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talesmaniac89 · 2 years

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Charity Heist 1 - aka. The Pre-Coffee Preamble

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

“Settle down idjits. We’ve got a new mark,”

Bobby Singer’s voice was clear and all business over the speaker phone in the middle of the table as the rest of your little ragtag group sank into their seats in the War Room. The gruff voice of your leader easily stopping the early morning squabble for the best breakfast bagels that was a daily occurrence at the Winchester brothers’ hideout.

The old abandoned Cold War bunker turned high-tech heaven was the collective home and base of operations for your little group of reformed criminals. Better yet, it was comfortably swanky and freaking massive too. Clearly the work of some paranoid 1950s millionaire fearing that someone would set their claws in his bank account in the midst of a possible nuclear war.

Choosing to instead squander the millions away himself, if your fully kitted out home was anything to go by. As the ridiculously massive underground palace not only had enough bedrooms to house a damn village, but also a random assortment of rec rooms. Ranging from understandable for an apocalypse (a gun range and gym) to just straight up showboating, like the replica Cold War operation room you were currently sitting in.

Hell, even after living there for years you were sure there were still rooms you’d yet to explore.

Still, the bunker was your home and workplace, all rolled into one big ball of concrete, high tech gear and enough weapons to arm a militia. Though your job was a little less ‘The Office’, and a hell of a lot more ‘Ocean's Eleven’...

Just with better intentions, actual skills and a higher level of tech.

In short, your little group was in the business of cons, heists and all things criminal. Though you were far removed from common criminals. No, your marks weren’t the average Joe down the road with too much money lining his pockets. You had your eyes set on bigger fish, or…

Sharks.

As a group made up of mainly former criminals and up-to-no-gooders, you all put your skills to good use. Taking on cases from normal folk and the more righteous side of rich who’d been scammed out of their hard-earned cash. Scamming the wannabe Don Corleone’s and other evil bastards who did it right back. Usually with the added benefit of emptying their bank accounts of all their ill-gotten gains. And, as Bobby kept speaking, this seemed to be just the kind of case that would end up adding zeros to your bank account.

You might be fighting the good fight, but that didn’t mean you had to do so for free. After all, what was the point of the swanky bunker life if you couldn’t live it in relative style and comfort?

“This is a good one, real money up for grabs. So, listen close...” He added once the room quieted down.

As always, the retired military officer was the man with the plan and the guy who decided on your cases. And, as usual, he was locked away somewhere doing God knows what, communicating with you solely via phone. By now your image of Bobby Singer was more speaker than human, or possibly Charlie from Charlie’s Angels; though you weren’t exactly spies. Well…

Not all of you anyway.

Hell, you didn’t even know where he lived. There had been mentions of your very own kingpin owning some impressive real estate tied to the US military's automotive research and development sector once. Though, if that was true, you wished he’d put some of those resources to good use making you a batmobile.

You really wanted a batmobile.

Still, batmobile or no, either way, Bobby was your mastermind. He handled your debriefs, found the connections, got you in the door and more often than not left the legwork to your less-than-family-friendly Scooby gang.

Not that you minded. You loved the action that came with being one of Singer’s little foot soldiers. You got to snatch up some shiny goodies, break into places others saw as impenetrable and, overall, just kick ass. All in the name of doing good.

Though you’d probably never admit to it in fear of sounding sappy, deciding to work for the Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency was the best career jump you’d ever made.

Grinning into your coffee at the thought of a big payday, you kept your eyes glued on the speaker in the middle of the fully kitted out breakfast littering the table. With a new case on the horizon, you didn’t even really need the extra shot of espresso in your usual morning double.

Pent up adrenaline was already coursing through your veins prematurely and leaving you bouncing your leg under the large briefing table. If only to have some outlet for your energy until you could get past the necessary, but boring, planning part of the con and get a piece of the actual action.

It’d been a quiet month, and damn it… You’d been going stir crazy waiting for another case.

You needed a chance to flex your muscles and ensure your skills were still sharp. There was only so much time you could spend training in the bunker’s gym before you needed real field training again. Your sticky little thieving fingers were itching for something to snatch.

But first, you had to do the groundwork. No matter how much the little daredevil on your shoulder was ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

Which meant you had to begrudgingly accept the manilla folder from Sam. Throwing him a small smile that grew wider as the tall man rolled his hazel eyes at you from the way you were nearly bouncing in your seat. The big guy was the youngest of the notorious Winchester brothers, who both topped more than one international most wanted list, and your intelligence guy.

Information and data gathering were Sam's areas of expertise. Which was why he always helped Bobby with the planning and was the task leader on the ground when the big boss wasn’t there. Which was, honestly, most of the time.

More than anything else though… Sammy loved his folders.

Every new con had at least one for each of you. Filled to the brim with everything you needed to know to make your next heist go off without a hitch. Yours even came with highlighted sections; color coded by importance and marking the sections you had to read. Since Sam knew you had the attention span of a toddler filled to the brim with sugar and high on a particularly strong strain of mischief.

Though, truthfully, you did read the info in his precious folders. Every single word. After the briefings. But you’d never tell him. Even under the threat of torture.

Because, even though you loved it when you actually got to stretch your muscles and test your skills, there was no question you’d be dead and buried if it wasn’t for Sam Winchester. His thorough plans and backup scenarios kept your group alive and made you one of the most dangerous con agencies in the world. Hell, before you’d met Sam, your shoot first ask questions later attitude to your own thefts had nearly gotten you killed time and time again.

Better yet, you were also less likely to be locked behind bars with him on your side.

Having graduated top of his class from Stanford Law, he was more than qualified to keep your not-exactly-legal little group out of trouble. Putting his skills and knowledge to good use; he kept your plans airtight and made you impenetrable to any possible retribution. Legal or otherwise.

Judges hated him, lawyers wanted to be him and criminals wanted to hire him. But he was all yours, and by that you meant your group’s. You yourself just saw the big lug of a man as a little brother. One with a massive collection of hair products, flannels and most importantly; one you just absolutely adored annoying.

Which was why you’d take the fact that you appreciated his folder obsession to your grave.

---

“These guys are real monsters,”

Bobby’s voice booming over the speaker system shook you out of thoughts as you quickly skimmed the pages detailing the target of your next heist. Grimacing down at the pictures of angry looking men that filled each and every page. All looking as if they’d been typecast for some typical mobster movie; fully equipped with glaring eyes, designer suits and not-so-pleasant dispositions.

This group seemed to be European, and industrious in their crimes based on what you’d skimmed through so far and what Bobby was saying over the phone. Focusing on white collar cons, scams, money laundering, blackmail and whatever else could net them the biggest profit.

Which in turn equaled big money for you. Score.

You liked big money.

It was why you’d decided to become a thief in the first place. Or at least it was why you’d stayed in the business once you ‘broke out on your own’ as you chose to think of it.

In reality, you’d never really had a choice in the matter, having been forced into a life of crime since childhood. Kidnapped before you were even old enough to remember your parents by a group of men and women in suits who looked suspiciously similar to the ones in the manila folder. Coerced into stealing to stay alive ever since you were old enough to swipe your first piece of candy. And by candy you meant the wallets and documents your adoptive ‘family’ asked you to swipe.

Once you managed to shake them off however, you’d stayed in it for the money. Since your lack of any formal education, or hell, an actual social security number or otherwise registered identity, made it hard for you to walk the straight and narrow. Then, since partnering up with the Winchesters, there was of course also the added benefit of getting most of that cash back to the folks they’d taken it from.

Just like the real-life vigilantes you were. Minus the capes, masks, and superhero names.

Dealing out your own special type of justice to the scumbags that operated just outside the grasp of what the judicial system was capable of tackling by handling the cases that somehow bypassed punishment. Either due to the bad guys having more lawyers, taller stacks of money or the right politicians in their pockets.

On quieter days, you’d occasionally also steal from bad guys just to, well... Steal from bad guys. Take down a ring of pervs, cause a bit of financial ruin for a mobster or maybe just make life a little bit harder for a dirty politician. ‘Cause the days, and sometimes weeks, between jobs could get boring.

Not to mention the fact that you were one of those weirdos that loved your job, and annoying baddies just made you all…

Tingly.

You got to go scaling buildings, play around with high tech toys, trick the best security systems in the world and totally outshine Catwoman. Which wasn’t all that hard really. You were a hell of a lot better at your job than the feline comic book character. Even without the catsuit.

For the first time in your literal life of crime, you were happy. You were doing good.

Though, as with every vigilante, the authorities most likely wouldn’t agree with you. However, what they thought didn’t really matter in your book... Your little agency of the best fighters, specialists and con men in the world were just too fucking awesome to ever get caught.

As Bobby would say (sometimes repeatedly while you rolled your eyes at the speaker phone); in your business, confidence was everything. It was literally in the job title. You were confidence men (and women thank-you-very-much), or con men for short.

You could walk into FBI headquarters, knock on the head honcho's door and easily gain control of the task force out to catch you if you wanted to. It was simply a matter of pushing the right buttons, putting pressure on the right paycheck and threatening the biggest, baddest guy there.

Actually, rumors in the bunker suggested that Bobby already had the InterPol taskforce out to catch you in his back pocket. And you knew, with 100% certainty, that you’d helped out the Brits by acing your latest case up in New York. So, the MI5 kinda owed you… Big time.

This case, however, was definitely you doing good. And you doubted any government agency out there would stand in your way of taking down this particular group.

These greaseballs were digging their filthy paws into pockets they had no business being in. They’d set up a pretty basic charity scam; tricking money out of the pockets of good samaritans only to line their own and fund their criminal activities. All while actually being the monsters behind the problem they were raising money for.

After creating the new highly addictive drug plaguing the streets of small-town America, they started the charity “combatting” the very addiction they caused. Raking in the cash from both sides.

It probably also doubled as a money laundering scam if you knew their type. And you did… Intimately. Their type had beaten everything you knew about infiltration and retrieval into you for years.

Frowning at the words printed on the white paper, you pushed away thoughts of a ruined childhood that you’d rather not linger on just as your hacker and the beautiful brain behind most of your high-tech toys gasped across the table. Dragging you out of your own skim reading and rambling mess of a pre-caffeinated brain with her indignant grumble.

“Kids? Really? Those soulless bastards are actually targeting teens and kids with that drug?”

Your best friend, Charlie, was the first to speak up past Bobby’s briefing. The words laced with disgust and seasoned with a frown as she devoured the information. Your brainiac best friend was, as always, one step ahead of Bobby’s own slower briefing across the speaker and nearly a full page in front of everyone else due to her speed reading.

The girl was a genius. A kinda scared and slightly neurotic genius, but a genius all the same. And you adored her.

“They’re mafia… I don’t think they’re too worried about the morality of their scam,” Dean, the older of the two Winchester brothers, shot in.

Though he was considered your ‘muscle’ and the group’s hitter, Dean Winchester was so much more. The trained mercenary, weapons specialist, mechanical engineer, and possibly also the sexiest man alive, was your group’s proverbial jack of all trades. Though he didn’t know you added that final item to his long list of qualifications in your mind.

You were an expert at infiltration and retrieval, not an idiot.

But damn it, that man should be illegal. And not only due to the little fact that he topped more than one most wanted list for his days as a mercenary, his qualifications, and his deadly skills. He was also hot as hell, and you might just maybe have the tiniest of crushes on him.

Alright… So, the 50% of your brain that wasn’t occupied with thinking of your next con, was fully dedicated to thoughts of the sinfully sexy man. Both the innocent daydreams and the very, very dirty thoughts you indulged in behind closed doors.

Whenever he was around, you were pretty much mentally tongue-tied like some pre-teen in a coming-of-age B-movie. Minus the bad prom plot, awkward jokes and high school stereotype ensemble cast.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been in relationships before, even if they’d mainly been covers for some persona you were playing… But, damn it, none of those men came even close to Dean Winchester.

And as luck would have it, he always sat in the seat right next to yours around the war room table. Which often made it damned near impossible for you to focus on the briefings and debriefings which were kinda integral to your safety and pocketing some not-so-hard-earned cash.

Hence the need for highlighters, in different colors to boot, and a second read through in the safety of your own room. Far from the reach of his absolutely sinfully delicious arms.

But heck, how were you supposed to focus on entry strategies when your eyes were constantly drawn to his perfectly proportioned and expertly trained body?

It was impossible and also very, very mean to ask you to even try.

Especially when it came to those strong arms that you’d spent more than one night in your room dreaming about having wrapped around you. Caging you in his embrace and crushing your heated body against his; hard and soft in all the right places. God, what you wouldn’t give to have those big, calloused hands that were busy leafing through the case details work their magic across your body. Shaping you against him with a hand sliding up your spine or making you his good little girl with a hand wrapped around strands of (Y/H/C) hair… Or...

“Also means this is gonna be dangerous Bobby, these guys don’t mess around,” Dean’s follow up snapped you back out of your own dirty mind as you caught the briefest flash of forest green eyes looking your way.

Your eyes barely caught his before you forced yourself to look back down at the papers in your own hands. Refocusing on a section that Sam had highlighted in yellow, underlined and circled. Yellow was good, it was bright and definitely not penetrating forest green.

Down girl….

“Neither do you son,” Bobby shot back over the speaker system.

The heartfelt nickname still felt strange to your ears even though you should’ve already gotten used to it. Bobby raised the Winchester brothers; they were practically family. The rest of you had joined the group later, all scouted by either Bobby or the boys during particularly hard cases or through friends of friends.

You’d joined two years ago. When they’d needed your particular skill set for a case. And, after nearly having ruined another case of theirs and them saving your life during one of yours, you’d kinda owed them one. The repayment had been a favor for one of Bobby’s friends; stealing back a family heirloom belonging to an older woman from a stereotypical dirty businessman.

It was almost too easy. A simple pressure-based security system, that you’d completely bypassed by scaling the side of the building and descending in from the ceiling. The nice old lady had even baked you cookies when you went to drop the shiny rock off on behalf of the group.

They were damn good cookies too. Chocolate chip, none of that raisin bullshit.

Sure, you knew Sam had somehow been behind it all. Talking the nice old lady into baking, in some sugary attempt to bribe you into joining the crew. Since your intelligence expert had put his skills to good use and somehow found out about your one weakness: baked goods. But still, it was the nicest theft you’d ever been part of, so you’d decided to stick around. Not because of cookies or owed favors, but simply because you wanted to use your powers for good instead of evil for once.

“Mobsters usually also have some pretty good security, but nothing my toys shouldn’t be able to crack. So, if you crack their skulls, you can leave their passwords to me,” Charlie mused, smiling over at where Dean was looking ready to prove himself worthy of his foster father’s words of praise.

She wasn’t lying either. Even without knowing their full layout, you knew her toys could crack any security system.

You’d brought Charlie in after about a year with the team. Tagging her in when Sammy had been unable to hack a particularly secure government database over in Iceland. With a promise of getting her a specific limited-edition action figure she’d been eyeing if she helped you out.

The girl was like an artist with a keyboard and a good WiFi connection. She’d been white-hatting it for most of her life. Though you knew she’d hacked a good few government databases, just to prove she could, even before she took the dive and became your literal partner in crime. Past her skills with a keyboard, she was also your first real friend, and you loved her like a sister.

She wasn’t really cut out for a life of crime though, considering her skittish personality. So, for most of your decade-long friendship, you’d always kept her out of your more illicit schemes. But what Singer & Winchester Agency was doing... That was right up her alley. What with her massive love for anything vigilante. Especially if it came with capes, superhero costumes and secret identities. All the things you’d rather do without.

In many ways she was your opposite; the angel on your shoulder where you were the daredevil on hers.

She’d readily decided to help you. Always willing to help a friend in need, especially if it came with the added bonus of mint condition collector items. Even if said promise included speaking to people she didn’t know.

Which was possibly her least favorite thing in the world to do, other than public speaking to crowds larger than three. Especially when said strangers were, like you, some of the most wanted criminals this side (and likely on the other side too to be honest) of the Atlantic.

Once she’d seen the tech the boys had set up in the bunker however, she’d been sold. Enough to tell you to keep your bonus bribe. Especially since Dean was always there, ready to help her build whatever crazy gadget she dreamed up. As always, your nefarious group of con men always knew which goodies to use to lure someone into joining the agency. With you it had been home baked goodies, and with Charlie it was a literal tech lair.

That… And the figurine had still made its way to her as an early birthday gift just a month later anyway.

And so, your group had gotten a little bigger. All of you being glorified criminals with hearts of gold had of course made for a weird group dynamic. Yet, you somehow made it work. Even when the newest member of your group joined not all that long ago.

“They’re quite the mixed group. Swedish, French and… Russian huh… My Russian might be a bit rusty, but if I brush up on it I should be able to pull it off,” Your latest recruit, Castiel, shot in as he looked at the papers with his usual tell-tale frown of concentration.

The guy was more or less still a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in a trench coat to you. Though you were pretty sure his name was fake.

Castiel, or Cas for short, was your grifter. The man with the face of an angel, who could trick basically anyone into trusting him unconditionally.

So of course, though you liked the fella, you didn’t really trust him. Especially not since he’d dropped in from out of nowhere only a few months earlier. Pulling your collective asses out of a hellish case at the last minute and helping you put a crime lord behind bars.

He’d apparently worked for the big guy before… As in, working for the president in some manner. Secret Service, CIA, FBI, or one of those, if not all of ‘em. But since he quit and now worked in the law’s gray area, he was considered a threat. At least that’s what he’d told you and what Charlie had managed to confirm through some very secret databases. Even if 80% of the documents were redacted.

He was nice however. And you’d grown close to him over the last few months since he was normally your partner on heists. Or, mainly, you’d taken a shine to watching Charlie get more and more frustrated as he shrugged off her pop culture references, not understanding any of them.

Apparently, working for the president left little time to Netflix and Chill, since half of your best friend’s references went straight over the grifter’s head. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he’s spent the better part of his life somewhere off-world on a spaceship.

Actually…. You didn’t know better. Considering his language skills, the man was nearly otherworldly. Easily emulating any character perfectly once he had his role to play.

---

That was your team.

Bobby, the big boss. Sam for intel & planning. Dean for combat and security. Charlie for anything tech and hacking. Castiel if you needed someone’s pants charmed off. And you; the reformed thief turned infiltration specialist, with sticky fingers that could easily retrieve whatever the baddies of the week had stolen.

Even if you might not know everything about each other. They were your friends and your only family in this messed up world that was filled to the brim with mobsters and other monsters. Each one worse than the one before, and every single one of them so much worse than what hid under people’s beds at night. Because your monsters were very much real. And very much out to kill you.

All in all, you were a ragtag group of master criminals turned modern day Robin Hoods. Stealing from the criminal underbelly of the great US of A, and giving to the… Well, most of your clients were wealthy enough to hire you. And some might even have their own skeletons hiding among the designer shoes and dresses in their closets. But they were all law-abiding citizens who didn’t deserve the hand life dealt them. The rest was just semantics.

Plus, the boys always insisted that a cut of your earnings went to some charity or other. Normally some organization that stood in juxtaposition to the bad guys you’d just taken down. Just to pour an extra ounce of salt into the wounds of the bastards.

“So, if you’re all done adding your little color commentary and reading the briefs, let’s move on,” Bobby’s gruff voice sounded slightly exasperated across the speaker.

Which honestly wasn’t anything new.

It was hard enough to get one of you to listen; all of you at the same time was a freaking miracle. Unless you were out on a job that was, then you were a well-oiled con-machine.

None of you spoke up, simply nodding at the phone, though you knew your boss couldn’t see you. At least you were around 75% certain he couldn’t. Though you wouldn’t have put it past him to equip your hideout with some hidden cameras. Either way, he was sure to interpret the silence for compliance.

“Good. The plan is to steal back the money, get the drive where they keep all their sales records and personnel files and preferably also financially cripple their organization just enough to stop them from trying anything like this scam again. Cherry on top would be to put the Al Capone wannabe running the whole show behind bars,” He summed up over the slight crackle of the speakerphone.

All in all it was pretty simple, as far as plans went. You wouldn’t have to break into any top-secret government facilities this time around at least.

“So, what’s the next step, boss?” You asked, grinning at the rest of the group in anticipation of the next heist. Letting the folder drop unceremoniously down onto the big mahogany table, you kept your eyes on the speaker. Though you knew it would annoy Sam to see you treat his little manila baby so poorly.

“First… We bring in the bad guns,” Bobby said, causing Dean to groan. The rest of your party joining in like an exasperated chorus only a split second later.

That nickname could only mean one man… Sure, you all had your own backgrounds in the not-so-law-abiding, but that guy easily made each and every one of you look like perfect little angels.

“Crowley… Really?” Sam asked with a tired sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Confirming what you’d rather have him deny just as the groans died down.

Big bad was coming to play.

Fan-fucking-tastic…

---

Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70

Forever tags will be added as reblog. Crossed through names can not be tagged.

#dean winchester fic #au!spn #dean au #au!dean winchester #tales89writes #hitter!dean #thief!reader #supernatural heist au #supernatural leverage au #spn heist au #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #dean winchester heist au #mercenary!dean winchester

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urmomsspeciallady · 1 year

Text

Chapter Two- we've been here before

sign of the times - harry styles

POV: Kenneth McCormick

It's always the same, each time in it's own different way. I've gotten used to it by now.

My legs swung off the side of my bed as I stood in front of my subpar-mirror. I'm still in my parka, still in my jeans, and my boots. How the hell did I sleep with boots on? Then again, how the hell did I wake up?

I tilt my head in a few different angles and to no avail I seem perfectly fine. Freckles and handsome features, if I do say so myself, all in tackt.

Atop the mirror, covering some cracked pieces, sat a brightly colored paper. I peel it off and feel my heart melt.

ₜₒdₐy'ₛ gₒᵢₙg ₜₒ bₑ ₐₙ ₐₘₐzᵢₙg dₐy! ~ Bᵤₜₜₑᵣₛ

( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

He must have placed it without me knowing sometime yesterday. I caught a glimpse of my reflection as I placed the note back. It's been a while since I've seen myself smile.

---

The iced-over grass crunched under my boots. Another long day ahead of me, I really wish I would just.. Take a break sometimes.

"Hey Kenny." Kyle greeted me as I made my way to the bus stop.

"Hey Kyle. Sup Stan."

My friend Stan turned his head towards me faltering for a second, "Hey Kenny. You alright?"

Please God, does he remember even just a little? "Hmm, why?"

"Just askin." Never mind. Screw my luck.

Wind whistled by as we stood, other than the greetings previously exchanged, no one spoke. Not even Cartman, which is surprisingly uncharacteristic for him. I wonder what happened before I got here.

"Goddamn asshole’s gonna make me miss the bus." And there it is.

Kyle, frown painted across his face, shot back "Yeah, out of anyone here you are the LEAST likely to wait for Butters. Or anyone for that matter."

"I need someone smart enough to do my math homework on the bus. You'd think Jews would be good with numbers."

"Fucking shut up, Cartman."

