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twistedmusings · 3 years

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Reading Between The Lines

A/N: I feel bad whenever I say 'hey here is what I am working on' and then my muses tell me 'no...this is what you are working on'. It's like my brain can't concentrate on one thing entirely q wq. In my defense though, I'm exploring my twst faves...and Cater may be a runner up to Vil...

Warnings: Dry humping, dirty talking and a quick handjob just as unsatisfying and ungratifying as Cater feeling like maybe he shouldn't have let you go just yet.

“Whoops.”

Cater’s phone case cracked as it hit the floor, eyes locking with yours as you pull away from the Heartslabyul second year. Why had he even dropped his phone in the first place? The case had cost a lot and he had queued up for hours to get it, there should have been no reason for him to drop it.

Maybe the shock from seeing you in Heartslabyul?

No, that was normal. You were friends with Ace and Deuce after all so your presence in Heartslabyul was normal.

Maybe from seeing you in a bedroom that wasn’t a first year room?

He was coming to check up on a second year who had mentioned something about needing help in Astrology so Riddle had instructed Cater to help the guy out. The ‘strict Queen’ was aiming for the highest grade among the dorms, after all. So he was just carrying out his duty as an upperclassman!

So seeing you here, in this second year’s room, shirt around your elbows as a pair of hands--

that weren’t his--gently wrapped themselves around your waist was probably what made him drop his case.

Good to know, if he had come to that conclusion at any other time that you weren’t here, he might have said something mean to his lower-class men.

You move to fix your shirt as the second year rushes to apologize, walking up to him and spouting words Cater wouldn’t bother to hear. His eyes kept staring as you fixed yourself up to look a tad more proper than how he had found you.

It wasn’t like the sight of you in that state was unfamiliar to him, he just hadn’t seen it in a long time.

“Please just keep it between us, Cater-san! I don’t know what I’d do if the dorm head found out about this.”

He snaps out of his trance, looking down at the second year before grinning as he let out a slow hum, pretending to mull the request over in his head.

“Should I? If I remember correctly...Rule 345--Only when the sky turns red as it is dawning can a romantic partner be brought--”

“I--I’ll tell the dorm leader that you helped me with class!”

Cater grins, “That’s one way to make it up to me~ I guess for now I should leave you with a warning, right?” he tilts his head to call out to you, “The same goes for you [Y/N]-san! I can’t have you getting someone other than Ace and Deuce in trouble!”

He can't help but feel a sense of pride when you chuckle at what he had said, turning around to give him a peace sign as you walk by the second year.

“I’ll try to do an effort to hide in the closet next time.”

The second year takes your hand and kisses it, apologizing for the trouble and closing his eyes when your hands cup his cheek and pull him in for a kiss, the action making Cater look down at his phone and open whatever app he saw first.

You wave goodbye as Cater closes the door quickly, not giving you a chance to look at your second year lover fully as the both of you walk down the corridors of Heartslabyul in silence.

“So.”

“Hm?”

Green eyes keep looking at his phone, scrolling through Magicam absentmindedly but sparring you one look as he sees you scratching at a hickey--he would have left a bigger one-- the second year had left behind.

“Was he any good?”

In his defense, what had started between you two was clearly labeled as a ‘no feelings allowed, we are just here to have fun’ relationship. You seemed to understand his nature better than most and were down for something that wasn’t super serious and borderline erotic in a sense.

Cater was sure that you two had done it in at least one surface in every common room in Heartslabyul. The thought kept him awake at night, actually.

“Was he any good…” you repeat the question, “As good as I’m going to get from a second year.”

“Oh the poor guy.” Cater can’t help the snort that escapes him as you two walk down a set of stairs leading to the dorm’s entrance, “It is surprising you went for him, didn’t you mention that you liked the older type?”

“Well after a certain ‘older type’ decided to end things, I thought I should try my hand at something different. Change my ways, you know?”

He didn’t know. Cater had no idea what you were talking about, in fact. Why would you have to change your ways for anyone? You were amazing, interesting, entertaining and attention-grabbing all wrapped up in an older sibling type package that he had admitted to being attracted to when he had brought up the ‘friends with benefits’ proposition. If you changed in anyway he would be disappointed--

Dammit he was doing it again.

“If you want to start a relationship with someone in Heartslabyul, I would recommend Trey. He’s handsome, hardworking and you wouldn’t go hungry. Perfect man material right there.”

Cater knew that the small jab was directed at him so he decided to switch subjects, preferring not to linger in the awkward feeling that came with the consequences of his actions.

He ended things because he had broken the rules you both had set in place. Feelings weren't allowed and yet he had let them burrow deep inside his heart and fester like some sort of unknown virus. Cater didn't care for them so he nipped the problem in the bud, broke things off in an amicable manner and moved on.

But, like with everything in his life, it had all been an act.

If it had been just the sex keeping him awake, he would have understood. He's a healthy young man and some of the activities you two engaged in would make any first year jealous. And for a while the memories of you warming his bed generally did start to make him yearn for your warmth.

It was the possibilities of what you could have had that were driving him insane.

Would you have said no to a date? The only thing you two did when you were alone were have sex, make fun of Magicam models, sleep and then have sex some more so surely you would have liked a change of scenery as well.

But he didn't know you as much as he wished he did. Nights in his bed had been spent tossing and turning as to what your answer would have been. Why did he even care? You both still hung out, you still had his number, it wasn't like either of you were dead to each other!

Cater just didn't know how to react to you seeing someone else, if that is what you were even doing in the first place.

"Trey-senpai? I guess...he is rather sweet, isn't he?"

"In more ways than one."

"...but I will have to pass." you rub the back of your neck, "You know I don't like sweets."

The clock strikes ten as Cater's eyes take all of you in, his mind blanking out for a response before he clicks his tongue and points behind him.

"Say, Prefect, I think you may have left something in my room. Mind if I give it to you now?"

-----

"Oh. Your case cracked."

"Yeah. Dropped my phone. Bummer, huh?"

"Here I thought you held onto that thing for dear life, can I see it?"

Cater laughs as he takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you, turning back to dig in his drawer for the sole sock that you had left about a month ago.

Who was he bullshitting? He was panicking, plain and simple. Here he was, rummaging through his drawer like an idiot as he pretended to have a sock that he knew he didn't have all to keep you with him for a couple more minutes.

Stars, who was he? He didn't know himself anymore.

“And...dammit.” he laughs as he closes the bottom drawer of his heart closet, “Couldn’t find it. I’m sorry [Y/N]-chan, I shouldn’t have taken your time like that. Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm...or maybe you wanna talk on the phone while you walk there?”

He goes to grab his phone but stops as he turns to look at you, your fingers tracing the giant crack on the case before tapping it twice in quick succession.

“[Y/N]--”

“We both really messed up, huh?”

Cater blinks as your eyes stare at him as if, for a brief moment, you could look through him. Through the act, the apathy, the very thing that was keeping him at the seams but also making him feel like he would burst from the inside out.

“...what do you mean?”

You keep gazing at him for a couple of seconds before smiling as you hold up the phone.

“I shouldn’t have snuck into Heartslabyul to just get a need met...and you shouldn’t have walked into that poor student’s room without knocking.” you wave the phone around, “Now your precious item is broken.”

The conversation didn’t feel right. It felt as if you were saying something else and all Cater needed to do was read in between the lines.

But he refused to, he didn’t want to go below surface level. Everything would get so much more complicated if you both took that plunge.

Yet he was feeling daring, the smile on your face a clear challenge as he walked over to you and grabbed the edge of his phone.

“Maybe I wanted to break it.”

Silence reigns in the room as you two stare at each other, both of your hands holding onto the edge of his phone and daring the other to let go. He smiles and tugs on his edge, the movement effortlessly pulling you towards him as you snicker when the edge of your foot touches his.

“Cater.” you whisper as your hands slowly let go of the phone.

“Yes?” he whispers back, purposefully leaning over you as he places the phone on his desk.

“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

Whether he started it or you started it honestly didn’t matter to him, the only thing Cater cared about was pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours so he could stop listening to all of your complicated sentences.

He didn’t understand them, he didn’t understand you.

And yet you seemed to understand him probably better than he understood himself.

Arms are around his neck as you pull him close, Cater slowly walking you back to his bed as the back of your knees hit the comforter which causes both of you to fall down. You pull away to snicker at the action but are brought right back into the kiss by needy lips, Cater whispering your name as he pushed you upwards so that you would be pressed right against the wall--

He groans when you pull away and is surprised to be kissing a pair of fingers instead of your lips, your smile still as elusive as ever as you slowly push his face away.

“I have a lover, senpai.”

Cater rolls his eyes, “I don’t like those kinds of jokes.”

“I’m not joking. It’s late so I’m just going to go over to his room and tell him that you’ll cover for us, okay? Okay. ”

You pinch his nose as you try to push him away but find your wrists grabbed and locked in place, Cater giving you a hard glare as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I said I don’t like those kinds of jokes.” he leans in and gives you another kiss, “You’re not his lover.”

“Who says that?”

“[Y/N]-chan did.” Cater’s lips press against yours again as he makes his way down to the offending hickey the second year had left on you, “The way you talk about him, the way you weren’t even embarrassed at getting caught. You are toying with the heart of one of my second years and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

He nips at the bruise before placing his lips on it, teeth gently opening up more blood vessels to form a much darker shade on your skin than what was left there before.

“Is that all you can’t forgive me for?”

Cater smiles against your skin as he takes your wrists and leads your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling you into his lap as he answers your question with a kiss.

His tongue meets yours this time around, both of you giggling at the familiar taste. When was the last time you two had kissed like this? Nevermind that, the question was already too annoying to think about. Instead, Cater moves his hips upwards as he groans into your lips at the wanted friction.

He takes a hold of your hips as he pushes you down to meet him mid-movement, his hips rolling up as yours are pushed down. The movement is sloppy and the action itself feels so unsatisfying but Cater almost feels as if this is the only thing he deserves from you. If either of you enjoyed this it would mean you two went too far--

“Haha...look at your face.”

Green eyes look at you as you cup the man’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his nose as you start to roll your hips on his, meeting him halfway.

“You probably want to cum inside, right Cater-senpai?”

His hips jump at the mere thought, the idea of you laying on your side as his cum drips down from your sex all the way down your thighs.

“We did it with protection a lot ~We always followed the rules of our agreement…”

Hands dive between you two, Cater’s eyes never leaving yours as he works to get his pants off while his hands try to unbutton yours as well. You smile and meet him halfway again, taking your own bottoms off and tossing them carelessly to the side as you both are left in nothing but your underwear.

“Every time we did it--you always looked like you wanted to do something else--”

Cater takes the chance of you biting your lower lip to go a bit faster, the tip of his cock rubbing against you at a faster speed as he changed position quickly and hooked your knees over his elbows.

“And at first---at first I thought it was just you getting bored…”

He gasps when two of your fingers press right at the tip of his cock, the way he was moving his hips allowing it to rub comfortably against the padding of your fingers as you gently cooed at the precum gathering there.

“But one time I was able to see it. See what you really wanted--!”

His own hand makes his way in between the mess of hips and stuttered movements, his fingers tracing a familiar pattern up and down your sex as he feels you pull him out of his boxers and start to pump in rhythm.

“If...If you cum after me...I’ll let you cum inside...”

It’s starting to get hotter, Cater feels like he can see his own breath fogging up his vision.

“Count it as reward…”

The coil in his stomach is tightening, your hands moving faster as his stutters with the rhythm you were setting.

“For being honest with me at least one time.”

It’s a sticky mess, the white stuff sticking to your belly and his as he rides out his orgasm against your hand and stopping altogether when the feeling gets too much. His fingers work overtime before your back arches and you give into yours as well, your toes curling for a moment before your feet hit the mattress unceremoniously.

He didn’t know where in the world that had come from or what possessed you to talk like that...but that was probably the hardest he had released in the month you two stopped interacting with one another.

Cater looks at the mess once again before moving to clean it up, stopping only when he feels a hand tug at the front of his shirt and a pair of lips meeting his all over again.

“Offer is still on the table, senpai.”

You unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, smiling as larger hands batted yours away to continue the job.

“Please do your best to hold out longer.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twst smut #cater diamond #cater x reader #twst mc #adult section #//rushed and messy...but I bet that is what making out with Cater is like

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ushidoux · 3 years

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Not Enough - Oikawa (Haikyuu) x Reader x Gojo (JJK)

Summary: Your relationship with Oikawa feels more like a curse than anything else as it comes to a close. (~4.2k words) or tl;dr gojo is mr. steal your girl

Warnings: breakup, idk Gojo is a warning, cracky angst?, pegging mention, yandere themes

A/N: Ngl I’m patting myself on the back for making a crossover fic work somewhat LOLLLL, you can roll your eyes if you want this is hella melodramatic.

(if you wanna commission more niche things, you can always dm me <3)

---

“I-I think it’s best for us to end things here, Tooru...”

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the cell phone in his hand at the sound of your shakily delivered proposition, and further at the abrupt pregnant pause thereafter - not because he was angry, nor afraid, but out of an all-encompassing confusion.

Two things were wrong with this situation. First of all, it was late enough for you, thousands of miles away, that he was genuinely surprised that you were still awake in the first place and the fact that your voice was thick with tears was particularly upsetting, implying that you’d been up all night before you decided to call. Second, you had to be feeling unwell because you were talking pure nonsense.

He must have not heard correctly. You wanted to ‘end things’?

End what? You and him? That couldn’t possibly happen.

Moments passed, maybe even a full minute, and Oikawa stood perfectly still in spite of the uncomfortable combination of a weightless sensation in his legs and a feverish pounding in his chest as he tried to let himself understand what you were saying. Suddenly lightheaded, he realized he had been holding his breath while you remained quiet on the other end of the line. Maybe he was hoping for you to fill the silence, but he knew you wouldn’t offer anything additional; he could tell from the single soft sniffle that betrayed your sadness.

He sucked air into his lungs.

“I... don’t know what you mean,” Oikawa replied, his voice steady even if his body wasn’t.

You continued.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s really hard… and I get so lonely, and I know it’s wrong, but sometimes it hurts to see you so happy without me…”

Your voice was smaller still, enough that he strained to hear you past the rush of blood past his temples. For a moment, he considered pretending he couldn’t hear you say such unpleasant things just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality unfolding in front of him in this disdainfully sunny early afternoon, while he stood in the middle of the hallway right outside of his high rise apartment.

