#and the little dice kissies before hand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oliviaischillin1204 · 4 years

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let’s play a game

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Word Count: 5,983 words

inspired by this post by @thetickleeraven (thank you dani!! this was why i sent you that ask a few days ago lol, i hope i did your idea justice)

imma keep it real with you chief. idk how good this is but it’s Long and also i haven’t posted anything in over a month and i miss it so i hope y’all enjoy and hopefully i will be able to keep this motivation train going

Honestly, no one could really agree on who was to blame for the game. They had just been talking about what to do for their next game night (Patton’s idea) when the subject somehow came around to how much fun they all had when they played tickling games together (Roman’s fault, of course). Then someone (Logan, probably) began brainstorming a potential set of rules and regulations, and the game was made.

But if anyone really wanted the truth, well. It was Virgil who asked if they could play it tonight. So here they were.

“Everyone remember the rules?” Logan asked, smoothing a hand over his tie like he did when he was nervous. Roman nodded, pulling out the instructions on a sparkly piece of paper.

“Each number on the die correlates to a type of laugh. 1 is snort, 2 is giggle, 3 is squeal, 4 is scream, 5 is whine, and 6 is cackle,” he recited. “My and Patton’s objective is to coax that type of laughter from our respective lees, in any way possible.”

He shot his eyes over to Logan, who pointedly did not let his gaze drop, even as his cheeks grew warmer. Next to him, Virgil was already wrapping his arms around his midriff as Patton gave him a cheeky smile.

“If the ler can accomplish his task in less than one minute, he gets two points,” Roman continued. “If he succeeds after one minute, both the ler and the lee get one point. Zero points to the ler and two points to the lee if the group agrees that the lee has lasted long enough without letting the ler win.”

Virgil scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause that’s definitely not a biased way to measure it.”

“Oh, so you think the lee should be tickled until they give up whatever laughter their ler is looking for?” Roman asked, quirking his head innocently. “Because if that’s what you want, to get tickled and tickled until you finally break, we can change the rules now--”

“Okay! Enough!” Virgil blurted, face significantly redder than it was a few seconds before. He hugged himself tighter as Roman laughed, reaching over to pat his knee in reassurance.

“Everyone ready, gang?” Patton asked, his face full of excitement.

“Ready!” Roman chirped, while Virgil and Logan merely nodded. “Who wants to go first?”

Virgil paused, looking around the small circle before dropping his eyes to his hands in his lap. He wanted to play the game, of course, he wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t want to do it, but the idea of going first was not looking particularly appealing to him. Luckily, Logan must have caught on to his discomfort, because the logical side drew everyone’s attention with a small cough.

“If it’s all the same,” he said, “I think I’d prefer it if Roman and I were first.”

Roman grinned. “Just can’t wait, can you?” He smirked when Logan’s face went a bit pink at his words, and he reached for the die.

“Okay, here we go...” he said grandly, somehow managing to turn a simple phrase so dramatic that the other three sides couldn’t help but laugh. He shook the die in his hand and dropped it onto the floor, allowing all four of them to watch it roll to a stop.

Patton leaned forward, straightening his glasses. “That’s a 5!”

Immediately Logan had to fight off a nervous smile, especially when Roman turned to him with a joyful look in his eyes.

“You know what to do, Specs,” he said with a certain teasy tone in his voice. “On your stomach, please.”

Logan complied without protesting, mostly because he was a little grateful to start the game on one of his less intense spots. He laid his head on his folded arms, feeling a little shy under Virgil and Patton’s curious gazes.

“One minute on the timer, starting...”

He couldn’t hear anything behind him for a few seconds, and the awful anticipation made him want to squirm. Finally, just before he was about to ask Roman if everything was alright, he felt two fingers slowly begin to walk down his spine.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself, quickly pressing his lips into a thin line. Roman’s low chuckle from somewhere behind him was not helping in the slightest.

“Don’t be rude, Teach,” he teased, speeding up his fingers a bit as he began skimming the fingers from his other hand around his shoulderblades. “I just want to hear you whine, and what better way to do that than tickling your favorite melt spot? I mean, it is still your favorite, isn’t it?”

Logan didn’t answer, half because he didn’t want to admit that Roman was right, and half because he’s not sure what sort of noises would come out of him if he opened his mouth right now. All of his focus was on Roman’s skilled fingers, now focused on spidering down his spine to congregate on the back of his hips, occassionally giving quick scratches to the exposed stretch of skin above his pantline where his shirt had come untucked.

“Tickle tickle tickle,” Roman murmured, and wow they really should’ve made a rule against verbal teasing because it was making the fluttering feeling against his back so much more tickly. Logan found himself subtly rocking back and forth, as if he could displace Roman’s hands by moving his torso two inches to the left.

“Oh, feeling a bit wiggly, are we?” Roman asked, the smirk audible in his voice. “Hang on, I think I remember what to do here--”

Logan’s eyes went wide, but it was too late: Roman had shoved one hand up his shirt and was now grazing that one specific spot on the back of his ribs with his fingernails. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Logan’s back arched involuntarily, and he let out a quiet, high pitched keening noise that no one could deny was a textbook whine. He began to let out quiet giggles as well, muffling the sound into his arms with no avail.

“The trick is to only do one side at a time,” he heard Roman confide in their onlookers. “Two hands makes him absolutely freak out, but one hand is just enough to--”

“Stohohop! You won!” Logan blurted through his giddy noises. He heard Roman scoff in mock offense before finally pulling his hand out of Logan’s shirt, pulling it back down and patting his back comfortingly.

“Thank you for the points, Pocket Protector! I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re too upset about losing, are you?”

Logan rolled his eyes as he sat up, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Yes, yes, you passed the first round. Congratulations on your two points. Whose turn is it now?”

Patton giggled. “Our turn, silly!” He turned to Virgil, raising his eyebrows.

“Virge, you ready?”

“Yep,” Virgil replied quickly. “I’ll roll.” He snatched up the die before he could change his mind, rolling it in his palm. Something about being the one in control of the dice made him feel better, and Roman always says confidence is key, so maybe the universe would see how bold he was being and would go easy on him--?

The die dropped from his hand by accident and rolled to a stop on the floor, with the number 1 practically glowing up at him.

“Fuck off.” Thanks, universe.

To his left, Patton gave a dramatic gasp. “Virgil! Language!” His eyes narrowed, turning playfully dangerous as he continued, “Oh, you’re gonna be sorry you said that, kiddo! Roman, get the timer!”

Virgil’s eyes widened, and it took everything in him to not full on run away from what he knew he was coming; but, again, he agreed to play by the rules, so he only fought a minimal amount as Patton crawled forward to pull him to his doom.

“Patton, no, Patton, no, Patton no!”

“Patton, yes!” Patton replied, pulling the flailing anxious side towards him until Virgil’s back was leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Timer’s ready,” Roman interjected with a fair bit of amusement. He started the stopwatch, holding it up so Patton and Virgil could see it.

“Are you ready, Virgil? Are you ready?” Patton cooed, watching in delight as Virgil’s ears turned bright red. “Oh, it’s tickle time! It’s tickle time! It’s ticky-ticky-ticky tickle time!”

“Pahahatton!” he protested, already slipping into giggles as he fought to keep Patton’s breath off of his ear. “No tahahalking!”

“Oh, no talking?” Patton hummed, being kind enough to not press him mouth against Virgil’s neck so he could torture him with the vibrations. “Well, if I can’t talk, maybe I’ll just have to--”

He struck before finishing his sentence, catching Virgil off guard with a big, noisy kiss right behind his ear. A sound that was half laugh, half yell escaped his lips before he slammed his hands over his mouth.

“Oh, whatcha doing, Virgil?” Patton asked, peering over to catch his eye. “You trying not to laugh, silly billy? You think you can hold it in? Aw, you’re so cute!”

He combined the compliment with a soft peck of a kiss to the back of Virgil’s ear, and a full body shiver wracked Virgil’s frame. Patton grinned, and repeated the action several more times, tightening his hold around Virgil’s waist to keep him from squirming right out of his lap.

“Do you like my kisses, Virgil? Huh? Virgey likes the kissy-kisses?”

Virgil grunted behind his hands, his eyes screwed shut in half desperation and half embarrassment.

Patton grinned. Virgil was so silly! By covering his mouth and being forced to breathe through his nose, he was making it much easier to coax those cute little snorts out of him! Speaking of which--

“Virgil,” he murmured, letting his warm breath brush over Virgil’s ear and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I’m gonna give you to the count of three, and then you’re gonna give me those snorts. Okay? One...”

Virgil shook his head frantically, but Patton paid him no mind.

“Two...”

A choked laugh came from behind his hands, but Patton didn’t do anything. He just sat there, casually exhaling slowly over the back of Virgil’s neck. The anxious side continued to squirm, his entire body tensed for the anticipated attack, but still nothing came. He knew it was a trick, he knew it, but he couldn’t keep his muscles tensed forever, so maybe if he just relaxed for a quick second he could--

The instant Patton felt Virgil’s body go slightly slack in his arms, he pressed his lips to the back of his neck and blew the biggest raspberry he could manage.

Virgil gasped and burst out laughing in quick succession, hands dropping from his mouth as he weakly tried to push Patton away from him somehow. He inhaled loudly, letting his breath run out with his laughter, and then--

Snort.

“Gohohod dammit!” Virgil screamed through his uncontrollable giggles, face growing even redder as he made another adorable snorting sound. He was aware of Roman cheering and Logan saying something about points, but all he could think about was how desperately he needed Patton’s mouth off of his neck right now immediately.

Unfortunately for him, Patton didn’t relent, instead blowing a bunch of smaller rasperries against his neck to keep Virgil snorting for at least a few more seconds. Just so they could get a clear ruling on whether or not he’d won the points! No other reason, of course.

Finally he let Virgil go, unwrapping his arms from his waist as the other side shot his hands up to rub at his poor neck protectively.

“Got your snorties, little piggie!” Patton chirped. Virgil tried to glower at him, but the effect was ruined by his bright pink cheeks and wobbly smile.

“So that’s two points for Roman, two points for Patton, and none for Virgil or myself,” Logan repeated. “Roman, will you roll the die?”

Roman grinned. “With great pleasure, Loganberry!” He snatched up the die, only giving it a few shakes before throwing it to the floor. It bounced for a moment until it came to rest right in front of Logan.

He peered at it, and his eyes lit up in triumph. “Ah. This will be an easy one, then.”

“Why, what’d you get?” Patton asked. Logan carefully picked up the die and presented the number 2 to the group.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “And that makes this easy for you, because...?”

“Because,” Logan said stiffly, shifting his glasses, “I do not giggle.”

The other three sides paused as his words sunk in.

“Logan, buddy,” Roman said gently, “we’ve definitely heard you giggle before. Like, two minutes ago.”

Logan huffed. “Because I wasn’t trying to control myself at that point. Trust me, if given the opportunity, I am perfectly adept at withholding such light laughter.”

He wasn’t expecting Roman to suddenly cross the distance between them, kneeling before him with a focus that made him shrink back on instinct.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that, ” Roman said, pushing Logan by the shoulders until he was flat on his back, easily crawling over his hips and pinning his arms above his head with one hand. The bright and dangerous look in his eyes was enough to make Logan freeze like a trapped animal.

He heard Patton say something about the timer, but all he could focus on was Roman, as the creative side raised one hand to hover over his chest.

The two of them made eye contact for just a moment, before Roman grinned.

“The itsy, bitsy spider went up the water spout--”

Logan’s eyes bulged. “No--!”

But it was too late: Roman began spidering his fingers up Logan’s side, starting from just above his hips and lazily crawling up his torso.

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out!”

He scratched his way down Logan’s side again, taking his time to thoroughly cover the sensitive spots with tickles. Logan writhed, throwing himself as far to the other side as he could.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,” Roman sang, leaning forward to blow cool air across Logan’s neck to make him squirm while his fingers focused on one specific spot halfway up his side.

“Ssst- stohohop, stop,” Logan begged. Roman ignored him in favor of tightening his grip on Logan’s wrists as he moved his fingers higher again.

“And the itsy, bitsy spider--”

“No!”

“Went up the spout--”

“Roman!”

“Again!” Roman cheered as his fingers made his way to Logan’s exposed armpit, scratching and skittering away in the ticklish little hollow. Logan bucked, twisted his body, and yanked on his arms as hard as he could, but despite everything, he did not giggle.

“Thirty seconds, Ro!” Patton called. Roman’s mouth set into a firm line.

“If you make me lose, Lo, I’ll make you regret it,” he murmured. He stopped tickling as he pulled his hand back, and Logan took the break to exhale.

“If you lose, it will be because of your own inadequacy,” he retorted, still pulling on his arms. Roman’s eyes narrowed.

“Yep, regret time starts now,” he announced, and before Logan could react, he released his hold on Logan’s wrists and attached both hands to his ribs, squeezing and prodding the bones with no rhyme or reason.

“Ro-oman! Nahahahaha- nohoho!” Logan’s shocked laughter bust out of him at the unexpected intense tickles. His hands dropped, trying to pull Roman’s hands off of his ribcage, but Roman’s vibrating fingers made him weak with laughter.

“There it is!” Roman said triumphantly. “See, we just need to break you down first, right? That’s all you need, just some big tickles so we can break down those walls!” His grin morphed into a smirk as he suddenly abandoned Logan’s ribs and grabbed his wrists once again, wiggling his free hand over Logan’s armpit.

“And now we just--”

His finger dove in, spiraling in circles around Logan’s hollow before dipping into the deepest part of his armpit. Logan gasped, body going tense for a short second before he went limp, falling into helpless giggles at the teasy pit tickles.

Virgil snickered from the sidelines, leaning over to check the stopwatch. “And with 5 seconds left, Logan loses yet again.” He laughed out loud at the petulant pout on Logan’s face, but stopped laughing as Logan sat up, grabbing the die and tossing it to him.

“Your turn, Virgil,” he said smoothly. “I do hope Patton doesn’t target your tummy next. That would just be awful for you.”

Virgil flushed as Patton and Roman laughed, but he did roll the die quickly enough that he couldn’t pretend he hated Logan’s suggestion. It bounced for a second before coming to a stop in front of Patton, whose brow furrowed in determination.

“Oh, this is a hard one,” he admitted while looking down at the 3. “Virgil doesn’t really squeal that much, ‘cause if it tickles that bad he usually just starts laughing right away.”

Virgil made an embarrassed noise. “Pat--”

“I mean, I know his giggle spots, snorty spots, cackle spots, but squeals? He’s just too ticklish to not full-on laugh--”

“Pat!”

“Hm?” Patton looked back up at Virgil’s red face, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ before breaking into a smile. “Aw, sorry, stormcloud! I didn’t mean to tease.”

Virgil grumbled, but didn’t move away when Patton gently pushed him onto his back, hands covering his stomach instinctively. “Just-- just get it over with.”

“Don’t fret, Doom and Gloom!” Roman said, setting up the timer. “You might get some points this round!”

Logan made a disagreeing noise, looking down at Virgil with a teasy smile. “Oh, I have a good deal of faith that Patton will be able to make his little ‘stormcloud’ squeal.”

Virgil groaned, head thumping back onto the floor. “Oh my God, just be quiet-- ah!”

He jerked as he felt Patton’s fingers running along his neck, swiping up at his ears and down to his collarbone.

“Maybe there’s some squeals up here? What do you think?”

“Ngh!” Virgil spluttered, fighting to keep his hands from batting at Patton’s. His nails seemed to glide over the thin skin of his neck, sending the worst kinds of tingles down his spine and making his breath come faster.

“Hm, no? Are you sure?” Patton croon, tracing a finger around and around Virgil’s ear, giggling to himself as Virgil jerked his head away from the tickles. His fingers skittered downwards, coming to rest in the middle of Virgil’s chest.

“Let’s see... where should we go...”

He hummed in consideration, fingers skimming in different directions to keep Virgil guessing as he squirmed.

“How about... right here!” he finished, darting his hands down to tase Virgil’s sides. Just as he said, Virgil immediately broke into loud laughter, body moving from one side to another in a weak attempt to dodge the fluttering fingers on either side of his torso.

“A ticky-ticky-ticky-tickle!” Patton cooed. “Tickle-tickle-tickle, little Virgey! Oh, does it tickle, honey? Yeah? It does? Oh, I bet it just tickles so bad!”

He continue to tickle and tease, even though Virgil was well past the point of squealing. His eyes were screwed shut in giddy delight, his belly laughs coming fast and clear in his sensitive state.

Patton’s fingers trailed from his sides to his ribs to his underarms. “Hm, none o these are squealy spots, huh? You’re just too ticklish, huh, Virgil?”

“Plehehease,” Virgil giggled, embarassment curling in his stomach. “Dohohon’t--”

“Just squeal for me!” he replied cheerfully. “Come on, Virgey, you can do it!”

Virgil was laughing his head off, but he still didn’t even try to fake a squeal-- just because he didn’t want to give Patton two points, of course, and not because he might have actually been enjoying the tickles.

Until, of course, Patton’s hands reared up to hover over his stomach.

“Logan had such a good idea earlier,” he chirped. “Time for tummy tickles!”

Virgil gasped, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go, but a second later his laughter exploded out of him yet again as Patton began scribbling his fingers all over his stomach without preamble.

“Ahahahahahaha! Nahahahaha!” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from shooting his hands down to cover his stomach, but Patton merely tickled all of the exposed skin that he couldn’t cover at once. His feet drummed on the floor as he fought through his laughs, and between that and Patton’s incessant teasing he almost couldn’t hear the ‘beep beep’ of Roman’s phone in the background.

“Pahahat! The timer!”

Patton pouted. “Aw, so soon?” He pulled back, giving Virgil a chance to breathe, but a small cough from one of their onlookers pulled his attention.

“Actually, Patton,” Logan interjected, “the rules clearly state that the ler may continue until the group decides that the lee has lasted long enugh.” He smirked down at Virgil before turning to Roman. “Do you think he’s lasted long enough, Roman?”

Roman put a hand to his chin and hummed in consideration. He looked down at Virgil’s blushy, teary face, before grinning.

“I think Patton can still get those squeals! That okay, Virgil?”

Virgil glared at the two of them, who return his look with shit-eating grins.

“You are so de-ead!” Virgil’s threat ended in another explosion of helpless giggles as Patton returned to his task, squishing his tummy pudge with a cheerful dilligence.

“Oh, oh, oh! Virgil! I think I see somewhere your squeals might be hiding!”

Virgil craned his neck to look at Patton’s hands, which were now clawing the air right above his belly button. He gasped again.

“Nah! Not there!” he cried, drawing his legs up to protect his stomach.

“But Virgil! I wanna play with your little button!” Patton replied, grabbing Virgil’s legs. He just wanted to pull them down so he could really give his little tickle button the attention it deserved, but then--

Virgil squeaked, loudly, when Patton’s fingers wrapped around his knee.

Virgil and Patton froze, sharing a look of surprise for a few seconds, before Patton gave him an evil grin.

“What was that, stormcloud?”

“N- nothing, nothing!” Virgil replied quickly, tugging at his legs, but he couldn’t stop Patton from gripping around his calf with one arm and clawing just above his kneecap with his other hand.

“Is this a tickle spot someone forgot to tell me about?” he asked innocently. Virgil shook his head, smile growing.

“Patton-- Popstar, please, I’ll do whatever you want, don’t ti-- don’t touch me!”

Patton tsked, swirling one finger around the bone. “Aw, I’m so sorry, honey, but you know the rules! If I find a tickle spot, I have to play with it!” He began pinching and vibrating his fingers in the muscle above Virgil’s knee, which sent him into desperate, frantic laughter, weakly trying to kick his legs out of Patton’s grip.

“You know, for someone with such tickly knees, your jeans sure have a lot of holes in them,” Patton pondered aloud, worming his fingers through one of the rips and scratching at Virgil’s bare skin.

“Wahahait-- wait!”

“Wait for what?” Patton asked, tracing his nails along his kneecap. “We’re just playing a game, right? Are you having fun, kiddo?”

Virgil’s giggles refused to dim enough for him to speak, but he still managed a small nod at Patton’s question.

“Aw, I’m having a lot of fun with you, too, stormcloud!” Patton cooed, darting a hand up to give a quick tickle to Virgil’s thighs, then to his hips, up to his tummy, back down to his thighs-- moving his hand too quickly for Virgil to predict or protect himself, all while his other hand was lazily tickling all around his bare knee.

“Tickle tickle tickle! Tickle tickle tickle! Aw, listen to those giggles! Those little giggly tickly giggles!” Patton’s teasing was pushing Virgil to the edge, the different sensations were keeping him in an unending stream of laughter, and he didn’t know how it could get any worse.

So of course, Patton chose that moment to slips his fingers around to caress the underside of Virgil’s knee, his nails tracing and stroking the thin skin.

“Tickle, tickle--”

And just like that, Virgil was squealing, loud and high pitched and desperate. He writhed on the floor, all of his attention on that one terrible little spot behind his knee. His hands came up in a useless attempt to cover his mouth.

“I did it!” Patton said triumphantly. He pulled his hands back to give Virgil room to breathe.

“You-- you--” Virgil panted, a wobbly smile on his face. When Patton continued to give him a beaming smile, he sighed and rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, you did it, Pat,” he said. “Good job.”

Patton chuckled, helping Virgil lean his head in his lap so he could rest. “Good job to you to, kiddo! You lasted way more than a minute!”

“One point for Virgil, and another point for Patton,” Roman confirmed. Eyes flicking between Virgil and Logan, he gave a cheeky smile as he turned to Logan and asked, “Hey, Specs, does that mean you’re the only one without a point?”

Logan bristled. “That is irrelevant. The game is not over yet.”

