacob prompts, chopsticks tapping his bowl to get her attention, “tell me. You don’t drop by for anything. So there must be something.”

Her lips pressed together. For a moment, only silence reigns. 

A soft exhale escapes her mouth, before she says in a shaky soprano, “I kissed the Prince.” 

“You what?!” Jacob’s eyes go as wide as saucers. He can’t stop himself from gawking at her. 

“I--” she blinks at the tears now threatening to consume her once more, “I kissed the Prince. I kissed Kevin. And I--I--” 

Her eyes fly up to lock on her brother’s own maroon orbs through her film of tears, “I love him,” she chokes. 

Silence reigns over the room as she waits, eyes lowered towards her plate, for her brother to berate her with facts and his judgment about how she could even do such a thing or even get involved in a situation that she knew would end up with complications. 

But Jacob doesn't say anything. She peeks up at him through her curtain of parted hair, surprised when all she finds is a kind of delicate sympathy glimmering across his face. 

"So did you just leave? Without telling him?" Jacob asks softly.

She nods, slightly guilty. It sounds bad when he puts it that way, so she says, "I resigned yesterday--"

Knock knock knock.

The two freeze up in their seats, ears perking up in alert at the intrusion. 

Then, a muffled voice echoes through the door, a voice that causes Y/N's eyes to snap up towards the nature of the sound.

"Excuse me? This is Prince Kevin, from Meridia. Sorry to disturb you. Uhm  I've heard that you are Y/N's brother. Is Y/N here?" 

She blinks, meets Jacob's eyes who are just as wide as hers. 

She wastes no time in diving under the table, much to her brother's surprised yelp. 

"What are you doing?!" He hisses, head swivelling from her crouched figure to Kevin's figure behind the door.

"What does it look like I'm doing?!" Y/N scowls, "I'm hiding!"

"Well, he's obviously asking for you--"

"If he asks, I'm not here. I never visited you."

"But--"

"Just go!"

Jacob lets out a heavy sigh, before he reluctantly slides off his stool and heads to open the door. 

"Hi," there is sweat glistening off the Prince's face when their eyes meet, his eyes already flying over Jacob's shoulder in search of his second in command, "have you seen--"

"She's not here," Jacob hurriedly interrupts.

"Please," Kevin's alto cracks slightly, "I just want to talk to her. Please."

“I told you she’s not here.” 

“I saw her horse. I know it’s hers, please. I know she’s here.” 

It’s useless, Y/N thinks to herself while squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stop her heart from running a thousand miles an hour at the tone of desperation clinging to Kevin’s alto and making her heart tug in all sorts of wrong directions. 

“Please,” Kevin murmurs. 

That does it, causing her to wrench her body out of the cramped table space before she storms over to him, anger slowly simmering in the pits of her stomach. 

How dare he show up here after telling her that he wasn’t going to sacrifice his reputation because of what he wanted in life? How dare does he show up here, unannounced, and expect that she’ll be okay with the whole ordeal. As if watching him dance around with someone else in his arms isn’t bad enough! 

“What?” She almost barks out from behind Jacob. The latter jumps back to let her march through, obviously not new to her temper tantrums, and Kevin stumbles back impulsively, flinching when he catches sight of her scowl. 

“Hey,” the prince of Meridia’s voice is soft. 

“What do you want Kevin?” Y/N doesn’t even try hiding her exasperation, knuckles clamped down so hard onto the doorway that she feels the wood chips biting into her fingers. 

He takes a moment too long to answer. 

“Why did you leave?” 

Y/N is too focused on trying to find a coherent answer to notice that Jacob has gently let himself out of the back door. 

“Why did you leave, Y/N?” Kevin repeats. 

“Did you expect me to stay?”

Guilt swims through his eyes, "you could’ve told me--”

“Told you what exactly? That I didn’t want to see you live your life with another woman after what happened between us? Told you that my heart hurts every time I hear the word ‘wedding’ and ‘princess Delia’?” 

She knows that each word sprouting from her mouth is a dagger aimed straight for his heart. But at that particular moment, she really doesn’t care whether he’s hurt or not. She wants to hurt him, wants him to feel the pain she feels.

For once, she wants him to know how it feels to be in her shoes.

Silence drags out between the two individuals, each staring at each other and Y/N practically rendered breathless from her small outburst. There’s so much going on in his face, so many emotions flittig through his eyes but she’d rather not see them. Instead, she clamps her gaze down onto his soaked-through white silk shirt and absentmindedly wonders why in the world would he wear one of his best attires to head to the village. 

Not that she cares. She doesn’t care. At all. She doesn’t care what happens to him, doesn’t care whether he gets married off or not. But she’s not going to stick around to tolerate it. She can’t. It’ll break her heart. 

A hand comes up to grasp her chin softly, “look at me, Y/N.”

Despite her mind sending out alarms of protest, her body reacts on its own and her eyes slowly drag upwards. What she sees in Kevin’s mahogany pools almost makes her gasp, for they are filled with such tenderness, a fragility mixed with pained guilt, that her chest tightens uncomfortably. 

“The wedding is called off.” 

She blinks. Frowns. Silence. 

Then: “what?” 

Kevin’s lips curl slightly upwards, “I told them to call off the wedding.” 

She can feel something lodged in the back of her throat, “What do--What do you mean?” she pauses, “I don’t...understand.”

"I don't want to marry Delia, I don't want to be King of Meridia if that means losing you Y/N," he tugs her close with his other hand wrapping around her waist then, so that she stumbles into his chest, "all these things, they're not worth it. Not if--" he takes a shaky breath, "not if you're not mine."

Her heart practically soars through her chest, his words totally throwing her off track and causing her jaw to fall open and gape at him as though he just grew a second pair of eyes. 

Kevin only chuckles and brushes his knuckles over her cheekbone, "please say something."

"I--What do you want me to say? What did your parents say? What--No, you can't resign Kevin. You can't do that--"

"My parents have nothing to do with whom I chose to spend the rest of my life with," he cuts her off with a determined glint in his eyes, "I told them that if I'm to rule over Meridia, then I get to choose who the hell I want to marry. And that's not Delia," their eyes lock onto each other, "it never was Delia."

It is relief that Y/N feels first, blossoming through her chest as hope lights up a fire within her. Blood rushes to her face, not knowing how to reply to his sudden confession when she hasn't even been expecting him in the first place. 

"So," Kevin exhales a breath, closes his eyes for a brief moment, before opening them again with newfound determination, "will you? Be mine?" 

"I--" her brain feels like scrambled eggs. The agreement is at the tip of her tongue, it's just right there. And yet she can't find the strength, nor the courage, to utter them out loud. 

Because she's scared. She's scared that this might change everything, because it will.

‘Are you sure about this?’ She murmurs.

He nods firmly, determination glinting in his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath and letting it seep through her teeth with her next exhale, Y/N finally dips her head down into a single nod. 

‘okay,’ her voice shakes with emotion, ‘okay.’ 

A sigh so loud and filled with relief shudders throughout Kevin’s entire body and he all but collapses against her. 

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you,’ his breath washes against her ear at his murmur, ‘I promise.’ 

And before she opens her mouth to say anything else, the prince of Meridia has already swooped in to catch her lips in a firm, passionate kiss. A kiss filled with all the promises he agreed to kiss, a kiss that rendered her weak at the knees and made her a gasping mess, hands slipping up his neck as the man tilted his head to kiss her a little deeper, a little longer. 

When they both part for air, Kevin lets out the softest of sighs while pressing his forehead against hers. 

“I’m no princess,” Y/N says through a choked up murmur, her eyes finding the warmth emanating from his own in shades of golden warm hues making it impossible for her not to melt right into his embrace.

“I know,” Kevin’s nose bumps against hers, “and that’s exactly why I love you.” 

[kevindayscrown]

Why Kevin Day is the most in-depth character in the All For the Game series

An essay by a Kevin stan, so you know it's at least 70% biased

Hello, hello everyone, welcome to another session of me, brainwashing you about the amazingness of Kevin Day. In this short essay, I'll discuss how our number Queen asshole striker is, in fact, not just a whiney bitch, but one of the most key characters in the AFTG series. I'll also discuss how Nora pretty much did him dirty and how much I appreciate the fandom for doing him better.

I've decided that it will be much easier to take things chronologically, so I can delve deeper into what makes Kevin the character whose stans won't shut up about.

Unlike the rest of the characters in the series, Kevin started off in a somewhat stable family condition. He was brought up by his mother, Kayleigh, but still probably had to live with the title 'Son of Exy' from the moment he was born. We've all witnessed what being on the spotlight from a young age has done to child stars. Kevin, upon growing up, would start feeling the burden of a whole legacy created by his mother. Because Exy, despite being a bastard sport, has a large fanbase around the US, and possibly further - since it's mentioned that it's also an Olympic sport.

It wouldn't be a surprise that Kevin more than likely looked up to his mother and wanted to play Exy for her. Suddenly though, Keyleigh died in a car accident (if it was even a car accident; knowing the Moriyamas, it could had been done on purpose) and left Kevin in the care of Tetsuji Moriyama, the head of one of the yakuza's branches, and his now adoptive brother Riko.

Let's be honest, both of them were just kids. They only had each other, so it was really easy to get attached. Kevin has lost his mother at this point and Tetsuji is not exactly a proper father figure, so Kevin had to cling on Riko. Despite us seeing him in the main timeline being an asshole who snaps at everyone, his willingness to submit into the position of 'number 2' even if he's better than Riko, shows how much he depends emotionally on people. Riko and Kevin had to meet certain expectations, had fans from a very young age, and Neil even mentions that he literally witnessed Kevin grow up from media outlets and coverages. Kevin had to stick close to the only other person who's going through the same thing.

As a result, it was easy for Kevin to focus on what he's taught to believe; he should aim for the stars, he should be good, great, but never the best. Because Riko is the best. Kevin accepts that.

I hate how people call him a spineless coward just because someone mentions it once in the book. Kevin isn't like Neil. Neil was given a chance to escape. Kevin could never escape Evermore. Even if he did consider it his home, he was still abused on a daily basis. Riko mentions in Raven King, when he's about to torture Neil, that Neil is basically in the same position as Kevin once had been:

People forget that, Kevin probably had to live through what Neil did ever since Riko turned into his fucked up self. Which literally means years of physical and mental abuse, with no hope of escape but the bright future he had ahead of him. So what did Kevin do? He focused on playing.

Stop making Kevin all about being an Exy freak or an alcoholic. Kevin was so obsessed with Exy because it's the only thing he has ever known. He probably couldn't even drink before he escaped Evermore.

Imagine being torn between loving and clinging on the boy you once called brother because it's the only family you've known, and being hurt by him, again and again at a later age, having him shatter all you think you are good at. Riko didn't just break Kevin's hand. He almost took away from him all he thought he had left, and possibly the only way Kevin had of feeling close to his mother.

Kevin loses all he's ever known, and he blames himself for it at first because he thinks it's his fault that he even dared to show he could be better than Riko. He's in pieces and the only thing he does is to cling yet on another person. Aka Andrew. And somehow like this, we come back to the point about Kevin not only being far from an emotionless asshole, but actually being the most emotionally attached character in the series.

Entering the timeline of the books, Kevin appears as the epitome of a narcissistic asshole. It's fair for someone (as a reader) to not like him at first, when we don't know all that much about him. But as the story unravels, a clear distinction is made:

Kevin is not a narcissist. He's egocentric.

Kevin knows and truly believes he's the center of attention. Because, admittedly, he is. The books could had easily had Kevin as the protagonist. Like mentioned before, being raised on the spotlight, has had a tremendous impact on how he sees himself. He's obsessed with what image he's presenting to the public. I don't think he said 'being heterosexual is easier' without a reason. Kevin has led a life full of suppression. He can flash a 'press smile' for the cameras, he can snap and be cold at the Foxes, when in reality, he's suffering from severe PTSD, with panic attacks that he's handling in the worst way possible:

Alcohol. Why? Because the Foxes are all assholes and hypocrites. Don't get me wrong, I love them. But the fact that they just ignored Kevin everytime he had a panic attack and simply thrusted a bottle of vodka his way and called it a day? Inexcusable. Kevin needed a lot more than that.

Oh jeez, I wonder why he didn't tell Wymack he was his father all along.

If I see another person saying that Kevin was an ass for not telling Wymack straight up, I might slap a bitch. Do you think that Kevin would have been able to handle another rejection, another loss of a parental figure? All he did, was in self defense. Yes, it was selfish, but it was probably the only time in his life he could really make a choice on his own.

But you know what? Kevin overcame all this. Maybe and most probably not completely, he will never be able to wash away some stains, but he became more confident and emotionally independent. He detached himself both from Riko and from Andrew, and became the best striker in the history of Exy.

One of the reasons why I love Neil and Kevin - especially Kevin - is because their healing journeys are more fleshed out than Andrew's. But in this case, Kevin's was not really given the attention it deserved, it happened on the side lines and he had to do it alone. Neil had the foxes, had Wymack and Andrew. Kevin had no one, because the foxes, despite being assholes themselves, kept dismissing him and his problems. I really do believe that, in the first drafts when Kandreil was canon, Nora had potentially explored his character more. I wish we had gotten that instead of this sloppy attempt to squeeze in his ark along with Neil's.