The fact that you had finally given up on him after all this time.

In a small way, Oikawa couldn’t blame you. While he had been gone chasing his dream, the emerging star had just as quickly been running further away from you day by day. He knew this was mostly his fault: he called you less frequently and whenever you did talk, the conversations were shorter and less substantial until you and he both felt like your interactions were a simple chore, a checkbox on his never-ending to-do list.

But yet, he could and would absolutely blame you. Long distance was hard but you had promised you’d stay by his side, hadn’t you? You’d promised him, rain or shine, through drought and storm. What could possibly be the issue now?

Even if you hurt, it would only be temporary, and he could always make up for it in full or even twice-fold. In fact, he was on his way to come see you in person this very second; it would just be mere hours before his flight would depart. Coming suddenly on holiday like this was meant to be a surprise, and his suitcase beside him was filled with gifts and souvenirs for you that would, at least partially, assuage your hurt.

At least he thought. Maybe the issue stemmed deeper, starting with the very fact that you weren’t such a fan of gifts - what you really craved was loyalty and quality time - and that too, he had chosen to ignore. Because it was easier to love you the way he wanted to love you, rather than the way you wanted to be loved.

You were often indecisive anyway. Did you ever truly know what you wanted?

“___, stop being silly. I love you -”, he paused at this last declaration for emphasis, gauging your reaction, of which you gave him none, then continued, “-and I’m coming to see you before the sun sets tomorrow,” he insisted, a stern edge in his voice to further supplant the denial that was keeping him able to breathe. Strength returning to his limbs, he resumed his path to the elevators, dragging his belongings behind him.

You were silly. You missed him and you were delirious from loneliness and sleep, and that’s why ridiculous things were coming out of your mouth, that’s all it had to be, he figured. End things? What you had was something precious and irreplaceable. Nothing could be better than what you were together.

It would be you and him for life, at least to him.

Unfortunately for you, that ideal had long since perished.

Any other time, you would have paused, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart pounding as you conjured up the image of your Tooru coming to be in your arms once more, to cross the vast distance and be yours again as it should be. He’d be quick to show you that he chose you over crowded gyms full of adoring spectators, a perfect set, the rush of victory, or a pretty Instagram model.

Any other time before, but time had run out with both you and him unsuspecting, in a flash of clear blue eyes.

---

A few months earlier...

“I’m not interested.”

Your voice was flat and so was your expression. Muttering a soft ‘excuse me’, you walked past the tall young man who had taken the fact that he’d helped you reach an item on the highest shelf (despite the fact that you were still somewhat tall, you still had struggled), as an invitation to follow you around the grocery store.

The stranger had started off indiscreetly at first, and you had to admit, when you’d passed him in the aisle, you had given him a double-take, and it wasn’t just because you were wondering how he could see the food before him with a black blindfold wrapped over his eyes, so you hadn’t thought too much of it. He was admittedly handsome - at least the lower part of his face was - and his relaxed voice and posture as he reached over and handed you your box of cereal reminded you just a smidge of your Tooru.

Your Tooru wouldn’t be caught in that nondescript dark ensemble, though.

Saying “thanks” and continuing on your merry way should have been enough. But instead, this same man had immediately started walking besides you as you pushed your cart as though he knew you, making comments about your groceries.

“I’m not particularly fond of eggs, but they’re a good source of protein.”

“You seem to have a sweet tooth, just like me!”

You probably should have been concerned about this man’s mental state, but he didn’t exactly seem harmful or delusional, just weird. But you were almost done with your shopping trip, and now he was in line with you with a single bag of chips in his hand, and it occurred to you for a while that this stranger might try to follow you home.

“Do you need something, sir?” You told him in exasperation.

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion, still a smidge too close behind you and raised his bag of chips. “No, I’m fine.”

“Why are you following me?” You finally said, bolder than usual in this semi-crowded grocery store. You had had enough of being polite and you’d tried very hard so far. Today had been a long day and you just wanted to cook a meal and sleep, not argue with strangers.

“Oh, I was trying to be friendly,” he replied, shrugging, as though that were normal behavior, and thus here you were, switching lanes abruptly while making it clear to him that he needed to leave you the fuck alone.

Checking out of the store with your items occurred without incident but you had to admit you were both irritated and confused about that encounter, and again, while you didn’t exactly feel malicious intent or really any sort of ‘creepiness’ from the young man, the behavior was nevertheless alarming. You surreptitiously glanced over your shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t still in sight, only to catch him walking in the other direction, whistling again with the single bag of chips in his hand, now paid for.

Again stunned, you found yourself lost in a stare for a moment, a million questions in your head.

What was he trying to accomplish? And most importantly, how could he see with that blindfold?

What did he look like without it?

Quickly realizing your questions were getting absurd, you decided that whether he was attractive or not was a completely inconsequential thought, because the fact of the matter was that he had to be clinically insane. Absolutely.

With that thought in mind, you texted a friend briefly sparing the least salient details.

Call me in about thirty minutes if I don’t call you first. I’ll fill you in later.

Just for safety’s sake, but thankfully, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him again.

You may have brought up your odd encounter to Tooru that night, if he had managed to return your call.

---

“Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you when I land tomorrow. I love you, ____.”

Before you could protest, the line cut off abruptly and you lowered your phone to your lap. Now it was no longer just your voice wavering, but your entire body trembling as you sat over the side of your bed. You lurched forward, the pit of your stomach heavy with guilt.

Your Tooru was coming to see you and for once, he was the last person you wanted to see.

---

You had left your home a little later than usual but given that you would rather die than miss your morning coffee and croissant, you still stopped by your neighborhood bakery.

Noting that the line was a little longer than expected, you queued up, humming softly to the beats of your favorite song, not registering that the man standing before you had turned slowly in your direction and was now smiling down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here again.”

Your eyes furrowed as you looked up, then almost yelped in surprise when your eyes registered the same white-haired stranger who had stunned you at the supermarket lined up just two paces before you.

What the-

Of all the coffee shops in this city, why here? The hairs on your neck stood up on end, worse when he decided to keep speaking.

“Let me buy your coffee,” he proposed, tentatively. “Only condition is that you have to drink it with me.”

Today, the strangest of strangers almost looked normal; rather than a blindfold, his eyes were hidden by a dark pair of sunglasses and his hair had been allowed to fall into a slightly windswept cut. He was also dressed less eclectically, in a loose-necked long sleeved shirt and a pair of fitted dark jeans.

Like this, you could call him fashionable. He was definitely forward, at the very least.

He was obviously flirting and normally you would have a curt prepared answer for him, but the manner in which he leaned forward, smirking with hands on his hips, again felt too familiar. Like Tooru, who had forgotten to call you back and instead sent you a quick text that promised he’d get back to you.

If he remembered.

Before you knew it, and almost embarrassed as soon as it left your mouth, you blurted out, “I… have to go to work.”

It wasn’t a lie but for some reason it came out like one. Perhaps because what you would have normally said was, “I have a boyfriend,” without giving him a second look.

He frowned nevertheless.

“That’s too bad,” he finally said, letting out a loud sigh, excessively dramatic for the situation. You stared at him, dumbfounded, and he suddenly clasped his hands together, preparing to say something else but the barista had called for the next customer.

He made a motion for you to go before him, and flustered, you obliged, giving the barista a look that implored for help in any way he could offer it. The barista knew you well enough to ring up your order before you even asked for it, but not well enough to sense that the man behind you was actively harassing you.

“I can buy my own coffee, sir,” you murmured once you saw him rummage in his pockets and pull out his wallet while the barista went off to toast your pastry.

He grinned widely.

“Call me Satoru.”

---

“A drink for you, sir?”

The flight attendant’s voice betrayed a hint of irritation under her sweet tone of voice, hinting that she had been waiting for him to answer a while, and Oikawa realized that he had been staring at his phone for a lot longer than he expected. He flashed her his classic pearly whites before nodding, but the wheels in his head were still turning.

A mere couple of hours into the first leg of his flight back to Japan, he had taken to poring over his last few conversations with you.

Conversations that, at least from his end, had become pressured, short, and at times, he had been downright dismissive.

But he loved you - you had to understand that! It was a lot to manage: being available for you but also giving 150% of himself to the game.

So what if he missed your calls but kept his Instagram up-to-date? So what if he was a little bit too cozy with his fans (and known to be so)?

There was always you, and you were supreme. He’d do anything for you.

“Wine?” The attendant offered him the higher octave in her voice making it clear that Oikawa had managed to charm her back into her retail persona.

Maybe a glass, but he’d limit his drinking. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you when you met.

---

You were shocked.

Satoru stopped a car that was meant to crush you, and you were still trying desperately to comprehend what had just transpired.

You were possibly too eager to escape that coffee shop, to get away from the young man whose presence both unsettled your stomach and made your face grown warm, that you’d hurried out into the crosswalk, somewhat complicated drink and slightly crisped pastry in hand, and right into the path of a car hurtling through a red light.

You didn’t have time to scream or rarely even time to drop your drink, but the impact of your carelessness and preoccupation, between him, being late to work, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had yet again forgotten to text back, never came.

Instead, the car seemed to halt to a stop almost immediately before you, before him who now stood before you with lips held into a neutral expression, and one hand in his pocket. Even if time seemed to stop for a split second, the force that should have struck your body didn’t, instead hurtling around you in a terrifying gust of wind.

But you were safe.

There was a shatter of glass windows as energy redistributed and the car took the brunt of the shock, and airbags deployed, engulfing the driver who could have possibly ended your life.

When Satoru finally turned to you slowly, looking at your cowering form, you finally caught a glimpse of piercing blue. For once he wasn’t smiling, and he was suddenly much more terrifying than anything else.

As though the mask had come off.

He didn’t ask if you were okay. Instead, he asked you to control your grief.

---

You shouldn’t be able to love anyone so much that your heart breaks repeatedly.

Something about you had to be pathological - it couldn’t be normal to feel the pain of separation this acutely. It was just a long-distance relationship, even if he was just getting more famous and less available by the day.

You shouldn’t wake up wondering if you could still breathe without him.

You shouldn’t.

---

“I’m a sorcerer,” Gojo revealed as he stirred a warm caramel latte, as though he had said the most natural thing in the world.

You tilted your head over so slightly, knit eyebrows betraying your confusion.

“... Like a circus performer?”

The repetitive turn of his wrist halted almost immediately and he looked at you, the constant smug smirk immediately awash from his features.

“Do I look like I belong in the circus?!” He half-exclaimed, half-whined, as though you were the only patrons in this bustling coffee shop. Part of you was bent on saying yes, but you kept mum yet staring at his face in distress, you find yourself stifling a giggle.

Now that he’d saved your life, you felt (and probably erroneously so) obligated to at least indulge him in coffee, and your curiosity about the young man sitting before you a whole day later now waffled between morbid and genuine.

Cursed energy? Leaking from you? Sorcery?

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair once he realized you were more entertained by his distress than anything else, crossing his arms and raising his legs on the table. You stared at the bottom of his shoes with mild disgust but instead focused on his face.

He really was like your Tooru, the boyfriend that slipped away from your reach in your nightmares, causing you to wake in a cold sweat. You shook the thought of your head, a quick barely perceptible movement, and crossed your own arms.

“You’re sad enough that I can sense it, which despite the fact that I am obviously quite gifted, can be a bit of an issue long term.”

“Why would it be an issue to you?”

“Because grief creates spirits and spirits are a pain in my ass.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again.

“So you followed me because you thought I was sad?” It sounded far fetched enough but absolutely on brand for a weirdo like the man before you. You took a sip of your tea - you’d picked chai for this… meeting. It wasn’t a date.

He grinned, an elbow rested on the table propping up his chin as he leaned back towards you.

“No, it’s because I thought you were beautiful.” ---

For the first time in a year, Oikawa’s first step back on Japanese soil did not immediately bring him joy but anxiety.

It was odd for him to feel anxiety, this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, but of course it would dissipate the moment he saw you.

But first, a warm shower in his new hotel room. Then he’d go to see you.

It felt odd not to have you waiting for him, your million dollar - no, priceless - smile on your face, so he could kiss you dramatically in the midst of all watching to again reassert that you are his, and his alone.

But you were upset, and understandably so.

So he would come to you, as a good boyfriend should.

---

“I have a boyfriend,” you told him immediately and indignantly, as you got up to leave. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not interested.”

He didn’t rise as fast as you did, watching you calmly instead as you balled your fists in irritation. It’s so shameless how he flirts, you thought. He’s so bold and rude and even if he’s a ‘sorcerer’ as he claims, there’s no spell that he can cast onto you that will make you leave Oikawa for him.

Not your Tooru, whose last Instagram post features a beautiful, tan, large-breasted and bikini-clad woman you’ve never met.

“Where is he then?” Satoru said in a low voice. He didn’t necessarily mean to cut but it did anyway. A lump formed in your throat.

“Overseas.”

---

The sound of chirping crickets is surprisingly loud for this part of the city, Oikawa considered, as he made his way towards your apartment building. It was an atypically warm evening for this point in the spring and he briefly mused if that is what excited them. Maybe they were cheering for him. They sounded a lot like the crowds if he closed his eyes.

He also hoped you had room for the gifts he carried with him, the most important of which was a Cartier bracelet he would hand to you once he departed, with a solid gold T for Tooru.

If he was on the search for fame and glory, he had to spoil you too, right?

To think that you were so angry with him that you had not yet contacted him since he had landed.

He knocked on your door finally, noting the shuffling of too many feet towards the door. This was the right door. He didn’t understand. Did you have friends over?

He called, and you didn’t immediately pick up.

---

“You have to leave!” You hissed. The statement was a plea and it was a command and it was a curse.

The blue of Satoru’s eyes was less electric in the dim moonlight, now more of a cool ice. Bare naked like this and barely visible save for the cracks of the illuminated city through your blinds, he was unfairly beautiful, as though he were carved out of marble. Again like your Tooru. Like, not better.

But still, he was there when Tooru wasn’t.

But Tooru was there now, knocking on your door, having traveled thousands of miles despite the fact that you had broken up with him just yesterday.

It was too little, too late.

But you didn’t love Satoru. He was just a band-aid for the loneliness that wrung agony out of you.

Right?

“I don’t want to leave,” your makeshift lover replied, flatly.

