#and i wondered where i got that phrase from. and it's probably from one piece's humming brook | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

passivenovember · 27 days

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(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag.

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington? What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away.

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up.

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?”

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image.

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #clothes sharing #fluff #love confessions

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marleyybluu · 1 year

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hey! could you write an oscar x reader about the reader smoking with oscar for the first time? maybe the reader says something stupid and he clowns her and they’re just being stupid together. ty🫶🏽

Stoned

Oscar x fem!reader

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: marijuana use, swearing, a bit of self-insert, driving while high (but don't be this stupid irl), stoner phrases. bit of fluff.

A/N: I loved writing this, it was fun I felt like I got to put myself in a story yk. I based some of the behaviours and everything off of what I've experienced. and I wrote this stoned. had to.

“You got a lighter?" You rolled your eyes at the stupid question. He knew you didn't smoke so why would he ask you for a lighter?

You knocked your head to the side, your hand froze in mid-air with the remote resting in your palm as you paused the action of changing the channel just to stare at your boyfriend until he got the message but he was too busy sprinkling his shredded green bits inside the thin paper. He usually smoked backwoods but he was out so RAW papers would have to do today.

He quickly glanced up after noticing the time it was taking for you to answer. He looked to the side and looked back at you. "What?"

"You know I don't smoke."

He shrugged. "You know I do, so you should start carrying extra lighters." Your jaw dropped at his sassy response, you grabbed the pillow from under you and whacked him in the head with it, he sucked his teeth as a little bit of kush fell out of the paper and onto his rolling tray. "Really?" You poked out your bottom lip and batted your lashes. "Sorry baby, my brother probably has one in his room go look."

Oscar put everything back on the tray and placed the tray on the table, he rose from the couch and disappeared to go find what he was looking for. You looked down at the materials that were spread on his well-decorated tray, you look behind you and back at the table, the mischievous voice in your head telling you to just smell it at least.

You reached over and picked up a bud that he hadn't ground yet, assuming he'd save it for later, and held it to your nose you took a deep inhale and were immediately met with an earthy yet sweet and fruity smell-- almost like a dessert. You looked down at it, examining every piece of the bud, it was a mixture of colours such as green, a light brown and a small hint of yellow right where the stem was.

"What are you doing?" Oscar laughed having stood there long enough to see everything. You flinched placing the gram back where it was. "Nothing, just... inquisitive." You smartly answered. He bent his lips inward to hold his smile, he thought it was a bit cute you were curious. He'd been trying to get you to smoke with him but you continuously declined and he wasn't the type to force you to do something you didn't want.

He sat back down in his spot and resumed back to rolling, but once your interest peaked you couldn't let it go. Your head faced the television but your eyes cast to the side watching Oscar carefully wrap up his kush in this thin and almost fragile brown piece of paper, you liked watching him roll-- the way his big fingers suddenly became small and nimble in order to swaddle his precious baby tightly but then came the use of his tongue, leaving a little bit of paper so it could overlap and close everything. His tongue swiped across, getting it wet but not too much, he would gently fold it over, press down on it and done. It was ready to smoke.

"What's it like being high?" You asked. "Uh, it's like you're floating... sometimes you feel your body swaying even though you aren't actually moving. It could also depend on where you are when you're high." He informed. You bit your lip weighing your options, you'd been wonderous about this for a while but didn't know how to go about it, plus you were nervous you'd make an idiot out of yourself the first time.

Oscar noticed the look on your face and smiled. "You want to try it?"

You nodded your head. He looked out the window noticing orange slowly replacing the blue in the sky. "Aight, come on." He said placing the blunt behind his ear and the lighter in his pocket, he stood up and headed to your kitchen grabbing water bottles for the both of you. "Bring your bag too."

"Why?"

He made his way back over to you, bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Because I want you to have a nice experience with this, we're not smoking here. Imma take you to the beach, but we gotta grab food and snacks first because you will get hungry." You squealed, you were lowkey excited about this. You changed into some shorts and a loose top, you grabbed your backpack and stuffed it with the water bottles a blanket and a little speaker just in case.

The two of you left the house and ventured off to find some food. You went to your usual spot and he picked up your usual orders. The drive to the beach didn't take long. Oscar parked in the lot and you guys left with your things. The place was scarce, which was for the greater good, maybe you wouldn't get too paranoid about other people staring at you.

Oscar led you down a little further away from the steps and a bit closer to the water. You spread a blanket on the sand and plopped everything on top of it. The cool breeze tickled your skin producing goosebumps on every surface. You watched as your boyfriend removed the blunt from its cozy spot and dug the lighter out of his pocket.

"You still sure about this?" He asked sparking a light. You nodded eagerly. He placed the tail end between his lips, he cupped his hand over the lighter so the wind wouldn't blow the spark out. Smoke emerged from the little shelter he created, that same earthy sent has become more pungent now that it was burning.

Oscar took the first pull, you noticed the thick cloud essentially disappear into his mouth— he puffed out his cheeks and blew out a thinner puff of smoke. He handed you the weed, you took it between your thumb and index finger as he had it. "You just have to inhale baby."

You nodded, copying his actions you placed it between your lips, you inhaled as much as your lungs could let you and held your breath. Oscar's eyebrows scrunched together. "Ma, you don't have to hold your breath, just inhale."

It was tickling your throat and not in a good way. You let out a loud and hoarse cough, you sounded like someone who'd been smoking cigarettes for thirty years. Oscar patted your back while you banged your palm against your chest. "Shit!" Cough. "What the fuck!"

"Drink some water." His voice was shaky trying his best to hold down his laugh. You handed back the blunt and reached into the bag for your water. "You wanna try again?" You put your finger up as you chugged the h2o. Once you felt like you were fine you responded with a yes.

Oscar took his time to explain what he meant by inhale, that to just smoke and blow was a waste of weed and you wouldn't get high off of that technique. Once you understood you took another swing at it. Pull, inhale, blow. You did it just like that and a quick flash of pride ran over Oscar's face. "Nice." He nudged, you handed it back to him and he took it between his fingers.

"So, when does it hit?" You asked. He chuckled. "Trust me, you'll know." And until then the both of you kept puffing and passing, enjoying the view of the water, the small waves running up to kiss the sand. You sighed contently, your body completely relaxed and loose. So relaxed you didn't feel the need to use your own strength to hold it up anymore so you decided to lay down on the blanket.

Oscar chuckled. "You good?" You nodded with a smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Your lids felt so heavy... so tired. You struggled to keep them up, you looked over at Oscar who had been holding the last of the blunt in your direction for a while. The both of you are too stoned to mutter a word.

Your hand felt wonky and distorted as you accepted it. As you smoked Oscar dug through the bag for the other water bottle and the speaker. "You want me to play or you?"

"You." You answered way too lazy to even touch your phone though it was right next to you. Your eyes were laser-focused on the sky, you felt like you could see every detail of the clouds. So light and fluffy, colliding with one another and you wish you could touch them. Maybe you could.

Your arm extended to the sky, your hand gripping and releasing constantly you felt like you were touching them— they felt like cotton candy. Your daydream was interrupted by Oscar lightly smacking your hand down. "What are you doing?"

"I'm touching the clouds bitch."

"No, you're not." A brief moment of reality settled in and you were back on the ground, back on earth just watching those misshapen things float by in the orange sky. You looked down at the blunt and back over at Oscar. Both held a gaze until you two busted out laughing. "You are so fried." He chuckled. "Holy shit am I? Wow."

This feeling was different. You didn't feel like you, you felt like a passenger just enjoying the view and vibes while someone else drove. Your sense heightened, you could hear every flap of a bird's wing, every whoosh of the water. You could hear your own heating in your eardrum. "Are you high?" You asked taking one more drag before passing it back. "Finish it." He challenged, you shrugged and placed the butt end back between your lips.

"I smoke a lot so it's not gonna hit me like it's hitting you. I'll smoke again soon."

You nodded. You closed your eyes just taking this all in. The last puff of marijuana had left your throat while you smushed the end in the sand. Oscar was already working on his spliff because he didn't feel like smoking another big one. "I like flamingos," You randomly burst out. "They're so pink and pretty." Oscar snorted and shook his head. "I thought your favourite animals were penguins."

"I love penguins." You giggled like an airhead. Oscar quickly finished his spliff and dusted off whatever was on his pants, he tucked behind his ear before moving closer and laying next to you. "How do you know so much about me?" You pouted feeling sentimental for some reason, and a sudden rush of overpouring love took over. He leaned down gently plopping his lips on yours, you could taste his neediness on your lips-- your tongues passing by, occasionally colliding. Why were you so hot all of a sudden?

He pulled away and you pathetically whimpered for more. "Because I only study what I love." He wooed. You pinched his chin and rolled your eyes. "Well, I love you too."

"Good."

You sat up watching the sky become darker and darker, you looked out to the water and smiled. "I wanna live by the beach."

Oscar glanced over at you with awe in his eyes. "Long as it's close to the restaurant I don't mind." You blushed at the fact he saw you in his future. The sound of the lighter flickering caught her attention. "Trynna go again?"

You eagerly nodded. You let him take the first few hits while you bit into your burger tasting flavours you'd never experienced in your life, you hummed in satisfaction as you stuffed your mouth with the salty fries it came with. It tasted better when you were in this state. Oscar offered the last little bit and you gladly took it.

His eyes matched yours, lids low with glossed-over red eyes. He looked so cute like that, that's why you liked being around him when he was high. "You good?" You asked, he nodded reaching for his own burger now. "I love food." He said. Your eyes disappeared as you smiled. You switched between smoking at eating until the spliff was done, you flicked it onto the sand and returned to the rest of your fries.

The night sky had come in, it reflected off of the clear water, tides slowly dying down. You two had lay there not saying a word, just enjoying each other's company-- you didn't know if it was the weed dying out but you were suddenly tired, all you wanted to do was sleep. Had a few close calls too until Oscar nudged you. "How did your first time getting high go?" He asked. You kissed his chest and said. "Mmm, we should do this more often."

"Yeah?" He replied with a bit of excitement in his voice. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me try it." Oscar planted a kiss on your head. "Anytime, baby."

"I'm as high as giraffe titties right now." You slurred. Oscar belly-laughed, all the things you were saying were just cute and hilarious to him. "Maybe we should take you home. Sleep this off." You groaned but agreed, you two packed up everything and Oscar held onto you as you stumbled behind him, your feet completely forgetting their job. He dropped you in the passenger's seat and buckled you in before heading to the driver's side. He rolled down the windows for some cool air, started the car and pulled out of the lot.

The ride home was silent, other than the low music playing through the speakers. You were zoned out beyond belief as you leaned your head against the car. You had given up the fight, the drug was winning and you were floating off to sleep. Oscar looked over after hearing a few little snores, he laughed shaking his head. He'd never forget the day that his goodie-two-shoes ass girlfriend finally smoked some weed.

if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

peace and love.

tags: @skyesthebomb

#oscar diaz #fem!!reader #spooky #spooky x reader #spooky x fem!!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #poc reader

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

does selkie!soap know that ghost is a changeling? if not can we have him figure it out?

Yes! I absolutely fucking can! Continuation from this post

Soap looked at his husband, watching him carefully. Ghost had eaten twelve pancakes. Not eggos. Eggos would be reasonable. Twelve, full sized pancakes.

To be fair, Ghost had been the one cooking them, so it wasn’t that noticeable to anyone else. They all had large appetites. Big men, big muscles, bit metabolisms.

But Soap was watching Ghost make more for himself and he was clearly trying to make it seem like he hadn’t eaten that much. It was odd.

His husband. What a funny phrase to be able to use now. Anyway. His husband was odd.

