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ch.7 pt 1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: read under the end for an author's note.
"hi big bro—"
unsent.
"hi dick!!! i just got your number from alfie :DD he said it might be easier for me to contact you through your phone since it's not often that you're here in gotham :( which sucks but i understand! at least i've got something else to talk to you with!"
"so that brings me to my plans!!!—
"but first, do you have the time to hang out, please! it's my treat! :))) it can be in a restaurant or just here, over at home. together!!! i rmr you promised me the manor tour, i really really hope you didn't forget it!"
"also, my bday's coming soon! you don't have to buy me a gift or anything, your presence is enough of one already! i'm planning on cupcakes since a cake is too much for me. so if you're free around the afternoon next month, you can choose whatever flavor of frosting you want! alfie's helping me bake it, and i really hope you can come to my celebration!"
"but anyways, i'll be waiting for your reply, dick! if you can't hang out within this week then... oh well! i'm not available next week since classes start, but i hope it's this week since i really really miss you, hahaha :)))"
"p.s., don't forget about my birthday!"
...
"hey dick! any updates so far??? :(( my bday's just passed, but it's alright! i wasn't expecting too much from you since i know you've got responsibilities and such hehe."
"... so you might be busy—"
"but i understand!!! :)) just text me once you're online and if you read this! you don't have to accept my invites, i just gotta know so i wouldn't waste any reservations. so please, please, please answer me!"
"... please."
...
"dick!!! i heard it's your birthday through alfred! so happy birthday, dick! may many blessings come your way because you're the bestest ever! i've got a gift all wrapped up for you, though i know you're in bludhaven right now, alfred helped me arrange it to be delivered to you soon! just text me when you want me to send it over. love you!!!"
...
"am i blocked? :( sorry to assume, but i think my messages aren't coming through your phone. oh, and i still have your gift, by the way! even though it's been a few weeks, there's nothing wrong with a belated happy birthday gift, right?!"
...
"hello???"
...
"i miss you."
...
"please just answer me for once..."
...
"... i'm starting to think you hate me, dick."
unsent.
...
"alfred told me about what happened. i didn't know you had a fight with bruce back when it was your birthday. i'm sorry that happened, dick."
...
"hey... if you need anyone to talk to, you do know i'm here, right? you don't have to run off to another city at all and ignore everybody in the house when things get bad. we could talk it out, spend some time together, talk nasty things about bruce behind his back, do anything, just anything. it doesn't even have to be dinner dates— we're siblings, you told me we are."
unsent.
...
"... we're still siblings, aren't we? do you consider me as your sibling, dick?"
unsent.
...
"i miss you. even if it's been quite some time — some years — since we even had an actual conversation. you're still an older brother to me. i hope you know that. even if you and tim and all the others act like i'm not here. i still love you all. it hurts to admit it, but i do."
unsent.
...
"is it because i'm not one of you guys? is that why everyone pretends i don't exist? because i'm not some hero like you? or is it a secret third thing? do i even exist in your minds? just tell me—"
"please just fucking tell me. so i stop hoping for something, dick."
unsent.
...
"that was insensitive of me, i'm sorry, dick."
"i wish you could just reply to me. just once."
"... i'll see you after a few months again, i guess."
...
"i saw how you were with tim and damian and the others."
"i saw you all at the theatre, with them. with your friends, the titans, and all your siblings. even bruce had the gall, he found the fucking time to visit you guys over there."
"wow, just wow."
"i saw the posts, the selfies, everything. you were having so much fun weren't you? i wish that was me. i wish i had that kind of bond. i wish i was part of something. i wish i could afford to take my friends to the theatre, have some fun, take great selfies, laugh and pretend like nothing in the world bothers us. but they've been taken away from me, they all started to avoid me because they saw the way you and the others ignore me too in public. they think there's something wrong with me because of the way you treat me out in public— they think that if they copied your actions, it'd be enough to warrant your attention in public too."
"haha. that hurts a lot, being ignored by even the people you call your friends. can't you see just how much you're also indirectly hurting me?"
"i wish you had the decency to at least invite me. you could've just placed me on the sidelines, i could stay quiet if you wanted me to. i don't mind being the fucking wallflower."
"because at least that meant i was invited—"
"because at least that meant you thought of me for even one fucking second. that i mattered more than just your flimsy promises of "next time.""