I'll end this with some highlights that also showcase how badass Kevin is. He's a mess, but he does grow some spine when he finally becomes his own person:

Oof, if you actually read through this, thank you for tolerating my probably incoherent thoughts. I actually barely scratched the surface of my thoughts on Kevin's character but for now, this will do.

[gamerwoo]

Wonwoo: Atlas

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: mafia au, angst, little bits of fluff here and there but it just adds to the angst tbh, alcohol, smoking, Woo being depresso

Word count: 2,632

Summary: Atlas shrugged his shoulders, said he'd drop that boulder. Call me in the morning when I'm sober, find me in the corner in a coma.

a/n: this was inspired by the song atlas by keshi (and if u like sad boy vibes i highly recommend his music!!!). things in italics are flashbacks (also i didn’t even listen to atlas for half of this i just listened to call me kevin play the sims lmao) ALSO im doing 2 other keshi songs (probably for mingyu and hongseok but idk) and while this technically is a mini series using keshi songs, they won’t be a continuation of this fic. they’re going to be their own lil things. ok that’s it goodbye

2 soon | the reaper 

Limping down the street, the streetlamps being the only source of lighting, Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wander. There were no cars going by at this time of night, not even a cool breeze to listen to the shaking leaves in the trees. The street was dead silent other than his heavy footsteps as he tried to make it home on his own. He was sure God or whatever higher power out there was out to get him lately since on top of everything else, his car had broken down and he was left to walk the rest of the way after calling Mingyu to make sure someone would get the car.

Had anyone been walking around this time of night, they’d probably call the police seeing Wonwoo awkwardly walking down the street with his hurt leg. Despite the nice suit, it was unbuttoned, slightly torn, and stained with splatters of blood. His white shirt underneath was half undone and splattered with blood as well, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck, his hair was disheveled, his right eye was beginning to bruise, and the left corner of his lip was caked with dried blood. There was a trail of dried blood going from his nose to his top lip as well, and his tired expression only added to his awful appearance. 

“Oh my god, Wonwoo!” you gasped when you spotted him from the window, Joshua and Minghao rushing out behind you.

It was one of the first times he’d come home beaten up. You didn’t know about his line of work when you’d first started dating, but when it began to become more serious, he had to break and tell you. Finding out your boyfriend was in the mafia worried you for obvious reasons, to a point where for a while, two of the men he worked with had to stay at the house with you to make sure you didn’t go off trying anything stupid. But you did often pace the kitchen, checking out the window that faced the street to see when his car pulled in. And one night, you saw him be helped out of the car by Seungcheol because Wonwoo was so beaten up.

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you as you rushed to him.

“Careful, careful,” Seungcheol warned, not wanting you to throw yourself into him or anything. Jeonghan had just stitched up his gunshot wound, but Wonwoo made him swear not to tell you that much.

“What happened?” you asked, looking him over. He looked about as messy as his clothes, and that was saying something since he was missing his jacket he left the house with, and his shirt was barely hanging onto his body by thin threads. You moved to Wonwoo’s other side, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I’ve got him.”

Seungcheol carefully leaned your boyfriend’s weight onto you, letting you practically carry the poor man inside. Wonwoo managed to smirk at how worried you were. He knew it just meant you cared, and that meant the world to him.

“You’re so cute,” he chuckled, which then turned into coughing that only worsened your anxiety about his injuries. “Let the boys handle it, okay? I’ll be fine.”

You scoffed, “Not a chance.”

Wonwoo pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, taking a cigarette and a lighter out from the pack. He put it between his lips and lit the end before taking a long drag and letting the smoke waft out from his mouth. His eyes locked on the driveway of his house as he recalled how many times you’d dragged him inside, sat him down on the couch or leaned him up against the sink in the kitchen and patched him up. He smiled fondly, remembering all the times you’d scolded him for so long until you were just repeating yourself, only to sigh and say, “You know I love you, right?”. 

But now, he walked up the driveway alone. Despite his limping, there was nobody to carry him home. He had to push himself up the steps, pausing on each one to brace himself for the next. He walked into the house, expecting the echo of his footsteps that he was used to even during your relationship, but not used to the emptiness he felt in the house. At least when his shoes would hit the hardwood as he walked to the bathroom to clean himself up, he knew you were upstairs. But now, he knew he was the only one in the house, and that was a new feeling. A new but vaguely familiar feeling of being alone. He was alone before you, but he was so accustomed to your presence that he forgot what it was like to not have anybody there when he came home.

“Wonwoo--”

“Go back upstairs,” Wonwoo huffed, trying to get to the basement while Junhui and Mingyu helped him.

This time it was worse. You were used to him coming home later, so you no longer wasted an hour or two pacing by the kitchen window, but instead waited until you heard the heavy sound of his boots against the hardwood in the hallway, going toward either the kitchen or the bathroom. He wasn’t always hurt, but this time, he was in worse shape than he’d let you know. That was why there were more men with him.

“But--”

“_____,” he growled, his eyes glancing up at the stairway you were now frozen on. He’d used this voice before -- only a handful of times to show he was serious and didn’t want to fight you on whatever it was -- but it always made you freeze completely where you were. “Go.”

Mingyu and Jun continued to help him to the basement, Seungcheol and Soonyoung following behind them. You waited until you heard the basement door close before dropping your head and going back up the stairs to your room.

Glancing away from the staircase, Wonwoo continued down the hall to the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon he left unfinished on the counter before going for the basement door. He threw it open, not bothering to close it behind him because there wasn’t a point to anymore. He was lucky he managed to get down the stairs without falling down them before he went over to his little corner where his desk was. They’d used the basement for plenty of things before, but it was mostly where he kept his ‘business things’. That’s why you weren’t to go down there -- not that that didn’t stop you from checking on Wonwoo from time to time when he had locked himself away down there.

Wonwoo flopped down in his chair, opening the bottle and taking a swig. He stared across the room, trying to grasp the reality that he was alone in the house. He wasn’t sure when it would finally sink in, but it hadn’t yet. It had been a month and he still had himself thinking he could hear your footsteps as you tried to sneak downstairs to check on him, or the shower running with your soft singing drifting from under the door. But the harsh truth was that you were gone an he was just imagining these things.

At first when he got home, you were the first thing he would check on. He wanted to know about your day, what you did, how you were feeling. He was grateful when you had dinner made for him -- even if it was cold by the time he got home -- and loved relaxing on the couch or in bed with you when he got home. But he slowly started seeing you less and less. He didn’t see you most days at all, so you looked forward to the nights. But more often, he started politely turning down dinner to go the basement -- that eventually turned into straight-up ignoring it to go do more work at his desk. Instead of checking up with you, he started going straight to the bathroom to clean himself up before silently grabbing a small snack and retreating to the basement until you were already fast asleep and he was crawling into bed for 2-3 hours of sleep. It got to a point where you barely saw Wonwoo at all.

And as Wonwoo took another drink right after letting out more cigarette smoke, he knew it was all his fault. He got too caught up in his job. He loved you, but he didn’t realize he wasn’t showing it like he should’ve. He made you feel unloved and forgotten and overlooked. It wasn’t a 50/50 situation, it was 100% his fault that you left him.

He put out his cigarette in his ash tray and eyed the bottle before he put his feet up on his desk and took a longer drink this time.

-

“Wonwoo,” he heard your voice in his ear, trying to shake him awake after another late night. But he had the day off today, and you were excited to spend every moment with him that you could. “Wonwoo, wake up!”

A smack to his cheek had his eyes shooting open as he let out a gasp.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathed, sitting back as he realized the older man was awake, “I thought you were fucking dead. How much did you drink?”

Considering the slap Mingyu gave him didn’t hurt as bad as the metaphorical slap that his awful reality gave him, clearly not enough.

“None of your business,” Wonwoo slurred as he struggled to keep his eyes open, definitely hung over from drinking until he passed out -- again.

“You need to stop doing this,” the younger boy sighed, giving Wonwoo a stern look, “not even just because Seungcheol’s fed up with it, but because it’s not healthy.”

“What does it matter?” he grumbled, refusing to get up. Instead, his hand searched the floor for his bottle of alcohol.

“Will you stop with that shit? Come on, Wonwoo, _____ leaving doesn’t mean the end of the world!”

“Have you ever been in love?”

When Mingyu was silent, Wonwoo scoffed, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Well it was still your own fault she left you,” Mingyu stated, rolling Wonwoo onto his back with his shoe. “You said it yourself, so you can’t say it’s not true. You neglected her and now you’re throwing yourself a pity party when you did it to yourself.”

“Get out of my house,” Wonwoo groaned, deciding to cover his ears instead of search for the bottle of bourbon. 

“You’ve been pulling this shit every fucking day for a month,” Mingyu spat, ignoring how obviously annoyed Wonwoo was getting. Everyone was annoyed with Wonwoo’s behavior so this was only fair. “Someone always has to waste their time and come here to make sure you didn’t drink yourself dead.”

“Then stop checking!” Wonwoo shouted, finally peeling his eyes open to glare up at Mingyu. “Go the fuck away!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. You stood in front of his desk, your own angry expression dissipating and being replaced with hurt instead. The two of you had been arguing because he’d been so distant, and while you understood that the basement was where he got more work done, you didn’t see the need for him to continue working when he was away ‘working’ all day. But his anger bubbled over and now he’d crossed the line.

“Wait, _____--”

You just shook your head at him, eyes filling with tears as you rushed to go back upstairs. Wonwoo called for you to come back, but you just ignored him, slamming the basement door closed. Wonwoo groaned and sat down in his chair, rubbing over his face with his hands.

That was definitely the biggest push for you to leave.

And now here he was, in the same room his life started falling apart. Why couldn’t he wake up to you like he thought he was? Better yet, why couldn’t he wake up and have everything just start over? He wanted to go back to when things were good and he wanted to keep them that way. But life didn’t work that way. It couldn’t just reset, it just kept going.

But Mingyu had to be a nuisance and interrupt Wonwoo’s dreams where everything was actually going well and he was happy.

Mingyu sighed, taking a seat in Wonwoo’s desk chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. Why did Seungcheol have to send him to check up on Wonwoo? Why not Seungkwan or Seokmin? Somebody who had people they loved and could relate to Wonwoo? No offense, but Mingyu didn’t give two shits about Wonwoo’s broken heart.

“Look,” Mingyu said a bit softer, trying to be more level-headed about this, “I get you’re upset and you’ve never had to deal with heartbreak so you don’t know how to cope. But with this kind of...lifestyle, you should really need to come to terms with the fact that nothing will ever really go the way you planned it to.”

“That isn’t good advice,” Wonwoo sighed, not even trying to sit up. His eyes had even closed again, so Mingyu knew the older man didn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. “Just go.”

Mingyu stood, rolling his eyes and fixing his suit jacket, “Seungcheol’s going to be pissed, y’know.”

“Good for him.”

“Whatever,” Mingyu sighed. “I’ll send Seungkwan tonight to make sure you haven’t slipped into a coma or something.”

Wonwoo only hummed in response, waiting until he heard the Mingyu’s footsteps go up the stairs before closing the basement door. Then he finally pushed himself up off the floor, stumbling the whole time. But it was only to retrieve the bottle of bourbon with only a little left at the bottom. So he took the bottle, wobbled his way up the stairs to the kitchen to get another, and then carried on to the living room, finishing off the first bottle.

“Well, well, well,” you grinned seeing Wonwoo emerge from the basement. He was still in his ‘work’ clothes, but everything was undone to make it a little more comfortable for him since he was at home, “look who decided to show up.”

“What’re you watching?” he mused as he wandered into the living room and glanced at the TV. “Wheel of Fortune?”

You shrugged, “It’s 2am.”

“Eh, it’s not the worst show,” Wonwoo sighed as he let himself drop back onto the couch beside you. He normally would’ve scolded you for staying awake so late, but it was a Friday night so he couldn’t give any excuses as to why you needed to be in bed. Besides, he wanted to hang out with you for a bit before he was way too exhausted. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, shifting so you were leaning into your boyfriend’s side.

You kept your eyes on the TV, playing along like you had been before. You still continued to say your answers out loud despite Wonwoo sitting right there, but he merely chuckled. He thought it was kind of cute.

You were so immersed in the show that you didn’t even feel his gaze on you for the last five minutes.

“_____.”

“Hmm?”

You turned your head to look at him, seeing him smiling at you with so much fondness.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Wonwoo opened the second bottle as he stared at the TV, his reflection in the black screen reminding him that he was alone -- not just on the couch, but completely, utterly alone.

He put the bottle to his lips.

[zmediaoutlet]

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They hole up after the Leviathan are gone in a hotel, not a motel; a quiet, well-lit room, not a dingy mold-fest; a high-rise downtown instead of a squalid outskirt. Dean sits on the king-sized bed with his knee jogging restlessly, and he keeps putting a hand down to stop it but when his shattered attention comes back his knee's bouncing again. The carpet is a lush navy blue. The bedspread is silky-soft. Sam's been gone for ten minutes. Dean can't concentrate on anything, but he's split between what happened before, and what will happen when Sam gets back.