He poured more syrup on his pancakes, he made chocolate chip for Soap, blueberry for Gaz, strawberry for Price and from the looks of it, plain for himself. Ghost ate in the kitchen, probably to keep them from seeing his face. It wasn’t unusual, but Soap couldn’t help but wonder how often Ghost was using it to hide his odd eating habits.

The next was simpler. Ghost’s gloves had torn. His hands looked normal but very pale.

“Guess you don’t get out in the sunlight much, huh LT?”

“Not really.” Ghost rubbed his hands together gently.

Soap tossed him again and turned away, only to hear it thunk against the floor. He looked backed to see Ghost just staring at it.

“I’ll stick to knives.”

“There’s a lot of people. I’d feel better if you have a gun.”

“Do you have one with a grip?”

“What? No.” Soap stared at him for a minute and Ghost relented. He picked the gun up and followed him.

It wasn’t until later that he finally got to put the gun down and Soap saw them. Everywhere the metal had touched his hands were burns. Severe ones. In parts, especially where he’d have it pressed hard to his palm, the skin had started to bubble and crack.

Ghost noticed him staring and dropped the gun. “Ironic. A sniper who can’t actually touch it. S’why I wear the gloves...”

“Ah...” Soap thought of the steel and therefore the iron in the gun. His whole not human theory was starting to make much more sense.

It was such an odd topic to bring up, but they were on it and Soap was determined to use it.

“Yeah, personally I grew up Roman Catholic. Got the baptism and everything.” According to his dad, who had laughed about it, his mom had begged him not to, worried it would kill Soap or make him human. According to his mom, his dad had jumped at the idea that baptism might make him human. It did neither of course. “What about you, LT?”

“My mom was Protestant, but I never was baptized. She stopped taking us before I was old enough to do it.”

“Why?”

Ghost paused, glancing around. No one was really focusing on them so he shrugged. Soap had noticed that although the bond effected him in the usual ways, the world revolving more around Ghost, him always being aware of Ghost, feeling Ghost’s presence around him at all times, yada, yada, it had also affected Ghost, which was interesting. It made him a little more open with Soap. Just Soap. If that sent a thrill through him, no one needed to know.

“My mom took me and Tommy every Sunday. My dad occasionally tagged along. One day, one of the patrons caught me stealing an extra piece of the communion bread. This lady made it fresh and it was fucking great. They told my dad and he hit me with a bible so hard it knocked me to the ground. Right in front of everyone. My mom stopped taking us to church after that.” Ghost told it all to him quietly. “I had liked going, even though I didn’t believe in it. Always felt insincere, but it made my mom happy.”

“Oh.” Soap stared. “How old were you?”

“I think I was seven.” Ghost hummed and looked away. “Never got baptized. Probably good thing. They always heated the holy water up.”

Soap prepared himself for the joke of “boiling the hell out of it” but after a moment he realized Ghost was sincere.

The holy water burned him.

Soap suddenly had a vague idea of what he was.

Soap had a heavy suspicion at this point. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Ghost was, so he decided to do a little experiment to see.

Before he left that morning, he turned his shirt inside out and then slipped his hoodie over it. The only exception being creatures that had to notice.

Ghost stared at him for a moment before he simply turned away and ignored him. Soap tried to get his attention and Ghost just wrinkled his nose and turned away from him.

Gaz gave them an odd look and Soap just smiled awkwardly before stepping away. He fixed his clothing and tried once again to strike up a conversation.

Immediately, Ghost actually talked to him. It was his usual rather quiet amount but it was definitely there.

“Why did you ignore me?”

“What are you talking about MacTavish?”

“Right now. You ignored me.”

“You weren’t talking to me a minute ago. You need to go to the medics?” Ghost seemed genuinely concerned.

“Nah, probably just dehydrated. I’ll go grab a drink.” He smiled at him and stepped away.

Gaz looked at him. “I think Ghost is going a tad crazy.”

“Nah, think he’s fucking with me.” Soap covered for him.

Gaz didn’t look like he believed him but he dropped it.

“Johnny, why are we on a secluded beach in the middle of the fucking night?” Ghost had followed him though. In his civvies, the soft hoodie and sweatpants clinging to all the right places. His mom didn’t warn him how bad marriage would feel at first. Or more, how bad one sided marriage would feel. He wanted to attack Ghost. Throw himself at him and claim his husband in every way he could.

“Simon. I need to talk to you about something.” Ghost turned towards him. Soap vaguely put the face he remembered from Los Almas over the ski mask. He was glad Ghost went with this instead of the plastic mask and balaclava. That day, the kohl makeup had run all the way down Ghost’s face, covering his cheeks and his nose. His hair was shaggy and curled oddly, sticking up all over the place. It had been shoved down as if to cover his ears and it felt in his eyes. Despite clearly being cut into a buzzcut recently, it looked like it hadn’t worked too well. Soap had wondered at the time if it had been unfinished and he had to rush it.

Now that he knew he was a changeling, it made more sense. Their hair tended to grow unnaturally fast and choppy.

“What do need to talk about Johnny?” Ghost seemed worried. He glanced at the coat around Soap’s shoulders.

“I... I know you’re not human.” Soap decided to start there.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ghost laughed. There was a slightly bitter edge to it. “Oh, fuck off, Soap. You know, out of everyone, I never expected that shit from you.” He started to turn away from him.

“I’m not either.” Soap thought he was playing coy. It made sense, Soap would never admit it so easily and this Ghost. King of not saying shit about himself.

“MacTavish,” Ghost looked at him, “you may be experiencing psychosis. Sometimes men on the battlefield...” Soap stared at him, hearing him like he was muffled through more than just his mask.

Did Ghost... not know?

There was no way Ghost didn’t. He hid away all his oddities. Been so careful. There was no way he didn’t at least expect it.

“Have you ever heard of a selkie?” Soap interrupted.

“The seals that turn into humans. Yeah, I guess.”

“I need you to understand I’m not... I’m...” Soap sighed. “Just. I need you to trust me for a just a minute, okay?”

Ghost stared at him for a long while before nodding slightly. “Okay.”

Soap slowly slipped his coat off and then started to undress. He kept his eyes downcast, but he could feel Ghost’s eyes on him. Scanning over him with growing alarm.

Soap wrapped his coat around him before he shucked off his underwear.

“Johnny.” Ghost said softly and there was something there that Soap needed a lot more time to unpack.

“Trust me.” Soap said softly. “Just... could you turn around for a minute?”

“You’re willing to undress in front of me but not do... whatever you’re about to do?” Ghost sounded... amused. It made butterflies in his stomach.

“It’s unpleasant.” Soap said softly. Ghost finally turned around him.

His coat fused with his skin and the transformation was... unpleasant to look at it. His fur laced with him and he sorta fell to the ground, luckily able to muffle himself so it didn’t startle Ghost.

There he was. A harbor seal. He barked and Ghost turned around slowly, staring at him.

Ghost continued to stare. And continued. And stared.

Soap slowly rolled over to his expose his stomach. He couldn’t exactly talk, but his dogtags, which he had clearly been wearing, were around his neck now.

Ghost slowly moved closer, touching the chain and reading the name. He didn’t move, staying crouched over him.

Soap could see the ring of gold around his pupils again.

“Oh.” Ghost said softly.

The transformation back was much easier and faster. His snout seemed to wrinkle before splitting and he poked his head out, shaking his head. It looked like he had just had the coat over his face, but Ghost knew better.

“Take your mask off.” Soap muttered against him, the coat splitting down his chest to go back to a more coat like shape. His bare chest was out but he was smart enough to cover his lower half.

Ghost stared at him even longer and Soap knew for a fact he hadn’t blinked the entire time. He reached up and pulled Ghost’s mask off for him.

There was Simon.

Oh.

Oh God he’s incredibly hot.

Simon hadn’t put the make up on so Soap was treated to his freckles. They were... He sat up and grabbed Simon’s face who didn’t seem that surprised by it honestly.

They sparkled. They weren’t like a human’s at all. One, they were mostly shaped like stars instead of just dots and fleck. Two, they were a stunning gold color that reflected the moonlight.

Soap reached up and ran his hands through Ghost’s hair. It was just like before, spiky and uneven despite clearly being freshly trimmed. His ears were pointed like an elf, too severe to look normal.

“When the body modifications came out, I just blamed it on that...”

“Do you... know?” Soap spoke gently to him but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His husband was right here.

“No. I don’t... know. I didn’t even know there were other things like me. Thought I was just... wrong.”

“I think you may be a changeling.” Soap admitted. “I may have... tested it. A couple of times, trying to see if I could figure it out.”

Ghost glared at him and he went to take his mask back, but Soap stopped him. “Johnny... Please.”

“Simon.” Soap said softly, pulling him a little closer and Ghost finally slid to his knees instead of crouching. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Simon looked at him and suddenly stiffened. “When I took your coat.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t... You didn’t purposely do anything.” Soap reassured.

“But I did do something.”

Soap sighed. “This isn’t... the conversation I wanted to have tonight... What do you know about selkies?”

“Take their coat and you can control them. That’s it.”

“Pretty accurate. It’s a little more than just control though. When someone holds my coat, there’s an instinct under my skin. A desperation to please is the best way I can put it. It’s a survival tactic to keep from being punished according to my mom. You do what you can to keep your master happy so they don’t strike out at you.”

“Have you...” Simon was touching him now. Holding his face and putting his arm around him. “Been...”

“Twice. Once when I was 12 for two months and once when I was 17 until I turned 19. The first one was by a kid my age and it wasn’t... nothing happened. People usually get concerned.” Johnny smiled at him.

“And the other one?”

Johnny shook his head. “Another day. Please.”

“Another day.” Simon promised. “But what did I do?”

“You gave it back. The way you did it... You pick it back in my hands. You didn’t let me grab it.”

“Is that bad?”

“We’re married. Kinda. It’s not legally binding, of course. It can be ignored. Even broken.” Soap mumbled the last parts. It hurt. He’d like to blame it on his coat. That it was making him a little crazy. But he knew it wasn’t just that. The idea of being rejected by Ghost was... He cared a lot for Ghost and it had nothing to do with being not quite human.

Ghost was staring again. “Since the hospital. That was weeks ago.”

“Yeah. I suppose it was. Look, I can tell you how to break it.” Soap felt Ghost’s mouth on his and the arm pulled him closer, right against his broad chest.

“I haven’t been a very good husband to you.” Ghost joked, but there was a layer of stress underneath it.

Soap shrugged. “I haven’t been a very good bride.” He leaned in closer.

“Would you... like to be?”

“If you’d have me.”

Ghost huffed. “I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Good. Although, you are going to have to court me. My mom is not very impressed with you right now.” Soap got up.

“You talked about me to your mom?” Ghost was scrambling to get up and follow him.

“Of course. Had to tell her some Brit married me. She was worried.” He flashed him a smile and tossed him his mask.

“How the fuck do I court you?” Ghost tugged it on and followed him. He gathered up Soap’s clothes, watching him twirl around barefoot on the beach.

“Figure it out.”

“Can I have your mom’s number?”

“Why the fuck do you need that??”