"it would've stung less if you had just confronted me and told me you and all the others never cared all along."
"i mean it's obvious you never did. i just wish you said it to my face. i just wish you'd come to my room for once and tell me i never mattered. but even that's too much of a favor, huh? i'm just so irrelevant to you. i should've known how it'd all turn out for us— and yet..."
"i didn't know you were capable of giving so much love."
"i didn't know that the dick grayson i knew in my eyes, who used to be my light before, who used to give me so much hope right after mom left the world; who also ignored me, who always turned the other way around or shooed me off when i asked for his time— i didn't know he could smile so much with other people around him. i never knew there was that side of you that could make everybody feel better, safe, loved."
"whenever i think of you, i think of your stupid back and your wandering eyes. that's all i ever see: you turning away from me like the sight of me repulses you."
"at this point, that just makes me the problem, huh?"
"bruce acts that way too. between me and tim. you two welcomed him easier than you did me. i should've known from the start that i didn't even matter at all. i should've known that a child like me before wasn't pitiful enough to be even noticed. i don't even know why i expect so much when it comes to me. i shouldn't even act so entitled when i don't even exist in this hellhole."
"... i hate you dick, i hate you so much."
unsent.
...
"i wish you knew how much i fucking hate you. but you don't even read my messages."
unsent.
...
"it's always the same with you people. i don't even know why i even try in the first place."
unsent.
...
"i'm sick of pretending like i'm happy every time i greet you here and in person. you make me sick."
"but if i saw you that way, then you probably see me as something worse then. i'm a disgusting, selfish, attention-seeking leech to you, aren't i?"
"that's probably why you could never look me straight in the eyes."
"you hate me more than i claim to hate you."
unsent.
...
"i hope you remember how you were supposed to take me out for dinner. i hope you remember how you promised to take me around the manor. i hope you remember how much i think of you and the others everyday whilst i couldn't even be a passing glance to any one of you. i hope you remember at least even a semblance of me before i leave for college."
"but you won't."
"i know you won't. even if i paraded all over the halls of this stupid house and announced i'd be killing myself, none of you wouldn't even bat an eye."
"if you couldn't even fulfill a promise you made to me years ago, a promise you made to me months ago— then you sure as hell wouldn't care if i left this place. there's nothing worth staying here for anymore."
unsent.
...
"it's just so unfair, dick."
"everyone here is so unfair."
"what did i even do to deserve this?"
"did i do something wrong? did i say something wrong? did i hurt anybody? did i kill anybody? what did i do to make you ignore me so suddenly before?"
"i want to know the answer so bad, but it's too quiet when you're all not around for the night."
"it's just too quiet."
"like i'm not even deserving enough to be considered noise around you."
unsent.
...
"sorry for being too much."
"i didn't realize how annoying i sounded in every message of mine."
"i won't be long in this manor anyways... so for all it's worth—"
"i won't bother you anymore."
...
home sweet home.
a resounding click! echoed throughout your apartment as you kick your door closed. you brace yourself for the pain subsiding in your sides, kneeling down — and keeping your crutches as support for your weight — to place the cardboard box you held to your right, it was a flimsy thing punched with holes to allow air to enter and right atop of it was a container of your favorite meal jason had insisted you keep.
afterwards, you pulled yourself up as slowly as you could, wincing and taking in deep breaths in the middle of standing up.
finally, safe and sound.
a relieved sigh escaped your parched throat. leaning back, your eyes had shut closed, embracing the wriggling darkness. there, you remain standing, brain detangling every thought and notion you'd forcefully put aside to stay sane throughout your entire hours long journey to at least reach the safety of your apartment.
a moment. you just needed a moment to take it all in.
the air was crisp, a cold and unforgivable reminder that winter had started to take a toll on the temperature.
yet it wasn't enough to cool your torrid thoughts.
yesterday, or two days ago- you couldn't fathom the time you were spent drunk: the flirting, the buzzing noise, your lightheaded words, your night ending in near death. when you were unconscious from the bloodied hits of that awful, pungent man and his lackeys. jason, his worries, your confessions, your life.
you need to recall everything. you need time to think—
alone.
it was hypocritical of you to desire seclusion — when you had spent your entire life mourning for another human presence beside you — but you needed to be alone right now, no matter how suffocating and prickly the silence of your apartment was; something bigger was swallowing you whole.