Your glare was sharp and instant, but Satoru matched your look, less pointed but unwilling to sway.

An unstoppable force, no different from the day he’d saved your life.

But he’d caused the problem in the first place, hadn’t he? Would you have run out so carelessly if not for him?

Your voice softened as you slipped on your clothes. The fight was lost before it started.

“Please? I… I can’t do this to him.”

Only a plea was left.

Your phone started to ring and your throat felt as though it would close up.

“___?”

Before you knew it, you heard your front door open and your heart dropped into your throat.

---

“What the fuck-”

Blue eyes were cruel.

Oikawa prided himself on his height but Satoru was taller, and his smirk was wide, while Oikawa’s face was ghostlike, devoid of any appreciable expression. Stunned.

“So you’re the boyfriend?” His voice dripped with mock amusement and he patted him on the shoulder before swinging open the door wide, letting Oikawa into his own girlfriend’s apartment, only to stand face to face with you whose feet seemed glued to the floor in shock.

“I.. T-Tooru..”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

His voice came out as a cry and his tears hot and fast. You never thought you’d see him crumple so fast, for you, for anything.

Your mouth opened and closed, and your hands shook but again, you stayed planted to the same spot while Satoru, still shirtless (but at least with the decency to have worn a pair of pants before answering the door), settled himself on the couch.

Before you could open your mouth to find a word to defend yourself to your sobbing boyfriend, your visitor let out an exaggerated yelp.

“____, you really showed no mercy on my asshole, did you?” he jeered. Then covering his mouth, he made a gesture of ‘Oops.’

What could you do?

Oikawa looked like he would stop breathing any second. He wanted to fight and maybe scream, but what use was that?

You had broken up with him yesterday.

You approached slowly, attempting maybe a touch, anything that would make your mistake less grievous.

You’d only been seeing Satoru for several weeks to… you weren’t sure why, really? Tooru was the one you loved. And to see him curl up like this… someone who was normally so proud...

You were disgusted with yourself.

“Tooru-”

“You said you’d wait for me.”

It was shocking how quick he rose, broken dignity, gifts and all.

“Tooru!”

He turned to leave, while Satoru contented himself on picking the earwax from his ears. It was easier to be like this, insufferable, than to gracefully accept the idea that his object of affection loved someone else.

He’d coveted you from the day he’d met you.

“Tooru!!!”

You were running after a man who gave 150% to everything, yet again.

Everything but you.

But had he at the very least given you 100%? You weren’t sure.

Oikawa was the last person who could accept the thought of someone else. You weren’t sure if he’d call you ever again. You weren’t even sure you wanted to break up.

Cursed energy. Maybe you didn’t just leak cursed energy. Maybe you were just cursed.

Heart shattering to pieces once Oikawa was no longer within view, you made it back to your room. Satoru was there waiting, and you couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but his arms were open, and so you fell into them.

#oikawa x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #commission work #crossover fic #haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #haikyuu x jjk #mae.writing

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

Text

Nightmares

Words: ~1.3k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, some fluff and angst

You were startled awake by a loud crack of thunder, wind howling through the alleyway outside, and heavy raindrops battering against the window. The forecast hadn’t mentioned a storm, yet here you were, awake and likely unable to fall back asleep because of the noise outside. The time on your phone read 3:23, and you knew that it would be hours yet before you needed to prepare for another long day of classes.

You rubbed your eyes and stretched your tired limbs before peeling your blanket away from your body and swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. You stumbled groggily to the kitchen for a glass of water, and after ensuring that the door to your parents’ bedroom was closed, you put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and leaned against the counter, scrolling through social media on your phone as you waited for the popcorn to be done.

A few minutes later, with a bowl of popcorn in hand, you were padding back to your room and closing the door softly behind you. You had planned to just lay in bed and watch a movie on your laptop to pass the time until you officially needed to be out of bed and starting your morning routine before school, but the flashing battery symbol at the bottom of your laptop’s screen put a temporary halt to those plans while you scrambled to find the charging cable.

It was nowhere to be found in your bedroom – not on your desk, not under you bed, not even hidden behind your backpack and the stack of textbooks that you hadn’t even touched the night before. You groaned loudly before retracing your steps from the last time you remembered having the cable, and after nearly ten minutes of searching various places around your apartment, you finally found it wedged between the cushions on the couch.

It would have taken mere seconds to plug the cable in and to resume your intended movie night – morning? – if it hadn’t been for the lightning outside lighting up a silhouette on your fire escape as the person opened your window and began to crawl through it.

You felt your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, a sense of panic bubbling to the surface and a scream of terror at the back of your throat, but that all quickly disappeared once you realized who it was.

“Fucking hell, Peter!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low enough to not wake your parents. Your wide eyes took in his appearance – his hair and clothes soaked from the rain, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, his cheeks drained of all color. “You scared the hell out of me! Hurry up and get in here. You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t sleep,” he answered your unspoken question of why he was even at your apartment rather than his own three blocks over before climbing the rest of the way through your window. “I just- I can’t-”

You nodded in understanding as he struggled to get the words out. “Nightmares again?” you asked, knowing that more often than not, since you and him and the rest of your friends were returned after the Blip, Peter had dreamt of space, of Tony Stark, of Thanos, of everything that had been lost in the aftermath.

His only response was to avert his eyes, as if he were ashamed of the truth of the matter. You bit your lip, your heart aching for him. Wordlessly, you dug through the drawers of your dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt that you had stolen from Peter months ago and old sweatpants that you were pretty sure belonged to your dad at one point in time. “Here. Go change while I get a movie ready for us.”

Peter sent you the barest of smiles and took the clothes from your hand. “Star Wars?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Nope,” you responded. The corners of your lips curled up into a wide smile. “Harry Potter. You crashing my early morning movie is fine, but we’re at least gonna watch what I wanna watch.” You watched him closely as he nodded before disappearing into your bathroom to change, and by the time you had the movie queued up and ready to play, he reappeared and crawled into bed beside you.

Your heart was racing as you pressed yourself closer to him during the opening scene of the movie, your arms winding around his middle and your ear pressed against his chest. The sound of his heart beating sent a wave of calm washing over your entire body, and the feel of his hand resting on the exposed skin of your lower back made your body buzz pleasantly with warmth.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you finally asked after you felt him relax completely. “I understand if you don’t. I just don’t like when- I hate seeing-” You trailed off, tilting your head slightly to look up at him only to find him already staring down at you with chocolate eyes. You lifted a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, and he sighed at the touch. “I’m worried about you, Pete. You hardly sleep anymore.”

“I sleep when I’m with you,” he answered before turning his head slightly to press a light kiss to the palm of your hand. “I- I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t control the curl of your lips after hearing his words. “I keep your nightmares away?” He had never said anything of the sort before, so this was all new to you. It would explain why he’d made a habit of appearing at your window at the end of his patrol two or three times a week, why he’d made a habit of crawling into bed with you when you nodded sleepily and scooted to the side to give him enough room beneath the blanket beside you.

“Yeah,” he whispered the admission. “It’s like you help- you help remind me of the good, and the good overwhelms the bad for a little while.”

You rolled away from him slightly, resting your head on the pillow beside his. He rolled onto his side, your noses only inches apart. “I’m happy I can help, Peter.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket and you squeezed gently. “I’d let you sleep here every night, but I think May and my parents might not be as willing to let that happen.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like we- we don’t do- we haven’t done that.”

“Sex?” you questioned teasingly, laughing as he blushed brightly. You pressed a quick peck to his lips and added, “Not yet anyway.”

His eyes widened and the blush across his cheeks only spread further, creeping down his neck and up to his ears. “Y/N, we- did you- what?”

“You heard me, Spider-Boy.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering longer with the promise of more before pulling away and smiling at him. “Someday. But for now, you look like you haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours.”

“Try forty-eight,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Get some sleep, Pete. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

A couple hours later, as the credits of the movie played on your laptop, your mom found you curled beneath the covers with Peter, your head rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. She let it go that time, quietly closing the door as she left the room to ensure that your dad didn’t find you in bed with a boy, but you’d most certainly be getting a talk about the birds and the bees in the very near future.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man reader insert #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 3 years

Text

The Hangover (Def Leppard x Reader)

(Happy birthday to my blog!! To celebrate 3 years of the place where I concentrate my insane Leppard obsession, I thought I’d celebrate by posting the FIRST Def Leppard fanfic I EVER wrote ((which I have NEVER posted anywhere before!)) I began writing this exactly 3 years ago today- the day I made this blog ((February 19th, 2018))- and officially finished it about a year later. This is not intended as a romantic/sexual fic, it’s simply just an x reader in which the reader is basically one of the guys. In other words, it’s on crack.)

((I am aware this is kind of cringe-worthy at times... but I still like a lot of things about it. While I revised it very slightly before queuing it, I was still 16 when I started writing this, okay... gimme a break...))

(Illustration by @paper-sxn)

Words: 8,684 Prompt: Dublin, 1984. You’re with the Leppards in their early pre-Hysteria era house. You all wake up with hangovers after a boozed-up night at home, and you each try to put the pieces of the previous night back together. Meanwhile, you’re praying that one particular piece won’t fit in anywhere... (partially inspired by the “Blitzgiving” and “The Pineapple Incident” episodes of How I Met Your Mother)

-----

Gently piercing white light made its way through the windows of the bedroom. It hit your eyelids, and it hit your brain, igniting a brief but killer headache. As your eyes clasped together more, you turned your face into the gloriously soft pillow. For a second you asked yourself why you would have a headache so early in the morning, but then…

You laughed quietly into the bed, recalling without warning some vague happenings from the night before. There wasn’t much you remembered, but you clearly saw the image of the guys flat out drunk at some point (you along with them). There were some blips of you all singing together, Sav hanging from a door frame, you chugging some scotch, Joe chugging some vodka, Steve’s hair being in pigtails, and you think Phil might’ve been giving you a lap dance... or vice versa. It was, all in all, hysterical (at least- that’s what you wanted to think).

Other than those faint events, unfortunately, the night was gone. Still, you were thrilled that it happened. Crazy times with your boys were always good.

You rubbed your eyes, ready for more sleep to combat the pounding in your head. When you did, they opened a little, and you realized… this wasn't your room you were in. Squinting around, you noticed that you were sleeping in Phil’s room instead of yours.

Oh, it’s not that much of a problem, you mused, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’ve woken up to worse in this place.

You let your eyes close again easily, and you found peace as you began to fall under again. That is, until you felt someone move next to you.

When it happened, you became aware of the warmth coming from someone else in the bed. They only shifted in their sleep a little bit before going still again. Your eyes went wide, and you held your breath. You don’t remember getting into bed with someone (in fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all). Turning your head, you looked to see what sort of stranger was in bed with you currently. Instead of a stranger, scraggly blonde hair over a kind and shy face met your sight, and you were instantly calmed upon realizing that it was just Steve. That was good, that was good, but why were you and Steve sleeping in Phil’s bed? You were sure you didn’t have sex last night- at least, not with Steve. This tiny moment of appeasement and confusion was cut short by the faint sound of guitar chords coming from downstairs. The music echoed to your ears, signaling that it had to be Phil, and that he was playing the opening to Bringin On the Heartbreak. Cautiously taking the covers off you- not wanting to wake Steve- you felt obliged to go to the other guitarist. When you stood up and began walking, you nearly fell forward from the sudden vertigo of your hangover. You had to hold onto the counter of Phil’s dresser for extra support, and that’s when your reflection in his mirror caught your eye. Not only that, but that’s when your outfit also caught your eye. One of the guys’ Union Jack tank tops had been slipped over you somehow, and two hand prints were on either side of your face in dried paint; one was blue, one was green. "What…?“ you whispered, touching your face and feeling the shirt on you. It seemed to fit you alright, which made you wonder whose it really was. You were also in black underwear, and nothing else. While eyeing yourself, you took notice of Steve in the reflection. You now saw a few big red lipstick stains on his face, untouched and unsmudged. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but another thing that came to your attention was that it wasn’t you who was wearing the lipstick at the moment. So then who kissed Steve all over his face? You treaded carefully down the hallway, putting one foot in front of the other and dragging a hand on the wall for support. The melody of the distant guitar didn’t cease the whole time you trekked through the house to get to Phil. When the chords of the song dragged on to the part where the vocals should have begun, no vocals came. Everything in the house looked remarkably the same (despite everything you remember from last night). There were large, ripped pieces of cardboard in the middle of the hallway; scattered out as if leaving a trail. Alongside that, there was a piece of paper labeled “pay 2 the orerr of Rick: one fuckin bendee straw” in what may have been Sav’s handwriting on top of the stairs, and blue paint smudged on the railing going downwards (guaranteeing that whoever did that eventually got to your face, too).

Step by step you descended as the scenery of the house teetered around you (a little too reminiscent of Me & My Wine, you would add). When you reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room, sure enough, Phil was there, strumming away.

“But it’s easy come and easy go…” he hummed.

“You’re…” you mumbled, burped a little, and continued, “Awake. How?” He stopped playing and crossed his arms, quietly sassing you, “Ah, she rises again. You regrettin’ anything yet?” You blinked and rubbed your eyes, scratching a little bit of paint off of your face and inquiring in a scratchy, tired tone, “I guess so… but- how? You, how?” Phil took off his guitar and stood up with his hands in his pockets, “Because I barely drank at all last night, and I also sure as hell didn’t shag Steve in someone else’s bed!” “How do you mean- I didn’t- wait- and Steve- what?” you rubbed your head, getting dizzy, causing Phil to guide you to the couch. “I didn’t- I didn’t shag Steve last night,” you insisted. “Mm hmm,” the guitarist hummed disapprovingly, “Alright.” “What the hell are you on about?” Phil smirked evilly and laughed, “He carried you upstairs, we heard the door close, and then some rather happy noises were heard, so we all just assumed-!” “That’s not-” you swallowed and lay your head back on the couch, “-a valid assumption.” “Oh, you poor thing,” came the sarcastic remark, “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Well I figured if I ever fucked any one of you I would- you know- remember it!” you raised your voice at him, then rubbed your temples. “I’m touched, really. But I’ll fill you in a bit,” Phil yanked up his guitar he’d put down, placed himself next to you, and played the into to “Ballroom Blitz”. Then a bit of the night came back to you. “Oh... that’s what started it all, didn’t it?”

