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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

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The Boyfriend Experience - Part 2 /2

7k words of Rooster being your super wonderful, pretend plus one! A few swears, but it’s the Navy, goddammit! The fluffiness should make up for it.

The Boyfriend Experience 1 / 2

“Thank God you didn’t catch the bouquet,” Rooster rolled his eyes as you wandered back, bored. "Could you look any less interested?" he bit back a smile.

“I could, yes," you told him, patting his cheek with a gentle thwack as he chuckled.

”Well, you made sure I didn't have a run there to fake propose in front of all these witnesses. Left my fake engagement ring in my dresser drawer back at base,” he snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"You'd have really ruined this wedding if you proposed. Even you must know the lack of decorum of proposing at someone else's wedding. You probably wouldn't need to go to those extremes," you laughed quietly.

He nodded and grinned. "I'd guarantee you a life of no more wedding BS though."

"You're probably right. How long you been sitting on that?”

"Just came to me," he admitted. "But you can't tell me it's not an amazing idea to get everyone off your ass."

"Thank you for not going to those lengths," you said as his head fell back and he kept giggling. Yes, Rooster was a giggler after a few drinks. And it was adorable.

Looking back at you, he said, "I guess we're almost done though. Since I have this," Rooster grinned widely, flinging the bride’s baby blue garter at your face. You flicked it right back and he caught it easily. He'd mortified you that he'd made such a spectacle to get his mitts on it earlier in the evening - he literally speared a dude to get to the front and leapt over the Best Man to catch it. "My Little League coach would be so proud today."

"You're the worst," you reached for his whiskey as he looked on proudly.

"You disappointed us as a couple and missed the bouquet to boot but I forgive you because you've graduated to a very sexy drink. That's my girl," he raised his eyebrow, waiting patiently for your sip, which you did gladly.

"You're such a dick," you could only respond, handing the glass back as he chuckled, putting the garter back in his breast pocket, patting it safely.

"Taken you 30 years to figure it out - that's more on you than me though," he teased.

"Last song of the night, friends," the MC of the band announced as Rooster offered you his hand. "Your bride and groom are ready to kick into matrimonial bliss part of the night and we all have to head home at some point!"

"You're not getting out of this. It's our last dance as fake lovers," he said, giving you the creepiest bedroom eyes, or you supposed, that you’d ever seen. How had he managed to bed so many women if that was his game, you'd never know (you assumed it was probably a lot less effort than batting his lashes, to be completely honest), and you shook your head with a smile. He stood to his full height and offered you his calloused palm. You naturally accepted, lacing your fingers through his. You loved the warmth his hands gave yours.

"Can you never say 'lovers' again?" you asked, spirited, as he spun you under his arm, leading you to the dancefloor, laughing loudly.

"Never," he promised as the song began. The band started Elvis' "I'm All Shook Up", most people in the room made their way to the dancefloor and Rooster praised the gods. You liked the song but loved the joy it clearly stirred in Rooster more. You adored how much he loved music, though he admitted he was never taught piano, guitar, or even drums but was pretty good at each of them, or he liked to think so. He played by ear and enjoyed experimenting with sounds. You'd romanticised Rooster playing at home in the quiet, just for himself, tinkering with keys, strumming strings. It made you kind of weak to think of him creatively like that. He was certainly full of surprises and you were yearning to know more.

He was unlike anyone you knew - you'd learned so much tonight and appreciated the human he was more than just the talented pilot most assumed of him, you thought maybe he appreciated people thought he was fairly one-dimensional, he liked his space and privacy. "New one to learn for the bar?" you offered as he pondered the question.

"Shit, maybe," he contemplated with a nod and he pulled you close. While not an incredibly slow song, Rooster actually moved quite well. Yet another thing you had learned about him tonight and he pulled your back to his chest, keeping you pressed to him, his hands spreading across your belly, keeping a respectful amount of space between your bodies. He took your hand and spun you back to him, facing the other again and he smiled slow, a smile you'd certainly never seen before but enjoyed thoroughly as his hands moved to the back of your ribs, dragging you closer to him.

He loosened a hand and put your arms around his neck, the height difference between you bringing your body crushed against him and it felt kind of... perfect.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, just between the two of you. He smiled faintly, his hands caressing your back. Once he'd found access to skin, his hand kept a close touch all night and your back felt cold without it.

"It's really me that should be thanking you," he admitted, lips dangerously close to your ear and you'd deny it, but it shook you to the core. Looking at him, your feet stopped moving and the world may have stopped too. Here he was, right in front of you, just like he always had been... but he was completely new to you now. "I haven't had a night like this in a really long time," he continued earnestly. "Almost felt like a real date."

You had lost the ability to talk, because thinking about it later, you'd realise, this was the first of many nights like this. But it wouldn't pretend anymore. He would be yours, and you would be his right back. And the pretence would be gone; traded for romance that didn't need to be held back, touches on skin that meant something because it was their skin you'd touched so many times before, still able to draw the same spark as it had tonight.

Rooster's lips met your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss against your skin and you held him just a little bit tighter. "I got you, kid," he told you softly but wasn't quite sure why he added, "You're safe with me."

And you may have believed him.

"Do you two want a lift?" Annie asked as the festivities started to come to a close. The bride and groom had left, guests were starting to organise themselves to do the same, the band was packing up and the music was over for the generic 'get the fuck out of our venue now' muzak. After your last duties for the evening to help Sarah's parents collect the gifts and load their car, you went back to the table to collect your belongings, thankful it was all finally over... as well as the evening.

It was a long day, and saying you were exhausted, physically, mentally... emotionally, was an understatement. Things were a bit muddled to you now and you were feeling a little unhinged at the growing flutters in your tummy while so close to Rooster. He was currently holding your bouquet and your clutch like it was absolutely no big thing.

"Rooster, I don't think you should drive. I can get you both back. I'm the designated driver for another three weeks and one day," she looked at her belly, accusingly. "Unless you'd like to come sooner, please?"

"Shit," he muttered. He had probably had one or two drinks too many, he realised. Palming his keys in his pants pocket, he replied he would just walk back to base. Wasn't at all far, he had his credentials. Fresh air would sober him up anyway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Thank you though. I'm sure your little sister will get me back safely," he joked entirely for Annie's benefit. But your feet, your poor feet were shredded. You gave yourself kudos, you'd done the right thing and kept your heels on the duration of the day, but all you could imagine was peeling them off and preparing for the onslaught of blisters and discomfort as soon as humanly possible.

"Okay," she grinned. "Take care, Rooster," she hugged him and he hugged her back, trying to avoid her baby bump politely. "So good to see you."

"You too, Annie," he replied fondly. "I had a great night."

"Don't be a stranger when you're in town. Let's do this again soon. Come over for dinner, bring her," she nodded to you.

"I might," Rooster gave her a shy smile and Annie hugged him again. "I'm thinking of moving back so you may be seeing a bit more of me anyway," he said and your ears pricked up, this was brand new information and your palms may have clammed up a little.

"You should, everyone would be so happy you're home," she told him.

"Definitely thinking about it," he promised.

"Good, Please get my sister home safely?" she warned him.

"Of course, she's precious cargo," he smiled as Annie kissed you and waddled over to Arron, her extremely drunk hubby.

"I could have gone with that lift," you told him as you watched them leave. Your poor feet.

"Nah, you're okay," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"Rooster," you protested. "I might cry."

Rooster pouted. "Then I'll piggyback you," he broke into a smile as a few of the single bridesmaids said goodnight to you both. "Come with me. Got an idea," he urged, nodding towards the door, not waiting for you and taking off in his strides in that direction. Moving as quick and gracefully as the heels would allow, you caught him at the door where he took your hand and you followed him to the beach. It was pitch black minus the moon's reflection on the water, nearing midnight when he stopped at the edge of the grass to sand and watched him unbutton his jacket to sit. You did the same. "Feet, please?" he asked quietly.

Confused, you weren't sure why you offered him your left foot, but his fingers made haste unbuckling the silver heel you had been wearing for hours and hours.

"Gentle," he told himself as he pulled the off, and held his palm out for your other foot that you gratefully offered, the relief almost instantaneous. Putting your heels together, he lightly pressed into the arches of your feet, your ankles, your calves, the pain worth it for a few moments, looking at you with a gentle frown to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but it was definitely worth it. "Okay?" you nodded as he slipped off his jacket and left it in a pile with your shoes, purse and bouquet. He unlaced his loafers, took his socks with them and cuffed his slacks up to his lower calf although there was little give to them. "Shit," he muttered, pulling at the wrong piece of his bowtie and knotting it tighter.

"Here, Roost," you said softly, sitting up to kneel, he watched you in keen interest as your fingers worked to loosen the tie. Knowing he'd made it worse before it unravelled under your touch, you smiled as he happily unbuttoned the first few holes on his shirt, showing a little of his strong, golden chest and a light smattering of dark hair.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Up," he got up slowly, finding the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and rolling both to his muscular forearms. He smiled, offering his hand. He pulled you up, your sore feet sending you careening into him softly. He nodded towards the water and followed you through the sand.

The night was cool, but in the height of summer, not unbearable by any stretch of the imagination. Stopping right before the waves, you looked back at him.

"I promise you, those feet will feel a million bucks in about 15 seconds," and he hitched you into his arms, taking you out to his knees, lowering you amid squeals of cold and a now damp skirt around your thighs. He didn't give you space, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your belly, chin on your hair. You felt him sigh behind you.

"Dammit, Rooster," you cursed him although grinning in the madness, trying not to shiver as the waves splashed around you. It was a little chillier in the water than you would have liked, but Rooster was close and he was almost radiator hot. "It's f-f-freezing," you chattered.

"It's the ocean at midnight," he said in your ear. "What were you expecting?" he posed a good question. "But your feet don't hurt now, do they?"

"Actually, I can't feel them... because they're numb," you replied, your toes thumbing in the sand beneath you, it grounded you and felt so familiar. You loved it, craved it. The grains felt good and if you squinted, you could almost avoid the slight needling of your feet as they started to relax and unwind.

"You're the water," he murmured to you quietly, his voice lower than the ocean's bustle around you. "I know I'm the clouds. But you're the ocean. You need it. I've always known that about you. I see you some mornings down here, in the waves if I run late. I never see a crease or concern on your features, you're just one with the water. It's pretty sexy, actually."

You wished he'd stop talking because as he adjusted his hold on you, leaving one hand on your hip, the other arm wrapping around your shoulders, you only reaffirmed how good you fit against him. "I love that," you admitted, taking his hand and he sighed again. He was right, though cold, this was your happy place. This is where you desired to be, in the water and the freedom and terror that came with it, how it could make you teeter so easily and push you out of your comfort zone. And he knew all about it.

Above you, Rooster smiled to himself. He was starting to really enjoy holding you close, learning the curves of your body, how you could find the perfect place to find calm in his arms. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a really good time tonight. It... didn't feel forced or contrived. Why haven't you and I done this before?"

Because we didn't see each other this way before Natasha threw us together, you wanted to say. We can laugh, we can play and have fun, team against anyone and not think anything of it... but tonight has categorically changed our friendship because I can't go back to just being your friend, Rooster. I think it would be easier to lose you than find out you didn't want to be with me this way again.

You stayed silent, you had just tortured yourself with your inner monologue as it was. "You are absolutely shaking," Rooster said, softly, maybe now regretting his idea and his fat fucking mouth just a little. "I think it's time to get you out of the water."

"I'm okay," you lied as he rubbed your arms where he could see the goose pimples rise. He couldn't stop the shuddering even in his stranglehold.

"Out you get, kid."

You nodded thankfully. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was not enough to keep you warm and only caused you to tremble more. "Sorry," you said as he released you from his clutches and moved before he could say anything else.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Rooster sighed, watching you make your way to the beach. He knew he'd scared you. You knew he was opening his heart to you, and just like Natasha joked about your commitment fear, maybe it wasn't too far off the mark and that made him sad for all that you had missed and what you could miss out on. He began to follow you as you sat back near all the gear you'd removed, closing in on yourself. Rooster ran the last little while up the beach and retrieved his jacket, putting it over your shoulders. "You okay, kid? You're blue."