you opted to have mary leave you be after a long day despite her insistence to at least accompany you all the way to your apartment, or just stay with you for the night up until morning where she'll get her roommate to pick her up by car. but you really couldn't handle the offer, even if tempting, since you couldn't deal with another human presence right in your space or else you'll break.
as much as she felt like a guiding light directing you away from the darkness that was jason's suffocating obsession to keep you safe — like you suddenly mattered in his life, like he didn't spew all that bullshit about being your older brother when he never acted that way with you before — you just couldn't afford hearing out her valid defenses, wanting to drown more in your emotions more than pretend like you're stronger than you are.
it didn't take much to convince her to go her way.
your sad, pleading eyes begging her for an ounce of space, to give you time to rest was enough to have her frown. despite her valid defenses about safety in the night, your mind was set on being left alone.
and she did after some back and forth, leaving the lobby with a grim sigh, calling her roommate to come pick her up. after you had watched her back slowly fade into the distance, you went your merry way up the elevators, down the winding halls, ignoring the aching in your sides, the sour mildew clinging in the air, the almost alive, pulsing and breathing of the walls; up until you reach the very room you stand in now— trying your best not to be reminded of the ghostly silence that had always followed you.
so now, it was only you, yourself, and a mass of anxiety and paranoia that had started to dig its way into your heart and had sat beside you in all your isolation.
you wanted nothing more than to rid these new sensations: the unbidden comfort you felt when you finally felt jason's embrace, the smoke and ash still clinging in the fabrics of your jacket bringing you nostalgia to when you first met him under the moonlit night in that kitchen, the gratitude you disallowed yourself to feel when jason had remembered your favorite dish and went as far as buy it for you, all warm and toasty on the bedside cabinet from when you woke up—
you wanted nothing more than to sit in the middle of your room and stare into nothingness, spend hours passing time if it meant leaving your thoughts and worries buried deep somewhere before it could ultimately devour you whole again.
you don't want to want anymore.
you need to make yourself not need anymore.
because if you fall into that madness named desire, you're afraid you'll only end up unfulfilled and alone once more.
"ngh!" it didn't take long before your crutches slipped away from your sore shoulders, legs sliding against the floor. when your bottom hit the ground, the striking pain of the collision crashed like violent waves in a storm, rolling all the way to the wounds on your hips, and—
"shit! fucking hell, it hurts." you cry out curses, the tears you try to desperately contain had started to roll down your sunken cheeks. your throat, parched and devoid of hydration, sounded like the young kid who'd cried out to the sight of their deceased mother.
stupid, stupid, just stupid.
your entire life is just one cruel, endless joke.
right beside you, your crutches thud against the hard floors, metal beating down like strikes of thunder. you wince at the volume, eyes shutting once more. and just like thunder, your bitten lips couldn't clamp down faster than the racing shrieks aching to be released.
"just...! when will everything just end?" your question hangs in the air as your head lulls against the hard doors, palms clenched around your waist to satiate the violent throbbing. you knew nobody would answer you, you knew that the alfred you'd always imagine comforting you couldn't always give you answers — because he's just a figment of your imagination, because he's who you always run to when the questions become too heavy and convoluted, when the silence was too loud and nagging — you knew that, even if you'd beg to the gods you cursed, even if you'd unblock dick and told him to give you answers, abided in your friends, found counseling—
you knew that there is no end to this curse you call life.
you knew that running away from problems meant you'd tire sooner, that it'll begin to catch up to you and lock you up once more.
you hated being alone, you wished you had someone to lie to you and tell you it'll all be better in the end; you wished your mom was right beside you like she was in the damned dream, you wish to still remember the sensation of her gentle fingers running across your matted hair, hear her voice consoling you until your tears had ceased to roll down your cheeks
like a child dreamed of reliving their happiest birthday everyday, you wish she was alive still.
you wish your life had ceased at five years old. you wish you'd lay right beside her decaying corpse instead of laying on the floor of your dingy apartment; alone, and barely alive, but never living the life you dreamed of living from when you were that stupidly naive child.
but you're here, an unwilling victim to your misfortune, and you have no choice but to live through it all. killing yourself is a choice you never wanted to touch upon, a choice you never wish to entertain anymore.
if you did, what would your mother think of you in the afterlife?
if you did, what measures would someone like jason make just to bring you back alive?
