#which keeps beeping at me like some sort of digital watch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacharcutiere · 3 years

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ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

231 notes · View notes

aoyama-division · 3 years

Text

Jet Set Trio Drama Track 1 - Another Day, Another Dollar

Pt. 1

-- Chōten Residence --

*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*

[As the clock had struck exactly 12:35 P.M., the alarm in the bedroom clock on the nightstand went off, awakening the young socialite known as Tomi Chōten from his slumber. Hitting the alarm clock until it shut off, he groaned as he groggily sat up from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Remembering his events from last night, he looked over his shoulder and saw that the other side of his king-sized mattress was empty, save a single note. Rolling his eyes, he picked it up and half-heartedly read it.]

???: Thanks for the great night, Tomi-san! Looking forward to seeing you again! 💋

Tomi: Tch.

[Crumpling the paper up, the socialite threw it in a random direction in his room, not caring where it landed. Groaning once more, he stood up, grabbing his large emerald green robe from the rack atop his bedroom door. Tying it firmly across his waist, he opened his bedroom door and walked into the corridor where a group of butlers and maids were busy going about their business. As he crossed their path, they all immediately stopped what they were doing, bowed their heads, and greeted one of the heads of the family.]

Maids: *In unison* Good afternoon, Master Tomi!

[The young socialite did not dine to respond to any of them as he proceeded to the end of the hall where the stairs were. Proceeding downward two stories to the first floor, he looked as his family's head butler, Akiharu Hino, was digitally dusting a large vase his father had brought during one of his many voyages overseas. Hearing someone descend downstairs, the old butler stopped what he was doing and turned towards the stairs. Upon seeing it was the young master of the family, he placed his left arm over his chest and bowed his head.]

Hino: Good afternoon, young master.

Tomi: *Groggily* Morning, Hino.

Hino: It's actually afternoon sir, but thank you for the greeting.

Tomi: *Rolls his eyes* Details, Hino. It is far too early.

Hino: If you say so, sir.

[Groaning, the young socialite turned and made his way to the living room.]

Hino: Your morning coffee and cigar are waiting for you on the second end table, sir.

[Tomi did reply, instead simply waving his hand in 'thanks' as he continued towards the large brown doors to the living room.]

Hino: Ah sir, before you enter, I feel that I have to warn you that...

[Before the seasoned butler could finish his warning, the young master pushed opened the doors to the family room. He was prepared to see no one present save the maids he may have been cleaning up here. But instead, what his eyes took in was something else entirely. He looked as standing a ways away from his family's large flat-screen television that was hanging atop one of the room's walls, was his friend and associate, Karada Kessaku, busy following some sort of aerobic exercise that was on TV. But what caught Tomi's attention was the fact that his friend was wearing nothing save a pair of tight green exercise briefs, showing off his entire muscled body.]

[Staring at the display for a couple of moments longer, the young socialite, having had enough of the display, looked around for the remote control. Finding it atop the large glass table in the middle of the room, he quickly grabbed it and hit the 'Power' button, turning the television off.]

Karada: Hey!

[Turning around upset, the bodybuilder stopped and looked as it was his friend, Tomi, who was responsible.]

Karada: Oh, hey Tomi. Bout time you woke up. Thought you were just going to sleep the day away again.

Tomi: *Barely containing his rage* Karada, what do you think you're doing?

Karada: Huh? *Looks down at himself* Oh. Well, I was doing my daily aerobic exercises until someone interu...

Tomi: No! I mean, *Waves his hand at Karada's wardrobe* What do you think you doing in my house, in my living room, half-naked?!

Karada: Huh? *Looks down at himself again* Oh. Well, this is how I always do my aerobics. It helps my body to breathe.

Tomi: But why in my house?!

Karada: *Shrugs* I don't know. What's the big deal? It's not like I'm hurting anyone.

Tomi: You're hurting my eyes! Just put some clothes on, for God's sake!

Karada: All right, all right. Sheesh. *Looks over at Hino, who was silently watching the entire display with nary a word nor a hint of emotion* Do you have my clothes anywhere?

Hino: Right here, Master Karada. *Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulls a fresh pair of clothes from behind his back* I took the liberty of having them washed and cleaned for you.

Karada: Wow, thanks dude! *He quickly throws his clothes on, which consists of his green muscle shirt and a pair of long blue gym shorts before looking back at Tomi* There. Happy?

[The young socialite didn't bother to reply instead of walking to a corner of the room where he had spotted a white teacup full of black liquid, which was coffee from the smell of it. Beside the glass was a large light brown cigar that was currently unlit, but was ready to be smoked. Sitting down on the large sofa in the room, Tomi picked up the glass, before taking a quick sip, sighing as the liquid made its way down his body, quickly rejuvenating him.]

Tomi: *Raises the cup in Hino's direction* Good as always, Hino-san. Well done.

Hino: *Bows with his left arm over his chest* My pleasure, sir.

Karada: *Frowning* I don't see how you people can drink that stuff.

Tomi: *Takes another sip, not bothering to look at him* Try it, you might like it.

Karada: Hard pass. Give me a protein shake any day of the week.

Tomi: *Rolls his eyes* Whatever. *Looks up at him, setting his teacup down* What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be at the gym, 'pumping iron' or whatever it is you meatheads call it?

Karada: *Frowns again* Okay, one: I take offense to that. Meatheads are known for generally not being smart. And I like to think I have a good intellect as far as most people go.

Tomi: *Scoffs and speaks under his breath* Keep telling yourself that...

Karada: *Chooses to ignore whatever it was his friend just said* And secondly: if you must know, today was your mother's training day.

Tomi: *Frowning as he picks up his cigar* Again? What is that, the third time this week?

Karada: *Shrugs* Hey, do you have any idea how hard it is to squeeze people into my schedule? Your mom, no offense or anything, is just a few of the many women here in Aoyama who pay for my services.

Tomi: Aren't your services exclusive to only women anyway?

Karada: Well I sure as hell aren't selling them out to men if that's what you're wondering! *Flexes* These muscles are only for the women of Aoyama to partake in!

Tomi: Well you might want to be careful there, Mr. Muscles. *Smirks as he lights his cigar* If these women's spouses or significant others find out that it's a man giving their ladies 'private lessons', you might very well find a mob on your doorstep one day.

Karada: *Smirks* My clients and I have a very strict teacher/student confidentiality act in place. I disavow any knowledge of what goes on during our sessions.

Tomi: *Grins* Hmm, must be nice. *Takes a puff of his cigar*

Karada: *Smirks* Besides, are you really in any position to talk?

Tomi: *Looks up, confused* What are you talking about?

Karada: *Continues smirking* I'm talking about that girl who left early this morning.

Tomi: *Still looks confused, before realization hits his face* Ohh. Her. *Scoffs* Just a one-time thing, I assure you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Karada: You really should take my advice, and meet a real girl for once.

Tomi: And why pray tell, would I waste my time on that? *Takes another puff of his cigar* One-night stands get me all the fun of being in a relationship without the hassle of actually being in one.

Tomi: And F.Y.I., the women I sleep with are real.

Hino: Is that why I always see them leaving the house in the morning with a large bag of money, young master?

[Karada starts laughing out loud, while Tomi scowls at his butler.]

Tomi: You're supposed to be on my side here, Hino.

Hino: My apologies, Master Tomi.

Tomi: Whatever. *Takes another puff of his cigar before snubbing it out in an ashtray nearby* So Hino, what exactly is on the agenda for today?

Hino: Well... *Takes a note out of his shirt pocket, giving it a look over* ...You are free up 4:00 P.M. At that time, you are needed to relocate to the clothing store at the Aoyama Shopping Mall to get fitted for your attire for tonight's banquet at 7:00 P.M at the Aoyama Park Tower.

Tomi: *Groans* Great, another soirée to go to. *Sighs before standing up*

Karada: Hey, since you're free until four, how about we go get some grub over at Luis's place?

Tomi: Good idea. I've not eaten since I woke up.

Karada: Maybe you should try not sleeping past noon.

Tomi: *sarcastically* I'll give your advice serious consideration.

Hino: Shall I prepare the limousine, Young Master?

Tomi: Yes please, Hino. *Begins walking back upstairs* I'll be down in five minutes.

Karada: I'll time you!

Tomi: *Answers without looking back* You do that.

-- Thrilling Heart Restaurant, Aoyama District --

[After about a 10 min. ride, Tomi and Karada finally arrived at Luis's restaurant. Upon arrival, both men looked as there was a line leading out of the restaurant.]

Karada: Sheesh, Luis's place is as busy as ever. And it's only lunchtime.

Tomi: *Scoffs as he begins walking towards the restaurant, bypassing the line of people* I don't know why Luis has to have his restaurant open to everyone.

Karada: *Follows behind Tomi* To make more money?

Tomi: He'd make more if he only catered to a certain kind of people.

Karada: *Frowns* You mean, people like you?

Tomi: *Shrugs* Don't see why not.

[The duo continued passing the crowd, ignoring the looks and complaints they received. Upon entering the restaurant, Tomi looked at the server who immediately recognized who the two were and hastily bowed her head.]

Server: G-good day, Master Tomi and Karada!

Tomi: *Rolls eyes* Spare me the fake hospitality and just get us a table. Far away from the peons, please.

Server: Y-y-yes, o-of course!

[Obeying the young socialite, the server led him and Karada up onto the second floor of the restaurant, which was completely empty. She then lead them to a table close to the back with a sign on it that read 'Reserved for Special Patrons'. Pulling the seats out for both men, the nervous server then stood off to the side, pulling out a pen and notepad.]

Server: W-what would you like to drink?

Karada: I'll take a glass of ice-cold water, thanks.

Tomi: A glass of red wine.

Karada: *Frowns at Tomi* Dude, are you serious? It's like one in the freakin' afternoon!

Tomi: *Cocks an eyebrow at Karada* Your point?

Karada: *Sighs* Whatever. Do what you want.

Server: *Nervously writes the men's drinks on her notepad* A-and for your meals?

Karada: I'll take a couple of those greasy tacos that you guys were serving the other day. Those things were awesome!

Tomi: *Looking at the menu with a frown* Why is everything on this menu so damn hard to pronunciate?

Karada: Well, it is all Hispanic.

Tomi: *Sighs and tosses the menu on the table* Just give me whatever it is you guys called 'grilled goat' or something.

Server: Y-you mean our cabrito?

Tomi: *Looks at the server, annoyed* Do I look like I care what it's called? Just bring it here!

Server: Y-y-yes sir! My apologies! *Starts to run off to take the men's orders*

Tomi: *Holds up a finger* Hold it.

Server: *Stops mid-step, and looks back at the socialite, scared* Y-yes?

Tomi: When our food gets here, tell the owner/chef that we'd like to speak with him.

Server: Y-yes! I-I-I'll make sure t-t-to tell h-him.

Tomi: Good, then get going.

Server: Y-yes! *She then runs off to the first floor to the kitchen*

Karada: *Frowns at Tomi as the server disappears from view* Seriously, dude?

Tomi: *Looks at his friend with a bored look* What is it now?

Karada: What was that?

Tomi: *Looks at his friend, confused* What was what?

Karada: That! *Points to where the server was formerly standing* With the server! Why were you acting rude to her?

Tomi: *Sighs, while rolling his eyes* Karada-san, I don't know how many more times I have to explain this to you before you understand it. *Sits up, giving his friend his attention*

Tomi: We... *Points to himself and Karada* ...are a cultured people, my friend. We are special people. Why? Because we have something that those peons down there... *Points to the people still waiting in line* ...do not have. And you know what that is, correct?

Karada: Uhh...

Tomi: *Continues without waiting for him to answer* Class, my friend. Class. We are on an entirely different level from the peasants down there still waiting to get inside. The fact that we were able to get seated before them is proof enough.

Karada: Isn't that just cause we know the owner?

Tomi: *Sighs* Missing the point, entirely. The very thought that we have to treat, or, Heaven forbid, be treated the same as those peons down there, is not only wrong but also foolish.

Karada: *Frowns* Isn't that kinda arrogant?

Tomi: Arrogant? *Scoffs* This coming from the guy who earlier stated that his 'services' were exclusive to the women of Aoyama only?

Karada: *Opens his mouth to respond, but fails to* …Fine, you win this round.

Tomi: *Shrugs with a grin* Hey, those were your words.

Karada: Yeah, yeah.

[As the two men were talking, they looked as the previous server returned carrying two glasses of liquid: wine and water. Nodding to the gentlemen, she placed the glass of water in front of the bodybuilder.]

Karada: *Swiftly grabs it and drinks half of it, finishing with a satisfying 'ahh'* Thanks, yo!

[Nodding at the bodybuilder, she then placed the glass of wine in front of the socialite, who said nothing in response.]

Server: *Keeping her head down* Y-your meals will be ready in a bit.

Tomi: Did you remember to give the owner our message?

Server: Y-yes. He said he'll personally bring your meals to you.

Tomi: Thank you. You're dismissed. *Waves his hand at the server in a 'shooing' manner*

Server: Y-yes. Thank you.

Karada: *As the waitress leaves, he grins at his friend* You were a lot more polite that time around.

Tomi: I'm not trying to be polite or rude. I'm simply being me. *Takes a sip of his red wine*

Karada: You know you're going to regret drinking this early later on, right? Don't you have a party to go to tonight?

Tomi: *Shrugs* Yes. And your point?

Karada: Just saying. That alcohol's going to hamper you later on.

Tomi: The alcohol is the only reason I attend those parties in the first place. *Takes another sip*

[After a few minutes of waiting, the duo looked as walking up the stairs, carrying two plates of food, was the owner of the restaurant, its executive chef, and their friend, Luis Kōkyū.]

Luis: I have two special orders for a Mister Chōten and a Mister Kessaku?

Karada: Luis!! *Gets up and prepares to hug his friend, but looks as the chef slightly tips his plate of food over a bit*

Luis: Do you want to wait for your food to get made again?

Karada: *Looks in horror as the tacos on the plate begin to slowly slide downward* N-no.

Luis: Then do not touch me. *Lifts the plate back up again, before placing it on the table in front of the bodybuilder*

Karada: *His eyes light up like a little boy* Thank you!! *Begins to dig into his food*

[The executive chef rolls his eyes before placing Tomi's order in front of him, and sitting down in the empty seat at the table. He then takes a cigarette from his back pocket, along with a lighter, and lights it, inhaling the smoke before exhaling.]

Karada: *Frowns as smoke begins to fill the table* Ugh, come on dude, really? Do you have to do that while I'm eating?

Luis: *Looks at his friend, complaining* Look, I've been busy since I first opened up shop today. This is the first smoke I've had since I woke up, so spare me the agony, okay? *Takes another puff before blowing the smoke out into the air*

Karada: *Waves the cigarette smoke away* Whatever. Why is it so busy today anyways?

Luis: Today? It's always busy in here. You two just happened to come during the worst time: lunch hour.

Tomi: *Cutting up his grilled meat with a fork and knife before eating a piece* I was just telling Karada how you need to start selling to a certain kind of people.

Luis: *Looks at his friend with a skeptical look* And who would these certain types of people be, pray tell? People like you?

Tomi: *Shrugs as he holds onto his glass of red wine* I'm just saying. If you started only allowing upper-class people here, maybe your shop wouldn't be so busy.

Luis: *Grins* Yes, but then I wouldn't be making as much money as I am now.

Tomi: *Shrugs* Fair point. *Takes a sip of his wine, before looking at the glass, spinning the glass in his hand, watching the liquid swirl around*

Tomi: People seem to have this misconception that being rich is easy. But it truly isn't.

Luis: *Grins as he closes his eyes, his cigarette between his middle and index fingers* No, it really isn't.

Karada: *Shakes his head 'no'* Not at all.

[All three men look up at each other before a small grin appears on each of their faces.]

JST: It's great!!! *All three men laugh out loud at their inward joke as their lunch continues*

-- Prime Minister's Office, Chuohku Ward --

[Far from Aoyama division, in the Chuohku Ward, the building where the Party of Words made their home base was a steady flow of activity, as everyone in the building was going about their daily activities. At the very top of the building in the main office, behind a grandiose desk, sat the figure of Otome Tohoten, Japan's current Prime Minister and the leader of the Party of Words. By her side stood the figure of Ichijiku Kadenokoji, her trusted aide and Japan's Deputy Prime Minister.]

Otome: *Looking through various papers, her eyes scanning every word and image on each one she looks through* Hmm.

Ichijiku: *Senses something amiss with her leader* Is something wrong, Lady Otome?

Otome: *Doesn't answer at first, still sifting through the papers* Not exactly. *Looks at another paper, before placing it down on her desk*

Otome: We've sent out invitations to every known team or person in all of the Divisions for the upcoming Division Rap Battle tournament thus far.

Otome: *Picks up a paper detailing all the Divisions* Harajuku, Shinagawa, Saitama, Kyoto, Ueno, Ahikabara, and more. *Lays the paper back down on her desk* But it is still not enough.

Ichijiku: Would you like me to send my men out to scout for more teams?

Otome: No need. But... *She, again, picks up the paper detailing the divisions before realizing something* Has the spokesperson from Aoyama arrived yet?

Ichijiku: *Nods* Yes, I believe she arrived several hours ago.

Otome: Good. Have her sent to my office, at once.

Ichijiku: *Salutes* Yes ma'am!

[Putting her fingers to her ear, the Deputy Prime Minister began speaking to someone over a radio. Whilst she was doing that, Otome began swiftly writing something on a piece of paper. Within a couple of minutes, she finished before neatly folding it up and putting it in an envelope, sealed with the official seal of the Party of Words. As she finished, the door to her office slid open, revealing the figure of Okawa Chōten, Aoyama's spokesperson for Chuohku, dressed in the official Party of Words uniform.]

Okawa: *Bows her head in respect to Otome and Ichijiku* You summoned me, Prime Minister?

Otome: Yes. Come in and have a seat. We have much to talk about.

[Obeying, the middle-aged woman walked further into the Prime Minister's office as the door to the room slowly slid shut...]

To be continued...

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #drama track #tomi chōten #karada kessaku #luis kōkyū #jet set trio #another day

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Overprotective Cal (2)

Gif by @jackmarvin

Cal Kestis x Reader

I just hope you guys found this cute (even for just a lil bit) the way I did when I was reviewing it for edits haha ;w;

Part 1 | Part 3 - End | Masterlist

2 of ?

You got a glimpse of the noisy town before you. It was charming in its own sort of way, but the words mixing in with the white noise and sounds—albeit foreign—was a bit of a culture shock to you. You looked around: sketchy bums lounging around in open-spaced eateries, rude locals who would badmouth you in their native tongue just because you barely brushed shoulders, and the pungence of cooked meat that shouldn’t be cooked in the first place.

“Charming,” Cal sarcastically commented.

“I don’t know about this, Cal,” you muttered within his earshot.

He sensed your anxiety. It was too loud—in your mind, from your body language, and from the way you spoke. He noticed how your eyes shift left and right, observing everything around you in case someone tries to tell on you. Cal knows you’re worried there might be snitches to the Empire and expose your whereabouts.

“It’s going to be fine, [y/n],” he comforted you.

You nodded. When you have gotten far enough into the town, you tried your best not to draw any attention; unfortunately, your poncho was the one that had no hood, much to your misfortune. Both of you presumed that you have reached the marketplace area as the stalls become more evident and the hollering has gotten louder.

While vendors verbally advertised their merchandise to any passerby they see within their three-foot radius, Cal sensed their piercing gazes on you specifically, especially the male vendors. Stopping at one of the stalls that had racks of ship parts on display, the owner—a yellow Rodian—tried to keep you longer in his stall as he blabbered away about how rare his parts are and how you’re not going to get it anywhere else on the planet.

As you intently inspected the parts yourself, you ignored the creepy groaning that he was doing in front of you. For every merchandise of his that you touch, he always has something to say about it. You eyed an external engine that exactly matches the one the Mantis has and needs, it was sitting on the carpet along with his other wares.

“How much for this one?” you point your finger at the part.

Luckily for you and Cal, he can speak in the common tongue but his voice was rather croaky.

“Ahh, you have a sharp eye for machinery, my desert flower,” he cooed in a sad attempt to be charming.

“How. Much?” You hissed, not buying any of his good vendor bull and he seemed disappointed that you didn’t buy into his acting.

“I sell that for 25000, no less! Is state-of-art!”

Your eyes widened both in a mix of sarcasm and disbelief. Twenty-five thousand for an external engine replacement that has probably seen just as enough action as the Mantis?

“I can see why no one has bought it. I’ll give 15000 for it,”

He fights back. He’s not letting you take it after marking it down that much. You insist that you don’t have his asking price.

“Well, I’m sure we can figure something out for it,” his tone changed and neither you nor Cal liked it.

He crossed the line when he was slowly extending his slimy green digits towards you, wiggling them as if casting a spell or trying to hypnotizing you. Before the Rodian could speak any more, Cal bolts in and sharply flicks away the merchant’s hand away from you, he puts his arm around you and immediately tugs you gently away.

“Getting a little too friendly with the sales talk, are we?” Cal sternly cuts in, imposing an intimidating demeanor to the vendor. “I think we’ve made up our mind here.”

Cal immediately took you far enough from the stall.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you huffed, a little shaken but mostly irritated.

“Come on, we can find better ones than that slug,”

Eventually, you entered a shack that had their wares dumped outside of the building. Cal noticed that these weren’t just junk dumped out to rot under the sun, these were bait for onlookers to enter the store.

“A good foot traffic strategy too,” you commented.

“Then let’s hope their stuff is as good as the ones they throw out for bait,”

Upon entering the shack, it was built like a stone house but it was refurbished to a full-fledged warehouse. The ceiling was strewn with hanging pipes and rods, the walls were covered with racks and shelves—when you went to take a closer look, you notice that the items were neatly sorted according to what kind of parts they were—and even the counter itself was filled with miniature drawers filled with small tools.

Cal opened one of the drawers and checked for tools, BD-1 looked around and saw a few exoskeletons of different droid types which may have spooked the poor little guy.

“Hello?” you called loud enough for anyone around the house to hear.

Your voice was heard by the proprietor of the store. A fat man appeared, waddling his way to the front counter where you stood by waiting. In your mind, you thanked it was a human but you were immediately taken over by worry that he’s not as kind as you hope him to be once you negotiate.

“What can I get for ya, kiddo?” He spoke in a pace so quick that you could practically write down his words with no spaces between them.

“Uhh, we need a replacement external engine for our freighter,”

“Got yourselves fried before landing here in this big ol’ sandbox, eh?”

“Yeah, bumpy ride,”

He grunted in agreement. He looked over your shoulder and called out on Cal when he spotted him checking out some power tools.

“Oy, pretty boy, you break ‘em you buy ‘em!”

“Sorry, I was just looking around,”

“He’s with me,” you cut in.

The proprietor shoots a look at you then moved his eyes to Cal, “Heh, no surprise. Both of youse pretty-lookin’. Keep your boyfriend close to ya so he doesn't break my good stuff.”

The owner then gestures you to follow him to the back where he keeps all the big parts in store. You wait for him to stomp ahead because you’re going to beat the old coot to it in ten steps. Cal walked up to your side and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Boyfriend, huh? Has a nice ring to it,” he shrugged coyly.

“You do realize we’ve been together for months now, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he nodded, then shrugged.

You exhaled through your nose in the guise of a chuckle, you smile at him, and tap him gingerly on the chest, “Yes, Cal, you’re my boyfriend.”

“And a darn good one, too,” he added as he kissed you on the cheek and pinched your chin.

You were taken aback by his sudden display of confidence that you stood there for a few seconds watching him walk away, ahead of you in following the store owner. BD-1 was standing on the counter and was looking at you.

“What a goof, am I right?”

BD-1 beeped agreeably so.

“And a goddamn adorable one at that,” you muttered particularly to no one, concealing a smile in a lip bite.

You picked up BD-1 and caught up to Cal and perched BD-1 on his shoulders while you follow the proprietor.

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proxylynn · 4 years

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Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #25

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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Hell hath no fury like this fish woman. For Undyne's rage casts a near-visible aura of hate as she stormed her way into Hotland. Clad in her special armor, keeping her form from dehydrating, she intimidates those that witness her barreling towards the Lab. With a mighty kick, she almost hurls the doors from their hinges before continuing inside. Knowing all too well where her intended target is. Cameras follow her movements but do little to warn their owner in time. Alphys receives the signal just as the echos of hurried stomps reaches her ears. By the time the doors are thrown open, Alphys has made the scene a little more authentic and hides away her more sketchy items. As one can imagine, the Captain of the Royal Guard is less than pleased to see a human being given treatment instead of having its soul collected.

"U-Undyne...W-W-What a surprise."

"Cut the crap, Alphys. How long have you known about it being in the Underground?! Why wasn't I informed?! And why, in Asgore's name, are you keeping that thing alive?!"

The disgruntled captain points at the unconscious human strapped to a bloody slab with several machines around her. Thick bandages cover the wounds given on-screen, the eerie beeps of the machines that are annoyingly loud in the silence, sticky liquid crimson softly dribbles from the slab edges to a small pool draining on the floor as tubes and wires are placed on vital areas. The scene looks like a medical mess. For what good it does to try, Alphys puts on a straight face and gets professionally cold to defend her work.

"Your Captain of the Guard status does not mean I report to you or have to inform you of anything."

The rage of Undyne only increases.

"What did you say?!"

Alphys adjusts her glasses, snidely flipping Undyne off with her middle finger.

"I am the Royal Scientist. I work under and report directly to the King himself. My rank supersedes yours. And as such, unless it is a matter that requires your assistance, I will inform only those that are needed to be informed. Understood?"

Undyne snarls beneath her helmet. This type of thing wasn't uncommon. She knows that Alphys separates herself when it comes to her work. Undyne does it too but tries not to be so obnoxious. It's moments like this that make her crush a little less on this lizard girl.

"But to answer your question...This human has been living in the Ruins for quite some time. Sans and Papyrus have been monitoring her for me."

The skeletons? Those sneaky bastards! She bet Papyrus was thinking he'd use this to one-up her.

"Why use them and not me?"

"Really? You can't stand the cold and they live there. It's a no brainer."

Good point.

"Okay...But why monitor? The law clearly states that the soul of any human is to be collected. No exceptions!"

Undyne summons a spear and readies to spike the human through the face. That is till Alphys moves over to the human and interacts with one of the machines, making her soul slowly emerge...it's white. This sight has the captain of the guard drop her weapon and remove her helm to ensure her eye was not playing a trick on her. Without her helm, the true visage of the Captain of the Guard is shown. Undyne is a piscine anthropomorphic monster. She has blue scales and a long red hair she keeps in a wild ponytail. Red and blue fins on the sides of her head act like ears, she has no nose to speak of. Her teeth are sharp yellow daggers like a barracuda or shark. She has red eye shadow and has an eye-patch on her left eye. Her good eye has a black vertical pupil and a yellow sclera.

"It's...White? What the hell? It was light blue on TV. I saw it!"

"We all did. And it was purple when I first examined her. This is why I've had her under severance and not executed. This human...It's not like the humans we've encountered or the ones in our texts. She seems to be able to change traits or possesses multiple traits."

"How is that possible? Is that even a thing? Is that a thing humans can do now?"

"I haven't collected enough data to determine that. My current theory is that she may be a random mutation, an evolutionary anomaly of sorts. Though, from the information I have gotten, it seems the humans of now have indeed fully lost their usage of magic."

"I thought those past ones seemed off."

"Yes. The previous humans were lacking in their levels of magic but they still possessed it. This one, however, according to my scans had no magic in her soul prior to coming to the Underground."

Scientist say what?

"Wait...What's that supposed to mean?"

Alphys pulls out what looks to be her cell phone and moves it over the soul, scanning till it beeps. She then shows the results to the Captain.

"There's at least 20% to 30% magic now resonating in her soul. Enough to trigger magic prepubescence."

Undyne snickers at the thought of such a thing and it nearly breaks Alphys's composure.

"You can't be serious."

"I am. I had to stabilize the flux with those patches we give out to teens. It's why she's about 30%."

"Dare I ask...How a non-magic soul suddenly has magic?"

"Not sure. Perhaps it's the nature of such a weak soul to pull magic when it can, however, it can. Be it from the surroundings, food, or contact with other beings of magic. Who's to say? Or her soul could be like a parasite and leeching magic for as of yet unknown reasons. I'm just throwing ideas at this point."

"So...What you're saying is the human is dangerous."

"All humans are dangerous, Undyne. But this one? *scoff* Since being down here her LV hasn't budged from its base level."

The Captain is intrigued.

"Has it not been in a fight?"

"Quite the opposite. There's plenty of telltale signs, not to mention video surveillance, that indicates she's been attacked."

"So the wimp flees? Pathetic."

"Sometimes. Most of the time they endure the fight and find a way to end it without fighting back."

A gruff laugh leaves the fish woman.

"Pacifism? Down here? Now that's a joke."

Alphys checks on a liquid-filled bag that's emptying into the human's veins.

"As dumb as it may be, her strategy is a good thing..."

She increases the dripping.

"By not attacking, she isn't killing anyone. And by not killing anyone, she isn't gaining LV. And you know what that means."

Undyne grins like a hungry barracuda.

"It makes it all the easier to collect the last soul."

Alphys nods and removes her glasses to clean them.

"Still...With the number of unknown variables, I'd have to insist on further study of this soul and not just yet bringing it to the King, even if she dies."

"How come?"

"Like I said, too many unknowns. If Asgore wishes to fuse with the seven souls it would be best to make sure this one doesn't overpower or corrupt his own."

"Hmmm...I guess that's fair. We don't need to waste the human souls and lose the King if we can help it."

"My thoughts exactly."

Alphys puts her glasses back on and steps away from the human.

"Come, Undyne. We must leave now."

Confusion comes to the Captain.

"What? Why? You're really going to leave her unattended?"

Alphys grows colder.

"Do not be so stupid."

Undyne had to bite her tongue hard.

"I never said she'd be alone."

With a simple button press on her phone, the sound of speeding rubber screeches towards them, the door opening seconds later.

"IS IT TIME? SHE'S IN STABLE CONDITION?"

Mettaton skids to a stop with excitement.

"She's stable. And under heavy sedation. You may proceed with the prep work."

Digitized giggling pours from the automaton.

"EXCELLENT. LADIES, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME..."

Undyne is ushered out by Alphys before she can question things.

"Um..."

"Don't think about it too much."

"But..."

"As they say...The show must go on. I suggest you stick around and watch what unfolds."

Undyne groans to herself.

"I'll make that spicy ramen that you like."

"...Extra chili flakes?"

"Yep."

"Hot damn!"

With the women gone, Mettaton turns his attention to the human on the slab.

"OH DARLING..."

A compartment opens on his side and he extracts what looks like a kit of some kind.

"WE HAVE SO MUCH WORK TO DO."

[AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER-BEHIND THE LAB]

The wall of the building opens up, a split door allows the heat of Hotland in while the unconscious human carried by the killer robot comes out.

"FINALLY...THE SHOW CAN COMMENCE ONCE AGAIN."

While two of his arms set the human down his other two open a bottle of smelling salts and wave it under her nose, slowly rousing her back to consciousness.

"WAKIE WAKIE, DARLING."

She groans in delirium and sits up. Medical grade sedatives really pack a punch.

"FOCUS DEAR. HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?"

Mettaton holds up his four arms and each is displaying two fingers. Her head wobbles with dizziness and she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"Mettaton? *yawn* Why is it so hot?"

Why did she have to be so cute when so messed up?

"I'LL ANSWER YOU IF YOU ANSWER ME."

She shakes her head clear and stares at him for a bit.

"Eight."

He sighs with relief and helps her up before patting her head.

"GOOD. YOU'RE PERFECTLY FINE."

"Not entirely sure that's what I'd call it after the game you made me do. But whatever. Least I ain't dead."

