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animeomegas · 3 years

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Omega!Obey Me characters forgetting a mating anniversary

Anon: reactions to their alpha missing an anniversary? or you could switch it and do reactions to realizing they forgot an anniversary. either or !

Anon part 2: hi! i’m the anon from the anniversary request. i was thinking maybe the obey me! fandom? whichever characters you like. my exams are coming to an end so i’m looking forward to spending hours on that app during the summer 😤😤 i hope you’re doing well ! 💕

(Hey hey!! I’m going to do their reactions to forgetting a mating anniversary, because they’ve been alive a long time, I imagine it would happen at least one hehe. Let’s see~)

Warnings: Mention of sex in Asmo’s section

Lucifer – He denies it at first. He can’t have forgotten, he would never forget something so important, you must have the date wrong. His response is very likely to make his alpha either more angry or more upset, and he inadvertently blows the whole thing out of proportion because he struggles to admit that he’s wrong. But when he realises that he is wrong? That he was so caught up in paperwork for Diavolo he did forget? It’s a hard pill to swallow. He would probably buy his alpha some expensive flowers as an apology of sorts, but unless he’s been in a relationship with his alpha for several hundred years, I don’t see him directly apologising. He does feel guilty, but he really finds it hard to articulate. The upside is that it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll ever do it again. He’s checking four times every week at least now that he hasn’t missed any important dates by mistake.

“Our anniversary is next week, my beloved, you must have confused the dates.”

Mammon – Mammon metaphorically shits himself when he realises he forgot an anniversary. His scent is pure, unadulterated panic. His first instinct is to plan an anniversary event that moment. Hell’s Kitchen must still be open right? He tries to pull his alpha with him right that second. If that doesn’t work, he starts to panic that he’s ruined the most important thing in his life. This is when the begging starts. He says sorry about a hundred times, will get on his knees, offer whatever you want as long as you forgive him. Mammon is actually a very compassionate person who doesn’t like upsetting his loved ones, so it’s very hard to stay mad at him. Unfortunately, he’s not great at keeping track of dates, so it might happen again. The best thing to do is organise something together and give him a few reminders when that date’s coming up.

“Oh shit! Er, Hell’s Kitchen is still open right?? I’ll buy you whatever you want, we’ll order one of everything, does that work?”

Leviathan – He almost certainly forgets because of some game event or new releases. And to make everything worse, at first he acts like the game and event was more important than the anniversary and he thinks it’s a legitimate excuse that you can’t argue with. He realises pretty quickly after the event finishes that he’s completely alone because you’re mad at him. He turns to tell you everything about the game but you don’t want to listen to him?? He sulks in his room for a while. What pushes him to apologise is when he sees you hanging out with other people instead of him. He growls away the other person, pulling you into his room and sobbing angrily against you, asking why you love other people more than him. He apologises then, desperate to have his best friend and lover back with him. He might do it again, but he learns pretty quickly to just communicate when he wants to partake in a special gaming event and then he never forgets again.

“W-Why don’t you love m-me, like you l-love him?! I’m sorry, p-please don’t leave!”

Satan – He feels guilty, but he handles it well. He is phenomenal at apology dates. He organises the perfect romantic date, taking into consideration his alpha’s likes and integrating them. If you have a favourite romantic novel, you know he’s going to recreate a date scene with you. If you have a favourite restaurant, he’s booked the best table and ordered a bouquet of your favourite flowers for the centrepiece. It’s very hard to stay mad at Satan, especially because it’s very out of character for him to forget a date so important.

“If you want any more drinks, just let me know. I want you to enjoy this evening as much as possible.”

Asmodeus – He also deals with it fairly well, even if he can’t believe that he forgot! He’s honest and upfront about forgetting and expresses regret. He will definitely try to seduce you as an apology though, offering to let you do whatever you want to him. If that doesn’t work, next step is a joint pampering session! He’s pretty good at conveying a genuine apology without making anything too dramatic. I think it’s unlikely that he would do it again, because he loves, loves, loves anniversaries!!! He genuinely can’t believe that he forgot because he normally plans everything months in advance.

“Oh! I can’t believe that I… Oh dear, here come to my room and let me make it up to you…”

Beelzebub – He’s heartbroken that he forgot! He is so upset. He apologises immediately, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, and he asks you to tell him what he needs to do to make it up to you. He doesn’t offer up solutions, he wants his alpha to pick something, so he knows they’ll enjoy it. The only thing he definitely does immediately, is offer whatever food he’s been saving for them to share with him while they discuss. He will likely ask for advice from some of his brothers, probably Belphie (who doesn’t help) and Asmo (who’s slightly more helpful). He may do it again, but he always tries his hardest to make your anniversaries as special as he can.

“Here, you can have my ice cream… I’m really sorry… What can I do?”

Belphegor – He doesn’t think it’s a big deal that he forgot, because you can both just rearrange it, right? I think it’s pretty unlikely that his alpha takes kindly to that opinion. It takes Belphie a little while to realise that a) he’s in the wrong and b) he needs to apologise. He’s not good at planning, but when he genuinely puts his mind to it, he’s actually pretty good at giving gifts. He buys something you’ve been wanting for a while, he might even put a sticky bow on top if you’re upset enough. He gives you the gift while mumbling apologies. The second you forgive him, he drags you to take a nap with him because he hasn’t been sleeping well since you’ve been mad at him. He’s pretty likely to do it again at least a few times, but he learns not to be such a dick about it eventually.

“Oh, I guess I must have forgot… We can just go tomorrow; I want to take a nap.”

Diavolo – He is gutted that he forgot. He organises the most extravagant apology dinner possible (which is pretty extravagant, because he’s a king, very dramatic, and very in love all at once). He gives a dramatic speech about how there’s no excuse, how he never wants you to think he doesn’t value your relationship etc. At this point, I imagine most people would be begging him to chill out and promising that they already forgave him. Either way, I don’t think it would ever happen again, especially because he tells all of his staff to remember your anniversary and always remind him the week before. He isn’t going to let this happen again.

“My love, I will never forgive myself for hurting you in this way. I will never stop trying to make it up to you, even if it takes me a millennium.”

Barbatos – This would never happen. He is amazing at keeping organisational data in his brain, especially data that means so much to him. Also, he can see the future, so, even if by some miracle he did forget, he would see your future reaction and know in advance that he forgot. Barbatos isn’t perfect, but he’s not one to forget important dates.

Simeon – Simeon is another one who is heartbroken that he’s treated his most beloved one this way. He feels awful. He does tear up a little bit if the relationship is old enough. Simeon makes a huge effort to create some adorable picnic date, cooking baskets and baskets of food and picking the most beautiful park. He brings flowers and bunting and a little cake that he ices with an apology in an unbelievably cute handwriting style. It’s very, very hard not to forgive him when he’s so apologetic and good at making you smile. He goes out of his way to make sure he never upsets his alpha in this way again.

“My beloved, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I will seek to make it up to you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Solomon – He doesn’t care that much about anniversaries but he’s not dumb enough (like some other people on this list *cough*) to think that saying that to your face is a good idea. He definitely tries to play it off as though he had something planned all along and that making you think he forgot was part of the plan. He then scrambles to plan things last minute, and he’s quite good at covering up his mistake. If his alpha doesn’t believe him, he makes up for his mistake with expensive and rare gifts. He will find something special for his alpha. A first edition copy of your favourite book or limited edition merchandising of your favourite media, something like that. He knows the excitement will help dull any negative emotions you have towards him. I could definitely see him doing it multiple times, but if his alpha ever expressed genuine hurt long-term about that particular habit, he would readjust his priorities. He’s not a complete asshole after all, he just sometimes has a hard time pulling his head out of said asshole.

“Here, it took me three days to track down someone who had a copy, but I finally found a first edition for you. I hope you will accept this as a token of my apology, my dearest.”

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duckymcdoorknob · 3 years

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The Fall of Red Riot

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: KiriBaku

The breakdown: Lee!Kirishima, Ler!Bakugo and Ler!Kaminari

Warnings: tickling, swearing, fluff overload

Prompt: The 1-A boys are hanging in the classroom during lunch and they’re stumped. They could not get Kirishima to spill his biggest secret: his crush. Bakugo rolls his eyes and volunteers his methods...

“There’s gotta be some way!” Kaminari whined.

“No way! I’m never telling any of you!” Kirishima barked in response.

“Tch, we’ll get it out of you at some point, shitty hair.” Bakugo noted coolly.

“OYE DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Kirishima yelled.

The boys groaned as they all ate their lunches. It was just them and Aizawa, who naturally was asleep, all alone in the classroom.

Kirishima was in a really fuckin’ bad place; he was being pestered by his friends. They all wanted to know who his secret crush was. Luckily, due to his quirk, the boy could withstand anything.

“There isn’t anything?” Midoriya questioned, “not even one thing?”

“Punch me, kick me, swirly, wet willie, draw on me, whatever you want. I’m not talkin’.” Kirishima answered bravely.

Bakugo let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes. “You’re all idiots”

“Well I don’t see you offering any ideas, Kacchan!” Deku grew defensive.

“Literally you’re all fucking stupid.” Bakugo was getting agitated; are they all really this dense?

Deku and Bakugo glared daggers at each other before Bakugo squeezed Deku’s sides.

The smaller boy yelped and leaped at least a foot in the air.

The blonde scoffed, rolled his eyes, then finally spoke up, “there’s your method. Try it out, I’m sure it’ll work.”

Kirishima, who had not been paying attention, turned toward Bakugo, “What method? What do you mean Bakubro?”

“Well now that you’ve got him wondering, I think that you should do the honors.” Kaminari chimed.

Deku grinned menacingly while Bakugo tackled Kirishima and straddled him.

“W-woah there! What gives, Bakugo?” Kirishima grew anxious, what the hell was this guy’s deal?

“Last chance to talk, shitty hair.” The blonde was smiling evilly, a side Kirishima had never seen before.

Red Riot sucked in a breath.

“Do your worst!” Kirishima cried preparing for inevitable pain, “what man can’t take a little pain?”

“Wh-Pain?” Deku asked with furrowed brows, “no-no! You got it all wrong. Kacchan is just going to exploit your body’s sensitivity is all.”

“Ohh!” Kirishima beamed. Then the realization struck, “oh”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Way to go shitty Deku, now he knows the plan!”

Nonetheless, the Katuski clawed his hand and started to lower it down to an already giggling Kirishima’s tummy.

The red haired boy used his summer camp training: act quick in heavy pressure situations.

The hero in training hardened his skin, adding an extra layer to his abdomen, causing Bakugo to groan.

“Seriously? Your shitty quirk!” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “well I can wait here all day. And when the girls come back, you get to say which one you like in front of her.”

“HAVE YOU NO MERCY?” Kirishima roared.

The sudden loud noise awoke Aizawa. He was not a happy camper when he was woken up, especially from a good nap like this.

“You know what Bakubro! I’ll be fine holding out! I can keep my skin hard as long as I wish!” Kirishima yelled cockily.

Oh this will be good.

Aizawa stood up and stealthily stood next to Midoriya. He put a finger to his lip and winked at the greenette.

“How can you interrogate me with no method? You really didn’t think this through Bakubro.” Kirishima was getting cockier by the minute, “can’t tickle someone with no soft skin!”

Aizawa grinned.

Midoriya clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from spoiling another surprise.

As Aizawa’s hair stood up in an instant, Kirishima’s rock hard abdomen disappeared into a soft, pudgy, tummy.

“YES!” Bakugo cried

“M-MISTER AIZAWA!” Kirishima whined.

“You’re the one who woke me up. Just thought I’d keep my quirk alert Incase if any villains attack.” Aizawa responded in a monotone.

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He immediately started scribbling his fingers along Kirishima’s sides.

The red haired boy kept his composure, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh? Nothing’s working huh.” Bakugo lifted his attack, “I guess we’ll just have to stop then.”

“Man you really suck at th- EEP!” Kirishima squeaked as Bakugo raised his arm above his head and poked the hollow of his arm.

It all happened so fast, Kirishima couldn’t even attempt to hold in his laughter.

“waihihihihit. Bahahahahakuhuhuhgohohoho!” Kirishima’s bubbly giggles melted Midoriya’s heart. Normally, Red Riot would be rolling all over laughing, but the uniform definitely helped minimize the feeling.

“You ready for talk yet?” Bakugo asked with a cocked grin.

“Nehehehehehever! Ihihihihihihihi cahahahan lahahahahast!” Kirishima manages through his uncontrollable giggling.

“Midoriya I might need some eye drops. This could take a while.” Aizawa muttered.

Deku chuckled and grabbed drops from Aizawa’s desk.

“You’re getting boring shitty hair. I’ll find your death spot and you’ll never stand a chance.”

“Jokes on you! You can’t even access it!” Kirishima spoke without thinking.

“Oh? Why is that? Is it blocked by me or clothes?” Bakugo cooed as he started to untuck Kirishima’s uniform shirt.

“Waihihihihit Bakubrohohohoho!” Kirishima giggled uncontrollably before any contact was made with his hyper-ticklish skin.

“What happened to being unbreakable? Where’s the great Red Riot now?” Bakugo teased as he prepares an assault, “I wonder if you share your worst spot with the shitty Deku.”

Deku yelped with wide eyes as attention turned to him. He could kill Kacchan.

“W-where’s his death spot?” Kirishima asked, followed by a gulp.

“Nowhere special. Just-“ Bakugo drilled his thumbs into Kirishima’s hips, “here.”

“BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHGOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima cried out.

“Ohh maybe you do have the same death spot as Deku!” Bakugo teased confidently.

Kirishima’s bright belly laughter filled the room. All of the other boys gathered ‘round to see what was going down.

“Bakugo, you do know you just exposed Deku right?” Kaminari questioned with amusement.

“And I care because? I’m the only one who knows how to get him howling anyways.” Bakugo replied cockily.

A loud yelp was emitted from Deku’s side of the room after Aizawa took a squeeze at both of the boy’s hips.

“Well he’s not lying.” Aizawa said calmly.

“Come make yourself useful, Pikachu. Hold his arms up.” Bakugo commanded.

Kaminari obliged and soon Kirishima was under Bakugo’s mercy, meaning there would be none.

“Tell us Shitty Hair!” Bakugo spoke louder as he removed a hand from one of Red Riot’s hip, and added a scribbling hand to one of his underarms.

“NNGH- NEHEHEHEVEHEHEHEHER!” Kirishima cried.

The boys of class 1-A all shared the same look: fearful amusement. They now knew to never mess with Bakugo, especially after today.

Bakugo lifted his attack fully. “Alright Kirishima, you leave me no choice.”

Kirishima gulped nervously.

“Either you tell me your death spot, or I embarrass the hell out of you right now.” Bakugo said menacingly.

“Y-you. Fiend. You’ll get nothin’ outta me.” Kirishima barked in rebuttal.

“Suit yourself.” Bakugo said calmly, “Pikachu.”

Kaminari drew his attention to Bakugo. While this happened, Aizawa realized that Kirishima was too weak to use his quirk, so he retreated back to his sleeping bag.

“You might wanna sit on those arms, things are gonna get ugly.”

As Kaminari obliged, Bakugo began to pinch at the pudge right above Kirishima’s bikini line. This caused the hard-rock hero’s laughter to jump up an octave.

“Found it~” Bakugo purred in a low voice.

“BAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHUHUHUGOHOHOHOHOHO! MEHEHEHEHEHEHRCHYHEHEHEHE!” Kirishima tried to writhe from under the blonde’s evil clutches.

“Then tell us!” Bakugo demanded angrily.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima whined in response.

“Then die.”

Bakugo’s evil smirk was all that Kirishima saw before his eyes squeezed shut and he was a screaming, blushing mess.

The blonde continued to squeeze the boy’s worst spot. But, he also demanded Kaminari to spider his fingers under Red Riot’s arms. And to top it all off, Bakugo started blowing fat raspberries on Kirishima’s abs.

Red Riot moved into quiet hysterics, unable to bear the tickly feeling.

“Maybe you should stop soon.” Tokoyami butted in, “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Shut up bird brain! He’s done when he confesses!” Bakugo barked back.

Kirishima was trying his best to get out of his friend’s clutches, he was even squeezing Kaminari’s butt with his free hands. But, It had no effect on the electric boy.

“BAHAHAHAKUGOHOHOHO, KAHAHAHAHAMINAHAHAHAHRIHIHIHI STAHAHAHAPPIT! Q-QUIHIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIHIT! I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHT!” Kirishima squealed as tears leaked from his eyes.

“Last chance to tell us before we get you to exhaustion!” It was Kaminari’s turn to interrogate now.

“OKAY- OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY IHIHIHIHILL TEHEHEHEHELL!” Kirishima cried.

The attack ceased, leaving Kirishima panting. After a few seconds of greedily gulping in air, Red Riot looked at his attackers, then his classmates. He had no dignity left, so why should he lie?

“It’s um... it’s...” shit. He needed to come up with a name quick, “it’s Mina.”

“You liar.” Kaminari said as he skittered his fingers once again.

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT LYIHIHIHIHING!” Kirishima cried.

“That’s enough Pikachu. He knows to tell us the truth.” Bakugo unstraddled Kirishima, Kaminari did the same. The blonde reached a hand out and helped Red Riot to his feet.

His classmates surrounded him in a circle, there was nowhere to run.

“Ah jeez. This is gonna be embarrassing.” Kirishima spoke softly.