shaking your head, a chuckle, sardonic and bitter and loud, cuts you off from your tears, remembering how nobody but alfred even knew you'd left the fucking manor. nobody but him checked up on you, nobody acknowledged you from when you were there, so what of it when you're not?
only your small circle of friends threw you a small welcome party to a new life, spoiled you to the pleasures of alcohol and sleazy bars. they'd announce a toast to independence, to freedom, to a life away from them.
but were you truly away if they were never that close to begin with?
if jason hadn't been coincidentally in the same area as you from behind that bar, then would you still be alive to tell the story? would you just be another news article buried under the countless masses of headlines?
no, you're good as dead. no world-altering event, no pit, no magician could save your soul from being shattered and ripped from within your body.
would they even care? would your so-called family even mourn someone they never truly knew?
"no, god, as if they cared about me at all."
as excruciating as it is to admit, the thought made your wobbling lips quirk upwards, head bury deep within your palms. then, your fingers trace across lingering scars and lumps across your scalp, a reminder of all the times you'd pick at skin until it bled.
it's absurd to think about the answers to the questions you'll never escape from. but the answers were as clear as the day you were born with no father by your mother's side:
you don't matter in their world:
you wish they didn't matter to yours too, but you've been too attached to the concept of someone else caring about you for even the slightest. feelings like those are hard to detach from, especially if the love you yearned for was a love once reciprocated by your mother—
but whatever, life and time, trials and tribulations, they never cease for just a single person.
no matter how pathetic and miserable you were, you had to keep going on. if not for your mother, then out of spite from jason's insistence that you couldn't survive alone when it had always been the opposite— when you've pretty much lived your life without his company anyways.
you're fine without him, without them.
no, no.
you're not fine. there was no world where you've been fine for more than a second, but you've been better off without them at the same time. that's what makes a difference, you convince yourself.
at least here, in your sullen, little apartment, there was nobody else allowed to consume your space and your thoughts.
at least here, the only danger you have against yourself is you.
and yet, the silence only grows bigger and hungrier.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
PLEASE READ: 3.4K+ words. special post, it's supposed to be longer. but you know what happened? my phone restarted, i opened my notes app and huzzah! the first part i was editing got half of it deleted! the other parts are safe except for this one. this was supposed to be four scenes in total, amounting to 7k+ or more. i didn't even get a single grasp on its final word count. it fucking sucks, i despise the world for doing this to me. but as promised, here's the chapter, no matter how short it is. i apologize if it's not on par to your expectations, honestly, it gets better in the (supposed) second half of this part. but again, life happens. things happen no matter how much it sucks. i'll be rewriting the second half of this tomorrow and hopefully i can post it by the next night. if there are any delays, please spare me, i'm trying my best to not cry over my stuff getting deleted.
Hello, I would like to make a request that Alejandro from Total Drama X Fam Reader also have the same personality as Heather, which is why Alejandro also fell in love with you the first time he saw you in Total Drama Island, but the more the show goes on, the more he finds out you're actually the sweetest and kindest person; you are just inside but not outside, which is why he teases a lot.
Take your time to write this since I loved how you wrote Total Drama for Alejandro last time, so I was hoping you would make one again. :D
"The More You Know" • Heather-like Reader
pairing(s): Alejandro Burromuerto (TD)/FemReader
— no y/n use, slight references to being female, slight use of gender stereotypes (it’s so minor dw), reader grew up in Canada, (kinda) slow burn, kissing, PG bed sharing.
— Hey! So this took... forever. Sorry y'all, I was not on social media and I had a major case of writer's block. Got it done though! Eventually! This is longer than my usual stuff and totally experimental. I think it works though and I had fun writing it. I do really hope you like this. Hopefully, I'm back on top of things again lol.
this request was made by @derya1409
The airport terminal was brimming with rowdy passengers, each tied up in the preproduction of their own trips. This, of course, was not unusual. Even less so for Alejandro, as he was so used to these trip that his father brought him on— observational opportunities, his father called them.
What was unusual was Alejandro's inability to focus. His eyes lingered on the novel in his hand. It was classical, pretentious, something he could normally find himself drawn into with little effort. However, somewhere between the commotion of the airport and a distant paragraph, his mind drifted.
Eventually, he found it pulled towards a TV in the corner of the terminal, propped up as a mediocre attempt at entertainment. On it: a Total Drama Island moments reel. He had heard of it months before the show was even airing.