The silence returned. Nothing but the rustles of branches on trees could be heard. Soft blows of wind brushed past my face.

I pull my phone out to check on the time. 3 more minutes. With no idiotic conversations to entertain me, I might as well play some game on my phone.

I scroll through my home screen, passing by each app with extreme exhaustion riddling my very essence. It was a long night, alright? Slowly but surely, I heard footsteps rushing towards the bus stop. Turning my head up, I see Leo.

"Well hey there fellas!"

My phone goes back into my pocket before I pick my hand up to wave.

"You were almost late."

Why can't this fatass shut up? I mean he managed it a few minutes ago.

"Oh boy, Eric, I know but I did make it didn't I?" Leo's face was flushed, and he was slightly out of breath. He must've woken up late again. I hope he's alright.

Loud creaks of bus tires stop my train of thoughts and Stan starting to get on the bus helps my body catch up.

Passing the aisles, I find my seat and sit down. Eric sat in the seat across from me. Is he really fucking pulling out his homework? He catches me staring and I send a glare his way. That seemed to scare him enough.

Leo made his way down the aisle and slid in next to me. The bus started yet Butters sat still, staring out the front window. I suppose it is a slow morning for all of us.

"Good morning." I smiled at him, though he hadn't even turned my way. His eyes still followed the line of trees out the window.

"'Mornin, Kenny."

Something seems off but it's alright honestly. When is it not off in South Park, Colorado?

The whole bus ride, no other words were spoken by Leopold Stotch. At one point he simply smiled and handed me one of his bagels. I really appreciate it, honestly I do, I'm just preoccupied with other thoughts.

I think something happened and I think I'm worried about him. Now, as the bus finishes pulling into the school parking lot, I nudge my elbow gently at Butters's side.

He just stands up and starts walking towards the front doors. My face twists quizzically. What's going on with him?

"Hey Leo, you okay?"

No response.

I followed behind him and out in front of the bus. Getting ready to ask again, I saw him turn around and face me.

"Sorry I didn't hear ya; it's so loud on the bus."

Giving a shrug I tell him it's alright and repeat the question. He seems to ponder on this for a second then assures me he's okay. Taking note of the time, I poke fun at him and he tags along. I really like how kind he is, he's easier to hang around with than.. Well.. My other friends. Sure Kyle and Stan had their moments, but they weren't my Super Best Friends. Though he'll never know: Leo holds that title.

Jesus. Who made me such a poet today? I guess that's what dying does to you over time. That or my messed up sleep schedule.

----- end of chapter

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#build me up buttercup sp #Spotify

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sanctum-of-ramshackle · 2 years

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Do We Have a Deal?

TWST AU: An MC/Yuu from Hazbin Hotel

Demon Lord!MC/Yuu

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, Crowley “accidentally” summoned a demon and they now hang around NRC.

[TW]: A brief mention of MC/Yuu having intrusive thoughts of consuming human souls and flesh.

Gender Neutral MC/Yuu

[A/N]: I have been listening to Insane by Black Gryph0n (ft. Baasik) and it’s quite catchy.

First question: How did they arrived in Twisted Wonderland?

There’s an old forbidden book locked away in an enchanted glass case, hidden deep in the library to prevent students to have their hands on it. Dire Crowley, as irresponsible as he is, decided to open the case just for curiosity.

Trein spotted him and warned him about what it contains. Incantations, immoral rituals, harmful spells, the list goes on. (Don’t ask me how he knows. All I can say he’s way old to know what’s dangerous.) After being warned, Crowley still continues to possibly doom everyone’s lives.

He got the book and flips through the pages containing cryptic symbols and eerie messages written from the previous writer. Then he finds one page that caught his masked eyes.

[Pg. 667: <The Radio Demon>]

The summoning goes by a ritual involves a secluded area, 5 candlesticks, a pentagram with symbols copied from the page, an old radio and a drop of impure blood. There’s specific instructions the reader needs to follow.

Then Crowley proceeds to perform the ritual in the Mirror Chamber. As he finishes the instructions, the floor cracks opens to reveal a figure in a sharp suit with asymmetrical deer antlers and eyes glowing eerily staring at Crowley.

“Who has summoned me and what business you have in mind~?” Their voice as if muffled through a microphone with technical problems at a radio station.

“The Radio Demon?”

*Record scratches*

Now in their actual voice. “…That’s my brother, Alastor. I’m the Static Demon.”

Yep. That’s right. They’re related to The Infamous Radio Demon.

There’s been a HUGE misunderstanding. The demon snatches the forbidden book out of Crowley’s hands and flips to their page.

[Pg. 667 <The Radio Static Demon>]

“I told that writer not to write in a candle lit room at night. Great, now I need to get this over with and finish what started.” They mumbled before turning the attention to Crowley, shadowing over the headmaster. Smiling sinisterly down at him.

“Now tell me, my fellow crow-man, do you wish to make a deal~? If you try to trick me with your human cleverness, it won’t work.”

Now Crowley screwed up. He unleashed a demon who can turn people mad. He panics and offers a deal for them to hang around while try not to cause insanity.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu was just summoned in an unfamiliar world so why not explore the place.

Also Static Demon!MC/Yuu found Grim and demands Crowley to register the feline creature in the college since they see great “potential” in him.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Young man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What Great Seven? I only know powerful people from Hell, and one of them is me~

[Croaks their neck to the side while smiling creepily over Ace. Static noises start deafening the First Year student’s ears.]

Ace: *Covers his ears* *Has a terrified expression and internally screaming*

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Are we clear?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *Pulls out their reading glasses and reads a contract from Azul* …You boys are idiots.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim: Eh?!

Ace: You don’t have to remind us about it.

Deuce: We’re really sorry, Lord MC/Yuu…

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: You should’ve asked for my help with the exam. Not sign your will off with a grubby eight-legged mafia boss.

Trey: MC/Yuu, what do you usually eat?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu’s cannibalistic thoughts: ‘The souls/flesh of the innocence!’

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Bagels.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu’s cannibalistic thoughts: ‘What?! No!’

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: And venison. That’s what I usually consume back home.

[(A/N): Little lore for this MC/Yuu: They try to eat less human flesh since after having access to the internet back in Hell, they got disgusted by facts of what diseases their future victims can carry.]

💫Reblogs help creators!✨

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst au #twisted wonderland mc #twst mc #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #hazbin hotel #demon lord!mc #demon lord!yuu #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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miekasa · 4 years

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bad romance

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genres and warnings: friends with benefits au, friends to lovers au (well i guess that’s open for interpretation lmao), modern au—college au?, explicit smut, mentioned/implied virginity

+ summary: friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school is probably a bad idea. friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school who you’ve also been in love with for the past seven years—all for the purpose of her gaining ‘experience’ so she’s not nervous to do it with some other guy she has a crush on—is probably a really bad idea. levi ackerman is not known to make great decisions.

+ word count: 3.5k

+ notes: truth be told, i don’t even know if i like this; i took this from an outline/draft of a series i’d planned but know i’ll never complete. it’s kind of unedited too heh, also if you’re a minor pls do not interact

Levi doesn’t think anything of it when he finds you on his doorstep on a rainy Saturday evening. It’s very much like you to show up unannounced and attempt to drag him into whatever activity you want to do that day. He’s fairly certain that Hange picked that up from you. Someone should tell her that it doesn’t work so well unless it’s you tugging on his arm sleeve and interrupting his otherwise peaceful evening.

So, for a while, everything is normal. You make fun of him for his use of, admittedly overpriced, organic butter when he toasts you a bagel; he makes jabs at you shuffling around his apartment like a semi-wet chihuahua, and all is right with the world.

Until it’s not. Because half-way into whatever stand-up comedy Netflix special you’d persuaded him into watching with you, Levi’s had enough of your nervous ticking. He doesn’t know if you think that he wouldn’t notice, but he does. And he knows it��s not the result of you still being wet or cold from the rain, seeing as you’ve long since dried off and warmed up.

You’re focused on the show (ironically, focused to a point of distraction), you’ve been twiddling your fingers since it started, and you’ve been fidgety since you stepped foot into his house. Quite frankly, he finds it insulting that you think he wouldn’t know something’s up by now.

So, he bends his knee, turns his body towards yours, lifts his elbow to rest atop the edge of the soft, and presses his cheek into his palm: “Alright, spit it out.”

“Huh?—What do you mean?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes. He looks back at you with unamused, expecting ones.

You crack a nervous smile, attempting to laugh off his command as incredulous, but instead, your voice comes out in what sounds like a pathetic attempt to cover up a lie—probably because it is, “What? Can’t I spend sometime with my favorite, surly psychology student?”

Levi scoffs at your batting eyelashes. The look he throws you seems to do the trick as you drop your facade with a sigh and shift yourself to face him on the couch too, your bent knees almost touching.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” you sigh, hands resting in your lap, “You, um... you know how you said you’d help me with, like, uh... sex and stuff?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. Of course he does. He watches as your eyes dart around the room waiting for his response. It’s cute as heck, and if the topic of conversation at hand weren’t about to get so compromising, he’d have probably teased you about it.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… okay, so, you remember Jean, right? The guy I told you about?”

Levi hums. Yeah, he remembers Jean, but only because you can’t seem to shutup about him, not because he’s particularly memorable otherwise. He seems to be kind of a prick and a huge idiot, if you asked Levi; but, that’s kind of his default impression of most people.

“Jean and I hung out yesterday, and it was normal, you know? We just talked and ordered food and watched a movie,” you rub your palms along the fabric of your yoga pants—another nervous tick he’s been observing, “I don’t know if it was a date or not, because he didn’t say it was, and I don’t want to assume, but Marco keeps saying it was, and that Jean wants to actually ask me out.”

Levi blinks. “And?”

“And if he does ask me out—or even if he just… I don’t know, wants to try something the next time we hang out, I don’t want to look like a complete idiot!”

He refrains from letting a noticeable grimace take over his features; and washes away the unsettling feeling in his stomach with a nonchalant comment, “I doubt he’ll try anything on your first date.”

“But what if it’s not a date! People hang out just to hook up all the time.”

“I thought you wanted to date him?” Levi questions, but his it comes out as more of a deadpan statement.

“I do,” you answer, your response a little delayed and drawn out, “But, I wouldn’t mind just sleeping with him, either.”

“Bold statement from someone who’s never slept with anyone before.”

“Have I told you today that you’re an asshole?” you roll your eyes at him, “Come on, Levi, you know what it’s like to just want someone, but not want them, don’t you? You’ve had one night stands before.”

That’s true, Levi knows it, but it’s different. He wasn’t actively seeking advice from his friends about how to pursue and potentially please his one night stands because none of that mattered—well, the pleasing part, probably, but not the pursuit, or the feelings that came with it. Besides, Levi hasn’t felt the desire for any of that in a long time.

“That’s not the same,” he responds, trying to dismiss the muddy feelings crawling up his throat, “Look, if your Jean guy gets horny when you’re hanging out, just make out with him—make him jizz his pants or something.”

“That’s terrible advice,” you frown, “Plus, he’s probably done that with a million other girls.”

“Probably. Sex tends to repeat a few basic actions here and there.”

“For a psychology student, you sure are a terrible makeshift therapist, do you know that?”

“That’s not even the kind of psychology I study, never mind that I never asked to be your therapist.”

Levi takes great amusement in your huffing and the frustrated pout settling into your features, though he does his best to not let his own smile shine through. It’s probably futile; you can probably see through his facade, anyways.

“I just don’t want to bore him, Levi.”

Any trace of his smile vanishes as those words leave your mouth. Levi doesn’t retain much about this Jean guy you keep going on about, and he doesn’t care to in all honesty—but maybe if he did, he could understand why you’re so hellbent on pleasing the kid.

Levi doesn’t like it, not one single bit. His own feelings for you aside, he doesn’t like how Jean has managed to worm his way into your head and make you think that he’s deserving of any kind of affection from you, whether it be platonic, romantic, or sexual. Because he isn’t; Levi might not know him, but he knows that much.

Still, he sympathizes with you. He understands the pressure of navigating dating and hookup culture, especially in a university setting; never mind the additional expectations set on you as a girl. It’s shitty, all of it; the stupid feelings, the sense of uncertainty, the dumb-ass college pricks. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that.

“You won’t,” is Levi’s simpler response, “Just don’t crush his dick in the process.”

“I wouldn’t do that, fuck you.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve never been the most coordinated person in the world,” he taunts, “If that’s what you came here today to ask me to help you with, it’s fine.”

“Really?—I mean, okay, I know we said that’s okay, and stuff, but I didn’t know if—well I don’t know what’s on the table or not? I do want to do that with you, but I also wanted to know if we could do… more? But I didn’t want to ask for too much and make you uncomfortable! Do we need a lesson-plan of sorts, because I can make—”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Stalling,” Levi tells you, “You know, how when you get all nervous and ramble, then run out of breath or things to say, then get super quiet, and let the conversation die and be awkward again.”

You throw daggers his way with your eyes, and Levi has the audacity to smirk. “Forgive me, it’s not every day I ask my best friend if I can suck his dick for practice.”

“You can,” Levi replies, a little too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “If you want. I don’t mind. As for a lesson plan, that’s weird as shit, so don’t do that.”

“Really? I can?” you question again, an ironic child-like glimmer of joy in your eyes.

Levi chuckles lowly at your enthusiasm—your appreciation is so genuine, he finds it nothing short of adorable. And oddly enough, he’s a little turned on by it, too.

“Yeah,” he nods his head shallowly, “You can.”

You still have that gleam in your eyes, but Levi can feel the hesitation creeping up on you, and offers his guidance before he loses you to a shell of yourself. He shifts over to you just a bit, loosely holding your right wrist in his grip; holding eye-contact, he carefully pulls you up to stand in front of him.

“You can start,” he says, slowly tugging on your wrist, “By getting on your knees and taking off my pants.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, you’re already kneeling in front of him, and the sight is already enough to have Levi semi-hard in his pants; an almost embarrassed flush washing over his body as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s thought about this visual more times than he cares to ever admit.

You fumble with the zipper of his jeans, pulling them, along with his boxers to pool around his ankles. Your actions are careful and calculated, but you seem comfortable—maybe not with your skills, but with Levi.

His eyes stay glued on you, when you finally hold his length with a single hand, the other resting hot on his thigh. He leans over again, this time to rest a comforting hand on the back of your neck, eager to wash away any remains of your nervous resolve.

“Start slow,” he instructs, feeling your thumb swipe along the head, “Just move your hand up and down a bit, like—ah, yeah, like that.”

You seem follow his words carefully, focusing on the way his dick jerks in your hand. Levi observes you carefully and mentally notes that while he’d have liked it, not making out with you before this was probably the right call—he’d probably have creamed his jeans before this could have begun.

“You can grip it harder,” he tells you. You listen, applying slightly more pressure to your grasp; and it makes Levi groan, short, but strangled, above you.

“Okay?” you question, the genuine concern in your voice enough to make Levi’s gaze soften.

“Yeah, that’s—you’re doing good,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the nape of your neck habitually, “Twist your hand a little when you go up, you can—fuck, okay, yeah, that, like that.”

You snap your head up to look at him when he lets a moan slip through; nothing but pure enthusiasm and satisfaction dancing in your eyes. Levi grits his teeth when you do it again, your thumb sliding over the tip when you reach the top of his dick, and, Christ, you’ve got to stop looking at him like that.

You work your way into a steady rhythm, letting Levi’s moans guide your movements. You feel him harden to full length under your touch; and when he does, you move your hand faster, twisting your wrist around the length and squeezing just a pinch harder at the tip, without instruction.

He watches through lidded eyes, using his thumb to press lightly into the back of your neck. You move your free hand from his thighs, eager to add it to the mix, but Levi freezes.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head.

It prompts you to stop your actions, tilt your head and look up at him, and Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so sinful. Your complete focus on him, neck craned obediently, eyes twinkling under your lashes; your position makes him want to kiss you or choke you or something in between.

“What—did I do something wrong?” you ask with wide and innocent eyes that make Levi feel bad for worrying you, yet send an erotic pulse throughout his body.

“Not at all,” he reassures you, fingers treading into the hair at your nape.

He’s setting himself up for failure, and he knows it, too—because, really, who agrees to teach a friend how to suck dick? Having you on your knees in front him, crane into his touch, and keen to all his desires, does nothing to mask the painful fire in the pit of his stomach.

It’s stupid to be this hungry, this possessive over you when he knows you come to him in hopes to learning how to please another man. But one, precious thought is enough to cloud over all of that, enough to put that sadistic smirk back on his face.

“You said you wanted to give me a blowjob, right?” he questions, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at the shallow nod of your head, “Okay. Open your mouth for me, yeah?”

He barely pushes the tip past your lips when your head dips forward, tongue peeking out to lick the very top. Levi sucks in sharp air between his teeth, relaxing into the couch when your head bobs further, enclosing the tip of his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice hoarse when his hardened cock rests against the velvet wet of your tongue, “That’s it—just keep going, like that.”

He watches intensely as your head bobs onto him. It’s hot and wet and so much more than he’d imagined it would be; and he’s not too shy to admit he’s imagined this with you. He moves his hand to brush away the flyaways of your hair, smoothing them back and tangling his fingers at the back of your head. He carefully guides your movements.

It’s slow and steady, and normally, it’d take him a while to cum like this, but with the visual of having you on your knees for him, Levi can feel a faint warmth of his orgasm already beginning to bubble inside of him.

“This is okay, right?” you pull back, a thin line of spit trailing from your mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he answers immediately, unaware of his tightening grasp on your hair.

With a shy smile, you continue, taking more of him this time and carefully gauging his reactions. You move your head further down, testing your own limits, until you feel like you’re choking. You pull back again, with an embarrassed cough.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says softly, rubbing soothing circles into your neck with his fingers, “Guys can’t actually tell the difference between a regular blowjob and being deep throated, no need to choke yourself.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, resting you bum against your heels.

“You seem so surprised.”

“That’s just so… disappointing,” you crinkle your nose, “Men and porn make deep-throating seem like the end all be all of giving head.”

Levi chuckles in genuine amusement, “Well, it’s not, trust me. If any guy insists on being deep-throated just to cum, he’s a fucking liar. He’s getting off on the submission, not the actual feeling.”

“The submission?”

“Getting someone to be willing to listen to them, telling them what to do, how to please them,” he shrugs, “Makes you feel like you’re in control.”

“And that… that works?”

“Yeah,” Levi says, “But, judging by the tone of your voice, and how willing you were to suck my dick three seconds ago, I’d say the idea of being dominant doesn’t really appeal to you.”

You scrunch your nose again, “Does it appeal to you?”

Levi pauses, thinking over his answer, before giving you a simple, “Yeah. Most of the time.”

“Oh,” you hum, “I… I don’t think I’d like that. I think I’d rather be told what to do, seeing as I don’t really know what I’m doing, anyways.”

“Ironic, considering you’ve never once listened anything I tell you do.”

“I was listening when you told me how to suck your dick,” you correct him, “You seemed to enjoy that.”

Levi pauses with a raised eyebrow. You don’t seem to back down, that matter-of-fact smirk on your face still mocking him. He leans over slowly, using his right hand to guide your head closer to him, and uses his left hand to grab your jaw between his fingers.

“You can be such a fucking brat, you know that,” he all but whispers, pursing your lips together in his hold, “Since you like listening to me so much, then shut up, and we can finish what you started.”

You blink, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression. He’s right that under any other circumstance you’d probably run your mouth off about him telling you what to do. But something about the way he knows what he wants and tells how he wants it makes you listen without an argument.

You nod, slowly wrapping your lips around the tip again, and bobbing along his length. Levi’s breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks slightly, a rough hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

“You’re really—god, okay, you’re good at this, you know,” Levi praises you, letting his right hand resume its position at the back of your neck.

If you had any doubts before about being submissive, the look on Levi’s face seemed to have wiped them away. Watching him throw his head back, his fingers gripping at your nape, his cock in your mouth—pleasing him seemed to be enough to please you, too.

“I wanna make you cum, Levi,” you voice your thoughts, letting a hand lazily jerk him off in the mean time, “Tell me what I have to do to make you cum.”

“If you keep going, I’ll cum,” he answers too quickly, a groan slipping through his words, “Trust me.”

“Come on, Levi,” you push, rolling your thumb over the slit of his dick. It makes him inhale sharply; you’re getting a little too good at that; at all of this. “Can—I mean, do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Shit, shit. Don’t say shit like that,” he curses, blunt nails raking and scraping at your scalp, “You don’t have to—I can just—”

“I want you to,” you tell him earnestly, “Please?”

Fuck, he was pretty fucking certain he’d told you to stop saying shit like that. Levi bites the inside of his cheek, paces himself; uses both of his hands to hold your head gently, while you use yours to wrap around his cock.

He grunts with a shake, and rolls his hips up, pushing himself further into your mouth, but not so much as to hurt you. It’s soon after that hot strophes of cum wet your tongue, and Levi lets you lazily jerk him off until you’ve milked his orgasm.

The room is silent save for his low moans and the squeaking of his thighs against the leather couch. When he’s finished, he slouches back, looking at you through hooded eyes, sweaty and panting, when you close your mouth and swallow.

You use your fingers to collect any remaining cum from his softening cock, and hum contented as you put your fingers in your mouth. Levi locks eyes with you again, cheeks flushed as you pull your digits out of your mouth, and he has to grip at his own thigh to gain the self-control to not get hard again.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him some day.

He shakes his head when you move backwards with a cute smile and pulls his boxers up, then his pants as best his can, not bothering to zip them up. When he’s done, you stand to your feet then straddle him on the couch, laughing lowly at his post-orgasm haze.

He doesn’t think twice about the way your hands clasp at the back of his neck, or the way his find their way to rest on your hips. You grab ahold of his jaw with both hands, holding his face in place. He thinks you’re going to lean in, but you don’t; just stay like that, your eyes roaming his glassy eyes.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me all day?” he questions, lips pulled into a knowing grin.

“Can I?” your question makes him frown in confusion, “Dunno, I heard some guys don’t like that after getting head.”

“Bunch a fuckin pussies,” he grumbles, leaning forward to close the gap between your mouths. He can feel you smile into it, and mimics your grin when you begin to press short, repeated kisses against his lips.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

He laughs when you continue to press quick kisses on his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You kiss him on the cheek, wet and dramatic. “Love you, Levi.”

Your face is right in front of his, but he averts his gaze, a different kind go warmth spreading throughout his chest when you flash a smile at him. He lets you kiss him again, longer this time, but still slow and sweet. He likes the feeling of you resting against him, affection lingering on your tongue when you kiss him.

It’s dangerous, but he likes the way you spark a fire in him. Sweet or sinful, it makes him feel boneless, wanted, loved.

Levi leans forward, rubbing his hands up your sides, and captures your lips in another languid kiss before pulling away to peck the corner of your mouth. “Love you, too.”

And he means it of course, but if Levi thought he had it bad before, he’s in deep shit now.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #eren x reader

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bourbon-ontherocks · 3 years

Note

Fave gg fanfic writers and why?