“Just say it!” Kaminari commanded.

“It’s Ururaka!” Kirishima yelped.

“No! You’re still lying! I know when you lie because your quirk activates on only your hands!” Bakugo yelled.

“Mister Aizawa! The one time I needed you to erase my quirk!” Kirishima groaned bashfully.

“Just tell us dude we won’t judge you.” Kaminari said with a reassuring hand on Red Riot’s shoulder.

Kirishima looked at all of his classmates curious faces. What if they judged him? What if they didn’t want to be his friend anymore because of who he liked?

“W..well.. um...” Kirishima closed his eyes and sighed, “it’s.. its B-Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened along with all the other boys.

“I.. I shouldn’t have said that...” Kirishima said before running out of the room.

“Kirishima! Stop!” Bakugo yelled.

The blonde went chasing after Red Riot, leaving the rest of the class dazed.

“What did I miss?” Aizawa asked with a yawn. He saw all of his confused students, “Jesus was it Mt. Lady or something?”

“N-no... Kacchan” Deku spoke quietly.

“Oh that was obvious.” Aizawa said with an amused breath of air. “Now I owe All-Might 200 Yen.”

#bnha tickle #mha tickle #mha #bnha #lee!kirishima #ler!bakugou #aizawa #Kaminari #eijirou #Kirishima #Deku #Bakugo #Midoriya #izuku midoriya #kirishima fluff #ler!kaminari

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plume-pigmented-pili · 3 years

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Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

#tw sickness #hurt/comfort #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #virgil x roman #romantic prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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giant-sketches · 4 years

Photo

Happy birthday @gentlegiantdreamer!!! You are such a wonderful and inspiring person to me and I hold you dear to my heart! So for your birthday I made you this art and wrote you a little story to go along with it. I wish you a day full of fun and love! There is also a speedpaint!

I hope you can feel the effort I put into this and long hours of work too. I hope you and everyone enjoys my interpretations of Lilypadton and enjoy the story. Disclaimer: Almost Drowning/Cussing/Pain/Shouting/Monster Transformations

Word Count: 1746

At the start Patton was very active after his first transformation as Lilypadton. That may have been due to him going about the day believing it was a one time deal, but that wasn’t the case. From time to time the other sides would catch glimpses of his skin turning green around his hands and dark patches appearing on his neck. However, whenever the subject was brought up with the moral side he’d brush it off as a trick of the light or some kind of baking material he missed in his clean up. They all knew better though, especially his boyfriends Janus and Virgil.

“We need to go talk to him….TODAY!” Janus was pacing around Virgil’s room with his arms crossed, expressing his impatience with his partner.

Virgil thought it best to give Patton space, but his changes were becoming more frequent. Now things were even worse as their cutie had locked himself in his room for the past two days.

“I know you wanted to give him space, but now he’s trapped himself in his room. We’re the only ones on this side of the mindscape that can help him through this.” Janus hissed and cursed himself for not doing something sooner.

“Please calm down Jan.” Virgil got up from his bed to hold his boyfriend. “It’s going to be alright. Let’s go see him now and tell him about what’s happening to him.” He paused in thought. “Though, I never thought we’d ever have this kind of discussion with him honestly. To think he was like us this whole time.”

Janus touched his scaled face and looked at Virgil with soft eyes. “Are you going to show him? You know how h-” “Yeah I know...but I have to. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hide it when he’s going through something ten times worse.” Janus kissed Virgil’s cheek to reassure him.

Both left the room and slowly made their way to Patton’s door. Virgil tried the door knob, still locked. “Patton? Sweetpea we’ve come here to see how you are doing. Can you let us in, please?” Silence...no wait there was some kind of groaning sound coming from behind the door. “G-go away…” Was that Patton just now? It sounded like he was gurgling water while trying to speak.

“We can’t do that! We have something important to talk-or show you!” Janus looked to Virgil nervously. The former dark side nodded his head as Jan’s nails grew out to a point and sliced the doorknob off. “Excuse the intrusion.”

Both stepped into a darkened and rather humid room. Thankfully, both of them could see in the dark. In the corner they spotted Patton curled up and shaking, facing the wall. He visibly showed signs of changing with his green tinted skin and dark patches all over his arms and neck. “Pat?”

Startled, Patton sprang to his feet and turned to face them. They gasped at how their little buddy appeared taller now, his eyes now distinctly like a frog’s, and his hair showed faded tips of green. His eyes were filled with tears as he had to look down at his friends. He felt like a monster!

“No, no please….you have to LEAVE!” Patton’s voice croaked and boomed as he shot up another 10 feet and banged his head on the ceiling with a loud thunk. He groaned as he fell to his hands. The tears intensified as water seeped from the cracks in the wall and began flooding the room.

“Shit! Hold on to me!” Virgil clung to Janus for dear life as they quickly rose to the ceiling with the increasing water level. Patton was down below still weeping and expanding. His form pressing up against every nook and cranny of his tiny room. “Patton! Patton please! You need to stop crying or we’re going to- gurrglrrglr”

Time was up. The water had now completely filled the room as Janus and Virgil started sinking. Luckily, their froggy friend heard their pleas and snapped out of his distress. Quickly he expanded the room, changing it’s form as he scooped up the two tenderly in his webbed hands. With a kick of his strong legs Pat breached the surface. The room was now a large pond with only a small island in the center. The sun was warm and there was the sound of life all around them, but this was no time to relax.

“Virgil? Janus? Oh my gosh please, you have to be okay kiddos! Please!” Patton begged for his sweethearts to be okay as he set them on the soft grass. He poked at their stomachs as gently as he could.

*Cough* *Cough*

Oh thank goodness! Both were hacking up small volumes of water as they gasped for air, sweet-sweet air! “Patton?” Their vision was foggy from nearly drowning as they tried to focus on the green blob in front of them. Virgil raised up his arms, “A-are you okay?”

“What do you mean am I okay?! Are you okay? You two almost drowned b-because of me!” The big softie was on the verge of tears once again as he leaned in to nuzzle his dark darling with his nose.

“Woah...how big are you Patty?” Virgil giggled. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be cuddled by a gentle green snout of all things. “We’re okay Pat. Just a bit out of breath and-” Janus shivered, he had gotten too cold.

Virgil noticed as he escaped from Patton’s schnoz and immediately started cuddling up to his scaly boyfriend to warm him up. Pat climbed up onto the island, but at his current size of 100 feet he covered the majority of it as he scooped them up in his hand to hold them both closer to the sun. Jan was thankful for this as he hissed happily. His cold blood started to run warm again.

“Thank you darling! The numbness is fading now.” He lifted himself up to look at Patton with a warm expression. “Wow, look at you Pat.” “Yeah, Mr. Green right here.” They both joked to cut the tension. Patton laughed along with them as the ground shook, causing ripples in the water. His size really was something to behold. Still, their joy was cut short, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bottled up my emotions like that and hidden away. You two could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh Patty! We understand…w-we have something to tell you.” Virgil looked to Janus hoping he would start. “That’s right Patton, Virgil and I have both gone through what you’re experiencing right now. Okay, maybe not the exact same thing, but something similar.”

Patton was surprised. “W-what do you mean?” Janus smiled flashing his fangs, “I’m sure you’ve already noticed my face, but have you ever wondered why it looks like this?” Pat shook his head, he always thought it’d be taboo to ask about. “It’s because of my monster side.”

Monster side?! What was that? Patton was obviously confused as Virgil spoke up, “Mhm...Janus, Remus, and I...we all have a monster side to us. Janus doesn’t hide his like I do though and Remus is always shifting so it just seems ‘normal’ for him. It was a huge surprise when yours was revealed. Honestly, I never thought you’d be like us Pat.” Virg was feeling anxious as he kept his head down while talking.

“B-but you’ve never looked like Janus at all Stormcloud. What does your monster side look like?” Damn...that was a question he really wanted to avoid. “Guess there’s no use hiding it anymore huh? B-before I show you, you have to promise me you won’t freak out...okay Pat?”

Virgil looked so serious as he stared at Patton. What was he so worried about? “Awe kiddo, you know I’d never be scared of you! I love you too much!” He beamed a smile that put the sun to shame at them as Virgil sighed feeling a bit more relieved. “Alright.”

Concentrating, he closed his eyes as eight pitch black spider legs spread out from his back starting from the spine. He winced in pain, it’d been a long time since he last transformed. A pair of sharp mandibles poked out from the corners of his mouth; four slits opened up underneath his cheeks in pairs, each containing a solid black eye with a hint of purple.

“Aaaahhhh!!!” Suddenly, Virgil screamed lightly in pain as the transformation came to end with his new set of fangs and claws growing to a point. Janus caught him as he slumped over, huffing from exhaustion. Weakly, he looked up to Patton trying his best to smile.

Patton was mortified as he watched Virgil writhe in pain in his hand. When it all finally came to an end he was looking eyes wide at a big black spider...fuck! His heart was racing as he tried to not physically throw his boyfriend into the pond. Wait! That’s right this was his little sweetie, his Stormcloud, Prince of Darkness, etc. There was no need to be so scared...he gulped as he reached down to stroke his loves face.

Oh! He was still so soft and honestly his spider legs kind of tickled. The fear in his heart dissolved instantly. Patton giggled at how nervous he was only moments ago as he pressed them both to his cheek. “So I’m not alone after all.”

God, Virgil was instantly healed by his Sweetpea’s warmth. He hugged into the green flesh happily. “Of course not Patton, we’ll both always be here for you!”

“I’m so happy right now! You two are the best boyfriends in the whole wide world!!!”

Patton slid into the pond once more as he laid on his back. He kissed his cuties to his plush lips and then placed them right on top of his chest as he floated along the water. All the while they laughed and smiled at their giant lovers' touch.

“This new form is scary, but at long as I have you two I think I’ll be okay.”

“We love you Patton and we’ll always love you no matter what you are.”

The couple laid on Pat’s chest as tiny frogs hopped up from the lily pads to play with them as they enjoyed their time together. All content in knowing that each of them had a little cute monster inside of them that made them special.

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wattpadscapcons · 2 years

Text

New Years Prompt: New Year Party w/ Pregame Shuichi.

Entry specially made for @legendarytreasurerhighway

First party he's ever been invited to and it was from by you. He could have fainted when you handed him the envelope yesterday morning at school. An angel inviting him of all people? Even if it ends up going wrong he would cherish that moment.

You surprised him once again by sitting with him at lunch and actually talking to him like he was a normal person. You could have dropped to the floor and worshipped you right then for making him feel seen for once. It would make up for the abuse he's endured for at least the past year if he could talk to you more like this.

Ah! Right you were talking! Focus Shuichi focus! What were you talking about again? The party? Yeah, that had to be it! He just needs to focus on your words.

"Shuichi?"

You called him by his first name. That meant you were friends right? He surely hoped that was the case.

"Huh?"

"You were spacing out again. Did you hear what I said?"

"Oh, no, I-I'm sorry! I guess I'm just feeling a l-little excited."

"First party you've gone to?"

"Mhm."

"Well remember, there are going to be a lot of people there. So it's best to clean yourself up a little bit. Brush back your cowlick, and don't go too crazy with your clothes. No suit and tie, ok? Something casual that is still presentable."

You had ran a hand through his hair most likely trying to show him how to get it to stay down. It was hard to listen to what you were saying. He couldn't help but shiver at the sensation. It didn't hurt.

"G-got it!"

"I do have to warn you though..."

"Huh?"

"I'm not sure, but I just want to let you know that there is a possibility that Momota may show up. If he does, I'll let you know.... Oh wait I don't have your number yet do I?"

"Ah...n-no."

"Could you hand me your phone for a second?"

This almost seemed to be too good to be true. Sure, you've been nice to him in the past, and you've talked a little bit out of school on the way home... Was this a trap? Regardless, he could only hesitate for a moment before handing you his phone. The thought of having someone nice to talk to was better than of the empty promises his old "friends" left him with. What's better is that you've never seemed to taken aback by him or his behavior.

He could feel he was making a strange face again, this always happened when he got into deep thought about things. He shook himself back to normal quickly and hoped that if you did notice that you wouldn't second guess your decision of being closer to him. He could only imagine what it'd be like going back to being alone...

"Here you go. Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome."

Good. It didn't seem like you had noticed. He could let out a sigh of relief at that. He could feel his anxiety flare up actually thinking about the party, but if you were going to be there he could deal with it... Hopefully you wouldn't mind if he just followed you around during the event right? He doesn't know if kids from other schools were invited too. What a scary thought, what if someone like Momota started telling them rumors about him during the party? He could surely get ganged up on if that happened.

*ding* A notification on his phone?

'I'm still here y'know.'

Who? Oh. Oh. Shit he was ignoring you all over again.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry!"

"Lost in thought again?"

It was like you could read him like a book. He didn't really mind it. You were being so patient with him...

"Y-yeah...The t-though of Momota....being there is a bit m-much."

"You can just stick with me during the party if it makes you more comfortable. Promise I won't let anything bad happen."

Ok now you really were reading his mind. Stop that, it's just making him more nervous. You're being so nice to him...

"Are you s-sure you want to do t-that?"

"I don't have any reason not to. You haven't done anything "creepy" yet so I doubt you're going to do anything in a room full of people."

"Ah...."

That hurt a little bit. The fact that you've heard the rumors.

"Hey. I didn't mean it like that. No need to look so ashamed. I know the rumors going around aren't true. The worst you have ever done is tried to leave a present to some girl you liked back in freshman year, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Guess that you overheard her talking about something she was wanting and people took that out of context when you got her the gift..."

"....H-how do you know about t-that anyways?"

"You learn to shift through enough lies to find the truth."

Wow. You just sounded like Ms. Kirgiri just then. You are so much cooler than he first though. Shuichi focus, you can fanboy later! Right, right he still had to listen to you carefully.

You were so nice to spend almost the entire school day with him. Partnered up during class without batting an eye, distracting Kaito long enough so Shuichi could get away, lunch together. God it was one of the best days of his life. Maybe if the party went well the two of you could do this every day. What a nice day dream...

"Alright well it's been fun but I got to get ready for the party."

Did you have to go so soon?

"Ah, c-can I help?"

"You going to let me pick your outfit for you?"

What was this some kind of trade deal? Were you going to put him in something embarrassing? Ah what the hell, he'd do anything to get a little bit more time to talk to you.

"I-I'll do whatever you want me to do!"

That came out a lot louder than he was going for. You still seemed pleased with his answer though.

"Think your uncle would allow that? We could be out all night...."

"My uncle is b-barely home. I can assure y-you I won't get in trouble or anything!"

"Alright. Ready to go shopping then?"

Shopping? Who goes shopping hours before a party? Oh, you meant for him didn't you? He didn't know whether to be happy that you were willing to waste money on him, or offended that you didn't trust his taste in clothing. Ugh what am I saying? He probably would have been made fun of if he showed up at the party wearing his Danganronpa merch.

Soon you were having him try on clothes he would have never thought to put together. Your tastes were....a lot more stylish. Even getting him to try for a more goth look in one of the outfits you picked out. All he really needed was makeup to finish that look.

"What you think?"

"I don't think I would have ever t-thought to wear this to the party...t-that's for sure."

"Well, I know that when I visited you last that you had something similar on. I thought it might be a little more comfortable for you. I'm not sure if goth is exactly your style, but it does look nice on you. Of course, don't let me be your voice of reason here."

"I kinda liked e-everything you've picked out for me...It's really h-hard to choose just one."

"Then I guess I'll just have to buy them all."

"E-excuse me?"

Ok somethings up. Red flags are all over the place for him right now. This is not normal. People are not this nice to him without there being some kind of catch.

"What?"

"I h-have no way of p-paying you back for this! It's t-too much!"

"Oh, don't worry about it. Just think of it as... a really early birthday present? ...Oh whatever, I'm still buying it for you regardless."

"Y-you don't have to!"

"I want to."

"......W-why are you being so nice to me?"

"Cause I like you? I thought it was obvious."

Dammit, you broke the boy. Oh wait he's still here. He can barely believe that you just said that, and to him of all people. He can't even properly form a sentence to convey what he was feeling. You like him? Why? It was really difficult for him not to start crying then and there. He can't handle people being this nice to him.

"Look you don't have to feel pressured into to saying anything back to that. I just thought that it'd be nice to help you get out of the house for a little while. I was wanting to help you for a while but a lot of people have been holding me back on this. I just figured that if I lost friends because I invited you, then they weren't really my friends to begin with. You have just as much right to be happy as everyone else, and I guess this was the best way I could show it."

Ok, now he's crying. He doesn't even care if you're lying or if he's dreaming right now. Don't wake him up, he seriously doesn't care. This is literally the happiest he has been since....ever.

"Woah, hey, there's no need to-"

"This is the best day of my life..."

All you can really do is ruffle his hair at that statement. He is absolutely adorable. Humble to a fault. Making him have a really good day was the best thing you could ever come up with. Seeing him smile is worth losing some dumb Barbie wannabes that call themselves your friends.

"Hey, remember. The day isn't over yet."

"Heh..."

"Got to still get your hair done, oh wait did you want to wear makeup?"

"Too much!"

That would be more interaction with people than he could handle right now.

"Oh come on, it's not that much!"

"Too many people in a s-short period of t-time."

"Oh. Do you think you can sit through at least a haircut?"

"W-why do I need that?"

".....You haven't noticed yet...Ok this is a little awkward..."