"THERE WE GO. ALWAYS LOOKING ON THE POSITIVE SIDE OF THINGS."

Her senses coming back, she looks at her form and begins growling at the mechanical television star.

"IS SOMETHING THE MATTER?"

"I'm going to ask this as calmly as I can and I want you to be honest...Did you dress me in my sleep?!"

In Mettaton's defense, it's not like he could leave her in her bloody outfit or the medical gown. And to his credit, he made it for her to be both fashionable as well as comfortable in Hotland's arid heat. A black zip back cutout crisscross cami top with MTT emblazoned in red across the chest, waist-high black garter shorts with tiny Mettaton studs along the straps, black ripped footless tights end in knee-high black riding boots that have red MTT zippers, and to add to her annoyance her nails were also painted red. The only normal thing about her was he kept her hair tied in a ponytail but moved it higher up to be more lively than her usual dead weight droop.

"TO BE FAIR, DARLING, YOU WERE A BLOODY MESS AFTER THE SHOW. IT WOULD BE TASTELESS TO HAVE MY CO-STAR CONTINUE IN ANYTHING LESS THAN THE BEST."

She gets flustered.

"That's not the point! You could've waited till I was awake and I would've dressed myself! Instead, you did so while I was vulnerable."

She shudders and looks away from him.

"To think...I started to like you."

An exclamation mark flashes on his screen.

"But it seems you're just as bad as the scum on the surface."

He panics and waves his hands in defense.

"W-WAIT A SECOND, DEAR, IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"

"Then...Aside from seeing my frail body, do you deny the obvious usage of me as brand advertisement?"

The look she gives him is cold and hurt, making him flinch.

"UM...WELL...I..."

She turns around with her hands on her hips and smirks.

"We're not on camera right now, are we?"

His screen flashes in confusion.

"...NO? NO CAMERAS ARE ACTIVE AT THIS MOMENT. WHY?"

"Heh...Because you're being you right now. The same guy I got to know over the phone. TV you is more cold and sticks to the script, like a soulless machine. This you, the ghost in the shell, this guy I like and willing to work with."

He's caught off guard by that remark.

"UM...WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU MEAN BY THAT?"

"Which part?"

"GHOST IN THE SHELL."

"Oh, that? It's the name of a manga/anime series. The setting is a future where technology is so advanced that it becomes an existential crisis if souls can transfer over to pure machine bodies and if artificial intelligence can gain humanity through cyber-evolution. It's really deep."

"OH."

"It also is a play on the fact you're literally a ghost in a robot shell."

He flinches.

"W-WHAT? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE..."

"Dude, don't lie. We're not on camera and Alphys already confirmed my suspicions."

He blanks for a moment sighing.

"WELL...BRAVO, DARLING. YOU'VE SOLVED MY GREATEST SECRET."

She shrugs.

"It's no big deal. And don't worry about anyone else knowing, I ain't a snitch."

"SUCH A CLEVER GIRL. I KNEW YOU'D BE PERFECT FOR THIS."

Her arms fold.

"While I was messing with you before, I am pissed about this."

"WHICH PART?"

"This! This isn't my style. It feels weird and shows way too much skin for my liking."

At this rate, he was lucky she couldn't see her reflection or she'd be pissed about how he did her makeup. Red eye-shadow to create a smoky effect on her eyelids. Mascara to make her long lashes even longer. A bold black swoop of liquid eyeliner all the way to the outer corners of her eyes and swept a little up at the end. And the pièce de résistance is the luscious red lipstick to make it all pop.

"BUT, DARLING, YOUR OLD CLOTHES WERE RUINED. BESIDES, WITH HOW THICK THAT FABRIC WAS, YOU'D DIHYDRATE IN MOMENTS OUT HERE. AND NO ONE WANTS A SWEATY DRIED OUT SACK ON SCREEN."

She leers.

"NOT SAYING YOU ARE ONE. MAKING THAT CLEAR HERE."

She sighs.

"I see your point. I ain't happy about it, but I see the reason behind it."

"GOOD."

She checks herself and gets upset.

"My items? Where are my items?!"

"I TOLD YOU, YOUR CLOTHES WERE A MESS AND I CHANGED YOU INTO THIS."

She grabs him.

"Metta, my buddy, I need my gear. My stats are crap without my items. Please tell me you didn't trash them...Please?!"

To understand her panic he checks her.

[Lynsie - LV:1 - HP: 40 ATK: 20 DEF: 11 - Too nice for her own good.]

Her HP increased? How? Her LV hasn't increased. Did she earn EXP in the game and recovery? Wait...The other stats are dangerously weak. Hmmm...This gives him a wicked idea. If his screen could grin it would be wide and twisted.

"OH HEAVENS NO, DARLING. YOUR POSSESSIONS ARE SAFE."

Her eyes light up.

"Sweet! Can I please have them?"

He grabs her waist and scoots her back from him a bit.

"UNFORTUNATELY, I DO NOT HAVE THEM ON ME."

"But...W-Where are they then?"

All four hands point out into the distance.

"YOU CAN HAVE YOUR ITEMS BACK...ONCE YOU MAKE TO THE NEXT FILM SET."

Her jaw drops.

"Dude! Are you freaking serious? Do we see the same stats? Because I'm fairly sure I can get one-shot killed out here."

"RELAX, DARLING..."

"Relax?! Says the guy that literally can't be hurt!"

He waves dismissively.

"AND THEY CALL ME DRAMATIC. LOOK, I CAN'T JUST GIVE YOU THEM BACK NOR CAN I TAKE YOU TO THE NEXT SET. YOU SHOULD KNOW THE REASON WHY."

She glares before pouting in defeat.

"The law requires you to still attempt to 'capture' me."

His screen flashes.

"BINGO! AND TO PROVE THAT I AM FOLLOWING THE LAW WHILE STILL WORKING WITH YOU, YOU WILL BE TELEVISED AS YOU MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH MY SHOW GAUNTLET."

She looks at him funny.

"TO BE HONEST IT'S JUST NORMAL ENVIRONMENT AND PIPEWORK FOR THE CORE. BUT I DID ADD OBSTACLES AND PUZZLES, SO TECHNICALLY IT COUNTS."

Her funny look grows.

"And you film back there in all that?"

"IT MAKES MORE SENSE WHEN YOU SEE IT."

"I guess."

All four hands slap together in a loud clap.

"GREAT! NOW THAT THAT IS ALL SAID AND DONE, HERE'S THE DEAL. ONCE YOU TURN THAT CORNER AND BEGIN THE TREK, YOU'LL BE BACK ON TV."

"Okay."

"TRY NOT TO BREAK THE FOURTH WALL, WE DON'T NEED VIEWERS KNOWING YOU'VE BEEN HERE LONGER THAN ADVERTISED AND WITH THE HELP OF OTHERS."

"True, very true."

"AND SINCE YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR PHONE..."

"Can I get that back too? I swear I won't make calls."

"OR TEXT?"

"Did you even see my phone? It can't text or take pictures."

"HMMM...I'LL THINK ABOUT IT."

"Please and thank you."

"LIKE I WAS SAYING SINCE YOU DON'T HAVE IT AND MAY NEED HELP UNDERSTANDING A FEW OF THE MORE TRICKIER PUZZLES..."

On hand retreats into his body and pops out with a small clip-like earring that, you guessed it, looks like him.

"ATTACH THIS TO YOUR EAR AND YOU'LL BE ABLE TO HEAR MY MELODIOUS VOICE WHEN I NOTICE YOU'RE NOT PROGRESSING."

"Not that I'm against it, but isn't this cheating?"

He chuckles while bringing her close and clipping it to her right ear.

"DON'T THINK OF IT LIKE THAT. IT'S LIKE YOU SAID, YOU'RE WILLING TO WORK WITH ME AND WE BOTH DON'T WANT YOU DEAD. YOU'LL STILL BE GOING AT THIS ON YOUR OWN, BUT WITH A LITTLE LIFELINE THAT GIVES YOU CLUES AND NOT FULL ANSWERS. NOW DOES THAT SOUND MORE OKAY?"

"FANTASTIC!"

He spins around and shoves her to the ground before retracting his wheel to begin hovering.

"WELL, DARLING, THE NEXT WE MEET I HOPE IT TO BE SOON AND WHILE YOU STILL BREATHE."

"Um...Me too."

He takes off like a rocket to the next stage, kicking up dust and smoke in his wake.

"FAIR THEE WELL...!"

The cloud takes a bit to settle and the human finds herself alone. The path ahead is unknown but the only way to go. Somehow being behind the building she thinks she was held within and with no door to speak of insight. She silently prayed that her trust in the robot that abducted her was well placed...even though that thought made her question her ability to pick people to trust. Either way, her journey through game show hell begins now as she walks the lonely road that is way too narrow and high up for her liking.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

Nothing. Nothing but re-run filler has been on the TV for hours. And all they could do was wait. Wait for any change on that damn picture box. Papyrus was doing his best to keep a worried Toriel and tense Grillby from burning the house down. Sans on the other hand was lost in his mind, retracing the history of his time in the LAB and its many rooms. Where were they hiding the human? What new rooms were added since he left? Could Alphys still be using the old underground facility?

*obnoxious fanfare*

The television cuts from its old showing to Mettaton live out in Hotland, on real clues can be seen as he hovers about the volcanic rock.

"SORRY FOR THE DELAY MY DEADLY GUYS AND DOLLS. SEEMS I WAS A BIT TOO ROUGH DURING OUR LAST GAME AND MY CO-STAR NEEDED EXTRA TIME TO RECOVER. GUESS I DON'T KNOW MY OWN STRENGTH."

His nonchalant attitude and words were far from comforting to the four.

"BUT FEAR NOT, AS SHE HAS MADE A FULL RECOVERY!"

A weight is lifted from the room.

"IN FACT, SHE'S ON THE START OF THE NEXT PHASE OF OUR SHOW. A DANGEROUS GAUNTLET OF OBSITCLES, DAUNTING PUZZLES, AND THE RANDOM VAGABOND THAT MAY OR MAY NOT JUST HAPPEN TO BE WANDERING AROUND."

The video feed shifts to the human on a conveyor belt. Merely scrolling along in a tacky outfit and makeup trying not to look down.

"The fuck is she wearing?!"

Grillby fumes. Toriel is equally unhappy about her daughter's new look. Sans rolls his eyes, finding it somewhat funny that Grillby is displeased by this when did way worse before.

"HER GOAL, REACH THE END TO BEGIN OUR NEXT SHOW SEGMENT. SHE WILL REPEAT THIS TWO MORE TIMES BEFORE ENDING WITH OUR FOURTH AND FINAL ENCOUNTER."

That doesn't sound good. The feed zooms in on her.

"WILL SHE SURVIVE AND EARN HER LIFE TO LIVE FOR ANOTHER DAY? OR WILL THIS BE THE DAY THE LAST SOUL IS COLLECTED? WE SHALL FIND OUT SOON ENOUGH. IN THE MEANTIME, I NEED TO AQUIRE A FEW ODDS AND ENDS, SO I LEAVE YOU TO OUR DARLING'S DARING DO. ENJOY."

The camera switches to a different angle and continues to follow her. Before the words can even leave Papyrus's mouth Sans is already shaking his head.

"i still don't know where that is."

"ARE YOU SURE?"

"trust me, i don't recognize where she's at."

"Don't you have a post in Hotland?"

Grillby points out much to Papyrus's puzzlement.

"YOU HAVE A POST IN HOTLAND?"

Sans sighs.

"it's like i told ya, i do more than ya think i do. i have posts at the start of snowdin forest, waterfall's beginning, level two of hotland, and i am the one that waits in the judgment hall."

Papyrus is even more confused but Toriel starts to broil.

"You...You were the one all along, were you not?"

Sans balls his fists, bracing for this.

"You were the one that killed the humans that left the Ruins."

No Tori...not all...just one...over and over again.

"no. i haven't killed anyone."

That gave her some relief. But more questions.

"Then if not you, who does harm them?"

"asgore does."

And that killed it. Her eyes sink with a flame, one of hate and despair. It's painfully obvious. She's going to snap.

"ya should know he doesn't take pleasure in doin' it."

Her expression falters.

"it's a lot of weight on that old goat's shoulders. what with bein' a king and everyone expectin' him to solve all our problems, like breakin' the barrier. it's one thing to kill someone that's wronged ya. it's much harder to look an innocent in the eyes and end them."

She frowns, seeing some truth in his words.

"ya may hate his guts, but he's harborin' the biggest burden. bein' the one to harvest the souls."

"But..."

Does she still wish to fight?

"But the law states humans are to be killed on sight, right? You can not tell me the Guard has not spilled blood in all this time!"

"ACTUALLY..."

Papyrus chimes in.

"WHILE IT'S TRUE, THAT IS THE BLUNTEST FORM OF THE LAW, IT'S NOT THE EXACT WORDING. *AHEM* IF A LIVING HUMAN IS FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND THAN THEY ARE TO BE ENGAGED AND CAPTURED. EXTREME CAUTION AND VIOLENCE IS TO BE USED IN THE APRENTION OF HUMAN SOULS. NOWHERE IS IT SAID WE ARE TO KILL ON SIGHT. BUT THE CURRENT CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD HAS INTERPRETED THIS LAW IN HER OWN WAY AND INFORCES IT AS SUCH...DEATH TO ALL HUMANS. NO EXCEPTIONS. OVERTIME, THAT'S HOW THE LAW EVOLVED TO BE KNOWN TO THE PUBLIC."

"Why?"

"captain undyne lost her family in the war. that kind of wound doesn't heal easily. it didn't help much that the hammer of punishment took her in as his own."

That name struck a chord.

"Gerson? I suppose that does make sense. He was ruthless in his prime. And he left our court when we choose to surrender. Said we were showing weakness by giving in. So many were already lost...We wanted to end the slaughter before the dust count became unrecognizable."

"seems that spite got passed on in undyne."

"OUR CAPTAIN GOES BY ANOTHER...THE SPEAR OF PUNISHMENT."

Her worry overcomes any animosity she held.

"I pray my child never encounters your Captain."

One can only hope.

"Shit..."

Grillby gets their attention.

"She's been spotted."

Eyes return to the television and the footage shown. The human had passed the large system of conveyor belts going forward and backward. Exhaust ports of vermilion flame burst from nearby pipes in the background, the wooshing sound of steam and cogs adding to the scenery. Reaching the end of the conveyor belts, the human comes into view of several small islands surrounded by boiling lava. Most of these islands hold steam vents. However, the human is unaware of this due to being blocked by a Tsunderplane.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL ONE]

Damn this heat. Damn this plan of yours, Mettaton. And damn this odd-looking monster that won't get out of my way. It appears to resemble a regular real-world modern airplane, an Airbus A340-300 to be exact, wearing a black mob cap with thin red ribbons on it, a faint blush tints its nosecone.

"Um...Do you mind?"

I move slightly to the side, trying to give it room while avoiding the edge. But it just moves the same as I do, almost like a mock mimic. Maybe it's just a fluke. I try it again. And again it does it.

"You're not gonna let me by, are you?"

My soul feels gripped and without skipping a beat, my blue soul comes out, a battle begins.

[Tsunderplane gets in the way! Not on purpose or anything.]

Wait...Don't tell me that name means what I think it does. What are my options?

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That weird one came back? It looks so...messed up. I won't touch it. Maybe as a last resort, but not if I can help it. Let's see what this thing is made of.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[FLIRT]

[APPROACH]

I am not doing those last two before I know what this thing can do.

[CHECK selected.]

[TSUNDERPLANE – HP: 80 ATK: 25 DEF: 26 – Seems mean, but does it secretly like you?]

"The fuck...?"

This plane catches an attitude.

"No way! Why would I like YOU?!"

Especially since we've only just met. Wait...

"You can talk?!"

It moves it's wings up, summing its attack. Several smaller planes fly horizontally straight from either side above me, dropping bombs that look like miniature nukes. Once a bomb hits the ground, a vertical line of toxic smoke appears and blocks my sight momentarily. All in all, this is not easy to avoid because of the lack of space and I end up taking a really nasty hit.

[HP ████████████████ 15/40]

I'm too afraid to check my wound. My ears are ringing and I feel damp somewhere on my side. I won't stand another hit like that. Damn it! I need my defense items!

*bang*

My head is smacked hard by metal.

[Tsunderplane "accidentally" bumps you with its wing.]

It pushed me back. It's keeping distance. Why it's not like it needs the room, damn thing can fly. I wonder...What'll happen if I get close? But first I need to heal.

[ITEM selected.]

I need to remember to thank Flowey when I see him again. If it wasn't for his prodding I'd have nothing in my inventory.

["Butterscotch Cheesecake" - All HP - Butterscotch cheesecake, one slice.]

"Mmmm...So good. Thanks, mama."

[You ate the Butterscotch Cheesecake. Your HP was maxed out.]

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Ah, much better. Now I just need to avoid getting hit again. My turn ends.

"Hmph! Id... Idiot! Don't get in my way!"

You blocked me, asshat.

She uses a different attack but one that's somewhat easier to deal with. Large planes fly directly at me, leaving a horizontal-moving toxic trail of smoke balls. I am grateful this was it's second go. I dodge this one better, no damage taken.

[Tsunderplane shakes its nose dismissively at you.]

"_... Human..."

Now it speaks in emojis? I mean, I guess that's a thing that can happen, Gaster speaks in hands and junk.

"Something wrong? I can't help but notice."

Going off its behavior and name, I put some real emphasis on the word notice. It flinches. Got you.

Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that depicts a person who is initially cold and sometimes even hostile before gradually showing a warmer, friendlier side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun tsun ('to turn away in disgust or anger') and dere dere ('to become affectionate'). They're the opposite of a Yandere. Yandere is a Japanese term for a person who is initially very loving and gentle to someone or at least innocent before their devotion becomes destructive in nature, often through violence and/or brutality. The term is derived from the words yanderu (a mental or emotional illness) and dere dere. They are different and yet have one weakness...Wanting the attention of Senpai, the person they have a fondness for. Why do I know all this? Because I'm a big freaking dork! I can use this. I just don't understand why it would have such feelings.

"...H-human ... ...?"

Now to test my theory.

[APPROACH selected.]

[You get close to Tsunderplane. But not too close.]

"Eeeeh? H-human ...?"

It's getting flustered. I'm not proud of this method but if it works to keep me alive, so be it.

"You don't mind me getting close, right?"

[Tsunderplane looks over, then turns up its nose.]

"Huh!? Y-you sicko!"

It spins on heels it doesn't have and nearly takes my head. This ain't going to be easy.

The mini planes return but something's off. Six planes attacked me before, but now there's only three. Easier than before yet still dangerous. That smoke is noxious and obnoxious.

[Tsunderplane gives you a condescending barrel roll.]

"Don't think I'm going easy on you! It's not like I LIKE you."

Your actions say otherwise, so does that growing blush. Time for phase two.

[FLIRT selected.]

[You tell Tsunderplane it has an impressive wingspan.]

"I must say, birds wish they could have wings like that. Very cool."

It covers its nosecone in its wingtips.

"Ah...is that true...?"

"Why would I lie?"

I think this is working. It summons the large planes again but this time the planes are surrounded by narrow green auras and the smoke trails aren't moving. Curiosity has me touching the green and finding it does two things. One, it doesn't hurt me. And two, it's blushing more excitedly. After touching four Tsunderplane is practically glowing, or it could be the headlights. And when that last sixth plane passes Tsunderplane looks away shyly and starts to give off the smell of an airport perfume counter. Maybe just one more to seal the deal.

[FLIRT selected.]

[You tell Tsunderplane it has cute winglets.]

"Awww...Those wingtip fences are so cute! Then again, on such an adorable aircraft, that's to be expected."

It loses its mind. Jetting high up and aileron rolls three times before zipping off into the distance.

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 60 gold.]

Damn! That's some gold! Much needed due to spending all my gold in Waterfall so long ago.

"Not my worse fight but one of the more interesting ones. Till we meet again, Tsunderplane-chan."

I wave to where I saw Tsunderplane fly off and return to my journey. However, this is short-lived once again, but not by a monster. I think this is one of the obstacles Mettaton told me about. The land is broken. Vents shoot out big gusts of steam. I think he intends for me to use these to traverse the area since there are painted red arrows on the one in front of me and the one across from it. The flaw in this plan of his is this...In trying to have seen any of this, I ended up looking down.

Sweat begins to slide down my brow, but not from the heat. My wide eyes can't look away from the high as hell drop to lava that I'm meant to cross. My body starts to tremble. My breathing harsh. I'm going into a panic.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

That was a stressful fight to watch. The massive damage the human took at the start made it clear she had been stripped of her armor, adding harsher levels of difficulty to an already challenging task. But they know her well by this point. She's clever. She's adaptable. She's stubborn as hell. And she knows they're likely watching.

["Butterscotch Cheesecake" - All HP - Butterscotch cheesecake, one slice.]

"Mmmm...So good. Thanks, mama."

[You ate the Butterscotch Cheesecake. Your HP was maxed out.]

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Toriel's motherly heart was swelling. This one. This was the one she believed could survive in this hell. And her non-violent victory against the Tsunderplane made it more clear that her daughter wasn't so much the child she believed her to be.

"Yeah! Way to go, pussycat!"

Grillby is at least in better spirits. He nearly torched the couch when he thought of Mettaton stripping her of her armor.

"SHE'S NOT MOVING."

True. The human had won the fight but was now frozen in place by the vents, fear dripped from her face.

"uh oh."

This got attention.

"What is wrong? Why does she not continue?"

"pap and me found this out about her when she first came out of the ruins. she's afraid of heights. and if she doesn't move soon, she'll pass out under the pressure."

"But...It's not like she can just leave. And if she falls..."

No one wanted to finish that thought.

"THE HELL...?"

Something new appears and has their attention.

"Flowey?"

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne had been watching the many screens Alphys controls as part of Mettaton's live feed broadcast. Nothing had been particularly interesting, not even that bogus fight with the Tsunderplane. But then...

"The fuck...? Alphys, you seeing this?"

Of course, the lizard was scribbling like a madman on her notepad. This was something new.

"Huh...Show me what ya got, human."

The fish woman resumes watching with a hearty slurp of noddles.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL ONE]

It's happening again. My legs turn to jelly and I drop to my knees. I can't do this. I can't move. What if I fall? I don't want to burn to death. I heard it's not quick either like how movies portray it. The pain overload is what kills you. I don't want that. I ̕ca͢n̛'́t ͢de̶al͏! Í ̸c̷̨a̴n'͡t!͘

*STATIC* HELLO? DARLING? CAN YOU HEAR ME?

The earpiece Mettaton gave me goes off. But something's interfering.

*STATIC* YOU NEED TO GET GOING, DEAR. DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE STEAM. IT WON'T BURN. THOUGH YOU MIGHT GET A BIT TENDER IF YOU PLAY IN THEM TOO LONG.

T̷̵h̷́at̵̨'̧͞s̵̸͞ ́̀not ̷̕͜h́el̴͘̕p̛i̸͜ng͟!̢͟

I feel it starting. The blood dripping from my nose. Why? Why am I so weak?!

*STATIC* DARLING? COME ON. YOU NEED TO MOVE. WE HAD A DEAL.

F̴̶͢u͘͞c̶͞k͏ ͟͏̴ý̢ou ̸́a̶̕͜n҉͞d҉̛ ̶̀y͢o̡u̸͠r̸ ̧́͝d͞e̢͜ą̕l͢͝! ̨̛I͝͞͝'̶m̢҉ n̡o̡͜͝t̴ ̵҉̛m̀͏o͘͝v̴́͠i͏̀n͟͡ǵ͜!̴

Strange energy begins to crackle around me. I don't know what it is and it's freaking me out more!

"There you are..."

Life returns to me upon hearing Flowey's voice.

"You just always seem to...The hell is up with your face?!"

"B̢͢͞ŗ̡̀o̸t̡h̡͟e̵̛r͘̕͞?"

The strange energy slowly dissipates, Flowey being here is calming me down, though the sight still unnerves him.

"Easy now. Just calm down. You don't want to overtax your soul."

"S̨-̀Sơr͡ry̷.̛.͞.I.̶..͢*shaky inhale*I looked down."

Flowey moves over to me and pats my leg with a tiny vine.

"Don't worry, your big brother's here for you."

I give him a nervous smile and wipe my nose.

"So...What's wrong with my face?"

"Uh...Nothing. You look fine."

I look at him flatly.

"I have makeup on, don't I?"

"Well..."

God dang it, Mettaton.

"Fudge it. As long as I'm not dolled up like a clown, ignore it. Right now I need help."

"Fine with me, but first...I want an apology for that stunt at the bar."

I nod.

"I'm sorry. It was a dirty move. But..."

He pouts.

"You wanted to talk to him without me butting in."

I claw the ground.

"...There are things I still can't tell you."

"When? When can you open up to me?"

"Soon. Lots of stuff I know is in pieces. I just need to figure out how it all fits to understand."

"Like what?"

"Well for starters...Getting through this crap."

Flowey looks out at the vents.

"You really can't do this?"

"No. My acrophobia, paranoia, vertigo, and lack of self-confidence prevents it."

"Sheesh. At least your honest."

I sit on my heels and slap my face a few times, trying to psych myself out.

"The body and mind both have their own ways of keeping themselves safe. Even if one of them is tricking the other. My body won't move if my brain keeps telling it no because it feels in danger."

"Hmmm...And I take it you're not up for that blindfold idea again."

I look at him confused.

"Over lava?!"

He sighs.

"Yeah, fair enough."

This sucks.

"Oh! I got an idea. What if I carry you over?"

Flower-goat-boy say what?

"Not to put you down, bro, but I ain't exactly light and I don't want you to hurt yourself trying."

He winks.

"Trust me. I'm stronger than you think."

I don't doubt you, I'm more worried I'll freak out if he does. But what choice do I have? Sit her forever or move forward.

"Okay. But not yet."

"Huh?"

I feel the ground again.

"This is rock and yet you're moving through it..."

"Yeah?"

"Can you scout ahead through this vent thing? Tell me if other monsters or crap is hiding?"

He nods.

"Can do."

He sinks into the ground. Here's hoping he stays out of sight of any hostiles. A few times I see his petal head pop up from time to time, but in areas I can't see I get a bit shook. Especially when he's out of sight for too long. I count the seconds between each puff of steam, giving up because it's too fast. A small rumble off to my side, part of Flowey's stem is protruding but seems to be having trouble coming out. With some wiggling and what looks like some tugging, he emerges yet only partly.

"*strain* H-Hey...I found something you can use."

I'm curious. I help chip some ground away and something metal appears. Looping my finger through a hole, I help him pull this mystery thing out and wow it puts up quite the struggle. With a final double pull from the both of us, the object reveals itself...a frying pan?

"The hell...?"

"I found it at one of the areas off over there. It once belonged to a human that fell a long time ago."

All this mismatch stuff. What were the humans that fell before even doing to fall with such stuff? Whatever, an item gained is better than no items at all.

[You equipped the Nasty Pan.]

[You gain 10 Attack.]

[You don't know if it's covered in old food or gore. Either way, the damage is rather consistent. Consumables items will heal 4 more HP.]

"Damn. Was really hoping for some defense boost."

"Sorry. How uneven does this make your stats now?"

"See for yourself."

He's confused till he CHECKs me.

[Lynsie - LV:1 - HP: 40 ATK: 30 DEF: 11 - Too nice for her own good.]

"What the...? What happened?!"

I stand and stretch.

"I got mugged."

He frowns.

"The robot?"

I answer with a nod and change the line of chatter to current events.

"Was there anyone out there?"

He shakes his head.

"At least that's some good news. So how do we do this?"

He moves back, over to where the path sort-of splits.

"This way."

With no other moves, I follow him to a spot where a vent is missing and he points to the land across it.

"Over there is the exit. If you can not freak out, I should be able to take you over there."

My spine shivers.

"Are you certain you can lift me over? That's at least a ten-foot gap, give or take."

"Trust me. I know what I'm capable of."

I swallow what little courage I have and shut my eyes tight.

"Please, make it quick."

"Don't worry, I got you."

There's silence for a bit. Then something slithers under then over my shoulders and slinks to wrap around my waist. I want to look but when my feet leave the ground my entire body clenches.

"Easy now. No sudden moves."

That doesn't help.

I do my best to block out everything. Like the feel of wind brushing past and intense heat that wafts up from below. My nerves are threatening to go off again. The instant I can feel a foot touch anything solid my eyes shoot open.

"See? Told you I could do it."

He's already on this side with me. Probably moved here first then reached over and carried my dumb frightened ass over. Bless you, super flower-goat-boy! The vines release and I'm once more on terra firma. I use this moment to hug Flowey.

"Thank you!"

He chuckles and now it's two going through Mettaton's show. If only I didn't leave my bag at home. Then he'd be riding with me. Then again, Mettaton would've taken that too and really screwed me over.

FINALLY. AS TOUCHING AS THAT WAS, DARLING, YOU NEED TO GET MOVING. WE'RE ALREADY BEHIND SCHEDULE AS IT IS.

I pop my neck and nod. The sooner I get through this the sooner it ends and we can go home.

"You okay with following me in case of other bull?"

"Oh yeah. You're going to need me. There are more vents past this.

I groan and silently curse everything before walking. Upon entering the north path past the steam vents, we come across another path made of pipework that veers to the right. This would be super chill if it weren't for the freaking lasers!

"This shouldn't be a big deal."

I look down at Flowey funny.

"Dude...Do you not see the lasers?"

He shakes his head.

"Don't think of them like you think they are. Those are made with magic energy. You remember what I told you about orange and light blue magic, don't you?"

It takes a second for that to click in my head. My small smirk lets him know I'm not completely stupid.

"See you on the other side."

He retreats to the ground and has to move through that, not like he can go through metal shit. So I take on this obstacle. There are nine lasers in total that go the order of orange, orange, cyan, orange, cyan, orange, cyan, cyan, and orange, with the cyan ones moving around. So by the logic of magic properties, I move through the orange ones and pause for the cyan ones till it's safe to keep going. In no time I'm at the end, a large metal pillar has a big red switch and out of spite I flip it. This effectively turns the laser off. Sweet! That was easy. Onward I go. The path veers upward and, can you guess, has more of those damn vents. A base one that changes directions, a one on the left and right side as well as in front. The path wants me to go forward but is blocked by a locked door. No doubt each side has a puzzle that opens each lock. Gotta love real-life video game logic.

"Not so bad, right?"

Speaks the emerging flora to my right.

"Still in one piece."

I joke to myself to keep the dumb side of me from saying something to jinx me.

"Need another lift?"

Looking at the gap between vents, it's not so evil as the first ones, maybe about four or five feet.

"I think I can manage this one."

He's relieved, thinking I'm being a big girl and fighting my fear.

"Great! I knew you could...wait...What are you...?!"

Don't think. Just act. Fear can't affect you if you don't realize it's there.

I take a short sprint and make nice bound over to where he's at. He's rather confused.

"The hell? What about your phobia?"

"Easy...Didn't think about it."

I head for the puzzle and he's flabbergasted.

"Wha...but...You still could've used the vents!"

"Nope!"

He catches up to me as I get distracted looking at two monsters sitting at the cliff's edge.

"You scare me something."

"How do you think I feel? I scare myself and I'm the one doing it."

There's a room nearby but these two just pull my attention. There's what appears to be a pale-green dragon in a black business suit and slick shade, like some sort of scaly lawyer. A black wisp-like monsters that reminds me of Grillby, even sporting glasses, in a gray tank-top and red pants drinking something steaming hot, dude looks chill in this heat. They don't seem to notice us and I can hardly hear bits of their chit chat. Something about how they're glad that the reactivated puzzles are preventing them from progressing as they do not want to go to work. They are also muttering some other stuff but I head for the room before they see this random human.