~The night before~ Rick began banging out a tune on his drum kit in the house with you, Sav, and Steve sitting close by, them being at the ready with their guitars. “You ready, Steve?” you mimicked the original lyrics. “Uh-huh,” he replied exactly like Steve Priest in the original song. “Savy?” you said next. “Yeah,” Sav bopped his head to the beat. “Rick?” “Okay.” “Alright, fellas,” you called out, “Let’s go!” The two guitarists let their instruments ring out around the house, playing the all-too-familar tune. As soon as they started this, the front door opened, and none other than Phil and Joe walked in. Joe was holding a bag that was weighed down by the mass inside it (a painfully obvious sign that there were a few bottles of booze). Although the two of them weren’t talking, they were physically hushed upon hearing the situation you and the others had created. “Oh life’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me…” you sang lowly and quietly along with the music being made, just to make sure the musicians knew their places. You noticed Phil run out of the room in excitement, and into the one where he keeps his guitars. Joe, on the other hand, stayed put and watched the rest of you from afar, fighting a smile. “My dreams are getting so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…” You stood up, and Joe began walking towards you when you called out the next line of the song, “Oh- I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes are as red as a sun!” Joe chimed in without warning at the next line, putting an arm on your shoulder and pointing at you, “And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her, ‘cos she thinks she’s the passionate one!” *** “It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz, it's, it's a ballroom blitz,” Phil sang the ending teasingly to you when he put his guitar back. It felt like he was rubbing his energy in your face (since you lacked it). Before Phil could continue, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Yeah! It’s a ballroom blitz!” he announced, throwing his arms into the air and taking a bow. He sounded a bit tipsy still. Joe was wearing his Union Jack shorts, but no shirt. Instead of a shirt, though, he had the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” sloppily painted across his chest in blue and green paint. Right over his nipples there were also two handprints, almost exactly matching the ones on your face. Joe stumbled in the doorway, falling to his knees and groaning in discomfort, “Ohh... probably should’ve stayed in bed.” Phil sluggishly trekked over to the singer and pulled him partially to his feet, yanking him towards the couch, “Oh yeah? And by ‘bed’, you mean-?” “Definitely not the bathtub.” Joe assured him, but winked at you. “No matter where you slept, it’s still not as bad as where she slept,” Phil pointed at you, “And what she did there.” “Why? What’d you do?” Joe’s tipsiness wore away in his sentence, making him sound genuinely concerned and curious. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Phil was going to say, “Phil, I-” “It’s not what she did, it’s who she did- she shagged Steve in my bed!” the guitarist accused you again while pointing a finger. Immediately Joe exclaimed, “Nice!” and held up a hand to high-five you. “Joe!” you scolded him, surprised that he took this as good news. “Oh-uh, not… nice?” he took away the offer of a high-five and scratched the back of his head awkwardly instead, “Also, is that my shirt?” You took a look down at the Union Jack tank top you were wearing and back at Joe’s torso. Then something clicked in your head. “Ohh…” you continued staring at Joe’s chest, feeling yourself blush as old memories unraveled in your head, “I think... I think I remember something else that happened last night.” *** You were all drunk; it was no lie. After your quick jam session, there was a booze-filled music fest going on in the house. Joe had even put on his Union Jack outfit, pretending he was getting ready for a show. At one particular point of this “festival” you'd all created, records were being played, and you ended up dancing in front of Joe to REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run”. “You’re bringing up your white lines, you’re pullin’ on a bedroom eyes, you say you’re going home, but I won’t say when,” you sang the wrong lyrics as you swayed and drunkingly made flirty faces at Joe on the couch. Sav, meanwhile, was playing with some old craft paint off in the corner. The blue and green substances were all over his hands (but somehow, one color managed to stay on each hand). “Yeah, you dance for him, Y/N!” Rick cheered you on from the kitchen as Steve and Phil sat on the couch. Phil was perfectly sober, and Steve was giggling and laying with his head on Phil’s lap. You, on the other hand, were now moving closer to the singer, almost like you were giving him a lap dance. “You take it on the run, baby,” you sang along, slowly taking Joe’s Union Jack tank top off of him (with no objections from below), “If that’s the way you wanna, baby...” In return to Joe being shirtless, you slowly took off your own shirt (triggering wolf-whistles and cheers from the guys) to replace it with Joe’s tank. “Sav, mark him up!” you ordered the painted bassist in the corner as you tried to dress yourself. He happily made his way over to you and questioned, “What should I mark him with?” A single hazy idea came to you, and you eagerly whispered it into Sav’s ear. He giggled in response, and proceeded to move over to Joe, drawing something on his chest in the paint. To keep Joe from looking at what it was, you went behind the chair and covered his eyes, ordering coyly, “No peeking!” “All done!” Sav announced and retreated back to whatever he was doing in the corner. “Now, wait, Sav!” you sped over to him, lifted his hands up, and double high-fived him, getting the paint on your hands as well. To finish off what Sav had started, you ran back over to Joe on the chair, and slapped your hands on his chest, right over his nipples. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room (including Joe) and you repeated Sav’s words. “All done!” Joe gazed down at the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” on his chest as you continued to dance to the song playing. “You’re mine, now! You take it on the run, baby... if that’s the way you want it, baby...” Joe tried to tell you in a sexy voice, “Am I your baby now?” “If that’s the way you want it baby,” you repeated the words from the song to him, “Now I’m done dancing for you! Somebody dance for me!” Steve began pointing at everyone individually, childishly suggesting, “It should be, eenie, meenie, miney, Phil!” “Why me?” Phil laughed in objection as you took a seat across the room. “Because you’re not wasted,” his terror twin argued, poking him on the nose. The sober guitarist looked over at you with happy anticipation, awaiting a comment, while all you did was wiggle your fingers at him with a goofy grin. After that, you returned the gesture to the man on his lap, giving Steve a sexy wink. *** “Oh my god...” you put your head in your hands shamefully as Phil and Joe giggled at the memory of the previous night, “I can’t believe I did all that...” “That was a treat!” Phil laughed, hugging you from the side and pulling you closer to him in consolation, “It was funny! We never get to see that side of you!” “There’s a certain reason why you don’t...” you moaned with embarrassment, then asked out of guilty curiosity, “How many times did I grab your ass during that lap dance...?" Phil thought for a bit before telling you, “Four. Well- four and a half...” You gave a loud groan of protest as Joe laughed and slumped back into the couch. “Oh, you only did those things because you weren’t thinking!” Phil consoled you, swayed back and forth with you in his arms. Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and see what happens when you don’t think? You do! Most importantly, you do Steve!” “I didn't do Steve!” you shot your head up and yelled at Joe. You received only laughs and snorts from both men in reply. Suddenly, Sav appeared on the staircase and began singing “Squeeze Box” by The Who with a tired yet cheeky smirk, “Mama’s got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when Stephen comes home, he never gets no rest-” Joe and Phil joined into his song with, “Cos' she’s playin’ all night, and the music’s alright! Mama’s got a squeeze box, Stephen never sleeps at night!” You just put your head back in your hands, trying not to accept your fate of being teased. You didn’t want to think that you possibly shagged Steve. He always seemed so innocent to you in a way, and you feared that this would kill your friendship. If everything the boys said was true, you would never hear the end of it, and you don’t even know what Steve would think of you from now on. Was it possible that he remembered anything about the night before? “It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen...” you repeated to yourself in a whisper as Phil unwrapped his arms from you. Sav came all the way down the stairs; his body language making him look grumpy with the world, but his tired grin signaling that he was pleased with seeing you. “Oh, it happened, sunshine!” the frizzy-haired bassist laughed, but quickly regretted it and rubbed his head with his still-painted hands, “Ah- yep, it happened. You could probably hear you two up the whole damn street.” As Sav wearily joined you all on the couch, Joe complained, “Sounds like that was a treat; I wish I remembered it!” Phil was caught off guard at the comment. His head turned to Joe in the blink of an eye and gasped, “Wait, you don’t remember hearing them?!” “I wish I could say I do, but there’s nothing there,” Joe stood up after he spoke, and quickly held onto the wall nearby. His hand went over his stomach as he whined, “Oh... fuck, Y/N, why did you make me race you last night?" “'Race me'?” you squinted as you inquired, “Race you with what?” Joe didn’t answer, but slowly took steps into the kitchen, using the wall as his guide. His answer came when you, Sav, and Phil all heard him throw up into the sink. You sighed, resting your hands over your eyes, trying to remember the cause of Joe’s sickness, “Oh no, was that really my idea?” *** “Look what I found!” you trotted into the room tipsily, holding two bottles; one of scotch, one of vodka, “Only half full! Who wants em?” While you weren’t full-on drunk, it was no secret that the title wasn’t that far away. After your little Ballroom Blitz, it was one beer after the next, then it was digging into the fancy liquors that Phil and Joe had just brought home. Your judgment was impaired, no doubt about it, and so was the judgment of all the guys. Joe even changed into his normal live-show-only Union Jack tank top, claiming that he was gonna "put on a show." The only one who was still sane and sober was Phil, who seemed to be staying away from your poison. Upon registering your sacred offer of alcohol, Rick ran forward, chanting, “Me! Me!” You lifted the bottles away from him, commanding, “Uh-uh! I get the scotch.” “Oh, bollocks, then you can keep the vodka,” the young drummer grumbled and turned away from you. Just as Rick rejected your offering, Joe sprung up and eagerly trotted over while shouting happily, “I’ll take it!” “Sold!” you handed the bottle over to him, “Betcha can’t finish before me!” “Betcha I can!” he sneered back before taking the cap off his bottle. There was no official “ready, set, go” for the race; you both just kind of went for it without any saying. While your throat and stomach were already protesting your actions (and you could almost sense that Joe’s were doing the same), you didn’t stop once; neither of you did. You held up your bottle and announced, “Done!” Looking over, you saw Joe was also finished. “I finished first!” “Nuh-uh!” you insisted, “It had to be me! Tell him, guys!” The four others hadn’t been paying attention to you and Joe’s little competition; they were instead focused on a box that Sav had pulled out from a cupboard. From the box they pulled out bottles of paint and various types of used makeup.

Joe scolded them all in a more sober manner, “Oh come on, you lot weren’t even watching!” “Yeah, yeah, it was probably a tie, anyways,” Rick chuckled, pulling out more items from the box. “This box is much more interesting, too," Phil protested, holding up a stick of lipstick as Sav held up two bottles of paint, "This is a box of makeup that I had for me and the lads in Girl! Just look at it all! Think we can have some fun with this?" "Oh, piss off," you threw the empty bottle onto the couch, "We need some music." Joe had slumped down onto a chair, and you stumbled your way over to the shelf with all the records on it, flipping through and eyeing them all as carefully as your body would let you. After only a few seconds of searching, your eyes lit up at a discovery. "Here's a good one!" you exclaimed as you pulled out a copy of Hi Infidelityby REO Speedwagon, "Let's give it a spin!" ***

Joe wandered back into the room and fell onto the empty couch with a grumble. “Sorry, Joe...” you muttered over to him, realizing that you pressured him into more consumption of the booze. “It was probably gonna happen anyway...” he admitted, wiping his hands over his face, “It’s was my stupid choice to go through with it.” “Woah,” Phil pointed out out of nowhere, looking at you with great surprise, “What’s that on your neck?” You felt your heart drop into your stomach. “What!?” you shot up from where you sat (bringing on more dizziness), and rushed over to a mirror. Once your dizziness subsided, and you could finally see your reflection, the pink shape of a hickey on the side of your neck was now clearly conspicuous. You wondered how you hadn't noticed it before. Joe exclaimed with a smug and proud grin, “Is that from Steve!?” You groaned angrily, feeling yourself become more and more defeated. “I can’t believe it,” you gasped, slapping a hand over the mark, “Something did happen between us-!” “Y/N,” Phil pointed out again, “There’s lipstick on your thigh...” Looking down at your legs, you saw that he was right. There was a single red symbol on your right thigh that marked a kiss from the night before. Upon seeing this, what you saw when you woke up popped into your head. “Looks like Steve went to town down there,” Sav smirked at you, only wanting to rub it in more. “Guys,” you softly noted, “That wasn’t Steve... he has lipstick marks all over his face from someone else...” The three men all exchanged confused looks with each other. There was a dead end to the story of the previous night. None of them knew how to solve the mystery of the lipstick. Not even Phil, who was as good as sober 12 hours ago, didn’t have any input. Sav suddenly blurted out, “Wait a minute, I know what happened- I think...” No one said anything, but eagerly leaned forward, ready to hear the tale the bassist had to tell. “You lot remember how we found that box of old makeup last night?” he began, “Well, I walked into the bathroom with you afterwards, Y/N...” *** Rick looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, carefully applying the makeup to his lips, and being extra careful to not get it on the blazer he was wearing. The drummer put on his best suit just to see how it would look with the makeup he was putting on. He thought he was doing a good job for the most part; he didn’t look half bad at all! It was far easier than he expected it to be, and wondered if he was good enough to help you with your makeup at times. Thinking of you seemed to have made you appear in the doorway next to him. Both of your hands were still covered in paint. “Sink,” was all you commanded of the drummer. He moved without a word and you began to wash your hands. At the same instant, Sav appeared nearby. He grabbed the doorframe and began to swing from it, leaving conspicuous handprints afterwards. “Aren’t you gonna wash up, too?” Rick crossed his arms to sass him. “Nah, I want the colors, they’re makin’ me feel- colorful...” Sav grinned, walking over to you at the sink, requesting, “C’mere.” You looked up, only to have your face taken in Sav’s paint-covered hands. He softly giggled as you squared your vision in on him with a sneer. “Rude,” you teased, then went back to washing your hands; paint now all over your face. “What’s really rude,” Rick pulled back the shower curtain and taking a step into the tub, “Is you two interrupting my makeup time! Good night!” He sat himself down in the tub and laid himself down as if he was going to sleep.