"W-what?"

"Kaito messed with your hair the other day..."

That son of a bitch.

"And he well...cut it...in an odd angle.... I do know someone who can fix it though! Trust me."

"......"

Shuichi felt embarrassed all over again... Of course Kaito had to ruin one of the only things he felt good about himself for. At least he didn't try to "dye" it while Shuichi was taking a nap in class...

"Ok..."

"I'm sorry. I thought you already knew..."

"Is it that noticeable?"

"Your cap seems to do a good job at covering it. It's still worth fixing."

"Why not just shave it?"

He's gone from crying to pissed off real fast.

"Not sure if you were being sarcastic but that's an idea. If that's what you want I'm sure I can make it happen."

You were still being so nice though. It's not fair...

"W-whatever you recommend..."

Fixing his hair, buying him new clothes, and inviting him to a new years party. He was already emotionally exhausted by the time the party was about to start.

"You sure you don't want to just go home?"

"You've already d-done so much for me t-today-"

"You thought that staying was the least you could do for me?"

"Mhm."

"That's sweet, really. I honestly was going to skip the party halfway through myself. We can just b.s. around for a while somewhere else when that time comes. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

The party was nerve-wracking. He always felt like people were looking at him, and he would just follow you around trying to look indifferent to what was going around around him. He was failing, but the makeover was getting him more positive attention from people he didn't know. Even from some he knew from school.

"Hey, nice to see you stepped up your game man."

"Thanks."

"Kagehara! Damn man, where'd you get that outfit? Here you are actually looking cool for once."

"Thank you?"

He was really starting to miss his hat, he was questioning why he left it in the car. There were just so many people. It was starting to get hard for him to breathe.

"How you doing Shu? Need a break?"

"....Y-yeah."

You were able to lead him outside for fresh air. And that was it, he didn't have to go back in if he didn't want to.

"Jesus..."

"It's a bit much. I know, trust me I wasn't too social at my first party....It's got kinda boring though. You want to just skip it?"

"You got a p-place in mind?"

"I was thinking I could just crash at your place? I mean, I know I got you all dolled up, but I may have just gone overboard. Maybe you could tell me about that show everyone says you're obsessed with."

"Danganronpa?"

"Yeah."

His eyes lit up. Maybe you really would stick around like he was hoping you would. You seemed to be content just listening to him rant on about characters he liked on the way home. You only ruffled his hair when he got too excited explaining plotlines. You didn't make any complaints when he turned on the tv to watch reruns of the show that was quickly becoming his second favorite thing in the world. The first being you.

"Careful now. You'll spoil the entire show for me."

"Oh right, right! Sorry!"

The both of you kinda forgot about New Years altogether...

This went all over the place but I thought you should still get your daily douse of pregame Shuichi in.

#pregame saihara #pregame #danganronpav3 #danganronpa #kagehara #kagehara x reader #pregame shuichi x reader #pregame shuichi #pregame drv3 #pregame saihara x reader #pregame shuichi imagine #pregame shuuichi #pregame!shuichi #ndrv3

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notmrskennedy · 3 years

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Bites and Bullet Holes

(Spencer Reid x Female leaning but sorta GN! Reader)

Summary: Spencer, during college, was bitten by a dog. Working a case involving dogs brings back old memories and friends...

W/C: 3,384

Warnings: Dog bites, bullet holes, bad writing?

A/N: Guess what I found y’all? I haven’t edited it one single bit but I hope it goes over well anyway. When I was working at the kennel I kept having anxiety over one of my kids getting into a fight so I made this. Be a little extra gentle with this one.

---

As he leaned over the victim, he made the mistake of thinking about you. Spencer thought he’d gotten over it. The whole randomly thinking about you thing—the thing that’s happened too many times before. He’d chalked it up to you being best friends 15 years ago. Told himself that it’s normal to miss your friends from college.

But over a dead body? This was new.

Though he supposes the dead girl could’ve looked like you in another timeline. There’s facial structure similarities—at least to you 15 years ago at 19. She’s been strangled with her dog’s leash and there’s some unspoken quality about her that just…jerks him into nostalgia over you.

(You are probably the one that got away, but if he’s being honest, you live in DC. He could go see you right now if he wanted to.)

Morgan leans over Spencer and points at the dog leash. “It had to be someone she knew if the dog went off with our un-sub.”

Spencer nods, fidgeting with the 15 year old scars on the inside of his wrist. Whether or not Morgan noticed, he thankfully doesn’t press. Spencer is having enough trouble stamping down that knee-jerk reaction to think about you, let alone if Derek thinks to point out the magical, ‘hey weren’t you bitten by a dog?’

Spencer doesn’t remember the incidence well enough to comment. He wonders if you do.

“We’ll have to check shelters for the dog,” Spencer remarks. “3.3 million dogs enter shelters every year in the US.”

Morgan nods, pulls off a glove, pulls out his phone. Spencer looks around the park. Behind the police tape are plenty of people walking their dogs. The sorts of breeds that you’ve gushed about 15 years ago. His brain knew too much about dobermans, shepherds, mallinois—he could even hear that pretty little gasp you had when you’d point out a particularly well trained monster of a pet.

Spencer wonders if you ever did anything with your finance degree, if you even ended up finishing college at all. You’d come close to dropping out over calculus—he hadn’t been around long enough to help you through the even harder stuff. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted Garcia to look you up, but it was the first time he’d considered it.

“Music to my ears, mama,” Morgan laughs into the phone and Spencer tunes back in.

“I’ll get that puppy BOLO out,” Garcia chirps back. Spencer can imagine her wringing a fluffy pencils through her fingers. “We’re going to find this doggie and make sure that psycho didn’t get him too.”

Spencer smiles despite himself. Penelope would’ve liked you.

JJ sets coffee down in front of his stack of files. She smiles, gracefully sits down next to him. Spencer tries his best to ignore her insistence. Tries to ignore the ever prominent eye contact screaming ‘We’re going to talk about something uncomfortable!’

“So, Spence,” she says, pausing for his attention with a sip of her own coffee. He looks up for half a glance before going back to the files. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure there’s something in this stack of work the first victim had brought home with her. They all knew the un-sub, he had to be somewhere.

“Spencer,” she says more insistently. He makes the mistake of looking up, of letting her place a hand on his. She gently turns the wrist over and pointedly glances towards the teeth marks. “Are you doing okay?”

He opens his mouth, but decides some things are better kept to himself. He thinks about saying that no, he wasn’t alright, that being plagued by thoughts of the first-love-of-his-life is haunting him more than the dog fight.

That he can see your face in each of these victims. In their dogs. In the places they died.

Dogs didn’t like him. They never did. The dog bite wasn’t the big deal out of the altercation.

JJ won’t understand, so he offers her a truthful smile and says, “I’m okay. Seriously. More than 4.5 million people are bitten by dogs each year. I’m not special.”

JJ nods. Spencer goes back to his files. He forgets to hide his lovesick agony. JJ forgets not to notice.

It’s 4AM and he knows he’s remembering it wrong. That the dog hadn’t been that big. That the teeth hadn’t really gotten him that bad. The bright red devil eyes and thousand yards of slobber were more than grossly incorrect.

He sits up in bed and forces himself to remember the parts that were real. How real you had been. Before and after.

Your car had broken down as you were leaving for work—already late—and you’d begged him for a ride. Promised calculus homework on your boss’s couch and only having to let the dogs out. No shit. No bleaching crates. No nothing. Just you, him, and some calculus homework.

He’d caved. Now, running his hands over his eyes, he laughs at how obvious he had to have been. A skinny little 19 year old pimple of a boy majorly crushing on the first person to pick him out of a crowd and decide they’d be friends. The first friend who’d forced him to a tailgate at a football game. The only person he’d do absolutely anything for.

And it was just like you promised. Your cute little nose wrinkle. Your horribly frustrated glares. Your over dramatic ‘I’m dropping out!’s every fifteen minutes. And it’d been great until you both heard a thunderous snap of a wooden fence and the wildest, most murderous howling he’d ever heard.

You’d both bolted for the door, scrambling to get through the gates into the back. There’d been a moment of calm. Another beat. Another. And…you both had stumbled around the corner to find the next door neighbour’s dog, broken chain, trying to kill one of the kennel’s dogs.

There had been no moment’s hesitation on Spencer’s part. He’d stupidly rushed forward, lodged his hand between the neighbour’s mutt and the sweetest dog he’d ever met. He’d yanked her free from the mutt’s jaws, only to find his own wrist dragging along the teeth.

(He realised later that he’d always had a propensity to run head first into danger. No calculations needed.)

There’d been two beats for the dog to process it’s chew toy was in Spencer’s arms. To process that Spencer made a better victim. That Spencer’s throat and limbs were softer and easier to tear. Thankfully, he’d scrambled back enough that when the dog launched, it didn’t catch flesh. It chomped on air. Less than three inches from him.

Fangs. Tightened lips. Black gums. Slobber.

The mutt could be equated to Stephen King’s The Sun Dog. Always hesitant to process his trauma, it’s the one book—gifted by you during a Halloween birthday for him—that sits untouched on his bookshelves. There’s too much of you in the inscription in the cover. Too much of that horrible mutt in the pages.

The next part of the night blurred in his memories. In his near perfect memory, it blurred. Trauma, right?

You’d screamed. You were in front of him. You had the dog’s chain in your hands. He was running. The dog was heavy in his arms. His arm stung. You were screaming. He should’ve gone back.

Five god-awful minutes later, you’d come into the house. Limping. Clutching onto your arm. You’d taken one look at Spencer running his wrist under the tap and forgotten about your own injuries. Despite the blood dripping off your arm. Or the quiet yelp every time you stretched. You’d barely taken ‘I’m fine, you’re the one bleeding’ as a reason to not bandage him up first.

The only thing that calmed down the dream every time he had it was the memory of holding your hand while you got stitches. How your face pinched with the pain. How you’d said, ‘next time, it’s your turn to take the bullet.’ How he’d smiled and promised.

Spencer watches the clock tick by and decides it’s too late to go back to sleep. Hotch’ll be up in an hour. No need to delay his start. Women were dying. Women you would’ve been friends with.

“Okay, crime-fighters, I found our connection,” Garcia chirps over the speaker phone. “All of our victims attended very specialised dog training courses at a facility just outside of DC. The owner said they’d send in one of their trainers to talk to you. Should be there anytime now.”

“What kind of specialised training?” Emily asks. Spencer feels like he should be contributing, should be processing any of this, but his head is pounding. He doesn’t have a hangover, but god does it feel like it.

Garcia hums as she types. “It’s a military facility. Awww, they’ve got puppy pictures on their website!”

“Garcia—“

“Right, right. It’s a top notch facility and oh! A bunch of the FBI dogs graduate from there. I wonder if they get little caps and gowns and—“

“Hey, baby girl, the trainer’s here. We gotta run,” Morgan interrupts, though he’s all smiles to stare at whomever is plaguing his interest.

There’s another squeal of please get puppy pictures before the call cuts and Spencer finally has the self preservation to look. And god does he look.

15 years has made no difference on your skin and he can’t believe he’s not staring at you from across a lecture hall. The only indication you’ve changed is the nervous smile you’ve plastered on and the dog at your side. Every fun fact about german shepherds instantly crosses his mind and he can’t help but drop his jaw a little further.

It sinks to the floor when you spot him and wave. You wave. At him. In front of coworkers.

He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself. That easy smile reserved for movie nights falls back into place on your lips. Twinkles in your eyes. 15 years haven’t passed. Maybe he needs to check for pimples again.

“Y/n,” he croaks and the same time his name leaves your lips. The dog at your side stands and you correct the gesture with a harsh word in what he’s sure is German.

“FBI, huh?” Your eyes trail over every inch of him, crossing your arms in a relaxed, familiar kind of way. “I expected more math, Mr. I Like Derivatives.”

“The shepherd there doesn’t look like finance either, y/n,” he teases back like no time has passed. Like he doesn’t immediately feel incredibly guilty for ditching you for the academy.

“Oh come on,” you huff, “you really think that I was cut out for an office job? I lasted six months.”

And before he can warn you, even think about warning you about the team that’s slowly creeping up behind him, they are all suddenly there. Very keen on knowing the ins and outs of how you know Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, you gonna introduce us?” Morgan smirks, clapping a painful hand on Spencer’s shoulder. You busy yourself with petting the dog at your hip, looking everywhere but Morgan’s insistent gaze.

“Guys, this is my friend y/n from college.”

JJ raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation, but plows ahead with introductions. Takes charge of guiding you to an interview room. Gets through the entire interview without once asking about your relationship with him.

Morgan watches Spencer rubbing the scars and makes the leap. “You okay, kid?”

Spencer breaks from staring at your face as you talk about getting your start in Germany—Germany—and swallows. This was fine. It’s okay to tell his friend—his brother—about the story he’s never really talked about.

“I stupidly put myself in the middle of a dog fight,” Spencer grits out, flexing and un-flexing his fingers. Every scar burns and he can’t help but stare at your smile again. “Y/n saved my life. She choked out the dog, Morgan, before he got a hold of me. Left the hospital with 12 stitches.”

“Oh,” was his all too helpful response. They both turned back to the interview. How everything jovial about your entire countenance shifted once JJ started mentioning the victims.

“Look, Agent Jareau,” you say, leaning dangerously far away from the conversation, “They are—they were really smart women with some dangerous dogs. I don’t know—I just—there’s a lot of sickos out there.”

Every profiler within a 20 mile radius can hear the change in tone, can hear the fear. Spencer knows a lot can change in 15 years, but he thought for sure you’d never become a serial killer. He doesn’t know if it’s all his years in the bureau or if he’s still too attached to you, but you don’t seem like the killer. Not like JJ seems to think so. Sure, you’re terrified, but the dog you have is nosing your arm. Giving you big ole puppy eyes. Spencer doesn’t think a serial killer can pour that much into a relationship with an animal.

“What do you mean?” JJ clocks the movement and switches to a maternal type of body language, tone. “Is there something going on?”

Your hand pauses on the dog’s head, and it noses your hand into action. “I, uh, just got a weird letter two weeks ago. It wasn’t—it was just weird. Off-putting.”

“Right before the first victim,” Spencer mutters. Weird letters indicated stalking. Victims with you as a central point meant stalking. Stalking meant you were probably next. Oh, god, you were next.

JJ stretched a hand across the table and took yours. “You’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, y/n.”

Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands. It was so much worse than normal. Should he stand? But what should he do with his hands because crossing them seemed too defensive? Or should he just sit down? But where? And was that rude?

Instead, he just took the cup of tea you offered and followed you like a lost puppy. Granted, it was your house and he was definitely lost. He also felt vaguely at home—there were a decent amount of bookshelves by his standards and even more mismatched furniture than he had. The house was well cared for and when you sat him down on your couch, you swept away a stack of training manuals, all sporting worn covers.

Was it wrong to feel like he was settling onto your old apartment couch for movie nights?

You puff out a breath of air and lean your head dramatically into the back of the couch. “So, since you’re my FBI escort, is it wrong to ask if you still like cheesy 90s movies?”

He shakes his head. Grins. “You still have Legally Blonde?”

You just giggle as you head for a stack of movies. You strike up some conversation as you rummage and he knows he’s hooked all over again. It’s going to take weeks to get over you again. It’d taken months the last time, and he feels slightly less attached this time. But did he really think it would take more than a simple question about the latest thing he’s read? He wishes he knew you better, just as well as you seem to still know him.

Though by the end of the movie, you’ve both returned to your college days. Practically curled into each other’s side. You still have horrible commentary about the movie, peppered in with Spencer’s annoying movie trivia. If it was anyone else, he figures, he would’ve been kicked out long ago.

You still distinctly smell of vanilla, flailing the scent around as you move closer and further and closer again. You wear enthusiasm with your whole body and if you aren’t turning rapidly between facing Spencer and the movie, how could you possibly begin to explain correctly?

Your shoulder keeps a constant pressure against his, your knees half over his thigh. There’s too many instances of hollering and laughing that you grab onto his knee to steady yourself. If this hadn’t been a protective detail, he might’ve lost his mind.

Thank god for focus. Work. Work. Work. Not your hands on his knee. Definitely not your smile as you declare your affection for scented resume stationary. Totally not how hot it’s getting under your too affectionate gaze.

“Spence, I really missed this,” you whisper, nudging your shoulder with his. “I know it’s weird to be thrown together after 15 years, but I—I missed you.”

“I—“ missed you too; fell in love with you in college; think I love you now.

But there’s no time for heartfelt declarations when someone’s incessantly banging on the door. Spencer’s got half a mind to get the door for you, holster his gun, focus on keeping you safe. The banging doesn’t soften as he calls out that he’s on his way. If anything it gets worse.

And it should’ve been the first red flag of the night.

Spencer opens the door and thinks very loudly, “why the fuck do I always run headfirst into danger?”

Their un-sub, a buzzcut that looks more Army that not, shakes a pistol at Spencer and demands to be let inside. There’s only so many ways to defuse the situation, so he back ups, tucks you behind him. Their un-sub winds a little tighter, shaking like one of those monkeys with cymbals.

“McLaggen?” you whimper behind Spencer and the Army man fires a shot into the floor. You grip tighter onto Spencer’s shirt, digging in your fingers dangerously close to his skin.

The buzzcut is red, boiling over with rage, words bubbling out of his throat. “Y/n, I just can’t stand to see you with them. You never notice me. You’re always working, so I thought I’d get your attention. Cut the competition. I just—you mean so much to me, y/n. You mean too much.”