"Can't stop shaking," you could only reply and he swore he heard your teeth chatter. "But I'm okay."

"Come on, let's get you home," he tossed all the gear except the flowers into his jacket and tucked it under his arm then offered you his hand to help you up. He used a little more force, driving you into him and he wrapped you into his arms - he was very good at bringing you close and he knew, not once had you fought it. "I didn't want to scare you before. I'm sorry I was so forward."

You gave a little shrug. "Don't worry about it, Rooster. I'm just a big girl with big problems," you said simply.

"Do you think you know... why you don't want to get close to me?" he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

You looked up at him and he knew the kicker was coming. "You have I have very different daddy issues," you told him. "When my dad left, I thought he'd come back. For years I thought I could try and make him want us again... but my sister and I weren't enough and if he could leave us, who he was supposed to love so fucking easily, it doesn't give you much confidence as an adult. He picked another family over us, I have other siblings I don't even know. The shit sticks."

Holy shit, Rooster thought, his knuckles rubbing against your back. He paused and held you tightly. He didn't know that... hell, he did but certainly not to that deep an extent and maybe your issues were a little more deeply rooted than Natasha had alluded to. He certainly couldn't blame you for that.

"You mean something to me, and ruining anything with you would destroy me," you continued. "I appreciate our friendship and that comfort that brings me."

He nodded. It felt like a kiss-off, that was for sure. "I wasn't asking for the rest of our lives," he said quietly.

"I know," you pulled back, needing to be completely out of his reach. "But I just don't know what to tell you right now."

"And that is the end of our first fake date," Rooster said, hating to admit he was kind of relieved as you got back to your apartment. He followed you to the front door and wanted you to feel as safe as you could in his presence because you hadn't said it... but everything had changed, and he knew it too. He didn't expect the night to go like this, but he knew, like you... things couldn't be the same again now.

You gave him a gentle smile and his heart fluttered, he'd always loved your smile, but shit... it was his now. He left your heels neatly at the stoop. "I hope today wasn't a total bust for you. Now you know how good I am at ruining good things," you poked fun at yourself. "It's a wicked character trait."

He sighed, dropping his eyes. "Why would you think that being honest with me would ruin anything?" he had to ask, putting his hands in his pockets. "Don't you think I appreciate that more?"

"I dunno," you leaned back against the door as he looked back at you, chewing your lip and God, he wanted to be the one chewing that lip. Vulnerability to most people could be seen as a red flag but to him? You were telling him things that you'd never told anyone, and that was almost sacred and it would always mean more. He knew you trusted him, but made him uneasy that it wasn't with your heart. "Do you?"

He rolled his eyes, a faint grin on his face. "Yes. I do appreciate that more. I've learned more about you tonight than I have in the last 30 years, which is kind of awesome... and terrifying."

"Terrifying?" you repeated, a little disappointed as he stepped closer.

"If you think for one second that you scaring me is a bad thing, you are kidding yourself," of this he was certain. He wasn't scared to be out of his comfort zone with you.

You finally smiled and shook your head gently. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Rooster. I owe you, big time."

"Don't be crazy. I drank top-shelf booze, ate more cake than I have eaten for years, and I got to spend my night with you. We'll call it even."

"Well, thank you. It really meant a lot. And it won't happen again, there are no weddings or other OTT celebrations in the foreseeable future."

"That's a shame," he laughed quietly.

There was a slight beat before your rationality kicked in. "Well, I should go in," you told him, pushing back off the door and reaching for your keys in your clutch. "I'm sure you've got an early morning."

"Class," he acknowledged.

You nodded. There would always be something. "Goodnight, Rooster," you said as you unlocked the door and took a step in before pausing. Rationality be damned. "Unless you wanna come in?" you called softly in the dead quiet of the night. You could see his brain working a million miles a moment.

This wasn't something you and Rooster did, you didn't hang out together this way, it was always in a group, always someone else to play the distraction. "Yeah, I really do," he admitted, standing before you. The air around you had changed and you swore it wasn't just you that noticed it. For the first time tonight, his nervousness was evident and he put his palm on your cool cheek. Licking his lips, he admitted, "I really wanna come in," he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the door open and your hand found his. He followed willingly, quietly kicking the front door closed as you led him down the small hallway to your living room. Low lit from the lamp you'd left on for your late arrival, Rooster was interested to check out your place. Quaint, but it was quintessentially you. Linen in neutral and blue, a stash of books on the coffee table. A home. "Do you want a drink?" you asked.

Erring on the side of caution, he responded 'water'. He was starting to cut it fine of being in a proper state for the following morning and while he could take his liquor, the last thing he wanted was a hangover in an F-18. You came back to him with a cool glass and he gave you a small smile of thanks. He tossed his suit jacket on the end of the couch, finally happy to be rid of the silly thing.

"Do you mind if I get changed? This dress is clogged with sand, it's wet and damp."

"Course not. Go make yourself comfy," he said with a small smile as he watched you walk away before he preoccupied himself with the endless photos on your wall. A tasteful aesthetic of beautiful white frames with a mix of colour and black and white photos stored in them, he felt the love and consideration you'd put into the curation of images. And holy shit, if it wasn't you on his Mom's hip. You were crying and she was trying to appease you in any way she could. He took the photo from the wall and you wandered back a few minutes later, hair down, oversized Lakers t-shirt and you saw what he stared at.

"Mom said I had just been told I couldn't get an ice cream from the ice cream truck," you filled him in. Rooster actually laughed.

"That's the cutest fucking thing I ever heard."

"And Carole was trying to tell me she could get me ice cream from your place even though my mom was saying no, but I didn't want it anyway because it didn't come from the ice cream man. Naturally."

"That's amazing. This is about the last photo I would have ever expected to have seen, you know?"

"You can have it if you want. I mean, I'm a screaming three-year-old, but your mom looks absolutely beautiful."

"Always," he said softly and put the photo back carefully on the wall. "You keep it, it gives me something to see when I am here."

You shrugged easily and took a seat on the couch. He took a hint and went to join you, taking a cool sip of water to regulate. This was just not how he saw the night going. Sure, he was a man, he had eyes in perfect working order. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't memorised every curve of your body, your smile and that absolutely devastating self-deprecating wit but there were plenty of other distractions in his wake. But here you were, right before him. And you, at that moment, were perfect but he didn't know what you wanted from him and it ate him alive.

"What time is class tomorrow?"

"Eight," he replied.

You gently reached for his hand, avoiding his eyes and tracing over the callouses and his lifelines. "I'm sorry about before," you said finally. "I am really good at finding ways to make a night nosedive."

He shook his head, laying an arm against the length of the couch in hopes you'd shift just a little closer again. "No, fuck no. Please don't apologise."

"You know more about me tonight than most people know in a lifetime. I'm really not the sharing kind."

"That... I knew," he with a smile. "I kind of figured we were a bit alike that way anyway. But it gives me a little bit of hope. I'll weasel my way in," he said confidently. "You'll regret opening yourself up to me," he teased as you laughed heartily.

"Using my trauma against me," you fist-pumped and he was so relieved you could see the funny side to it as he scooted a little closer since you didn't. "Awesome."

"I promise I never would do that," he said sincerely. "I have enough baggage to take everyone in this damn town out."

"That's true," you agreed. "What a mess we are."

"You're not a mess. You have your reasons, just like I do," he let go of your hand and reached into his shirt, pulling out his dog tags. "These have been driving me mad all night. Think they're imprinted into my chest..."

"Can I see?" you asked as he shrugged and slipped it over his head, gently putting it over yours and letting the tags jangle across your heart. You picked it up and looked at the imprints of his name. "Bradley N. Bradshaw," you spoke. "What do you think your parents were thinking when they gave you more or less the same first and last names?"

He laughed loudly. "Bradley was my mom's dad's name," he explained. "And it was the 80's. I guess they thought it just sounded cool. They didn't think of what it might be like for me at 34."

You grinned, tracing the bumps of his ID. "I forgot what these felt like. Dad's, Grandpa's. Having them in my hands like they were a toy, and what they really stand for."

Rooster didn't speak. He understood what you meant without having to go into it.

"Roost?"

He hummed in reply.

"Have you thought about settling down?"

"I've thought about it," he shrugged simply. "I haven't really found anyone who I want to settle down with. Last thing I want is something that doesn't last. I want to feel like my parents did - I can hardly remember it... but the way Mom spoke about Dad after he died? That's something to strive for, you know? I know she was sick... but she really died of a broken heart in the end," he said quietly.

Holy shit... you thought.

"When I find the one, I'll know," he added, taking your hand back into his and this time, he avoided your gaze as he drew circles around the pads of your palm. "I'm sure of it." He was sure of it.

"And here I was thinking you loved being a bachelor and the notoriety of the Navy," you said, and he appreciated the teasing as he laughed, scratching his neck.

"I mean, yeah. There are some benefits to not settling," lifting his gaze back to you, he pondered again. "I'm not really that guy that falls quickly."

You nodded, you knew what that felt like and you knew he was growing weary of sharing hour, so you decided to make things more interesting. "I've asked Natasha this and was not remotely surprised with her response. But I'll ask you too because I know you wouldn't lie to me... What's the greater thrill: flying... or fucking, Rooster?"

Rooster chuckled quietly. "That is going directly for the jugular," you saw his lips move, but sounds didn't follow through. "I love flying," he looked up. "My fate is sealed, but the right person? Jesus, fucking the right person could make you wanna give it all up, you know?"

"No, I don't," you pressed, your brain trying to decipher his answer. "That's why I asked."

He smiled, a small tint of red creeping up to his cheeks. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I think I like making you squirm," you said simply as dropped his eyes, coy all of a sudden.

"Oh, I get it now," he thought about it. "If it was life and death, I would, I can't believe I'm saying this... but I'd fly."

"Oh, my God," your jaw may have hit the floor. It just was not the response you were expecting but told you a lot about Rooster's priorities.

"As I said, if it was the right person..." he tried to over-correct himself as you bit back your grin, covering your mouth with your joined hands.

"I'm speechless," you continued to needle him.

"Okay, if this is the little game we want to play - " he announced, smacking the top of your hand.

Oh, fuck.

"My turn, then," he said straightening up and you panicked, and he grinned because he could see you were clearly panicking. "Why haven't you really settled? You could have found the guy that it could have all worked with. You're smart, fucking hilarious, beautiful. Now don't get me wrong... but for most guys, that's all they need. We're not overly complex creatures."

"Honestly?"

His hand that was in yours clamped down and was trapped in his strong grasp. "Honestly."

"I don't think I'm ever going to find what I'm looking for. I haven't found someone that can keep my attention for long enough."

He stayed silent, he wasn't convinced.

You grunted and continued. "I date. A lot. I am just not broadcasting how average these dudes are I'm dating. Why do I want to spend my time with someone with who I don't spark with?"

"Do you really have a problem with commitment?" he asked pointedly.

"No, I have a problem with assholes," you replied smartly. "You haven't settled down, do you have a problem with a commitment?" you threw back.

He rubbed his moustache and he considered his answer. "No, I'm content with not being ready to settle down yet."

"So, yeah. You kind of have a problem with commitment," you laughed as he nudged you.

"I realise I'm in my prime," he shrugged, giving his ego receiving a nice self-stroking. You didn't mind Rooster talking himself up, it was incredibly sexy, truth be told. He was generally pretty modest about all that kind of stuff and kept his business to himself but really, he wasn't completely unlike his friends and co-workers. He knew he good a good-looking dude, his voice could turn you inside out (you figured), he could command a presence fairly easily, and women were putty in his hands. It wasn't a lot of effort on his behalf.

Grinning widely, you snuck closer to him, sitting on your knees and he watched his hands fall to his thighs as you released yourself from his grasp. God, you loved making him writhe and he dared you to ask what you were thinking. "I'm not stupid, Rooster. I know you get a handful of numbers when we go out."