He keeps looping back. Last night, last week, last month. Six months ago. A year ago. That first time, in that motel when they'd just killed Brady and Sam had had the idea to say yes, to Lucifer, and the horror of that thought had made Dean so—bitter, so horrified, and then that had somehow cracked a wall, that had been keeping them an arm's length from each other. He puts his hand over his face. A wall. Walls keep being their problem.

They'd waited so long. They'd been so careful. Sam had held him, in that bed that they'd wrecked, and he'd kissed the top of Dean's head where Dean was tucked in against Sam's chest, and for a moment despite being the older sibling and despite all the hell that waited for them, Dean had felt—safe. Like a hal should, in a man's arms. It was something he'd never expected to get. There was a lot that he knew he'd never get.

Sam comes back. "Did anyone see you?" Dean says, instead of kissing him in relief.

Sam shakes his head, and then says, unnecessarily, "No. No, I don't think—if anyone's watching us they're being quiet about it. And we've got the hex bags, Dean."

Dean rubs his hands over his thighs, chewing his lip. Sam's stuck, apparently, over there by the door—god, this room is big compared to their usual—but of course that was the point, that this wasn't their usual, that anyone who might know their habits or who might track them wouldn't expect this. Not that Dean knew who might be tracking them, anymore.

They'd gotten rid of Dick Roman, and the Leviathan with him. The plan, just like they'd talked about—to rescue Kevin, the weird little prophet, with Crowley and Meg helping, and Castiel—crazy, stupid, ridiculous Castiel—right there at Dean's side ready to kill Dick, doing right after he'd done so much wrong. He and Dean had stood together, right outside where they knew Dick was waiting, and Castiel had taken the prepared bone out of Dean's hand, and he'd said let me, and Dean had said, no, dumbass, I'm the one—and Cas had touched him, had slid his hand right down Dean's chest to his stomach, and had held his hand flat there, and looked at Dean with eyes that shone. I'll do it. I don't want either of you to be hurt.

They'd been alone, in the hall. Dean had frozen, his grip loose around Cas's wrist when he'd meant to yank Cas's hand off his body, and he'd said, What? but of course, he'd heard, even if he couldn't quite—understand it, right then. Cas had smiled at him, very sweetly because Cas without any of his marbles was about the nicest guy Dean knew, and he'd popped out of existence, and Dean had run, had crashed through the door into the plant with Sam and Kevin running up too, and watched Cas stab Dick through the throat with the blessed bone and then the world had—throbbed. Cas had looked at him and smiled and then there'd been an explosion and then Dick was gone, and Cas was gone, and then Crowley showed up and smirked and disappeared with Kevin and then Sam had been gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back from the strange spatter of black in the lab, and he'd said did we—did we win? Dean had almost touched his stomach but held back, thinking that it couldn't be—that it wasn't possible. Sam had pulled him in, hugged him with his hand tight and soft in the short bob of Dean's hair, and Dean had said, feeling very distant from himself, Sammy, we need to leave right now.

They're a state away. The car's kinda wrecked again but Dean can fix it, later. They don't know where Kevin is, where Crowley's taken him, and Meg's in the wind, and Castiel's gone along with Dick. They can figure that out, later. He'd sent Sam to the store, while he checked in alone to this hotel under a simple alias, and he'd texted Sam room 412, hurry, and he doesn't know if Sam had hurried but here's Sam, standing with his back to the hotel room door with a bag in his hand, and his face—Dean looks, finally, at his face, instead of staring at the bag like he has been, and Sam… He's never seen that look, on Sam.

"I got three kinds," Sam says.

Dean licks his lips. "Guess you probably didn't get any booze," he says, and Sam huffs, forehead creasing, and finally Dean feels like he can stand up, even if his legs feel kind of weak, and Sam presses his lips together but crosses the room in a few quick steps and dumps the bag on the bed and then wraps Dean into his arms, his mouth at the top of Dean's ear. A shudder goes through Dean before he can hold Sam right back, his hands gripping inadequately at the back of Sam's jacket.

"We're gonna figure it out, okay," Sam says, quietly. Dean puts his forehead to Sam's shoulder, hiding away in the warm dark that's there. "We'll—we'll talk about it. But let's just—find out, first. Okay? We need to find out for sure."

Logical, sensible. Typical Sam plan. Dean ignores it, for a minute. He wants to just—stand here, leaning his weight where Sam can carry it. Sam drags a gentle thumb over the back of Dean's neck, and waits with him. Patient as a monument. Dean listens to his breath, slowly lifting the chest Dean's leaning against, and counts in his head. A minute. He gets a minute.

Sam really did get three different kinds. Dean lays them out on the nice white bathroom counter, while Sam leans in the doorway. "Jeez, how much piss you think I got in me," Dean says, kinda to himself but kinda not, and Sam's mouth curls up on one side in the mirror, even if it wasn't at all funny. He gets himself a glass of water, drinks it down like a shot, and then unzips his jeans, shimmies them down off his hips and kicks them into the corner of the bathroom. "You going to help?" he says, and it comes out kinda mean even if he didn't really—but jeez, he can't piss by himself?—except that Sam apparently takes it as an actual request, and comes forward, and unboxes the first test himself, and reads the instructions out loud, and shows Dean where to aim. Dean's left disarmed, nervous enough that his hand shakes. Sam looks at him, and braces his hand over the back of Dean's neck, big mitt fitting there warm and dry, and then he kisses the bolt of Dean's jaw just where it meets his ear, and stands behind him, and holds the test steady, right over the toilet. It's left to Dean to pull his panties down, just enough, and pull out his soft clit, and aim, and he thinks for a second he won't be able to do it, his body's clenched so tight, but then he hears Sam sigh very quietly, the breath of it touching Dean's shoulder, and his clit flexes that tiny bit and he produces a stream of pee, wetting the test right where Sam said to. Sam's hand disappears and reappears with the second test, and then he does it again, then there's nothing left but to wait, while the results appear.

Halmen tests are slower than tests for women, according to Sam. According to Sam, it's something to do with halmen's increased testosterone, fouling up the markers. According to Sam, it'll be twenty minutes before they can really be sure. "You're babbling," Dean says, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth and looks away. Somehow Sam's nervousness has calmed his own, at least for a second. Like a seesaw. When one of them's got a solid handle, the other's a wreck, up in the air. Dean washes his hands and then leaves the bathroom, with the tests lined up on the counter, and pulls off the rest of his clothes, and digs for fresh ones in his duffle.

"I'm sorry," Sam says, behind him.

"Not your fault," Dean says, automatically, and then pauses, a clean tunic just dropped over his head and swinging around his hips. "Well, actually—" he says, looking over his shoulder.

Sam really does look sorry. Dean sits on the end of the bed where he'd been waiting before, and Sam comes and sits—not beside him, but on the little loveseat under the window. Night, and the moonlight spilling in over Sam's dark head. Sam drags his hands through his hair, hunched.

"How," Sam says.

Dean snorts. The line arrives in his head—when a mommy and a daddy—but he can't get it past his throat. "You know," he says, instead, and tips so his fingers tuck under his bare thighs. Sam glances at him, then away.

Last month. Or—before. Two months ago. Sam had been insane, had been barely holding up under the weight of all those blackened memories, and then he wasn't insane anymore. Cas healed him—put himself in Sam's place, and gave Sam back to Dean. Bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter, with Sam back at his side, looking at him and being at last, entirely, one hundred percent himself. More himself than he'd been since he fell into that hole at Stull. Dean had waited to get a hundred miles from that awful hospital before he kissed Sam, and felt the relief like a kick in the head when Sam kissed him back, and meant it. They hadn't talked about it really, then. It had been enough to be back together.

He hadn't taken his pills. It hadn't occurred to him, in the chaos of almost losing Sam, in the relief of getting Sam back. His last heat had been when half of Sam was still blocked up behind the wall; the one before that, when Sam didn't have a soul, and it was a shark's unfeeling smile that offered to help Dean through it. He'd taken his pills both times and the heat was a muted, soft thing, just his cheeks flushed and his temperature high and his own wanting, but Sam hadn't come near him, and they'd had better things to do.

With Sam back—a hunt, to get Sam's legs back under him. Another, that went better. They fell into bed together each night gladly, making up for lost time. Sam kissed him sweet, and not sweet, and playful, and rough, and Dean gave back as good as he got, and when one day he woke up flushed with the sheets soaked under him, he didn't even think about it before shoving at Sam's shoulder, getting him awake, and watched Sam's eyes sharpen and his nostrils flare, and that first time, the first raw real time between them, Sam rolled him underneath and took him on his belly, with Dean's hands fisting helplessly into the sheets, and Sam's knot caught inside and tied them tight and it felt so good, so right, that Dean had actually for a few seconds cried, his body lighting up with what it had wanted so long, Sam's mouth at the back of his neck and his big frame covering Dean's, the sweat risen between them and the solid thickness inside just—perfect.

Still. It shouldn't have—done anything. Dean had been in heat, but Sam had said, in their quiet talk after the—well, the fourth time, because they were too busy to talk much before that—he'd said—

"I think it was Cas," Sam says. Dean picks up his head and Sam's sitting forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands laced between them. At Dean's look Sam shakes his head. "Not that—come on. I don't mean it was Cas, I mean…" He draws in a big breath, blows it out noisily. "I've just, I've been thinking about it. Like, racking my brains, here. It's the only thing that makes sense."

What Sam said, in the bed that day, with Dean's head pillowed on his arm and Sam's hand warm and reassuring on Dean's hip: don't worry, okay? About… I mean, we can't. I know we can't. Before, when the angels told us about how we were a—bloodline, for the vessels. I went to a doctor and I—I thought, if we win somehow, if we don't just die, then there can't be any more. We can't give them another chance. I didn't know what you were going to do but I figured, even if you did someday have a kid, then better to have another vessel for Michael than it would be to have another vessel for Lucifer, so I… Well, like I said. I went to a doctor and got the snip. So. No swimmers to worry about, okay? It's—we'll be fine.

That day, Dean had felt—hard to describe. Unbearably sad, his hormones making it worse; unbearably tender, for the way Sam had been alone, thinking about that, and made that decision alone, too.

Right now, he says, "Cas."

Sam shrugs. "He's healed me, you know? He brought my body back from the cage and it was—perfect, right? Just like when he brought you back, and you didn't have any scars or anything. I didn't either. And I mean, I guess surgery's a scar. If it wasn't then—he healed me when I was soulless, he healed me back at the asylum. It got undone, somehow. It's the only thing that makes—"

He cuts himself off, from repeating himself. Dean chews the inside of his lip, looking at Sam's bent head. "You still feel the same way?" he says. "About—?"

His voice sounds weird. Sam looks up, sits up. Dean closes his eyes, not to see Sam's face.

"I think…" Sam says. He says, then: "Tell me what you think."

"I think you were right." Dean shakes his head, then lies back on the bed, and folds his arms over his eyes so his forearms block out all the light. He talks past them into the room he can't see. "I think it's nuts. I think that if—if we're this long descended bloodline, perfectly bred to be the perfect vessels like that Cupid said, and if we're soulmates like Ash and Joshua said, then whatever kid we might have would be like—the uber super duper mega vessel, something that could hold—anything. Lucifer or Michael, or like. Friggin' God, probably, if he hadn't bailed. I think if you were a crazy angel or a shithead demon, then any kid that could do that would be like the holy grail, right? Or the evil grail. And even if you didn't use the kid as a vessel then you could probably do something else terrible. All those nasty spells the demons know? Sacrifice, and—and whatever, bloodletting and crap—and if you had an ingredient like the ultimate Winchester kid, then who knows what crazy shit you could do. Opening up Purgatory probably wouldn't even be the half of it."

Silence, for a while. "I didn't even consider that," Sam says. "I just kept thinking, if someone got the baby, you'd—we'd do anything. They could make us do anything, just to get the baby back."

Dean drops his arms, lifts up on his elbows. Sam, looking at him, shrugs, his mouth tipping in a not-at-all-happy smile. Dean bites his lip and jerks his head a little, and Sam doesn't respond for a few seconds before he stands up, and comes over, and sits beside Dean, and makes the opportunity for Dean to tug at him, and get him to lay down too. He sighs, when they're close, but he folds his arm around Dean's back and tucks Dean's head under his chin, and Dean grips his shirt and tries to forget hearing the word baby in Sam's voice. It makes too much bubble up in his head that he'd long ago put away, never to think about again.

It's why they're here. Hiding, in this hotel they've had to blow a credit card to afford. If Cas was telling the truth and wasn't just being a total nutbar, then what's in Dean's belly could be a bomb. A nuke. Something that could have all of heaven and hell and whatever's in between looking for them. But—

Sam's hand slides down his back, to his hip. Finds the hem of his tunic and rucks it up, and slides up his bare skin back over the curve of his hip, to his waist, to lay flat over his belly. He's never been a supermodel, his whole life. His chest's flat, but he's always been kind of—soft, and his stomach's no exception, with this little curve there at the bottom that he used to be self-conscious about, when he was younger. As far as he can tell there's no difference to it, now. He'd held his stomach, in the passenger seat while Sam drove them here to this hotel, and he'd thought, he couldn't tell. Seems like he should be able to tell.