“To ask her how! Also I want your mom to like me.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Selkie Soap

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sorryimananti-romantic · 2 months

Note

Hey bestie sooooo lots of stuff happened and there was an opportunity I was really hoping I was gonna get, and I didn’t. On top of that it went to the same favorite people that get everything every time and I’ve just been feeling really upset and everything so if you’ve got any mingi comfort that would be great. I could just really use a lil virtual hug rn 😅. There’s a bunch of other stuff that led up to this but now im just feeling really hopeless and wanting to give up on my major even though it’s my dream. I think I kinda need to just sit and wallow for a bit and I’ll be fine but if you got any fluff I could use all of it 😅🩷

aw babes i'm sorry to hear that 😭🫂 you and me both honestly really need a virtual hug (nah a real hug actually) and well, i hope you get much better things than what you were aiming for! we never know where the flow of life is gonna take us so hoping for the best for you, always 🩷 and i hope you fight for your dream too! if you want to talk about it, i'm here for you 🩷

a mingi comfort fluff though, who am i to deny you? ;)

there are times in your life when all you want to do is lay down on a bed and sink through it into the void

or lay down on soft grass and hope the ground swallows you

you put a weight over yourself in the form of your blanket- the only physical thing weighing you down among a bunch of other invisible things

but that isn't enough

the warmth of it, the softness of it, it isn't enough

everything is silent. you can hear the static background noise- that's how quiet it is

could this go on forever while you gather your pieces together?

could time stand still for you?

no.

it never will

you're being swallowed by a bunch of thoughts

i'm alone in this world

no one will understand me

everything is over

there's no going back from here

and a bunch of other negative phrases that are murky in your head, but there in all their mighty presence

it feels like everything you've worked for is crumbling down in front of your eyes

everything is going wrong, wrong- where did it all start to go wrong?

you can't quite put a finger to it

all you know is that you are overwhelmingly sad.

the emotion 'sad' didn't make much sense to you- you always thought it was associated with some other emotion or feeling- such as when you lose someone dear and it's associated with grief

but now... you think you're starting to understand a little what's it like to be just sad. the plain old sad

it springs a little sarcastic laugh out of you and you have to purse your lips to keep another awful sound from bubbling out of you

but this time, your ears detect the familiar sound of footsteps in the house and you wonder just how deep in your thoughts you were to miss the sound of the door unlocking

you don't move. you don't make an effort to. you just hope that he goes to take a shower first or starts cooking. you hope he doesn't realise you're home already

you hope you get a little time to yourself so he doesn't have to see you in this state-

but a knock sounds on the door anyway and his voice calls your name, his eyes probably searching the darkness

you hope that he misses your curled figure in the blankets, but he's far too observant for that

he doesn't turn on the lights. you feel the edge of your bed dip as he sits there

"you're not hiding from me... are you?"

it's mingi. you could cry just hearing his voice

"no... just tired. i'll be out in a few minutes."

he doesn't miss the crack in your voice either

"do you want me to give you some space, or do you want me to stay?"

there's one thing you love about mingi. he always asks you what you need

and he always gives you what you ask for

if it's space you need, he will gladly give you it because he realises the importance of personal space and just sorting your own mess yourself

he won't question you until you talk yourself but he will keep reminding you that he's here

he's perfect in that way

but if it's him you need... he'll drop everything to be with you too

he'll either just hold you in silence or mutter affirmations

and for the first time in a while, you don't know what you need

so you tell him exactly that

mingi sighs deeply and gets up. you wonder if he's going to leave so you check through the little gap in the blanket, your heart beating anxiously

but he only draws the curtains apart just a fraction so he can see better

and then he's back, crawling in the bed next to you and asking if he can get in the blanket with you

you allow it. you scoot a bit to give him some space and he positions the blankets so he can hold you in his arms as he lies down next to you

you're slower this time as you make way to him and he notices that too. so he simply just holds you for a while

and you let the tears flow and wet his sweatshirt. you will apologise later, but for now, you can't stop it

his hand caresses your back repeatedly in soft, circular motions. his other hand is holding yours and squeezing it affectionately

you don't know how long you stay like this but at some point, the tears stop flowing and you move a little to wipe your face

"sorry for being a mess," you laugh and he lets out a short chuckle himself

"you know it's perfectly fine with me," he assures you, planting a kiss on the top of your head. "feeling better?"

"a bit, yeah," you tell him. you take a few deep breaths

"what's wrong, love?"

"everything," you sigh. "everything's going wrong at the same time and it's too much, mingi."

mingi brings you back in a hug, this time stronger and a reminder that you're not alone

and you realise that yes- you may have been a little selfish when thinking that you were truly alone in this world

you have him

your constant source of strength, a pillar to lean on

someone who always nudges you in the right direction when you're lost

someone whose words of wisdom heal you

and someone who makes you laugh, especially when he's being goofy like now

"shall we take that little trip now? drop everything and run away?"

"oh, how i wish i could, but i can't run away from this," you sigh.

and just like that, you start talking. slowly, but gradually, you tell him the sequence of events

and he gives you the validation you need- that everything you're feeling right now... it's okay to feel that

he makes you sit in front of him and he holds your hands as you work everything out

he gives objective answers- he knows your strengths and weaknesses, and he suggests the best course

he also plans every possible direction things could go from here on out- something he's really good at

"and like i always say... it can only get better from here, right?"

"sure feels like an all time low, so... yeah?" you say.

"every time i think i'm at an all time low, life throws another one at me"

you laugh at that- he's relatable like this

"well... it can't get worse than this, maybe, yeah?"

"and even if something bad happens," mingi addresses the anxiety in your heart. "even if things don't go as planned and you have to give up something important, you should remember that you're a strong person who can get through this."

you nod, letting his words sink in

"i'm here for you, yes," he says, "but i'm only a guide and emotional support, yeah? whatever you do, it's all you. and you're incredible and amazing. you will get through this. i'm proud of every decision you will make moving forwards. i believe in you, love."

it's all you need to hear and a few tears spill again, but you smile through them as you look at mingi, the dark strands falling over his forehead, his eyes warm

mingi, the person who makes you stand on your own two feet time and time again

mingi, who makes you realise that you can face anything in this world on your own

and mingi, who'll be there when you return from your battles. who'll patch you up, kiss your head and hug you

just like he hugs you now, all warmth and love

he brings you outside so you can eat dinner and it gets better

you don't feel like you're drowning anymore

you're not out of that surface, no, but it's a whole lot better for sure

he talks to you and you address other things in between jokes and kisses exchanged

and when it's time for bed, he holds you, preparing you for tomorrow

it will be okay

you will be okay.

#i feel like i could have written more but this just flowed in one sitting so here it is :')#and after writing it i realised i needed this just as much as you :')#i hope this helps you in some way <33 #here's to hoping we get thru it!#mingi x reader #mingi fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #song mingi #mingi #marian <3 #yumi.asks

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arandomperson5647 · 7 months

Text

Encanto info from Jared Bush's Q&As

This is a little place where you can find (hopefully) a lot of info Jared has said in his Q&As. This is if you wanna check smth and don't wanna go on a hunt to confirm it since it's been so long. Idk if I got everything, I highly doubt I did, so if you have a piece of info I don't have and have a link to it, I can edit it on. Ngl I'm also kinda doing this for myself cuz I was curious to know everything he's told us. I'll mostly summarize the answer so it isn't longer than it needs to be, but I'll also copy+paste if I'm too lazy.

The info here kinda varies from interesting, to obvious stuff, to potentially pointless but really any of it can be used to do whatever.

Some of the answers he provided aren't concrete solid ("I think __ would happen", "I always thought ___", etc), so take this all with a grain of salt. I'll try to phrase the uncertain ones differently so you know they're not 100% (probably, possibly, might, etc). If the answer he gives is completely up to interpretation, then I won't include it. Some might be repeated cuz I don't feel like looking back to see if he answered the same question twice.

Just to warn you guys before you click "keep reading", this is a LONG post, so if you don't want it fill up your page, don't click it unless you really wanna read everything.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A #2 (5/21/23)

Canon universe:

Dolores never truly believed Bruno was still around. She heard stuff, but everyone told her he was gone, so she thought she was imagining things. "I knew he never left" was her way of saying "I shouldn't have doubted myself."

Antonio was a shy kid and animals are were easier for him to make friends with.

The potteries in Bruno's room were because it was fairly public for people who want visions, so they're probably a nod to that.

When Pedro went to the attackers when he died, he was planning to reason with them.

Luisa's associated with donkeys because they’re beasts of burden and that’s how everyone treated her.

Mirabel has her embroidery because she loves her family, but potentially also because she subconsciously want to make sure the villagers know despite having no gift she is every bit a Madrigal.

Isabela might potentially secretly like Pepa's chaos.

Julieta's really good at hiding her feelings about the pressure of being the town's healer, but she's also a naturally strong person.

There's a reason why Bruno's single but Jared didn't tell us.

Bruno's favorite food is Ajiaco, but potentially also big butt ants.

Julieta probably noticed Mirabel wasn't in the pic at Antonio's ceremony immediately after it was taken, but Mirabel had already left by then.

For a while, Bruno's limit for future seeing was until the fall of Castia, but now it's limitless.

Alma didn't necessarily approve of Agustín at first because he wasn't overly spectacular or confident.

Mirabel and Camilo got along well when they were young, but after Mirabel's ceremony, Camilo felt more pressure to perform and show off.

Even before his gift, Bruno probably worried and wondered about the future, which is what caused his gift.

The Madrigals mostly assumed Bruno had somehow left the Encanto after his disappearance.

The birth of the miracle happened near the turn of the 20th century, and Antonio's ceremony was 50 years later.

The 5th birthdays for the Madrigals is the big one. The others are "regular".

Camilo often annoys Isabela for fun and also because he's a bit envious of her. They're kinda opposite, perfect vs a clown.

The post-movie relationship between Mirabel and Isabela is probably mischevious.

Bruno probably already was breaking from pressure when Isabela was only in single digits.

Alma was loving to all her grandchildren, but sometimes it felt conditional due to her expectations. She wasn't self-aware enough to realize.

Félix can play the tiple, but not shown in the film.

Agustín and Félix probably wore their respective colors before marrying their respective wives. Their colors are also a nod to regionality.

Alma might've seen cracks before Mirabel saw them at Antonio's ceremony (not at the moment tho), giving her a reason to actually believe Mirabel and pray to Pedro.

Based off the book "Mystery in the Rainforest", Dolores and Mariano are engaged and planning a wedding soon.

There is a school in the Encanto, but since it's closed off and was formed in the beginning of the 20th century, new info would cease.

Pedro might've been the one to know sewing and embroidery. He taught it to Alma, who taught Julieta and Mirabel. She probably taught others but Mirabel did it the most.

Bruno's door might've started glowing again during his vision in Antonio's room because Mirabel is making him feel included in the family (and therefore Casita) again.

The Madrigals do have friends groups, just not shown.

Camilo's gift can be tiring. Like an actor playing their part.

Mirabel probably would've had a negative or even traumatic impact from the fall of Castia, mostly due to a near death experience.

The Madrigals have never tested their gifts beyond the Encanto, so it's still a mystery on what happens.

Antonio probably can talk to animals from different countries, not just Colombia.

Camilo sometimes tries to impress everyone with his gift.

Mirabel's birthday became "stressful" ever since her 5th.

Isabela would probably help Antonio decorate his room with crazy plants.

Behind the scenes:

5/21 is Afro-Colombian Day, which is why that's Antonio's bday.

There used to be a deleted scene of Mirabel getting grounded by Casita.

The Guzmans originally had the same number of family members as the Madrigals, and each member was like a doppelgänger of each gifted Madrigal child, except Mirabel, who was represented in the Guzman family by a goat.

There used to be a scene where Camilo's gift goes haywire at night or smth (can't figure out the full pic for this one).

Writers considered early on that Mirabel would want to leave, but they decided that from a character and cultural perspective, leaving her family would have been the absolute worst thing she could imagine.

It's never been established how long the ceremony doors appear before the ceremony, but 9 months has been considered.

Early versions would show that Alma had strict parents. It may or may not be true now, but it would make sense.

Mirabel used to have a gap in her teeth to show her quirkiness, but was removed because they wanted to show it in other ways.