It came up as a cheap advertisement that some of his peers had seen going around. A tacky reality TV show run by a burnt out celebrity heartthrob. The ad was directed at kids his age, asking them to sign up.
He laughed, back then, at the passing thought of it. He almost pitied the poor souls who would degrade themselves for money, but he supposed, it was a self-inflicted punishment. Only an idiot would do something so desperate, he thought. And that was that.
Here, however, he found himself pulled into the screen, attention totally fixed. Not because of the show, itself. No, it was awful. Full of exaggerated drama, potty humour, and colourful personalities.
Instead, the pull came from a contestant that stood out to him. One that was in at least half of the shots. For good reason too.
You seemed to act as a sort of gasoline, soaking into every crevice of the show and waiting for a not-quite-unplanned match to spark. Even a fraction of the clips you weren't in seemed to have come to be through your actions.
He watched as you began forging alliances before anyone else, from those who were most vulnerable to your wits. You spoke to their insecurities and their wants. It was far too easy.
Outside of your own new ties, you managed to pull those of others apart. He felt his lips curl with a strange satisfaction as you gripped onto the leather balanced diary of another contestant. Overdramatic teenage lament fell from your lips and yet, you made it sound so sharp. So beautiful.
The horror on the other girls face as you did so was just the cherry on top.
He almost laughed as you made a dictator out of yourself during team challenges. Berating, cutting, vicious. And in a horrifying, fleeting little thought that he refused to ever acknowledge, wished that you might speak to him in the same vein.
He wanted nothing more than to stay, to see more, but he was pulled away by the clearing of a throat. His father, peering down at him with a look Alejandro only saw when he was behaving too much like a child. The look made his lips pull into a line. He wanted to pretend he hadn't been watching TV. That he was deeply engrossed in his book and that he had only looked away for a moment. Or, to tell his father that a few minutes of television weren't going to lead to the end times.
He instead shut the book, stood, and followed his father to boarding.
The show, which hadn't taken any space in his brain prior to the airport, would no longer leave his mind for more than a couple hours. Over the following weeks, Alejandro found himself tracking the competition. Not quite watching episodes, but keeping note that you were still in the game.
Your win had felt inevitable.
After all, you were the first one to latch onto any real advantage. Where are the other contestants seemed to be looking for fun, for a potential summer fling, for friendship— you were looking for reward.
Looking out for yourself. You never shared a deeper meaning to it— never cried over sick family and hospital bills, or a longing for higher education. You just wanted the money, the fame, the feeling of power. Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe there was something more to it but you never let on.
That was undeniably what kept his focus. The pure ambition.
It certainly didn't hurt that the producers liked you enough to give you an obvious leg-up.
And then, against all apparent odds, you lost.
Just like that, you were off the island and left tightly under lock-and-key, as were the others who had been disqualified. It should have meant nothing to him— you were a distant stranger. Of the same age, of the same country, of a similar spark. But a stranger, nonetheless. But he felt the loss.
That draw to you. The humming inspiration that seemed to settle under his skin at the sight of you, ever scheming.
It was a weak reason to pay so much attention to you in the first place. And now it was gone.
He wouldn't search for your name after the show ended. It was over, he resolved.
He tucked the thought of you into the back of his mind and resumed his life as if it was never there in the first place.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
Time moved forward, though he hadn't forgotten about you. To say that would be a lie.
Still, hearing your name over mindless lunchtime chatter caught him off guard. For as prominent as you had been, you faded out of conversation almost immediately after your loss. It was by nature of the show: you lose, you fall into radio silence, and the audience speculates, instead on who will win rather than those who are gone.
It had been a been a bit over two months since the show ended.
Ever sociable, Alejandro quickly found out the show was starting up again. Almost as quickly as it had ended, another season was greenlit, and the majority of the cast returned for a chance at even more money.
He found that you had lost, worse than the first time.
The show made it clear that contestants would return yet again, for another exciting season. Though, the website in all it's low-budget glory was decorated with an invitation for further application.
He thought of his former amusement at the prospect of signing up.
He thought of your mean smiles and cruel words, made to get ahead in an impossible game.
He sent in the tape.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
When he first meets you, it seizes his breath and he almost loses his silver tongue and smooth composure. That charm that makes women and far more men than would admit fall to his whims. Almost.