Ouuuuh, let me check my AO3 subscriptions, anon!! *cracking knuckles*

So here we go (not in any particular order). Basically my ‘why’s are either angst or crack since that’s what I run on. My apologies to fluff writers, it’s not personal ❤️

elisewrites @elise-jupiterstyle Why: One of the best fanfic writers in this fandom in my humble opinion. Gorgeous writing style, on-point POV characterization, amazing dynamic, dark and poetic settings, and ANGST. Like, a lot.

riosnecktattoo @riosnecktattoo Why: Queen of burlesque!Brio (Beth falling down the piano while trying to look sexy in Heart and soul is a picture that will haunt me for all eternity) but also master of angst and weird obscure kinks that are for some reason my jam (I’m still waiting for this brainplay sequel to beheading, Tay! 🧠🧠)

s_t_c_s @sothischickshe Why: Such a very unique voice and style, bizarre ideas that oddly make sense, delightful humour, hilarious POVs based on the objective fact that Beth and Rio are complete idiots. Also amazing angst when she decides to go down that route.

fireinsideforfun Why: Look. Look. A rational choice is literally the reason why I’m (still) here.

EnsignDisaster @betterhomesandhobbits Why: Absolute crackfic Master! Proper skincare had me howling, and don’t even get me started on the genius that is The goodest boy. One of the funniest writers in this fandom

convolutedConcussion @johnisntevendead Why: It’s just perfection. Humour, characterization, crankiness, lunacy, EVERYTHING, I’m telling you!

MissMaxime @missmaxime Why: One of the most creative writers in this fandom. An abiility to craft extremely cinematic phrasings and hilarious lines that I’m extremely jealous of. Oh, and see also: ANGST. Will I ever stop rambling about Ain’t no sunshine? Probably not.

Niham87 Why: Extremely gorgeous prose, original and funny AUs that I hope will be continued one day, great characterizations and stellar smut.

femalegothic @femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs Why: S M U T. Amazing outsiders POVs. But also a lot of humour and responsible sex pro-tips in the author’s notes.

whiskeyjack @whiskeyjack Why: I’m basically taking an English vocabulary class every time this woman posts something. Metaphors. See also: realistic and physically-rooted depiction of traumas and injuries u n l i k e a certain show

septiembre @septiembrre Why: Ugh, where do I start??? Amazing characterizations and voices, great writing style, in-character romance, fluttering moments between two stubborn idiots that will make you pull your hair in sobbing frustration and be like “uuuuuuugh! Why are they like this?”

fondful @fondful Why: Dark and poetic writing. Desperate mood. Aaaangst. Or you know... completely random and hilarious bagel AU where people craft penis-shaped embroideries, I mean, you can never know what will come out!

#anon #ask #fanfic #brio fic #fic rec #authors rec #nbc good girls #brio #thank you anon #that was fun!#but also now I want to re-read EVERYTHING #😭😭#also I wanted to include so many more!

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orbital-obvious · 3 years

Text

Incorrect Bad & Crazy cause I’m bored

Literally everyone: All you do is bitch. Su Yeol: I happen to bitch the perfect amount for someone in my situation.

K: *landing on the car with his coat on fire making a perfect pose* Su Yeol: Ohhh, superhero landing. Always hard on the knees.

Oh Kyeong Tae, getting vilontley assulted the second time the same episdoe: I tried keeping a positive approach, though I will admit, things were getting pretty dicey.

Su Yeol, woken up again by K kicking his ass: well well well, If it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.

Su Yeol: Hurry up! What do you think I'm paying you for? K: You don't pay me. I don't even exist. I’m just a hot visual metaphor used to personify the abstract concept of your consciousness and your wish to fight agaisnt curroption. Su Yeol : One more crack like that and you're outta here! K: NO, PLEASE! I HAVE THREE KIDS!

Su Yeol: Goodbye everyone, I'll remember you all in therapy.

K, appearing in the sauna: you live a shmock you die a shmock. Welcome to hell, idiot!

Su Yeol: People don’t turn down money! It’s what separates us from the animals.

Hui Gyeom: if what I think is happening is happening... it better not be.

K: I’m like a phoenix, rising from Arizona!

K: As you know, I am a man of principle. K: Now, lets break into this apartment.

Su Yeol: Hui Gyeom gave me a get better soon card. Jae Seon: awwww, how sweet! Su Yeol: I wasn’t sick. She just thought I could do better.

*After “Su Yeol” dropkicks assemblymen Do* Jae Seon: Can there be more to Su Yeol than meets the eye? Hui Gyeom: No. There’s less.

Jae Seon: Hey, what do you want for lunch? K, from behind: the collapse of the currupted system and punishment to the rotten punks leading it! Su Yeol: a bagel. K: noooooooooo Su Yeol: two bagels.

#bad and crazy #kdrama #bad and crazy spoilers

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blackacre13 · 3 years

Note

oh no this is too late for tomorrow, but I just thought about it: the heist crew at pride

It's never too late for a pride fic! I know it's August, but happy Pride! Here you are:

“Do you think they’d go for it?” Debbie asked, looking at her wife in the mirror as she scrubbed at her stubborn eyeliner furiously with a makeup wipe.

“You’re kidding, right?” Lou grinned, meeting Debbie’s eyes. “They’ll probably be even more excited than we were at the idea.”

“God,” Debbie sighed, leaning against the tile wall of the bathroom. “When’s the last time we even went?”

“It’s been literal decades,” Lou chuckled.

“Ooh, San Francisco,” Debbie breathed, followed by a giggle as Lou leaned against her, kissing her forehead softly.

“Dykes on bikes,” Lou winked as they shared a gentle laugh, Debbie lacing their fingers together.

“Let’s text the girls.”

The Australian pulled Debbie into their bedroom before throwing Debbie onto the bed with a grin and then diving in herself, rolling them over to grab her phone and pull up a group text as the brunette cuddled into her.

Lou: NYC Pride tomorrow. Who’s in?

Constance: Seriously?!

Constance: Sick.

Tammy: Are rugrats allowed? If so, I’m in!

Amita: Okay, but what do I wear as an ally?

Nine: Dope. What time? I’ll bring V.

Tammy: On second thought, how much PDA are you and Deb planning on? Don’t want my kids to have to clean up my vomit all day

Daphne: Rosie and I are in

Daphne: and out (;

Constance: Pregame at mom and dad’s?

“This is going to be the best,” Lou grinned, holding Debbie tight.

“And also a disaster,” Debbie laughed as three more texts from Constance rolled in asking something about tacos and matching sneakers and playlists.

Lou clicked her phone’s screen off for the moment, tucking it under her pillow as she smiled down at Debbie.

“Did you ever think we’d get to go to Pride as wives?” The blonde asked with a soft smile.

“I didn’t know if we would,” Debbie admitted. “But I did hope. Idiot partners but only fuck buddy Lou and Deb seem so far away now.”

“I’m glad they got their shit together,” Lou hummed.

“Took them long enough,” Debbie smirked, rolling over a bit to face the blonde. “The real question is: what are we going to wear?”

Lou groaned, pulling a pillow out from underneath their heads as she buried her face in it.

“Baby, you love getting all dressed up,” Debbie teased.

“Yes, but I’m old and married and I just want to stay in bed until we fall asleep,” Lou mumbled under the pillow.

“I’ll help you pick something out,” Debbie decided, getting excited to thumb through some outfits. “Better now than in the morning anyhow. You know Constance will bust in here at the crack of dawn on a skateboard.”

Lou made a noise, but didn’t move.

“Or Tammy will send herself in, kids first.”

That got Lou moving as she nodded her agreement with a grumpy “You’re right” as Debbie extended her hand, helping Lou out of the bed towards the closet.

“I can help you get undressed too,” Debbie winked, playing with Lou’s shirt as Lou flicked on the closet light. “You know, just in case you need any help with that.”

“How can I say no to that offer?” Lou grinned, dripping Debbie into a kiss.

************************************************************************

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers!”

Debbie and Lou looked up from where they were leaning against the counter sipping their coffees to, sure enough, see Constance skateboard in donning a pair of rainbow hightop with pride flags on her cheeks and a giant pride flag swirling behind her like a cape.

“Easy Con, it’s not even 9am dude,” Nine groaned, rubbing at her eyes as she trailed in slowly behind the younger woman with her sister in tow, who gave an excited wave.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Amita called, barreling through the door with two trays of coffees. “Tammy’s right behind me with bagels and shit.”

“Late?” Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a long sip from her mug.

“Figured you two would be asleep so we moved over to the parent-free group chat,” Amita shrugged.”

“Or Fucking,” Nine added with a wink.

Debbie and Lou shared a look, but didn’t elaborate.

“You riding in the parade, dad?” Constance asked, motioning to the helmet on the counter.

“Is there any other way, kid?” Lou grinned, standing up straight to reveal her full leathers, several pride pins tucked into her ensemble below the pride flag she was wearing as an ascot with her usual array of chains on top.

“And mom?” Constance smirked.

“Reporting for duty,” Debbie saluted, showing off her new white leather jacket that Lou had called “impractical but sexy” with a simple pride shirt underneath. “As ride or die, I think it’s my obligation to ride…or well, die I guess.”

“Oh, Daphne,” Amita sighed as the group turned to take in the newly arriving Daphne and Rose.

“What?” Daphne rolled her eyes. “As the penultimate lipstick lesbian, I have to give the people what they want,” she smirked, brushing her fingers against the long pink dress and her signature off the shoulder jacket that never quite seemed to make its way to her shoulders. “A Rose Weil original.”

“Of course,” Lou nodded.

Rose looked uncomfortable but happy by Daphne’s side, worrying herself with the hem of the dress as she frowned, eyeing the pin cushion she’d left on the coffee table as if she might make alterations on the go.

“I brought flag stamps for everyone,” Constance spoke, excited.

“Oh, the kids will love those!” Tammy squealed, coming in the door with two big brown bags of what the group assumed were bagels as her kids scurried in.

“I think that’s all of us,” Debbie grinned. “Should we put on some pump up music or wait until after breakfast?”

“Do it up, mama!” Nine cheered as Constance hollered.

“What should we play?” Amita asked.

“Something gay,” Rose offered.

“Something good,” Lou corrected, grabbing Debbie by the waist and smiling at their makeshift family. “Ready for some chaos, honey?”

“Always, baby,” Debbie grinned, her heart fluttering happily in her chest.

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ownst0ry · 1 year

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tag dump!

#▷ ic * let's do this one more time #▷ ooc * who's morales ?#▷ musings * imma do my own thing #▷ prompts *#▷ visage * you're a sunflower #▷ memes *#▷ headcanon *#▷ aes * no expectations #▷ mp3 * baby you're a wreck !#▷ dash games * getting the swing of it #▷ i'm not the only one * spidey gang #▷ la familia primero * morales + davis #▷ crack * get bageled idiot

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im-moreofa-dogperson · 3 years

Text

A Fearful Encounter - Part 3

Featuring: Dr. Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader

Warning: swearing, mention of guns, attempted assault, fluff

Summary: After you escape from Arkham Asylum with the help of Jonathan Crane, you begin to suspect that not everything is what it seems.

Words: 2372

Previous Parts: part 1 part 2

_______________________________________________

The next morning after John promised he’d stay guard for you, you woke up disoriented and embarrassed. You had kissed him. You kissed the man that had more or less tortured you for over a month.

Of all the idiotic things you had done over the last few weeks, this one was the worst.

His sudden shift in allegiance was apparent though, you just couldn’t figure out why it was so. He had helped you escape and even went as far as to investigate the safety of your home and assured you he’d stay the night. All the while having been the very reason that safety precautions were necessary in the first place.

You were too tired and frustrated to ponder over this any longer, however, so you dragged yourself out of bed and got dressed.

You walked into the kitchen catching a glimpse of John sleeping. It was oddly reassuring to see he’d followed through with his promise, but it was also the most bizarre sight you’d ever witnessed. His left arm was hanging over the side of the couch and his right leg was resting on top of the throw you’d given him.

What was unusual was how serene he looked. You were used to him always being on guard; his piercing eyes assessing someone’s entire being before they’ve even had a chance to introduce themselves.

And now with his eyes lightly shut and his mouth slightly agape, he was more disarmed and vulnerable than you’d ever imagined he’d be.

He suddenly shifted in his sleep letting out a soft moan and snapping you out of your trance. You turned your attention to the fridge before quickly realizing that everything would be expired given that you hadn’t been home in the last month.

You stared in the empty void of your fridge for a solid minute, anyways, before John startled you by saying, “I can just walk you to the bagel shop across the street.”

You jumped not having known he had woken up and was watching you that whole time.

“Um, sure,” you respond after getting over your initial shock. You didn’t really see any other way you’d safely get food after what he had told you last night.

You still had the gun you’d stolen but left it in your dresser drawer given that you’ve never shot one before, and didn’t want to take your chances with such a severe lack of experience.

He nods and stands up, casually tossing the blanket back onto the couch. He’d slept in his clothes and had only taken off his boots and jacket which he put back on as you follow him out the door.

You were thankful he didn’t bring up the kiss from last night, but at the same time, a part of you wished he would at least say something about the connection you felt, so you could catch a glimpse of his thinking process.

After John escorted you to and back from the bagel shop, he had caught the attention of one of his men who was keeping guard outside your apartment. Once it was settled that this man would be watching you today, John decided it was time for him to head back to the Asylum.

With one last apology from him and an awkward goodbye, you were once again on your own in your apartment.

******

A few days had passed since you last saw John and since then, you’d noticed the same black SUV parked beneath your window and knew he had kept his promise again in terms of keeping you protected.

While you understood the necessity of being constantly watched given what he had told you about all the nefarious people who’d be coming after you, part of you wondered if he’d actually lied about it all.

You wondered if he’d made up the reason for your need to be under constant supervision, so he could continue with his research. You figured there was only one way to test this theory.

Grabbing your jacket off the armchair in your room and slipping your stolen gun in your pants using your sweater to cover it, you ventured out of your apartment.

Beginning the 3-block walk to your favorite coffee shop, you quickly notice the SUV following you from the corner of your eye.

Upon entrance to the shop, you subtly look around for another exit. The man keeping a watch on you didn’t get out of his car, wrongly assuming you were just there for coffee.

You notice a back exit that led into the alley. You figure that if anyone was actually after you, they’d be lurking nearby waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Slipping out the back door using the crowd of customers as cover, you glance back at the guard still parked out front. Good, you thought. At least you weren’t the only gullible sap in this city.

When the heavy back door slammed shut behind you, you took in your surroundings and noticed the alley was practically empty of life except a few rats scuttling behind a nearby dumpster. The noise of the bustling city echoed through the street creating a false sense of security.

You waited to see if any strangers would approach you, but when no one came forward after a couple minutes you immediately felt foolish.

How could you have believed a man who was known for deceiving his victims? That whole charade he put on the first night you were back home was just another trick. Only this time, instead of being brought on by Fear Toxin, this hallucination was brought on by a silly, seemingly baseless infatuation.

While you beat yourself up for your significant misjudgment of character, you failed to notice the strange man slinking his way towards you.

Before you knew what was happening, you were pinned up against the brick wall with a knife set against your throat.

You instinctively bring a knee up to the man’s groin. He grunts and doubles over as you push yourself from the wall, slightly stumbling away give how shaken up you were.

You don’t make it far, however, as the man catches up to you grabbing your waist, spinning you around and shoving you onto the ground.

Your head smacks into the concrete causing you to cry out. You reach for the gun tucked in your pants, but the man beats you to it and tosses it aside. So much for that, you think.

“Not all you’re cracked up to be, huh?” He growls. He brings his knife back up, but you continue to fight him, causing him to be more forceful, pressing the knife against your skin.

“What’s your secret, huh?” he continues. “How’d you fucking do it, bitch?” Instead of responding, you turn your head away from him and desperately attempt to reach for the gun sitting just inches from your fingertips.

“Doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be dead as soon as I’m done with you.” He mutters into your ear, ignoring your futile struggling.

Suddenly, you feel him jab a knee between your legs, pushing them apart.

Just as his free hand roughly grabs the hem of your pants in an attempt to rip them off you, a voice calls from behind you: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You lean your head further back to look behind you and a wave of relief washes over you at the sight of John’s face. The guard that was in charge of you must’ve alerted him as soon as he noticed you were missing.

John holds his gun, unwavering, pointed directly at the face of the man holding you down.

However, instead of letting you go, the man pulls you up keeping the knife pressed against your neck.

“So, THIS is how you managed to do what no other crazy has done before.” The man muses. “Slithering your way into the heart of a scarecrow, well sweetheart, I hate to break it to ya, but scarecrows famously have no hearts. Or is that a brain?” He teases.

John goes on, unfazed by the man’s accusation. “Sir, would you like to see my mask?”

Instead of answering with words, the man pushes his knife harder against your neck slightly puncturing through skin, causing a subtle grunt from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” John pulls his mask out of his back pocket where it was tucked and put it on with his free hand. He then pulls out a small spray bottle and douses the man in what you could only assume was Fear Toxin.

John must have configured you’d be acclimated to this dose and therefore wouldn’t be affected.

The man cried out and shoved you forward straight into John’s open arm who pulled you into him while keeping his gun trained on the man. You knew what was coming, so you turned towards John’s chest just as you heard him pull the trigger.

******

You walk back into your apartment still shocked about the gruesome scene that you now blamed yourself for instigating. You begin to fall onto the couch, but John had other ideas.

He grabs your upper arms and swings you back up so you’re standing just in front of him. He glares into your eyes with that icy blue stare.

“What were you thinking.” He says this slowly and deliberately then clenches his jaw, as if his anger is so severe it’s difficult for him to speak.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t lying to me.” You confess. He glares into your eyes for a few more seconds before noticing the small bleeding cut on your neck.

He abruptly lets go of you, and strides over to the kitchen. You breathe out a heavy sigh collapsing into the couch and closing your eyes.

As you begin to mull over everything that just happened, your eyes are jolted open again as you feel the sudden sting of a damp rag against your cut.

John sat on the cushion next to you and held pressure on your neck with one hand, the other hand holding the back of your head to keep you still.

You were reminded of the first night you met him when he’d laid you on the hospital bed and sat in front of you giving you his full attention. Of course, then he’d been threatening your sanity, unlike now with him taking care of a minor laceration.

You gaze up at the pale ceiling leaning against John’s hand and say, “so, you weren’t kidding when you said I’m somewhat disliked now by a few bad people.”

“No. I wasn’t.” He states.

“Not sure what you expected of me.” You continue without turning your head. “I mean how could I not question every word that comes out of your mouth, Scarecrow.”

You hear him chuckle at that last word, the opposite of the reaction you were expecting to incite.

He removes the rag from you and reaches over to the coffee table where he’d set a few butterfly bandages. He carefully places two on your cut eliciting a sharp inhalation from you.

“I must have mistaken that kiss as a sign of trust then.” He says. You whip around to look at him seeing he has his eyebrows now slightly raised. He knew that would get a rise out of you.

You scoff and shake your head before saying:

“You know what, yeah, you did. For such a profound psychiatrist or whatever you are, you sure have overlooked my reckless patterns. I mean do you even know how I got out of Arkham? I caused a commotion. That’s it.”

“No scheming allegiances, no spectacular, award-winning plan that should ever have warranted the respect from a genius like you, just causing enough chaos in the hopes that I’d somehow be able to slip through the cracks unnoticed.”

The words tumble out of you as if you’d been holding on to this anger for far too long, not even sure what you were saying, only that you were angry. John sat still and watched you, studying you with a piercing gaze.

“And if you’ll remember correctly, it didn’t even work! You stopped me! If you hadn’t had this sudden change of heart, or whatever the hell is going on, I’d still fucking be there!”

“That first night we met, you mistook me as someone who has a plan. But I fucking don’t, okay?! I don’t know what I’m doing, and not to mention, I just got some guy fucking killed!”

“No you didn’t.” John says as he reaches out and grabs your arms to hold you still as you were still visibly shaking out of frustration.

“What are you talking about, I heard it.” You say in an exhausted tone.

“Oh, I didn’t kill that man.” He says matter-of-factly. You look at him befuddled, so he goes on, “You were caught in that Fear intake as well, and given that you aren’t 100% acclimated to it, you only imagined I’d shot him.”

Your eyes widen in shock. You felt like you were back on the pier, the ominous Gotham Bay at your back, and a complete reliance on John given any future slip-ups.

“And it isn’t entirely a reckless pattern. It’s bold. You were already unafraid before even taking my toxin. If there’s one thing a genius like me, your words, can respect it’s using chaos to your own benefit.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You hadn’t realized yet what it was in you that had caught the attention of such an illustrious criminal as John, but here he was telling you it’s because he was impressed by your unconventionality.

He continues on ignoring your speechlessness, “You’re not safe here. Not alone.”

You scoff lightly, and retort, “On the contrary, I think I was in considerably less danger before you showed up.”

“That may be true, but given that I have shown up, that argument is invalid.”

“So, what then, are you gonna take me back to the Asylum?” You contest.

“No. I meant what I said when I told you I was sorry for that. I’m done experimenting on people. You can stay with me until I figure out a plan.”

You furrow your eyebrows and say, “a plan for what?”

“A plan to help get you out of Gotham.”

_______________________________________________

#jonathan crane #cillian murphy #scarecrow #dc fic #dr. jonathan crane #batman

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years

Text

Misery

Summary: Virgil starts seeing a lot of a dark side he hadn't before, and this particular side makes things seem worse than they really are. Yeah, making things seem worse. Because things aren't really as bad as he says... are they?

Trigger Warnings: Torture, Violence, Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Mind Control, please let me know if you’d like something to be added.

A/N: Huge thanks to @colorcollector for letting me use their lovely headcanon as the last part of this chapter!

Chapter One:

Virgil couldn’t necessarily say he loved life as a dark side, but there were things that made it bearable. Well, there were two things that made it bearable.

“Dogpile!” Remus cried, throwing himself on top of an unsuspecting Janus. Virgil smiled at the wheeze Janus let out even as Remus was already making himself comfortable. Virgil decided against throwing himself on top of someone else and potentially landing on any of his wounds from yesterday, and instead just laid down on the couch next to Janus, tucking himself into his waiting arms, and then getting sprawled on top of by Remus a second later.

“You do understand I can’t play the movie like this,” Janus said, shifting his head as much as he was currently capable of doing towards the remote that was now crushed against the back of the couch.

“All part of my diabolical plan,” Remus said with a grin, snatching the remote from Janus. “We’re watching The Human Centipede if I say we’re watching The Human Centipede!”

Janus looked at Virgil with obvious betrayal. “You participated in this?”

“We’re not watching The Human Centipede,” Virgil said with a laugh, taking the remote from Remus, who pouted at him.

“Virgin, don’t you love me?”

“I don’t love anyone that much.”