Encanto Disney+ Hollywood Bowl Q&A (12/28/22)

Cannon universe:

Emotions can sometimes affect Bruno's visions.

Camilo often helped take care of babies even before Antonio's birth. He was just naturally good with them.

The stairs in Bruno's room probably grew as he became more distanced, so they probably lessened when Casita came back.

Luisa's favorite sister is probably Mirabel.

Camilo would probably sometimes be happy that Isabela found her true self, while also a bit jealous. It depends on the moment.

The Madrigals' reaction to someone entering the Encanto would probably be chaotic.

As a way to protect them, Alma was always a little strict on her family.

Julieta and Agustín often worried how Mirabel was doing, especially for Antonio's ceremony.

Alma tried to show she loved Mirabel in her own way after her ceremony and before the movie.

Camilo's experience being the only boy in the house for a while was...interesting. Not the easiest.

Pepa and Dolores' gifts have caused some difficulties between the two.

Especially post-movie, Bruno, Agustín and Félix would be a ridiculous trio.

The candle is now gone, but a new miracle took its place.

Félix and Mirabel have a good relationship, especially post-movie.

Isabela's 5th birthday was the first gift ceremony for the grandchildren.

Bruno was probably superstitious before moving in the walls.

Before the house fell, Alma probably wouldn't like Dolores marrying Mariano. After, she'd accept it.

The other Madrigals might have hidden potential in their gifts, much like Isabela did.

The townspeople mostly either put the Madrigals on a high pedestal or see them as equals.

Isa probably had at least one flower she'd intentionally give Mirabel allergies with.

Bruno was probably a bit popular at one point.

Adopted Madrigal kids that were 6+ would probably still get a gift.

Mirabel's near-sighted.

Camilo's probably gotten in trouble for his disguises at times.

Bruno's mostly a rat guy because he's around them the most.

Pepa has a sweet tooth but doesn't let her self have too much due to her weather.

Isabela can grow trees and crops.

There's no definite reason why Isa was the favorite grandchild, but being the eldest didn't help.

When Alma said "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks", she was really trying to get everyone back to the party.

The gifts can tire out the Madrigals if used a lot, sometimes physical pain can occur.

Alma might have siblings, but it's not confirmed.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene of Mirabel getting grounded. Idk if it's the same scene as the previous one mentioned, but the context of the question might suggest otherwise. ("What would've happened to Mirabel if she was found after the dinner?")

There were versions in the end credits of everyone reuniting with Bruno.

There is potential for a Madrigal with OCD, autism, etc, but not yet confirmed.

Triplet's Birthday Q&A (8/17/23)

Cannon universe:

Bruno and the grandkids now watch telenovelas together.

Julieta's favorite food is probably ajiaco.

Mirabel's first word would potentially be "sita" because she loved Casita but couldn't say the full word.

Dolores' room has a lot of soundproofing.

The reason Mirabel seems to interact with Castia the most out of the Madrigals is because she was mostly an outsider, with only Casita to talk to.

Encanto is a hidden place, so simply finding it is near impossible.

There are respected town elders in Encanto, but Alma is considered the founder.

Pedro said something to Alma before he died, potentially in Spanish, but it's not confirmed what.

In terms of personality, Mirabel is the closest to Pedro.

For adoptive kids, Casita may be able to anticipate the arrival of someone new even before the family is consciously aware of it, giving them a new door.

Bruno's a fan of chocolate.

Mirabel loves every color. She has no known favorite.

Julieta got married first between her and Pepa.

Bruno's rats aren't sentient like humans, so Bruno would have to train them to do whatever.

It's possible another Madrigal felt resentment towards Bruno after he left.

Julieta's gift possibly only works with a combo of cooking and giving, but not confirmed.

Bruno learned how to use his gift through practice and invented customs. It was complicated.

Julieta probably needs to know the person's injury before healing it.

The majority of the Madrigals' dominate hands are right. Julieta and Antonio are left handed. Luisa is ambidextrous. It's unsure, but Mirabel is potentially left handed.

Mirabel's favorite food is arepa con queso.

Antonio's favorite snack is nailed rice.

Agustín and Félix have jobs in the town, but not confirmed what.

In a book, it was mentioned that Bruno was the golden child of the family. He probably fell from that position in his late teens.

Agustín's favorite meal from Julieta is chocolate santafereño.

Gifts can possibly be repeated, but not in the same generation.

The refugees/townspeople had brought everything from home they used to start farming when the Encanto formed.

Isabela and Mariano still have a good relationship after the movie. Neither were too wild about the engagement.

The bedrooms can change if their owner wants them to.

The gift ceremonies will now be different without a candle.

Madrigals still do the traditional quinceañera.

The Encanto doesn't have electricity.

Bruno has left the walls a few times for a break.

Isabela will probably keep switching up her outfit now that she can.

Luisa has always felt protective of Mirabel.

Behind the scenes:

Casita used to have shown that it has only 1 bathroom, which was located in the back right corner under Bruno's tower.

There was a deleted scene where Julieta yelled at Alma in front of the entire town after Mirabel went missing.

Julieta is the one singing w/ Mirabel during the "constellations glow/the seasons change in turn" lyric.

There used to be a version of Bruno using water with his vision.

The line said by Mirabel, "Even in our darkest moments there's light where you least expect it" was cut after Lin Manuel Miranda wrote Dos Oruguitas and the emotional thrust of Mirabel’s words needed to evolve to encompass what she’d just learned.

There was a Waiting on a Miracle reprise that was cut because they felt they didn't need it.

The concept of a new door appearing was considered to start with the doorknob.

No one intervened during Alma and Mirabel's argument because the writers felt that it was Mirabel's moment to shine.

VERY early on, Bruno (then known as Oscar) was Mirabel's estranged cousin.

Indestructibility was a gift they wanted to use. It was actually Pepa's original gift.

Dolores' Birthday Q&A (8/31/22)

Cannon universe:

People in Isabela's position wouldn't really have the chance to have authentic relationships because they're hiding their true self. This could potentially apply to Isa herself.

Before Mirabel's ceremony, her family was excited for her. After, the family’s ability to see Mirabel clearly was too obscured by their unhealthy dynamics but were probably unaware of that until Mirabel brought it to light.

Bruno's oversized clothing was by personal preference, potentially because of his awkward nature.

Before Isabela showed up in Bruno's vision, another person was there, who is possibly a young Alma. While not confirmed, it is implied in Jared's answer.

Félix and Agustín already had gifts, just not in a way that others could see.

Isabela lets herself break the rules, so while not confirmed, it's possible she could recreate mythical plants.

The town probably functions like a combination of where everyone came from.

The triplets used to have little meetings in Bruno's room when they were little.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be a scene where Bruno revealed he had a secret elevator in his room.

Agustín's Birthday Q&A (6/19/22)

Cannon universe:

Part of what fuels the miracle is unconditional love. When Mirabel and Isa showed that during What Else can I Do?, it affected the magic.

Julieta often gives people the food they like rather than something random.

For a long time, Isabela was the favorite grandchild for Alma. Before her ceremony, Mirabel was. After Casita's rebuild, many dynamics changed.

Agustín was born in the Encanto, but his family was from a city, so he was raised with the city-vibe.

Luisa's favorite food is bandeja paisa.

Every gift can be affected by emotions in some way.

Casita probably helped Bruno hide, but not confirmed.

If Mirabel and Bruno decided to leave the Encanto after Casita fell, the entire family would've fallen apart.

The only people in the Encanto were the ones who traveled with Alma. They all got there at the same time, no one got in or out.

Behind the scenes:

There used to be an exit for Bruno's wall room behind the family tree, but it wasn't used.

Antonio's Birthday Q&A (5/21/22)

Cannon universe:

Mirabel's canonically 5'2.

Mirabel has good relationships with Pepa and Félix. Félix loves everyone and likes hanging out with pretty much anybody. Pepa is a good tia, she’s just very emotional, but for most of the movie (and her life before) felt she had to bottle her emotions which only made them worse.

Bruno probably doesn't need the sand for visions, but as time went on he added his own superstitions.

The color of the magic in the end changed. It wasn't the color of the candle anymore, but the colors of Mirabel. What that means? No one knows.

Bruno "felt" his vision cave collapsing and investigated. That's how he knew it was destroyed.

Camilo couldn't really hold a form forever because of how tiring it could be.

Mirabel did have a quinceañera.

Casita has a mind of its own with its own emotions. Sometimes it could play pranks on the Madrigals or be too upset to move anything.

Behind the scenes:

Earlier versions had a negative dynamic between Mirabel and Camilo.

The gifts are based off family archetypes. Antonio is a shy kid but opens up to animals.

Random Q&A (3/19/22)

Cannon universe:

The main reason for Mirabel and Isa's falling out was because they couldn’t see the difficulties the other was experiencing, because they were fixated on their own struggles. They were probably closer when they were younger.

Despite being shy, Antonio does have friends in the town.

Due to the triplets' bday being the same day as Pedro's death, it's a mixed day.

Pepa can try to stop natural disasters, but doesn't usually succeed.

Mirabel would sometimes have sleepovers with her sisters when they were younger. There was a deleted scene showing it.

The pink cloud scene in Surface Pressure represents the stuff Luisa wanted to do without the pressure.

Behind the scenes:

Tbh there wasn't any answers that could qualify as behind the scenes sooo... 🤷

Stuff that didn't come from Q&As but is still good info

Madrigal Birthdays (I'm not doing a link for each, just take my word for it lol):

Félix: November 11 (11/11)

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: October 17 (10/17)

Agustín: June 19 (6/19)

Isabela: August 7 (8/7)

Dolores: August 31 (8/31)

Luisa: November 14 (11/14)

Camilo: December 28 (12/28)

Mirabel: March 6 (3/6)

Antonio: May 21 (5/21)

Madrigal ages:

Alma: 75

Julieta, Pepa, Bruno: 50

Isabela: 21

Dolores: 21

Luisa: 19

Camilo: 15

Mirabel: 15

Antonio: 5

I don't believe the husbands' ages are confirmed, but Félix is confirmed to be a little older than the triplets, while Agustín is a little younger than the triplets.

Julieta is the oldest of the triplets, Pepa in the middle, and Bruno is the baby.

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 5 days

Note

Hey!

Your stuffs cool!

So could you possibly do a Vox X Reader where the Reader is kidnapped?

The reader would have to be like Vox's wife or partner, someone he'd not want to loose of course. You could even do an existing reader theme like Doll, Hacker, Shark, Retro or one of the others you've wrote for before got kidnapped if that helps. I just wanna see your take on Vox coming to save them.

Thanks a lot!

🌸 Anonymous!

Better of Two Evils (Be a Doll AU)

Vox x doll!reader

CW: kidnapping, murder, violence, AU typical events

Vox is mentioned in this one, but he doesn’t really show up. He’s still a bad person and his actions are alluded to, though. He doesn’t come to save you. Sorry.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into my mind, I find myself disoriented and groggy. Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the small, dingy room, I try to make sense of my surroundings. Panic grips my chest as I realize I'm not in my own bed, but rather lying on a cold, hard floor.

Memories flood back in fragments, like pieces of a nightmare that refuse to be forgotten. The last thing I remember is Vox leaving me alone at a party while he went to deal with Valentino who was upstairs, throwing a tantrum in the penthouse.

Struggling to sit up, I'm met with resistance as I realize my wrists are bound tightly behind my back. Fear claws at my throat as I tug fruitlessly at the restraints, the cold metal biting into my skin. “Fuck.” I try to call out for help, but my voice comes out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

Panic threatens to consume me as I survey the room, searching desperately for any sign of escape. The walls seem to press in on me, suffocating in their oppressive closeness. The air is stale and musty, and the silence is deafening.