"How many of those girls do you think I call?" he asked, thoughtfully. He knew you were getting off on this, taking the focus off you and pinning it on him. He didn't mind, he knew you were enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, and you weren't really offended by any of his questions, so he couldn't be either.

"You tell me," you whispered.

He adjusted his posture and he took your chin in his palm, his thumb imprinting on your chin. God, you were right there, so close... desperate to be kissed. "I like the chase," his voice low. "But the chase isn't all that much a challenge much anymore," he admitted and his wrist started beeping. 4am. He needed to go. He silenced it. "Saved by the bell," he announced. "That's my alarm."

"And just when we were getting to the juicy bits," you sighed as he kept your gaze, a small smile on his face.

"We can continue this if you like. At a more respectable hour."

"No thank you," you said quickly and he chuckled quietly.

"I'm not surprised by that."

You smiled shyly. "Sorry."

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, do you know that?" he couldn't stop himself from saying. It just had to be said and put out there. Great, now it was done, he reasoned. You didn't break his gaze, you were daring him to make a move. He licked his lips and had to laugh. He'd already made the move. If you wanted him, he decided... the ball was in your court. Come and claim me, he wished.

"Roost?" you said again.

He raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Stay."

"No," he said, sitting forward. Fight for me.

You got to your feet and pushed him back against the couch, a small grunt bristling as you stepped between his wide legs. He reached for your hamstrings, his hands massaging against your bare skin as he raised his eyes to you. It was powerful and intimate and he didn't know if he trusted himself to be touching you like this.

"If you've got something to say... this would be the time to say it," his voice thick with desire, daring you.

"Stay," you repeated, your fingers coiling into his sun-kissed ringlets, giving them a gentle tug as he slowly licked his lips.

"Gonna need more than that," he told you, pulling you flush against him, helping you straddle him, his arms in a vice grip around you.

"Stay for me."

He bristled a laugh as you reached for a button on his shirt, dainty fingers making light work of the straining material over his chest. "Think I'm gonna just fuck you after all this?" he removed your hands, placing them back in your lap where he silently prayed you'd keep them because his strength was waning and if you tried really hard, you'd have him exactly where you wanted him. "You really wanna make this about a quick fuck and I just up and leave?" he shook his head. "I think you know by now I want a little more than that."

"What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, your fingers tracing his scars, finding one on his jaw you were particularly fond of and tracing it, feeling him tremor beneath you. "Tell me," you said reaching for the hem of your shirt and he knew he was going for martyrdom as he held your shirt down, whispering a curse. "You don't want me?" you asked, easing back just a little, shocked and a little more than embarrassed.

"More than anything. Can't you fuckin' see that?" he took your face in his palms and he could see your resolve crumble, breaking him as your eyes shone with tears. "That's why we gotta wait."

Your gaze dropped, you hadn't felt rejected like this in a long time. You didn't feel sexy, you didn't feel desired and you absolutely did not feel like he wanted you regardless of the apparent sincerity of his words.

"Listen to me," his voice raspy from alcohol and exhaustion. "Tonight, before tonight," he confided. "I've thought about taking you in every position my mind could imagine. But every one of them was crude and in my mind, pure fantasy. Why do you think I didn't even think about saying no to any of this tonight? All these years and all we have to show for us is a cheap fuck? I got a little more respect for you than that, baby girl. I wanna turn you inside out," he whispered against your skin. "Why do you think I never made a move before? If you give me the green light, I will absolutely pray to you."

You had forgotten how to breathe and he kept your eyes locked to his.

"I want to worship you," he told you, repeating your name like a mantra. "Don't you get it?"

The blood was pumping so loud in your ears that you were finding it hard to focus. You were drawn out of your stupor as his alarm started buzzing on his wrist again. He was getting later.

"I gotta go," he murmured, his face so close. "Just think about it, okay?" he said quietly, kissing your temple.

"That will be the problem," you confided as he hummed.

"I hope so," he helped detangle yourself from him, letting you stand although your legs were absolutely jelly. He smiled at you finally, thoroughly wretched, and all due to him. "So many things I want to do to you," he breathed. "But now, I gotta go." He'd been short on time before, but nothing as bad as this made him feel.

"I'm not asking you to stay again," you threatened pathetically, and he heard the lies as clearly as you did.

He nodded. But he couldn't and he knew he didn't have to explain his duty... because of anyone who knew him, you understood this most. "See me out?" he asked.

"Okay," you murmured, following him by the hand down the hallway. You unlocked the door, and he pushed it closed again, leaving his palm and weight against it. You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I just can't - " he closed his eyes, dropping everything he was holding and grasping your face tenderly between his calloused palms. "Please think about this."

"And if I fuck it up?" you asked, scared as reality started to kick in.

"What if I do?" he challenged. "Do we not owe it to ourselves to find out?"

You nodded, almost pained, pressing your hands to his chest because you needed the last few touches before he left you. "Yes, we do," and with that, his lips were on yours. Soft, unobtrusive, it felt like you'd been kissing him your whole life. Familiar and right, you didn't realise how long you'd been waiting for this. He was such a good kisser, and there was no going back now. The words were out there... his kiss had tainted you.

His hands left your face, tangling into your hair, it felt incredible. He smiled against your lips and lightly pulled back. "You only needed to say yes," he told you, holding your face, his warm hazel eyes dancing and he kissed you again, a little rougher this time, his large hands tangling into your hair, tugging at strands as they moved to your back, dangerously close to your ass. "I'm holding back so bad right now, because the second I give in, I will stay."

"Can't you call in?" you asked hopefully, reaching for his lips again, your hands drifting to his hips and his head fell back with a quiet sigh. He pleaded for your hands anywhere further north.

"If I don't front up today... every single person we know will know exactly where I am... and why," he said, voice laced in mirth.

You told him softly, "I will make it worth your while."

He groaned loudly, his body already ready and willing, pressed unyielding against you. "I believe you," he breathed. "The idea of being with you will be all I'll be able to think about today. God damn," he hissed, his alarm going off again. "Can I see you later?"

"I think that's a good idea."

He gave a small smile, pushing some hair from your eyes. "Good morning, fake girlfriend," he kissed you gently again, let go of you to collect his gear at your feet and forced himself into opening the door, stepping over the threshold purposefully. He leaned back and kissed you once more. "I'll call you later," he breathed, trying to gather some resolve.

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Tonight."

"Okay. Good morning, fake boyfriend." But now... there was nothing fake about it.

"Oh, before I forget," Rooster pointed at you. You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, the adrenaline of the evening waning as he started to wander away. "What are you doing the last Saturday of next month?"

You outwardly shrugged. At this point you didn't know how today would even pan out as he wandered back to you, lips painfully close to yours, his arms slipping around your waist again and you didn't want him to let go. "I dunno. Why?"

"I got a wedding invite through the week," he smiled kindly and you bit back a laugh. "Thought maybe you'd like to go with me..."

"Think you can keep this fake dating thing going until then?" you asked, caressing his cheek.

"I'm pretty confident we may not be fake dating then..." he said quietly, kissing you just one more time.

"Ballsy of you to assume."

He nodded. "Yep," his eyebrow quirked.

"Do you have to wear your dress uniform?"

"Yes," he sighed, recalling your first conversation.

"Damn. This suit is really good," you playfully teased him, knowing his dress uniform would likely bring you to your knees. White or blue, you didn't care. It would be utter carnage.

"I don't even think a dry cleaner would bring this back to its original glory," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Shame."

"Jesus Christ, I want to stay. Please tell me to leave," his eyes fluttered closed.

You smiled as he took a wide step back. "You'd better go."

He nodded, thankful for your push. "I'll see you later," he said and forcibly turned away, his feet taking him away from you and when he was out of your view, you felt the weight of his dog tags on your chest.

"Oh, shit."

masterlist.

A/N: Want to learn more about these crazy kids? Here we go!

The Relationship Experience - prologue

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dreamingmantis · 6 months

Text

So here are some of my imaginings of what could have happened with human star. This isn’t a full rewrite (in case it seems choppy), just me rambling about many of the ideas I had. Though, I may write some of these. But please, ask or talk to me about it. It's so much fun to imagine. This is a long post, so I've put the rest under the cut. ✨

Some people have mentioned Star being mute. I’m not sure if they are actually referencing the star we got in the movie, so I’m just going to say that his voice is the last thing he finds in his humanoid form, and that he does in fact, mime things. If he talks, it's very little.

I want to know more about Asha’s father and her relationship with him. He seemed to be some sort of philosopher or astronomer. He drew maps, and he always recognized a certain star that only appeared at certain times of the year, right above the castle, and moved in an arc over it with the Earth's rotation. He called it the wishing star. You know, the star. He had a powerful wish too—one that he gave to King Magnifico before he tragically passed. But, he doesn't have full control over the wishes... yet. The wishes of those who have passed ascend to the stars, where they hold them safe.

Perhaps she's already known about his evil intent, even though no one else does. I'd also like to see more of Asha's flaws. If she's caring or people pleasing to a fault, I almost want to see it cause a problem. Maybe she accidentally impedes on something important and completely messes it up, possibly even the wish ceremony in an attempt to get her grandpa's wish granted (to inspire future generations). It would give more impact before she runs into the woods and sings This Wish. (just please don't say "throw caution to every warning sign" cause... what?)

Do you know the concept art of when Star first comes down to Earth? I think after Star's light envelopes the island, he would awaken in the forest, confused as to why he is so far from home. Asha finds him, and of course, is equally confused. He sees her and slowly realizes that she is the one who called him down and that he's on Earth.

I would want to see lots of shapeshifting here. There could be a song as he slowly gives his magic to the trees and the animals that explains who exactly he is, and by extension, how the galaxies, planets, and life are formed. He personally knows many of the stars we know about (you know, like Spica or Arcturus). In fact, when she tells him about her seven friends, he is reminded of seven stars he knows deeply, the Pleiades (his guiding constellation). She knows about them because her father showed her.

I think that concept would also give more depth and lore to King Magnifico’s sorcery. What he keeps in his room are akin to chemistry experiments, if you will, so it’s clear that he practices some sort of alchemy. He could have only retrieved magic like this from the cosmos, possibly the life force of the stars. She asks him if he can grant her grandfather’s wish. He shakes his head or signals. He can't. And of course, he doesn’t know or have the wish. King Magnifico is in possession of it.

Imagine they fly, like a Peter Pan-esque way (or maybe in the end, because they have to stay hidden). I want her to talk more about her father. Maybe he has an observatory. If the stars need to align a certain way for Magnifico to perform an ultimate spell, one of the keys to stopping him would be there.

He's still naive to exactly what's going on, yet he imparts wisdom, almost by accident, that make Asha realize. Since he isn't fully familiar with humans and their world, he probably messes with some items he sees and definitely knocks some things over. (I don’t know why but I imagined him hiding inside a jar.) But he's so fascinated by the smallest things in the world. Asha doesn't want him to be seen because she knows they'll be in deep trouble, but what if Star runs off out of curiosity and impresses a small crowd of people with his magic tricks. But of course, someone goes to pass along the word and soon enough, it'll reach Magnifico. I'm sure he wants to meet her friends too, but she has to try to hide him as she interacts with them and maneuvers her way up the castle.

I want the idea of humans being like stars of our own to slowly come to light over the story rather than in one song. Star can see all the wishes in people’s hearts, like the cores of stars. He can see each person for who they truly are at the core of their beings, in their purest forms. He wants to show her at some point, so, he takes her hands. And he feels a profound love for the first time. He feels the love she has in her heart for her family and her. For the first time, he can see where the wishes he hears come from, because...