Roman’s grin widened. “We’ll see.” He grabbed the die, tossing it once in the air and catching it in his palm before holding it out to Logan. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Logan plucked the die from his hand without responding, thinking to himself as he prepared to roll. Of the 6 potential outcomes, he would have the best luck with one of the rolls he’d already gotten, 5 or 2. He was confident in his abilities to withhold his snorts or his squeals, so 1 or 3 were also safe bets. And honestly, he didn’t really tend to “cackle” (which was a subjective term and not a good indicator for the game, but that didn’t stop Roman from including it anyway) so 6 was also most likely a safe bet. Therefore, he had a 5/6 chance at getting at least one point this round.

With the security of someone who knows the odds, Logan rolled the die to Roman’s feet.

Roman looked down at it, an intentionally unreadable look on his face.

“Well?”

Roman didn’t answer, instead grabbing the die and showing it to Patton and Virgil, rudely keeping it out of Logan’s view. Based on Patton’s happy gasp and Virgil’s amused huff of laughter, Logan was not amused.

“What did I roll?” he asked sharply as Roman passed the die to Patton. “Patton!”

Patton laughed aloud. “Sorry, Logi.” He held up the die for Logan to see, and the logical side’s face paled at the sight of the number 4 peering back at him.

The world abruptly spun as Logan felt himself suddenly being moved from his seated position to lying flat on his back. The fall shocked him, but to his greater surprise he realized he was still moving-- he was being dragged across the carpet by his ankles.

“No!” he yelped before he could stop himself.

“Oh, yes!” Roman said, capturing both of Logan’s ankles underneath one arm, looking over his shoulder with a terrible grin. “We all know what it takes to make you scream, isn’t that right?”

One lazy finger trailed down Logan’s left sole, and he jumped, shaking his head frantically as his lips stayed clamped shut. Roman responded by adding a second finger, this time giving just the lightest of scratches to his right sole.

“Ngh,” Logan said, eloquent as ever. Roman chuckled.

“Aw, speechless already? Gosh, you must be really ticklish here if you can’t even handle a couple fingers. Maybe I should just--”

Roman began scratching against Logan’s heels, but nearly stopped when the logical side made a desperate noise, yanking his legs as hard as he could.

“Please!”

His voice was so full of panic, it made Roman stop, looking back with genuine concern at the blushy mess of a side on the floor behind him. Logan met his eyes, but despite how desperate he had sounded a moment before, he did not try any further attempts to escape.

“Oh, you really can’t handle the buildup, huh?”

Logan shook his head, eyes screwed shut and cheeks flushed. The following silence made him tense up with anticipation.

“... Okay, okay, don’t worry, Logan. I won’t be so mean as to tease your worst spot.”

His words settled over Logan, who, after a moment of surprise, breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank--”

Roman didn’t even let him finish his sentence before shoving his fingers directly under Logan’s toes, scratching at the skin with a merciless accuracy.

Logan immediately broke into loud screams of laughter.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Nahaha! Why--? Oh Gohohohod!” His howls of laughter exploded out of him as he writhed on the floor, hands jerking as he struggled to not lean forward and hit Roman on reflex.

“I said no teasing!” Roman defended, calling out over Logan’s wild laughter. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t tickle! Thanks for the points, Logan!”

He wormed his fingers in between Logan’s toes, scratching his nails along the stems, and Logan’s screams heightened to shrieks. One hand went to fruitlessly cover his mouth, while the other started started banging on the floor in desperation.

Roman, to his credit, didn’t tease, but he also didn’t stop tickling him, even though Logan had definitely already lost this round. What’s more, he kept going for a long time, longer than he should’ve, and had the timer really not gone off yet--?

Logan turned his head, blinking the laughter-induced tears out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the others, but all he saw was Patton smiling down at Virgil as he played with his hair. His phone sat untouched beside him.

Logan made an affronted noise through his laughter, waving an arm around to get Patton’s attention.

“Pahahat-- Patton! Timeheher!”

Patton snapped up, looking at Logan with confusion before his expression became guilty.

“Oh, gosh, was I supposed to set the timer? I’m sorry, Logan, I totally forgot!”

Roman laughed out loud at this revelation, and eased up on the tickling until he was merely skimming Logan’s soles. Virgil sat up and gave Logan a taunting grin.

“Sucks to suck, Teach,” he drawled. “It’s not Patton’s fault you’re too ticklish for this game--”

Logan’s hand shot out to grab the abandoned die on the ground, and he threw it right at Virgil.

“Virgil’s turn.”

The die hit Virgil’s chest and bounced onto the floor in front of Patton, who swooped it up with a joyous grin.

“Oh, Virgil! Look what we got!” He flipped the die over to show Virgil, who glanced at the number before doing a double take.

“What? No!” he insisted with a shaky smile. “No, we didn’t roll the die, Logan did-- no!”

Patton ignored his protests in favor of throwing him on the floor, struggling to pin him with how hard he was thrashing.

“Time for your little button!” he cooed, wrestling Virgil onto his back and straddling his hips. “Time for your little button!”

Virgil choked out a laugh, batting Patton’s hands away. “St-- stohohop-- stop!” The two scrabbled for a moment, but Patton was too quick, and in a second his pointer finger was shoved directly into Virgil’s belly button, wiggling and scratching and vibrating all at once.

“Nahahahahahaha!”

Virgil couldn’t even form words as Patton tickled his worst spot relentlessly, not even giving him any buildup to prepare for the tickly sensations.

“A ticky ticky ticky ticky!” Patton cooed, giggling along with Virgil’s desperation. “Aw, is someone a little ticklish here? Right here in this little tickle button?”

“I think those are screams, Patton,” Logan managed through his light laughter. “He needs to cackle, remember?”

Patton hummed. “Oh, you’re right, Logan!”

He shifted so he could shove his thumb into Virgil’s belly button instead, corkscrewing it in the small hole as his other four fingers scratched and squeezed at his hypersensitive stomach. Virgil gasped for air, and his wheezing shrieks shifted into undeniable cackles.

“And there it is,” Roman announced. “Two more points for Patton!”

“What are the scores again, Roman?” Patton asked over Virgil’s laughter. Roman paused, tapping his fingers against Logan’s feet as he thought.

“I don’t remember!” he admitted. The two lers stopped, looking at their giggly, blushy lees as they let them catch their breath, Logan was covering as much of his bright red face as he could, while Virgil had gone practically boneless on the floor.

Roman and Patton shared another look, before Patton gave him a deceptively sweet grin.

“Sudden death round?”

Logan and Virgil’s eyes snapped open.

“Do not--”

“Fuck, no--”

“Fantastic idea!” Roman replied cheerfully, grabbing the die and rolling it again. “That’s a 3!”

Both he and Patton abruptly changed positions, Patton shimmying down to reach Virgil’s knees again, while Roman crawled upwards to wrap his arms around Logan’s torso.

“Pat, no-- nohohoho!” Virgil’s protests fell into helpless laughter and squeals as Patton began scurrying his fingers all over his legs before honing in on that soft skin behind his knee.

“Roman, please do not touch me!” Logan threw his head back as Roman immediately targeted his highest ribs, pinning him with his weight as the normally stoic side gasped and let out a series of embarrassingly adorable noises at the torture.

After exactly one minute, they both pulled back in unison.

“My turn!” Patton snatched up the die and dropped it again. “That’s a 2!”

He pulled himself up to latch his hands around Virgil’s sides, squeezing them haphazardly as he leaned down to nibble around his belly button. Virgil weakly pushed aganst his head, but his high pitched giggles were sapping the strength from his body.

Roman hummed in thought. “I think I’m gonna go back down here!” He grabbed Logan’s ankle, and all it took was him fluttering his fingers against the ball of Logan’s foot before he, too, was a giggly mess.

Around and around and around they went-- a 1 led Patton back to Virgil’s neck while Roman attached himself to Logan’s hips, then a 5 had both sides on their stomachs as Roman scratched all over Logan’s back and Patton spidered his hands down the backs of Virgil’s thighs. At one point, they somehow managed to roll three 4s in a row, leading to what must have been truly unbearble tickle torture for the hypersensitive lees.

After many, many more rounds, they finally decided to have mercy and call the game. Virgil was long past fighting against his laughter, and was trying his hardest to not melt directly into the floor; Logan was panting heavily, his hands weakly balled up at his sides as the last of the adrenaline left his system.

“Well,” Roman said after a few minutes of recuperation, “thoughts on the game?”

“I liked it!” Patton chirped immediately, causing Virgil to snort.

“Of course you did,” he replied. “You’re not one of the ones who almost died.”

“Figuratively died,” Logan corrected. “But... I cannot say I didn’t enjoy it.”

Roman smirked, leaning over him and pinching his cheek. “Of course you enjoyed it! You never even safeworded, because you love it so much--”

Logan swatted his hand away, cheeks pinking anew. “Yes, yes, you bragadocious victor. I assure you, when we play again I will be better prepared.”

“Who got the most points, anyway?” Virgil asked, stopping the playful fight between the others. “Like, who was the winner?”

Of course Patton had to take the chance to pull them all into a hug as he exclaimed how they were all winners, but if they were being honest, not a single one of them could disagree.

#tickling #tickle fic #tickling community #my posts #my writing #let's play a game #lee!logan #lee!virgil #ler!patton #ler!roman #sanders sides tickling #the way i didn't realize this was almost 6k words until i finished it lol #also this is not uber proofread so roast the shit outta me #edit: ok fixed a couple typos lol

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

A Twist of Fate {Part 1} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is... but... it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates

“Found a 20-dollar bill!” Remus called. He was already on his belly halfway under a bush before Janus could move to stop him. Janus sighed. He guessed he was washing the boy’s clothes today. Again. Of course, $20 was probably worth the inconvenience. The nine-year-old wiggled and shimmied under the bush. “Got it!” he said.

“Good job,” Janus complimented. “Now come back out.”

“Now I’m stuck!” Remus informed him happily, giving a little wiggle.

“Why?” Janus groaned. He knelt down next to the still quite squirmy boy. “Stop kicking Remus,” he ordered. His feet stilled and Janus grabbed him by the ankles before yanking on him.

“Ouch!” Remus said, but Janus knew the difference between actually in pain Remus and being a whiny baby Remus and so he kept pulling.

“You.” He punctuated each word with a yank on his legs. “Knew. What. Would. Happen. When. You. Went. Under. There.”

Finally, on the last pull, Remus popped out of the bush. Janus fell backwards onto his butt. “Yeah, but I also knew you’d get me out and fall on your butt!” Remus said while sticking his tongue out.

Janus glared at the sky. “Why are you always such a gremlin?”

Remus giggled and climbed on top of Janus. He slapped the $20 bill down on his chest.

“The person who lost it was supposed to get bread and milk from the store for their dad,” Remus informed him. “When he lost it and couldn’t get the food, his dad said that he was a liar and probably spent it on something stupid. Then his dad hit him in the face and kicked him in the ribs.”

“I see,” Janus said evenly while internally wincing. It wasn’t the worst information to come pouring out of Remus’s mouth, but still. Ouch. He stroked the hair out of Remus’s face and got a gap-toothed smile in return. “Well, we’ll get some good use out of that money, huh?”

“Yeah!” Remus said. “We could get a cake! A whole cake!”

“I don’t know if a whole cake is the best financial decision,” Janus pointed out and got a wobbly lip in return. “But,” he smiled a bit, “we can buy a frosted cookie from the bakery when we get bread.”

“Yayyayyayyayyay!”

Janus gently pushed Remus off of him and he went rolling in a pile of giggles. “Come on Re,” he said, holding out a hand for him. Remus took it and swung their hands together between them. They walked towards the park entrance hand in hand.

Remus paused a couple of feet before the street. “Change now,” he instructed.

Janus did immediately. He stretched his body up about a foot and pulled it out a bit. He erased the burn marks littering the left side of his face and replaced them with a line of unmarred soulmarks framing the apple of his cheek. He carved a couple of age lines into his hands and around his eyes as well as a few more soulmarks on his wrist and hand. Remus adjusted his grip on the now slightly bigger hand without missing a step. Just as Janus finished the shift, a woman with a baby stroller turned the corner. Janus flashed her a smile and she continued past without a second glance.

He and Remus continued to walk until they were on the sidewalk outside of the park. Janus looked to Remus who was squinting into the air. A few seconds later, he pointed to the right. “Bad,” he said. Janus nodded and led him to the left.

The shift was already starting to put a strain on Janus, but he couldn’t let it go while on the street. Usually he could last longer, but he hadn’t gotten much to eat in the last week and had felt a bit dizzy even before forcing his body not only to shift, but to support a larger than natural form. He’d just have to deal. Remus would tell him if he was in danger of passing out anyway, and soon they’d be able to get some real food with the money they’d found today. There was $6.78 in addition to the $20 they’d just found, so they’d be set for a little while if they played their cards right.

Luckily, the bakery was only a couple of blocks from the park and they’d be able to buy some day-old bread for cheap to eat from there as well as the promised cookie to split.

Remus ripped himself away from Janus when they were a couple of feet from the bakery and slammed his little body through the door. He was up at the counter before Janus could get through the door.

“Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!” he was saying, jumping up and down at the cash register.

Luckily the man just seemed amused rather than annoyed by Remus’s antics. “Hello Jimmy,” he said kindly.

“Hi!” Remus said one more time. “I get a cookie today!”

“Do you?” the man asked, amused.

“He does,” Janus confirmed. “He’s been impressively well behaved for once in his life.” Remus titled his head all the way back to stick his tongue out at him.

The man smiled at them softly. He’d never introduced himself in the time that Remus and Janus had been coming here, but he did have a nametag that read ‘Patton.’ Patton was here most days of the week. It was always him, a teenage girl, or the older woman who owned the place working. Janus and Remus agreed that he was the best option. He was always nice and never seemed to be annoyed with Remus (a feat even Janus sometimes struggled with). He’d even snuck them extra food sometimes which was always a nice surprise. “What’ll it be today?” he asked with a smile.

“Two loafs of day-old bread and whatever cookie Jimmy wants,” Janus said.

Patton nodded with a warm smile and moved to get their order. He was always so unflinchingly nice. They’d seen him interact with all sorts of people in the 6 months they’d lived in this neighborhood, and he was always kind to everyone almost�� fatherly. Which was why his hands were always a surprise whenever Janus caught sight of them.

It was odd to see someone like him with unmarked hands. Janus’s own hands were unmarked (at least when he wasn’t shifted), but that made sense. Janus didn’t think he’d make a very good parent if he ever even had the opportunity. The one on his wrist for Remus was probably the closest he’d ever get and that was edging more into sibling territory. Yet, by the way Patton looked at Remus and all other children that came into the bakery (at least the children who looked like children), one would expect his hands to be riddled with marks. Chest unmarked? Sure, he just didn’t want to be all gross and kissy with someone. Face unmarked? His parents sucked or weren’t around like Remus’s. Arms? No siblings or sibling like relationships. But, hands? That was a surprise, at least for Patton. He just seemed like… someone who would want to be someone’s dad. He didn’t even have any anywhere near his hands from what Janus had observed. He had two already black ones on his cheeks, probably from his parents, and he almost had to have some friendship ones on his back, but Janus had yet to catch sight of any others.

“Which cookie do you want?” Patton asked.

“Ooo ooo, um,” Remus said. “Should I get the one with a smiley face or the one with the flowers?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Patton contemplated. “How about this. If you could pick any design to be on a cookie, what would it be?”

“Moggie!” Remus said without question. “Moggie’s my favorite!”

“Well, I was decorating a cake a bit ago and I have a bunch of different colored frosting already out and in piping bags so why don’t I go make you one with Moggie-Man on it?”

Remus gasped. “Really?!”

“Of course!” Patton said, eyes fond on an enthusiastic Remus. “Anything for one of my best customers.”

They were hardly his best customers. They consistently only bought the marked down items like the day-old bread that was only a dollar a loaf. Yet, Janus wasn’t going to argue when Remus was so incredibly excited, even if hand frosting a cookie would take longer and Janus was already a bit unsteady on his feet. Instead of ruining the fun, he sat down at one of the closer tables and took out the heal of the bread loaf. He technically hadn’t paid for it yet, but it’d be fine. He shoved it in his mouth, willing his body to accept the offering of carbs and remain upright.

Remus was bouncing up and down while squeaking as Patton went into the back and returned a moment later with bags of purple, black, and grey icing. Janus rolled his eyes even as he smiled through his mouthful of bread.

“Did you know Moggie once broke his collar bone fighting Speed Bullet when he was only 19?!” Remus gushed. “It was so cool! Speed Bullet was moving too fast and Moggie couldn’t teleport in time and he got thrown off a barn. He would have broken his neck and died if he hadn’t ended up in a big pile of hay.”

“O-oh,” Patton replied.

“The hay had cow poop in it!”

“How do you know he was 19?” Patton asked.

“Uh…” Remus said. The ‘oops’ was clear in his eyes, but he recovered easily. “I invented that part. I make things up sometimes.”

“Ah, well, that’s very creative,” Patton said as he finished up the cookie. He handed it over the counter to Remus who took it with a wide grin and proudly showed Janus the cartoon version of the superhero on it. It was really good, especially considering it was done in icing.

“Thank you,” Janus said, standing up and walking to the counter.

“Yes! Thank you, Mister Bakery Guy!”

“It was no trouble,” Patton replied. He was watching Remus with a grin.

Janus coughed, and he looked back up.

“Oh right!” he said. “$4.52.”

Janus handed over 3 of the dollar-bills they’d gotten earlier and counted out the rest in change.

“Thanks!” Patton said, taking the money. “Have a good day you two.”

“Bye,” said Janus. He shooed Remus out of the door and across the street into an alley. “Anything bad?” he asked when they got there. Remus looked up from his cookie for a moment and thought. He shook his head. Janus sighed and let himself shrink back to normal with a groan.

“You feel bad,” Remus informed him.

“Thanks for the info,” Janus replied. “Very helpful.”

Remus frowned at him and offered the cookie. “You can bite off Moggie’s head,” he offered.

Janus chuckled. “You go ahead and do that. I’ll eat his clavicle.”

“Good choice!” Remus said before taking a bite of the icing superhero’s head. When he offered the cookie to Janus again, Janus took a bite. Then, Remus took another bite. They finished the cookie off in that way.

“Okay,” Janus said. “We have about an hour to get groceries before the shop down the block closes, and then we’ll go home.” Home at the moment was a forgotten about shed in an old community garden a few streets away. Remus said they’d freeze to death in the winter if they tried to stay there, so they’d have to find somewhere else soon. The leaves were just starting to turn though, so they probably had enough time to figure something else out, but they did need to be working on it.

Janus pushed himself to his feet. The bread and half a cookie had helped, and the shifting this time only burnt a little bit. It would be even better once they had something with protein and fat after going to the grocery store. Janus took Remus’s hand again and they made their way to the shop.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 2

#sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #platonic demus #adriana writes #everything's fine universe #child abuse #homelessness #malnutrition #acid burns #soulmate au #superhero au #roll the dice #roll the dice 13 #platonic intruality #platonic moceit #platonic soulmates

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 4, Ch. 1

PART 4: THE YEAR WHEN EVERYONE HAS A CRUSH Chapter 1 - Not-so-Muggle Charlie

Charlie

When Penny invited us to her house for the Summer and Nova received the letter from her aunt saying I could tag along, I thought this was going to be the best Summer ever. I don't recall the last time I didn't spend it at the Burrow and I was wondering who was taking care of my younger siblings as Bill was in Egypt and I was as far away from whatever Fred and George had in store this Summer as I could possibly be.

Going to Scotland with Nova was one of the best things that have ever happened to me. Not only did we finally have the opportunity to spend time with each other without worrying about homework or exams but like Nova did two years in a row, I witnessed a birth of an Abraxan now too!

She was right when she said that there was a lot of blood and to be perfectly honest as much as I enjoyed being a part of it, I don't think I ever want to see that again. The baby Abraxan was a boy and to make things even more exciting for me, Nova's aunt let me name him.

I think Nova was not as surprised as her aunt was when I named the Abraxan Dragon. She simply laughed it off and said that she had a hunch I might pick a name like that. Her aunt, on the other hand, couldn't wrap her head around why would I name a creature after another creature.

They also introduced me to Angel, who was now fully grown and showed just how much he missed Nova as he bowed to her immediately, wanting to give her a ride. It took me several weeks to achieve the level of trust she had with him and after swearing to her aunt that we will not tell our parents about it, did I get the green light to train him for our first flight.

I know it wouldn't be a complete dream come true as I always dreamt of how it would be like if I flew on a Dragon but I decided to close my eyes while flying and imagine I was doing it anyway. At least I was flying.

As much fun as Scotland was for me, I couldn't say the same for Nova. She was having fun and she was just as happy to spend more time with me as I was, but in the middle of our stay, she got a letter from her dad, saying that they found a new ancient tomb and due to the amount of work and taking care of his interns, he won't be able to see her at all this Summer.

To make matters worse, her mum couldn't get as much time off as she expected she would so they couldn't make arrangements to go and see her dad and Bill in Egypt. I decided to send an owl to my brother, asking him if he could report as much back to me as possible so that Nova would know her dad was alright and I also asked him if he could send us pictures so that Nova would at least get to see her dad that way.

Bill, of course, was having the time of his life. At first, he thought that the internship would be dull, some assistant work for the Curse Breakers, no action and adventure. But just after the first letter he sent home, we found out just how wrong he was. Apparently, Nova's dad was not joking around. After a brief introduction, he took them straight into a tomb and started showing them how they study and translate runes, a proper way to handle any sort of bottles found inside, and what to do in case things go wrong. He was ecstatic and I had a feeling Nova won't stop hearing 'thank you' from him all year round when we return to school.

—

My Summer changed drastically when the time to go to Penny's finally arrived. Their home was rather big but really confusing. It was as if it was a wizard's house but they tried to hide all things magical. They had something called a telly, which along with sound produced moving images, and every night after dinner we all sat in front of it and watched a movement, or something like that, I forgot the name.