But then, a sound breaks through the silence—a creak of footsteps approaching from beyond the door. My heart leaps into my throat as the door swings open. Fuck.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice purrs, sending shivers down my spine. It's a voice I recognize, from a man I’d met at one of Vox’s parties. He’d pursue me relentlessly despite Vox’s efforts to be cordial in getting him to leave me alone. I could only imagine why he’d done this to me.

My breath catches in my throat as the man steps into the room, his gaze cold and calculating. "You're probably wondering why you're here," he continues, his voice dripping with malice. "But all you need to know is that you belong to me now."

Terror courses through my veins as I realize the full extent of my predicament. I'm at the mercy of this asshole. “I can’t- I won’t- I…” I’m cut off as the man grips my face tightly, hurting me as he shuts me up.

“Be a doll and shut your pretty little mouth,” he growled. I didn’t react. He scanned my face for any sign that it had worked. When he realized it hadn’t, he let go of my face and shoved me to the ground. “Damn it! Why- I said the phrase, why the fuck didn’t it work?”

“It only-” I broke off with a cough, trying to regain any sense of dignity. It was clear now that the trigger phrase had been his only plan in making me comply. He wasn’t prepared for it to not work. “It only works when Vox says it,” I rasped, watching the man wearily.

“Oh fuck off!” He said, returning his attention to me. He took out a pocket knife and held it to my throat. “If you don’t shut that dumb bimbo mouth of yours I’ll do it for you. I’m not afraid to hurt a pretty doll like you, I know you’ll live.”

“Ha!” I began to laugh, which caused the knife to make a light scratch against my throat. He looked taken aback, giving me my opportunity to make a move. I took my arms from behind my back and shoved him away, revealing I’d undone the bindings a bit ago. They weren’t particularly well done. He was sloppy, an amateur at best. “Let me tell you something, asshole.”

“You can’t do anything to me that Vox hasn’t done first,” I said coldly, bitterly. I wiped the blood off my neck. “You think you’re smooth? You think you’re slick? There’s at least three cameras in this room alone. He knows you have me, he just wants to see how well his perfect little doll can hold up.” I glanced at one such camera and threw up the peace sign, looking very unamused. I turned my attention back to the man in front of me. He’d been trying to attack, and failing. He seemed to have forgotten the fact that Vox didn’t choose just anyone to be so close with, he chose people he knew could handle it. “I think I’m doing well. Points off for the initial panic, though.”

“You- you’re crazy!” The man said, pointing his knife at me again. His grip was loose and he was shaking. Pathetic. I snatched it from him and positioned it at his neck now, pressing it just deep enough to draw a little blood. I’d already healed my own wound. “Fuck- get off me you dumb bitch!”

“No ones going to rescue you,” I said quietly, harshly. A reminder to me more than it was to him. It was only the truth. Vox knew I could handle myself, and he didn’t care how beat up I got in the process, so long as I returned to him at some point. I hated when I got captured like this, because it was always a wake up call. A reminder that Vox didn’t actually care, I was just a toy to him. “Nobody cares enough to save you now.”

He made a noise and I slit his throat. I was tired of looking at his stupid face. I let his body drop to the ground and tossed the knife aside, a disgusted look on my face. I hated Sundays.

Bonus: doll!Reader was actually wrong. Vox panicked when he found out you’d been captured. He was going to rescue you, but he saw who had kidnapped you and decided you’d be fine. He still cares- in his twisted little way. He just can’t show that, because it’d be a weakness.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #writing #my writing #x reader #be a doll #sorry anon

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williammorgan45 · 1 month

Text

You know what time it? It's Realizin' time!

Here it is! The result of the brain rot of @realizinau art and Alan Wake (I took inspiration by drawing this.The games are so cool) so here we are. It's a bit wonky but I think it's decent. Please ignore the little blue spooch on the suit. I made a boo─boo while painting :/

I'm still thinking about on how to name this guy but I have a little of his backstory on how his role would be in the Realizin' AU.

First he's a wolf if you're wondering.

Alright, now into his story: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before being put into the Bigger Bodies Initiative, he was just a child like any other with a mother and father who loved him and loved them back. But after a tragedy to both parents in a car accident, leaving him as the sole survivor of the crash, he was alone in this narrow dark place.

He was put in normal orphange just with many others parentless but he was different to other kids. Just as the kids where loud, energetic full innocence and some didn't apply to the rules he was the opposite. He was quiet, didn't move alot from his bed, his innocence gone for the result of the crash and allways following orders from the caretakers of the orphange.

Since he didn't talk to the other kids besides to the caretakers to see of he was okay and only respond with a nod, a shake or a short phrase, they began calling him names like 'the silent kid', 'downer', 'the staff's pet' and other names behind his back.

He already got used to this new 'life style' on the orphanage. Wake up, breakfast, gaze outside the window of his room, nap, lunch, more gazing outside again, dinner, sleep, repeat.

He told himself that's going to be his life until he was adopted to a new familly.

...That was the plan before him and others kids where called on the hall as their caretaker was explaning that they were getting 'relocated' to a better orphanage. He didn't understand why tho but if they where getthing relocaded to a better orphanage was probably for the best.

...Right?

Him along with other orphans entered the bus that was meant to transport them to the new orphange. The name on the side of the bus caught his attention before entering. Playtime Co. He knew that name. Tha was the name of the company who sell those toys that appered on TV. His guess was that maybe they are expanding or something.

After that, everything where blur and pieces. How he arrived to Home Sweet Home, meeting the staff, Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy, Mommy and Daddy Longlegs along with other toys,doing some sort of test of memory and running, being told that he got adopted, on how he was guided to a room with a bed as they put him on the bed before putting anesthesia and how he became...like he is now.

He felt...weird to say the least but he quickly got used being taller and getting used to his new body. A few bumps here and there but he got used to it. Faster than the others. The Doctor thinks to himself.

And before he know it, he got a brand new suit (he allways wanted to wear one when he was older.It made him feel...important.) and got a new... 'job' as the new guard of Playcare and Home Sweet Home. At day he would help some of the staff carry important papers so he was given a mesanger bag to carry those paper more easier and organize smaller toys for the kids and making sure the wasn't something a miss or any complications among the staff and the children. And by the night, he would roam Playcare and Home Sweet home hall's with his trusty flashlight to make sure there wasn't any stray kid or someone suspicious was around.

He took extra careful in the night because he read in a book once that the dark can by tricky and dangerous. But what caught his attention more was one sentance in particular.

"Trust no one in the dark."

After that, he took his night patrols very seriously, with careful steps and eyes all open for anything. Something tells him there something off but rapidly dissmiss the thought.

Sometimes when doing the day shift, some of the kids would run to him and would either drag him to play with them, show him drawings of him or hug him out of nowhere. He would stay still with no idea what to do or react. Thankfully, some of the staff or caretakers would save him from that embarassment and he would fix tie and continue with his duties for today.

Just like before he is still silent with a neutral looks almost all the time. Responding with a nod, shake or short answer to long questions. He would been doing this for 5 years. Making him 15 years old if his math is correct.

None of the staff, the caretakers or even the children have see him smile. Not even once. Always on focus on the task. Some even says he's more of a robot than someone alive.

It would take a miracle to even make him smile.

...Maybe that miracle could be in the form of 8 new Critters know as The Smilling Critters.

Only time will tell...

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

And that's that! (Jesus, that was long.) Anyway, if you read till the end, thanks! 'preaciated! Hoped i could have entertaied you a little. Again, thank to @realizinau for inpriring me to make this little thing and maybe i will do more. But for the mean time...What's the time? Playtime...

#realizin' au #smiling critters oc #oc #oc art #poppy playtime fanart #realizinau

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thenon-fictiondays · 7 months

Text

Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation Epilogue

Epilogue: Good things

Prev ||

I know, I know, I'm a day late. But we're finally here! We've reached the end of this way-longer-than-expected journey 🙌 thank you all so much for sticking with me this long, even as the official TL was released. It's been a blast 💖 I'll be drawing the name for the giveaway after this, so stay tuned!

Cleanup for the cultural festival goes by much quicker than the preparations had.

Breaking down everything they’d worked so hard to make was disappointing, but even the wistfulness of the demolition process was a part of the joy.

That, Kagiura thought, was probably what he’d say if he were a bit more sophisticated.

Since becoming a part of the executive committee, being that frenzied during the preparation period was unavoidable. For as much as he’d relied on Niibashi for the paperwork, he planned to work just as hard leading the cleanup efforts.

Thanks to that, his lower back is quite sore.

As a result, his arrival at the dorms is no later than usual.

He’s not sure when, but at some point the kinmokusei hedge had started blooming.

“Hey, welcome home.”

“I’m home. You’re back early, Hirano-san.”

The haunted house had been a large-scale production, so he would’ve thought cleanup would take a long time, but Hirano’s presence in the dorm suggests he slipped out early.

“Did you have something you needed to do?”

“Yeah.”

When he hands him something without saying another word, Kagiura blinks in surprise.

“Hm? Candy?”

“You didn’t get to be scared properly at the haunted house.”

Was that even a problem?

Kagiura had been troubled by not only knocking Hirano down, but by being seen like that by students from other schools. Whether he’d been scared or not wasn’t the issue.

But apparently Hirano had been worried about it.

“It was scary enough, though, that special effects makeup,” Kagiura remarks nonchalantly.

“That’s what got you scared, though. You totally missed out on the best parts of the haunted house. Well, you can have this as an apology. Your throat’s been giving you a hard time lately, right?”

“.....”

He’s always like this, he thinks.

He always meets me where I am with so much kindness.

“Wait, do you not like candy? No, you were eating some brown sugar candy the other day.”

“.....I like it.”

Slowly, Kagiura’s heart grows hot. He shouldn’t be feeling this warm over this, yet here he is.

The act of being considered by Hirano makes him happier than anything. Though, he does also like candy.

“Oh, good.”

“I like it!”

The meaning of this phrase, the true meaning, is too much to convey no matter how many times he says it.

“I got it the first time.”

Hirano’s side profile as he laughs, flustered, is stunning.

And words completely fail him.

They head to the dining hall a little earlier than usual. While Kagiura is eating his dinner, the chair next to Hirano’s is pulled back.

There aren’t that many people he’s gotten close with while living in the dorms. Their visitor is none other than dorm leader Hanzawa.

Usually, Kagiura’s part of the late crowd thanks to club practice, so it’s rare for them to cross paths.

“Where’s your roomie?”

Kagiura startles at Hirano’s nondescript statement.

I wonder if I get called the same way.

It sounds intimate, relaxed.

“He was so busy with the cultural festival that he’s crashed out. I couldn’t wake him up, so I just left him there.”

Traces of exhaustion also tinge Hanzawa’s voice, so it feels like Kagiura’s eavesdropping on a private conversation, and he almost wants to excuse himself.

Having finished his salad, he silently confronts his Chinese stir-fry. But before long, his chopsticks stop in mid-air.

There’s tons of peppers.

Hanzawa, always keen to subtleties, quickly takes notice.

“You’re not going to eat them?” He asks.

Simultaneously, Hirano says only “one piece.” How kind.

“...Okay, fine.”

He can manage just one piece, so he restrains his protesting stomach and somehow swallows down a pepper. Hirano’s eyes crinkle at the sight of his efforts.

“Good job.”

“I did my best. But, I can’t eat anymore…”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Hanzawa’s eyes widen at the intimate exchange. Have they forgotten he’s sitting right there?

The usually well-mannered Hirano reaches his chopsticks over the table to Kagiura’s plate, a gentle smile on his face.