He flirts and tries to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Little things like saving you a snack from first class and lending you honeyed words. Things he finds himself wanting to do a little more than he should.
Of course, you see right through it. You don't say it outright but the way that your eyes narrow at the sight of him is telling. The way you keep trying to put Sierra, that chatty little stalker, at your side is even more so.
You're all but baring teeth at him and he can only imagine what your confessionals look like. A flush falling over your features and you run up your own adrenaline, thinking of him. Ranting and raving because "Why can't anyone else see what I'm seeing?" Maybe you fumble over your words with an accidental slip of how he's just "So goddamn handsome." It may be silly but the thought had a smile pulling at his lips.
That spark he saw in you through the screen was even more present in real life but then, you nearly seemed… two-dimensional. A caricature that he had been sure was only created by reality show editing.
It's one night, when the others are asleep that he finds the Dr. Jekyll to your Mr. Hyde.
Alejandro exits the washroom, trying to slide the door back with causing a disturbance. As he hears the soft click of it closing, he turns on his heel and trails back down the cabin to the faux-first class lounge.
He pushed inside on light feet, careful not to wake anyone. It was one of those days before competitions, where the cameras were off and Chris could let them roam as they please. As a result, most of the remaining cast was piled up somewhere between cushioned plane seats and soft, if a bit dirty, carpeting.
His eyes linger on the lights as he first enters. He never quite finds himself up at this hour, needing his rest to keep things on track, and when he first awoke, he was in too much of a rush to take in the scenery. Now, however, he finds himself wide-eyed at the soft blue light lining the ceiling.
It's not that he's unused to it. He's been on far more planes than most his age. Though, to see something so gentle created out of a flying death sentence made his chest feel light. He means to return to his side of the bench, though he's so drawn into the sight that it takes interruption to break through to him.
"You need an invite to sit down, Al?" You call out to him, low but notably still attempting to get on his nerves.
He has to resist the urge to scrunch up his nose in distaste. Ever since you had noticed his hate of that nickname, it became something of a favourite phrase to you.
"Of course not," Alejandro paces easily back to his spot, though his gaze stays fixed as it lands on you. Your sat with a book neatly in your lap. He can only suspect that you had swiped it from Chef's collection, though you would never confirm that. He finds himself studying how the soft blue lights paint your skin. Particularly the trailing shadow it lays across your face, tracing the curves of your cheeks and just lingering on your cupid's bow.
As his eyes follow the light, he notices the rounded shape of your shoulder. Your posture, for a rare moment, is arched and soft as if you have no worries at all. Alejandro's tired and he should really try to get some rest before the next challenge but,
"It's pretty, isn't it?" He really can't help himself.-Your brows tense and your lips pull thin. In all honesty, you look like you might hit him, now that no one's watching. Maybe tell him to shove it or something equally as unladylike. Instead, your face relaxes with a soft exhale and you murmur, "Yeah, guess so."
"Do you…" He pauses, a question only half-baked in his head.
'Not sleep well?' Feels too heavy handed
'Stay up often?' Just as bad. You would see his digging a mile away.
'Want to talk?' What is he even thinking?
He settles for something like 'Do you like the book?' so he can ease into your grace, even the slightest bit. Whittle away the walls that keep you aware of what he is.
Except, you beat him to it. A quiet, "You doing alright?" Alejandro sees the way your chapped lips purse. Sees the way your attention flits away from your book and lays entirely on him. You swallow lightly, "You left in a rush, were in there for a while. And your eyes seem red."
No louder than a murmur but it has a warmth rising on his face. He hopes you don't notice the change, though you saw the difference in his eyes, even in this light, so he doesn't hold out hope.
For a moment, his chest feels heavy with pressure,
He takes a breath and then, "I'm perfectly okay. I appreciate you asking. I simply had to use the washroom and rubbed my eyes a little too hard to get the drowsiness out." It's admittedly a weak excuse but at the very least, you don't get anything out of it.
He strains a smile. "It was unsuccessful, though, I suppose. I'm still tired so I think I'll get back to sleep now."
"If that's all it is." You agree, though your eyes stay tight at the edges. "Night, Al."
"Sleep well." Alejandro eases down on the stiff bench, his mind still lingering on you. He had been watching you closely and it seemed you had been doing the same. When he thought of the concern on your face, he wasn't entirely sure he minded.
