#anyways while i was annoyed as hell with the kids weaving in and out of line the other adults (not with them) kept our mouths shut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garbagevanfleet · 3 years

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Brightest Blue (series)

PART TWELVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+! Explicit sexual content Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: ahh, sweet resolution. Writing this chapter made me euphorically happy. Thank you for reading! Extra thank you for liking, reblogging, or replying to this fic. I’m so happy people like it as much as I do.

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

The final week before the play was an oddly enjoyable hell. Every second felt like it flew by and dragged on for eternity simultaneously.

You had skipped class on Thursday, just to make sure you had every costume just the way you wanted it. Your very favorite one to work on had been Alice’s dress - you put more work into it than most of your classes for the past couple of weeks, but by the time it was done, it could have been in a storybook.

As it hung from your closet door, you took a moment to be proud of yourself, admiring the lace and the neat trimmings.

Kate showed up around 5, and somehow you knew she would, even though she never mentioned a thing when you told her you were staying home.

“Hi, you,” she greeted, letting herself in as she slipped past you. “Did you get it all done?”

“Well, if I had another week, I’m sure I could find more that I could work on with them, but they’re pretty great,” you agreed. “You want a glass of wine?”

She shook her head at you. “Actually, I’m taking you shopping tonight.”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah, have you thought about what you’re going to wear to the play?” she inquired, sounding smug like she knew you really hadn’t.

You frowned at her, unsure. “I was thinking probably something simple.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it should be something classy, pretty,” she said.

“And warm,” you reminded, thinking of the snow outside.

“Sure, sure, yeah. So, are you coming?”

You gave her a sweet smile. “Let me get my coat.”

+++

“I don’t think I can wear this,” you said through a grimace as you turned this way and then that in the mirror. Kate had let herself right into the dressing room with you, her long legs taking up more space than you could afford in such a small room. “My whole vagina would freeze.”

“It’s not that short,” she giggled.

“Yeah, but it’s just an open dress. My legs are exposed!”��

“True, maybe you could wear leggings under it,” she suggested.

“If I were going to wear leggings, I’d want a longer dress I think. Maybe something mid-calf. Then I could wear booties.”

She looked like she was considering it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that seems like it would be super cute. What about your hair?”

“How about we find the dress first and go from there,” you teased.

Once you were dressed again and had everything hung back on the “reject” rack, you ventured out into the store again, weaving through mannequins and lines of garments. You went to grab a hanger when you snapped your hand back in pain.

“Damn,” you hissed. She turned to give you a concerned look. “My fingers are so sore from sewing. I’m kind of thinking they might never recover.”

You were joking, but she gave you a sympathetic look anyway. “You know this play is just as much yours as it is his, right?”

You huffed a laugh. “Oh my god, that’s so dramatic.”

“Well, pretty damn close,” she objected, pulling a dress from the rack in front of her and laying it over her forearm. “His ass would have been grass without you.”

“We can thank Rachel for that,” you quipped, chronically annoyed by the thought of her.

She paused what she was doing and met your eyes. “Did you figure out why she quit?”

You gave her a confused frown. Now that you were thinking about it, Josh never did tell you why. You shook your head. “Why?”

“Well, it sounds like she kinda had a thing for Josh. Like a big thing. And that’s why she signed up to work with him in the first place.”

You nodded for her to continue, your stomach feeling tight.

“And I guess it went okay for a little while - he seemed receptive to it apparently, but she found out he had a female roommate and saw you guys eating lunch together all of the time, you know?” Kate continued carefully.

You hummed, trying to seem casual, but you felt a little like you’d just been sucker-punched.

“How did you hear about this?”

“Grapevine,” she replied with a smile. “What do you think of this one?”

She was stroking her fingers down a long dress, black with flowers in muted colors. “That would go really well with my coat actually. We have to accept the reality that I’m going to have to wear a coat the whole time.”

She smiled at you in an oddly genuine way for her. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but you should go for it.”

You gave her a confused look. “I have to try it on first.”

She put a hand flat on your chest. “Not the dress, you goober. Josh.”

You stared blankly at the ground until you were sure of what you wanted to say. “I don’t want to fuck this up. I can’t lose him as a friend - I’d be devastated.”

“Why would you think you’d fuck it up? I don’t know that you could, to be honest.” You watched as she grabbed a pair of earrings, dangling off of their cardboard hanger. She started back off toward the dressing room, and you followed close behind.

“We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

+++

You helped Josh get all of the costumes to the school on Friday, hanging them up on racks backstage. You took the time to make them all tags, writing the kid’s names in fancy, flowing script.

Josh was working on getting the first set perfectly into place, so everything was ready to go for showtime the next day. Despite how clearly nervous he was, you could hear him handing out compliments and words of encouragement to the stagehands - even his constructive advice was said in a way that felt like every person in that room was his best friend.

He had left you mostly alone to get the wardrobe ready, but when he popped back into your area, he crouched down next to where you were sat on the floor.

“I probably won’t be home until late again tonight,” he informed with a half-frown. “There’s a lot I still have to get into place.”

You gave him an understanding smile. “Don’t worry about me, worry about you. You need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”

“I know,” he replied, looking thankful. “Show me some of these costumes.”

You had been oddly flattered that he had trusted you enough to have them done - and done well - by the time of the play; he hadn’t asked to see them even once until right then.

“You can look through them, but they won’t look right until they’re on a child.”

His face lit up like that was the best news of the day. “That’s perfect because the kids should be here for dress rehearsal in about ten minutes.”

You smiled at him as he stood and helped you up with two outstretched hands.

He ran his hands over the rack, pausing on the one you knew he would. With a perplexed look, he pulled the door mouse costume and held it up.

“This is-” he started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I really hope it’s okay, but I found a sheet in your room with some rough designs on it, and I really liked a lot of them,” you admitted sheepishly.

“You were going through my stuff?” he asked with a grin.

You shook your head. “Just that. And it was when I went in to get Penny.”

His fingers slid down the tail of the costume, made from a string of peach-hued rope - just like his draft had called for. His brown eyes flicked up at you, looking like melted chocolate under the warm-colored lights. “I literally don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for this.”

You could feel a blush rising on your cheeks, the sensation of flower petals brushing your stomach lining. “Let’s make it through the show without them falling to pieces first.” Your tone had been a teasing one, but he looked completely unaffected.

The intensity of the moment was slowly creeping up on you - you weren’t sure if he was going to kiss you or cry. In the end, he did neither.

“Do you want to stick around to see the kids in their outfits?” he offered, but you shook your head.

“I’m actually really excited to see it all for the first time tomorrow,” you replied with a smile that was immediately matched by his.

“Alright, I like that idea.” He paused a moment before speaking again. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

You chuckled at him, pulling your jacket on to leave. “No promises.”

+++

That evening you spent a long time in the bathtub with a bottle of wine. You had homework to do - and you tried for a couple of hours, but you just couldn’t be fucked with it, so you turned the water up as hot as it would go and rested your head on a rolled-up towel.

You felt silly about it now, but you were scared that once this was over, you would feel lost without the costumes to worry about. That moment never came for you - at least not with the costumes.

You definitely couldn’t stop thinking about Josh.

There was this terrible feeling in the pit of your gut - a guilt, heavy like you swallowed a pile of gravel.

When you got out, you haphazardly dried off and left the wet towel on the bathroom floor. You got changed into a long-sleeved shirt and your pajama shorts and then grabbed what was left of your wine and made your way to Josh’s room. After you laid out on his bed, you rolled over onto your side and stared into the fish tank, pressing your fingers against the glass.

Penny had been snoozing in her log decoration, but when she spotted you, she hurried out to greet your hand.

“I fucked up, Penny,” you whispered. You imagined she was making an angry face at you, but in reality, she was just floating there, probably wondering where her dinner was.

You glanced at the time on your phone.

8:32 pm

You grabbed the little jar of flakes off of his bedside table and strained to drop a couple into the water. She gobbled them up excitedly, her safety-orange colored fins waving in the water.

You had no idea when it happened, but you woke up to the dresser drawer by your head opening. You sat up, irregular heartbeat making you feel jittery.

Josh turned to look at you, a warm smile on his lips, the sun illuminating his tan face. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Oh my god, it’s light outside. What time is it?” you asked groggily.

“About 8:30. I got home at midnight and you were passed out in here, so I covered you up,” he informed, making your face run warm.

You pushed your messy hair away from your face. “I’m sorry, I was laying in here with Penny and I must have fallen asleep.” You glanced around in confusion. “I didn’t even feel you get out of bed.”

“Oh, I slept on the couch,” he replied, picking a pair of pants from his top drawer.

You frowned, casting your eyes down to the bedsheets. He thought you didn’t want to sleep next to him, and instead of waking you up to move you, he slept out on the couch. The idea made you want to cry.

“Will you sit with me a moment?” you asked, patting the spot next to you.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I really want to, but I need to be over to the school in twenty minutes. I am planning on being back here around 4 to eat something quick and then get ready.”

“Okay.” You clambered out of bed as he pulled his shirt off and changed into a new one. “I think I’ll probably already be at Kate’s, but if you want to take my car you can.”

He shot you a smirk. “Really? You’re going to let me drive?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, putting on your best mom voice. “Yes, but only if you promise to be very safe.”

He put his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

“I’ll see you after the show,” you said, maybe a little too sweetly, and brushed a curl out of his eyes. It was well worth it to see the tops of his cheeks turn pink.

+++

As Kate took you both to the theater, you couldn’t kick the nervous butterflies. She looked beautiful - you’d never seen her in anything but mom jeans, but she was dressed in a plaid skirt, tights, and a black turtleneck sweater. She had insisted on doing your makeup - sitting you down at her vanity and pulling a barstool close enough she could reach you. You had known better than to complain about the amount of time she took - besides, you had gotten over to her house so early, you had nothing but time. When she was done, you barely recognized yourself. Somehow she had made your eyes look bigger, your lashes longer and darker, and your face sharper. You were used to wearing foundation and concealer, but your face felt almost a little heavy under all she’d put on you.

She had laid out a few extra things for you - a pair of boots and a set of green gem earrings and you gave her a thankful smile as you donned them. The truly hard part was resisting hugging her very affectionate polar bear - which was actually a dog, she informed you. You had tried once, but she scolded you, reminding you that white fur didn’t look good on black fabric.

You had whispered a promise to him that you would be back soon to give him all the love he could handle.

When she pulled up to the school, she had you get out at the doors and grab the tickets while she went to park, and to your pleasant surprise, Jake was waiting for you. He helped you out of the car with an outstretched hand. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to wear, but it definitely wasn’t a button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone and nothing underneath.

“You’re literally making me cold just looking at you,” you teased, wrapping your arms comfortingly around your frame. You had earned a grin from him.

“I’m wearing a coat,” he reasoned, holding up the hem of a light peacoat to prove his point.

You rolled your eyes at him. “C’mon, let’s get our tickets.”

He pulled two tickets out of said coat’s pocket and handed them to you. “You mean these?”

“Did you buy these?” you asked through a frown.

“One of them. I bought mine and Kate’s, and I think you can guess who got yours,” he responded with a genuine smile.

You took one of the tickets wordlessly, but you couldn’t suppress a smile.

As soon as Kate had joined you in the foyer, you took your seats. Despite it being only a college production, you were shocked at how many people had come to the opening night. There were only a handful of open spots left when they flashed the lights, and you could just imagine Josh giving the kids a pep talk backstage.

The show started with a fun, bouncy opening music number and you leaned against Kate as you looked on at all the set pieces you’d both worked so hard on. You had thought your job was hard, but Kate had to round up a bunch of art students to help her work on the hundreds of different props.

Leave it to Josh to treat a children’s musical like a broadway show.

The first half of the show went pretty much perfectly - everyone seemed to remember their lines, and if they didn’t, you didn’t notice. You couldn’t help but smile in pride as you watched all of your costumes appear on stage, one by one.

During intermission, your head snapped over when you heard a soda tab opening and you shot Kate a disapproving look - you’re pretty sure you’d read a “no outside food and drink” sign at the front entrance. She gave you an unapologetic smile as she took a long sip and then handed the can over to Jake. He laughed under his breath.

The time went by too fast, and the closer it got to the closing act, the more anxious you got. The final scene was a triumphant number, exciting and big. You could tell that a lot of the audience was family members because when the curtain fell, they all began to stand. Hooting and hollering filled the huge room, and you almost cried when the curtain rose again to reveal some of the kids wearing smiles that spread all the way to their ears. It started with the minor characters - the cards, the flowers, and then the Cheshire Cat, the Hatter, the Caterpillar, the White Rabbit. Then finally, The Queen of Hearts, followed by a grinning Alice.

They waved excitedly at the crowd, eating up the standing ovation like it was candy. You saw Kate with her hand pressed over her mouth and the biggest eyes you’d ever seen her wear - she was absolutely in love with them, as was the entire rest of the room.

A moment or two later, Josh stepped out onto the stage. You recalled back when you had first met him and had told him you couldn’t imagine him in business casual because he was wearing a dark blue suit, a pair of black dress shoes, and a proud grin. As the kids made a spot for him in the line, he crouched down in between them and gave a couple of them a pat on the back. You saw him speak something at the girl playing Alice, and it must have been praise because she gave him a toothy smile in return.

When the cast members had returned backstage, you had told Kate and Jake to leave when they were ready - you were going to wait for Josh. Both of them had given you knowing smiles that you brushed off easily enough, but they left all the same with a parting word of “text me” from Kate.

You gave it enough time that most of the audience had left - all the kids joining their parents with promises of ice cream and treats - before you made your way backstage.

After looking for him for a moment, you spotted Josh chatting with an older man excitedly by the back exit. When the older man (his professor, you assumed) laid eyes on you, he gestured toward you with a, “Please head home, we’ll see you tomorrow. You’ve done a great job.”

Josh turned to look at you and the smile melted from his lips as he nodded a haphazard acknowledgment to his professor.

“Hey,” you greeted, only needing to speak above a whisper in the quiet area. Viewing him on stage was fine - it felt impersonal, but up close it felt like looking into the sun. “You look so handsome.”

His cheeks turned red under the tan skin as he rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through a weak laugh, and a moment later said, “The costumes were incredible.”

“Not bad for someone who didn’t know how to sew a month ago, right?” you teased. You stared into his eyes for a long moment before crossing the room and taking his hand. “Are you ready to go?” you asked, then teasingly added, “Provided my car is still intact.”

He chuckled at you before taking a long breath. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

The car ride home was tense, but not uncomfortable. You could sense the electricity running through him as you chatted about the production - the pride radiating from him was palpable.

When you pulled into the apartment parking lot, it had just begun snowing, and neither of you made any moves to exit the car once it was turned off.

After a long moment of silence, you spoke again. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He gave you a nervous look, one eyebrow quirked. “We do?”

You breathed a laugh, half-turning towards him in your seat. After a moment of collecting your thoughts, you said, “I want you to lay it all out for me. I know we haven’t been talking about it because it’s scary but I need to know exactly how you feel about me.”

He stared into your eyes for a long time, seemingly trying to predict whether this was a good idea or not. Just for assurance, you laid your hand on top of his where it rested on his knee - his fidgeting fingers pausing under your touch.

“You know, I think I felt it for you the moment I first met you,” he admitted, casting his eyes anywhere but on yours. “I was nervous up until semi-recently that I just felt that way because I was lonely, you know? When my ex and I parted ways last spring and my roommate dropped out and moved away, I felt like I lost everyone all at once.

“I stopped going to parties and seeing my friends until I had none left. And I didn’t want to see my family - I think I had become accustomed to being alone, but you moved in and you were so kind. I’m not sure exactly when it happened - probably kind of a little bit at a time - with every interaction, you know? But I feel it for you. For real.”

He met your eyes again with a surprised frown. You watched his other hand come up, his thumb swiping under your eye, leaving a cool spot behind. “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You laughed weakly. “I didn’t know I was. I’m going to ruin all the makeup Kate spent an hour working on.” Before he could speak again, you took the moment. You leaned in and tugged him closer to you by the lapels of his suit jacket, pressing your lips to his. He melted into it for only a moment before pulling away with a sad smile.

“I don’t want you to do this just because you feel bad for me,” he explained, voice uncharacteristically flat.

You gave him a frown, taking his chin between your fingers and forcing him to look at you. “I’m not,” you promised, but he looked unconvinced. So you tried again.

“Josh, I’m so sorry about the way I’ve treated you. I fucked up. You have got to be the absolute sweetest person I’ve ever met - definitely the sweetest man - and it was fucked of me to sleep with you and then make you feel like you were wrong for wanting affection.”

He gave you a questioning look.

“It’s never going to happen again. Because - if you’ll have me - I want to give you all the affection you can handle. No weed-induced hook up’s this time.”

He was silent for a long moment, and you huffed a laugh as you visualized his brain working.

“Oh,” he breathed as a smile started to tilt his lips up at the corners. “Well. That’s not how I expected this to go. Are we gonna fuck here - in the car?”

An abrupt laugh ripped through your chest. “I would prefer if we didn’t, this is cloth upholstery. But we could go inside?”

He nodded at you, and opening the door and stepping out, he came around to your side and gave you his hand to make sure you didn’t fall in the new snowfall.

Inside, he toed off his dress shoes, and you bent to undo the buckles on your boots, your fingers shaking slightly in anticipation. The second you were stood again, he had you pressed back against the door with just enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.

When he leaned in and connected your mouths, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing into his hair.

He kissed a trail down your jaw and to the base of your throat, the feeling of teeth dragging across your skin giving you goosebumps. He hummed into your neck as his hands snaked around your body, his fingers tugging up the hem of your dress.

You slipped your coat off with his help once he realized what you were trying to do. As soon as it fell to the floor, you were walking him back blindly through the apartment, neither of you caring when you bumped into this or that. He turned you around when you reached his bedroom, laying you out over the covers.

You watched as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, then the cuffs of his dress shirt.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he mumbled, making you blush lightly as he gestured to your form. “Did you do this for me?”

Through a smile, you replied, “Of course.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he stated confidently as he worked to open his button-down shirt. You decided that you weren’t going to let him do that alone, so you sat up, replacing his fingers with yours.

You huffed. “Don’t say that.” The second the fabric was undone, you pressed your lips to his warm stomach, feeling the skin twitch under the touch. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met - candy sweet.” It was his turn to flush pink across his face, but you weren’t done yet. “I find myself thinking about you constantly.” You nipped into the trail of hair below his navel as you tugged his shirt from his dress pants. He hummed low at the slight pain. “I actually got some condoms in case you wanted to use them. Probably not all of them tonight - it’s a big pack, but you know. Over the next couple of weeks.” Your tone was teasing, forcing a breathy laugh from him.

“Where are they?” he asked, voice a little gravelly.

“My bedside stand.”

As he exited the room to retrieve them, you pushed yourself up onto the bed until your head hit his pillows. You could hear him rummaging in the next room until the noise stalled for a beat as you worked off your leggings. You listened to him pad back across the hall, wearing just a smile and his dress pants when he returned.

He crawled up the bed over you, pressing his face into your cheek as his hand lifted the hem of your dress.

“What’s this?” he asked into your ear, pressing something cold against your thigh. You knew what it was instantly, making you suck in a surprised breath.

You laughed, but even to your ears, it sounded nervous. He held it up so you could see.

“That would be a vibrator.”

It wasn’t anything special - just a slim, blue plastic piece, but it was the only one you’d ever had, and it had been a very good friend to you. He hovered his lips over yours as he ran the toy up your leg until the tip of it brushed your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asked, but he sounded smug like he already knew the answer. You squirmed in anticipation and nodded.

When he brushed it across your mound, you jolted, your fingers pressing tightly into his shoulder. He applied a little pressure to it, pressing it into the folds over the fabric. The feeling made you whine in the back of your throat.

He sat up, slipping his legs under yours, pulling your ass into his lap. Your face felt hot, so you covered your eyes with your fingers, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. This was a lot different than hooking up with him while high.

He played the toy over your panties until you were wet enough to have left a damp spot in the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers under them and tugged them down enough to give him full access, though the position restricted him from removing them completely.

When the plastic pressed against your bare skin, you had to suppress a moan. You couldn’t see, so you didn’t expect it when the toy flicked to life against you, and he ran it across you lightly, just teasing.

You stared up at the ceiling through your fingers, your mouth agape as he brushed it over your clit in circles, making your hips buck into the touch.

“Fuck,” you breathed, taking one of your hands from your eyes and running your fingers through your hair. If you tugged on the locks lightly, no one had to know but you.

A little rougher, he deliberately pressed just the tip of it into your clit, forcing a shocked whine from the back of your throat. You made the mistake of sitting up on your elbows to watch, but instead, all you could look at was the form of his hard cock straining against his tight pants.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried - you reached out and ran your fingers down the length of it. It twitched under your touch, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. You made a mental note to congratulate him on his dedication. Instead, he grabbed your wrist with a firm grip and laid you back down, all without taking his eyes off of his task.

You could feel it starting to build in you as you rocked your hips into the feeling of the toy against your most sensitive part. You were positive that you looked absolutely pathetic, but when you met his eyes, he looked so entranced that it made you blush deeper - if that was even possible.

Your fingers were flexing into his sheets as you came, a high whine ripping through your chest. When he pulled the toy away, a thread of your come was still connected to it, shimmering in the dim light of his lamp. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, leaving his lips shiny.

It took you a moment to collect yourself - your breathing was ragged and not at all appealing, if you had to guess.

He gently placed your vibrator on his side table, and you watched as his fingers worked open the button on his pants, and then the zipper. When he pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his cock popped out - rock hard. He pushed all the fabric down to his thighs and then tugged you further into his lap until your parts were flush together.

“Did you want the condom?” you asked with a fucked-out smile.

“Fuck it,” he replied with a grin as he rubbed his cock through your slit, making your over-sensitive skin pulse.

You breathed a little “ah” sound as your whole lower half felt like it was hooked up to a live wire. “Are you telling me that you went all the way over there and forgot the condom?”

“First of all,” he started with a sinister laugh. “It’s just across the hall. Second of all, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

You had opened your mouth to respond but before you could, he pushed into you, his thumb holding his cock into place.

“Fuck,” you rasped, throwing your head back into the pillow. You could feel how wet you were just by his movements. Your hands reached out until you could dig your fingernails into his forearms, his hands tight on your hips as he bottomed out in you.

You looked up just in time to catch his tongue swipe out over his lips, his eyes half-lidded.

He started rocking in and out of you like a tide drawn to the beach, sending little shockwaves through your core and up into your tight stomach.

To give your fingers something to do, they worked at the buttons on your dress. They only went down to the bottom of your ribcage, but it was far enough to expose your chest. He didn’t waste even a second before he moved one of his hands to your tit, squeezing it until it spilled out through his fingers.

You were focused on that until he brushed something inside of you that made your jaw drop open. You went to moan but no sound would come out, so you sat up on your hands and pushed back against him, forcing him in deeper. His teeth were clenched as his hands found your hips again, holding you in the position you needed to be in to work yourself on him. He hummed, eyes fluttering as he met you halfway, thumbs pushed into the thin skin across your hip bones. You briefly wondered if he’d leave you little oval-shaped bruises.

He was staring into your eyes as best he could while his eyelids fluttered, so you knew when he was getting close to the edge. He pulled you up to him so you were riding his lap, his forehead against yours, the new angle putting his cock perfectly against your sweet spot as the length of him slid into you.

You kissed him deeply as you worked yourself onto him, his breath hitching and his fingers lacing into your hair as he came. You were shockingly close behind, so when he drove you down on him harder to ride out his orgasm, you lost it too.

You gasped into his mouth as it washed over you, leaving your senses as if you were swallowed by a wave.

Neither of you moved for a few moments until you pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes.

“You’re going to have come on your dress pants,” you whispered teasingly. He smirked back at you as he laid you out onto the bed.

“Yeah, I’ll have to wash them before tomorrow night’s show,” he agreed, and the idea made your cheeks go pink.

You were both silent as you cleaned up, and when you returned to him from the bathroom, he was already tucked under the covers in his bed. He smiled at you and held the comforter up for you as you crawled in next to him. You knew you were going to fall asleep almost instantly once you got completely situated, so it was lucky that he spoke before that happened.

“I want you to come home with me for Christmas,” he stated, voice just above a whisper.

You blinked over at him, a little stunned.

“I don’t want you to be here alone - you deserve to be with a loving family,” he explained further when he saw the look on your face.

You gave him a smile, feeling oddly sentimental post-orgasm. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, so you buried your face in his neck.

“I’d like that.”

#brightest blue fic #josh kiszka #joshxreader #josh gvf #josh kiszka smut #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Bloom, Bloom, Pow! |1| - CHANGMIN

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!! Please enjoy the first half of nearly 17k of pining for the boy I would be pining for if he was in my life <3

Special thanks to @wingkkun for helping me come up with several parts of this story!! I don’t know how you deal with me, Kai, but I really appreciate it <3

(Suggested playlist: Bloom Bloom, DDD, and Just U by The Boyz :D)

Pairing: Changmin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, university!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 9.4k

Dancing with you, Changmin feels like flowers are blooming in his heart.

Part 1 | Part 2

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ you

It starts like this.

Ji Changmin is notorious for his dancing, not because he’s bad at it (he’s arguably one of the best students in the dance department), but for his habit of moonwalking through the university halls. Headphones stuck in his ears, phone in hand, he twists and twirls around campus, eyes closed in concentration or fixed on some faraway point in space, lost in the realm of his music.

And the strangest thing is, he never bumps into a single person.

Oh, he might brush against an arm or two. His fingertips might graze a shoulder with a butterfly’s touch, his feet just barely skimming over another’s shoes. But crashing into someone? Knocking into a wall? Never.

It’s fun to see, really, when you cross paths with him or when he shows up on the school Snapchat story. Even though you only know Changmin by name (Kevin talks to him, but you haven’t had the pleasure), there’s something endlessly graceful and fascinating about the way he moves, slipping through the crowded halls with the cheerful air of someone who doesn’t care about what other people around them think.

It starts with an impulse, just something to lighten up your mood. You’re walking to one of your least favorite classes (look, writing might be fun, but certainly not the way your professor teaches it) when Changmin’s bright orange mop of hair appears ahead. A slight smile creeps up your face as he comes closer, an unstoppable force parting the crowded sea of students.

An idea pops into your mind.

Trip him up.

Briefly, you question yourself. Why?

Like that meme, your brain supplies a concise answer. You gotta.

You’re grinning, moving before your mind can even process what your body has decided to do. Stepping awkwardly around a couple of other students, you place yourself right in Changmin’s path.

He twists.

You turn.

He lurches.

You step.

He flashes you a confused look, his usual faraway gaze replaced with something bemused and even slightly annoyed. For a second, you feel a flash of uncertainty – what if he doesn’t see this as the joke you mean it to be? After all, you don’t even know each other. How is he going to take this?

But he must see the teasing smile on your face and the glint in your gaze because his eyes sparkle, lips stretching wide into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen him wear. His moves take on an exaggerated cadence, arms stretching widely, legs smoothly twisting around your much less graceful feet as he twirls, just avoiding your flailing hands jokingly trying to stop him.

Changmin wins, of course. Your mediocre attempts at obstruction are nothing against his skill. As he slips away, he flashes you a smirk of farewell, leaving you with only the memory of a bright smile, graceful limbs, and an awkward dance.

You expect it to be a one-time thing. It’s so stupid when you think about it later – what the hell possessed you to do that, anyway? You’re cringing just thinking about it – so there’s no way, you tell yourself, no way that Changmin would bother to acknowledge your presence again. When you walk down the same hall a few days later and see a bright orange head of hair artfully bobbing in your direction, you just smile a bit at the residual memories.

But Changmin catches your eye, his gaze brightening when it meets yours. As the curve of his lips widens, one graceful finger twitches slightly in a tiny gesture – get over here. His eyes glint – try me.

A grin spreads across your face as you step closer. Why not?

And so, again, you dance.

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t really know what makes you so special. He doesn’t know why he indulges your twists and turns, weaving in and out of your awkwardly stepping feet on the way to class. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just give you a weird look the first day you stepped into his path, avoided you as best he could and walked away.

But that would’ve erased the smile on your face, he reasons, thinking back to the memories. It would’ve extinguished the sparkle in your eye, muted the brightness of your expression into something far less brilliant. And despite the fact that Changmin barely knows who you are, has only a vague recollection of your name from when someone once called to you down the hall, in that moment, he subconsciously knew that there was nothing he would willingly do to dim your sparkle. Not a sparkle of beauty, necessarily, or of mere physical loveliness. No, in your smile, there’s something deeper, something brilliantly incandescent that strikes right into Changmin’s heart.

Other people think it’s stupid. Younghoon, for example, wonders if he’s gone absolutely nuts the first time he witnesses the dance (well, Changmin calls it a dance – Younghoon says it looks more like a cult ritual). “What the fuck was that?” he asks after you walk off, raising an extremely confused eyebrow.

Changmin just shrugs, watching your figure disappear down the hall before slipping back into his usual moonwalk. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “We just do it.”

“You’re so weird,” Younghoon mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Do you even know their name?”

Again, he shrugs. “Y/N, I think?”

Younghoon chokes. “You think?”

If Changmin thinks about it, it is kind of stupid. You stepped into his path in a crowded hallway and proceeded to try and trip him up, all while wearing a huge grin on your face (that Changmin thinks is beautiful, but he won’t dig into that just yet). Changmin, instead of trying to get away, decided to indulge your fun. You’ve never exchanged a single spoken word – he isn’t even sure you know his name, though he can’t really say anything because he isn’t sure he knows yours – and you’ve rarely interacted, even nonverbally, beyond a few smiles and the little confrontation that happens every Monday and Wednesday at approximately two-ten in the afternoon when the two of you walk down the same hall.

But it doesn’t feel stupid, not in the moment. It feels right, somehow, grinning as widely as his lips will allow while you try to step all over his toes. You never manage to trip him, not in those few seconds of dance, but Changmin appreciates the effort and laughs along with you, exaggerating his movements and pretending to almost fall, just to see the smile on your face grow wider.

So the stares don’t matter, not to Changmin. He can stomach the strange glances, the hidden smirks, the subtly raised phones trying to catch the scene for the school Snapchat story (anyway, if it bothers him enough, he can terrify Jaehyun into deleting it). He can shrug off Younghoon standing like a silent tree nearby, stuffing his face with bread and praying no one associates him with his squirrelly best friend, because seeing your brilliant smiles and hearing your stifled laughs are more than enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“You never smile that widely around me,” Younghoon remarks one day, “and I’m your best friend.”

Changmin just shrugs as he flashes you one last grin over the sea of students in the hall, turning back to face his friend. “Well,” he says, purposely trying to be infuriating, “there’s a reason for that.”

Younghoon whines, of course, pouting his lips in the way that wins him so many admirers around the school, but Changmin ignores it in favor of thinking about your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle and your limbs fly in your attempts to throw him off his balance.

Yes, he thinks, there’s a reason.

The reason is that your smile is more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

. . . . .

~ eric

Eric considers himself pretty well-versed when it comes to feelings. He’s fallen in love a lot, even with people he often doesn’t even know too well. Something just always pulls him in – a particular smile, a mischievous glint of the eye, the way they tap their pencil against their chin when deep in thought. He falls easily, quickly, and a little too hard, and as a result, he can recognize the look in his own eyes (and in others’, too) when he’s fallen head over heels for someone lovely.