After Hirano finishes eating the remaining peppers, and Kagiura expresses his gratitude with a “thank you, Hirano-san!”, Hanzawa finally pipes up.

“Nothing’s going on between you two, right?”

The tone of voice in which he asks Hirano this question is indescribably awkward.

“What’re you talking about? We’re just bros being bros. Right, Kagi-kun?”

“Bros…that’s one way to put it…”

With Hirano smiling at him so breezily, he can’t quite bring himself to nod along. His reaction ends up a little half-hearted.

“Am I wrong?” Hirano’s expression shows not a hint of foreboding, but Kagiura’s reaction raises some eyebrows. Hanzawa, who’d observed them both, whispers “Maybe so,” under his breath—but then he shakes his head as if to correct himself.

On the other hand, Kagiura says, “No, you’re not,” with a bashful smile.

He’d been called a friend, by Hirano. By the friend closest to his heart.

Joy gradually blossoms through him; when he speaks his words are from the very bottom of his heart. He’s probably grinning ear-to-ear.

“I’m really glad I met you, Hirano-san.”

*****

Prev ||

I'm emotional, is anyone else emotional? 😭

I'm really glad I decided to translate and post this novel.

One last time, thank you so much to my reading list members. You guys kept my spirits up and let me know people still valued what I was doing after the official TL was released and I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart @jeizet, @jujupanic, @massyworld, @umbreonwolfy, @acidsuzanne-blog, @neoday, @lary-the-lizard, @tsmginc 🥺💖

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #hirano to kagiura ln #hirano to kagiura translation #kagihira #sasaki to miyano #harusono shou #kagiura akira #hirano taiga #hanzawa masato

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deepspacedukat · 2 months

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The Only One - Part 7: Immoral Comfort

Welp...Part 7, here we are. This is the part I started way before I even wrote Part 1, because I was in a Mood™. I originally thought this was going to be a 3 part story, but it looks like it's gonna be something closer to 12. Tbh, I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this fic because it was such a niche, back-of-the-brain thought. So, thank you to everyone who's made it this far with me and taken the time to leave comments!

I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I hope there are at least a few people who are still interested. I had a very specific way that I wanted things to happen in this chapter and I was being a little too picky about the details, so my apologies for the delay! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

*Dominionese language pulled from @dominionese-resource and their Dominionese dictionary. If you want me to clarify where I got certain words or phrases, or how I tried (clumsily) to piece them together myself, please feel free to ask. I probably conjugated a few verbs incorrectly or structured things wrong in places, but I tried. Also, the signature mentioned was based off this post on their blog.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Weyoun (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Vorta/Human sex, fingering, jealous Dukat, drunkenness, romantic Weyoun, telepathic/empathic connection, mild existential crisis, crying, sorta hurt/comfort? but mostly just stress/comfort, spoilers for S6E4 "Behind the Lines."

~*~

Nearly a month passed from that long, odd day when I met Keevan and his men. I hated having to conceal part of my motives from Weyoun, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way in hell I’d sit idly by while the Changelings took over my home. Major Kira, Odo, and a few others had begun a small resistance cell aboard the station, and so that they wouldn’t jeopardize my mission or I theirs, Kira had ordered me not to attend meetings. I was to keep my ears open and report to her as usual. She was allowing me to help but only in minor ways. Yes, it was important to cause chaos for the Dominion while they were occupying the station, but a position of influence and confidence like I currently held was insanely important for the intelligence gathering task that Starfleet had given me. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the members were.

That was definitely for the best. With the intimacy of the connection that Weyoun and I shared, my lack of knowledge kept myself and the rest of the resistance members safe. I’d have to be content helping in my own little way. Thus far, Dukat trusted me almost as much as Weyoun did, and Damar was slowly coming around to the belief that I wasn’t his enemy. All I had to do now was keep it up and find a way to contact Starfleet Command. Discreetly.

Seated beside each other one evening, Weyoun and I worked on our respective reports. I wasn’t particularly curious about the file he was reading until he picked up a stylus and wrote something. It was an odd group of symbols and marks that I’d never seen before. Without much thought about how rude it probably was, I tilted my head and watched how fluidly his fingers drew the stylus across the data PADD.

“What is that?” I asked quietly, and Weyoun gave me a perplexed look.

“A report about troop movements...?”

“Oh, not the report, I mean this,” I said pointing to the symbols he’d drawn out beneath the final paragraph. A look of understanding washed over him, and he gave me a small smile.

“That is my signature,” he answered simply, and I felt my eyes widen. “Have you not seen Dominionese written out before?”

“I’ve barely heard Dominionese, much less seen it. Is that really your name?” I asked unable to keep the wonder from my voice. I examined the markings a bit more carefully, wondering what each meant in order to form a name as precious as his.

Weyoun set the data PADD aside, picked up an empty one, and wrote the symbols a little neater this time. I watched the way his stylus glided over the PADD’s surface in practiced, fluid movements. When he was finished, he tilted the screen toward me to show me his handiwork, and I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips. The more I looked at the symbols, the harder it became to shake the feeling that I’d seen something like them before.

The pendant! I pulled it out from beneath the collar of my uniform and sure enough, the symbols were similar. The engravings were in Dominionese.

“Weyoun, the pendant you gave me...what does it say?”

“Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to teach you to read it yourself?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and I felt myself perk up at the implication.

“Would you? I-I mean, are you willing to teach me? I know you’re busy with the station and the war, so I understand if you don’t have the time–” He cut me off with a quick kiss and set the PADD aside as he took my hands in his.

“My dear, I would be honored to teach you the language of your people,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m sure you’ll take to it quite easily. You’ve always been a fast learner, at least from what I’ve seen.”

‘My people.’ Both of us knew they weren’t anything of the sort after what they’d done, but I still appreciated his sentiment. Besides, the hope that he held about a potential reconciliation between myself and the Changelings, while utterly futile, was also incredibly sweet. After all that he'd been through, the fact that he still had hope was just a testament to the strength that the Founders chose not to see in their Vorta followers.

Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I looked up at the gorgeous purple-eyed being on my sofa. How in the stars did I get so lucky?

Purple blush spread quickly across his cheeks, and Weyoun let out a shy little laugh. Right, the feelings. It had become more natural over the duration of our relationship for us to share our emotions through the strange telepathic connection we'd been granted, but there were still moments where it caught one or both of us off guard.

"As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself tonight and demonstrate exactly how much I adore you, didn't you say you were meeting a friend tonight?" His question pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked in comprehension.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is eighteen-thirty hours,” it responded, and I got to my feet. Shit, he was right, and I was going to be late at this rate.

“Meeting Damar again?” Weyoun asked as he stood, too, and grasped my waist lightly. When I nodded my head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re making more friends. I know you were already acquainted with some of the Bajoran officers, but knowing that Keevan and Damar along with some of their officers have become close to you...I’m overjoyed! To tell you the truth, I thought you might feel isolated here given the personnel changes. I-I thought...you might regret staying.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around the Vorta’s neck.

“Well, I still feel a little out of place at times, but there are a few people here who’ve been kind to me," I murmured placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "For the record, you make staying here worth it. As long as I have you, I won't regret leaving Starfleet."

I knew this was only temporary - that as soon as the Federation regained control of the station I'd be back to being a Starfleet officer - but I was going to make the most of this while I could. Sure, I still had my mission and a very important job to do, but I wasn't about to waste my opportunity to soak in Weyoun's presence while I could.

A beautiful, joyful smile stretched his lips, and he pressed his forehead lightly against mine.

"Good, because running this station and protecting Bajor for the Dominion...it would be mind-numbingly dull without you, my dear." That brought a smile to my own lips, but probably for different reasons than he would've anticipated. The Founders would likely have blown a gasket hearing that one of their Vorta toys was bored with the job they'd been created to perform. If that wasn't proof that the Vorta were capable of being so much more than the Changelings thought, I didn't know what was. "Don't be late, now. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded my head quietly and gave him a tender, parting kiss before making my way toward Quark's.

The Bajoran station was humming with the partially-exhausted crowds that naturally accompanied the end of a shift. Used to the tired throng of people either going for a meal or heading back to their quarters, I used a few of the back corridors - less-traveled areas, of course - to make up some time.

Rather quickly, I found myself slipping into the doorway to the Ferengi's bar and zeroing in on the seat that was held for me out of habit by Dukat's right hand man. Without preamble, I plopped myself on the padded stool and gave a polite nod to the Cardassian in question.

"I was wondering when you'd get here. Usually you're early," Damar said as he brought his glass of kanar to his lips. He seemed in unusually high spirits tonight. Either something minor and gossip-worthy had happened, or I should be very concerned about the state of the war.

"There was a lot of foot traffic tonight. Apparently everyone decided this was the night to be in my way," I said with a dismissive giggle. Quark caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. "You look like the cat that got the cream, Glinn. What's got you in such a good mood?"

The Ferengi bartender set my drink in front of me with a wink - I knew for a fact that he flirted with all the patrons who wouldn't kill him in the hopes that he'd get a bigger tip - but before he could leave, Damar's hand landed on his forearm.

"Anything the Lieutenant drinks tonight is on me. This is a celebration," the Glinn said with a smug smirk. Looking at him in surprise, I lifted my glass of kanar in salute.

"Why, thank you, Glinn. If I may ask, what's the occasion?" He tapped his glass against mine, and after we both took a generous swallow - clearly not his first of such this evening - he turned to face me on his stool.

"My impending promotion!" He said puffing up his armor-covered chest.

Uh oh.

"Wait a minute," Quark cut in as he polished a glass, "you started a fight in my bar and they're making you a Gul? What kind of way is that to run an army?"

Weyoun had mentioned the fight only a couple of days before. Apparently, it had been between Cardassian officers and Jem'Hadar soldiers. Quark's concern was completely valid. How the hell did that track?

"Dukat wasn't happy about what happened," Damar started refilling his glass and topping mine off, even though I'd only taken a single sip. "I had to find a way to make it up to him."

"I hope it was something big," Quark chimed in.

"Must've been a hell of a blowjob," I teased, and the tipsy Cardassian let out a raucous laugh.

"Nothing so personal. Let's just say it will change the course of history," he said before draining his glass once more. Quark's eyes met mine. This reeked of trouble.

"As a businessman," the Ferengi started, refilling the Glinn's glass himself, "I'm very interested in the course of history. This one's on me."

Damar accepted the drink with a nod and a raised glass.

"That's very kind of you, Quark, but I can't talk about it." Down the hatch went that drink, and I sipped slowly at mine as I formed a plan. Quark looked over at me, and sighed as he grabbed a third glass.

"Of course, I understand. Have another," he offered, refilling Damar's drink, topping up mine, and pouring one for himself. I'd never imbibed heavily before, but there was a first time for everything.

Making our way to Kira's quarters while intoxicated was more difficult that I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to keep myself upright, but I had to try and steady Quark as well. The dirty bastard's hand roamed several times, but a threat to remove them at the wrist seemed to sober him up just enough for him to process how bad of an idea it had been.

We were practically dragged into the Major's quarters when we got there, having seemingly stumbled our way into a meeting of her resistance group. So much for me not knowing who was involved. She'd clearly bet on the probability of me forgetting the night's events by the morning, otherwise she wouldn't have let me in at all.

After several rambling attempts at conversation, Quark got a little agitated, and Kira tried to drag him back on course.

"How can I relax when there are thousands of Jem'Hadar ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole, waiting to come through?" He slurred, and Jake shook his head, trying to placate him.

"Don't worry about it. They're stuck there." He sounded so confident - so naïvely certain.

"Noooo, Jake. They're coming," I said, clutching at his arm as if I could make the young man understand. "If Damar was telling the truth, they'll be able to get through soon."