Sam's fingers are gentle. He squeezes the softness, there, and when he speaks it's a little muffled, with his mouth pressed to the top of Dean's head. "I keep thinking about it," he says. Like a confession. Dean presses his forehead against Sam's sternum, aching. "About how it'd be."

Dean grips Sam's wrist, between their bodies. He pushes it down, making Sam's hand slide under the bunched-up hem of his tunic, and when Sam's fingers slide over his clit they close around it, immediately, instinct taking over. Dean hitches in a breath and starts opening Sam's belt, quick, even as Sam pushes them both over, Dean on his back and Sam rising up over him, broad and heavy and the only thing Dean wants, right now. His clit's already hard and Sam's fingers slip down between his legs, dip in where he's wet, and Dean drags his heels up, spreading his thighs to make room while he tugs at Sam's jeans, the button fly popping open, his boxer-briefs starting to swell, heat under Dean's hand. Sam fills him with two fingers, kisses him—teeth behind it, no finesse—not now—and Dean gets Sam out of his briefs and squeezes, feeling, pulling—guiding—not that Sam needs it, with how open Dean is, how needing of him. Sam tugs his fingers out and braces that hand on the back of Dean's thigh, the wet fingers dragging hot and slippery there, and Sam kisses Dean again, and again on his cheekbone, and then his breath's hot at Dean's ear as he braces and lets Dean's hands guide him—in—and Dean holds his hips instead, lifts, and Sam splits him wide, driving in, home. Dean grunts; Sam makes a low sound, hand sliding under the back of Dean's neck, into his hair. When Sam finally starts fucking him it's steady, hard, jolting almost, the curled position enough that he's threatening Dean's cervix every time he slams in, but Dean holds him tight and close and takes it, wants more, wants it deeper, wants it never to end.

It ends. Sam comes first, shuddering between Dean's thighs, and he stays inside and with fingers he wets with his own spit he jerks Dean's clit like a little dick and Dean clenches so hard and ripples so deep that Sam makes a pained sound, but Dean wraps his legs around Sam's hips and doesn't let him pull out, wishing that he were in heat so that Sam would knot up inside him, mindlessly greedy, and so Sam applies his mouth to Dean's throat and carefully starts working his clit again, squeezing steadily with his whole hand, his hips crushed in close, and the second time it ripples more slowly, a wave deep in Dean's pelvis, his fingertips numb and hot, his mouth open and gasping into Sam's hair.

Sam kisses him. He lifts up, keeping his hips in place, and cups Dean's face, and then drags his hands down—his throat, his chest. The hem of his tunic, pushed up, and up, until Dean lifts his arms and Sam can drag it entirely off, and then Sam sits up and lays his hands on Dean's belly, and Dean puts his own hands over the top of Sam's, and looks down at that instead of at Sam's face.

"Did you ever think about it?" Sam says.

A million years ago, learning how to mix formula into a bottle. A stint of babysitting, in junior high. Holding Mark's newborn niece, when he'd been living with Mark because Sam was in hell and so he had to attend a baby shower, to be a normal person like Sam had asked him to be, and stroking his knuckle softly against that dumb, fat, silky cheek, and having something inside clench, empty.

Sam's dick slips out, finally. Sam makes a quiet noise in his chest and Dean feels—wet, open. He opens his legs and Sam climbs off of him, and disappears for a second, and Dean stretches out, feels the worked tendons in his thighs, before Sam reappears with a handful of tissues and cleans him up, unromantic but thoughtful. Very Sam. He stripped off his clothes, too, and he's beautiful. Dean thinks it sometimes, in moments like this. His little brother, not at all little anymore. His muscle, and his smooth tan skin, and their shared tattoo, and his eyes as he lays back down, with Dean, with his head propped on his hand—and his hands, broad and long-fingered, and how the one not under his head fits so well on the curve of Dean's hip where it swells up out of his waist, and how much Dean loves that Sam likes to rest it there.

"Are you freaking out?" Sam says.

"Not right this second," Dean says.

Sam smiles at him, and it's very small but it's the first real smile Dean's gotten all day. Somehow that sobers Dean up. He says, "It's been twenty minutes," and watches Sam's face while he acknowledges it. He says, "Sam, we can't have a baby."

"I know," Sam says.

Dean closes his eyes but when he expects grief it doesn't come that way. It's—tangled. Slow and strange, a weird mix—sadness, wistfulness. Anger. Relief. Fingers trace over his temple, tuck his hair behind his ear, and he reaches up and catches Sam's hand, holds Sam's knuckles against his mouth.

"Do you want me to go check?" Sam says, and Dean doesn't at all but he says, "Yes," and lets Sam take his hand away, and waits on the bed, curled on his side, while Sam's weight leaves the bed and his steps are barely heard against the carpet, and the light switches on, and then there's a pause, and then the light switches off again.

A longer pause. Dean opens his eyes and there's the windows, with the night outside, and the moonlight, and the waiting city with its neon and glitter. Sam sits by Dean's hip, puts his hand right back in its place.

"I've been thinking," Sam says, after what might've been an hour.

"That's not news," Dean says.

Sam squeezes his hip. "It couldn't be forever. Heaven and hell—we're too… important, not to sound big-headed about it. We can't disappear forever, because they'd hunt us forever, and they'd find us, because they always do. But we could manage—a year. Maybe."

Dean looks up, frowning. Sam's watching his face, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.

"We have all those sigils, from the cabin," Sam says. "Somewhere else—Oregon, or Colorado. A cabin or a house, that we could take off the map, and no one could find us. No one could know."

Quiet. Dean tries to think through it. "A year," he says. Depending on when they disappeared it'd be—maybe six months, and then another six. Enough time to—god, to fall in love. To break his heart. And then what?

"It's not—enough," Sam says. He abandons Dean's hip and finds his hand, and holds it, in pure defiance of everything Dean's ever said about being a sappy bitch. Their fingers lace together and Dean holds on, tight. "But if you don't want to—" Delicate, like if the word abortion doesn't sully the air then somehow it doesn't count. "If you don't want to. We could—try. We'd have to plan it, just right. We'd have to do it perfectly."

He's being very careful, his eyes on Dean's. Careful or not Dean's brain has already switched gears, thinking ahead. Perfectly, Sam says—fuck that, it'd have to be a miracle. The house, and the hex bags, and when it came to later—when their luck ran out—the decision, they'd have to make. The size of that loss. Even knowing—

"Dean," Sam says.

Dean realizes he's got one hand on his stomach, the other so tight around Sam's that his knuckles hurt. He lets go with the one but not the other. This is—insane. Insane. The idea of it floats as delicate as a blown bubble, glinting barely seen in the air. He sits up and Sam's watching him, waiting. Sam says, "We don't have to decide today."

"I know," Dean says, but he's decided. He feels almost sick but it's—decided. Sick and light-headed, not a good combo. He can't stop touching his stomach. He thinks, in a whole careful sentence inside his head, this is a crazy idea, baby, and like that it's—concrete. It's done.

The grief will come later. For now his chest feels full, like there's champagne under his ribs and it's fizzing to get out. Insane plans are where the Winchesters do their best work, after all.

"We'll have to burn those tests," Dean says, firmly.

Sam looks at him big eyed for a second, and then laughs, a little breathless, a little worried. "We will," he says, and then he laughs again when Dean pushes him back and crawls into his lap, the laugh less worried and more careless, free. Sam's always had a soft spot for insane plans, too. Dean grins at him and Sam cups his cheek, smiles back. "Tomorrow," he promises, and Dean nods, and thinks with giddy fear about the future waiting, after tomorrow.

[speciesofleastconcern]

What would happen if the southern United States declared their secession from the union and created a Confederacy 2.0 in 2021 and they declared that Donald Trump was their president?

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE THIRTY HOURS’ WAR (slightly updated)

9:27 AM: Governor Greg Abbott announces a surprise press conference to be held at noon. The Texas State Capitol is a whirlwind of activity, but no one will explain. Journalists stationed in the capitol buildings of several other Southern states notice a sudden fever of activity, but again, no word on what is taking place.

12:07 PM: Abbott enters the press room, faces the cameras, and delivers a speech televised around the world—a speech that makes the assembled journalists gasp.

“I have been in private communication with the governors of several other Southern states for the past few weeks, and we have an announcement of great consequence. I may announce that we are of one accord, united in our purpose, not without sorrow, and yet filled with pride and determination at the step we are undertaking this day. We are a free people, we Texans, and we wish only to live according to our traditional laws and the laws of a just and righteous God. For too long have we put up with abuse and threats from the Federal government in Washington, that hotbed of liberal elites and so-called “experts” who believe that they know better than we know what freedom truly consists of. It has gone on for too long, and we shall not continue any further. President Trump fought for our rights; the lies of the liberal media brought him down; but when one man lets the stainless banner fall, other hands must take it up, as we have done this day.

“The Lone Star State is the first star in the heavens of a new constellation of freedom and liberty—the first of the New Confederated States of America. We hereby announce the severing of all ties to the Washington government, and ask only to be allowed to depart in peace to seek our own liberty and prosperity.

“We are the first, but not alone. Governor Asa Hutchinson of Arkansas, Governor Tate Reeves of Mississippi, Governor Kevin Stitt of Oklahoma, and Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida have joined with me in forming a new nation, conceived in liberty with God as our vindicator, with each State acting in its sovereign and independent character. The governors of Louisiana, Missouri, Tennessee, Alabama, and South Carolina are considering our proposal now, but a great groundswell of support is coming from the citizens of these states. We trust that they will soon join us.

“We hereby announce that all Federal property within the boundaries of our state, including all national parks and forests, Indian reservations, and military bases, is forfeit to our state government. Orders have gone out to the Texas State Guard and State Police to secure these properties, and they are backed by thousands of citizen militia forces who have mobilized have taken up arms to secure what is rightfully ours. For freedom and justice for ourselves and our descendants, invoking the favor and guidance of Almighty God, we pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

12:17 PM: The President of the United States is whisked from a routine meeting with the Department of Agriculture to an emergency meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

12:31 PM: Emergency orders are issued to cancel all civilian flights to the states of Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, and Mississippi. All inbound flights are ordered to divert immediately, leading to crowded and difficult scenes at airports such as Wichita, Albuquerque, Denver, St. Louis, and Cleveland.

1:47 PM: Chaos reigns on Interstates 10 and 40 and smaller highways, as thousands of Texas motorists flee for the New Mexico border, only to be stopped by armored New Mexico National Guard units, reinforced by heavily armed troops from Fort Bliss. Motorists fleeing eastward are stopped by the Louisiana National Guard, backed up with troops from Fort Polk. Motorists heading north towards Kansas or east through Arkansas also report blockades.

3:12 PM: There are reports of rioting in Austin and Houston, as columns of unregulated militia march or ride through urban neighborhoods where protests are expected. No one knows or will admit who shot first, but neighborhoods are soon ablaze, and fire trucks that attempt to reach the fires report being shot at. In other cities and towns, a watchful, tense quiet prevails as everyone awaits the next announcement. Footage of the riots and attacks is widely disseminated on social media.

4:29 PM: A column of militia in assorted vehicles approaches Fort Hood to demand its surrender. Seeing the main gates deserted, the lead vehicle drives onto the fort, and the driver, 47-year-old Braxton Beauregard, hoists the Lone Star Confederate flag over the guardhouse.

4:29:17 PM: The guardhouse, the flag, and the first ten vehicles of the convoy are simultaneously obliterated by Hellfire missiles. The remaining vehicles beat a hasty retreat to Killeen, although not before seven more vehicles are wiped out. That evening at the local Whataburger, one of the traumatized survivors is heard to mumble, “well, shit, this may be tougher than we thought.”

5:25 PM: The President emerges from his meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and gives a brief address to the nation. It’s short on details. He says only that he has been fully briefed on the situation and is deeply troubled, but is considering his legal options, and will provide a full reply to Governor Abbott’s announcement tomorrow morning. He pleads for calm and prays for peace and unity. The country remains on edge.

1:37 AM: Fort Hood’s gates open.

2:12 AM: A lone C-17 Globemaster III makes a pass over Austin, Texas, at 30,000 feet. Similar aircraft pass over Little Rock, Arkansas; Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; and Jackson, Mississippi. Their flight paths are later traced to Fort Benning.

6:48 AM: Journalists based in Austin report seeing a huge column of tanks and trucks moving into the city on Interstate 35, as helicopters fly cover.

7:24 AM: Tanks have surrounded the Texas State Capitol. The skies are torn by noise as F-15s and F-18Es fly combat air patrols over the city; they hold their fire for now. Heavily armored infantry patrols deploy onto the streets, although they, too, hold their fire and simply observe.

7:37 AM: A unit of unorganized militia patrolling the streets of Austin encounters soldiers from III Corps Special Troops Battalion on the corner of 14th and Guadalupe Street. One of the militiamen raises his AR-15 and fires at the troops, slightly wounding one soldier.

7:37:15 AM: Six militia members are killed or wounded in the ensuing firefight. Survivors are spotted fleeing towards the 7–11 convenience store on 15th Street, where it seems their commander has set up his base.

7:42:37 AM: The 7–11 convenience store on 15th Street is struck by multiple Hellfire missiles. Scenes like this play out all day throughout the capital city, with minor variations. By noon, few militia are willing to advertise their presence; discarded weapons and body armor can be found on the streets as erstwhile militiamen try to blend back into the general population.