He doesn’t have too many problems shooting his shot, either, which is nice. Sunwoo’s told Eric several times that he’s jealous of the way he can walk up to someone so easily and go, “Hey, I want to get to know you a little better – mind if I take you on a date?” To Eric, though, it’s just part of the process. He gets nervous, no doubt, but more often than not, if he’s courteous, he’ll at least meet a new friend, even if the feelings don’t end up being reciprocated.

When Eric slams into you on his board one day – what the fuck were you doing, anyway? Trying to trip up that wide-eyed kid with the dimples? Though to be fair, he shouldn’t be skateboarding in the halls – the first thing he notices is your pretty smile, the embarrassed grin you give him as he apologizes profusely, extending a hand to help you up. His heart thumps once.

True to himself, Eric’s ready to drop a flirty pickup line, make you laugh a little, and ask if he can get you a coffee or something to make up for the trouble. The words are forming on his lips, just about to burst from his throat when he feels a laser gaze glaring holes into his back.

Against his better judgement, Eric looks back slightly. The doe-eyed boy you were, what – interacting with? Dancing with? He needs to go over that scene in his head again – is staring back with so much concentration it looks like he wants to tear out Eric’s entire soul.

You drop Eric’s hand and he looks back, startled by the sudden lack of touch. “Don’t worry, really – I’m not hurt. Thanks for helping me up,” you say.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your voice.

If Eric’s heart wasn’t already fluttering over your smile, it’s certainly fluttering now over your voice. God, it makes Eric want to just be your friend, at the very least. There’s a perfect mixture of warmth, gentility, and kindness in your tone, sprinkled with something so very sweet that soothes his ears.

Hell.

But by contrast, your smile is distant, like you’re thinking of something beyond the moment. Eric takes the current brief silence to look where your eyes flit off to, trying to see who you’re fixated on.

The doe-eyed boy is walking away, shifting gracefully through the group of students currently converging on the path. Your gaze follows his disappearing figure, something longing and endlessly lovely in your expression.

Ah, Eric realizes, heart sinking slightly. You’re already in love.

The memory of a gaze glaring holes into his soul briefly flashes in his mind, causing Eric’s slightly dampened smile to curl into a light smirk.

From the looks of it, the doe-eyed boy seems to be in love with you too.

Eric looks at you again. “I’m really sorry about that,” he says honestly. “I definitely shouldn’t have been skating in the hall, but I’m glad you aren’t hurt. I hope I haven’t made you late to class?”

You shake your head, smile now focused. You’ve returned to the present. “You’re good,” you reply, briefly checking your phone. “I’ve still got a few minutes.”

“Well, just the same, if you ever want payback in some form or another, just ask around for Eric Sohn.” Picking up his board, Eric flashes you a smile, wishing slightly that your longing gaze was fixed on him, not the dimpled boy who’s long since disappeared. “I can buy you a coffee or something to make up for it.”

“Might take you up on that one of these days,” you grin. “I’m Y/N. Wanna exchange numbers so I can leech that coffee off of you?”

Heart thumping wildly, fingers tapping quickly, Eric enters his number into your phone, saving himself as Eric Sohn 💙. He hopes you don’t mind the emoji.

“Blue heart?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take the phone back. “Not a red one?”

Can’t exactly do that when it’s clear you’re in love, he thinks, though he doesn’t say that out loud. “Nah.” He shrugs. “Figured that’d be too much. Need to get to know you a bit before I do anything more, right?”

A sweet, soft smile spreads across your lips, and Eric has to fight hard not to melt at it. “I appreciate that, Eric,” you say, pocketing your phone. The way you say his name blooms in Eric’s ears. “See you later, maybe?”

Eric knows he probably shouldn’t make judgements so quickly, but it’s hard not to believe in your sweetness with your kind voice and gentle smile. You deserve love, he decides in that moment, with the doe-eyed, dimpled boy who clearly loves you back.

Mentally, he puts a stamp of approval on the mission formulating in his brain as he nods. “See you,” he says, grinning.

Even if he isn’t the one you’ll fall in love with, he can at least help a new friend find their happiness.

. . .

~ kevin

Kevin thinks there’s a special place in hell for lovebirds who clearly like each other but won’t even consider the notion of actually talking and maybe going on a god damn date.

And there’s an extra-special little island in that ocean of fire for such lovebirds who have never spoken a single word to each other in their lives and have only communicated through stupid smiles and mushy eyes and worst of all, motherfucking mating dances.

Yes, that’s what he calls your tiptoe-tap dance-whatever-the-fuck-they-are dances with Changmin. You hit him the first time he said it out loud, but what else can he call it? There’s no other term that fits the situation nearly as well. It’s weird and strange like most mating dances are, and most importantly, the two of you are head over heels in love.

“We’re not in love!” you snap when Kevin brings it up. “How can we be in love if we haven’t even spoken once?”

Kevin nearly spits out his drink.

“You’re telling me,” he enunciates slowly once he’s recovered, “that you have never spoken to this guy, the same guy you were worrying about to me yesterday because you didn’t see him in the hall on schedule, not even once?”

When you nod yes, scowling in embarrassment, Kevin legitimately faceplants into the table. He stays there for several whole minutes, trying to digest the situation and the sheer idiocy of two of his closest friends.

Doesn’t matter. You’re clearly in love, or at least have a very hopeless, incurable crush on Ji Changmin. And if Changmin’s face is anything to go by, he’s head over heels for you too – Kevin’s never seen his friend with that big of a smile on his face or that sparkly of a look in his eyes.

He wants to vomit just thinking of it.

Okay, fine, so maybe some of this abhorrent disgust is due to the fact that Kevin is single and not exactly ready to mingle after several disastrous blind dates. Maybe some of his annoyance at your mating dances is unfounded. But in his defense, the two of you are stupid as fuck.

He’s in the middle of complaining about this mating dance phenomenon to his freshman friend, Eric Sohn, when Eric puts out a hand. “Wait, stop,” he says, halting Kevin mid-complaint. “Are you talking about Y/N and that… that guy, with, like, really round eyes and a dimple?”

Kevin’s eyes narrow. “How do you know them?”

“Well, uh, I accidentally crashed into Y/N on my board while they were doing…” Eric helplessly waves his arms around.

“The mating dance,” Kevin supplies.

“That’s a horrible name, Kevin.”

“It’s the closest thing that explains it.”

“Well, whatever.” Eric cringes. “I gave Y/N my number in case they wanted me to like, buy a coffee or something in exchange for nearly committing a murder. So that’s how I know them. Not sure of the other guy’s name, though.”

Kevin sighs. “Ji Changmin.”

“THAT’S CHANGMIN?”

“Shut up!” Kevin snaps. “Just let the whole dorm hear your screaming, won’t you?”

“Sorry,” Eric snips back, though more quietly this time. “But you all talk about how he’s scary as shit and always dancing? He wasn’t dancing when he walked off, and he looks like… I don’t know, a child? I thought he was a freshman.”

��Wait.” Kevin puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders. “You just said Changmin wasn’t dancing when he walked off?”

Eric slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think so?”

“Oh, my dude.” Kevin begins shaking Eric back and forth. Eric’s head wobbles on his neck for several seconds before he comes to his senses and knocks Kevin’s hands off of his shoulders, scowling. “Eric Sohn, you are fucked.”

“What?” Eric’s eyes immediately turn panicked. “Why?”

“Ji Changmin dances all the fucking time,” Kevin says, putting his head in his hands. How has Eric already fucked up this badly in his first year? Kevin’s a mess, but he can say he’s solidly a B-level mess, meaning he more or less has his social shit together, even if not his academia. “If he wasn’t dancing when he walked away, that means he was pissed off.”

A beat of silence. Then – “Would it help if I had a semi-sort-of plan to get him and Y/N together?”

Kevin’s head snaps up. So maybe Eric isn’t entirely clueless. “So you know they’re literally in love with each other?”

Eric rolls his eyes. “It’s so obvious,” he whines. “Why haven’t you even thought to play Cupid?”

“Because Y/N is stupid and won’t admit that they have feelings, and I haven’t talked to Changmin that much this semester because we have different classes,” Kevin groans. “They’re both so stupid.”

“Eh.” Eric gets a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s hard for a lot of people to realize they’re in love.”

Silence falls as Kevin tries to pin down the familiarly weird feeling his friend is exuding. Eric’s gaze stays faraway, fixed on some point in the metaphorical distance (he’s staring at a wall covered in tacky posters and random sketches – there’s no way he’s enamored with Kevin’s half-baked drawings of trees and scissors and shit).

He looks sad.

“Oh, Eric.” Kevin’s frustration falls away as he pulls the freshman into a hug. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he’s so far past that. “It’s stupid, Kevin. I’ll get over it, I always do. It’s just a crush.”

Not for the first time in his life, Kevin wishes he had his friend’s maturity, even though he wouldn’t enjoy the root cause. Falling in love as easily as Eric does would be too hard for Kevin to deal with. “Eric Sohn, you are one of the most selfless people in the world,” he declares. “You don’t have to do this, you know? If it hurts, you don’t.”

“No, Y/N deserves love.” Eric puts his chin on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin takes the opportunity to pat his head. “Changmin does, too, and I think they’ll find it together. God knows he was staring holes into my back while we were talking.”

Kevin thinks he’s going to melt. “You’re dumb as fuck,” he says fondly, laughing at Eric’s squawk of indignation, “but you’re sweet. Too sweet for your own good.”

“… Is that a compliment?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Kevin pulls back from his friend. “Ready to play Cupid?”

Eric nods, sadness partially replaced with mischievous fire. Kevin will take that much for now. “Yeah!”

. . . . .

~ changmin

Changmin doesn’t expect to be punched in the gut when he’s going with Younghoon to get a stupid cup of coffee.

Okay, no one actually punches him. But it certainly feels that way when he sees you sitting with the skater boy kid who knocked into you the other day, talking at a table by the window.

Younghoon doesn’t notice at first, just goes up to the counter to order at the (overpriced) campus Starbucks. Changmin loiters nearby, waiting for Younghoon to get his drink and come over, all the while trying to not obviously stare at you and the other kid having an animated conversation just a few feet away.

“What’s with the pout?” Younghoon asks, trying unsuccessfully to scare Changmin with his sudden presence. His own lips turning down with his failed attempt, he follows Changmin’s gaze to the two students sitting by the windows.

“I’m not pouting,” Changmin says, pout deepening.

Younghoon nearly spills his coffee, he snorts so hard. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll just pretend you’re not moping over someone you’re head over heels for whose name you don’t even know.”

If Younghoon actually spills his coffee when Changmin elbows him in the ribs, no one can tell. The look he gives the taller boy is enough to silence him for the next half an hour, at least.

He tries to focus, he really does. Though the drinks are overpriced, Changmin won’t deny that the coffee-scented air of the Starbucks is pleasant. It’s mid-afternoon, a time when most students are in class, so it isn’t too loud, either. But despite all of this, Changmin can’t focus on psychology. His eyes keep drifting over to the table by the window, where your conversation still hasn’t ended.

“Ji Changmin.” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face after his concentration wanes for the umpteenth time. “You came here to study.”

This time, Changmin doesn’t deny the pout that settles on his lips. “I know,” he says, genuinely upset now. He wants to focus and get this studying done, he really does, but he just can’t put his mind to it.

Younghoon sighs. “Why don’t you just try talking?” he asks, eyes flickering over to where you’re still chatting animatedly with the skater boy. God, it’s been at least half an hour – haven’t you finished your drink? Why aren’t you gone yet? Why are you still here, invisibly punching Changmin in the chest every time you smile at the skater kid?

The words slip out of Changmin’s mouth before he can stop them. “What if they’re dating?”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Changmin realizes just what he’s indirectly admitted to his best friend.

Fuck.

“Well, that’s the first step.” Younghoon reaches over and pats Changmin on his slumped head. “Admitting your feelings. Proud of you, Changmin.”

Scowling, he slaps the hand off his hair, ignoring Younghoon’s yelp of indignation. “Not funny,” he whines, putting his head back down. “What if they are?” God, he should’ve helped you up before that skater boy did, run over and given you a hand first. Now skater boy’s on a date with you and Changmin feels…

Oh, God.

He’s jealous.

Shame and embarrassment flood his face at the realization. This is gross, his mind wails. Why does he feel jealous over you, someone he’s never even spoken to? The only semblance of interest you’ve given him is your initiation of the sidewalk dance. And maybe your smile.

Changmin’s pout deepens impossibly further. Actually, you probably give your lovely smile to every person you meet. He isn’t special. In fact, he’s betting that the skater kid fell for your smile too, the smile that makes it feel like stars are raining around his feet.

“Hey, earth to Changmin?” Younghoon waves a hand in front of his face. “You good?”

“No,” he replies, burying his head in his textbook again. “Leave me alone to mope.”

Younghoon just snorts, pats his head, then goes quiet, presumably back to studying. Meanwhile, Changmin doesn’t even bother to make a pretense of looking at his book anymore. He just stares into darkness.

Feelings, he decides, fucking suck.

. . .

~ you

Eric, you come to find, is a really fun guy. He might be a little awkward, but he’s clearly got a warm heart, and with every second you spend with him, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable in his presence. With him, an entire hour and a half pass in a flash before you check your phone and realize you have class in less than ten minutes.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, hastily putting your things together. “Time passed so quickly. I didn’t keep you from doing anything important, did I?”

He just waves a hand. “Don’t worry!” The bright smile that’s been gracing his face this entire time grows even wider. “I don’t have a lot on my plate at the moment. It was fun talking to you.”

“Me, too.” You push your chair in. “Let’s do this again sometime? I’ll buy my own coffee, though.”

Eric’s grin makes him look like a puppy. You have the irrational urge to pat his head and coo. “Of course! See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.” Waving once, you exit the café, ready to head off to class.

Just outside the building, though, something makes you linger. You feel weird, like someone’s staring. Quickly, you look back through the window of the Starbucks. Eric’s still there, talking to a tall boy in one corner, but he isn’t looking at you.

Your gaze shifts, and invisible heat floods your cheeks as Ji Changmin stares back from behind the glass, seated at a table at the far end of the café.

He’s wearing glasses today, you notice blankly. They’re round, frame his eyes perfectly, and make him look god damn adorable.

Your heart flutters.

For a moment, you just stand there, rooted in place. What do I do here? you think desperately. What are you supposed to do when you’ve never actually spoken to him, only exchanged greetings in the form of weird dance steps (if they can even be called that) and, well, smiles?

Oh. Smiles.

Those work, you guess.

Slowly, you curl the corners of your lips into what you hope is a grin. It grows wider as Changmin smiles back, eyes crinkling and teeth showing as he waves to you from inside the café.

Your mood, already lightened by your conversation with Eric, skyrockets impossibly as you wave back, mouth splitting into a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

God, since when did just seeing Ji Changmin make you feel this happy?

In a moment of heightened stupidity, you point up to your eyes, drawing circles with your fingers in a motion that you hope indicates glasses. Changmin points to the frames on his face, and you nod, hands forming two thumbs ups, which your unthinking brain hopes will convey the fact that you really like how he looks with them on.

It feels like it should be impossible for Changmin’s smile to get any wider, but it does. Through the window, you watch him clap a hand to his mouth shyly, shoulders shaking slightly as he presumably laughs. It makes you laugh, too, and you wave one more time before walking away.

Then what you did actually hits you, and like that first time you stepped in Changmin’s path, you put your face in your hands and cringe as hard as your body will allow.

You really did that, you scold yourself. You really made circles with your fingers and gave him fucking thumbs ups because you liked his glasses.

You’re a fucking moron.

. . .

~ eric

When Eric walks up to Changmin’s table to talk to his friend, he immediately reevaluates his entire opinion of the doe-eyed boy.

His face is buried in the textbook when Eric starts approaching (which, first of all, mood). However, when he gets closer, Changmin lifts his head out of the pages and fixes him with the deadliest, pointiest glare that Eric has ever faced in his life.

Eric now sees why Kevin calls Changmin scary as fuck. The stare he gave when Eric crashed into you was nothing compared to this.

His eyes feel like daggers slowly slicing into Eric’s skin.

“Um.” Eric stops a couple feet away from the table Changmin’s sharing with the friend he needs to talk to. The friend looks up curiously, and Eric seizes the chance. “Can I, uh, talk to you? For a second?” he asks, desperately hoping they can get away from Changmin’s glare as soon as possible. “Please?”

The friend blinks once, then nods. “Be back in a minute, Changmin,” he says, about to stand up.

“Why can’t you talk to him here?”

Oh, God. If Eric wasn’t ready for the whiplash that came with seeing Changmin’s soft features versus his sharp glare, he really wasn’t ready for the soft tones of his voice contrasting with the venom blended in. Everything about Changmin, at first glance, screams innocence and sweetness.

What the fuck goes on behind that exterior?

“Um,” Eric stalls, desperately trying to think of an excuse. “I –”

“Don’t be rude, Changmin,” the friend cuts through smoothly, standing up. Eric immediately feels dwarfed by this guy’s long legs, but he doesn’t care as much as he normally might because he’s so glad he’s getting rescued. “Let’s go.”

The Starbucks isn’t large, but Eric follows the friend to a far corner, away from the table. Once they’re there, he clears his throat. “Um –”

“Are you dating them?” the tall guy interrupts. “The one you were here with before?”

Once the question settles in, Eric starts shaking his head violently. “No, no, I’m not. No. I just – well, I slammed into Y/N on my board, so I offered to buy coffee for us sometime to make up for it?” He tries to smile. “Not dating.”

“Oh, thank God.” The friend rubs his forehead. “Changmin was going to have an aneurysm.”

Well, that confirms that his near-death at the eyes of Ji Changmin wasn’t in vain. Relief and sadness run through Eric’s brain at the confirmation that yes, Changmin is head over heels for you. “Yeah, uh, I was actually going to ask about that.” He swallows. “Are you and Changmin close friends?”

A curious look. “Yeah, you could say that. Why?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know Kevin Moon, but he’s sick of watching Y/N and Changmin pine over each other without bothering to make a move,” Eric rushes out. He can still feel Changmin’s gaze boring holes into his skin. “But Kevin doesn’t have classes with Changmin this semester and he definitely hates my guts, so…” He sighs. God, this is harder than he thought it’d be. “Basically, are you tired of watching them pine, and do you have the time and energy to play Cupid with us?”

For a moment, Changmin’s friend just stands there, staring him right in the eyes Eric. Then a smirk spreads over his face. “Of course I do,” he says, now grinning like a god damn maniac. “Count me in.”

A breath of relief rushes out of Eric’s lips. “Thank God,” he mumbles. “Give me your number. We start plotting this weekend.”

His phone comes back to him with a new contact named Kim Younghoon in it. “Why are you doing this, anyway?” Changmin’s friend – Younghoon – asks as Eric puts the phone away. “What’s in it for you? Didn’t you only meet Y/N when you crashed?”

“Their pining is disgustingly obvious,” Eric says matter of factly. “I’ve been Kevin’s friend for years, and now I’m also Y/N’s. Why not alleviate both of their pain by getting them together?”

Younghoon looks at Eric, almost like he’s appraising him. Eric feels kind of like a bug under a microscope and he’s absolutely sure this tall guy is going to take back his agreement and call him weird before he suddenly smiles widely. “You’re cool,” Younghoon declares as though he’s just made a scientific discovery to rival Einstein’s photoelectric effect. “Looking forward to... whatever this is.”

With that, Eric ducks out of the café as fast as possible, leaving the smell of coffee and (thankfully) Changmin’s burning stares behind. Once outside, he pulls out his phone again and creates a group chat.

To: schemerz

Eric: younghoon and kevin say hi to each other

Kevin: hi younghoon

Younghoon: hi kevin

Step one of operation cupid is complete. Eric grins.

Eric: pack your bags boyz we begin scheming tomorrow

Younghoon: why do we need to pack bags

Younghoon: are we going somewhere

Okay, well, maybe this will take some time, Eric thinks, looking at Younghoon’s texts. But it can’t be that bad. You and Changmin are so obviously crushing on each other. It won’t take too much work to make get you two together, will it?

. . . . .

~ younghoon

Younghoon genuinely never knew that trying to get his best friend together with the person he likes could be this infuriating.

It’s not only that he has to continually reassure Changmin that no, skater boy – whose name is Eric Sohn, stop calling him skater boy, I can hear the “derogatory” even if you don’t say it out loud, Changmin – is not dating you, yes, he heard it with his own two ears, and yes, Eric said it with his own words. Saying this over and over, honestly, is annoying enough. Younghoon can deal with that, though. It’s just a product of Changmin’s own insecurity and lovesickness, nothing that he can control.

But actually trying to set the two of you up?

Torture.

They first devise a stroll at the mall, just to get you two to actually maybe talk. Kevin demands that this plan be put first because he cannot stop screaming over the fact that the two of you are so whipped but haven’t spoken a single word to each other ever.

Which, honestly, same. But at least Younghoon doesn’t yell about it in the group chat.

(Sometimes, looking at all of the capital letters in Kevin’s messages gives him a headache.)

The plan is to invite both you and Changmin to the mall, then ditch so the two of you will maybe actually exchange a few words with each other by the end of the day. It’s going pretty well – both of you have agreed to go, completely unaware that the other is showing up – but then you have to cancel because of a sudden quiz you need to study for the next day.

Well, fine. Younghoon just ends up shopping with Changmin for the entire afternoon (Eric still ditches for obvious reasons – cough, Changmin, cough – and Kevin has to study for the same quiz, which he curses about endlessly in the group chat for an entire day). Not a big deal. Younghoon likes clothes, and against his better judgement, he likes Changmin.

So no harm done. Besides, there’s always next time, right?

Wrong.

The university dance team has a concert coming up that Kevin begs you to go to, all under the guise of supposedly supporting one of his friends, Juyeon. When you show up at the venue, Younghoon can still tell you’re confused over why you’re there – you don’t really know Juyeon, he hears you hiss to Kevin, so what’s going on? – but you seem nice enough. Friendly enough. Younghoon likes you immediately.

This plan isn’t as straightforward as the mall-ditching one. A certain Ji Changmin is one of the best dancers on the team, so he has his own solo halfway through the show. Younghoon proposes that Kevin force you to show up so you can melt over Changmin’s performance and either profess your love right then and there (which is the ideal case) or at least compliment the dancer on his skills. Either way, it gets the two of you to talk.

So, suffice to say, Younghoon is pissed when his well thought-out, perfectly structured plan falls apart when you have to leave before the end of the entire show because your roommate needs you to do something or the other that is somehow more important than you confessing your undying love for Changmin.

(Nothing, he complains later in the group chat, could be more important than that. Not even your roommate nearly setting the whole dorm on fire. Eric might beg to disagree, but Younghoon will just tell him to beg.)

Well, it kind of works out. Your roommate’s fuckup doesn’t happen until after Changmin’s performance, and Younghoon gets a front row seat to your jaw literally dropping when he comes onstage and starts dancing the way his dance major body always does. Younghoon legitimately thinks he could pick stars out of your eyes, the way you’re staring at Changmin. And even though you have a hand over your mouth, he can easily tell you’re smiling like no tomorrow.

So Younghoon gets the satisfaction of both seeing your reaction to Changmin’s performance and telling Changmin that his crush watched him dance. The wave of shock that immediately crawls up his best friend’s face makes Younghoon want to cackle and shake his head at the same time. It gets even better when Younghoon relates the look on your face as you watched and the compliments you told him to pass on.

Changmin has never smiled that widely or that shyly, ever. As his best friend since childhood, Younghoon will attest to that. It’s amazing and offensive and slightly gross.

God, Changmin’s whipped.

But this small success doesn’t make up for half of the entire plan that failed. You and Changmin still didn’t talk, after all, even if you fell even deeper in disgusting love. So Kevin advocates for a return to the simple method of making plans and ditching.

This time, it’s a movie that the schemer line (hey, Younghoon came up with that name – he thinks it’s a damn sight better than Kevin’s “The Boyz,” regardless of what the younger boy says) plans to ditch you two at. Kevin suggests horror, mainly because he’s not going to be there to watch it, but also because of the ages-old cliché where you’ll probably get scared and hold Changmin’s hand or some shit.

(Younghoon knows it won’t be the other way around not because of some sexist idiocy, but because Changmin laughs at possession and ghosts and keeps horror movie masks in his room to scare his friends with. He thinks Annabelle and Chucky are cute. Worst case scenario, you happen to enjoy horror too, and the two of you bond over your weird interests. Which isn’t even a worst case scenario, because you two will talk, and that’s the whole point of the plan.)

They really think it’s going to work this time. Kevin reports you arriving on time to the theater and immediately runs off so you won’t see him and start asking questions like why he’s hiding behind the potted bushes outside a nearby bistro. Younghoon and Eric wait with bated breath at the campus café for any last-minute updates before Kevin gets back.

When Kevin actually shows up at the café, having taken the bus back from the theater, they’re about to celebrate a plan finally completed. Younghoon thinks he’s going to start screaming from relief.

Then a text shows up on Kevin’s phone from you, asking why he never showed up.

Panic.

When they finally get their minds together, Kevin rattles something off about a family emergency and a call he had to take, which gets you off his back for a bit. But then he asks if you actually went to see the movie anyway.

It turns out you left fifteen minutes later when no one showed up.

No one.

Meaning Changmin never got there either.

Eric slams his head on the table. Kevin looks like he’s about to explode. Younghoon himself is about to throw his drink at something when he gets a text from Changmin mere minutes later, asking where he is and why no one’s at the theater.

breadhoon: it’s so late?? why didn’t you text earlier??

qminnie: the bus was late :/// why isn’t anyone here? I know it’s not just because the theater is dark, I walked around all the seats and couldn’t find you or kevin

Kevin starts screaming.

As Eric’s shoving a yelling Kevin out of the café and apologizing to the baristas, Younghoon just fires off a quick excuse to Changmin, who’s apparently still at the theater – I’m really sorry, my dad called about something and it ran super late, just watch the movie and let me know how it is – all the while internally screaming as loudly as Kevin physically is in this moment.

Later that evening, Kevin texts the group chat with the question on all of their minds.

moon boy: how is it that all of our plans fucking failed

Younghoon just wants to jump off the top of his dorm building.

It turns out that Eric, despite being the youngest of the three of them, has the most brain cells. He proposes something so simple but with the potential to be so effective that it blows Younghoon’s mind.

“Well, if ditching them to be alone doesn’t work, we might as well just be there,” he reasons over morning cups of coffee (courtesy of Kevin, who lost rock paper scissors and is still pouting over it). “Someone throws a party, we all show up, and we can play, like, mafia. Or truth or dare or whatever. That’ll get them to interact, probably.”

It’s a beautiful plan. Younghoon hugs the younger boy and proclaims him the smartest freshman he’s ever met (“I’m pretty sure I’m the only freshman you’ve talked to this year, Younghoon.”). Kevin praises the higher beings for the seven tenths of a working brain cell that Eric holds.

They work out the details quickly. Sangyeon will host the party – he holds one every other month anyway, so it won’t be too much trouble to let him know what’s going on. Besides, his parties are usually pretty controlled, so less risk of someone doing something illegal and freaking everyone out. Younghoon, of course, will bring Changmin. Kevin will bring you and Eric. In turn, Eric says he’s going to bring his friend, Sunwoo, because, quote unquote, “I need a freshman to keep me sane after dealing with you messes of upperclassmen.”

(Well. He has a point. Younghoon may look put together, but the only things that register in his thoughts most of the time are anime and bread. Kevin doesn’t even bother looking put together, which only speaks volumes about his level of brain chaos.)

“If this doesn’t work,” Kevin declares the moment they finish hashing out the plan, “I’m going to drown myself in one of the fountains.”

“It will work,” Eric says, determined. “It has to.”

Younghoon doesn’t say anything. All of their past failures have taught him to keep his mouth shut. However, if this plan fails, he’ll gladly jump into a fountain with Kevin and inhale water up his nose.

. . . . .

~ you

“You’re not going to ditch me, are you?” you ask for the umpteenth time, narrowing your eyes once more at your (now exasperated) friend.

“No,” Kevin groans, rubbing his temples. “I’m not going to ditch you, and for the last time, there were emergencies, okay?”

You want to give them the benefit of the doubt, you really do. Especially Eric – there’s no way he would do anything malicious to you on purpose (meanwhile, if Kevin was mad enough, he just might), he’s just too sweet. But first Kevin dragged you to this dance show that you’ve never been to before, which was weird enough, and the timing for that last movie cancellation was too coincidental to not be suspicious. If it was just him cancelling, you might not question it, but none of the three showed up.

Kevin’s planning something, probably with Eric and Younghoon. You just don’t know what.

“Uh huh.” You make sure to show your disbelief in those two words as you walk up the steps to Sangyeon’s house. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“It’s so big,” Eric says from behind where he’s finally caught up to you two. His friend, Sunwoo, lingers quietly at his side, though his wide eyes betray his amazement.

“I always forget how big this place is,” Kevin agrees, ringing the doorbell. “Just stay on the ground floor, though, it’s not too bad. And watch your drinks. Sangyeon’s parties are usually pretty chill, but anything could happen.”

You snort. “Yes, Mom,” you mock, just as the host himself opens the door. “Hey, Sangyeon!”

“Y/N!” He pulls you and Kevin in for a short hug, then smiles at the visibly nervous freshmen standing behind you two. “Oh, hi! You must be Eric and Sunwoo, right?”

They just nod, still awed. Kevin stifles a snort as your lips curl into a fond smile – it’s weird to remember that you used to be a freshman just like them,. There isn’t much more time to think, though, because Sangyeon quickly ushers the four of you inside and all of your thoughts drown in the party’s chaos.

A couple of hours pass in mind-numbing peace. Kevin mixes you an atrocious cocktail that you pour down the sink when he isn’t looking. You watch Jacob shake his hips on the dance floor while Kevin twerks to Beyoncé. Even Eric and Sunwoo, who were originally just hovering around you, loosen up after a shot or two and find someone else they know to talk to, a freshman whose name you’re pretty sure is Hyunjoon.

Things are going well, you think in your tipsy haze. No one’s thrown up yet, no one’s passed out (well, Felix looks pretty sleepy, but he’s a sleepy drunk – how much Jisung already managed to give him to drink, you aren’t sure), and best of all, no one’s done anything stupid that’ll go viral on the school’s Snapchat. This is nice.

Then Kevin grabs you by the wrist, done twerking, and hollers unintelligible words in your ear as he drags you to the edge of the dance floor. He says more, but all you catch is “watch” and a yelled “YOUNG BOON.” Or something like that.

Confused, you just try not to spill your drink as Kevin pushes you through the crowd that’s forming in the living room. There’s a lot of yelling and cheering as the music changes, and then someone gets pushed to the middle of the dance floor.

A hand flies to your mouth.

It’s Changmin.

“Kevin,” you hiss. “Kevin! That’s Changmin!”

Even drunk, your friend manages to give you the most judgmental look you’ve ever seen. “No shit, Sherlock,” he snaps. “Just watch!”

For a moment, Changmin just stands in the middle of the circle that’s formed, eyes wide and doe-like (and absolutely fucking adorable, even under the red lighting). Then something in him shifts – it nearly gives you whiplash – and the dancer Changmin you saw that day Kevin dragged you to the concert comes out in full force.

It’s short, his performance, much shorter than the five-minute long solo he had at the concert. But holy fuck, it’s explosive. Even the smallest flicks of his fingers seem to send off sparks of light, red glinting off his face and the buttons on his shirt.