Before he had the chance to catch some shut-eye, you marched over to the tub and objected, “Rick, if you’re gonna sleep, I want a goodnight kiss first.” Without another word, Rick sat up and planted a kiss on your thigh (since it was closest to him). There was now a bright red imprint of his lips on your leg. “Thank you.” you smiled down at him, “Now goodnight.” “Don’t leave the water on, you hear?” Sav nagged him, pointing a colored finger, “You’ll drown." Rick chuckled with his eyes closed, “I’ll drink myself out. I'm in a drinkin mood, anyways." “Oh yeah? You haven’t got a straw or anything,” the intoxicated bassist continued to argue with him. “Then don’t let me drown! Get one!" “I’ll get you one later. I’ll just-“ Sav burped, and continued, “I’ll write a note or something.” “Sounds good, mate,” Rick slumped further into the tub and pulled the curtain closed, “Now you gonna stay here all night?” “Actually,” you noted out loud to yourself, different alcoholic emotions boiling up inside you, “I wanna go downstairs- I just need to see Steve- like right now...!" You turned on your heels, speeding past Sav and flying back down the stairs. *** “So that explains the paint on my face, and the paper in the hallway, and the lipstick, but what happened after that?” you asked Sav, as you were now slumped on top of Phil’s arm again. “Beats me,” Sav ran his still-painted hands through his hair, “That’s all I’ve got.” “But wait, if you said that Rick fell asleep in the bathtub...” Phil began his sentence, only for you and the other two men to exchange knowing looks with each other. All four of you immediately sprung up and rushed (as much as you could) up the stairs and into the bathroom. Upon getting there, Phil flung back the shower curtain to reveal a partially awake Rick, dressed in a suit, and still wearing the lipstick from the night before. “Mornin’,” he groaned as he stretched, then winced, “Ah, fuck- sleeping in here wasn’t the best idea for me neck.” Sav looked back at the paint on the doorframe and asked the drummer, “So then why did you sleep in here?” “Oh,” Rick looked around the tub, stating as-a-matter-of-factly, “The porcelain keeps the suit from wrinkling. I guess drunk me was very careful last night.” “I’ll say,” Joe complemented, “The lipstick’s still holding up pretty well.” Phil halted the conversation, “Wait, so you were in here when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” Rick chuckled, “Yeah, and let me tell you, for a smaller guy, you’ve got a big bladder.” “Wait,” you slowly turned and pointed at Joe, “I thought you said you slept in the bathtub-?” He gave you a cocky smirk in return, “I told you, ‘definitely not the bathtub’...” Rick sleepily laughed and pointed at you, “Ha- Y/N, you look like Joe!” “Why, just because of the shirt?” you inquired, pointing at Joe’s tank top on you. “And the paint!” Rick corrected you, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t wash it off yet!” In a second, you felt a rush of worry upon realizing that Rick hadn’t said anything about you and Steve yet. It made you suddenly come to the possible conclusion that he may not know about it all. “Wait,” Phil snapped his fingers, “So you do remember some stuff from last night?” “Yeah, a bit, I think. Why?” “Philip Kenneth Collen, don’t you fucking dare....” you growled at him in an almost pleading manner, rubbing your temples and grinding your teeth. “What do you remember?” Phil asked him, not giving any sort of reaction to your begging. Rick thought for a few seconds, clearly as hungover as the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to list off some brief happenings he recalled. “Well, I remember us singing Sweet, there was a lap dance, I remember- uh, being denied a bottle of scotch, there was, uh... there was lipstick... and did I try to ice-skate on pieces of cardboard down the hall...?” “Is that why there’s cardboard all down the hallway?” you motioned towards the door. Rick gave you a big proud smile and a nod in response. “So...” Joe looked around, definitely looking eager, “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” Rick rested his head back on the tub again, thinking as hard as his hungover mind would let him. You hoped to every god there was that he didn’t say anything about Steve. “Just Phil comin’ in here and having a long piss, that’s all.” came the verdict. “You sure you didn’t hear-“ Phil anxiously began to ask him, but got a hand slapped over his mouth by you. “No!” you yelled on impulse, sending more daggers through your burned-out head. All eyes were now on you, and silence fell. For a few tense seconds, you stared into Phil’s eyes, sending him visual messages of both threats and desperate requests. “...what the hell happened last night?” Rick broke the silence in a tone of utter confusion, knowing that something more serious than what he remembered had taken place. You pulled your hand back from Phil’s face, “Yuck, Phil, come on!” “You licked her hand, didn’t you?” asked Sav. “Yes,” Phil confirmed, and continued without missing a beat, “And I’m glad you asked that, Rick, cos' I know what happened after Y/N and Sav paid you a visit last night.” “Phil, if you love me in any way, shape, or form, you will not tell Rick what happened,” you begged to him as you began to walk out the bathroom door, heading back downstairs to wallow in more of your shameful hangover, “I refuse to believe it happened until there’s hard proof.” “Well what more proof do you want? A positive pregnancy test?” Phil shrugged, but suddenly slapped his own hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just said. You shot him an angry look. You were too tired to have it out with him, so you stumbled away. Right about now, you were ready to give up and accept the fact that you probably did shag Steve. Phil turned to Rick, gaping, and slowly began to speak again, "Right... so last night, after those two were in here, I think that’s when they came back downstairs..." *** "So why are you tying up my hair again?" a drunk Steve asked Phil, who was happily putting his hair into pigtails. "Because I knew you’d look pretty, and I knew you wouldn't object, either," the other guitarist laughed evilly as he finished tying the second bundle of golden locks together, "There, you're all done now." "Cool... I think," Steve tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall as footsteps began pounding their way down the stairs. "I think you look pretty, Steve. Pretty, pretty, pretty," Joe giggled as he was flipped off by the pig-tailed guitarist. As this happened, you trampled the stairs in your descent, calling out, “Steve- Steve! Come here!” More than happy to be ripped away from Phil’s pigtailed plans, he let you run up to him as you belted out, “I’ve got an idea...!” He didn’t say anything, but he did let you whisper something in his ear. The second he heard your idea, his eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed his face. Steve was always in the mood for causing terror. You pulled back and exchanged the same look of understanding with the guitarist. He stared at you with a sort of appreciation, and without another word, swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal style now. With a quick smooch to your lips, he began carrying you up the stairs as you giggled with some sort of glee. Phil’s jaw dropped, looking at Joe with astonishment in the process. The singer’s face mirrored the exact same expression. “I should’ve bloody known...” Phil gasped in astonishment, “She’s been eyeing him up real funny all night... I can’t fucking believe it!” Sav came down the stairs slowly, his life depending on the railing as he dragged his hand on it. He left a long streak of blue paint as he did so. “What’s gotten into their pants?” “Each other, apparently,” Joe scoffed, taking a sip of a beer he found, “Lord knows how the hell that happened.” *** You were all sitting back on the couches in the living room, all seemingly regretting the night before (you knew you most certainly were). Everyone knew that the end of Phil’s story was the true ending of the night. Now there was really a dead end to the whole tale. “I can’t believe it,” you whispered with sorrowful acceptance, “Me and Steve...? What happened next?” Joe scoffed, “Well that’s kind of a stupid question.” “That’s where it ends, Y/N. I went up to bed afterwards, only to hear-“ Phil cleared his throat to impersonate you and Steve, “‘Oh, Steve! Yes!’ coming from my room! So after an immense helping of disapproval, I slept in Rick’s room.” “No, no, that can’t be it!” you insisted, “Guys, what really happened next?” “Can’t say,” Joe mumbled, holding his head. “Sorry, mate,” Rick apologized. Sav remained silent, but looked apologetic. “That can’t be where it ends...!” you persisted, “Sav? Tell me I’m right!” Sav rolled in his lips, and darted his eyes away from you. You continued to stare at him suspiciously, but no one else thought anything of it. Phil tried to finalize your fate sympathetically, “Give it up, Y/N, at least it’s all over now.” “But it still happened! What am I gonna say to Steve when he wakes up? You know what- no. It didn’t happen, I refuse to believe that it did.” “How much more proof do you want?” Rick shrugged, pointing at Phil and Sav, trying to make you face the terrible truth, “They both heard ya, and Steve even gave you a hickey.” You hung your head, thinking you might just decide to cry out of shame. Yes, you loved Steve, just as you loved anyone else in the band, but you never had (or planned to have) any sort of sexual relationship with them. Even if you ever did, you were afraid it would ruin everything your friendship had stood for. “Sav, what’s wrong, mate?” Joe asked out of the blue. The bassist in question was still avoiding the conversation, staying eerily silent and weaving his hands together. At this point, you noticed that he was also blushing. “That wasn’t Steve.” he stated bluntly, still not looking at you. “What wasn’t Steve?” you asked as you stared at him dead on, your heart now pounding. “That hickey... that wasn’t Steve,” he paused, “That was me.” Immediately you gasped and slapped a hand over the mark on your neck. “What?!” the other three exclaimed. Joe and Rick immediately hissed at the searing pain their outbursts caused. “Sav, what the hell?!” you scolded him, finally happy that you weren’t the only one being called out for their mistakes. “Now before you say anything else,” he finally looked at you and held up a hand, “It was your idea.” Your face fell, softly asking him, “What do you mean?” “Well, after you and Steve-you know- and only Joe and I were downstairs, you actually came back down, too- wipe that smug look off your face, Joe. You’re not entirely innocent here, either.” *** You stumbled down the stairs, giggling to yourself. Your mission was now accomplished, and Steve was asleep upstairs. In a word, you were pleased. In two words, you were still drunk. Records were still being played when you returned to the living room, and Joe currently had his copy of Sheer Heart Attack on the turntable. “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)”flowed softly from its speakers. “There’s our killer queen!” Joe cooed to you happily. He was now sprawled out on the couch, two empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Sav wasn’t too far off. The paints on his hands were now dry, and he was reclined in a chair across the room, twiddling a bottle in his hand. They both looked ready for bed, and it made you wonder how they held out for this long. The singer slurred on with an interested smirk, “You two have fun?" Sav spoke up with a scoff-like laugh, “Sure sounded like it!" “Oh, you know it,” you gave them a wink, setting yourself down on the couch next to Joe, “Guess Phil finally ditched, huh?” “Yeah, the wanker went to bed- but you’ve lost your pants!” he gestured to your black underwear, made room for you to lay down with him, and took you in his arms like a teddy bear with a sigh of appeasement. You reached back and playfully poked at Joe’s dimple, “Steve's fault." “Well, that’s no good,” Sav objected, pushing the footrest of the chair in and returning to a sitting position. “What isn’t?” Joe asked him, "Steve gettin' into it with her?" “No, that cuddlin' you're doing- it’s boring. You stay like that, you’ll fall asleep on me!” He was certainly right about this. With you in Joe’s arms and his face nuzzling into your hair like some sort of animal, he was already falling asleep. “What do you want us to do?” you chuckled, thinking that Sav was only jealous of his friend. Joe mumbled happily into your hair, “How 'bout you just do me like Steve, and we’ll be good.” At this point, you noticed the feeling of something pressing lightly against the bottom of your back; a certain weight where Joe’s hips were, and a weight that wasn’t there at first. “Joe,” you whined at him, “You’re fucking gross.” He chuckled, then slowly moved his hips to lightly rub himself against you, a low quiet moan rising in his throat from the temporary pleasure it provided. “Ah- Joe!” you protested again, reaching back and hitting him as best as you could. You wiggled out of his embrace as he burst into giggles like he had just accomplished something. Sav, on the other hand, cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re even hornier than when you’re sober!” you grabbed a pillow and whacked Joe with it. “You’re one to talk! You just shagged Steve!” he smirked evilly, "Why not me?" “Ha! The only way I’ll do you is by some miracle, or at least a dare,” you threw yourself onto the other couch, picking up a nearly empty beer bottle and pouring whatever was left into your mouth. Sav’s eyes finally lit up, “That’s what we oughta do- truth or dare!” “Ooh, sounds like terrible fun,” you turned yourself so you were sitting upside-down on the couch, “Sav, truth or dare?” “How come he gets to go first?” asked Joe, “I wanna get down to business!” “Dare,” Sav declared, ignoring the singer’s objections. Immediately, your intoxicated mind thought of a scheme. Despite the plan you and Steve had executed ever so perfectly, you were still a child seeking more terror. You knew Joe wanted you, and it was no secret either, so how exactly would you use Sav to reign terror over him? You wanted something to rub in Joe’s face- something that would leave a mark on him. “I dare you to-" you clumsily pointed to your neck, "Gimme a hickey.” Joe's jaw dropped with offense and jealousy; exactly as you had expected. Sav began to laugh rather loudly at the request, and stood up, now understanding your true intention of making Joe jealous. “C’mere,” he motioned with his hand. More than happy to obey the command, you strutted over to him and paused, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a step so your bodies were practically pressing together, moved your hair out of the way on your neck, and dove right in. You smiled with glee, taking in the feeling of Sav’s mouth and tongue moving over your skin (as well as Joe’s groans of protest coming from a few feet away). As the bassist sucked on your neck without hesitation, it only made you think of one thing: “Wow, there’s definitely gonna be a mark after this.” *** Rick and Phil were staring at Sav with their mouths open in shock. You kept a hand over the mark he left on your neck to prevent everyone from looking any more than they already had. “So, wait, if it was you who gave me this, why didn’t you say anything before when we said it was Steve?” you asked Sav, more suspicious than outraged now. “I- ah, didn’t... wanna say anything...” he looked away, beginning to blush again, “I guess I was too embarrassed." “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is you, Joe,” Rick turned his attention back to the singer, “You fuckin dry humped her!” Joe exclaimed in his own defense, “Yeah, and I don’t even remember it! It’s not my fault- I was drunk and horny!” “See! Just like me and Steve! I don’t remember shagging him, either! So I guess we’re even.” “Even Stephen,” Phil scoffed. You slumped into the couch more, staring blankly ahead and realizing, “So I pretty much got to second base with all of you last night...?” “I think you made it all the way home with Steve,” Rick pointed out. “Thanks, Rick,” you kept your head hung, “I feel like a slut.” “You mean you’re not?” Phil joked, only to be hit in the arm by Sav.