"What are you talking about?" Kira asked, and together we managed a somewhat intelligible, if slurred, explanation of what happened. Odo and Kira shared a look, and I was ordered to head back to my quarters.

How I got back, though, was a mystery to everyone, myself included. All I recalled the next morning was the vague impression of Weyoun helping me into clean clothes and letting me cuddle him until I fell asleep.

I really hoped that I'd dreamed saying how pretty he was so many times. He deserved to know he was handsome, but I didn't exactly want to sound like such a moron when conveying that to him.

Gentle lips against my cheek brought me back to consciousness in the morning, and I burrowed farther into my lover's embrace. My head ached and everything felt dry and scratchy and too loud.

No wonder I heard so many people warning about how strong kanar was. If this is how it felt the morning after, I was quite happy never to taste that syrupy shit again.

"Come, my love. It's time to get up," Weyoun crooned in a gentle, careful whisper. An involuntary groan escaped me, and he ran his fingers softly through my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I have something that'll help, though."

"I don't think even your gorgeous cock can fix this," I rasped as I forced myself to sit up - an utterly monumental task in that state.

"As honored as I am that you view me as a potential cure to many ailments, I was talking about this," he said reaching for a hypospray sitting on the bedside table. "It'll take away the majority of your symptoms."

I tried to nod my head, but it just ended with me wincing and lying back down. A quiet hiss sounded against my upper arm, and a few moments later, the pain melted away as if Weyoun's fingers trailing over my scalp had behaved like a poultice, absorbing the Evil Hangover straight from the source.

Featherlight kisses landed on my closed eyelids, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sensation.

"I take it you and Damar had fun last night?" He teased, and I groaned.

"For your own health, never ever try to match drinks with a Cardassian soldier." I cautioned, but before I could say more, the comm system chimed.

"Dukat to Weyoun. There is an urgent meeting in thirty minutes. Bring the Lieutenant with you. She'll want to be a part of this." He didn't wait for a response, simply stated the message and cut the line.

A long-suffering sigh escaped my lover's lips, and he fixed me with a stare. Those soft, warm purple eyes of his filled with a playful sort of calculating stare. He then picked up a glass of water and gave me a wink.

"Computer, deactivate Universal Translator in this room," he ordered, and my eyebrows shot upward. The acknowledging chirp from the computer stirred my curiosity. Holding the glass of water between us, he pointed at it and murmured a single word. "Na."

I blinked, and he, noticing my blankness, smiled and repeated the word before gesturing a hand at me. I repeated the word, still mildly confused, but it pleased him, and just like that something clicked.

Apparently, this was my first lesson in how to speak Dominionese. My pronunciation had been right on the money, but I didn't know if he meant the cup itself, or what was in the cup.

"Na?" Reaching forward, I tapped the glass as I asked, then I dipped a fingertip into the liquid, "or is this na?"

A look of comprehension flickered across his face, and he touched the liquid as I had, repeating the word confidently. He had me say it once or twice more, and offered me the glass with a cheerful little kiss on the forehead.

As we dressed for our meeting with Dukat, Weyoun tapped items of clothing and various objects around the room, giving me their names in his language and having me repeat them until my pronunciation was satisfactory. By the time that the translator came back online, I couldn't help but feel proud that I'd absorbed so much while recovering from a hangover.

The Changeling standing in the wardroom sent a bolt of anxiety rocketing through me. Why was a Founder here? Wasn't it enough for the Vorta to keep their people informed? Odo stood at her side, looking confused, a little suspicious, and...was he happy? I supposed that he must be. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been exiled from ever returning to their homeworld. The slightly guarded yet curious glances he threw her way said more than words ever could.

How long had she been on the station? How deeply into him had she sunk her claws?

I had my answer when I glanced at the table and noted that Major Kira was conspicuously absent. For the safety of the resistance and the Federation's future, I had to assume that Odo had been compromised.

"Founder, it is an honor," Weyoun said sinking into a low bow at my side. His hand still rested squarely in mine, but I didn't copy his actions. Lifting my chin in defiance, I merely looked at her as her hawk-like eyes watched us - or rather, me. She didn't seem to even notice Weyoun, choosing instead to stare at me.

"We meet again, child of Meris," she said, but I just lifted an eyebrow. What sort of response could I possibly give after she banished me? I'd chosen Weyoun over my people - a decision I could never regret - but I had no intention of discussing my logic with one so cruel that she could not comprehend that what she'd almost done was wrong in the extreme. "Have you nothing to say to your kin?"

Glancing around the room in faux contemplation, I shook my head blankly.

"I see no kin here. Besides, the last time we spoke, you made your opinion on my existence quite clear." I was proud of how calm and logical I sounded despite the anger boiling within me.

"Perhaps our opinions of you have changed," she said taking a few steps toward me. Looking away from her, I spotted Dukat and was, for once, grateful for his presence.

"What did you call us here for, Gul?" The smirk that met my inquiry sent a shiver down my spine. "I trust it wasn't just for this...reunion?"

"Come, Lieutenant. Have a seat by me. We have a breakthrough to discuss," he called, and I did as he suggested. Pulling Weyoun gently along, I ensured that the Founder wasn't given the chance to sit on either side of me. All the meeting gave me were specifics on the plan to remove the minefield. Nearly everything Dukat and Damar said were things I'd heard from the latter the night before, and I forced myself to act surprised.

I caught Damar looking at me a few times, doubtless trying determine how much he'd said the night before and how much I remembered. When I gave him an innocent smile and acted engrossed in Dukat's speech as if it was all new, he seemed to relax.

Very well. Let the drunkard believe that he'd averted a crisis. The more his people underestimated their opposition, the easier it would be to catch them off their guard.

"You will keep me informed," the Founder said rising to her feet as if she was a queen. Without waiting for an answer from Gul Dukat, she turned to Odo. "Come. I wish to speak with you alone."

I expected him to toss out an abrasive comment, but instead, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

What the hell was going on?

Before I could say a word to Weyoun, though, the Founder tossed a glance over her shoulder.

"Come, Weyoun. We require your service," she called not waiting for an answer as she swept out of the room. He gave me an apologetic kiss on the cheek before rushing after the pair of Changelings, and then I was left alone with the two Cardassians.

"Well, well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Dukat murmured, and I let out a heavy sigh. I still had the edge of a headache from this morning's hangover. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat. "Oh dear. You do seem stressed."

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from snapping open when one of his large hands rested on my thigh, squeezing the muscles there in what I guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. I hummed low in my throat - the sound's meaning was one that I let him interpret on his own.

"Did I wear you out last night?" Damar asked with a huff of laughter, and Dukat let out a scandalized gasp. I could imagine just how wide his eyes had grown as he looked between his officer and me.

"Don't tell me you were with another Cardassian!" He sounded sufficiently playful, but still just jealous enough to bring a smile to my lips. Good. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

"Only for a drink," I replied, and Damar took that as his cue to leave. The door hissed closed, leaving me truly alone with Dukat. Why shouldn't I use this as an opportunity to deepen his trust in me?

"No wonder you look so tired," Dukat murmured sounding much closer than before. His other hand touched my forehead and his lips met my cheek. "Poor girl. I can massage that headache away if you like...?"

Letting out a harsh, skeptical laugh, I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to face him.

"And trust your hands not to wander? Forgive me, Gul, but I've heard stories of your dalliances during the Occupation–"

"Are you truly telling me that after all we've been through over the years, you wouldn't enjoy a little...dalliance of our own? Especially considering that your pretty little Vorta toy will likely be busy serving the Founder's wishes while she's aboard. We wouldn't want you to grow lonely, would we? I could keep you entertained," he challenged as he skimmed his fingertips down the side of my face. After seeing the Founder in the flesh and how unquestioningly obedient Weyoun was to her, suddenly Dukat didn't seem so bad.

Relativity, indeed. Tilting my head, I skimmed my lips ever-so-lightly over the palm of his hand and looked up at him - a nice touch, if I do say so myself.

"You wish," I breathed, and a devilish smirk stretched his lips. Oh, I was playing with fire.

"Would such a wish really be so surprising?" The Gul's voice was low and intimate - soft, as though he thought that was what I needed.

I did. I needed gentleness quite badly. Just not from him.

"Coming from you? Not in the slightest." I put as much condescension in my tone as I dared, hoping he'd take it as a clumsy attempt at Cardassian-style flirting. A raspy chuckle vibrated deep in his throat, prompting me to get to my feet.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I should. After all, Weyoun–"

"–will be busy with the female Founder and Odo for quite some time. You are free to do as you wish," he argued, but I shook my head quietly.

"I have duties."

"You don't. I took the liberty of having Major Kira clear your schedule for the day." I froze, and obviously didn't hide my surprise well, because he continued in a more amused tone. "Initially, I believed that you'd want the time for a family reunion, but given your reaction to your long-lost relation, you could use the time for something more...enjoyable. Improving interstellar relations between Bajor and Cardassia, perhaps...?"

He stood and moved in front of me, tilting my chin up so that eyes met his.

"There's no need to be coy," he whispered. "Obviously, we both want this..."

"You want me?" I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as I could while my hand slid up to his neck ridge. He practically moaned out a 'yes,' and I grabbed the section of his ridge that Kira had taught me was a weak point for Cardassians. Dukat let out a pained hiss, but the delighted smirk on his face spoke more of arousal than discomfort. "Then work for it. I'm not one of your comfort women from the previous occupation. If you want me, then you need to earn the privilege. Understood?"

"Oh yes, Lieutenant." Though strained, he still managed to sound flirtatious. I released him and spun on my heel. Sparing him a single glance over my shoulder as I walked out, I noted the tent in his uniform trousers.

This was a mess. Everything was a mess. If the Federation didn't retake the station soon, the resistance might be in shambles. Damar was clearing the wormhole, Odo was wrapped around the Female Founder's little finger, and Dukat's actions today might have finally convinced Major Kira that I wasn't worth trusting...that I'd truly betrayed the Federation and Bajor. Besides that, I might have to close my eyes and do something I'd very much regret with Dukat.

Guilt wound through me every time that I acknowledged how much I'd encouraged his attraction. I knew I needed information for the Federation and the Resistance, and I needed the Gul to trust me, but was flirting with him even the right move considering everything at stake?

I had no idea how long I was stuck in my thoughts, but at some point that evening, I became vaguely aware that Weyoun had returned to our quarters. His voice washed gently over my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. My eyes remained lost in the stars just outside the window, and my arms had been crossed protectively around my middle for goodness only knew how long.

What could I do to stop the minefield being removed when I hadn't even found a way to communicate with Starfleet Command? I mean, what had I been doing all this time besides playing house with a Vorta?

A wave of concern flowed from Weyoun to myself through our odd link as he sensed my emotions, but I didn’t move a muscle. Even when his hands took up careful residence on my shoulders, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than blink.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Weyoun’s smooth, concerned voice asked from behind me as I stared out into the oblivion of space. He could read people better than they could read themselves, and I was certainly no exception, not that I was making it particularly difficult for him at the moment. Even if we hadn't been empathically linked, it wouldn't have been hard to see how wilted I felt. “You’ve been quieter than usual since you returned from that late night with Damar, and now with Founder here... You’ve been preoccupied. I realize that you don’t want me to think of you as the offspring of a deity, but...I live to serve you in whatever ways you may require, my love. What can I do to help you?”

I felt too vulnerable and too closed off all at once, like a frayed wire being strangled by what little remained of its casing. Who else could I say anything to? Who else cared about what I said, even if this all turned out to be a ruse - a long game that he'd been playing so patiently - in the end?

Weyoun was the only one. I couldn’t trust anyone on this station, not anymore, not where it was important. Hell, I shouldn’t even fully trust him, but what other choice did I have?