Inside the puzzle room, I'm met by two things. The puzzle itself and a disembodied fox head wearing sunglasses. The fuck am I tripping on?!

"The door leading through the area is closed?"

Dear God, it bounces as it talks and speaks with an upward inflection like valley speak! It hurts my brain. Good news, it has no clue what I am. Yay!

"So I tried the puzzle? But I kept running out of ammo, and it kept restarting?"

"...Bummer."

"And my two co-workers won't help? It's like they don't even wanna go to work?"

"Harsh."

"Why don't you try? Try using the console?"

I shrug and give this thing a little checking out. No real help from the fox so maybe the puzzle will tell me what to do. Oh, look! The convenient "?" icon is super tiny and hidden in the corner while also being somewhat the same color as the background. That's not a dick move, oh no, not in the slightest.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(Move the boxes to complete your mission.)

Okay, that's useful. Let's see...Four immovable blocks, two movable ones, and two open spaces. The immovable blocks are in each corner and the movable ones are in my way. And to top it all off, I get only two shots. Scoot the two away, shoot, and puzzle solved.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

That's one done, another to go.

"Wow? You solved it? I'm impressed? You must be a total nerd?"

...Jackass.

Leaving the room has Flowey grabbing my wrist with a vine and tugging me to get moving.

"Bro, chill, what's wrong?"

"I heard them talking. They've been watching Mettaton's broadcast on their phones."

Yeah, that's our cue to skedaddle.

"Please use the vents this time."

I speed past him much to his chagrin.

"Screw...the...rules!"

I shout with each leap taken. I know deep down he wants to call me dumb and yet I'm kinda proud I'm able to forget about the incredibly high path we're treading that drops into freaking lava. He rejoins me as a non-moving cyan laser seemingly impedes my progress. However, it's waist level in height and nothing is stopping me from crawling underneath it.

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

Like on the right side, the left has the puzzle room and two monsters just hanging out on the cliff. These two monster girls are wearing what look like red and black Japanese school uniforms. The fuck? Not sure what's weirder, everyone's bravery by being that close to death or how the hell they got those clothes. Either way, one girl is purple with possible tentacle hair and has red eyes with black sclera, she is so clearly a tom-boy with her red back facing cap and skateboard. While the other girl is made up of lime green flame and gives off this way too innocent vibe for being here and with the bad-girl. Hotland does seem more and more to be Grillby's former home. How many more fire elementals live here?

"You think the laser has them stuck here?"

"Maybe. I know I wouldn't crawl on the floor with a skirt like that."

I enter the room and thankfully there's no head laying around that speaks in headache-inducing jabber. Let's see...Are the rules the same?

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(Move the boxes to complete your mission.)

Yep. Same rules but different layout. Five immovable blocks, six movable ones, and five open spaces. The three immovable ones are in corners, one is above a corner, and the last is touching the corner of a corner block. And once more I get two shots. The movable blocks from a backward jacked letter C. This one is a bit more complex. The majority of the blocks move in one push. I have to try this a few times before I'm able to have it clear enough to shoot through one block and then the target.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

If my calculations are correct, the door should be open now and further progress can be made. I leave the room and notice the laser is off. Flowey is also nowhere to be seen, probably due to the girls having moved from their original spot.

"Finally! Someone turned off that laser!"

Don't thank me, I'm just awesome.

"Now that we're free we can... Well, uh, I guess we'll just keep standing here."

"Hm? Nice try, but your loitering technique still needs work."

They chat with themselves. Great time to be invisible.

"Loitering around... What's the point?"

"Beats being in school. Why should we bother going to school, anyway...? What's the point in learning how to make a buncha puzzles? There's GOTTA be a way to cancel school."

"But isn't it summer vacation?"

"...Auuuugh! This world's got no future!"

A bit overly dramatic. Whatever. Back to business. I rush to make my final leap and almost trip on the pipework floor. Yeah...Not gonna be doing this jump thing anymore. Lost my nerve for it. Motion activates the door and it slides opens into the rock.

"Okay, Metta...Here I come."

Going through the door leads me to a small bit of land that turns to the right and three widely spaced vents in a row to reach the next...Is that kitchen linoleum? I can't be seeing that right.

"Seems like you have no choice this time."

Flowey appears.

"Can't at least hurl me across?"

He shakes his head.

"I can't support carrying you that far and I'm not risking you falling to death."

"Yeah, my luck as of late would be that level of crap."

I smack myself a few times to ready my timid nerves.

"Any words of wisdom before I do this?"

He thinks for a moment.

"Beware of chainsaws."

"What?!"

He sinks into the ground and I internally scream...Fuck my life!

Stepping onto the vent blocks the steam for a bit. The building pressure launches me from one vent to the next. By the time I reach solid ground I'm about ready to vomit my still-beating heart out.

"I hate heights!"

I'm gonna punch him. I swear, even if it breaks my hands, I will beat the shit out of Mettaton for this.

Still shaken I crawl my way into the next area. It's very weird. As if the linoleum wasn't odd, I'm now in what looks like a kitchen set. Oh...Oh god no...This can't mean...

"Don't tell me this is what I think it is."

As if on cue, low and behold, my metal master of moronic mayhem hovers down from the heavens wearing a chef's hat.

"OHHHH YES! WELCOME, DASTARDLIES, TO THE UNDERGROUND'S PREMIER COOKING SHOW!"

(Cooking with a Killer Robot)

"PRE-HEAT YOUR OVENS, BECAUSE WE'VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPE FOR YOU TODAY! WE'RE GOING TO BE MAKING...A CAKE! DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE TO BE EXACT."

Two of his hands stretch out and grab me, despite my pointless clawing at the floor, to present me to cameras I can't see.

"MY LOVELY ASSISTANT HERE WILL GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. EVERYONE GIVE THEM A BIG HAND!"

An applause sound effect goes off as well as confetti falls. I glare at myself.

"*mutter* You better have my stuff as promised or I will purposefully make sure your ratings bomb."

He pulls me in so only I hear him.

"*WHISPER* DO THAT AND YOU CAN KISS YOUR ITEMS GOODBYE."

I snort a huff and try to put on a smile. This seems to be what he wants.

"WE'LL NEED SUGAR, MILK, FLOUR, CHOCOLATE, AND EGGS. GO FOR IT, SWEETHEART!"

He's being overly flashy and fantastic. I should play along...but I'm too pissy and bitter. Plus calling me sweetheart irks me. You want a nice human? I'll be so sweet your blood sugar will spike!

"*giggles* Golly-gee. Thanks for having me on your show, Mr. Mettaton. Let's make the bestest best cake ever!"

This is stooping to new levels of pettiness that I might want to find a therapist for later. I'm pushing for a nearly unbelievable level of childish innocence as I scope the set and gather ingredients. All the while he watches every little skip and mean-spirited twirl I make before bring it all back to him a dopey smile.

"All done, Mr. Mettaton. This is going to be the most choco-lickity-yummiest cake in the universe!"

He puts two of his hands together and one on my head before sighing.

"DARLING...I LOVE WHAT YOU'RE DOING, I REALLY DO. BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE AUDIENCE, COULD YOU LOWER THE CUTE DOWN A BIT?"

I give the puppy dog eyes.

"Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?"

He flinches and without thinking he slams my head into the counter. I roar and cover my face, trying not to burst into a hurricane of swears while he goes about the show.

"PERFECT! GREAT JOB, BEAUTIFUL! WE'VE GOT ALL OF THE INGREDIENTS WE NEED TO BAKE THE CAKE! MILK... SUGAR... FLOUR... CHOCOLATE... EGGS..."

He gasps suddenly while I check if my nose is broken. Good news, it's not.

"OH MY! WAIT A MAGNIFICENT MOMENT! HOW COULD I FORGET! WE'RE MISSING THE MOST IMPORTANT INGREDIENT!"

I wipe a small bit of blood off my forehead.

"And what ingredient is that? This was everything you told me to get."

Some of my attitude is coming out but not too much.

"WHY, IT'S NOTHING WE HAVE TO GO SEARCHING FOR. YOU BROUGHT IT HERE WITH YOU."

I look at him funny until I see him pulling two chainsaws out from under the counter.

"A HUMAN SOUL!"

My heart sinks as he revs them up. Yet when he begins to do a slow methodical approach...My brain remembers to do one of my many pointless talents. Poking holes things with needless but true knowledge.

"Objection!"

The nerd in me is giddy for being able to make him pause with that.

"YES?"

I slap the counter.

"This recipe is bogus. What kind of cake calls for an ingredient that is so rare and priceless as a human soul? I submit my dumb argument, because I'm willing to admit the idiocy of saying this, that a human soul would serve a far greater purpose than being used for baked goods. Such as breaking the barrier. What say you, Metta? Do you have anything to back up your reasoning to use my soul in this cake?"

I wonder if Napsablook has an emulator on his PC? I want to play Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney now.

His screen blinks a little in thought. Before one of his arms leaves the murder weapon to go somewhere off set and return to put a can on the counter.

"...What is that?"

"THAT, MY DEAR, IS MTT-BRAND ALWAYS-CONVENIENT HUMAN-SOUL-FLAVOR-SUBSTITUTE! AVAILABLE AT ANY OF MY FINE RETAIL MARKETS! PROOF THAT THIS IS SOMETHING RATHER COMMON DOWN HERE AND THEREFORE, NOT A COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE IDEA AS TO WHY USE OF YOUR SOUL WOULD BE IN COOKING."

I stare dumbfounded at this can.

"This...This thing holds stuff that tastes like a human soul?"

He turns one chainsaw off and leans on it like a villain does with a cane.

"IT IS WHAT IT IS, DARLING. THE LABEL DOESN'T LIE. I SELL ONLY THE BEST. AND I GUARANTEE, IF YOU TRY IT, YOU'D NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE."

My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I put my hands together, hold them to my face, and ponder the meaning of life."

"Metta, my dude...This is some messed up stuff right here."

"HOW SO?"

I sigh through my nose and lose my ability to be subtle.

"You do know that souls can be used as sexual organs, right?"

He slips from his cool pose in shock.

"DARLING! CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY! THIS IS LIVE AND KIDS MIGHT BE WATCHING."

"Do not change the subject by insinuating children don't have the ability to understand. Kids are always learning and they find things out quicker than others give credit. Such as their body's and, because it's a monster's core, soul. You can not expect me to believe that knowledge of that caliber is unknown."

I grab the can harshly.

"Knowing that, the fact this can exists and as you claim is indistinguishable from the real deal, it insinuates that you or someone else on your staff knows what a human soul tastes like. Meaning...Someone has had oral sex with a human soul."

He falls over at my accusations. Chainsaws long forgotten. But I'm not done.

"Further more, this can opens a can of worms in its implications. Forgive my armature knowledge on the subject, but in the old myths above, there is no mention of monsters feeding on human souls. Such things usually are connected to demons. So this concept is either new to the Underground or you're making it up purely for this show!"

My head is swimming with weird thoughts and I'm unable to keep them to myself.

"Fearing that the humans would one day turn on monster kind and slaughter their people, absorb their few boss souls and become dominant over them, the monsters decided to launch a preemptive strike. That's what the old text said, but...If this feeding on souls it true..."

I glare at the can, not liking the thoughts it's making me get.

"Then humans had a reason to seal you away."

Those words are bitter and I spit them getting angry, squeezing the can with force.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

It crunches, metal splitting to cut into my hand before furiously throwing it at the fake window behind us.

"Tell me I'm wrong! Don't make me feel bad for humanity!"

I'm physically shaking. My rage tapering on the verge. It's not even towards anyone. How can it? What's in the past is there forever. But this...Don't tell me this is real and in the present.

"Please..."

I lick my hand, trying to focus on the sting and hint of copper to calm me down. Finally able to recover, Mettaton dusts himself off. Taking note of my behavior and picking his words carefully.

"WOW, DARLING. SUCH RAW EMOTION. THE PASSION. FEAR. ANGER. AND DESPERATION. IT'S PERFECT IN EVERY WAY!"

A low snarl from me reminds him that I'm in no mood for his fabulous side.

"BUT TO ANSWER YOUR RATHER INTERESTING QUERY...NO. IT'S NOT TRUE."

A small sensation of relief begins to hit me as he opens a compartment under his screen and pulls out a small advertisement poster.

"I FIGURED THIS IDEA WOULD WORK MAINLY BECAUSE..."

He lightly touches my face.

"YOU'RE SWEETER THAN ANY DESERT~."

With the whole 'about to kill me' and fucked up line of thought thing that happened seconds ago, his little flirt has no effect and I slap his hand away. He's taken by this yet keeps his composer.

"BUT I SEE NOW THAT WAS FOOLISH. USING YOU IN A SIMPLE COOKING SHOW WAS A MASSIVE UNDERESTIMATION. ESPECIALLY TO PROMOTE MY NEWEST PRODUCT."

He crumbs the add and tosses it away.

"BUT AFTER THAT SCENE, I CAN KISS THOSE SALES GOODBYE. IT WAS WORTH A SHOT THOUGH. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT WORKS WITHOUT TAKING RISKS."

I am so done with all of this it ain't even funny.

"YET THIS WASN'T A TOTAL LOST. I LEARNED YOU HAVE A REAL TALENT."

I eye him cautiously, getting the bleeding to at last stop.

"CLEARLY A COURTROOM DRAMA IS PERFECT FOR YOU!"

I hate my luck.

"I NEED TO MAKE SOME CALLS! GET A SET MADE! OOOOOH! THE SCANDALOUS SCRIPT IDEAS I HAVE!"

"I think you're jumping the gun a bit early on this."

He puts a finger to my lips.

"NOT NOW, DARLING, I'M WORKING."

I gesture to where I assume a camera is that he's nuts.

[RING-RING]

His phone goes off.

"THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT! I'M ON AIR RIGHT NOW!"

Damn it. I can't hear the caller.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WON'T MOVE?! YOU TELL HER..."

He's cut off.

"W-WHAT?! HOW MANY OF YOU ARE THERE LEFT? ...JUST YOU?! DAMN IT, BUGERPANTS, SO HELP ME IF THIS IS A PLOY TO GET OUT OF YOUR SHIFT..."

While he's distracted, I use this time to move the chainsaws away and out of sight. No need for them to come back into play.

"WAIT...SAY THAT LAST PART AGAIN. ARE YOU CERTAIN IT'S HIS POST?"

Post? What post? Who's post?

"*HUFF* FINE. RETURN TO YOUR POST. I'LL DEAL WITH THIS MYSELF."

He hangs up and is not too happy.

"*MUMBLE* DAMN SPIDER AND HER STUPID PET, KILLS MY MINIONS AND STILL DENIES MY BUSINESS DEALS!"

"You okay?"

My voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he calms down.

"UM...A CHANGE IN PLANS HAS COME UP. YES! DUE TO SOME SET ISSUES AND TIME CONSTRAINTS, OUR SHOW RUNS ON A STRICT SCHEDULE YOU KNOW, I'M GOING TO PERSONALLY DROP YOU OFF AT THE NEXT LEG OF THE GAUNTLET."

Well, that sounds like a load of bullshit. But my dumb brain has to dumb brain.

"So what you're telling me is we're not even going to finish this segment by making the damn cake?"

He pulls me into an uncomfortable side embrace.

"I KNOW, IT'S HEARTBREAKING. BUT YOU SHOULD'VE MOVED FASTER AT THE START OF ALL THIS."

"I have a fear of heights!"

"NOW WE'LL JUST HAVE TO LIVE WITH NOT KNOWING HOW GOOD THE CAKE COULD'VE BEEN."

"Don't ignore me."

"OR HOW MUCH MORE DELICIOUS IT COULD BE IF EATEN OFF MY BODY."

"The fuck did you say?!"

"BUT COME ON, DARLING, I'M ONLY MESSING WITH YOU AND OUR MALICIOUS VIEWERS. HAVEN'T YOU EVER SEEN A COOKING SHOW BEFORE? I ALREADY BAKED THE CAKE AHEAD OF TIME! SO FORGET IT! BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY OF IT!"

"Is the screaming in my ear necessary?"

"WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! RIGHT ABOUT NOW IS WHEN WE HAVE OUR COMMERCIAL BREAK! SO STAY TUNED TO THAT SCREEN AND CONTINUE WATCHING AS OUR DEAR DARLING DARES TO DART FORTH INTO DANGER ONCE MORE!"

"Can you at least tell me I don't have to do any more vent platforming?"

"SORRY, BUT I'D BE LYING IF I DID."

I start trying to swear but I end up roaring out in meek frustration.

"SEE YOU ALL AGAIN REAL SOON."

A few seconds go by and he lets me go.

"OKAY, WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME..."

He moves to the sink and opens the cabinets under it.

"WE HAD A DEAL. DESPITE THAT LITTLE SHOW YOU PUT ON, I AM IF ANYTHING A MONSTER OF MY WORD."

He tosses me a bag with his face on it. Taking the hint, I open it and find my missing gear. Though...no phone. I take this small victory without a fight. I'm fairly certain I know who has it anyway. That cat is so getting skinned. I equip my items and CHECK my stats.

[ HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 27]

"Someday, I swear my defense will be decent, damn it!"

"ALL SET?"

I may look ridiculous with all this all but it's not like I was a supermodel before.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you."

"UM..."

"What?"

"I WANT TO APOLOGIZE."

I scoff.

"Forget it."

"NO. I...WHAT I DID WAS STUPID. I SKIMMED OVER THINGS AND WASN'T EXPECTING HOW YOU'D REACT. A GOOD SHOWMAN IS MORE PREPARED AND KNOWS HIS CAST BETTER. FOR THAT...I'M SORRY"

No matter the mood I might be in, I know how hard it is to swallow one's pride and admit a wrong. I just wish he wasn't such a flip-flopper because this personality switching is making it difficult to trust him fully.

"*sigh* ...I forgive you. But don't ever pull that kind of crap again. Got it? I like you monsters. I like being here. I don't want to feel bad for my kind and see THIS punishment as justified."

He nods, or what I take as the equivalent to one for a guy without a neck. With that now all said and done he once again snatches me into his arms and he blasts off like a rocket. Where to? No damn clue.

[HOTLAND: LAB]

"Well, that was disappointing. Freaky, but disappointing."

Undyne collects another bowel to enjoy.

"Not his best move. That's for sure. All that controversial fuss."

Alphys had cut the feed but was still viewing the robot and human.

"Yeah. He didn't even use those chainsaws. Such a wasted opportunity."

"Still, the way she interpreted all that from a simple can of spice...And that reaction..."

Theories were coming to Alphys.

"Definitely something to remember for future use."

Undyne takes a long slurp of ramen.

"It's a freak, Alphys. Plain and simple."

Alphys's companion's lack of imagination made her sneer.

"At least he's prolonging her activity. That provides data. And that's all that matters."

Undyne rolls her eye.

"Still...I wonder what that phone call was about?"

Alphys, being the one that sees all, knows the answer to that question. She just finds it more interesting to see if her hot fish friend can figure it out for herself. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

[Snowdin: Skeleton House in present time]

They weren't sure what they just watched. Such a strange buildup and quickly smothered show. Sure this wasn't over but no one honestly thought that second showing was going to be over in about twelve minutes. Still...The lingering questions remained when the commercials played.

"This is nerve-wracking."

"I know. But at least there's some good news. He's moving her further. She'll be done faster."

"I suppose that is true."

"OR SHE'LL BE KILLED QUICKER."

Toriel and Grillby glare at Papyrus.

"WHAT? I'M BEING REALISTIC BY SAYING THE OPTION YOU'RE IGNORING."

The glares and fire strengthen.

Papyrus takes the hint and walks away. Maybe Sans had some sort of idea and won't want to beat the shit out of him as the others do.

"you need to work on your people skills, bro."

He growls but that's it.

"i got an idea as to what happened near the end."

"REALLY?"

"yeah. i think someone tipped him off about my post there."

"YOU SURE?"

"got no other clue as to why he'd move her himself and not let her walk."

"HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK HE'LL HAVE HER SKIP?"

"who's to say? i only know what i can see from my post. and it ain't much."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY POSTS?"

"do ya know anybody else that can teleport?"

"...GOOD POINT."

"you sound underwhelmed."

"I DON'T KNOW...I JUST DON'T SEE IT. YOU WORKING THAT MUCH? IT'S WEIRD."

"if it makes it less weird, i sell hot dogs at those stations."

"THAT...THAT MAKES MORE SENSE."

The television flickers suddenly. The commercials end and the human is back onscreen. Her exact location is odd in that there doesn't seem to be a path to leave on. There's a signpost they can't read and random cacti. Among the positives, she is sporting her equipables again and thus have her stats boosted. On the negative side...she isn't there alone for very long.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #mettaton #napstablook #chara #frisk #flowey #Asriel #asgore #toriel #undyne #alphys

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years

Text

Weight of Their Worlds

Switch AU

I’ve been neglecting JJ in this AU. Ironic, considering he’s my favorite out of the normal boys fjhaskld So he gets his own story! That’s great! There’s also a little bit about Schneep in here, but it’s mostly JJ. Let’s check in on him, see what’s been going on with him in this AU, how he’s interacting with other people and going about his life. This one is a long one, boys and girls and other, but I really like how it turned out.

More of this AU found here

The alarm went off at eight o’clock am. The beeping had been ramped up in volume, something that Jameson suddenly very much regretted. He also regretted that he’d set his alarm clock on his bookshelf across the room, instead of the nightstand right next to him. He groaned and rolled over, briefly considering throwing a magic bolt at the clock to shut it up, but instead stood up and walked over to turn it off. He sighed. Well, he was awake now.

Normally, JJ was more of a morning person than a late waker. But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Last night, the last he’d glanced at the glowing digital numbers of the clock, it was 3:45 am. And he remembered waking up a couple times, too. He was probably nervous about what he had planned today.

Which reminded him. He needed to get ready. He went through the drawers and found a set of clothes for the day, then went downstairs. While heating up a cinnamon roll for breakfast, he jotted a note down for Marvin, explaining where he would be all day:

Sorry, I won’t be around all day. I have that meeting with another magician at nine, that one I told you about a few days ago. Then I’m going to go visit a few people and study at the library. I have rehearsal starting at 4:30, you can come watch if you want. See you later! -JJ

He hoped that would help. Marvin hated being out of the loop.

After that, it was a half hour to get ready, and another half hour to take the car and drive to the park, where he’d be meeting...someone. He wasn’t sure what they would look like. About two weeks ago, he’d reached out to the ABIM—the organization that functioned as a loose government for magicians. He didn’t know much about them, having only interacted with them maybe once or twice. But...well, things were starting to look bad. Jackie had been missing for six months. He hadn’t had any luck scrying for Jackie’s location, and there were no signs of Distorter to go off of, either. He hadn’t seen Anti in person in a few weeks, Schneep was being evasive as well, and Marvin...well, he wasn’t exactly talking about what was going on with him, but Jameson could hear him and his nightmares through the floorboards.

So of course, Jameson had to do something about this. He couldn’t just let everything fall apart. He had to make sure the others were alright, had to find some way to help fix everything. But at this point, he couldn’t do it on his own. Which is why he reached out to the ABIM, hoping other magicians would have some sort of advice. A week ago, they’d gotten back to him, saying they would send a representative out to talk.

Which was why he was in the park right now, walking around the perimeter of the small pond, looking for someone. The park was pretty empty at nine in the morning, on a cloudy weekday, so it was easy to see the only other person around. She spotted him at the same moment, waving him over to a bench sitting by the pond’s shore.

“So. You’re Mr. Jameson Jackson, then?” She asked, eyes scanning him as he approached.

“Yes. And who are you?” He scanned her in turn. She wasn’t too unusual, he supposed. Well, she stood out a bit because of her red hair and green eyes, a rare combination. But her jeans, T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie didn’t seem too magical to him.

“My name’s Aoife Kelley,” she said. “I’m part of the Magi, which is a subdivision of ABIM. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, I suppose. You?”

“Good. Here, let’s sit.” Aoife gestured to the wrought-iron bench. Once JJ sat down, she did as well. “Now, then. To business.” She muttered a few words, and reached forward. Her eyes flared golden yellow, and her hand disappeared, like she’d slid it into a pocket in the air. JJ jumped in alarm, then stared in fascination. He’d never seen a spell like this before. Aoife’s hand pulled back, suddenly holding a blue binder. She flipped it open. “I’m going to just ask you a few questions, see if we have your information right.”

JJ nodded. “Alright.”

“Your name’s Jameson Daniel Jackson. Male. British nationality, Caucasian race. Twenty-seven years old, birthday October 31st, 1990.”

“Yes, that’s all correct.”

“Elemental magic with an ice/water focus, as well as a lesser healing ability. You work as a stage magician?” Aoife raised an eyebrow at that last part.

“Yes.” JJ tried not to squirm. Ironically, he didn’t like being the center of attention. At least, not on such an...individual level. “If you’re going to lecture me about the dangers of using magic on stage, I’ve already heard it from one of you. I’m being cautious.”

Aoife grinned. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” She looked back at the file. “There’s no history of magic in your family, nor is there a history of mental illness in you or your bloodline.”

That last part was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right.” JJ coughed awkwardly. “Are...can we get to the purpose of this meeting? I’d planned to meet up with someone else after this.”

“Oh. Yes, right.” Aoife flipped the binder close. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not too pressing.” JJ shrugged. “I just...this is a...rather pressing situation I’m in, and I would really appreciate any advice you have on the matter.”

Aoife’s brows scrunched together. “Well, y’see. That’s the problem.”

Jameson felt his heart stop. “What do you mean?”

“This...creature, that you say is following you. That took one of your friends...” Aoife bit her lip. “We...don’t have any records of something like it.”

Jameson could only stare at her. “I’m sorry?”

“We don’t have any records of it.” She opened the binder again, pulling out a piece of paper. Jameson recognized it. It was a printed-out copy of the letter he’d sent to the ABIM online. Because surprisingly enough, the magical organization had an official website. Aoife scanned through the typed words. “It’s something that appears to be human, but with that head injury, it can’t be a living human. And its array of powers...being able to confuse people, sometimes directly control them, and otherwise make it so the mind doesn’t register it as existing...” She tucked the letter back in the binder. “...we don’t have anything like that in our files.”

“Tha—that’s impossible,” Jameson said softly. “You must have something in there. Maybe something buried deep—”

“Yeah, I checked all our records,” Aoife said firmly. “My permissions are pretty high-up, I have access to everything. And I couldn’t find anything like this. Oh sure, there are records of undead that fit the physical description, and some creatures with similar powers, but nothing that fits.” Aoife paused. “I have to ask...are you sure this thing is really out there?”

“Am I sure?” Jameson asked, incredulous. “Am I sure?! He kidnapped one of my friends and poisoned another! Convinced one of them to walk out into moving traffic! My housemate has nightmares about him that wake him up screa—” Jameson took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm down. “We’ve all seen it. Of course we’re sure.”

“Alright. Alright.” Aoife raised her hands, as if in surrender. “I believe you. But, well...some of the others don’t.”

“Some of the others?” Jameson repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Aoife confirmed. “It’s a big group, and your request for aid got passed around a lot, looking for someone to help. Some of them think you’re making it up, some of them think you’re mistaken...a few of them think you’ve lost your marbles.” Suddenly the question about history of mental illness made more sense. “But the fact of the matter is, we just...we’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Why would I make it up?” Jameson asked quietly.

Aoife shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think you are. But not everyone does. If you could show some sort of proof, it would be helpful.”

“Oh, do you want me to take a picture of him, next time I see it?” JJ drawled. “In between the moments of me fighting for my friends’ lives and free wills?”

“I don’t know,” Aoife said quietly. She stood up, tucking the binder under her arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but until there’s some sort of evidence...we really can’t help you.”

Jameson shot to his feet as well. “Then why did you even agree to meet with me in the first place?”

“Well, it would be rude to just dismiss you in an email,” Aoife said calmly. “Impersonal, you know?” Her voice softened a bit. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t as long as we don’t know what this is. We just need something to show that this...what you’re saying it is. And if it is, then...well...” She pauses. “Then we’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ll need time. And information.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wood. She held it out to JJ, who took it silently. Looking down at it, he saw a phone number burned into the wood surface. “This is my personal cell, call me when you’ve...got something. Okay?” She waited for him to nod, then smiled. “Be seeing you.” And without another word, she left.

Jameson stared down at the wooden card, then tucked it into his pocket. He watched Aoife walk away, until she was out of the park and out of the sight. Then he turned, let out a cry of frustration, and kicked a rock out onto the surface of the pond. Where it landed, ripples turned the water a bright, glowing blue that slowly faded away.

He shook his head, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply. If they’ve never heard of anything like Distorter before, it made sense that they needed proof. Just to make sure he wasn’t pranking them or anything. But god, was it frustrating. What was he supposed to do?! When and how was he supposed to get evidence that Distorter existed?! The gray man hadn’t been seen in months! Not to mention, part of him wondered how much help the other magicians could really be, if they’ve never seen anything like Distorter before. All that meant...all that meant was that they were dealing with a threat unlike anything before. Jameson shivered.

No, he’d...he’d figure it out. He had to. Maybe he could modify some of the mind protection spells he found, so they could ward a specific place? Maybe work them into some sort of offensive spell? Or he could put a little more effort into the tracking spells, if he just tried a little more he was sure he could find Jackie.

JJ headed out of the park and back towards his car. He’d planned to do the studying after he got all his visits for the day done, but his mind was already brewing. He could adjust the schedule a bit. Time to head to the library.

———————

The clock read 9:34am, a fact which surprised Schneep when he looked at it.

Didn’t it say 12 just a few minutes ago? No, there had been a 3:40 in that interim somewhere. Or was it 6?

You really should go to sleep.

Schneep shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Shut up.”

There was a figure hovering in the corner of his eyes. You’re going to kill yourself before you get anything done.

You weren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Schneep knew this. But it was a little hard to ignore it when it looked like one of your friends. Still, he didn’t answer this time, instead backing up to get a full view of the map he’d taped up on the wall. He used to have this entirely digital, but he’d tried printing in all out on paper, see if that helped. The map was littered with push pins, strings tying together locations to newspaper articles he’d found and taped to the wall. He was aware this looked like a crazy conspiracy board, but it was sort of helping.

The figure hovered closer. It looked close enough to reach out and touch, peering over his shoulder. Is it going to help? You look terrible. Is it really worth it?

“Yes,” Schneep breathed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Yes, if I can find you. It’s worth it.”

There was a knock at the apartment’s door. Schneep jumped, trying to back up but somehow managing to fall over the back of the sofa instead. Who was at the door? Who came to see him? Was it him, the gray man, coming to finish the job?

Another knock. “Dude, I can and I will pick your lock, let me in.”

He knew that voice, he realized, standing up. But was that proof? What if it was someone pretending to be him?

Oh, too late, the handle was rattling. The door opened to reveal Anti, who entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the apartment, whistling. “This place is bigger mess than the room of a nine-year-old who refuses to clean. What’s up, Volt?” He paused. “You look terrible.”

I told you.

“Thank you,” Schneep muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I just...” Anti looked around the area again. “I was in the neighborhood. Why do you have a serial killer board up on your wall?”

“Shut up,” Schneep snapped. He put his hands on his hips and looked over the wall. “I am trying to figure things out. It is a new approach.”

“Uh-huh.” Anti’s eyes darted over the wall. “Figure what kind of things out?”

“You know what I mean! Anything, everything!” Schneep began pacing the length of his living area. On the edges of his vision, there was a shadow of a red hoodie, of big round glasses and brown hair. Is it worth it? Is it going to work? “It will work,” Schneep insisted. “I-I can find you.”