Spencer is sure he won’t remember this day accurately as he pushes you just a little further behind him. He’s about to do something so incredibly stupid. Dear lord, why the fuck is he like this? And he lunges.

The gun’s trapped in both of their hands. There’s one more bullet fired—at the ground he’s sure. There’s a squeak of fear. Just enough of a distraction. One more ounce of weight thrown around. One more lasting punch. McLaggen lands on the floor. The gun skitters away. McLaggen groans as he’s handcuffed.

You gasp and he realises immediately that he’s bleeding. That he’s on the floor. That there is a bullet lodged in his thigh. Again.

One string of swears later, you’re on the phone with 911. Yes, he’s shot. Yes, there’s another in handcuffs. No, I’m not a whore, send the damn ambulance.

You take his hand as he lays there, much like he did in the hospital 15 years ago. Unlike then, you’ve got tears pricking at your eyes. You’re sniffling like a school girl, and he’s not sure if you’ve said that aloud.

“Spencer!” You wipe a stray tear. Squeeze his hand too tightly. “Why the hell, you freakin’ moron, did you take a bullet for me?”

He laughs, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. You are too pretty to be this upset at his laughter. You are too lovely to be worried about him. To still be worried, like nothing has changed one bit.

Every inch of him is trembling. Blood loss and bullets are bitches.

“Y/n,” he wheezes through dry lungs and more leg pain than he remembers there being, “I promised.”

You blink your eyes. What the hell are you talking about, Spencer Reid, you absolute idiot?

“I promised I’d take the next bullet. In the hospital.” He grins, groans as he moves to drag you into a hug. “I’m a man of my word, y/n, and I promise that if I keep the leg, we’re going out. Properly.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumble into his ear and squeeze his neck tighter. If the paramedics don’t bother to pull you off, who’s to say you won’t stay like that forever? Attached to the loveable, danger prone idiot, who traded dog bites for bullet holes?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid x y/n #please i beg of you be gentle

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nightshade-minho · 3 years

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MOONSTORM [ iii ]

You know that feeling when you know you’ve made a terrible mistake?

Yes. That feeling.

It’s a feeling that never really goes away. You had to learn that the hard way.

Irrevocable actions, stupid mistakes. You were heart-wrenchingly familiar with all of it.

To err was human apparently. You...weren’t human, though.

It seems like being superhuman was insignificant, after all. At the end of the day, nothing mattered. None of your powers did.

Despite it all, you still lost him.

warnings: depressing shit (it gets better though dw) mentions of death, violence, sexual content, future smut

wc: 2.8k

moonstorm masterlist

It felt like the world had lost all color.

It had happened so many months ago, and yet it still felt like it happened just yesterday. The memories of stumbling out of his lair, covered in his blood and your tears, still fresh in your mind.

The image of his face, betrayed and yet so calm as he uttered those last words to you...it haunted you constantly.

You found yourself looking at the moon every night, dreaming about what could have been. The nightmares endlessly plagued your sleep as well, causing you to fear even your own bed.

No...even after Hyunjin's effects on you wore off, your own brain took on the responsibility of torturing you by conjuring up more heartbreaking dreams. Dreams which made you long for something you knew you’d lost forever- never to be yours again.

You never truly realized how much you’d gotten used to having him around. Life was so glaringly empty and meaningless without him. It was a complicated relationship…and yet it still left a giant hole in you. An all-encompassing despair that threatened to swallow you up.

With him gone, it just didn’t feel right to be a superhero anymore. How could you be the strong role model for everyone in the city to rely on when you knew just how weak you’d become? Even when the newspapers were covered with your heroics, even as the mayor addressed the city and expressed his desire to give you a medal for stopping yet another supervillain from roaming the streets- you stubbornly refused to don that costume ever again.

You stayed hidden through it all. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go out in public anymore. Your vigilante costume lay forgotten in the back of your closet- crumpled and sad.

It just...felt wrong. At the moment you felt nothing but pathetic. You didn’t have time to waste saving a snotty kitten stuck on a tree or stop a petty criminal from robbing a bank- all you were fit to do was eat ice cream straight from the can, and watch a soulless movie. The same routine, day in and day out. You hadn’t left your apartment in nearly a month, not even to buy groceries. Every second was spent wrapped up in blankets, pondering what you’d done.

Was that selfish of you? Probably. You were discovering new flaws by the second.

Sighing, you sat up a little, your ass almost numb from how long you’d spent lying down. Glancing up, you saw your father’s portrait looking down at you. You swallowed and slowly stood up from your bed, groaning to yourself. Why did he suddenly seem so disappointed?

Maybe a little bit of fresh air is what you needed, considering you were starting to believe the paintings were changing expressions. After all, you had work to do anyway- might as well take advantage of the nearby café’s free WiFi.

***

Here at last.

You sat down in the corner of the café, so tired you could barely move a muscle. But you had to get a move on with your life- the recovery should have happened by now.

And yet here you were, months later. Nothing seemed to be able to fill the hole he left behind, and even now you wished you could go back home as soon as possible.

Had it...had it been a mistake?

Of course it had. Your misery was evidence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could convince yourself that you’d done it for the good of the city.

The truth was... Hwang Hyunjin scared you.

He made you feel things, made you want to be someone else entirely. Every ounce of rigidity and austerity you’d imposed in yourself disappeared every time you were with him. He made you want to give everything up- give up all the responsibilities and burdens you carried on your shoulders to be with him. To be like him- free.

It wasn’t Hyunjin who was a threat to the city. No, not directly.

It was you- or rather the lack of you.

This city needed you to survive, and if Hyunjin managed to change you...it surely wouldn’t have lasted long without your help. Hyunjin had never really been the city’s biggest threat- there were far worse villains and it was them who you really fought against.

He was more of just an inconvenience, someone you had to deal with from time to time. And then he’d struck that deal- after which the nature of your relationship had turned into something entirely different.

Every time he acted up, it was usually just a ploy to get your attention. And attention was exactly what he got. You’d reinforced his behavior like an idiot.

You told yourself it was a chore, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d loved spending those nights in his bed, loved the way he was an expert at making you come undone with his body and his words.

It really had seemed like a good idea at the time. The right thing to do. However, it was quickly starting to seem like anything but.

You sighed as your mind tried its best not to travel back all those months. Dipping a teabag into the liquid, you mindlessly observed the customers in the cafe. Many of them were young, teenagers who were heading out before class.

You sighed as you recalled your own high school days, the times Hyunjin and you had hung out in a cafe much like this one.

“You don’t have to help me with this project, you know.”

“Ah, shush. It’s our final year. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He smiled as he flipped through his books, taking a sip of his coffee occasionally.

“You act like you’re not sticking to me like white on rice the rest of the year.” You roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself.

“Don’t get snippy with me, missy.” He smirked, still thumbing the pages nonchalantly. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

“You- I- what?” You wouldn’t admit it, but the thought caused a fluttering sensation in more than one place. It was a little bit of a shock, considering the two of you had done nothing more than make out and flirt, until now.

“Chill. I’m kidding.” He shook his head, looking up at you. “Unless…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it! I’m supposed to be working right now.” You whined, swatting him with a rolled up paper.

“I don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Hm...do you know what I’m thinking of right now, Y/n?”

“W-what?”

“Thinking about how easy it would be to slip my fingers under your skirt and play with that pretty pussy of yours. I’m pretty sure it’s soaked your underwear through by now.”

Fuck.

Your cheeks flushed as you stared at your plate. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly- his mere words had already turned you to a mess.

“S-shut up.” You mumbled, reading out formulas aloud as you tried to divert your attention from it. Hyunjin let out a teasing chuckle at your lame attempt to change the topic, shaking his head as he stared at his book again, unaware you were looking over your own at him, pressing your thighs together subtly.

God, he was so...so annoying.

You snapped out of it, sighing as you looked around at the much less crowded cafe. Had it always looked so dull? So lifeless?

The thought of him was hurtful- it felt like a dull knife, screwing itself into you. Reminding you what you’d done.

You’d killed the love of your life.

And now? There was no way to bring him back.

***

“Murder is never something a superhero should resort to. A good hero always stays true to themselves- they only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

A cough.

“But of course...villains are exempt from that rule. Killing one villain’s life could save countless others.”

Hm. You weren’t exactly sure if your father was right. Although you were just a child, you still had some knowledge of morality.

Was he? Killing just...seemed wrong. You didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it, no matter how evil the person was.

“Surely there are other ways to neutralize someone evil, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before shaking his head coldly. “Untrue.”

“The truth is, some lives are expendable, my dear Y/n…” Another cough, before he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze back on you.

“You must always look for the greater good.”

***

You still remembered the day you first met Hyunjin.

He was 13, and you were just a little younger. Your families were good comrades and allies, so your eventual meeting had already been planned.

The two of you were in the living room with everyone else as they talked to each other, mingling and chattering like adults usually did. Hyunjin and you made an unanimous decision to sneak out to the rooftop, and get to know each other better.

“So...our parents are allies now, hm? This means we’re going to see each other a lot more.”

“Of course we are! We’re both prodigies, like my dad and your mom...we inherited their powers, so they’re obviously going to want to cultivate those.”

“You speak pretty fancy for a 12 year old.”

“Hey, so do you! Besides, we’re gifted, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He sighed, swinging his legs and inhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again.

“Do you actually like having these powers?”

“Oh? Well, yeah...I do...my father tells me stories of his days as a superhero. I want to help people, just like him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d much rather live a normal life. Get a normal job, find someone to love, and have a normal marriage in a normal town.”

You pressed your lips together. “To each their own, I guess. Personally, I just want to get rid of all the evil in the world and make my father proud.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Evil…” He tapped his chin. “How does one even know the difference between good and evil?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure it would be obvious in every situation.”

“I disagree. The distinction is blurry. No one knows for sure, and definitely not at first glance.” He sighed. “I would know.”

You brought your knees to your chest as you observed the city below. “Well, I guess you’re right…” you paused, your heart feeling a little heavy for some reason.

“Do you know?”

“The line between good and evil is thin, Y/n. I can’t say I know for sure. But do you know what will always help you remember?”

“What?”

“Your heart.” He said softly, glancing at you and offering you a small smile.

“Just do whatever feels right...trust yourself.”

***

You sighed and shut your laptop.

Home. You needed to go home, cause your heart ached too much. You definitely weren’t ready to go back to work yet. You hadn’t done anything productive today really, just drink coffee and reflect on your actions. Regretting....regretting it all.

It’d been wrong. The wrong choice, the wrong decision.

You knew that, now. There could have been another way. You shouldn’t have rushed into it like that...how could you?

You felt a surge of hatred towards yourself engulf you. It was all your fault, this pain you were feeling. You didn’t have anyone to direct this immense anger towards except yourself. You realized this little fact in horror, your heart clenching as you wished things could have been different.

Finishing off your coffee, you placed a few bills on the table as you left the café, heading home. Ready to burrow under the blankets again, wallow in your self pity and pain. There wasn’t much else to do except succumb to acceptance.

You made your way down the street, humming the saddest song you knew under your breath.

All of a sudden, you felt eyes burning into your back. Your own eyes widening slightly, you turned around quickly-

But there was no one there.

Weird. Sighing, you decided to go back to going over your plans for tonight in your mind.

Maybe watch a movie in hopes of triggering some sort of emotion in you...or maybe take a bath, light some candles and listen to depressing music- shit.

It happened again. Someone was following you- you could feel it. Uncomfortable, your breathing slowly started getting heavier as you tried to formulate some kind of plan in your head-

The next thing that happened was so sudden you barely registered it for a second.

Your hand was gripped, so tightly you felt it would bruise. Aggressive, shocking and swift as lightning- it took several seconds before you realized someone was trying to kidnap you.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

Struggling against the person holding you, you caught a glimpse of the masked man and decided to scream, hoping to gain some attention from somebody, anybody. There was no way this was happening, not right now. Your day had already been bad enough, why was the universe so intent on rubbing salt in your wounds?!

The urge to fight had never been stronger. Yet there was no strength left in your body. You couldn’t fight back against this man- he was taller than you and somehow even matched you in strength. Unless you exposed your powers, there was no way you would get yourself out of this predicament. Somehow you managed to smack him with your arm weakly, making him hiss.

“Let me go, please!”

The coffee cup fell out of your hand, brown liquid spilling all over the ground as you were pulled into the dark alley so quickly, no one would notice. Your eyes darted about in panic, trying to work out a possible escape route when the masked man caged you in, his arms on either side of you.

A horrible sense of déjà vu enveloped you. It’s all you can do to not scream, trying to keep yourself calm so that you could escape.

It’s ok, breathe in...and concentrate.

The heat within you started to crackle, your palms beginning to burn up gradually.

Your eyes blinked as you decided to try and take a good look at the person holding you. Their head was covered with a black mask, their finger held over their mouth as they ran their eyes over your distressed expression.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, staying still and pretending to give up the struggle. “Unhand me now, or you’ll regret it, trust me-“

“Shh! Y/n, please…” He shushed you, his voice shaky.

You stopped in your tracks.

Huh?

That voice…

“I’ll explain... but first we need to get out of here, fuck-” He looked from side to side quickly, scanning his surroundings.

Shit. Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Who- who are you?!” You managed to get out, the heat fading away as deep, panicked confusion took over you instead.

There was a small sigh as your assailant stood up a little straighter, groaning. And then, his fingers deftly pulled the mask off, clutching it in his hands tightly.

Golden locks spilled out, a handsome visage coming into view. Plump lips and beautiful eyes, looking oh so familiar.

No.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck was going on?

It’s him.

But it can’t be.

How? It’s not possible-

You’re definitely losing your mind.

The man’s breathing got quicker as he watched your expression morph from fear into one of pure, electric shock.

“I know you’re shocked, Y/n, but please listen to-“

Your chest started heaving, quickly rising and falling as your heart pounded against your rib cage.

This...could not be happening. What was this? Was this a nightmare? Yet another sick, twisted dream? He couldn’t be standing right in front of you...it was impossible. No. No no no no no no no.

It was all too overwhelming, and your brain and body seemed to agree on that. Your mind swam, your thoughts all over the place as you felt yourself sway on your feet.

“This- I-“ You stumbled over your words, tears slipping past quickly as you tried to form words to express what you felt.

Pain. Searing pain, taking over, spreading from head to toe.

Your breathing slowed as the world suddenly went black, Hyunjin’s shouts in the background fading away...until there was nothing but silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #skz smut #skz angst #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines

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teruthecreator · 3 years

Text

sweet surprises

lord forgive me for the cringe i’m about to post. i fully blame this post and this post for planting the seeds of berdley having a crush on kris in my brain. also shouts out to izel for listening to me go insane at 3 AM about this.

anyways, here’s a thing.

______________________________________________________________

Excitement is in the air.

Unlike the usual calm monotony of life at school, things recently have been quite...electric. Not because of the portal to the Dark World hidden behind the door of the closet, or the adventures had by a select group of students through the portal in the Librarby a few days ago. No, this isn’t about that.

This is about the Sadie Hawkman’s Dance. The once-a-year phenomenon where the school puts on its best interpretation of a formal dance for the incredibly small number of students who attend class. Students buzz in excitement for the event, preparing their most formal outfits and getting ready to dazzle their friends and fellow classmates with their dramatic entrances into the auditorium.

And, of course, there’s the all important ritual of asking someone to the dance.

There’s already been a few proposals made this week. Jockington rolled into class like a hula hoop and asked Catti to be his “best bro” for the dance, to which she happily agreed. (And by that, I mean she looked up from her phone, smiled, said not a single word, and went back to typing.) Temmie loudly announced to the class that she would be taking her egg, which was somehow...embarrassed that she mentioned it. And, of course, Noelle finally managed to work up enough courage to ask Susie to the dance. It was done in an incredible display of candy canes that spelled out the phrase: “CAN(E) YOU BE MY DATE TO THE DANCE?” Unfortunately, Susie was about halfway through scarfing the display down before she realized what it said. She then began choking on one of the candy canes out of disbelief, which wound her in the nurse for the rest of the day. But, when she could speak again, she very quietly agreed to Noelle’s proposal (and, if you happened to be a fly on the wall in that room, you could hear a tail thump rhythmically against the doctor’s bench as she did so).

Kris was pleased with everything. They were happy to see their friends so happy together. A long time coming, if you asked them. And they’d be just as happy attending the dance solo, since they’ll undoubtedly be dragged along by Susie. They’d never gone to the dance before--never had a reason to, truth be told. But with their newfound friends, they may just enjoy being a wingman for the night.

...Speaking of wingmen, Berdly will probably be going solo as well. Unsurprising, but Kris makes a mental note to ensure the bird will be in attendance. As much as he is kind of a lot sometimes, he’s their friend. And Kris is going to make sure all of their friends are having fun at that dance!

They walk into class thinking of this (surprisingly early, for a change), which is why they almost miss the massive display sitting boldly atop their desk. They freeze the instant it catches their eye and, for a second, they almost believe it isn’t real. Like some leftover thoughts of the Dark World lingering in their vision. But, after wiping their eyes and seeing that it’s still there, they decide to approach and...investigate.