8:31 AM: A group of Army Rangers exit the Texas Governor’s Mansion, escorting a handcuffed Governor Greg Abbott to a waiting flight of HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopters that have materialized on the lawn.

9:17 AM: Several other Texas state officials are removed from the State Capitol or other government buildings by Rangers and escorted to waiting helicopters. Similar scenes are playing out in Oklahoma City and Little Rock and Jackson.

9:19 AM: An emergency press conference is held in Houston. The Hon. Sherry Radack, Chief Justice for the 1st District Court of Appeals in Houston, announces that under the line of succession as spelled out in the Texas state constitution, it appears that she is now the governor. Choking back tears, she announces the immediate cessation of hostilities, pleads for citizens to put down their weapons, orders the surrender of all State Guard forces, and expresses eagerness to remain a part of the United States.

11:10 AM: The governors of Louisiana, Missouri, and Tennessee deny any knowledge of Texas's plan, announce that their states will not be joining Texas, and pledge their states’ loyalty to the Federal government. At about the same time, the governor of Florida announces that his state’s inclusion in the list of seceding states was entirely the fault of unnamed “liberal agitators,” that he never agreed to leave the Union, and that despite all their differences of opinion he has pledged his state’s loyalty to the Federal government. Rumors that Navy SEALS were aiming at him from concealed firing positions as he was making this profession of loyalty were never substantiated.

12:37 PM: The President appears again on TV, thanking the loyal units of the US military, who have executed “a textbook counterinsurgency mission with minimal loss of life and destruction of property.” He assures the people that order will be restored and life will return to normal as soon as possible, and states that steps are already underway to restore the state governments. He promises to bring the rebels who actually took up arms to justice, while proposing that Congress immediately establish a bipartisan Truth and Reconciliation Commission to reintegrate the rebel states into the US as smoothly as possible. (He does not say this, but commentators note that with the sudden disappearance of Congressional delegations from the rebel states, he should have the votes to get what he wants.) He ends his speech by pleading once again for peace, adding that “I understand the despair and anger and paranoia that many Americans feel—but this is not the way to express those. Let us come together as one nation, one people, united by our devotion to the principles of democracy and liberty, from sea to shining sea. God bless America!” (Fun fanfic from quora)

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Kevin//you know i'll never be lonely, you're my only one

Request: Hi can I request a platonic Kevin/Jones!reader where Jug'a sister is best friends with Kevin and is with the core 4 when they find him alone at the Farm and she brings him home with her and there's hugging and hot chocolate and cuddling? Please? My boy needs love!

hey! i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again...kevin keller deserves the world! anyway, i hope you enjoy! also, the title is from a queen song (you’re my best friend) if you’re wondering! i absolutely love this song, and i recommend you listen to it if you’re sad (which i hope you’re not). also, to the anon (and anyone else who needs it) who was sad last night, i don’t know if this is something you’re going to read, but if you do, i hope it cheers you up!  

When the sun rose over Riverdale, bringing with it a new day as well as a second chance, you thought it was the end of your troubles. 

A night of being hunted down with your friends and brother through the dark woods had eventually ended. And as you hugged the people you thought you’d die with, you knew you don’t think you’d ever be as happy to see Cheryl Blossom ever again.

However, just as day was bringing a new dawn, effectively solving all your problems, across town they were just starting for your best friend. 

You just didn’t know yet. 

Its only when Betty pulls away from your group hug, frantically asking about her mom do you realize that maybe not everything is okay. Because despite the fact that the five of you are safe, it doesn’t mean everybody else is. 

And at the top of that very long list is Kevin Keller. 

Betty is first through the chapel door, but you’re not far behind her and as soon as you run in, you come to an abrupt halt. If it weren’t so depressing, the scene in front of you would have been breathtaking. The candles flickering, the clothes neatly folded and the general atmosphere reminds you of something from an old film. 

But as soon as you see Kevin sat on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest and a completely broken look on his face, the allusions shatters...along with your heart.

“Kevin?” Betty asks and his head lifts slightly. 

“They left me.” Your expression softens at the tone in his voice and you swear you can actually feel your heart cracking. 

Kevin has been your best friend for years, he’s stuck with you despite the obvious divide between the two of you. Him being from the Northside with a sheriff dad, and you being from the southside with a gang member dad, its far to say there were a few people who disapproved of your friendship. Not that either of you cared, you were best friends...platonic soulmates...who cares what anybody else thinks. And even though the two of you had grown apart over the past few months (specifically when the farm came to town), you always managed to find your way back to each other. 

So seeing him like this physically hurts you. He’s already been through so much and right now you want to scream and shout at the universe for treating the kindest and by far the best human like utter crap. 

“I wanted to go, but they said that someone had to stay behind to explain what happened.” He sobs and the seven of you exchange looks. 

“What did happen?” Archie asks. 

“The worthy ascended, of course.” He scoffs. 

“Who did? Where’s my mom? And Polly?” Betty asks and you roll your eyes at her. 

Despite her being sweet and kind the majority of the time, she did sometimes get a little wrapped up in herself and her issues, and right now, that annoys you. Because here Kevin is, abandoned by this group that brainwashed and alienated him, only for Betty to care more about two grown adults who can usually make their own decisions. 

“Gone.” He states, anger in his voice as he stares vacantly in front of him. “Everyone is. And we’ll never see them again.” The room suddenly feels colder all of sudden, Betty lets out a small cry as she practically falls into Jughead’s arms, while the rest of you stand around, none of you wanting to move...just in case. 

You’re the first one to do anything. You make your way towards Kevin and cautiously sit beside him. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. You’ve asked him that countless of times, but this is the first time its ever felt like you’re asking a stranger. You may be sat beside him but you feel a thousand miles apart. Usually you’re attached at the hip, but there’s a rather large space between you, physically as well as metaphorically and it just feels wrong. 

“I-” He cuts himself off before he can say anything further. Instead he just cries, his head drops to his hands and you’ve never seen somebody look so lonely, despite being surrounded by people. 

You don’t say anything in return, you just wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight hug. 

The two of you stay like that for at least half an hour. Eventually everybody else goes, Jughead being the last one to leave, sending you a small smile before closing the door behind him, until its just the two of you again. 

It takes some persuading, but eventually you get Kevin back to your house. Thankfully your dad has already left for work so there’s no awkward questions about why you’re covered in mud and why Kevin is crying. 

“Here.” You hand him a mug. Its his favourite one. Something you got him to keep at your house. A small smile twitches at the corner of his lips as he takes it, but it disappears as quickly as it came, instead leaving behind a miserable expression. 

You remember the last time you gave him hot chocolate in that mug, but the memory does nothing to make you feel better. If anything it just makes your heart ache more. 

“You always make the best hot chocolate.” He’d said, an eager smile on his lips as he watched you slowly bring it to him. 

“I always put double the recommended powder in.” 

“Ahhh, so now I know you secret recipe.” 

“Plus, the cream and sprinkles help a lot too.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Very true. But we can just pretend its all you.” 

“Aww, thanks.” 

“Hey. If there’s ever a day that your hot chocolate doesn’t make me smile, just assume that I’m dead inside.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” You’d rolled your eyes at him, and he’d gasped loudly, feigning offence.

“I know. But its part of my charm.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“It is.” 

“Has that ever actually worked on anybody.” 

“Not yet...but it will.” 

His eyes had been so full of hope, now they were just dark. Like all the light had been sucked out of them. 

The house is quiet, but its nice. Compared to the eery quiet of the woods and the farm, its quite comforting and you’re very glad to be back home, especially after thinking you wouldn’t be so lucky. 

“Thanks.” He replies, taking a sip before placing it on the coffee table. If you’re being honest, its nice having Kevin here. Its something else to focus on instead of being stuck in a continuous loop of your memories of the previous nights. Although you’d much rather prefer he was upset over some boy thats broken his heart. 

“Do you want another blanket?” You offer, rearranging the one you’ve already draped across his shoulders. “Or the TV? I can put a film or something on? Or we can just see what’s on? Or music? Do you want anything to eat?” You know you’re fussing over him, and you know he’s going to hate it. But there’s nothing else you can do. You can’t go back and change everything, no matter how hard you try. 

A part of you feels like its your fault. Kevin is supposed to be you’re best friends, but you still let him get caught up in all of this. You let the farm take him, you made him feel alone. You made him feel the need to find friendship and family somewhere else, somewhere dangerous. 

And by the time you realized what was happening, it was too late. Despite the numerous attempts. It was too late to help him.

Now he’s sat on your couch, clutching an old blanket around him like his life depends on it, and you really don’t know if he’s ever going to fully recover from this. 

“Why do things like this keep happening to me? Am I cursed? Do you think I’m cursed?” He breaks the silence. Maybe he know’s exactly what you were just thinking. Or maybe he’s just thinking out loud, but either way it makes you frown and quickly face him. 

“Kevin. You’re not cursed.” You grab his hand and he forces himself to look at you. 

“It sure feels like I am.” 

“The only thing that is cursed, is Riverdale. But we’re not going to be here forever. We’ve got one year left at school, and then we’re out of here. We’re going to do all of the things we’ve had planned since we were little. Our road trips across the country. Our apartment together thats filled with trinkets and utter junk that we’ve picked up over the years. We’re going to meet so many new, normal people and we’re going to shock them with our shared trauma. You’re going to meet a nice boy who treats you like you created the universe. You’re going to be so happy, I just know it. And one day this is all going to feel like a far away nightmare. Riverdale and all of its horrors will just be distant memory, something you laugh about from time to time. Okay?” You hold your pinkie out towards him and he sends you a look. “I promise. And I never break a promise.” 

“That is very true.” He nods, wrapping his finger around yours. “Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ve been so alone the past few months.” 

“I know.” You smile sadly at him, wiping a few tears from your cheeks. “But I’m always going to be here for you, no matter what happens. You’re my best friend and I love you so much. You brighten my day just by walking through a door, and no matter how much I dread doing something, you make it 1000 times more bearable.”

“Y/n.” His expression mirrors yours. Sadness mixed with hope, and more than a few tears, but you know what he’s trying to say. 

“No matter how alone you feel, you’re not, okay? You are never ever alone. No matter what day of the week, or what time, or even how far apart we are. I’m always going to be here.”

“I love you.” 

“I know you do.” You nudge him softly. A slight smile appears on his lips, and even though its not the same as his usual, its better than nothing, and so you take that as a win. Your head falls to his shoulder and he rests his on top of yours, both of you finally feeling somewhat at peace after months of hell. 

“What the hell happened to you?” He asks suddenly and you pull away from him. He’s looking you up and down, a concerned expression on his face while he waits for your answer. “Why do you look like...that?” 

“I was hunted through the woods by Penelope Blossom and a bunch of other psychos.” You shrug and his eyes widen. 

“Wha-” 

“But thats not important right now.” You shake your head. “What’s important, is that you’re safe. And we’re going to need re-fills soon.” You look towards the mugs on the table. Neither of them are anywhere close to being empty, but you just want to change the subject and thankfully Kevin gets it. “I think we both deserve extra sprinkles this time.” 

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

miscommunication

request: “Could you do number 75 with Philippe Myers?” 

prompt: “Do you know how much I want to kiss you?” / number 75 off of this list

summary: Philippe has a massive crush on you but doesn't act on it, thinking you’re already taken.

warnings: drinking

word count: 1.9k

requested by: anon

requests are currently open!

The first time you had seen him had been at a party. It was almost like a scene out of a movie. Almost, being the key word. 

Being good friends with Philadelphia’s very own Travis Konecny meant you had an invite to his house parties. Usually, you’d help set up and then mingle with friends, meeting up with Travis later in the night. This night, however, you were stuck by Travis’ side. He was insistent that you meet some of his teammates, despite that you already knew at least half of them. 

The music was loud and you had your second drink of the night clutched in your hand. You were mindlessly chattering with Travis when suddenly your attention was drawn to the door. Three figures entered, two of which you were pretty good friends with, though the third was new. Carter Hart and Kevin Hayes were followed by a tall boy roughly your age, and he was blatantly attractive.

It felt like the music around you died down as you made eye contact with the newcomer. He smiled at you, and you returned, though there was probably a noticeable blush on your cheeks. If pressed, you would've blamed the redness on the heat of the party. The three boys were heading over to where you and Travis were standing, and you were still locked in a staring contest with the unfamiliar boy as they grew close. Everything was moving in slow motion.

And since life had a funny way of working against you, you were brought back to reality by a cold liquid splashed over your front. You gasped, eyes wide and full of shock and you turned to face the source of the liquid. You found Nolan, one of Travis’ best friends and another guy on the team you were pretty close with. It was clear that he was the culprit, his cup empty and the sheepish look on his face. One arm was swung over Travis’ shoulder and you could tell just by the extra rosiness of his cheeks that he was drunk. In his stumble over to greet Carter, Kevin, and the third boy, he dumped his drink over you.

“That’s a good look, honestly.” Kevin teased you once and you narrowed your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder playfully. Kevin was like the older brother your never knew you needed, so it was no surprise he was chirping you. Travis hadn’t stopped laughing since it incident happened, and you refused to look at the attractive stranger.