He has you captivated, so much so that you don’t register Kevin shifting until he’s positioned almost directly behind you. Changmin’s dance is winding down, a softer look coming back into his previously focused eyes, and everyone’s cheering and starting to clap before a harsh shove sends you sprawling forward.

For a moment, you stand right in front of Changmin, eyes undoubtedly wide with confusion as the situation filters through your muddled brain. Embarrassment begins to spread through your body as people begin to chant, “DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!”

Fuck.

This must have been Kevin’s plan.

Whipping your head around, you try to find and glare at your friend (you’re seriously rethinking that title), but he’s already disappeared. You then try to shrink back into the crowd, but they don’t let you. Someone plucks the cup from your hand, erasing your last excuse for leaving the circle of screaming partygoers as you look around desperately for a way out.

Then a hand extends into your vision, fingers twitching in a gesture you’ve come to associate with a certain person at a certain time at a certain place, two ten p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays just inside the literature building.

Slowly, you look up to see Changmin shyly smiling back, eyes glinting in the way you’ve come to (not so) secretly adore.

A grin unconsciously spreads across your face as he launches back into his dance, more laid-back and flowy this time, much like the moonwalks he does down the halls at school. Almost on instinct, you lurch into his space, barely managing to brush over his foot as he nimbly steps away.

On a normal day, the dance you do is already messy and weird to passersby – you’ve made your way onto at least one of the university Snapchat stories already – so you can’t imagine how this looks in the moment. It must seem so uncoordinated, especially with your limbs loose with alcohol (Changmin still moves as steadily as ever, what the fuck) and the fact that you can’t really see where you’re stepping in the dim red light of the room. But it doesn’t matter – Changmin’s grinning so widely and you’re laughing, really laughing, loud enough to overpower what you think is Kevin’s yelling (it sounds something like “WHY ARE YOU DOING YOUR FUCKING MATING DANCE AND NOT DANCING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?”, so it must be him), and everyone’s cheering and clapping and even though you can see a few phones being pulled out, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is your fingers brushing against Changmin’s, his laugh ringing in your ear, and the smiles on your faces until –

Until Changmin grabs your outstretched hand, tangling his fingers in yours, and encircles your waist with his free hand before dipping you down until his face hovers just a foot above yours.

Someone’s screaming, someone that definitely sounds like Kevin, but you can’t process it. Everything feels like you’re underwater – muffled, blurred, indecipherable. All you can think of is how fast your heart is beating, how hot your face feels, and how intensely Changmin is staring into your eyes.

Holy shit.

You can barely breathe.

When Changmin eventually lets you up to screams and hoots, your knees almost buckle. If not for his fingers still entangled in yours, you probably would’ve collapsed, but he seems to sense this and grips your hand even tighter.

The smile can’t leave your face, even though it turns smaller and shyer as the crowd disperses and you’re left holding Changmin’s hand for no reason. You should let go, probably, but you don’t want to, and Changmin doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it either. Still, the physical link between you two only grows more and more obvious as the two of you stand in silence, unable or unwilling to speak.

Changmin finally breaks it. “Hi,” he says in this voice that legitimately makes you want to crumble into the ground. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s something entirely uncharacteristic yet at the same time so fitting for the boy who just danced his heart out on Sangyeon’s living room floor. “I’m Changmin.”

Your voice leaves you, and the minute you take to find it feels like an eternity. These are your first words to him, your mind screams – don’t say anything stupid!

Staring into his sparkling doe eyes, you swallow hard before saying your first words to the boy who may or may not have already stolen your heart.

“Hi,” you say, smile threatening to grow even wider, wide enough to split your face. “I’m Y/N.”

. . .

~ changmin

He’s only heard three words from you, but Changmin thinks he could drown in your voice. It’s lovely, smooth in a way that flows over his body like warm spring rain. Willingly, he would stand under the shower of your gentle tones, putting his face to the sky and letting your words wash over him, soothing his skin.

Vaguely, his mind tells him that it’s way too early to start waxing poetic about your voice. You’ve only spoken three words to him, for fuck’s sake – what is he even doing?

A whisper that sounds suspiciously like Younghoon floats through his brain. You’re whipped.

Well. He just might be.

“Isn’t this kind of weird?” you suddenly say, jerking Changmin out of his you-induced haze. The smile on your face is a little embarrassed, now, and he catches you glancing at your fingers still linked with his. Briefly, he wonders if he should let go – he’s the one who first grabbed your hand, after all, what if you’re uncomfortable? – but you don’t seem to hate it. If anything, your smile grows a little shyer.

Changmin may think horror movie dolls are cute, but your smile is even cuter. He might melt right then and there.

Belatedly, he realizes you’re looking at him, waiting for a response. “Um – weird?” he replies, praying that his voice doesn’t crack.

(It doesn’t, not this time. Thank the lord.)

You look down again, this time at your feet. Probably out of embarrassment. “I mean,” you say, silvery voice tickling Changmin’s ears, “we’ve been interacting for at least several months.” The full force of your smile hits Changmin as you raise your head. “But we’ve barely spoken a word to each other.” When you laugh, he hears bells. “Isn’t that strange?”

“Well, when you put it that way, yeah.” Changmin giggles (yes, he fucking giggles, what the hell, why can’t he sound any cooler than he really is?). “But I think it was lucky. Well, I think I was lucky to meet you.”

He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. He wasn’t fucking supposed to say that – what’s wrong with him? He used to be so good at watching his words – but at least, despite his embarrassment at having revealed this part of him, he gets to see you flustered. It’s adorable, he thinks, so much more adorable than anything else in the world. “How come you, um, stepped in my way that first time?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Changmin doesn’t expect the embarrassed snort that comes out of your mouth, but it makes him laugh. “You know that meme, the one where it’s like ‘why are you doing this?’ and your brain just says ‘you gotta?’” Rolling your eyes slightly, you snicker. “That’s what went through my mind. You never bump into anyone, so, well, someone had to try to mess you up.”

Changmin’s going to print a hundred copies of that meme and tape them all over his dorm. He will never be so grateful for a stinking Internet horcrux in his entire life.

Well, okay, he’s probably exaggerating. But still.

“That’s mean,” he says, purposely pouting his lips. “Why would you want to mess me up?”

You elbow his ribs, giggling. “Someone has to bring the king down at some point.”

Changmin’s about to take advantage of his current burst of confidence to respond to that – “You think I’m the king?” – and possibly fluster you even more, but someone’s yelling “LOVEBIRDS!” in a voice that sounds a little too much like Kevin’s. Both of you turn around instinctively, which probably only fuels the lovebird fire (though Changmin can’t bring himself to care at the moment).

“WE’RE PLAYING MAFIA!” someone else – is that Jaehyun? Probably – yells. “GET OVER HERE!”

“Mafia?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That…”

Changmin can hear the exasperated apprehension in your voice. He hears it in his own whenever his friend group gets together to play the game. “Let’s just see what happens,” he suggests, trying hard not to melt when you look over at him. “Someone might do something stupid?”

Your laughter sounds like sparkles, wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. Changmin wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it for the rest of his life. “You’re right, you’re right.” Glancing once more (and smiling a little wider) at your still-linked hands, you jerk your head in your friends’ direction. “Shall we?”

As he nods, Changmin privately thinks that there’s nothing in the world that could dissuade him from following you.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this stupid oblivious couple GOD)

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

Text

I Love Led Zeppelin

written for suptober 2020 day 11: rock and roll

word count: 3.1k tags: so much zeppelin, HAPPY ENDING, that’s right i wrote happy shit, angst, fluff, love confessions

also on archive!

“I want to know why you chose them,” Cas said petulantly.

Dean turned onto the highway and glanced at Cas. “I told you. They’re just the best Zepp songs.”

Cas just stared at him. And Dean stared right back. The angel wasn’t winning this one. Because if he started talking, it would all become too obvious.

As if giving him a damn mixtape wasn’t already obvious, he thought. He looked away. Not because he was letting Cas win, but because he hadn’t looked at the road in a while and getting in a car crash wasn’t in the cards for today.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, man.”

“What about this one?” Cas asked, and Dean stopped listening to the music. It had been Cas’ idea to listen to the mixtape, and after getting over his shock that Cas still had it, he agreed. He loved Zeppelin, what could go wrong?

“Ten Years Gone” was playing, and he pushed back a smile. He remembered choosing this one, listening to the lyrics, knowing how perfectly it fit. Robert Plant had written it for an old girlfriend who’d made him choose between music and her. And ten years later, he looked back on where he was.

It was stupid. God, he knew it was stupid. But he’d chosen it because Cas hadn’t chosen his music: Heaven. Cas had chosen them, and here they were, ten years later.

“I chose it because I like the chords,” he finally answered as the song came to an end.

“Oh,” Cas said.

The opening lines of “Ramble On” came on and Dean smiled. God, he loved Zeppelin. He and Sam didn’t listen to music enough in the car anymore. It brought back memories. The good memories from his childhood.

“Why did you add this one?” Cas sounded so serious, so sincere. And this one, this one Dean could answer. It wasn’t like some of the other songs on the tape.

“Kinda loved the Lord of the Rings imagery, but if you tell Sam you’re dead.” Cas laughed softly and Dean joined him. “And,” he took a breath, “I don’t know, it’s kinda like us, right? Like we have to keep going, no matter what evils we’re facing.”

“I like it,” Cas said quietly.

Dean reached over and turned it up, singing along dramatically because he knew Cas would get a kick out of it. Sam would have called him annoying, but not Cas. His friendship (friendship? That what you want Dean?) was so different with Cas.

When the song ended, and “Whole Lotta Love” came on, he almost reached over to shut it off. A blush rose in his cheeks as he remembered picking this one, confident Cas wouldn’t know what it was talking about, confident he’d never have to confront Cas about it. He remembered recording it, his mind drifting to Cas even as he tried to stop it.

He was lifting his hand to the skip button when Cas covered his hand and pushed it back to the seat. Dean hated how much he wished Cas’ hand would just stay there. But it didn’t. It never did.

“I wondered about this one,” Cas said thoughtfully. Dean gulped, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “It’s very,” Cas paused, and he could feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. He was sure his cheeks were flaming. “Very aggressive,” he finally finished.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” He let his eyes flick quickly to Cas and immediately regretted it. He looked so innocent, so clueless, but Dean could see the slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “C’mon, man it’s a great song,” he said, gluing his eyes back to the road.

“I thoroughly enjoy it.”

Dean gulped again, pictured Cas listening to it, hearing the lyrics. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and kept his lips firmly closed until the next song started.

The opening guitar line of “Stairway to Heaven” played and he immediately relaxed.

“Sam said you shouldn’t have picked this one. He said it was too overplayed,” Cas said before they were even thirty seconds into the song. And Dean almost ran them off the road right then.

“Sam knows about-” he cut himself off. No, that was too obvious. “Uh, why’d Sam say that?”

“I was listening to the song. And I told him you gave me a mixtape with your favorite Led Zeppelin songs and told him which song I was listening to. He said it isn’t even their best song.”

Shit. There wasn’t a chance in hell Sam didn’t know what giving someone a damn mixtape meant. At least Cas had been listening to “Stairway” but still. Dammit.

“He’s right,” he said, trying to control his voice. “It’s not their very best, but c’mon it’s a classic. I couldn’t just not add it. You have to admit, it’s a good song.”

“It’s my favorite on the tape,” Cas said.

Dean snorted. Of course it was. He wasn’t going to fault Cas for it, though. It was an amazing song. They let the song play out in silence, and Dean let himself let go. Just let it roll over him, let Cas’ presence steady him.

Next came “Kashmir,” which was another easy answer. It was a classic. But Dean always saw it as more than that. It was about the journey, not the destination, reaching for some distant horizon. That’s how he thought of his time with Cas. He got to enjoy the journey, even if they would never really reach the end, not the end he wanted anyway. It was gonna end bloody. One or both of them dead.

When “Going to California” started Dean smiled and went soft. John used to play this one after a really long hunt, and Dean hadn’t even learned the lyrics for years. He just loved the way it felt, the way everything weaved together and created a very specific feeling in him every time.

“I love this one,” Cas said quietly, as if to preserve the moment. “I like to think we can all get a fresh start.”

“Me too,” Dean answered. A fresh start. They’d had so many… way more than their fair share. But they still got more, still gave each other more, over and over. He didn’t know why Cas was even still with them, why he hadn’t turned tail and run ages ago. But he was glad for it.

“Black Dog” and “Travelling Riverside Blues” were next. He told Cas they were classics. Didn’t tell him that both of them were his mom’s favorites. Both of them were part of the reason she fell in love with John. Both of them made him think that maybe he could have something like that, even when he knew it wasn’t possible.

There were only a few songs left. And if Cas hadn’t figured it out already, these would make it painfully obvious that he chose these songs very specifically. That he chose them for Cas.

“Tangerine” started and he smiled. He loved how slow this one started, how sweet it was. He would never admit it out loud, but it was right up there with “Ramble On” and “Travelling Riverside Blues” for his favorite song.

He almost didn’t add it. Because it was so obvious. But also because it just wasn’t him and Cas. They would never have that sweet, innocent new love. There was so much baggage between them, so much to wade through before even finding a hint of love. But Dean knew it was there. If only brotherly on Cas’ side, it was there. And this song, this reminiscing on a sweet, beautiful relationship, it’s what he wanted with Cas. So sue him if he added it to the list.

“There’s a lot of love songs on this mixtape,” Cas noted. Dean glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge what he really meant. But with Cas, he always just said what he meant. There was very rarely a double meaning, a hint at something that wasn’t there.

“Yeah, there is,” he agreed, his breathing shallow. “Zeppelin has a lot of ‘em.” It wasn’t a lie… but Zepp also had plenty of non-love songs.

He almost sighed audibly when “Good Times Bad Times” came on next.

Cas didn’t have to ask at this point. He just stared at Dean until he answered the unspoken question.

“Chose this one cuz it’s our lives, ya know?” Dean ran his hands over the leather and glanced at the mile marker; they were just a few miles away from the town. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it to the end of the tape. “I mean, it’s mostly shit. But we have good times too.”

“We do,” Cas agreed seriously. And Dean allowed himself a small smile. He hated himself for loving that Cas had already listened to this start to finish multiple times, had kept it through multiple apocalypses, actually cared that Dean had taken the time to put it together. Because it didn’t mean the same thing to Cas. He wanted it to. But it didn’t.

There were only three songs left. They were as blindingly transparent as he could possibly be. And the fact they were on a homemade mixtape only added to it. But Cas… Cas wouldn’t understand.

“Fool in the Rain” was the beginning of the end. It wasn’t like it was one of Zepp’s most famous songs, but Dean had always loved it. It sounded almost idiotic on the surface, a lover waiting on the wrong block in the rain. But Dean had always seen it as more than that. Maybe he was being too deep… but, for one, there wasn’t anything in the song that suggested it was a man and a woman. And as a kid, he’d liked that. He liked to let it be whoever he wanted, let it represent whatever he needed. He wouldn’t get caught dead telling anyone else he’d even noticed that, but he’d always love the song because of that.

As he’d gotten older, he grew to love it even more. To him, it sounded like one sided love. Like someone who was waiting desperately for a sign that they would ever be loved back. But they were looking in the wrong place and they wouldn’t ever find it. As Robert Plant sang “My heart it sinks to the ground/And the storm that I thought would blow over/Clouds the light of the love that I found,” Dean resisted the urge to say something, to tell Cas, This is me. This is me because I’ll never have you.

“Why this one?” Cas prompted.

Dean cleared his throat. “Listen to his voice, dude. It’s amazing.”

He risked another glance at Cas, saw his eyes narrow and his head tilt, and knew he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. But it wasn’t like he could tell him the truth.

There were only two songs left. Two Dean had wanted to put on so badly that he couldn’t resist, no matter how obvious they were. He kept telling himself Cas wouldn’t even care enough to listen, much less to listen closely. Obviously that hadn’t worked.

Before he could turn off the music, claiming they were only five minutes out anyway, the soft vocal intro of “What Is and What Should Never Be” started.

Real smooth, Winchester, he thought. Putting a song about forbidden romance on a mixtape for your best friend.

“I understand this one,” Cas said.

Dean blinked and focused on the road, searching for the sign that would take them to the motel.

“You what?”

“I understand it. I don’t understand why you included it, but I understand it. Sometimes love just isn’t meant to be. Sometimes it isn’t possible, no matter how beautiful, how perfect it is.”

Dean nodded slowly. Was there someone in Cas’ past life he didn’t know about? Or even worse, someone he knew right now?

He didn’t respond to Cas. He didn’t know what to say.

They pulled into the motel as the final note played and Dean turned off the car, shutting off the music with it.

“What about the last song?” Cas asked.

Dean’s heart rate picked up and he felt his ears burning hot. He’d put it last. Maybe in hope that Cas wouldn’t get to it, or maybe because it perfectly closed what he was trying to say. What he felt.

“We, um,” he took a deep breath and let it out. “We have to check in, buddy, it’s late.”

“I want to listen to it, Dean,” Cas said, fixing him with those intense blue eyes. And really, no one could say no to that.

Dean restarted the car, trying to let the pleasant hum of Baby’s motor calm him down.

If the sun refused to shine I would still be loving you

The opening lines played through the speakers and Dean stopped himself from cursing loudly. He was fucked. He couldn’t sit in this car, with Cas, and pretend like this meant nothing. Like this was just another song that he really liked.

When mountains crumble to the sea There will still be you and me

He tried not to let his mind drift. Tried to ignore how silent Cas had gone. Tried not to think of those words the angel had spoken in the bunker so long ago. “Everyone you know, everyone you love... they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you walk out of this room.” Cas would have stayed with him, even while he burned the world to the ground under the influence of the mark.

Dean took a deep breath and anxiously ran a hand through his hair.

Kind woman, I give you my all Kind woman, nothing more.

Cas shifted slightly next to him, but he didn’t dare look up.

Little drops of rain whisper of the pain Tears of loves lost in the days gone by My love is strong, with you there is no wrong Together we shall go until we die My, my, my inspiration is what you are to me Inspiration look, see

So much pain. There was so much pain between them. It swirled and came to life whenever they spoke. But it didn’t matter, because Dean was never leaving Cas. He knew that now. He couldn’t do it without him.

As the guitar interlude played, he tried to calm down. To fight the panic climbing in his throat. This whole thing had been a bad idea. He should have never made the damn tape in the first place. His breathing slowed a little when the vocals came back. He could do this.

And so today, my world it smiles Your hand in mine, we walk the miles Thanks to you it will be done For you to me are the only one Happiness, no more be sad Happiness, I'm glad

The image was so clear in his mind. Him and Cas walked down an asphalt road, hand in hand, the sun in front of them and their troubles behind them. He would never have it, but it didn’t matter. He still owed Cas all his happiness, owed him his life, owed him everything. And he still never said thank you.

If the sun refused to shine I would still be loving you Mountains crumble to the sea There will still be you and me

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Cas. There was still almost a minute of instrumental in the song. It would be so easy, just to say that he liked the song. Or that it reminded him of someone. Or that he thought Cas would enjoy the sound of it.

Then Cas spoke, and he realized the angel’s eyes were wide and his lips were turned up in a smile. “Dean, please don’t lie to me. Why this one?”

He didn’t answer at first. He knew Cas would wait, and he did. They listened to the end of the song, and then the car went quiet. Dean turned the engine off and fiddled with the keys in his lap before looking back into Cas’ eyes.

“I guess,” he breathed in. He could do this. Why not? He couldn’t fuck things up with Cas more than he already had. He’d beaten him, nearly killed him, left him when he was vulnerable, yelled at him, taken him for granted. And yet, here he was. Right by Dean’s side, fighting to save the world again. “I guess I’m trying to say thank you, Cas. For sticking with us.”

Cas’ smile grew just a little, almost showing his teeth, and he held Dean’s eyes, as if waiting for him to go on. And Dean was going to leave it there, he really was. But for some reason, maybe the safety of Baby, maybe the soft way Cas was watching him, maybe the quiet begging to be filled, he went on. “I don’t want you to leave again. I don’t want to leave you. If we- If we beat God, then I still want you to stay. We take you for granted- I take you for granted. I know that. But I just- I want you here. I need you here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he said quietly, reaching for the door handle.

“Dean,” Cas said firmly. Dean paused and looked up, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. “I love you.”

His eyes widened and his thoughts swirled. He was dreaming, he had to be dreaming. Or this was a trick, someone was possessing Cas, someone was hurting him, someone was-

“It’s me, Dean.” And everything else melted away. It was Cas sitting next to him. Cas who had just spent an hour listening to Led Zeppelin with him. Cas who wasn’t leaving. Cas who had told him he loved him.

“I love you too,” he said. And it didn’t matter that Cas had just told him he loved him. Didn’t matter that Cas made him feel so safe. Didn’t matter that in spite of everything--all his doubts, all his fuckups, all his anger--he actually believed Cas wasn’t lying. He was still terrified.

Then Cas leaned across the seat and pressed their lips together, and he stopped thinking. He kissed him back gently, reveling in the taste, the softness, the electricity.

When they pulled away, he laughed softly and grinned sheepishly at the angel. Then he ejected the tape from the car and handed it to him before pressing another kiss against his lips. There were a million things he wanted to say, to explain, but there was only really one that fit.

“Thank you.”

tag list {ask to be added or removed!}:

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @witchyanaels @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @samhainsam @ghostsforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @hallowena @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer

#suptober20 #these are the songs on the mixtape don't fight me #long post #destiel fluff #happy ending #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #my writing

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soclonely · 3 years

Text

The Clones As Annoying Traffic and Parking Lot Things

I tested positive for covid a bit over a week and a half ago and I am reminiscing things from the outside world as I continue to sit in my home and patiently wait to not be contagious anymore. Complaining about and sitting in traffic was always a favorite and I miss the long rush hours, the honking of horns, and the annoying red lights of the streets of Orlando :')))))

Rex- When you sit through an entire green light because the person in front of you can't or won't turn

Echo- Pulling up to a car full of people and making eye contact at the same time

Fives- Those fucks who- very obviously- get frustrated at a student driver and zoom around them while yelling profanities or slamming on their horn. The kid is probably nervous enough behind the wheel just chill

Jesse- Showing up at a 4 way stop with 3 other people at the same time

Kix- WHEN THERE IS AN EMERGENCY VEHICLE COMING UP YOU BETTER PULL YOUR HAPPY ASS TO THE SIDE AND WAIT. I don't care if you are 2 minutes late to Yoga that one second you give them might be the difference between life or death for a person.

Tup- People who don't merge when a lane is ending and wait until literally the last millimetre when they had a 2 mile warning

Dogma- Cops who tailgate you for 2 miles. I'm not breaking the law go around

Hardcase- Roundabouts

Coric- The anxiety you get at a red light when your music is loud and someone glances your way, and you think they are heavily judging you for it

Bly- *After years of searching for a space, drives up to what looks to be an empty parking spot, only for it to be a motorcycle or small sedan car*

99- the person going 25 in a 60 and they are conveniently driving ahead of you

Cody- If an area isn't busy late at nights, just switch the traffic lights to blinking and make it a 4 way stop. If no one is coming and I have to sit for 2 minutes for a light to turn red, its frustrating AND can be unsafe. Quick story: In my hometown in the 2010s, women were constantly being attacked on this street and they could not figure out how. This group of guys would wait for them to stop in this deadzone of town at this pointless late night redlight, and jump in their car and take their purses. I mean sure, catch the guys and it will stop but easier said then done. Anyway, someone suggested switching the lights after 10 PM to a blinking light that acts as a quick stop sign and Voila! It helped quite a bit. they did eventually catch the group of teens doing it but still

Waxer/Boil- The person next to me at a redlight pulling out a big mac to eat while driving. Like, the least you can do is offer me a fry?

Wolffe- do you even know what the passing lane is for?

Boost/Sinker- Leaving a cart next to someone elses car and taking off

Hunter- People who don't watch for motorcyclists or truckers.

Wrecker- alternatively, motorcyclists who aren't wearing a helmet AND driving wrecklessly and weaving through traffic

Tech- Cell phone users. Unless its bluetooth, toss it in your bag and be safe yo.

Crosshair- People who park right on the parking space divider in a store parking lot to the point where I have to squeeze into my car from the passenger side. There is a special place in hell for you monsters

Omega- The kid making faces at you from the car next to you

Howzer-Someone turning when they are in the non turning lane

Gregor- People who judge other peoples driving. Its me, Im gregor

#the clones as #khai come get ya juice

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 3 years

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Hello! So, something that always intrigued me is the concept of “reverse aus,” and I’ve been thinking about that in the context of Cobra Kai for a while now. How do you think it would go down if Demetri was the one to get roped into Cobra Kai? Obviously, I don’t think he would be as into as Eli canonically was (probably due to it becoming a special interest for him), but I’d be curious to hear your take on it. Would Eli end up going to Miyagi-Do like canon Demetri did, or would Demetri and Eli sort of become the new Evil Karate Husbands™️? And possibly, how do you think Demetri and Johnny’s dynamic would go? (I’m just going to awkwardly add that this is cc-tinslebee, coming to you live from my main blog because I don’t think Tumblr let’s sideblogs send asks-)

So this is actually the SECOND ask I’ve gotten about this scenario--Cherry sent in another one!--so I figured I’d give it a stab. Took me a while to work out how I think it would go and how everything would play out different if Demetri and Eli’s roles were reversed, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I tried to make it more interesting than just “Demetri does all the stuff Eli does and Eli does all the stuff Demetri does.”

Also I lowkey LOVE the idea of Evil Karate Husbands and even though that isn’t the direction this particular AU goes in, I might do a divergent spin-off AU to explore that too??? Because man...the thought of Miguel desperately trying to save his two best friends who have fallen to the dark side...*cries*

Fair warning that this AU is gonna get dark as shit--I fully belive things would’ve gotten equally fucked up between them in a role reverse AU, just, ah...in slightly different ways. A lot of this will not be Happy Times later on, much like their canon relationship XD

OKAY TIME FOR PAIN, LET’S GOOOO

Longboi post so be warned!!!

Season 1

After getting his ass handed to him--for trying to stick up for Eli, no less--Demetri was pissed. Why the hell was he paying some guy to beat him up for daining to have a problem with him bullying his best friend? Going home in a rage, he nearly texted Miguel to tell him he was quitting--but something stopped him just before he hit Send.

He remembered the look on Eli’s face just after Kyler shoved him away. He remembered seeing Eli stiffen when Kyler grabbed him by the chin, practically feeling the terror emanate from his friend’s body. He remembered how completely and infuriatingly helpless he felt.

It certainly wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But maybe if Miguel was onto something--maybe if karate really could protect him and Eli from the bullies--it could be the last.

Mr. Lawrence (or Sensei Lawrence, as he obnoxiously insisted on being called) hardly let up on bullying Eli. Even at Eli’s request not to call him “Lip” and the pleading of his star student Miguel Diaz himself, the man only seemed to crack down harder--in some sort of twisted effort to “toughen Eli up,” Demetri guessed. Demetri defended Eli every single time, not mincing any words mouthing off at Sensei Lawrence. It got Demetri punched in the face, flipped on the mat, saddled with much harder drills than the rest of the class, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat Eli like that, no matter what pain he had to endure for it.

Johnny, meanwhile, is immensely annoyed by this obnoxious, sarcastic kid who just can’t stop running his mouth--but working him twice as hard as the rest of the class is proving to be fruitless in shutting him up. But, Johnny’s finding, Demetri constantly antagonizing him doesn’t have to be a hindrance. Anger like that can be weaponized--the more he provokes Demetri, the more he insults and belittles that Eli kid he’s so attached to, the harder Demetri punches. The quicker he moves when he fights. The stronger he kicks. Johnny sometimes comes home after training covered in nasty bruises, almost entirely from sparring Demetri--they’re enough to make Carmen and Rosa Diaz worry he’s getting jumped on the way home.

One day Johnny takes his ribbing of Eli just a little too far, hoping to get an especially vicious reaction out of Demetri. Eli, pushed to the end of his rope, runs out of the dojo, barely holding back tears. Demetri starts to go after him, but Miguel puts a hand on his arm and stops him, saying they can both check up on him later.

When Demetri finds Eli after practice, Eli’s sobbing. “I can’t do this anymore, Deme. No matter what you say to him, he just keeps picking on me. It never stops.” Demetri winces, because Eli isn’t wrong--Sensei Lawrence really hasn’t stopped bullying Eli at all, and while Demetri was busy letting himself get riled up by it, he didn’t actually think to see how it was affecting Eli. “Well, I know it sucks now, and Mr. Lawrence is a huge asshole, but we’re learning to be tough,” Demetri reasons. “We’re learning to be intimidating. A few more months here, and the bullies will never touch us again! Just like Miguel!” And Eli just scowls, uncharacteristically angry for his timid self, and says “Well, it’s not worth it if I have to feel like shit the whole time! If every time I step in here I get everything about me picked apart, over and over again! I’m done with this, Demetri.”

And just like that, Eli is out of the dojo. Demetri can’t help but be disappointed--he’d looked forward to them training together, and seeing Eli become a badass, fearless fighter who could hand Kyler’s ass to him after all those fucked up things he said to Eli. And to make matters worse, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t stop using Eli as fuel to rip out Demetri’s rage long after Eli’s gone. “Oooh, Loudmouth, feeling sad today? Missing Lip the Quitter?” “You keep throwing punches like that, and you could get beat up by that loser with the fucked lip you were so enamored with. Although knowing you, you’d let him win anyways.” And Demetri can’t help but hate the man, but damn, if it doesn’t feel good to land an especially good hit on him, or jab him in the thigh with a powerful kick.

But things aren’t bad--Demetri still has Miguel, and their new friend Aisha. Eli still hangs out with them outside of practice, and indulges Demetri in his ever-increasing ramblings about martial arts, no matter how nervous and uncomfortable karate tends to make Eli. If Demetri likes it that much, maybe he should make an effort to show interest in it. The four of them crash Yasmine’s birthday party, and Demetri even finds himself smooth-talking them into getting alcohol with his newfound confidence. After all, if he can land punches faster than a snake can strike, how difficult can it be to weasel his way into getting a little beer?

Meanwhile Moon, feeling understandably unfulfilled in her popular clique, takes an interest in the Cool New Karate Gang in town, and after apologizing to Aisha at the beach rager, the two strike up a friendship. She comes to hang out with their group more and more, and Eli finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Moon constantly makes an effort to include him when the others get to wrapped up talking about karate, and he appreciates her kindness and sincerity. It’s odd, really, how easy it is to have a conversation with her, considering how nervous he tends to get around her. But Eli doesn’t think too much about it.

When it comes time for the tournament, Moon and Eli go together to support their friends. Eli finds his gaze flickering back and forth between Moon and Demetri, lingering on each of them longer than he would care to admit--and he can’t quite explain why. Something about Moon’s wide, excited smile, the smell of cherry shampoo in her hair...but also Demetri’s smug, triumphant smirk when he pulls off an especially impressive move, the way his wiry arm muscles ripple when he fights. They’re both just so...captivating.

Demetri, for his part, is ruthless. Much more so than Eli has ever seen him be. He’s always been sarcastic and cynical, but resigned to his fate--at the tournament, Demetri lashes out in vicious ways the old Demetri would never have had the courage to pull off. He talks shit to the other contestants far beyond what’s considered “sportsmanlike”--and Eli can tell he’s not holding back, with the theatrical body language channeling every awful thing he’s saying.