We only had a Wireless at home and that was mostly so mum could listen to the news while she was cooking or knitting and for her to listen to her favorite singer Celestina Warbeck to which she sometimes made us dance along with her and sing the chorus of her favorite song, which of course we knew by heart but liked to pretend we didn't as none of us were rather good at singing.

It was normal that with all Nova, Penny, and I had to do around the house, we had to do it without magic as we weren't of age yet, but I couldn't understand why her mother was doing the same. Cooking using spatulas, using a sponge to clean the dishes. She liked to make things harder on herself.

Penny told us it was all because of her dad and I couldn't understand why because he was the most understanding Muggle I have ever got a chance to meet, not that I've met many. He didn't mind when we were telling Penny about Abraxans our first-night having dinner and he even asked me which Dragons am I the most excited to work with when I become a Dragonologist. He didn't seem to mind when Penny's sister broke a vase and their mum used a Repairing Charm on it.

Penny later explained that they were using as little magic as possible to be considerate to her dad's culture. As if I wasn't confused enough, my dad was bugging me, sending me letters every other day asking what new things I have learned about the Muggle world and wrote at least 3 questions each time for me to ask Mr. Haywood.

I didn't want to disturb him so much every single day and I found it rude to ask so many questions even though he didn't seem to mind, so Nova volunteered to help me and write back to my dad here and there.

To make me even more uncomfortable was Penny's little sister Beatrice, who was 10 years old. She was nice and I liked that she wanted me to read to her from my Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland book until Penny told me that she wasn't interested in Dragons at all and the only reason she wanted me to read to her was that she had a crush on me!

She sat next to me at breakfast, lunch, and dinner and stared at me when we were watching telly in the evenings. It was quite unsettling and I didn't know what to do as I didn't want to make her sad or something. Nova and Penny, on the other hand, found it highly amusing and were mocking me and making kissy faces every time Beatrice wasn't looking.

And what's even worst is that I didn't mind Penny joking as much as I mind that Nova did. She, out of all people, should know that I don't have time for stuff like that and that I want to focus on my studies as much as I can to get my dream job. And besides, the girl's 10 for Merlin's sake! I don't even feel old enough to have a crush, though mum did tell me once that girls develop faster than boys regarding these things but what do I know.

I am 14 and way too busy to think of that sort of stuff and to top it all off I was starting to behave rather strangely around Nova. I don't know if it was due to the fact that we were spending so much time together but every morning when she came down for breakfast, I felt this sudden rush of excitement in my stomach, and every time she laughed or giggled it made my heart beat faster.

It was getting annoying and I was on the verge of writing to my mum to take me to St Mungo's to do a check-up but I changed my mind as I didn't want to worry her and I was sure that it would get better once we return to school. It was probably just because I was in a different environment and Penny kept giggling at me every time she caught me blush, it had to be that!

Penny started acting strange one morning upon receiving a letter she didn't want to show to either me or Nova. It looked like she was up to something or that she was corresponding with someone. I have noticed on more than one occasion that she was scribbling something, blushing while doing so and every time their family owl brought her a letter, she squealed and rushed to her bedroom to open it.

Nova reckoned she fancied someone and if I knew more about these types of matters I would say she was right. One day when Penny was still sleeping, Nova and I made a plan to intercept her letter to see what was going on but when the owl came and we grabbed her before she could reach Penny and took the letter, we were disappointed when we saw that Tonks was writing to tell that she will be joining us the next day.

Penny, as clever as she was, knew exactly what we were trying to do and was mad at us all day. When Tonks finally arrived the next morning, her parents delaying her visit making her tag along to see some relatives down South, Penny decided to forgive and forget what we did the day prior.

I was relieved when Tonks was just as weirded out about how the Haywoods were running things. She was so nervous when she saw Mrs. Haywood washing the dishes without the use of magic that she almost broke Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery to do them for her. I was also happy to see that she would rather play a game of Gobstones outside than watch the telly as she said that the people in the box looked rather unnatural to her.

Having Tonks around made me feel better about my heart racing as well, which only confirmed my assumptions that this was all happening because I was spending so much time in a place where I have never been before.

The night before we were supposed to leave to Platform 9 ¾, rather sad that we didn't get to go to Diagon Alley this year as Penny's mum and my mum decided to do the shopping for us, Penny thought it was a good idea if her, Nova, Tonks and I made dinner for the entire family.

At first, we found it exciting, but when Penny brought out a book with Muggle recipes that didn't make any sense at all, even Nova couldn't hide her confusion and tried to avoid doing it.

“You are doing it all wrong.” Chuckled Penny when Tonks was trying to cut the garlic but her method was not called dicing.

Nova wasn't doing that great either as she took the whole 10 minutes to figure out how to turn on the stove using something called a lighter since to both of our shock, they didn't have matches at home.

I burned the onions because apparently, Medium was standing for how strong the fire should be rather than how cooked the onions have to be. Tonks made the mistake to leave a plastic spatula in the boiling water, as she was used to that not causing any problems to the spatulas they had at home, the plastic melted in the water ruining the spaghetti along with it.

In the end, Penny called someone on a bulky looking thing that talked back to you and it fascinated my dad so much I had to send him a picture of it, and 20 minutes later the doorbell rang and a man was standing in front of the Haywood house with 4 pizzas in his hand. Now that was magic if I ever saw some in their house!

The next morning I heard a couple of familiar voices in the kitchen. I rushed down to find my dad talking to Mr. Haywood not finding it rude to ask him everything he could possibly tell him about airplanes. My mum stood up at once when she saw me and gave me a tight hug.

“Charlie, dear I have missed you so much!” She ran her fingers through my hair, narrowing her eyes as I could already see she would want to cut it before I leave for school. I was happy that she wouldn't have the time to do so.

You see, I didn't want to admit it, especially not to Bill, but I was trying to grow out my hair so that it would look as cool as his. He looked so amazing with his hair and now that I was 15 I wanted to do something to hide my freckled face. Something Nova couldn't agree with me upon as she thought the freckles were what made me so cute and I couldn't make the creatures in my stomach settle down when she said that.

“How was your Summer, dear?” My mum woke me up from my daydreaming.

“It was nice, mum. Had a lot of fun with Nova at her aunt's.” I grinned.

“I bet you did.” She winked at me, her fingers still in my hair.

I hated when she did that. Even if I wanted to talk to her about Nova, I couldn't as she was always giggling or winking at me for Merlin knows what reason! One time Nova saw her doing it and she later told me that her mum was doing the exact same thing to her. She told me to try and ignore it, roll my eyes as much as I could, or simply distract her by asking a question on another topic. I was grateful for her advice as it worked 90% of the time.

“Anyways...” I started to say as I rolled my eyes. “I had fun here too. We watched movements every night on the telly. You know the box I told dad about in one of my letters.” Mum nodded.

“And yesterday we attempted to make our very own Muggle dinner,” my dad turned to me at once, listening, “but failed as we didn't follow the instructions properly and had to order pizza.” I ignored my dad's sparkly eyes. He eventually turned his head back and started talking to Mr. Haywood again.

Nova came down the stairs, making me sit upright, my cheeks bright red, something my mum noticed as she brushed my cheek and mumbled something about how I'm finally growing up. What is that even supposed to mean?

She pulled Nova into a tight hug and started telling her about all the things her mum told her to get for her in Diagon Alley, while Nova nodded.

Much to my displeasure, Beatrice appeared, what seemed out of nowhere, on the seat next to me, put her arm on the table, placed her head on it, and started staring at me. I heard my mum giggle as apparently, she knew immediately what was going on, which made me even more uncomfortable.

“Look Nova, you got yourself a little competition.” My mum nudged her, Nova as oblivious as I was to what that meant.

After breakfast, we said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Haywood, as my parents took the 4 of us to the station. Bill was already waiting for us there, looking rather disappointed that he had to return to school upon having such an amazing Summer already having his dream job. It was also my younger brother Percy's First Year.

Mum told us to keep an eye on him but we already knew that it won't be necessary as he acts like a Prefect at home already. Perce does love the rules and Bill and I have wondered many times who did he get that from. We all know that mum and dad weren't exactly angels at school either.

While we were waiting for students to board the train, Bill hugged Nova twice, making my stomach turn, and thanking her for what seemed like the millionth time this Summer, he then started to tell us about what he has been doing with Nova's dad.

He told us that they visited more than 4 tombs and that they only had a brief introduction before going straight to work. Bill was really proud when he said that 2 mates left as they couldn't handle fighting a Mummy, which one of the runes in their first tomb awoke. He, of course, took it rather well and he was confident to say that he was Mr. Blackwood's best student. He was also proud to announce that he will stop worrying about his grades so much as he found out he is perfectly qualified and will probably get the job as long as he continues with the grades he has now.

Mum was especially proud of him, not only how well he did on his internship, as apparently Mr. Blackwood sent a letter to my parents saying how well they've raised their son, but also because of Bill's O.W.L.s results. Nova and I couldn't help but chuckle when we found out about his results, knowing full well that he overreacted big time when he had a breakdown last year as he achieved:

O in Ancient Runes

O in Arithmancy

E in Astronomy

O in Care of Magical Creatures (even I was proud of him for that one)

O in Charms

O in Defense Against the Dark Arts

E in Divination

E in Herbology

A in History of Magic

O in Muggle Studies (this made my dad tear up, that's how proud he was of his son)

O in Potions

O in Transfiguration

What he was so worried about still baffled both me and Nova as even Percy was proud of Bill and that was probably the first time he ever said anything positive about any of his family members.

We then said goodbye to my parents and Penny, Nova, Tonks, and I started to search for Tulip while Bill went to his Prefect's meeting. Tulip was sitting in a compartment on her own, telling something to Dennis.

I have never seen her face lit up like that before when she saw us. She couldn't make it to Penny's to join our disastrous cooking so she wanted to know all about our Summer. We told her everything, including how Beatrice is planning to marry me which gave her quite a laugh. I, on the other hand, didn't understand why that needed to be mentioned at all. Afterward, we started discussing our Fourth Year. I couldn't help but drift away in midst of the conversation, just when Tulip said she heard that Zonko's has a new variety of Fanged Frisbee's, to think about Nova and just how much fun we were going to have in this year's Care of Magical Creatures.

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

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Tma season 2 notes baybeee

I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.

ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one

ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon

ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.

ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!

ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!

ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr

ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.

Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.

ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body

ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao

ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim

ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.

ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before

ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay

ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?

ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!

ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please

ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1

ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.

ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.

ep 60: the eye go brr

ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires

ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?

ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.

ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him

ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.

So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.

Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye

ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?

ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.

ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.

ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.

ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.

ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)

ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!

ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?

ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.

ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.

ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.

ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?

ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.

ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.

ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.

#Neptune tma notes

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limenysnocket · 4 years

Text

I Despise The Way You Make Me Love You

Summary: If you piss off your friends and they don't forgive you, can they really be called your friends? Now, what happens when your closest friend pisses you off and makes you fall deeper in love with him each time he does?

Warnings: Smut, language, lots of sexual innuendos

Word count: 3,483

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

Authors note: You have no idea how excited I am to fufil my first request. If any of y'all have any more, drop it in my asks for anonymity, DM me to give me more details, or whatever the heck. I want your requests. Give them to me.

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What's a fantastic morning without the first cup of coffee that you're almost positively sure has been pumped full of laxatives and stress relief pills?

Well, it's not the morning you had planned, and it wasn't the coffee you wanted. You were at work, on your day off. Who dragged you here? Mr. Hollywood hot shot himself, Taika Waititi that absolute jackass. He came to your door at 6 a.m., invited himself inside, crashed into your bedroom, made you and partially helped you get dressed, and threw you into his car, taking you God knows where.

You were on the set of The Mandalorian where they were in the process of filming season two. You had a very cold cup of coffee in your hand and you were about to take a nice sip to hopefully get you sick enough to send you to the hospital for the day, but the cup was snatched away quickly before anything could happen. "I'll drink anything you give me, but I absolutely will not drink that, and I'm putting my ass on the line to make sure you don't drink it either," Taika said, dropping the cup in a nearby trashcan.

"Fuck you, Waititi," you growled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Love you too, doll," Taika made a kissy face and put his hand on your lower back to guide you deeper into the film set. You swatted his hand away like it was a pesky mosquito.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" You whisper shouted between your teeth as both of you swerved through staff. "You don't have to work or anything. I just miss you each time you take off on us," Taika pouted. Whatever, missed you my ass. He just wanted you there so you could cover for him every time he took a nap on the job.

"Taika!" You spun towards him, your hands in the air and nails out like an animal, you wanted to maul his God damn, terribly handsome face. "I was going to close my blinds, lock my doors, eat frozen pizzas, binge Superstore and wear sweatpants and a comfortable bra, God damn it! It's my fucking day off, can you take a break for, I don't know, one fucking minute!?" You looked spastic and quite angry. Even a few people stopped and stared for a few seconds. Taika wasn't phased, however. All he gave you was a shrug. "Sounds like a fun afternoon, you should invite me sometime."

Both of you were quiet, and you felt your skin bubbling. You flipped your shit. "I'm going home, alright! I'm calling myself an uber, and you better fucking not call me or come break down my door again, Waititi! I'm not doing this again!" You huffed, twirled around and went straight for the exit. This time, it managed to get the desperate Kiwi's attention.

"(Y/N), now hang on a minute, I can take you out to lunch if you stay!" He called out desperately. "Frozen Italian food sounds so much better, thank you," you snorted and shook your head. You could hear his heavy footsteps behind you, trying to catch up to you.

You couldn't bear to stand another minute with that man, so you pushed out of the small exit, just barely brushing shoulders with David as you went. As the door closed, you heard him say your name and question what you were doing here, but that stopped mid-sentence whenever he probably saw Taika riding your tail.

You yanked your phone from your pocket and started clicking onto the uber app, but your phone was snatched away as you reached the parking lot. "Give me one chance, (Y/N)! I promise to make it worth your while!" He said, trying to talk his offer up for a lunch date. "What is with you and grabbing my things, Waititi?" You growl, snapping your hand out to grab your phone back, only to have it be yanked away again.

"Call me Taika," He said, that dastardly smile still spread across his features. "I'll call you Taika whenever you've earned my actual respect and you can call me (L/N) until then, too!" You grabbed at your phone again. No dice. This was very unfair. He had quiet a few inches on you. "You heffer! Give me that back now!"

"You seem stressed. How long has it been since you've had sex?" Taika struck you with a question that covered your cheeks with a deep blush. "None of your business! Hand it over, Waititi!"

"Taika--," he corrected you without hesitation, "Tell me how long it's been and I'll give you your phone back."

You took a deep breath and folded your arms, you hated to admit such personal things, especially to the likes of him. "Three months," you let out an exasperated sigh. Taika put his hand to his chest in shock. "Really? A classy gal like you, I'd think, would be having sex at least once or twice a week! That's not even the maximum!"

You scoffed, "Stop talking it up, Waititi, it's never gonna work." You grabbed your phone from him and brushed past him, bumping shoulders a bit aggressively. He rolled his eyes and continued to follow you out further into the parking lot, carefully dodging heavy equipment that rolled by. "(Y/N), wait up! C'mon, please?" He frowned and got in front of you again. You were one click away from getting an uber.

Your jaw shifted from side to side in thought. He pissed you off today multiple times already, but you would kill to spend an afternoon alone with him. You knew, whenever he wasn't under the influence of his multiple companions, he was an extremely nice guy. I mean, he was whenever his friends were around sure. Maybe it was just your need for his undivided attention that drove you crazy over him.

You sighed, "Where the hell would you be taking me when all I'm wearing is jeans and a t-shirt? Don't you have this sort of reputation to uphold?" He was shining brightly now, the grin on his face couldn't be any wider. "Oh, darling, I would trash it all to be with you," he purred, "and, how does pizza sound?"

You cocked a brow, lips pinching together and your shoulders rolling. "Fine." He lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. "Amazing! How about we head back inside, we'll finish up this shoot, and after that, we'll see where the streets of LA take us~," he purred with a cocky wink that made you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, let's just hurry up," you sighed, speeding up your walk walk until you had your hand on the handle and had pulled open the door just by a smidge. To your surprise, the handle was yanked out of your hand as the door slammed shut in front of you. You looked up, a bit ticked off, but your inner self calmed when you saw Taika standing there, directly in front of you, blocking the door completely with his body and his eyes holding a provocative stare within them. "Three months, huh?" His voice was low and deep, just how you imagined it before bed quite a few times. "I can... You know... always take care of that for you~." He leaned down towards you, his face becoming dangerously close to yours.

"T-Taika, this isn't exactly the r-right place for that--," you stuttered then gasped softly as his lips brushed against yours. He was so close, you could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixing with the soft smell of his fabric softener that wafted blissfully from his clothes. You started to lean in too, now, taking a large gulp as you did.

"Waititi, stop doing whatever the hell you're doing out there and move your fat ass away from the door!" You heard the executive producer yell from the other side of the door, before Taika was launched forward by the propelling force of the door behind him. His head jeered off to the side and all that was left in contact between you two was the rough clash of his shoulder hitting yours. He stumbled for a minute while you laughed a little, shaking your head. You slipped in, just before a rack full of heavy equipment got close to the door, and that's where you parted from the kiwi, a massive grin on your face.

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Okay, he woke you up and ruined your perfectly planned day, so you were pissed just a little bit. Now, he was keeping you longer than he should have, at work and now you were really pissed. Both of you were the very last ones in the studio and he still hasn't finished up yet. Your stomach growled, your fingers twitched and your anger was bubbling.

You were sitting on one of the sets, a main, small room that split off towards the back. It was dark, greasy, and sewer-like. It had grates everywhere that were decaying with painted on rust and fake laser holes dotted along the fake metal every once in awhile.

You sat on a convenient crate prop that was sturdy enough to withstand three people at the most. You were rubbing your temples, the overwhelming and heady stench of expensive perfume, spray paint and spray tanning solution only fueled your distress. That cocky little bastard! He knew you never wanted to be here in the first place, but here he is, keeping you locked up here by his own hand. You were two moments away from storming out, calling that uber, and forgetting about this whole catastrophe whenever there was the rapping of knuckles against tin. Your head shot up and you glared. It was Taika. You said nothing.

He seemed awkward at first, his head tilting to the side and an apologetic smile on his lips, "Well, on the brighter side, at least we won't have to worry about the lunch rush!" He laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood, but your angry aura seemed to snuff out every attempt like a candle in the wind. "Look, doll, you know I'm sorry about keeping you here! It was never my intention..." He tried to explain, his hand motions really getting to work until they paused all together, right in front of him, palms facing upwards and his fingers lightly curling in, out of stress or carpal tunnel from holding on to a keyboard mouse all day long.

"Then what was your intention, Taika? Huh!?" You shot up from your seat and just stood there, your body nearly shaking with rage. "You wake me up, you drag me out of my house, and you force me to come to work! I thought you were my colleague, not my God damn boss!" You were frustrated. You wanted an answer. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be focused on a different topic on a new level. For the first time ever, you saw him look at the floor, embarrassed.

"Answer me, Taika!" You shouted, the sound of your voice echoing along the walls. He seemed shaken up whenever he looked up. He was confused, like he hadn't even listened to you the entire time. "What?" He said a little breathily, his eyes desperately searching yours for any tiny morsel that you had the compassion to forgive him.

"What were your intentions with this whole fucking thing?" You repeated through your bared teeth. Things were intense now. Both of you just stared in complete silence while Taika contemplated his, apparently, very complex answer.

"Well?" You flinched your arm muscles up once, in a shrugging motion. His eyes were closed and he took a deep breath. Suddenly, he charged forward at you, in a fast walk, without a word, a serious expression on his face. It made you take a few steps back out of shock, and you were close to pulling out your emergency bottle of pepper spray whenever he grabbed both sides of your face with his rough hands and brought you close to him. "This," he whispered before smashing his lips on yours. Your eyes widened, your hands went to his clothes and started clawing harshly, almost begging for him to stop before you became too attached, but as the kiss went on, it became more passionate and your clawing slowed, your eyes fluttered closed and your hands went up, into his hair. Taika let the pure bliss of your acceptance sink into his memory for a few moments longer before he pulled away, his hands dropping from your head and down to his sides.

He took a few steps back, wiping the drool off of his lips with the sleeve of his shirt. "That," he muttered again, bobbing his head to truly acknowledge what he had done. "My intention was to make that happen."

You were stunned, eyes wide when they flew back open and fluttered wildly. Your hands didn't know what to do with themselves anymore, now that they weren't buried in Taika's soft locks, so they went into yours, gripping on tightly and slightly pulsing the tug. Your lips craved more, your heart thrummed madly in your chest, so hard, you thought that it was beating, like a drum, up against your ribcage.

"Taika," you manage to whisper, catching his attention, you could tell, as he looked up at you again. "Yeah?" He muttered back.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your lips needed to connect with his again, you needed to touch him once more, to feel him in any way. You just knew you wanted him. You wanted him bad. You walked right up to him, curled your fingers back into his hair and brought his lips back down on yours, desperate and needy, unlike the last kiss the two of you shared. He kissed you right back, his hands having enough consciousness to slick right down and grip onto your waist.

It was unexpected, it was needed, your friends bet it was going to happen, it was... it was.... hot.

The kiss went on much longer than the last one, and eventually got more heated as well. His tongue slid across your bottom lip and there was no hesitation to open up for him. It was like opening the pearly gates of heaven, in his eyes. He gave your lip a cheeky little nip with his teeth anyway, making you whine softly, before tangling his tongue up with yours, almost like tying a cherry stem into a knot between the two of you.