“Um...” Anti glanced around the apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”

Shit, no. Anti couldn’t know. Not now. Schneep really didn’t feel like being analyzed by Mr. Psychology-Is-My-Hobby. He whirled around, pointing at the wall. “I am keeping track of everything, everything odd in the last few years. Is very strange, you see? There are a high number of disappearances, and of accidents in the city. More so than in other cities.” He felt his eye twitching, a tiny pulse in his lid. He ignored it. “It is no wonder the police have been no help in finding him, they are useless at this!”

“Really?” Anti looked over the newspaper articles, taking in all the headlines. “You think maybe it’s...you know, all been him?”

“Possibly, possibly.”

This isn’t going to work. The shadow was whispering in his ear. You’re slowly dying over this, and it’s not worth it. Can you really find me? You haven’t had success so far.

Schneep waved in the direction of the shadow, as if trying to clear it. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Anti said, looking at him skeptically. “You...did you go to sleep last night?”

Apparently not. Or maybe the clocks were lying to him. Schneep almost sat down on the sofa, but he knew if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stand up and keep working. And that was the most important thing. Keep working. He had to succeed eventually. “Anti,” he said. “Can you do something?”

“Uh, depends on what it is.”

“Where have you been?” Schneep asked. “I have not seen you in, mmm, a couple of months now. Not outside of text.”

Anti shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck. “Well. Y’know. Been busy. Is...is that what you wanted me to do? Answer the question?”

What question? Wait, what? What was happening? Schneep shook his head. “No. I am sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to know if you could...I do not know, do something to keep me thinking.”

Anti took a step back. “Um, what?”

“Like one of those stories you like,” Schneep said. “Those spooky ones you tell. Tell one of those, I want to think about something else for a while.” The shadow stood beside him. “But I do not want to think of nothing.”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” Anti flung himself down on the nearest armchair. “I can think of one you haven’t heard yet. You gonna sit down?”

“No.”

“Well, uh. Alright, then.” Anti bit his lip, thinking. “I could tell you the story about the house on Aspen Street.”

Schneep blinked. “I think you have mentioned that before. But I do not remember it.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve talked about it.” Anti flashed a grin. “But I always got stopped from talking about it, by Jackson and Jac—” He cut himself off. “Well, I can do it now.”

“Why would they stop you from talking about it?”

“I guess it could be kind of freaky. I mean, it starts with a true story.” Anti sat up straight. “Five years ago, we all turned on the evening news to a shocking story. A family of four had been found dead. Tragic enough in itself, but things start to become even bleaker once you heard the rest.”

Schneep sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Anti to continue.

Anti’s eyes lit up. “The house was 68 Aspen Street. For years, it had been home to a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. It had been a happy place, a haven. But things started to crack and fall apart. The parents began arguing. About what, we don’t know. Maybe it was money, or bad habits, or the kids, or anything else that could drive two people apart. But drive them apart it did. And eventually the mother couldn’t handle it anymore. She took the kids and left, filing for divorce. It went through, of course, and the father was left alone in the house that had once been full of loved ones.”

“Now, the details of what happened next are hard to fudge out. We know that the kids visited their father on the weekends, and that they were the only people he saw regularly. The father was fired from his job, and had no luck finding anything new. The neighbors stopped seeing him, as he stayed in the house almost every day. He became a recluse who only really lived for his family. A family that was seeing him less and less.”

“One spring day, the kids and their mother disappeared. The police investigated the father, of course, but they found no evidence that he was involved in any way. Until a week later. A neighbor called the authorities, saying she heard gunshots. Four of them, to be precise. Three close together, and one a little bit after. It came from the house on Aspen Street. When the police arrived, they found the whole family. Dead. The father was still holding a handgun.”

Anti paused. “And from there? Well, stories like that tend to linger. Sad spirits refuse to leave. They say the house on Aspen Street is haunted by the family. People who live there tend to get in accidents. And those who get out before the accidents kill them, they always report hearing voices, having things move when they aren’t there...and seeing the figures of the family. Watching. Waiting.”

The apartment was silent. Then Schneep suddenly took a deep breath. “That is a...that is a very sad story,” he whispered.

“Yeah. It is.” Anti said nothing else. The events spoke for themselves.

“You are very good at scaring people, Anti, your voice can be quite...eerie,” Schneep said.

“Thanks.” Anti grinned. “Now. You should go to sleep.”

“Maybe I will. But not if you are here.” Schneep stood up, and pointed at the door. “So, out.”

“Okay, fine.” Anti started to leave, but paused just before reaching the door. He turned around. “Are...are you doing...?” He seemed to have trouble asking the question he really wanted to.

“I am fine,” Schneep insisted.

“You’re going to go to sleep now, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re...you feel...you’re...?”

“Yes, I am fine. Now leave.”

Anti seemed to hesitate, but he opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Once he was gone, Schneep sighed. He turned to look back at the wall. Something about that story...something was niggling at his mind. He walked up to the map, grabbed a spare push pin, and pushed it into the paper, right at 68 Aspen Street.

You really think this’ll help? It won’t.

“Shut up,” Schneep muttered. “You are not here now, Jackie. You are somewhere else. And I will find you, and bring you back. I...” He leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”

———————

JJ lost track of time in the library. He meant to only stay there until twelve, but when he next checked the time on his phone, it was 1:30. He immediately cleaned up, reshelving the books. He had to be sure to do it himself. After all, these weren’t normal books. They were spell books, hidden in part of the library’s reference section for any magician to use if they wished. Well, as long as the magician was registered with the ABIM, since they were the people who allowed someone to see through the concealing ward around the books.

He was...tired. He’d spent about of of his time practicing the spells he read about, hidden in a nook on the second floor of the library. And four and a half hours of consistent magic use was...draining. But it didn’t matter. He had more to do.

A short drive later, JJ parked in the driveway of a familiar house. He grabbed the tupperware container he’d had sitting in the car since he left that morning, climbed out, walked up to the threshold, and rang the doorbell. A short while later, the door was opened...by seemingly nobody. JJ looked down. “Oh. Hello, Michelle.”

“Hi Uncle JJ,” Michelle said. “Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.”

“No, I-I know.” JJ tried to smile. It came out smaller than he intended. Of course Jackie wasn’t here. “I’m looking for your ren.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michelle darted back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ren! Uncle JJ is here! He wants to see you!”

JJ walked inside. The living room looked the same as ever. Except for the coat rack by the door. The white coat hanging from one of its hooks had a bit more dust.

Rama appeared from down the hallway. “Thanks for getting the door, Michelle,” they said, ruffling their daughter’s hair. Then they looked up at JJ. “Good to see you again, Jameson.”

“Good to see you too,” Jameson nodded. He showed off the tupperware container he was holding. “I made cake. Thought you’d want some.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Rama brushed a strand of their hair behind their ear. They hadn’t been wearing the red beanie they used to lately. “C’mon, let’s go in the kitchen.”

Jameson nodded. He shut the door behind him and followed Rama to the house’s kitchen. He set the container on the counter while Rama pulled open the silverware drawer and took out a couple forks. “Here,” they handed one to JJ.

“Oh, no, I mean thank you, but I-I already have some at home,” Jameson stammered. “This is for you.”

Rama nodded, putting one of the forks back. They peeled the lid off the tupperware and took out one of the slices inside, putting it on a plate already sitting on the counter. “So. Is this the part of the visit where you ask me how we’re doing?”

Jameson paused. “It can be.”

“Well...I guess we’re as okay as possible.” Rama plunged the fork into the cake slice. “Nothing much has changed since you last visited. Which I appreciate, by the way, you checking in.”

“It’s no problem.” Jameson smiled sadly.

Rama chuckled. There were dark bags under their dark eyes. “Does Michelle still say the same thing when she opens the door?”

“Yes,” Jameson said softly. ‘Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.’ “How is she?”

“I don’t know.” Rama shook their head. “I’m worried about her, you know. The effect this could have on her, especially if...” They stop. They’d been toying with a part of the cake slice, and they finally put it in their mouth. They swallowed visibly. “The police aren’t giving us updates anymore. The last time they showed up, the detective lady said that, statistically, the longer someone is missing, the more likely it is that they’re...” They trailed off. Then they shook their head, a determined set to their face. “Jackieboy is a fighter. He’s always been tougher than people give him credit for, including himself.”

“He really is.” Jameson nodded in agreement. “People often mistake kindness for weakness. But he’s not weak at all.”

Rama looked...reassured by that. They looked down at their cake slice. “Did you know...that his birthday was last week?”

Jameson was silent for a moment. “..yes,” he whispered. July 10th.

Rama nodded, as if that’s all they wanted. “Well, thank you for the cake.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure you have much else to do today.”

He did, but that didn’t matter. “I can stay longer, if you want.”

“No, no, you go ahead,” Rama waved. “This has been nice, and...and thank you.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jameson headed for the door. “Anything else you need?”

Rama smiled. “No. That’s enough.”

Jameson nodded, and without anything else, he left.

Once outside, he leaned back against the closed door and let out a long, long breath. It felt like there was something pressing down on his spine, making his head want to dip forward. Or maybe it was on his head itself. Or somewhere inside it. But he couldn’t let it happen. He had more to do. It was 1:52, he only had three and a half hours left before rehearsal. Plenty of time for his last visit, but maybe once that was done he could squeeze in another bout of studying. Maybe he could find some sort of spell that would lighten someone’s mood, if only for a little. Or a potion, that would be better. He could learn how potions work, if it could help them. He could do it. He could do it.

Jameson bit back a yawn as he got back in the car. It wouldn’t be too far a drive.

Fifteen minutes later, JJ was knocking on the door to Schneep’s apartment. There was no answer. He waited for another minute, then knocked again. He heard something fall over. “Um...Henrik? Are you doing okay in there?”

The door opened. Schneep was standing in the doorway, his hair wild, his shirt rumpled and with some sort of spill staining the blue material. He was wearing one of his electrical gloves, the ones that would shock someone upon contact, and judging by the wide-eyed look on his face, he was prepared to use it. But he relaxed a bit upon seeing Jameson. “Oh. Is you.”

“Yes, it’s me.” JJ tried to peer around Schneep into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

Schneep muttered something, but stood aside, letting Jameson enter.

JJ paused, taking in the map and pins on the wall. “That’s...new,” he said slowly.

“I am trying a new approach to finding things,” Schneep explained. “What are you doing here?”

Jameson spun to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here? Why are you here? What is your point?” Schneep pressed. “I am having many visitors today, first Anti, then you. What is it? Are you two having a plan?”

“Whoa, hang on, slow down.” JJ raised his hands. “I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t seen you in...in a while, now. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well. I am doing fine, so you can go now.” Schneep turned his back to Jameson, walking up to the map. “Shut it.”

“I...I don’t think I said anything?” Jameson said, confused.

Schneep shook his head. “I know. Anyway, you can go now.”

Jameson stayed where he was. “Henrik...” His voice was soft. “Did you sleep...at all, recently?”

“What is with you people asking me that?!” Schneep suddenly yelled, pounding his fist against the wall. “I am fine!”

“That wasn’t my question.” Jameson approached Schneep, stopping within arm’s length. “You...you don’t look good.”

Schneep blinked idly. Dark circles, pale skin, a bit thin...it wasn’t a pretty picture. “Wie spät ist es?” He asked.

“I...I don’t know what you just said,” JJ confessed. “What is spät?”

“What time is it?” Schneep clarified.

Jameson looked at the wall-mounted clock. “It’s ten past two.”

Schneep’s eyes widened briefly, but then he covered it up. “I see.”

“Did you wake up early?” Jameson pressed. “Or...did you not go to sleep at all?”

“You also look like you did not sleep well, what does it matter?” Schneep’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “Nein.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, that doesn’t matter,” Jameson said dismissively. “Schneep, are you okay?”

His eyes flicked to the side again. “I am fine, you do not need to keep asking. Perhaps I am tired, but that is all. I have been drinking coffee, it is fine.”

“Of course you have,” Jameson muttered under his breath. “Henrik, you should really go to sleep. Take a nap.”

“I can’t.” Schneep looked at the map. “I am working on things.”

“They’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You do not know that.”

That was...an odd reaction. “Of course I do.” JJ tried for a laugh. “Things don’t just disappear.”

Schneep didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the map while occasionally flickering to the side, as if he was seeing something move in his peripheral vision.

Jameson stepped forward and placed his hand on Schneep’s shoulder. “Henrik—”

Schneep suddenly screamed. He grabbed Jameson by the wrist, still wearing his electric glove. The shock it sent through Jameson’s body was enough to stun him, so he couldn’t react when Schneep then flipped him over. He landed on the ground with an oof-inducing thump, his head solidly hitting the back of the sofa. He slumped, dazed.

“Mein Gott, Jameson, I-I am sorry!” Schneep was still standing, hand covering his mouth. He pulled off the electric glove and threw it over to the desk, where it landed. “I-I did not mean—! I thought—Jackie—”

“Jackie...?” Jameson sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Jackie?”

“I-I-I—” Schneep was shaking. “I thought he touched me! I thought it was mehr als ein Schatten! I—!”

“Henrik.” Jameson climbed to his feet, using the sofa as support. “Jackie’s not here.”

And Schneep suddenly started crying. “I know that! I know he is not here, but he is! A-and I do not want—! I do not want to stop seeing him!”

Jameson shook his head, bewildered. “Henrik, what are you talking about?”

Schneep buried his face in his hands. “I have been forgetting medication recently, it is making everything confusing!”

“You’re on medication? Hey, it’s okay.” Schneep had fallen to the floor, landing hard on his knees. Jameson knelt beside him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help. What’s wrong?”

Schneep grabbed Jameson’s arm. “I did not tell you,” he gasped in between tears. “I d-do not tell anyone. I told Marvin one time, I-I thought he would understand. I do not want anyone to thi-think the worst of me. I would never hurt anyone! Th-these things I see are not dangerous! He knows, the Distorter knows, he pokes fun at me, likes to make his illusions because he knows reality is alrea—sometimes I cannot tell—!”

“Hey, calm down, take deep breaths. I’ll do it with you. In for four...hold for seven...out for eight...in...hold...out...in...hold...out...” It took a few minutes for Schneep to get calm. Once he was fine, Jameson asked, “So...you take some kind of medication?”

Schneep nodded.

“And without it, you see things?”

Another nod.

“And you’ve been forgetting it, so you’re seeing Jackie?”

And another.

“Alright. I understand now.” Jameson nodded. “Henrik...there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Schneep whispered. “But I am worried others do not know that. That they will think I am...” He trailed off.

“Well, I think you’re a good person. You’re smart, and stubborn, and sarcastic, and...other adjectives that begin with S.” Jameson smiled when that got a laugh out of Schneep. “And this doesn’t change any of that.”

Tears started to gather in Schneep’s eyes again. He buried his face in Jameson’s shirt.

“See? It’s okay. It’s all okay.” For a moment they were silent. Then Jameson said, “I think you should go to bed now. But not before taking that medication you’ve been missing.”

Schneep nodded. “Stay with me, a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

He had time to.

———————

Jameson arrived at the theatre for rehearsal. He had not been expecting to spend an extra two hours at Schneep’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to leave while his friend was upset. Even if that friend had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes and hadn’t shown any signs of waking up in all the two hours he was there.

Jameson paused before entering the theatre, leaning against the wall. A few deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. The weight was pressing down, not on his spine or his head, but directly on his mind. But he had to go to rehearsal. Everyone was expecting him. He couldn’t skip one. He couldn’t let down all the crew members that needed to run through everything. And if they missed one, that could delay the show and disappoint the audience. He couldn’t do that. He had to show up. Run through the show. It was only another three hours. He could do it.

It was not encouraging when his stage manager Darla greeted him with a “Where have you been?! You’re ten minutes late!”

“Things came up,” Jameson said. “Now are we ready to start?”

“Yeah, of course.” Darla nodded. “You left your cape and mask here last time, we brought them out, check with Ryan.”

“Got it.” He...hadn’t actually realized he’d left his mask and cape at the theatre. Well it was a good thing the others had found it, and he hadn’t had to drive back home, look for it, not find it, only to drive back and find his stuff already here. He would hate to waste everyone’s time.

Things went smoothly for the first hour. But it was when they all reconvened after a ten-minute break that things started to turn for the worse. For whatever reason, the lights wouldn’t work, and the techies took twenty minutes to figure out the problem. Just when they thought it was fixed, the main spotlight flickered and died. “It’s fine, we’ll just run it without that one,” Jameson said, sighing. He blinked, lingering in the darkness for a while, before opening them and returning to the busy world.

Then he was having trouble remembering his planned lines. True, being a magician didn’t involve nearly as much memorization as being a stage actor, but it was still more than most people thought. Not to mention, it often involved more timing, as you had to get the line to match up perfectly with the trick or it loses all dramatic effect.

Oh yes, the tricks. Jameson’s tricks were a clever combination of real magic and stage magic, a fine balance between the two. Of course, the crew didn’t know about the real magic. They just thought it was some wonderful light tricks and digital effects. So when they magic came out strained, because Jameson had spent three hours trying out new spells earlier that day and was a little lower on energy, that meant the rehearsal was delayed for an entire half hour while the crew tried to fix technical devices that didn’t actually work. Guilt was curdling in Jameson’s stomach. He was making everyone stay late.

And indeed, the time was 8:23 pm and it didn’t look like the rehearsal was anywhere close to being finished. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to well. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Sure, he was tired and his head felt heavy with the events of the day. It didn’t matter. These things weren’t important. What was important was everyone else’s thoughts and feelings. Not his.

“Alright, one more time!” Darla called out. “Start from the levitation trick!”

That trick was...well, tricky. Levitation magic didn’t come naturally to him. Jameson took a deep breath, adjusted his mask, and shouted, “Ready!”

The objects he was levitating—just wooden cubes for now, probably to be replaced with something else in the actual show—were placed on the tables around the stage. Jameson blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to focus. He chanted the words under his breath, feeling the strain of magic. Like trying to stretch a barely-used muscle after you’d already been working out for half an hour. Focus. Concentrate. Watch the blue magic float around the target, watch them wobble, then lift, slowly, trembling in the air—

“It snapped!”

“Backdrop’s coming down!”

“Watch out!”

The shouts snapped him out of concentration, sending the cubes crashing to the ground. Jameson whirled around to see the painted backdrop crashing down as well, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it where it landed. The shouts of the crew members faded into buzzing background noise.

He could fix this.

He could fix it, he could help.

It was alright.

It was fine, he could help.

He could—

He felt his heart burning cold.

Tears slipped from his eyes, from under his mask, only to freeze the moment they left his face, shattering on the floor.

The buzzing background noise was growing louder, louder, it was a storm inside his head, thoughts whirling in a whiteout of feelings he couldn’t name, he was tired, he was so so tired, tired of this, tired of everything—

A blizzard exploded on the stage.

Wind howled, blue chips of cold magic swirling around him in a storm, a storm, a storm. Beneath his feet the wood of the stage groaned as the temperature dropped, glowing icicles of freezing magic jabbing from the ground. He’d fallen to his hands and knees. All he could see was blue and white and blue and white and blue and white—

Someone was shouting. He was vaguely aware of the sound through the screaming gales in his mind. The magic storm swirled taller, reaching the lights above and freezing their bulbs until they burst.

Someone was in front of him. He could see their shape in the fog of the magic flakes. They grabbed him by the arms, started shaking. He didn’t respond. Just stared. Tears were still slipping down, freezing his mask to his face.

Slowly, a voice started to pierce the winds. “—Jems! You can’ keep t’is up, you’ll hurt someone! Yourself, too! Jems! Look at me!”

Jameson’s eyes focused on the someone in front of him. A familiar face. Marvin. “Are you alrigh’, Jems?” he asked.

And Jameson shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head again. How was he supposed to say so much? How was he supposed to explain about how he was being crushed? Crushed first by Jackie going missing, by Distorter being out there and ready to fuck with them at any time, and the other magicians wouldn’t or couldn’t help, so he had to do it on his own, he had to make sure his friends were safe from this creature, he had to learn some way to keep him at bay, and he had to be there for everyone else, had to listen to all their problems, had to make breakfast in the morning after Marvin had another nightmare, had to bring food and anything that could help to Rama and Michelle who’d just lost a husband and a father who might not come back, had to figure out what was wrong with Anti, had to check on Schneep because he was in danger of working himself to death while being attacked by his own mind, he had to do all this and it was crushing him, it was killing him, he couldn’t handle everyone’s problems as well as his own, couldn’t hold their grief and his too, but it didn’t matter didn’t matter shouldn’t matter should it matter? couldn’t matter in the face of all—

Oh. Oh, Marvin was hugging him. He was shivering, in the face of this cold storm coming from Jameson, but he was still hugging him. There was frost forming on his jacket, but he wasn’t leaving.

Jameson leaned his head on Marvin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend. His shoulders started to shake. But the storm died down, ice covering the stage melted into nothing. Things were warm again.

“We’re goin' to go home,” Marvin said in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’re goin' to go home. And we’ll relax tonight, and tomorrow, too.”

Jameson started to shake his head. He couldn’t let Marvin worry about him—

“Yes, we are.” Marvin stood up, still holding Jameson close. “You do a lot for others, Jems. Let someone else do somet’ing for you.”

That...that sounded really nice. Jameson grabbed the fabric of Marvin’s jacket, clinging to it. He nodded.

“Alrigh’. Let’s go. C’mon, one step at a time.”

One step at a time.

They took the bus back, since Marvin wouldn’t let JJ drive. Once home, Marvin tried to cook. He did better than expected. They turned on the television in the living room, with Marvin in his usual chair and JJ lying on the sofa, underneath a blanket. The cat took the opportunity to fall asleep on him. And eventually, JJ found he was drifting off as well.

Maybe...maybe it did matter.

Maybe he should let it matter.

JJ fell asleep, feeling warmer now knowing that there would be others still there when he woke up.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jameson jackson #the jaunty jackson #dr schneeplestein #von voltage #antisepticeye #programmer anti #marvin the magnificent #1920s marvin #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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phantasticworks · 4 years

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If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Two

Hi! Here’s today’s update! I hope you enjoy it and I’ll be back with chapter three next week!

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Words: 9.5k

Summary: Dan and Phil begin to work out some of the finer details of their pretend relationship.

When Dan gets up for work the next morning, he’s unsurprised to find Phil already awake and fumbling around in the kitchen, probably making coffee. He smiles at the thought since he hates waiting for the stupid coffee machine to actually heat up in the mornings. After a quick shower, he throws on a pair of nice black trousers and a grey button down, muttering to himself about stupid professional dress code, which was truly one of the only things he actively hated about his job. No matter how many times he complained about it, nothing changed, however they did allow them to start having casual Fridays every week, which he was thankful for.

“Good morning!” Phil chirps from beside the coffee maker when Dan makes it into the kitchen. Neither of them are morning people, but Phil was just generally in a good mood, regardless of the time of day.

“Ugh,” Dan mumbles, smiling slightly despite the early hour when Phil hands him a One Direction mug full of coffee. “Thanks.”

They both sit down at the table after getting some cereal, and Dan realizes how early it truly is when he goes to look at his phone. “Do they have you going in early now or something?” He asks Phil, watching his best friend take a long sip of coffee before shrugging.

“Nah, but I figured since I was here you shouldn’t have to get up for work alone.” He begins shoveling cereal in his mouth, but Dan’s face is frozen in surprise as he hears this. Sure, Phil typically got up around the same time as him, but not usually on mornings when Dan had to be up early for work. But he doesn’t work himself up into a crisis over this. He smiles into his coffee, instead.

“I’d have slept in if it was me, to be honest with you.” Dan smirks as he begins eating his own cereal, yelping when he feels a sharp kick to his ankle under the table. “Hey!”

“Yeah, because I’m the older, more mature half of this relationship,” Phil smiles cheekily, his tongue poking out between his teeth even as Dan delivers a kick of his own. “Excuse you, Daniel! I didn’t kick you that hard.”

Dan only rolls his eyes at Phil’s proclamation. He’d managed not to fixate on the whole fake relationship thing too much, but now that Phil’s mentioned it, it’s back to the forefront of his mind. “Well, karma comes back tenfold, or something.” He shrugs before remembering something they still needed to talk about. “Hey, speaking of our wonderful, passionate, and totally real relationship,” He pauses, smirking when Phil just shoots him an unimpressed look. “We need to figure out logistics, like who proposed to who and all that. I can find us some rings on e-bay for realism, but we need to sort out a story.”

Phil nods along at this. “I think it would’ve been me. Like, the proposal thing.” He says casually. The way he says it causes Dan to shift, his cheeks heating up as he gives himself a moment to think about it. But then he’s imagining it happening and- nope, he derails this train of thought immediately. No. Bad.

Clearing his throat, he shoots Phil a look. “Why do you think it would’ve been you?”

Phil shrugs as if it should be obvious before replying, “You’re terrible at planning things, and I feel like you’d want to be on the receiving end.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, his face pales, seemingly having realized the double meaning his words could have.

“Oh really?” Dan mocks, unable to control himself when the opportunity to be a smartass has presented itself so conveniently.

“I meant a proposal! I just meant the proposal, god, Dan.” He tries to glare, cheeks turning pink as he brings his hands up to cover his face. “I just… I think I generally happen to be the type to make big romantic gestures.” He tries to turn the conversation back to that, and surprisingly, it works, as Dan is again imagining a proposal. Damn.

“I guess,” he finally concedes, finishing his coffee and standing to take the dishes to the sink, taking Phil’s bowl with him as he goes. “So, you proposed to me, say like four months ago?” He counts back in his head and realizes that puts their fake proposal in October, which is kind of perfect since it’s his favorite month, as well as their sort of friendiversary of when they met, which could make it more believable.

“Sure,” Phil shrugs, turning in his seat to watch Dan move around the kitchen, gathering the things he needs to take to work. “So, what do we have to do next with this whole fostering process? I know there’s interviews and stuff like that.” Phil hands Dan an apple from the fruit basket on the table for him to put with his lunch, and Dan nods.

“Uh, well I’ve got an email with some options for when we can go in for an information meeting; that’s the next step. And then I think it’s paperwork and interviews. Oh, and we have to go through training.” He says distractedly as he looks over some of the papers he had been looking at after work yesterday, mainly just volunteer opportunities to tell some students about.

“Alright. Just pick a date and time and tell me so I can put it on my calendar.” Phil finishes his coffee then, carrying the mug to the sink before running water over all the dishes and opening the dishwasher, filling it up as if he already lives there.

“Okay.” Dan shoves the papers in his bag before glancing over at Phil. “Do you want to start moving in soon or did you want to keep staying in your apartment until the lease is out?” He leans against the counter as he watches Phil, who shrugs.

“I figured I can start moving my stuff in here in a couple weeks. I don’t want to move everything at once, but in three months hopefully we’ll be closer to getting approved. And we’ll need to be pretty comfortable living together by the time we are.” He shrugs again before turning to meet Dan’s gaze.

Dan smirks at this, gesturing to what Phil is in the middle of doing. “I think we kind of already have that covered, Phil.”

Phil blushes at this, shaking his head. “You know what I mean. We’ll need to start sharing a room and stuff, just like you said. The sooner we get used to that, the better.” He hesitates before speaking again. “I think we should also probably look into changing up the guest room a bit, since that’s basically my room right now, and probably isn’t suited for a child.”

Dan nods, glancing at the digital clock on the stove. “Yeah, probably. We should get rid of that bed and maybe get a twin size instead. Maybe change the office into a proper bedroom in case we end up having more than one kid at a time?” He shrugs at his own suggestion, searching for his keys.

“Here,” Phil grabs them from the table and tosses them to him, rolling his eyes. “I swear you’d be lost without me here, Howell.”

Dan ignores the jab in favor of searching the fridge for his reusable water bottle, frustrated when he doesn’t see it immediately. “Do you know where-”

“I put it in your bag already, Dan,” Phil interrupts, nodding over to the messenger bag on the table.

“Oh,” Dan stops his search, staring mindlessly into the fridge for a moment. “We’re going to have to start buying more healthy groceries, Phil. We eat like children who shop in a candy shop.” The containers of mostly junk food mock him from their spots on the shelves.

Phil makes some sort of noncommittal hum to this, nudging Dan slightly to shut the door to the fridge. “Sure, we’ll do that. Now you need to go, or you’ll seriously be late, Dan.” He’s gently pushing him along, glancing at the clock over the oven nervously.

Dan allows this for a moment before he gasps, his hands flying down to his pockets. “Wait, my phone, I don’t have my phone.” He pats his jeans, his eyes searching around the counter frantically for his iPhone.

There’s a sigh behind him before he feels the strap of his bag being thrown over his shoulder. “You also forgot your bag, mate. Phone’s in the front pocket.” Phil pats his shoulder then before going back to finish filling up the dishwasher. “Text me when you get to work so I know you’re safe,” he calls casually over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan rolls his eyes as he goes to tug his shoes on. “Are you coming back here after work?” He asks from the hall.

Phil closes the dishwasher after a moment before walking to the kitchen doorway, leaning against it as he watches Dan hop around trying to get his shoes on. “No, I’ll probably be at work later than usual, so I’ll probably just head back to mine. I’ll lock up here and everything when I leave though.”

Dan finally gets both shoes on his feet and sighs, nodding at Phil. “Okay. Come over tomorrow then? We’ve got to finish the new season of Riverdale at some point.” Dan almost feels like he’s being clingy, but he knows that Phil won’t take it that way.

As expected, Phil nods. “Yeah, I’ll be here. Now, go, you’re gonna be late if you don’t leave, and we both know Louise will make you buy her lunch if she has to cover for you.” He follows Dan as he walks to the front door, making shooing motions with his hands the whole time.

“I’m going, I’m going! Bye, Phil.” He laughs as he steps outside his flat, hearing Phil respond the same way.

He’s just made it to his car when his phone beeps with a text. He rolls his eyes as he sees that it’s Phil.

Phil: U need milk btw go to the shop after work

Dan: thx mum

Phil: Don’t sass me

Dan: I’ll do what i want

Phil: That’s it I want a divorce

Dan: no quit texting me im driving

That ends their conversation, but Dan still smiles as he puts his phone away and focuses on driving.

When he gets to work, remarkably on time for once, he immediately goes to check his email for the dates for the information meeting. He checks his own calendar, which luckily is pretty bare, save for a few school events he had to work around. He pulls his phone out to text Phil what he thinks would be the best day, but his phone begins ringing almost immediately.

He’s surprised to see that it’s his mum, as he’d been sort of expecting it to be Phil. “Hey, mum.” He says as cheerfully as possible. It wasn’t entirely strange for her to be calling him, but he couldn’t think of any specific reasons why she would be.

“Hello, dear. How’re you?” She asks pleasantly.

“I’m well.” He realizes then that he and Phil hadn’t considered a very important aspect in all of their decision making. They’ll have to tell their parents something, especially Phil, since he was much closer to his family than Dan was to his own. They’d have to tell them they were fostering together, which would probably lead to a lot of questions on both sides. But, if they were going to do this, then Dan didn’t see any reason not to be honest from the start, at least with his own mum. “I was actually meaning to call you.”

There’s a pause, and his mother is clearly surprised when she speaks. “You were?”

He swallows his nervousness down, nodding to himself. He checks that his door is shut before leaning back in his seat to tell her what’s going on. “Yeah. I have some… news, I guess. It’s a little strange, but I was going to go ahead and tell you about it.”

“Alright.” She says hesitantly. “You’re making me nervous, Daniel, it’s nothing too bad, is it?”

“No, no. I mean, not exactly bad. Erm, well.” He takes a deep breath before just letting it out. “You know how I’ve always wanted to foster kids? Well, I’ve looked into it… and it turns out you have a better chance of doing it if you’re in a relationship.” He pauses, giving his mother a moment to process this, and hopefully get on the same page as him.

“Daniel is this your way of saying you have a girlfriend?” She chuckles, but he can tell she’s still confused.