That night seemed to have opened the proverbial flood gates.
As if it had humanised him to you, a calm settled over your relationship. You weren't so outwardly hostile. He was competition, yes, but he found that the fight stopped there.
From then on, change came in the form of small in-betweens.
A brief moment in the Louvre where your eyes caught and with it, your body, right in front of a large painting. Though he wanted to run ahead, he found his steps following. He tilts his head to find the glint in your eyes, amusement that's likely tied to the torso of Michelangelo's David pressed into your arms.
"You do know that they aren't real, yes?" He asked with a soft lilt to his voice.
You snicker a little, "What? Don't think Chef was crazy enough to deface real art?"
Alejandro pretends to weigh it for a moment with a quiet 'hmm' noise, "I don't think even Chris has enough money to cover that." He settles.
That makes an ugly snort escape you and finally, you meet his gaze. "Once this is all over, you should talk to Noah about Chris' finances." There's a knowing look in your eyes as you turn on your heel. "See if your still so sure about that after." With that, you take off, only clutching the piece of statue closer to your chest.
He catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you leave. Even Chris couldn't afford to desecrate these pieces of art history, he was sure.
But it was a funny thought.
There's a passing ease.
Athens come with what he can only describe as teasing:
An offhanded wink as he put half his hair into a ponytail.
Grinning as you pant on the other side of relay race's finishing line, "You sure are flexible, huh?"
Your quiet voice behind him as Cody stands in a woefully inaccurate set of wax wings and a hardly modest harness. "You would have looked good in that."
You began to let little things slip.
Long after the challenge in Niagara Falls, you're all still there, taking in the quick falling streams of water just below you. There was a pair of interns set to watch the group as Chris and Chef were refueling.
Most of the remaining cast was tired and mildly annoyed by the pit stop there of all places. By what was practically Canadian rite of passage, the majority of you had already been to Niagara too many times to count.
Alejandro, however, had no complaints as he watched you lean into the rock border overlooking the falls. It was getting colder, the longer you were there but you hardly seemed to notice as you recounted an old family trip to him. The words, practically falling out of your mouth, have a wide grin playing across your lips.
What he wouldn't give to be in your head at that moment.
Later, as you were all back on the plane and under those blue lights once again, he would tell you about that dream he had weeks ago. About the voices of his brother and his dad, ringing out his head. He would call it a favour returned, though those words sit entirely too heavy on his tongue.
By the finale, things had shifted entirely.
Admittedly, Alejandro may be having a bit too much fun with the songs the past few episodes. "This Is How We Will End It", last episode was groundbreaking. It practically cemented you two as the final two for the producers. You were suited to duets, it seemed.
And anyway, they thought it would create the most tension and serve as "the most plausible outcome." In order to get there, however, they blew up a plane, had you dancing on the top of an actual moving train, and made you sing and dance throughout it.
You… don't seem enjoy it quite as much as he does. There was a noticeable thrill, your eyes setting alight whenever you get really into it. You laugh and the grin. Maybe you would love this if you were with someone else but as the cameras go down, your worry becomes clear.
Wordless tugs to triple-check both of your harnesses before shoots, as if the technicians didn't already do so. Tight-lipped check-ins after you pass under tunnels that might leave your decapitated if you didn't move fast enough. You eyes lowered and on his planted feet each time the train got moving again.
Harnesses and emergency staff be damned, anyone who looks at the set up for the finale could tell you it was doomed from the start. It 's practically a miracle that you both make it to the volcano alive and well.
Then again, can you really can it a miracle if you still have to climb a volcano?
Who actually won, that was the only real surprise left.
By the time he makes it to the top, it doesn't look like he could lose. Yet, standing over the edge with his statue in hand, he hears your voice. Some PG-13 cursing falls from your mouth and he turns his head to see you panting at the end of the trail. Sweat clings to your skin as you slide onto your knees and yell at him.
Not for winning, but because you don't want things to end. "You're gonna get the money and we're never going to see eachother again!" Your desperation becomes clear as you latch onto the statue's ankle. "I have worked so hard for this! Three seasons." Your eyes look wet and it makes his heart squeeze. "You don't get to come in and take it from me when I'm this close! You don't get to take it and leave!"
You were angry about the loss, obviously, but it almost sounds more like...