Demetri fights like lightning--he weaves and maneuvers and strikes at breakneck speed, a limber, flashing form hitting all across his opponent’s bodies before they have any idea what’s happening. He dodges hits and jumps aside like he has some cosmic sense of when and where they’re coming. And it scares Eli, seeing a viciousness and relentlessness in Demetri that he’s never encountered before--but somehow, he finds, he just can’t look away.

Season 2

After the tournament, Demetri’s life has never been better. At the summer’s start, he’s still riding the high of the Cobra Kai tournament win. He didn’t take home the trophy, but suffice to say he got much farther than anyone believed a scrawny, lanky nerd ever would, and he is incredibly smug about it. He realizes, at the end of the day, he’s gotten what he always wanted after all--the bullies don’t come near him and Eli at all, and he can rest easy, knowing Eli is finally safe. However, he’s so busy embracing his new skills that at times, he almost forgets that was ever even an issue. His newfound fighting prowess has caught the attention of Yasmine, of all people--maybe someone who can throw kicks that good isn’t as much of a loser as she originally thought.

She finds out after her family’s plans to go to France for the summer fall through, and she finally patches things up with Moon after their fallout at the beach party. Moon can’t stop gushing about how amazing Demetri was at the tournament--both she and her new friend Eli (who Yasmine definitely thinks seems like a weirdo, but hey--maybe if Moon thinks he’s worth her time, he can’t be that much of a loser) were so impressed with him. Interest piqued, Yasmine joins their little but ever-growing group. She finds herself quickly drawn in by Demetri’s ever-growing confidence, intelligence, and surprisingly enjoyable (if somewhat annoying) sense of humor, and before long, the two are dating.

Yasmine and Aisha are...cool. Kind of. Yasmine doesn’t quite apologize, and the two aren’t friends by any stretch of imagination, but they tolerate each other, and Yasmine refrains from making awful comments and picking on Aisha in front of their friends. Aisha, for her part, does her best not to lash out or be mean to Yasmine either, keeping the peace mainly for Demetri’s and Moon’s sakes.

Meanwhile, it would take an idiot not to notice the rather starstruck looks Eli’s been shooting in Moon’s direction. Moon, for her part, is either entirely oblivious or simply doesn’t even think to consider a shy, timid, nerdy kid as a romantic option, even if she does consider him a friend.

Oddly, Demetri finds himself extremely bothered by Eli’s doe-eyed crush on Moon. He really can’t place why--he has a girlfriend already, so it really shouldn’t bug him so much that Eli is finally growing noticably interested in girls too, now that they tend to be in closer proximity. And it’s not even like Moon seems to be at all interested in reciprocating. Maybe, he figures, it’s the fact that Moon never would have even looked their way if it weren’t for the fact that he and Miguel and Aisha were the “Cool Karate Gang.” The same karate gang, of course, that Eli quit. That Eli didn’t have it in him to fully be a part of. And yet here he is, reaping the benefits still.

Interestingly, Yasmine also seems bothered by Eli’s affections for her friend. Demetri feels her stiffen beside him and sees her shooting disapproving looks whenever she catches Eli staring at Moon. Demetri isn’t sure why she seems to take issue with this too--perhaps she thinks Moon is too good for Eli, and her friend deserves better than a shy, awkward nerd.

Something about this mindset very much rubs Demetri the wrong way, but he pushes the feeling aside. Maybe he should count his blessings instead of being so inwardly critical of his girlfriend. After all, not everyone gets to date the hottest girl in school.

The day of Valley Fest arrives, and Yasmine goes to support her boyfriend. Moon and Eli tag along, eager to support their friends as well. Caught up in the thrill of the blaring music, the bright, flashing lights, the audience cheering, Demetri feels a wave of pride as he looks at his little group of friends that came for him, yelling and whooping and jumping up and down. For some reason, he finds his gaze drawn specifically to Eli, wearing a grin bigger than Demetri’s seen in months and eyes absolutely glowing.

Suddenly Demetri feels an overpowering urge to wrap Eli up in this world he’s fallen in love with, immerse him entirely in the karate that’s made Demetri feel so much more happy and free in the past several months. Grinning, he strides forward and reaches down, using the absurd upper body strength he’s built up since he’s started karate to yank Eli up onto the stage. He hands his best friend a wooden board and steps back, racing forward and snapping it in half with a jumping roundhouse kick. For a few seconds, Eli can do nothing but stare at the broken board, something shifting inside of him.

After that, Eli decides maybe it’s time to give karate another go. Something about the way Demetri positively shone onstage--how genuinely happy all of it seemed to make him--makes him thing it can’t be so bad, even if he does get taunted for his lip again.

He stops by the dojo the following week, gathering up every ounce of courage he has to ask that mean blonde man how he goes about joining the dojo again. He’s hoping against hope that maybe, after all these months of teaching students and a tournament win under his belt, the edge of his pathetic cruelty will at least have been taken off.

No such luck. Upon seeing Eli walk into the dojo, Johnny greets him with “Hey, Lip is back! Real world not treat you as nicely as you thought?” The two are, regrettably, completely alone in the dojo. Eli sucks in his breath--Demetri isn’t around, so if anyone is going to defend him, it’ll have to be him himself.

“Could you please not call me that?” His voice shakes as he says it, but nonetheless, he finishes the statement. It occurs to him that not once in his (admittedly brief) stay in Cobra Kai did he simply...request that Sensei Lawrence not call him Lip. Demetri’s approach was always to get angry about it, go off on the sensei about how wrong it was to mock someone’s appearance, but Eli himself had never been the one to make a case for Sensei Lawrence to treat him better.

It hardly helped. Sensei Lawrence just claimed that if he didn’t want him to call him Lip, he shouldn’t have a freaky lip, and then went on to claim whoever did his cleft lip surgery must have done an awful job. Eli attempted to move away from the topic, but Sensei Lawrence didn’t let up. “It’s hard to when it’s right in front of me. Hard to believe Demetri was so willing to defend you like some knight in shining armor or some shit. You’re pathetic.” Having heard enough, Eli storms out, anger overtaking him. How could he have been so stupid, to think this was going to go any better? Why did he think that just because this man had been willing to help Miguel and Demetri (who were normal) become badass meant he would extend the same treatment to the freak with the lip scar?

Eli calls Demetri in tears. “I don’t know how you can train with someone like him,” Eli spits out. “He’s a shit person, Demetri. I--I don’t know what you and Miguel are thinking. It’s like he gets some kind of...I don’t know, sadistic pleasure out of bullying people. He’s not any better than the people he claims he’s trying to help you fight.”

Demetri, to his horror, reacts only with scorn, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “God, all this drama because he was mean about your lip again? Jesus christ, grow a backbone, Eli. I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Lawrence was right--if you can’t even handle someone making some insensitive comments about your scar, how are you going to handle an elbow to the teeth? Or any training more intensive than a slap on the wrist, anyway?”

Eli can do nothing but just stare at him through the screen. Demetri, the one person who he has always been able to count on to not comment on his scar, the one person who has always comforted him or talked him through it when he cried, is brushing him completely off--being an asshole about the one thing Eli was certain he never would be. Why is Demetri, of all people, not taking his side on this?

All Eli knows for sure is that he doesn’t like this new version of Demetri one bit. What happened to the best friend who was always willing to fight for him, no matter what it took? Now, he seems more concerned with looking cool and tough and upkeeping some kind of ridiculous reputation than Eli’s own well-being.

Over the next few days, a rage he didn’t know he even had in him bubbles up inside Eli. He decides if Demetri’s going to play dirty, so is he. And maybe, if Eli plays his cards right, the old Demetri will come back.

Despite his long-standing frustration with the way adults treat him--delicately, condescendingly, like a Thing of Pity--Eli figures he can get some use out of it for once. If this is the only way they’re going to see him regardless, he might as well use it to his advantage. And so he goes crying to his mom, who he knows for a fact other adults talk about being a “valued member of the community” and probably has some influence and some strings she can pull. He bawls to her about how his best friend has turned into an unrecognizable jerk, all because he’s training with a middle-aged man with the mindset of a high school bully who has no issue verbally abusing his students. Sure enough, discussions are had with the Neighborhood Committee, phone calls are placed, and Eli overhears his mother vowing to shut down that degenerate karate place if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Meanwhile, back at the dojo, Kreese makes an announcement. The elderly, intimidating man has recently teamed up with Johnny to teach--and he gives Demetri the creeps, if he’s honest, but he seems to know his stuff when it comes to karate, so Demetri goes along with this new addition to the sensei roster. However, when Johnny goes off to visit his high school friends and leaves the kids alone with the new Sensei, Demetri can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Now, the dojo’s been getting some concerned phone calls,” Kreese says, arms crossed and expression difficult to read. He doesn’t seem to be angry--if anything, he looks faintly amused. “Parents of the local teenagers are worried. They think Cobra Kai is full of bullies. Think our methods are...abusive, even. They want to shut us down.” Worried murmurs start to echo around the room, but Kreese silences them as he goes on. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I have my ways of talking people down. We know better, anyhow. They’re just...intimidated by us, because we’ve honed skills here they couldn’t even dream of having. But nonetheless...” Kreese smirks in a way that makes Demetri feels ever-so-slightly unnerved. “If you run into one of your little peers whining to your parents about getting rid of us, well...show them Cobra Kai can’t be messed with so easily.”

And suddenly Demetri’s seething, because he knows exactly who made sure those phone calls got made.

Eli, for all his timidness, is notoriously smart. Demetri knows this intimately. He’d hardly put it past Eli to be this cunning, to manipulate the pitying adults around him to get what he wants.

When the Cobra Kai kids take a trip to the mall later that day, Demetri knows exactly where Eli will be. Every Wednesday, a new issue of Dungeon Lord comes out--they used to go get it together, but since getting into karate, Demetri hasn’t been keeping up. Demetri would figure someone like Eli wouldn’t have the balls to go out in public alone, if not for the fact that he knew how invested Eli was in the current plot.

And so Demetri heads to the comic book store, a group of reluctant Cobra Kai “pledges” in tow. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic, but he likes having someone to be able to boss around--it feels nice to be at the top of the food chain for once. Lord knows it’s the first time that’s happened. And if he isn’t going to milk that tournament win for all it’s worth, then what even is the point?

When Demetri arrives, Eli turns to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he says, lip curling slightly. “I figured you were too tough for this kind of stuff now.”

Demetri just scoffs and crosses his arms. “Well, Mr. Kreese said the dojo’s been getting some calls from weepy parents concerned we’re bullying their poor kids. Saying our Senseis must be some evil, abusive monsters twisting and corrupting the neighborhood teenagers. So I think you know exactly why I’m here.”

Eli just looks at him with a doe-eyed innocence that makes his blood boil. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Demetri advances on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t bullshit me, Eli. I know you’ve been meddling.”

To his surprise, Eli looks up to meet his gaze evenly, pretense of naiveté completely gone. “And what if I have? I don’t like the influence they’re having on you.”

Well, Demetri doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t like it. “What is it about Cobra Kai that’s got you in such a tiffy, huh? You’re jealous I found a way to fight back and actually protect us? You don’t like that I’m not a pathetic loser you can look down your nose at anymore?”

Eli just looks at him in bewilderment. “Jesus, no, that’s not it at all, dude. Just...do you even hear yourself? You’ve turned into such an asshole since you started all that karate shit. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You walk around thinking you’re hot shit and everyone has to bow down to you all because your dojo won some stupid tournament. Well, news flash, Demetri--nobody cares.”

The callous way Eli, of all people, says it can’t help but throw him off. Is that really what his best friend thinks about him now--that he’s just some arrogant prick strutting around flaunting his success?

And then Demetri remembers how he got here--what it was that pushed him to be such a hard-assed fighter in the first place--and he feels a wave of venom coarse through him so powerful that he nearly chokes on it. Before he knows it he’s grabbing Eli by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall.

“You fucking ungrateful brat,” he spits out, his words poison. “I did it all for you, you know. Everything I did was so that I could finally protect you. And this is how you thank me? After I’ve been getting my ass kicked over and over again so you wouldn’t have to worry about bullies anymore?”

Eli is surprisingly unfazed. “And where was I when you were learning to be such a good protector, Demetri? Getting shit on as a tool to motivate you? Nobody bothering to check how I felt about that? A real good bodyguard you turned out to be.”

“And yet Kyler and his little posse haven’t bothered you once. Who do you think that’s thanks to?”

“Miguel too. You don’t get all the credit. And anyhow, not like it matters when your Senseis would just as soon take the same cheap shots.”

Demetri just curls his lip. “Don’t get mad at me because you were too weak to survive Cobra Kai. Because...what, a middle-aged karate teacher hurt your feelings? I’d like to see how you go about taking a real fist to the jaw.”

Demetri raises a fist as if to demonstrate. Eli flinches, anger and defiance suddenly completely gone as his eyes widen in horror.

“You’d actually hurt me?” he asks softly.

Demetri slowly lowers his fist, realizing the answer as soon as he sees the terrified look in his friend’s eyes.

“Consider this your warning, Eli,” he spits out, with as much venom as he can manage. “Don’t mess around with Cobra Kai, or things are going to get ugly.” He smirks--a little sadistically, he has to admit. “You saw the tournament. Well...you’d better believe that’s the least of what I can do.”

When a downtrodden Eli shows up at Daniel LaRusso’s front door, timidly requesting to learn karate, far be it from Daniel to turn away a new student. Eli’s sob story about how he’s being bullied and threatened by his best friend only makes the new sensei more determined to take him under his wing--Daniel is no stranger to bullying, after all.

The next time Cobra Kai goes on an outing to the mall, Demetri catches Eli in the food court, eating with Samantha LaRusso and that kid whose ass he kicked at the tournament--Robby Keene, was his name? Mr. Lawrence’s kid. This seems...odd. How would Eli have met them?

An unexpected wave of jealousy rips through him. How did shy little Eli manage to make other friends? Let alone with an ex popular girl, of all people. Nonetheless, he figures this might be a good time to make sure his ex-friend isn’t trying to start any more shit with Cobra Kai.

He catches Eli in the deli line, sliding up behind him and purring, “Oh, I hope you haven’t been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, have you, Eli?”

Eli turns and glares at him with a venom Demetri didn’t know the other boy had in him. “Why, Demetri? Scared your precious Cobra Kai is going to lose all its coolness cred if it gets out how shitty you all are?”

Demetri seethes with anger again, and before he knows it, he’s shoving Eli out of the line and ramming him up against one of the pillars on the edge of the food court. The crowd of eaters around them “Oooooh”s, but Demetri ignores them. He raises a fist again, fully prepared to follow through this time. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.”

Eli just curls his lip, more defiant than Demetri’s ever seen him. “You don’t scare me, Demetri. I know who you really are.”

The Cobra Kai pledges start to loom behind them, ready to provide Demetri with backup if needed. Eli notices and scoffs. “Wow, siccing your goons on me too? Way to set up a fair fight, Demetri. You’re so badass.”

Struck by a sudden desire to prove him wrong, Demetri socks Eli in the jaw before he can think better of it. He pauses afterwards, momentarily shaken by what he’s done.

To his dismay, Eli’s horrified shock is short lived before he laughs darkly. “Well, you’re not the only one who knows karate now. I joined Miyagi-Do.”

Demetri just scoffs. Ah yes, a little karate training and Eli, of all people, is going to kick some major ass. “All right then. Let’s see what you got.” He takes a step back, allowing Eli to try and get a hit in.

When the fight breaks out in full force, it’s vicious. Eli throws the first hit, but it’s weak--he’s out of practice since abandoning Cobra Kai. Demetri has him on the ground in seconds, throwing punches and kicks with a speed and rage he had no idea he had. Eli barely has time to get up before he’s getting his ass handed to him.

What Demetri doesn’t count on is Eli’s new dojomates coming to his rescue, getting the smaller boy behind them and executing a near-perfect synchronized fighting routine. Even with his lackeys helping him, Demetri is completely annihilated--nearly unconscious on the food court floor within minutes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Eli staring down at him, blue eyes wide with horror.

When word of the incident at the mall gets back to Moon, shit hits the fan--to put it lightly. Yasmine is with Moon when she confronts Demetri, but she doesn’t say anything--just stands glaring with her arms crossed while Moon goes off at him. “How could you treat Eli like that? He’s your friend!”

“Not anymore.” Demetri curls his lip. “He joined Miyagi-Do. He’s made it pretty clear where his loyalties lie now, and it’s not with me.”

“Who cares about Miyagi-Do?” She retorts. “He’s still your friend! Our friend! And I don’t like the way you’re bullying him.”

Demetri scoffs. “Don’t you get it? He’s just a pathetic nerd who can’t handle the fact that I’m cooler than him now. All he wants to do is drag me down to his level again, I guarantee it.”

Moon’s gaze is more poisonous than he’s ever seen it. She turns to Yasmine. “Tell him, Yas,” she says, her tone dangerously quiet.

Yasmine sighs. She says--with notable hesitation, Demetri notices--“If you don’t stop bullying Eli, we’re through.”

Thrown off, Demetri laughs harshly. “What do you care? You don’t even like Eli! I see those...disgusted looks you shoot in his direction, when you think we won’t notice.”

Yasmine bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter. Moon is my best friend. If she’s not okay with this whole...thing, then neither am I.”

“You’re not fucking serious. You’re dumping me because your bleeding-hearted friend told you I wasn’t being nice enough to a guy you can’t stand?”

Yasmine pauses, but ultimately stands her ground. “I’m sorry, but if it’s between you and Moon, it’s going to be Moon. So her word goes. So either stop with this whole stupid feud with Eli, or we’re finished.”

“I...” Demetri can only stare at her, shocked. He never could have imagined getting this ultimatum...and yet here he is.

He must have hesitated a second too long, because Moon grabs Yasmine’s arm and starts to pull her away. “I think that’s all the answer we need,” Moon hisses.

“Wait!” he called helplessly after them. Yasmine turns around once as she walks away, but only to spit “It’s over!” over her shoulder. As if for good measure.

Kreese finds Demetri circling a punching bag in the back of the dojo, spinning around it and throwing kicks and punches faster than cobra strikes. Seizing his opportunity, he advances. “What’s wrong, son?”

Demetri turns, tensing. He’s still wary of the man, but to hell with it--it’s not like he has anyone else to talk to. “Fight broke out with Miyagi-Do, and we lost. Pathetic, I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

“Cheer up.” Kreese smirks. “The fight isn’t over until you say it is.”

Demetri just sighs. “No use going in for a rematch. They’re strong. I couldn’t take them again on my own.”

Kreese’s smirk widens. “You’re a smart kid. There are other ways to fight back, you know. You don’t always have to beat them into the ground.”

As he leaves, Demetri lets that sink in.

Well, Demetri is nothing if not tech-savvy. May as well make some use of that Yelp Elite status. He spends hours setting up dozens of sock puppet accounts, programming them to post terrible review after terrible review blasting everything he can think of about Miyagi-Do. The encouragement of violence in youth (Eli had technically punched first, hadn’t he?). The weak, subpar fighting style that broke down as soon as it was challenged by serious fighters. The pretentious, culture-appropriating sensei. Daniel LaRacist indeed.

During the Coyote Creek excursion, Demetri finds himself pitted against Miguel, fighting in the world’s most intense game of what essentially boils down to Capture the Flag. Demetri, about to get the better of Miguel, finds that he can’t help but gloat about his little online attack. Can’t be long before a one-star dojo goes out of business.

When Miguel seems to take issue with it, saying the whole thing is mean-spirited and over the top, Demetri can’t help but scoff. Miyagi-Do has been plenty clear in declaring war--their little battalion at the mall proved that. Demetri wishes Miguel wasn’t still too caught up in pining over Sam LaRusso to realize that.

Miguel, meanwhile, decides this dojo war of sorts is getting out of hand. It turns out Demetri isn’t the only tech-savvy student in Cobra Kai--Miguel designed their website, after all. With a little bit of basic internet coding and some rudimentary hacking, he manages to access the sock puppet accounts Demetri made and take the bad reviews down. He even goes so far as to go over to the Miyagi-Do dojo and personally apologize for how Cobra Kai has been acting, telling Robby Keene that he found out who blasted the bad reviews and took them all down. “We’re not all assholes.”

Come Moon’s end-of-summer party, Demetri is surprised to get an invitation. He hasn’t seen her or Yasmine since they both chewed him out, and Yasmine ended things. But perhaps this is a show of good faith. Maybe Moon wants to be friends again--and maybe that means Yasmine’s come to her senses too, and might be willing to talk things out.

Moon welcomes him when he arrives, previous animosity gone for the moment. “Hey, thank you for inviting me. I’m...sorry,” he starts. “Of how we left things off. I was an ass to you and Yas.” “It’s alright,” Moon replies cheerily. “I invited you because...well, I’m hoping that before school starts, we can stop all the fighting and be friends again.”

His heart sinks as he sees Sam LaRusso lead a stream of kids through the door, Eli trailing at the end, and he realizes exactly what she means. The Miyagi-Dos are here.

He sits forlornly on a couch with Mitch and Aisha, thinking about how much worse this night just got. He brightens, however, when he sees a shock of blonde hair at the door not long after. So Yasmine came after all.

Moon grins in delight, calling over to her. Taking a breath, Demetri stands up and approaches the two girls, determined to smooth things over with them both.

He’s not surprised to see Yasmine make a beeline for Moon, not noticing him for the moment. What he isn’t expecting is for Moon to sweep Yasmine into her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Demetri stops in his tracks. The girls turn to him a few seconds later, seeming to notice him for the first time. They look at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to finish walking over to them. Or say something, and not just stand there gawking stupidly.

“Uh...are you two...um...like...uh...” All he can do is shuffle closer and gesture abstractly, not able to find words. Yasmine blushes and looks away, while Moon tucks a hair behind her ear, her smile strained.

“Yeah. It’s new,” she admits, laughing nervously. “We’re, um...”

“Girlfriends?” Yasmine offers, looking up and smiling at Moon with uncharacteristic shyness. Demetri can’t help but bristle--shyness she never showed him.

Well, far be it from him to be judgmental. Even if Yasmine broke his damn heart just now, Moon is still his friend. He gives them a strained smile. “That’s...that’s great! Happy for you two. No shame in uh...trying out something like that.”

Demetri excuses himself and sulks back to the now-empty couch, mind racing as he sits down. Is that why Moon was trying to encourage Yasmine to break up with him? Was it even about Eli at all? Did Moon just want Yasmine for herself? It seemed unlike Moon, but who could say?

And Yasmine...had she always wanted Moon, too? Is that why she seethed every time she saw Eli shooting lovestruck glances at her friend?

...had she even ever liked Demetri at all, or was he just a cover-up for the fact that she was...lesbian? How was someone as feminine and fashionable as Yasmine a lesbian, anyways? All the lesbians Demetri saw on tv cut their hair boyishly short and had about 5 nose rings and walked around in leather jackets and combat boots.

His thoughts are interrupted by the last sweatered boy he wants to see taking a seat at the other side of the couch, glancing nervously at him with darting eyes. What did Eli want? And why was he so nervous? He’d been unduly bold as of late.

“You seen the new Doctor Who trailer?” Eli mutters.

Something about the nonchalant way he says it--like this is the olden days, when Demetri always felt like shit about himself and had no one who tolerated him but Eli--makes Demetri’s blood boil. He scoffs. “I have better things to do than watch nerd crap like that.”

A short silence. “Capaldi regenerated,” Eli offers finally. “I know you weren’t big on 12.”

No more Capaldi? Demetri turns to look at Eli, interest suddenly piqued.

“What’s the new doctor like?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Eli grins. “She’s a badass.”

“She?” Demetri finds himself grinning back. “How progressive of them. Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor Who.”

A sudden giggling catches his attention, and Demetri looks to where Yasmine and Moon are sharing a chair across the room, tangled up in each other’s arms and trading soft kisses like they don’t have a care in the world. He tenses.

Eli seems to sense his discomfort, and sighs. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. If it helps at all, I liked Moon a lot, too.”

Demetri just scoffs. “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. They just have to be gay, right?”

Eli gives him a strange look. Demetri shuffles uncomfortably, realizing what he’s probably thinking about. The...incident, 4 years ago. Demetri glares at him, hoping to banish the thought before it arrives. None of that meant anything--they were just dumb kids. Dumb kids doing dumb shit that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know, I mean...if they’re happy together, shouldn’t we just be happy for them?”

Eli reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Demetri hesitates. Their special touch. Eli still remembers, even after everything that’s happened.

For a moment he’s overcome with longing, wishing things with Eli could just go back to how they used to be. Back when he knew no matter what hell he went through at school, Eli would always be there to pick him back up again. But then it sinks in what Eli’s really trying to say.

Be happy for them. What a bunch of Miyagi-Do bullshit. Just accept his sad little lot in life, just like he used to do. Go back to nerdy little Eli at the bottom of the food chain, doomed to spend the rest of his youth admiring pretty girls from a vast distance.

He never wants that to be him again.

“Oh, fuck you, Eli,” he spits, grabbing Eli’s hand and yanking it off of his shoulder. Eli freezes, looking like he’s just been slapped.

“What, so I’m supposed to do like you, moping and pining and hoping a pretty girl will look my way if I wish hard enough and just sucking it up when she doesn’t? Well, I’ve had plenty enough of that--I’ve been on the top. And I’m going to be on the top again. But you? You’ll always be pathetic--you and your entire sorry excuse for a dojo.”

He gets up and walks away, bristling with an anger he can’t even fully place anymore.

As Eli watches Demetri go, he realizes he’s finally had enough. Demetri doesn’t want to patch things up? He just wants to keep being an arrogant shithead? Fine. But Eli’s not about to take his prodding and insults anymore.

Eli makes his way over to Moon--still his friend, despite the unreciprocated feelings--and Yasmine, strikes up a conversation with them. Yasmine, he notices, is being notably nicer to him--probably at Moon’s request. They get to talking about sexualities, and Eli accidentally lets a little something slip about Demetri.

When they were 12 years old, they had kissed. It was Eli who suggested they practiced kissing, to get ready for all the girls they would inevitably date. However, a bit of choice wording and it sounded like Demetri had planted one on Eli out of nowhere...and Eli, of course, hadn’t liked it one bit, because he was totally straight. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” he pleaded the girls, big sad eyes every bit as convincing as he had hoped. “Demetri doesn’t want it to get out that he’s...you know. Gay. He’s worried it’ll ruin his reputation.”

Moon nods sincerely, but Eli can tell from the almost imperceptible smirk on Yasmine’s face that she has other plans. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Demetri’s ex over the last few months, it’s that even trying to be a better person, she can’t resist a good bit of juicy gossip.

And from what Eli gathers...two girls dating? No problem, as long as they’re hot and popular. At least creepy guys can fetishize it. But guys liking other guys? Now that...Eli has a feeling that won’t go over well.

As soon as Eli excuses himself, Yasmine gets to work. A few whispers at the snack table when Moon isn’t looking, and news of Demetri’s supposed orientation spread like wildfire.

Demetri, meanwhile, is determined to prove Eli wrong. So what if Yas doesn’t want him anymore (or never did, the mean voice in his head keeps prodding)? He’ll find another hot girl to have on his arm. He’s a top Cobra Kai fighter, after all--it’s not like it’ll be difficult.

He saunters over to a group of girls, leaning up against the wall in what he thinks has to be a very suave way. “Hey ladies,” he says. “Name’s Demetri. I’m sure you’ve heard about me--seasoned Cobra Kai fighter, finalist in the All-Valley tournament. But no need to be intimidated--if any of you beautiful ladies ever need a hand with anything, I’ll--”

“Take it off of the nearest dick to help us out?” one of the girls cuts him off. They all break out in snickers. “No thanks.”

Demetri freezes. Why would they think...?

Then he realizes there’s only one person who could have made them think he was into that sort of thing.

He tenses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but--”

“We’ve heard all we need to,” another girl says, eyeing him up in disgust. “Not interested in getting it on with someone who’s probably had his cock up another guy’s ass, to be blunt. Gross.” Before Demetri can say another word, the girls are gone, turning and slinking hurriedly off into the crowd.

Every time Demetri tries his luck with another girl, he gets similar rebuffs. And every time, he seethes a little more. Fucking figured--timid little Eli couldn’t take the fact that Demetri had worked up the confidence to win over a girl and he hadn’t, so he had to ruin Demetri’s chances with every other girl so he’d feel better.

Besides, Demetri remembers that day from 4 years ago. He remembers that Eli was just as into...all the stuff they did.

Unfortunately, before Demetri has a chance to go over and confront Eli about the whole business, the cops show up. He’ll just have to wait until school, he figures.

Meanwhile, word gets back to Sam that Miguel showed up at her door, apologizing and promising he took all the bad reviews down--apparently Robby didn’t relay any of this to her. When Miguel admits to Demetri about the drunken kiss, Demetri chuckles, slapping him on the back. “My man! Trying to build up a whole harem here, are we?”

Miguel sighs, looking sullen. “I cheated, dude. That’s shitty.”

And then comes the PA announcement. Tory Nichols is starting shit, and Demetri can’t pretend he’s not intrigued to see where this goes.

As soon as the fight breaks out, Demetri is overcome with adrenaline. He whips through the crowd, spinning and throwing kicks and punches like explosive flashes. All he can think of is Eli, Eli, little Eli...oh, when he finds him, there’s going to be hell to pay.

And it doesn’t take long--of course Eli is the one who tries to pull a teacher in to stop the fight. The fucking wimp.

When Eli makes a run for it, Demetri can’t help but smirk when he leads him straight to the computer lab. How very typical, for someone whose hero is Steve Jobs. He grins, something frighteningly sadistic bubbling up inside of him.

For a second it almost scares him, how badly he wants to drive his foot into Eli’s chest.

“Little Eli Moskowitz!” he taunts, before he can stop himself. “Cowering away in the computer lab, just like the little nerd he is. Can’t hide forever, outer. I know damn well what you told them about me.”

He tries door after door, continuing in a singsong voice as he goes. “Oh dear me, what would they say if they knew you enjoyed it too, Eli? Well, I guess they won’t believe me now. But I know. I know you’re no better than me.”

Ever since they were kids, Demetri has been the speedier one. They used to race across the playground at recess, pretending to be Quicksilver and the Flash, but Demetri always came out ahead. Long, gangly legs tended to do that. So when Eli turns to see Demetri in the doorway, and he makes a run for it, he doesn’t get far.

Demetri grabs Eli around the waist and throws him against the wall, whipping kicks and hits into his stomach and thighs faster than he can block. Demetri hardly notices the bruises forming, or the bleeding cuts.

It’s then that Eli does something Demetri doesn’t expect--flips the script, as it were. As Demetri reaches out to strike again, Eli surges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall. Maybe Miyagi-Do specializes in defense, but they still taught him how to throw a good hit or two. He throws defense to the wayside and starts raining punches down on Demetri--sloppy, uncoordinated, but something the “Strike First” Cobra Kai student is entirely unprepared to defend.

When his chest is stinging and his head throbbing, Demetri can’t take anymore. Eli was a lot more...well, powerful than he expected. At his first opportunity, he turns and books it. Maybe this isn’t a fight he can win after all.

Eli doesn’t chase. As angry as he still is at Demetri, he can’t stop thinking about the mars and bruises and cuts that appeared across Demetri’s face and skin as he punched him, mirroring his own, and he feels sick. He can’t hurt Demetri anymore, no matter what Demetri thinks of him now.