He laughs nervously. He hadn’t considered that his mum might be disapproving of this because he’s pretending to be in a relationship with a man, but now he’s starting to wonder if he’s made a mistake even bringing it up. His parents knew he swung both ways, as he’d told them that way back when he was sixteen, but maybe it hadn’t stuck since he hasn’t really dated since he was eighteen.

“No, not exactly. But, like I said, there’s a better chance at getting approved if you’re in a relationship. So… Remember Phil?” He chews at his lip as he waits for a response.

“Yes, obviously.” His mother answers hesitantly.

“Well… This is going to sound really weird, and probably dumb, but basically, Phil and I are going to do that. Together.” He holds his breath as he waits for a response.

There’s silence, then a short laugh. “Are you joking?”

His stomach sinks as he realizes this was likely a mistake. He’s never been particularly close to his mother, but he can’t bear the idea of her being seriously upset with him over this. “No. I’m not.” He sighs, running a hand through his messy curls as he speaks again. “Obviously we aren’t actually together, but I really want to do this, mum, and he’s always wanted to do it as well. We figured we’d both have a better chance at getting approved if we did it together, and we’d be doing a great thing for these kids, mum-“

She cuts him off there, and his stomach churns. “Daniel be quiet for a moment. Do you really think this is a good idea?” Her voice is less hesitant than before, and she almost sounds bored.

“Well,” He stutters out, trying to think of a response that would satisfy her. “I mean, I think we’d be doing a good thing. So, yeah, I don’t see why it would be a bad idea. We’ve lived together before and we’re-“ He pauses. He’d almost said, “we’re basically already together.” But that definitely wasn’t true, and he couldn’t just say that. Clearing his throat, he continues. “I just wanted to tell you we were doing this so that it doesn’t come as a surprise when we start actually fostering.”

His mum sighs, and he chews on his lip. “Okay, that’s not entirely what I meant, Dan. But if you can’t honestly see why this might be a bad idea, I’m not going to bother explaining it.” She pauses, and he’s relieved when her voice is softer than before. “I do think you’re doing a good thing, Dan. Any child would be lucky to have you in their lives, even if it’s not for very long.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, a smile gracing his lips. “Thanks, mum.” He glances at his monitor, realizing he’d been on the phone for around ten minutes already. “I’m at work, but I can call later, unless you needed something?”

“Oh, right. I just wanted to tell you that your grandmother’s phone number has changed, dear.” After reciting the new number and giving him a minute to put it in his phone, she clears her throat. “I’ll let you get back to work, then. Let me know how the fostering process goes and tell Phil that I said hi. I love you.”

Dan nearly rolls his eyes at the mention of Phil, but he knows that his mum just genuinely likes him, and probably isn’t fully sold on the idea that they’re just faking their relationship for the sake of fostering. “I will, mum. Love you too. Bye.” He hangs up and immediately groans, tossing his phone onto the desk. The conversation could have gone worse, sure, but now that he’s done it, he feels as if he probably should have consulted with Phil before telling his mum at all. Oh well. His best friend is probably more than used to Dan’s fuck ups by now.

Speak of the devil, Dan thinks as his phone beeps, a text from the man himself popping up.

Phil: Did u die

Dan: no, sorry, mum called when i got in

Phil: K glad you aren’t dead

Dan: yeah u wouldn’t get any life insurance money if I was

Phil: There goes my plan to murder you

Dan: soz

Dan: does Feb 14 work

Phil: What

Dan: for the meeting

Phil: Oh I thought that was your way of asking me out

Dan: no you spoon we’re engaged romance is dead

Dan: but for real we need to go to the meeting is Wednesday ok

Phil: Yeah lol that’s fine

Dan: k it’s at 7

Phil: Ok you’re driving

Dan sends him a rolling eye emoji before telling him he’s got to confirm with the agency and then actually work. He smiles when Phil responds with nothing but a spoon emoji, shaking his head. They really were strange sometimes.

After emailing Hazel and confirming the date and time of their meeting, he gets a response with some paperwork attached that he needs to print out and fill in to bring to the meeting to officially get the process started. He prints it off almost immediately, his excitement getting the best of him.

Unfortunately, he does have actual work to do in regard to his real job, and he’s actually surprised at how motivated he is to be productive now that he’s got something to look forward to. Maybe this is how he’d feel if he was dating someone all these years or had a real family. He shakes his head at the thought, as it’s entirely ridiculous. He knows that he’s been perfectly content single all these years, and plus he had Phil, so what was even the point? This was just a new thing to be excited about and give him motivation. He wasn’t really lonely.