He started pushing you back. You stumbled a bit, but you got the hint and started walking backwards. His body eagerly followed yours, not willing to break the kiss unless it was for a brief moment of air. Your back was eventually pushed up against one of the orange tinted walls and that wasn't the only thing being pushed up. Your shirt was carrying a steady pace up your abdomen and getting closer to exposing your chest. You were impatient, so you suddenly broke the kiss, leaving Taika momentarily distraught, and lifted your shirt completely off so you could toss it away like trash. Taika was smirking now and continued to kiss you, this time, more hunger was induced into it.

The next time you two broke contact, it was Taika's doings. You didn't have time to really react before you were no longer facing Taika, but the grated wall, and your breasts were pushed up tightly against it as well. Little words were spoken between you two, and it was easy to tell what position he wanted you in, so you stuck your ass out there a little more. You could practically feel his smirk getting wider. He reached around your waist and found the button to your pants. While one hand focused on getting that down and away, the other worked on getting your bra unclipped. It was easy with his skilled fingers. Once your bra was gone, so we're your pants. They dropped to be around your ankles and you hastily kicked them off, as well with your shoes.

A single one of his digits hooked around the hem of your panties and started bringing them down your thighs. His eyes could practically bore holes into your body with how intensely he stared with the newfound flesh.

Your body tingled with the sound of his belt unbuckling and hitting the floor, even more so when his pants were unzipped and dropped around his ankles, well, after he had rustled his wallet from his back pocket first and picked a condom out of it. You wanted him to completely undress, like you, but you weren't in the mood to complain. If anything, this round was possibly doomed to be a quickie anyway.

His boxers were the last item to hit the floor, then it was all over. His stiff member, once the rubber condom had been swiftly applied, prodded at your soaked walls before making its quick and long past due entrance. It nearly made you scream, but before any of that could happen, Taika had one hand slapped firmly across your mouth and the other one grabbed a fist-full of one's of your boobs.

Here's the thing that Taika had completely forgotten to mention whenever this whole fiasco started. He wasn't completely sure that you both were alone in the studio. With his explanation being whispered hotly into your ear with his sensual kiwi accent, you didn't seem to care. If anything, the higher risk of being caught only made the sexual intensity even more intense. So, you were going to be fucked like that, quietly, dirtily, and somewhat publicly. He had this power of domination over you... and you loved it.

He started thrusting, slow and hard. Each time his hips would connect with your ass, your stomach would lightly slam against the grate in front of you and made it wobble out a sound that could possibly notify anyone around you about where you were. Okay, maybe the two of you were that fed up about being discrete with your actions. You both just knew that you needed this and no one was going to tell you otherwise.

He let out soft grunts and pants of your name, occasionally burying his face into your shoulder whenever he started going faster, so he wouldn't get too loud while he pummeled you mercilessly. You could feel him nipping at your skin, whenever you weren't so focused on the feeling of his stiff cock rubbing along your walls. He bit you, sucked on your neck and shoulders, covering you with his love. Well, his claim of you and your body, at least.

The rocking of his hips started getting more rough, irrational and sporadic. He was close and so were you, but he was determined to hold on until you had released all over him. Your hands held on to the grate for dear life, and it rolled along with your movements, shaking when your body pushed forcefully against it by Taika's will, and it wobbled back whenever you lurched backwards to prepare for the next world rocking thrust. This was so much better than sweatpants and The Office episodes.

It didn't take you long before you jumped over the edge and your vision blurred white. He had done it, he had given you one of the worst/best days of your life and you didn't want it to be over, but everything comes to an end eventually, even Taika himself. His thrusts slowed and he gave three, stout, powerful ruts against your ass before he released and his body pushed against yours. His hand fell from your mouth so he could hear your pants and praises that he had been missing out on the entire time the two of you went at it like mad dogs. He pulled out and almost immediately pulled off the gross condom.

You busied yourself with picking up your clothes and quietly putting them on while Taika disposed of the used rubber and pulled up his pants from around his ankles. Both of your faces were red and the lust still sparkled dimly within his and your eyes.

You both met in the middle of the room, once the two of you were collected and ready to leave like nothing had happened in that room you were standing in.

"So, am I invited to come over and crash your days off any time I like, now?" Taika cocked a brow and broke the comfortable silence with a grin and a chuckle. You laughed with him, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"You know what?" You said, tilting your head and having a cheeky smile write itself all over your lips, "I'd love that... same time, tomorrow?"

#what we do in the shadows #taika waititi #fanfiction #fanfics #Aaaah I can't help myself #Hunt for the Wilderpeople #Viago #Korg #Jojo Rabbit #taika waititi x reader #Taika Waititi X Reader #Thor: Ragnarok #Directors #Cinematic poetry

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dothwrites · 4 years

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15.06 coda fic--nothing is ever enough

This is a sequel, because several people asked for it and I’m a giver. The original post can be found here if you’re interested. It might make more sense if you read that first.

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, Castiel & Eileen friendship

---

Some people get what they want, but then they act like they don’t want what they’re given. I think it’s because sometimes the form it takes isn’t quite the form they wanted. That the person giving it and the manner in which it’s given isn’t what they wanted. Or maybe the timing is simply off. Or maybe, it’s just that when you don’t know what you want, nothing is ever enough. And I think that’s the real tragedy. That life gives us exactly what we’ve been wanting but we fail to embrace it.--Trevor Driggers

---

My Best Friend was Raptured In Front of Me

Sounds as good as anything, Dean muses, and his eyes fall to his bag. Even though he and Sam have lived in the bunker now for about seven years, the habits of a lifetime are ingrained into him. He can be gone, from anywhere, within the span of thirty seconds. Yeah, some of the stuff that he’ll leave behind, he’ll miss, but that’s also the point.

You shouldn’t miss anything when it’s gone.

So it takes him about ten minutes to throw everything together in his duffel and another thirty seconds to write a quick note to Sam. Yeah, it’s on the dickish side of moves, leaving in the middle of the night when everyone’s asleep but he just...He can’t. Sam and Eileen, making those gross little soppy faces at each other, and Cas, Cas with his bloody shirt and bullet holes, Cas with one foot out the door like always, Cas with his lies and his omissions, and his stupid fucking face--

Dean stutters to a stop when he reaches the war room, only to find Cas at the table, a pile of books spread out in front of him.

Right. Angel. Doesn’t sleep.

Once Dean’s brain is over the shock of seeing Cas, again, it has another to deal with: the coat is abandoned on the table, a sad little crumpled up thing. And instead of his suit, Cas is sporting a faded green henley and a pair of jeans that’s just a little too big for him.

It’s because Cas is wearing his clothes, Dean realizes, with the same kind of detached horror that enables people to witness car crashes and train wrecks and still function. Cas is wearing his clothes and his shirt is just a shade too big on Cas, enough that the collar of the henley gaps and he can see the shallow dip of Cas’ clavicle.

Dean remembers clearly how Cas came to be in possession of his clothes: he gave them to him. You need something else, he’d said, when they were returning home after a hunt, him and Sam and Jack and Cas. You can’t be stuck in that suit all the time. Not when you’re home.

And Cas had glowed in that subtle way that he did whenever he was really pleased by something and Dean had shoved the clothes into Cas’ hands and turned around before Cas could see the expression on his face, before Cas could know, because if Cas knew, then...

Dean doesn’t even know anymore, what he was so afraid of. It seems so irrelevant, especially when all of his worst fears have already come true.

Jack evil, Mom dead, Jack dead, God back, Cas gone--It’s all happened, so what the fuck was he even trying to protect himself from?

Cas jerks in surprise, but the movement is barely noticeable. It’s only because Dean is looking for it that he catches it at all. Long seconds pass as they stare at each other, with the barrier of the table between them. Then Cas’ eyes flick down to the bag in his hands.

“You’re leaving.” Cas phrases it as a statement and Dean can’t help but bristle at the implication of judgement in his voice.

“Caught a case. Figured that Sam and Eileen were going to be too busy making kissy-faces at each other, so.” Dean hefts the bag onto his shoulder but makes no effort to leave. He’s too caught by the sight of Cas’ wrists and forearms, of Cas’ toes stark against the floor of the bunker. “What’s with the wardrobe change?”

For a moment, he doesn’t think that Cas is going to answer him. The thought crosses Cas’ mind; Dean watches it occur and then watches as Cas dismisses it.

“I told you that my powers were failing.” Cas’ clenches his hands together, seemingly peaceful, but Dean can see the strain in his knuckles. “On my hunt yesterday...” Cas’ eyes dart down to his chest. The memory of the bullet holes in Cas’ shirt sinks its teeth into Dean.

“You had to heal yourself.”

Cas nods shortly. “And a civilian. By the end of that...” He presses his clasped knuckles to his chin. “I’m drained. I don’t currently have enough power to heal a papercut, let alone fix my clothing.” Cas’ eyes close.

“Are you gonna get your mojo back?”

Dean’s question comes from a place of concern, but, as Cas’ eyes slice towards him, he realizes that’s not how Cas interpreted his question. “I’ll be ready,” Cas says, aggressive. Defensive.

And once again, they stand on opposite sides of a table. The anger has faded to a dull roar in the background, a self-righteous throb of You can’t give us radio silence, not when the world’s going to shit, and Couldn’t you just trust me once, after all these years, couldn’t you at least give me a chance to do something right, and You were sitting on top of this bomb and you didn’t think to tell us that we might all be in danger? More prevalent in Dean’s mind are the sadness and the futility, the sense of where did we go wrong? Dean’s charted it in his head and he can never pinpoint the one moment where it all fell apart, the second that he can point to and say Here, here is where my life went off the rails.

Cas looks at him and then his bag. “You were leaving,” he says, not unkindly, but it still feels like a slap in the face. Dean can remember all the times that he tried to sneak away, only to be stopped by Cas. Cas saying repeatedly, Let me go with you. I could go with you. Why did he ever take that for granted? Why did he ever let that slip through his fingers?

And Dean doesn’t have any idea how to get it back, because instead of saying, You could come with me, he says, “Yeah. I guess.” He starts towards the stairs and pauses with his foot on the first step. He looks back at Cas, vulnerable without the cloak of his suit and coat to protect him from the harsh world. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”

Cas meets his eyes, and Dean used to think that Cas was an open book, read every single expression on his face, maybe even the ones that Cas didn’t want him to read. Turns out that was a faulty impression, because now he’s looking at Cas and he can’t see a goddamn thing.

“I guess that depends on when you get back,” Cas says, voice as stiff as his posture.

Dean leaves.

---

Sam talks about finding God as if it is a task that can be accomplished, but Castiel knows better. Finding God, when God does not want to be found, is impossible, like trying to catch sunlight with your bare hands. Like trying to find the end of a rainbow. Like talking to Dean Winchester.

Impossible.

Still, he doesn’t want to kill the small spark of optimism in Sam’s eyes, so Castiel tells Sam what he knows. He speaks of the angels who were known to talk to God--Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, Lucifer. Joshua. Metatron.

“They’re all dead now,” Sam says, fist clenching in frustration. He laughs once, bitterly. “I never thought that I’d miss any of them, but what I wouldn’t give to see Metatron’s smarmy little face.”

“He was a writer too,” Castiel muses. “No doubt he could have given us some sort of insight.”

Sam grunts. It’s a sound that ends conversations, which is fine with Castiel. The harsh words spoken between himself and Sam the previous night still hang heavy over both their heads, and Castiel can’t tell if the atmosphere is made better or worse by Dean’s absence.

“I called him,” Sam says, an hour later, seemingly at random. “Dean.”

Castiel stares at Sam. In the old days that look alone would have been enough to deter him, but either Sam Winchester has grown bold in his old age, or Castiel has grown weak in his. Sam continues.

“I asked him what you told me to. About why you left.”

This is a conversation that is doomed to go nowhere. Castiel doesn’t want to be there when it ends. Absurdly, he wishes for Eileen. Sam tends to have a sort of tunnel vision around her, and he could desperately use someone else to deflect. However, as usual, his luck is terrible: Eileen is at the shooting range, practicing with the numerous weapons at her disposal.

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel says, in a last-ditch effort to stall the conversation.

Sam looks at him shrewdly through his fringe. “Funny,” he says, after a pause. “That’s what Dean said.”

---

It’s a case that somehow lands him at a roadhouse, which, awesome.

It’s a case that somehow has him running into Leo, which, awesome-r.

Dean and Leo were tight back in the good old days, the days when John had cut him loose and Dean was just some punk kid with a gun stuffed into his waistband, and a carton of salt and a lighter shoved into his pocket. He started more fights than he won, won more pool than he lost, and passed out more nights than he fell asleep. It’s a hell of a way to spend a weekend, but not a life, and that’s about where Leo found him, when Dean was piss drunk, stumbling through some alley at ass o’clock in the morning.

Leo had been in the game for longer than Dean but was a kinder teacher than John. Leo had been willing to sit through Dean’s tantrums and put up with Dean’s punk-ass attitude and for...What kind of reward, he got out of it, Dean was never really sure, but he and Leo stuck together for a few months, maybe a year, before Dad called and Dean had gone running back. When Dad decided that Dean was slowing him down and kicked him to the curb again, Dean had tried to hook back up with Leo, but no dice. Honestly, Dean figured that he’d either gotten out of the game or died. When someone with their kind of lifestyle disappears, that’s usually the only explanation.

But nope, Leo’s here, and alive, and not possessed or anything else. When Dean asks him why the hell he hasn’t be able to get in touch with him for like twenty damn years, Leo just shrugs and chugs a beer. “Cell phones man,” he says, his southern drawl coming out strong now after he’s had a few. “Fuck ‘em. You think that I’m going to keep anything that has a tracker and internet on it? You think I’m that stupid?”

He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket. “Here. You need to get in touch with me, you call this number. I won’t answer. A guy named Tom will answer. You tell him that you want to talk to Ernest and he’ll get in touch with me and I’ll get back with you...five days to two weeks. Give or take.”

“God you’re weird as fuck,” Dean says, but he slips the paper into his wallet anyway.

“Anyway, what the hell are you doing here? Thought you and Sam were off saving the world or whatever it is you do these days.” At Dean’s raised brows, Leo grins. “Word gets around man. You can’t go fighting the devil or whatever it is you do without some people talking.”

“Yeah, well the devil’s dead,” Dean mutters, forgetting for a moment that most people don’t lead his kind of life. Leo’s eyebrows go high into his hairline and he nods, half-impressed.

“Well, I’d say that deserves a beer!” he says, and hails the nearest waitress.

---

Castiel finds that he likes spending time with Eileen. He never knew her before, so there are no expectations for him to uphold and no tangled history to try and work through. There’s just her and the tasks spread out in front of them.

He finds her at the shooting range, sending bullets at what seems like a superhuman speed through a number of targets. He waits until she empties a clip before he taps her on the shoulder.

She turns around, her eyes curious. “I was thinking that I might join you,” Castiel says aloud, while his fingers, rusty from long, long, long years of disuse, struggle making the signs. Eileen’s eyes flick between his face and his hands. Surprise lights in her eyes.

You know ASL?

Castiel shrugs. I know most languages, he signs, his motions gaining confidence. It’s one of the few perks of being an angel.

Eileen shrugs and passes him a gun. Castiel’s fingers struggle with the unfamiliar hardware but Eileen guides him through with soft touches. Within minutes he’s loading the gun smoothly.

Firing a gun is nothing out of the ordinary, but his hands don’t know the motions; his body doesn’t know the correct positioning. With several adjustments, Eileen guides him into firing smoothly into the target. His aim might not be the surgically precise aim of Sam and Dean or Eileen, but it’s passable.

Afterward, Eileen teaches him how to take apart the gun to its basest parts and put it back together. Castiel follows her motions until they become second-nature. Eileen watches him, correcting when necessary.

After they’re done, she sits across the table from him, the pieces of the guns scattered between them. Why do you need to know this? she asks, face twisted in confusion. I thought that you could just...She waves her arms in a complicated motion that Castiel assumes means something close to smiting.

He pauses for a moment. The truth of the matter is a little too close to home, a little too painful to even broach, but Eileen has been beyond kind. She deserves the truth.

I don’t know for how much longer I’ll have these powers. Ever since...God, he signs the word with reluctance, I’ve been...I think my powers are failing. And if I can’t rely on them anymore, I need to learn other methods of fighting.

The admission doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Perhaps it’s because it’s to Eileen. Perhaps he’s just had more time to come to terms with the idea. Either way, when he acknowledges the loss of his powers, the words no longer fill him with either the ragged pain or the slow-creeping horror that they once did.

Eileen nods. That’s smart, she says, then pauses for a moment, before signing, slower, I’m sorry. That must be difficult for you. Another pause before she asks, Are you in any pain?

No, Castiel signs quickly back. It’s not painful. Just...strange. Knowing that I can’t rely on something that...It is a part of me. And it’s disappearing.

Eileen’s face is compassionate and understanding. Something in Castiel relaxes, which is, of course, when she strikes.

Sam thinks that you and Dean had a fight, she signs, rapid-fire, like she thinks Castiel will turn away before she’s done.

He doesn’t turn away. He can’t do that, not after this afternoon. But he does send her a scathing glare. Eileen meets it unflinching, and Castiel has to admit a begrudging respect.

We didn’t have a fight, he signs, half-heartedly. There was nothing to fight about.

Sam’s angry with Dean. He thinks that whatever happened, it’s Dean’s fault.

Did he tell you this? Castiel signs. He can’t believe that Sam would spill out his and Dean’s dirty secrets, but perhaps times have changed.

Eileen looks only the smallest bit abashed. No, but I read his lips this morning during his phone call. He was too frustrated to notice, once he saw that Dean left.

Dean and I didn’t have a fight. Castiel signs with forceful motions, hoping to end this conversation once and for all. It was just...Bitterness still clogs at his throat and chest, when he thinks about what happened--Jack, Mary, Chuck, Rowena...Dean’s cutting remarks, Dean’s apathy, Dean’s outright cruelty, Dean volunteering him to go into Hell with the abomination wearing his son’s body--Angels and humans aren’t meant to mix, he finally signs, slowly. Resigned. There’s too much that’s different between us. It can be ignored for a moment, but in the end...They were never meant to mix.

He can’t stand the quiet compassion in Eileen’s eyes, so he turns away. A gentle hand on his chin pulls his gaze back to hers. This time when she speaks, it’s with her voice as well as hands, to ensure that her point comes across. “If they were never meant to mix, then isn’t that a reason why they should? If that was never in the original plan, then isn’t that as good a reason as any to try it?”

“You’re an intelligent woman,” Castiel finally says, a smile valiantly trying to land on his lips. “I can see the reason for Sam’s admiration.”

Eileen grins at him then, warm and welcoming and a little silly in the way that only humans are. “Of course,” she says, before reaching over and resting her hand on his for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here. And I know that Sam is too.”

She walks away and leaves Castiel alone in the basement.

---

Leo tells him that he needs to get his mojo back.

Right. That’s a thing that’s going to happen.

Still, it’s Leo and Dean doesn’t want to let him down, so he downs the whiskey and beers. He plays pool and manages to hustle some poor asshole out of $250. For one thrilling moment, he thinks that the dude is going to fight him, but then he looks at Dean and decides that it’s not worth the effort. Dean almost goads him into a fight, but then Leo is there with more drinks and Dean forgets about it.

Halfway through the night, he feels the eyes on him. He’d have to be blind and dead not to. The eyes belong to a woman who might have been around the block a few times but came out the other side not giving half a fuck because she still looks damn good and knows it. Dean can appreciate that, Dean does appreciate that. And judging from the look in her eyes, she appreciates Dean, and that’s...That’s nice. It’s been a while since he’s been elevator-eyed, been a while since he’s felt that little spark of heat in the pit of his belly.

Mojo. Right.

After a few moments, Dean obeys the come-hither eyes he’s getting and saunters his way over to her. She grins at him over the rim of her margarita and swirls the thin black straw with her tongue. “Well, hey there sweetheart,” Dean tries, slinging himself into the empty chair right beside her. Easy, loose, half-grin on his face, like he could be coaxed into laughing if she knew the right joke to say (the secret is that they’re all the right joke; she just needs to say one).

“Hi,” she says in return. Dean doesn’t know how women make their eyes sparkle, but she’s been taking classes and they’ve paid off. There are bonafide diamonds in her eyes and all 24 karats are winking at Dean. “Couldn’t help but notice that you’re talking to a lot of people around here.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, because this night had originally begun as background for a case. What was his case? What was the whole reason he was here? Doesn’t matter. Diamond-eyes is in front of him, slowly swirling her straw around her glass. “Well, I was looking for someone.”

“Looks like you found her,” she says, voice low and sultry and hitting all the right spots. She leans forward at a calculated angle to ensure that her cleavage is revealed to a level that’s enticing, but not trashy, and rests her fingers lightly on his bicep.

And Dean feels...

Nothing.

A big ball of nothing.

Sure, there’s the little spark of interest in his gut, the vague stirring of a dick that’s spied a pair of boobs that could be his if he plays his cards right, but the urge is just...Gone. He doesn’t want to suggest that she finish her drink and maybe they can head out of here, he doesn’t want to sidle closer to her, wrap his arm around her shoulders, see how far she’ll let him take it right here in public. He doesn’t want to take her into a dark corner and learn the taste of her mouth.

He’s not 22 anymore and that life just isn’t...

With a pang, he thinks of Cas, sitting at the table in his clothes, a pile of books spread out in front of him. He thinks of Cas’ bare feet, his toes curling on the smooth floor of the bunker. He thinks of Cas’ face before he left, the feel of Cas’ chest, warm and smooth, underneath his fingers. His terror when he thought that Cas was hurt. He thinks about all the words between them, still unsaid, he thinks about all the things that he wishes he’d said, all the things he still wants to say. He thinks about the pain he felt when he realized that he doesn’t get to ask where Cas is anymore, that he doesn’t get to indulge in the little casual touches--a brush of his fingers over the back of Cas’ neck, a tap of his shoulder, a companionable bump of the hips.