Demetri just makes it to the staircase when he sees Miguel motionless on the floor, Robby Keene looking over the railing. Sam LaRusson hovering over him. He runs to Miguel’s side, world crumbling around him.

Turns out he showed mercy, just like Mr. Lawrence always said to. And look where it got him. When John Kreese offers him a place in a new Cobra Kai, determined to make the Miyagi-Dos pay for hurting Miguel, Demetri isn’t about to say no.

In his grief, it seems like the only option.

Season 3

On the first day back at school, Mitch is quick to remind Demetri that there are other girls in the world besides Yasmine. Surely it won’t be too hard to work his charms on some of the freshmen--after all, word about that little incident with Eli when they were 12 can’t have gotten across the entire school, can it?

“Well, hello, ladies!” he purrs to a passing group, leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant way possible. “Welcome to West Valley High. I know freshman year can be intimidating, high school classes and new people and all, but if you ever need help with anything, I’m--”

“--the scrawny little gay kid who ran his pussy ass away from the world’s easiest fight?” one of the girls finishes scornfully. “Yeah, we know.”

As they walk away, he notices one shoot a flirty smile at a passing Eli, surrounded by his squad of Miyagi-Do losers. “Ooooh, you’re famous now, E!” he hears Chris say, and his blood boils all over again.

Ah. So everyone knew about Eli’s little triumph.

Mitch saunters over, and Demetri follows his lead. “Got something to say?!” he snaps.

Demetri’s eyes lock with Eli’s, and he glowers down at him. Eli’s face is tight, expression almost...sad.

Not like he’d expect anything less from that little crybaby.

“Oh, little Eli,” he chides. “I’d like to see you try and hide behind security.”

“I don’t need to,” Eli mutters, not breaking eye contact.

“Everything all right here?”

At the sound of the counselor’s voice, Eli does something unexpectedly bold. He sidles up to Demetri’s side and presses into it, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “No, Counselor Blatt, we’re all friends here!” he says, offering that shy little Eli smile that made every adult in a nearby vicinity go mad with protectiveness.

Eli’s arm is tight around his neck--like a chokehold. But, Demetri notices after a few moments, it’s shaking--the grip almost frantic. Like he’s scared of when he’ll have to let go.

Odd.

Demetri turns, and his and Eli’s eyes lock. He tries to give the shorter boy the most intense, seething glare he can under his forced smile, but Eli returns the look with equal intensity. Demetri jostles his backpack his backpack and thumps him on the chest, feeling an odd compulsion to touch his old friend right back.

Maybe he missed feeling Eli’s body underneath him. But that wasn’t a thought he could afford to spend a lot of brainpower on right now. “Yeah!” he says. Of course we’re still friends! Of course you didn’t fuck up my love life and humiliate me to the entire school because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting some and you weren’t!

When the counselor chides them about having somewhere to be, Eli just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, of course, Counselor Blatt. Sorry.”

As Eli pulls away, he pats Demetri’s shoulder a couple times. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.

Demetri can’t tell if it’s serious--if Eli still cares--or if it’s just a cruel mockery of their old touch. He’s not sure he wants to know.

When Demetri runs into Samantha LaRusso in the hospital and she insists she wants to help, he hardly expects a whole fucking fundraiser gleefully using Miguel as their poster child. As though the Miyagi-Dos weren’t the ones who put him in the hospital in the first place. When he catches a glimpse of the carwash while driving Mitch to practice, he decides he’s going to do something about it.

Beating up the kid is an easy fight, getting the money with Mitch and the others a sinch. Maybe at some point he would’ve felt bad for this--pummeling some short kid and then taking his charity money. But all he can think of is Miguel, his best friend, lying in a white gown and hooked up to wires. Because of this kid and his stupid “peaceful” dojo.

Peaceful, Demetri’s ass.

When Demetri walks into the cafeteria the following Monday, he’s not sure what he expects to see at Yasmine and Moon’s table, the place where he would be sitting, under different circumstances--but it definitely is not Eli Moskowitz with his hair dyed bright blue and spiked up. Miyagi-Do blue. Apparently all that coolness cred he felt he got from “scaring” Demetri off in the school brawl has gotten to his head, and he’s playing out his new “badassery” up to 11. He’s showing something to Yasmine and Moon, and they’re smiling and giggling. Yasmine, of all people, is smiling at nerdy little Eli’s antics.

Demetri squints, and sees that Eli’s showing the two girls a comic book--he recognizes the copy. It’s Eli’s limited edition Captain Marvel comic book, signed by Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Demetri remembers standing in line with him at a con to get it a few years back--he’s pretty protective of the thing.

And now he’s using it to impress girls? Because apparently Yasmine and Moon are into that kind of thing? Oh, but of course Yasmine couldn’t be into nerd shit when DEMETRI was dating her, could she?

And those gooey eyes Moon is giving Eli, her little giggles--Demetri doesn’t like them one bit. What, now Eli’s worth her affections--now that his “nerdiness” is cool? Aren’t she and Yasmine a stupid item, anyways?

Deciding he’s going to put a stop to this, Demetri saunters over, lunch tray clutched so hard his knuckles are turning white. Before the group can react to his presence, Demetri picks up his chocolate milk carton and dumps it all over Eli’s stupid blue hair, making sure to get plenty on the rare comic book in front of him.

“Oh, I hope that wasn’t important, was it Eli?” he taunts, voice thick with mock sympathy. “That sure would be a shame.”

Eli turns to look at him, eyes wide with heartbroken shock. For a moment, the anger doesn’t set in.

“I had to wait in line 5 hours to get that,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

“Sure do.” Demetri smirks. “And it took all of 5 seconds to completely ruin. How tragic.”

Eli tenses, eyes darting around for a couple seconds. Demetri starts to walk away, his point made, when he feels an iron grip on his wrist. He turns to see Eli smirking at him, clutching his arm with more force than he ever thought possible from the once-timid boy.

“Careful there, Demetri,” Eli sneers. “Coming all the way across the cafeteria to bother me when you’ve got your cool Cobra Kai friends to hang out with? People might think you’re a little...obsessed with me.” Yasmine and Moon snicker, and Demetri bristles as he realizes the implication.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised since you love obsessing over other boys, don’t you?” Eli goes on, like his point isn’t clear enough. “Y’know, I feel bad for Yasmine. I mean, any idiot could tell she used you as a beard, but I had no idea it was a mutual thing.”

Demetri tenses, willing himself not to lose his cool. “Really letting that little victory get to your head, aren’t you, Eli? Honestly, I was going easy on you. Now I know not to next time.”

It’s at that moment that Sam LaRusso decides to show up, sliding up next to Eli and glowering up at Demetri. “There won’t be a next time if I have anything to say about it,” she retorts.

Demetri can’t help but scoff. Of course Sam LaRusso would be all too eager to defend her little pet nerd now, even though she was all too happy to laugh at him with her mean girl friends a year ago. “I’m not scared of you,” he says. “Like you’d start any fight daddy couldn’t bail you out of. Or that doesn’t end with your ex boyfriend getting thrown over a railing because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

It’s a low blow, but Demetri doesn’t care. It’s hard not to look at this girl and see part of the reason Miguel might never be able to walk again.

Sam LaRusso shoves him just as the godawful counselor is sauntering over, but to hell with it--maybe Demetri could spin this to his advantage.

“She hit me, Counselor Blatt!” he cries out, pointing at Sam. “Attacked and physically assaulted me, completely unprovoked!”

“That’s not true,” Eli mumbles, eyes darting. Flawlessly slipping back into the poor little Eli role in a way that never fails to make Demetri seethe. “It wasn’t unprovoked. He started all this by destroying my limited-edition comic book for no reason.”

Demetri puts on his most convincing remorseful face and sighs. “Look, that was an accident. I just tripped while I was walking and my milk spilled. Anyhow, if your book’s that valuable, you probably shouldn’t bring it into a school cafeteria where people are more than likely going to spill food on it.”

He’d like to see the dumb counselor argue with that.

“Look, I don’t want excuses. I just want you all to respect each other.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Demetri turns to give Eli a forced smile. “Nothing but 100% respect in this environment going forward, I assure you. Sorry if we caused any problems.”

Please, just anything to make her leave.

With one last warning to Sam LaRusso, the counselor is gone. Demetri turns to the two Miyagi-Dos and smirks.

“To hell with respect,” he sneers. “Your lot hardly deserve it.”

It doesn’t surprise Demetri when Eli and his little gang of Miyagi-Do losers decide to start shit in gym class. What he isn’t expecting is for Eli and his stupid blue hair to start running next to him--right after he’s tried and failed to catch Yasmine’s attention after scoring a goal.

He’s been thinking about her all morning--was Eli right about her? Did she only use him as a cover-up?

...would no one ever want to date him for him?

Well, maybe if he won Yasmine back, he could disprove that. If Moon was going to be hanging off of Eli’s arm before too long, chances were her and Yasmine’s relationship’s days were numbered.

Whatever Eli is about to say, Demetri can already tell it’s not going to help.

And it doesn’t. “Wow, Demetri. Few guys are so bad in a relationship that they manage to turn their girlfriend gay. I hope you feel accomplished.”

Demetri balls his fists. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You really did have a good thing going with her,” Eli sighed, voice laced with condescending pity. “It’s a shame she decided she could do better than some belligerent Cobra Kai douchebag.”

And then suddenly Eli lunges for him and tackles him, knocking him to the ground just as easily as Demetri once did to Eli at the mall.

Not that it ended up mattering all that much--Demetri was able to talk the Cobra Kai’s way out of trouble in the principal’s office, just as he so often could. Nonetheless, it seemed Eli was hardly turning out to be as much of a pushover as he thought.

When Mitch and the guys invited Demetri to go to Golf N Stuff--fuck around for a bit, cause some mayhem--he wasn’t about to say no. The thrill took over, running around, snatching tickets and prizes away, throwing them in the trash--he almost felt as powerful as Kyler must have, all those months ago when he tossed the lesser kids’ backpacks in the garbage. Is this how it felt, to be on top? To have everyone else too scared to mess with you?

Because Demetri loved it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Sam LaRusso and her little posse arriving to confront them in the laser tag arena--including Eli, face hardened and ready to fight.

Things seemed to be going pretty poorly--that was, until Tory Nichols and the backup arrived. That reduced Sam LaRusso to a sniveling mess, and finally it looked like this would be an easy finish.

Demetri found himself only stalling for a second when the way cleared for him to go at Eli. Something about the sudden terror on the other boy’s face made him hesitate, but not for long. Eli threw a weak punch, and Demetri quickly flipped him onto the ground, pulling his arm up behind him.

“No, please, stop, Deme, stop! It’s me!”

Deme...

Eli’s old nickname for him.

Demetri pauses, and suddenly he feels sick. Deme...Eli’s nickname. Eli.

Wasn’t all of this for Eli? To protect Eli?

And now here he was, about to hurt him. The one thing he swore he was going to stop everyone else from doing.

And then comes the goading cries from Tory, Mitch, and the others. Do it! Finish him! He deserves it!

He deserves it.

And then Demetri remembers what happened to Miguel when he didn’t take his chance to finish the fight with Robby Keene. Suddenly Demetri’s running out of the end of a hallway again, seeing Miguel’s motionless body lying on the stairs, and the rage and horror and mind-numbing devastation hit him all over again.

“Demetri, finish him!”

In a split second, Demetri makes his decision. Eli’s arm snaps in half.

All it takes is one terrible, pained scream from Eli for Demetri’s entire world to come crashing down on him. What the fuck did he just do?

He can’t even hear the other Cobras, gleefully congratulating him and sneering at the “pussy” on the floor. All he can hear are Eli’s pained sobs.

He’d seen Eli cry before, but never like this. Never thanks to him.

When everyone congratulates him next practice, Demetri barely hears. He’s just numb. All he can see is Eli, curled up and crying on the dirty cement floor. When Tory tells him she didn’t think he was going to do it, all he can manage out is that Miyagi-Do had it coming for hurting Miguel.

And as if his week can’t get any worse, here come Kyler and his goons sauntering into the dojo like they own the damn place. Demetri does his best to convince Mr. Kreese this is by no means a wise idea, but the sensei will not hear of it.

When Kyler and Brucks realize who he is, it only makes Demetri more livid. “Oh shit, it’s the yogurt backpack kid! Lip’s little friend! I thought he moved away!” When a fighting ring is formed, giving the new recruits a chance to “earn their spot,” Demetri is all too ready for combat.

He’s horrified at how quickly Brucks takes down Mitch, how quickly his friend is ushered out the door. It was bad enough to see Bert go, but this...this is different.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alone.

When Kyler steps forward, looking for an opponent, Demetri volunteers before anyone else can. Mr. Kreese shoots him a surprised look, but he doesn’t care. This fucko has been making his life hell for years--he can already tell this is going to be therapeutic.

Demetri doesn’t hold back. The fight has barely started before Kyler’s had enough. A few fast hits and his lip’s already bloody, and he’s backing away. “No...please stop...”

And suddenly Demetri’s back in the library, on that afternoon that seems like an eternity ago, watching Kyler grip Eli by the throat. Hearing him sneer “who would ever want to kiss THAT shit?” like Eli was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. Feeling absolutely powerless, hand clutching the back of a chair as he burned with rage that had nowhere to go.

Well, he wasn’t powerless now.

And before he knows it Demetri has Kyler pinned to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Because, he realizes, at the end of the day, who gives a fuck if Eli’s on the other side?

That’s still his Eli, even after everything. The same Eli he stood by for over 10 years, the same Eli who he wished so long that he could protect from everything, the same Eli who felt like he had to constantly hide a tiny red line on his face because his peers collectively decided--for no good reason at all--that it was ugly.

And maybe he couldn’t make those people hurt the way he wanted to then, but right now...well, he could hurt at least one. And that was enough.

He doesn’t stop until Kyler is practically pulverized and his hands are drenched in blood. After throwing his last punch, he smirks, leaning down to whisper into Kyler’s ear.

“Now who’d want to kiss THAT shit? That’s right, asshole--I remember.”

Demetri kicks Kyler’s limp form as he walks away. He shoots Brucks a glare as he falls back in line--just for good measure.

When Miguel comes back to school, Demetri’s one of the first to greet him at the door. “Cobra Kai’s still going strong! It’s going to be great to have you back!” He’s a little confused as to why Miguel seems so hesitant, but he doesn’t worry too much about it--they can sort through all that later.

Miguel’s certainly taken aback by the clunky cast he sees on Eli’s arm when he runs into him in the hall--but perhaps even moreso by the fact that he has both shamelessly dyed his hair blue and spiked it up in a mohawk and is currently walking the school hallways with Moon on his (unbroken) arm. As it turns out, once word got back to Moon that Yasmine was the one who had shamelessly whispered around the school about Demetri being gay, she had broken things off with her. And, with his new “coolness” upgrade, she’d taken quite a liking to Eli.

Not like she had any way of knowing he’d been planning on Yasmine’s cruel gossip, after all.

But the cast, Miguel quickly learns, has a much darker backstory than anything he could have expected.

He wastes no time confronting Demetri about it in the lunchroom. “I heard what happened with Eli. How could you do that?”

Demetri’s stomach clutches. He scowls, determined not to show his discomfort.

“Wow!” He scoffs. “We go to all the trouble of getting payback on those assholes for getting you thrown over that railing, and this is the thanks we get?”

Miguel shakes his head, horrified. “Dude, who cares what dojo Eli’s in? He’s our friend! And in any case, it’s not his fault what happened to me. What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. Demetri’s face hardens. He can only imagine how angry Mr. Kreese would be with him if he caught him showing any kind of weakness. Any kind of second-guessing.

But he can’t help it. Glimpsing Eli in that cast for the first time...

“Look, the Miyagi-Dos were the ones who picked a fight with us,” Demetri retorts. “We just had to do what we had to so they’d back off and leave us alone. We had to finish the fight.”

Miguel pauses, looking pained. “This isn’t...this isn’t you, Demetri. You’re letting Kreese get in your head. He’s trying to manipulate you, get you to...obsess over revenge so you’ll hurt people. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to. Eli, or anyone else.”

Demetri clenches his fists. “What would you know about how I feel about Eli?”

“Look, I can’t claim I know what’s going on between you two,” Miguel amends. “But you have to believe me--Kreese is dangerous. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you, Demetri. Just...come to Sensei Lawrence’s new dojo. Please. Things can be like they used to. You don’t have to be in this...this war.”

This gives Demetri pause. “He...made a new dojo?”

Okay, so he’s still not Mr. Lawrence’s biggest fan--the man is an asshole at the best of times. But to be able to train with Miguel again...to be able to be badass without being expected to be some soldier...

He can’t finish speaking before Brucks’s voice rings out through the cafeteria. “Look everyone, Lip’s got a dick in his hand!”

Demetri looks up to see Eli being held by the cast, eyes darting around as the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter. Involuntarily, Demetri bristles.

And there it is again, that feeling of being the helpless kid in the library as Eli’s taunted. And even after all this time...he still hates it.

Miguel turns to him, shaking his head. “So these are your friends now? I thought you were better than that.”

And just like that, Miguel’s gone. Gone from the Cobra Kai table, gone from Demetri’s life.

It makes him wonder if he’s making a huge mistake. But he knows he can’t back out now--not when he’s this far in. Who would even want to take him back? Probably not Miguel and Mr. Lawrence--despite what Miguel said, Demetri knows there’s no way he’s going to forgive him so easily for hurting their other friend. And certainly not Eli.

What makes it even worse is seeing Eli later that day, curled up against some lockers with Moon. Moon is tracing over his cast in colored sharpie, slowly transforming the dick pic into a beautiful landscape and night sky. Eli is bragging about how the arm-breaking didn’t hurt that bad.

Demetri remembers when that soft little smile was reserved only for him, and a pit starts to form in his stomach.

Well, no use bitching. You did this to yourself.

It seems like the world is out to just make Demetri’s existence in Cobra Kai as shitty as possible these days. Mitch and Bert are gone, Miguel isn’t coming back, Brucks is being a royal douchebag like always, and perhaps worst of all, Robby Keene shows up at the dojo. Demetri tries his damndest to appeal to Mr. Kreese about how outrageous this is--this is the kid who paralyzed Miguel in the fucking first place, what’s the point of dojo-wide revenge if they just take in the main culprit like an old buddy? But of course Mr. Kreese spouts some nonsense about how they need all the help they can get for the All-Valley, and sometimes you have to be allies with people you aren’t the biggest fans of, blah blah blah. To make matters worse, Tory--not a friend exactly, but probably the closest thing Demetri’s got to one left--is getting far too chummy with Robby for Demetri’s taste.

Maybe Demetri’s insane, but it seems like more and more ridiculous shit is being handwaved in the name of...what? Winning a karate tournament? Getting revenge for a kid who’s already recovered, and doesn’t even seem to want it?

When word gets back to Cobra Kai that Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang are teaming up, Kreese sends the students on a special mission: Show the other dojos that even with their combined forces, they’re no match for Cobra Kai. It seems like a waste of time to Demetri--why antagonize other dojos just minding their business? It’s not like there was anything worth fighting for in this dumb war anymore, considering Miguel was on his feet again (literally AND figuratively). Nonetheless, Demetri finds he’s itching for a good fight--it’s been way too long since he’s charged into a full-fledged battle.

Maybe this will help him get it out of his system, if nothing else.

When the fight breaks out at the LaRussos, it doesn’t take long for Demetri to be overtaken by the thrill of it. Just like he was at the school fight. Just like he was at the tournament. He’s zipping through the house, landing kicks and punches left and right. And it feels good. With everything having been so awful lately, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alive.

And then he lands a fierce kick, and Brucks chest-bumps him. “Hell yeah! kick some ass! Dumb losers never had a chance.”

Brucks. The same kid who laughed when he saw Eli starting to cry about the comments he made on his lip. The same kid claiming Kyler tossing his backpack into a yogurt-filled trash can was “brute.” And now here he was trying to be buddy-buddy with him.

Everything comes crashing down on Demetri at once.

Miguel’s speech, saying Kreese is manipulating him. Saying Kreese doesn’t care about him. Kreese cherry-picking what does and doesn’t count as vengeance--hurting Eli, someone who had nothing to do with Miguel’s fall, does, but teaming up with the kid responsible for said fall apparently does not. Demetri’s friends being booted from Cobra Kai one by one, just for not being strong enough.

The sound of Eli’s screams and sobs in a dark laser tag room.

Miguel was right, wasn’t he? Kreese never cared about getting payback for him. He only cared about starting a war for his own sadistic pleasures.

Demetri hears grunting and whimpering, and he looks up to see two of the other Cobras kneeing Eli in the chest over and over. Pinning him into an arm bar.

“Yo, ‘Mete!” one calls out. “Free shot!”

Eli looks up, gaze full of fear and pain. Bright blue irises glinting with welling tears.

Once upon a time, Demetri made a promise to himself that he would stick with karate, aggravating as it may be, so he would never have to see that look on Eli’s face again. It’s time, he figures, that he finally made good on that.

His face contorts into a snarl, and he runs to Eli. Eli closes his eyes and scrunches his face, bracing for a pain that never comes.

Demetri kicks one Cobra to the wayside and smashes the other into a glass table with perhaps more force and adrenaline than he’s used all night.

When he turns to Eli, the other boy backs away, eyes still wide with terror. Demetri feels sick to his stomach, and the tears come before he can stop them.

“God, Eli, I’m so sorry,” he splutters. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was all so fucked up, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I’ll never hurt you like that again, but if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I totally understand, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I was so awful to you, and I didn’t listen to you, and I should’ve been there for you, and I’m such a piece of shit friend and--”

“DEMETRI!”

Finally Eli raises his voice enough that Demetri pauses. “...yeah, Eli?”

“Please stop talking. I forgive you. Now are you going to shut up and help me finish this?” He raises a hand, as if to initiate their old handshake. An olive branch.

Demetri grins so wide he thinks his face is going to break, and he grips Eli’s hand like a lifeline. Something to finally pull him out of the darkness. “Yeah.”

They’re a lethal fighting team. Between Demetri landing speedy hits and Eli protecting him and shielding them both with his bulked-up form (where did he get all that muscle? Demetri wonders), they dispatch half the Cobras in minutes. Whatever rush Demetri was feeling fighting when he first got here is nothing compared to fighting with Eli.

When they stop the fight between Tory and Sam, Tory wastes no time voicing her disdain for the ex-Cobras. “You’d better watch your back,” she spits at Demetri, and he feels a chill run through him. Turns out this girl is terrifying when she’s not fighting on your side.

Eli intercepts her as she leaves, staring her down defiantly in a very un-Eli-like manner. “You’d better watch yours,” he growls. “Touch him, and I’ll end you.”

Demetri glances over in surprise. When did Eli get so bold?

Well...he thinks he could grow to like it.

Season 4 (because fuck it)

Demetri is hardly expecting Mr. LaRusso and Mr. Lawrence to forgive him, never mind let him into their new dojo. But life has a lot of pleasant surprises in store for him, it seems, after the shitshow it recently put him through. It’s also possible Eli (and maybe Miguel too) but in a good word for him.

Demetri can’t stop apologizing to Eli. Seemingly every day, he finds a new thing to apologize for. Eli gets aggravated with it before long, having to reassure Demetri at least 50 separate times that he forgives him for everything. Nonetheless, Demetri refuses to stop--because he’ll never stop being sorry.

Or trying to find new ways to make it up to Eli. Going easy on him during sparring. Buying him lunch after practice. Helping him perfect some of the most badass Cobra moves.

Things end between Eli and Moon. Eli can’t fully elaborate on why--he just tells Demetri something didn’t feel quite right. The spark died out, like Demetri’s adrenaline rush slowly seeping away toward the end of a fight. That, and, Demetri gathers, something seems to have been distracting Eli from his girlfriend as of late.

Most likely the approaching, high stakes All-Valley. Karate is Serious Business, as they’ve both embraced now.

Rumor has it Yasmine and Moon are trying again, Yasmine realizing for seemingly the first time how awful she’s really been and making an effort to be better. Moon makes her want to be better--more than Demetri ever did, he realizes. And maybe that’s okay--he and Yasmine probably just weren’t right for each other.

Then one day, after yet another one of Demetri’s long-winded apologies, Eli offers something other than an exasperated. “It’s okay. Seriously.” There’s a pause before Eli quietly says “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Demetri blurts out, baffled. Everything Eli’s done has paled in comparison to his own atrocities.

“For outing you,” Eli says simply. “That was fucked. And it wasn’t my place, even if I was mad at you.”

“It’s all right.” Demetri shrugs. “You were right, anyways.”

Eli gives him a strange look. “I was?”

“Yeah, I mean...” Demetri laughs dryly. “I don’t...like girls. I pretended I did, because I felt like I was supposed to. That’s what people expect you to do when you’re a top athlete and all that. But dating Yasmine, chasing other girls, it always felt...empty. Like I was just acting out a role in a play or something. And at the end of the day, I think...” He pauses. “I think I was always looking at you.”

Because the last few months have made him realize something. Training with Eli, teaching Eli how to protect himself, watching Eli step up and defend him from the mistrusting stares and the scornful whispers...

Just how much of the person he’s become is thanks to wanting to protect Eli. The fact that that was always how all this started.

“I love you,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “I know I did a shitty job of showing it, and I know you were with Moon and you’re not like that, but I need you to know, and I understand if you don’t feel--”

Eli cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pinning him up against the dojo wall with unexpected aggressiveness.

When Eli pulls away, he’s smiling softly. The same smile he gave Moon in the hall as she drew on his cast--the smile that’s once again all Demetri’s.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Why do you think I broke up with Moon? Every time I was with her...I couldn’t stop wishing it was you. She’ll never know me like you do.”

And Kreese had better look out because Miyagi Fang’s next big power couple is a force to be reckoned with--the snarky, frighteningly fast-attacking ex-Cobra, and the buff, blue-mohawked Miyagi-Do with more inner peace than anyone would expect.

SOME RANDOM SIDENOTES ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PUTTING THIS ALL IN THE TAGS

~I’m sorry if anyone is OOC in this--I know Johnny is kind of a fuck, but he genuinely WAS pretty crappy to Eli at first and who knows if he would’ve treated him any better if he didn’t “flip the script”??? ~Dark/Evil Demetri is so fun but also so awful to write--I hope you like him being an absolute fuck because the Corruption Arc is REAL ~Yes, I DO in fact fully believe Demetri would go on a crazed revenge quest just like Eli/Hawk did out of his grief for Miguel--the boy absolutely loves Miguel and arguably would want vengeance as much as Eli if their roles were swapped!!! Because Demetri cares about Miguel SO FUCKING MUCH even if it’s not as obvious as it is with Eli but that’s a rant for another post ~I included YasMoon because fuck it, I thought it’d be interesting. That and, unlike the Cobra Kai writers, I am not at all afraid of what conservative audiences will say, so I am not afraid to make things as gay as possible. ~There’s a good chance I swapped Kyler and Brucks’ places near the end solely so I could have Demetri beat the fuck out of Kyler because I just really need that ~Yes, even without formally becoming “Hawk,” Eli could learn how to be a conniving manipulative little shit if he wanted to be. Look at some of the shit he pulls with the counselor in canon Season 3!!! Boy sure as hell knows how to play the victim. ~Honestly not sure if being outed as gay is better or worse than being outed as a bed-wetter, but I had to think of something that would pack the same kind of emotional punch. In Eli’s feeble defense, the West Valley High kids don’t seem like the types to be like...especially violent against queer kids (otherwise NO WAY would Moon and Piper have been able to be that open about their relationship), they’d just be assholes about it. So Eli wasn’t putting Demetri in legit danger here so much as just opening him up to a lot of ridicule. Which is still fucked, but hey, I DID warn you this would be kind of fucked up XD ~Maybe short, concise apologies work for Eli, bUT NOT FOR DEMETRI THE RAMBLER ~Dark Demetri chasing Eli through the school like a goddamn serial killer = 10/10 gave myself a big Spook writing ~Yes, Eli does still have (and always had) his “Hawk” traits, even without the formal “transformation.” I just think his “Hawk” side would be a little more subtle and subdued if he were in Miyagi-Do, but it’s still there for sure.

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tossawary · 3 years

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Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away!

Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing "I can and I will ruin your entire life" glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes!

Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives. “Holy shit, I’m good,” he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction. “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!”

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course.

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.”

He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them!

No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item!

Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?!

All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this.

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing.

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction.

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.”

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?”

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny.

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post.

Shang Qinghua does not miss the man’s unconcealed “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news” expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects!

Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head, “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.”

(Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!)

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends.

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth.

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge.

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things!

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua says.

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people.

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person*

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.”

Shen Jiu: “...”

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company.

“Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.”

“-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying.

Binghe nods.

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd.

Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still... kids) look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead.

“Shang-Shishu!”

“How dearly this boy is loved!” the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head. “More than life itself! More than death itself!”

“Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.”

Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes.

Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

“Oh, shit” is right!

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration.

“Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.”

Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression.

“What?”

“...It’s my name.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua repeats.

“It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.”

“Oh.”

“Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain!

“You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.”

“Ah, alright. Thanks.”

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name.

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life.

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.)

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name.

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore.

Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately.

“I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses.

“She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses.

Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was… I was really, really stupid, Uncle.”

“Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again.

Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise!

Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now.

Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist.

“Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all stupid luck! Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!”

It sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew!

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ.

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet.

“...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.”

“He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.”

“...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.”

Aha, yikes.

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying.

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.”

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps.

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.”

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word

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sassy-starker · 4 years

Text

Five Times Stark Industries Employees Saw Peter Parker

(And One Time They All Found Out Who He Was)

Word count: 9128

CW: none

Notes: I promised @tony-is-my-daddy that I would tag them in my fluff fic and that was literally almost 2 weeks ago so I’m really, really sorry. I got caught up with finals and everything, but, I finally present to you, A Self-Indulgent Fic Where Peter and Tony Act Sappy And Confuse Employees

Peter couldn’t focus. His eyes were bleary and his mind was wandering. His attention was completely taken up by the hollowness in his chest. The workshop felt all too empty and quiet, but he knew that background noise wouldn’t help. He needed someone there. He needed people— hell, even just a person— to be with him. His mind felt distant, yet all too aware at the same time and it was driving him insane. He hated the winter. He hated seasonal affective disorder. He hated this.

In a rash decision, before his brain could even think, Peter pulled out his Stark Phone and tapped into messages. He tapped on his most recent contact and began to type.

Peter: hey, do you think i could go down to the intern labs and just work down there?

Peter: like the ones with the individual workspaces?

Peter: i need to be around people

Tony: Of course! I should be done with my meeting at about 5 so then we can go binge shitty rom-coms and cuddle and eat Chinese food

Tony: Pepper saw me on my phone. Gotta go

Peter: <3

Tony: <3

Peter, now with confirmation, gathered up what he was working on in his backpack and shoved his phone in his pocket before getting up and moving to the elevator.

“Where to, Peter?” FRIDAY asked him.

“Fifty-fourth floor please.”

The elevator moved relatively quickly down the floors, and it wasn’t long until it dinged and the doors opened, revealing rows and rows of worktables with interns scattered around and working on individual projects. Peter knew that they moved on and off the floor, depending on whether they were working in groups with their department or solo.