After everything, Asha and Star finally reach the castle and find all the wishes. Star instantly recognizes their forms. And here, Asha finally sees the wishes of her family—her mother, her grandfather. But one is missing. Some people have died never knowing their wishes they gave to King Magnifico. Star has seen and held them before, because the wishes of those who have passed ascend to the stars, where they hold them safe. That includes Asha’s late father’s. And Star is the one holding it safe. So, he reaches deep within himself and pulls it out. She hold it in her hands, and it breaks her heart. His wish was for all people to know that in a world of matter who they are, their dreams are within reach. They shouldn't ever stop looking up because someone told them they can't. If they're going to sing At All Costs with the original words, this is when it would be. It would be so profoundly magical, like an I See The Light kind of moment. Their love for these precious wishes and for each other. Imagine, Asha’s holding her father’s dream in her arms, and very carefully, she passes it back to Star for safekeeping, yet at the same time, they’re holding each other.

Imagine, just imagine, that he was the star on her father's map.

Magnifico still ultimately wants to capture Star and keep him inside his staff forever so he can dictate the world. And Star holds some of the wishes of the passed? That’s even better for his quest for power. In fact, he aims to become so powerful that he can pull the wishes down from the heavens. He could extend his power into the cosmos. And if Asha made a mistake earlier in the film, people would be much more likely to believe him at first when declares Asha a traitor and lies that she's the one who destroyed their wishes. Also, he needs a bit more epic of a villain song.

I think they would be forced into hiding. Asha's friends are there and they still sing Knowing What I Know Now complete with some Star shapeshifting.

Her friends hadn't showed up as promised. Perhaps Magnifico had put an end to their uprising. Either way, Asha and Star confront him. Star is the last person she has by her side, and with a few words of his spell, he sucks him into his staff. He finally has the power he's craved. He can pull the wishes down from the heavens and crush them. She is alone when he commands the clouds to cover the stars and says his line of “There will be no more hope" (I don't remember the exact wording). She looks out to see the kingdom in hiding, wondering if her friends are really there like they said they would be. It's dark and storming, and she's so alone in the moment that it seems that Magnifico has already won. There are no stars in sight. Yet, she remembers how Star showed her that each person is made of everything that comes from the stars. So she begins to sing: So I look out to the stars just like me.

It turns out, her friends are there. They show up right when she needs them most and begin to sing with her, their hearts alight like the cores of stars. It's not enough. But the kingdom sees hope, and that's when they begin to come out. I mean from across the island, from their homes. He still casts a spell, and while weighed down, they still sing. That way, Magnifico's "mirror mirror" sequence could also extend across the whole island.

And Star breaks free. He ascends, high, and the wishes Magnifico attempted to pull down to Earth are let free. And when the clouds dissipate, he's sucked into his staff and defeated.

It would honest be funny if Star plummeted just to appear over the balcony and surprise her. And then... this is when they kiss.

So, she reunited with her loved ones as was in the ending, and of course, he must return to the heavens soon. (And be the guiding star). Asha loves him, but she loves her friends and family too, and her kingdom needs her. So, he bestows a new gift on her that she's worthy of. She would become the first fairy godmother and have the ability to commune with the stars. She can go between the heavens and Earth. She would have a dress transformation that would be reminiscent of the one in Cinderella. Sabino also begins to pluck his lute and play When You Wish Upon a Star in the end. When Star does return home, maybe, he leaps like a shooting star over the castle. Get it?

I appreciate that the setting alludes to the various cultures of it's inhabitants from around the Mediterranean region (I would love if even more variety was shown as a Mediterranean person myself), but I really want more of Asha's specific cultural background to be portrayed. I'm trying to think exactly what role Queen Amaya would have in the narrative. I've heard her and Magnifico were supposed to be the first villain couple which sounds so cool! I'm trying to imagine how exactly the dynamic would be there. If you have any ideas then lmk. ^^

#disney wish #wish movie #wish 2023 #human star #wishing star #wish star #asha #wish asha #sabino #wish sabino #king magnifico #queen amaya #headcanons #rewrite #star x asha #long post

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 4 months

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The Question

For @bellygunnr. I asked him for a prompt, he delivered, and it devolved into this. This questions can destroy friend groups so tread carefully. Here's 1700 words of Roland making Miller's life hard ft guest appearances by some of our Fireteam Crimson.

Miller was enjoying a cup of coffee in one of the messes when Roland popped up. Key word: was.

Fresh coffee too, barely scorched to the bottom of the carafe, with liquid (!) not powder creamer. And then Roland had to come ruin his morning.

"Spartan Miller, Fancy meeting you here!" Roland says with a flourish of his avatar. He's grinning like he's already pulled one over on Miller. His mood and coffee sour instantly and he swallows with a grimace.

Miller takes a full second to debate how to respond. He opts to save himself the trouble and cut through the mind games. "Morning, Roland."

The words are drawled over the rim of the mug, his one shield between them, as Miller leans on the counter and waits. He's punished for his patience as Roland smiles at him. He doesn't like the smile.

"I heard something that certain crew members were talking about-" Oh no. "-something of a philosophical debate, and I wanted your opinion on it."

"Uh huh..." He takes his time. Roland's grin does not falter. Miller doesn't like that. If he's not so impatient to hurry him along then he's already decided on the outcome. He's just here to fuck with him and it is too early for that. "This isn't another body part conversation, is it?"

"Spartan, I would not be so gauche as to ask about that at breakfast."

Miller sighs and shifts his footing. "Then what?"

"Do you consider milk a snack?"

What?

"What?"

"I want to know your thoughts. I've been privy to some heated debates around the snack status of milk. Some even went as far to say it could be a meal, in certain situations."

"What?!" Miller's voice goes up and he grumbles. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you hanging around marines? This is the kind of stuff that marines argue about."

"There were some others involved. Some people with more credentials weighed in and lines were drawn." Roland is eerily somber as he delivers that line, but it's gone in a flash as he perks up to say, "That's why I want to hear your thoughts!"

"Is milk a snack?" He echoes. This was not where he thought the line of questioning would go.

"Could it be considered one?"

He's vaguely aware of his face doing something. He's mad at himself that his arms are crossed and he's invested so quickly. Who was arguing this? Milk's a drink. Who is spending their free time arguing about this? And the more important question; What does Roland want? What does he get out of this?

Miller eats his five food groups plus the extra ones they made up for the IVs. Milk is not a snack, it's a drink. Right? Roland knows this. He has to know this. The care and feeding of humans probably came with his instruction manual of the ship. Miller's heard him remind people to eat and drink when he's feeling particularly snippy and points out bad habits to (try to) win arguments. Roland's just messing with him. Unless that's what he wants Miller to think so then Miller would say it's a snack and then Roland would call him an idiot for thinking that. There's no safe answer here, but the best option Miller has is to say that no, of course not. Milk isn't a snack, and it's illogical to consider otherwise.

"You've been quiet for a bit, didn't know this was such a tough question."

He feels his eye twitch, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Miller sniffs, it’s a loud and abrupt noise, and puts his mug in the dish return. "Milk's not a snack, Roland." He says with the deep calm of the utmost paranoid.

Roland raises his chin and tilts his head to the side, looking at Miller with a face full of polite indifference. It's almost funny seeing him try to look down his nose at him from a holotank a meter off the ground. "Oh really?"

Cold sweat collects on the back of his neck. Miller had not avoided the mind games.

"Why not?" Roland mirrors him, arms crossed head tilting back to eye him.

"It's not!" He blusters and then remembers himself. "You asked what I thought and I told you."

"Yeah, but why?" Roland turns his hand to check his nails. "I heard some pretty compelling arguments."

Miller's eye twitches again. The door to the mess opens and shuts without him bothering to look at who's entered.

"From who?!"

"People."

"’Snack’ means food. Milk is not a food, it's a drink."

"It's a thick drink. Could be a snack in a pinch."

"What are you even saying?"

"Milk snack."

"It's too early for this. Are other drinks snacks?"

"I don't know, are they?"

"Are you mad at me? Did I do something recently? To deserve this?"

"Hey now, are you mad at me? You're looking upset there, Spartan. Heart rate is up too."

"Roland! You-! You're the one seeking me out to ask me if milk is a snack!"

"Do you draw the line at milkshakes? Oh, or maybe an egg cream?"

"You're making that last one up."

"I am not! It’s a real thing, look it up."

"Anyway, you're trying to distract me. Milk is not a snack."

"Well, that's your opinion. What do you think, Captain Lasky?" Roland smirks, barely dragging his avatar's eyes from Miller's as awareness hits him like a grenade.

There’s a second before the captain responds, enough time for Miller to glance over and take in Lasky in his front row seat to the Roland and Miller show. The Captain. Of the whole ship. Sitting there watching Miller’s sanity erode in real time.

"Oh, I'm good. You two have fun." Captain Lasky smiles at them and raises his own mug of coffee as he goes back to his datapad.

"Sir." Miller nods robotically. The cold sweat is back. So is the unpleasant flush of heat on his face.

"Spartan." The Captain nods back. He even smiles. Is that sympathy or pity in his eyes?

"He came in about halfway through our discussion." Roland stage-whispers to him. It is definitely loud enough for Lasky to hear because he grins into his mug. "I would have warned you but you seemed so intent on this topic."

"Roland."

"Yes, Miller? Something you care to share?"

"No..." He doesn't deflate, but the fight's gone out of him. There's no winning.

"Captain." Miller nods and leaves the room. He's dreading Ops now. There's no way Roland lets this lie.

"Hello Crimson, Roland here!"

Miller doesn't mute in time and hot mics an exasperated groan straight into Crimson's TEAMCOM.

"Spartan Miller! I know today's mission is a lot of standing around and waiting for things to happen, but a bit of decorum, please! What would Commander Palmer say?"

"Clear the line and let the Spartans work, Roland."

"That is a very good impression of her, have you been working on that?"

Miller ignores him and tells Crimson their mission. It is in fact a “standing around and waiting for things” mission. Four Spartans from Fireteam Crimson are guarding Site Req//7848-2328 codenamed “The Refuge” because it’d been the site of enough problems already and Commander Palmer wanted it covered while Infinity Science packed their bags.

“So we’re babysitting again?” Crimson 4 asks. Crimson 2 elbows him hard enough his shields flicker. Miller watches this unfold from Crimson 3’s helmet feed and sighs. It’s not his day today.

“You’re guarding the scientists and marines who are finishing up doing science stuff in the area.” Miller explains. “Before anything else bad happens.”

“And we drew the short straws.” Crimson 4 says to himself.

“Gunny, your mic’s on.” Crimson 2 chides.

“Oh I know.”

“You know-” Roland interjects.

“No.”

He ignores Miller. “-there’s a question going around and no one can agree on the answer. Miller here didn’t like me asking him, but I bet Crimson could tell me their thoughts.”

Crimson 2, 4, and 5 exchange glances. Crimson 3 continues napping from a spot in the nearby greenery, seemingly asleep until he flashes green.

“Is milk a snack?” Roland asks and silence falls on the team of highly-trained, combat-hardened super-soldiers.

Miller groans and hides his face in his hands. “Roland, we can't keep doing this.”

“What kind of milk?”

“I like making Pilk!”

“It could b- Gunny, what the fuck is Pilk?!”

“‘Cause it could be a snack, depending on the animal or nut it comes from.”

“Sometimes in the old country, all I had for dinner was milk.” Crimson 5 nods sagely, his accent clipping his words through the mic.

Oh you know, pilk!”

“That doesn’t explain anything!”

“What is happening?”

“Research, Miller. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Miller, what’s your opinion?” Crimson 4 chimes in.

“It’s not- it’s not a snack.” He sounds absolutely despondent. This mission was supposed to be simple, but now thanks to Roland, it’s gone completely off the rails.

“Really? Too good for milk snack?”

“It’s a drink!”

“It could be a snack. Glass of milk between meals?”

“Are you guys okay?”

“I don’t know, our mission handler is acting weird. Too high and mighty for milk snack.”

“Yesss! Join me! Rhodes, when we get back, can we make pilk?”

“I still don’t know what that is.”

“Milk and soda!”

“Sounds almost like an egg cream.”

“Aha!” Roland cheers and his avatar does a little fist pump in the Op center.

“There’s no way egg creams are real!” Miller explodes. Dalton looks at him from his station with his usual level of concern. He likes to let Miller know he’s here, but he’s not intervening.