He remembers how Cas’ face splits when he smiles, into something gummy and soft. He remembers the sound of Cas’ laugh, the indulgent roll of his eyes when Dean forces him down on the couch and makes him watch something.

“Yeah,” Dean says, before he pulls back just slightly. Diamond-eye’s hand falls away. “I, uh...I don’t think so.” Her lips part in confusion as Dean takes another step back. “I think that...You know, I’ve got somewhere else to be. I’m...I’m sorry,” he apologizes, before he hurries back to the bar.

Predictably, Leo is waiting for him and angry. “The hell man? I’ve never seen a surer thing and you just what? Want the thrill of the chase?” Leo pushes at Dean’s shoulder, a little playfully, but also with a thin thread of anger behind the gesture. “Get back there, apologize your ass off, and then go do what you do!”

“Nah, I’m just not feeling it.” Dean’s feeling like he needs to be about 300 miles away from here, feeling like he needs to start salvaging the shattered remnants of his life.

“Fuck that, you’re not feeling it?” Leo’s voice is incredulous. “Who the hell are you man?”

He’s putting a little too much emphasis and interest into the state of Dean’s pipes, and Dean’s about ready to tell him so, when he catches a good glimpse of Leo’s face.

There’s something...It’s wrong. It’s Leo, Dean’s damn sure of that, but there’s a wild sort of glaze to his eyes that Dean’s never seen before. There’s a fever intensity to his eyes and words, and it’s only now that Dean realizes how weird that is. Leo is an intense guy, but not like this. Leo is an intense guy like how he took a bullet to the shoulder and thigh and still managed to take out the shifter. Not in the way that he really cares about where Dean’s dick is going.

“You’re not--” Dean starts, before taking a slow step backwards.

“Dean, this ain’t you, man,” Leo tries, but now that he’s seen it once, Dean can spot the cracks.

“The fuck you mean? You haven’t seen me in twenty years, how the fuck do you know who I am anymore? But this--” Dean gestures to Leo. “You think I can’t recognize shitty writing when I see it?”

Chuck’s pervy obsession with you, Lilith had said, and at the time, Dean hadn’t recognized that for the odd sort of warning that it was. Now that he’s experienced the manipulation once before, he can spot the edges of it.

“I don’t know why Chuck wants me to screw around but...That ain’t me anymore,” Dean says, backing away again for Leo. “I don’t know if you’re like...the real Leo, just with his strings being pulled, or if you’re not even real, but either way, you go back to Chuck and you tell him that I’m done. He can find someone else’s ass to stick his hand up. I’m done.”

Leo tugs at Dean’s elbow. “You don’t want to do this,” he warns, all trace of accent gone from his voice, and how did Dean ever mistake this guy for his friend?

Dean pulls away and tries to shake off the lingering feeling of Leo’s fingers pressing into his skin. “Yeah,” Dean says, thinking of Cas’ voice when it said, You know what’s real? We are. “Yeah, I really do.”

Leo hauls off and punches him in the face.

---

He hauls ass all the way back to Kansas, ignoring the thin trickle of blood running down his cheek. One of his eyes is puffy, but that’s the worst of it. God, he hopes Cas is still at the bunker when he gets there. Please, please, let Cas still be there.

---

His knees go weak with relief when he sees Cas’ truck still parked outside the bunker. Dean slides into the garage and then into the bunker. His heart pounds as he makes his way into the war room and then into the library. There’s a lamp on in the bowels of the room.

He finds Cas where he thought he would find him--Cas has a favorite chair in the library that he’ll tuck himself into when he doesn’t think that anyone will find him. He’s in there now, dressed in one of Dean’s old sweatshirts and another pair of hand-me-down jeans worn so thin that Cas’ knee pokes through a hole.

Cas is...Is Cas asleep? He certainly looks the part, legs curled up underneath his body, torso hidden underneath one of their many blankets, book open on his lap while a limp hand holds its place. Cas’ head is tucked into his shoulder, his mouth slack and open.

“Cas.” Dean squats beside the chair, ignoring the creak of his joints. He reaches out to jostle Cas’ shoulder. “Cas, wake up.”

Castiel startles himself awake; his eyes dart around the room as he looks for a threat. Finding none, he focuses still hazy eyes on Dean. For a moment, his face softens, the fine lines around his eyes deepening as the corners of his mouth lift, and Dean can feel himself smiling in return--

And then Castiel fully awakens, and reality clamps its ugly jaws around the both of them. “You’re back,” Cas says, drawing the blanket tighter around himself like it’s going to help protect him.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. His knees are screaming at him, but he doesn’t pull away. “Case was a bust.”

“It was much the same here.” Cas’ voice is carefully inflectionless and Dean misses the days when he could hear the warmth inherent in his every sentence. “It turns out that it’s difficult to find God when he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, well, I think that I might have a line on that.”

Cas tries to hide it, but Dean sees the faint spark of interest in his eyes. He hastens to explain. “Turns out that Chuck is a little more interested in my personal life than I thought. He was damn interested in making sure that I screwed some bar chick. Put one of my old friends in the bar just to ensure that it happened.”

Due to the chair, Cas can’t physically pull away from him, but he does his best attempt. “Well, my apologies. It must be so difficult to garner that kind of attention.”

Anger sparks in Dean’s gut, but he tamps it down. In the past few weeks, anger has done nothing for him. “Well, when you’re not really interested in it, then yes.” Cas has his chin lifted away from Dean, but at those words, Dean catches the slow slide of Cas’ eyes towards his face.

“For weeks, I’ve been beating myself up and chasing my own tail because I can’t figure it out--What’s real in our lives and what’s Chuck. What decisions I made because I wanted to make them and what decisions I made because Chuck thought that it would make a better story. I haven’t...Until tonight, I had no clue. But now...” Dean waits long enough that Cas’ face turns back to him, jaw clenched tight with anger. “Cas, I made the choice to walk out of that bar. I did that.”

“Congratulations,” Cas says, voice tight. His hand curls into a fist overtop the blanket. “You’ve discovered what Sam and I have both been trying to tell you for weeks.”

“Will you stop for a second?” Dean snaps, before he forces the corrosive boil of his anger down. “I didn’t know Cas, that was the problem. I couldn’t trust...I couldn’t trust anything. Nothing was real.”

“Plenty of things were real,” Cas says quietly. “You just didn’t want to see them.”

“No,” Dean says. The easy agreement snaps Cas’ attention to him. “I...God Cas, I don’t...It was all so fucked up, and I never had a chance to...to just breathe, all right? Mom wasn’t there and it was Jack’s fault and...” Dean bows his head, close enough to the chair and Cas that he can feel them. “It wasn’t your fault. I know that it wasn’t your fault.”

Angels don’t really need to breathe, but Dean can hear the shaky sound of Cas’ breaths above him, rasping in and out in shaky little waves. “You were never dead to me,” Dean says. If he were a better man, less of a coward, then he would be able to look Cas in the eyes, but he’s not a good man, he’s just him, and it’s taking all of his power to just force the words out. “I...God Cas, I don’t know. I was angry and the whole thing was so fucked up and I just...I needed someone, something to blame, and I...”

“It wasn’t fair,” Cas interrupts. His voice is surprisingly steady. “None of it was fair.” He doesn’t sound forgiving, but neither does he sound like he’s getting ready to push Dean away. Dean will take that as a victory.

“I don’t want you to go.” The confession is little more than a broken whisper, croaked out on the last vestiges of Dean’s courage. “I don’t...Please, don’t go.”

He looks up at Cas to see the strange mix of anger and surprise in Cas’ face. He looks for some hint of warmth, but if it’s there, Cas is hiding it well. “I told you that I would stay until the problem was solved,” Cas finally says, slowly, like he’s working through a problem.

“I don’t...I don’t want you to go,” Dean says, hoping beyond hope that Cas will understand the implications behind his words. “Even after. I don’t...Nothing’s better if you go.”

Something shifts in Cas’ face. It’s not forgiveness, not even close, but it’s a small crack in the ice. For the first time since he’s been back, Dean gets a hint of that old warmth.

“You’re hurt,” Cas says, finally. Quietly, like if he says the words too loudly, Dean will disappear. He reaches out and Dean hardly dares to breathe, certainly doesn’t dare blink as Cas presses his fingers to the torn skin of his temple.

He feels the familiar warmth of Cas’ grace start to spread through his skin, but it’s muted and flickering. Cas’ fingers tremble against his skin and even though he tries to hide it, Dean can see the strain on Cas’ face. Cas’ breaths come swift and shallow through clenched teeth as he forces the healing complete.

When it’s done, Dean savors the feeling of healed skin and a pain-free head, but only for a moment. After that moment, Cas slumps forward, his face pale and ashen. Dean catches him by the shoulder and pushes him back into the chair.

Even though it’s not technically for him anymore, Dean passes his hand over Cas�� clammy forehead. He gives into temptation (not for him, not for him, but god, wouldn’t it be nice), and pushes his fingers through Cas’ hair. “Jesus,” he murmurs, holding Cas’ face in his hands. Cas’ eyelids flicker for a moment before he opens them and blearily focuses on Dean’s face. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“You were hurt,” Cas says, like that answers everything. Maybe it does.

“You weren’t kidding about that grace, huh?” Dean says. He can’t stop touching Cas--he holds his shoulders, strokes his thumb over the thin cord of muscle sticking out of Cas’ neck.

“It’s replenishing, but slowly,” Cas answers. “I don’t...I don’t know how many more times it will do so, before it’s gone altogether. And when that happens...”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean says, his heart breaking open so sweet and painful, and awful. “Together.”

There’s no promise in Cas’ eyes, no absolution, but he lets Dean tuck the blanket around him, and when Dean forces himself onto the arm of the chair so that he can put his around Cas’ shoulders, Cas doesn’t push him away.

Dean will take it.

---

So I told him, “I know that we’re not meant for each other, that we drive each other crazy, and that we are so different. But that’s us. That’s what we have; a wild nonsense. We are not good together, but together we are bad for each other. I love us together this way, just like this. Because even if it’s no good, it’s what we have. It’s us.--C. JoyBell C.

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #spn15 #15.06 coda #15x06 coda #coda fic #castiel #dean winchester #fare thee well spn #welcome to the end #dothwrites #sequel fic #this ended up being so much longer than i meant for it to become

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chibistarlyte · 4 years

Text

seventh time’s the charm (6/7)

sixth day of @tdbkweek20. prompt: magic

six times shouto asks katsuki to marry him, and the one time katsuki finally says yes

thank you kat @sunshineijirou for betaing!

“You come to a fork in the road,” Tenya said, peering over his DM screen. On the table in front of him was a detailed map on top of which nine miniature figures stood. “Down one path, you hear the sound of flowing water. Down the other path, the light through the trees grows darker.”

“So there’s a river down the right side,” Tsuyu said astutely, her dark eyes lighting up at the prospect of water.

“Might be a good place to take a short rest,” Izuku suggested, fiddling with his paladin figure. “I’m down to about half HP right now.”

“Because somebody,” Mina said, shooting an accusatory glare at Denki, “had to go and provoke a whole swarm of killer bees into attacking us!”

The accused blond looked affronted, placing his hand on his chest in a dramatic fashion. “But I wanted to play them a song. I’m a bard, I can’t help it!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a barbarian, and you don’t see me just going around whacking everything in sight. I know how to fucking control my impulses,” Katsuki said, crossing his arms and looking haughtily at his friend.

“Says the guy who’s constantly trying to stick his wand in Shouto’s wizard’s robes,” Eijirou teased, ducking as Katsuki picked up one of the prop rocks from the map and threw it at him."Sorry, not sorry, Bakubro!" he laughed, still protecting the top of his head from further assault.

“Katsuki-kun, please stop trying to damage my set pieces,” Tenya implored, facepalming before leaning down to find the stray plastic rock. Tsuyu picked it up with her tongue and placed it in Iida’s hand, smiling sweetly.

“I think we should go to the river also…” Ochako said, trying to bring the group back on track. “I can try and heal some of you with my staff, plus I have some extra potions in my bag.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m tempted to go down the forest path just to see what’s in there,” Hanta chimed in, stroking his chin in thought. “I mean, we could run into creatures no matter what path we choose, right?”

“But not all of us have darkvision,” Izuku pointed out. “If it keeps getting dark down that road, we probably won’t be able to see very well.”

“I have the Dancing Lights cantrip that we can use to help see in the dark,” Shouto offered, leaning into Katsuki’s side. Katsuki threw an arm around Shouto’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

“No!” Ochako yelled, waving her hands. “Last time you had to use it, when we were in that cave, Katsuki-kun wouldn’t stop referring to it as ‘mood lighting.’”

“Fuck you, Round Face, at least King Explosion Murder gets laid, unlike your dumbass elf lady.”

“How do you know Mysterica Lightsworn doesn’t get laid?” Ochako shot back. “Just because she’s a cleric doesn’t mean she’s the embodiment of purity.”

“Oh my god, can we please stop talking about sex and just choose already?” Denki whined.

"That's rich coming from you, Pikachu—"

Hanta shot a strip of tape at Katsuki to keep him from arguing any further. “Okay, we can all agree to go to the river, right?”

The table gave a collective nod, save for Katsuki who was trying to pry the tape off his mouth without tearing off half his skin. He shot a heated glare at Eijirou when the redhead dared to laugh at his misfortune.

Feeling a bit of pity for his boyfriend, Shouto swatted Katsuki’s hands away and gently started pulling at the tape.

“Alright, you choose to go toward the sound of the bubbling water. As you travel, the sound doesn’t seem to be getting any louder,” Tenya narrated.

“Can I do a perception check?” Tsuyu asked, already grabbing her D20.

“Go ahead, Tsuyu-chan-kun.”

Tsuyu rolled her lime green die, and it landed on a 12.

“You notice the sound of the running river, though there is something slightly off about its cadence,” Tenya informed her.

“I’ll cast Detect Magic,” Shouto said, tapping one of his spell slots on his game app that displayed his character sheet.

Tenya’s jaw tightened. “Roll me an intelligence saving throw.”

Shouto paled, but grabbed his blue and white D20 and rolled. He paled even further as a crit fail stared him right in the face.

“Yikes,” Mina said with a wince.

“That was shit luck,” Eijirou sympathized, giving Shouto a sad look from across the table.

“What’s your modifier?” Tenya asked, writing something down on his notepad behind the DM screen before rolling a few dice.

“Uh...seven.”

"You recognize the presence of magic, but for prying into it, you receive three D6 damage," Tenya said solemnly.

"Oof," Ochako, Denki, and Mina all said at the same time. Izuku reached across the table and gave Shouto a pat on the hand.

"I'm...almost dead," Shouto said blankly, chewing on his lip. "Uh...wait, I'm supposed to be my character, so, I...he feels faint and starts to sway on his feet.” To illustrate, Shouto grabbed his little wizard miniature and started wobbling it back and forth a bit.

Katsuki reached across the table for his own miniature, a small barbarian holding an axe. “King Explosion Murder catches Five PeePee Man before he falls on the ground.”

Shouto, as if embodying his character, tilted his head to look at Katsuki with his mismatched eyes. Katsuki returned the glance, his ruby eyes burning.

“Marry me,” Shouto breathed out, causing Katsuki’s own breath to hitch.

“Christ on a cracker, get a room you two!” Mina yelled while Denki was making obnoxious kissy faces next to her.

“At least wait until we get back to the castle,” Izuku laughed at his two blushing friends, rolling his own D20 for an investigation check.

#tdbkweek20 #todobaku #todobaku fic #bnha #boku no hero academia #my writing

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justsomeartsthings · 4 years

Text

Print Me A House And Home

Summary: Sans breaks the lab’s printers while Alphys is away. With a little applied quantum theory, this somehow leads to his boss becoming his flatmate. Pre-Sanster, Sans POV, Fluff (with a sprinkle of Angst).

“ya gotta be kiddin’ me.”

You rap your knuckles on the side of the printer. There’s a click and a foreboding thump from inside. You take a cautious step back, hands raised.

“uh. hey, doc, is al in today?”

No response. You glance into the empty office behind you.

“boss?”

No dice.

“…i’m stealing your snacks. speak now or forever hold your chisps.”

Nada.

“your loss, dude.”

You snag the bag of popato chisps off of his desk and pop them open. The noise is like a firecracker set off inside your skull.

…Still ix-nay on the eleton-skay.

You toss a few chisps past your teeth and knock on the printer again. No one home. Not even a suspicious ticking noise. Lame.

You’re halfway through the chisps bag, tapping an absent rhythm on the printer, when there’s footsteps and the rustling of papers in the hallway. A few seconds later, Dr. W. D. Gaster strides through the doorway, head bowed. It’s a rare candid moment; he’s too engrossed in the notebook in his hands to notice you.

You watch him for a bit, debating whether to spook him.

“‘sup.”

To his credit, he doesn’t physically startle. He does snap his notebook shut, abruptly alert. “Sans. What are you…?”

“had to use your printer.” You extend the open pop bag. “chisp?”

He doesn’t even check to see if they’re his. He takes one. “The vending machine is two floors down.”

“eh. too far.”

“You could use the elevator.”

“why bother. it’s just gonna let me down.”

“Mm. And I suppose you’ve vetoed the stairs because they are ‘up to something’.”

“hey. don’t knock my jokes. they’re hy-stair-ical.” You crumple the empty chisp bag and toss it at Gaster, who catches it and drops it in the bin. “is alphys clocking in anytime soon?”

“She’s at a seminar in New Home. She won’t be back for another four hours.” He places the notebook on his desk. “Is there something wrong with your own printer?”

“yup. i tried to print a report of some results for an experiment this morning. somethin’ went wrong, think i jammed it. figured i’d use yours.”

His eyelights snap to the printer. “And it’s jammed mine as well?”

You chuckle. Break into the man’s office under printing problem pretenses, and watch him squirm. Give him a printer to fix, he’ll hyperfixate on it so hard he almost seems sane.

“looks like it. same thing happened to al’s printer, too.”

“That would explain why I couldn’t print my notes a few hours ago.” He approaches the machine, huffing. “It’s only Tuesday, and you’ve already managed to break all three of our printers.”

“i call it a magic touch.”

“I find it highly unlikely you would ever employ percussive maintenance. Especially of the bullet pattern variety.”

“heh heh. point taken.” You shrug. “wrong on the first count, though. i gave ‘em a few love taps.”

“Mm. Bandages are on my desk.”

“cute. i can take a printer, old man, and i could take you.”

“That would put you at two counts of theft and one of kidnapping. Tread carefully.” He removes the back panel of the printer and peers inside. “That’s peculiar. This experiment report— was it for the causality trials?”

“just the test run.”

“And your printer has the same kind of jam?”

“same jelly, same jar.”

“It appears to be routine.”

“bread n’butter.”

“It looks fried.”

“that’s probably a doughboy, then.”

“It can’t be a coincidence.”

“i didn’t say coincidence, i said doughboy.”

He snaps out of his thoughts at that. “What? What’s ‘doughboy?’”

“uh, s’like pre-bread? don’t call me ‘boy’.”

“I didn’t—” He shakes his head, baffled. “What in Asgore’s name are you going on about?”

“the printer. you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

He shoots you a glare just before shoving his hands all up in the printer’s mechanical guts. “I’m a highly skilled engineer who just so happened to design and construct the self-sustaining generator which the entire Underground, including this lab, runs on. I can handle a jammed printer.”

“ok, jeez, doc. no point tryin’ to print receipts, the printer’s already doughboy-ed.”

Gaster doesn’t reply, but after a few moments of tinkering, he does squint in a concerning manner. “Hm.”

“hm?”

“Hm.”

“i’m no printer engineer, but ‘hm’ doesn’t sound like a technical term.”

“It is when I say it.” And, well, he’s got you there. “It appears Alphys has been printing Mew Mew Kissy Cutie posters on her work printer.”

“uh,” you say. “what? how do you know?”

In response, Gaster pulls out an impossibly large poster from the back of the printer. It’s slightly crumpled, due to its dimensions being bigger than the printer could ever realistically print, and even laminated, which you’re pretty sure Gaster’s printer can’t do.

“Something tells me we will find your test results in Alphys’ printer, and my notes from this morning in yours.”

“woah. you’re kiddin’. scoot over,” you say, sidling up to him to peer inside the printer’s exposed mechanics. “you think alphys’ printer and my printer are superposed in yours?”

“Potentially.”

“that’s… uh,” you say. “impractical.”

“To say the least.”

“alphys is gonna have a field day with this when she gets back.”

“I’m sure the eventual clutter of dismantled printers will speak for itself.”

“heh. i gotta say, i’m kinda disappointed. i expected superposition to sound a lot more chaotic.”

He makes an assenting noise. You look over at him, and then nearly do a double-take. You didn’t notice before, but he’s as tense as a compressed spring, very intently inspecting the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster. Or, more likely, very deliberately not looking at you.

Upon second glance, you are a lot closer to him than you reasonably need to be.

“heh. whoops. my bad,” you say, stepping to the side. “didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“…Not at all,” he says quietly, then clears his throat. He puts the back panel over the printer again and straightens up. “We should, er, go check the other printers. Just in case.”

“sure,” you say.

“Good,” he says.

“great,” you say.

And you go.

It’s kind of funny, this sort of dance the two of you have fallen into. Stepping on eggshells, tiptoeing around each other at work. Ignoring that you’ve got a crush on him. That he’s got a gigantic crush on you. It’s ridiculous, and hilarious, mainly because he’s centuries old and you’re, well, not.

For whatever reason, whether he’s worried about being deemed a cradle robber or a douchebag boss, or something else entirely, he hasn’t made a move on you yet. But hey, that’s fine by you. You’ve got all the time in the world.

Though you do hope it won’t actually take him that long.

“It will be faster if we split up,” he says, once you reach the intersecting hallway between your office and Alphys’. He starts to take off by himself, leaving you behind.

You reach out and grab his wrist.