Remus made an offended noise that it was Janus’ turn to laugh at, and Virgil put on Coraline instead, which Remus started grumbling about barely counting as a horror movie. He still laid down on top of Virgil to watch it, though, so he couldn’t mind that much.

Janus had set out tubs of popcorn on the table in front of them, which Virgil and Remus now ate in front of him while laying on his arms so he couldn’t get to any. Would they move after half an hour or so? Probably. Were they going to keep up the idea that they wouldn’t move until they finally did? Absolutely.

Virgil spent most of the night curled against the two people that made life not suck sometimes, and relished in the feeling of people who loved him holding him close. It wasn’t often that they did things like this. They had bonding activities that were more obviously Remus and Janus’ speed all the time, such as plotting evil schemes and blowing up cities in the Imagination, but Virgil honestly enjoyed a lot of that enough that times like this didn’t feel as necessary. But that didn’t mean he didn’t relish them when they came around.

…Unfortunately, they all usually ended the same way, and tonight was no exception. He stepped back into his room a couple hours later to find Cruelty standing right inside the door, and as soon as Virgil froze, realizing his presence, Cruelty spun Virgil around, slammed him against the wall, and drove a knife through his shoulder.

There were times Virgil wished rooms weren’t soundproof from the outside. Remus would have come running with thirty different kinds of weapons if he heard Virgil’s scream.

He still managed to cut himself off pretty quickly. The scream was more due to shock and surprise than anything else. It was far safer for him to keep his mouth shut and try to be uninteresting. Cruelty, at least, would get bored if he didn’t make pretty little noises.

“Could you explain something to me, Anxiety?” he asked, keeping his voice low and cold. “Why exactly are you the one Thomas decided to put in his little video series?”

Ah, yes. The others hadn’t been thrilled about Virgil getting invited back. Virgil focused on the celebration he’d had in the Imagination with Janus and Remus and took a breath as he answered. “Thomas has known about me for years,” he said, voice steady. “If you ever convince Deceit you’re not a totally useless dickwad, maybe he’ll introduce you too.”

Virgil couldn’t hold back the scream when the knife was ripped from his left shoulder and stabbed again through his right one.

“You’re a little pest, you know that?” Cruelty spat. “That’s the only reason Thomas wants you around. You’re a pest that’s easy to get rid of. An easy villain to defeat so he can get an ego boost.”

Virgil was going to pretend that comment didn’t sting as much as it did. “Does that mean Thomas doesn’t want you around because you would never shut up?”

The knife was transferred to his arm. Virgil managed not to scream this time, and Cruelty seemed to take notice.

“Ugh, you’re no fun anymore,” he said. “Why do I even bother with you?”

I’ve been asking myself that question for years now, Virgil thought, though he didn’t say it out loud because he wasn’t a total idiot.

Cruelty pulled the knife out of his arm and twirled it around as he walked towards Virgil’s bathroom to clean the blood off of it. Virgil didn’t move until the noises stopped, meaning Cruelty had most likely sunk out.

He started checking the knife wounds as he made his way over to the bathroom, but as he opened the door he was met with a deep cold that could only mean one side.

“Oh, Anxiety, are you okay?” Misery asked. Virgil looked up in surprise to find him standing over the counter.

“Misery? What are you doing here?”

“Shhh, don’t worry about it,” Misery said. He reached under the counter and pulled out Virgil’s first-aid kit, then walked over and took Virgil gently by the arm.

The fight drained out of him so fast that if he could do much other than be dragged over to the toilet, it probably would have been falling over.

“What—” Virgil tried.

“Oh, Anxiety, you don’t look so good,” Misery said softly. “I’m just trying to help you is all.”

Well that definitely wasn’t the case, but as was a side effect of Misery, he didn’t really have enough energy anymore to protest.

A second later, Misery did in fact start peeling his hoodie and shirt off in order to wrap the wounds on his shoulder.

He’d finished his first shoulder wound when he started whispering. “You know you don’t deserve to be the one that Thomas knows, right?”

Virgil didn’t really have it in him to say anything.

“You don’t deserve to be known by him. You don’t deserve anything other than to be trapped down here forever with us.”

Virgil managed enough of a protest to lean weakly away.

“Oh, shh, it’s okay,” Misery whispered, pulling Virgil back over and starting on his other shoulder wound. “Don’t worry, we’re going to give you exactly what you deserve.”

The only reason Virgil didn’t have to try and hold back his whimper of fear was because at this point, it would have taken far more effort to make it heard in the first place.

Misery continued to talk about Virgil not deserving to see Thomas until he finished bandaging all of the wounds Cruelty had given him, then gave Virgil a sweet smile and a pat on the cheek before he left.

The cold and, well, misery that had invaded the room left with him and Virgil pulled in a shaky gasp. It took him a good ten minutes to muster up the energy to move, but when he did, he grabbed onto his counter and slowly made his way back into his room and over to his bed, which he crawled into without even bothering to put a shirt back on.

He didn’t want to get up for a week.

Virgil put enough of the pieces together waking up the next day after Misery’s visit, when he woke up feeling significantly less exhausted. Misery was probably a pissed off reaction by either himself or the others to the fact that he got to talk to Thomas now. Well that definitely wasn’t… pleasant.

He rubbed his eyes and looked over at his clock to find it was already past 11:00. Ugh. That was Misery for you. And the fact that he’d been up watching movies probably didn’t help either. He sat up in bed and stretched, pulled a shirt on, and headed into the bathroom to see if his clothes were still there, because he’d have to wash the blood out of them if they were. But Misery must have taken them when he left, which was a small mercy he supposed. He’d probably have to be careful going into the kitchen for food, because at this point there would be sides in there ready for lunch.

Virgil cracked his door open and peeked into the hallway, then relaxed and pulled the door open when he spotted Remus splayed out on the couch.

“Morning, Re,” he said, shutting the door after him as he walked out.

Remus glanced up. “Not for much longer. You sleep too long, Emo. You miss out on the fun. I dueled Janny for a breakfast bar.”

“You dueled him?”

“Yeah! He used his shepherds crook and I used my di—”

“Let me eat breakfast first, asshole.”

“Oh, well I suppose I could have used that too—”

“Remus,” Virgil groaned, starting for the kitchen as Remus cackled behind him.

Virgil managed to at least eat a bagel and have a glass of milk before he was interrupted again. Not by Cruelty, he probably wouldn’t bother Virgil again until he got bored, but unlike him, Pride, who was waiting by the counter, had no such easy way out as stopping when Virgil got boring. At least he couldn’t do as much with Remus in the other room. Virgil would stay out here and take the pressing on his new wounds with silent winces rather than go back behind closed doors and have to suffer through who knows what. Pride could be worse than Cruelty in a lot of ways.

“Cruelty said he had fun last night,” Pride hissed in Virgil’s ear after he’d gone a while without doing anything.

Virgil held his phone slightly tighter from where he was looking down at it and nodded. “Yes,” he replied quietly. Give Pride what he wants, or he never stops.

“You really are getting more than you deserve, you know,” Pride said lightly, though he still didn’t raise his voice above a whisper. “It’s not like Thomas is ever going to love you. Not him, not the core sides.”

Virgil didn’t say anything, not really sure what Pride wanted this time.

That ended up being a mistake, as Pride leaned forward, grabbed his left shoulder, and dug his nails into it. Virgil didn’t bother trying to hold back his whimper. It would do more to placate him.

“I swear to Thomas if you—” he hissed.

“Hey, Anxiety!” called Remus from the other room.

Pride’s hand vanished from his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Virgil called, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“Come here!”

Virgil looked back over at Pride, who was already scowling. “We’re finishing this later,” he hissed.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he whispered.

That didn’t seem to make Pride any less pissed, if his yanking Virgil up from the table and shoving him towards the living room was any indication. Virgil caught himself on the wall and took a shaky breath, pulling himself together and then heading into the living room to see what Remus wanted.

…

Pride torture sessions went by faster if Virgil did the opposite of what he did with Cruelty. Scream when it hurt, lots of begging and pleading, stroke his ego. It always kind of made Virgil feel like a weakling, but it was better than having worse injuries the next day. He was pretty sure Janus would be proud of him for using his self preservation skills.

He made it through an hour or so of laughing and punches before Pride seemed to have had his fill, and picked Virgil up by the shoulders to drag him to the bathroom. Virgil didn’t bother to try and hide any whimpers that escaped, it would just make it more likely for him to leave.

Virgil assumed he was just going to deposit him onto the toilet or something and walk out while still laughing, but the second they made it into the bathroom a familiar cold seeped into Virgil’s bones and he was dropped straight into Misery’s arms.

“Have fun,” Pride said, sounding cocky and very pleased with himself. “You make me too depressed, I’m not sticking around for this.”

Virgil was too sore and now exhausted to try and resist as Misery finished carrying him over to the toilet and set him down.

He probably should have expected he would be here. That was probably going to continue.

“Anxiety,” Misery said, sounding for all the life of him like a parent reprimanding their child. “Did you honestly think you could get away from Pride by getting the creative side involved?”

Virgil didn’t have any ideas or energy to give as a response, but apparently Misery expected one, because he lifted Virgil’s face gently by the chin until he could meet his eyes.

“Anxiety, you know that’s not fair, right?”

“I wasn’t… trying to get anyone involved,” Virgil managed. “He called me… all on his own.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not very nice to lie to people,” Misery said, shaking his head in disapproval. “I would have thought you’d know that, with how often Deceit lies to you.”

Virgil was going to at least attempt to protest that the kinds of lies Janus told were often intentionally sarcastic and obvious, especially when he knew how that could calm Virgil down. But he’d barely opened his mouth when Misery started making shushing noises, and he dropped his head to his chest as Misery started opening the first aid kit again.

“You shouldn’t try to run to Deceit and the Duke for help,” Misery said. “It’s not like you can always count on them anyway. Just let whoever needs you finish whatever they want to do, okay? That will be easier in the long run anyway.”

Virgil would have asked what in the world was meant by not being able to count on Janus and Remus if he had any will left to do anything other than just nod. Misery didn’t talk much until he finished with the bandages, and then, more small mercies, he carried Virgil back into his room and tucked him back into bed before leaving. Virgil probably would have fallen asleep in the bathroom if he hadn’t done that, if the way his eyes were already drooping was any indication, and the way that he was already falling asleep as he heard Misery close the door after him.

…

In the many things that Virgil had learned about Logan since joining the core sides, one of them was that Logan didn’t like to leave arguments unfinished. He’d seen Roman try to go back to what he was doing before only for Logan to continue getting louder and firmer until Roman finally returned to the argument and either won or lost. It would have freaked Virgil out much more if the arguments didn’t usually end with laughter, or Patton getting in between them and mediating the damage, or both.

He hadn’t been the person Logan was arguing with since their debate video, and Virgil didn’t think he’d really been trying enough then for it to really count as one. That was probably the reason he hadn’t expected this morning to go the way it had ended up going, but here they were.

“Virgil, you’re being unreasonable,” Logan said, sounding more than a little done with their conversation. “Creamer just makes coffee taste better, is all.”

“Yeah, except if you add an entire carton of it, it ceases to be coffee,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “Coffee is meant to be black like my soul.”

“There has never been any sort of evidence that humans have souls, and even if they did, why would they be any particular color—”

“Okay, woah, slow down, kiddos,” Patton said gently, stepping forward and putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder, along with holding his opposite hand out to Virgil. “You both sound like you’re getting a little worked up. Maybe we should take a break and cool down a little bit?”

Logan huffed and drew himself upwards, not looking the least bit satisfied. “Fine.” He turned to head out of the kitchen, and Virgil smirked a little after him, because he had clearly won that argument, before Logan turned and leveled a serious look back at him. “We are finishing this later,” he said, sounding almost angry, and Virgil stopped smirking.

Had— had Logan been taking the argument that seriously? They were just talking about coffee creamer.

Virgil set his coffee cup before he dropped it, then shoved his now-shaking hands into his pockets. He stood abruptly from the table, causing Patton to look over at him from where he was still making eggs by the stove, and sprinted from the room before Patton could say anything, though he didn’t miss the concerned call after him.

Virgil made it to his room, slamming the door behind him, and leaned back against it.

Things were supposed to be different here. Things had been different, better here, until now. But Virgil hadn’t realized how seriously Logan was taking the argument, and now Logan was mad, and Virgil had gone and ruined it all again like he always did.

Virgil slid down onto his floor and buried his head in his knees, breathing as slowly as he currently could.

Logan wasn’t… Logan wasn’t like Pride, he wasn’t like any of the others, maybe he wouldn’t…

Virgil took another shaky breath. Even if he did, Virgil could stand his ground against Logan. He wasn’t going to do this, not again. He could defend himself against Logan if he had too. And then the others would hate him again, but that would be fine. Misery was right, after all, no one could ever really—

His thoughts were cut off by knocking.

“Virgil? Patton informed me I might have distressed you. Are you alright?”

Virgil took a couple more breaths to calm himself down, stood up and clenched his left hand into a fist, and pulled the door open with his right.

…Logan didn’t look nearly as angry anymore. Something in Virgil’s chest released.

“I apologize, Virgil,” Logan said, clearly picking up on his obvious distress. “I was not intending to alarm you. We were having an argument about coffee creamer, I did not really input a lot of emotional investment.”

Virgil chuckled weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, me neither. Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out, I just…”

“It’s alright. I promise I was not actually angry, I just do not enjoy leaving debates and arguments unfinished.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Neither do I. It… really makes me feel like the other person is more pissed at me than they probably are.”

Logan nodded back slightly. “Alright. Then perhaps in the future if one of us is getting overheated, we should merely turn around and take a couple breaths to calm ourselves down, before continuing to debate much more calmly?”

“That… sounds good,” Virgil said. “That sounds good, Lo. Thank you.”

Logan gave Virgil a small smile. “No thanks necessary, Virgil. I would very much not want to continue to cause you distress if I could easily prevent doing so, after all.”

Virgil wiped the tears away from his eyes before they could fall and gave a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Specs,” he whispered. “Love you too.”

Virgil, believe it or not, rather enjoyed blowing things up. It was quite the stress reliever, and with the added fact that nothing in Remus’ Imagination was real and no one would ever actually get hurt, it was very nice to watch the buildings in the distance be destroyed in the blink of an eye. Not that he asked Remus every day. He couldn’t rely on him to always be willing to help, after all.

Today, though, Remus had offered, and Virgil was now happily listening to the sound of rubble falling and the crashing of debris behind a blast shield a half a mile away.

Remus whistled from next to him. “Damn, Virgil, that was a good throw. I think you took down a skyscraper with that one.”

“Hmm, yes, very impressive,” Janus said, from his spot on Virgil’s other side casually looking at his nails. “Of course, I did take down half a block earlier, so.”

“Of one-story residential homes,” Virgil said, sticking his tongue out at Janus. “I win, Jan.”

“Oh, please.”

“Nope!” called Remus, jumping up and hurling another grenade towards the city. He ducked down a second later and massive explosion rocked the terrain. “I just took out three blocks at once!”

“Well, that’s totally fair, considering this is your Imagination and you don’t have any kind of leg up on us,” Janus said in annoyance.

“Yeah, come on Re, I call bullshit.”

“You’re both just jealous!” Remus sang, as if he had any kind of right to gloat in this situation. Virgil hissed and swiped at Remus, which was of course the highest of insults coming from him.

Remus didn’t do anything other than cackle and hurl another grenade, though, so the message must have somehow not have gotten across.

With Remus using his completely unfair cheat code of having made the entire situation they were in, he ended up winning the count of buildings destroyed, followed, unfortunately, by Janus, who won in quantity— but definitely not in quality, because he didn’t bring down a single skyscraper, and Virgil was going to hold that over his head until the next time they came in here.

Janus ended up vanishing into the kitchen like a coward who was too scared to admit he’d practically lost. He did return half an hour later with dinner, suggesting that might have been why he went into the kitchen, but that didn’t mean anything.

“So,” Janus said, setting down the mini pizzas. “How did the video go?”

“Logan got ridiculously dark when he found out he was the reason Thomas was struggling with procrastination,” Virgil said, picking a slice of pizza. “He started going on rants about snakes eating their tails to satiate their hunger.”

“Oooh, how fun!” Remus exclaimed. “Wait, Janus do you have a tail? Are you going to eat it?”

“No, I do not have a tail, and I also definitely don’t prefer human food, thank you,” Janus said with a shake of his head.

“Hey, hey Janus, retract your jaw and eat that slice of pizza in one bite!”

“I can’t do that.”

“Have you ever tried?” Virgil asked with a smirk.

“Not the point.”

“Oh, he can definitely do it,” Remus said with a nod, glancing over at Virgil.

“Yep, he’s holding out on us.”

“I am not—”

“Where will the lies end, Janny?” Remus asked, with an overdramatic shake of his head.

Janus sighed. “What a reasonable question, it’s not like deception is my entire function or anything.”

“You’ve betrayed us for the last time,” Virgil said casually. “I don’t see how we could ever trust you again.”

“Oh, and here I thought our relationship was going just fine. I guess it serves me right.”

“I’m not getting enough love or cool detachable jaw demonstrations, Jan,” Remus said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “It’s only a matter of time until I stop wanting to associate with you.”

“Remind me again why I taught you two sarcasm?”

“You can’t go back!” Remus exclaimed, raising his hand up in the air dramatically.

“Yeah, this is really all your fault,” Virgil said, taking another bite of pizza. “You should have known better.”

Janus gave a long, irritable sigh that did a poor job of hiding his amused smile, and they all finished dinner by finally continuing to debate on whether skyscrapers were worth more points when blown up than an entire neighborhood of single-floor homes.

They ended up in Janus’ room after dinner, with Janus reading, Remus trying to do finger painting using hopefully not human blood, and Virgil perched next to Janus on his bed, leaning on him and trying to see how loud he could make his music before Janus would ask him to turn it down.

Unfortunately, before Virgil could get any kind of answer to that question, a knock came on the door.

Virgil stood up on instinct and moved to lean against the wall next to the bed as Janus waved his hand to open the door.

Positivity was standing in the doorway, beaming his smile that didn’t do anything other than freak Virgil out at this point.

“Hey, sorry to bother you Deceit, I was looking for Anxiety?”

Virgil moved his hands behind his back and squeezed them together. “Oh, sure,” he said. “What did you need me for?”

“Come here and I’ll show you,” Positivity said, with another smile that Virgil was pretty sure only he could recognize as irritated.

He swallowed and started towards the door.

“Hey, Anxiety, come back after, okay?” Remus called. “I’m gonna need both your opinions on the finished product.”

“Okay,” Virgil called, following Positivity out towards the living room, where unsurprisingly, Malice was waiting.

“Did you need something?” Virgil asked weakly.

“Only for you to stop being such a downer!” Positivity said. “Honestly, Anxiety, all we wanted was to talk about how the video went!”

Virgil tried to keep the doubt out of his gaze. He couldn’t come up with a reason Malice would be there if that was all they wanted. But Positivity just kept beaming at him. “That’s all we want to do,” he repeated. “Understand?”

Oh. Virgil got it now. He nodded, trying to suppress the new surge of anger. Positivity could do that to him. Positivity as a whole was infuriating, from the smiles, to the way he made Virgil feel trapped, to the name change. His function wasn’t actually Positivity, that was just what he called himself. No one could remember his original function anymore.

That did mean that Virgil couldn’t say for certain that his function wasn’t “Huge Prick.”

Malice sighed from his spot across from them both, drawing Virgil out of his thoughts. “Look, Anxiety,” he said, stepping across the room and wrapping his arms around Virgil’s shoulder. “Talking about the video can really be all that happens now if you answer my questions, okay? I just have a couple things that I need cleared up for me.”

Virgil swallowed and didn’t say anything, just waiting for Malice’s first question.

“Your role in Thomas’ videos is as the antagonist, is it not?”

Virgil nodded.

“Excellent. I’m glad that’s been clarified. So would you like to explain to me why you weren’t ultimately the main cause of Thomas’ problem?”

“Do you… want me to be the main source of Thomas’ problems?” Virgil asked in confusion.

“Oh, no,” Malice said. “What I want is for you to be kicked out of those videos entirely.” He squeezed Virgil a little tighter, and dug his nails into the burn on Virgil’s arm from last week, causing him to wince. “But that isn’t an option, for whatever reason. So I suppose the obvious villain in the videos will do for now. Would you like to explain what happened today?”

“I just… wasn’t the problem,” Virgil said, knowing as he said it that it was stupid but not sure what else to say. “That isn’t my fault—”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Malice said. He yanked Virgil’s sleeve up and raked his nails down the burn left there. Virgil bit his lip hard and managed not to cry out.

“Nothing,” Virgil stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Oh, you better believe you’re sorry,” Malice said, low and dangerous.

“Anxiety,” Positivity said in that horribly cheerful voice of his, “You need to understand. Things are fine the way they are! You don’t need to change things! We just don’t want you to rock the boat!” He leaned forward and ruffled Virgil’s hair. “After all, imagine what could happen if Thomas started to like you, or something like that! We’d lose our favorite little Anxiety! We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

He was looking at Virgil in the way that meant he wanted a response, but Virgil wasn’t sure how else to do so other than shake his head.

It at least seemed to be enough for Positivity, who beamed and gave Virgil a side hug from the opposite side of Malice. “Oh, good! I know I for one would miss you terribly. But I’m not going to have to worry about it, because you’re going to do everything you can to keep things just as they are, right?”

Virgil nodded, trying to make himself as small as possible so he at least wasn’t pressed too hard against either Positivity or Malice’s side.

“See that you do,” Malice said, finally letting go of Virgil and giving him one last dangerous look before walking off and leaving Virgil with Positivity.

“Now since Deceit and the Duke expect you back, you can go,” Positivity said, still beaming. “I’ll have Misery meet you in your room before bed tonight, okay?”

“Oh the Duke— wanted— a sleepover,” Virgil stammered on instinct.

Positivity’s smile widened. “Cancel it. Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t mind! Everything with you three is just fine and dandy all the time, isn’t it?”

Virgil swallowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See you tomorrow, Anxiety!” Positivity called happily, dancing back around the corner as he waved to Virgil.

Virgil took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair, and went to head back to Remus and Janus.

…

There weren’t any injuries for Misery to bandage this time, so Virgil wasn’t really sure what he was going to find when he went into his room, which is really the main reason why he stayed in Janus’ room as long as he possibly could. It was only around the time that Janus himself said he was getting tired that Virgil left, and while Remus waved brightly before simply sinking out to his room, Virgil walked out the door and crossed the commons until he ended up outside his door.

He took half a minute to take some deep breaths before he finally pulled it open. He instantly shivered and tucked his hoodie further around himself. Misery must have been waiting for a while. That wasn’t good.

Virgil took a couple steps in and flicked on the light switch to find Misery sitting on his bed, which wasn’t horror-movie levels of creepy or anything.

“Anxiety,” Misery said, giving a soft smile that definitely wasn’t real. “Come here sweetheart, I need to explain something to you.”

“Um.” Virgil took a step back, towards the hallway. “I—”

Misery sighed and stood up, walked across the room, and took Virgil by the arm, leading him back to the bed.