“Focus Crimson, you have a mission.” Miller tries to regain control but it’s long gone.

“We are on mission. Stand around watching the trees and radar. Don’t let anyone touch Forerunner buttons and become the science. Listen to Roland ruin Miller’s day. Standard operating procedure so far.”

Miller doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Roland does.

“I don’t ruin his day! I brighten it and yours with my charm and valuable tactical advice!”

“Shoot the door gunner, Crimson. Touch the button, Crimson. Ooh a big locked door, let me open that for you, Crimson.”

Miller blinks in surprise as Roland is, for once, speechless.

The silence is broken by Crimson.

“Do you think Murphy considers milk a snack?”

“I don’t want to spend our trip home arguing.”

“I bet he would like pilk.”

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“No <3”

#my writing #Halo fanfic #Spartan Miller #Roland the AI #Thomas Lasky #Fireteam Crimson #OC tag #this was a lot of fun to write

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bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕯𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍𝖘:

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This is funny, I used to fear this game. This can also be found in my “ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ” if you would like to be tagged.

𝕬𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Just in case you wanted to know what a Big Daddy sounded like, here. Big, underwater tin man loud.

TW // Imprisonment, organized crime?

Pulling the black ski mask down on my head. I adjusted the bottom of it, tucking it into the black combat shirt underneath the vest. Then I adjusted the collar of the shirt and grabbed the protective goggles on the coffee table and slid it over my eyes before putting my helmet on.

Strapping the helmet on comfortably. I looked around in the living room, scanning the area, making sure to double check that I got everything. Patting myself just in case.

Hand ties? Check.

Radio? Check.

Night vision goggles? Check.

Protective gear? Check.

Handgun? Check.

Knife? Check.

Frag grenade? Check.

Rifle? Spotting it leaning on the wall, I went over and picked it up. Unloading the mag, I counted the mag full of bullets before reloading it back into the gun. Check.

Nodding to myself, I made my way out of the room and locked the door behind me with the skeleton key provided to this vintage room. Waiting for a click! I turned the key and took it back, placing it back into my front pocket for safe keeping.

Fiddling with the door, I made sure it was locked before I headed off to the elevator to start off my day in this mythical, abandoned underwater city of “Rapture.”

This city was unpredictable and dangerous; filled with mindless, mutated people addicted to this… serum called “ADAM.” Most of the people or what’s left of them became dependent on that cursed source. It’s what changed them to become those “Splicers.”

That ADAM was no joke or “cure” to mess with. I’ve seen it in the works. How the person's body shifted, screaming out in pain when they injected that long, metal needle into themselves with it. Becoming an unstable person you have never met before.

Processed ADAM or “Plasmids” were— are still a painful thing to watch a person inject themselves with, but the benefit of it was you didn’t quite get influenced by it as much as you did with raw ADAM. You also gain a “superpower” whether it is electricity, ice or fire coming out of your fingertips. Insects, or telekinesis, you had one of those out of 11 documented. Some even have been lucky enough to receive all 11.

However, such power has its side effects. You’ll need EVE to restore your ability to power such a mutation, and with many wanting to use that power, they went crazy without it. Going as far as overdosing on ADAM in hopes to power them up. Which ultimately, was probably this city’s downfall.

Though, this man called “Sol Snyder” said he will make this city prosper once more. Rebuild what has fallen, remake the city as it once was. Make it even better than it was, but the more I work beneath him. The more I disagree with his work and how he was achieving this recreation.

“Mornin’ Guard.” The host of this building greeted, handing out a brown paper bag to me. “Figured ya needed somthin’ to eat while yer’ out there protectin’ my buildin’. I never see ya bring anything with ya.”

Taking the paper bag in my hands. It crinkled throughout the empty lobby as I opened it up to see what kind of a soul this older man was.

“I got cha a classic ham and cheese sandwich and a small bag of chips with a small apple juice box. Gotta keep ya strong out there!” The man said, taking his dark blue cap off, showing his bald spot on top of his head. “I know it ain’t much, but I can’t let a younglin’ like you wanderin’ about my buildin’ without rewarding ya for yer troubles.”

I tipped my head to him in appreciation and lightly folded the paper bag back up. This meal was going to be far better than what that lab would provide. Sure, their… mush was packed with proteins and vitamins, and it tasted a little better if you added some milk with it like it was oatmeal, but it still never compared to real food.

“Glad you liked it! Now get along there! Your friend is watching for ya.” The man informed, putting his cap back on. His white hairs floofing out at the sudden replacement of the cap. His body turning around to continue his duties as the host of his building, whistling away.

What a kind, old man. Giving me a fraction of his food. Giving me a place to stay instead of staying in that lab. He was one of the first people I’ve met here. Found each other when we got lost around in the city. The many water tunnels making it a little confusing on which build was which. Many signs were destroyed and withered still.

I remember our first encounter. He was wandering the city, going through areas he hasn’t seen yet. Areas that were prohibited to civilians like him which is where I met him on the first day on the job. Immediately tasked to keep people out where they shouldn't be.

He looked so confused about where he was, looking like he didn’t put himself in a dangerous situation, but was thankful that I had found him. The fear of encountering a Splicer and having to kill one running from his mouth.

Admittedly, I tried my absolute best to relocate him back to his building while he talked about his daily things he does down here. How it was calming to live underwater and watch the fish swim around the buildings despite the threat of the Splicers. How he has to trade some items to get some necessities in return down here and I got it easy. Since I was armed and working underneath Sol Snyder. It apparently grants you more privilege.

Finally leading him the right way to his building. He suddenly offered me a room at his building that he had owned from generation to generation, and his name “Nickolas Zimmerman” or “Nick” for short.

Extending his hand out in a hopeful deal, I took it. Seeing how this underwater world really was more dangerous than it sounded from up above and 'Nick' here sounded like a good person. I could see why he offered me a room without having anything in return. He wanted to feel safer.

Turning back around to my own duty’s. I continued my way through the city. Going through the glass water’s tunnels that provided a safe way to travel from building to building without having to drown or get pressurized from the water. Great underwater scenery too.

There were high kelp stalks reaching almost halfway on some of the tallest underwater buildings here. Neon signs glowing and flickering out in the water, pointing to whatever that building held. The water was murky, but that’s what you get for being in an underwater city. Most of the time it was a clear blue-ish green. The bottom of the sea untouched, unless there was a school of fish swimming about like some tuna or if you’re lucky enough an occasional whale or shark.

I question how one built such an underwater city without it exploding by the pressure? How did they get oxygen down here? How did they make this city without drowning? This city was made in the 1950’s. I’m sure they didn’t have the right equipment back then for them to not have a casualty.

A whale-like groan shook me from my thoughts as I stopped and looked over through the water tunnel. A Big Daddy mining away at some rocks. His harpoon drilling into the solid object, creating a brief rise up of sand on the bottom of the sea.

If I remember correctly, this was an Elite Bouncer. Judging by how he had red stripes over his suit and his hand is equipped with a harpoon rather than the original drill. He was assigned in this selection of the city to remove or collect the minerals here for improvement for the city.

The Bouncer groaned again. His bioluminescent pothole's flickering to a yellow then green before he jumped. His form floating seamlessly through the water to come closer up to the tunnel. Bring up the sand beneath his boots when he landed.

Bringing my hand up against the glass. I could feel the vibrations this Big Daddy gave off as he rumbled. His whale-like call going through the glass, giving me goosebumps as his free hand slowly came up on the other side of the glass. Practically engulfing my hand in his shadow. Leaving me impressed once more on how much bigger these beings were.

These beings were very interesting to me. How much bigger they could get. How they seemed so slow, yet so fast at the same time. It was an almost freaky thing to think about. How such a thing of old scuba armor could make such a loud sound of a whale. They were supposed to sound haunting, but they never could to me.

I found them more… comforting.

A buzz reminded me of my own assignment today. The small tablet on my wrist lighting up. The slight annoyance souring my mood. With a sigh, I tapped the glass in a goodbye. Leaving the Big Daddy to do his assignment while I had to go do mine. A low, longing moan leaving him as I moved away from the glass. Heading for the “Welcome Center” of the city.

“Ah! Glad you’re here.” The female scientist greeted, shoving a man in nothing but a dirty white, medical dress towards me. His chains on his wrists clinking together as he stumbled forward. “Take this subject here to Fontaine Futuristics and it shall be assorted from there.”

Taking the man from his arm. I steadied him back up on his feet. Feeling how skinny this man had gotten on his arrival here. He must have been lean and well-fed before being sent here.

Wait, Fontaine Futuristics? What did this man do to deserve such an ending?

“Well? Get along, it’s best for them to get there earlier.” The scientist said, waving her hand at me. Shooing me off.

I inhaled, annoyed by this scientist's attitude already as I grabbed the bag on top of his head, pulling it off of him.

Static, jet black hair came out of the bag first then his steel blue eyes that blinked around quickly. Trying to readjust to his new surroundings. His cuffed hands holding onto my arm for support despite him being a head taller than me.

“Hold on, why are you taking the bag off its head?” The cocky scientist asked, looking up at me from her clipboard. Her brown eyes sternly looking at me through her rectangle glasses like I was stupid.

“Would you prefer a healthy subject? Or a poor one?” I countered the arrogant scientist. Watching how her eyes darkened, glaring at me.

“Hmmph! It’s not like it would survive anyways.” She huffed before turning around to go who knows where. Probably to go report me like she always does.

Gently pulling the man forward. I led him into a bathysphere and selected my destination to “Arcadia” before I could go to “Fontaine.” The bathysphere jerking before it closed the door and sending us off to Arcadia.

“W-Where... am I?” The man hesitantly asked after a moment of silence. His eyes looking at everything but me. Unsure if he should be asking questions.

“You are in the northern Atlantic Ocean, west of Iceland.” I responded, shifting my weight. The sound of the water flowing against the bathysphere filling the background noise.

“I’m… in the ocean?” He spoke, puzzled. Watching as we moved through the water. “How is that possible?”

I hummed, shifting my weight again as the bathysphere stopped us at Arcadia. The whole sphere shaking before settling down and opening the door.

Grabbing a hold of the man again. I pulled him forward and led us both to a different bathysphere and selected for Fontaine. Going through the same shaking process of it starting up before going through the water.

“…What did you do to be brought here of all places?” I broke the silence. Knowing that people that were criminals, insane or political dissidents were to come here and deserve such a fate.

“I…I killed a household… with my bare hands.” He admitted, looking down at his cuffed hands.

"Ah." That would do it.

“I…I thought I was going to prison?” He questioned, glancing over at me. Looking almost sorry about what he had done, but that’s how they get you I suppose.

“This… is similar. In a way.” I answered, taking the man by the arm again as the bathysphere shook and stopped. The door opening for us to get out.

The man hummed this time. Following me wherever I pulled to lead him. Going deeper into the building of Fontaine and into Fontaine Futuristics.

“And what’s this place?” He asked, looking around him once more.

“This is your prison. Your cell. Your recreation.” I said, reciting that last part from an old, repeated recording. Leading him into a hallway.

“My… recreation?” He hesitated, looking at the long hallway filled with armored cells. Whale-like calls and groans leaving them.

Passing the cells, the man observed the Big Daddy’s inside of them. From Bouncers, Rosies, Rumblers, and Lancers. Each one looking different from one another by body shape.

Bouncers were shorter, but heavy. Their entire torso, covered by a giant metal carapace. Their helmets studded with 8 lit potholes. A drill attached to its right arm. Meant to drill the deep-sea rocks for city expansion, just like the Elite Bouncer I saw on the way here.

Rosies were a bit taller than Bouncers. Their upper torso covered by a higher type of metal carapace, their diving helmets welded to it and three large lit portholes for them to “see.” They typically are equipped with large Rivet Guns and are to restore panels and windows.

Rumbers were almost the same as the Rosies. Just more mobile, less armored and supposedly set with RPG’s, but for… civilized purposes they do not have them.