“hang on a sec. if you’re right about superposition—”

“It’s very likely that I am.”

“then you realize checking the printers separately could affect the outcome. ‘that which is observed is changed’, n’all that?”

“Well, yes. But it may be an inevitability anyway,” he says. “And even so, the replication of this event is statistically extremely unlikely. This may be our only chance to see whether our theory of personal observation holds true.”

“but it’ll kill the control variable, won’t it? we already saw your printer—”

“Oh, it could, most certainly— but not if our current theories of quantum entanglement hold true.”

“quantum—? for a whole printer? boss, we’re years away from proving that particle entanglement exists on the subatomic scale, never mind above it.”

“Not once we check the printers, we won’t be,” he points out. “There’s a chance the only way to trigger binding entanglement at such a large scale is through unrelated proofs.”

Unrelated—?

And, oh.

You’re physically incapable of gaping, but the sentiment must show in your eyelights, because he grins down at you, the smug bastard.

“All caught up?”

“we’ll know entanglement can occur if our personal observations affect the outcomes of a superimposed subject— and if it doesn’t, we’ll have potentially disproven three separate quantum theories at once, since each cannot exist without the other. it’s… extremely assumptive and unreliable science—”

“Unless it works.”

“uh, no, i’m pretty sure it’s still unorthodox and totally fallible,” you say. “but hey. personal confirmation’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”

He laughs, bright and clear. “Yes, yes, I suppose. In a sense.”

“well, then, in a sense, it’s genius.”

More than genius, really. And Gaster knows it is, going by the look on his face. For a moment, time slows, and you take in his eyelights, fuzzy and dilated. How his entire silhouette brims with restrained excitement. Riding on the high that comes just before a dramatic breakthrough.

And yeah, maybe there’s more important things at hand, but god, he’s beautiful when he gets like this.

“heh. how ‘bout we save the ego inflation until after we get results,” you say. The cusp of quantum discovery isn’t the time or place for mutual, unspoken workplace crushes.

“Right. Then we’ll meet back here as soon as possible,” Gaster says, and turns to go—

Only to be yanked back by your hand, clasped tightly in his.

Oh.

You stare at your joined hands, soul fluttering. His fingers are intertwined with yours, slender phalanges and thick knuckles complementing each other like a welded whole.

At some point, you must’ve let go of his wrist and taken his hand instead. You hadn’t even noticed.

“uh. eheh. whoops.” You let go and try to pull away. But Gaster’s hand doesn’t budge. “doc?”

He’s as still as a statue, his eyelights focused somewhere over your shoulder. A flighty feeling grows in your bones the longer you have his hand in yours.

And then he says, quietly: “Have you been sleeping here, Sans?”

Your soul wrenches itself in another direction.

“what?”

Gaster gestures behind you with his other hand, but you don’t turn to look. In a rush, it comes to you, what he must be looking at.

You’d had a long night, then a rough morning with Pap. This afternoon, you weren’t as careful as you usually are. You remember leaving your office door open, and, like the idiot you are, you remember leaving out your sleeping bag, your cheap diner food wrappers, your half-sharpied sneakers. And then you got so caught up in causality, your experiment, and printing those results—

You forgot to hide your mess.

Fuck.

“You’ve been sleeping here overnight.”

“it’s not, uh,” you begin weakly, but it really is what it looks like. And judging by the way Gaster hasn’t torn his eyelights from your mess, he knows it.

There’s no point making a fool out of yourself by lying.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t hate the way your voice goes quiet without your consent.

“…it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“What about your brother— Papyrus? Is he—?”

“no. god, no. trust me, you’d know if pap was loose in this place,” you chuckle a little desperately. “he stays with a couple of friends in new home while i work. temporarily, y’know. just while we’re between houses.”

“Between houses,” Gaster echoes, finally looking down at you again. It’s fine. You’re fine. “I locked down the lab last weekend— were you on the streets for that time?”

“nah, we, uh. heh.” You clear your throat. Look to the wall. Shove your free hand in your pocket.

Anything to distract from the fact that you can’t keep your voice steady.

You’ve never talked about it to anyone before. Out loud. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult. And it doesn’t help that Gaster doesn’t give you an out. He just stares at you, expectant. You have no idea how to read the expression he’s wearing.

So you gather yourself and let your mouth run like a loose motor.

“we house-hopped for a while, ‘til we could make it to snowdin. there’s a place out there i’ve been savin’ up for. real spacious, real cheap. y’know. somethin’ decent we can handle the mortgage for with my salary. and the guy who owns it wanted to meet up anyway. so th’ timing worked out.”

“Sans—”

“it’s fine, doc. really. trust me. been doin’ this since i could remember,” And it is fine. The more you talk, the less he’ll hear. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t let him speak. “listen, i’ll pack it all up when i clock out, i’ve got friends we can bunk with—”

“Absolutely not.”

“—i can make it work, but, uh, y’know, i’m sorry i—”

“Sans.” He squeezes your hand, tight. Your soul scales your throat and smothers your protests. “You’re staying in my apartment until the house is yours.”

You blink up at him, uncomprehending.

“Asgore rents the place out to me, as per our contract. I can assure you, you would not be imposing.”

Slowly, the words start to trickle in. Imposing. In his apartment.

He wants you to stay. With him. In his apartment.

“oh,” you say. Like an idiot.

“It’s fully stocked, and more than big enough to house you, your brother, and I.”

The mention of Papyrus is enough to get your thoughts moving again.

“wh— uh. hang on. slow down, doc. i can’t do that.” He doesn’t reply. You shake your head, even as some part of you starts to settle into the idea. A house, regular meals. Gaster sleeping in the neighboring room. “no, no, c’mon. i’m serious.”

“As am I.”

He is. And you hate that. You hate that he’s serious.

You hate that you want him to be serious.

Now you can’t stop yourself from considering it. Your thoughts run ahead of you, wondering what you’d be able to do if you weren’t constantly worrying about food on the table or the roof overhead. What a relief it would be to have a stable home life, not in a few years, not in a few months, but now.

No more bed hopping, or borrowing clothes. No more stretches of time spent starving in dank alleyways.

No need to worry about transportation to the lab or to wherever Pap ends up staying during the work day.

And not just that, but someone to secure it for you. Someone you know for a fact won’t toss you out at the drop of a pin, who won’t hold it over your head, or pander ulterior motives.

Someone who doesn’t think you’re a disgusting excuse for a monster.

It sounds too good to be true.

And to top it all off, here Gaster is, looking at you like he knows he’s offering you dinners and bedtimes and breakfasts and domestic things and stability and a normal life that you could never get on your own merit.

And the only objection you can think of is:

“doesn’t that break some sort of— i dunno, fraternization rule, or something?”

Gaster blinks down at you. You’re slightly relieved to see his expression change into something more familiar.

“We are a collective twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery that could redefine the way we conceptualize reality itself,” he says, “and you’re worried about fraternization.”

Which, okay, that’s a little unfair.

“doc, we’re twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery, and you wanna argue about where i sleep at night.”

He takes a breath to argue, then cants his head. “You have a point.”

“don’t i.”

“This can wait.”

“can’t it.”

“I suppose we should… get on with it.”

“uh-huh.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “as soon as you let go of my hand.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” He releases your hand a little sheepishly. Centuries, you have to remind yourself. “Apologies.”

“don’t sweat it.”

As soon as he starts moving, you turn heel and make a beeline for your office.

You shut the door behind you and slide down the back of it until your knees hit your chest. Then you tuck your head between your legs and you breathe.

You’re fine. It’s fine. You just— you need a minute. Just a minute. In a few seconds, you’ll open your eyesockets, and you’ll be fine.

Alone. Safe.

Fine.

You open your eyes.

Your mess awaits you, splayed at your ankles. It spirals far into the room like an extension of yourself. You stare at it with the appropriate amount of disgust.

Strewn wrappers, unwashed laundry. Empty bottles and cans you planned to sell for a couple G apiece. You never left any of it out during the daytime before. Not where the stark laboratory overhead lights strip it of nighttime’s leniency. Right now, it’s all there, laid bare for the world to see.

It’s just things. Fabric and plastic and glass and other meaningless things.

It is what it is, but it’s not. It’s more than that.

And you know, if it would’ve been Alphys, it would’ve been easier. Because you’re not ashamed of your situation. Really. It sucks, but it happens. You get that. She would get that. It’s just. You just didn’t want anyone to know. You didn’t want Gaster to know.

You didn’t want Gaster to look at your things and see more than just quirks or weird habits. But he did. Almost too quickly. He saw right through you.

You wouldn’t have pegged him for a monster who has fallen on hard times. Not like you have.

But it happens. You get that.

So…

So maybe you have less to worry about than you thought.

You swipe at your eyesockets and take to your feet. Either way, you shouldn’t dwell on it, not now. Not when you have work to do.

...Not when you have three quantum theories to potentially disprove, what in Asgore’s name are you doing?

Your printer is just as you left it on your desk. You loop around the back of it, kicking a stray ketchup bottle out of your way, and take off the panel without a hitch.

No Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster in sight. Small mercies. You plunge your hand into the printer’s depths.

“yahtzee,” you mutter under your breath, once you’re elbow-deep.

Anticipation sneaks past your defenses, as you pull out the piece of paper touching your fingertips. Your shambles of a home life aside, this is a big moment. You should be enjoying it.

You shake out the page, flatten it against your desk, and quickly scour its contents.

...It’s Gaster’s notes. In his handwriting, scanned and copied and printed.

Unwittingly, you start to re-crumple the paper between your fingers. The mess in your office melts away, suddenly distant and small in comparison to the realization cresting your thoughts— the mantra ringing through your head over and over like the chiming of the Judgement Hall’s bells—

He did it.

He was right.

Superposition, entanglement, personal observation— everything. He was right.

You don’t get the chance to bolt out of your office— he meets you at your door. You swing it open, blustered by the draft, and hold up Gaster’s notes. He starts laughing before you even see your experiment report in his hands.

“holy shit,” you breathe.

“Indeed.”

“holy shit.”

“I am treating both you and your brother to dinner tonight,” Gaster pants, slapping the report into your hands. “Until then, we can discuss a more suitable salary for your expenses. Come evening, we’ll pick up Papyrus…”

He keeps talking, but you can’t process a word of what he’s saying. It doesn’t occur to you that you probably just got a raise, or that you won’t be dumpster diving tonight, or even that you’ve somehow completely accepted the fact that you’ll be roommates with your boss for the foreseeable future.

None of it matters, because Gaster is grinning, eyesockets wide, breath stolen from wonder, his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. He looks barely in control of himself.

You can’t believe you thought he was beautiful before. You’ve never seen him look at you like this.

You don’t want him to stop.

Eventually, however, he realizes you aren’t listening to a word he’s saying. So he stops talking, rolls his eyelights, and abruptly turns around to lead the way back to his office.

You blink after his receding outline, still blinded by the afterimage of his expression. Something brushes your side, and you look down.

One of his conjured hands is clutching yours. The asymmetry of the grip is just as perfectly aligned as it was with his real hand.

You give the mimic a squeeze. It squeezes back.

With one last look at the chaos of your office, you shut your door behind you and drift along in Gaster’s wake, smiling.

AO3

#sanster #undertale fanfiction #undertale fic #sans #gaster #print me a house and home #another day another fic #S/O to the sanster discord 'cause everyone in there is incredible #hope this is alright #hope the very obvious bullshit way i wrote the science isn't super cringe i just wanted an excuse for them to geek out but like #i'm a theatre major lmao so my b #anyway take a shot every time you read the word printer #=3

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self-shipping-skittles · 4 years

Note

Strawberry, cherry vanilla, lemon sorbet n pistachio with the lice bro uwu

BROF BROF BROF BROF-

strawberry: before getting together, how did your F/O realize they had a crush on you? How did they act around you once they realized they were head over heels?

Ok so dice realized that he liked me Pretty early on. Like after the second or third time meeting. He saw a shy nd awkward gremlin nd went "ah yes That is Exactly the kind of person I wanna date. I shall be Very Flirty now"

Nd,,,,,he acted in two different ways: he was either a huge dork who tripped over himself nd was v Blushy nd Tsun, or like I said he was V Flirty. Like,,,,,,Very very skdhksbdak

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

Ok so dice almost Always has an arm wrapped around my shoulders or waist. Nd he also gives me little head kissies nd 🥺🥺🥺🥺 but yea he’s p huggy nd I 🥺🥺🥺🥺

lemon sorbet: does your F/O get jealous easily?

Nah fam. Like if someone's flirting with me nd I'm Uncomfy he's gonna throw hands but like generally speaking??? Not rly no

pistachio: when was the last time that you or your F/O cried during a movie?

He pretty much never cries during movies unless they're Sad. Me however??? Like every other one akdnkadbkasn

So yeah it was Recent ajdhksbska

(also this is making me wanna do that movie night thing that I did with kuko were I watched a bunch of movies nd then wrote hcs-)

#ty im gonna go cry over how much i love him now-#skittles answers #aqua tag #💚🎲#EDIT: MY DUMBASS THOUGHT THE FIRST QUESTION SAID WHEN INSTEWD OF HOW AKBDKAHDKA #whatever im too lazy to change it wkdhjsdhak

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yet-another-jjba-imagines-blog · 5 years

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Can you write a scenario about la squadra‘s s/o interacting with their stands? Like I can imagine ghia’s s/o trying to fed him catnip when white album is activated or giving home a ball of yarn 😂😂

Risotto:

“Little beans?! Your stand is little beans?” “No caro they’r-” “Lil metal bean babies!!!” You wave your finger at them and make cooing noises as they writhe around. The little stand creatures seem to lean towards you. You place your finger on one of them and it wraps its tiny little arms around your digit. You smile wide and exclaim. “See! They’re just like little babies.” You turn your head to look at Risotto and find him with his head turned and cheeks a faint pink with blush.

Formaggio:

“Formaggio make me tinyyyyyy!” “And why would you want that, amore?” “I wanna be able to live off a single slice of pizza for a week!!!” “...Amore that’s not how it works. Eventually you’d shrink into practically nothing.” “Awwwwwwwwww mannnnnnnnnnnm.”

Illuso:

“Hey Illuso go into the mirror real quick. But like, don’t bring me in with you.” “Why do you want me to do do that, caro?” “Just do it real quick ok? pleasssse?” “Alright, alright.” He turns and walks over to a nearby dressing mirror and phases into it then faces towards you. “Okay, now what.” You walk up to the mirror. And clear your throat before singing purposefully off key. “I’m sTArtiN’ WitH tHE MAn iN THe MIIIiiiiRRoR!!!!!” He starts laughing and pops his upper half out of the mirror to give you a playful dig on the arm.

Prosciutto:

“Why he have no legs.” “That’s just what The Grateful Dead is like, tesoro.” You slowly lift up a pointed finger and just - poke on of the eyes on its arm. Then one on its chest. And another on its face. Then go to fiddle around with its weird metal finger-toes. You look at where its torso should be and - “Why does it have tentacles?” “How should I know?” “Well I mean it’s a reflection of your spirit so do you like, have some weird secret kink you’re not telling anybody about?” “TESORO I LOVE YOU BUT WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INSINUATING?”

Pesci:

“Woaaaaaah it’s like a real fishing rod!! Can you like, do actual fishing with this?” “Y-yeah if I want to. But it is way easier than fishing with a normal rod!” You start to swing it around and motion like you’re throwing into some water, the line phases through the wall and then suddenly - “Aaaaagh my arm! There’s a hook in my arm!! What’s going on?!” A man’s screams are suddenly heard in the next room. “Pesci how to I make it stop?! Why won’t it stop oh my god make it stop!!!” “Hand it to me, I’ll fix it!”

Melone:

“What the fuck.” “Now, mio tesoro, why don’t you tell me your bloodtype?” “Melly baby I love you but please don’t fucking do this to me.” That creepy-ass face on his laptop was lookin at you funny and you are not ready for this in any fucking way. You poke it in hopes it’ll like, close those weird eyes or maybe look away from you but no dice. “Caro it won’t hurt a bit now which of these positions do you like b-” “Nopenopenopenopenope!!!” You dash outta the fuckin room faster than either of you ever thought possible.

Ghiaccio:

“Ghia why didn’t you tell me you were a furry?” “What the fuck no I’m not.” You dangle a piece of string on the other side of the room and let out a “Hereeeeeee kitty kitty kitty!!!” and make little smoochy noises at him. “C’mon Kitty! Don’t you want headrubs and kissies?” He lets out a sigh and shuffles over, letting out a monotonous and slightly annoyed “Meow...” But he’s got a bit of a smile on his face and a lil blush. You give him a bunch of kisses all over his face and when his guard is down...

You shove a handful of catnip on his visor.

You never saw the light of day again.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #vento aureo #risotto nero #formaggio #risotto #illuso #prosciutto #pesci #melone #ghiaccio #imagines #answered #Anonymous

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harrywavycurly · 7 years

Photo

“Do you think daddy would like this?” Your daughter’s voice snapped you back to reality as you turned around and saw her holding her latest masterpiece. It was a picture of a flower with hearts and glitter surrounding it, she loved coloring pictures but making pictures for Harry was her favorite. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to her and kneeled down to her eye level.

“He’s going to love it.” She just gave you a big smile as she handed you the picture, you quickly stood up and headed towards the fridge. “Lets hang it in our special spot shall we love?” You asked and when you turned to look over your shoulder you smiled when you saw her nodding her head and clapping her hands together.

“Yes the special spot! So he will see it when he gets home!” Her voice was full of excitement as she danced around the kitchen, you laughed as you turned and watched her. She was the spitting image of her father, dimple and all. Her brown curls were tucked away from her face with a headband and as she danced her dress swayed back and fourth causing her to giggle and dance around more.

She bounced her way out of the kitchen making you laugh and shake your head as you imagined that if Harry was home he would’ve joined her in her excitement dance and it would’ve ended in a fit of giggles and a tickle fight on the couch in the next room. You couldn’t help but sigh as you looked around and the reality set in, Harry was gone for three more weeks. You knew he didn’t like being away for long periods of time but you also knew that this was his job and he didn’t have a choice sometimes.

You were in the middle of cooking dinner when your phone rang, you knew by the ringtone that it was Harry. You smiled as you quickly hit answer and put it on speaker phone so you could continue cooking.

“Hiya petal!” You smiled bigger as his voice filled the kitchen, “what ya doin love?” You added the diced vegetables to the pot of soup you had on the stove.

“Just makin dinner, what are you up too?” You heard noises in the background but you knew he was probably out and about in whatever city he was in at the moment.

“Ah it is about dinner time isn’t it?” His voice was soft and you found yourself nodding as if he could see you. “How is she doing? Think talking to her would be a bad idea?” You continued to stir the pot as he spoke.

“Think she would love that, she is doing better now.” As if on queue you heard little feet coming down the stairs and heading towards the kitchen. “Lovey, I think someone wants to talk to you.” You said as your daughter appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her smile was big as she heard noises coming from the phone on the counter.

“Daddy!” You smiled wide as she made her way towards you by the stove. “Daddy, where are you? What city are you in? Do they have good food there? Mommy is making chicken soup because it’s cold outside! Is it cold where you are?” You had to hold back your laugh as she spilled out question after question, you heard Harry chuckle a bit on the other end of the phone.

“Hi my little love!” She reached up and grabbed the phone off the counter and held it in her tiny hands. You saw her walk around the island and climb up into one of the stools so she could get comfortable. “Well where I am at now is a bit chilly.” You could tell he was smiling by the way his voice sounded. “The food is good, nothin beats ya mum’s cooking tho.” You rolled your eyes at his comment and you knew if he was home he would’ve shot you a little wink.

“Do you miss me daddy? I miss you a lot! Like more than I miss Christmas time! And ya know I love Christmas!” You turned around and your smile fell a bit when you saw your daughter’s face. She was smiling still but you knew it was slightly forced and her eyes were getting a bit watery.

“Oh my little love,” you heard Harry take a deep breath. “I miss ya so much that I can’t even tell ya how much! They don’t even have a word fo it!” You watched as her face lit up a bit as he spoke. You could tell by Harry’s tone that he was probably fighting back tears.

He hated not being able to hug his daughter and kiss her worries away. He knew she wasn’t used to this part of his work, she had always been too little to really understand when he was on the road but now that she was getting older she took it harder when he left for weeks at a time.

“I love you daddy!” You smiled as she blew a kiss to the phone. “That was a kiss! Did you feel it?” You heard Harry laugh lightly and heard a kissy noise.

“I felt it! Just gave you one back!” She smiled and patted her cheek. You turned the stove off before making your way over to her. “I love you quite a lot, can I talk to ya mum a bit? You go wash up for super!” She pouted as you helped her down off the stool. She slowly made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You love me quite a lot as well?” You knew he was rolling his eyes at your question. You noticed the line got quiet and you had to check to make sure the call didn’t get dropped. “Harry?” You took the phone off speaker and held it to your ear, you heard the sound of a door opening and shutting and what sounded like footsteps. “Harry can you hear me?” Your voice was a bit loud due to the fact you weren’t sure if he could hear you or not.

“Can hear you just fine love.” You felt the phone slip from your hands and land on the counter as his voice came from in front of you. You couldn’t believe the sight that was in front of you. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a bag at his feet.

“Harry!” Your voice came out as a squeal as you crashed into him. His arms wrapped around your waist as yours wrapped around his neck. You were soon being lifted off the ground as you felt his face burry into your neck.

“Missed you my love.” You felt him kiss your neck a few times and as you both heard the sound of feet hitting the bottom of the stairs you felt your own feet being placed back on the ground. “Is that my little love?” He unwrapped himself from you and bent down as he faced the doorway. Your daughter’s face was one of shock and excitement.

“Daddy! You’re home!” The excitement in her voice was enough to make you smile ear too ear. You watched Harry open his arms as she went running towards him. You stepped back and watched him pick her up and twirl her around and place kisses all over her face making the sound of her laughter fill the room.