People looked over to the unknown young man while he set his stuff down on a table. He paid no mind, feeling comforted by having people around. He always felt nice when he knew that he wasn’t all alone, that the world was still there and time was still moving on. Just as he sat down, though, a lab director from some floor below them walked right up to the desk.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re allowed to be here,” he said in a sickly sweet, obviously fake voice.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked politely, looking up to the man.

“This space is for interns and employees. You don’t appear to be either,” the man elaborated.

“No, I’m allowed to be here,” Peter shot back simply before looking away from the man and reaching for his bag to pull out his project materials.

“Who do you think you are?” the lab director interrogated. “I’ll get you kicked out of this building!”

“I’m Peter-” the young adult started, but was cut off by FRIDAY interrupting.

“No last names, Peter,” the AI warned. “We don’t want anything to happen to you. I can assure that Peter is allowed to be here.”

Peter simply looked up and gave a shrug to the lab director before continuing to pull out the materials from his bag. The man looked up to the ceiling fearfully before retreating back to his own workspace.

That was the first time they saw Peter.

The next time Stark Industries employees saw Peter could only be described as chaotic.

The door to the stairs opened and somebody rushed out, weaving their way around people and workstations with practiced ease, all while laughing so hard that there were tears falling from their eyes.

Upon closer inspection, the employees realized that it was, in fact, the mysterious young man from only a week earlier.

Moments after Peter rushed in, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, and out ran the Tony Stark, covered in red and blue glitter. Not to mention that he looked furious, but not the type of furious where he was genuinely angry. It was more like that fond kind of furious, where you’re annoyed and upset, but can’t help but find the situation a bit funny and the person responsible is somebody you care about.

Tony ran out of the elevator, also weaving around his employees and their projects, obviously chasing the young man. By that point, though, the young man was laughing so hard that he had slowed down considerably. Thanks to that fact, Tony caught up and tackled him to the ground. All the employees were frozen in shock and just watching as their boss stood up and rubbed glitter off his skin to get it onto the man he was now standing above.

“No!” shouted the younger, getting up from his spot on the floor and giving the engineer a light shove. Both of them were still smiling and laughing about it though. “This is gonna take forever to wash off!”

“How do you think I feel?” Tony retorted, sprinkling some glitter into the other man’s curly hair. Once again, the younger man gave him a light push.

That’s when the two of them became acutely aware of the attention they had garnered.

“Sorry for disrupting your work,” Peter apologized to the crowd of employees sheepishly.

“We’ll send somebody to clean up the mess we made,” Tony told them, eyeing the trail of glitter he had left on the floor, “but get back to work.”

Hesitantly, they all began to go back to their workstations, but kept their eyes on the two men as they talked quietly and walked back to the elevator. Nobody said a word until the elevator doors had closed, obscuring their view of their boss and the mysterious man.

“Who the fuck is that kid?” Ashley questioned, turning to the coworkers she was in an experimenting group with.

“I have no idea,” Dylan answered, slowly tearing his eyes away from the elevator doors.

“He’s definitely a weird one,” Jenna piped up decisively. “I mean, have you ever even seen a picture of Tony Stark smiling that fondly?”

“And he talked back to him!” Dylan added on. “Like, holy shit, that kid shoved him and Stark only laughed!”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things while working here,” Ashley told them, sparing a glance at the elevator, “but this is definitely one of the strangest.”

“Please?” Peter begged.

“No,” Tony answered for what felt like the hundredth time. “Gossip spreads across the building quickly and basically every employee is already trying to figure out who you are! I don’t want them finding out and leaking it to the press!”

“But they already know, so what does it matter? It’s not like the rumors will go away if they just don’t see me again!” Peter argued, jumping up from where he was seated in order to stand in front of his boyfriend.

“The rumors will die down if they don’t see you again. They’ll eventually move onto talking about something else,” Tony replied, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him close. Peter embraced the man and the two just stood there for a few moments.

“I just want you to be safe,” Tony told him quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Peter responded, pulling away but still holding onto his boyfriend’s hands. “All your employees sign NDA’s, so even if they did leak something to the press, which I doubt they would, legal would be on their ass and sue them for all they’re worth.”

Tony sighed, realizing that Peter had a good argument that he just couldn’t counter.

“Fine. You can come help me with the presentation.”

Peter pumped his fist in the air and let out a whoop in victory, causing Tony to roll his eyes fondly.

+++

When the employees working in R&D walked into the small auditorium on the 16th floor, they knew Tony Stark was going to be there, but they didn’t expect the infamous mystery man to be there. On the stage, Peter was talking animatedly about something or other while Tony just listened, a fond smile on his face and his eyes sparkling.

The crowd walked in hesitantly, everybody’s eyes on the two men up front, who still hadn’t acknowledged them. When everyone was seated and the clock struck the exact time the presentation was supposed to start, the two finally turned to them to get started.

“Hello, R&D department! I hope you’re all doing well!” Tony greeted with his press smile on. “You all know who I am, but I have somebody else here with me today.”

“What’s up? I’m Peter,” the younger man introduced himself, hitting the woah as he said his name.

“Did you just-” Tony started with a sigh before cutting himself off. “You and your fucking tiktok dances.”

“You say that as if you didn’t ask me to teach you the Renegade last week!”

“That was different! That was for the Stark Industries tiktok! I need to be relatable so I stay relevant!” Tony defended.

“And yet you still won’t let me teach you the dance to ‘Say So’ even though it’s iconic!” Peter shot back.

“You and I have different ideas of what counts as iconic,” Tony said dryly before turning back to the crowd of employees.

“Anyway, today Peter and I will be telling you all about the new prosthetics line that your department will begin developing!”

Despite the importance of the presentation, the employees were only half listening as they were more focused on whispering about the mystery boy.

“Okay but what the actual fuck happened at the beginning of this?” Jenna asked quietly as she leaned over to her coworker on the right of her.

“No fucking clue. I can't believe this dude is just casually talking and joking around with Tony fucking Stark!” Dylan whispered in reply, not taking his eyes off the stage.

“And apparently he taught Stark how to do the Renegade. That’s fucking insane,” Ashley added from Jenna’s left.

The three turned their attention back to the two men on stage, finally listening to what they were saying again.

“Street smarts!” the younger man exclaimed, jumping in about something they were saying before.

“Stay alert out there,” both Peter and Tony quoted with large smiles. As if nothing happened, they jumped right back into the presentation.

“This is the weirdest fucking thing in the world,” Dylan declared quietly.

“I second that,” Ashley muttered.

“I third that,” Jenna added on without taking her eyes off the stage.

The presentation went on a bit longer, but it didn’t drag on. It helped that the entire time the two men were joking around and making the employees progressively more and more confused.

Peter and Tony wrapped up the presentation soon enough and the R&D employees began to file out, most of them keeping their eyes on the two men talking quietly on stage. Jenna, Ashley, and Dylan walked out together, some of the last to exit the auditorium, and the three made it to the elevator before Jenna realized she left her jacket behind. She told her friends that she would catch up to them and way back to the now empty seats. Not paying attention to the world around her, she looked for where she had sat and made her way through the row until she reached her seat and found her cardigan.

“See, I told you it would be okay,” said a voice from the stage. Jenna turned around and saw Peter talking to Tony, the men standing close together.

“You know I just get worried,” the billionaire replied, his voice more sincere than Jenna could’ve ever imagined. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I can take care of myself, Tones. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Jenna felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she started to make her way out of the rows of seats and back to the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Just because I don’t need to worry doesn’t mean I won’t. I care so much about you, Peter. You know I love you.”

Jenna froze in place, right at the end of the row of seats and about to step into the main aisle that led to the doors. Against her better judgment, she found herself staring up at the two men on the stage, her gaze stuck on them. She just couldn’t look away.

Peter and Tony were basically right up against each other. They only were a couple inches apart with both their hands intertwined. She couldn’t see it earlier, but, now that they were right next to each other, Jenna could tell that Peter was about half a foot shorter than Tony. The younger man was looking up at the billionaire with a bright smile that was returned. It was like nothing she could’ve ever imagined; a ball of sunshine and pop culture references right next to a man known to be scuffed up and rough around the edges. It was like this boy brought out a completely different side of Stark.

“I love you too,” Peter replied softly before leaning up on the balls of his feet to give Tony a soft kiss on the lips.

Jenna, sucked in a breath of air harshly, the sound being enough to alert the men to her presence. The two men stared at her with wide eyes for a moment and she stared right back.

“Shit.” Tony broke the silence of the room, his voice conveying the concern written across his face. Peter put a hand on his forearm and schooled his features into a comforting look. The man looked over at him and tried to take solace in his lover’s gentleness.

“I told you something was gonna go wrong,” the billionaire said with a mix of concern and fear on his face.

“We’re not getting into this argument again,” Peter responded decidedly, his tone making it sound final.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was walking in on anything. I just came in because I forgot my jacket! I . . . please don’t fire me, Mister Stark,” Jenna stammered once she had broken out of her shocked stupor.

“He’s not going to fire you,” Peter reassured her with a kind tone.

“Well . . .” Tony said, but his tone was a bit humorous.

“You’re not gonna fire her because we decided we couldn’t wait until we got back to the penthouse to be all sappy.” Peter gave the man a stern look and it occurred to Jenna once again that this soft, delicate-appearing brunet clad in pastels had somehow reined in the man who had spent so many years being known as a playboy.

“I’m not going to fire you, but you can’t tell anybody, not even anyone within the company. If you do, my legal team can and will sue you for all you’re worth. Understood?” Tony had a dangerous edge to his voice, letting the girl know that he was completely serious. There was no way that this was an empty threat.

“Understood,” Jenna replied with a curt nod. “But I just have one question.”

“Shoot,” Peter told her.

“How old are you? Because . . . well, you look pretty young.”

Tony started laughing and Peter gave him an annoyed look.

“Stop laughing! You do this every time!” Peter exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm.

“Everybody thinks you’re, like, sixteen! You look barely old enough to have your license!” Tony shot back, his laughter dying down.

“I’m twenty-one,” he told Jenna. “I’m not underage, if you were wondering. Tony may be a bit of a mad scientist, but he doesn’t date people who are underage.”

“Okay, good. I was just worried for a second. Um, thank you for not firing me and I swear I won’t tell anybody. I should get going,” she rushed out with a relieved smile. Without another word, she made her way out of the auditorium, holding her jacket close to her chest.

When she got back to her floor, Dylan and Ashley bombarded her with questions about what took her so long, but she just told them that it took her a second to find it. Of course, they weren’t satisfied with that answer, but Jenna didn’t let anything slip.

That was the third time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

When Jenna walked into work the next morning, early as always, she found an envelope sitting on her designated area of her group desk, which separated into four sections for her project team to sit at. Across the front, it had her first name written out in a neat, cursive scrawl. She furrowed her brows as she looked at it, questions racing through her mind as she wondered who it could’ve been from.

Without another thought, she ripped it open and pulled out the contents. She unfolded the paper that was inside only to find a letter written in the same handwriting.

Dear Jenna,

I wanted to write you a letter, but realized that I never caught your name yesterday. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked FRIDAY who you were. Thinking back on it, that definitely makes me sound like a creep, so I apologize.

I wanted to thank you for not completely flipping out on Tony and I in the auditorium yesterday. I know that the whole thing was definitely crazy and it would’ve made sense if you freaked out. I also wanted to thank you for not immediately telling anybody. Seeing as no news stories have come out and nobody in the building has confronted Tony, I’m assuming you didn’t leak it, which is relieving.

I hope you’re doing well and if you need literally anything, just drop off a letter in the company mailroom in box 106.

As a thank you, there’s a Starbucks gift card also in the envelope! I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, but seeing as you work in R&D and most of the employees in that department survive off coffee, I’m going to assume you do. Enjoy!

I’ll (hopefully) talk to you soon!

-Peter

P.S. Tony might not say it, but he’s also grateful that you haven’t leaked anything! I can promise that you’re good in his books :)

“What’s that?” Ashley asked, sneaking up behind Jenna and startling the woman.

“It’s nothing,” Jenna replied quickly while shoving the letter back into the envelope and cramming it into her bag. Ashley gave her a suspicious look but let it go, sitting down at her area of the group desk that was beside Jenna’s.

“I have a prediction!” Dylan announced as he entered the almost empty floor and waltzed over to Jenna and Ashley. He collapsed onto his stool and dumped his bag onto the floor beside him.

“This should be good,” Ashley muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms.

Jenna just looked away.

“So, we’ve established that it’s strange that nobody has ever heard of Peter and how, out of nowhere, he shows up!”

“Yeah, that’s kinda why we all think it’s weird,” Jenna shot at him, hoping that it covered up her panic.

“It’s also odd that he’s got a bit of a resemblance to Stark,” Dylan continued, decidedly ignoring her.

“I don’t see it,” Jenna interrupted once more, but the man didn’t stop.

“Maybe, just maybe, Peter is Stark’s son who he didn’t want in the spotlight until he was old enough to handle it!”

Ashley gasped while Jenna glanced away from them with a look of both panic and amusement.

“Or Peter is Stark’s illegitimate child and he doesn’t want to have a scandal!” Ashley built on the theory with an excited smile and wide eyes.

“What do you think, Jenna?” Dylan asked, and both of Jenna’s teammates had their eyes on her.

“I think you two are full of bullshit,” Jenna told them, trying hard to keep her voice steady. “He’s probably just Stark’s intern. Maybe he’s a super genius or something.”

“Bor-ring!” Ashley replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, our theory is way better,” Dylan bragged, a bit of humor in his tone.

Jenna stayed oddly quiet for the rest of the morning.

+++

When lunch rolled around, Dylan and Ashley went off to the food court floor of the building, but Jenna decided that she wanted to make use of the Starbucks gift card she’d been given. When she opened the envelope back up to get it, she discovered that it was a two-hundred dollar gift card, which left her in shock for a few moments. Still, she shook herself out of it and went to go get a sandwich and a coffee.

After lunch, she found herself back with her teammates, working on their project, but sipping on a venti white chocolate mocha this time around. Around half an hour after they’d come back from lunch, the elevator doors opened to reveal Peter, wearing a sunny yellow sweater that matched the smile on his face. He walked out of the elevator and seemingly ignored all the eyes on him. He made his way over to a table working on prosthetics and began to help them out, the team there looking a bit surprised but extremely grateful for the assistance.

When Peter looked up and spotted Jenna, he gave her an even brighter smile, which she returned. She shook the coffee cup in her hand a little, bringing his attention to it, and he gave a silent chuckle. Jenna took a sip of her mocha and turned back to her project.

“What the fuck was that?” Ashley asked, drawing both of her teammates away from where they were designing arm prosthetics.

“What?” Dylan and Jenna replied in unison.

“That little interaction you just had with Peter,” the blonde woman elaborated, looking at Jenna accusingly.

“What interaction?” the man piped up before the brunette could respond.

“She and Peter made eye contact and smiled at each other and then Jenna held up her coffee cup and Peter chuckled!”

Dylan gave Ashley an incredulous look before shifting his gaze to Jenna.

“It was nothing,” Jenna defended with a level voice before getting back to work.

“Does this have something to do with the letter from this morning?”

“What letter?” Jenna and Dylan asked in unison.

Ashley sighed. “Jenna, come on, just tell me what’s going on? Is there something you know that we don’t?”

Before the brunette could even respond, Peter passed by their table.

“Hey, Jenna!” the young man greeted cheerily.

“Hey, Peter,” she responded, a smile on her face.

When he was gone, she went right back to her work, ignoring the looks from her teammates.

Jenna knew it was going to be a long rest of her day.

That was the fourth time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

By the next Friday, the questions from Dylan and Ashley had died down, but the suspicious glances were definitively not stopping, nor becoming anymore secretive. Luckily, though, Jenna was becoming better and better at ignoring the looks from her coworkers.

There were no more appearances from Peter, but Jenna had been enjoying exchanging letters with the brunet. The letters would sometimes be accompanied by pictures, mostly of Peter and Tony, and the woman had fun printing dumb pictures of her own and sending them back. The two would share funny stories and talk about themselves, though Peter still never shared his last name, but the brunette didn’t blame him for that; she knew he wanted to continue to keep himself on the down low. Tony would sometimes put in a few sentences on a letter, mostly a short quip about something his boyfriend wrote, and Jenna couldn’t help but find her boss’s dry wit rather humorous.

As the weekend approached once more, Jenna found herself feeling glad to get away from her teammates’ conspicuous looks and probing questions. When it reached midday, she was beyond happy to escape to the food court, rushing in order to get ahead of Ashley and Dylan.

When she walked into the food court, she knew there was something going on. The chatter of the floor was quieter than normal, despite the normal amount of people being there. It was less conversation and more pointed whispers. When she followed where everybody’s eyes were looking, she discovered Peter sitting at one of the round tables on his own.

The young man had a couple slices of pizza on a plate in front of him, with one slice in his hand. He had wireless earbuds in and his phone was propped up using a pop socket attached to the back. It was obvious that he was watching some show or another.

Jenna simply shrugged and went to grab her own food, paying no mind to the whispered gossip spreading across the floor. She got a container of Chinese food from one of the stations and looked around to find a place to sit before realizing that she didn’t know where to go. She usually sat with her teammates, but she had been trying to escape them until she had to get back to work, which left her with nobody to eat lunch with.

In a strange and unusual burst of confidence, Jenna walked across the floor and toward Peter’s table, decidedly brushing off the eyes that followed her. She put her food down and sat in the chair across from her boss’s boyfriend, attempting to act casual as the quiet chatter toned down in order to hear what happened next.

Peter looked up when she sat down, seemingly confused that somebody was joining him at his table. When he saw that it was Jenna, however, he cracked a bright smile. He took out his earbuds and put them back into the carrying case before shutting off his phone and setting it face down on the table.

“Hey, Jenna!” His tone was bubbly, an air of familiarity to it. Just hearing him talk made Jenna feel calmer; the boy had a way of doing that.

“Hey, Peter,” she greeted back, less excitedly but still conveying that she was happy to see him again. “What’s up?”

“Not much! Tony’s in a meeting and I decided to come down here for lunch. I didn’t like how quiet it was.”

“I think you mentioned that once. That you don’t like being alone in spaces, I mean.” Jenna paid attention to every word in every letter she received from the young man. She felt like she connected to him in a way that she’d never connected to anybody before; it wasn’t like any friendship she had in the past.

“Yeah. It just feels nice to know that the world is still turning and I’m not completely alone.” He looked sad for a moment, eyes glazed over and distant. It was a somber kind of happiness, a mix of emotions that weren’t supposed to be mixed in case of an explosion, but not a loud one; it was more of a combustion, internal and quiet, soft and powerful. “But, anyways, what’ve you been up to?”

“Not much,” Jenna replied, trying to move on from the delicate moment. “Been working on the prototype for the prosthetics and I think it’s going well. There’s a few bits and pieces that me and my teammates have gotta work out before we send the design to our lab director, but I think we’ll get there soon.”

“That’s really cool! I honestly can’t wait for the prosthetics line to go into production! I think it's really gonna change the game since it’s gonna be a high tech line but also more affordable than the competitors!” Peter’s eyes were shining, the gleam replacing the far off look from only moments earlier.

“I’m excited for it too!” Jenna admitted. “I know it’s gonna help so many people and I can’t wait for it to go on the market!”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed before he could speak. He picked it up and read the notification, giving a small chuckle and typing out a response before looking up at Jenna.

“Was that . . .?” Jenna trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence but sure that the brunet caught her drift.

“Yeah,” Peter responded easily with a fond, but exasperated, look. “He finished his meeting and asked if I saved him some food from my lunch. I did, but I’m tempted to eat it myself and tell him to go get his own food.”

Jenna snorted.

“I’m not that mean, though, so I’m gonna take him the last two slices.” He slid his phone into his back pocket and his earbuds case into his front one before standing up and grabbing the plate with the two slices of pizza.

“I’ll see you later, Jenna!” he called as he walked away, heading towards the private elevator.

“See you, Peter!” With that, the woman went back to eating her lunch, as if nothing had happened at all.

When two people sat down at the table, Jenna looked up at them, only to find her two teammates, who had bewildered and suspicious looks on their faces. Dylan’s brow was furrowed and Ashley’s eyes were narrowed, the blonde obviously more dubious than him.

“What the actual fuck, Jenna?” she asked, voicing everybody’s thoughts.

“What?” the brunette replied as if she didn’t know.

“Don’t act all innocent! How are you so friendly with him?! This shit doesn’t add up!” Dylan nodded along to Ashley’s words.

Jenna gave an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry, but that’s confidential information. NDA’s and all that, ya know?” She was trying everything she could to weasel her way out of it, but it was the first time she’d given her teammates a semi-straight answer, even if it wasn’t that revealing.

“Oh, come on, Jenna!” Dylan finally spoke up. “It can’t be anything that serious! Just tell us what’s going on?”

“I’m afraid that Ms. Locke is right, Mr. Hoffman. This is confidential information that Ms. Locke does not have the authority nor the necessity to reveal to you,” FRIDAY interrupted, garnering the attention of the people watching.

Jenna only shrugged under the intense gazes of her coworkers, but it still shut them up about it.

That was the fifth time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

It was relatively quiet for the next few weeks after the food court incident. While the suspicious glances remained, the questions had died down, though whispers still followed Jenna around as her coworkers spread rumors about how she knew Peter.

Speaking of the brunet, he hadn’t shown up since the incident, but he and Jenna had continued to exchange letters, becoming closer friends as time went on. The next time news about Peter came, it was only news for Jenna, as nobody else had any clue of how the young man was involved.

It had happened when Tony Stark had come to the R&D floor to talk to the employees there about the progress on the prosthetics line. Everybody had been trying extra hard to look busy as the man went around, all of them hoping to seem like they were valuable employees who actually did work.

Jenna’s team was the last that the billionaire came to, but as soon as he started talking to them, the brunette noticed something.

He had an engagement ring on.

The woman mentioned nothing, though she did freeze for a moment when she noticed it. Still, she pushed through and continued with the discussion about the progress they had been making.

When her boss later stepped away to answer a text, she quickly told her coworkers she had to use the restroom, rushing away and going down the hallway that Tony had gone down, which happened to lead to the bathrooms.

When she got there, she found him smiling down at his phone and typing quickly.

“Did you guys get . . .?” Jenna started, but trailed off at the end, startling the man a bit. He looked up at her, eyes a bit wide, but immediately recognized her. He looked confused at the question for a moment before realizing that her eyes were on his ring.

“Yeah, we did,” Tony answered, looking a bit sheepish as a blush painted his cheeks.

“How did it happen?” It was obvious that the girl was excited to find out.

“It’s actually pretty funny. I got down on one knee to propose and he looked so exasperated and I freaked out because I thought he was gonna break up with me or something. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. He was planning on proposing that night too.”

“That’s absolutely incredible!” Jenna told him excitedly, but still kept her voice quiet.

“When we told our friends, they all looked so unsurprised that something like that would happen for him and I.”

The two both laughed before the billionaire’s phone buzzed again.

“I’ve got a meeting in, like, five minutes, so I should probably go.”

The two said their goodbyes and he started to walk back out to the main area to head to the private elevator, but stopped and turned around before he could.

“Just do you know, you’re invited to the wedding.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving Jenna standing there in shock. A million thoughts were racing through her head and her eyes were still trained on the end of the hallway where the man had disappeared from.

“I’m invited to the wedding,” she whispered to herself. Taking a moment, she shook herself out of it and began walking back to her team’s table to get back to work.

Before she could get there, though, Ashley rushed at her and grabbed her arm, pulling her back the way she came. The blonde pulled her into the women’s restroom and checked every stall to make sure they were empty before turning back to her coworker.

“What the fuck it this?!” She held up a letter and Jenna immediately knew who it was from. She snatched it from her co worker's hand and skimmed through it, praying to Thor that it wasn’t one of the letters that explicitly mentioned Peter dating Tony. She then proceeded to thank Thor when she realized that it was one one of the notes that mentioned a relationship, but not outright who it was with.

“Okay, Peter and I have been talking through letters. So what?” she replied, attempting to keep her voice steady so it sounded like she wasn’t fazed by the whole thing.

“Are you fucking with me?! You’re friends with this mysterious dude who’s all buddy-buddy with Tony fucking Stark and you’re expecting me to just let that go?! You’re out of your mind!” Ashley was obviously worked up about the whole thing and the brunette didn’t know what to say, but, luckily, her coworker started talking again before she could get a word out.

“You’ve been so secretive these past couple months and it’s been annoying as all hell! You’re not telling me anything and it feels like I’m so disconnected from you! Just tell me what’s going on!”

“I can’t! I can’t tell you what’s going on! I’m sorry that I don’t wanna lose my fucking job just so you can know every aspect of my life! Just let it go and leave me and my letters alone!” Jenna blew up, which was something she didn’t do very often.

Unsurprisingly, Ashley looked taken aback, shock written across her face. Jenna immediately regretted it.

“I’m sorry,” she told her friend softly. “I just can’t tell you.”

Jenna turned around and left the bathroom, the letter in her grasp. As soon as she was out, she went to her lab director and asked if she could leave a little early, giving the excuse of feeling sick. Of course, her lab director was understanding as always and let her go. She quickly gathered her stuff, ignoring the looks from Ashley and Dylan, and hightailed it out of there.

+++

“Dylan!” the R&D lab director, Kelsey, called from her office.

The man shot up from his team’s table, where the silence was as dense as molasses and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

“Yes?” Dylan asked as he made his way over and placed himself in the open doorway. The director stood up and handed him a couple files.

“I have to go to a meeting, but these files need to be turned in. Could you take them up to the boss’s office for me?”

“You- you want me to take these to Mr. Stark?” His voice was a bit shaky.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You go to floor 89, you find the office with his name on it, you knock on the door, you tell him that I sent you, you give him the files, and you leave. I promise it’s not as stressful as you think it is.” Kelsey’s tone was comforting, but it did little to ease his anxieties.

“Okay,” he muttered, turning around and heading towards the elevator.

When the doors opened and Dylan stepped in, he found himself alone in the elevator. The silence was filled up by his anxious thoughts about what could go wrong. He spent the entire ride up trying to take deep breaths and remember that it was a simple job; just go in, give him the files, and leave.

The elevator stopped and he stepped off onto the eerily quiet office floor. It seemed that nobody was there and it freaked him out; it felt like a horror movie. He crept along the halls until he made it to a door with his boss’s name on it. He raised his hand to knock until he heard voices coming from inside.

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” That was Tony Stark’s voice, and Dylan recognized it immediately.

“It just is!” A voice replied. It took Dylan all of three seconds to realize that it was the mysterious Peter who seemed to show up at the most random of times.

Against his better judgment, Dylan peered through the semi-open blinds that covered the windows of the office. When he did so, he found Peter sitting on the edge of the desk and Tony a couple feet in front of him.

“It doesn’t seem like that hard of a decision. If you don’t like this guy, don’t invite him to the wedding! It’s so simple!” The billionaire looked confused at the dilemma at hand, though Dylan had no clue what they were talking about. He was getting married?

“But it’s not! I don’t want to invite him, but it would be rude if I didn’t!” Peter looked worked up about the whole thing, face slightly flushed and fiddling with his hands.

“It might be rude, but if you don’t want him there, then don’t invite him!”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Except that it is.”

“Maybe for you!” It wasn’t a yell, but it wasn’t quiet. Peter had stopped fiddling with his fingers and was now pulling slightly at his hair.

“What do you mean?” Tony spoke like he could accidentally shatter the young man in front of him if he wasn’t careful.

“I mean that you’re Tony Stark. You’re a famous billionaire that can do whatever you want. If you don’t want to invite somebody, you don’t invite them. You don’t care if it’s rude because you’re Tony fucking Stark and you can do anything you’d like. I’m not like that, I can’t just do whatever I want. I’m Peter Parker, an average guy from Queens, and I’ve always been just that. If I’m rude, there’s consequences and it can actually affect my life. I have to think things like this over, even if you see it as trivial.”

Tony paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Except you’re not just some average guy. You’re Peter fucking Parker. You’re incredible. You’re gonna change the entire world. Maybe I don’t get these kinds of things because I was raised in such a different world than you, but all I want is for you to be happy. Whatever choice you make here, I’ll be fine with, but that isn’t what I care about. I care about you, because you’re the most amazing person on this planet. You’re Peter Parker, the man I fell in love with.”

Dylan’s jaw dropped as he finally found the closure he’d been seeking for months. He knew what Peter’s last name was, he knew what relationship he had to Tony Stark, he knew who Peter was. He had never expected this, though. He cringed as his mind went back to that theory he had about Peter being Tony’s son.

He watched as the two shared a short kiss and finally moved back in front of the door, feeling the need to give his boss the files, run back down to his floor, and tell his teammates everything.

Dylan knocked on the door and he could almost feel the two men inside freeze in shock. It only took a second before the door opened, though, and revealed Peter Parker standing there with Tony Stark slightly behind him, both of them looking worried.

“Uh, I’m from R&D and my lab director, Kelsey, asked me to deliver these files,” Dylan stuttered out, failing at his attempt to remain casual.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, thanks,” Peter replied, seemingly relieved as he took the files.

“I, um, bye, I guess,” Dylan stammered before turning around and booking it out of there. He could feel the two men’s eyes on him as he left.

When Dylan got to the elevator, he pressed on the button a few times, praying for it to arrive faster, and jumped on the moment the doors had opened wide enough to get through. He then adamantly pressed the button for the R&D floor. The elevator ride down felt much longer than the one up.

When Dylan did get to his floor, he raced through the doors and to his teammates, grabbing each of them by the upper arm and dragging them into the men’s restroom. He checked every stall to make sure they were alone before locking the bathroom door and turning back to his teammates.

“You guys aren’t gonna believe this!” Dylan announced. “I found out some crazy shit!”

“Why am I here?” Jenna asked him in a deadpan voice. “Can I leave?”

“Jenna, you’ll actually wanna hear this! I found out who Peter is!”

Ashley and Jenna both froze, but for different reasons.

“You gotta tell us!” Ashley exclaimed excitedly.

“No, you better fucking not!” Jenna said over her.

“What?! Why?!” Dylan looked genuinely confused.

“Because we’re not supposed to know! It’s obvious he wants to keep his identity a secret! You can’t go around telling people! You need to tell him and Stark that you know so they can feel sure that his identity won’t get leaked!”

“God, you’re such a buzzkill, Jenna,” Ashley shot at her.

“No, I’m a good person.”

It made her teammates go silent, the words piercing through them like knives.

“If you wanna go and tell and lose your job, then go ahead, but I want no part of it.” Jenna turned around and started to leave.

“Do you know?” Dylan asked her, making the woman stop in her tracks.

“What?” Jenna slowly turned back to him.

“Do you know?” he repeated, voice cold and serious.

Jenna stayed silent for a few moments, mulling over what she could say.

“Not on purpose . . .”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Ashley questioned, betrayal written across her face.

“Sorry I respect their privacy!” It was obvious that she was very much not sorry.

“Wait . . . did you find out when you went back to get your jacket after the presentation?!” Dylan exclaimed, looking like he had put all the puzzle pieces together. When Jenna stayed quiet, he knew that he had gotten his answer. “Holy shit! What happened?! Did you, like, see them kiss or some shit?!”

“Kiss?!” Ashley shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” Jenna muttered, putting her head in her hands.

“No fucking way! They’re in a relationship?!”

“Yeah!”

“That’s it,” Jenna declared decisively and turned around.

“Where are you going?” Ashley asked her, bewilderment shining in her eyes.