“Now, we were going to talk about your performance in the video today,” Misery said, pulling Virgil into his chest and holding him there. “But then Positivity said you were trying to get out of seeing me by forcing Remus to help you.”

Virgil was surprised enough that he almost managed a protest.

“Anxiety,” Misery said. “You already force them to spend time with you, you shouldn’t ask them to help you as well.”

“I don’t… force—” Virgil started.

“Oh, don’t you?” Misery asked, starting to run a hand through Virgil’s hair. “You have to see it sweetheart, it’s not like Deceit and the Duke like the way that you drag them down all the time. You know they would have so much more fun doing the things that they enjoy if you weren’t there freaking out about it all the time.”

“But I don’t—”

“Shh,” Misery said. “It’s okay, you can’t help it. You are Anxiety, after all. But it’s not fair to stop them from doing the things they enjoy just because you don’t like them.”

Virgil didn’t have a rebuttal to that. He hadn’t thought that had been happening, had it? He liked doing wild and crazy things with Janus and Remus sometimes, with the only caveat being that no one got hurt. But that wasn’t holding them back. Was it?

“And it’s not fair to ask for their help all the time,” Misery said gently. “You don’t want to be a burden to them, do you?”

Virgil curled up further, which was probably a mistake as it only resulted in Misery pulling him closer.

“Maybe you should let them do the things they enjoy by themselves a little more often,” Misery said gently. “That would be fine, wouldn’t it? As long as they can be happy, wouldn’t it be fine?”

Virgil managed a nod.

“Good,” Misery said, sounding pleased. “See? That’s fine. You just have to stop being so selfish, sweetheart. It’s okay, I know you can do it.”

Misery moved them both down to the top of the bed, and laid Virgil down before tucking the blankets over him.

“Goodnight, Anxiety,” he whispered. “I know you’ll do better tomorrow.”

…

Virgil didn’t make a habit of falling asleep during movie nights, and he hadn’t expected tonight to be different. He spent most of the night making casual banter with Roman, or laughing with Logan about the logistics of the movie they were watching, picked by Patton, who Virgil was ninety percent sure picked it in order to get everyone laughing.

But as the movie ended and Roman picked another one, Virgil found himself leaning against the side of the couch, and Patton starting to hum didn’t help matters, and by the time twenty minutes had passed Virgil was falling asleep.

He was woken seconds later by being yanked off of his bed and slammed against the wall next to it, and he barely had a chance to let out a cry of surprise when his gaze centered on the two sides in front of him, one being Positivity and the other being Remus.

“Oh, you were right, this is fun,” Remus said with a grin. “I should have tried this sooner.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Positivity said with a wide smile of his own. Virgil tried to weakly push Remus off, but his just cackled and moved his hands to Virgil’s throat, and now he was squeezing, and Virgil couldn’t breathe—

“—irgil? Virgil? Virgil, it’s okay! Virgil!”

Virgil reached out and shoved before he even managed to get his eyes open, but by the time he did he wished he hadn’t shoved anyone, because he wasn’t being slammed against a wall by Remus and Positivity, he was pressing himself against the arm of the couch and had just shoved Patton back into Roman and Logan.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Virgil cried, pulling his legs further back.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Patton said with a smile. “There’s nothing to be scared of. We’re here, everything’s fine.”

Virgil’s throat closed up. “No,” he choked out. “No no no, everything is not fine, everything is not always fine!”

The three sides on the couch blinked at him, and Virgil tried to come up with something else to say.

“Sometimes things aren’t fine, sometimes things are awful and hurt and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Virgil snapped, which was definitely not the something else he wanted to say. “And stop saying that’s fine.”

“Okay, okay,” Patton said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. Right, because Virgil had just snapped at him for no reason. “You have a really bad nightmare, kiddo?”

Virgil opened his mouth and stopped. Right, because now he was getting worked up over a stupid nightmare. “Sorry,” he muttered, tucking his knees into his chest and turning away. He was being unreasonable, it was just a dream.

“Hey, no, kiddo, that’s not what I meant,” Patton said. “Nightmares can seem very real, I’m the last side that would get on your case for something like that. It’s alright if they’re scary sometimes.”

Logan nodded from where he’d moved to Patton’s left. “It is of course alright to be scared sometimes,” he said. “Especially since that is already part of your job. We merely wanted to know if you are alright.”

Virgil paused. He looked up at the three of them and bit his lip, wondering if this was a stupid idea or even fair to them. “And what if I’m not?”

Patton smiled just a little. “Then that is alright, kiddo. Gosh, bad nightmare, huh?”

Virgil nodded slowly. It wasn’t really about the nightmare, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

“Come here?” Patton opened his arms, moving back to where he’d been sitting on the couch before.

Virgil considered the idea for a second, but was too quickly bombarded with images of bandaging of his wounds and whispers of how worthless he was while being hugged against someone cold.

Virgil shook his head and curled up against the arm of the couch again, wishing he hadn’t seen the slightly disappointed look in Patton’s eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths and held out his hand towards Patton, who took it and gently squeezed it with no comment.

When Virgil fell asleep again the nightmares were gone.

Virgil hadn’t expected to miss Janus and Remus as much as he did. He probably should have. He still saw them at dinnertime, because Janus made three meals and leaving the room would just be rude, but now it was like a switch had been flipped in his brain, and he could never tell if they sounded irritated when they asked him to do things anymore. Excuses had become his normal go-to solution, and he was now wondering how strange it seemed to Janus and Remus that he was suddenly much busier than he’d been for… most of his life.

He was using the videos getting longer as a reason, trying to pretend as if he wanted to spend all of his time dealing with shit like Roman whining about being original, like they had done this past week. But unfortunately, a side effect of not seeing Janus and Remus as often meant that his only non-violent interactions came from them, or Misery. And suffice to say, they were preferable, meaning that Virgil was almost starting to… care? Enough, anyway, that after the next video, when Logan told him that he didn’t mind his company, Virgil planned on spending the rest of the day in his room figuring out his feelings on that particular subject, and why they didn’t stop and start with “Whatever, I don’t need approval from The Man.”

Spending his time alone in his room had a different side effect, though, that being that most of his visitors were intending to bring him harm, which was just a lovely sentiment to have to deal with all the time. When the sides at the door were either Remus or Janus inviting him to do something, Virgil had to work just a little harder not to flinch than he used to. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t take them up on their offers. If they offered, that meant they wanted him around, right?

Remus seemed to think so, if the way he’d spent the last hour looking up at Virgil and asking for approval was any indication.

“I don’t… really get the flaming chickens,” Virgil admitted, glancing back over.

“What do you mean you don’t get them? They’re the emotional backbone of the whole painting!” Remus exclaimed, waving his arms as if to show his exasperation.

“I don’t know, why are you asking me? Since when am I good at this stuff?” Virgil said. “Janus is better at this than I am!”

“Janus is busy,” Remus whined.

Virgil swallowed, trying to decide if that meant he was only here because Janus was unavailable.

“Besides, what rule is there saying I can’t get help from you if I want it, huh?”

“There’s not a rule,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “I dunno, I just… it’s fine. I’m here. But I still don’t get the flaming chickens.”

“Ugh, you just don’t understand fine art.”

“I definitely don’t, but I don’t think that’s the only problem here.”

“Rude,” Remus said, even as he started grinning. Virgil smiled a little back, and leaned back on the desk chair he was sitting on as Remus went back to painting his chickens.

Virgil ended up staying there until dinnertime, when Janus appeared in the doorway calling Remus’ name, then gave Virgil a look of surprise when he noticed him. Virgil wasn’t sure what that meant, but all Janus ended up doing was telling them both dinner was ready and heading back out towards the kitchen again.

Remus picked up the rest of paint he’d been using with a remark that he was going to add it to his dinner, which was definitely potentially harmful in numerous ways, and Virgil grabbed the paint can before he could make it past the door.

“What— aw, Virgey, come on!”

“Nope. I’m not going to let you eat something that could actually be hazardous to your health, I’d be a failure as Anxiety. Now come on, let’s go eat.”

Virgil set the paint back down by the easel and almost missed Remus’ grumble of “You’re no fun.”

He hesitated as he stood again, trying to decide whether or not Remus was actually upset, but he bounded out of the room and towards the kitchen before Virgil could reach a conclusion. He sighed and stepped out to head that direction himself, but as soon as he crossed the threshold for Remus’ room, a hand wrapped around his arm and yanked him to the side, away from the kitchen, and into Cruelty’s room.

Well, he supposed that answered questions about who had grabbed him.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Cruelty snapped, slamming Virgil back against a wall. Virgil had half a second to try and figure out what exactly that meant before Cruelty kept talking. “We did tell you, did we not, that you needed to stop dragging everyone down?”

“I was supposed to go eat dinner—” Virgil wheezed.

“Oh you’re gonna show up a little late tonight,” Cruelty hissed, digging his nails into the cuts that had been left by Pride yesterday. Virgil pulled in a little gasp, which unfortunately Cruelty heard. He started to smile, which was never a good sign.

“Fine,” he spat out to try and counter. “You want to explain to Deceit and the Duke why I’m late, you be my guest.”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll cut it off, you whiny little pest,” Cruelty snapped.

“Yeah, because that won’t tell anyone something’s wrong.”

Cruelty grabbed a knife from a nearby table, stuck it in one of the cuts he’d torn open, and twisted. Virgil couldn’t help the scream that came out that time, and the way it made Cruelty laugh didn’t feel any better.

Before Cruelty could try anything else, a loud knock came from what sounded like Remus’ room next door.

“Anxiety?” Janus called. “Are you coming?”

Cruelty sighed in irritation. “Wait here.”

He yanked the knife from Virgil’s arm and sunk out, and Virgil screamed through his teeth, which he could do while he wasn’t there. He was about to try and sink out to his own room when Cruelty started talking outside.

“Yeah, Anxiety told me he was tired and going to bed. What, he didn’t tell you that?”

Janus sighed in obvious irritation. “No, he apparently doesn’t seem to think we deserve to know what’s going on in his life anymore.”

“Man, sounds like he’s been a real dick lately. I always knew there was something wrong with him. I can talk to him if you want.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll put his food in the fridge, he’ll probably wake up hungry in the middle of the night. Thanks anyway.”

The footsteps shortly after probably meant Janus was walking away. A second after that, Cruelty reappeared in the room, beaming, which was never a good sign.

“Well,” he said. “I guess we don’t have to talk for the next couple hours then.”

Virgil swallowed. Don’t scream. He could limit how long this lasted if he didn’t scream. He took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed his eyes shut as Cruelty swung another knife towards him.

…

Misery was already waiting in Virgil’s bedroom by the time he got there, and Virgil couldn’t find it in him to be surprised or fight back anymore. His entire body was aching and sore, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted Misery’s fake tenderness and to not have to worry about bandaging these wounds himself. He wasn’t even sure if he could have managed it properly.

“Oh, Anxiety, what were you thinking?” Misery said quietly. “I already told you, all you do for Deceit and the Duke is drag them down. Why would you think they’d want to spend time with you?”

A list of protests that Virgil didn’t have energy to name ran through his head, but in the end he just kept quiet as Misery wrapped a bandage around his arm.

“You couldn’t tell that they were just asking because they pity you?” Misery asked. “You always have been rather slow, Anxiety, but I would have thought that was obvious.”

Was it? Virgil didn’t think they pitied him. He would have given them a long angry lecture about why he didn’t need pity if he got even an ounce of the feeling that they pitied him.

“They just feel bad for you because no one else cares for you,” Misery said. “And you keep taking advantage of that. I thought you didn’t want to do that.”

Virgil didn’t have anything to say to that. He hadn’t thought he was taking advantage of anything.

“You just need to try a little harder, that’s all,” Misery said. “It’s not hopeless, despite so much being wrong with you already.”

Virgil tried to stamp down the way his spirits lifted slightly at the idea of it being “not hopeless.” That being a nice idea wasn’t a good thing, even though he couldn’t really seem to remember why right now.

“Now let me finish here, alright? And maybe you should take some time to yourself tomorrow. Try and figure things out. Okay?”

Virgil managed a slight nod, and Misery smiled. “There you go, I knew you’d understand. Hang on, I’m almost done. Then I’ll leave you alone like someone as worthless as you deserves, okay sweetheart?”

…

Roman could be a bit much sometimes. Virgil had told him this mostly through insults, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to do so otherwise. Roman could just be so eccentric, and energetic, and… loud. Very, very loud. An unfortunate (or was it? He still couldn’t really be sure) side effect of that was that Virgil tended to ignore him on days that his anxiety was worse.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t really do so this morning with the way Roman made his entrance.

He was downstairs in the kitchen, and it was early enough in the morning that he was still half-asleep and trying to inhale some coffee.

He drank about three cups while listening to Patton chatter on about the plans for the day, and Logan cutting in with remarks about how Thomas should really be more focused on the things he had to get done than Patton was currently suggesting. Virgil was beginning to smile at the back and forth and starting to wake up just a little from the coffee when the door opened very suddenly.

“Good morning to all!” Roman called loudly, and Virgil hissed and leapt up from his chair, moving behind it like it could shield him from anything Roman could try to do.

“Morning, Roman,” Patton said, glancing over at Virgil. “Maybe lower the volume a bit, kiddo?”

“Ah, yes, yes,” Roman said, moving over to make one of the cinnamon raisin bagels that he loved. “Anyway, I hope you all haven’t made plans for the day yet, because I am taking us all on an adventure in the Imagination!”

“Well, actually kiddo, we did have some plans set aside for—”

“It won’t take long!” Roman called, waving Patton’s concerns off. “It’s not an all-day adventure, we’ll be back by lunch!”

Patton exchanged a glance with Logan, who shrugged.

“Well, I suppose that’s okay with us, kiddo,” he said. “Virgil?”

Virgil swallowed and moved to sit on his chair again. “What’s going to happen on the adventure?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Roman said, rolling his eyes. “It would ruin the whole point of this being an adventure.”

“Roman I… don’t want to deal with any surprises today,” Virgil muttered, pulling on his hoodie strings. “Is there going to be any danger or like, loud noises or something?”

Roman threw his hands up. “Maybe! I don’t know, but I really think you’re missing the point of an adventure! I worked hard on this one, okay? Do you think you could be ready after lunch instead?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil snapped. “Look, I just don’t know if today is the day, Princey. It’s not my fault you’re terrible at picking days where I’m not anxious.”

“Okay, kiddos, let’s take a breath,” Patton said, stepping forward in between Roman and Virgil. “Roman, it’s not Virgil’s fault if today is a bad anxiety day. And Virgil, Roman did say he worked pretty hard on this, and we can appreciate that even if today isn’t the day we end up doing it, okay?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that we just got up and Virgil’s already ruining the fun,” Roman said, crossing his arms. “I’m not the one with something wrong with them.”

“Roman!” Patton called.

Virgil stood up before anyone could say anything else and walked out of the room, ignoring Patton calling after him. He opened the door to his room and slammed it after him, appreciating the way it banged loud enough to definitely be heard throughout the house.

He leaned back against it after it closed and slid down to the floor, stopping himself before he did something stupid and pathetic like cry.

God, of course Roman was the one to think there was something wrong with him. How had he not seen this coming?

But why was it his fault if he didn’t want to go on an adventure today? He couldn’t control when his anxiety acted up, and why should he care how hard Roman worked?

…Okay, maybe that part was a little unfair. But it didn’t mean there was something wrong with him! Hadn’t they done a whole video about that? Had Roman just been lying?

Virgil scoffed and set his head on his knees. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had done that.

About ten minutes had passed when he heard a knock on his door. “Virgil?”

Roman.

“Virgil? Virgil, I’m sorry.”

Virgil stood up and cracked the door, glaring out of it. Roman was standing on the other side, looking guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said again.

Virgil opened the door further and crossed his arms, looking down at his shoes.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Roman continued. “It’s not your fault if your anxiety is acting up.”

“Did Patton make you come up here?” Virgil mumbled.

“Patton told me off in the kitchen, but I came up here on my own. I’m sorry, Virgil. I was very excited for the adventure I had planned, I’d worked really hard on it, and I got upset when you said you wouldn’t be up for it. But it wasn’t fair to take that out on you.”

“Yeah, well,” Virgil muttered, crossing his arms. “Sorry there’s so much wrong with me.”

There was a moment of silence, and Virgil almost looked just to see what Roman’s face was like.

“Hey, Stormcloud. It’s okay to have flaws.”

Virgil looked up. “Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t think it could fairly be said that your anxiety is a flaw if that’s your whole job, but it’s okay to not be perfect. Flaws don’t make one unworthy of love.” Roman tipped his head, looking curiously at him. “Has Patton never given you that speech?”

“Uh.”

“Well, he should then. Because it’s true. He gives it to me often enough whenever I forget that I don’t have to be perfect. Even if there’s something wrong with you, we still love you, Stormcloud.”

Virgil blinked.. “…Oh.” He looked down again. “What makes you different?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t… nothing. I don’t mean anything. I… thanks, Roman. I needed to hear that.” He glanced up. “I think I could probably do the adventure tomorrow, if I could spend today with some more relaxing activities.”

Roman beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to let it go to waste if you put a lot of hard work into it.”

Roman somehow smiled even wider, and bounced a little on his feet in excitement. Virgil thought for a moment that he might do it just to see Roman excited like that.

“Oh, excellent!” Roman cried. “I’ll tell Logan to clear the schedule tomorrow!”

He turned and was about to bound away when Virgil cut him off. “Hey, Princey.”

Roman turned back around. “Yes?”

Virgil took a deep breath to steady himself, then leaned forward and pulled Roman into a quick hug. He let go and pulled back second later. “Thanks.”

Roman blinked for a second in surprise, but then smiled again. “Of course, My Nightmare Before Christmas. I couldn’t leave you thinking you might have really angered me. I was only momentarily disappointed. But now I can look forward to tomorrow! Come, and let us have a Disney marathon for the ages!”

“Only if you stop talking like that.”

“I absolutely refuse to do so!”

Imprudence lived up to his function. Virgil never really spent a ton of time with him, his time was filled more by sides like Pride, Cruelty, and Malice, especially lately, since he didn’t really see much of Janus or Remus anymore. But even though he’d been seeing slightly more of Imprudence as of late, he was still surprised when he was grabbed by the arm by him after breakfast one morning, dragged through the mindscape, through Remus’ empty room, and into his side of the Imagination.

“We’re going on an adventure!” he said, grinning at Virgil in the manic way that never meant anything good.

“Wait, we’re what?” Virgil called, as Imprudence dragged them both towards a cliff. “Right now? Shouldn’t we wait and— oh, come on, who the hell am I talking to.”

Imprudence came to a stop at the top of the cliff and started bouncing on his toes a little, dangerously close to the edge. He grinned back at Virgil. “You’re going first.”

“I’m doing what?”

“Go on, it’ll be fun, I’m sure you won’t get hurt.”

“You can’t get hurt in the Imagination,” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, really? Well, you might be able to with this, since I made it, but go on anyway!”

“Wait, what? You don’t want to put on any safety equipment, or— oh god I keep forgetting who I’m talking to.”

“Go on!” Imprudence called, sounding more than a little irritated at this point. “Before I get annoyed with how much of a scaredy cat you’re being and just shove you!”

“I’m going!” Virgil cried, holding his hands up as he started towards the edge of the cliff. “Why the hell are we doing this anyway?”

“Oh, Malice said it might be fun, and then he threatened me if I didn’t take you here, so.”

“Wait, Malice said what?”

“Are you going or not?”

Virgil looked over the side of the cliff and swallowed, suddenly much more nervous than he would have normally been doing something in the Imagination. But Imprudence was standing behind him tapping his foot, and Virgil didn’t doubt his threat about pushing.

He looked over the side and found the first spot that seemed like it would be a good place for a foothold, and carefully put his foot there to test it. It held, and Virgil took a shaky breath and carefully moved over the side of the cliff, finding another foothold near the first one.

“Come on, pick up the pace, I want to climb too!” Imprudence whined, stamping his foot.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Virgil said, shifting down and to the right when he found more footholds there. He definitely didn’t move as quickly as Imprudence wanted if the irritated sighs from above him were anything to go by, but he suddenly wasn’t sure if he would make it out of this okay, so he was going to move as slow as his nerves would let him.

He’d almost made it all the way down the cliff before he couldn’t find a new place to put his hands. He tried a couple spots, but after the third place he tried crumbled under his foot, he moved back to where he’d been and took a couple breaths to stop the way his heart was racing in his chest.

“Anxiety!” Imprudence called from above him. “Come on, let’s get moving!”

“Give me a minute, I’m trying to find a place to go next!” Virgil called back up.

Imprudence groaned and started to nudge his foot towards Virgil. “Come on, let’s pick it up, I want to get to the next part of this thing!”

“There’s another part of—” Virgil started, but that was as far as he got before Imprudence kicked a little too hard at the rock his hand was holding onto, and it crumbled, and his hand slipped off.

Virgil cried out and scrambled for another part of the rock.

“Hey, that works!” Imprudence called, and shifted over and started kicking at his other hand.

“Imprudence!” Virgil screamed. “Stop it!”

“Let go then!” Imprudence said, knocking at the other rock until it crumbled. Virgil screamed and managed to grab onto another part of the cliff, holding on too tightly in a way that was definitely going to cut his hands, not that it would matter the next second anyway, because Imprudence kicked Virgil hard enough in the head that it pushed him downwards and his hands slid off of the cliff.

Virgil was in freefall for a terrifying second before he slammed into the ground.

He laid there for a second, blinking and waiting for the pain that was no doubt coming. It was a couple seconds later when everything started to ache, and Virgil started wheezing.

Imprudence landed on his feet on the ground next to him just after that. “Come on, get up,” he said, nudging Virgil with his foot.

“You hurt… my everything,” Virgil got out.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize that could happen,” Imprudence said, looking off into the distance. “So I have some deep sea diving next, how long do you need to be good?”

“I…” Virgil let out another breath that ended up coming out as a gasp.

“Oh come on, get up,” Imprudence said, leaning down and pulling Virgil up, and ignoring his cry of pain.

Virgil tried to take stock in between moments of being dragged along after Imprudence to judge how injured he was. Nothing felt broken. His wrist was hurting, but not that badly. It might have been sprained. His back was going to ache for a month, but otherwise, he didn’t think he’d fallen too far to do any real damage.

Imprudence stopped running, and Virgil stumbled to a stop behind him. In front of them now was a roaring ocean.

“Hey, Anxiety,” Imprudence said, looking back at him with the same manic grin from earlier. “You want to see who can hold their breath for longer?”

…

By the time Virgil made it back to his room that night he was thoroughly exhausted, and when he saw Misery sitting on his bed with a first aid kit, he quickly decided that every part of his body ached too much to do anything other than walk over and sit down to let Misery look him over.

“Hmm, so I hear you and Imprudence had an adventure today,” Misery said, sounding more amused than anything else. “You really should have been more careful, Anxiety, you know no one’s going to care if you get hurt.”