“I’m home,” he stopped spinner her and turned his head to look at you, his dimple was prominent as he smiled wide. “I’m home with my two girls, just in time for super.” He shot you a wink and you just rolled you eyes. You still couldn’t believe he was home, he was in the kitchen holding your daughter, he was going to be here for a while by the looks of his bag on the floor by his feet and you couldn’t be happier.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #dad harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #harry with kids #I love dad Harry #unagc #little cabbagez

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chronicfangirling · 7 years

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Re: not-so-secret crushes and surprise kisses

+ "I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately."

Pairing: Jin x Reader (feat. maknae line) Genre: Fluff/Crack Words: 1709 Requested by: anon

written for my 600+ Followers Drabbles Event

"Noona, you're here!" Jungkook greeted you gleefully when he opened the door to the dorm and let you into the hallway. "You brought the ingredients for white stew?"

"Hi, Kookie." You beamed at his cute, bunny-toothed smile and you would've reached up to pinch his cheeks if your hands weren't heavy with grocery bags.

Jungkook's smile shifted from happiness to mischief, and he shouted: "Appa! Umma's home!"

"Who are you calling--oh, Y/N's here, isn't she?" Jin called from somewhere inside the dorm.

"Hello Jin!" you called back.

"Is today white stew day?" Taehyung skipped towards you and peered at your grocery bags from behind Jungkook's shoulder. "How come Jungkookie always gets his food requests, Y/N-noona?"

"Umma, it's umma," Jimin corrected, joining the other younger members in the hallway.

"Why are you brats standing there without helping Y/N?" Jin demanded, emerging from the kitchen.

"Because that's your job, appa," Jimin sing-songed. Taehyung and Jungkook snickered, watching your expression closely and you feigned nonchalance, hoping you wouldn't blush.

"I'm sorry I raised bad children." Elbowing past them, Jin took the grocery bags from you. You fell in step beside him, with the three youngest members trailing after the two of you.

"It's okay, you more than make up for it," Jungkook teased as all of you entered the kitchen. "Hyung--I mean, appa was cleaning the kitchen because he knew you were coming over to cook. Even though we told him it would just get dirty again."

"Go back to your anime," Jin ordered, setting the bags on the kitchen island and glaring at them. "You'll just get in the way."

"Yeah, yeah, we know appa will take care of everything." Taehyung made a kissy face and bounded out the kitchen, followed by Jimin, who walked backwards to shoot finger hearts at you and Jin.

But Jungkook remained, leaning against the kitchen counter and grinning, eyes round with mock innocence. "Are appa and umma going to do something while we kids are away?"

"Leave!" Jin seized him by collar of his shirt and hauled him out the kitchen.

You sighed in relief. The three youngest members were the reason you became friends with the group in the first place and you felt most at ease with them. Jin, despite your embarrassingly huge crush on him, was also surprisingly easy to be with, once you got used to the butterflies in your stomach and learned to not freak out whenever he glanced at you. But all of them together was another matter--Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin had instantly realized your affections for their eldest member and took every opportunity to joke about you becoming their mom.

Luckily, Jin had taken the teasing in stride and played along. You had taken to doing the same thing, and while it hadn't discouraged the kids, it did make things less mortifying for you.

You were laying out the ingredients when Jin reentered the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. "How can I help?"

The familiar fluttering started in your tummy and you gaped at his forearms before shaking your head and returning to your task. "I'll do the cooking today, Jin."

"That won't do, I have to take care of my kids' umma," he bantered, as he towered beside you and helped you unpack the groceries.

You giggled, both in amusement and nervousness. "Thank you, appa."

Jin pulled out a can of chicken stock, but returned it in the bag. "Ah, I know you've been busy lately, so you wouldn't have had time to make this." He fetched a mason jar from the fridge and handed it to you.

You blinked at the golden liquid. "Wait, you actually made chicken stock?"

He tilted his head, looking almost as pleased with himself as you were with him. "I know you hate cooking with the premade stuff."

You bit your lip, sure that you were blushing now. "Jin, you didn't have to."

He winked. "I did say, I have to take care of you, umma."

"Stoooop," you scolded, but you couldn't keep up the pretense of a scowl when he pouted--you erupted in laughter. Swatting his arm, you pointed him to the counter. "You can make yourself useful by chopping the vegetables."

"Yes dear," he cooed in his best doting husband voice. Taking two aprons from a drawer, he helped you put on the pink one that you left ages ago and never got to take back, and put on a blue apron that he usually wore.

You diced the bacon, chopped the chicken, and started browning the meats. Just in time, Jin came up behind you with the chopping board covered with neat piles of chopped onions, potatoes, carrots, and broccoli. "Umma, here you go."

You took the board with deliberate fluttering of your lashes. "Good job, appa."

"Cute and a great cook--didn't I marry well?" He stood behind you, so close that you could feel his breath tickle the top of your head.

You swatted his arm with the back of your hand and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised sternly. "You're still playing! You're distracting me."

"My handsome face tends to have that effect," he retorted with a breathtakingly cocky smirk.

You couldn't deny that, so you swatted him again and resumed cooking.

Soon, the meat and vegetables were cooking in the chicken stock. Still standing behind you, Jin watched over your shoulder as you cooked the bechamel sauce, mixed in the meat and vegetables, and thinned the sauce with stock to the right consistency.

"Is it done? Is it done? Umma, it's not just the kids who have been longing to eat your cooking again, I also want to!" Jin chirped playfully, but there was the ring of truth in his words.

You scooped some stew into a little sauce dish and held it up for him to taste. "What do you think, appa?"

"Yahhh, this is the flavor and comfort of home... Y/N, you're incredible!" he declared, cradling your face in his hands and bending down to kiss you.

His lips were warm and and tinged with cream from the stew. Even caught by surprise, you instinctively melted into the kiss, clutching fistfuls of his sweater to tug him closer. The action seemed to startle him--he froze then jumped back, halted only by your grip on his sweater.

"Oh god, Y/N!" He gawked at you, focusing on your lips, and pressed his fingertips against his own lips. "I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately."

"Don't say sorry, that means..." You released his sweater, drawing back your hands and wringing them. "That means you didn't like it..." As if you weren't flustered enough, you felt tears welling in your eyes; you started to turn away so Jin wouldn't see, but he snatched your wrists with one hand and pulled you back.

"Oh, no, no, no--please don't cry!" His other hand gently caught your tears. "I liked it--heck, I loved it! I... I love you, actually."

You gazed up at him, watching in wonder as his cheeks flushed red.

"I've been planning the perfect confession, but I guess I took too long," he chuckled, his eyes riveted upon your mouth again. "I couldn't really contain my feelings for you, and I think your reaction means you have feelings for me too...?"

"Yes," you whispered, worried that you would squeal incoherently if you tried to say more.

"Thank God... Y/N, I love you. He wrapped your hands in his, a soft and warm smile on his face. "I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you ever since the first day you came here with the kids, but... it was difficult trying to find the opportunity to confess with those brats always hanging around, teasing me about my feelings for you."

"They weren't teasing you, they were teasing me," you admitted. "They dragged me here knowing you were my type and that I would fall in love with you as soon as I met you."

"They were teasing both of us." He shook his head. "And having a good time tormenting the two of us too, without helping us understand each other's feelings."

"Those kids! Seriously, I'm going to... ugh!" You clenched your fists, scowling at the thought of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jimin teasing circles around you and Jin the entire time.

His eyelids dropped; his gaze turning equal parts mischievous and enticing, and making you shiver. "Would you like to get back at them?" When you nodded, he led you out of the kitchen and into the living room where your three younger friends were gathered on the couch, watching anime over potato chips and orange soda.

"What are you two doing?" Jungkook asked, staring at your clasped hands.

Jin shoved Taehyung and Jimin, forcibly creating space between them on the couch. Then he sat down, pulling you on his lap and into a kiss.

"What the fuck!" Jungkook yelled, scrambling to the far side of the couch. Jimin jumped in the maknae's lap and ended up shoved to the floor.

Taehyung goggled, orange soda dribbling down his hanging mouth. "Is that... is that tongue?"

"Yup." Jin drew back by a breath, only to mumble against your lips.

"Stop it!" Jungkook shrieked, his voice rising several octaves. "AGH, MY EYES!"

"But what about dinner?!" Taehyung cried.

You parted from Jin, the younger guys cringing when your mouths smacked audibly, and glared at Taehyung. "Can't you set your own table?"

"That's right," Jin agreed, brushing a kiss against your jaw. "My girlfriend will be too busy making out with me."

Finding his voice, Jimin whined: "I can't watch hyung and noona like this, ugh, it's really like my dad and mom kissing, please stop."

"Y-You can't--you're not, not doing that in front of us," Jungkook blustered.

"Hmm, you're sure?" Jin pressed his lips upon your neck and started sucking, eliciting a moan from you. One hand slid from your knee and settled just under the hem of your skirt.

Screaming, the younger guys sprang to their feet and ran for the main door. "I'm never coming back here!" Jimin wailed, as the three of them exited the dorm.

"They're gone, Jin!" You giggled, both from glee and the tingles of pleasure from his ministrations. "We can stop now--oh!"

Jin had fallen back on couch, taking you with him. With one deft move, he flipped your positions, so you were pinned under him. Your heartbeat accelerated as his eyes sharpened, leering at you with desire.

"Stop?" He smirked down at you, biting his full bottom lip temptingly. "I was just getting started."

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katrinawritesthings · 7 years

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Jinki/Tae; Week Two (Part 3/3): PG

still tw for less gender problems but more anxiety and self-esteem problems

Jinki watches Jonghyun walk away, then turns to find Choi heading to their own car a few spots down. He guesses they’re gonna park it next to the van, now that there’s space. Turning again, he hesitates when Tae is the next person that he sees, leaning up against the front of the van, very close to where he is.

Tae looks away quickly when he catches Jinki’s eye. He stares at the ground, bottom lip between his teeth, fingers twisting with each other. Jinki grimaces, glances at the back of the van, at Choi’s car slowly putting over the asphalt. They did this on purpose. Jonghyun unlocking the doors for him was just a ruse.

Moving Day: 1-2-3-4

Week Two: 1-2-3

Extra Baggage: 1

The entire walk down to the arcade is Ace struggling to unwrap a case of headphones, Choi watching him with the most amused grin, and Jinki trying to figure out when exactly it was that he became important.

Important enough to want to keep a name for him, holy shit. Jinki still can’t believe it. He racks his brain, watching his feet take their steps in puzzled silence. It can’t have been anything he’d done today. Ace had that name ready and easily available to tell him. He must have decided before. Sometime during the week? But, no, that doesn’t make sense either. All they’d texted about this week was memes and shitty puns. Their goodbye at the diner last week? Was a fucking mess. Scratch that. And spending the night with him doesn’t count either, because technically they all spent the night together.

He supposes, actually going and getting Taemin from his parents’ house, helping him move and supporting him, and that whole reassuring hug they had before they left the house for good might have been worth something. Jinki still can’t see it though. That was a jumble of him not knowing what the fuck to say and just doing what any decent person would do. The other three did way more than him that weekend. His actions alone weren’t worthy of wanting to share something so important and personal legally for the rest of his life.

He’s so caught up in thinking about it that he almost walks right passed the arcade and doesn’t notice until Ace’s hand clasps around his wrist and tugs him to a stop.

“Hmm--what? Oh,” he says, blinking up at the colors. “Whoops,” he says, grinning sheepishly when Choi and Ace both roll their eyes at him. He follows them inside, checking his wallet for small bills to exchange for tokens. He decides to see how many extra the other two have gotten for themselves first and winds his way to the back of the arcade. As he expected, Jonghyun and Key are in front of the same zombie shooter game that they’re always at. He shares a fond yet exasperated look with Choi over Ace’s head.

“They’ve had the high score on that thing for years,” he mumbles to Ace. Ace heads forward curiously at that to peep at the screen. Jinki walks up to stand behind them as well. They’re on the roller coaster of death part, right before the giant roller car train boss. Neither of them even flinch from their focused shooting as Ace slips an arm around both of their waists.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” Key hums back. Jonghyun hums just a single noise and blasts a clown bat out of the sky. Ace slides to stand fully behind him, wraps his arms around his waist, nuzzles his whole face into his neck, and presses a little kiss to his skin.

“Mwah,” he says, voice tiny, and Jinki has to fight down too big of a smile. What the fuck. That’s so cute. Apparently Jonghyun thinks so too, because he actually turns his head a fraction to peck the corner of Ace’s mouth.

“My fantastic and marvelous little ace trainer,” he mumbles. His eyes don’t leave the screen but Ace smiles anyway and drifts from him to Key.

“I thought you were scared of clowns,” he says as Jinki takes the opportunity to slip his arm around Jonghyun’s waist and rest his head on his shoulder. “And rollercoasters. And zombies.”

“Yeah, so now I’m facing my fears by murdering them all with ruthless efficiency,” Key replies. Jinki snorts and Choi shakes their head as they step up on Jonghyun’s other side. Their arm settles on top of Jinki’s around his waist and their chin drops onto Jonghyun’s head. Jonghyun doesn’t even bat an eye and Choi’s smug grin about that makes Jinki chuckle softly. They’re good. They’re all good, just by existing in the ways that they do.

They stay there at the shooter for a good fifteen more minutes until Jonghyun and Key finish with satisfied smiles. By that time Ace had already found the closed up bag of popcorn from earlier and piled half of it down his throat. Neither Jonghyun nor Key have noticed and Jinki watches them just replace one of their old high score slots with a new one with a fond shake of the head. Seven out of ten spots on the list just say J&K. He doesn’t know why he ever expected them to bond over something normal.

When they finally put the guns back into their holsters and turn around, Key fluffs up Ace’s hair and fixes his shirt, asks about his ears and pulls out the little kit Amber gave them earlier to clean around the piercings. Jonghyun turns to Jinki and Choi and throws an arm around each of their necks, smiling little kissies against their skin and being entirely too adorable for the world.

“How was your lunch?” he asks, slipping his hands around Jinki fully. He rubs his lower back in slow little circles, something that makes Jinki sigh and rest his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder instead of answering. This is. So nice. Jonghyun hums an interested little noise after a moment which Jinki assumes is a reply to whatever Choi signed behind him. Jinki agrees with it, whatever it was. “Come on,” Jonghyun says then. “Let’s go win some tickets.”

He stops his little massage on Jinki’s back, which Jinki pouts at, but he tugs Jinki gently over to the little ticket area with everyone else. Pushing him to sit on one of the spare stools next to the skee-ball machines, he presses a kiss to his cheek and squeezes his hand.

“I’ll win you something nice,” he says, winking and then crouching down to feed some coins into the machine. Jinki smiles tiredly and leans his head against the side of it. Jonghyun says that every time and every time he just proves himself to have atrocious aim and then whines at Choi to get tickets for him.

Some ten minutes later, after Jonghyun has huffed at the machine and whined at Choi to win tickets for him, he presents Jinki with a lovely pair of fuzzy pink dice and a little alien friend finger puppet. Jinki boops his tum with it and follows him easily to the air hockey table. That little sit gave him enough rest to be able to stand and hunch over for long enough to wreck Key like usual. After that Ace wants to play. With a pair of shutter shades and glow-in-the-dark clip on piercings at the tops of his ears, he’s so good at the game that it catches Jinki off guard. He almost doesn’t switch from “easy mode” to “actually trying” in time and when the game does end, he’d only won by one point.

“Bruh,” he says, raising his eyebrows. He’s impressed. No one’s ever scored more than four points against him. Ace smirks and drops his handle onto the table like it’s a mic.

“Guess what game the only friend I was ever allowed to see had in their basement,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows so much that his shutter shades almost fall off his face. Jinki laughs, shoulders deflating with the breath that leaves him. Holy shit. He’s way too proud, and it’s not helped at all by the way Jonghyun clings to him and presses a congratulatory kiss to his cheek. “Also,” Ace adds, “can you not call me ‘bruh’?”

“Oh,” Jinki says. Whoops. “Yeah, sorry.” He gives Ace a finger pistol; Ace gives him two back. Nice. “Here,” he says next, turning to give his handle to Choi. “I’m gonna go sit down.” His few minutes of back relief are ending and he really doesn’t want to keep standing right now, or at all anymore. Choi pats his shoulder sympathetically, then turns to sign “bring it on” to Ace. Key drifts from behind Ace to stand on the side of the table so he can support both of them and Jonghyun drifts away entirely to follow Jinki.

“Four?” he asks quietly, running his palms up Jinki’s shoulderblades.

“Fiveish,” Jinki mumbles back, and then, “hey, it’s fine,” when Jonghyun makes a stern worried noise. “It’s not bad until, like, a six.”

“Jinki,” Jonghyun sighs, but Jinki turns and shushes him with a gentle boop to the cheek.

“My back,” he says.

“Your decisions,” Jonghyun grumbles back. Jinki gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek this time.

“I’m fine if I’m sitting down,” he says, and then immediately sits down in one of the racecar games seats. “So sit with me,” he says, raising his eyebrow in a challenge. Jonghyun hesitates, but Jinki can tell that the temptation is too strong for him. They do this every week.

“Guh,” Jonghyun says, and sits down heavily in the second chair. “But I’m driving us home,” he says as he hands Jinki a token. Jinki shrugs. He was going to ask anyway.

“Not before I drive you off the road,” he grins. He picks out his favorite car and slams the start button. Jonghyun gasps loudly and does the same and the next few minutes are filled by intense driving and heavy curses from Jonghyun.

When Jonghyun loses the first time he demands a rematch immediately; by the fourth time, he sighs and slumps down in his chair.

“You know you could could let me win once,” he grumbles. Jinki smirks back and fluffs up his hair.

“I could, yeah,” he agrees. He looks around the rest of the arcade while Jonghyun keeps up his grumbling. If he leans just right, he can see the other three. They’ve left their air hockey table and are now at the basketball hoops. Choi is rhythmically scoring goals as tickets flow out of the slot. Key is leaning against the wall next to it and Ace is leaning back against their chest. His head is on their shoulder and their arms are around his waist, and they’re sharing what looks like serious words. As Jinki watches, Choi pauses just long enough to boop Ace’s nose. Ace smiles, looking immediately comforted and relieved. It’s so effortless, the way they can make him smile.

“You okay, bun?”

“Hmm?” Jinki turns to face Jonghyun’s questioning look. “Yeah, fine,” he says. As fine as he can be, anyway. “Why?”

“Mmm, you just seemed kind of… suddenly troubled,” Jonghyun says. He reaches out and picks some fuzz off of Jinki’s shirt with a knowing look.

“Ahh,” Jinki says. “I mean.” He contemplates actually lying for a moment but it’s not like Jonghyun didn’t already catch on. He goes for the obviously fake lie instead. “Yeah, it’s nothing.” he says. “Just my back.” He shrugs; Jonghyun cocks a brow at him, amused.

“Alright, well, if we’re not gonna talk about it,” he says, and grins even wider when Jinki grumbles at being so blatantly called out like that. “C’mere,” Jonghyun says. He tugs Jinki up gently, picks up a spare stool by a fighting game, and carries both to a pokemon claw machine. “I wanna get a Rowlet,” he mumbles, setting the stool down for Jinki to sit. Jinki shakes his head fondly as he eases himself onto it and scoots back so he can rest straight against the wall.

“You’ve literally never gotten anything from this,” he says.

“Not yet,” Jonghyun says back. He winks and jams a token into the slot. Jinki sighs in vague disapproval as he watches Jonghyun meticulously line up the claw. He hits the button and it goes down, closes feebly around a pokémon’s leg, lets it slip through, and returns to the starting position. Jonghyun frowns at it, looking personally offended, and puts another token in.

“Your two dollar limit, remember,” Jinki says after Jonghyun’s fourth try.

“Uh huh,” Jonghyun says back. He doesn’t take his eyes off of his target, but Jinki does. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone winding through the machines and towards them.

Ace smiles at Jinki as he comes up. He holds up a plastic flower crown from the prize counter and places it gently upon Jonghyun’s head, leaning around to press a kiss to his neck. Then he steps in front of Jinki and gives him a flower crown too, though he skips the neck kiss. Jinki can’t say that he’s disappointed.

“Hi,” he says, putting his hand on Jonghyun’s shoulder to get his attention. “Call me Tae from now on?” he asks, looking between both of them.

“Of course,” Jonghyun hums, lifting Tae’s hand to kiss it and going back to his claw.

“No problem, Tae,” Jinki says. He guesses he’s found out what the other three were talking about before. A smile grows on Tae’s lips that’s even wider than before, and he gives Jinki two cute flower bracelets with a meaningful nod at Jonghyun. Jinki nods easily, wiggling one on and holding the other to give to him when he’s done. Tae touches Jonghyun’s butt, then steps back with a smirk after he squeaks.

“Alright, bye again,” he says, and leaves them both to slink back to Choi and Key.

“God, I love him so--gnngh, fuck--so much,” Jonghyun breathes. He growls at the claw machine and bangs his fist on the counter halfway through that confession. Jinki barely notices the sad defeat jingle it plays, nor what Jonghyun says after that. He watches Tae walk away, rubbing a plastic flower petal between his fingers, more confused than he’s been all day. “Jinki?” Jonghyun asks, and even that feels distant and muffled--but it’s enough to snap him into speaking.

“Why does he think I’m so important?” he asks loudly, quickly, heavily. It all leaves him in a distressed whoosh, a thick swallow, a plastic flower bracelet accidentally squished in his hand. Across the arcade Tae is bouncing lightly in front of a fighter game that Choi is effortlessly beating him at. He doesn’t understand.

“Dude,” Jonghyun says flatly. When Jinki tears his eyes away to look at him, he’s giving Jinki this extremely judgemental look with a cocked hip and brow.