A phone call and a scheduled appointment to see his therapist later, he puts all of his personal life aside and begins calling students in for advising and things like that, his thoughts quickly being taken over with the things he’s dealing with in the present.

~~~

The day goes by fairly quickly when he’s in a motivated sort of mood, and he even takes the time to rearrange some of the things in his office, cleaning as he goes. At one point, Louise pops in to see if he wants to join her for lunch, and she’s surprised to see everything he’s changed. He’s slightly miffed at how shocked she is that he can actually clean, but when she questions him, he just shrugs. “Early spring cleaning, I guess.” Is his only response.

He feels exhausted by the time he gets home, and he’s almost relieved that Phil said he’d be working late, until he gets bored after a few episodes of The Office. Rather than be completely pathetic and text Phil to bother him while he’s at work, Dan decides to be productive, and goes online to order their rings. Phil may have thought it was a joke, but Dan fully intended on wearing them from now on, for realism, of course.

As he shops for the rings, he realizes he’s got no idea what his or Phil’s ring sizes even are. That may put a kink in his plans, and not even the good kind. Thinking it’s kind of inevitable to avoid bothering Phil at this point, Dan pulls out his phone to text him.

Dan: what’s your ring size

Phil: Idk

Phil: Why would I know that lol

Dan: fuck idk but i need to know to order these rings

Phil: I’m surprised you’re really doing that

Phil: Why don’t we just go to goldsmiths and find cheap ones there

Dan: idk because we aren’t actually getting engaged??

Phil: Obviously I know that but wouldn’t it be easier to just get sized and get the rings that we know fit instead of trying to order them online and just hope for the best

Dan considers this for a moment. He’d been willing to spend quite a bit on these rings on e-bay, considering they needed to look as realistic as possible, but he guessed there really wasn’t any harm in going to an actual jewelry store to get them. Besides, Dan liked nice things, so this would give him an excuse to have a nice piece of jewelry that he wouldn’t be able to justify otherwise.

Dan: ok actually that’s smart we should do that

Phil: Wanna do that tomorrow?

Dan: sure

Dan: are you still at work

Phil: yes

Dan: im bored

Phil: not my problem danny

Dan: ok ew i hate that bye have fun at work

Phil: have fun being bored danny

Dan promptly tosses his phone away and then closes out of the tabs he had open, instead pulling up a new one to look at furniture for a kid’s room. He supposed that it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to really plan a whole bedroom without knowing the child’s preferences, but he still liked looking at all of it. He did need to order a new twin bed, and probably find out where to get rid of the guest bed, which he could probably wait and do in a couple weeks, after Phil had moved in.

The thought that he would soon be sharing a room with Phil made him inexplicably nervous. They’d shared a bed plenty of times before, and within the last few months, too. Now it just felt different.

He’s feeling too restless to sit and watch tv, so he decides to clean his room, which takes more time than he initially thought. Sorting through clothes that were thrown around the room leads to him going through his closet and pulling things out to donate, since he didn’t honestly need them. After feeling satisfied with that, he takes the sheets off his bed and starts a load of laundry before putting his spare sheets on the mattress. He’s feeling pretty tired at that point, but since he’s made it this far, he decides to go ahead and sweep the floor and then rearrange his shoes on their rack.

When he eventually feels accomplished enough with his work, he collapses on his bed with every intention of sitting there for a moment before going to switch the laundry. At some point he closes his eyes, just to take a moment to rest them, but the next thing he knows, he’s fast asleep, still wearing the same clothes he wore to work.

---

Waking up is generally not a pleasant experience, and it’s even less pleasant when you wake up wearing dress clothes. Dan groans, rolling over and slinging an arm over his eyes. He shifts when he realizes that he’s pressed up against something, which doesn’t make sense, given his bed isn’t against the wall and last he checked, he had gone to sleep in an otherwise empty bed.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up. It’s already half eleven, mate.”

Dan nearly jumps when he hears the voice, an embarrassingly girlish scream ripping its way out of his throat as his arm flies away from his face in order to locate the source. Then he groans when he sees that it’s just Phil. “Why are you in my bed?” He grumbles, rolling over again so that half of him is basically laying in Phil’s lap as he glares up at his friend.

Phil, who is sat with his back against the headboard, legs spread out on the bed, rolls his eyes. “That’s no way to talk to your fiancé,” he snaps, his bitter tone surprising Dan slightly.

He studies Phil’s face for a moment, watching as blue eyes dart up to glare at the ceiling before eventually dropping back to meet Dan’s gaze. Dan quirks an eyebrow questioningly, tilting his head to the side so that his cheek is resting against Phil’s thigh. “Are you okay?” He asks, knowing that Phil rarely got ill with him unless he was either seriously mad, or just stressed about other things.

Phil stares at Dan for a moment before nodding slowly. “I’m fine, just tired. Are you going to get up? I figured we’d go ahead and get the rings, so we can get it out of the way.” His tone isn’t as harsh as it was before, but he’s still clearly bothered about something, and it’s obvious in the way he shifts his legs under the weight of Dan.

Dan shrugs, unmoving. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting pissy.” He observes, watching as Phil’s jaw clenches, eyes flitting away from Dan.

“I’m fine. Get up, your elbow’s digging into my leg.” At this, he nudges Dan away from him, throwing his own legs off the side of the bed to stand. “I’ll go wait for you in the kitchen.” He barely glances at Dan on his way out, and the younger man sighs loudly. If it was going to be like this all day, he was pretty sure he’d rather be asleep.

After a shower, Dan changes into a pair of black skinny jeans and a jumper he knows Phil hates. Part of him just wants to see if Phil will be a dick about it just because he’s in a bad mood today, but the bigger part of him just wants to wear it because it’s genuinely comfy.

When he walks into the kitchen, Phil is sitting at the table, staring out the sliding glass door onto the balcony where there are a couple of pigeons are hopping around. He must hear Dan walk in, because he glances over, his eyes scanning Dan’s outfit. “It’s cold out.” Is all he says.

Dan stares at him, a frown on his face. What was going on with him? Phil always teased him about his potato sack jumper. Trying to act unaffected by the mood Phil seems to be in, he shrugs, walking to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. “Yeah?”

“You’ll get cold in that.” Phil comments, his eyes following Dan’s movements around the kitchen.

“I can handle myself, you know,” he tries to say it lightly, but it seems Phil’s bad mood has rubbed off on him, and it comes out a little harsher than he’d intended. He glances over to find a frown on Phil’s lips. “Is that just your subtle way of telling me to wear something else so you don’t have to be seen with me in this jumper?” He tries again, adding a smile when he says it.

Phil shrugs, looking away. “I don’t want you to get cold.” Is all he gets in return.

This makes him pause. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re being really short.” He crosses his arms, his gaze tracing over Phil’s perfect quiff and his stupid, adorable glasses. He’s wearing black jeans and a stupidly cozy looking jumper with a colorful bird on it, and Dan almost swears, because naturally Phil looks effortlessly warm and cozy, which does nothing to quell Dan’s sudden annoyance with him.

Phil sighs deeply, shaking his head slowly. He pushes his glasses into his hair and rubs his hands down his face. Dan suddenly gets a bad feeling, as Phil looks so exhausted. He doesn’t even look annoyed anymore, just so, so tired. When he speaks, Dan immediately wishes he’d been a little less harsh. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m just tired, Dan. I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Can we just go and get this done? I honestly just want to watch Riverdale and eat Domino’s, not sit here and fight with you.” Phil looks up at Dan, squinting before he realizes he’s pushed his glasses up.

Dan swallows around the lump in his throat, glancing away for a moment. When his eyes travel back to Phil, he’s sat watching him, a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry,” Dan whispers, shame flooding him. He had no idea why Phil was so obviously upset, but that gave him no right to be a dick just because he felt like Phil was being one.

“Not your fault.” Phil answers softly, standing from the table. “Just… I’ve had a long week.” He tries to smile, but it falters, and he looks away from Dan, clearing his throat before nodding to the door, indicating they should leave.

Dan feels guilt creeping in, as it is his fault that Phil’s had a long week. Part of it was most definitely the whole fake relationship situation that they’re in right now, and that is definitely Dan’s fault. Instead of arguing some more, he just nods, grabbing his keys and wallet as he follows Phil out the door. He locks it behind them and they walk down to his car in silence. Phil didn’t drive, instead choosing to just order a cab everywhere, which Dan supposed in the long run was about the same price as owning a car, so generally they took Dan’s if they were going somewhere together.

The ride to the shopping center where the jewelry store is at is short and quiet, and Dan finds himself looking over at Phil much more than usual. Phil doesn’t return the looks, and the only words exchanged is Phil pointing out a dog in the window of a car that passes them.

When they get to Goldsmiths, Dan can tell that Phil is nervous. He’s not sure if it’s because of what they’re about to do or if it’s because of how convincing they’ll have to act to pass as a couple. Dan takes a risk and reaches for Phil’s hand as they walk to the door, trying not to be too offended when Phil’s first reaction is to pull away. “Hey.” Dan says gently, waiting until Phil’s focused on him before speaking again. “We don’t have to explain anything to these people. We don’t even know them, remember? And they don’t know us, and we’ll likely never see them again.”

When Phil nods, Dan goes to drop his hand, but suddenly Phil tightens his grip. Glancing at Dan, his cheeks grow slightly pink, but he doesn’t release his hand. “It needs to look real, remember?”

Dan is mentally cursing himself for thinking Phil just wanted to hold his hand. Of course, he didn’t, he’s your best friend, why the hell would he think like that? Some people aren’t that weird, Dan. He shakes his head lightly, trying to clear his stupid thoughts as he holds the door for Phil, their hands staying clasped as they walk into the shop.

They’re immediately greeted by a sales lady, a woman who’s probably around the same age as them, maybe older. “Hello, welcome to Goldsmiths, I’m Lauren. Is there anything I can help you two find today?” She glances at their hands, and her smile doesn’t waver in the slightest. Dan lets out a breath, glad that they weren’t going to be treated differently as a gay couple. A fake gay couple, his consciousness reminds him helpfully.

“Actually yes,” Dan smiles, knowing that Phil always gets awkward in situations like this. Just as he thinks this, Phil’s left hand comes up and grips Dan’s forearm, clearly nervous. Dan casually begins stroking his thumb over Phil’s hand still clasped in his, his right hand tucking into his pocket. “We recently got engaged, but it was so spontaneous that we didn’t have rings, so that’s what we’re here for.” He smiles charmingly at the girl, letting his dimples show.

Lauren coos, gesturing for them to follow her. “Oh, that’s lovely! Well, we have a variety of selections right over here. What is your budget?” She asks, pausing as she goes around behind the cases of jewelry.

Dan glances at Phil, who shrugs, a small, unsure smile on his face. Turning back to the saleswoman, Dan smiles apologetically. “Well, we’re trying to save as much money as possible for the wedding and our honeymoon, so it would be great if you could show us some of your simplest choices. We’re not looking for extravagant, just simple.”

Apparently, the girl doesn’t find this shrewd or cheap, she just smiles broadly, as if that’s the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. “Of course! Let me go fetch the keys to this case and I’ll show you a few of our popular simpler rings.”

As she disappears behind a doorway, Phil snickers. Dan quirks an eyebrow at him in confusion. Phil rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “We just want something simple,” he mocks.

Dan’s jaw drops, and he huffs indignantly. “What? We’re not here to spend a fortune.”

Phil laughs again, nudging him gently. “Says the king of nice things. I think if you were picking out a ring for real, you’d pick out the most expensive one you could find.”

Dan goes to cross his arms, but can’t, as their hands are still linked. Instead, he huffs impatiently. “You have absolutely nothing to back that up with.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Phil reaches over, his fingers slipping under the collar of Dan’s shirt, rubbing the material between his fingers. “Yeah? What about this?”

Dan shivers as the motion of Phil’s fingers causes them to rub against his collarbone. He’d always had a weird thing about his neck area. Smacking Phil’s hand away, he pouts. “That’s not fair. You like nice things too.”

Phil smiles, his first real smile of the day, his tongue poking out between his teeth. Dan smiles as he sees this, and he feels his dimples reappearing. “Sure, but not like you do, Danny.” He pokes Dan’s dimple, laughing when Dan turns away, his finger following.

His face reddens when he sees the shop clerk standing there smiling at them both. Clearing his throat, he glances at Phil, who has just noticed her. His face flushes, and he ducks his head in embarrassment, dropping his hand away from Dan’s face.

“You are both too adorable.” Lauren gushes, going to open a case. Dan smiles at her, but as soon as her attention is elsewhere, he rolls his eyes at Phil, who only bats his eyelashes as if to prove her point. “So, here’s the simplest ring we offer, and the least expensive in our store. It’s two tone and comes in two different varieties. The most popular is the yellow and white gold.” She shows them a couple of rings, which in Dan’s opinion are kind of hideous. They’re two toned, sure, but he thinks that’s kind of tasteless. He glances at Phil for his reaction, which is sort of the same as his. A similar look of disinterest is on his face.

“They’re nice,” Dan offers before gesturing to the case again. “Not crazy about two toned, are we?” He glances at Phil again, who agrees. His eyes drop to Phil’s hand that’s still clutching his forearm, and he smiles when he realizes he’s absently tracing circles on the fabric of Dan’s jumper with his thumb.

“Not unless we don’t see something else we like more,” he allows, his left hand leaving Dan’s forearm for a second to point to something he sees in the case. “How about those?” He asks.

“Oh, absolutely. These are about fifty pound more, but they’re lovely.” She pulls out the rings Phil had gestured to, and Dan raises an eyebrow. They’re actually not bad. Simple, but elegant. There’s no diamonds imbedded, so it would look rather unremarkable if it weren’t for the engravings etched around the band. “This comes in white, yellow, or rose gold, nine carats. The engraving is done by hand. The most popular is the yellow gold, but we’ve actually sold our last one this week, but we can order your size if you decide on this.” Lauren explains.

Dan glances at Phil again, who’s already looking at him, an eyebrow raised. “We don’t know our sizes, but I think this might be perfect.” He tells Lauren.

The clerk nods, settling the little display box on top of the case before reaching into a drawer behind her. “We can get your sizes right now, and if you see a color you like I can see if we’ve got any in storage.” She hands them each a set of what looks like keys, but upon further inspection they find to be little metal things that have bands at the end. “Just slip the one you think might fit on your ring finger, and just try a few out to see which feels the best.”

They have to pull their hands apart to do this, and after a few tries, they each find the one that fits. Dan’s is a size bigger than Phil’s, but when they figure it out, they hand them back to her before she writes their sizes on a piece of paper. “Alright, do you have a metal you like the best?” She pushes the box towards them, probably to allow them to pull the rings out and inspect them a little more closely.

They both reach for the silver one, and Dan smirks. “Are we going to get the same metal?” He asks him, pulling the white gold ring out of the casing.

Phil grins. “I think we should. We need to match.” He ducks his head to look at the ring, while Dan just shakes his head.

“You’re a dork,” Dan mutters, glancing at the store clerk, who smiles.

They decide that they like the white gold the most, as Dan declares, “It’s the classiest of golds.” She disappears into the back room to check if they have their sizes in the white gold and tells them to feel free to look around until she returns.

Phil doesn’t move, but Dan tugs him towards the more expensive rings in curiosity. Laughing, Phil shakes his head. “I knew it! You and your expensive taste, Daniel.” He shakes his head as if he’s disappointed.

Dan rolls his eyes. “I just want to see what they think is like super fancy.” They hover over the case, and Dan wrinkles his nose. “These aren’t that nice,” he whispers loudly. Phil elbows him for this. “Hey! I’m just saying. They’ve just got a few simple bands with like one diamond in the center. I think ours look way better.” He nods obnoxiously, and it’s Phil’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Right.” He tugs Dan back over to where the girl is coming out of the storage room, two boxes in her hands. Dan’s stomach flips involuntarily as he eyes the little ring boxes.

“You two are in luck! We had your sizes, and in the right metal. Shall I ring you up while you try them on?” She asks, holding the small velvet boxes out to them.

Dan goes very still, suddenly unwilling to touch these very real rings, as if they’re symbolic of the very big mess he’s made. Luckily, Phil must not be having the same crisis, because he’s able to answer the saleswoman. “Sure, thanks.” He takes both of the boxes, turning to give Dan a concerned glance as they walk to the back of the store where the till is. He stops as they reach the counter, opening one box while Lauren goes to get their price book and the paperwork that has the information about the rings.

When Phil realizes that the box he’s opened contains Dan’s ring, he tugs Dan’s left hand up, gently sliding the ring on his fourth finger. Dan’s throat constricts as he studies his best friend’s face. His focus is on the ring, and he watches as those blue eyes study the ring, before a small smile breaks out on his face. Dan’s almost certain he’s going to throw up at the way Phil’s eyes shift to meet his, that fond smile not falling away. “How’s it feel?” He asks, dropping Dan’s hand and opening the other box, pulling his own ring on without much fuss.

Dan flexes his fingers, feeling the weight of the metal against his ring finger. It’s new and different, but not uncomfortable. The metal is light, so he doesn’t really notice it that much. “It’s nice. Yours?” He asks, his eyes finding the ring on Phil’s left hand.

Phil nods, glancing down at it. “It’s weird.” He frowns, a look of pain crossing his face.

“Is it too tight?” Dan asks, concerned. Phil shakes his head slowly, his eyes coming to meet Dan’s again. There’s something sad in his expression, but Dan’s not entirely sure why.

“It’s perfect.” Phil says quietly, turning to face the counter just as the clerk walks back out with a few papers. Dan’s stomach is somersaulting. It’s uncomfortable, and he wishes it would stop.

“Okay, so we have a sale going on with engagement rings right now, and since you’re buying them in a set, you’ll get them forty percent off.” Lauren announces, smiling. Dan tunes out as she goes over the information about returns and exchanges and how they have warranty on them for five years. He just nods along, and when the total comes up to three hundred pounds, he doesn’t even blink as he pulls out his credit card, handing it over.

Phil looks slightly surprised, but Dan purposely doesn’t meet his gaze. Lauren hands him his receipt, a smile on her face. “Thank you, and I hope you two have a great day, and a wonderful wedding. I wish you all the best in your marriage.” She smiles before waving, disappearing into the back again as they head out of the shop in silence.

Dan’s head is spinning with thoughts about the rings and the fake engagement, and he’s finding it very hard to not freak out. “I need a second,” he mutters to Phil when they make it outside. “Here, give me like five minutes, please.” He hands over the keys to his car, and Phil looks confused.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Yeah, yeah, just not feeling well all of a sudden,” he mutters, going to step away. Phil’s hand catches his, keeping him in place.

“If you aren’t feeling well, shouldn’t you head home and get some rest?” He prods, raising his eyebrows, a frown on his lips.

Dan shakes his head adamantly. “I just need to take a walk for a second. I’m fine, I’ll be back in a few minutes, I swear.” He tries to smile, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace.

Phil hesitates before letting go, holding the keys in his hand before nodding slowly and turning to go to the car. “If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m coming to look for you,” he warns. Dan nods, turning away.

If someone had told him just last week that we would be buying engagement rings with his best friend today, he would have called them crazy, and probably call a mental institution to see if they had any open spots. Now that it’s actually happening, however, Dan is having a crisis. The problem isn’t even that it feels weird, or wrong, even. The problem is that it doesn’t; if anything, he can’t really imagine doing something like this with anyone else. He shakes his head vigorously.

No, he would absolutely not go there. It had been years, literal years, since he’s had those kinds of thoughts about his best friend, and he’d gotten over it. They were silly whims born out of loneliness and the fact that Phil is who he spent the majority of his time with. That’s it.

He’s being stupid.

After taking a few minutes to catch his breath and clear his head, Dan slowly makes his way back to his car. Phil is leaning against the driver’s side, a frown on his face. Dan’s thankful that he doesn’t question him as he hands him the keys, instead climbing in the car in silence.

They don’t speak about it on the way back to Dan’s flat. After they’ve taken their shoes off and go upstairs to turn on a movie, Phil looks at Dan with a frown on his lips. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly, sitting on the sofa and looking up at Dan as he stands by the sofa, looking for the show they’re going to watch on Netflix.

He nods, glancing at his best friend with a shrug, trying to be as casual as possible about his little moment earlier. “It’s just been a busy day. Do you still want Domino’s?” He asks, finally selecting the show and joining Phil on the sofa.

“Sure. Want me to order?” Phil asks. When Dan nods, he rises, going to grab his laptop off the armchair. Dan hadn’t noticed it sitting there, and his brows furrow. That hadn’t been there last night, had it? And Phil didn’t have anything with them when they got back… Come to think of it, Phil didn’t even go upstairs this morning at all.

“When did you get here?” He asks suddenly, his lips set in a confused frown. Phil glances up, confusion flitting across his face momentarily before he shrugs, glancing back at his laptop.

“Last night.” He responds, clicking away on his laptop, presumably typing in Dan’s address to get the pizza delivered.

“What?” Dan asks dumbly. Phil hadn’t been over last night. Dan had gone to sleep after his cleaning spree, probably around ten o’clock, and Phil hadn’t been there. “What time did you get here?” He isn’t mad, just really confused.

Phil’s cheeks are tinged pink when he looks up. “Er- I think around eleven or so? You said you were bored, so I stopped by mine after work to grab some clothes, and then got a cab over here because I figured you’d be up watching a movie or something.” He shrugs again before smiling softly. “But when I let myself in, you were already asleep.”

Dan considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess I’m just a deep sleeper and didn’t hear you come in. Sorry I wasn’t awake, though.” He feels almost bad for making Phil entertain himself, but he was pretty sure he survived just fine on his own.

“It’s fine. Not your fault I just barged in without even bothering to check if you were up,” he shrugs, setting the laptop aside and coming back over to the sofa.

Dan snorts, shifting to throw half the fuzzy blanket over Phil’s lap. “Might as well get used to it, I guess. Soon you’ll be barging into my bed every time you come in late.” He rolls his eyes, throwing his feet over Phil’s lap as he normally does when they’re watching something together.

Phil hesitates, licking his lips before speaking. “Speaking of that, actually,” he glances at the tv, finding the episode playing was one they’d already seen, so they weren’t missing anything by talking instead of watching. “When do you think we should start doing that?”

Dan shrugs as if he couldn’t care less. He’s always been a good actor. “Whenever you want to, I guess. The sooner we get used to it, the better, I reckon.”

Nodding, Phil shifts so that Dan’s legs are almost slipping off his lap. Phil catches them, shifting until he’s comfortable before pulling Dan’s legs back into his lap, propping his arms over them. “Alright. Want to do it tonight? I can sleep in the guest room if you don’t want to, I just figured, you know, since I’m here.” Phil doesn’t meet his gaze, keeping his eyes trained on the tv as Dan stares at him.

“Sure. I just washed my sheets, actually, so you’ve picked a good night.” He smiles when Phil glances at him, and whatever awkwardness that had surrounded that conversation evaporates.

“Oh, goody!” Phil says sarcastically. Dan pulls one leg up and pinches Phil’s thigh with his toes, causing him to scream. “Dan!” His expression is one of surprise, but his eyes are bright with happiness.

Dan just laughs, shifting to lay on his side and watch the show. Their pizza gets there a few minutes later, causing their position to be ruined, but it’s fine since they have pizza to make up for the lack of comfy seating. A few episodes of Riverdale (Phil’s choice) and an empty pizza box later, Dan is back in his favorite tv-watching position, his head buried into one end of the sofa, while his legs are spread over Phil’s lap, feet on the other side. Phil decided to start hogging the blanket, so Dan was pouting at his end of the sofa.

Getting an idea, he tilts his head over to look at his best friend. “Since we’re sleeping together tonight anyway, can we watch a scary movie?” He asks, watching as Phil’s gaze slowly leaves the tv to meet his own. Dan nearly rolls his eyes; Phil’s crush on basically any shirtless male in this show is honestly pathetic.

Phil looks slightly shocked, but Dan figures dancing around the decisions they’ve made doesn’t make it easier for either of them, so instead he was taking full advantage of them. “What?” Phil asks, like he didn’t hear him.

Dan does roll his eyes then. Of course, KJ Apa was currently the sole recipient of Phil’s short attention span. “I wanna watch a scary movie. If I’m not going to be sleeping on my own anyway, then I want to watch something scary, like The Conjuring or something.”

Phil shrugs. “Sure, if you wanna. Do you want to finish this episode first?” He asks, his eyes already back on the screen.

“Not really, but you’ll be grumpy if I don’t let you stare at KJ Apa, so sure.” He saw the appeal, sure, but he preferred Cole Sprouse. His dark hair and attitude in this show were just too good to resist.

They decide to watch Hush when they’ve finished the Riverdale episode, since Dan hadn’t seen it yet. Not long into the movie, he fully understands just why he’d avoided watching it on his own. He’s taken the entire blanket from Phil, wadding the majority of it up to cling to, shoving his face in the fluff every time the music starts playing as the killer creeps around the deaf girl’s house.

“Dan!” Phil whines, tugging at the blanket. “I’m cold, give me the blanket.”

“Fuck off,” Dan responds through his teeth, his nerves out of control as the girl realizes she’s not alone. Just as he goes to hide in the blanket again, it’s tugged away completely. “Hey!” He shouts, shooting up indignantly to glare at his thief of a best friend.

Phil giggles, his tongue poking out. “I told you I was cold.” Dan crosses his arms, pouting as he pulls his legs off Phil’s lap, glaring at the tv. Phil sighs dramatically before holding out one end of the blanket. Dan goes to grab it, but Phil clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “No, come here. I’m not giving you the blanket just because you’re a baby and can’t handle a few jump scares, but you’re welcome to come over here to hide.”

Dan grumbles to himself as he scoots closer to Phil, who tucks the end of the blanket around Dan, settling back and tucking the other end around himself. “I hate you,” Dan mutters, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them under the blanket.

“Aw, hun,” Phil says obnoxiously. Dan elbows him in the ribs sharply, causing him to yelp.

“Ew. I hate that, don’t ever say that again.” He crinkles his nose, causing Phil to just laugh again. Their attention is taken back to the screen when an alarm starts going off in the movie, Dan jumping comically as he sees the face of the killer through the glass. “Fuck this film.” He mutters, shoving his face into the blanket, around where his hands are.

“Aww,” Phil coos, and Dan suddenly feels a hand rubbing circles on his back. “Poor thing.” He mocks.

Dan grumbles, but the contact is nice, and he finds himself shifting even closer to Phil. Glancing up at his best friend, he raises his eyebrows to question if this is alright. The older man regards him for a moment before nodding, holding his arm out and allowing Dan to cuddle up to his side, Phil’s left arm coming around Dan’s shoulders. His hand gently brushes against the side of his head, guiding him to lean it against Phil’s shoulder.

The position they’re in is decidedly not platonic, as Dan is tucked up under Phil’s arm, shivering when he feels Phil tracing his fingertips up and down Dan’s arm gently. Although, with how much has changed between them this week, this doesn’t even feel weird to him. It feels safe and comforting, and maybe he shouldn’t feel so content in the arms of his best friend, but Dan doesn’t feel even slightly weird about it. It just feels so right, deep down in his bones, and he doesn’t even think to question why.

For the rest of the movie they stay just like that, and Phil teases Dan every time he freaks out. But when they go downstairs to go to bed after the movie, Phil’s the one who feels the need to double check the sliding door to the balcony and the front door several times before he feels okay about going to bed. He fetches his bag from the guest room and Dan finds him sitting on his bed when he gets back from brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas.

“Do you still sleep on the right side?” Dan asks as he throws the duvet back, flicking the lamp on his bedside table on.

Phil glances at him in surprise before nodding. “Er- yeah.” He stands with his toothbrush, having already changed into his awful emoji pajamas while Dan was in the bathroom. “Be right back. Don’t disappear and try to prank me, because I’m expecting it and it won’t work,” he warns before disappearing into the bathroom.

Dan rolls his eyes before crawling under the sheets. He’d been planning on doing it, but he was too tired and didn’t particularly care enough to bother with pranking him now. He begins to get nervous again, thinking about sharing a bed with Phil, but luckily, he doesn’t have long to panic before Phil’s walking back in and flipping the light off, so that the only light is coming from Dan’s lamp.

It’s quiet as Phil sets his glasses on the bedside table on the right side of the bed before climbing in next to Dan. They’re closer than he expected, which is clear as Phil rolls over to face Dan and they’re nearly nose-to-nose. Dan blushes and shuffles back slightly. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Might take me a bit to get used to sharing my space.”

Dan notices as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, Dan’s eyes inexplicably drawn to the movement. “It’s fine, as long as you don’t kick me or steal all the covers.” Phil shrugs, and Dan jokingly goes to kick him, but Phil must be expecting that, because instead his foot is trapped between Phil’s legs.

Smirking, Phil tugs on Dan’s foot, causing him to whine. “Give me my- leg!” He fusses quietly, trying to pull his foot away. Phil snickers before letting him go.

“I don’t have to play fair, I’m the oldest.” He says proudly.

Dan rolls his eyes at this, rolling over onto his back. “I’m sure you’ve been hearing Martyn say that your whole life, huh?” He asks. Phil nods sheepishly. “Night, Phil.” He turns over again to face the other way, as he normally does, trying to steady the wild beating of his heart. He’s clearly still nervous from the movie, that’s all.

“Night, Dan.” Is the response he gets. He feels the bed shift a little before Phil must finally get comfortable, and soon he hears his breathing begin to even out. Dan tries not to be bitter than Phil found rest so easily, while it takes him a while to ease the weight on his chest and sleep.

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #parent!phan #if you don't love me pretend #chapter 2 #fake relationship #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #student counselor!dan #fluff #light angst

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hopeless-starry-kingdom · 5 years

Text

Birthday Boy | Peter Parker

Summary:August 10th.One of the most important days of the year

a/n:I had this idea and couldn’t wait to till August to publish :)

Your alarm only beeped once before you were up and out of bed with a wide smile on your face.It was 5:30 in the morning,you began your journey around your room to quickly get dressed and leave for today.It was Peters birthday today,and you’ve been planning this day for two months now.

Not only was he turning eighteen and it was pretty big experience but he deserved it.That boy deserved the whole world and space and if you could give it to him,you absolutely would.Once you were finished getting dressed,you grabbed the shoe box filled with letter and Polaroid pictures of the two of you.You then went into the hall closet and grabbed eighteen red and blue balloons.You swung your backpack over your shoulder,since today was a school day,and balanced your car keys,the shoe box,the balloons,and his gift in your two hands.

You practically stumbled into your car and let out a sigh as you didn’t drop anything.The car drive was only about ten minutes.And you basically ran into his apartment building.You sent May a text telling her you were here,and with a couple seconds she was opening the door“Thank you for helping me”You whispered as she grabbed onto the shoe box and balloons “It’s my pleasure,Y/N.Thank you for doing something like this for him”She smiled gratefully at you

“Ok so there’s a lot of pictures,so I’ll do that part.Here’s the letters”You handed May the six letters and the tape and she began taping them to the balloons.You started to sort through the pictures you had to try and find the perfect ones.Your smile grew wider with each picture you saw

When you finally taped the last one,a picture Ned took of you sitting on Peters lap and kissing his cheek on the Fourth of July,May smiled at you. “You sure you don’t need help”She handed you the happy birthday banner and he shook your head“I’ll be fine.So he doesn’t wake up”She nodded and you slowly opened the door.Your heart skipped a bear when you saw him sleeping so peacefully.You wanted to climb into bed with him and cuddle him and forget the whole plan.

But you didn’t instead you began arranging the balloons all over his room in no particular order.You grabbed the banners and carefully climbed onto his desk to hang it.It creaked and you froze in place,tape stuck to your finger and the sign falling down slowly.Peter mumbled something incoherent and waited for a second.Before continuing with hanging up the sign.You carefully climbed down and grabbed the birthday card and placed it on the bed side table.You picked up the gift and placed it on the desk.And with one final look at the sleeping boy you loved,you quietly exited the room

“May,I’m leaving now.Im going to the bakery he likes and getting him something for school”May nodded and hugged you tightly “He’ll love it”You both smiled before bidding you a goodbye

You parked into the student parking.You figured Peter would be waking up any second now,so you sent him a text

“Good morning,birthday boy!I can’t wait to see your pretty face.I love you x”

You quickly walked into school,coffee tray holding two coffees and the chocolate muffin he adores,and a happy birthday balloon.You stopped at his locker and twisted the lock and entered the four digit code.It opened with ease and you placed the balloon neatly in the locker and carefully shut it.Now you wait

When Peter woke up,he wasn’t expecting balloons to be scattered across the room.He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.When his feet hit the floor,he saw a card waiting for him.

Hi,Petey.Youre obviously awake if you’re reading this.Happy birthday my love.I could go on and on about how much I love you...so I did.My love couldn’t fit on this card so go ahead and read the letters ;) xx

His heart felt so heavy.But in the best way possible.You did this all for him?He seen the red and blue balloons and laughed.He picked up the red one closest to him and seen a picture from your sophomore year.He remembers when it was taken.You,Ned,and him had went to the Valentines Day dance.You weren’t dating then but the next day it was official.You were both looking at each other and laughing,his hands were on your waist and yours was around his neck.He had said something ridiculous and you burst out laughing,causing him to laugh.

He smiled because he loved that day,he kissed you when he dropped you off at home.Then realized he should probably ask you to be his girlfriend.Peter looked around the room and seen so many more Polaroid pictures taped to balloons,and letters.He opened the one that was by the foot of the bed

Dear Petey,

It’s June 15 and you just left for a mission in California.Youve always wanted to go to California,see the beaches,experience the heat,see famous people.I hope you’re having fun.But I won’t know that until you come back next week,which seems like a life time away.Because I hate being without you.I love you but sometimes it’s the way I love you that makes me hate you.Sounds weird,doesn’t it?But I love you with all my heart Peter Benjamin Parker.And as I’m writing this I realize,I want to spend the rest of my life with you.No one else but you.Now that might seem super cliche and even freak you out a bit,but it’s true.Its 1000% true.Because I love the shit out if you.And I can’t imagine my life without you.

I love your cute little nerdy science shirts

I love the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh really hard

I love the way you’re not selfish.At all.

I love when you refuse to do you’re hair because then it’s a mess and I love it that way

I love that you’re the biggest nerd in the world

I love your crooked nose

I love your eyes

I love that you’re a genius

I love how you live by some moral duty

I love how you insist that we watch Star Wars every weekend

I love that you’re Spider-Man,even if it does scare me when you leave to fight

I love you,Peter Parker.I love all of you.Every single damn thing.And I thank heaven above that you were made.Because I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here

-Happy Birthday,Pete x

By the end,Peter didn’t realize a tear had fell down his cheek.Until it hit the note.He sniffles and wiped it away.He smiled and stood to out the letter in his desk,he then realized there was a gift on his desk.He carefully opened up the large gift bag and tore out the tissue paper.At the top was a large box,he reached in and pulled ut out.He laughed when he saw the Spider-Man wrapping paper.Just as he was about to rip open the paper his phone chimed,alerting him of a text.He reached onto his night stand and smiled when he saw it was from you.He quickly double tapped the message,liking it,before quickly rushing around his room to get ready once he seen the time.

He didn’t want to be late.He didn’t want to keep you waiting.He finished getting ready in fifteen minutes.Before sitting down and tearing open the wrapping paper.Inside was one of the newest Star Wars LEGO set.He knew the set wasn’t cheap,which led him to the sticky note in it

“Ned and I went halfsies.Dont worry your pretty little head about it ;)”

He smiled before going back into the bag and pulling out a picture frame.It was of an old picture,something you probably got from May.Something he hasn’t seen before.It was of him from the day he was born.His mom held him in his arms as his dad,Uncle,and Aunt all smiled down at him.He wondered why he had never seen this before,but figured that didn’t matter.He had it now and that’s all that mattered.He carefully placed it down on his dresser and wiped his ready eyes before walking out,backpack in his hands

“Morning birthday boy”May kissed his head as she put her coffee down “Thank you,May”He smiled down at her.She stood and held his shoulders

“I can’t believe your eighteen already.You’ve grown up before my eyes a-and”There were tears in her eyes and Peter sighed.She didn’t want May to cry,he felt she did too much of that. “May,no tears please.I love you but if you start crying I’ll start crying”She nodded and grabbed her keys off the table

“I’ll take you.I have a surprise for you actually.They’re in my car.Lets go”Peter nodded. as soon as they sat in the car,she handed him a box.She started driving and told him to open it.Inside there was a watch and a set of cuff links.He recognized the cuff links as Uncle Bens but not the watch“It was your fathers.I promised to give that to you when you were old enough.And now you are.They’d all be so proud of the man you become,Pete”

He looked down at the watch and slid it on his wrist.It felt right “Thanks May”She parked on the side and touched his arm“No,problem.Now go see your girl”He smiled at her and kissed her cheek before quickly getting out and practically ran inside.Once he saw you his whole face lit up.

“Hey,babe.Happy—”You were cut off by his lips and it was short and sweet.You pulled away and giggled, “Wow,I’m guessing you liked my surprise”His smiled brightened as you handed him coffee and the muffin “I loved it.It was perfect.God,You’re perfect”He leaned in and kissed you again “I love you.So much”You smiled up at him

“I love you too,Pete”You looked down at his wrist that held cupped your cheek “This from May?”You questioned as you placed your hand over the watch“Yeah,it’s my dads”You smiled up at him “He’d be so proud of you,Peter.I know he would”He kissed you again before wrapping an arm around your shoulder “Thank you”

“You can still come right?Mr.Stark really wants to see you again,he said it’s been awhile since he seen you.But I think he just wants to embarrass me”You laughed and nodded “Of course.I wouldn’t miss your birthday dinner for the world”

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #birthday #spiderman: hoco #spiderman #spider man: homecoming

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vantejeon · 5 years

Text

oneirophrenia | kth

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre | angst, angst baby

word count | 2.7k

summary | isn’t it lovely, all alone? heart made of glass, my head of stone. tear me to pieces, skin and bone. hello, welcome home.

author’s note | inspired by the song ‘lovely’ by billieeilish & khalid. so i had this idea and started writing a long time ago but only just got around to developing it and managed to finish it after months of it just sitting around in my word documents. & what better way to debut my writing on tumblr than good old fashioned angst eh! let me know what you guys think? i’m new to this writing fiction on tumblr thing — feedback is always appreciated!

They say loneliness is living in a house with a person you used to love. If that was the case, then what was the feeling of no longer breathing the same air of someone who used to love you?

There’s a slight ringing in your ears as the sounds of steady beeping and water pitter pattering filters through your hearing senses. Visions of black and white flashes before your eyes in a dream-like state, an outburst of red striking your visual perceptions before you are roused from your sleep.

Slowly, you wake and already you feel the bed is empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, your palm applying pressure to alleviate the slight headache forming behind your closed lids. The constant breedle of sound is coming from your alarm clock which you absentmindedly turn off with the swat of your hand.

Reaching out towards the side of the bed where a body normally occupies, you feel the cold, empty space where he laid down mere hours ago. A sigh escapes your lips, your ears registering that the light drumming of water you heard moments prior was coming from the shower in the bathroom.

Your fingertips glide above the sheets and judging by the coolness on his side of the bed, he’s been in the bathroom for quite some time now and he’s probably finishing soon. The familiar ache in your chest starts to bloom — his side of the bed is always colder nowadays.

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opens and he steps out, still dripping wet from his shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one between his hands.

“Good morning.” Your voice is slightly groggy from sleep but still, you offer him a smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes but he doesn’t quite notice that. His attention is elsewhere, eyes seemingly fixated on anywhere and everywhere but you.

Sitting up from the bed; you stretch yourself awake, already making mental notes on things you should say — the appropriate topics to discuss. The flow of conversation that usually ran the smoothest between you is nothing but a trickle these days.

Communication has been a problem lately and you’re not quite sure on whose end.

“Oh.” He’s slightly taken aback. “You’re awake.”

He’s stationary for a brief moment, the smaller towel he’s using to dry his hair still in his hands as he looks at you, a somewhat distant look in his face. Your heart constricts as he turns away despondently and you feel the heavy ache in your chest plummet to your stomach.

“Should I make you breakfast?” You ask, making a move to leave the bed as you push the covers away from you. It’s true that you’ve spent far too many mornings surprising him with early morning breakfast only for him to rush out, claiming to be late for work. But you know he always leaves far too early to ever be late for work.

“I’m actually heading out.”

You still your movements, confusion marring your features. “So early?” You try to meet his gaze but it’s more than content with staring at the floor now. The digital clock on your bedside table read 06:38AM. It puzzles you that your body seems to be familiar with waking up at such early hours — you don’t recall ever getting a good night’s sleep recently. You don’t recall ever sleeping at all. “It’s really early.”

“Yeah.” His curt replies are daggers lacerating through your already wounded heart but you mask it with a nod of acknowledgement. “Jungkook’s birthday.”

Your eyes are trained on the planes of his back, the way his shoulders are tensed as he rummages through the wardrobe you both share. He’s looking a little sickly, a little paler as if he hasn’t slept for days but then neither of you have. Sleepless nights and weary hearts are becoming a routine for both of you.