Virgil winced as Misery started rubbing antibiotic ointment on one of the open cuts he’d gotten from scraping on a tree branch.

“I mean, why else would Remus and Janus do dangerous things in the Imagination with you all the time? You have always hated them after all. They just don’t care if you get hurt. Which is perfectly fair of them, you do get hurt all the time after all. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be used to it.”

Virgil probably would have said some form of apology there if he’d had the energy to move. Misery lifted up the back of his shirt to start applying bruise cream to his back, and Virgil winced at the pain and started shivering at Misery touching so much bare skin, which just made him even colder.

“It’s about time you should adapt to this, you know,” Misery said. “It’s not like your life is going to get any better. You don’t deserve it, sweetheart.” Misery pulled his shirt back down and finally moved to pull Virgil into his chest. “You know that, right? You know you deserve everything you get?”

Misery was quiet for long enough that he must have been expecting an answer, so Virgil mustered up enough energy to nod.

“Well, that’s good at least,” Misery said, running a hand through Virgil’s hair. “Anxiety, you just have to adapt. You’ll get used to it eventually. It’ll be okay.”

It won’t, it would not be okay, there was no way it would ever be okay again.

“Now how about you get some sleep? I think I’ll stay here tonight, you might need some help tomorrow.”

Virgil wanted to protest, he’d never done that before, but before he could even decide if he really wanted to try, Misery was shifting them both back down onto the bed and pulling the covers over them. Not that they did much good, Misery still made everything so cold.

The combination of cold and exhaustion meant it took a while before Virgil fell asleep, and by the time he got there he was still miserable, no doubt helped along by his company.

…

Misery being the one to shake Virgil awake meant that he woke up still exhausted. He checked all of the bandages he’d put on Virgil last night as if he expected anything to change, then headed out, and Virgil realized that another reason he might be so tired is because it was six in the morning. He collapsed back into bed and was about to sleep for another six hours when another body landed on top of his.

Virgil tensed up and was about to brace himself, but instead whoever it was just pulled him into a hug. “Virgil!” Remus cried. “You’re not sleeping late today, we’re going on an adventure!”

Virgil plopped his head onto his pillow. “No,” he groaned.

“Scare bear,” Remus whined, squirming around until he could look Virgil in the eyes. “I never see you anymore. Malice said you’re free today, and he sees you more than I do now for some reason, so that means you are free, right?”

Something in Virgil’s chest got so cold for a second he wondered if Misery was still in the room. “Malice said what?”

“He said you’re free! He said Imprudence needed you yesterday but now you’re free. Are you free? Come have fun with me! We can blow stuff up!”

Virgil swallowed. “I— I don’t—” He stopped and looked at Remus. He looked so hopeful and excited, in a way that meant there was no chance he was forcing himself to do this. Virgil couldn’t imagine why Remus had decided he wanted to hang out with him, but he had missed him so much…

“Okay,” Virgil said finally.

Remus lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just let me eat some breakfast first, okay?”

“Okay! Hang on, I’ll ask Janny to make some more eggs, he’s making me some right now!”

“Wait you don’t have to burden him with—” Virgil started, but Remus sank out before Virgil could finish. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, sat up in bed, and stretched. He was going to need some coffee.

He was planning to head out to the kitchen to eat, but he took a longer time to get dressed than expected due to how exhausted he was, and before he could Remus reappeared in his room holding a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee.

“Come on, let’s go!” he called, shoving them at Virgil and nearly spilling both of them everywhere.

“Jesus, hang on,” Virgil said, grabbing them both and setting them down on the desk. “It’s 6:30, Remus, I’m not normally up at this time.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re boring,” Remus said, flopping back on Virgil’s bed. “Hurry up and eat!”

“I’m working on it,” Virgil said, waving him off as he started shoveling eggs into his mouth. He finished them fairly quickly, then drank the lukewarm mug of coffee in one go and set both dishes back down on his desk to wash later.

“Does that mean you’re done?” Remus called happily, leaping up from the bed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Remus whooped in excitement and grabbed Virgil’s arm before sinking them both out and reappearing in his room, then dragged Virgil through the already-open door to the Imagination.

They ended up in a similar landscape to the last time they’d decided to blow things up, except instead of a city, they were met with an empty kingdom down below the cliff they were standing on.

“Look, he felt like he had to get rid of all the people for your sake,” Misery’s voice whispered in the back of his head.

Virgil shook himself and glanced back over to Remus, who was setting down a handful of various explosives near the edge of the cliff.

He didn’t like the cliff aspect at all, but if Remus had already made the kingdom empty, he wasn’t going to ask him to get rid of the cliff too. Virgil moved to the edge, trying to tense up his legs so their shaking wouldn’t be noticeable, and mostly succeeding. Enough that Remus didn’t seem to notice, anyway.

Remus turned back to face him and grinned, holding out a stick of dynamite that he’d lit. “You want first dibs?”

Virgil smiled a little despite himself and took the dynamite, then hurled it towards the castle down below, watching some of the materials get blown high enough into the air that Virgil hurled a grenade at one of them and shattered it further.

By the time they managed to destroy most of the castle and a couple other buildings, Virgil’s fear had faded a little bit, and he was starting to laugh.

Remus was laughing too, and clearly having a great time, and that alone might have made this whole thing worth it.

The last tower of the castle was destroyed by one of Remus’ throws, and once again one of the pieces flew up. It was a little closer to the edge, and Virgil opened his mouth to remark to Remus to leave that one alone, but Remus had already hurled a grenade, and the larger piece exploded into slightly smaller pieces.

One of which hit the cliff right under where Virgil was standing. The ground he was standing on went with it, and Virgil fell over the side, towards the kingdom below.

Okay, okay, breathe. He’d be fine. He’d never gotten hurt in the Imagination before— at least until yesterday. But Imprudence had built that stuff, Remus was better about that, he wouldn’t…

Unless Misery was right. Unless Remus didn’t care about him getting hurt. Oh god, how far away was the ground—

Virgil landed badly on his ankle. He heard a snap that definitely wasn’t good, and pulled in a gasp as he once again waited for the pain to hit.

Much faster than Imprudence had yesterday, Remus landed on the ground next to him. Like Imprudence, however, he didn’t seem too concerned.

“Dang it, Virgey, why’d you have to fall? It’s gonna take us a while to get back up there—” Virgil couldn’t stop the pained gasp that came out as his ankle started throbbing, and Remus stopped talking instantly.

“Wait. Wait, are you actually hurt? Holy shit, Virgil!” Remus dropped to the ground next to him, and Virgil tried weakly to move away.

“Oh shit, what— how— Virgil I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that could happen! Here, let me look—”

“Get away,” Virgil said, pushing weakly against Remus.

“Hang on, hang on, let me—” He felt Remus’ hands on his ankle, surprisingly gentle, and a second later something there snapped back into place.

Virgil shifted immediately and scrambled backwards.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked instantly.

“Get away!” Virgil cried, still moving backwards. Eventually he pushed himself up and stumbled back a couple more steps, keeping Remus in his line of sight just in case.

“Virgil, I’m just trying to—”

“Get away from me!” Virgil screamed, his voice amplifying as the heartbeat in his chest picked up. “Get away!”

He finally realized he could just sink out before Remus came over here to hurt him in some other way, and did that, ending up back in his bedroom. He scrambled over to the door and locked it, then back over towards his bed and pressed himself against the wall in between his bed and his nightside table.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. You’re alone, you’re fine, breathe.

Misery was right. Virgil couldn’t be surprised by getting hurt anymore. He normally made it to around breakfast before someone had some kind of idea for how he should spend the next half of his day in pain, and then wasted no time on making their idea a reality. Usually it was Cruelty or Pride, which was better than the alternative. Virgil at least knew how to handle them. The problem came when it wasn’t them, and it was Malice instead.

Malice wasn’t anything like Cruelty or Pride. He liked to cause pain in the same way, but there was no easy way out in getting boring, like for Cruelty, or giving him what he wanted, like for Pride. Malice wanted to cause the most pain possible, and he had long learned how to tell if he was actually affecting Virgil or not. Meaning that on days like this morning, when Malice showed up right after he finished eating, Virgil could never be sure what to expect other than the fact that it would be bad.

“Anxiety,” Malice said, his tone sounding the kind of light that it did when he was feeling anything but. “Good morning.”

Virgil swallowed. “Good morning, Malice.”

“No Deceit and the Duke today?” Malice said casually, in a way that meant he knew exactly what had happened with Remus. His smirk in the next second just confirmed that. “I assume you’re just rightfully scared they’ll hurt you again.”

Virgil winced and looked down at the pile of dirty dishes that had started to grow on his desk. “Please stop.”

“Oh, Anxiety, why would I do that when seeing you so miserable is my favorite part of the day!”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Malice wanted right now, or whether leaving or staying was a better idea. Probably better to just hear him out. He’d definitely piss him off if he left.

“I mean, just look at you,” Malice said, sounding thoroughly amused. “Unwanted, alone, unloved.”

“Deceit and the Duke love me,” Virgil muttered.

Malice gave a huff of laughter. “Do they now? Despite the fact that they don’t want to spend time with you and don’t care if you get hurt? Despite the fact that you only drag them down?”

Virgil didn’t reply, but Malice must have seen something that convinced him he meant it, because the next second he stopped talking, and when Virgil looked up his gaze hardened. He sunk out, but Virgil wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t be back. Sure enough, half a minute later he showed up and grabbed Virgil roughly by the arm, then sunk them both out this time. They reappeared in a room Virgil had never been in before, though the instant cold that seeped right down into his bones gave him a pretty good idea of whose room it was.

Malice dropped Virgil off with little ceremony and sunk back out himself, and Virgil got about two seconds to brace himself before he was lifted up by Misery in the same gentleness as always. Virgil started shivering the second Misery touched him.

“Oh, Anxiety,” Misery said, sounding very disappointed in a way that should not be affecting Virgil as much as it already was. He tsked and shook his head. “Malice is right. You know they don’t really love you, right?”

Virgil wasn’t sure where in the world he found the strength, but he pushed back against Misery’s chest enough that he stumbled back a step.

Misery sighed and pulled Virgil back in with almost no effort. “I’m serious, sweetheart. They don’t love you.”

“Stop,” Virgil got out.

“Why is that so hard to believe? They don’t like spending time with you, they don’t care when you’re hurt, they know you just drag them down, why would they love you despite all of that?”

Virgil shook his head and pushed against Misery again, despite having much less energy than before. “They— th-they do,” he stammered through his teeth starting to chatter.

Misery sighed, and took Virgil gently by the shoulders, leading him over to the bed. “Okay, sweetheart, we’re going to have to have a talk about this.” He sat them both down and held Virgil at arm’s length, looking him in the eyes. “When people love you, they want to be around you, and they care about you being okay. Right?”

Virgil didn’t reply.

“Right, Anxiety?”

He nodded.

“So logically, if those things aren’t true for Deceit or the Duke, that means they don’t love you.”

Virgil winced. “B-but they—”

“Don’t. Love you. I mean, think about it, Anxiety, how often do they even tell you they care about you?”

“Well—” Virgil started, but Misery cut him off by squeezing his shoulders tighter.

“They don’t, do they?”

Well, they didn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t love him. Janus and Remus just weren’t the kind of people who liked saying that kind of stuff out loud. Janus was Deceit for Pete’s sake, and Remus was… Remus. They weren’t exactly the type to show affection through their words. He wasn’t either. But that didn’t mean they didn’t care about him… did it?

“But th-th-they…”

“Anxiety,” Misery said softly. “Have I been wrong before?”

Virgil sniffed. “But—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Misery said, pulling Virgil down to his chest. “It’s okay. I know it’s hard when no one cares about you. But you’ve just got to accept that that’s the way things are. Okay?”

Virgil tried one last time to push himself off of Misery, but he was weak and cold and, well, miserable at that point, so Misery easily held on to him. “I’m sorry that no one loves you, Anxiety,” he said. “But I keep telling you, this is what you deserve. Why do you refuse to accept this?”

Virgil sniffed again. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, sweetheart,” Misery whispered. “This would all be so much easier if you just did what you’re told.”

Virgil couldn’t find it in him to reply anymore, and instead put what little he had left towards not crying in front of Misery. He wasn’t going to do that, even if his eyes were already burning.

“We’re gonna stay here for a little while, okay Anxiety?”

It was a question, but Virgil definitely didn’t have a choice in the matter. The second Misery pulled him to his chest he started shivering harder, and then he laid them both down on the bed and pulled the covers over them, which definitely didn’t help matters.

Virgil drew his arms close to his chest in a definitely doomed way to try and get warm. This wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Virgil thought about Cruelty, and besting him by being boring, Pride, and besting him by doing what he wants. Neither of those strategies would work with Misery. Maybe Misery was the most similar to Malice. Maybe all Virgil could do was wait it out and let him do what he wants. Or maybe it could go faster if he just agreed with what Misery said.

It’s not like he was ever wrong anyway.

…

It was the middle of the night and Virgil needed water. He managed to drag himself out of bed and towards the door, pressed his ear to it and listened for noise outside. Sometimes Cruelty stayed up late to try and get a jump on him, though he didn’t really expect anything tonight. When his suspicions were rewarded and he didn’t hear anything, Virgil nudged the door open and headed into the kitchen.

He filled a glass of water and started to drink it when a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Ah, so you are still alive.”

Virgil spit out most of the water in his mouth and choked on what was left, which ended in a coughing fit and setting the glass down on the counter so it didn’t spill. He finished coughing and stood back up, but didn’t turn around again at first.

“Are you alright, Virgil?” Janus asked, though he sounded more irritated than anything else.

Virgil winced and finally turned. Janus was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with a tired expression. Virgil wrapped his arms around his middle and nodded.

Janus sighed and moved over towards the cabinet, grabbing a cup which meant he was probably here for the same reason Virgil was.

“I’m shocked you’re not fleeing the room at the sight of me,” Janus said, shooting a glance over his shoulder as he filled the glass up with water at the sink. “Aren’t you putting all your energy into avoiding Remus and I lately?”

Virgil flinched again and started pulling on his hoodie strings. “Do you—” he started, and stopped.

Janus turned and raised an eyebrow. “Do I what?”

“Do you hate me?” Virgil blurted.

Janus stared at him. A second later, he sighed. “Why of course, Virgil. I’ve never hated anyone more in my life,” he said, and Virgil felt something in his chest snap in half.

Janus apparently wasn’t done, though. “We just want to know what’s going on with you,” he said. So that was it? Virgil had ruined everything just by not being around as often? Was that really all it took?

“We never see you anymore,” Janus continued. “Is something wrong? Has something changed? Is this about the core sides?”

Virgil stared at Janus in bafflement. “What?” What in the world did the core sides have to do with anything?

“Well, forgive me for thinking what I think, Virgil,” Janus said, throwing his hands up. “You’re spending all of your time with either them or the others. I can certainly understand wanting to be liked by Thomas and the core sides, I just…” Janus sighed and looked off to the side. There was a pregnant pause where Virgil tried to figure out what the hell was going on in Janus’ head. He didn’t get anywhere.

Finally, he just sighed and looked back at Virgil. “Look, if this is what you want, then fine. Just don’t expect Remus and I to wait around if you’re not going to put in the same effort.”

Virgil blinked quickly. He wasn’t going to start crying. The only thing worse than crying in front of Misery would be crying in front of Janus. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine. You won’t have to spend time around someone you hate anymore.”

Janus let out a much harsher sigh, clearly irritated. “Now that’s not fair, Virgil.”

Virgil flinched. “I know. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his cup and dumped the rest of the water into the sink, then sunk back out to his room.

He definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

The Subconscious was not a place Virgil frequented.

Well to be fair, it wasn’t a place any side frequented, really, given what happened to a side when they ended up there. The Subconscious came with a nice little “go in there and you stop affecting Thomas” side effect. But Virgil was desperate.

Normally, in a situation where everyone tried to gang up on him at once, he’d go find Janus or Remus and ask if he could accompany them on whatever they were doing at the current moment. But that obviously wasn’t an option anymore. And Virgil had to go somewhere they were the least likely to follow.

Like here. The Subconscious itself could end up like a twisted version of the Imagination, where any side could twist and shape it the way they wanted, but the more they did so, the more likely they were to get stuck there. It was for this reason that Virgil didn’t create anything to hide behind. Well, that and the fact that it would be an obvious sign that someone was here anyway. If they ended up here, he was already screwed no matter what. He’d just have to try and wait it out, and breathe. Breathing would probably be helpful. If he focused on that he could ignore his instincts that were screaming at him to make a bookshelf, a big rock, a wall, anything to hide behind.

He was fine. He’d be fine. Why would they come in here? They wouldn’t. They knew how dangerous it was. They couldn’t be that mad, right? He didn’t even know what he’d done.

Footsteps stormed past the door back to the mindscape. Virgil tensed and buried his head in his knees until they passed.

See? Fine, you’re fine, they’re gone now, they’re…

Coming back. Virgil jerked his head up and scrambled backwards, as if that would do anything. The footsteps stopped outside of the door, there was a second of sickening silence, and then it slammed open.

Virgil screamed and threw his hands up in front of his face on instinct.

“So you came in here,” Malice said, not sounding at all happy with that fact. “You sneaky little pest.”

Virgil started scrambling backwards, but he didn’t make it farther than a couple feet before Malice stormed across the room and hoisted him upright, then threw him across the empty space. He landed hard on his back.

“Oh, you found Anxiety!” came Positivity’s cheerful voice from the doorway.

“Positivity,” Malice said. “Be a dear and make some chains, would you?”

“You don’t think I’ll get stuck here?” Positivity asked.

“Not for something that small,” Malice said, waving his hand dismissively.

Positivity seemed to accept this. “Alrighty then! One set of chains for our lovely little torture victim, coming right up!”

Virgil jumped up to try and make a break for the door, but before he could make it more than a step Positivity waved his hand with a beaming grin and chains wrapped themselves around Virgil’s arms, then pulled him back down towards the floor.

“I can just make these disappear!” Virgil spat, doing just that.

Positivity waved his hand and the chains reappeared.

“Oh please, be my guest,” Malice said. “You’ve been in here longer than us, if you want to risk getting stuck here, I’m not going to stop you.”

Virgil yanked experimentally on the chains, but they weren’t actually attached to anything that existed, which meant they just went far down into the nothingness surrounding them and Virgil couldn’t make any leeway in that way.

“Where’s Pride? I thought that idiot wanted first dibs,” Malice said, turning back to face Positivity.

“He’ll be here soon! He wanted to get his favorite toys,” Positivity said.

Malice nodded slightly at that, and Virgil tried to steady his breathing. If Pride was coming, he needed to have a lot of air to be able to scream.

Pride arrived in the doorway a couple minutes later, holding his favorite set of knives and what looked like Remus’ morningstar, which was definitely a mistake. Remus was going to be pissed when he found out it was missing.

“You left me the good parts, right?” Pride asked, setting down the morningstar and starting over towards Virgil.

“I did,” Malice said, looking down at his fingernails. “Remember to leave the face for Deceit and the Duke, though. Are they coming or not?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to have air to scream enough.

“Yeah, they’re coming,” Pride groaned, looking back over his shoulder. “Why do they get to play with his face, they’ve never done this before!”

“Did you know the face is the most sensitive part of the body?” Positivity called.

“Did you want first dibs or not?” Malice asked, crossing his arms.

Pride grumbled something and flipped his knife around. Virgil tensed and leaned backwards as he approached. Pride flipped the knife around once in his hand and moved Virgil’s hoodie and shirt sleeve up along his arm before stabbing the now exposed skin of his forearm and twisting.

Virgil managed a scream. He tried to let as much pain as possible come through. Even if Malice or Positivity saw through his act, if they brought it up to Pride he was more likely to get defensive, so it was still probably the safest option.

He had no idea what he was going to do if Remus and Janus really did show up. He probably wouldn’t have to fake anything at that point.

Pride’s grin when he managed to look him in the face again at least meant that Virgil was doing the first step right. Pride kept going on the same arm for a while, which meant his screams were proving enough for him to be satisfied.

Eventually, though, Pride moved on to the torso, and Virgil was familiar enough with knife movements at this point to recognize that Pride was carving a word across it. It was probably something stupid like his name. Virgil found strength enough to scream and thrash for part of it, and whimper for the rest, but by the time Pride finished there, he was out of energy, and Pride must have been noticing, because he was standing back and looking at Virgil in irritation.

“What, is this not enough for you?” he snapped. “You know I can do worse.” He reached forward and grabbed Virgil’s chin, yanking it up towards his face. Before Virgil could reply in any way, Pride moved the knife up under his eyes and started slicing, and suddenly Virgil had the energy to scream again.

That only lasted a couple seconds, though, before Malice came forward and yanked Pride backwards. “What part about ‘leave the face for Deceit and the Duke’ did you not understand?!”

“He was being boring!” Pride complained. “That’s a challenge, the rules change!”

“They absolutely do not. Go stand back there, you’re waiting for the others now.”

Pride grit his teeth, but Malice was not one to mess with, and it seemed even he knew that, because he stormed back over to stand next to Positivity and started grumbling.

Virgil was under no illusions that Pride being benched would mean he got a break, and he was proven right when Malice picked up a knife.

Okay. The safest thing here would be to keep up the illusion for Pride, lest he lose his only way out in the future. So when Malice took his injured arm and started scratching at or stabbing at already open wounds, Virgil managed to shriek and trash enough that Pride would probably buy this being how he reacted to all torture.

But Malice’s torture session lasted less time, because after a minute or so the door slammed open again, and everyone turned around. Virgil maneuvered his head over towards the door as much as he could, and there was Remus. Virgil stopped looking towards the door. He would definitely start crying otherwise.

“Where’s Deceit?” Malice asked in annoyance, and there was another note to his voice that Virgil probably could have figured out if he was less exhausted or in pain.

“Thomas and the core sides are in Anxiety’s room,” Remus said. There was a moment of silence as everyone seemed to collectively think they heard him wrong.

“What?” Virgil asked. “Why?”

“Shut up,” Malice said, digging the knife in a little deeper where it was placed without looking back at him. “What do you mean they’re in Anxiety’s room?”

“Deceit is looking for him. He says they’re there.”

Janus was looking for him? Wasn’t Janus on his way here to torture him or something?

“If Thomas is in Anxiety’s room and Anxiety doesn’t show up he’s going to get suspicious,” Pride remarked.

“I know that,” Malice snapped. He pinched his fingers together on the bridge of his nose and glared back up at Remus. “Go find Cruelty. Get the idiot’s eyeshadow.”

“My what?” Virgil asked.

“I said shut up,” Malice snapped, twisting the knife enough that Virgil whimpered. “Positivity, give me the first aid kit.”

Positivity bounced forward and pulled out a first aid kit that Virgil hadn’t noticed before. Remus headed back out of the room as Malice started wrapping various cuts on his arm, probably ones that would otherwise bleed through his clothes.