Lancers are slimmer, slightly taller, and decorated Big Daddy. They hold an Ion Laser as a weapon and are ‘supposedly’ to be a ‘finished’ version of the Rosies.

It makes me wonder what the unfinished or unsuccessful ones were.

“What… are they?” He asked, looking between the many blocks and different variations of Big Daddy’s.

“They are called Big Daddy’s.” I responded, slowly taking him down the corridor.

“What’s their purpose?”

“A selective few mine the minerals on the ocean floor. Another repairs or builds more to the city and some are to bond to little sisters.” I informed him of what I know. A Big Daddy groaning out at us as we passed his block.

“Little sisters?”

“I believe, that is enough for you to know.” I stated, opening another section of the building. The screams of people echoing down it making the man tense up in my arms.

“Am I... supposed to become one of them?”

“I do not know what they will have in store for you.” I said, tugging him forward when his 'fight or flight' nerves kicked in. Pulling him further down the hallway. “I just transport and protect.”

A curdling scream made the man jump. His eyes looking around for the source. Any chance to find a way out of here.

“That— those are men. Screaming men.” He uttered.

I didn’t say anything except lead him in his cell watching as he observed his new surroundings. His new home. His new death bed, unless he was lucky.

“It's… scary here.” The man admitted, shivering in his spot. Either by coldness or his fear. “Please let me out. I’ll do better.”

“I... can’t be sure of your survival.” I spoke, my heart clenching in my chest. This wasn’t right. It never was. “You cannot be sure of your survival.”

“Please? I’ll do better, I promise.” The man begged, his form stumbling a little closer to me. His chest quickly rising up and down, on the verge of hyperventilation.

Quickly taking the side of his face with my hand, I shushed him. Moving my thumb up and down his jawline when he slowly accepted the gesture, nuzzling into my hand.

“Please, I’ll do better.” He begged again. His glossy eyes looking up at me.

“You know I cannot." I whispered, not trusting my voice nor the cameras that are set up around the area. "Look at me, I put you in this cell."

A whine left his throat like many others before him. His face nuzzling back into the palm of my hand. A rouge tear falling down his cheek.

“I will try my best to make this more of a… agreeable experience for you.” I stated, thumbing the tear off his cheek. My tongue twisting in my own mouth, jaw clenching, trying not to cry myself.

My heart could only clench harder in my chest as the man sobbed into my hand. The weight on my shoulders growing increasingly more heavy.

𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕯𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖍𝖘 II

#bioshock #bioshok infinite #fanfiction #big daddy #big daddy bioshock #x reader #reader insert #bioshock x reader #old horror game #introduction?

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halfagone · 1 year

Note

Sudden thought I had:

Phantom, after everything he did for Amity, now being an adult (I'm putting at 27 here) with the necessary emotional maturity to recognize that he doesn't owe them anything, seals the portal, places the entire frame in his lair for safekeeping, along with all the blueprints his parents had, and leaves to go explore the world, like his little girl likes to do so much (I'm a sucker for Danny adopting Ellie, and being very supportive of her while also being always ready to be summoned next to her and crack some skulls if needed).

While going through Paris, and finding a pair of teenage heroes, like he and Valerie had once been, Danny decided he can take a break from his travelling to helpd these baby heroes and give them the training and support they need.

They get along better than anyone expected. Danny is Life and Death, Balance personified. Who else would be better to teach the hosts of Creation and Destruction than the one who embodies both in perfect balance?

I'm envisioning Danny sits down to have a nice chat with the Guardian about getting the kids proper training, and he's not going anywhere. The kwami in the box swarm him because he feels like a spirit of incredible power, and really, what else would happen except Danny finding himself taking spiritual custody over two teenage heroes who are clearly way over their heads fighting literal adults.

Step number one: get legal custody of Adrien Agreste and get his father charged to the fullest extent of the law for being so negligent to his own son.

I'm seeing this going 2 ways:

Danny gets custody over Adrien, moves into an apartment next to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and their place becomes Vigilante Central, with Phantom often watching over the kids as they go out at night, typically going invisible to not give away his presence.

Hawkmoth tries one last desperate move to get the Miraculous before the police come for him. He takes to the field...and is subsequently trounced by Phantom, who beats him into the ground for picking on a bunch of children instead of getting therapy.

Plucking the Miraculous and setting the kwami within free from the old man's control, certainly expedited the process of acquiring custody over Adrien, but it also sent the poor boy spiraling for a while.

Or 2:

Their entire issues are solved by Gabriel being unable to use his Miraculius, because prison doesn't really...allow...jewellery. Which means Hawkmoth no longer shows up. Until Natalie, ever loyal to her boss, picks up the Moth Miraculous and tries to make his dreams come true. Except Phanton is...a little more ready to throw hands, and by the gods she's going to catch them whether she wants to or not.

By the end of it, Danny just doesn't really go anywhere else. Just stays in France full-time to help raise these two reckless kids. And sure, Marinette has her own wonderful parents. Doesn't mean Adopted Cousin Fenton won't spoil her rotten and enable all her chaotic gremlin tendencies while also keeping her safe. Add Ellie into the mix, and Paris has never been more happy and yet annoyed by all these gremlin heroes running around, cracking the most awful jokes and keeping the city safe.

I actually really like the idea of option 2, not gonna lie. I like the slow, dawning realization some people might have, Adrien specifically, as they realize the possible reason for Hawkmoth's sudden disappearance. While I usually like public reveals for Danny, for Hawkmoth I actually prefer more low-key ones because I know people would probably blame or question Adrien for not knowing sooner. (Because let's face it, this is the same world that lets kids like Chloé get away with all sorts of stuff.) So I think if I ever wrote a fic following along with this kind of idea, I would actually go the route of #2.

You're giving me such brain worms, don't do this to me! One of these days I may actually have to commit to a crossover between these two specifically, and I already have so much to write TAT

#halfagone replies #dp x mlb

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

Request: full funny prompt Steve teaching the different party members how to drive. Steve & the kids having a sibling-like relationship. Just pure fluff and siblings.

MY LOVE MY HEART!!!! I LOVED THIS!!! I didn't include any relationships in this because this one just needed to be focused on Steve being a good babysitter/big brother and the kids just loving him and each other. Also, started thinking about having to teach Liam how to drive in roughly 7 years and decided that I am going to need someone else to do it. - Mickala ❤️

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

Lucas

“Alright, we’re just gonna take it around the block. Slow. Careful. We’re in no rush.”

Lucas tapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Uh. Steve? Are you…talking…to your car?”

Steve looked behind him and up at Lucas from where he was kneeling on the ground in front of his car, one hand on the hood.

“She’s scared.”

“O…kay.”

Steve sighed and stood up, handing his keys over to Lucas.

“Just around the block. Slow. Careful. No rush.”

“I got it when you told the car.”

“You’re the first kid to drive her with my permission. She’s been through a lot. I don’t want to put her through too much stress.”

“She is just a car, right? Not a transformer or something?”

Steve rolled his eyes and got in the passenger side door, tense set to his shoulders getting worse when Lucas sat in the driver’s seat and started the car.

Lucas started the car, put his seatbelt on, adjusted the mirrors. Everything he knew from driver’s ed and what Steve taught him in their pre-drive lesson.

Of all the kids, Steve knew Lucas was probably the one who would be most careful and listen to him without argument.

None of that changed the fact that this was his car.

Lucas put the car in reverse, slowly removed his foot from the brake, and inched his way out of Steve’s driveway.

Steve watched every single movement of the car, felt like he had eight sets of eyes rotating around the car so he could see if Lucas struggled with anything inside, if any cars came out of nowhere on the road, if there was a random pothole that opened up in the last 30 seconds.

When they were completely on the road, Lucas put the car into drive, shifting just like he was shown, his feet gliding effortlessly over the gas and clutch.

It was smooth.

Steve took a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Lucas maintained the speed limit of the neighborhood and followed the line in the road perfectly.

“Can we go to Max’s?”

“Nope. Just here.”

“But I’m almost already at the end of the road. I need real life practice.”

“This is real life.”

Lucas sighed, but didn’t argue further.

Steve let him drive around the block twice before he told him to pull back into the driveway.

Once they parked, Steve let out the breath he’d been unintentionally holding.

“Is it that bad? I thought I did good,” Lucas asked as he removed his seat belt.

“No, you did great. Really. Just a lot of pressure.”

“On you? For what?”

“To make sure you guys are safe. I know your dad is gonna take you out a bit, but he trusted me with this today.”

“We went, like, 10 miles an hour.”

“People have died going slower.”

Lucas was a good kid, but he couldn’t help the laugh he let out at that.

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“Look, you got the first time under your belt, right? Let me be stressed.”

“Sure, Steve.”

—----------------

Will

El was sitting in the backseat, tapping her fingers against the seat as some music played.

Hopper insisted that he teach her to drive, barely wanted to let Steve teach Will.

But Will was nervous, probably more than Steve was, so Steve let him listen to a few songs in the driveway before they got started.

“Is it normal to sit in the car for so long before driving?” El asked.

“It’s important that he feels comfortable, El. We can take as much time as he needs,” Steve replied, glancing over at Will, who somehow looked more pale and nervous than when they first got in the car.

“Maybe I should wait. It’s not like I even have a car to drive,” Will finally said a few minutes later.

Steve knew that Hopper had already planned on giving Will and El a car to share in a few months, but it was a surprise. He couldn’t ruin the surprise, but he had to get Will comfortable behind the wheel.

“I’m sure your mom will let you borrow her car sometimes. Plus it’s good to know in case of an emergency. Remember when Max nearly killed us all driving this thing? You don’t wanna be like her.”

“Also Dad got us a car,” El contributed from the back seat, immediately picking back up on humming along to the song like she didn’t just ruin the biggest surprise of the year.

“What?”

If anything, Will looked even more nervous.”

“El, that was supposed to be a surprise. How did you find out?” Steve asked exasperatedly.

“He is not very quiet when he is on the phone.”

Steve sighed.

“Alright. Well, even more reason to practice right? It’s gonna be easy! Just back out of the driveway, drive around the block, then park it again.”

Will nodded, but otherwise didn’t move.

“If you really can’t do this, we can just switch and I’ll take you back home. We can try again next week.”

“No! I can do it. I survived the Upside Down. Driving is nothing compared to that, right?”

Despite his words, his voice was shaky, like he didn’t quite believe them.

“It is very easy. I have driven many times,” El said happily from the backseat.

“What?” Steve turned all the way around in his seat. “Hopper said he wasn’t starting lessons with you until next month.”

“I did not drive with Hopper.”

“Who did you drive with?!” Steve could not think of a single adult who could be trusted to let El drive, and if Hopper found out…

“Eddie.”

Steve facepalmed.

“Do not tell your dad. He’ll throw Eddie in jail for endangering a minor.”

“That is silly!” El laughed. “I was not in danger. Eddie said he was the one in danger.”

“That sounds about right.” Steve shook his head and looked back at Will. “Okay. So at least you’re with me and not Eddie. You can do this, man.”

Will nodded and checked all his mirrors for the 12th time.

He put the car in reverse.

He slowly backed out.

A car honked from the road.

Will slammed on the brakes and put it in park.

“I’m never driving,” he said as he unbuckled and got out of the car.

“He will learn someday,” El said as she followed him out.

“I’m in hell,” Steve said out loud before joining them outside of the car.

—-----------------------

Mike

“I don’t understand why I can’t listen to music louder.”

“Because this is your first lesson and we have to be able to hear each other and other cars,” Steve sighed.

He was not looking forward to teaching Mike, had practically begged Nancy to come back from college to do it.

She said that no one could pay her enough to teach Mike how to drive.

Steve wasn’t getting paid a damn thing and here he was anyway.

God, he wished Mrs. Wheeler would have let Eddie teach him.

“It’s just your neighborhood. There’s, like, five people counting you who live here.”

“And any one of them could drive by while you’re driving so just. Focus. Please.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but surprisingly let it go. Steve knew that just meant that he would be picking a new fight soon.