“Hello, Carter.” You greeted the goaltender sweetly before glaring pointedly at Travis. Carter chuckled, but replied in the same tone easily. 

“’M sorry.” Nolan apologized and you just waved him off. It wasn't that big of a deal, you’d probably spilled on yourself and others before at parties just like this one, but it was embarrassing to have it happen in front of such a cute boy. 

“You’re the worst.” You pointed a finger accusingly at Travis, who was just now quieting his laughter down. You finished off the rest of your drink, handing off your cup to Travis as he pulled you into a half hug to apologize silently. 

“You’ve got some extra clothes you left here, they’re in my room.” He told you, knowing you were worried that you would have to stay in the wet and stained shirt all night. You nodded, already heading off before anyone actually got the chance to introduce you to their teammate. 

After you had changed, you had gotten distracted by some friends and never ended up returning to Travis. You’d be lying, though, if you said that you didn't keep an eye out for the attractive boy. He was tall, extremely so, and it made it easy for you to spot him in the crowd, heading out for a breather on the balcony. 

You excused yourself from the conversation before following him out of the door, finding him leaning against the railing. You hesitated for a moment, usually  you didn't follow after boys at parties but you had never felt such an instant attraction than when he walked into the party. 

“Uh, hey?” You winced at the uncertainty in your voice, and even more so when his head whipped around. He smiled at you again, though this time it looked a little uneasy. You introduced yourself as you made your way to stand next to him on the railing. 

“Philippe.” He gave you his name and you smiled. His voice was just as attractive as everything about him. The music from the party was dulled by the glass door separating the two of you from the rest of the people. “I’m one of Travis’ teammates.” 

“I figured.” You chuckled. “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier, but Nolan kind of made a mess.” He laughed at this, assuring you he understood. The conversation flowed easily between you two, but you couldn't help but notice the way he refused to get any closer to you than a comfortable distance. You chalked it up to him being shy to someone he barely knew, and brushed it off. 

“There you are!” Travis practically yelled after calling your name. He stumbled out onto the balcony and Philippe practically jumped away from you, despite there already being nearly a whole foot of space already between you. “I need your help.”

“With what exactly?” You assumed he was talking about you, since he had drunkenly pointed one of his fingers at you, and it took nearly everything in you to not roll your eyes at him. 

“Someone broke like three bottles and you’re the only sober enough one that knows where everything is in my apartment.” Travis explained and this time, you didn't hold back, letting your eyes roll as you headed to the door. You figured that was Travis’ excuse to avoid having to clean up, but it was better than having him try and then cut himself on glass. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” You groaned as you passed him, the phrase falling easily past your lips as it had a thousand times before. You could feel Philippe’s eyes on you, but you couldn't look back at him and smile like you wanted to because Travis had slung an arm around your shoulders.

“That’s my girl!” He cheered loudly, leading you back into the party and leaving his teammate alone outside. 

Over the next few weeks, you began seeing Philippe more and more. It was always group events, other team members present and usually all hosted by Travis. 

You couldn't help but notice the tension between you and Philippe. One minute the two of you would be chatting comfortably, and maybe you’d try to flirt a bit and he would seem interested, but then someone else would walk into the room and any progress you had made to getting closer to him vanished. And heaven forbid Travis was the one to interrupt you, he Philippe would jump away from you like you had the plague. 

After a few weeks of dancing around the subject, you finally were fed up with it. A group of the teammates were hanging around Travis’ place for a movie night, and you were seated between Travis and Philippe. The tall hockey player you were steadily growing feelings for seemed tense in his seat, and jumped slightly when you rested your head against his shoulder. 

“I’m, uh, going to get another drink.” He stammered out an excuse, gesturing to his empty glass as he shot out of his seat. You watched with furrowed brows as he left the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. After a moment, you stood up to follow him, hearing Travis mutter something along the line of ‘go get ‘em, tiger’ before you left the room. 

When you entered the kitchen, Philippe was leaning with his back against the counter and his hands rubbing his face, obstructing his view so that he didn't see you enter. His head whipped up when he heard your footsteps and he just watched as you jumped up to sit on the counter next to him. 

“Did I do something?” You asked quietly, and you heard him let out a sigh. His hands were crossed over his chest and yours were gripping the countertop tightly. “You’ve been acting weird around me lately.”

“It’s my fault, honestly.” He admitted, though it did nothing to defuse your confusion. You watched as a steady blush bloomed across his cheeks and he prepared himself for what he was about to say. “I thought you were flirting with me, but that wouldn't make sense.”

“Phil, I have been flirting with you.” You confessed, and now your own blush wa starting to make an appearance. His gaze shot up to meet yours, and his furrowed brows matched yours. “Is that not something you want, or—”

“Do you know how much I want to kiss you?” He cut you off, and you stunned silent for a moment. You had just started to panic that maybe you had been making him uncomfortable with your flirting when he hit you with that confession. 

“Well... why don’t you?” You proposed, a hesitant smile finding its way onto your face, though Philippe looked conflicted.

“I can’t.” He groaned out, and you reached a hand up to place it on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch for a moment, until his seemed to gather his thoughts. “I can't feel the way about you that I do because you’re dating Travis, and—” 

You didn't let him finish that thought, because a loud laugh fell past your lips without you even meaning to. He looked at you with a confused look, and you tugged his bicep, him allowing you to pull him to stand between your legs. Despite your vantage point on the counter, he was still a good few inches taller.

“You’re serious?” You asked, face screwed up in horror as you imagined dating Travis. You loved the guy, but he was too much sometimes. Philippe nodded once, slowly, as if he was trying to piece together how you couldn’t be dating Travis. “What makes you think that?”

“I don't know, you guys are really close. And you’re like, always here. When we first met at that party, he said you had clothes in his room and he called you his girl.” He mumbled, and you found it adorable that he had been paying attention to you all those times. You rested your hands on his waist, watching as his gaze shot up to meet yours. 

“Travis and I are just really good friends, nothing more. I promise.” There was a teasing grin on your face as you watched him try to explain himself while flustered, but now you had a sincere smile. 

“So, about that kiss?” You chuckled at him, but tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips pressed against his. It was soft, gentle, and it made your head spin. But it also ended way too soon when you heard the voice of your best friend from the living room. 

“Is it safe to go in the kitchen? I want to make popcorn!” Travis called and you laughed, dropping your head onto Philippe’s shoulder. He chuckled to, but he cupped your jaw with one hand to pull you away from him slightly so he could look you in the eyes as he asked his next question. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

[where-fading-princesses-live]

double standards

So I was watching this very interesting video last night...  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di_R6Md-L80

And around 6:43, he talks about the classic Mary Sue trope and how, if you have a male character in a work of fiction who is presented as equally perfect and free of flaw (in other words, a Gary Stu), the criticism is less harsh towards him, or in some cases, nearly nonexistent. Some might even say he's a total bad-ass and how dare you find fault in someone so impossibly cool? But if they're female? Good god, it's bad writing and anti-feminist. People seem to be generally way more accepting of male archetypes who fall under this trope than the likes of their female counterparts, hence double standards. You see this all the time in action flicks for instance. Arnold Schwarzenegger films, anyone? James Bond whomst??? But suddenly you have Rey who's arguably not better or worse than the likes of those characters, and yet, the general opinion of her is... kind of unfair. Understandable, nonetheless... I'm not a fan of her either but at the same time, I don't think we should judge her harsher than male characters who have similar treatments. Male characters like that shouldn't be excused. I'm not saying Stus are NEVER pointed out or criticized, but this guy does have a point. There seems to be a much more airtight scrutiny surrounding female characters of this nature and it might be due to internalized misogyny or ''something something quantum quantum...'' Granted, I don't think Stus/Sues should be a widely accepted overused theme regardless, and that should be blamed on poor writing rather than sexism. Whether male, female, both, neither and everything in-between, characters need to be well-written, well-developed, believable and nuanced and blah blah blah. I'm not really here to talk about that. What I want to point out is double standards. And yes, this is sexism.

Take Rick and Morty for example. I'm not going to get too deep into it, but the fandom seems to praise the shit out of Rick who can easily be labelled a Stu because as we're constantly reminded, he's supposedly the ''smartest man in the universe''. Now, when you create a character who is a self-professed genius and placed on a pedestal by the writers, it can definitely come off Stu-ish. It's not that Rick unrealistically lacks flaws... no, this man is LOADED with flaws, but the fact that he's a literal badass who can get out of almost any sticky situation... well, like I said, there's more to his character than that and I'm not going to get into it, but Rick rarely, if ever, fails. Sometimes there's moments of vulnerability and the fact that he keeps trying to change but just slips back into his old ways, that makes him much more 3-dimensional than a Stu... but you know, despite his narcissism, his sarcasm, his alcoholism and mistreatment of his family and his incapability of maintaining healthy long-term relationships, he still has a limitless ability to create, a superior intelligence level even when compared to higher lifeforms on other planets, enabling him to outsmart entire government organizations and civilizations spanning galaxies, well... you can see where I'm going with this. There's no person on this planet like that who exists irl, even among the smartest of history's greatest men. Yes, it's a cartoon, it's meant to be far-fetched. Yes, it's sci-fi so we're expected to suspend our disbelief. Yes, there's a reason for it. Yes, it drives the core of the story. But even if there's times where it seems Rick will definitely fail, he never truly has an ALL IS LOST MOMENT because the writers conveniently write him out of most of his troubles, because the series has to keep going (obviously). Basically, I never feel a real sense of danger when Rick is in trouble because I know he'll get out alive (if not, there's infinite amount of Ricks and infinite amount of realities to replace him-- not to mention he can replace his family members as many times as he fucks up which became the show's laziest overused point in my opinion). Rick's not a bad character. Far from it. That's not what bothers me.

What bothers me is his daughter, Beth. Okay, no, she doesn't specifically bother me. The way the fandom sees her bothers me. Now Beth is undoubtedly cut from the same cloth. You know what they say, like father like daughter. And yet... the fandom fails to recognize her as a potentially great character, just as equally flawed and brilliant minded as Rick. She's a genius horse surgeon in a failing marriage. (I will go out on a limb and say she's more well written than Rick *ducks from flying tomatoes*.) I mean, her story is literally almost the same as her father's, her flaws are just as realistic--in fact, she's probably more realistic because she's not the ''smartest so and so of the godforsaken universe'' which is just as bad as annoyingly cringey The Chosen One trope. She's just Beth. A terribly smart woman with abandonment issues and trust issues and all other kinds of issues, but you can't blame her given her upbringing. By no means perfect or good at everything she does. Or loved (or hated) by everyone or hailed a genius by the entire flipping universe. You can't even call her a Sue. Yet some of the fandom chooses to label her a b*tch for whatever reason... even though her characterization is near identical to D*ck, er I mean Rick (e.g. she drinks just as much when she hits an all time low). She's just as awful with just as many fuck ups yet she's more sympathetic due to the way Rick raised her (or didn't raise her)... yet there's a double standard because somehow, because she's a female, she's a worse character than Rick, who's a male and apparently awesome (brownie points because he's one of the the two titular characters so you *can't* hate him, it's against the law). If Beth were Rick's son instead of his daughter, I wonder if the general opinion would be the same or not. If Rick were a woman.... he would be Rey, now would he? Don't deny it.

Then there's Ed Edd n' Eddy. As much as I love praising the hell out of this show, I also like to crap on it. There's no shame in pointing out flaws in your faves. But this isn't so much the flaw in the actual show and the actual writing, but again, I'm taking a jab at the fandom and how they perceive male characters v. female characters.

Sarah. Sarah is almost exactly like the female Eddy. She's little and bratty and loud af. She's probably the most hated character on the show (even Jimmy and Kevin are more liked than she is). I used to not like Sarah either but I never really asked myself WHY. When I compared her to Eddy, I realized that they're literally, almost the same character and I have no real reason to hate her (yeah yeah a lot of the cul-de-sac kids share eerily similar traits to the Eds and it was no accident; it makes you wonder why the kids hate the Eds so much if they ostracize them for the very same quirks they have, and it's not just the scams--it's because kids at this age are terribly insecure about themselves and tend to make fun of more vulnerable others who share their flaws to make themselves feel better. I was bullied in middle school for acne by... wait for it.... kids who had acne. GASP. Imagine that. So my point is, we often despise traits in others we despise in ourselves, not to mention we don't perceive ourselves the way others perceive us, hence, the Looking Glass Self theory. Basically, EEnE is deeper than it appears on the surface, and I've analyzed this before during those EEnE Appreciation Month things, so I won't bother repeating myself, but that's the basic idea in a nutshell.)