Remus and Cruelty showed up a couple minutes later with his makeup kit, and Malice moved to press some of the gauze under his eyes for a moment before checking the wounds again. They must have been dry enough, because he snatched the eyeshadow from the makeup kit and started applying more of it under his eyes.

“There,” Malice said, leaning back. “Can you tell he’s hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” Positivity said brightly. “And it’s not like he’s going to give it away, right?” He directed that part at Virgil.

“No, he’s not,” Malice said, looking back at Virgil. “You know what, I’ve actually grown far too tired of you heading off to hang out with the core sides all the time, so here’s what’s going to happen.” He nudged Positivity, who must have gotten what he meant, because he waved his hand and the chains attached to Virgil vanished. Virgil fell to the ground and stayed there for about half a second before Malice grabbed him by the arms and yanked him back upwards.

“You’re going to find an excuse to never go back there again. Tell them… tell them you ducked out.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I don’t know, figure it out!” Malice screamed, and Virgil flinched hard backwards. “You’re going to tell them that, and then you’re going to come back here, and we’re going to keep you here.”

“What—”

“Understand?”

“But—”

“Understand?” Malice said, digging his nails into a cut on Virgil’s arm. Virgil nodded.

“Good.” He yanked Virgil’s sleeve down and turned to shove him back towards the door to the mindscape. “Now go on.”

Virgil sprinted from the room, or as close to sprinting as he could get with how badly his legs were shaking, and slowed down slightly outside to give himself time to breathe. He could just appear in his room from anywhere, and it’s not like he was going to give Janus the pleasure of seeing him like this if that’s what he wanted so badly.

Breathe. Come on, you can do this. You do this all the time. It’s not like Thomas is going to treat you any differently this time. You know how this works. Just go and get this done, you can have your breakdowns later. Breathe. Try getting angry. That’s a good way to hide fear.

Virgil opened his eyes and took one last breath that he was impressed didn’t sound terribly shaky.

“Of course, it’s just like them to drag out a torture session by interrupting it,” Virgil muttered to himself. “This is all their fault, right?” He took another breath. Yeah, he could try that for a little while. There was at least one thing he really wanted to know either way. He could start with that.

Virgil took a breath, sunk down, and reappeared in front of the core sides and Thomas.

“What are you doing in my room?”

Chapter Two

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #angst #whump #my fic

23 notes · View notes

daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Academy Blues

avoi-dance!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: nightmares

ship: dousy (daisy johnson/daniel sousa)

ahahaha dousy is becoming a spark

Shaking.

Quaking.

Rubble falling.

Bones snapping.

Something dark on the floor.

He’s gone.

Daisy bolted upright, ribs expanding and contracting rapidly. The bed was shaking. A small cacti was on the floor, sand and pebbles thrown across the rug, pieces of the decorative pot shattered. She looked over at her clock.

2:14am. Great.

Daisy quickly rose, gathering her rug in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other. She walked down the hall, quiet as a mouse, still shaky.

Breathe, Daisy, She told herself.

She reached the bathroom without encountering anyone. She set the rug on the counter, gathering the tiny cactus and shaking it out of the soil.

“Ouch,” She inhaled sharply. Cacti are prickly.

The mirror rattled a bit as Daisy shook the sand and pebbles into the trash. She held back tears, the aftershocks of her nightmare hitting her.

A presence in the doorway caught her attention.

“Daisy? What’re you doin’?”

Jemma sounded like she had just woken up, her accented voice thick and scratchy with sleep.

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, but her voice cracked on the first syllable. Jemma’s eyes widened, registering the sight before her. She rushed over, enveloping Daisy in a tight hug. Jemma could feel Daisy’s chest racking with sobs. At least she could comfort her now, like she wasn’t allowed to before.

Jemma slowly pulled away as Daisy’s cries became quieter and less frequent. The small cacti was still resting on the counter, the rug discarded on the tiled floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jemma asked gently.

Daisy looked up, the rattling of the mirror lessening as she exhaled.

“I broke my cactus,” She sniffled, a few tears escaping as she stared at the broken succulent. She was really looking forward to watching this one grow.

Daisy shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sweatshirt sleeve. Silently, the pair picked up the rug and walked back to Daisy’s room. Daisy saved the small cacti, not quite able to just throw it in the trash. Jemma surveyed the furniture, making sure that nothing else had fallen. Her room was in its usual messy yet organized array. It made Jemma’s skin itch, but at least Daisy knew where everything was. Daisy collapsed onto her bed, pulling a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Daisy thought for a moment, watching Jemma fidget with her fingers and rub her neck, noting her under eye circles and the sluggish way she smiled.

“I’m good,” Daisy said.

Jemma raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really,” She offered.

Daisy nodded. “I promise, I’m good.”

Jemma hesitantly nodded, then left, softly closing the door behind her.

Daisy flopped backwards onto her pillows. She wasn't sleeping anytime soon.

Daisy woke at 9:36 later that day, her alarm buzzing softly and her phone screen lit with several missed calls from Elena and May.

7:04–May

Are you otw?

7:10–Yo-yo

daisy, you’re late

7:15–Missed call from May (2)

8:02–Yo-yo

may is pissed

get your best sorry ready

Daisy sighed. Fuck nightmares.

She had already missed half of second period, not that it wasn’t anything she didn’t already know how to do. Might as well take advantage of the empty canteen.

After speedily brushing her teeth and getting dressed, Daisy grabbed her backpack and headed out.

True to routine, the canteen was void of people, save for a group of fifth-years chatting in the corner. Daisy grabbed her usual cinnamon raisin bagel and coffee and found a spot near the back doors. If May came in, she would run. It was too early and Daisy was too tired to deal with May’s concern.

Daisy glanced up as the doors across the large hall opened again, almost spitting out her coffee at who walked in.

Ohmygodhe’scomingoverhere, don’t be an idiot!

“Hey, Danny Boy,” Daisy greeted. Smooth, very good start.

“Hey, Dais,” He said, morning voice rough and low. Daisy ignored the rising number on her biometer watch and quickly hid her hand under the table, resting on her bouncing knee.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Just getting up, are we?”

Daniel shrugged, “My alarm clock is broken, and I’m ahead in all my classes anyway. Missing one to trade for sleep won’t hurt me.”

“Aren’t you in May’s class, though? She hates when people skip,” Daisy asked.

Daniel thought this over for a second before responding, demeanor a tad sheepish. “I might have already asked for the notes for this week, everything she’s teaching today I’ve already been studying.”

Daisy smiled. Nerd.

“Well, in that case, would you care to join me in my avoidance of classes?”

Daniel checked his analog watch, second period was almost over. “Sure. My third is calculus, and all we do in there is textbook work anyway.”

Daisy stood up, stretching a bit. Daniel followed her out of the canteen, across the grounds, and around the girls’ dorms.

“Uh, Daisy, where exactly are we going?”

Daisy grinned. “Ever been on the roof, Sousa?”

Sousa looked up at the top of the building. “Are we allowed up there?”

Daisy furrowed her brows, responding with a noncommittal hum. Did he not want to go up there?

“To master the art of avoidance, you must be unpredictable. Go where no one will find you. Dance along the edge of expectations,” Daisy exclaimed dramatically. “That’s why it’s called avoi-dance. We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Daniel laughed, eyes smiling. “Ladies first,” He offered.

Daisy clambered onto the iron fire escape, waiting for Daniel on the first landing and giving him a hand. They started up the stairs together, wind blowing softly over their faces.

“So,” Daisy started when they reached the top, “This is it.”

Daniel watched as Daisy made a grand gesture, crouching down near an outlet to plug in the lights.

Putting on her best realtor voice, Daisy led Daniel around the space.

“In this corner we have a lovely, absolutely gorgeous three-hundred-sixty degree view of campus. Look! There are students in their natural habitat!

“And over here, we have a wonderful assortment of plants, both alive and barely clinging to life, just like most of the human inhabitants of the building!”

Daniel chuckled, nodding sagely. “Now, let’s talk money. What is the price per square foot, and how much are you suggesting as a down payment?”

Daisy’s grin faltered, not sure exactly what Sousa was talking about. Daniel’s smile grew wider at the slightly confused, completely adorable look on her face.

“Were you planning on getting work done?” Daniel asked.

Daisy shrugged, setting her backpack down and leaning against the low wall surrounding the edge of the roof. He joined her, sitting with one leg out and the other bent at his knee.

“It won’t take me long to finish this,” Daisy said, opening her laptop.

Daniel watched on as Daisy coded, taking mental notes of how her fingers glided over the keys, typing at a speed he could barely comprehend. She bit her bottom lip in concentration, pausing for a moment to assess her work, then continuing to circumvent the little red error messages that appeared at the top of her screen.

“How do you know what all that means?” Daniel asked. Daisy stopped typing for a moment to look over at him, tilting her head a bit.

“I guess I just picked it up pretty quick. When I was still living in my van, before Coulson found me, I had to make money somehow, so I started building codes and programs for people who needed it. They were definitely shady, and it got me into a couple tough spots, but I could always just move my van away, drive somewhere else.”

Daniel didn’t press for more information. Daisy seemed not to want to talk about it, as she turned back to her computer and let her hair fall into her face. A few minutes later, she pressed enter, and threw her hands up.

“Yes! Finally!”

Daniel peeked at her screen. Instead of a red error message, there was a small check at the top of her screen.

“So what exactly did you just do with the numbers and the symbol things?”

Daisy laughed lightly. “Sometimes SHIELD creates programs specifically for Academy students to hack into, so we can practice getting around firewalls and beating different layers of protection. At the end is usually some redacted file or just a blank document. Sometimes the Professors let the advanced students hack into companies and emails if they need help. It gives us ‘a wide range of practical experience.’”

Daniel scrunched his eyebrows, checking his watch. “So does it normally only take you fifteen minutes to complete assignments like this?”

Daisy smirked, “I don’t mean to brag, but yes. Most kids in my class can do it in forty-five, but I like to challenge myself.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped, amazed. “Wow. So in a couple years I’ll be doing that? I can keep up with CS 1, but that is…” He trailed off, not sure exactly how to describe it.

Daisy nodded, “It takes awhile to get used to, to understand. It’s like learning any other language, it helps if you start young, and I practically depended on coding for survival when I was in my teens. It gave me a huge leg up.”

Daniel let his gaze wander over Daisy’s face. She had a lot more to her than meets the eye. He looked into her eyes, finding her already staring at him, an intent look on her face. She opened her mouth to say somethi—

Briiiiiiiiiiing.

The bell cut her off. Daisy looked away quickly, cheeks tinted pink. Daniel made no move to get up, and neither did Daisy. They waited until it was over to speak again.

“I guess we should probably get going?”

Daisy agreed, standing up and reaching out a hand for Sousa to take. They walked back to campus together, parting ways to get to their classes.

Daisy passed by May’s room on her way to Physics, walking quickly and staring straight ahead.

“Daisy!”

Daisy stopped, walking backwards to stand in the open door of May’s classroom. No one was there but May.

Daisy slowly approached May down the rows of desks, smiling rather guiltily.

“Hey, May! How are you?” Daisy asked, voice an octave higher than normal. May had on her ‘Mom Face’, as Daisy called it, eyebrows slightly raised and lips pursed in a straight line.

“You know, leather jackets look great on you!” Daisy tried, picking at her nails, unable to maintain eye-contact without her chest constricting. May stayed silent.

Daisy dropped the cheery façade, sighing. This would get her nowhere.

“I’m sorry. I had a rough night and slept through my alarm. If it makes you feel better, I also missed my first three periods,” Daisy rushed out, exhaling sharply.

May sat back onto her desk, patting the space beside her.

“Call me next time,” May said, voice soft. “Asking for help isn’t weak, Daisy, and I don’t know how to help if you don’t tell me. I don’t have a class next period.”

Daisy nodded, a slight sting in her eyes. May continued, “You’ve had a rough year. I get it. But Daisy, running from those you love, who love you? It doesn’t work. Trust me, I’ve tried. The only thing that will work is facing your fears head-on, and keep running at them until eventually they’re powerless. You need closure.”

Daisy rested her head on May’s shoulder, unable to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, May,” Daisy apologized, voice small.

May wrapped an arm around her in a side hug.

“You don’t need to apologize. Let’s go work out some problems, my way.”

In the canteen, Jemma and Fitz sat in their usual spot by the back windows, both munching on spaghetti and rolls.

“Fitz! Tell me you didn’t!”

Fitz looked up from where he was tinkering with a piece of tech that looked suspiciously like an ICER with a small cloaking device attached to the side.

“I didn’t,” He replied. He kept tinkering with the small gun until it made a loud pop! and shocked him.

“Ouch!” Fitz winced, promptly dropping the modified ICER on the table, empty cartridge bouncing onto the floor. He bent to pick it up, reassembling the tech and taking another bite of pasta.

“Have you figured out the problem?” Jemma asked.

Fitz rolled his eyes. “It’s not a problem, Jemma, it’s just that I, uh, I can’t get the…” Fitz paused, waggling his hands in the air as if he was grasping for the right word.

“The concentration? Weight? Bullets?” Jemma supplied.

“The bullets work! Non-lethal, heavy stopping power, break up under the subcutaneous tissue. Same ones from when we were working on The Bus. No, it’s the, um, the safety. It keeps going off without my permission,” Fitz finished.

Jemma took a bite of her roll. “Are you using one-hundred nano-liters of dendrotoxin like I suggested?”

Fitz nodded. “That’s in the bullets. This is just the design. I can’t figure out the balance, with the addition of cloaking, it’s thrown my whole design off.”

“Maybe Daisy has an idea? She’s listened to us ramble on for years, she’s actually used them.”

Fitz and Jemma looked around for Daisy. It was 6, dinner started at 5, and they always ate together.

“Usually she’s here by now,” Jemma frowned. The three of them had fallen into a comfortable routine, meeting at lunch and dinner and making plans to study after.

“There’s that guy she’s been hanging out with, er,” Fitz paused, snapping his fingers, “Sousa! Maybe he knows something,” Fitz pointed to where Sousa was eating a plate of chicken and rice near the entrance to the canteen.

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

Fitz looked back at Daniel, considering his options. On one hand, he had never talked to the guy. What if he said something wrong and made a bad first impression? On the other hand, Fitz needed to make sure Daisy was okay. They had a routine they had agreed to stick to, and if she was off routine, it meant something was wrong.

“Let’s go together,” Fitz half-suggested, half-asked.

Jemma nodded, getting up and walking with Fitz across the cafeteria to stand in front of Daniel.

“Hello,” Jemma started, “Have you seen Daisy lately? We’ve noticed the two of you together recently.”

Fitz stood slightly behind Jemma, fingers weaving themselves together.

Daniel took in the two of them, noticing Jemma’s thumb swiping nervously across her palm.

“Would you like to sit down?” Daniel offered.

“No, thank you, we’d really just like to find Daisy,” Fitz rushed out, looking slightly above Daniel’s eyes as he talked.

Daniel nodded. “Are you guys Fitzsimmons? Daisy talks about you a lot, I’m glad to finally meet you. But to answer your question, I haven’t seen her since third period. Is something wrong?”

Jemma sighed. “She had a bad nightmare last night, but when I left she said she was fine. I went to check on her this morning but she didn’t answer, I assumed she was out for a run.”

Daniel furrowed his brows. Daisy hadn’t mentioned a nightmare. “Is that why she was missing her morning classes?”

“She’s sleep deprived and has a tendency to entirely abandon routines if she doesn’t get off on the right foot. I bet she’s with May,” Jemma said, looking to Fitz for confirmation.

Fitz just nodded, staring at Jemma.

“Great,” Jemma clapped her hands, “Should we go find her?”

It took Daniel a moment to realize the question was directed at him. “Oh, uh, yes, sure,” He stammered, getting up and jogging a bit to catch up to Fitz and Jemma.

“Oof!” Daisy exclaimed. She and May had been sparring for the past couple hours. Hours. Daisy was absolutely exhausted. May was feeling fine.

From the mat, Daisy reached a hand up so May could pull her up. Instead of getting up, though, Daisy pulled hard, flipping May over. May rolled rather chunkily, ending in a position that was half-squatting, half-sitting.

Maybe she was a little more tired than she let on.

“Good one. Next time, roll with the flip, too. If your attacker is faster than you, you could’ve just given them a free shot.”

Daisy got up slowly, dusting herself off and extending a hand out to May.

“Truce?”

May nodded. Then Daisy’s world spun, and she was flat on her back.

“Ughh. I deserved that,” Daisy panted.

May smirked, staying on the floor with Daisy.

“Feel any better?”

Daisy shrugged. “I’ll at least sleep hard,” She said, still catching her breath.

“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Daisy lifted her head off the mat to see Jemma and Fitz walking into the gym. Daniel was behind them.

Daisy sat fully up, allowing Jemma to help her to her feet.

“Sorry guys. I should have called,” Daisy grimaced.

Fitz shrugged, “It’s okay, Dais, we got Daniel to, er, tag along with us. He was a good ‘replacement you’ for a while.”

Daisy looked over to Daniel, who was trying to hide a blush by clearing his throat and looking anywhere but Daisy.

Oh, right. She was wearing nothing but a sports bra and spandex training shorts.

Daisy walked over to the edge of the mat, stretching out her arms and grabbing her SHIELD sweatshirt, tugging it on.

“Thank you, guys, I appreciate the concern,” Daisy checked her watch, “You already ate dinner?”

Jemma and Fitz nodded.

“Okay, I’ll grab something with May and see you at the dorms?”

Fitz gave her a thumbs up and left, Jemma right behind him. May grabbed her water bottle, letting Daisy know that she’d be in the canteen.

“And then there were two,” Daisy laughed nervously, threading her fingers together and shifting from side to side.

Daniel smiled, “And then there were two.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them.

“Thanks for hanging out with me this morning. You didn’t have to,” Daisy blurted.

Daniel shrugged, frowning, “I wanted to.”

Daisy turned away from Daniel, face heating up. He wanted to hang out with her?

Daisy bent to grab her gym bag. When she turned back around, Daniel was waiting for her.

“You can tell me, you know, if you’re having a rough go of it. I won’t judge,” He stated, calm and collected.

Daisy nodded, unsure how to respond. She rose up onto her tiptoes and rocked back, once, twice, three times before letting out a slow exhale.

“Have you eaten dinner?” She asked.

“Sorta. I was about to eat before I left with Fitz and Simmons,” He said.

“Well, you’re welcome to eat with me and May,” Daisy offered.

Daniel grinned.

“I’ll take your bag.”

They arrived a number of minutes later at the canteen, Daisy offering to take her bag every couple minutes and Daniel readjusting the black duffel on his shoulder, refusing.

May thought they were exceptionally cute.

“Took you long enough,” The short woman said, amusement lacing her words.

Daisy plopped into a seat before Daniel could pull one out.

“I’m gonna go get some grub, I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Daniel announced.

May raised an eyebrow at Daisy, whose face promptly went pink.

“He’s a dork,” She said, “He was awed by my CS homework.”

“Was it the homework, or was it you?”

May shot Daisy a very pointed look, to which Daisy rolled her eyes.

“Whatever.”

“He’s very square” May observed, watching him over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daniel came up behind her, holding a plate with a cinnamon raisin bagel in one hand and a plate of chicken and rice in the other.

“I didn’t know what else you’d like, but I felt bad for not grabbing you anything.”

May hid a laugh by clearing her throat. Daisy reached out to accept the bagel, avoiding eye contact with May.

After dinner, back at the dorm, Jemma and Daisy were sprawled out on Daisy’s bed. Jemma held her flashcards in her hand, quizzing herself while Daisy talked.

“May says I need ‘closure’, whatever that means. I thought I had closure. I went to his funeral. I hugged his sister!”

Jemma set her cards down, accepting that she wasn’t going to get any more studying done.

“But you don’t know what happened. You were being controlled, you weren’t here. Daisy, you’ve always needed answers. You’ve never been able to leave a problem alone if you didn’t have the full story.”

Daisy sighed. Jemma was right.

“Well… On to happier subjects. Tell me about the new marine bio elective. How’s that going?”

Daisy smiled softly as Jemma’s face lit up and her hands came up to flap excitedly. Jemma went off on several different tangents about the professor’s experiences as a wildlife photographer and the different coral reefs they were studying in class. Daisy tried to listen, really, she did, but she found herself stuck in her head, responding with passive hums and ‘yeah’s.

Eventually, Jemma seemed to run out of steam, her smile still wide and face slightly flushed from how she had been ranting about climate change’s effects on the world’s reefs.

“It’s 10. I’m going to head up to bed.”

Daisy nodded. She had a plan.

She walked with Jemma back down the hall to her room, bidding her a good night. Daisy got back to her room, breathing in the quiet, then settled onto her rug against her bed, laptop sat in front of her. Lines of code danced on the screen, the light from the computer highlighting her face.

“You have to do this. You need closure,” Daisy murmured.

Daisy sat up, stretching. She changed positions several times, finally landing upside down on her bed. She craned her neck to read her clock, 11:23. Last chance to turn back, you know the consequences. You could get kicked out of SHIELD. They won’t trust you anymore.

Daisy pressed enter.

#daisy johnson #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#dousy #daniel sousa #jemma simmons #leo fitz #fitzsimmons #philindaisy #aos fic #mama may #marvel #melinda may #phil coulson #ash writes

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

Freezer Duty (Part Two)

"Okay, okay!" Cheyenne shouts. Everyone is gathered in the warehouse, shouting and holding money. "Guys, settle down! This is simple, okay? If you think Jonah is a vampire put your money in this stupid fedora-"

She holds up said Fedora, a hat that Jonah has tried many times to wear and has been relentlessly mocked for each and every time.

"-and if you think he isn't a vampire, put your money in this crazy big mug!" She holds up a novelty mug that says 'My hair is as slick as my moves'.

Bets are placed, and the games truly begin.

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Jonah looks at the customer and nods as they drone on about... something. He's trying very hard to focus on what, but it's just impossible. His lunch was completely unsatisfying, and he's still tired as hell.

"-so then the bagel caught fire-"

He just feels groggy and sick. And he's freezing! He even put his jacket on under his vest, and he's still cold! If only he had one of those cardigans from college with him...

"-and anyway, I just hope this won't turn out the same way."

Jonah nods along for a minute more before registering that the "conversation" is finally over. "Okay, well, good luck with that, ma'am," he says with a tired smile.

"Thank you, um... Joe-neh.”

“It-it’s Jonah, actually- and she walked away. Okay.” Jonah sighs and yawns, stretching his arms. He accidentally swings then out too wide, and knocks something over right onto the ground.

He jumps at the sheer volume of the impact! “WHAT IN THE-”

A barbell in a box smashes against the ground, denting the floor.

“How did- who- where-” Jonah looks around, trying to spot someone who would misplace a barbell into grocery!

He kneels down to take a look. It’s cracked the floor significantly.

He looks at his hand. It’s not even red where he accidentally punched the absurdly heavy weight. He struggles with grocery bags more often than not, and yet this- whatever this even is- happened?!