The display is expertly crafted by someone who clearly knows their way around a glue gun. It is a heart-shaped arch that is decorated with a myriad of printed illustrations of Super Smashing Fighters Melee characters, all having cut-outs to hold different bars of chocolate. There are also numerous origami hearts glued around the characters on the arch, in colors spanning across the rainbow. The arch is painted in swirls of blues, pinks, and reds and covered with a border of glitter that sprinkles onto the desk when Kris reaches out to pluck a chocolate bar from its perch. On the desk itself is a big origami heart that says “TO KRIS” in gold calligraphy. It is by far one of the coolest, nicest, cheesiest things Kris has ever seen.

They look up from the display to see if anyone else is seeing this shit, and that’s when it all clicks.

Because sitting at the front of the classroom, fidgeting way more than normal, is Berdly. He keeps interlocking his ankles underneath his desk before unlocking them and kicking the air, turning around every half-second or so to try and catch Kris’s reaction. From the brief moments Kris can see the front of him, they notice he’s not in his usual white collared shirt and black khaki shorts. Instead, his shirt is buttoned all the way up, with a nice blue bowtie tied around his neck. He also traded out his khaki shorts for a pair of dress pants that look to be a tad too long for his legs. He keeps reaching up to smooth out the feathers on his head, which immediately stick back up from stress.

Now, Kris may be a straight B student, but they’re not stupid. Context clues are a very good thing, and all signs point to Berdly as the culprit of this public display of...affection?

Beyond Berdly is Ms. Alphys at her desk, who shoots Kris a look of deep understanding and maybe...guilt? She looks at Berdly for a split second and shrugs her shoulders, indicating he was probably in here long before she was and so she had no way of stopping him from leaving it there.

Kris looks back down at the display and picks up the large origami heart. As they begin to unfold it, they see a sprawling letter written in the same flashy calligraphy. Kris squints at the letters--they’re dyslexic, so everything kind of just looks like spaghetti on paper. Still, they’re able to make out the largely printed question of “WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?” with no issue.

Huh, guess they won’t be going to the dance alone after all…? It’s a little confusing as to why Berdly would want to go with them, though. Like, they’ve hung out a little bit--usually whenever Berdly wanted a “worthy rival” to play video games with, he would come over and Kris would whoop his ass for a few hours. And, of course, there were the recent events in the Cyber World; but Kris is pretty sure them and Susie had thoroughly convinced Noelle and Berdley that that was all a dream. So, why them?

They’re lost in this train of thought for so long that they don’t even notice the other kids enter the room until they suddenly hear:

“Yo, Kris???????? What the heck is this thing????” Susie’s voice doesn’t startle them, but it is loud enough to get them to look up. Susie is standing next to their desk, looking at the display with genuine amazement thinly masked by disgust. She’s also loud enough to basically stop the whole class (who were all muttering amongst themselves about it anyway), which gives Kris only a second to gaze around the room before--

SLAM!

The door to the classroom slams shut, leaving one seat unoccupied.

Berdley’s.

“This thing’s got chocolate on it????” Susie continues to marvel at the display while Kris looks at the door, frowning. They feel...bad. It isn’t Berdley’s fault for trying to fit in with the other kids' proposals; he admitted to feeling like he needs to do more just to stand out enough for people to acknowledge him back in the Dark World. And this thing is really...thoughtful! The characters are all ones Kris typically mains, or ones they know Berdley mains, which means he remembers things about Kris. And the chocolate is a given, but it is nice to be able to stock their personal snack stash with some fancy stuff. Ultimately, it’s very sweet, and Kris can’t help but feel a little guilty for not saying anything immediately.

They turn and lock eyes with Ms. Alphys, who looks extremely out-of-depth with this situation. She makes a number of gestures from them to the door in a flustered way of saying I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on please help me Kris I know I’m asking a lot of you but I don’t know how to deal with teenage angst I’m like thirty-five. They sigh, standing up and walking past Susie (but not before giving her a stare that warns her if a single chocolate bar is gone that they will be holding that over her until the day she dies) and following Berdly out the door.

It doesn’t take Kris very long to follow the trail of labored breathing to where Berdley is--in the abandoned classroom, hyperventilating as he teeters on a breakdown. Luckily, when Kris opens the door, it seems to put a halt to his spiralling because he just kind of...freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or a Berdley caught in Kris-lights. Kris takes this moment to let the door shut behind them, trapping the two in here. Together.

“U-Uhhhhh, hi--he--Um. H-Hello, K-Kris…” Berdly attempts to put on his usual bravado, but his voice betrays him brutally by squeaking and cracking on every syllable. Kris can’t help the smile that comes to their face.

“Uh, hey,” they reply with a wave. Berdley continues to stand there and stare (almost like he wasn’t expecting Kris to care enough to follow him) before the present circumstances return to his mind and he begins breathing hard again.

“I-I-I-I, uh...I was. Um. J-Just, uh. G-Getting some fresh air! Y-Yes! The classroom can be s-so stuffy sometimes, I’m sure y-you--you, uh...you agree?” Berdley makes a valiant attempt at hiding his panic, which Kris almost takes pity on. But they don’t think the monster will feel any better if they just pretend what happened back there never happened.

“Yeah. I liked the display.” Kris says simply. Berdley stands stock-straight at that, looking even worse for wear in the “being normal and completely cool” department.

“O-Oh??????? That ol’ thing????? I, um--well I just--y-you see, I--uh. Um,” You can really hear the gears in his head turning as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “I-I-I just thought you w-would appreciate the craftsmanship of!!! A t-true artisan, such as myself!!! So, I!!! M-Made it!!! COMPLETELY PLATONICALLY, OF COURSE!!!! I-I would never imply that my intentions w-were anything other than for bro-sies, i--You didn’t read that whole card, did you?”

“I can’t read,” They mean this as a joke, but they can see Berdley seriously consider this for a second too long. “Dude, I’m dsylexic. I can’t really read cursive…” Berdley freezes up once more, which makes Kris realize they haven’t really projected that as loudly as they might’ve thought.

“Oh! Right! How could I forget! That you’re! Dsylexic!” Berdley’s smile is stapled to his face as he begins to rhythmically knock on his head. “And I! Wrote! That! Entire! Note! In! Cursive! Which! You! Can’t! Read!!!” Kris steps forward in an attempt to keep Berdley from bashing his own skull in, but that only makes Berdley more tense, so they take a step back. “I-I just--The note isn’t important! None of it’s important actually can we forget this interaction ever happened okay? Okay yes that’s great have a wonderful day Kris I will be returning home to sitinmyroomandneverreturntothecorporealrealmalrightgoodbyeforeverKris--” He attempts to sidestep around Kris and out the door, but is very easily intercepted.

“Stop.” Kris grabs him by the shoulders, which seems to shut him up for a second. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Berdley gapes at them as his face steadily grows redder, which makes Kris feel as if there’s something on their face. But he quickly shakes it off, going from completely neurotic to...dejected.

“I just…” He starts, trailing off immediately. “You deserve to have a big proposal, same as everyone else. I-I see you in the back of the class, just...watching. And I, uh, felt it was time to...give you the spotlight! But that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” He looks off to the side at the floor, smiling sadly. “After all, who’d want to go to the dance with me…? I-I’m alone every year, standing in the background. Just kind of...taking it all in...and th-thinking about how it’d be...nice to be a part of it. But that’s...not probable. It was just nice to think about taking you to the dance because you’re--well, you’re nice to me, and you’re funny, and you actually listen to me when I’m talking, an-and you’re a good person and an incredible gaming legend...but I shouldn’t have put it all on you in front of everyone...I’m. I’m sorry, Kris.” He won’t make eye contact with the human, but Kris can still see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“Berdley, that’s stupid.” Kris says, which Berdley cringes at, “Why wouldn’t I wanna go with you?” That part is...not what Berdley was expecting. He looks up at Kris, unsure of where to go from here.

“U-Um…? Because of all the previously stated things? Like me being a complete loser who nobody likes?”

“I like you,” Kris replies immediately, leaving Berdley’s feathers sticking straight up as he flusters. “And I like your display. It’s...really sweet.”

“E-Even if you can’t read the note?” Berdley’s voice cracks.

“I mean, I could read the: WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE DANCE part, so, like. Yeah.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, you got me chocolate. Nice chocolate. Nobody...gets me things like that.” They smile, a light dusting of blush across their face. “I’ll go with you.” Berdley’s entire body seizes up for the third time, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“W-W-w-W-w-w-w-w-W-W-W-w-w-w-Wh-Wha-wh-w-w-wha-wha-w-wh-Wh-Wha-wh-Wha-wha-w-w-W-W-W--” Berdley continues to struggle with the word “what” for a solid minute and a half before he’s finally about to manage a: “What?!” Kris can’t help but laugh.

“I said that, Berdley,” at this, they move their grip from his shoulders to his hands, “I will go to the Sadie Hawkman’s dance with you.”

The circuits in Berdley’s brain struggle with this frequency for an extended moment before his face erupts in the giddiest smile Kris has ever seen the bird monster sport. He even begins to jump up and down, taking Kris along with him, as he cackles. It is a surprisingly cute display that Kris finds themselves blushing a bit at. It’s nice to be this...cared about.

“I-I--We have to start thinking of outfits immediately!” Berdley blurts out, returning to their usual demeanor. “I was thinking of some complimentary color schemes on the way to school today which I will be happy to show you at lunchtime. I’m also a master with a sewing machine, so if you are unable to procure an outfit that meets the color requirements, I would be delighted to take your measurements and--w-wait, don’t read into that phrasing, I just m-meant that I could make an outfit for you! B-But I’d need your measurements, and--Oh, goodness, hasn’t class started already, Kris?! We should head back, but--” He looks from the door to Kris and back again a few times before finally settling on something.

“I’lltalktoyouaboutthislaterseeyouinclassKris!!!!!” He says this right before he gives Kris a solitary peck on the cheek before bolting out of the abandoned classroom, leaving Kris blinking at the Berdley-shaped cloud he left behind. Their hand gently grazes the spot on their cheek--luckily not actually pecked by his beak, but more of a quick-kiss kind of peck--and feel their heart skip a beat.

Huh.

That’s...different.

They elect to not dwell on that feeling any longer and head back to class. They have to make sure Susie hasn’t eaten all of the chocolate on that display.

They wouldn’t want to make Berdley go through the trouble of re-proposing just so they could rightfully claim their other sweet surprise.

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #kris/berdley #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #berdley deltarune #ignorance cloud on #LORD FORGIVE ME FOR BEING CRINGE ON MAIN. I JUST LIKE THINKING THOUGHTS #LISTEN..........I JUST THINK ITD BE FUNNY. IF KRIS HAD THIS PATHETIC GAMER ALL HEART EYES OVER THEM #also the dance aspect is based on one of the posters you can see inside the school. i am Pretty sure that is what its called #if i was off by like a similar-sounding word i need everyone to do me a favor and pretend im right bc this is cringe enough already #i edited this ONCE at 3 AM last night. i am doing no more than that #anyways here u go izel enjoy ur food.

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye II — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

“You’re…letting me go?” Belle stared at her manager Yeeun who, by her clear frown was not mistaken in her harsh words. The two stood in the others’ office with her rack of clothing standing hopelessly in the corner of the room.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to book a venue for a designer with no prior backing?” She continued with her berating.

The younger female assumed it must have around an hour since she arrived and began the onslaught of scolding for missing her fashion show. Belle tried to explain that she needed to help her brother out in a personal situation but family commitment apparently to her was not deemed that important.

“I trusted you and you fucking humiliated me in front of fashion critics.” Yeeun gestured wildly before pinching the bridge of her nose. “You had so much potential too.”

Her heart dropped; slowly wishing that she would go back to just scolding her instead of reminding her of what could have been achieved if the fashion show went on. All the building blocks tirelessly built to get to this point now crumbling down. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back what you just threw away.” The older female spoke in brutal honesty as she usually did except it hit Belle harder than normal. “Go on. I can’t help you anymore. Not when there’re plenty of other designers who actually care enough to come to their first fashion show.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip, sun dipping outside casting a dull grey-ish light in the minimalistic office. Photos of all the different designers Yeeun represented now staring down at her in disappointment as she dragged her rack of clothes out of the office.

The morning welcomed sharp chills even through her coat and scarf adorned her body. She grabbed the two pieces of clothing hurriedly since her new wardrobe was organized by Nana who didn’t really know how the girl usually kept everything. Of course that led to a crap load of confusion in the morning when Belle tried to pair something decent and it turned out to be too thin for the temperature she struggled through now.

It didn’t help her situation when her lower belly still ached a little from last night and her head pounded from the lack of proper sleep.

Belle stopped short in front of the office building to see two men standing in front of her, one of them familiar enough for her to realize who they were for. “He’s having you follow me now?” She seethed.

“Master Jeon found out your car was still in the carpark and you took a train so he asked us to drive it here.” Jongho explained plainly, gesturing to the Camry behind them.

Who knew the mere sight of a vehicle could bring this much relaxation in the midst of this stress?

The female sighed pushing the rack towards the hood. “Thank you but please don’t call him ‘Master Jeon’ in front of me.” Belle kept her voice firm, opening the hood and placing all her clothes into an empty box she had with all her discarded designs.

“But we have to.” Jonghos’ brows furrowed, pouting a little; silently reminding that he wasn’t all the much older than any of them, perhaps even younger.

The other guard besides Jongho took the liberty of pushing the rack away in front of the office building.

Belle dared to take another look at the building again. Not too long ago, she walked into this very building with bright eyes and possibly an even brighter future. Memories of Yeeun smiling at her newest designs, approving them to a point where she even got her a chance at a fashion show. Three critics sat at the audience that night and every single one of them looked more important than the last. Unfortunately Belle had someone far more important than any fashion critic or opportunity. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing grew harder and harder to determine.

“Out here, he’s Jungkook.” She spoke still looking up at the building with a more sour expression now at the sound of his name coming from her lips. “And I’m driving.”

Jongho didn’t protest much on the demand and gave her the keys.

“So what’s the real reason Jungkook sent you?” Belle asked as they drove through the city streets. The car had been pleasantly so much warmer than outside or in the train and she grew more thankful as the ice under her skin melted.

Jongho stammered lightly before sighing. “Master—” He cleared his throat. “D-Jungkook did get a little…suspicious that you might try to find a way to get out of the deal. It’s all still—fresh, I guess.”

The female scoffed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “He put my brothers’ life under threat and thinks I’m going to run away like some sorry bitch?” She spat pressing down the urge to stomp on the brakes and hopefully run over Jungkook accidently when they reached the mansion. “You’re both going home.” Belle finalized ignoring any stutter of disapproval from the two males.

“But he—”

“But nothing…if he’s so scared of me running away then he should come meet me himself instead of sending his men.” Past the bustling city, Belle drove into the familiar road towards the secluded mansion.

The last time she drove down this path her life was so much more different than it was now. How could it all just change in the span of a day? All because one man had too much power over others.

Then she stomped on the brakes, the shaking hand of the speed checker accelerating at a worrying rate up to the hundreds.

Muffled tire and engine sounds numbing her ears as her stomach jumped from the push across the slightly graveled road.

Heart pumping adrenaline, fueling the wildfire in her body, pushing away memories of his fucking hands on her skin, the disappointment she brought to everyone even herself.

“Ma’am!” A frightened voice called out from behind her, mentally slapping her back to reality.

Letting out deep breath Belle slowly braked the car again bringing them back down from the rush as the mansion now came into view. “Sorry.” She glanced over at Jongho who looked more concerned for the female compared to the guard at the back who feared for his life in a split second.

Into the courtyard she stared at the collection of guards who once again stood lined up the entrance of the mansion. An intense feeling of déjà vu flushed over her before turning to the two guards. “Alright, out you go. I need to get to work.” Going to the fashion-house now became the only thing that could make her day that little bit better.

“Master Jeon—he’ll be angry at us if we left you alone.”

Belle saw something oddly familiar in Jonghos’ eyes that she couldn’t shake off. Seeing the recognizable glint reminded her that Taehyung was not the only victim to Jungkooks’ power. “If Madame Saito sees two strange men with me, she’s going to try and call the police. I don’t want her involved in this whole mess.” She explained. “Is there any way you can keep yourself hidden so Jungkook at least knows that you were doing your job?” Both men nodded thankfully.

She rested back on the seat, closing her eyes as her body reminded her again of the anxiety burning her from the inside. “I need to get some warmer clothes anyway so stay here.”

Nana told Belle that Jungkook was out all morning and a little bit of the day on important business meetings around the city. Not that the younger female really gave a shit where he went but once again…common fucking courtesy.

The drive to the fashion-house was quiet aside from some light music playing on her radio.

They arrived at Madame Saitos’ fashion-house. An elegant slab of purple and gold with the monogram of the Japanese Kanji symbol that meant ‘elegant’. Belle remembered getting the job a few weeks before her parents passed away. It immediately turned from a dream job to the only thing keeping her from breaking down after Taehyung started going into a downward spiral.

Now more than ever she needed the sweet caress of fresh fabric under her fingers to calm her down, to prevent another incident like the one on the road from happening. As per her request, Jongho and the other guard who later introduced himself as Jisung, opted to walk into a nearby café.

Belle walked through the glass doors, all her worries seemingly melting away at the look of neatly organized clothes on the different shelves and stands. Her clothes fit warm and snug on her now and the level upstairs for designing awaited her arrival.

“Bella, darling!” She heard the familiar voice echo through the building.