For this...could I risk it just this once? He thought of Changelings as gods. He regarded the being who was my biological father as a god, and I myself as a demigod of sorts. Would this be taking advantage of the programming the Founders had included in his genetic makeup? Would he feel obligated to listen to me drivel on without regard for his own feelings despite my protests that I wanted only his honesty?

When I turned and my eyes met his, I felt something in me break. Weyoun looked so worried. Precious man. His almost neon purple eyes were moist as though he were on the verge of tears like I was - he truly was distressed over my current state. I knew my own eyelids were most likely puffy from the tears I’d shed - the emotions threatening to spill over again at any moment - and I knew that he’d have noticed that by now. He was much too clever for his own good.

A low whisper of my name brought me out of my thoughts enough to notice that the Vorta’s brow had furrowed just a little bit more than before.

“Please...it pains me to see you like this. I beg you, please let me help,” he said barely above a whisper, and whatever cracks had formed in my defenses extended far enough that I could no longer keep up my flimsy facade. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. A flicker of fear passed over Weyoun’s features and through our bond, and although I wanted to comfort him, all that escaped me was a quiet sob. There wasn’t much space left between us to begin with, but he still stepped forward as much as he could and lifted his hands, allowing them to hover on either side my face as if he was afraid to touch me. “H-How do I help you?”

In answer, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Pressing my face quietly against his shoulder, I felt his own limbs envelope me without hesitation - one around my middle and one around my upper back - holding me close to him. Weyoun was nearly trembling from how fiercely and protectively he was embracing me.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my temple in that soft, comforting voice. This time instead of it being filled with steady lies as it so often was in meetings, I could hear it wavering with emotion just as it had so long ago on that Dominion ship and when he found that I'd remained on the station despite its occupation. “You are not alone. You have me; you always will. I promise. No matter what happens with the Dominion, the Alpha Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant...you will always have me. I know what it is to be alone, and I swear you never will be again.”

Safe in his arms, I found myself no longer caring whether this was just a ploy or not, because I so desperately wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He'd been here, but I hadn't allowed him to see just how stressed I was trying to toe the line between the Dominion and Bajor. I wanted to believe he was telling the whole truth. Just this once.

Just this once.

So I nodded my head against his shoulder and simply let myself be comforted by his embrace, by his promise, and by this one act of kindness, dangerous though it might eventually prove to be.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out around my stuttered breaths. I was. He didn’t deserve to have someone sobbing all over him for no reason. He was the one who needed kindness, especially after the way I’d seen that Founder treating him. He wasn't some pet for them to order around. He deserved so much more kindness than he was being shown.

Yet he was the one showing it to me. Whether incited by genuine concern or by his programmed devotion to the Founders - and myself by extension - Weyoun had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and courteous to me.

But how could I allow a shred of doubt into my head? Just thinking back to the first time I'd felt the extent of his love for me, I remembered how different his emotions had been compared with those he'd felt for the beings who had cloned him.

Shame wove hot and heavy through the ravages of my sorrow.

“You of all people have no reason to apologize to me,” he said before pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You have never been unkind to me, you’ve never hurt me. You’ve only ever shown me love and compassion. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”

“You have better things to do than put up with someone crying all over you,” I muttered daring to tilt my head back enough to look up into Weyoun’s eyes. He looked almost startled at my statement.

“My dear, you act as though you are a burden to be borne. I assure you, nothing is further from the truth,” he murmured in a pained voice. One of his hands lifted and cupped my cheek. His thumb skimmed gently across my skin wiping away the last of my tears. Leaning into his touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut. I knew I shouldn’t be this open with him - he was the Female Founder’s puppet while she was aboard the station, after all - but I couldn’t help it. Who else could I possibly be vulnerable with? Considering the cruelty and violence of this war surrounding me on a daily basis, was it really so wrong to enjoy a simple moment of self-indulgent intimacy? I raised my hand to cover Weyoun’s and turned my head just far enough to kiss his wrist.

It wasn’t even close to an adequate thank you for all he’d done for me, but it was all I could manage. I knew he’d understand - he always understood me with a startling degree of accuracy, even when I couldn’t express myself correctly or fully.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” He asked in barely more than a whisper as his eyes slid from our hands to meet my gaze. “You are lovely and kind to everyone, even those like me who don’t deserve it–”

“But you do deserve it. You always have, Weyoun, no matter how the Founders may have treated you,” I said quietly looking up into his eyes. He blinked owlishly at me, and I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Can you still not see that after all this time, darling?”

“I suppose I...still have a bit of trouble separating myself from the way the Founders created us,” he admitted as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “Forgive me–”

“Hush. There’s nothing to forgive,” I promise coaxing him into resting his forehead against mine. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I knew his excellent Vorta hearing would still register what I had to say. “We are, always have been, and always will be equals.”

“I believe you,” he murmured as his hands took up a timid grip on my waist. He took a slow, deep breath and as he exhaled, I rested my hands gently on his shoulders. Nothing had technically changed - the war was still raging, my father was still a missing murderer, and Dukat was still playing a tyrannical, slutty version of king of the castle with the station.

And yet...there in Weyoun’s arms, such a fundamental shift had occurred that it felt as though I suddenly could take on the universe. Perhaps it was a part of the Vorta coding which bound them to the Founders that made me feel reassured as I stood there, his own confidence in me bleeding over and restoring my own.

Or perhaps there was another explanation. The relationship that had been developing between us had shown no cracks until Dukat tried to worm his way between us. Even now, I was acutely aware that the Gul had plenty of reasons to try and manipulate me on that front. Why had I ever allowed myself to listen to a single word he said? Was I so afraid of losing Weyoun that I assumed it was just my luck that I would?

I had doubted myself and my judgment regarding him for so long that I suppose I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved with the kind over unwavering affection Weyoun had shown me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, doubts filtered through from my subconscious that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take this much liberty with his affection as it was - that I was weak for doing so.

But I needed him, and I loved him. Weyoun had assuaged my fears on that front so many times before, but was that justification enough for continuing?

“Such chaos thrust upon one person... Let me be your shielding."

The soft earnestness surrounding Weyoun's words had me crumbling in his arms. Almost without conscious thought, I tilted my head and caught his lips in a kiss that I hoped said all the words I couldn't muster. My lover didn't hesitate to return the gesture, kissing me with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

Slowly, naturally, our movements gained momentum, becoming hungrier and more desperate by the second. Just as he'd done after my encounter with Keevan, Weyoun easily took control. Something urgent and lurid passed between us, and in a blur of discarded clothing, we fell into our bed.

We'd experimented with each other over the time we'd been together, but we hadn't quite taken that final step. With his fingers pumping between my legs and mine caressing the base of his length and the folds of his slit, he whispered in my ear.

"I want to make love to you. Please, I'm ready. I'm aching for you, my love. I've dreamt of you so many times..."

I couldn't possibly deny him. Why would I even want to after all this time? I loved him, and I would never pressure him into doing more than he was comfortable with. I would, however, be lying if I said that I'd never imagined what our first time together would be like.

My imagination paled in comparison to the sweet sounds he made as he entered me for the first time. His name was a prayer on my lips, just as mine was on his. Our pleasure was reflected, doubled, then increased exponentially by the bond that formed between our minds. We merged so completely that I couldn't tell where Weyoun began and I ended.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin sounded less obscene and more...restorative. We both needed this. Our reasons might have been different, but our desires, our love, stemmed from the same source.

When he finally spilled within my trembling body, tears dampened both our faces. Weyoun's teeth had left bite marks down my neck, and I'd left a few scratches down his back.

Aside from murmured declarations of love between kisses, we didn't speak. What could we say? What could possibly need to be said so desperately that either of us would risk disturbing the peaceful, content atmosphere that had settled over us like a blanket?

Gentle touches, cuddles, and affectionate looks carried us delicately into dreamland that night.

The next morning as I blinked hazily into awareness, I thought the Vorta was still asleep. Trailing my fingers ever-so-softly through his mussed, silky, black hair, I couldn't help but smile. He was supposed to be unsettling to the Dominion's enemies and charming in equal measure, but all I could see was how gentle he was. I knew he had it within him to be manipulative, charming, and underhanded all in a matter of moments - that was how the Changelings had cloned him to be - and I'd witnessed it. But there was something satisfying about seeing the head of station's occupying force curled up like a kitten in my arms.

"That feels good." The words breezed from his lips, carried on his breath as easily and lightly as a feather. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

"I won't stop, then," I whispered, and he let out an appreciative hum.

"I meant it, you know. Every Weyoun since our very first iteration over a hundred years ago has seen your face in our dreams. Seeing you on the Defiant...I recognized you immediately."

My hand slowed atop his scalp. My lover's voice was low and nervous, as if he was afraid I'd mock him or accuse him of lying. Instead, I watched as he lifted his head from my chest and looked up at me with wide, gentle eyes.

"But...that was so long ago..." I was confused, definitely, but I wanted to hear him out. Across our bond, I could feel tension, as if Weyoun was taking a chance saying any of this.

"My very first memories are images of you from prior iterations' dreams. They all saw your face so frequently that they knew you were someone vitally important...that the Founders were allowing us visions of a blessing they planned to give us. The fourth Weyoun...he'd almost lost hope the day you met him," he murmured. "Only the important memories - the ones that stand out - are encoded for future iterations to retain. You...your face has survived every activation."

A lump rose in my throat. How was that possible? I'd heard of people having visions they thought were from their deities - hell, even Captain Sisko had visions from the Bajoran Prophets - but I knew for a fact that the Founders weren't gods. Even they couldn't predict the future like that. Otherwise, I had no doubt that they would've stopped my father from mating with a Human.

"In the dreams, you called out to me...said my name...promised you'd find me no matter what. I've never told anyone this before, but in my darkest hours...the moments where my faith in the Founders was at risk of falling apart, I clung to the image of your face hovering over me...and it strengthened me," Weyoun admitted in a whisper as he cupped my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. "I-I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Unable to make my tongue work, I shook my head and kissed his lips. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? What could I say about that revelation?

I hadn't even begun to sort through the messy tangle of emotions in my chest when the comm chimed.

“Damar to Weyoun.” Of course, there was never a calm, quiet moment on this station, even with it under the Dominion's thumb. The Vorta sighed quietly, the warmth of his breath caressing my skin as softly as his lips had in the wake of our intimacy.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, sounding more reluctant than I’d ever heard him. He didn’t move away from me any more than I did from him. If anyone had been watching, they’d doubtlessly assume that our nude bodies were stuck together beneath the blanket by some immutable, unseen force.

“You’re needed in Security. Now.” The Cardassian sounded smug, a fact which never seemed to bode well in his company. "We've just arrested a saboteur. The Ferengi bartender's brother, Rom."

~*~*~

Dominionese:

Na = water

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee @weyounthevorta

#deepspacedukat fic #half-changeling!reader #Weyoun 5 #Weyoun 5 x Reader #lieutenant!reader #established relationship

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passivenovember · 10 months

Text

When Billy Falls in Love

Max stays angry red.

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here--

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows.

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close.

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar.

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him?

About his bones and blood.

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--”

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull.

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue.

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking.

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back.

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness.

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him,

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock.

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

If it kills him.

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers.

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky.

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks.

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks.

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

That Steve would survive losing this.

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt.

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard.

Eddie doesn’t move.

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him.

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy.

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him.

He smells like peaches.

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch.

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare.

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“--Right--”

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him.

Billy stops. Waits.

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning.

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And.

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does.

He really does.

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then.

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy.

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him.

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

#harringrove #fluff #clothes swapping #love confessions #idk what this is #i'm just feeling very In Love

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