It’s not that Mike was difficult, it’s that his hormones decided to hit all at once and no one knew how to handle it, least of all Mike. Steve tried not to take offense to any of his attitudes, but he was already a bit stressed from the situation, so he couldn’t be faulted for his shortness.

Mike started to reverse.

“Nope. Park. You didn’t check your mirrors first.”

“I was going to once it was in reverse!”

“You check mirrors first, then reverse while checking all mirrors again. You know that.”

“You don’t check the mirrors before you reverse.”

“This isn’t about what I do or don’t do. You have to be taught properly so you can pass the test. You would’ve had points deducted.”

Mike rolled his eyes again.

That must cause headaches or vision problems or something eventually.

Mike checked the mirrors, then reversed, continuing to check each mirror as he backed onto the road.

His foot was a bit heavy on the clutch, but Steve didn’t say anything.

His foot was also a bit heavy on the gas, but he technically wasn’t speeding, so Steve stayed quiet.

He hit the curb in the cul de sac, and Steve winced.

“Remember to check your mirrors every once in a while to make sure you don’t hit a curb or go over the lines.”

“It was an accident!”

“I know! I’m just saying!”

They ignored each other for the remainder of the drive. Luckily, Mike did fine until he put it in park in the driveway.

He unbuckled, but didn’t get out.

“You did good, Mike. Just gotta make sure you’re safe,” Steve said softly, hoping it wouldn’t start anything, walking on eggshells like he so often found himself doing around Mike.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Steve looked over at him, noticed how tense he was, how his eyes were shiny like he was trying to hold back tears.

“You wanna come inside and have a drink?”

“Beer?”

“No, just soda,” Steve snorted. “Your mom would kill me. Nancy would kill me.”

“I’ve had beer before.”

“But I didn’t supply it.” Steve noticed he relaxed a little. “So? I got some chips too.”

“Sure. Okay.”

They didn’t chat much while they enjoyed soda and chips, but any moment not arguing or on edge with Mike was good.

It felt good.

—----------------------

Dustin

Everyone stood around the car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. His mom had been hesitant to let him come, had said multiple times that he could wait another year.

But he repeated it wasn’t fair that everyone got to learn except him, and Steve did take his side on it this time, agreed that it was better he know how to in case there was an emergency.

Claudia Henderson was no fool, but she was unable to resist Steve’s charm.

“I don’t understand why everyone is here for this,” Steve said, watching everyone back away from the car as Dustin adjusted the mirrors.

“No one believed I could reach the pedals.”

“Can you reach the pedals? I didn’t even think about that.”

Dustin glared at him for a second before continuing to adjust everything.

“Yes, I can reach the pedals, asshole.”

“How’s it going?” Max yelled from in front of the car.

“Just fine, thanks!” Dustin yelled back.

Max technically could see, but she was definitely not able to drive, so she just got to hear the stories of everyone’s lessons.

“You sure you’re ready for this? It’s okay to wait. None of them will judge you.”

“I said I’m ready!” Dustin exploded.

Dustin rarely reacted like that with Steve.

“Dude.”

“Sorry,” Dustin sighed, his grip on the wheel tight. “I just don’t wanna mess up in front of everyone.”

“I can send them all home right now. None of them watched anyone else.”

“No, I wanna prove I can do this.”

“Alright, bud. Ready when you are.”

Dustin adjusted a bit in the seat, checked his mirrors, and put the car in reverse.

Steve could tell he was having to sit up more than the others to reach everything, but he didn’t comment on it.

It was a smooth ride until the end.

He pulled into the driveway just a little too fast, then slammed on the brakes.

Steve’s head went forward, Dustin’s head went forward, and the kids outside were yelling something.

“Alright. Just one note. Maybe take it easy on the brakes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You did good, dude. Proud of you,” Steve ruffled his hair and smiled at him.

He was proud of him. He was proud of all of them.

He was still worried, and he knew they all needed way more practice before they actually took their driving tests, but they all did good.

Steve probably developed gray hairs over the next month of lessons, especially when Mike drove over a curb on the road between his house and Eddie’s.

The kids sometimes showed up for each others’ lessons, in support and to make fun of their mistakes equally, but Steve usually shut it down quickly.

And when all of them passed their driving test on their first try, Steve threw a party that they all drove themselves to.

And when Will became a bit of a passenger princess in Mike’s car, and Dustin still called Steve for rides a couple times a week, and Lucas got pulled over for going too slow, Steve smiled to himself. No amount of lessons would change who they were.

#steve harrington #stranger things #the party #fluff #eddie is mentioned but not in it #this is just wholesome #ficlet #request

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writerfae · 3 months

Note

Hi!

First of all, this might sound strange (and out of nowhere, but I think you need to let people know if you are grateful for them (i hope you don't mind), so I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate that you always let me know if/ when/ why you didn't answer or if your answer is short (not that it happens that often), because I know it's not something that you're obligated to do, and you have no idea how much it helps when I'm anxious❤️

Second:

I may have come up with an au of our crossover, and I wanted to see what you think...(i hope you don't mind×2)

Okay, it starts out really sad, but it gets cuter. I promise!

Taiden adopt ghost Ákos au! (It needs a better name)

You: ....What?

Long story short: in a version of my story Adél and Bendegúz don't go to rescue Ákos (this is the beginning of the villain Ákos au, but for our purposes it's not).

The Black swamp usually doesn't kill people. It prefers eternal torture. However, in this au, the doves feel really bad for Ákos, and though they can't do much, they can allow his soul to rest. In my world, there is no afterlife, but knowing how unfair the situation was, how cruel, the doves send him to a place that they know Ákos would love.

A land full of magic, knights and fae.

They send his ghost to the fae realm!

At first Ákos is just excitedly looking around enchanted by how magical this place is, but he pretty quickly stumbles upon a knight (guard) in shining armor practicing with his sword. Talon.

Talon can't see Ákos. Maybe he senses that something's off, but he can't put his finger of it.

Despite the fact that the man can't see him Ákos is in awe of him. He's just like a knight in a story. He's tall, wields a 7 has cool, gold eyes.

Someone like that would surely slay any monster that'd dare hurt someone. He makes Ákos feel safe. He feels like nothing can hurt him when the knight is there, so he sticks by Talon.

This feeling of safety gets reinforced again and again the more he learns about Talon. Especially when he figures out how much he also loves the stars.

No one can see Ákos. They do feel something's there that they can't see, but it's a very faint feeling, so they might just brush it off. Then Aiden arrives back from spending a long week in the human realm (or something), and he's like: who's the kid?

He can see and hear Ákos.

I imagine Ákos is just a bit different in this au because death. He's not all that eger to share why he's here beyond "Talon is cool!" (But, considering Odette's betrayal, his trauma from the swamp, and the fact that in this case no one came for him, I'd say that's fair). At first, he also just thinks that this is a world tailor made for him by the doves, so he doesn't feel like he needs to explain himself. But he's still the same, sweet Ákos.

He'd be really glad that someone's finally able to hear him, if only so he can ask Talon the 101 questions he wanted to ask all this time but couldn't.

When he hears about the things that Aiden has done he'd do the same to him.

Now, you tell me how Aiden and co would react to a ghost kid only Aiden can see, and how Talon would react to finding out that that ghost kid has been stalking him for the past week, because you probably know that better than I do.

And taiden are probably like: this is our child now! Our wierd ghost child! But we love him!

(I also low-key got really obsessed with this idea and got some headcanons, but I wanted to see what you think first (please add things to this if you want❤️)

It doesn’t sound strange at all, I’m glad I can ease your anxiousness a bit like that ^^ I always feel a bit bad when it happens so I try to at least warn you if I can’t answer on time / in the way I usually do.

I don’t mind at all, crossover AUs are fun!

Though of course it’s really sad how ghost Ákos came to be, I think the idea of his ghost being in the faerie realm (and the doves showing mercy on him) is pretty sweet!

I love how ghost Ákos holds on to Talon of all people, his reasoning is so cute and fitting for his character. Him feeling safe with Talon 🥺 (I see why)

I also love that no one but Aiden can see Ákos, it is so funny.

Aiden just randomly being like “who’s that kid?” I’m dying of laughter xD I would love to see people’s faces, especially Talon’s.

Of course with the trauma of Ákos’ death (and everything that led to it) he is changed a bit, but I have no doubt that he’s as sweet as ever.

So I bet it would be quite the pleasant “haunting” for Talon xD (up until he’s attacked with thousands of questions)

I bet Aiden would tease Talon by calling Ákos his ghost son xD

You know, given the world they live in and things they’ve witnessed, a ghost kid that attached himself to Talon and can only be seen by Aiden doesn’t even surprises them that much, haha.

They’d be a bit concerned maybe as to why he isn’t in the realm ghosts usually can be found.

I think Halea would find it quite amusing, Callan and Henry would both worry because why is this literal child a ghost in the first place???

Maya would worry cause that’s what she does but she’d probably find it quite endearing that her friend has a ghostly little fan now.

I think Talon would be something between freaked out and flattered and Aiden would just find it really cool (and cute).

Feel free to share your headcanons for this AU with me! It’s a really interesting idea!

#writer speaks #writeblr

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atropalugosi · 5 months

Text

i am very sleep deprived so apologies if this is jumbled or if anything doesn't make sense, but i have been thinking about this all day and needed to say it out loud

Yes yes Bela is a strong, workaholic Roman Emperor, but ignoring that and getting to the heart (lol) of her, the part that cares too much, that feels things so fully it cannibalizes her, she is Ophelia. A deeply tragic and beautiful character that we cannot help but be drawn to, perhaps because of the tragedy of her. This is obviously not a completely clean cut comparison of characters, there are just as many differences between them as there are similarities, but I still think there is enough to warrant a comparison at all.

Perhaps my personal biggest comparison between the two is the fact that both women, while having agency within their own stories, are TREATED as though they do not by those around them. Hamlet, Laertes, and Polonius all treat Ophelia as though she is a tool to be used for their own gains, and the same can very easily be said of how Miranda AND Alcina interact with Bela. If she is not on the council, putting in more work than any sane person should, staying under lock and key where they can always know she's being a good little pawn, then she is being belittled by her mother who holds no room for mistakes and disappointments from her daughters, or actively threatened and gaslit by Miranda for being "hysterical". At no point is Bela ever allowed to simply be herself without it backfiring on her in some way, and so she begrudgingly complies because at least it keeps her sisters safe.

My second argument for Bela being an Ophelia comparison is her heart itself. Ophelia is SO full of love and devotion, both for her family and for Hamlet, and characters within the play are forever shaming her for this. Bela is so full of heart "she would burn down cities for those she loves" and that is precisely why Miranda curses her to not feel at all. Both characters are expected to be loving and devoted to the people they are closest to, but the SECOND that love can be misconstrued or used against them, they shut the girls out, they rage against the love they have, they make the girls into villains they are not. Hamlet verbally abuses Ophelia when he believes she is spying on him for her family in order to push her away, and Miranda actively takes away Bela's ability to feel and act out against her will when she starts to be too free thinking and caring of others.

My third and atm final thought on the matter because my brain is running on fumes is that they are comparisons for their perceived "madness". Ophelia has FOREVER been regarded as a bit of a loon despite historical context as well as her treatment throughout the play providing exactly a perfect look at why she decides to end her life. And poor Bela, distancing herself from everyone and everything, working herself near to death, and slowly killing herself in a more passive way, not even of her own accord, but simply because she has no other choice in the matter. They're looked at by the surrounding characters in their stories as though they are hysterical and completely out of it for their perfectly understandable reactions to traumatic events that directly affect their livelihoods.

I don't know how to do a closing statement at the moment, so just hope you enjoyed the read and I will probably be back with another part to this soon

#bela dimitrescu #resident lover

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hippolotamus · 11 months

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Hippo my lovely 💕

21 - this is a very long hug now sort of hug

If it sparks joy 💕

It did! Eventually (sheepishly kicks at the dirt) Enjoy, lovely 🦛💞🐥

For the full experience may I recommend

if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) | T | 2926 words

Just got in. See you tomorrow.