“Gotta be at an angle,” he mutters to himself. He puts his hands on the shelf, rubbing it, crouching down and examining it closely. “Just slid off at the lightest touch, clearly.”

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“Wow.” Mateo looks at Brett. “How did you even get that over there? It must weigh like, a million pounds.”

Brett gives no reply. Nor any indication that he heard Mateo at all.

“Fine then,” Mateo says, offended. “Well, that’s a point for the ‘vampire’ better for sure.”

“Totally.” Cheyenne is already marking it down in her notebook.

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Dina watches Jonah on the security cams. “Let’s see how you like this one.” She pulls out her walkie-talkie. “Do it now, Garrett.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right?”

“Just do it!”

At the customer service desk, Garrett sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps an audio file, and holds it up to his mic.

Dina watches Jonah like a hawk.

First his head lifts up, clearly confused, and then after a moment he claps his hands over his ears. Over the camera she hears him shout, “What the hell is that?!”

Customer turn and looks at him with bewilderment, and looks around.

Jonah looks around too, somewhat distressed.

“Ha!” Dina stands up a little and points at her monitor. “Superhuman hearing!”

“Hey, Dina?” Garrett says over the walkie. “What is this supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s a frequency human ears can’t hear, but Jonah just did,” she says happily.

“Are you serious?”

“Always. He’s freaking out in the middle of grocery,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay, turning this off now.”

“No! I want to see how long he can handle it first, for future reference.”

“Yeah, well, I bet against him being a vampire so this doesn’t benefit me at all.”

Garrett lowers the phone and turns it off. Dina watches Jonah drops his hands from his ears with a small gasp of relief. She plops back into her chair with a disgruntled sigh.

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“Hey, Sandra? Um, so, we got a complaint,” Glenn says, trying to get Sandra’s attention, “Someone said that a bunch of bats flew out of the hole in the ceiling and started trying to rip their hair out? Anyway, uh, we can’t call animal control without corporate approval, so I need someone to handle that...”

Glenn waits for a moment, and then clears his throat. Sandra is still focused on something else. He clears it again, more insistently. Still nothing.

“SANDRA!”

The shrill shout make Sandra jump. Glenn smiles pleasantly when she turns around. “I need your help with something- ... wait a minute...”

Sandra is holding a spray bottle, garlic powder, and real garlic. “Um, I’m... restocking,” she clearly fibs. Glenn raises an eyebrow.

Sandra deflates. “We’re playing a game,” she admits. “To see if Jonah’s a vampire or not. Since garlic might kill him Dina and Marcus are making me wear garlic perfume, which is just garlic in water, to see if it makes his nose bleed or anything.”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t be playing a game at work-”

“Who cares?! Jonah might be a vampire?”

“Um... yes?”

Glenn shouts fearfully. “But-but vampires are damned! Jonah’s soul might be damned?!”

“... Yes?”

Glenn quickly runs away. Sandra waits, shrugs, and goes back to spraying garlic-y water on her neck.

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“Jerusha? We’re gonna start up a new savings account! ... Well, Jonah might be a vampire, so I think we’ll need to pay a heavy fee to get him into Heaven! ... Of course we have to do it! He probably can’t even think of Heaven now! OH! I prayed for him this morning, what if that hurt him?! Oh, god... I need to call Pastor Craig about this! Oh- hmm? Oh, yeah, I can bring home Italian, what do you want?”

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

Jonah leans away from Sandra. “Yeah, uh, it’s-it’s certainly... pungent.”

“A good signature scent?” Sandra asks meekly.

“It... leaves a strong impression,” Jonah assures. And a strong headache...

“You don’t think it’s too strong?”

“Well, um... now you mention it, it... might, be a little... much. Uh... garlic-ish. Kind of.”

“Oh. Do you not like garlic?”

“I love it! I love garlic, just... not as a perfume.”

“You’re not allergic?”

“I just said I love it, so... no.”

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

Sandra walks away, leaving Jonah thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” Amy asks, walking up.

“I think Sandra got garlic on herself and is trying to convince everyone it was on purpose,” Jonah says, slightly distracted sounding. He looks at Amy. “That or she genuinely wants to smell like garlic all the time.”

“Huh. ... I bet it was Carol.”

“Oh, that’s a good guess!” Jonah exclaims with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that one?”

“Mmm, you’re off your game today. Anyway, I asked Glenn and we think insurance will cover a basic checkup if you think you need one.”

"Good, good, because I had another thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I started hearing this like um, this-this ringing sound, kind of? But I don’t think anyone else heard it. ... Everyone sort of looked at me like I was that guy from last Halloween...”

“Oh, yikes.”

“... Anyway, I’ll call at the end of the day.”

“You’re sure you don’t need to go home?”

“Well I’d like to but our insurance is so bad our boss thought I might die, so.”

“Right.”

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“Alright, Garrett-”

“Whoa, where the hell did you come from?!”

“The cafe. Here.” Dina tosses a pack of toothpicks to Garrett. “Hold one of these up around Jonah’s heart and see if he panics.”

Garrett looks at her skeptically.

“It’s the closest thing we have to a wooden stake! I mean, I could carve one, but we’d lose a chair or two.”

“Yeah, Dina,” Garrett pushes the toothpicks back over to her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why? Scared you’ll kill him by accident? You can’t trip, it’ll be fine.”

“No, because this is stupid. And because if he is a vampire, I don’t want him to think I tried to murder him!”

Dina considers this. “... Alright, fair game. I’ll find someone else to do this.”

“Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Any idiot could hold a toothpick to someone else’s heart.”

Dina walks away, huffing, as Garrett is left with an odd feeling of dejection.

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Jonah pauses as he walks past patio. He doubles back, and spots Marcus using one of the grills.

Marcus looks up and grins. “Hey! Feeling peckish?”

“Um, are you allowed to be- isn’t that kind of dangerous, actually?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I uh, get special treatment after cutting off my thumb,” Marcus brags.

“Oh... kay. Um...” Jonah looks at the steaks, mouth watering. “I guess... I could use a snack.”

“Great! How rare do you want it?”

“... Do you mean how well-done? Just- usually people don’t start with the assumption of rare...”

“Well, a lot of my friends like their steaks bloody.” Marcus laughs, and then looks at Jonah very seriously.

“Oh, um, that-that’s... cool.” Jonah looks at the steaks sitting on the plate, in a pool of red, metallic-smelling, warmed blood...

He wipes his mouth. “Um, medium rare,” he says quickly. “And I’m just- I’m going to head over to the um, I think I saw a spill! In isle, uh... yeah.”

Jonah quickly walks away, and Marcus pulls out his phone to text Cheyenne.

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“Hey, Glenn, I was thinking and I think we should send Jonah to- whoa.” Amy stops in her tracks, standing in Glenn’s doorway completely still as her boss tries to quickly hide the fact that he’d been crying.

“Um, go on, Amy.”

“Glenn, are you okay?” Amy closes the door and sits down.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Glenn waves off. “Just worried about Jonah, you know?”

Amy sighs. “Yeah, I am too. He said he heard a ringing in his ears, so I think maybe we should send him to the doctor and just use the jar method-”

“NO!”

Amy startles at Glenn’s shout. “Why?”

“Because he’s a vampire now, and-and who knows what the scientists will do to him!”

Amy closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to process that. “I’m sorry, he- what? Why do you think that?”

“Everyone does!” Glenn swings his arm out for emphasis.

“... So... there’s no evidence, just people spreading rumors?”

“He had the two holes in his neck!”

“Okay, but, vampires aren’t real. You know that, right?”

Glenn shakes his head. “The Devil can do terrible things to good people! And-and one of those things, is turning best friends into vampires!”

Brushing past the fact that Glenn believes Jonah to be one of his best friends, Amy stands up. “Okay, Glenn, how about we go out there and look at Jonah.”

“... I’m scared to.”

“Just come on.”

Amy drags Glenn out of the office and runs into Justine. “Hey, Justine, where’s Jonah?”

“Oh, I think he’s at the grills-”

“Kay, thanks!”

She takes Glenn to Jonah despite Glenn’s protests. “See? Jonah is perfectly norm-”

She stops, and Glenn shrieks.

“Not what it looks like!” Marcus assures, fumbling with a napkin to wipe the blood off of Jonah’s chin.

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

*minutes earlier*

“Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?” Jonah asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as Marcus covers his eyes.

“I want you to guess which one is cooked right without seeing it.”

“Wh-why, though?”

“Because... it’s a game!”

It’s to see how sensitive Jonah is to blood.

Marcus cuts a slice of steak, and holds it up. Jonah hesitantly opens his mouth, and Marcus shoves the steak piece in. Jonah coughs. “Very aggressive.”

Marcus shrugs, and waits.

“... Medium well?”

“Yes! Noice! My friend knows his steaks. Okay, here’s another one.”

Jonah chokes a little. “You really don’t have to shove it, in, um, you almost stabbed me.”

“Just tell me the steak...”

Jonah chews. “... Medium rare?”

“You are on fire! Okay, one more.”

Marcus shoves the fork into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah hisses in pain, biting down on the very rare piece of steak. Blood dribbles down his chin, both from the meat and his own mouth.

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry! Let me help, um-” Marcus grabs a napkin, and starts trying to unfold it.

Amy and Glenn round the corner at that exact moment. Marcus looks at them with slight fear. “Not what it looks like!”

Jonah coughs, spitting out the steak onto his lap. “This game went horribly wrong!” He takes off the blindfold and grabs a napkin himself, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.

Glenn looks like he’s about to faint. Amy holds her hands up. “What the hell happened?!”

“I was seeing if Jonah could tell different steaks apart and I kind of, uh, stabbed his mouth.”

Jonah looks at Marcus with an incredulous glare (that almost seems to have concern mixed in, but all of Jonah’s expressions look like that).

“Okay, Marcus, go back to the warehouse! Jonah, let me see- dammit, okay, lets go find some kind of antibiotic mouth spray or something-”

She leads Jonah away as Glenn and Marcus are left behind.

Glenn looks around for a moment, swinging his arms. “So, um... how did he do?”

Marcus smiles. “Awesome,” he chuckles. “That guy is totally a vampire, I’d bet my windshield.”

“Oh.” Glenn’s voice is weak. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

Marcus holds up a plate. “Want a steak?”

“... Sure.”

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Amy takes the plastic off the spray and holds it up. “Okay, take away the napkin.”

Jonah takes it out of his mouth, and Amy shines a light in so she can aim the spray. “Where did he get you? I can’t see any holes.”

Jonah points. Amy squints. “No, there’s nothing. Not even any bleeding.”

They both look at the very bloody napkin.

Amy’s brows furrow. “... Sure healed fast.”

“I-I guess it felt worse than it was.” Jonah runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

She checks again, and her eyes drift to his teeth. ... Are those two actually sharper, or is she just imagining it?

“... Yeah. Nothing.”

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Jonah heads back out onto the floor, stomach rumbling. He got two bites of steak, which just made him more hungry really.

He passes by the grills. Glenn and Marcus are gone, but a steak remains. The rare one.

He stares at it for a moment, and then gives in. He walks over, picks up the plate-

And the next thing he knows he’s holding the steak in his hands, and it’s bone-dry. He blinks, and looks up and around as though he thinks someone else could have come in and dried out the steak.

He has a metallic taste in his mouth, and he does feel marginally less hungry. Still at a stomach-growling level, but it had been starting to hurt.

He looks down at the now inedible steak. He sets it back down and walks away, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why he had blacked out again.

He passes by Sandra, who’s texting something to someone.

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

“Another point to Vampire.” Cheyenne smugly marks it down. “Told you.”

“Alright, alright, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Mateo admits. “So what do we do? I mean, we can’t keep working with him now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he tries to bite us?”

“Ooooh. ... I guess I hadn’t thought of that. ... He’s probably going to be a nice vampire, though.”

“Sure, for now. But what if someone like, eats his lunch?”

“Wouldn’t his lunch be people now?”

“Okay, so then, what if someone becomes his lunch? ... Should we carry garlic on us?”

“Ew.”

“Super ew, but I think I’d rather stink than be dead. Which is saying a lot, when I run out of cologne I use Febreeze.”

“Which kind?”

“The sea breeze one.”

Cheyenne nods approvingly. “Well, maybe we can get some holy water? I bet Glenn could get us some.”

“Oh, I think there’s some at my house, actually. Tita uses it when we get ant infestations.”

They both smile at their foolproof plan, and keep working.

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Amy watches Jonah from a distance.

He can’t be. It’s just not possible. Vampires aren’t real, they’re just in books she swipes from Emma (and reads herself) sometimes. And besides, Jonah doesn’t look like one!

Well, he kind of does, but he looked like that before this morning. Although he does look a little paler than usual...

No, no, it’s winter, of course he looks paler than usual, everyone looks paler than usual because there’s no sun.

... It was weird how his mouth was completely fine... and he has been acting weird today...

...

She plasters on a smile and walks over. “Hey, Jonah.” She wraps him up in a big hug.

“Oh! Um, hi, Amy.” He hugs back, and Amy shivers a little.

He is freezing.

She pulls away. “Just restocking the freezer?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Oh. You just, feel really cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a chill all day.” He rubs his arms. “Not even coffee helped. But I don’t think I have hypothermia, so I’m not sure what’s going on...”

Now Amy feels a chill. “Well, um, how about we go sit by that heater display, then?”

“Yes, thank you, I need that.”

As they walk, Amy tries to get a good look at his teeth. He rambles on the whole way over, but she can’t get a good, clear view.

They sit down, and Jonah sighs. “Oh, that’s so much better. Feel less like a walking corpse now.” He laughs at himself.

Amy laughs too, forcing it out as she eyes his smile.

Those two teeth are definitely longer.

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

The sun sets over the Cloud 9, and Jonah sighs in relief. Finally, almost time to go home. He’s going to sleep right awa-

He pauses his mopping (someone chugged three giant sodas and did not have the stomach for it).

Where did that sudden burst of energy come from?

“Must be the relief,” he mutters. He finishes mopping up, and is immediately approached by a customer.

“Excuse me, but there’s a section back there with broken lights. Can you help me find my way around?”

Jonah sighs, hands on his hips, but nods. “Sure! Sure, no problem.”

He hadn’t even noticed the broken lights earlier, he could have sworn he could see perfectly. He follows the customer over to the dim, isolated area.

And blacks out.

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“Hey, Cheyenne?” Amy walks up to the cosmetics booth. “I heard you guys did a betting pool about Jonah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cheyenne chuckles. “It was super fun, everyone was sending me stuff all day and some of the tests were super silly-”

“How about we shut it down?”

“... But, it’s almost the end of the day...”

“Yeah, I know, I know, just, it seems in poor taste.”

“How?”

“Kind of feels like it’s making light of what happened to Jonah, right? And I mean, I don’t know how I feel about gambling about someone who has a gambling problem, you know?”

Cheyenne considers, and nods. “Well, we won’t keep it up, it was just for today. We all know the answer anyway, he’s totally a vampire.”

“No! No, uh, he isn’t, because vampires don’t exist. So he can’t be.”

“Um, he totally is.”

“But he is not, because that’s fantasy.”

“No, really! Look at all this evidence everyone sent me.” Cheyenne pulls out her phone and shows the group chat to Amy. “We would have counted you in but... well, this.” She gestures to Amy, and the current conversation as a whole.

A crowd has begun to gather. Amy turns and looks at everyone. “Okay, guys, it was a fun day but this, vampire betting pool thing is over!”

There’s disgruntled chattering. “So there’s no payout?” someone shouts.

“Nope, everyone should take their own money back and let’s leave this to rest!”

“Like Jonah?” someone else jokes. The group chuckles.

“Not like Jonah, because Jonah is alive and well!”

“Well, vampires aren’t technically alive-”

“Sandra!” Amy snaps. “He is not a vampire!”

Dina scoffs. “Come on, even I think it’s obvious, and I’m not prone to thinking stuff like that. Unlike Glenn.”

“Where is Glenn, actually, he should be putting a stop to this-”

“He went home early. Something about needing to start a fundraiser to buy Jonah a new soul. His pastor is a con artist, but I respect his convincing marketing.”

“... Okay, then, Dina you put a stop to this.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonah! Is not! A vampire! There are no such things, and-and he just can’t be one, okay? Because he is a-a nervous, stuttery, sweet little man and it’s just not possible!”

Sandra glances over into the isles, and stiffens. “Uh, guys?”

“It could all be a ruse,” Dina says with a shrug. “He’s a creature of the night now. Can’t trust him anymore.”

“No, he is not!”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Mateo asks.

“Why are you wearing a cross choker like you’re a teen going through a phase?” Amy fires back.

“This is to protect my bodily fluids from your ‘sweet little man’.” Mateo makes a sassy face at her.

“Guys,” Sandra says again, a little louder.

“He’s not my sweet little, I just meant he is in general a good guy!”

Garrett, highly amused, joins in the teasing. “Good looking?”

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, he’s not bad I-I guess- how did this turn into a thing about me? Stop saying Jonah is a vampire when he is not!”

“Guys!” Sandra’s shout finally draws everyone’s attention. “Look.”

A blank-eyed customer shuffles out of the isles, a worried Jonah following. “Ma’am, please, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your car? What happened?”

She doesn’t reply, which seems to make Jonah more frantic. As she walks past, everyone gets a clear view of her neck.

Two little holes, slightly bleeding.

And Jonah seems to have more color in his face.

“Ma’am, please, what happened in the isle? Did you trip? Did I trip and fall into you? Whatever happened I am very sorry-”

They both disappear out the doors. Cheyenne lowers her phone. “I’m texting that to Glenn.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sounds those of Cheyenne typing on her phone.

Finally, Dina pipes up. “I think Amy lost the pool.”

#Superstore #superstore nbc #superstore tv #superstore jonah #superstore amy #Amy Sosa #jonah simms #Vampire!Jonah AU #garrett mcneil #glenn sturgis #sandra kaluiokalani #amy dubanowski #Dina Fox #mateo liwanag #Cheyenne lee #blood tw #stabbing tw #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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such-a-random-rambler · 4 years

Text

Fab Five Feb - John - Soft Caress

I intentionally left John til last, so I got all the others done, and of course I reverted to type with this one lol.

And I did it! I completed Fab Five Feb 2020 before Feb 2021 (by 2 days)

John storms furiously to the space elevator, not even sparing a glance for his morning coffee and bagel, sitting uneaten and at least eighteen hours cold in the kitchen.

“What the actual hell did you think you were doing?” he is yelling as soon as Scott is in sight, relaxing on the couches. The nerve of him to be so laid back about this!

“I was rescuing people.” Scott puts down his book with a roll of his eyes.

“By almost getting yourself killed, and giving me a heart attack.” John could feel his blood pressure rising, the grip of a gravity headache squeezing either side of his temples.

“It was fine.”

“Its. Not. Fine. Do you know how much that girder missed you by? Seven inches.”

“Then I timed it just right.”

“Gah Scott! Why can’t you understand that functionally - mathematically - seven inches in that environment is nothing. It’s a god damn rounding error and just because you got away with it this time doesn’t mean that -” he pauses for a second, a wave of dizziness hitting him from nowhere. He swallows thickly. “It doesn’t mean that you can pull stupid stunts like that. I can’t -”

He’s hot all over, suddenly sweating. “I can’t -” Has someone turned up the heat? He blinks heavily and the whole room recedes. He’s looking down the wrong end of a telescope with cotton wool stuffed in his ears because he’s sure Scott is saying something but can’t make it out. Can’t even see him properly all the way over there, dark walls narrowing his vision to that far point. “I can’t - I can’t - ”

John’s rage may be white hot, and scalding when you’re the only one in it’s path but Scott isn’t quite ready to concede yet, more than willing to defend his actions that saved lives. He raises one eyebrow questionly as John stops, wavering, and his concern increases when John starts to slur, blood draining from his face.

“John? Are you ok?” He reaches out, but isn’t quite quick enough – or close enough - to catch him as John’s eyes roll up and he crashes to the floor in a heap, narrowly missing hitting his head on the step.

“John?” Scott leans over, taps his cheeks for a reaction. “John? Can you hear me? Damn it.”

Scott grabs a medical kit and hooks the portable scanner into John’s suit. What he sees makes him sigh deeply, but relax. Not a stroke or a heart attack, but a massive rise then drop in blood pressure, – rentry no doubt - and shockingly low blood sugar levels.

He rolls John into the recovery position, just to be safe, and crawls round to stuff a cushion under his head.

“Hope you’re not going to be too bruised after that, but serves you right for yelling at me.” Scott runs a gentle hand through John’s hair, pushing it back from his brother's forehead, making sure it still lies neatly. John always likes his hair just so, as he would hate to make a bad first impression on someone calling for help.

Colour slowly seeps back into John’s cheeks, his brow creases in a frown and his eyes crack open. Unsurprisingly, John picks up his rant where he left off, muttering “I can’t do this without you.”

“When did you last eat? Breakfast I’m guessing?” Scott asks, as John pushes himself slowly upright, understanding a few minutes behind consciousness.

“I.... errr I started breakfast. Then we had a call and - ”

“I get it, come on” Scott hauls John to his feet, steading him under the arm when he sways, just slightly. “I’ll make you bacon and eggs so you have enough energy to tell me how much of an idiot I am.”

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #John Tracy #Scott Tracy

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist }

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!)

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being.

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you.

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin.

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour."

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind.

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand.

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly.

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter.

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it.

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy.

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before.

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that.

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice.

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you.

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face.

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life.

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you.

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh.

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping.

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you.

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them.

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose.

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably.

“What?” You eventually ask.

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.”

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk.

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little.

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him.

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead.

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry.

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm.

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter.

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it.

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift.

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that.

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this.

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it.

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps.

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now.

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap.

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage.

Barely.

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips.

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face.

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride.

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist.

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other.

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here.

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something.

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son.

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious.

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues.

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault.

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den.

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years.

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal.

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you.

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late.

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend.

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat.

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late.

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table.

Away from you.

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it.

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset.

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there.

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest.

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not.

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him.

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction.

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you.

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed.

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time.

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about.

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all.

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name.

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?”

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair.

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens.

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room.

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather.

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart.

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still.

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you.

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you.

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered.

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone.

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own.

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused.

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it.

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?�� A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it.

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?”

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have.

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain.

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin.

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better.

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants.

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day."

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up."

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back.

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth.

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies.

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod.

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it.

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle.

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious.

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed.

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away.

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight.

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath.

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes.

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt.

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut.

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier.

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop.

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice.

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.”

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out.

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl.

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills.

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard.

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in.

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release.

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit.

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out.

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back.

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later.

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more.

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other.

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made.

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes.

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown.

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon.

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick.

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa.

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle.

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it.

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond.

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm.

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red.

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug.

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board.

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know."

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy.

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected.

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had.

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably."

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you.

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

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