Turning to the right Belle couldn’t help but smile seeing the bright woman walk over to her in a gorgeous purple pantsuit. She gave her a small bow which she waved away.

“How many times have I told you? You’re a fellow designer.” Saito tapped her chin which would have made her giggle.

But her stomach dropped when reality sunk in and she realized Saito was wrong. “I’m not a designer anymore.” Belle smiled sadly.

“And why is that?” She raised her own chin, deep purple lips looking more defined and her dark brows furrowed.

It was as if her mind opened up the millions of drawers she tried to lock up to help her survive the rest of the day but the younger female adorned a much smaller smile. “Yeeun let me go. I couldn’t go through the fashion show on a family emergency.”

Saito scoffed loudly before waving her hand. “Managers don’t make designers. Designers make designers.” She pressed hand over Belle’s heart. “She’s one manager, darling. Don’t let it get to you.”

If it were a less strange time than this, Belle would instantly be consoled by Saitos’ words but there was so much more. So many more things she wanted to talk about but she feared no one’s ears were understanding enough. Even she couldn’t hear herself talk about what happened. “Thank you.” She muttered forcing her mind to feel somewhat relaxed.

The older female smiled, patting her cheek. “I have to go personally deliver this to a client.” She rolled her eyes looking down at the cover hanging over her arm. “He’s this big businessman who wants a suit tonight and just needs to thank the designer in person.” She scoffed making Belle chuckle. “You’ll be in charge for the rest of the day, darling.”

Belle’s heart fluttered in excitement as she immediately nodded.

“Oh and…since you have more time on your hands without Yeeun pestering you. I was wondering if you wanted to work on a few designs for the Spring Line.” Saito smiled casually not entirely noticing that fireworks were going off in her mind in celebration.

She was getting a chance at another line. Another opportunity. Belle couldn’t help giggling a little but she quickly stopped herself. “You’re not joking?”

“Of course not. You’re the best designer I’ve had in years.” She patted her shoulder comfortingly. “One thing though, I’ll need four designs by tomorrow morning so we can be ahead of schedule. I’ve done six that you can look at to see what the concept is but let your wonderful mind run wild.”

A light hint of anxiety seeped through the thick elation bursting through her veins but Belle ignored it, merely smiling at the older female as she walked out of the building.

Sun dipped behind the skyscrapers, warm light shining through the glass giving the whole store a deep warm glow as Belle stood in front of the main counter. Hand ached a little from holding onto the pencil for too long. Grey scratches against the ecru paper of flowy trains and minimalistic patterns to symbolize re-birth in some way.

Something she admired about Saito was her excessive need to shy away from the norm of flowers and nature. Maybe thinking a little deeper into what spring meant and really bringing the art out of her fashion. Part of why despite their prices, people still walked in and out purchasing their numbers.

It was a breath of fresh air from the line of fashion and a wonder to behold during Fashion Week.

Unfortunately Belle’s little bubble of inspiration was rudely popped when the door opened with Jonghos’ voice echoing in the building.

“Ma’am…Master Jeon is asking for you at the mansion.” He tried to speak quietly but the walls resonated even the smallest of sounds.

Her brows furrowed, dropping the pencil on the table making her fingers cramp up ever so slightly. “What does he need me for?” Anger rose and burned through her eyes.

“He said it’s important.” Jongho shrugged.

The woman huffed averting her gaze before jumping off her chair. “Did he call you? Is he still on the phone?” Belle stomped over to the male who tried to back away a little but the glass door closed behind him. “What could he possibly want from me now that’s so damn important?” He already got everything else.

“I don’t know, ma’am…he—he didn’t say.”

“Well tell him that I have a lot of work to do and he can wait.” She glared at the young male even though truly he wasn’t the one she was angry at.

Eventually Jongho walked towards the car with slouched shoulders leaving Belle to go back to work on her counter. The scratches were a lot harsher due to her shaky fingers so she reminded herself to re-do some of these sketches again when it was time for coloring.

“Ma’am?” Jongho called out again in a much softer voice.

Belle’s pencil broke off making her fingers curl up into a fist but she forced herself to take a deep breath. “What is it, Jongho?”

“Master Jeon wants to speak with you.” He held out a phone walking towards the counter.

She glanced at the male before down at the phone, accepting it gently and putting it on her ear. “Yes?”

“Are you trying to be a fool?” Jungkooks’ tone took a dark turn from what Belle heard yesterday; more growly and deep like he had been yelling all day.

“I already said I’m working.” Belle muttered calmly. “What’s so important?”

“We need to go to an event. My aunt and uncle have invited me to come tonight and I need you to be there to get rid of any future suitor arrangements.” He explained with that same infuriating voice acting like she was doing something wrong trying to work.

“I need to some things done, Jungkook, can’t we re-schedule a meeting with your aunt and uncle?” Hands brushed away the pieces of led that broke off from her pencil.

“No we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you realize just what’s at stake if you piss me off too much.” He challenged.

“Your deal was that you’ll stay away from Taehyung if I stay with you.” She corrected.

“You should know that I can change deals in an instant.”

Belle gripped onto the phone suppressing the urge to throw it across the room as she gulped down a lump in her throat. Her dormant anxiousness now fully erupting through every limb in her body. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She stated before hanging up not wanting to hear his voice anymore as she gave it over to Jongho.

Angrily packing up her stuff, she decided to let Jongho drive this time to prevent any incidents on the road from her heated up mind.

So much for fucking freedom. He couldn’t even re-schedule a meeting to let her work. Maybe it was an overreaction but looking at the situation, Belle thought that being livid and frustrated was called for.

The sky turned purple by the time they reached the mansion and Belle barely waited for the car to stop before she climbed out. Grabbing her things, she walked through the entrance ignoring any attempt at the guards trying to hold the bags.

“Finally her Majesty has arrived, what took you so long?” Jungkook, already dressed up in a black suit with a white shirt slightly unbuttoned, jabbed at the female right as she walked through the archway.

Belle merely glared at the male walking past him up the stairs while Nana followed her helplessly. The older female almost wanted to apologize for him but couldn’t find the time as she chased her.

In their shared room, Belle placed the bags of her work next to her side of the bed. Tears of frustration flooded in her eyes a little which she tried her best to hide when she saw Nana come up behind her.

“Dear…” She muttered comfortingly but the younger female shook her head.

“It’s okay, please. I’ll get ready myself.” Belle smiled through teary eyes before walking past her.

Ankle length daffodil-yellow dress adorned her freshly showered body, long curls with the top half clipped away from her face and some shoes to match. As she coated her lashes her mind tried to organize how she was going to rush to the event and then come back to finish all the designs. The deeper the thoughts moved, the more anxiety bubbled inside her almost making her makeup application a little dodgy but decent enough.

“Dear, Master Jeon is calling for you.” Nana spoke gently as if knowing that the sound of his name stroke a nerve in her constantly.

“I’m done, I’m coming.” Belle answered, hands leaning against the edge of the vanity table in the walk-in wardrobe trying to calm down her breathing. I hope you’re okay, Taehyung. It was only the first day and she could feel the weight of it all bearing down on her body. For the first time since yesterday, the woman almost wanted to admit that she may be lot more vulnerable than she thought.

Shaking her head roughly she stared at herself in the mirror. Dusty rose lips mimicking the light hint of colour on her cheeks and a glimmering eyes mostly from the illusion in the shimmery eyeshadow. At least she looked put together. Her body and mind were a whole different story.

Nana held onto her hand as they walked down the stairs, Belle held onto the dress to ensure she didn’t trip and make her stressful day even worse. Little bits of her hair dropped over her face but it was only when she reached the end.

Her eyes slowly trailed up to see Jungkook staring at her up and down the way he did the first time they met.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her outfit for a moment, seeing absolutely nothing wrong but Jungkook must have had something to say.

The man stayed silent for a few minutes shifting in his position. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He muttered coldly walking to the exit with three of his guards already walking behind him like robots.

Belle followed the trail, gripping at her clutch purse.

Dull blue hue adorned the sky when they were outside. The guards dispersed to the sides giving Belle way to move forward where she saw Jungkook looking over his shoulder as if he was searching for someone.

Not a word uttered, Jungkook raised an arm and let it hover over her back as they walked towards the luxurious black Sedan shining even in this grey-ish light.

Throughout the car ride, Belle tried to ask Jungkook what the event was for and what they would be doing for the rest of the night. All her questions answered with detached replies that gave her no explanation whatsoever making it highly difficult to keep her patience.

“At least tell me how long it’s going to be?” She asked in a much softer tone now.

“An hour or something, alright? Now just keep quiet and don’t embarrass me.” Jungkook snapped before looking out the window.

Belle wanted to be shocked at the sudden change in behavior from the dashing and charming man she saw yesterday but this just served as a good reminder. This was all a fucking joke. She was dressing up to play pretend with a scum of a man who had no care for anyone but his own needs and reputation.

The momentary silence broke by muffled sounds of flashing cameras and people calling out or yelling at the glimmering bodies on the carpet.

Jungkook had the car door opened for him and the second he walked out, he could hear the people growing more restless and the cameras going wild.

Belle shifted towards his side now keeping her clutch purse on her chest.

He held his hand out and she accepted it to keep up appearances, adorning an elegant smile on her rosy lips. Their fingers intertwined with one another as they walked past them with their personal line of guards on each side.

Sounds of violins made her ears prick up and the smell of chocolate touched her nostrils, her stomach rumbling a little. Thankfully the incessant noise from every corner was able to conceal it.

The event hall shone in golden light with a crystal chandelier centering the ceiling, buffet standing on the far left, slow dancing in the middle and a sitting area on the far right. People were crowded but nothing like a bustling city. Instead of strangers pressing against each other in trains or trying to push past to get to work, people kindly slithered through crowds or made pleasant conversation before they moved onto the next group.

Though Belle despised the reasoning for being here, for years this was an event she has always wanted to attend. The class, the culture, the clothes; all of it surrounded her like a welcoming hug and she didn’t really protest when Jungkook led her further into the hall.

Fake elegant smile now melted into something more genuine as she curiously peered over at the performers in gold satin dresses dancing in the middle of the hall. On her left, a vast selection of foods, some she didn’t even recognize but the chocolate fountain wasn’t hard to detect and her stomach shouted again.

“Auntie!” Jungkook called out, his usual sour mood moved to a smile as he leaned to press a kiss on an older womans’ cheek.

The lady looked as elegant and bright as the hall they were in, wearing a white dress with golden hair pins in her neat bun while the man next to her—Jungkook’s uncle wore the same simple suit his nephew did. Except he had a bow on unlike her ‘partners’ more unkept look. “I’m so happy you could be here!” His aunt cheered softly, her wide smile showing off all the lines on her face.

“Why would I not? Your events are always my favorite.” He smiled again almost to a point where Belle almost suspected it may have been fake.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” His aunt nodded at the younger male whose lips twitched a little making him grin wider.

This one looking a lot more obviously forced.

His aunt turned to the side and called someone over. A woman who looked around their age, tall and slender with long black hair flowing past her lower back and her body adorning an azure dress, loosely stitched rhinestones in large clusters. All of that topped up with some bright red lipstick and shimmering blue eyeshadow to match the clothes. She gave Jungkook a big, advertisement smile.

Belle felt Jungkooks’ hand leave her and immediately hold his out towards the woman which she accepted happily. She introduced herself as Suyeon, only side-glancing her before fixating her gaze on the man instead.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Suyeon.” His charming tone sounded all too familiar.

“I think you two would hit it off really well.” Her aunt declared already off of a two second conversation. Finally the older woman managed to look over at her. “And who’s this?”

Jungkook hummed in question before looking at Belle. “Right this is—” He paused for a moment staring at the woman as if he was already starting to have second thoughts. “This is a friend…Belle.”

Belle smiled at the three new people even though her heart burned with anger at how quickly he changed his mind.

“Of course.” His aunt smiled.

The four elites dived into deep conversation as Belle quietly smiled and admired the performances instead; hoping they would distract her somehow. None of them really cared about her presence here which didn’t help her fury towards Jungkook.

Ah Jungkook.

He who conveniently shifted on the other side of her so he could stand next to Suyeon instead, conversing with her pleasantly. Everything about their deal now seemed long forgotten leaving Belle to worry about the fate of her brother.

“So…uh—” Suyeon spoke towards her now.

“Belle.” She answered softly, keeping up with that smile tiresomely.

“I’ve never seen you in these kinds of parties before.”

“This is my first time.”

“Ah—” Suyeon gave her a fake smile. “Makes sense.” She eyed her up and down as the other three of them laughed.

Even Jungkook didn’t seem to stop finding it funny.

“I mean…no offense, darling but yellow isn’t really a nice color for these events. They look a little—childish.” Venom flowed from her tongue when she spewed those words.

Whatever anxiety burning Belle from the inside now was momentarily pushed down as the fashion lover inside her scurried up. “It’s called daffodil…not yellow.” She emphasized the word making it sound like an uncouth description to use. “If we are talking about childish, perhaps you could take a closer look at the plastic rhinestones on your dress hanging on for dear life on a single thread.” She looked at her up and down this time. “I highly doubt that’s Louis Vuitton work.”

Her words silenced the four of them immediately. Suyeons’ photo-worthy smile now turned into an ugly frown, the aunts’ brows were raised in intrigue and Jungkook stared at her in shock. Belle merely smiled as the older woman of the group tried to change the topic now into something more lighthearted.

Once the confidence drowned out, anxiety kicked in again wanting to walk out of this vicinity right now and never look back. The four of them dispersed a little but Jungkook walked straight to her, holding her arm and bringing her close. “Behave yourself, alright? There’s no need to be rude.”

Belle scoffed yanking out of his grip and walking towards the buffet hoping that some food would help her mood. The clip in her hair began to prick at her aching head and her shoes felt like they were tighter by the minute. Nothing felt right about this night.

“Oh Belle…” She heard a drawling, sickly sweet voice.

Just her luck. Looking over to her side, she gave Suyeon a similar grin trying to look as friendly as possible even though their previous interaction was anything but that. “Suyeon—”

“I hope there’s no hard feelings about my comment.” There was no genuine nature in her tone in the slightest but Belle played along, once again playing pretend that everything was going swell.

“It’s all forgotten.” She shook her head.

“I also hope you could give me some more fashion advice.”

Belle turned to look at the female and a dampening chill trailed all the way down from her chest to her torso, body stepping back in shock. She looked down at her daffodil dress now stained with red almost forming into an orangish color. Gasps echoed throughout the room and she could feel the stares on her. Staring up at Suyeon, she was holding out an empty glass with a sinister smirk on her face.

“What color is that, little rat?”

“Suyeon!”

Belle could’ve sworn she heard Jungkooks’ aunts’ yelling but she was already heading for the bathroom, the whole day picked at her final straw.

If in a better mood, her eyes would have been shining in glee at the gorgeous white marble bathroom with bright gold detail. But right now they were flooding with hot tears that stained down her cheeks. Body shivering a little from the harsh chill on her entire front, some pieces of her hair completely damp and the skin on her chest reddened as well.

Belle whined lightly under her breath, lips quivering as she grabbed some tissues and dabbed off the excess liquid not wanting to face the crowd outside.

She heard a woman squeal a little when the door opened but she couldn’t care less to look.

Her head was numb, her body flushing from hot to cold and her body too stubborn to stop shaking from the cold and anxiety.

Finally her eyes flickered to the mirror to see a familiar figure standing next to her. The mere sight of him caused her to sigh in elevated frustration. “If you’re just going to yell at me—” Belle spoke in a cracked voice.

“I saw what she did.” Jungkook immediately replied in a mutter.

Belle sniffled washing off the liquid from the ends of her hair, feeling her clothes now sticking to her dampened skin.

The male padded closer reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” She backed away as one hand held onto the dripping hair. “You chose your wife, now leave me alone.” Belle hated that Jungkooks’ previous behavior created a lump in her throat, fresh tears arriving at the brim of her eyes.

A sigh passed his lips as he lowered his head, leaning against the edge of the counter. “Her joke wasn’t funny.” Jungkook murmured. “I just laughed for the sake of my aunt, she stares at my every move when I make conversation with these suitors. I can never seem to gain the courage to upset her.” He shifted in his position. “Truth be told, you were the most beautiful one here.”

Belle shook her head, another tear dropping down her cheek even after touching up her makeup. “I just wanna go home…” She tried to hug herself but it only made the clothes on her front more uncomfortable. “Please.”

Jungkook searched the womans’ expression finding nothing but distress and discomfort in her whole being. He nodded before shrugging off his coat with a sigh. “Here.” He held his coat out.

She hesitated for a moment glancing up at the man before caving as she draped the coat on. Thankfully it was big enough to cover up most of her dress. Once again his hand hovered over her back as they walked out of the bathroom.

Most of the people were back to their own conversations save for Jungkooks’ aunt who still looked worriedly at the two.

“I didn’t know she was going to behave like that, sweetie.” His aunt genuinely looked like she regretted inviting the menace to the event. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She rubbed her shoulder a little.

Belle smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk to you at a better time, auntie.” Jungkook kissed her cheek again before they walked out of the hall in silence.

Trying their best to ignore the paparazzi, the two were led into their car and were driven home in silence. Belle scooched on the far side on the back seat looking out the window hoping that this day would end. But it couldn’t.

Heat flushed at the back of her neck when she looked at the time. Her work tomorrow would start at around nine after she paid a visit to Taehyung in the rehab center. So that left only a few hours with no sleep to finish the rest of her designs for the spring line. Right up until they reached the mansion, her head began planning all the ways she would keep herself awake and finish the job she was set.