Just then, you all heard the sound of movement upstairs. Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold; Steve was awake now. Everyone's jaws hit the floor, and for a second, you thought they were all afraid of what you were fearing. "He's awake..." Rick announced in a sing-song voice, teasing you. “Oh no...” you gasped quietly, “Oh no, oh no! Oh god, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say to him?!” “Hate to break it to ya, but this isn’t necessarily our problem!” Joe shrugged in a panic, hearing Steve’s footsteps get closer. “But guys! You’ve gotta help me! You’re his best friends! What should I say to him?!” “Just act like it didn’t happen! Maybe he doesn’t remember-?” Sav proposed. Rick suggested, “Just straight up ask him if he remembers anything!” “Just get out of here!” Phil made a swatting motion towards the other room. “None of those are gonna do me any good! It still happened!” you yelled at them in a whisper, “I have to live that with that fact, even if neither of us have any memory of it to live with!” It was too late for any salvation; Steve was already at the top of the stairs. The band members held their breath, and- without words or warning- all scrambled out of the living room. “No!” you whispered, “Guys- wait!” You caught Rick by the wrist when he stood up. “Rick, c’mon, please don’t leave me here!” you begged. He yanked out of your grip and apologetically condemned you, “Sorry, Y/N, but this is your business.” As the four of them retreated, you tried to bolt after them. As soon as you hit the doorway, however, Phil turned around and pushed you back on the couch nearby as slowly as he could. It was so sudden that you were on your back before you knew it, and they were all gone. “Hey!” you called out after them, “Assholes!” Steve’s voice suddenly came to your ears (rather closely, too), “What’s their problem?” You jumped, “Ah- Steve!” He had a silent step, and made it down the stairs and across the room without making a sound. He also looked just as he did a little while ago when you first woke up; scraggly hair, lipstick stains all over his face, but no visible evidence of a hangover. “Hey, wow,” you forced an awkward chuckle at him, “Nice- uh, nice- lipstick...” Steve slumped down onto a chair and grumbled, “Thanks. Who even did this to me? Doesn’t look like it was you.” “That was, that was Rick- I’m assuming... I don’t remember that happening and I don’t think he does, either. He’s still got the lipstick on, too.” He played off the remark with a tired smile, “Oh, nice... last night really was something, wasn’t it?” Heat rushed to your face, and you tried to look away without being conspicuous. “Ha ha... yeah... really something!” you faked your amusement for him, now wondering if he was implying anything about the previous night. Steve leaned forward and asked, “Do you remember Sav and the paint? That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Still blushing, you darted your eyes around the room and nodded in agreement, “Mm hmm, yeah... he was like a toddler or something.” He sunk back into the chair again and closed his eyes, reminiscing about the events of the previous night. For a second you thought you were in the clear, and that maybe he didn’t remember the specific event that Phil and Sav did.

That illusion was shattered when his eyes snapped open, whispering “Wait a minute”, and sitting back up. Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“How did our plan go?” he questioned quietly, figuring that the others were still somewhere nearby and listening. “P-plan?” you stuttered, partially afraid of what he meant, but partially caught off guard, “What plan?” “You know-” he whispered again, thinking you remembered, “It was your idea. Did they believe it? We were convincing enough?" You darted your eyes down to the floor, confused, but also embarrassed. 'Convincing'? What did that mean? "Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember!” he smiled playfully. As you stared at him with fearful confusion in your eyes and redness on your cheeks, his smile was suddenly wiped away. He muttered under his breath as his face fell, "Oh... you don't remember... bloody hell, okay, this is gonna be hard to explain..." "Then explain it, because I'm really fucking confused..." your voice wavered with a sarcastic chuckle. Steve sighed and leaned forward, slowly weaving his hands together. He didn't know where to begin. "This is one of the few things I remember from last night..." he started off, "And there's no way to make this sound... good... in any way, but you came up with the idea of us pretending to shag- like making noises and shit like that- to trick the others into thinking we really did. For some reason I thought it was a great idea, and I'm pretty sure I carried you upstairs, too.” Instantly, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It wasn't real; you didn't shag Steve, and he could even tell the guys himself! You blew out a big sigh of relief, and slumped back into the couch, closing your eyes. "Oh, god," you slowly panted, "What a huge relief- I suppose we were really convincing, then." "Why d'you say that?" You laughed tiredly, now feeling rather thankful for your raging hangover, "The guys are all convinced that we fucked last night. Only Phil and Sav seem to remember it, though. They've been hounding me about it all morning. I kept telling them it couldn't be true- and I was right!" "What, would it be so bad if we actually did?" he teased you in a hushed voice. "Well, I've had to live my day so far under the impression it did happen. I was teased, ridiculed, embarrassed, and felt guilty about it. I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship if it was true... I was kinda hoping you didn't remember so we could just forget..." The red in your face returned all over again. Steve, however, didn't seem bothered. "If you really want to, we can keep pretending it happened and steer into the act; give em' what they want." "What? No!" you laughed out loud, standing up, "You're crazy, Clark! I think I better go tell the others the bad news. They'll be disappointed-ha!" You walked across the room to go find the others and disclose unto them the "bad news", giving Steve a pat on the shoulder when you passed him. Once you were gone and out of sight, Steve also blew out a big sigh of relief. "She didn't remember anything," he thought to himself, "That was a close one." While he knew you two didn't go all the way the previous night, he figured if you didn't remember it, then it was for the best you didn't find out. It was nothing serious; just a bit of fooling around, really. Just a bit of drunked-up teasing, and nothing more. The guys had no proof that anything actually happened between you two, and you were about to tell them the partial truth anyway, so why say something to reignite the suspicion? After all, they were all hungover to begin with, so there wasn't much memory of the whole affair, either. "Thank god for these hangovers,"Steve thought, "Thank god. I couldnt've asked for anything more." ~Epilogue~ When you got to the top of the stairs, Steve put you on your feet and spun you around. "You ready?" he whispered, childish excitement in his voice. You nodded with equal excitement, "Take me away, Clark." The two of you began eagerly walking hand-in-hand to whatever room you pleased, but before either of you had the chance to pick one, the bathroom door opened, Rick popped his head out and commanded, "Stop right there!" Both you and Steve froze and looked at him. He still had his lipstick and his suit on, and a kind of serious look overtaking his face. A finger was kept in a pointing position at you, a few large pieces of cardboard were underneath his other arm, and he slowly took steps down the hall to meet you. Neither of you moved, but both of you waited. When Rick got to you, he didn't say a word, but did take Steve's face in his hands (dropping the cardboard in the process), and proceeded to the kiss the man all over his face.

Steve remained silent, and let Rick have his way until he decided to stop. When he did, there were several lipstick stains on various parts of the blonde's face.

"Thanks, mate," Steve muttered sarcastically as Rick kicked some of the cardboard pieces in different directions. He then stepped on two of them, trying to slide down the hall on them as if they were ice skates. When he got back to the bathroom, he went back inside and shut the door again.

Without another word, you turned Steve's face toward you, gave him a peck on the cheek as Rick had done, and kicked open the door behind you (which just so happened to be Phil's bedroom). You both fell back into the room, giggling with makeshift lust in your eyes.

After all, you had to make this authentic, right?

#def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader fanfic #def leppard x reader #steve clark #phil collen #rick savage #rick allen #joe elliott #original content #i'm still proud of this ngl #it was hard tying up the loose ends but i had a LOT of fun writing this throughout 2018

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gallonsofvoid · 3 years

Note

hey I'm thinking about maybe starting an RP blog, any advice?

((Queued just so it can hopefully reach you when you're awake. While I'm not great on advice, I'll provide what I can.

((First, at least figure out how you wanna present your RPs. It doesn't have to stay consistent forever, but keep a style. whether its paragraphs, *actions through asterisks*, dialog is in a color, or whatever. You're free to tweak it as you please, just don't change it all the time. Consistency keeps an audience returning

((Also, maybe consider how you wanna tag things, or if you're gonna tag things at all. I tag excessively, but just an "rp" and "ooc" tag is more than enough. Also, maybe a reblog tag for if you're gonna be reblogging stuff, not needed at all, just for consideration.

((Other good things are an "About Me" page, and a "Kink List" page (if you're nsfw). Also leaving a description for your character helps. It can be in about me or in another page entirely. Also, decide if you want M!As (aka. Magic Anons) to be a thing. Make a muse list if you're gonna be a multimuse blog. It helps your audience know what kinda cast you got, descriptions for the muses can just be bullet point stuff, like gimmicks or looks

((Reblog ask memes, it gets engagement going.

((Also, it isn't needed, but art is nice. Even its just cutouts of canon art, or fanart. Basically reaction images to show an emotion for your muse to go along with your writing. I draw a lot of original art for this blog but honestly, just good/fun writing will carry you far enough. But like, include an "art" tag if you do post like art you made/commissioned.

((Be nice, make friends. You can always send DMs to your RP buddy if you're confused and want clarifications, or if you think your muse may be confusing/harsh.

((Also! Send an ask when it's done! I wanna see what you make! I bet it'll be great! Damn, this ended up longer than I was expecting. If you need me to clarify on any terms or things I missed, send another ask my way!

#ooc #ramblings #anonymous

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vesta-writing · 3 years

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Rant

Most of my posts are queued because some days I have a shit tone of motivation, and other days I’m awake for maybe 2 or 3 hours because I’m mentally drained from the pandemic, classes, work, and my family situation. I try to write something every day, but there are some days where I really just can’t. Right now, because I started college in a major that 1) wasn’t what I was interested in, 2) has some of the hardest intro-level courses at my university, and 3) my fall semester last year was fully online and I took some of the hardest (at my school) courses that sophomores can take, my GPA is just under 2.5, thankfully, now my major and my coursework is something that I understand and can do fairly easily, so my GPA is going back up, but I have a lot that I need to do to bring my grades up to what I want them to be.

Right now, I have 7 (I think) drafts, one of =which has been in my drafts since May, and another that I started working on on June 24th. I’m going to be 100% honest here, if its one of my long posts, at some point it was in my drafts for at least a week so that I can do necessary research, rough draft it, add in photographs/graphs/charts where necessary, and review the post so that it’s the quality I want it. If it’s a long political post, it’ll be in my drafts for a lot longer than one week, just because those topics tend to mentally drain me really easily.

I have not been having a very good year, I had COVID back in March, and some of the effects still linger, and I tend to get sick really easily, and when that happens I end up with no energy for days on end. In April and May, I had to deal with and ex getting really shitty about the fact that I’m bi, and then after we broke up he was harassing me and showed up at my job to talk to me, to which my boss ended up calling the campus PD and I had to file a report about it, and the Title IX and Student Conduct offices at my university both took a report about it, and because of how stressed I was, I asked them to just hold onto the report unless he started harassing me again, because I was starting to freak out at the very idea of me needing to face him at a hearing after everything that happened. I ended up bombing two classes last semester, and then almost not passing a third. I also ended up moving out of a family member’s house because of having had COVID and being yelled at fo having to go to the ER after a doctor told me that I had to go because he thought I had pneumonia.

I straight up don’t know if I have enough spoons to last me the rest of the year. There are days where the only “social activity” that I can remember to do is send streaks on Snapchat, because for me, it’s something small and routine that helps me keep some semblance of normalcy during the pandemic and classes. The only reason I talk to a couple of my friends on a near-daily basis, even when I’m completely drained, is because they live with me, so I can’t really get away with not talking to them.

The ask that I answered last week kinda really bothered me. I’m just one person, and I was writing about something that was recent news. Please remember that the people you go after on social media have things going on that you don’t know about. I try really hard to not let my stress get to me too badly, but when someone starts acting like I should be doing more that I can handle at the moment, it really hurts. Everyone has a limit to what they can handle at a given time about a particular topic, and it isn’t okay for you to go off on someone for not doing activism or raising awareness in the way or amount that you want them to. It’s not right, and if you’re one of those people who is willing to get snippy with someone for not posting enough for you, please just block me and don’t interact with my posts. I’m a 20 year old college student not a career activist, my number 1 responsibility is my classes, then my job, then my writing, and then literally everything else. Please just understand that.

#vesta speaks #personal rant #sorry for the rant #but it needed to be said #social activism #politics #activism

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ussjellyfish · 3 years

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please have snow and mistletoe | gen | Skimmons, Philinda | Agents of SHIELD

written for @agentsofchallenges as a pinch hit for @maybebrilliant!!

Merry Christmas, lovely! I hope you enjoy this. We’ve had some awful weather and that just seemed to work.

read on ao3

Jemma and Daisy were supposed to go see her parents for Christmas but it's snowing and the flights are cancelled the hotels are full and they're in the worst airport Jemma's ever seen.

So May's going to come get them.

=======

"The flight's canceled," Jemma reports, flopping down on the bench, totally defeated. "So is everything else crossing the Atlantic Ocean that's not a boat, and I think they're turning those back too."

Daisy pats her shoulder and finishes the last of her cold coffee. "Guess we should call your parents."

"They'll be so disappointed," Jemma says, taking a breath. She probably wouldn't be near tears if it wasn't the middle of the night in potentially the worst airport on the eastern seaboard. Newark was crowded, so many flights had been delayed or cancelled that she and Daisy had barely gotten a bench after they'd barely gotten through customs. They'd already queued for hours, had terrible food, and the bathrooms were overcrowded and everyone was annoyed. Everyone was so annoyed that the air seemed to crack with it.

"Hey," Daisy said, smiling. "They'll understand. We can get a hotel or go back to base and we'll try again."

"Before the world ends or we get attacked by killer robots."

Daisy laughs and leans back. "We're good at that though, so it'll have to be another horrible thing."

"Like aliens." Jemma tries to smile. "Or weeping angels."

"Why are the angels sad?"

"Oh they're not actually weeping they're just covering their faces because they're evil and they're going to get you as soon as you stop looking."

Daisy grins. "Wait, what?"

"It's complicated, but the gist of it is that the angels sneak up on you when you're not looking at them."

"And they're evil."

"So evil."

"So let's not fight them." Daisy pulls her feet up and wraps her arms around her knees. "What do we do if there's no flight?"

"We rent a car-"

"Oh no, it's like The Day After Tomorrow death blizzard out there, we're not driving, you get annoyed with the traffic around the Playground."

"I'm only pointing out that roundabouts would be much more efficient."

"Uh huh." Daisy takes another sip of her coffee and frowns. It must be gone. Daisy looks for the bin, but of course there's no bin, this airport is the 8th circle of hell.

"We could get a hotel, hang on," Daisy opens up her laptop, touches something, does something else and even in hell, Daisy has wifi because she's Daisy. She's probably hacking NASA or something.

"Dammit," Daisy mutters after a few minutes.

"Let me guess, they're all booked."

"Everything. So many people are stuck here that I can't find a hotel anywhere within a hundred miles."

"And we'd have to get the hundred miles."

"Yeah." Daisy rubs her eyes. "We could just sleep here."

"In an airport?"