“I’m going to go tell them that Dylan figured it out and that you know,” Jenna told the blonde, voice laced with venom.

Jenna unlocked the door and left, not letting her teammates get another word in, but the two followed her out and watched as she stormed past all her coworkers and to the elevator, disappearing as soon as the doors opened.

“I might lose my job,” Dylan muttered, eyes wide and trained on the now closed elevator doors.

“Is it true?” one of the other employees, Amelia, asked as she walked up to Dylan and Ashley.

“Is what true?” Ashley replied.

“That Peter and Stark are in a relationship? You guys were implying it in there, and you aren’t exactly good at being quiet.”

“I’m definitely gonna lose my job,” Dylan whispered, correcting his earlier statement.

“So it is true!” Eric, another employee, shouted.

Everybody started talking, the floor turning into a storm of chattering.

“We’re so fucked. We’re absolutely, completely, utterly fucked,” Ashley murmured, only loud enough so Dylan could hear, and the man only nodded in agreement.

The two slowly walked forwards, looking around at their gossiping coworkers as they made their way back to their desk. They looked completely horrified, and guilt was quickly eating away at Dylan.

Before they could sit down, the elevator doors opened and Jenna walked out with Tony and Peter in tow. Everybody stopped, staring at the three of them. Peter looked nervous and tears were glistening in his eyes, but Tony just looked furious, his expression mirroring Jenna’s.

“Okay, which of you knows?” Tony asked the room, his voice deadly calm. He didn’t yell or scream, but that steady tone was almost worse than him blowing up at them.

One employee raised their hand, and everybody else followed, the last people to put their hands up being Ashley and Dylan.

“All of you, go to the auditorium. Now. All the other employees will meet you there. Do not say a word of this to them before I get there to talk to them about it. Do I make myself clear?”

If looks could kill, all of the R&D employees, minus Jenna, would be dead. All of them mumbled their confirmations or nodded and slowly shuffled off to the elevators, heading to the auditorium floor.

Ashley and Dylan had fallen into the back of the crowd and were the last to get onto an elevator, meaning they could see the floor before the door closed. The two watched as Tony turned back to Peter and Jenna, who were looking regretful and heartbroken respectfully. The last thing they saw before the elevator started moving was Peter beginning to cry and burying his face in Tony’s shoulder as the man embraced him and Jenna putting a comforting hand on his back.

By the time the R&D employees reached the auditorium and began to make their way into the seats, other employees were either already there or just getting there. There was chatter, a mix of people confused why they had been called there and those who knew praying that they wouldn’t be fired. The chatter seemed to die down a bit as everybody was seated, all of them waiting in anticipation for whatever was going to happen.

After a few minutes, the doors of one of the entrances to the auditorium, which had been closed, slammed open. Everybody turned, though plenty of them couldn’t see the doors, and watched as Tony Stark stormed down the aisle towards the stage, Jenna Locke behind him and looking slightly less, but still plenty, furious. The two made their way up the three stairs that led up to the stage.

All the employees gazed up at the two standing center stage, and they were glaring back at them with serious faces. After a moment of silence, Tony finally spoke.

“I’m sure the majority of you are wondering why I called everybody to the auditorium. Today, somebody found out something that they shouldn’t have about my private life and, instead of coming and talking to me about it in order to keep it confidential, they went and told somebody, and those people’s department overheard. That person who found out and told will be fired and the person who was first told and was complicit in revealing information about my life will be put on probation.”

In the back of the auditorium, Dylan and Ashley sank down in their seats.

“You may also be wondering why I have one of your coworkers up here with me today. If you weren’t already aware, this is Jenna Locke.”

Jenna gave the audience a curt nod.

“Jenna also found out about this information a couple months ago. Instead of telling anybody, she talked to us and promised to keep it to herself, and she has kept that promise. She was also the one who told me about the information leak.”

The employees, minus the R&D department, were on the edge of their seats, eager to find out the information but scared of their boss and what he could do to them if things got out.

“Seeing as nothing can seem to stay a secret here, I have elected to talk to you all about it. Keep in mind that what happened in terms of this information being revealed was a serious breach of confidentiality and disrespected not just my own privacy. Take this as a warning. If any of you are to tell anybody outside of this company about this, your employment will be terminated and my legal team will sue you to kingdom come. This is not a three strikes you’re out situation. Do not tell a soul about this. Keep in mind the fact that you all signed non-disclosure agreements when you took this job. This counts as a company secret, and you will treat it as one.”

Everybody seemed to nod or give a murmur of confirmation. It wasn’t much, but it appeared to satisfy the man.

“Moving on, I’m sure you’ve all either seen or heard about Peter. Only a select few of you know who he is, though without his consent, and others have seen us interact but never known who we are to each other. This information about our private lives was discovered and we have no choice but to let you all know in fear of rumors and gossip being spread around and taken outside the company. Everybody, please meet my fiancé, Peter Parker.”

The room was shocked into silence, the only sound being the clacking of Peter’s shoes as he softly walked out from the wings and to Tony’s side. None of the employees uttered even a sound as they looked up at the boy, whose eyes were still slightly red and puffy from when he had cried only ten minutes earlier.

“Hey, everybody. I’m Peter. You’ve all probably seen me around,” the young man introduced himself, voice only loud enough to hear. “Like Tony said, we weren’t planning on telling people yet, but we don’t get that choice anymore.”

They were still silent.

“Since this will be your only chance to do so, we’ll be answering questions about this,” Peter continued. Nobody spoke, until one person in the third row raised their hand and the young man motioned to them. “Yes, go ahead.”

“How, uh, how old are you?” the woman asked quietly, looking slightly concerned.

Peter sighed as Tony looked to him with a humorous smile.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he told the billionaire, who didn’t have a chance to respond before Jenna started laughing a bit. “You too?! I can’t believe you would betray me like this! This happens every fucking time!”

The employee who asked furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly mirroring the confusion of the rest of the audience.

“I’m twenty-one,” Peter told her. “Tony likes to make fun of me because I look like I’m not old enough to drive. Jenna’s laughing because she asked the same question when she found out.”

The woman nodded along with the explanation and everybody went silent again before another person raised their hand and Peter pointed to them.

+++

Eight Months Later

“And this is your team!” Kelsey told the new employees excitedly. “Meet Jenna and Ashley! They’ve been here for a while and are definitely excited to show you the ropes!”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Jenna greeted. “What’s your name?”

“I’m River,” the new guy replied quietly, cheeks flushed.

“I’m glad to have you on the team, River!” Ashley exclaimed.

“I’ll leave you all to it!” Kelsey gave River one last smile and walked off to talk to some teams about their projects.

“We’re finishing up some last touches on the update to the prosthetics line,” Jenna explained to the new recruit as he sat down. He nodded along as she began to explain the project.

Jenna was cut off by the elevator doors opening and Peter walking onto the floor.

“Excuse me for a second,” the woman told her team before jumping up and running over to the brunet.

“Who’s that?” River asked Ashely as he watched Jenna excitedly embrace the man and begin to talk to him.

“Have you signed all your NDAs?”

River nodded.

“Peter!” Ashely called. “Come meet the new kid!”

Peter bounded over eagerly, a large smile on his face as he approached the two employees, Jenna trailing him.

“Uh, hi, I’m River.”

“Nice to meet you, River! I’m Peter Parker. It’s always great to see new faces around here!”

“It’s great to be here,” he replied awkwardly.

Peter nodded and was off again, going around to teams and helping with projects, but, more importantly, just talking to the employees in general.

“Is he a director or something? Everybody seems to know him,” River questioned his team.

“He’s even better than a director,” Ashley told him with a grin. “He’s Tony’s Stark’s fiancé.”

Shock painted itself across River’s face.

“There’s no way that’s real!”

Ashley and Jenna glanced at each other before turning back to River. They didn’t say anything else to him, which was unnerving to the new employee.

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened once more and the Tony Stark walked out, a small smile adorning his face. Peter worked up from where he was helping a team and flitted over to the man happily. The two shared a short kiss before Peter turned back a bit.

“We still on for lunch on Friday, Jenna?”

“Of course!”

Peter shot her a smile and the couple entered the elevator, talking quietly as they disappeared behind the metal doors.

“Okay, so maybe it is real.”

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed):

@darkerstarker @dim-ships-johnlock @haylove5

#axiwrites #starker #starker fanfic #tony stark/peter parker #starker fluff #starker fanfiction #theres a little hint of angst but its barely there #this was an excuse to write cute scenes #anyways i hope yall like it

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Ten

(Prevoius chapter found here)

(:<

Zane winces. It was only a few days after they removed Cryptor’s face plate that they did the same to him, and it is a very uncomfortable feeling.

As he’s being dragged off to the training room again, he stays quiet, as the guards are having a conversation that may provide valuable intel.

“I know a lot of the guys here hate General and Original, but I can’t really figure out why.” One of them muses.

The other one shakes his head. “Do you remember the Golden Master thing a few years back? General caused a lot of the damage and it almost killed her family.”

Zane frowns- or he would’ve, if he still had a face plate. He remembers that event, but given that Cryptor had been under the Overlord’s control, it seems illogical to blame him for it.

“That’s fair.” The first one agrees. “But didn’t Original help stop it? Why would she hate it?”

“When it exploded, the ice caused a lot of damage. I said her family almost died, right? It was because of the ice that they didn’t get to the hospital in time.”

Zane feels himself tense up at the words. The ice of the explosion… he hadn’t imagined that it could’ve hurt anyone, but looking back it seems quite obvious.

“Hey, keep moving!” One of the guards snaps at him.

He’s quick to comply, but his mind is still racing. It’s no wonder she has no qualms about harming him- she blames him for their deaths.

And after a few moments of thought, Zane realizes that the blame is well placed. It was his fault. The ice… he hadn’t realized that it caused harm.

Even though he resists being chained down, he ends up stuck on the floor anyway.

But the guards leave, and a few moments later, he discovers that the chains weren’t all the way locked- there turns out to be just enough leeway for him to wrench his way free.

A spark of hope lights inside of him, and Zane knows that he would be smiling if his facial plate was still attached.

This could be the way he frees himself!

Creeping down the corridors, Zane makes sure that every step is made with as much caution as he has. He cannot risk being captured again!

He winces as he passes the lockers, giving Cryptor a silent apology- he can’t allow the other to give him away.

Keeping his breathing as quiet as possible, he manages to sneak by several groups of guards on his way to the exit.

Every moment is filled with tension, and it seems to take an eternity before he reaches the door. And even then, he’s not quite out of the woods yet.

Shaking from excitement, he tried to find a way to unlock the door. After a moment of consideration, he scans it.

Judging by the pattern of heat signatures, he can see the most recent code that was typed.

He cautiously types it in, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

His eyes widen as the door clicks and a small light shines green.

As soon as he’s outside, he’ll be in the open. His best chance at escape will be to run and hope that he can lose them.

Breathing out a low breath, Zane braces himself.

When he opens the door, he starts sprinting without hesitation.

Gunshots sound, and Zane stumbles and desperately tries to avoid them- and somehow, with his scanning and constant random movement, he does.

Ducking and dodging and weaving, it takes all of his skill to make it to the city- he even manages to outrun one of their cars.

When he reaches it, he climbs the first skyscraper he can find, still constantly changing positions to avoid getting hit.

If he had a faceplate, he would be grinning. It doesn’t take much longer for him to find the Bounty, and by spring boarding off of a building, he manages to climb aboard.

He rushes inside, running through the halls as he tries to find one of his teammates.

After only a minute, he finds Cole in the kitchen, staring down at his bowl of cereal with a rather miserable expression.

When Zane enters, he looks up, eyes widening in shock. “Zane?! Is that- is that you?!” He gets up from the table, and Zane runs into his arms, shaking in his relief.

He’s home.

Except only a moment later, he’s roughly shoved to the ground, and he looks up to see Cole with a disapproving and almost angry expression.

“How the hell did you escape?! I thought we had finally gotten rid of you!”

Zane feels his excitement fading. “Wh- what?” He can barely choke the word out as he stares at the upset expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“I swear, they said that they had a good handle on you.” He grumbles to himself, reaching for his phone.

Zane scrambles to his feet, struggling to process the events occurring.

“Cole?” He gets out weakly. “What are you-“

Cole shakes his head with a glare. “No. That’s it. I’m tired of pretending to put up with you. We had finally gotten rid of you, and I’m not going to fake loving something like you again.”

Every piece of him is trembling as he desperately tries to make sense of his boyfriend’s words. There- there has to be something he’s missing here!

“What’s going on in here?” A new voice asks as its owner enters the room. Zane breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Kai, and he makes to move towards him, but the dismayed and upset expression he receives stops him.

“The fuck is it doing here?” He protests, looking angry. “I thought we had gotten rid of it!”

Cole sighs with a shake of his head. “Apparently not.” He grumbles.

When Jay shows up, Zane backs away, fearing the worst. What could possibly-

Jay stares at him for a few moments. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Zane?” He turns to look at Kai. “How did it get here?”

Cole shrugs. “It must’ve escaped. I’m calling them now.”

“W- wait!” Zane finally manages to choke out. All eyes return to him, and he fumbles to try to find the words.

He can’t figure out how to reason with how upset they are, so he instead tries to figure out how to stop them.

“Don’t- don’t call them. Please, I- I just escaped, I only wanted to-“

“Is it… begging?” Kai scoffs. “What do you know? It can take a hint.”

Jay shakes his head. “It’ll get annoying after a while though. At least the things I have to say are interesting.”

“I- you…” Despite how he struggles, nothing he can come up with makes sense. Why would they be acting in this way? They couldn’t… they couldn’t actually be serious?

Zane knows he’s shaking, he’s shaking so much, and with the stress over the past month or so, something inside of him snaps.

He starts to cry.

If he were human, there would be tears on his face, but instead he shakes as his breathing picks up, shuddering and almost falling as his body tries to show his pain.

“Please…” He chokes out, unsure of what else to do. Nothing about this situation makes any sense, but he finds himself falling apart anyway.

Kai stares at him for a few moments. “Okay, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

Zane couldn’t make himself stop if he tried. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to hold on, to hold himself together.

Fear takes over him as Kai’s hand lights ablaze and the red ninja steps closer with malice in his eyes.

“I told you to stop crying.” He reminds in an even more threatening tone.

Zane flinches back, but he still can’t stop himself. His emotions have finally taken over, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from falling apart completely.

Kai smacks him across the face, hand still on fire.

The heat burns against his circuits, especially badly due to his lack of a faceplate. But that’s not even what hurts the most.

Kai just hit him.

He hurt him.

For crying.

Zane crumples to his knees, his body wracked with sobs created by both emotional and physical pain. He struggles to find any explanation, but none come to mind.

“Don’t- please, don’t… Kai!” He sobs out the name of his love, more than ready to beg him for mercy.

“I told you to stop crying! You’re not human, stop acting like one!” The red ninja snaps, looking prepared to do it again.

Cole stops him, setting the phone down. “Easy.” He prompts.

Zane finds himself breathing a quiet sigh of relief. They- it- they’ll stop now, they’ll take him back to his room and tell him that they still love him and explain the reasoning behind what they had done-

“Don’t break it before we all get a turn.” Cole smiles darkly, and Zane feels a small whimper escape him, still finding himself hoping that there is some logical reasoning behind this.

He’s roughly kicked in the stomach, and the super-strength behind it makes him scream out, hoping against hope that he’s missing a detail that proves that they don’t mean this, that it’s still okay, that they still love him-

A shock of electricity makes him cry out again, and he shakily looks up to see Jay smirking.

“I like these sounds a lot better than it’s talking.” The blue ninja decides.

A whimper escapes him, but he has no time to reply before he’s blasted in the face with fire, the heat forcing him to fall backwards in a meager attempt to get away. It still doesn’t stop the pain or the scream, but he finds himself scrambling back, trying to get away.

“Oh no you don’t.” Cole snarls, grabbing him by the collar of his tattered and torn gi. He roughly pulls the nindroid closer, a menacing glare on his face.

“We’re not through with you.”

Zane whimpers, still trying to pull away, but his efforts turn out to be useless as he’s dropped to the floor and zapped with lightning again.

The electricity makes him glitch some, and for a moment he could swear that he was back in the training room.

But then his vision clears- just in time for him to get blasted with fire, tearing another scream from him.

“Please, I…” Zane finds himself coming to terms with his situation, and it only makes him sob more.

They never did love him, did they?

“Stop.” He chokes out the word miserably, not really expecting them to listen. “Please, I… please stop.”

He’s kicked in the face, tearing another agonized screech from him as the pain grows to be overwhelming.

Another shock of lightning, another blast of fire, another rough hit… it all starts to blur together as he sobs, begging and pleading the ones he thought loved him for mercy.

After what feels like a thousand eons, they stop, leaving him on the floor.

“Someone knock it out.” Kai decides. “We don’t need it putting up a fuss when we take it back.”

Zane makes to try and speak, to try and stop them, but his voice won’t work, too damaged by the rough abuse.

“I’ll do it, I can use my lightning to force it to shut down.” Jay decides.

Zane doesn’t bother trying to resist as he’s shocked into unconsciousness.

There isn’t a real point to it, anyway.

—————————————————

Zane wakes up as he’s being dragged through the halls, dragged around back in the facility.

He doesn’t resist as he’s taken into the training room and chained back down, too miserable to even attempt it.

Martha walks into the room, and Zane looks up at her, sure that his pain must be clearly shown.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Zane does first.

“Please, Master… don’t hurt me. Please, I… let me go back to my locker.” His voice sounds so numb, so detached from himself.

She arches an eyebrow but still nods, calling the guards back in to drag him away.

He’s put back into the locker, and he starts to sob once again, wishing that things were different.

But they aren’t. He really is just a stupid metal-

ARE YOU OKAY?

Zane hears a half-chuckling sob escape him, too tired to even think straight. But still, he responds.

I AM INTACT

There’s a pause, and Zane considers activating his sleep mode. Perhaps it would help him-

MORE SENSORS?

When it’s tapped out, Zane feels his breathing catch. His sensors. Of course! He had forgotten that they could manipulate what he could see…

But it felt so real. Could it really have been an illusion?

I THINK SO

He’s not entirely sure anymore. Because if they are able to manipulate him that much, how could he ever tell fiction from reality? How is he to tell what’s real?

There’s a long pause before Cryptor replies.

IT WILL BE OKAY

At the message, Zane finds himself starting to cry again.

Can it really be okay? After everything they’ve done and will continue to do, how can he believe that?

Cryptor has held on here for over a year and a half. Zane can keep himself together for a little while longer.

Shakily, he taps out his own message.

THANK YOU

But when he activates his sleep mode that night, all he has are nightmares.

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago zangst #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #psychological torture #torture #trauma

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Summary: Bucky (sort of) agrees to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, but what he ends up wearing is much worse. This is for @holy-captain‘s 1.2k writing challenge! Congratulations, Liv and thank you for hosting! I’m so sorry it’s late!!

Pairing: Exasperated!Bucky x ChaoticDumbass!Reader

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1.8k

It’s supposed to be a fun and light-hearted thing—a season full of shiny-glowing-fantastic-twinkling excitement and ruddy red noses and misty breath in the chilled air. A season of joy and celebration, of spiked eggnog, fuzzy striped socks, and sliding down the compound hillsides on Steve’s shield.

And he’s screwed it all up.

It sinks in like the swollen marshmallows in his now cold cocoa, drooping to the bottom where the rest of the sediments lie. Outside, snowflakes gust and whip, blanketing the pine trees and skeletons of shrubbery in white flurries. Red holly berries peek out where they can and glare at him with their crimson eyes.

His phone lights up with picture messages of Steve and Sam, hurriedly trying on a cluster of sweaters in preparation. Horrid renderings of cats on ornaments. Oversized slouchy sleeves flecked with tinsel. Santa’s dreadful ass-crack peeking out of a chimney.

Bucky grumbles and turns his phone face-down, leaning back in his chair to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. He wants to scream and put his leg through the damn thing.

Soft footsteps draw his attention to the hallway when you emerge, blinking slowly as you stifle a yawn from behind your hand until you see him. Then, you scoff and disappear back down the hall.

“Wait!” Bucky calls, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking the tepid mug from the table, “Damn it, wait!”

You’re gone. Stomped back to your room and even if he starts running now, he wouldn’t be quick enough—only getting the slamming door on his nose. He’ll try anyway.

Bucky slumps against the panel, pushing his chest against the cold metal of it and his cheek until his words come out smushed into his teeth.

“C’mon!” A pathetic whine of your name before he sticks his fingers underneath the slit of the door like a cat, wiggling the bent tip back and forth. Incredible. The Winter Soldier sprawled out all over a corridor, begging for forgiveness over this.

Only silence replies; you’re probably on the bed, thinking about scratching his eyes out. He can practically see you flicking him off with both hands. You’ve never been this upset before, and it deeply troubles him considering the dynamic of your very friendship spun on the axis of one single truth: Bucky’s the annoyed one. You’re the fuck up.

And now he has no idea what to do.

One week of it and he’s completely lost; the start of it all—December 1st when Tony announced: Ugly. Christmas. Sweater. Party.

Two days before Christmas, the team will be gathering in the common area for a white elephant gift exchange, and sweaters will be judged based on ugliness. What a stupid idea.

The winner will be awarded with “no team meetings for a month” and Tony’s personal stash of bourbon as long as no one touches his whiskey.

Upon the proclamation, you had clapped your hands together and grinned, “We’re gonna win this damn thing.”

And Bucky, being regular Bucky who ignores your half-witted ideas and short-sighted fixations, muttered, “Whatever,” and went back to thinking normal-person thoughts.

For the next several weeks, you dove into your knitting, the needles clicking together faster than he’s ever seen, weaving sparkling black and bright cherry red. The rows were tightly bound, looped and coiled expertly until he could finally make out the shape on the front of it.

He really did love your sick sense of humor—although he’d never admit it—funny, twisted, always brought him a bit of joy.

“Fuck no,” he had laughed at the image of a mutilated deer, antlers dangling silver ornaments showcasing his sigil. “I am not fuckin’ puttin’ that on. It looks like hell.”

“You agreed!” And then the needles and yarn hit him right in the nose.

On your way out, a low chuckle came from the corner of the living room where Steve sat sipping a cup of steaming chai. “You know Christmas is her favorite holiday?”

A snorting laugh bubbled the surface of Steve’s tea, “Good goin’, Buck.”

“Last Christmas” is on, blaring synth beats through the halls. George Michael croons sweetly, longingly, grieving an unrequited love before jingle bells ring in the scattered percussion.

Bucky hears your voice as you carol along to possibly the cheesiest song of all time—infuriated and baffled that you won’t speak more than two words to him but will sing your heart out to this crap. George Michael, Wham! and all of England can eat his whole ass.

He trudges from his room and into the den where the lights are dimmed and the table is set with snacks and a crock pot of hot chocolate. A dish of pine cones sits in the middle, flanked by a merry snowy village filled with little ceramic teddy bears and reindeer. On the edge is a deflated Santa Hat filled with paper scraps and pens for the voting process at the end of the night.

It is seven-thirty and you are standing next to Sam with bent elbows, wiggling your hips to the chorus, sliding back and forth on the polished floor in fuzzy socks. The two of you are facing the window, pointing at the flurry and a mountain of sludge that was previously a horrid misshapen lump of Snowman Steve.

Bucky squints a little, alert when he sees two matching sweaters—black on the back. Hell no, he thinks.

Sam turns around and Bucky’s worst holiday fears are confirmed. One innocuous “Oh hey, man,” and all the warmth drains from him.

On Wilson’s chest is that terrible disfigured deer you constructed, its antlers spearing out from its head to reach all the way up to his shoulders.

Bucky flies across the room and before either you or Sam can do anything about it, he’s peeling the hem of it over Sam’s head, kneeing him in the groin, and taking him down onto the floor. “What the hell!” Sam yells, struggling to get out of his grasp. “Shit—get off—Barnes!”

“A red star isn’t even your fucking symbol!” His hair is in his eyes along with Sam’s elbow, their limbs and joints knocking into each other in the wrestling bout. The sleeves and front are being stretched terribly, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Hey,” Your calm voice calls from above them—falling on four deaf ears. “Hey,” You try again, and when it doesn’t seem like two grown men can stop aggressively fondling each other over a damn pullover, you raise your hand and decisively land it across the back of Bucky’s head in a deafening crack.

A swell of multiple shocked gasps rises from behind you and when Sam and Bucky freeze, they see the rest of the compound’s inhabitants staring at the scene like a disfigured Nativity display. They also see your palm, at the end of your motion, resting next to your shoulder.

Bucky gingerly rubs his wound. “Ow,” He grumbles.

“Room… now.” You command, pointing your finger down the hall. Wilted, he shuffles away dutifully, saying nothing to the others as he passes. When he’s gone, you look scornfully at Sam and your beloved jersey, loosely hanging at the edge of his torso, pulled nearly apart.

“Voting starts in twenty, kid,” Tony mentions breezily.

“Yeah,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

Steve coughs behind his hand awkwardly when Bucky steps back out, the once snugly-fitting sweater around Sam hanging collapsed and loose on Bucky’s right side. You’re close behind, bouncing on your heels and smiling as if nothing had gone wrong. Steve’s not sure which is worse: your wrath or glee.

“You, uh, you alright?” He calls quietly.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows, “Uh. Yeah.”

He has no fucking idea; when you shut the door behind him, the sweater in your hand was calmly unfolded and held up to his shoulders, damage assessed by a calculating mind. Bucky still has no clue what possessed you not to scratch his eyes out that very second.

Then, you looked him up and down and said, “Put it on, Barnes. Show’s about to start.”

And if he was a weaker man, he’d be shaking in his goddamn boots at how calm you are.

The team gathers around the tree, various colored pens and torn scraps in hand as they evaluate each other’s attire. Natasha is boldly displaying a patchwork kind of cardigan with what looks like the Michelin man ominously hovering behind a tree. Tony, of course, has custom-ordered a perfectly sized wreath knitted around his arc reactor heart. Steve has completely missed the Christmas memo (or is perhaps the politest Grinch on Earth) wears blue, the tiniest hint of gold tinsel woven through.

And Sam -- stupid, stupid Sam-- who didn’t plan on being robbed of a perfectly knitted sweater five minutes before the voting process, is out of the game.

Bucky is about to write your name down, because a medium part of him feels guilty for hurting your feelings while a much larger part of him feels apprehension about what exactly might happen if you lose, but you suddenly dig your hand into his pocket.

All five fingers shove deep until your fist is gripping tight and your knuckles stab his thigh.

“Hey! No hanky-panky during voting!” Tony is scandalized.

A vicious snap of his pocketknife swings open and before he knows it, your left hand is fisting the yarn on his chest and your right is ripping it straight through. The room falls silent when you do it a second time and Bucky’s at a loss for words until the breeze hits.

Chills.

A tendril of AC sneaks through the two open holes you’ve carved and goosebumps bloom all over his chest. Dread settles in his tummy.

His nipples are pebbled and exposed for everyone to see and with a quiet click of the blade retracting, you tuck it back into his pocket.

“Let the voting begin.”

No one moves. No one makes a single sound and the whole place is quieter than a crypt until a shrill wheeze squeaks out of Sam’s nostrils. Through the choked snickering and the slowly building crescendo of everyone else’s laughter, Wilson admits, “They’re browner than I thought they’d be.”

There’d be no need for a voting process, Bucky knows. You’ve stolen the show – or rather, his nipples have stolen the show, and the once-worthy prize is now his Sisyphean burden to bear. He closes his eyes and counts to a million.

Screw exemptions from team meetings, Bucky thinks, praying desperately that when the bourbon is bestowed to him, by some miracle of sweet baby Jesus, he’d be able to get shitfaced again.

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #mcu #bag of tricks helios #Livs1.2KChallenge

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 5)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, gunshot wound and stitches

--------

A lot of people might think Daphne was cold or heartless. Sure, she had a bad attitude and it was hard for her to form meaningful relationships, but it didn't mean she was a complete bitch. Which is why she felt bad as she looked at the photos of Mr Lee's son, Keiran, and young wife making out. She'd be seeing him later in the week and have to break the news to him. She was planning on breaking into the Keiran's apartment and snooping once he was at work in the day. She still had that gnawing feeling something was off with the adulterous couple.

She'd never had a real relationship herself. She never let herself get too attached. She wasn't sure why, she'd just always been that way. Even as a kid with her older brother and sister, she was the snarky sarcastic one. Her love to push people's buttons left her with little to no real friends and guys didn't like a girl that talked back. She didn't mind. It meant she didn't get hurt. She'd just have sex when the opportunity arose and then wash her hands of it. But she'd be a liar if she didn't sometimes wonder what it would be like. To have that someone who cared. Who treasured her and made her feel special. But then she'd think about how most of her PI work was looking into cheating spouses and how most of the time they had been right. Was true love even real?

She sighed, kicking her boots up onto her table. It was scuffed enough so she didn't care too much. Her boots were paired with a long black summer dress with a slit to her thigh and some thick tights, a black wool cardigan on top. Goth chic her sister Lisa would call it. It made her snort. Her hair was slightly wavy from the shower she’d taken earlier and it had dried naturally. Standing up, she grabbed her backpack and camera and decided to head out to Keiran's apartment. Only this time she was really hoping not to find something.

On her way there, she thought about the guns. It had been a couple of days since the disastrous outing with the Devil himself and the morning after she’d given her evidence to Brett. He was worried, so was she. But it was out of her hands now. And thankfully she hadn't been contacted by Mr Moody to accompany him again. Pulling her phone from her cardigan pocket, she was satisfied Keiran would be out of the house and at work. As she stepped up to the shitty broken intercom at the front, she heaved a sigh. She hoped someone would let her in. Glancing at the names, she just settled on any of them. There was a dull beep as she pressed the button for 'Mr Meyers'.

"Hello?" The sound of an old man sounded.

"Hi there, would you be able to buzz me in please?" She asked politely. She bit her lip holding her breath as she prepared to think of an excuse for him.

"Annie, is that you?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Mhm," she lied, rolling her eyes and getting impatient.

"You forgot your key again, dear? I keep telling you to make another," he chuckled through the intercom.

"I know. I'm just forgetful I guess," she snorted. The shrill buzz almost startled her, that had been so easy. Thank God for Mr Meyers. She slipped inside and jogged up the stairs to the third floor. Her steps were light as she tried to listen for any noises. She didn't need anyone suddenly appearing and wondering why a weird girl was on their floor. She idly wished she had Matt's super hearing. It sounded quiet though and she got to the door she was after.

A few quick moments with her lock pick set and it was open. Her search was quick and efficient. Always making sure to put things exactly where they should be. She felt like she'd searched everywhere and hadn't found anything. She knew she should have felt relieved but she couldn't shake that nagging feeling in the back of her head. She stood for a moment, closing her eyes as she tried to think where something would be. When she opened her eyes again, they glanced around until they settled on a piece of modern art of the wall. She wasn't a fan of the modern stuff. It looked like a toddler just threw paint on a canvas. Her art preference was the more detailed skilled work. She padded over, lifting it from the wall. Sure enough, behind the canvas was a safe.

"Bingo," she muttered.