“What happened, mistress?” Nana asked and Belle just replied that a snake got a hold of a wine glass before they walked upstairs.

Jungkook walked over to the bar the last time she glimpsed back only for a second.

Forcing herself to have a cold shower, she put on simple pair of grey sweatpants and a matching sweater with her hair up in a ponytail. Her body million times more comfortable now in dry and warm clothing while her dress was being soaked. Annoyance washed over thinking of the possibility that she might not be able to take the stain off.

Belle sat on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, the perfect place to lay out all her designs and begin her sketching session.

Jungkook walked into the room when she was figuring out where to add details on one of her dresses. He paused a little looking at her deeply engrossed in her work.

She merely glanced at the male before going back to her tasks. Talking to him or even looking at him would only remind her of the time he stole away and for what? Humiliation and a wine stain on one of her favourite dresses? Belle even physically shook her head at the thought. The fact he even threatened to break the deal for this shit only worsened the fury.

But she couldn’t break any more pencils over her anger. Now Belle had to work. If anything needed to go well, it was this. So as the hours kept ticking away, the woman did nothing but do what she did best.

While Jungkook giving one last glance at her, fell fast asleep on the bed assuming she might just come there when she’s ready.

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#jungkook #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Interdimensional Moms: Bonus

Part 4 here<-

After many tears and tissue boxes, all members of team RWBY had finally stopped crying. Blake was the best off with her eyes a little red while Ruby was the complete opposite. The girl’s face was still rather red and her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t even completely stopped sniffling yet; much like tear marked partner. Yang on the other hand rested her head on the table. She had cried hard enough to giver herself a minor headache. She was completely drained.

Yang:Ugh, this blows! I thought this was gonna be a fun learning experience.

Blake:We definitely learned. It just so happens we had to poke at some.... extremely sensitive topics.

Weiss:I’m all for looking inward and self reflection but I’ve had my fill.

Ruby:Same. Should’ve kept the summary light.

Yang:No, I’m glad you got that off your chest. We just need a way to lighten the mood.

Blake:.....I kicked Weiss’s butt in a tournament.

RWY:......What?

Blake:During the time spent training for Salem, another tournament was held between the schools. It had team matches and singles. I kicked Weiss’s butt in my fourth round. It was a good day.

Weiss:How is that lightening mood!?

Blake:Listen, it was a big deal! I never thought I was gonna win the whole tournament but I really wanted to beat you. I love you but your head gets a little big when you’re on a roll for too long; plus I just really didn’t want to lose. I always felt a bit of rivalry between us.

Yang:Hehe, is that you’re way of saying “It would look bad to lose to a Schnee?”

Blake:Well it would!

Ruby:Hehehe.

Yang:Wait, does that mean we went back to school?

Blake:Yeah. It was pretty comforting. There was definitely a lot left to learn.

Yang:Weird. School kinda faded into the background.

Ruby:I went back to school. We all did actually. It was fast tracked by roughly a year but it was fun. We all got to pose in caps and gowns.

Weiss:Damn! I should’ve went back just for that. Unfortunately I was busy making rent and learning how to properly preheat a oven.

Yang:It’s like two buttons.

Weiss:Gas stove, and six years out of date.

Yang:Awww, you had to learn the hard way. I’m surprised and thankful you never left the gas on.

Weiss:There’s an alarm for that. Also I’m not irresponsible! Anyways, I mentioned similar tournaments earlier. I didn’t participate much but enough old videos of me in them were enough for to really light a fire under my kids. For awhile I was a bit concerned that they were just following a trend but they really love it. They used to always go around playing like knights when they were tiny.

Ruby:Carmine was a little different. She definitely always tried doing things I could but nothing got the girl jumping like seeing Yang’s horses or new ballet shoes. There wasn’t a morning when I didn’t hear a vase fall over or seeing her spin like a top. Carmine still hums some old routines when she isn’t paying attention.

Yang:Not too many memories of Yujin when she was pint size. But I do remember that wild child always loved using my bandannas for everything! Napkins, capes, ropes; anything but an actual bandanna. I used to get a bit upset with the napkin one but she’d always look at me with her big eyes and crazy hair. I never stayed mad.

Weiss:Softie.

Yang:She was like a pudgy puff ball! Fat cheeks and wholesome smiles. Ah! So adorable!

Weiss:I used to always have at least one of my kids on my hip when I was out and about. I think the media has a magazine amount of pictures of me at the park kissing my babies. Summer liked tummy rubs. She’d never go to sleep without one. Some nights I’d sing too but start to doze off so Jaune would have to take over.

Yang:*smiles* Speaking of Jaune.....

Ruby:No.

Yang:You don’t even know what I was-

Ruby:Were you about to suggest we compare our Jaune’s in the bedroom?

Yang:*red*......Well not just the bedroom! What’s the harm!? I just wanna know if he’s consistent across the board. No need to get detailed.

Weiss:You really never change no matter the world.

Yang:Can’t change greatness. It shows in any form!

Blake:He’s pretty compliant and accommodating. The benefits of being his first when I had prior knowledge I suppose.

Ruby:Don’t answer!

Blake:Why not? I’m comfortable with it.

Yang:Don’t listen to those two Blake. They’re just a bit more embarrassed since Jaune has literally been their one and only.

Blake:Huh, I never thought about it like that. Jaune would’ve been the first person you two opened up to on such a level; especially Weiss.

Yang:That’s still hilarious. All the protesting and somehow you found yourself stripping for the guy.

Weiss:Shut up! I already know! It was....I.... *blushing* emotions ran really high.

Ruby:An entire mental rollercoaster of thoughts and firsts happening all at once. Anxiety was high.

Yang:Heh, so you could say that Jaune Arc-

RW:Got through our walls. Hardy har har.

Yang:Shit, I am the same in every universe. Well I don’t have any reservations about it! *grinning* He makes me feel special every time!

Blake:Bottom.

Yang:I’m ignoring you.🎶

Ruby:Hehe, sounds about right. He...might make me feel a bit special as well.

Blake:Switch.

Ruby:How can you just guess off of that!?

Blake:It’s a gift.

Weiss:......

Blake:*smiling*

Weiss:Leave me alone.

Blake:I don’t know what has you embarrassed. You told us you’ve slept with everyone here except Ruby! I knew you were repressed but geez.

Weiss:For your information it wasn’t my idea! It was yours!

Blake:Not surprising. Let’s switch the topic. How is this other child of mine? Can’t picture me having a daughter.

Weiss:Veronica is very sensitive. Even if she tries to act like she isn’t. One time when she was tiny, a soccer ball hit her straight in the face and she sprung up saying “I’m fine!” Then you took her behind the bleachers to patch her up; tears all on her face. It both breaks my heart and very adorable to see her act fine while her ears are folded back.

Ruby:Your other son Kovu was a bit of cry baby. Partly my fault. Carmine kept beating him up and making fun of him.

Blake:What!?

Yang:Ha! Wait, that’s my kid too. How the heck!? Are you telling me you raised the rowdy child and I got the baby?

Ruby:Yang you’re a baby. I’m like twice as rowdy compared to you. A nevermore got worked day one at school.

Weiss:She has a point. You cry the most out of any of us.

Yang:Wha- that not- how....shut up! *pouts* I’m not that touchy.

Ruby:Kovu is a sweetie and not a cry baby. Carmine is just a little mean when she tries to care about others. She beat him up in an attempt to make Kovu give up dreaming about being a huntsman. That way he wouldn’t be in such a dangerous job. Reasonable logic but you know, a little over the top. Almost broke his arm. Boy did I chew her out. All it did was make him want to try harder.

Yang:Fantastic. I shouldn’t expect less from my own blood. I bet Yujin would like him. Which reminds me, anybody have kids in relationships?

RWB:We’re working on it.

The three women paused briefly before laughing at their meddling. Yang could only admire and fear her friends.

Yang:Should I be scared for your children?

Blake:Lucas needs someone to break up the routine in his life. I’m not saying he has to date her, but it would put a smile on my face.

Ruby:Carmine takes after me, not really thinking about stuff like relationships much. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t at all. Carmine tries her best to not act like she’s a teenaged girl with teenage wishes. But everyone sees right through it. I’m fine with her not being in one but I would like if she acknowledged that it’s okay to just....ugh, be normal! Why can nobody have normal knees in my life!?

Weiss:Nick likes Valerie who tries to deny she likes him by liking Summer, who doesn’t like her; while Veronica crushes on Nick who obviously has conflicting feelings.

RBY.....

Yang:Why is it always complicated with you?

Weiss:How is this my fau- okay it is a little bit.

Blake:Where do you stand?

Weiss:I think Valerie would be lovely for him.

Yang:What’s wrong with my baby girl!?

Blake:Yeah!?

Weiss:One, not yours. Two, have you met who I’m married to? Can’t really say he’s wasting his efforts. Though I wouldn’t be upset with Veronica. I think those two might be good for each other.

Blake:Any other bombshells people got?

Ruby:......

Ruby:Ilia is happily married.*sips coffee*

Blake:Oh that’s wonderful! I’m glad she found a loving wi-

Ruby:*smirks* To Sun.

Blake:....*stands up* I need, champagne!

A bottle of champagne poofs into existence with several glasses. Blake immediately pours everyone a glass before raising hers into the sky.

Blake:Ruby Rose, today you’ve erased guilt upon my conscious. I’m happy there’s one world where it seems all of my good exes get over me.

Ruby:Are the Ilia and Sun where you’re from miserable like Yang!?

Blake:No, but they kinda fumble in actually going for relationships. It just always makes me feel a little bad.

Yang:You can technically count two worlds. I’m fine, Ilia is dating a pretty secretary, and your one evil ex is now raising a morally good family.

Blake:You’re right! This calls for a double toast! To alternate universes! *puts glass down*

Weiss:Haha, aren’t you gonna drink it!?

Blake:No I’m still recovering; but how could I pass up the opportunity!? Man I wish I could attend that wedding! I don’t know if I’d be a bridesmaid or the best man!

Yang:You’re just gonna steal Neptune’s thunder like that?

Blake:Hey, Sun and I have taken bullets for each other and stab wounds. I think I deserve to be a little greedy and say I ride or die for that man just a little harder than Neptune.

Ruby:Geeeeeez Blake! Haha, I didn’t even tell you about the baby.

Blake:*visble excitement* Excuse me!?

RWY:*raises glass* Cheers.

Blake:CHEERS! What’s he like!?

xxxxx

Aero:AAAACHOOOO!

Carmine:Eugh! Cover your mouth! I don’t need to get sick.

Aero:Damn! What happened to uh I don’t know, “bless you!?”

Carmine:*pulls out tissues* Happy?

Aero:Where...why are those in you book bag?

Carmine:It’s flu season.

Aero:....I can’t tell if you’re the coolest person around or just a second mother.

Carmine:I can be both. My mom is arguably both but don’t tell her that. It’ll make her month and she’ll hug me too tight.

Aero:Bitch, you love hugs. Stop being difficult.

Carmine:Mmmm nah.

Aero:I feel bad for your mom.

Carmine:I feel bad for yours.

Aero:Hop off. You’re so childish.

Carmine:And yet you love me.

Aero:*red* In your dreams!

Carmine:It would make your day if I dreamed about you,wouldn’t it?

Aero:I hope you dream of spiders.

Carmine:We do not joke about that! *grabs him* Aero I will beat you up if I dream of them tonight! That’s just mean!

Aero:Stop crying ya baby. I could’ve said they were- ow!

Sun:*hitting him* Shut up and just kiss something! We’re trying to watch a game.

Aero and Carmine:We don’t like each other!

Jaune:With all do respect, that’s a lie. But please by all means Aero, continue not touching my daughter if you know what’s best for you. I don’t wanna have to fight you and your parents right afterwards.

Sun:Ilia would kill you.

Jaune:Yeah! That’s why I don’t want the fight! Much like Ruby, she’s short and terrifying. Her size holds the rage.

Ilia:*peeks in* Who’s talking shit?

JASC:Nobody, we love you!

Ilia:.....Got my eyes on you four. *holds Garnet up* and this one; the most well behaved in this bunch even with no nap.

Garnet:*fussy grumbling* I’m a ball of rage!

Ilia:You wanna nap?

Garnet:Yes!!!

Ilia:See, behaved. *walks away* don’t make me come back out here.

Carmine:....So do you like me because your mother is also imposing?

Aero:This is it, my evil origin story. It begins today.

xxxxx

Ruby:I admire his patience.

#rwby #the void #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #carmine arc rose #aero amitola #ilia amitola #sun wukong #rwby ships #rwby lancaster #rwby whiteknight #rwby dragonslayer #rwby knightshade

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,756)

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Part Nine: Tubbo II

Tubbo feels adrift.

It’s not an emotion he does well with, if it’s even an emotion at all and not just a strange, unsettling state of being. By all rights, he shouldn’t be dealing with this at all; it’s not as if there’s not anything to do, not as if he’s not a member of Wilbur’s cabinet and not as if he’s not trying to corral the candidates into productive debates and not as if they haven’t just finished handling Sapnap’s pet-murdering bullshit. It’s not as if he’s not busy. Not as if he doesn’t have purpose. Adrift is not a word that should apply to him.

But then again, it’s not as if he doesn’t know why he feels it.

It’s Tommy.

So many things come back to Tommy, at the end of the day. Normally, it’s not a bad thing. There’s no place he’d rather be than at Tommy’s side. But that’s just it, though, is the problem in a nutshell, because Tommy’s side is a place he finds himself less and less frequently.

Not in a literal sense. Tommy’s still around all the time. Is still around him. Physically, at least. But Tubbo’s known Tommy for years, and that means he knows how to read him, which is why it’s troubling that he doesn’t know how to interpret the look in his eyes half the time, all dark and distant, like he’s miles and miles away, staring at something that Tubbo can’t see. Staring past him, past everyone.

It’s scary, if he’s being honest with himself. And scarier still that Tommy’s trying to hide it, that whenever he tries to so much as hint at something being the matter, Tommy laughs and says something loud and obnoxious and deflects and changes the subject and refuses to tell him anything at all. Which is so fucking wrong. Since when does Tommy keep secrets from him? Since when does Tommy have a secret that he can’t trust him with?

Sometimes, he thinks that he’s imagining it, is making up the whole thing, is getting lost in his head and inventing problems where there are none, just because he has been a little stressed recently, what with everything. But then, he’ll see someone else make a sharp motion, and Tommy will jerk away, face shuttering, and he knows that he’s not inventing any of it.

Because Tommy always tries to play it off, but Tommy reacts that way to lot of things, nowadays.

And Tubbo doesn’t know what to do, because Tommy won’t even tell him what the problem is.

So, he resorts to the only action he can think to take. He goes against one of the only things Tommy has told him, that first night when he started acting off.

He decides to talk to Wilbur about it.

“I think there’s something wrong with Tommy,” he says. Blurts out, more like, no dancing around it at all, but dancing around it would hardly help anyone. It’s certainly not helping Tommy.

From behind his desk, Wilbur puts his pen down, signaling his full attention. The sun shines through the window behind him, late afternoon light casting the office in a gentle glow. Wilbur is backlit against it, painting his features in slight shadow.

“In what way?” Wilbur asks. “Has he said anything to you?”

“No,” he says, “and that’s sort of the issue. He keeps acting weird, but he won’t talk to me about it. He just pretends like, like I’m dumb or something, or that I’m making shit up. But I’m not. And then he keeps on acting weird, and it’s like he doesn’t expect me to notice it.” Wilbur’s staring at him evenly, calmly, and he feels a burst of desperation—he’s not making this up, he’s not, and he doesn’t want Wilbur to believe that he is, to believe that he’s jumping at nothing, to dismiss him. “He keeps saying weird shit, and he flinches sometimes, or he looks at people really strangely, like he thinks they’re—like he thinks they’re ghosts or something. Or like Herobrine incarnate—did you see the way he was glaring at Awesamdude the other day when he came by? It’s—I swear there’s something wrong with him, I’m not even joking. Really, really wrong.”

His own words burn a little in his mouth, and his brain summons up a memory: the dark of night outside, Tommy clinging to him with the fervor of a dying man, the sentence like an exploding firework, far off. You have to stay alive.

As if he thought Tubbo was planning to do anything differently.

It takes a second for Wilbur to speak.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and the weight in his tone prevents Tubbo from feeling most of the relief the statement provokes. The relief that he’s not alone in this, that someone else has seen what he’s seen. “Since the night he gave up his discs.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agrees, and then he falls quiet. For a moment, Wilbur doesn’t say anything else either, but then he sighs, leaning forward.

“Tubbo,” he says, in that way of his that means he’s about to make a pronouncement of some sort. Tubbo leans in too, mirroring him. “I will be completely honest with you. I was hoping that whatever’s wrong, Tommy was talking to you about it. Because he’s certainly not talking to me.”

He feels his hopes die in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted Wilbur to have an easy solution. Or a solution at all. Wilbur always seems to know what to do.

But not, it seems, in this case.

“He’s not,” he says, and now the words just taste sour. “He’s not talking to me. He’s never not talked to me. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Something flashes on Wilbur’s face, too quick to process.

“Neither do I,” he says, and grimaces. “I’m not fond of that. I imagine you’re not either. I wish I had an answer for you, Tubbo, but I—I’m worried about pressing him on this. He seems fairly quick to close himself off lately. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as well. And he’s not come to me with anything.”