"Well, what are you more upset about losing?" He steps forward, a smirk loudly playing on his face, "The money? Or me?" It might be cruel, but he really does want to know.
He expects red cheeks and over the top anger, but instead you seem to falter. Your eyes go from dewy to spilling over and the camera tech behind him races forward to get a closer shot.
"Does it matter?" You say, nearly quiet enough to have him straining his ears. You lip wobbles, "Just toss in the statue— stop taunting me!"
He should go for the win. He should but instead, he offers you a hand, only long enough to pull you up before dropping it again. The smirk falls from his face and in its stead is a pensive expression.
"Answer the question, will you?" He tilts his head, and buries himself in your eyes. They become a little stony as you peer at him.
For a second, the blistering heat behind you both becomes apparent. He takes in the sound of bubbling and the sheen across your forehead. Anything, to distract from how the world seems to be taking a breath in your silence.
You open your mouth and the illusion shatters, "And if I said you?"
"Well," He considers for a moment, his father and the disappointment waiting for him. Alejandro says it anyway, "I don't think you would be alone there."
Without a word, you close the space between you, reaching to hold onto your face. Your fingers are clammy and warm as they cup his cheek and quickly after, your lips meet his.
They're chapped, and he can just barely taste of salt and metal under the chaste kiss.
It's- he wants— his hands abandon their hold on wood to meet the curve of your waist. One slides up the side of your body to press against the top of your back, feeding his desire to be melded.
Skkkkrrrk
The distant noise of something sliding against gravel has him reeling back. His head spins in confusion and he tries to find answer in your wide eyes. Your lips curl just at the corners and your eyes flick behind him. His head snaps to meet your line of sight and he catches the tail end of your statue falling into the volcano.
His lips part and he looks at you quizzically, throat feeling painfully dry. Just barely he registers Chris' voice calling out your win.
You stunt the beginnings of hurt by letting the hand on his cheek slip down to his heart. His hand comes up to touch it, to steady himself.
"I do mean it," The smirk takes full form around the words, "Still had to win though."
A laugh startles from Alejandro and he shakes his head. "Well played, mi corazón." He leans in to let your lips just barely brush against each other, "Well played."
He pulls back, steadying his shoulders and turning to the camera, though his eyes never leave you. "Go get your money."
There had apparently been some plans of a fake eruption and the return zombified Ezekiel to boost ratings. Chris decided that wasn't necessary after "the big rivals to lovers finale." You only find this out at the hotel later, long after the excitement has died down. Each person in the cast, loser or not, has their own room and yet, the two of you find yourself huddled up together in yours.
Nothing happens, it's purely innocent. Just a need to be close after so much stress.
As you curl up under the comforter, Alejandro mumbles, "You do know that your reputation is ruined, yes?" The amusement is stark in his tone. "Not such a terrifying threat anymore."
You only pull him tighter toward you. "Worth it."
These are my guidelines: here.
These are my other works: here.
Translations:
— "mi corazón" = "my heart" in Spanish
Star's Final Notes:
— Okay so this was long and I was playing around with a different format for it. This honestly ran away from me and I don't know my own feelings on it. I guess I'll see if it's actually any good through engagement lol. That aside, a couple things are referenced here so for the sake of citation: Alejandro references the novella "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" by Robert Louis Stevenson, the statue Heather is gathering pieces of is Michelangelo's David, and the costume Cody wears in Athens is that of Icarus.
— And of course, as of posting this, requests are open so feel free to send something in y'all.
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why did no one tell me how fun stadium is???? i’ve been missing out on so much whimsy just because i’m hesitant to try out anything that isn’t arcade or quick play
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accidentally said "invasive thoughts" instead of "intrusive thoughts" today and actually I think I'm onto something. this thought does not belong here and it is harming the local ecosystem
“you took my character!! let me play them or i’ll throw!” dude it’s not my fault that you don’t wanna play another character. stop throwing over stupid things.
in marvel rivals i have one of those custom bind things for hello and thanks cuz why not (for hello it’s “heya ! *insert the psylocke success emoji*” and for thanks it’s “thanks ! *insert the wanda finger spin emoji*”) but i never imagined i’d get told to kill myself for using my hello bind-
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wouldnt it be interesting if someone made a hero shooter where all the canon couples are direct counters to each other or is that just my brain yearning for fanfiction???