It took longer than she liked to crack it, but she did in the end. She wasn't happy with what she found. Along with a handgun that had the serial number scratched out, she found copies of Mr Lee's life insurance. It was for $2 million and it would be split between Keiran and Mr Lee's wife. She started to see just why this guy was getting in her pants. Were they planning something together? Or did she have no idea she was being pulled into this? She snapped some pictures quickly before putting everything back where it should be. Before long she was on her way home again with a bad feeling. It wasn't concrete evidence of any plans but she'd learnt a long while ago to trust her gut. Maybe she should move her meeting with Mr Lee up and speak to him.

Her train of thought was interrupted when her phone started ringing. It was Brett.

"Hey, got news?" She asked, walking down the street and weaving through the people.

"Bad news. Last night a whole bunch of people were gunned down. Some biker club. Ammo matches some of the heavy guns you got on film," he stated grimly. She stopped walking and the person behind her who almost collided with her scoffed as they moved past.

"Well that's not good. I guess they weren't for selling then? Why would the Italians have beef with those guys?" She asked warily. As bad as it would be, she'd been hoping that the guns were just being sold. But this was war and she had a feeling the bikers wouldn't be the only ones facing the wrath.

"Not sure yet. We're trying to piece it together. Whatever it is, it seems like the Italians are trying to take over some turfs. I'll keep you updated," he sighed. After they bid their goodbyes, she trudged up her stairs trying to figure it out.

Sitting on her sofa, she wondered just how bad this war the Italians were waging would be. She'd never set out to investigate organised crime. She stuck with her small time thing for years and she was fine with it. But a few years ago Brett reached out when he was hitting dead ends. He'd heard about her skills and he shouldn't have asked her for help but he did. Now she did bits and bobs for him every now and again, especially with her interest in the Italian case. He was a detective now and even though it was still off the books, everyone knew she helped them out. She only dealt with him though. She didn't trust most of the other cops after the whole thing with Fisk. She'd kept out of that shit show as much as she could after one of the crazy Russians caught her and she got a lovely stab wound in the thigh. Then there was the whole mess with The Punisher. All of it had changed the gangs of Hell's Kitchen. Some of them wiped out, others coming back and others even stronger than ever. She hated that sometimes she wondered if she'd grew a pair and didn't shy away from it after being stabbed, if she'd have saved some of the lives lost in the chaos left behind from Fisk and Castle. Maybe that's why she couldn't say no when Brett had asked her to start looking into the Italians.

Either way, here she was. In the middle of a war that was just beginning. And her curiosity wouldn't let her back out now. She wanted to know what was going on just as much as the cops. There wasn't much she could do now anyway. She'd let Brett call her when he had some news and a lead to go on before she threw herself in the line of fire again.

She found herself preoccupied the rest of the day with thoughts on the Italians. She switched between trying to distract herself watching Netflix on her laptop and then looking at articles about the biker massacre. Her phone had been resting on the coffee table. She doubted Brett would be calling her today with news but she waited anyway. She wasn't sure just when she got so invested in trying to help with this. She just wanted something, a lead from the evidence at the crime scene or to do with HCL with the money laundering. Anything that would give her a direction to go to dig deeper.

Trying to block the Italians from taking over her restless mind, she snuggled on her couch with a thick blanket in her pyjamas as she watched Breaking Bad on Netflix. She loved the show and she’d watched it multiple times. She kept dozing in and out of sleep as night drew on. She wasn't sure what time it was when she heard a banging in the open plan apartment. She shot up, glaring at the door as her heart hammered in her chest. A quick glance to the large clock on the wall told her it was 3am now. The banging came again but she realised it wasn't from the door. Looking to the large window, she was startled by Matt in his suit, leaning against it from the outside. Her annoyance glared at him for dropping in at this time. Dropping in at all, honestly. She told him to stay the fuck away and here he was at 3am and waking her up. She found it hard enough to get a decent sleep on the best of days.

Throwing the blanket off her, she stood up and stomped over to the window. She wasn't even paying attention to him really.

"What part of stay the fuck away don’t you get?" She snapped impatiently. He didn't say anything through the glass but then she noticed how his hand was clamped over his chest, how his chest was heaving. Something was wrong. She opened the window to see him better and the moonlight glinted off his suit that seemed wet. Oh. Blood.

"Jesus, you're bleeding?" She asked, her voice getting a little higher. It was a lot of blood.

"Are you going to let me in or not?" He bit out, wincing as he did. She had half a mind to close her window and let him bleed out on her fire escape. But as annoying as he was, she knew she couldn't. She stepped aside and he carefully climbed inside. She took note of how slow he was moving and she wondered how much blood he'd already lost. He stumbled once inside and she quickly wrapped an arm around his uninjured side, making him groan in pain. With a tut, she led him to her couch and helped him sit down.

"Why are you here? I mean I get that you can't exactly go to the hospital, but here?" She asked, feeling irritated. She hadn't expected to have a half dead vigilante bleeding out on her sofa.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," he muttered, shifting as he tried to take off his suit. She wanted to ask about Foggy but she guessed the happy go lucky best friend wasn't his go to for stitching him up. With a heaving sigh, she knelt on the couch next to him, helping him remove the top half of his suit. There was a gunshot wound under the front of his left shoulder. She tried not to be concerned.

"It's still in there, can you get it out?" He asked weakly. She tried to temper the anxiety at how bad he sounded. Not like she cared or anything, she'd worry no matter who it was.

"I can try," she muttered. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom, grabbing the tweezers off the side, the first aid kit and then the bottle of whisky that was on the side in the kitchen.

When knelt next to him again, his mask was off and it was jarring to actually see his face when still in his devil suit, even if it was only partially.

"Don't think this is a routine. You get hurt again, you can go somewhere else," she snarked. Honestly at this point it was more to cover her nerves at trying to keep him alive. He chuckled a little, leaning his head on the back of the sofa as she doused the tweezers with alcohol. One hand carefully steadied herself on his chest and she glanced at his pale face. His unseeing eyes were on her ceiling and his hair was all over the place.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," she murmured. Honestly, she felt a little bad for him. He just nodded, closing his eyes in anticipation.

She took a deep breath before digging the tweezers in his wound. He cried out. One hand gripping the couch tightly as the other flailed for a minute before he settled on fisting her shirt. She bit back a retort since he was in pain and she focused on fishing out the bullet. Thankfully it wasn't too long before she yanked it out. He was breathing deeply, sweating and looking awful and now the wound was oozing blood at a worrying rate. She grabbed some gauze and pressed it to the wound with a worried frown.

"I need to stitch it, hold this," she said firmly. Still fisting her shirt, his other hand came up to put pressure on the wound. She dug around and got the needle, cleaning it with the whisky before threading it. She tried to ignore the tremor in her hand as it brushed against his, moving the gauze.

When her eyes flit to his face, he was already looking at her with his unfocused gaze.

"You look like shit, Murdock," she muttered with a wry smirk as she started to stitch him up. He chuckled a little, scrunching his eyes closed as she tried to make quick work of sewing him up.

"I feel like it," he replied with a sly grin. She shook her head as her hands delicately thread the needle through his skin, stopping occasionally to soak up the blood with the gauze.

"You're good at this. Not your first time?" He asked. She wondered if he was making small talk to try and take his mind off it. Since he was injured she decided to go along with it. Her anger at dropping in like this would wait until she was done.

"Not a gunshot, but I had to sew myself up after a gnarly stab wound," she murmured in reply.

Her hands faltered as his hand let go of her shirt and settled on her bare thigh, his fingers running over the jagged scar. It startled her how he'd even know where it was but she shook it off. He was weird after all with his super senses. She tried to ignore the fact his hand was on her thigh at all. She tried to reason that his hands were kind of his eyes since he was blind. But the touch was light, gentle almost, it made her feel weird and she didn't like it. She didn't think anyone had touched her with such gentleness before.

"Who stabbed you?" He asked with a frown.

"Got caught snooping by one of the Russians a few years back. Taught me a hard lesson in being more sneaky," she snorted mirthlessly. His frown deepened and his hand stilled on her thigh. A few stitches later and he was all done. She wiped his wound clean before bandaging him up.

His gentle touch to her scar had rattled her and she hopped off the sofa the second she was done. She started stuffing everything back into the first aid kit.

"I wasn't joking when I said this won't happen again. Teach Foggy first aid or something, but don't drop by here like this again," she said shortly, maybe harsher than intended and his frown let her know he was confused by it. He didn't reply, just nodding curtly at her. After putting the bloodied gauze away she noticed him standing from the couch, he was swaying on his feet though and she bit her lip as she walked over.

"What are you doing?" She sighed, annoyed.

"Getting out of your hair. That's what you wanted right?" He bit out. Yes, it was. But as he took a woozy step forward he almost collapsed again. She felt a pang of guilt and pursed her lips as she walked over, pushing him gently to sit back down.

"You lost a lot of blood, you need to rest. Just stop being annoying. You can take the couch and leave tomorrow," she relented. He didn't look any happier than she was about the whole thing but there wasn't much they could do. They both knew he was in no condition to get home just yet. He gave a curt nod, staying where she pushed him back down. This would be awkward as all hell. Her apartment was all open plan except the bathroom and a small closet. Her bed was on the other side and she felt uneasy with him being so close if she was to sleep. But she also didn't want to stay awake and be forced to spend time with him with this tension.

"Go to sleep," she huffed, padding over to her bed. She had some blood on her shirt and a bloody handprint on it from where he'd gripped it. But she paid no mind to it as she climbed in bed, burrowing under the blankets. She fell asleep that night to uncomfortable silence.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

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abduct-me-helen · 4 years

Text

Class 108′s Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 3.

Katie was the first one to recover, turning her knife on Mr. Sims and charging forward. Martin yanked him out of the way.

“Woah! Woah, woah. Hey!” he said, waving his arms to get her to calm down.

“Katie.” Rosie barked, which in that tone meant “stand down.”

Katie withdrew, not taking her eyes off her former teacher. “You can’t be real. You obviously aren’t human, and-”

“If you put down the knife, I promise I’ll give you answers.” Jon said, hands up and breathing steady.

Katie glanced over to Rosie, who narrowed her eyes in thought then gave a quick nod. She begrudgingly lowered her weapon, eyes still locked with the two newcomers in the room.

There was a moment of silence.

“What the fuck just happened?” Riko asked, slipping her glasses off in disbelief.

“I…I smited him.” Jon answered awkwardly. “Okay, how about we get everyone in here and then we can have…a class.”

“A class.” Katie deadpanned. Jon nodded, and she shrugged, standing up and gesturing for Riko to come with her while she fetched Elliot and Raphi, who were still in the other classroom. Probably kissing. Ugh.

An awkward silence filled the air, before Tabitha turned to the window and tilted her head. “Who opened the blinds?”

The rest of the kids shook their heads, and Tabitha sighed, turning the rod to the right and shutting the outside world out of sight.

“Eyeball daddy must’ve wanted to say hi.” she said thoughtfully.

Jon choked, and Martin had a look of mild horror on his face as he patted Jon’s back to stop him from coughing.

“E-exuse me?” he stammered.

Tabitha was unfazed.

“Eyeball daddy. You know, the great voyeur? The big smexy eyeball in the sky?”

Martin keeled over wheezing while Jon dropped his jaw.

“The-the Beholding?!” “Smexy?!”

Tabitha wrinkled her nose. “That’s a stupid name. All hail eyeball daddy.”

“All hail eyeball daddy.” The rest of the kids said in unison, looking bored. It was more of a reflex for them at this point.

Martin and Jon shared a look of horror, before Riko entered with Katie, Elliot and Raphi following her.

“Okay then, take a seat. I’ll explain, but, it isn’t pretty.”

“Really? The apocalypse isn’t pretty? I had no idea!” Raphi snarked. Elliot batted him on the head, and Jon was painfully reminded of a similar interaction between Tim and Sasha in the past.

No, he thought, there’s no time to dwell on that.

“There are fourteen entities called the fears that previously existed in a different place outside of our universe. They all have domain over different fears, and people that serve them get…abilities in exchange for feeding the-”

“Like the spiders! And the masked people! And the-” Tabitha cut herself off, “sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself,” she muttered, wringing her hands and tapping her foot.

“No, go on.” Jon prompted her to continue.

She hesitated. “W-we’ve just been noticing patterns…I call them categories. They’re like…really angry colors? If that makes sense?”

Jon looked impressed. “And you just figured all that out?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “Well, you’re not wrong. These “really angry colors” are called the fear powers. Some think them alike to gods, but they don’t have any true motives other than to feed. They aren’t like humans in that respect. They have no motivation.”

The class watched, enraptured as he continued his explanation.

“There’s the Slaughter, fear of war and violence. The Lonely, fear of isolation. The Web, fear of-”

“Being controlled.” Rosie said quietly. Jon nodded.

“Exactly. And-”

“Spiders.” Tabitha shivered, remembering being cocooned in their webs; the feeling of legs crawling over her skin and weaving her in threat.

Jon made a gesture to show that she was right. He continued to explain the rest of the fear powers, until he stopped abruptly.

“And then there’s the Eye.” He said, looking to the closed window. He realized he was running a tape recorder, but at this point he couldn’t care less. The Eye saw everything anyway.

“Wait, hold on, how do you even know any of this?” Elliot asked him, eyes narrowed.

Jon sighed. “Getting to that.”

“The Eye-”

“Eyeball daddy-” “shut up Tabitha-”

“-is the fear of being watched, or being known. I know this one better than all the others, because I…serve it.”

“You what?!” Riko exclaimed, and Katie inched towards her knife.

“I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” he said shortly, rubbing his temples with his palm. “I assume you all know the Magnus Institute?”

Rosie nodded hesitantly. They’d all done their fair share of research on their enigma of a teacher. You would too, if someone like him showed up out of the blue and said cryptic things all the time.

Things that made far more sense these days then she would’ve liked.

“Well, the position of the Archivist, which is what I am, is more or less a trap. You can’t quit, and you become very connected to the Eye. It…changes you.”

“That’s ominous.” Katie muttered. Jon ignored her.

“What’s your connection to all this?” Riko questioned skeptically.

“That’s,” Jon breathed, “that’s a long story.”

“Cut out the boring bits and tell us; it’s not like we have anything better to do.” Elliot shrugged.

“Well, I suppose I started the whole thing.”

“What?!-” “No!-” “How dare you-” “I will fuck you up-”

A chorus of anger erupted in the room, and Martin stepped to the left of Jon’s side.

“He didn’t start it. He’s just guilty about-.”

“If I had fought it-”

“You know full well that wouldn’t have worked. I’m tired of you trying to make yourself the villain.” He stared Jon down begrudgingly.

“Look,” Martin sighed, “I’ll explain since he sees it fit to make himself out to be the enemy here. Our boss, Elias Bouchard, who is actually Jonah Magnus but back to that later, manipulated him. He basically had him marked by all the fourteen fears, and then forced him to complete the ritual that opened the eye. He had no choice in the matter.”

Katie withdrew, and they all relaxed.

“It’s not your fault, then, Mr. Sims.” Sydney said with furrowed brows.

He shook his head. “I…if I hadn’t opened that letter then none of this would’ve happened. I’ve done some bad things.”

“l laughed while one of my best mates got murdered,” Said Tabitha, getting off a desk covered in sharpie doodles.

Jon sighed. “You were under the influence of the Web.”

“And you were under the influence of the eye. How is that different?”

Jon ran a hand through his hair, looking to Martin, who was gazing down on him expectantly. “Fine, yes, I see your point.”

Tabitha nodded, satisfied.

“Why were you here in the first place?” Elliot asked.

“The Eye tells me where to go, and when I found out all of you were alive I decided I needed to come back for you.” Jon answered him, looking to the closed window briefly.

“Come back for us? But we’re safest here!” Sydney protested.

Jon hesitated. “They Eye preserved you because of your connection to me, at least, that’s what I think. It might have been Elias, maybe as a gift? But if I choose to…reject this “present” then you’ll each be thrown into different domains.”

Beat.

“Well fuck.” Tabitha said.

“Language.” Jon said half-heartedly.

“What are you going to do, send her to the principal?” Raphi retorted sarcastically. Tabitha tilted her head towards him and raised her eyebrow at Jon, signifying her agreement

A few people grumbled in agreement, before a pall of silence took over the room.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Asked Cal, who’d been uncharacteristically silent while processing all that had happened.

Jon clenched his fist. “The Panopticon.”

“You mean the tower? That’s not far from here!” Elliot told him.

“Yes, but…space doesn’t work like it used to. We’re going to have to venture through every domain until we can reach it.”

“And what’s the plan?” Katie questioned, expression blank.

“Don’t die? And reset the world” Martin offered.

“That’s it?” Katie said incredulously, her tone affronted.

“It’s a work in progress.” Jon defended.

“Oh well fuck-” “We��re screwed-” “Eyeball daddy, I’m coming for you-” “Bold of you guys to assume I don’t want to die-” “Cypress are you okay-” “If I get into hell I call lava bath-”

Jon facepalmed.

Martin was honestly both concerned and impressed about how they were handling this. If it was him, at this age he would’ve been freaking out and crying, not complaining.

“How are you so calm about this?” He asked, brows furrowed in surprise.

Raphi shrugged. “We’re Gen Z. We had lockdown drills all the time preparing us for a shooter, and once you think of that shit enough it’s not like you aren’t surprised when it happens. We’ve never been afraid of dying, we’re just afraid of watching the world burn,” the other kids nodded in agreement, “and look where that fucking got us.”

Martin was honestly stunned, but he chose not to comment.

“How poetic of you, Raph.” Elliot cooed.

“Oh, fuck off.”

There was a bittersweet moment of hesitation, before Tabitha yelled. “We’re going to win this, fuckers! We have the power of God and Anime on our side! Hiya!” She did the motions from the vine, and the rest of the class followed.

“Hiya!”

“List?” Rosie asked, checking supplies off her clipboard.

“Check!”

“Everyone have a weapon or something they can use as one? No, Elliot, I do not count your “bulging muscles” as a weapon. Stop pouting.”

“Check!”

“Everyone grab a buddy. Sydney will be with Tabitha and I, so everyone else should be in pairs. I think that’s everything.”

Rosie turned to Jon and Martin, who were waiting for her to finish the roll call. Jon raised an eyebrow.

Rosie rolled her eyes. “It helps to have some semblance of order here.”

Martin elbowed him, and Jon grumbled something Rosie didn’t understand.

And so, class 108 started their field trip.

“Elliot! Raphi! Cypress! Stop making videos! We need to move.” Jon called irritably, annoyed at the loud, bad music that these kids were filming themselves dancing to. It made absolutely no sense to him.

He didn’t like it.

“But we’re doing Tik Toks, Mr. Sims!” Cypress called back.

“You-you’re doing what?” Jon asked confusedly.

“Tik Toks!” Elliot repeated, which did not help at all.

“I-what’s a Tik Tok?” Jon ran his hands through his hair.

“Google-y-eyes it!” Elliot answered.

“Not funny.” He muttered, already getting a headache.

“It was, actually. His puns are great.” Raphi, who’s hearing was only secondary to Katie in the class rankings, (they made a list a few years back), heard him muttering and shouted to him without stopping the dance.

“Fine-what the hell is that?” Jon said, affronted as he began to Know what these “Tik Toks” were.

Insidious.

“That’s a Tik Tok Mr. Sims!” Cypress told him.

“Why are they dancing?”

“To get Tik Tok famous Mr. Sims!”

Jon was notably distressed, so he took out a cigarette and discretely lit it.

Tabitha whipped towards him. “Chris, is that a WEED?”

“W-what?”

“I’m calling the police!”

Christ, these kids were going to be the death of him.

#tma #the magnus archives #teacher jon #teacher jonathan sims #season 5 #tma season 5 #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Rumble

It was just another day in Vacou. Hot temperatures, clear skies, and Carmine getting into trouble. Ruby paced around her home on the phone with the girl’s teacher. The fifteen year old wasn’t where she was supposed to be. “What do you mean she hasn’t showed up for class again? Is she in the school at all?” Ruby tapped her foot like a rabbit. She loved her daughter but the amount of anxiety caused whenever Carmine went off somewhere alone was a thing Ruby would never shake. She didn’t need another Dustin. Nobody needed another Dustin. Though at this point, Carmine wouldn’t have the luxury that child was given. She would no doubt be dead. The thought made Ruby hang up the phone and dial Sun’s number.

“Yellow?” The cheeky man answered. “Carmine wouldn’t be with you by any chance? She’s not at school. I’m about to start looking around town.” She heard a bit of rummaging over the phone. The man was climbing a tree to get a vantage point of his surroundings. “Haven’t seen her, but you know Carmine. She’s probably sticking her nose into some crime to stop it. The police authorizing her to do citizens arrest and intervene with organized crime was probably the most chaotic decision.”

Ruby walked up stairs to peek in on Jaune putting Garnet down for a nap. “I’m heading out.” Jaune gave a thumbs up. “Godspeed.” Ruby gave him a kiss then dashed out the house. “Do you mind helping me out Sun? Vacou has too many nooks and crannies.”

“I think I have a better idea. Aero could speed things along.” Ruby’s face went through varying emotions. “Why isn’t he in school?” She asked. “He kept complaining about it. This gives me an excuse to put him to work though. The two of you together can cover Vacou in now time.” That was true. Vacou didn’t feel so big with help like his. “Can you put him on the phone?”

Sun looked around for his son. It was no surprise to see him on the roof. He was fortunately dressed already. The typical black combat boots with khaki cargo pants that had purplish sash around the waist that matched his shirt. His short brown hair was slicked back and he put on his black windbreaker. He turned his head to see Sun trying to get his attention.

“Yo! Ruby wants to talk to you, bird brain” Sun blinked and Aero was already hovering over him. His massive black and white condor wings spread out. Aero took the phone. “Let me guess,Carmine?” This wasn’t the first time he had to find the girl. Ruby sighed, “you guessed right. Do you know why she isn’t at school?” He had to think about it for a moment, then he had a pretty good idea why. “I could be wrong but there’s been talk about this back alley gang that’s been harassing students. Money, catcalling, forcing people to join, making those people get more people; the typical shtick. Carmine would definitely know about it.”

Great, Carmine was definitely doing something about that. Ruby picked up the pace. Gangs aren’t the worst thing to be dealing with. Vacou spawns Them constantly, but there are a few that are way too big and will take more than her. Carmine was good, but not untouchable. “Aero can you help me look for her and let me know what you find? I know you two are pretty fickle with each other but…”

“I’ll keep you posted. Not like I could refuse anyways.” He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to make you all the pasta you can eat.” Ruby said as she hung up. Aero gave Sun back his phone. “I’m going to borrow your arm bracers. Back alley brawl, you know those go.” Sun gave him a nod and gave him the ones he already had on.They weren’t what he used to but these bracers were the best quality. “Your mother is going to kill you if you lose.” Aero chuckled nervously. Truer words had never been spoken. He gave his wings a good flap and shot off towards the rest of town. The wind from his take off nearly knocked Sun over. “I hope he finds her in high spirits.”

xxxx

“FOR THE LOVE OF GODS! SHE’S ONE GIRL!” Shouted a man with a greasy mullet, aviators, and a cobras tattoo on his arm. He had just watched another one of his men get their face punched into a brick wall by Carmine. “WHY IS SHE STILL STANDING!?”

A man grabbed Carmine from behind to restrain her while another ran at her from the front with a knife. Carmine kicked out with both legs to hit his chin, then flung her weight forward to flip her captor forward; landing on top of him. “Fight me yourself if you think I’m easy to beat, you rock band reject.” She looked around at the dozen upon dozens of brutes that laid on the ground, writhing in pain. “Clearly your men need help. More came rushing in from back alley doors and fire escapes. The quality of the people weren’t too bad. It was the quantity that was a pain in the ass. Carmine had to admit she came here unprepared and unexpectedly; on uniform day no less. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and blood. Some of it being her own.

A slow stream of it ran down her face and over her left eye while her left forearm was an unhealthy mix of red and purple from blocking pipes. Even her face was a bit bruised and bloodied by scratches. Carmine was confident she looked like a complete badass right now. It was the only pro in this situation that kept the pain in check. That and adrenaline. A schoolmate cowarded behind a city dumpster where Carmine ordered the boy to stay. He had been targeted by the gang and came to school scared out of his mind. He also was a little beat up. “You okay back there?”

“No!” He shouted. He poked out from his hiding spot. “Why’d I let you talk me into taking you here!? We’re gonna die!” Carmine could understand that mentality, but why her classmate had it after all the bodies she’s knocked to the ground was beyond her. Her appearance had to be the reason why. Carmine kept up the assault, roundhouse kicking two more guys and uppercutting some chick with green hair. Another girl came running at her with a knife aimed for her face. Carmine back stepped then grabbed the wrist of the opponent, flinging her into three more people. Carmine ran at the leader but was hit in the back with a bat and stumbled into another brute that gave her a meaty left hook she couldn’t see coming. Her body hit a brick wall. Having her weapons would be nice right now was all she could think about.

The one with the bat went in for another swing to the head. Carmine grit her teeth and blocked it with her already broken arm. “This will do.” She yanked him forward and head butted the weapon out of his hand. The bat was lighter than what she used to. Carmine kicked off the wall and swung it across the other brutes face, knocking him out cold. More came rushing in to dog pile her but Carmine was too quick. She weaved in between the bodies and had their ribs become acquainted with her new weapon. “I have to be honest with y’all, getting really close to just beating you within an inch of your life.” The threat was all too real and they could tell.

Some of them started approaching slower and with far more caution. They’d be damn if some kid was about to win. Their boss wouldn’t allow running away anyways. Carmine growled, getting annoyed by the herd mentality of weaklings. “If you know what’s best then stop hanging around schools and dealing to children if you know what’s good for you.” She vanished from their line of sight before appearing several feet closer with six more gang members face down on the ground. “Or we can keep roughing it? Either way works for me.” Carmine was really hoping to catch her breath. Her limbs felt heavy.

They kept advancing, step by step. The hard way it is. She felt bad for them really. From the moment Carmine entered the alleyway, they forfeited their right to leave quietly. She only gave them an out so they couldn’t say she didn’t. A twinge of excitement and anger crept onto her face in the form of a smile. Her red eyes shimmered eagerly. “Bring it on, fools.”

“Well look at that, a face of a predator in her element. You’re a real freak show, you know that?” Called Aero from above. Everyone looked up to the man with his phone out. He zoomed in on Carmine and took a picture for Ruby. “Your mom is searching for you. She’ll flip seeing you like this.” He already got a message from Ruby saying she was five minutes away. “Who the hell are you!” Cried the leader.

Carmine grimaced. “Aero…” she looked to her right to see the boy next to her while the others took a minute to notice he wasn’t in the sky anymore, gasping when they finally did. “I don’t need you here. I got this covered.” Aero looked Carmine up and down. “You look like shit. That’s not new though, but I’m here as a favor l. You may not need my help but that kid over there is the reason this is happening right? He looks like he’ll take all the help he can get.”

“I would!” He shouted. Carmine rolled her eyes and approached the group of gang members, her bat twirling in her hand. “Handle the small fry while I teach their leader a thing or two. If you think you can handle it.” A grunt ran at Carmine but was met with a wing slap across the face that sent them to the ground. Aero smiled and dashed towards another grunt, striking their face hard enough to break their nose and push a few more back. The leader got a good look at the young man. His heart sank when he realized both of these troublesome kids had a colored sash. The girl’s scarf and the fabric on the boy’s waist. To make it worse, the gray eyes and majestic wings. Started looking familiar. “You...live on the outskirts, to the north, right?”

Aero cracked his knuckles. “Oh, so you know who I am? Then you know today is the day your gang gets run into the ground. Don’t feel too bad though. Losing to a rival group is the natural order of things. Carmine, we have four minutes before your mom steals the show.” Carmine did nothing but rush past him with her bat at the ready. Words waste time after all. It was time for a beat down.

xxxx

Ruby darted around the tight corners of shabby buildings that hid all kinds of secrets. That photo really sent her into a panic. Being battered and bruised was nothing new to see. That was the sad part. Why couldn’t she go school for a full day for once! Ruby didn’t even care that Carmine was a C student. Yes her grade in math needed to go up next quarter and literature class may need work. But Ruby wasn’t going to hassle her about it! She just wanted her safe. “Carmine! Where are you!?” The area was dead quiet to the point it was unnerving. Ruby turned one more corner. “CARMINE?!”

“Hmm?” The girl heard her mother and turned around. There she stood, teary eyed and out of breath. All while Carmine sat on a pile knocked out goons. Her scarf pressed against her head to stop the bleeding. She bit her lip, feeling a little guilty now that she sees the worried look on her mom. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just don’t hug me tight. My ribs took a beating, also my arm. Good chance I’m also concussed-” Ruby gently wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll yell at you later. Just do me a favor and tell me the crazy shit you’ll do?” Carmine turned flushed and hugged her mother back. “You’re lucky everyone is knocked out. It would be embarrassing for common thugs to see this. Would you believe me if I said I had full intention on going to school. Then that guy over by the dump walked by all frazzled, hassling people out of fear. Protecting peers is part of being a good student, right?”

Ruby looked at the boy. Aero was helping him up. She didn’t know how many people he had to fight. There wasn’t a scratch on him but the bracers were riddled with fresh blood. He didn’t even look tired. Typical Aero, he’s a wild one. Forget silver eyes. That silver tongue and calm attitude was all the weapons he needed. It was still sweet of him to lend a helping hand. Ruby didn’t even have to pay him this time! Perhaps his parents got on him about such a thing. “I’m going to drop this guy off at school. I’d stick around but you know, fuck that noise. You can deal with paperwork work and authorities. I want that pasta with meat sauce by the way. Later Mrs Rose, Little Flower” He said to Carmine. He spread his wings and took off.

Carmine scowled at that nickname. “I can’t believe you sent him after me. Of all the people.” Ruby chuckled lightly, he’s the only one in all of Remnant who might completely enjoy your chaos.” Ruby had a point. For all the years they’ve known each other, Aero seemed to invite controversy. It was incredibly irritating. Why couldn’t he thrive off a peace like a normal person? “Wait, you promised him pasta?”

“Yep, your punishment is helping me cook for him.” Carmine looked at her arm. “Uh...one handed? Even with dad’s help I am going to need a cast.” Ruby shook her head. “Extreme choices require extreme punishments! Do your best!” The enthusiasm didn’t match just how cruel that statement was. Carmine held her head down and sighed, “Fine…he better like it, or I’ll stab him.” Ruby frowned. “This is why your friend bubble is as tiny as a soap sud.” Carmine’s jaw dropped. “Hey!”

xxxx

Carmine sat on the couch covered in bandages while Jaune wrapped her broken arm for the second time. Aero sat at their table comfortably eating pasta and tried to stop himself from choking out of laughter. “Amazing on the battlefield, stumbles in the kitchen. Oh the pitfalls of Carmine Arc-Rose never stop being entertaining.

“I will beat you with my ca-aaah!” Carmine winced. Jaune wasn’t pleased. “You’re pulling your stitches!” The three of them kept going back and forth while Ruby fed Garnet along with Sun and Ilia. “Why are they like this?” They all said silently as they ate. At least they had a reason to eat together. All in all, a pretty good day.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby lancaster #sun wukong #carmine arc rose #ilia amitola #sun x ilia #rwby sunspots #rwby rosebud #rwby au #aero amitola

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solecize · 4 years

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EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s) / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun. there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair. you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. . .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.

#neowritingsnet #neowriters #nct-writers #nct fic #lucas x reader #nct au #nct imagine #wayv imagines #lucas imagine #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #nct scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #— EIGHTEEN FOREVER .#i had to repost ughh

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