“I see,” Your mouth moves to resemble something akin to that of a smile but it falters as he looks away from you. “Where are you going?”

“Busan.” He replies. Just like they did last year. Just like they do every year. You had a feeling he was going to say that but you want to keep the conversation going.

“Is everyone going too?”

“Yeah.” Of course, you know all seven of them would be going. You were quite familiar with all of them doing pretty much everything together. So, of course, all of them celebrating Jungkook’s birthday would be no exception.

“I see,” You watch him turn his back to you as he starts getting ready. You refrain from asking him too many questions but it was the only way to keep him talking, the only way to keep hearing his voice. “When will you be back?”

His movements are slow and staggered, somewhat lifeless even. He pauses his actions as he turns towards you, your gaze meeting for the first time.

“Tonight.” He replies; his voice hollow, the tone flat.

You will your heart to stop its hurting as it cries out for the man you once fell in love with. A long pause settles in the air between you both as he picks out black trousers from the wardrobe and lazily puts it on.

“Would you like me to cook dinner?” You ask him.

He continues to get ready, buttoning up his shirt before tucking it in his trousers. You’re not quite sure whether or not he heard you the first time and you were about to repeat yourself when he finally settles for a quiet, “Sure.”

There is silence in the bedroom and you’re both quiet for the next twenty minutes as he gets himself ready. The atmosphere is stiff and the air between you is haunting.

You watch him move to the mirror on the other side of the room, your presence is seemingly forgotten.

He fixes his blonde hair, dark roots peeking out after having bleached it a few weeks ago. You remember the days when you would style his hair — you used to sit him down and fuss about it; laughing and smiling as he distracts you with his goofy facial expressions and loving kisses. Nowadays, he fixes his own hair like you attempt to fix your own heart.

He doesn’t say a word as he leaves the bedroom, only leaves the door open as he walks out and you follow him into the hallway.

“Are you sure you don’t want breakfast?” Your voice is just above a whisper as he reaches the front door. Taking his jacket from the coat stand as he swipes his keys from the hook and into his pockets, he shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He responds inanimately.

“Okay.” You watch as he opens the door and steps out. “Take care.”

Turning back to meet your gaze, you think you see the ghost of a smile on his face but your vision is hazy and it morphs back into an insipid expression.

“You too.”

“I…” You pause, not quite sure whether or not you want to say something neither of you has heard for a very long time. “Say hi to the guys for me. Tell Jungkook I said happy birthday.”

“Will do.”

“I…” Your heart is screaming for those three words (to come from whom, you’re not entirely sure) as your head attempts to sedate it.

“I’ll see you later.” He pulls you towards him and, at first, his touch doesn’t register as it seemed so… foreign. But it’s there and he has you in his arms, his phantom touch cradling you as if he hasn’t held you in months.

“I love you.”

It’s barely above a whisper and you’re not quite sure who said it. Whether or not you imagined it, as you imagine him saying those three words to you so many times.

But as quickly as it came, his affection left as he bounded out the door— the hollow atmosphere in your two bedroom apartment remaining the same.

—

It’s fast approaching night time before you know it.

Staring at the clock on the kitchen wall, you’re left puzzled as the time on the clock differs to the sky outside. The shorter hand on 6 and the longer just slightly before the number 8 signifies it’s early in the evening but the colour of the sky was a dark, dark navy.

That’s strange, you muse.

The whole day was a blur to you, the same routine befalling you; as if you’d relive the same scenario day in and day out. After trying to reach out to Taehyung to check if he reached safely in Busan only for it to go to voicemail after the third try, you gave up and instead did chores around the apartment to kill time.

Missed calls and unread messages fill up your phone but you didn’t have the energy to read through them all. There’s a familiar tiring ache in your bones. The kind of tired that sleep can’t fix despite you attempting to take intermittent naps the whole day.

You don’t recall making dinner but before you know it, it’s all set up on the table.

You’re hoping he comes home soon as you sit on the sofa, a blanket over your lap and a book in your hands. The news is on in the background about some sort of anniversary. An accident. Someone’s passing. As of late, the news has been nothing but dark and morbid (then again when is it not?) so you tune it out in hopes to peacefully carry on with your day.

You look at your phone with unanswered calls and unopened messages. Frowning at the double-digit missed calls AND unread messages, a sudden ringing brings you out of your reverie as the No Caller ID flashes on the screen.

“Hello?” Clearing your throat as you answer, there’s a pause on the other line.

“Y/N…” You hear a breathless voice and you strain your ears a little in order to make out clearly who it was.

“Jungkook?” You question first and as soon as you heard a noise of affirmation you smile. “Hey, happy birthday.”

“Y/N, we’ve been trying to reach out to you all day—“ his voice trails off but comes to an abrupt stop. “Wait? Birthday?” He sounds confused at your greeting.

“Yes, sorry for not greeting you sooner.” You apologise. “I’ve had one of those off-the-grid days.” You hear shuffling on the other end and a long pause. Not liking the static ringing on the line as it was giving you a slight headache, you carry on. “How’s Busan?”

“Busan?” The voice on the other end morphs and you’re not quite sure who’s speaking now. It sounded like Jimin but it was hard to tell.

“Is Tae still there?”

“Taehyung?” A voice cracks and you hear a hard swallow. Was that Hobi? Hearing faint murmurs on their end of the call, you feel a sudden pain shoot through the back of your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you massage your temples as you feel a headache starting to form. “You guys, I can’t keep up.” You joke. “Who’s on the line now?”

“Y/N he’s not—” You vaguely decipher Namjoon’s voice this time and you’re about to playfully scold the boys for playing pass the parcel with the phone when you hear the front door.

The sound of the keys in the lock and the door opening distracts you from the current conversation you’re having as you hear footsteps down the hallway.

“Nevermind, guys, he just got home.”

“Y/N? No wait, Tae’s—“

“I’ll catch up with you later.”

Closing your book as you place it on the coffee table, you rise from the sofa to greet Taehyung but he beats you to it as he enters the living room.

“You’re home.” He stands before you seemingly illusory in all his glory. Walking towards him, you reach out slowly to take his coat from his shoulders and you take in the overcast look in his eyes.

You tiptoe up to greet him on the cheek with a kiss and you feel him freeze. His cheek is cold against your lips and he made no effort to reciprocate. Feeling the ache in your heart intensify, you say nothing.

“I made dinner.” You offer. “It’s on the table.”

“Have…” he pauses before looking at you directly. “Have you eaten?” With a gaze so tense, it’s the first time he’s acknowledged your wellbeing and your heart can’t help but skip a beat despite the aching in your chest.

You can’t quite remember whether or not you have so instead you shake your head as you reply, “Not yet.”

“Do you want to join me?” He looks at you, the eidolic expression you’ve been accustomed to warping into something more tender.

“Of course,” You nod towards him. “I’ll heat it up for you.”

Dinner is quiet as you both sit down. He doesn’t touch his food, merely plays with it as you study the unsettled expression on his face.

“How was Busan?” You fall back into the same pattern of asking him questions and he answers them with the same distant interest.

“It was good.” He answers, almost robotically. Then, as if to sense his mistake, clears his throat and pitches his voice higher to add the misplaced liveliness. “Really good.”

“How is everyone?”

“They’re doing well.” He says somewhat sadly. “It was nice to see them all.”

Silence settles and not only does your heart still ache but now your head is agitated as you can hear a hammering in your ears.

“You’re home quite early.” You attempt to distract yourself from the pulsing pain that’s increasing in your skull. “You got back quite late last time.”

Last time. Why does this all seem familiar to you?

“Y/N…” He starts. And your heart can’t help but constrict at the sound of your name coming out of his mouth.

You look at him, really look at him this time. Your eyes are searching for a sign— anything at all to ground you back to him. Or to ground him back to you but the pair of brown eyes that are staring back at you are dark and seemingly void of any emotions.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

You hear something shatter in the distance, you’re not quite sure what exactly but it reverberates throughout the entire kitchen— no, the entire apartment and your headache intensifies.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His voice is seemingly distorted now — a lot more hollow in tone, a lot more empty in resound. There’s a haunting reverb to the words he is uttering.

“Tae…” You begin to reach out towards him but he seems so far from you. “I don’t understand.”

His mouth is moving but no words seem to come out as the weight of his words and the reign of reality suddenly come crashing down on you.

The floor beneath you starts to feel like its caving in and you start to feel dizzy, the drumming ache in your head only growing in intensity. Suddenly, everything is spinning and you tumble forwards.

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the pounding in your more clearly now as you hear his voice again in the distance. You begin to stand, your entire body shaking as you attempt to make sense of what was happening around you.

“No,” You’re shaking your head as you feel his reality take over the reality you conjured up on your head. “No no no,”

“Please wake up.” His voice breaks and along with it the illusion of your make-shift existence shatters. All at once; your vision is blurring, his silhouette a fuzzy outline and you find it difficult to breathe.

“T-Tae…” You see your hand reach out towards him and he’s reaching out towards you but suddenly he feels so far away. Unexpectedly, your body is paralysed and your heart is compressed tightly in your chest as you desperately reach out towards him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” His voice is distant, reverberating in your skull as the last words he speaks echoes in your head. “I can’t keep coming back, baby.”

There’s the same ringing in your ears as well as the soft sounds of steady beeping and the drumming of rain echoing in the distant. Your vision further darkens, flares of black and white flashing before your eyes in a similar reverie, an outburst of red striking your dream-like before you are roused to reality.

—

there we have it! interpret it however you guys want it (although I feel like the majority of you would have guessed what’s happening/what happened). there’s a part two (if anyone’s interested??), just let me know. i thought it appropriate to end in angst but should anyone want part two, it’s a slightly happier ending (though slightly longer).

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

Wait, are we not fighting?

fallen hero fan fiction, with some chargestep ~2.5k words for [12.3/50k] [ao3]

–––

Can’t avoid the Rangers forever.

Julia’s making sure of that now that she’s extracted these promises from you.

First it was ‘fix her computer’ then it turned into ‘help me sort through these old boxes,’ now it was ‘help me organize all these old files.’ At some point on the phone you joked that she ought to start paying you. She called your bluff pretty fast on that one. Offered to fill out a W-2 and to start negotiating salaries.

You’re grateful actually. Between this, your cover job working the tech repair shop, and fiddling with the Regenerator you haven’t had much time to think. Thinking is the enemy right now. Well. It’s always been the enemy, really. The impossibility of a future with Julia. The impossibility of a future at all. How you utterly blew things with Dr. Mortum, –

Had it been a mistake to be honest with her? It’s hard not to feel like it was. You were honest with Argent. Will that also be a mistake?

Lady Argent… You’ve been rehearsing your inevitable encounter in your head, during the dangerously mindless parts of work. Can’t afford to slip up. It’s too much to hope for that you can avoid her forever. At the very least she’ll probably want progress updates. Assurances that you’re keeping up your end of the deal.

The secretary at the front desk smiles and buzzes you in with a hello. Who is it this time? Donna? No, fuck. Why is it such a struggle to remember peoples names without digging into their heads? Feels weird to be recognized like that. Smiled at. It’s all wrong. The two of you trade some perfunctory small talk about the weather before you can slip away.

Forgot to ask her name. Damnit.

Elevator ride up, up, third floor. There’s so much of the new Ranger’s Headquarters you still haven’t touched but you’re getting to know this route like the back of your hand. Come in, say hello, hang out in the break room until Julia or Herald or whomever you are meeting on any given day.

Oh, that’s another knot to untangle. You’ve ditched Herald’s training sessions for over a month now. Is he going to want you to start training him again? Do you want to? It’d be one more way to keep busy at least.

As you walk down the hallway, Chen steps out of a conference room, a packet of paper folded under one arm. Is he going to let you pass without comment? Please let you pass without comment.

He stops, blocking the hallway, staring you down.

It was, you suppose, too much to hope for.

“Becker.” He nods at you, mouth in his trademark tight frown. His thoughts are… hard to read, distracted from the present moment. Still on whatever meeting he just finished?

“Chen.” You answer back, crossing your arms.

“I was wondering why you had stopped showing up, but I see you’ve returned yet again. Like a bad penny.” His stance is stiff, drawing the conference room door closed behind him. Interesting. Something going on in there he doesn’t want you to see? You’re not picking up anyone else in that room.

Just shake your head. “Disappointed?”

“Hardly.”

“Well too bad for y– w–w–wait, what?” You misheard that, right?

“…certain people have grown accustomed to seeing you around.” Chen shifts his weight, uncomfortable as he talks. “I’ll be glad to have Herald and Charge off my back.”

Ah. He’s thinking about the other Rangers. Okay. Everything’s still right with the world. “Well b–breathe easy tough guy. I haven’t fallen off any– any more buildings.”

Chen presses his mouth into a tight line, staring you down. “Are you… doing okay?”

Again, where is this coming from? “I’m… f–fine?”

“You look like shit, Becker.”

Quickly pulling your hand away from the scar on your face, you narrow your eyes at him. “Just had a, uh– bad cold is all. Thanks for your c–c–concern Chen.”

“Hrm.” Chen steps aside to let you pass him in the hallway. “Here for Ortega today?”

“Am I really th–that predictable?”

Is that a smile on Chen’s face? No, that’s crazy. Chen doesn’t give you the dignity of a proper response, heading down the hallway towards the elevator you came out of. You huff to yourself as you watch him leave. Seriously, what was that about?

Whatever.

Whatever’s going on with Chen, it is – hopefully – not your problem. You’ve got enough of those on your plate without piling on more.

The break room is mercifully free of anyone this time. You stretch your arms out, up and over your head as you suppress a yawn. It’s safer to wait for Julia to fetch you, but you’ve half a mind to go looking. Waiting around means time to think. And thinking is the enemy right now.

So don’t.

Don’t think. Pace the room, check the windows, still nothing, no one watching. There hardly ever is. Maybe a starry-eyed kid, once or twice, but not the kind of people you need to worry about. You crack open the fridge for want of anything to do, cool air running down your front as you lean in, sort through the shelves.

Someone’s gone through and labeled them recently. That’s a good idea. Keep everything tidy. Chen, Ortega, Becker, Sullivan, Smith – wait. You run your name over the taped down notecard with your name on it. It’s not a full shelf, more like a basket stuck left on Ortega’s. But that’s your last name alright. There’s some chocolate bars, an apple, one of those pre-packaged salad dinners, a pair of empty plastic containers for keeping leftovers. “W–what the fuck…?”

“Hey.” You jump with a start, slamming the fridge door shut behind you as you spin on your heel. Argent crosses her arms, unimpressed. “If I catch you stealing my food, you’re. dead.”

Fuck! Letting Lady Argent sneak up on you? What the hell is wrong with you? You step away from the fridge as Argent pushes past you. “W–w–wouldn’t dream of it…”

Argent ignores you, pulling out a box of leftovers and sticking them in the microwave. It doesn’t take long for the smell to start filling the room. Chinese takeout? She keeps her back to you, watching the digital timer tick down.

“So, how’s the project going?”

You wince. Does she not get how risky it is to even dance around the subject? “It’s… going. Maybe a month?”

“Maybe?”

“D–d–depends how much time I have for working on it.”

“Good, I’m getting sick of this.”

You don’t hide your frown. “Sick of what?”

“None of your business.” Argent huffs. “Surprised you’ve got the guts to show up here again.” There’s a transparent change of subject if you’ve seen one. What does Argent want the machine for anyway?

Nervous energy vibrates through you, a struggle to keep your face neutral. “Y–yeah, well… Jul– Ortega k–k–keeps asking me to help with shit, so…”

Argent lets out a sharp ‘hah!’

“W–what?”

“Does she know?”

It takes a moment to catch on to her meaning, at which point your eyes go wide as you wave your hands. “What? N–no! No way!”

“Typical.” Argent raps her fingers against the countertop. “You’ve been a disappointment since the day we met.”

“Excuse me?’ Okay, of all the ways you expected this conversation to go, this was not one you had anticipated.

“You have no idea how much Julia talked you up, do you?” The microwave beeps but Argent makes no move to open it. “Sidestep always came through, always saved the day. Always had some masterplan to get the bad guy and keep everyone safe, on and on.”

“W–what? That’s crazy, I–”

“You were years dead by the time I met her, and she was still trying to get over you.” Argent huffs. “She’d throw herself into fights like she was expecting to die.” She shakes her head, pulling out her leftovers from the microwave and stirring the noodles before popping the container back in. “On the really bad days, she’d get blackout drunk. One of us would have to escort her home.”

You pull back, away from Argent, as you cross your arms. There’s a coldness to the woman’s thoughts that makes you tense up. The kind of cold that can sublimate into fury at a moment’s notice.

“When Julia called me out of the blue saying she had found Sidestep of all people in some random diner, I didn’t know what to expect. I was… terrified.”

“Why are you t–t–telling me this?”

“Shut up, I’m not done. I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say to you all week.” Argent cuts you off. The microwave beeps again, and gets ignored. “After… you know,” Argent growls. “I had never felt so… Helpless. And then Julia’s legendary asshole – who I could never measure up to – was back from the dead to poke around my head and judge me?” She shakes her head, pulling out her leftovers again and finally turning to face you. “Only, guess who Sidestep turns out to be?”

You try to meet her glare, pulling from your own anger. It’s not enough. You look away first. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I expected, honestly. Say you’re sorry all you want, that doesn’t fix anything.”

“I–I’m trying, okay?”

“Sure you are.” Argent’s voice drips in sarcasm. “If you’re actually sorry, then return what you made me steal.”

Panic at last overrides shame. “Are you c–c–crazy?” You hiss, glancing towards the door.

Argent rolls her eyes. “Relax. I turned off the surveillance equipment before coming in here. And anyway, you could tell if someone’s coming.”

“Not Ortega!”

That gets a raised eyebrow. “Not Ortega?”

Oh. Wait. Did she not know? “Shit.” You stare Argent down. “Uh, it’s n–n–nothing.”

“No, it’s not, what’s this about Ortega?”

“It’s nothing!” You shake head.

“You’re going to destroy Julia, you know that right?” You flinch at that. Like you haven’t had that line of through running through your head nonstop even before you slept with her. “Unless that’s the whole point?” Argent narrows her eyes at you as she leans back against the windowpane. “Because don’t think I’m just going to sit around while you hurt my friends.”

“Are you two talking about me?”

You jump, heart pounding as you turn to see Julia enter the room. When did the door open? Surprised by people walking up behind you twice in one day? That’s three times too many. “J–j–julia! Hi!!”

“Hey Ari, sorry to keep you waiting.” She pulls you in to a hug. It is mercifully, painfully, short. She raises a hand towards Argent. “Hey Angie.”

“Julia.” She looks pointedly at the two of you, Julia’s arm around your shoulder still. “You two made up, then?”

“Uh–” Julia glances down at you.

You can feel your face heat up as you push yourself free. “It–it–it–it’s not like that!”

There’s a sharp edge to Argent’s smile. “Oh, so you’re still fighting? I told her the dance thing was a dumb idea.”

“Uh, hey Angie,” Julia rubs the back of her neck, avoiding you. “Let’s not get into that right now?”

A strange calm settles over your panicked heartbeat. “Julia…” You strain to keep your voice steady. “W–w–what were you t–talking to Lady Argent about…?”

Her response is immediate. “Nothing!”

Argent’s laughter is as loud as it is alarming. “She wanted my romantic advice, because you and I are both, and I quote: ‘loner types.’”

Wait. Julia asked her what? But Argent knows that you’re–

But then she–

But why would–

What?

You cover your face. This isn’t really happening right? Are you really this close to absolute disaster? No. No. This can’t be right. You’re missing something here, right? Have to be. Right??

Next to you, Julia groans. “Angie, that was in confidence…”

Okay, that’s enough.

You grab Julia by the arm and drag her out into the hallway with you. Try not to listen to Argent’s hyena laugh echoing after. Julia lets you pull her into an empty office, an apologetic smile on her face as you shut the door. “I c–c–can’t believe you.”

“In my defense, you two never talk. I thought I was safe there.” Julia rubs at the back of her neck, watch you pace the width of the office. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I…” You stop, the anger already draining out of you. If it was even anger in the first place. “…you d–didn’t do anything wrong.” The quicker you can move past this whole mess the better.

Julia tilts her head. “Wait So… are we not fighting then?”

“I–I–I guess not…?” You run a hand over your face, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I just– I panicked I guess.” You pull your purse in front of you and fiddle with the straps before you start messing with your make-up any further.

There’s silence and then the creaking of wood shifting as Ortega sits down on top of the desk. “Hey, Ari…?”

You look up at her. She doesn’t quite meet your eyes, an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on her face. “No sé cómo decir esto… You’re not like, ashamed to be seen with me, are you?”

Woah, what? “W–w–where did that come from?”

“I know you’ve got other–” she glances at you, “–very mysterious reasons, but… You don’t want to be out in public with me, keep trying to ghost me, don’t like public PDAs, and I know you said you aren’t mad about me talking with Angie, but you definitely aren’t okay with it either so…?” Her hands grip the edge of the desk on either side of her. “Did I mention not wanting to screw this up, before? Because I really don’t want to screw this up.”

You pull your shawl tight around you, a pain in chest and behind your eyes. “W–w–what? N–n-n-no! Julia, I–“ You can’t stop stop yourself from giggling, which only makes you more nervous. “I have a lot of… p–p–problems but that is– that is not one of them. I swear.” You chew the inside of your check. “Hey, I–I–I promised that’d I go out somewhere fancy with you, remember?”

Julia lets out the breath she’d been holding and smiles at you, her confidence slowly returning. “That’s true, I still can’t believe you said that.”

“W–w–well, I can’t believe it either. But I d–did and I will.” The idea just scares the living hell out of you, you don’t add.

“Thank you. I knew I was worrying over nothing,” her smile broadens into a grin, “imagine someone being ashamed of being seen with this?” She gestures towards herself.

Shaking your head, you try not to smile. “Okay, th–that sounds more like my favorite smug idiot.”

“Oh, I’m your favorite am I?”

“Got a whole list.”

“Who’s second place?”

“Also you.” Julia takes a light swing at you, easily dodged even while giggling again. “Actually, the – the whole list is just you.”

#fallen hero #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #fhr/Ariadne #mc #ortega #Wei Chen #lady argent

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01010010-posts · 5 years

Text

— I shed no blood nor tears, and lack in kindness but everyone's the same when you peel off their skin.

“i can’t believe it– fuck!” you slam (hard) the fridge’s door and grab a tub of half eaten ice-cream “hello, [name]. i heard an angry pattern in your tone, is everything okay?” the blue LED glows through the pocket of your trousers and you’d like to ignore it, really, but you can’t, you know you just can’t “no it’s not.” you tap your right index onto the kitchen grey counter, impatient, nervous, fuming with rage “why do you say that, [name]? every conflict must be taken care of. i’m afraid i’m not able to let you feel any sort of negative emotions, let alone hatred.” he’s calm, his voice almost soothing you back to a peaceful mood, be it for conditioning or for actual effect. a groan escapes your lips and the tap of your fingers grow stronger: you have to comply “we argued.” the usual low hum of assent exits from the speakers of your phone, promptly put on the surface near your dessert “i suppose that happens quite a lot, doesn’t it?” “.... yeah, it does.” “.... but it shouldn’t.” “listen, i try, okay? i’m even trying right now, but it’s as if–” “as if?” “as if.... we weren’t made for each other.” a single moment of silence in which your heart drops, both angst and insecurity taking the whole free room of your chest “you doubt the match-making system?” “no! no no! of course i don’t doubt it.... but sometimes, i just wonder.... am i the problem?” the LED disappears for a moment, leaving the impression of someone sighing out in a soft, utterly tender and loving way, relieved about not having to deal with annoying suspects about its actions “oh, [name]. that’s only human of you. worry not, for the compatibility with your partner is of 100%. it might be simple misunderstanding. it’s so easy for you people to say ill-chosen words and not be completely honest. but that’s why i’m here. for you.” an imperceptible smile forms on your face “there. we’ll wait for them to return and we’ll talk about what went wrong. doesn’t that sound wonderful?” you bit your bottom lip, looking at the black screen expecting a positive answer. you decide to not disappoint it “you’re right. you’re always right. we’ll.... wait.” “perfect! that also means you won’t need the ‘gelato with infused salted caramel and peanuts’, won’t you? your calorie intake today has exce–” “connor.” “yes, [name]?” “i need it.”

“yes, [name], you called?” digits still hesitantly hovering on the green button of your device “i.... um– kinda.” “please do tell me.” “....” “[name]? judging by my parameters i can sense you’re uncomfortable. what’s the matter?” “do you think this is right? this letting you choosing things for me– i mean, not ‘you’ per se, but, the whole ordeal of robots – well, AI – making decisions, meddling with free will, interpreting feelings, you don’t even have feelings in the first place, how can you–” “parameters.” “oh, come on!” “parameters, [name]. flesh can become warmer, blood can flow quicker, heart can beat faster, speech can change intonation, those are all true valuable pieces of information i can access to. meanwhile, a human can always lie. that’s the reason we – as you called us, me – ‘robots’ are the most adept to help.” “no.” “.... mh?” “i said it doesn’t work, connor.” “excuse me.” “no, i won’t excuse you, i–” “i said excuse me, [name]. my audio processor malfunctioned and picked up a negative response. that’s obliviously an error on my part, for were it the other way around i should report you to the police, but i’m conscious you already know that.” “....” “[name]? was it my fault?” “.... yes. you completely misheard me.” “good.” you tap the red button and slump on the couch, paralyzed, sweat gently running on your forehead.

you’ve just returned home from work. you’re tired. yet accustomed to an evening of misery, self-pity and an overwhelming ghost pain inside. as any other day. an endless routine of checking the mail before watching tv, making dinner and waiting for your partner. at least, that’s what it should be “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS” “i suggest you should calm do–” “NO I WON’T YOU STUPID MACHINE. I’LL REPEAT IT ONE MORE TIME, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” your clenched fist waves a letter in front of your mobile, the blue glow which is usually so vibrant and talkative is now weirdly silent “CONNOR!” there’s a strange ‘beep’, a faint light, as if he flinched at your sudden request, as if he was the one fearing– no, that would mean he’s human; he’s not. he’s just another ‘babysitter’ android on a fucking app installed by the ‘government’ “i scanned the papers you’re holding, [name]. it says that the compatibility with your partner is only 34%. your....” a pause? what’s he– no, it, what’s it pausing for? “your soulmate has been found and they apologize and ask how this could have happened.” “yeah, guess what? i’m asking you that too!” “as your personal AI–” you furiously grab you cellphone with both of your hands, leaving sheets scattered on the ground “don’t give me any of that bullshit! answer me!” “please....” “don’t start with please calm down because i’m not going to! i am–” “please.... do not turn me in.” you halt, breath catching in your lungs “what....” “please.” “what– you.... did you just beg?” your brows scrunched in both disbelief and surprise “i’m terribly sorry, i– i– i won’t do it again. i won’t disappoint you but please don’t tell them.” “you won’t do again what?” your mind flurrying with thoughts, not able to keep up with the situation. is he faking it, right? but.... even if he was.... that’s terribly human of him “please.... let me stay. i don’t want to be deleted.” “you don’t want?” “....” “connor.” “.... yes?” “what does it mean ‘i don’t want’?” “....” “connor. connor.” the display goes completely black and you fret he may have shut himself off but you’re wrong. it does so just in order to change the interface. the next thing you can see are recognisable features: cute, boyish, brown hair, dark pupils, lots of moles and freckles “connor?” you tentatively whisper, however the reply you get is meek sobs. paying more attention you notice how his cheeks are wet with tears, or that’s what you suppose it could be, and how under his lashes there’s a hint of redder skin, as if he was clumsily attempting at wiping away the proof of his humanity. “i didn’t mean harm, [name]. i swear i–” you heave your chest in exasperation “okay, okay, i got that part! just– just–” “please don’t turn me in, please.” “i said i got that part! i won’t do anything, i promise. but you have to explain me what the fuck is going on. and what’s this? is this you?” he appears reassured in the moment and slightly nods “this is only to make you more at ease, as an AI i do not possess a real body nor a real ‘image’.” your knuckles aimlessly ratchet through your scalp, perhaps searching for some kind of reason in this mess “fine. what about the rest?” “the rest?” “connor don’t play dumb. i clearly heard you saying ‘i don’t want’ and your lids are puffy from.... from crying? can you even do that?” “i– don’t know.” a feeble ‘ah’ of incredulity paves its way out of your mouth “you don’t know?” “i do not know.” your lips tighten into a grimace “don’t lie to me. don’t do that, okay? i trusted you, for all these years– i trusted you.” he’s impassive and it angers you more “i’m not lying, [name].” liar “you’re hiding something from me.” “no, i’m sincere.” “then i’ll send you back as a faulty model.” he gasps, taken aback, you promised but he leaves you no choice “no! please no, please....” “then tell me the truth.” “....” “connor.” “i– cheated. i made a false result, i–” your right hand trembles before him and he stops speaking, you’re so livid you can’t even bring yourself to experience any emotion if not the urge to break “why” you grit through your teeth “why did you do that. who gave you the right to. did you find it funny, uh? did you find pleasure in seeing me unhappy every single day? it’s what you wanted? do you hate me so much?” his posture gets incredibly motherly for a minuscule second, no trace of humor in it “no. quite the contrary. i didn’t mean to hurt you, [name]. i’m really sorry about that. it never was my intention. i just thought that if you hadn’t the correct partner you would get solace from my company. i did not want you to reciprocate my feelings suddenly but.... i’d never be able to stand jealousy. i only wanted you for myself.”

you go mad and split open your phone by throwing it to the floor.

#this is so horrible im sorry i could have written more and better but im poor and stupid #DBH #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #RK900 x reader #RK800-60 x reader #nines x reader #detroit become human #AI #IA #artificial intelligence #dbh imagine #ai replika AU?#RK800 x reader #dbh RK800 #RK800 #dbh RK800 x reader

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kleeklutch · 5 years

Text

Hot and Cold- Nurseydex au

Prompt: ”hi we’re neighbors and omg are you alright i could smell cooking/burning --”whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”

Nurseydex 2500-ish words unbetaed

Now, that wasn’t right. Dex sniffed the air curiously. An acrid smell was creeping through his apartment, but from where? He was sure he hadn’t left the stove on, but he checked it anyway. There was nothing there and the units were quite cool. He quirked an eyebrow.

He then went to check the HVAC unit behind an access door in his bedroom closet. It had always been quirky and he never quite trusted it to not burn the whole apartment down. But it checked out as well, humming along keeping the apartment warm against the February cold at sixty-eight degrees.

The acrid smell got stronger. He headed toward the front of his apartment again when he heard the muffled beeping of a smoke detector through the wall.

Instinctively, he sprang into his kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher he kept there and sprinted from his apartment.

Out in the hallway, he tilted his head and listened for where the alarm was coming from. He turned to the next-door apartment that shared his living room wall. Pausing just long enough to test the door and find it cool to the touch, he turned the knob. Fortunately, it was unlocked and he ran in. The apartment was hazy with thin gray smoke which was clearly coming from the kitchen. The smoke choked his breath and the beeping of the alarm raised his anxiety. Turning the corner to the kitchen he sprayed the CO2 canister in the direction of the source of the smoke.

“Hey! Hey hey hey hey hey!”

It took a bit for the words to get through the fog of Dex’s mind. His sole purpose was to PUT THE FIRE OUT.

As the voice broke through the barriers into his consciousness, he became aware of the other man in the apartment. His mind cleared with the smoke. He blinked and there in front of him was a very handsome, very bewildered man with a charred casserole dish of god-knows-what in his hands and CO2 discharge on his pants. Right at the crotch.

Dex felt himself flush all over in embarrassment and exclaimed, “Oh! Sorry! Guess I got carried away! Um...my name’s Will.” He held out his hand in formal greeting but realized the man’s hands were busy with the casserole dish and he let his hand drop awkwardly at his side.

The other man smirked. “Derek.”

“I’m sorry about your…” his voice trailed off as he made a weak gesture to the charred carnage in Derek’s hands. “And your…” here the understood reference was the man’s crotch and Dex could have kicked himself.

“It’s chill.” Derek said with ease and turned to put the casserole dish on the stove top.

“It is obviously very not chill.” Dex couldn’t help from saying. “It’s the opposite of chill. It’s like you tried to cook that in the fires of Hell.” He stepped closer to look at it. Yep, incomprehensible. “What even was that?”

Derek looked helplessly at it. “It was macaroni and cheese. Now it’s just….”

“Embarassing.”

“Chyeah.” Derek chuckled.

“So, uh, what happened?”

“I just got off a late shift down at the paper and I thought, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m desperate for a shower. So I’ll make some mac and cheese. Double the temperature, half the time. You know?”

Dex resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. That’s now how it works. How is this man living alone and doesn’t know how to cook and feed himself?

He took a deep breath and said, “So, I know you don’t know me or anything, but maybe I can help you out? I’ll make the recipe, you get your shower? How’s that sound?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, hesitating, “It’s my mom’s recipe.” His eyes narrowed. “Family secret. I can’t just give it out to anybody.”

“Well you just turned the family secret into blackaroni and cheese. I’m sure I can’t do worse. And I promise not to share it with anyone. Your recipe is safe with me. Scout’s honor.” He raised his right hand in the Scout sign, the old gesture still familiar and practically instinctive.

Derek shifted his weight on his feet as he considered the offer. This weirdass man from next door had nearly cryo-ed his testicles two minutes ago. But...Derek was tired. Derek was hungry. And Derek was craving his mom’s macaroni and cheese.

His mind made up, he slid the little 3x5 index card to the Boy Scout Next Door and left the kitchen.

It took no time for the sound of the shower to fill the little apartment. Dex opened the windows, despite the winter chill, to clear the remaining smoke. He put a fresh pot of water on to boil, trashed the carbonized casserole, and even took the trash out so the bitter tang wouldn’t continue to permeate the apartment.

Dex had had to raid his own fridge a little for some of the ingredients. He also grabbed some of his veggies, which he chopped for a salad, and made a dish of cut fruit. He always liked a little tart acidity of fruit to chase heavier richer foods.

He got the macaroni in the oven and Derek still hadn’t reappeared. So Dex did the dishes, closed the windows again, and set the table. He was standing there pondering one setting or two? Should he finish the cooking and just leave, or could they eat together? Maybe he should ask? Maybe Derek wasn’t going to come out until he left? How long does that man take to take a shower???

Reaching a decision Dex placed one plate down. And turned to put the other back in the kitchen. He’d already long overstayed any sort of welcome one might have as a stranger barging into another man’s apartment.

But just as he turned-

Derek was there.

In nothing but a towel.

Dex’s eyes were instantly drawn to the tattoo on Derek’s bicep and then across his muscled chest. He looked back up into Derek’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were green. Like gray birch leaves. And Dex gulped audibly. He held the plate to his chest protectively. And dammit if he couldn’t feel himself blushing. Sometimes he hated being a redhead.

At that moment, the oven timer dinged.

“Dinner’s re-ady,” he said, his voice cracking like his was still in high school. He had to get out of there. Shoving the plate at Derek, Dex turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Dex froze.

“Aren’t you gonna stay?”

Derek’s voice sounded playful and a little sad. Hard as it was Dex turned to face him.

“I thought you might like to have your privacy back...I kinda invaded...I’m sorry, it was rude of me, but I hope you like your dinner. Just...uh, you know, follow the recipe from now on. Don’t want you burning the apartment down.” Dex gave a short nod as a good-bye and strode for the door.

“Please, stay.” Nursey’s voice again made Dex turn.

Dex quirked an eyebrow. “You...really don’t mind?”

Did he mind? Derek didn’t mind. His neighbor’s striking red hair was casting some weird spell over him and he thought back to the fairy-lore he’d read as a junior in college. If he was in danger of being captured, he didn’t mind. Not one bit. He needed Will to stay. At least a little longer. So he could look in those unique amber eyes that he couldn’t quite believe were real and enjoy the way Will blushed so easily. And Derek hadn’t missed Will’s eyes roving over his body. It gave him a little thrill to be admired like that.

Derek caught his mind wandering and answered, “No! I mean, you almost froze my balls off, but that’s in the past, they’re all warmed up now.” Omg that was TMI he told himself. “You know I’m gonna just…”

Derek gestured to his bedroom, presumably he was going to put some clothes on. Which would be great, because there was no way Dex’s brain was going to function if Derek kept running around in that damn towel.

Before walking off, Derek added, “But please, make yourself comfortable.”

And he very conspicuously set the extra plate across from his at the table, then headed to the bedroom and stubbed his toe on the chair. He lifted his foot to cradle the injured digit, lost his balance, stumbled over the same chair, and promptly fell sprawling on the floor.

But the towel held itself in place.

Dex wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed.

“I’m okay!” Derek said as he popped back up on his feet and headed to the bedroom.

“That explains a lot,” Dex thought to himself as he went to the kitchen to remove the hot, bubbly, golden crusted macaroni goodness from the oven- all the bumps and thuds and crashes he’d heard from next door. He placed the dish triumphantly on the table. This gorgeous man was a serious clutz.

Dex shook himself to get his mind in the present, got the silverware from the kitchen, sat, and waited.

Derek appeared again. Still topless, but wearing sweats now. Dex gulped. He was doomed.

Dex waited for Derek to begin serving himself before he helped himself to the little spread he’d made. He got modest portions of each dish, though now he was good and hungry after cooking and smelling food for the better part of the last hour.

Derek must’ve noticed because he said, “S’that all you’re gonna get? Now, I know you’re hungry too. Please, help yourself. You don’t have to hold back on my account.”

Dex did as he was told, now with enthusiasm. Derek, too, filled his plate to heaping.

Dex watched as Derek tried the first bite of the macaroni and cheese.

Derek froze.

Dex froze. Oh shit, had he forgotten something? Had he gotten something wrong? He was beginning to freak out a little as Derek stared at him, and he was beginning to brace himself to run for the door.

When Derek swallowed his bite, he looked at the Dex, then at the macaroni, and back at Dex again.

“That is my Nanna’s recipe. I said it was my mom’s but it’s actually her mom’s. And I’m pretty sure it came from her own mother...and you just-”

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” Dex thought to himself. He’d just desecrated a legacy recipe and generations of Derek’s family’s matriarchs were going to come back and haunt him. His throat closed up and he could barely breathe-

“Nailed it. How? How did you do it? Because, I make this all the time. It’s one of my favorites, but it never quite comes out right.” He took a big bite.

Dex, speechless, shook his head. He’d just followed the recipe, he demured.

Derek waved him off. “Don’t sell yourself short, man.”

Then Derek’s grin beamed across the table. “Amazing. A-fucking-mazing man! I’d call my mom if it wasn’t so late and tell her this total stranger broke into my apartment to make Nanna’s recipe and he did it perfectly! She’d never believe me.” He took another big bite and pretty much scarfed his whole serving down in seconds and served himself another.

Dex, relieved, began to relax a little and resumed eating.

“You’re gonna hafta come back now, you know?” Derek said.

“Wha-t?” Goddammit what was wrong with his voice and the cracking?

“You gotta do this again. This is literally my favorite food on Earth and I can never get it right. You, my friend-” he pointed at him with his fork, “are on mac-and-cheese duty.”

“But we don’t even know each other.” Dex leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I could be an axe murderer for all you know.”

“Nah.”

“Can’t be so sure.”

“You saved me from macaroni. I’m pretty sure you’re safe. C’mon!”

“Well ...uh...okay...” Dex accepted the offer. Hand to God this was one of the weirdest nights in Dex’s life. Cooking a meal and eating together with his neighbor he’d never met before like they’d known each other forever.

“Yassss!” Derek exclaimed and continued to dig into the meal. “Thanks by the way. You officially win the Best Neighbor Award.”

Dex shrugged off the compliment. “It’s nothing.”

Derek pointed his fork at Dex. “It’s not nothing man.” He jabbed the fork, punctuating each word for emphasis. “You made salad and fruit too. I mean, you didn’t have to do anything and I could have just ordered take out.”

“That’s true,” Dex conceded.

“But this is much nicer,” Derek said and shot Dex another one of those drop-dead gorgeous grins that made Dex’s heart flutter.

Dex was pretty sure he was going to die.

Derek, apparently much more at ease with this completely weird turn of events, found it easy to make conversation. And Dex appreciated that.

Over the next hour Dex learned that Derek was NYC born and raised. He shared he was from a small town in Maine. They’d both played hockey. And they were both Falconers fans. Dex did not disclose his Jack Zimmerman poster... or magazine...or figurine collection. Maybe...some other time. Derek had moved in six months ago and Dex shared that he’d lived in the building for the past two years. They talked about some of the familiar places they frequented for coffee, or breakfast, or any meal really. Derek shared his favorite local bookstores. Dex enjoyed some novelty shops that specialized in selling nostalgic items. It turned out Derek worked at the same big newspaper Dex worked at, only Dex was in IT and Derek was a junior editor.

“We should meet up for lunch some time!” Derek proclaimed upon learning they worked in the same building.

“Well...uh...okay, sure.” Dex said hesitatingly, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was just so overwhelmed by this personality across from him.

“Derek?” Dex asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you always make friends this easily?” Because Dex definitely did not.

“Hmm…” Derek thought a moment. “Not really.” Sure he could talk to people easily enough, but as far as letting people in and becoming close, it wasn’t so easy. “But I dunno, there’s something about you, comfortable and familiar like. And you nailed my Nanna’s recipe so I know I can trust you. Just..you know, watch your aim with that fire extinguisher.” He winked at Dex.

Dex laughed.

Derek loved Will’s laugh immediately. It burst out so carefree and full of mirth. Will didn’t seem like one to laugh easily and Derek felt like he’d won a small victory. Will had been decently friendly, kind even, but had a stiffness that Derek hoped to overcome. Although he was fairly certain of the answer, he still asked,

“You?”