Tubbo’s certain he’s not mistaking the note of despair in his voice. The words, not like he used to, go unspoken. In a way, it almost makes him feel a little better, that whatever this is, Tommy’s not trusting Wilbur with it, either, not trusting the man who he’s adopted as an older brother, and who has adopted him in turn. Or at least, it would make him feel a little better, if it weren’t so damn worrying.

If Tommy didn’t seem to be caught up in something beyond his understanding, or control.

“So I can only guess,” Wilbur continues after a moment. “I considered the idea that something else happened that night. Something he hasn’t told anyone. The only trouble with that is I don’t know what could have happened that he’d feel like he couldn’t share.” He pauses, and when he goes on again, his voice is softer. “He already gave up his discs. For—for all of us. For L’Manberg. I don’t know what would have been worse than that, for him.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He didn’t—I mean, he didn’t die. He didn’t die, and no one else did, so I don’t—do you think this could be about the discs, still? I mean, those were important to him. To us. But to him most of all.”

Wilbur’s eyes flash again, and Tubbo notes idly that he doesn’t have his glasses on. He probably should—it strains his eyes to read without them, so Tubbo’s not sure why he wouldn’t be wearing them right now.

“Maybe,” Wilbur says. “Maybe that’s what this is. Though I wouldn’t have wanted him to—Tubbo, you know I wouldn’t have wanted him to, right? Under any circumstances. I never would have asked it of him, and especially not if I knew it would affect him this badly.”

“I know,” he says. He’s a bit surprised Wilbur feels the need to ask, but there’s an odd insistence in the question.

Maybe he’s just stressed. Prime knows they all have been, these past few weeks, and Wilbur most of all. He’s running in an election at the same time as running the actual country, and that’s got to weigh on anyone.

“The way he looks at me sometimes,” Wilbur says softly, shaking his head. “It’s as if—I don’t know. I shouldn’t—sorry, Tubbo, I don’t mean to ramble. You’ve got as much on your plate as any of us.” And Wilbur smiles, but for some reason, it feels fake. Plastered on. Like an expectation, the fulfillment of a role.

“I mean, yeah,” he says, shaking the oddness off. “But stuff about Tommy isn’t stuff that I’ve got to put on my plate, y’know? It’s just—important. Not something to check off a to-do list.”

Wilbur’s gaze softens. “I know,” he agrees. “I feel the same way. He’s my—well. You know.”

“Everyone knows,” he says.

“I can only hope,” Wilbur replies. He glances down at his desk, eyes flitting across his papers, the pen he’s set down, and then back up to Tubbo’s face. “But, Tubbo, if I can be completely frank, I think that out of everyone, you’ve got the best shot at getting him to talk to you. He’s—I mean, he’s your best friend, and you’re his, right? Part of a pair, you are. So even if he won’t—or doesn’t feel like he can talk to the rest of us, he might talk to you.”

“Maybe,” he says. “I haven’t had a lot of luck so far.” He frowns. “You really think he won’t say anything to you?”

He almost regrets the question, because it puts an expression on Wilbur’s face. Not a very nice one, and it’s gone in an instant, but for a second, he looks intensely sad. And between one blink and the next, it’s vanished, sort of like it’s a practiced motion, covering up things like that.

No, he’s reading too much into it. Surely.

They’re all so stressed. He can’t wait for the election to be over.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur says. “I don’t want to count on it. I sort of doubt—and this could all be a moot point, of course. Maybe he just needs more time, and we’re worrying about something that’ll blow over. It’s Tommy, after all. He’s always been so resilient. But that means he’s not going to talk about things until he’s ready to talk. If he truly doesn’t want to, we’re not going to be able to make him. All we’ll succeed in doing is making everyone miserable.”

“What do I do, then?” he demands. “I can’t just not do anything. He’s—you told me you saw it, too. There’s something wrong.”

“I know,” Wilbur says, voice rising. “I know, I’ve been telling you that I know. I don’t like it, Tubbo. I just—” He stops, breathes in, and Tubbo notices that his hands were clenched into fists and are now relaxing, fingers uncurling to rest on the desk’s wooden surface. “We can try to be there for him. Be ready when he comes to us. Let him know that he can, even if he doesn’t want to right now. That’s what we can do, if nothing else. I don’t like it. But we can’t force anything out of him, so that’s the best thing, I think. We be there, as much as he lets us. And when he finally tells us what the problem is, we kill it with fire.”

That last part, he’s on board with.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll do my best.”

And it occurs to him that he never told Wilbur about what happened that night, when Tommy came to him. In tears, acting so strangely, his voice wavering and wobbling and his whole body shaking like a leaf.

But Tommy told him not to tell Wilbur. He specifically asked him not to, so while bringing his general concerns to him was one thing, sharing that would be another. He’s not willing to break Tommy’s trust like that. Not unless things get truly desperate.

He thinks they’re not quite to that point yet. He hopes they’re not quite to that point yet.

“I know you will,” Wilbur says. “I never doubt you, Tubbo. And I’ll do my best, too. I promise.” He smiles, and it’s not as warm as Wilbur’s smiles once were, he thinks. But it is genuine, if tired, if concerned, if ever so slightly strained. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Somehow,” he agrees. “Thanks, Wilbur.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome to come talk to me.”

It does make him feel a bit better, talking to Wilbur. Knowing that he’s not alone in his concerns, at least, and the fact that he’s got Wilbur on his side is always reassuring. Wilbur’s like a light in the dark, a bit, the leader that they all look to, and his advice is always sound, always manages to be at least a little bit comforting.

So he tries to take it.

He tries to be there for Tommy, even if it’s difficult, at times, to stop himself from demanding answers, from taking him by the shoulders and shaking him until he admits that there’s something the matter, until he reveals what he can do to help him. Difficult not to react when he flinches, or when he stares at someone like they’re either a miracle or a ghost or something else entirely, or when he disappears without a word of warning only to reappear a few hours later as if he never went anywhere at all.

It’s difficult, but he tries. And sometimes, it’s almost like normal. Sometimes, Tommy grins at him with a gleam in his eyes and a bounce in his step, and they go off to try and rob Sapnap or mess around a little with Ponk’s lemon trees or get back at Fundy for the latest annoying prank. Sometimes, Tommy’s all bluster and confidence and unwavering chaos, and it’s like nothing’s changed at all, even as the elections draw nearer.

Tommy’s been very diligent about those. He even wrote a lot of the regulations, with a seriousness that Tubbo didn’t know what to make of. But the rules have been working so far—everyone’s declared their campaigns, there’s been no unsavory endorsements, no signs yet of voter fraud or other such shenanigans, and everyone running is a citizen of L’Manberg.

Everything ought to be alright.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asks.

They’re fucking around around the base of one of Eret’s new towers. Tommy suggested griefing one, just a bit, as a little prank, but then backtracked the idea, so now they’re just hanging around. Eret’s not even here at the moment, he doesn’t think.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Just got a lot on my mind, is all. Elections and whatnot.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t think so hard about it,” he says. “We’ve got this one in the bag. No way we don’t get the popular vote, so long as everyone does it by the book.”

“It’s making sure of that that’s the problem,” he says wryly. “It’s not as if we’ve got an impartial lawyer around here. I’d ask Big Q to help out, but Big Q’s got a vested interest in fucking around with things. At least I can pretend to be neutral. Sort of.”

Tommy makes a noncommittal sound. “You’re doing great, Tubs,” he says. “I’m telling you, this should go right.”

“I’m glad you’re confident,” he says, and squints up at the tower. It’s mostly stone, but nearer to the top, it seems that Eret has gotten a bit more elaborate. Gold glints in the afternoon light, just begging to be stolen. Maybe later, though, and only if Eret wouldn’t be too bothered.

“I’m glad I’ve got something to be confident about,” Tommy mutters, and he turns his head sharply. Tommy isn’t looking at him, is staring off at where the walls are visible, not too far from here. “I worked hard on this, you know. It’s fucking airtight, is what it is. I know what I’m doing.”

“You did a good job with all the rules,” he agrees. “I think Wilbur was impressed with how much thought you put into it.”

Tommy blinks, and then puffs his chest out. “He better damn well be,” he says. “I put so much thought. All of my thoughts, right there. So big and cool. I’m going to write a book of my thoughts, and it will be a bestseller, and everyone will read it and weep, that’s how poggers it will be.”

“They’ll weep, alright,” he says wryly. “Probably from the damage it will do to their eyes. And their brain cells.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy says. “Not my fault you don’t understand genius.”

“Genius is a word,” he says. “You’re right about that. Not sure you know what it means.”

“Why are you the way that you are,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes with great vigor. And then, to Tubbo’s surprise, he grabs his hand. “C’mon, let’s just go—fucking sit somewhere or something, I don’t want to do shit right now. It’s been exhausting, innit?”

He’s on the verge of pointing out that they’ve got a whole place where they normally go and sit, but Tommy doesn’t seem to be thinking about their bench. He leads him a few paces away from the tower and then flops on the grass, laying on his back and staring up at the sky. Tubbo joins him after a moment, situating himself right next to him.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a moment. “We’re almost done with it. Maybe then we’ll be able to get some good sleep.”

Tommy snorts. “It’s never done, on this server,” he mutters. “There’s always something else. There’s always—” He breaks off. “But yeah, you’re right. It should get better, at least. One less thing to try and be thinking about, I suppose.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask what else Tommy is thinking about. What else is on his mind. But the question won’t be welcome, and he’s trying to be open and inviting and supportive, not pushy, no matter how much he wants to be, so he refrains. And Tommy doesn’t say anything else, just lets out a long breath, so for a while, they’re just lying there on the grass, watching the clouds drift by.

It’s peaceful. He can almost forget that there’s so much going on.

And then Tommy speaks up again.

“If I were to get you a baby zombie piglin,” he says, musingly, as if he’s speaking to himself, “would it have to be any particular one? Or do y’think you’d be alright with any? Like, like replacing a goldfish or something?”

And somehow, that’s the breaking point.

“Okay,” he says, sitting bolt upright, “what the fuck?”

“What?” Tommy says. “It’s just a question.”

“No, it’s not,” he—says. He says. He’s not snapping. He’s not angry—but there’s something bubbling up, boiling over, and if it’s not anger, it’s frustration, at the very least. “It’s not just a question. It’s weird. You keep doing this. You say weird shit and you don’t explain any of it, and I’m left trying to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about, and you—you’re not talking to me, Tommy! You’re not telling me anything!”

Tommy sits up too, slowly, eyes wide, but he can’t bring himself to regret the outburst. Though maybe he will later.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tommy starts, but he shakes his head hard, and the world blurs for a moment.

“That’s bullshit,” he says, and to his embarrassment, his voice cracks. “That is such bullshit. Do you honestly think I can’t tell something’s up? You can say that there’s not all you like, but that doesn’t change what you—you flinch when people get too close. You do weird things. You vanish and then come back without saying where you went, literally ever. You say shit that’s just—that’s just off. And then you try to brush it all off, but you can’t, you can’t brush this off, Tommy. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Tommy is completely, utterly silent. Tubbo tries to meet his gaze, but finds that he can’t, due to the fact that there are tears in his eyes, and everything is swimming.

“I just want to know what’s wrong,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to disguise his misery. He’s gotten this far. Might as well let it all out. “I want to know what happened to you. I want you to let me help. I want you to tell me things, like you used to.”

“I can’t,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds alarmed, almost pleading, like he’s begging him to drop it. Well, he won’t. If he thinks he will, he’s got another thing coming. He’s let this drop too many times. Enough is enough. It’s time to push. “I can’t—there’s nothing going on, there’s not—not anything that’s a big deal or that you need to worry about, I just—”

“Stop lying,” he says. “Please, stop lying to me.”

Tommy goes quiet again. And that’s setting off all his head’s warning sirens, because Tommy never just goes quiet, but isn’t that just another thing to add to the list? Another response that isn’t as it should be? Mounting evidence that Tommy’s claim of being alright is just a bunch of horseshit?

“It was that night, wasn’t it?” he presses on, and his throat is closing up, but he chokes out the words anyway. It’s sudden, this sensation of being overwhelmed, but he’s powerless to stop it all from hitting. Powerless to keep himself from thinking about how there’s something wrong with Tommy, something wrong with his best friend in all the worlds, and Tommy won’t talk to him. “That night you came to me, and then you gave up the discs. Something else happened. Was it Dream? Did he do something? Or was it before that? Did something happen before you woke me up? Is that why you were crying? You’ve got to tell me, Tommy, please. I’m not letting this go. I shouldn’t have let it go before. I just thought—I thought you’d tell me, when you could, but you haven’t. You’ve been suffering, and I’ve just been watching.”

His voice cracks again. He can’t care.

“No,” Tommy says, almost a whisper. “No, Tubbo, no, that’s not it, there’s not—this isn’t something you can do anything about, Tubbo, that’s all. That’s all it is.”

“Do you not trust me, then?” he asks. “Is that it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” This is sharper, louder. “No—fuck, of course you didn’t. You haven’t done anything. You’re fine, Tubbo, it’s all fine, and I’m handling it. I’m doing alright.”

“But you’re not,” he says. “You’re not. You’re not alright.”

He blinks, hard, and the tears clear, finally. Tommy is staring at him, jaw slightly slack.

“I am,” he says, but Tubbo shakes his head again.

“You’re not,” he insists, before he can take that any further. “Why won’t you tell me about it? You know I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want me to. You know that.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “I do know that, Tubs, c’mon—”

“But then why won’t you—”

“It’ll put you in danger,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not risking you!”

There are so many things he could say to that. Voicing the implication that whatever’s going on, it’s already put Tommy in danger, is high on the list, and it makes him sick to think that maybe Tommy just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s not paying any mind to the danger to himself, even as he worries about everyone else around him. But Tommy won’t listen if he says as much. He can tell already.

So he goes with his gut. Recalls the old conversation, puts together all the glances and the flinches and the stares when he thinks no one else is watching. Draws himself a picture, though he’s sure it’s still incomplete.

“Tommy,” he says, and tries to keep his voice level, steady, “I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s face crumples like a wet sheet of paper, and there is a long pause.

“You don’t know that,” Tommy finally says, wavering and thready, and Tubbo doesn’t know why Tommy’s so scared, still. He doesn’t know what happened to make him fear this. And maybe he never will, if he can’t coax it out of him. But maybe that’s not so important at the moment, not more important than offering reassurance.

And that, he can do.

“I do know that,” he says. “Look, I’ll swear it right now. I’ll swear it on—L’Manberg itself. I’m not going to die.”

Tommy’s eyes go very pinched and squinty, and he bites down on his bottom lip, hard. Tubbo knows that look, so he extends his arms and tugs Tommy into him, into a hug, so that Tommy can cry without him seeing. He almost expects the embrace to be rejected, but after a moment of stiffness, Tommy melts against him, tucking his chin on his shoulder.

“You gotta have a little more faith in my abilities, man,” he says, aiming for some levity. “I’m not so easy to kill.”

“I do have faith in you, Tubbo,” Tommy mumbles.

“Then let me help,” he says, and decides that a compromise is in order. “Look, you don’t even have to tell me everything. Or anything. But if there’s something I can do, let me do it. Let me help you. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to be on your own. You don’t have to handle it by yourself or whatever stupid bullshit you’ve been on about.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Tommy says, still barely discernible.

“I think it could be,” he replies. “I think you’re overthinking it.” He holds Tommy a bit tighter. “And really, I’m not gonna die, big man. And even if I did, you wouldn’t be rid of me that easily. I’d come back as a ghost and haunt you for eternity. Move your shit around when you’re not looking.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Tommy whispers, “and I don’t know why.”

Okay, that’s—okay. He’s not going to mess up the progress he’s made, even though he’d dearly love to comment on whatever the fuck that means.

“Alright, then,” he says, “but are you hearing me? Can you do that? Let me in, just a little bit? ‘Cause I mean, really. You’ve got to be able to trust me to look after myself. I appreciate you trying to protect me or whatever you’re doing, but not if you’re hurting yourself doing it. And not if you’re being stupid about it. ‘Cause I’m not some fragile fucking flower, you know? So can you? Let me help?”

Tommy shifts a bit, but doesn’t attempt to pull back, so Tubbo takes that as permission to keep holding him.

“Okay,” Tommy says, after a minute, voice small. “Okay, I’ll—I still can’t, I can’t tell you much, but I’ll try. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think that I—that I didn’t trust you or some shit, that’s not it at all—”

He sounds increasingly distressed, so Tubbo cuts in.

“That’s fine,” he says. “We’re okay. Just don’t shut me out, alright? Whatever I can do, let me do it. That’ll be enough for now.”

Whether it will always be enough is another question. But, baby steps. Baby steps.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Alright. I’ll try.”

He’s still crying. Tubbo doesn’t comment on it. Not even when Tommy finally pulls back, and his eyes are red-rimmed, avoiding his gaze. Not even when they go back to L’Manberg together, Tommy staring straight ahead except for when he’s not, except for when he casts little glances over to him, as if to check that he’s still there.

Tubbo’s gotten more questions than answers out of this. But he’s also gotten a promise.

He’ll hold him to his word. And he’ll make a private promise of his own.

He won’t die. And Tommy won’t either. They’re both going to come out the other side, and everything really will be alright again.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #tubbo #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #everything's still fine :D

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