Daisy shrugs. "It's not the worst. It's safe, but the stupid lights are on all night and it's really not very comfortable."

Jemma sighs, buries her head in Daisy's shoulder and groans. "Spending the night in the airport on Christmast?"

"With a couple thousand of our stranded new friends," Daisy mutters. "Better call May and tell her we're not leaving the country."

It's somehow one of the shortest and most touching conversations of her life.

"May's coming to get us."

"What?" Daisy asks, eyes wide. "It's like...actual hell out there."

"She's driving, she said two hours, maybe three, but she'll be here before dinner."

Daisy shakes her head. "Okay."

"That's really nice of her."

"She is really nice."

"I know, I just--" Jemma stops, because she really can't complain about not getting to see her parents for Christmas because she's seen them every other Christmas of her life and she has parents, and a wonderful girlfriend and May who's coming to get them through the worst blizzard of the last sixty years.

She still wants to be home. She's earned it. It's been such a long year. She sniffs, and shakes herself out of it.

"What movies do you have on your laptop?"

Daisy wraps an arm around her and they settle in as best they can. May will be here.

Oddly enough, two hours later it's Coulson who comes in to get them. He's all wrapped out, parka and hate and scarf and a big smile for both of them.

"Come on, May's just outside." He hugs them, Daisy first, then Jemma, and it's so terrible outside that he somehow smells like snow and cold.

"Aren't you--?" Daisy asks and Coulson just smiles.

"I didn't want to leave May alone in the base for Christmas."

"She said she doesn't celebrate Christmas."

"We like not celebrating together," Coulson says, but there's something that makes him smile about that. "Give me your luggage."

"It's on the plane already, or not unloaded, or--" Jemma stumbles over the words, yawning, and Daisy finishes.

"I think they're going to have to drop it off with us."

"That bad huh?"

"It's Newark," Daisy grumbles, folding her arms. "I wanted to just let May fly us."

"We can't possibly ask May to fly us to my parents house."

"She'd love too," Coulson reminds them both, leading them towards the frozen hellscape of outside. They have to stop talking as they reach the doors because the wind screams around them and whips ice and snow like a sandstorm.

Hell is frozen, and all the devils are here. They hurry into the (once) black SHIELD SUV that's covered in so much ice and snow that's it's almost grey-white.

Daisy doesn't even have a hat because it was nice when they left and they tumble into the backseat, rubbing their fingers together and trying to catch their breath.

May turns around, looking at them both with a very gentle smile. "There's food in the backpack, hot chocolate in the thermos and blankets. Phil, where did you put their hats and mittens?"

"They're in the cloth bag. You didn't really take the hard core winter gear."

"Yeah, it was like 40 degrees when we left the base." Daisy buckles up and grabs the backpack. "I'm starving."

"We thought so, the food here is terrible."

"The worst," May agrees, checking that they're in before she pulls out from the curb. Another car slides past them, like actually slides and Jemma grabs Daisy's hand.

Daisy pats her knee with a smile and mouths "It's May."

It's not that Jemma doesn't have every confidence in May, she does. May is a legend at everything she does, it's just that the weather outside is actually legendarily bad. They crawl along on the freeway, surrounded by giant trucks that can't stay on the road and Jemma counts fourteen cars in the ditch before they're even out of New Jersey.

Daisy leans over, close enough that Jemma can smell the hot chocolate on her lips. "Stop panicking."

"Did you not see the cars in the ditch? The overturned lorry trucks? The complete lack of plows and gritters?"

"What's a gritter?"

"Those big lorries that throw grit on the roadway."

"Grit?" Daisy teases, eyebrows high.

"Stop making fun of me, you know what I mean."

"I do, I just like making fun of you."

Jemma rolls her eyes and tries to forget about the chance of them spinning into a ditch and spending the night sleeping in the SUV. Does SHIELD have any anti-ice and snow technology? Is there some kind of SAT NAV that May can follow out of the storm.

"Stop panicking," Daisy whispers again.

"How are you not?" Jemma snaps back in a whisper. "That car almost hit us."

"Look." Daisy points carefully in the dim light. It takes Jemma far too long to figure out what she's looking at.

Coulson's hand is on May's knee. It's innocent enough, maybe he's just- but it's right there and it looks like it's been there a long time.

"That's not all," Daisy whispers, smiling at the secret she's discovered. "Wait a minute."

Jemma curls up with Daisy and the blankets in the backseat and watches as Couls holds on May's tea so she doesn't have to look away from the road. They talk in low tones, and Jemma and Daisy can't hear them over the sound of ice thudding against the roof and the windows, but sometimes one of them will laugh.

May, laughs, while driving through the worst mess Jemma's ever seen. Time crawls, Daisy falls asleep for a while, then Jemma, but when she wakes up again, they're still driving, and Coulson's hand is on the back of May's neck.

She couldn't really tell what he's doing unless May's getting some kind of stress headache, and Coulson's hand is really hidden in her hair, except the snow's softer now and she can hear them talking.

Still not quite the words, but there's something almost flirty in the way Coulson won't stop looking at May.

Of course, they have a connection, years of history. They're really good friends.

Except friends don't really spend lonely holidays together alone at a secret base.

Jemma falls asleep wondering what they're saying, because May's laughing again and even in the middle of the darkest, most miserable, cold and wet Christmas Eve she's ever had, there's something nice about being curled up with Daisy just listening.

====

"We're home," Coulson says, shaking her a little. "Nice and safe and warm in the garage."

Jemma slowly blinks herself awake, stretching as she crawls out of the car. Daisy stands by the other door, still half asleep. They both yawn and check their phones. It's well after two in the morning.

"Happy Christmas, mum and dad," Jemma whispers to her phone and sends them a text. Maybe she'll see them by New Year.

Daisy circles the back of the SUV, whistling at the snow. "I didn't know the roads could be that bad."

"May did a great job."

Hugging Jemma sleepily, Daisy nods. "Course she did, she's Agent May."

Still arm in arm, they walk towards the front of the SUV to thank Coulson and May for coming to get them, but they stop.

They're kissing.

Not just, light, gentle, Happy Christmas, kissing, but wrapped around each other as if this kiss is the first one of the rest of their lives. There should be music with this kiss.

Daisy stops, mouth open.

Jemma should pull herself together but she doesn't. She stares too, because they keep going until both of them are gasping for breath.

"Ummm."

"Merry Christmas," Coulson says, blushing a little.

"Mistletoe," May says, pointing up at the high ceiling of the garage.

There's nothing up there. Jemma looks and Daisy looks and they both nod and May grabs Coulson's hand and they walk into the base together, Coulson's arm around her shoulders.

Daisy stares and stares and then her expression softens, warms. "They--"

Jemma kisses her, stopping her speculation. When they part, Daisy looks at her, confused.

"Mistletoe," Jemma teases and Daisy rolls her eyes.

"You know there's nothing up there."

"Maybe that's the point."

Daisy strokes her hair, then smiles. "Sorry. you're stuck here."

"I'm not," Jemma says, and now, finally, wrapped in Daisy's arms, she might mean it.

#agents of shield #agents of challenges #philinda #skimmons #maybebrilliant #fluff and happiness

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writingdotcoffee · 4 years

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#138: 5 Ways to Focus on Your Writing

With everything that’s been going on over the past several weeks, staying focused has been frustratingly difficult for me. There’s a lot to be anxious about – the numbers on the news going up, the government briefings getting more and more uncomfortable. The increased cognitive load wreaks havoc on any type of deep work that I need to do – writing, reading, programming.

Instead, I’m always looking for the refresh button, eagerly awaiting the next bite-sized news item that always ends up being another speculation at best. I’m well aware that I’m not getting any value from reading those live updates — reading War and Peace backwards would probably have about the same effect. But why is it so difficult to step back?

In this post, I’d like to share the strategies that I’ve been using to combat these viral bouts of procrastination. If I got anything done since the lockdown started, I was because I used one or more of these hacks.

(1) Time Your Sessions

This is an old trick but a good one.

Set a timer for however long you wish you wish to write and write away. You’re not allowed to do anything else until it rings.

You can use a time tracker like Toggl or one of the apps that block certain websites until the time is up to ensure compliance. I like using the Forest app on my phone.

(2) Track your words

Timing your writing sessions is great, but what if you don’t feel motivated enough to even schedule one?

I’m a big fan of tracking your writing – how many words you write and when. Just like tracking calories or workouts, the simple act of recording them will result in a change of behaviour. By tracking what you wrote, you’re also tracking how much time you’ve wasted – if you haven’t written anything for weeks, you’ll have a clear record of that.

That’s what does it for me – seeing all opportunities to get words done that I’ve missed. I start questioning whether I should be pursuing writing in the first place when I’m clearly not doing it, and that gets me back on track.

I built an app for this called Writing Analytics which I can thoroughly recommend 😄. It’s also free until the end of May 2020!

(3) Build a streak

Another way to stay motivated is to build streaks. Whether you’re developing a new writing habit or maintaining an existing one, ticking a box every day can be a surprisingly powerful way to stay on track.

The more days you have on your streak, the more you’ll want to keep going. For me, the key to streaks is to make the criteria for ticking that box as easy as possible – like reading 5 pages or writing 200 words.

On busy days, I might bang out 200 words on my phone while queuing at the supermarket. On good days, those 200 words are just enough to get me to the flow of a writing session. Low expectations are the key.

You can use a grid printout. The Streaks iPhone app works pretty well, and Writing Analytics also supports streaks.

(4) Get Accountability

A few things are better to spark a fire under your ass than external accountability. You have several options here – from posting your daily word counts on social media to sharing your goals with friends or writing group.

Having to explain your repeated failures to write anything to another person can be very uncomfortable. That really is the point – it becomes easier to write than face the embarrassment.

Some writers find a writing coach or accountability partner and check in with them regularly to make sure both are getting their writing done. When all else fails, it might be a sign that you need one.

(5) Match time spent reading the news with writing

Checking out social media and reading the news is the first thing many people do every day. It’s also a huge mistake. You’re barely awake and already distracted.

What if you could only check social media and read the news for as long as you’ve spent writing that day? Wanna see if the world is still on fire? Write for 15 minutes and you earn 15 minutes on Twitter.

Staying off the news and social media may be unrealistic, but you can make sure that you strike the right balance of consumption and creativity by putting your writing first.

Final Thoughts

These were some of the hacks that I use to focus on my writing. Normally, I will combine at least two or three and switch them up depending on how much support I need at a given time.

I hope that they’ll help you be a more productive writer at least until we figure a way out of this pandemic.

Want More?

My email subscribers receive a notification when I publish these posts along with a few things I found interesting or helpful on the literary internet every week. Click the link below to join the club.

(I won’t spam you or pass your email to a third party. You can unsubscribe at any time.)

Past Editions

#137: How to Create a Writing Routine for Life, April 2020

#136: The Words Will Add Up, March 2020

#135: Quarantine Survival for Writers, March 2020

#134: Focusing on the Right Metrics, March 2020

#133: Forget the noun, be the verb, March 2020

#writing #writers #write #writing tips #writing advice #amwriting #writing life #writeblr #writing update #personal udpate #personal #me #writingcoffee

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

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Necessary Repairs

Part III. I don’t even know if you have to read any of the other parts. SecUnit should probably have slept through most of its own healing, but that’s not this machine’s luck.

Part I | Part II

At some indeterminate point later, I woke up.

I was receiving minimal sensory data, and none of it was sight-related. A diagnostic subroutine spun up and casually began sending me bursts of error messages I couldn't even begin to translate.

Oh, and the world was pitch black.

It took me more than five seconds to determine that the darkness was self-inflicted and open my eyes. Longer still for the random noise to resolve into sounds I could understand -- the hum of an air circulation system, at least two distinct voices, and an automated warning system. My connection to the feed stabilized, but the walls that normally guarded my mind against its onslaught were conspicuously absent.

Something else was shielding me, something big and surprisingly gentle.

Friend?

I could feel cold metal under my back and head, probably the medical suite platform. My internal temperature refused to rise, so I was shivering and couldn't stop. It felt like I was still leaking, and the pain ebbed and flowed with each passing moment.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?” Transport asked.

Yes. Where the hell am I?

I felt a mild shock as the governor kicked in. It hadn't liked my tone, apparently, or the phrasing of my answer, and wasn't shy about letting me know. The standard code read, "you're outside of protocol and need to adjust your attitude."

Silently, I cursed the damn thing. I was getting used to life without it.

A moment later, Transport answered, "SecUnit, you're still in medical, and your performance rating, while stable, remains abysmally low."

The ship paused and sent me a couple of data packets that succinctly described all the things still wrong -- which was most of them. I should've probably remained in stasis, but the medical unit was calibrated for humans. So, it hadn't given me nearly enough sedative to knock out the organic parts of a construct for any appreciable amount of time.

I was awake, kind of.

"I'm waiting for your vital signs to improve," Transport added. "Until then, would you like to watch an episode of that one show you liked?"

Yes, please.

The ship's calm tone reassured me, even though everything else looked like shit. My diagnostics were coming back with nonsense, still. The governor couldn't find a SecSystem to connect with. The Traveler didn't have or need one of those; it had a skeleton HubSystem instead managed security, life support, and logistics. My inflexible governor couldn't figure out how to interface with it.

Surprise, surprise...

It fell back on some preprogrammed garbage, complete with a minimal set of actions and responses. "Yes, please" and "No, thank you" was probably the best I could manage at the moment without incurring its wrath. I'd try poking at it later when my performance no longer looked quite so dramatically sad.

Captain Owens pulled up a chair and sat down where she could see me. Transport shared the view from one of its cameras, so now I could see her, too. It also queued up an episode of a long-running serial and waited for the captain before it started playing. I wanted to ask about the hostiles but couldn't -- thanks governor -- and Transport didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

I suppose it was only fair; it was doing its best to keep me calm.

MedSystem sorted out the sleeping issue in the meantime and had injected more sedatives into my resupply channel, so sleep was happening shortly, whether I liked it or not. I could practically feel my diagnostics slowing down to a crawl since they relied on data from my organic parts, which were affected by the drugs.

"Good afternoon, SecUnit. I'm glad to see you're awake." The captain nodded in my direction and then turned toward someone I couldn't see. "As I mentioned, thanks to SecUnit, we came out of the boarding attempt in one piece. I'm sorry to hear your ship wasn't as lucky."