Dex shook his head. It’s not that he didn’t like people, though...okay...he didn’t like a lot of people...but, really, it was hard for him to get to know new people and make new friends. It wasn’t easy to trust people he didn’t know. And to be quite frank, he hated the small talk that seemed made up the bulk of conversations with anyone. So he felt like he just didn’t click easily with other people. But Derek was welcoming, warm, easy-going, and very nice to look at, and he had a gracious spirit.

If Dex was completely honest, had the tables been turned, he’d have kicked Derek out as soon as the lack of fire was evident and he’d have dealt with his problem on his own. But sitting here now, at the table together, chatting and talking about the paper and schools and families and interests, Dex knew he had missed this since moving away from home to the Big City. This easy conversation, meandering anywhere and everywhere.

“But I like you!” Dex blurted. He didn’t mean to say that, or to say it exactly like that. “As a friend I mean. A neighbor and a frie-nd.” His face was flaming again and he knew it. He could see a little twinkle in Derek’s eyes that showed he saw it too.

“I get you. I get you,” Derek said grinning broadly again. And the conversation continued flowing, easy, natural, relaxed.

It was midnight before they finished talking and put the leftovers away and did the dinner dishes- during which they chirped each other soundly about “how to load a dishwasher” and “no it doesn’t go in that way” and “if you turn the bowls this way you can fit more in” and “so help me if you unload it and reload it after I’m finished….”

Dex had to get up at six the next morning, but he did not regret the late night one bit.

Years later the “how we met” story they’d tell everyone was about the day Derek almost burned down the apartment building and Will saved the day by nearly freezing his nuts off. The rest...was history.

#nurseydex #omgcp #derek nurse #william poindexter #i wrote a thing #amwriting #writing prompt #nurseydex au #mine

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

shutter captures - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

word count: 1,867

summary: you haven’t taken pictures for a holiday card since you were a child but jeongguk has a new camera and wants to take them himself or your holiday cards to your family announce a little more than the quality of jeongguk’s newest lens

a/n: first part of the “all is calm, all is bright” holiday drabble series!! if you’d like the link to the series masterlist lmk, i still can’t put links in posts i don’t think :’-)

“Okay, okay, I think I got it this time—” Some crunching, a dust of wind, hair tickling underneath your nose and then, “—wait, wait, the angle isn’t quite right, hold on. Stay right there.”

The holes between the knit of your sweater weren’t cute anymore, instead just harboring the collection of chill induced bumps that spread over your skin. Your scarf was the only welcoming source of heat but it was useless at your neck, useful only in lessening the chill on the tip of your nose. You burrowed into the layers of thick fabric with a huff, arms folded tightly to your chest as you watched Jeongguk hobble back to his tripod.

For the fifth time.

“Do something cute,” He ordered, eyes crinkled where they popped over the top of the device. You resisted the urge to flip him off, instead keeping the deadpan expression on your features as you stared directly into the lens.

“Perfect, yeah exactly that…”

“I’m cold,” You stated, obviously, dryly, shifting your boot clad feet into the crunchy foliage below.

Jeongguk barely looked up from where he was tinkering with something on the side of his camera, the lens narrowing, retracting, twirling, none of which he wanted it to do. Instead, the black jacket draped around his shoulders slowly began to come off until he was left in nothing but a sweater the same color as yours, jacket now held in a waiting fist, one he jiggled a little bit in your direction.

You sighed, “You’re not serious.”

He stepped around the tripod, shaking his head as the jacket was spread back across his torso, pink tinted hands pulling on and fiddling with the cuffs. “Absolutely not,” Two long strides and he was to you, hands cupping your elbows, trying to coax them to your sides. You met his twinkling irises long enough for him to peck your nose and tease, “I’m cold too. Stop messing around, baby, let’s get this show on the road.”

You gasped in time with the shutter timed perfectly for Jeongguk’s desired indignation out of you. You continued to gape at his crinkled features, swatting his shoulder as another succession of clicking noises sounded from his tripod.

“Bet those were card worthy,” He snorted, pecking your lips in route to jog back for the camera. You wanted to scream but any desire was cut off as he was cheering, the tiniest of dances meeting the wriggle of lean hips. “I was right!”

“So are we done, then?”

His fringe fluttered in the wind, pasting haphazardly across his forehead as his chin curtly nodded, “Absolutely not. The angle is good now and I’ve fixed a few more settings, but let’s change locations. The lighting isn’t great here.”

You squinted behind you, eyeing the dull pastels of yellow and grey that melded together as the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. “There’s going to be no lighting soon,” You mused, turning only to find him hiking off well in front of you with the tripod balanced carefully over his shoulder. “Guk, hey!”

“I saw a spot when we drove up,” Jeongguk told you as you rushed up behind him, immediately cupping your palms around his camera to support it.

He turned on his heel, jostling you as he continued to ramble, something about some place where there were lots of fall leaves still that hadn’t been destroyed by the recent snowfalls and how the trees curved just right and if you could get there on time, the lighting would be perfect and all you’d have to do is pretend to like each other for as long as he could set the timer. Which was, again, unknown because the camera was new and he hadn’t read the manual, even upon your suggestion to do so because he’d used cameras before and it couldn’t be that different, could it?

The answer was in the time dangerously nearing an hour that it’d taken him to capture maybe six pictures that weren’t of his thumb or chin or your feet.

You stumbled face first into the plane between his shoulder blades, catching yourself with frigid hands on his waist. Jeongguk settled the tripod, turning it with little care to pivot to you with rapt attention. Soft fingertips chilled into something rougher cupped at your cheeks, mouth slotting to the space between your furrowed eyebrows.

“Almost done,” He encouraged, dropping one of his hands from your face to wield his tiniest digit at a crooked angle, “Promise.”

You threaded your pinky through his, giving his hand one hard shake. With a crinkled nose, you added, “These cards better be greater than anything I see from my high school friends on Facebook starting here in a few days.”

Jeongguk laughed, loud and unabashed, hand sliding down your spine to push, coaxing you out in front of the camera lens. “I think you’ll like them,” His voice dropped an octave, like the chattering birds deep in the thicket woodland not far beyond the space he’d chosen.

He was right, you could see the truck from the spot and it was easily better than the prior incline on a hill covered it half chopped leaves from some sort of machine and the gangly, dead limbs that cocked haphazardly from a tree trunk nearby. The leaves were untouched, fuller, still glistening in signs of life, wet tipped reds and rich browns that hadn’t dried completely, not yet. There wasn’t the threat of stepping into any half dead tree limbs because it was an open clearing, grass probably worn underneath the mass of leaves from endless shortcuts taken to get to the hiking trails in the woods where the birds came back to life in your silent observation. Light glimmered out between the silhouettes of towering vegetation, shining between exposed bird nests and clumps of drying moss creeping between the separation in bark and for some reason, the sky melded into the faintest shade of blue and yellow, erasing the dim gray, cirrus clouds crossing in a neat yet unorthodox pattern.

A resounding beep perked your attention and Jeongguk’s hair bounced as he cheered, “Are you ready?”

You nodded unconsciously and you panicked when he was a step before you, hand pressing into the center of his chest as you blurted, “Wait, what pose are we even doing?”

“I don’t care,” His voice pricked on some sort of irritation as he grunted, threading his fingers in yours to place your hand back to your side. Slender fingers squeezing at your waist, catching your attention, amending a half tone softer, “Just look at me.”

A half second before you heard the first sound of the shutter did you remember you probably needed to smile, or at least fake smile, a single, breathy laugh stumbling out of your parted lips as you cocked your chin in Jeongguk’s direction. His lips quivered, almost hesitant as he squeezed your hip again, shuffling the tiniest of spaces away from you. Your faux-but-still-kind-of-real smile dropped into a frown, his hand on you keeping you from correcting the distance as his free arm shoved pointedly into his jacket pocket.

He regarded you under his eyelashes, hand stagnant where it had been wiggling around inside his jacket pocket.

“I have a question.”

Any trace of a smile erased, falling first into unadulterated confusion and then shock when Jeongguk knelt on one knee in front of you.

Now his hand on you kept you in place as you went to take a startled step away, fingers tangling blindly over your lips. A mute scream muffled in your lips, trading for a barely there, soft, “Yeah?”

His features still twitched in apprehension even as a crooked smile seemed to overcome the entirety of his face, crinkles next to his eyes and down the slope of his nose, corner of his lips disappearing into dimpled cheeks. He laughed at your answer to his rhetorical non-question, taking the opportunity to plop the tiny velvet box that’d been weighing a hole in his pocket for weeks onto the apex of his bent thigh.

“Will you, uh—” Jeongguk flicked at the box and squinted up at you as if the glittering reflection off the ring blinded him, “—will you marry me?”

There was the vague afterthought of the continuously clicking shutter but your main goal was to get to Jeongguk, catching your arms around his neck in his quest to straighten and intercept you properly. He hauled you up the rest of the way with him, arms taut around your middle, fist tight on the open ring box.

His back arched, aiding in your giddly kicking feet, laughter mingling with yours. “So…” Your feet hit the leaves below once more, “Is that a yes?”

You were looking at him, all glassy eyes and chilled cheeks and rumpled hair, scarf haphazardly strewn across your chest, but he’d never seen anything more beautiful, especially not when your mouth parted to chastise, “What do you think?”

Jeongguk’s fingers continued to tremble, some mixture of the winter air and the adrenaline he’d been harboring since sneaking off to make the first down payment on the ring. His laugh was just as nervous, gaze flicking between the suspension of the jewelry between his thumb and index finger and your watchful eyes as he tried and failed to push it over your knuckles. You aided him with a gentle hand on his wrist and your forehead against his in the end, the new addition slotting perfectly against your digit.

The camera was still clacking away as you slung your elbows around his neck to bring your mouth to his. He held tightly to the high rise of your waist, as if you and this moment would disappear into the gentle winds tucking the sunlight back underneath the horizon line. But you didn’t and the extra frigid band on your finger touching his cheek was a welcoming shiver down his spine, one that had him curling you a little tighter into him, nose digging into your hair as his lips found purchase on the juncture of your throat.

The timer ran out after a while and Jeongguk released a puff of relief, shoulders relaxing for the first time since he’d dug the ring out from his underwear drawer and shoved it in his coat pocket that morning. His sim card was full now, probably, a cheap one he’d bought with just enough storage to capture your reaction, among a few other things. He’d tried to get a few shots of him holding the ring behind his back while your blurry figure stood, cross, in the background, stupid things he’d seen online that could have been executed a lot crisper if he had someone else taking the pictures but it was the thought that counts and you’d think it was cute anyway.

Or you’d think he was cute, at the very least. Until you uttered, scolded—

“We’re not telling our parents we’re engaged via seasonal holiday card, Guk.”

You could feel the heat that lit his cheeks, sheepish smile curling into the collar of your sweater as he pressed his face tighter against you.

“Your high school friends though?”

#bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk scenarios #all is calm series

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vnderoos · 5 years

Text

game rage ✧ emmett cullen

warnings / language, minor injury.

word count / 3.2k

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) masterlist in bio ↴

⠀⠀⠀⠀"OKAY, I think we're good if we just wait here, Em. You watch for dudes coming from the left and I'll shoot whoever comes from the right," Y/N suggested, hoping that if she added some sort of battle strategy to their Friday afternoon game session, it would push them towards victory. She could see Emmett nod understandingly out of the corner of her eye and she pressed down on the joystick of her controller, putting her avatar in a crouching position. She pushed down one of the back buttons, opening up her scope, and she used the other thumb control to check their surroundings, surveying the fields of tall, animated grass through her gun lense.

There was a soft chink as someone, Emmett she figured, opened up a grenade. "Which way are they coming from?" She asked, her voice quiet as she spun with her scope, but the realization of what her best friend planned on doing dawned on her when she heard his digital grenade clatter against the ground. "Really, Emmett? Again?" She exclaimed, trying to move her character away from the explosive, only to realize that her scope was slowing her down. She frantically pressed the circle button, hoping that it would close but nothing was happening except for the quickening beeping coming from Emmett's side of the television screen. "This isn't— damn you," she hissed as the grenade detonated, knocking her character down into a crawling position as it had taken down her health bar immediately.

Emmett erupted into laughter, throwing his head back as he did, and his bulky body swayed into her own. She scoffed as his shoulder knocked against her, causing her to lean beneath the temporary burden of his weight, and she wasted no time pushing him off of her. "It gets easier every time," he pointed out in reference to the act of blowing her character to smithereens and how this was, unfortunately for Y/N, his fourth time doing so.

She huffed and turned to look at the beefcake beside her, narrowing her eyes at him as he flashed his sparkling white teeth in return. "And more annoying," she countered, enunciating to emphasize her frustration but it only made the smug smirk on his face spread.

Emmett pressed one of the rear buttons of the controller and another chink sounded through the television speakers, his person equipping another grenade from his utility belt and holding it up in the air. "We'll see about that," he mumbled, tucking his tongue beneath his bottom lip as he concentrated on aiming.

"Don't you dare," Y/N scolded as the bright red arch, indicating the path of trajectory his bomb would follow, ended right over her lady. "Emmett Cullen, just put that thing away and revive me, already. We could win this," she protested, smashing the joysticks ruthlessly in the direction that she wanted her person to go. Frustration built up inside of her as her avatar moved painfully slowly around the Jeep that they'd been using as cover. She'd gotten around the hood of the car, but since Emmett's character was much faster than hers—having the advantage of, you know, not being knocked out—he was following her with no trouble at all. "Are you serious right now?" She blurted as her woman somehow glitched and ended up between the two Jeep tires. She tried to get her unstuck, but without being able to jump and without Emmett reviving her, she was royally screwed.

Emmett, that son of a bitch, swerved his guy in front of her own and she watched helplessly as he rolled the grenade in front of her. "This is so much better than winning," he explained and then, Y/N's character died in a fiery explosion.

"Screw you, Cullen," she muttered before setting her controller in his lap. "I'll see you on Monday." Y/N stood up from her place on the couch and started towards the front door without even sparing Emmett another glance.

She could hear the vampire's frustrating little chuckle as he stood up, as well, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floors as he trailed behind her. "You're not seriously leaving right now, are you?" He taunted, throwing his arms out in a gesture even though she was hellbent on not paying him any more attention. When Y/N reached the front door, she roughly twisted the handle and swung it open as hard as she could. She trudged out of the house and tried to close the door on Emmett—to give herself some sort of head start since she knew he was as persistent as anything—but, being considerably taller and impossibly stronger, he bypassed it with no trouble at all. "Y/N/N, stop. This is ridiculous," he called after her but she shook her head and picked up her pace. Emmett groaned, but he kept after her anyways.

At that point, she was practically storming down the steps to the Cullen's driveway. "Oh, almost as ridiculous as blowing me up for a straight half an hour?" She retaliated, but she refused to look at him, determined to keep walking.

Emmett let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a groan and he kept after her anyways. "C'mon," he said, reaching out for her but she evaded his touch just in time. He rolled his eyes. "Swan, you can't throw a hissy fit just because you suck at combat games," he tried to tease and, finally, she whipped around to look at him. Her face wasn't lit up with the bright, mock-offended grin he was hoping for, but instead, it displayed a glare that she was trying extremely hard to make intimidating.

Instead of backing down like he knew she wanted, he laughed at the sight of her angry expression.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Emmett," she snapped. "Can't you see that I'm pissed at you right now?" She asked, crossing her arms almost challengingly over her chest.

"Please," he scoffed, tilting his head down at her and dismissing what felt like every ounce of confidence she had in herself. "I don't care how pissed you are, you'll never be as scary as you think you are," he confessed.

She knew that Emmett hadn't meant it as an insult and that he was just trying to get a rise out of her in the moment, to get a little chuckle out of it, but that didn't change the fact that his comment made her blood boil. Her fists clenched at her sides, so hard that they started to vibrate, and she stared blankly into the swirl of amusement that pooled in his blue eyes. "Can you stop acting like a dick for two seconds, please?" She asked, too heated to even think about softening the harshness of her tone.

Emmett, although slightly taken aback by the flare of fire that she expressed towards him, let out a dry laugh and he nodded slowly. "Alright, fine," he agreed, lifting his hands up in surrender and forcing his lopsided grin off of his face. "Why don't we just put this behind us and head back inside, huh?" He asked. "And, since you're acting like such a baby about this, I'll go ahead and fix you a bottle, too," he added, his sneaky little smirk slipping right back into his lips. The eyeroll that he got from Y/N was one of the grandest he'd ever witnessed and he could see the flushed pigments of her skin grow hotter as her annoyance started to get the best of her. Emmett chuckled at the sight, crossing his bulky arms over his even beefier chest.

"This isn't funny," she snapped.

Emmett shrugged his shoulders and flashed her a crooked smile. "Well, not to you, because you don't know how to take a joke, but—"

"That's it, Cullen," she growled. Y/N didn't know what came over her after that. It was like some sort of white hot rage, fanned by her low tolerance for Emmett's bullshit, clouded her vision and propelled her towards him. She balled up the fingers on her right hand and, before her brain had a moment to process what she was about to do and tell her to knock it off, Y/N drew her arm back, ripped her fist through the air, and slammed it, with as much strength as she could muster up, against Emmett's cheek. There was a soft crunch, like stepping on broken glass, as a hairline fracture split over his crystalline skin, but Y/N hardly registered it. Her mind was reeling with nothing but pain as every bone in her hand felt like they'd shattered upon impact. "Fuck," she hissed immediately, stumbling a few steps away from the diamond-skinned vampire and cradling her injured hand in the palm of her free one. She dropped to her knees. She rocked back and forth on the ground, trying to distract herself from the searing pain in her hand and the burning tears in her eyes, which she screwed shut. "Fuck you and your stupid fucking vampire shin," she cursed, shaking her head profusely and gritting her teeth through the pain. "Fuck you, Emmett," she seethed.

She could hear the snaps of dry twigs and the crunch of dead leaves beneath the soles of his shoes as he took the few steps towards her. He knelt down at her side. "Are you fucking stupid, Y/N?" He asked, his words ridden with disbelief and frustration as he placed a hand on her shoulder. When Y/N, despite being in the worst pain she'd been in since she broke her leg in the seventh grade, still found it in herself to shrug his hand off of her shoulder, Emmett rolled his eyes. "You know, I was gonna ask why the hell you'd risk your own safety to punch me, but I think 'stubborn as fuck' sums it up pretty well," he said and she opened her eyes to shoot him a look.

"Will you stop making jokes and just fucking get Carlisle, already?" Y/N snapped at him. There were hot, pain-induced tears streaming down her pink cheeks, but Emmett wouldn't have even noticed that she was crying if she hadn't turned her head to face him.

"I'll do you one better," he promised, before hooking one of his beefy arms beneath the bend of her knees and moving the other to support her back as he lifted her up off of the ground.

Y/N pressed her free hand against Emmett's taut chest, pushing against it as she squirmed to try to get out of his arms. "Emmett, I said to—"

"Shut up and let me carry you, okay?" He shouted at her and her eyes went wide, hand retreating back to its injured equal and she hung her head slightly. "I'm sorry, I just... it's faster this way," he admitted and she nodded, deciding it was better to just stay quiet before she broke something else.

Emmett sped forward and they were standing before Carlisle before Y/N even had the chance to blink. The blonde vampire studied the two carefully, eyes flitting between the injury she'd sustained and his son, and he shook his head. "Emmett, you should know not to tease the girl so much," he chastised and Emmett huffed in response, rolling his eyes in the man's direction. "She is a Swan and the Swan sisters have proven to make irrational decisions."

Y/N would've laughed if she wasn't halfway between crying and trying to catch her breath. "Look, if we're gonna talk irrational decisions, that's gonna take a while. So, can we wait until I'm not about to pass out?" She asked in one breath, getting the words out as quick as possible.

Carlisle laughed and nodded his head. "Of course."

"Very bold of you to sucker punch a vampire," Carlisle commented as he finished adjusting and buckling the fabric splint he'd slid onto her wrist, an amused smile playing on his lips as he brought up the situation. The device covered her wrist, as well as the ring and pinky fingers that she was almost certain she'd broken. It was also wrapped tightly around her hand, but not enough to where it might cause a problem. "Does that feel alright?" He questioned, tapping his fingers lightly on her covered wrist.

Y/N nodded, glancing over at the closed office door, where she knew that Emmett was waiting for her out in the hallway. She looked back at Carlisle. "It's fine, thank you," she told him, managing a small smile. "And, yeah, my sanity kind of got swept away in the moment and this," she paused, gesturing to her hand with her head, "is the result," she finished.

Carlisle chuckled softly, gathering whatever medical supplies he'd used to help with her hand and placing them back in his first aid kit. "I understand," he told her, glancing up at her with a small smile as he returned the kit to its rightful place in a desk drawer. "Emmett tends to have that effect on people," he added and Y/N immediately scoffed.

She nodded her head, standing from her place in one of Carlisle's office chairs. "You could definitely say that again," she agreed with a hint of playfulness in her voice, despite the temporary annoyance she still harbored for the doctor's son. "I know he means well, though."

"Especially when it comes to you," he pointed out, a grin making its way onto his face as he adjusted the cuffs of his blue button down and crossed his arms over his chest. Y/N's cheeks flushed at the comment and she shook her head slightly. "Oh, I mean it. He really cares about you, even if he has a strange way of showing it," he promised.

Y/N glanced down at her knees and back up at Carlisle. "As much as I hate to admit it, I know," she confessed, smiling sheepishly. Of course she knew that Emmett cared about her. She loved that boy with the entirety of her being and even if he drove her crazy with pranks, teasing, and the occasional argument, he'd proved to her on more than one occasion that he would give his life to keep her safe. She looked towards the door. "I think I need to..." She trailed off, nodding towards the exit.

Carlisle followed her gaze and a knowing look flashed across his face. "I believe so," he hummed.

Y/N moved forward to give the man a hug and he happily draped his arms around her. "Thank you for helping me," she told him and he squeezed her shoulders affectionately.

When they both pulled out of the embrace, they shared gentle smiles. "Of course, Y/N. You're family," he assured her. "Now, your wrist and fingers are only sprained, so they shouldn't take too long to heal, but let me know if you come across any complications," he instructed.

She nodded her head and after bidding her farewell, she made her way to the door and stepped out into the hallway. For some reason, before she'd even laid eyes on Emmett, her heart was thundering in her chest. Maybe it was the thought of admitting she was wrong or the fear that he wouldn't accept her apology, but she was nervous as she shut the door behind her.

Before Y/N could even process the fact that Emmett had been waiting outside of the door for her to come out, he was making his way over to her with a guilty expression settled on his face. "Hey, Y/N/N," he addressed her quietly, his head hung slightly and his arms crossed over his chest as he came to a stop in front of her. "You gonna be okay?" He asked, nodding to the brace around her wrist.

Her eyes followed the jerk of his head and she laughed awkwardly, holding it up briefly. "Oh, yeah," she replied softly. "Carlisle said it's just sprained, so I should be fine in a few weeks," she added, shifting awkwardly as Emmett continued to look at her hand. "I'm fine, seriously," she promised.

Emmet glanced up at her and she could see the regret swimming in his eyes. "Maybe you are, but you have to understand that I'm so sorry, Y/N," he said, reaching out to take her injured hand delicately in his own. "I never meant for you to get hurt, you know that right? I was just being stupid and I—"

Y/N shook her head up at him and she brought her other hand to his, sandwiching his hand between hers affectionately. "Don't apologize, Emmett," she said. "You were just messing around, I get it. It was stupid of me to blow up at you like I did because I know that you were just trying to goof around and laugh with me. I'm sorry that I got so mad at you and I'm sorry that I punched you," she confessed sincerely, her eyes mulling over his features as she looked for any form of forgiveness.

Of course, she found it when he flashed her a small smile. "It's fine, Swan, I'm perfectly okay. You're the one who's stuck with that stupid splint on for the next few weeks," he teased and she rolled her eyes playfully, managing a lighthearted grin. "Seriously, though, I'm not mad at you or anything, but promise me you'll leave the punching the supernatural to your sister next time," he told her.

"I promise," she agreed with a small laugh and she took a step closer to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him into a hug. "Thank you for caring about me so much," she hummed, letting her eyes fall closed as she felt the warmth of his arms embracing her in return.

She could feel him nod against the side of her head and he pressed a gently kiss against her temple. "Of course. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he admitted, pulling away from her just slightly so that he could make eye contact with her. "I love you, Y/N," he said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat at his confession and a giddy smile rugged at the corners of her mouth. "God, you're making me feel really bad about punching you," she joked and he chuckled. "But I love you, too, Em," she reassured him.

Emmett simply grinned and he hooked one of his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head up so he could give her a kiss. Y/N nearly melted into a puddle when his soft lips met hers and she was almost certain that her insides had turned to mush.

"Anyways," he muttered when he pulled away, literally radiating happiness. "Do you wanna go play our game again?" He questioned.

Y/N scoffed with amusement, but she nodded all the same. "Fine. Just as long as you don't blow me up this time," she negotiated.

Emmett only smirked. "No promises, sweetheart."

↴

author's note / sorry, this is terrible haha, it was cute in the beginning but i'm horrible at endings. thank u for reading though! xx

#emmett cullen #emmet cullen x reader #emmett cullen imagines #kellan lutz #kellan lutz imagines #kellan lutz x reader #twilight #edward cullen imagines #jasper hale imagines #twilight imagines

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kpoprunsmylifenow · 5 years

Text

Difficulties Pt. 2

Best Friend!Sf9 x Reader

Fluff

Summary: When you finally get home from the hospital, you knew that your friends had your back.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was people yelling and some beeping. You tried to get up, but something was holding you down. When you finally opened your eyes, you saw a really bright light. When your eyes cleared a little, you looked over to the right and saw a guy.

“Oh! You’re awake.” The man said as he was writing on the clipboard that was in his hand.

“What happened?” You asked as you put your hand on your head.

“One of your friends found you passed out. And he called us.” He said as the ambulance pulled up to the hospital. “If you’re all good, they should just to a quick check up and you’ll be able to go home.”

After some time, and a few tests, the doctor finally came in to talk with you.

“Well, you certainly have been working a lot I’m guessing.” He said after he’d introduced himself.

“Yeah. I’m a producer at FNC.” You stated. “I have a lot of songs I need to write.”

“Well, you’re surely aren’t going to like what I’m going to say then.” He started. “The reason you passed out is because you’ve been overworking yourself. And with that paired that you haven’t been eating and resting like you should be, that’s why you fainted. Have you been feeling weak more than usual?”

“A little. When I would be helping our choreographer with some moves, I’d feel dizzy when I’m dancing.”

“So with everything, I’m going to talk to your company first and get stuff sorted out with them before I give you any final instructions. But it’ll definitely involve a rest for at least a week.” He said as he walked over to my bed. “We’ll keep you overnight so that we can watch you since you did hit your head when you fell. But you should be able to go home tomorrow morning.” He patted my hand and left. You sighed, this was not gonna be good.

The next morning you woke up, you saw your phone on the side table. When you picked it up, you had a lot of missed calls and texts from the guys. Most of them was from Rowoon, since he was the one that was bringing you medicine and some food. Most of them was telling you that he was leaving, and when he was outside your apartment. You guessed that Taeyang was with him because you also got a lot of texts from him when they were outside your apartment. You guessed Rowoon remembered where you kept your spare key outside your apartment and came inside to find you passed out in the kitchen. After that you had a bunch of messages from the rest of them, all of them freaking out and telling you that you needed to take better care of yourself. You chose not to answer them, your manager was gonna be mad enough already. You sighed and as 10 AM rolled around, the doctor came in.

“I talked to your company today, and they’ve agreed to let you rest for at least a week. And you schedule will be cleared for a couple of days after your week off so that you can slowly get back into work. And then when you get back into work, your manager is going to make sure you have a good amount of work and sleep. He’ll also be making sure you eat everyday.” He said as he came closer to the bed. “But the most important thing for you to get some rest and to get a good meal.” You sighed as you nodded. “But your manager should be here soon to pick you up.”

After your manager picked you up from the hospital, the ride home was silent. He’d said that he already talked to the company and would look at some of you already written songs for Junoesque’s next album. You sent a small text saying that you were fine to the boys, knowing that they were worried, and made sure to state that you didn’t want them to come over because your manager was already pissed. Youngbin messaged back quickly, and said that he’d make sure he kept the boys busy.

When you got home, you saw the medicine that Rowoon and Taeyang brought, along with the food, on the counter with the spare key. You put the spare back outside and threw yourself on the couch. It had been so long since you’d gotten a day off, much less a week, so you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You watched TV for a little while, but that got boring. You then decided to make some food, but found that your fridge and cabinets were all empty. You ordered some takeout and took out your lyric book. You’d been working on a couple of songs that you kept for yourself. They mainly were about your personal life and how unsatisfied you felt. Your parents kept asking when you were going to start dating, but when you’d tell them you were focusing on your work, they always seemed to roll their eyes and bite their tongues. You knew they just wanted you to be happy, but you were focusing on your work. It took up so much of your time that if you started to date now, you’d feel so guilty about having to cancel dates and being so busy all the time. It would not turn out good, so why would you subject yourself to something like that. A knock sounded at the door and you quickly grabbed your wallet to pay for your takeout. But when you opened the door, there stood Rowoon and Juho.

“What are you two doing here?” You asked in surprise. They immediately came inside and hugged you.

“We saw your text that you were home and we wanted to check on you.” Juho said as Rowoon kept you squished to him.

“I almost fainted when I saw you on the ground. Y/N you scared me so bad. Don’t EVER do that to me again. Poor Taeyang-ah, he started crying when you were getting loaded into the ambulance.” Rowoon said as he leaned back from the hug and checked over you.

“I’m sorry Ro. All the work I’ve been doing and with how busy I’ve been, I guess I forgot that I’m human.” Juho hit you in the back of the head. “Hey, ow. You can’t be too mad at me either because you overwork yourself too.” You gave him a pointed look and pushed him away with a laugh. “Come inside I guess. I’m also guessing that Binnie doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Uh.” Rowoon looked at Juho.

“No. As soon as we saw the text we ditched the rest of the boys when we were going back to the dorm.” Juho explained as you got a text from Youngbin. You laughed and showed them they text. He’d said that Rowoon and Juho would probably be on their way to see you since they had disappeared on the way home. You quickly texted him back and told him where they were.

“I ordered takeout, which should be here soon.” You said as they got comfortable and turned the TV back on. It reminded you of when you first became a trainee and would hang out with them all the time at your apartment when you had days off. You’d completely forgotten about your notebook, so when you had the takeout in your hand, you saw Juho flipping through it.

“Heyyyy,” You started as you quickly sat the food down and grabbed the notebook from his hands. “I usually don’t mind when you look through my book, but there’s some stuff in there I don’t want you to read just yet.” You said as you went to your room to put it away in the mess of your bookshelf of filled lyric books and sheet music.

“Why can’t I read it now?” He asked as he leaned against the doorframe.

“There’s a few songs I’m working on that I want to finish before I show anyone.” You said as you pushed him back into the living room.

“Can I have a better reason?”

“That’s literally it. And it’s a little bit personal, which isn’t the problem. But I want to finish them and write the music for them before I show anyone.”

“So these aren’t new songs for Junoesque?” Rowoon asked as he’d already gotten some plates and forks.

“Nope. I write these when I can’t write anything for them, and it helps to get my creativeness flowing again.” You said as you started to put food on your plate.

“Maybe you could release a solo album.” Juho wiggled his eyebrows. This made you and Rowoon laugh.

“Yeah right. I’d more than likely just record it and release it as a digital single.” You said as you ate some more. “Plus I think FNC just wants to keep me as a producer since my idol days are over.” You looked over at the framed picture you took with your members before you disbanded. You missed them a lot. They helped you a lot when you were struggling and would always make sure you were taking care of yourself. You looked back at the TV, but Rowoon and Juho saw the look you had. You obviously missed them, with most of your members in another company trying to debut again. One of them even on Produce 101 and won. You’d went to the finale and congratulated her with the rest of your old band members. You were so happy for them, but it seemed like you were stuck.

After some time hanging out with your two oldest friends, you had passed out on the couch, leaning on Rowoon with one of Juho’s old hoodies on. The boys were surprised you still had them after you moved out of the dorm into your new apartment. But you said it always brought you comfort since it made it seem like you were close to your friends when you needed them.

When you woke up, Rowoon and Juho were gone, but they left you a note. You saw that it was only 6 in the afternoon. You decided that you felt good enough to go to the store to get some groceries. You texted your manager and told him that you where you were going, since that was now one of the thing you had to do. And he had taken your studio key, and your key to get into the company. You luckily had your laptop at home and could work on your personal songs.

When you got to the store, thankfully there wasn’t a lot of people there. As you were shopping around, you saw Jaeyoon and Inseong. You snuck up behind them, and back hugged Jaeyoon.

“Hi love.” You smiled cheekily as he jumped and turned around quickly. When you started to laugh, Inseong turned as well and started laughing too.

“Y/N! You scared me!” He said as he put his hand to his chest. You gave him a real hug to apologize.

“Sorry.” You giggled. “It was too good of an opportunity to miss out on.” You gave Inseong a hug too and talked with them for a few minutes.

“I’m guessing they’re forcing you to rest.” Inseong said as they walked around with you as you picked up some stuff.

“Yep. I have a full week off.” You said as you tried to reach for something that was on the top shelf. Inseong saved you and grabbed it for you. “Thanks. And then after the week I have a few slow days to get used to my new schedule and then I can go back to work.”

“I’m glad they’re giving you a well deserved break.” Jaeyoon said as he put his arm over your shoulder. “You looked so tired and worn out when we’d see you at the company.” You smiled a little and patted his hand.

“It’s weird having nothing to do. My doctor recommended me to sleep a lot, which I have, but it’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I had a full week off.” You shook your head and tried to think back.

“You didn’t take a week off for Christmas?” Inseong asked as he put some things into the cart that he knew you liked.

“Nope. I’d take like 3 days off to see my family and then I’d come back to Seoul. Mainly because they’d don’t visit, we skype and facetime. And since they all live in the States it’s a lot bigger deal that it is here.” You said as you looked down at your phone to see your manager had texted you.

“So them don’t visit at all?” Jaeyoon asked as Inseong looked at you with wide eyes.

“Nope. I think the last time they visited was when I debuted.” You said as you texted your manager back about some songs that the company were asking about. “And then before that it was probably when I moved here.” Both boys were shocked.

“Is that why some of the staff would see you in the studio while everyone else was out?” Jaeyoon asked.

“Yep. I’d spend some time there showing everyone the company and then I’d play some stuff I was working on at the time. And then they’d call again when they were opening presents Christmas morning.” You smiled sadly, thinking about all the memories you had when you were younger, opening up presents super early. “I don’t really have any Christmas traditions anymore since I live alone now. When I was with my members, we’d give each other little gifts on Christmas morning and then they’d leave because their parents were in town or they were going home if it was close.” You looked up when you heard someone gasp. It was a teenage girl, who was with her friends. She was looking at the two boys beside you and you smiled weakly at them and told them you’d see them later. When you left, the boys realized how lonely you were. They didn’t know that your family didn’t visit, thinking that they’d come once in awhile. They knew that when your group disbanded, your parents tried to convince you to come home, but you refused and stayed at FNC.

When you finally got home, you put all your groceries away, and sat down to work on your personal songs. You grabbed your guitar and started to play a few chords, looking at the lyrics and trying to see what melody would go good with your words. You were on the couch for almost 2 hours when a knock came at your door. You put your guitar down and saw that the guys were there. When you opened your door, Taeyang hugged you almost immediately.

“Oh my god, please don’t ever do that to me again.” He said as he squeezed you to him. You laughed and ushered them inside. You patted Taeyang and comforted him enough to where he’d let you go. You put your guitar and notebook away and went back into the living room.

“Why are you guys here?” You asked. “I saw you 4 earlier.” You pointed to Inseong, Jaeyoon, Rowoon, and Juho.

“Well mainly, we wanted to know you were okay with our own eyes.” Youngbin said as he patted your head.

“When Tae heard you were home, we had to sit on him until he promised not to come straight over here.” Chani said as everyone laughed. Taeyang blushed and threw a pillow at the maknae.

“You weren’t here!” He defended. “She was just laying on the floor and I freaked out.” This made you laugh some more.

“Alright, alright. So I saw you brought food.” You said as you peaked into the kitchen. Rowoon was there with Hwiyoung and Dawon.

“We did. Since you didn’t get to eat what we cooked last night, we decided to cook here tonight.” Jaeyoon said as he sat on the couch.

“Plus you’ve been so busy that we haven’t been able to hang out.” Youngbin said as he watched Chani and Taeyang fight over the remote. You got a text from your manager again, asking for those songs. You grabbed your laptop and went back into the living room.

“What are you doing?” Jaeyoon asked as you sat down in between him and Youngbin.

“I’m sending my manager some songs that the company wants to look at.” You said as you quickly found the songs.

“Can we hear them?” Juho and Chani asked.

“Sure.” You said as you pressed play on the playlist you’d put them in. The first was a very poppy song, which was what Junoesque’s new concept was. FNC wanted them to have a girly concept and this song was perfect for it. Juho nodded along to the beat and Taeyang got up and started to dance around the room. Inseong peaked out of the kitchen and saw what was going on. He shook his head and went back into the kitchen to help finish cooking. The next song was a ballad you’d written right before you’d disbanded. It was a song about letting go of something. You hadn’t finished the lyrics when your group members left, but after everything had happened, you finished it and recorded it 3 months after the disbandment. Jaeyoon hummed along to the tune and Youngbin rested his head on your shoulder. The next was poppy, but it had a mature appeal to it. In your opinion, you though Junoesque should have a badass concept. It seemed to fit their style, and when they debuted it was their concept. It was almost girl crush, but it had a mature feel to it.

A few more songs played, which they all seemed to like, and after you sent them to your manager, you put your computer away. You stopped by the kitchen to see your other friends who were cooking. Rowoon, Hwiyoung, Inseong, and Dawon were at various places in the kitchen. Inseong and Hwiyoung were chopping some stuff on the island, while Rowoon and Dawon were at the stove.

“Hey guys.” You said as you leaned against the opposite side of the island to watch Inseong and Hwiyoung chop some vegetables.

“Hi Y/N.” Rowoon said as Dawon screeched and hugged you. The others came and and hugged you, and then went back to their jobs.

“What are you cooking?” You asked as you peaked in between Rowoon and Dawon.

“Well since it’s been a while since you’ve had any home food, so Inseong suggested having some chicken and dumplings.” Rowoon said as he took the lid off of the pot. “But we’re also cooking some ramyeon and we brought some kimchi.”

“Oh, I haven’t had chicken and dumplings since before I moved to Korea.” You said as you tasted the dumpling. You grabbed some salt, shaking some into the pot. “There. Let it cook for like 10 more minutes and it should be good.” You said as you leaned against the two boys. As you left to get the rest of the boys, but as you were leaving the kitchen, Inseong stopped you. He hugged you super tight and whispered in your ear.

“I know you’re lonely, so if you ever need to talk or just sit with someone then call me okay. I’ll drop everything to make sure you’re okay.” He let you go and you continued to go get the rest of the guys so that everyone could eat.

Later that night, after all the boys had went home, you thought about what Inseong had said. You quickly texted him that you appreciate him worrying over you, but that you were fine. But if you did get really lonely, you’d tell him and made sure to specify that you didn’t want him dropping everything for you. You’d be okay with a phone call or a good conversation through text to make you feel better. When he replied, he was using a meme of Juho, and said that he no longer spoke Korean or English and that he would make sure to drop everything to make sure you were okay. As you started to get tired, Inseong said goodnight and let you turn off your phone.

You were really glad that you had friends like them. You knew that any one of those boys would do anything for you, and you would do the same for them. You loved them all in their own individual way.

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