“What?” Jinki asks. Whines, more like, not that he’d admit it. Jonghyun looks at him for another second before rolling his eyes and turning back to the claw machine. A fond smile tugs up his lips that Jinki can’t seem to enjoy.

“Because you are a golden gem of a human being,” he says matter-of-factly as he maneuvers the claw around. He lowers the claw, bites his lip, sighs, and rests his forehead against the glass. “I’m so bad at this,” he mumbles. Jinki frowns.

“I’m being serious, Jonghyun,” he says. “I don’t--”

“So am I,” Jonghyun says firmly. He faces Jinki fully, more serious this time. “Just because your super humble insecure ass downplays yourself as much as possible literally all the time, it doesn’t mean that everyone else does.”

“I can’t downplay things I’ve never done in the first place,” Jinki huffs. He can barely talk to Tae alone without making it awkward. Jonghyun just looks at him, rolls his eyes, and puts another token into the claw machine.

“Okay, let’s see,” he says. “You support him, you comfort him, you care about him.” He taps next to the claw button with every thing he lists and Jinki huffs again.

“I mean, obviously, but--”

“You respect his identity and help him figure it out.”

“Well, yeah, why would I not--”

“You helped him through a panic attack like, an hour ago.”

“I barely knew what I was doing though?”

“Literally the first time you ever met him in person you told him you would lay yourself down in between him and his parents if they tried to get to him--”

“Okay, you know that was a joke.”

“And it made him feel safe.” Jonghyun says that last word heavily but Jinki doesn’t know if it was for emphasis or because he just lost again. He drops another coin in immediately and this time Jinki can’t tell if his frown is because of the machine or because of him. “You dropped everything at a moment’s notice last week--”

“Yeah, but so did--”

“--to drive ever an hour to help him escape his house--”

“Jonghyun, that’s not--”

“--which was something that can potentially get you arrested if his parents are assholeish enough about it, and--”

“I’m not the only one that did that,” Jinki says loudly. Jonghyun shoots him a confused and annoyed frown at the interruption and Jinki sighs, a short huff. “All of that is just being, like, a good person,” he says. The others all do that shit too and Jinki doesn’t see Tae wanting to share a name with them. “What have I done extra?” he asks.

“Extra?” Jonghyun asks incredulously. “What do you mean, extra?” When he leans against the claw machine to frown at Jinki with his hand on his hip, his other hand presses the descend button. He doesn’t even look at its journey and Jinki sighs.

“I mean,” he says, “like. You’re his boyfriend, and Key is dating him too, and Choi fucking lives with him--what have I done extra?” He gestures at himself for emphasis. “What have I done extra that’s not something everyone else has done?”

“You don’t need to do anything extra,” Jonghyun tells him. He looks more confused and upset than he usually is when he’s arguing with Jinki over how good or bad he is. “If Minjunggie didn’t live in that house, would they not be important?”

“What?” Jinki asks, appalled. “No, what the fuck?” Of course they’re important.

“Jinki. If they didn’t literally live with Tae, they would have less interaction with him than you do.” Jonghyun taps his hand on the counter of the machine for emphasis. He pauses; picking up the quarter under his hand, he glances at the coin slot and then shakes his head. “That would, by your definition, make them less important than you,” he says, looking back at Jinki. Jinki opens his mouth, takes a breath, lets it out with an inarticulate noise.

“That’s--different,” he says.

“How?” Jonghyun asks flatly.

“It’s--just--” Jinki huffs loudly, pushing his fingers through his hair. “He’s not gonna change his last name for me,” he says. He can see Jonghyun’s face fall from sternness into understanding, some kind of sympathy, and shakes his head. “I don’t get it,” he says quietly.

“Jinki…,” Jonghyun says softly. He steps forward and puts his hand on Jinki’s knee, squeezing gently. He moves so he can lean his shoulder against the wall next to him and nuzzle his arm. “You could’ve just said that’s what this was about from the beginning,” he says. Jinki shakes his head with a sigh. He could have, yeah, but that wasn’t really the root of the issue. He turns to lean against the claw machine instead and lets Jonghyun stand between his legs, close enough to hold his waist. “Look,” Jonghyun says, and taps Jinki’s chin up to make him look. “I know that’s big, but I don’t think it’s as big as you think it is,” he says. “His first name is the one he’s worried about, not his last.”

“No, Jonghyun, it is, like.” It’s exactly as big as he thinks it is. Jonghyun leans up to give him a soft kiss, one of the ones he puts all of his comfort into, but Jinki pushes him away gently. He doesn’t need to be distracted and calmed down right now. He’s upset and he can speak loudly if he wants to. “He is literally terrified,” Jinki says, “of his parents finding him.” He waves a hand when Jonghyun opens his mouth to get him to stop. “We spent all last weekend wiping fingerprints off of things so they couldn’t DNA track us down. He’s changing everything, his his number, his appearance, his name--he’s changing his name legally and applying for what’s basically a watered-down witness protection thing so they can’t find him. So he can be completely hidden and never have to worry about it.

“And he still? Fugking worries about it, Jonghyun, you know he will. It’ll be ten years from now and he’ll still be worrying about it. And fuck, even mentioning anyone’s parents can trigger a panic attack, let alone his, and--and suddenly, none of that fucking matters because of me?” Jonghyun’s hand reaches for his cheek but he stops it, holds it and squeezes it instead. “Suddenly wants to keep his parents’ name, the one that can literally trigger him, the one that can be used to track him down and ruin his life, just because it’s the same as mine?

“I don’t--get it, Jonghyun, I don’t fucking understand--what have I done to deserve that?” The question comes out louder than he meant it to but he couldn’t help it. He’s too emotional right now and whenever he gets too emotional he starts falling apart. He squeezes Jonghyun’s hand in apology for making him wince but doesn’t let go of him or the question. “There’s no--” he starts, and then falters when Jonghyun suddenly looks away from him with wide eyes. He blinks, confused, and turns to the rest of the arcade as well. “What--oh.”

Tae’s eyes meet his, as serious as Jinki is guilty. Choi and Key are still on the other side of the arcade, leaning on the counter and turning in more tickets. They have no idea, just as Jinki had no idea that Tae was here, listening. He slowly looks back to Tae, who hasn’t moved his gaze. He opens his mouth to try to speak, to say anything, but he can’t think of anything to put into words. Another long moment pases after he gives up before Tae takes a breath.

“You’re,” he says. “All my life, just. And--but now I can.” He falters, fingers twisting with each other. “I-it’s just--” He stops and sucks in a breath, gritting his teeth and huffing at the ground. “I don’t…,” he mumbles. “I’ll change it if it bothers you.” The shake in his voice makes Jinki’s heart sink. He tries to say something again, and this time actually gets a word on his tongue, but Tae speaks over him without noticing. “Jonghyun,” he says. His breathing is picking up and Jinki’s heart plummets even lower into his stomach. “Kibummie said--said that it was getting late. And that we usually l-leave soon.” He lifts a shaky hand to run through his hair. Jonghyun steps forward to do that for him, but Tae steps back just as quickly. “I’ll--take your time,” he says, glances at Jinki, and turns and walks away quickly.

Jinki watches Jonghyun’s hand close on nothing in midair. He watches Tae walk all the way back to Key and sink into their arms. He watches Choi and Key both look over at him with confused expressions and he watches the back of Jonghyun’s head as he lifts a hand to rub his palm over his eyes. He closes his eyes, letting his head fall against the wall.

“God, I’m garbage,” he breathes.

“You’re not.” Jonghyun’s voice is small and thick, the kind it gets when he’s trying not to cry. Jinki sighs slowly. Guh.

“I am, though,” he says. “I gave him a panic attack and I made you cry and I ruined today and--”

“Stop, Jinki, fucking--” Jonghyun faces him with an annoyed huff. His eyes are watery but his frown is stern. “You didn’t, and I’m not even crying, I’m just. Almost crying. Because I’m tired and hungry and... emotional.” He sucks his hand into his sleeve to soak up a tear from his waterline before it falls.

“You’re gonna cry, though,” Jinki says. “Because you always need to once you start.”

“I know,” Jonghyun grumbles. He comes forward to stand in front of Jinki and bury his face in his chest. “So, just, shut up and let me cry on you for a minute.” His arms come around Jinki’s waist next and Jinki sighs, lifting his arms over Jonghyun’s shoulders. He gives him gentle back pats as he sniffles into his shirt.

“Just because you say I didn’t fuck up it doesn’t make it true,” he mumbles.

“I said shh,” Jonghyun replies. He squeezes Jinki closer; it intensifies the pain in his back and makes Jinki hiss and squirm. “Shit--sorry,” Jonghyun says quickly. His grip turns soft again immediately. He wiggles up to press his teary face into Jinki’s neck and kiss his skin. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Nnngh,” Jinki groans. He can never handle romance when he’s like this and the shiver and twist of unease in his stomach it gives him proves that. “Not right now,” he says.

“I platonically admire your many good qualities then,” Jonghyun mumbles. His voice carries a note of petulance before he sniffles and nuzzles closer. Jinki snorts, an empty noise of amusement. He pats Jonghyun’s back comfortingly and closes his eyes. Ugh. Now Tae thinks he’s some kind of asshole. And honestly, he’s right.

He doesn’t keep track of how long Jonghyun weeps on him, but it’s not as long as he usually takes. Only a minute or two of deep breaths and countless sniffles pass before Jonghyun pulls himself away. He swallows thickly, rummages in his bag for his jumbo travel pack of tissues, and wipes his face. Jinki reaches out to fix his bangs with a tired hand until Jonghyun pushes it away.

“You’re not garbage,” he says. His voice is quiet but firm as he looks Jinki in the eye. “You’re just… confused. And insecure. And have bad luck at timing.” He shakes his head and stuffs his tissue into his back pocket. “And you need to talk to him,” he adds. “Don’t--give me that look, Jinki,” he says when Jinki starts trying to protest. He can’t talk to Tae. Not today, at least. He’ll just fuck it up more because that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. “You can’t make it any worse than it already is,” Jonghyun tells him. Jinki puffs up his lips, thrown off by how Jonghyun just knew what he was thinking. He knows everyone too well.

“I don’t,” he starts, and then sighs. He can’t even come up with a good excuse that doesn’t make him sound like an asshole. “I’ve already… upset him… enough,” he tries. The attempt wilts before he even finishes under Jonghyun’s gaze.

“He’ll be even more upset if you just leave like this.”

“Ugh,” Jinki sighs. He scrunches up his face and lets his head thunk back against the claw machine. “You’re right,” he grumbles. Leaving would probably be the only way he could actually make it worse. “Fine,” he says. He doesn’t know how the fuck he’s going to go about it, but fine. Jonghyun leans in to nuzzle his neck and take a deep breath.

“How are they doing over there?” he asks. His hand squeezes Jinki’s leg gently, but Jinki shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t want to be the one to look.” He doesn’t want to get caught and have it look like he was staring. He doesn’t need anything to feel any more awkward than it already does. Jonghyun snorts and looks himself; after a moment, he signs something that Jinki doesn’t catch because of the angle. Something about the car, he thinks. Bluh.

“Come on,” Jonghyun says then. He tugs Jinki gently until he gingerly slides off of the stool. Jinki grimaces at the dull ache in his back as he stretches his shoulders. Of course this stress has made it worse. “Do you want a patch?” Jonghyun asks. He rustles in his bag and pulls out the corner of an Icy Hot patch, but Jinki shakes his head. The walk to the car isn’t more than five minutes from here.

“On the way home,” he says. Jonghyun nods and tucks it back away.

“Okay then,” he says, and tugs Jinki across the arcade. At the counter, Tae has his eyes closed with his head on Key’s shoulder, but when they approach he looks up. His eyes fall on Jonghyun and a smile ugs up his lips. When he switches to Jinki it falters, twitches back up, and is replaced by a bitten lip as he looks away. Jinki looks away awkwardly too. Fuck.

“Okay, well, anyway,” Key says. Even for someone as practised at sounding casual as they are it seems forced, but they push on anyway. “I’m ready to get home. No one else is forgetting anything?” they ask. They clap their hands in some weak show of authority with a peppy smile and it actually brings the tiniest smile to Jinki’s lips. They’re trying so hard.

He checks his pockets, his bag, Jonghyun’s bag when he can’t find some of his prizes from before, and confirms that everything he has is accounted for. Everyone else does the same and with some of the loudest bravado Jinki has ever seen, Key leads them all out of the arcade and back onto the sidewalk.

For all the way they marched outside with their arms linked with Tae and Jonghyun, it all fizzles back into just feeling weird after five steps. Jonghyun slips his arm away from Key, moves to their other side to press a soft kiss to Tae’s cheek, and then falls back a few steps to fit himself between Jinki and Choi instead. He links his arms with both of them and spends the whole time biting his lip, pouting at the back of Tae’s head and digging worried fingers into Jinki’s wrist. Jinki looks over his head to try a friendly smile at Choi; they catch his eye, give him half of a little smile in return, and look away with their own troubled frown. Jinki sighs. Everyone thinks he’s an asshole now.

Needless to say, the walk back to the parking lot is the most awkward five minutes of his life. Once he reaches his minivan he doesn’t know what to do; he wants to get in and recline the seat all the way back and lie there for the rest of eternity, but something tells him that that would be frowned upon. Jonghyun takes his arm away and gets up on his tiptoes to nuzzle his cheek.

“I’m gonna help Gwi get Tae’s stuff out of the back,” he says. “Gimme your keys?” He holds his hand out and Jinki nods, digging in his pocket for them. “Thanks,” Jonghyun says, grabbing them. “I’ll unlock the doors for you too.” He smiles softly as he boops the unlock button before walking to the trunk. Jinki watches him, then turns to find Choi heading to their own car a few spots down. He guesses they’re gonna park it next to the van, now that there’s space. Turning again, he hesitates when Tae is the next person that he sees, leaning up against the front of the van, very close to where he is.

“Hey, um,” he says quietly, stepping closer to lean on the hood of his car as well.

“I’m sorry,” Tae says quickly. He looks up and his eyes are wide, guilty, sincere. “I didn’t--I didn’t think it would bother you,” he says. “I should have asked, or--”

“No, no, it didn’t… bother me,” Jinki says. The glance Tae gives him is extremely skeptical and Jinki winces. He can see why. “It just,” he says. “Confused me.” It still does.

“Yeah, um, about that,” Tae says. “When I. I overheard, um.” He waves his hand to mean what happened in the arcade and Jinki nods. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that. “I, uh, figured out what I wanted to say that I couldn’t figure out how to say. Then.” He looks up and then back down quickly with a hand clenched at his side. Jinki looks down at his own hands for lack of a real reply.

“Um,” he says after a long silence. “Do you… wanna... tell me about it?” he asks. He looks up to see Tae still studying the ground, but he’s also taking deep breaths like he’s steadying himself for something. He waits, as patiently as he can when his whole body is dying for an explanation, until Tae finally looks up. His gaze is determined and his voice barely has any shake in it when he speaks.

“My whole life,” he says, “‘Lee’ has been something that belonged to my parents. Every time I wrote down ‘Lee Taemin’ on a paper it was like I was writing their Lee Taemin. Their kid, legally and inescapably. They would use it against me and tell me I had to love them because we were family. Because--” He hesitates, closes his eyes, shivers and shakes his head. Jinki plays with his fingers while Tae takes a few slow breaths before he speaks again. “Because they owned me,” he says quietly. “But with you.” These words come out as a breath, a sigh of relief, a glimmer of freedom in his eyes.

“With you, it’s Lee Jinki. Lee Jinki and Lee Taeyeon. It’s ‘ha ha, there go those Lees again.’ It’s ‘wow, those two are pretty alike, just like their names.’ It’s sharing a name with someone that wants me to be happy. It’s something positive. It’s that for the first time, in my whole life, something that’s haunted me is able to make me smile instead.” Tae lifts his hands, like he wants to reach out, then clenches his fists and clasps them together instead, looking down. “With you, being a Lee is something that I want to be,” he says. He looks up and holds Jinki’s gaze for a long, slow second before looking away with a shrug. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

“I… oh,” Jinki says. It comes out of him in a whoosh of breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in. That was… a lot. “Um,” he says. He still doesn’t… get it. “I’m not,” he says. “I don’t…. Why… do you think.… Is it really so important to you that you’re… willing… to risk… making it that much easier to find you?” He understands that he’s comforting somehow, he understands the reclamation angle, he understands how it can feel nice; he doesn’t understand how any of that measures up to staying safe.

“Listen, Jinki,” Tae sighs. “I don’t know you enough to know what to say to reassure your insecurities or whatever.” He rubs his nose awkwardly as Jinki blinks. Yeah. That is also true, also a very good point. They do barely know each other. “But,” Tae says. “I know you enough to know that I want to risk the danger just so I can share the name.”

“But why?” Jinki hisses. This has been his question the whole time and he’s still yet to find a real answer. Tae’s reply shocks him; instead of more hesitant explanations, another quiet confession, he just laughs softly. A weak but fond laugh, accompanied by a shake of the head.

“Whether you think you deserve it or not,” he says, “you have a space in my crusty little heart too. And it’s just as important as everyone else.” He lifts his hand and taps his chest once, then immediately blushes and just scratches his shoulder to try to play it off. Jinki goes with it because he’d rather not encourage the cliché heart touching play. “You’re…, Tae says. “Good. And secure. And comforting... and… one of my saviors.”

“And,” he adds, when Jinki opens his mouth to ask how that makes him special at all. He gives Jinki this look that says he knows Jinki was about to ask again and isn't going to have any of it. “I don’t think… it matters, if you personally don’t think you’re worth it,” he says. Jinki opens his mouth, then hesitates, confused.

“What?” he asks. That seems… off. Tae shrugs, leaning his elbow on the hood of the car.

“Whatever it is that you think about yourself doesn’t affect the way I think of you,” he says. “No matter what you think, I’m still going to think you’re one of the most important people in my life. Like, it’s fact. Even if you think it’s bad judgement.”

“So…,” Tae mumbles. He looks up at Jinki and bites his lip. “I think that means that it’s either… you doubting both yourself and me, or you only doubting yourself but trusting me.”

“I mean, of course I trust you,” Jinki says immediately. Of course he does. There’s no reason not to. Tae smiles a little wider at his reply.

“So trust that you’re important to me,” he says simply. “Whether you believe it or not.”

“That’s…,” Jinki says slowly. That seems simple and straightforward, yeah, but it’s not that easy at all. But still, when he looks into Taemin’s eyes, tried and sincere and open, he finds that it’s hard to not trust him.”I’ll… try,” he says.

“I can take that,” Tae says. This time, looking at his relaxed, easy expression, Jinki feels the tiniest smile coming up on his lips as well. That was good. A good talk. He thinks. He hopes? The silence stretches on between them and he wishes he knew what to do now that neither of them seem to have nothing to say.

“Hug him,” a voice hisses loudly. It’s followed by a snap and a “shh” and Jinki turns with a start to see Choi and Jonghyun quickly turning Key away. He watches the three of them try to act like they haven’t been eavesdropping with a snort. Wow. Turning back to Tae, he sees him shaking his head with his own fond little smile.

“I think maybe we should hug, for some reason,” he says casually. Tae laughs softly and gives him the most amused look, and with that, it’s like they’re almost back to normal. Almost; their hug isn’t really one of the best.

“Ooh--less tight,” Jinki hisses, wincing at the sharp reminder of his back pain. Tae hisses too, lets go, and stammers out a quick apology before stepping forward again. The second time it’s nicer, and Jinki finds himself kind of melting into it. This is nice, his arms around Tae’s shoulders and Tae’s around his waist. He never was much of a meaningful hug kind of person but he could get into this.

Until an uncomfortable amount of time passes and neither of them have let go yet. He pats Tae’s back awkwardly, not sure of when they should break apart. He doesn’t want to interrupt Tae if he’s having a super intimate bonding moment, but this is kind of starting to get weird.

“Um,” he says. Immediately he feels Tae stiffen and then he’s straightening up, just leaving his hands on Jinki’s waist with a small smile.

“Uh, yeah,” he says.

“Yeah,” Jinki says back.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah….”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun whispers, and Jinki turns to see him creeping around the car to get to them. He sidesteps Jinki to wrap Tae up in his own hug, one that looks warm and comfortable and perfectly executed by the way Tae smiles and hums into his neck. “Time to go,” Jonghyun says when he pulls back. Jinki blinks. Ahh. Yes. Of course. That’s what they were doing before that whole conversation started. Tae makes a noise that’s half realization and half pout and Jonghyun shushes him with a gentle kiss. “Next week,” he says, smiling it against Tae’s lips.

“Mmm, yeah, okay,” Tae says. He kisses Jonghyun again and then reaches for Jinki’s hand to give it a quick squeeze. “Next week,” he says.

“Next week,” Jinki confirms. Next week will definitely be better.

“Shoo,” Jonghyun says gently, patting Tae’s butt towards Choi’s car. Jinki watches fondly as he wiggles himself into the backseat. He gives Key a quick goodbye hug too, murmuring goodbyes and accepting their smug “I told you you two needed to hang out more” with a snort. He knows. They’re working on it.

Choi sighs him a genuine “nice job” before he waves goodbye, which Jinki accepts fondly. That whole thing did go better than expected. Jonghyun slips up to link their arms together as Choi starts their car, waving sadly as they drive away like usual. And also like usual, he turns to nuzzle Jinki, except this time, not like usual, he tugs Jinki’s head down for a slow kiss.

“Thank you,” he says quietly when he pulls back. Jinki blinks, shrugs, looks away. He didn’t do anything that wasn’t… decent. He accepts Jonghyun’s praise anyway with a thankful smile.

When Jonghyun turns him gently around so he can put the heating patch on under his shirt before they leave, Jinki closes his eyes and thinks.

“Lee Taeyeon” kind of has a nice ring to it.

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