Ahem, before I get off on a further tangent, let me reiterate my main point. Sarah IS Eddy. No, not really, but yes, kinda really. Her voice can be irritating and grates on your nerves at times, she's bossy and controlling of her friends (I honestly love her friendship with Jimmy, and how they both defy stereotypical gender norms, and how protective she is of him, but there's times where she pushes his buttons), and though she doesn't hold Jimmy back from finding his own independence apart from her the way Eddy sometimes does to Ed and Edd who he treats them more as cronies in the first season (for instance, Sarah doesn't raise objection to Jimmy joining the Urban Rangers and finding his own identity and making other friends besides her, I mean they don't have to be glued to the hip and she damn well knows that), and yet... the way she treats Ed... well... even if Eddy stands up for Ed against Sarah and grows increasingly annoyed with the way she walks all over him... Eddy ain't much better, pumpkins. DON'T ACT LIKE HE'S BETTER THAN HER. Sure, male characters *always* get excused for this kind of behavior, but if it's a girl, she's automatically a mega beyotch with no redeeming qualities. If she's a b, he's a b, and they both have potential to redeem their flaws.  They should be treated equally.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Eddy. He's one of my favorite characters. OPE. And there's the tea.

Most people LOVE Eddy (not everybody, and if you don't, that's fine; you don't even have to like Sarah, but I have a case). Despite the fact that he's bossy, sarcastic, rude, selfish, self-absorbed, over confident, flamboyant, vain, screams with a voice that makes your ears bleed.... well, gee, didn't I just describe Sarah? Sarah loves make-up clothes and hair just as much as Eddy loves speedos and deodorant and cheap shampoo and dressing to the nines for Jonny's Arbor Day Party. Hell, Sarah had a complete meltdown because she lost her freakin' earring! Eddy flipped the fuck out when Ed lost his porno mags. THEY'RE. THE. SAME. FUCKING. PERSON. (and it's why they butt heads but that's a topic for another day, because you know, you can't fight fire with fire... you can argue the same for Eddy and Kevin)

Yet, the fandom HATES Sarah and LOVES Eddy. Probably not cuz she's female, but aside from the Kankers, the girls (and Jimmy, poor Jimmy) seem to receive harsher judgment towards them as characters by fans, even if they have similar traits to the boys. I'm sure it's because Sarah isn't as well written or developed a character as Eddy (who's a main cast member, actually the driving force of the show, the primary lead) BUT that's not to say Sarah doesn't have her moments of vulnerability or moments of total bad-assery that makes her.... well... interesting  if given the chance. (In BPS, she beats the living shit out of the Kankers and devises a plan for her and Jimmy to escape their enslavement, one of my all-time favorite scenes in the entire movie; not to mention she beats the crap out of EVERYONE on the show and it's usually, not always, well-deserved but it's entertaining nonetheless: cat fights with Nazz, even beating up Rolf who's twice her size, etc.). The fact that everyone is afraid of this little girl??? (maybe except Kevin). I mean, this chick is fearless, and yet, she still has moments of weakness. That's 3-dimensional if you ask me. She's more than just the bratty little sister. I didn't used to like her, but after studying her more, I've come to appreciate her. There's nothing about her that makes her an inherently ''bad'' female character. She plays a role, as do they all, and she plays the role perfectly.

Last but not least: Nazz. Everyone's favorite (I'm kidding). I don't know if the fandom hates Sarah or Nazz more. I can understand the hate towards Sarah, but Nazz seems even less just. Nazz is like one of the nicest people on the show and never really does anything to warrant the hate (until the infamous flanderized Season 5-- don't judge me, I love S5 regardless)... but even then she's still nice, if a bit artificially so. I mean, she becomes a bit of a Mean Girl (they all kinda do; it must be how the clique school environment changes a person), but she still goes out of her way to be inclusive towards everyone (even if she can be spotted in the background laughing at the Eds along with the others at times, but they're ALL guilty of this... ya'll out here lovin' on Rolf or Jonny or whatever, and pretending like they're saints, but they laugh at our precious Ed boys too. Also, precious Ed boys are not complete angels either and sometimes they need a good ass whooping or two. I mean, they're just kids. Kids are assholes). She's not a bad person though; she roots for all the contestants during the Spelling Bee. She personally appoints Ed to be the mascot of the football team. I can go on and on. She's just nice. Maybe that's why fans hate her. Because nice is boring. Nice is... personality-less. I don't think Nazz has as much eccentricity as the other characters, obviously, but she, too, has her moments (she yodels, for starters). She's not entirely lacking in personality. Sure, she may have as much personality as a board of wood (actually, I take that back, Plank has MORE personality than her XD) buuuut.... Idk, I like Nazz. I didn't at first either. But even if it irks me a bit that she's reduced down to the unattainable love interest and not much else, she, too, isn't an inherently ''bad'' female character. She has the least development of all the cast members, but she fills her role effectively. Without her, the show would feel like it's missing something. Even if she doesn't appear as often.

What bothers me the most is that she plays the same part as Kevin, only female. Kevin's the quintessential jock/bully popular leader of the kids, the King of the Cul-de-sac if you will (self-appointed or otherwise, just don't tell Eddy I told you). Nazz is like his Homecoming Queen, even if they're not an official couple (they spend the whole series as a ''will they or won't they Ross and Rachel'') and though not the leader of the kids collectively, she does sometimes lead the girls (or really, Sarah and Jimmy), while Kevin leads the boys (Jonny and Rolf, excluding the Eds). AND YET Kevin, though sometimes hated by fans, isn't nearly *as* hated as Nazz. Yet, he has as much personality as her (sorry, I love you, Kev). I mean, THEY'RE. ALMOST. THE. SAME. CHARACTER. Good looking, sporty, popular... He's also the least developed character of the male cast. Plank has more development than him and that's kinda sad... y'know... getting beat by a board of wood. (But Plank comes alive through Jonny, so basically Jonny is split into two separate characters; Plank reveals aspects of Jonny that he won't reveal to us, and vice versa. I can talk about Jonny all day, but let's not, because this is about Nazz.) I mean, again, Nazz and Kevin both have their moments of vulnerability and it's not like they're NEVER interesting; I beg to differ. Kevin, anyway, has two great episodes that revolve directly around his insecurities and anxieties and deep-seated fears, some deep shit I wish we got to see with Nazz. But instead we got BPS and it was hands-down the best character development we ever saw from her in the entire show's run. It's sad it had to be the end, because if they gave us more BPS Nazz throughout the series, she would have been a well rounded 3-d character.

Nazz is angry AF in BPS and I live for angry Nazz. We can kind of feel for her here because Kevin is such a dunce. She's finally reciprocating his feelings and he decides to turn the other way.... for his goddamn inanimate bike. It's something Jonny would do, but Kev always loved that bike... I guess more than Nazz, and it's one of the greatest love triangles ever. Phantom of the Opera don't interact. Ahem. My point is, Nazz finally displays more personality here-- like actual fucking emotion beyond just being nice and pretty (sure, we've seen her get angry sometimes, or freaked out other times, but never like this). Buuuuuut the fandom sees otherwise. They hated Nazz even MORE after this, despite that.... the male characters in BPS, like Rolf who punches through a tree and Edd and Eddy who go at it all piss and vinegar in an actual fist fight, are angry fucking men, and they're allowed to be angry and not Nazz because...? They have more testosterone and she doesn't? Because penises are more justified than vaginas? Oops, no, sorry, women can only be angry when they're on their periods, my bad. I mean, everybody's out in this freezing cold swamp, having a break down, at their wit's end, reaching their ''all is lost'' moment... yet, Rolf and the Eds are allowed to vent their frustrations on each other or on the surrounding environment. But not Nazz. No, Nazz is being a b*tch because.... Kevin's paying more attention to a non-living machine than to her. And he sat flat on his skinny ass and didn't help her when she needed him the most. And she didn't have to tag along with him but she did. She didn't have to put up with his cold aloofness but she did. And even if she was trying to catch his attention and flirt with him at inappropriate times she wasn't entirely useless. It was HER idea to find Eddy's brother. If she hadn't suggested it, he'd still be riding around in circles chasing his shadow. Yeah, okay, she's a total b*tch.

God forbid women have emotions. God forbid women cry or get frustrated. Then they're b*tches. But if they're pretty and nice and perfect and popular, they're Sues. Yet, male characters with the same traits.... get lighter sentences. No one even bats an eye. Boys will be boys am I right?

I can go on but yeah, don't say double standards are total BS. In this essay I will

[tammyhybrid21]

On Villain Impact

SO, Guess who just rewatched UP so that I could further expand on the tea brought up in the post that ask prompted! I mean, and some general comparison moments... with plot and tone and the possible inspirations... BUT--

We're not here to explore Paradise Falls today!

So let's take this in parts so I can give each villain(and one bonus) their dues. Starting with the Pixar villain who first traumatized me in 2009.

Charles Muntz

Sooo first of all, this guy is terrifying.

Like, out of all the villains I'm here to talk about, Muntz has reached that point that there's just... something wrong and broken by the time he actually shows up on screen in his movie. Well, not his movie but-- By the time we meet him, isolation has done a number along with his single minded focus on his goal.

Muntz is... not in a good state of mind AT ALL.

BUT--

I kind of want to take it back for a moment to what triggered this. Because here's the tea-- As we see, throughout the movie with Russel and Kevin, Muntz's find was real. Birb still around even. That skeleton he displayed-- and yet--

They decried it as fake. Something he fabricated. Which hello, here's some of my related tea-- Again, this is basically that whole-- issue of if it doesn't fit with known facts, along with some of the other issues regarding the palaeontology community in general that is-- not quite the same, but--

I have many, many dinosaur issues and some of them come from how long it took people to accept feathered dinosaurs, to the fact that there has been multiple cases of evidence that dinosaurs went extinct much more recently than what we're taught in schools(middle ages, medieval art and designs and just argh--), that are just-- REJECTED. Which even included a report about still images, art and designs that are very dinosaur in nature. Or hell, the comparison of dragon legends to how dinosaur skulls and appearances are--

Not to mention there have been and are still fiascos about dinosaur bones and the whole marrow and blood cells discovered in them. Which instead of maybe assuming that means they're younger than previously assumed they're assuming that means that decay rates are off, which... yeah sure. I don't really have a degree on that, but it sounds wrong when decay has more clear and obvious examples that have been more clearly witnessed, studied-- I mean there's a whole STUDY on decay--

BUT I'M NOT AN EXPERT AND THE EARTH HAS TO BE--

Anyway-- Fossils and bones have-- such a HUGE mess. From exhibits going missing, discoveries passed over time and time again because is "doesn't fit" what was previously know, there's a whole documentary that's one guy trying to explain how there's evidence of specific species actually just being sexual dimorphism and differences in age of just one species and being mocked by the rest of the community for that view--

You know fascinating stuff--

Among other things, like I remember so clearly a documentary that used to be around where they talked about a dig site where there were modern animals preserved with animals from so, so long ago-- along with trying to explain how the very existence of Dinosaur bones and fossils proved that the Great Worldwide Flood happened.

Which-- honestly on the flood, just look at how pretty much every culture has a Great Flood story and that's already proven that something happened. WHICH is all beside the point--

But this-- THIS--

Do you know how much this happens, happened, and still probably will happen in the future?! I mean shit-- people thought the KANGAROO was FAKE NEWS once upon a time. Among-- many other of Australia's animals... also like-- think about weird animals from your own country and imagine in the olden days, sure people could travel, but that didn't mean everyone would or could and just--

How many animals sound fake but then you see them?!

In any case, there's just a very subtle background flow to this movie in that ultimately, the TRUE villains hidden in the story are the Archaeology & Palaeontology communities. Scientists.

--

Which yeah, deviation from the main point of this post, so now that we have that background detail and rant. What impact does Muntz have as a villain. Well... very clearly he's terrifying. Like, I don't think I can overstate how much I was FREAKED OUT as a baby 11 year old seeing this movie for the first time, with exaggerated memories of fire and trauma and all-- and just-- Muntz is a Pixar villain.

Which yeah--

I don't actually really have to say much in regards to how he lingers and his presence is felt all through how the movie unfolds. Even from before this reveal-- there's that sense of wrongness when you're paying attention and you just think about how the dogs act.

And well-- there's something to be stated about this scene... and how it serves as a good lead in to the next villain I would like to talk about-- But for now...

Muntz' degeneration here is subtle. Traitors, liars, people after his discovery... and some serious isolation induced paranoia.

But the heart of his motivation is that long, long ago disgrace. It's been YEARS, of hunting and trying to find the one thing. Carl's entire lifetime from childhood. His entire goal-- and what a hell of a broken pedestal that creates... but arguably, he's from a somewhat tragic perspective when you actually think how fundamentally broken he's fallen when examining the facts.

From a lauded explorer-- adventurer... to this.

Fearing and calling anyone he meets liars.

Max Mordon

Soooo before anyone says that was an abrupt-- I think that this is the PERFECT place to transition over. Because the one immediately there is... some DRASTIC contrasts between these two, despite well. Some small similar vibes to generals.

Like seriously...

Not precisely the same... but like-- Brown hair, blue eyes... and the general frame of his hair style. Max just missed some of the points and has no moustache or anything. BUT--

Max is also in direct contrast in regards to motivations. At least to the prior villain of Muntz. BUT-- Max is kind of literally the kind of people that Muntz was paranoid about. Which isn't really played for subtly in the movie, which is unfortunate, but to be fair that's a hard thing to play subtle and with all the tropes we've been exposed to nowadays-- BUT--

Max basically fell into the trap of, pedestal to break, along with what I kind of call Scooby logic, in how his presentation gave him away as a villain. And also all the older mentor characters disapproving of him.

Basically he was doomed from the framing.