Buck pockets his phone and enters the apartment — it’s not home, never really has been — his movements slow and easy, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the sort of love and contentment that can only come from spending an evening at the Diaz house. A few precious hours of dinner, then playing Boggle and Scattergories until Chris begged off to play an online game with his friends. His limbs are loose and humming, like his veins have been injected with liquid starlight. Even the air around him feels syrupy sweet and pleasant. The kind of thick, protective cover that nothing negative could hope to ruin.

He drops his keys in the bowl and immediately walks to the fridge to put away the Tupperware container of leftover mushroom and chickpea meatballs with zoodles for tomorrow’s lunch.

Eddie picked the recipe, saying he wanted to try it. No particular reason, he just did. He’s been doing that more lately, choosing dishes he would make anyway and subbing in vegan ingredients.

Buck took notice immediately and makes sure to show his gratitude in heaping platefuls and commenting on how delicious it all is. He knows from experience that it’s all too easy to end up with dried out, inedible food that shouldn’t be fed to anyone. It’s the least he can do for his best friend making the effort to cook something special just for him. Even if said best friend will never admit that’s why he’s doing it.

At times, if Buck lets himself look too closely, it feels a lot like something else. These acts of service feel a lot like love. And it is. The sort of love two best friends who would do anything for each other have. Buck’s not naïve enough to think that Eddie wouldn’t do the same thing for any of their friends or family. But at the same time it’s also more? Deeper. A sacred bond or formula shared just between them. Like learning Bobby’s chili doesn’t work without the cocoa powder. Someone could try a million different ways and it would never turn out right.

He wants to be brave enough to name this thing they’ve been building since promising to have each other’s backs. This relationship forged in fire, mud, and tsunamis. Built on collapsing foundations, busted down doors, lightning strikes, and ‘Because, Evan’.

If he could be part of Eddie and Christopher’s lives for everything, he would do it in a heartbeat. But that always seems like too much and not enough to ask for. Because Buck is too much and not enough. Acceptable in measured increments for precise amounts of time. For now — probably forever — he tucks that dream away in favor of focusing on what he does have.

With the leftovers safely put away, he grabs a beer, twisting off the cap and listening to it slide across the countertop, finally slowing to a stop next to the utensil caddy. It’s… loud. Too loud for such a small object. Or maybe the apartment is just too… cavernous? Empty?

Buck leans back against the counter, taking a lengthy sip and visually assessing his space. He has things. The right amount of things, even. After all, he’s one single person. How much could he need? He drowns the thought with more beer when his mind tries to remind him of six cheese lasagna and couches and having the answers.

He decides it’s not worth ruining his still relatively excellent mood by worrying over something as trivial as a chunk of metal, and moves out to the patio. It might do him some good.

The atmosphere is filled with the sights and sounds of the city at night. A complex symphony of traffic, music and people wrapped in an LED haze that starts at the street and drifts slowly upward. It’s a familiar melody that, just like the apartment, isn’t home but does its best to provide comfort.

He manages to pick out a few stars peeking through. Not full constellations. Those are impossible, staying hidden like the ancient giants they are. It’s nice to still be able to see the twinkling specks, even if they’re nothing like some places he’s been.

On the ranch in Montana he would lay on the hood of his Jeep and stare for what felt like hours. Feeling small, but also like something was waiting for him. Like he was part of something bigger that he just hadn’t discovered yet. Looking at the sky now doesn’t feel that way. More like being at sea, adrift and searching. Waiting to be found, though he’s not quite sure by who or what.

It reminds him of a documentary he watched once about otters. The mothers fluff up their pup’s fur and leave them to float while they hunt for food. The babies are powerless to do anything except spin in a circle until she returns. Sometimes Buck feels like that. Like somebody has given him enough support to turn in place but not actually go anywhere.

He casts a look at the table and chairs and finds himself thinking of fixing, being at your worst, trying again anyway, and— no. Clearly being outside isn’t helping, so Buck returns indoors, hoping the television will prove to be enough of a distraction.

As he searches for something to watch, it seems reasonable he just needed a better place to focus his attention that isn’t his own inner chatter. He’s already slightly irritated that the vibrant glow from earlier has faded so significantly. Maybe there’s still a chance it can be recovered.

He quickly settles on a cooking program and that gets him smiling again. He doesn’t even particularly care what’s being presented, just that it evokes the same warmth as being welcomed home and brown eyes with flecks of gold. At least until the next episode comes on.

This one features a couple, a husband and wife posed in their studio kitchen. They’re surrounded by pristine white cabinets, gleaming mixing bowls, and perfectly measured ingredients that will make a stunning something-or-other. When it’s complete they’ll pull it from the stainless steel double oven to be served on the prop table that’s been set like a photo shoot for Better Homes & Gardens.

Buck can’t help but notice how they move in harmony, fluidly traversing around each other, like a ballet. Like partners. Maybe it’s all for an audience, but it looks genuine. Not the type of movement that’s choreographed or faked. He stares, scrutinizing every instance of adoring looks and playful gestures until something within him finally cracks.

The hollow ache that usually lives in his chest suddenly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart, causing him to wonder how such emptiness can feel so massive. As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or something. Anything to untangle the mess sitting under his sternum.

Through rapid, gasping breaths Buck tries to refocus, to take himself back. Even just fifteen minutes. Is that so much to ask? Returning to blissfully, ignorantly, mindlessly observing?

Despite what he wants, the screen remains unchanged. Mr and Mrs Fucking Perfect carry on with their routine, blurred and watery in front of him. And Buck – he’s spinning in circles again, too helpless to do anything except wait. Except he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of drifting and circling and clinging and pausing.

It’s just- when he’s the guy who’s always trying to fix things that are out of his control… what is he supposed to do?

🍠🍠🍠🍠🍠

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night. Like watching Buck smile, all pleased and fond, every time Eddie thanked him for a helpful cooking tip. Or watching Chris break out in a full belly laugh at one of Buck’s corny dad jokes.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings welling up inside, trying to prevent them from bleeding out through his pores and spilling onto Buck. Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

He starts his nightly routine, walking a path through the rooms, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. When the final throw pillow is returned and the last pile is straightened, he hears the tentative knocking.

The noise immediately puts him on edge, setting off his protective instincts. Nothing good can come from someone being at his house this late. Christopher is in bed and Buck has his own key. Eddie tiptoes across the floor to peer through the peephole, shocked to discover who’s waiting on the other side.

“Buck?” Eddie turns the deadbolt, opening the door wide for his friend.

This isn’t anything like the night he came seeking respite from Maddie’s well-intentioned visitor train. Instead of standing tall, barreling past Eddie, Buck stares straight ahead, unblinking and motionless with slumped shoulders that make him appear small. Eddie can see how his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. He looks utterly broken.

Before Eddie can say his name again, Buck surges forward over the threshold. He falls into Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pushes the door shut, not bothering to listen if it latched correctly or not. He returns the embrace, one hand on Buck’s back, the other gently petting his hair as Buck’s body shudders against his own.

He gratefully absorbs each whimper and sob. The way thick, searching fingers clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hey. I’ve got you.”

Buck was fine a few hours ago. What the hell could have happened since then?

“I- I’m sorry, Eds.” Buck begins to pull back, rubbing away the wetness on the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have- I’m gonna–” He jerks his chin toward the doorway.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Eddie lightly grips Buck’s elbow, a silent question. Buck hesitates, looking between Eddie and the entryway, before he acquiesces to letting Eddie tug him closer again.

He wants to do any number or ill-advised things like hold Buck’s face between his palms, kiss away every tear, and murmur every wonderful thought he’s ever had about the man in his arms until Buck believes them. For now he settles for cradling and rubbing soothing patterns and silently loving. He’ll stand here all night if that’s what Buck needs. He can do that.

“I don’t know what happened. All I did was turn on Food Network,” Buck warbles. Then he shakes his head against Eddie’s shoulder, exhaling a world weary breath. A puff of air expelled by someone carrying the universe and trying to make it appear no bigger than a classroom globe. Eddie’s, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.

“That’s not true,” Buck confesses.

The silence returns and Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate on what he means. It isn’t long before the explanation comes, so muted that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m tired, Eds. Of pretending to be happy alone and waiting to be chosen. Tired of holding back just so the wrong person likes some version of me that isn’t even authentic. It’s just all so exhausting.”

I’d choose you. Three words Eddie can’t bear to make himself say out loud, because his best friend is hurting and now is most definitely not the time for that kind of confession. So he holds onto them a little longer, ignoring the sting where they settle back into his heart. A burning pain that only becomes more intense when Buck burrows impossibly closer, continuing to cling to Eddie like a lifeline.

Buck speaks again, sounding unfathomably small and heartbroken. “Am I that hard to love?”

“No.” Eddie’s answer is immediate and unwavering. As true as the night he first decided in front of their captain and an exploding ambulance.

Buck responds with a skeptical huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

Eddie slides the hand on the back of Buck’s neck forward, grazing over his cheek and under his chin until he can tip his head up. Even in the darkness, Buck’s eyes are exceptionally blue. Endless depths that manage to steal Eddie’s breath and reflect back every future he yearns for.

It’s been ages since Eddie’s given any serious thought to last first kisses or until death do we part, but he would swear under oath that’s what he sees now.

“No,” Eddie reiterates. This should probably be more difficult and be ratcheting up his anxiety. But it doesn’t. Instead he’s wrapped in a distinct calm. An undeniable certainty, because what he’s about to say is true and however Buck reacts won’t change it. “I have to say that because I love you.”

Buck blinks and his mouth falls open in an imperfect o. “Y-you what?” He whispers.

Now that he’s said it once, a second time is that much easier. “I said I love you. And I will always choose you. All of you. Over and over. Every version. If you’ll let me.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, fresh tears starting to pool there, and he looks at Eddie with such awe and disbelief, like he can’t accept that someone would genuinely want him. Not that he doesn’t understand the feeling, but it shatters Eddie to think Buck has spent even a second believing he’s unlovable.

“Of course I’ll let you. How is that even a question?” Buck asks, as if they haven’t been dancing around exactly that for years. He stands to his full height, never letting his hands drop, beaming down with the smile Eddie’s claimed as just for him. “But, Eds?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“This has been a really long hug. Not that I’m complaining. I was just kinda hoping I could kiss you. Finally. I’ve been kinda wanting to for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And who is Eddie to deny him that?

“Please,” he sighs into the diminishing space between them. His tone borders on a plea, but this is Buck. The person who has seen Eddie at his most vulnerable, who sees Eddie more than he’s ever allowed anyone else.

They drift closer until their lips brush, just enough that Eddie gets a taste of Buck’s horchata lip balm. Eddie can’t understand needing more than the 3-pack he can get at the grocery store, but right now he’s not complaining about the sweet, cinnamon flavor.

Eddie deepens the kiss, pausing when he can make himself break away, just enough to murmur ‘I love you’, wanting to make sure Buck knows he’s all in. That this isn’t a fluke or temporary, pitying lapse in judgment.

Because he does, and he is, with every fiber of his being. He loves him, loves him, loves him.

Suddenly Buck pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed, his already plush lips kiss swollen, tempting Eddie to bring them back together. “I just realized I never said I love you, too. Because I do a-and I really need you to know that.”

Eddie hums appreciatively, claiming Buck’s mouth again, unable to stay apart any longer now that he knows what it is to kiss Evan Buckley. He submits to the love and adoration and the way they fit like two puzzle pieces, further solidifying how they’re meant to complete each other. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he knew what love was.

There are infinite meanings for different people. For Eddie, it’s painted in hues of burnt orange and blue. Folded in cheesy puns and always having a fresh container of oat milk in the fridge. Stated in facts about retrofitted ceiling tiles and light fixtures; conveyed in I know you did, what are you afraid of, and I misunderstood the assignment.

It’s following his heart on the winding path that led him to a reality better than any fantasy.

#soft prompts #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #fic: if i’m being honest (it scares me to death)#hippo writes

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