Which-- isn't really the movie's fault, and in the end I would argue it actually plays to his favour to be so obvious.

Sooo I can also actually focus on other things instead of the fact we all know! Like how THERE'S just... so, so much I could say about Tad's reactions to Max throughout the movie. But that will probably take away from the focus of this rant/analysis. BUT-- Yeah, Max is set up as pretty obviously trouble to EVERYONE but the main characters.

Which... I do have opinions for another rant about how Sara would have in any other context probably noticed his fake sooner-- but Max is... "media circus" and archaeology... and more really his pursuit is-- really, really straight forwards in the context of the movie and even the greater scope.

Max is after immortality, power, and prestige. Puts great pride on his title and claim to be the "Greatest explorer". And much unlike Muntz there is no sign of ANYTHING tragic or forgiving in his background. He wasn't screwed over by the system, rather he's here using the system to screw others other.

ALSO--

Max is savvy as anything.

Like-- I don't think people will quite understand my glee at how RUTHLESS this is. But in a similar vein to Muntz, Max isn't letting anything stand in the way of his goals. Not here-- directing the Odysseus to get rid of Freddy and Tad despite them ostensibly being "no threat", which yeah... not completely for Tad as later that comes back around-- BUT-- Max is just... SAVVY in that sense that he's not taking risks.

BUT then we also get him showing he's... really not as expert as he plays himself. Which sure, the Professor has studied for years, but still-- there's a kind of logic that's just-- well, in the Quipu room and even before entering the ruins... He's just-- not studied enough, or observing enough. Not without blind spots.

BUT--

I also want to for a moment just take a moment to have an aside on this:

I also don't know if this is something that people would notice. But-- when it comes to this moment, Max turns the tables... really quickly. Which half of that is just Mummy being kind of naïve himself here in this moment, like-- of all the decisions... but the other half is SOMETHING clicked in Max's mind on this--

But mostly I want to focus on that expression. He's so damn smug-- like he's got a plan, smug and smooth, ready to try and steal the advantage... and I have... opinions on other nuances that might be hiding in that smile. But-- well, it's just not something that can easily be covered all in this--

BUT

It's these two SIDES. And his clear motivation, that actually makes Max a really, really strong and interesting villain to speculate and think about. ALSO-- On the topic of my prior rant...

Max DEFINITELY is the kind of person who probably-- had the movie not unfolded as it did, just be likely to think Mummy was just "another discovery" and tool to use to boost his own reputation.

But as we all know-- ultimately it all came back down on him and backfired.

Jack Rackham

Is honestly the most bland and kind of... confusing almost part of The Secret of King Midas. Like, I almost get him, but then compared to Max, there's just... Nothing to really work with in terms of fanfiction for missing scenes, alternative takes on the universe and story-- and even for his basic motivation it feels like something is... missing or unexplained. Not quite paid off properly.

But then, a lot of things in the sequel kind of pan out in a weird way that I have... much to grumble on.

"So cute, the power of Midas goes way beyond wealth my dear"

"Midas' power, is the power of the GODS! The power to Rule the World!"

Aaaand then this feels like it doesn't actually get a proper explanation or framing or anything to explain what that even MEANS. It's kind of nebulous to how things pan out and unfold. Also, just in general for movie 2, we didn't see enough of Rackham for him to make a proper impact or landing...

Like, for all the world aside the romance subplot, Rackham's presence in this movie is the MOST FORCED THING. He just feels... incomplete, or like something is missing. And then worse, obligatory. With next to no impact aside a few expressions that only lead to more internal confusion and screaming because WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?! What was meant to be going on here?

And that stupid, stupid line--

Makes me wonder if there was some other factor supposed to be at play with the collar. Since honestly-- Just the touch of gold doesn't really speak highly to "the power of the gods".

Rackham... in comparison to Max is just-- so empty.

And again...

The last thing that just drives my confusion(along with a conspiracy based on framing, set pieces and other things) is this expression, and specifically who it's aimed at.

Bonus Tiffany & The Archaeological Community

So...

Hot take but-- Movie 2's villain should have been Tiff. Well, halfway anyway... And I have... already mostly ranted on the topic-- But not really enough to truly kind of get over my TRUE frustration. Which has now combined into how nebulous and almost... overloaded movie 2 feels the more I rewatch the rest of it.

BUT LIKE--

If there is one rule that we see time and time again when discoveries are made that challenge things. THEY ARE NOT ACCEPTED. People just like to think, to believe that we know the most about the past already. That there's a strict timeline to everything that happened. And if mythology and stories come into it-- Just for crying out loud--

The issue persists.

People denying anything that challenges the view already established. Up to and including the mishandling of archaeological digs and finds. Destruction of artefacts and we all know that the ones who get the brunt of it are the younger folks, those who're out of the "default" and well... ladies.

Which yeah-- not really surprising because sexism still stands and rings strong... but here...

DESPITE THE PAPYRUS BEING FOUND-- We didn't actually get to see the end result of that... And how it was taken beyond a giant presentation. There would have been authenticators-- people going over every INCH of that thing and then more-- so, so many people who would STILL call it fake.

Since we all know! Magic isn't real, myths didn't happen. So this must be some exaggerated story as well right?

WHICH ALSO-- Arguably this whole angle, the potential of the plot being just-- Driven by this-- It's more in line with the motives that are set up for Tiffany. The BIGGEST DISCOVERY in recent history. And also again, I can talk about some incomplete arcs, because this actually gives EVERYONE that little bit more room to breath.

Also serves as a bit more of a move on from movie 1 for Tadeo, first his hero(Max), wasn't all he appeared, and now-- the villain is okay, not exactly defined so much, more abstract in the community decrying the evidence. Denying-- Quite likely mishandling the papyrus since it can't really be what it claims.

Actually make the papyrus relevant, along with Sara's journal of notes on the project for more than one scene... and POSSIBLY EXPLAIN THAT LINE FROM RACKHAM.

Power of the Gods... and the mystery of Sara's kind of echo/response line to it.

“There are too many signs that the power of Midas shouldn’t be trifled with, I’m just saying that maybe the collar shouldn’t see the daylight”

We could have even still had that climax, just with some alterations, and let Tiffany come full circle in the theming. Set up and payoff, with even the legend being mirrored. But anyway... yeah.

Just in general, the villains most effective here are the ones who give us more than just that surface level empty sense. That have presence that's felt and echoes throughout the whole MOVIE and story. Which is definitely Muntz and Max, without them something is fundamentally lost.

Meanwhile Rackham is there, but he feels obligatory, without a proper explanation and if you removed him--

Tiffany could have become a mirror to Muntz in a similar way to Max-- BUT also much closer. She's set up PERFECTLY for it as well. Her adoration and eagerness, that bright hope yet. And it would be so easy to still have the main beats be the same-- Without much of an issue of the plot push either.

Rackham's sense of presence in the movie is so... dismal anyway--

And as for that climax. Well, you have to prove every aspect right?

BUT then it wouldn't make sense for Tadeo to make any kind of sacrifice there. To come full circle, it would need to be Tiffany. And the collar ACTUALLY could be sacrificed like in the legend and Tad first assumed.

[wrestlingisfake]

I watched the Dark Side of the Ring documentary on Chris Benoit so I thought I’d add some details they didn’t get into.

The double murder-suicide happened to occur while WWE was building up a storyline where Vince McMahon had “died” in an exploding limousine.  The June 25, 2007, edition of Raw was scheduled as a 3-hour special (Raw was usually a 2-hour show then) featuring a public “funeral” for Vince, with plot twists meant to lead into a conflict over his will and a secret heir.  (This was later re-worked into the “Vince has an illegitimate son” storyline.)  Obviously plans changed. 

It still would have been possible to do a show similar to the Eddie Guerrero tribute, with fans in attendance, the whole roster doing a ten-bell salute, and feel-good matches without storylines.  WWE had a grim talent for doing that sort of thing on short notice.  The fact it was an empty arena, with a handful of people throwing to clips and pre-taped comments, was unusual.  I’ve always wondered if Vince mentally gave up on the show, simply because the signature storyline of the year--hours away from a major story beat--was suddenly unsalvageable.

Once it became clear that Chris had killed Nancy and Daniel, WWE took heat from the media for doing the tribute show.  I think the public felt WWE should have either known more about the case before the show started, or limited discussion of the topic until more information became available.  To a non-fan at the time, it probably seemed feasible to run a tasteful “in memorium” graphic and run a normal show, and save the full-throated tribute for later.  That would have been unthinkable inside the WWE bubble, though--fans would have been offended by anything less than the prompt tributes Owen Hart and Eddie Guerrero received.  Also, as noted, a “normal show” would have been the scheduled funeral for Vince, which was obviously a no-go.

I’ve heard that the news started to report the possibility of homicide that night, during the show.  I wouldn’t know, because I heard the news when I got home from work and got sucked into memorializing Chris, just like WWE.  I was certain the family must have been killed by a gas leak or something.  “Weird Al” Yankovic’s parents had died from carbon monoxide poisoning in 2004, so that kind of thing was fresh on people’s minds.  I can totally believe the WWE crew didn’t consider the possibility of foul play, because I didn’t seriously consider it until the following day, when the police officially ruled it a double murder-suicide.

I think the decision to “erase” Benoit can be traced to the frustration Vince probably felt when he had to address the situation all over again on the June 26 ECW show.  Vince loathes being put on the spot over things he believes are not his fault and beyond his control.  I’m not saying he was totally heartless about the tragedy.  But in his mind it’s wrong that thing like that should force him to scrap his storylines in favor of a tribute show, or that he should have to apologize for doing the tribute show he didn’t really want to do in the first place.  He wanted to get past this, once and for all, and formally striking Benoit’s name from the record let him feel control over the situation.

It’s worth noting that the “censoring” of Benoit has not affected his appearances on countless hours of WWE Network footage, or his name appearing in various title histories.  It’s also worth considering that, even if WWE personnel were “allowed” to talk about him, they’d likely have nothing to say at this point.  It’s fairly unusual for WWE to extensively reference anything 13 years after the fact.  They’re free and clear to talk about Eddie, but they don’t bring him up much either, except to say he’s dead and he did a frog splash.

I’m not sure the documentary adequately explained the issues with unprotected chairshots, or the danger of the flying headbutt, especially for non-fans who know pro wrestling is fake but don’t understand how it works.  Many pro wrestling spots are only “safe” in the sense that the wrestler can take the full impact but still get up and pretend to fight.  If a guy could hit his head on something and keep going, the business had no need to figure out a way to make it safer or easier.  Eventually the mentality was that if you couldn’t take that punishment, you were weak and the damage would either toughen you up or force you to quit.  Of course, this changed a lot after 2007.

So did the Wellness Policy.  Today’s fans may be bewildered that Chris Benoit could pass a drug test with so much testosterone in his system at the time of his death.  The missing piece of the puzzle is that the policy was only introduced to combat the bad PR over Eddie, and was not seriously enforced until the Benoit story exposed it as a joke.  Basically, after Eddie WWE wanted to look like they were preventing another tragedy, and after Benoit WWE realized that it was in their best interests to actually prevent another tragedy.

I was surprised the documentary touched on Nancy Benoit’s history with Kevin Sullivan, without mentioning the fringe theory that Sullivan was the “real” murderer.  At the time, Sullivan was perceived as holding back Chris’s career in WCW, and it was easy to cast Chris as the good guy who overcame adversity and Sullivan as a jealous, bitter has-been.  People who wanted to find some other villain in the Benoit murders found it easy to turn to Sullivan, and his silly 1980s Satanic heel gimmick added fuel to the fire.  The idea that Sullivan could outwit the Fayette County Sheriff's Department but somehow fail to account for the sleuthing skills of pro wrestling fans is, as ever, preposterous.

The documentary was a little vague on the “glass ceiling” politics in the 1990s.  The key is that the WWF tended to want to make stars out of bigger guys (6 feet and up, 250 pounds and up), and WCW tended to want to make stars out of guys that had been stars in the WWF.  Benoit and his closest friends were generally viewed as solid technicians but too bland and/or small to be at the tippy-toppy level.  They got a boost from the hype about them jumping from WCW to WWF.  But once the Monday Night Wars were over and WWE was the only game in town, guys like Benoit and Eddie Guerrero were kept at a certain level, while a new generation of big muscly guys (e.g., John Cena, Batista) kinda leapfrogged over them.  That’s not to say Chris and Eddie didn’t have their big moments in the sun, but there was always a higher level just out of reach for them.

That political context likely affects how fans feel about the Benoit case.  To this day there are fans who act as if the primary injustice is that WWE won’t acknowledge Chris’s existence.  For years, being a Chris Benoit fan meant arguing that he was underrated and overlooked by the capricious powers that be, and I think some fans reflexively view his legacy as an extension of that struggle.  They want everyone to admit that Chris was, despite the murders, an excellent pro wrestler, as if anyone ever disputed that.  They want Chris to be inducted in the Hall of Fame so WWE will play his entrance music and give him his due, without confronting Chris’s role in preventing that from happening.  They wish Chris had gone out like Eddie, because Eddie’s tragedy was at least a clean and pure expression of grief and veneration.  Chris Benoit denied us that expression, but it’s easier to blame someone else.