A stranger in formal wear came into camera view as he approached Owens. I figured he was the owner of that second voice I hadn't been able to identify earlier. The logo on his tunic looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Parts of my memory felt like tangled network cables.

"Indeed, but this is still better than nothing. I don't suppose you've already contacted your bonding company?"

The captain's face scrunched up in confusion. "We're insured outside of the Corporation Rim," she explained. "I've sent a message, but I'm here pretty much on my own."

Outside of the Rim, everything appeared to work in ways that were incompatible with corporation control. A lot of the propaganda around freehold planets implied they were a complete shitshow. Except, clearly, the Traveler was doing just fine.

I had a sudden burst of "bad feeling" in my organic neural tissue. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right with me. I thought it might be unwise for the captain to tell him anything about herself or her ship.

"No, thank you." It sounded like my voice, but I didn't remember speaking. Hi buffer, I thought I'd never see you again.

The newcomer gave me a puzzled glance. "So, where'd you get your unit then?"

Owens shrugged and schooled her expression. I'd seen that face before when she'd spoken to her daughter before our first jump. "I rented it from a friend, as a security consultant. It's doing a great job."

I was?

I mean, the human was alive, and the Traveler had an intact hull, so I guess things weren't terrible. I could practically hear the Transport laughing on a private channel. If I could roll my eyes, I probably would have, but the governor frowned on that sort of thing, and my eyes had closed minutes ago.

"I see. Well, if you wouldn't mind giving us a hand with repairs, we can both be on our way." The man watched the captain like a hawk. "I would also recommend getting your unit checked out at a licensed repair station when you get a chance. With this level of damage, there's no telling what other problems are hiding under the surface."

As far as statements go, it was polite enough, but I didn't like it. It sounded to me like a threat.

Performance rating dropping. Initiating emergency shutdown.

I really would prefer you didn't.

***

Memory fragment:

The mining installation doesn't inspire confidence. There are eight of us and two combat models. Ten security units should be enough to keep a workforce of 153 miners and a dozen more supervisors in line. Everything looks worn and rundown, including the humans.

Protocol dictates that we take shifts. A human has created a schedule to which we adhere. The two combat units are mixed in with the rest of us.

It's my patrol shift. I walk through one of the mining shafts and stop at the far end. I can hear a supervisor arguing with two of her employees—something about the rocks they've uncovered. I turn around, ready to head back to the primary installation, when one of the combat units walks up to the three humans.

It has been summoned by the supervisor.

The supervisor tells it to fire on the workers. It does, without question. Bodies crumple to the floor. Then, the supervisor notices me.

***

Transport popped into my feed. "Wake up, SecUnit. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

The words were out before I could consider the consequences, and I braced for an electric shock -- or worse. Nothing happened. Performance reliability was at 87% and rising steadily. My diagnostics routines had run several times, and the results looked promising. I was also no longer leaking, and most of my organic parts had grown back.

I had two arms again. That was nice.

Transport shared a smiling sigil. Reason unknown. "You did get shot, silly. MedSystem patched you up pretty well. If you're up to it, my captain and I could use your help." It paused and added, "Captain suggested that you might want payment in exchange for services rendered. That's how it works in CR, right?"

I had my doubts about anything actually working in the Corporation Rim. Still, arguing with a clearly sentient ship about theoretical economics didn't sound appealing. I'd rather get shocked again.

"OK," I said aloud and sat up. "Priority question: who was here earlier?"

"Dr. Alexander Soren is the current captain of an ArialHydra exploration vessel. They are stranded in this sector after a pirate attack. Captain Owens speculates that it may be the same group of pirates. We were lucky to have you on board."

Lucky. Right.

I shoved off the platform and crumpled to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Hi there, limbs. A few minutes later, I managed to get up and stumble around under my own power. I admit to sitting on the floor and trying out my new arm. It didn't have a cannon -- MedSystem didn't have the required parts -- but it was fully functional, otherwise.

"I've seen Dr. Soren before." I couldn't remember where. That bothered me.

"Perhaps you were deployed on one of his survey missions?"

"I don't know."

One of the ship's drones floated into the room, carrying spare clothing, which it dropped directly on my head. I grabbed at the falling fabric and started getting dressed. It was the Traveler's standard-issue uniform, beige and blue and generally not hideous. I missed the protective qualities of armor, but it would've been weird to wander through the ship's pristine, carpeted halls with it on.

Captain Owens walked into the medical room and waved at me and the drone. "I see you're both here and scheming."

"We're not scheming, and technically, I'm everywhere," Transport informed us.

"I don't think you should trust Dr. Soren," I blurted out.

Owens narrowed her eyes. "Do you know anything you'd care to share?"

I shook my head. Constructs don't get gut feelings -- we don't even have a gut to have them with -- and my memories of any encounters with the doctor had been removed. Memory wipes aren't typical, but occasionally, a bonding company or a manufacturer/repair company decides they're necessary. I've had at least one that I know about. I also had no idea how to explain that my organic neurons probably remembered things the rest of me didn't.

"Well, in that case, has Trav told you what we need?" At my puzzled expression, the captain said, "We gave the other ship supplies, and they're almost ready to depart. And they're making a fuss about..." She sighed. "Something. I really don't care. They'll be coming back aboard in a few hours to discuss whatever it is. And I would feel much better if you were there. Just in case. And only if you're feeling up to it."

Protecting humans was literally the only thing I liked about my job. "OK."

"Great. Do you want a weapon?"

"Depends on how threatening you want me to look." Any weapon I wielded would be for show unless the human was in danger. And if she was, I had a miniature cannon hidden inside an arm.

The captain pondered this for a moment. Her face went through a range of expressions that Transport interpreted for me as "Captain Owens thinks the other ship's posturing is stupid and would like to be on her way, but it would be impolite to leave, so here we are." I agreed with the captain's assessment.

Finally, she said, "Let's try without any extra threats and see what happens. The quicker we get this over with, the better."

Transport suggested we spend the time between now and the upcoming meeting watching more of its favorite shows. I agreed.

#the murderbot diaries #SecUnit #let me sleep #into the unknown #fanfiction

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yugirl-with-dragons · 3 years

Text

Side Stories: Promises and Nightmares

….

He wasn’t sure what hour it was, but all he could hear was faint crying and screaming. Falling face first into the floor, it was the jolt he needed to wake up.

Wha?..

Busting out from his room he booked it down the stairs in the dark, tripping and stumbling over the wooden stairs. Screaming getting louder, his eyes widened in fear full well knowing who’s voice is producing that sound.

Aki!!

Giving a gentle tap before opening her door with a bit too much force, stumbling in. The poor girl flailing about, trying to fight whatever specter was trying to choke her to death. He was a bit relieved that no one was stabbing his meister, but refocused back. He needed to wake her up before she hurt herself. Running to her side trying to figure out what to do, her screams contain chokes of cries. Tears of sadness, pain, running down her face while thrashing about; attempting to call her back into the real world as her partner.

I need to wake her up before she hurts herself.

…

Strapped down in an unfamiliar room, against what seemed to be a table. It had a familiar sensation of terror, but where it was coming from is a mystery. Pristine minimalism of science haunted her eyes, with ranges of medical instruments scattered about next to her. All she knew in that moment was that she was in danger, and Yusei… Where was Yusei?

Panic setting in, searching with her limited range with her restraints would let her. Shouting to be let go and evenly take on whoever put her in this position in between for her weapon. Her partner had been separated from her, feeling utterly helpless to the mercy of whoever is around.

Other humans towering over her, all dressed in white jackets, with their faces indistinguishable almost blurring together in the shadows.

“My, my little mouse. You’ve changed, I’m glad you’re back.”

I was here before? When was I here? I was never here before!

Looking around, she couldn’t pinpoint the location of the voice, causing her to struggle against her restraints even more in order to break free and find her partner.

“Quit squirming so much!.. He can’t save you. Really, he left you to me. ”

Choking on her own words, she couldn’t hide the tears of betrayal running down her cheeks, venom piercing out from her mouth.

“He wouldn’t! You’re lying!”

His eyes, the color of dying grass pierced in through her. Clearly holding something resembling a syringe, filled with.. not even she knew what it was. Though the details of his face still remained fairly fuzzy.

“Little mouse.. How would you know?”

Freezing, she considered his words, before shaking them out. He wouldn’t leave her to die here! That’s not who Yusei is!

“ He’s my partner! He wouldn’t betray his partner!”

The voice boomed out a laugh, queuing the others in the room to laugh as well. Washing out any of her concentration on trying to escape.

“Tell me then.. Where do you think he is?”

She didn’t have an answer to the voice, she didn’t know, fueling her panic even further.

Where is he? Yusei where are you?!

For a moment she didn’t know where he was, until a familiar voice of laughter rang into her ears. She couldn’t see him immediately, but she knew that it was her partner.

“God I can’t believe that you fell for it. You’re such a sucker, Aki. ”

Yusei’s own hands were holding her shoulders down, staring up to meet his bright blue irises. Breaking into her soul, with a smile of malice; shaking his head with pity.

“ You are such a stupid, stupid little girl.”

As the needle pierced her skin, she couldn’t help but scream and convulse against her restraints.

Her brain stopped working, burning that image of him into her mind; her tears of betrayal were vocally known. Starting to feel lightheaded and her body began to shake, maybe as a side effect of whatever it was perhaps? She wasn’t sure, her resistance was put to waste as the last few words were her name being called out to her as everything blurred to shades of dark red.

Her eyes fluttered open, her magenta hair drenched with sweat heaving to a rapid heartbeat. Vaguely looking around that she was in her room.. with Yusei next to her side, paled with concern actively holding her down, pinning her to the bed with his hands.

“Aki! Aki, are you okay?”

Regaining focus she gazed into his eyes. Distracted by how the night reflected against his ocean colored irises, as her grogginess slapped back into her body from whatever realm she came back from.

“Ngh?”

She could feel the wetness on her cheeks fade as his slender hands started to wipe away her tears. Looking worried, she absolutely did not know how to react with someone right by her side. She wanted to fling herself to him, thanking the gods that he was right there. He wasn’t aiding whomever it was turning her into an experiment. It just felt too real.

“You were screaming.. and I.. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to open up. Doing what she did best, she put on a mask and faked her way through another night of terrors.

Saying nothing, all she could do was stare into his tired eyes. The bags under his eyes, reflected guilt into her. Just how long was he awake trying to wake her? A few minutes? Hours? She should’ve just stayed at home with her father where her screams just pass through the wind. Not burdening anyone else with her own issues.

She’d been having these nightmares ever since well, she couldn’t quite remember. It was certainly after she was discharged from the hospital from a head injury. Psychologists would just brush off these dreams as just that, dreams. Though with the night terrors being this intense, she felt otherwise.

Glancing at the digital clock illuminating the room, 3:35am.

She couldn’t speak, her throat hoarse. As she sat up her skull throbbed, probably from the lack of sleep. Already feeling guilty for waking him up at the very least.. who knew if the twins heard her, even if she was on a different floor of the house.

All she could muster in a tiny voice, so feeble a mouse wouldn’t be deterred by her sound.

“Go back to sleep Yusei, it.. it was just a bad dream. Nothing more.”

He couldn’t just leave her like this and go back to sleep. It left a pit of concern in his stomach, if he followed her order, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with that look of fear hidden in her eyes.

What did she see?

Something wasn’t right. Even if he hit the floor of his own room in the morning to her screaming there had to be something more to this. They may not be bound to each other but he had the right to know what the hell happened to get her to scream bloody murder in the middle of the night. His irritation was made known despite trying to hold himself back, made even harder from his own lack of sleep.

“It must’ve been one hell of a dream if you’re screaming bloody murder, to tell me that it’s ‘nothing’, Aki!”

Her lip quivering, quietly flinching from a memory that doesn’t feel familiar to her, yet it still felt up in her soul. Any irritation he inflicted in the air vanished in his realization that she wasn’t being stubborn this time around. Normally her stubbornness would get in the way of organizing a plan. Insisting that her plan was the best plan, usually her plans did work; but there’s a few times he’s called her out on her stubbornness while in battle. She acknowledged would help calculate a plan on the fly with the resources they had available.

This wasn’t a battle however.

Fully realizing that this wasn’t her normal behavior either.

He gave out an apology, from being riled up, before sitting down on the covers of her bed right beside her.

Holding her hand in comfort, squeezing them gently. He let right right hand brush her messily falling out bangs behind her ear, intending to remove any barriers to her hesitancy.

“Aki, I’m your weapon. I.. It’s my .. I want to make sure that my meister is healthy. Just how you check in on me when I’m not feeling great, it goes both ways.. just please tell me what happened..“

Steadily she turned away from him, bordering on the verge of tears at his touch. She understood that it was late and the two of them were tired, alas giving a weak attempt at assurance for her partner.

“… please, go back to bed.”

She couldn’t look at him, how could she? He on the other hand, felt restless, a guilty restlessness within him. Wanting to help, but a clear barrier was still between them. Whether he had noticed it before or not, he couldn’t absolutely say. Worried, he was about to add more justification before he could hear footsteps.

“Aki..”

The twins’ footsteps could echoed through the halls minutes later before barging into Aki’s room.

“Big sis!! Are you alright??”

The two were clearly more tired than Yusei. Yet their spirits didn’t falter. Yusei gave a nod and an assurance to Rua, as they probably aren’t accustomed to screaming on a daily or nightly basis.

“Oh thank goodness that it was just a dream! I thought that someone was getting stab—OW RUKA!”

Ruka, knowing that Rua doesn’t remotely understand the gravity of the immediate situation, gave her brother a hard shoulder check as a means of discipline in front of the two of them. Gently raising her voice to get her point across.

“That’s not appropriate Rua!”

Ruka immediately turned back to Aki, giving a tiny smile. Holding back the means to discipline her brother via her fist to the top of his head.

“Forgive him.. he.. doesn’t always know when to make jokes.. properly… are you alright Aki?”

She still holding Yusei’s hand, nodded slowly. Ruka, assured that they aren’t needed, started to walk out; yanking her twin along out the door.

“Alright, rua, come with me. We’re getting some water for Aki.”

“Hey! Ruka–”

Ruka, giving her confused twin a glare and a nudge, got enough of a gist to understand somewhat, got the picture.

“–Right, water!.. For Aki.”

The twins left Aki’s room to leave them some privacy, and at least one of them proceeded to run up the stairs. Aki sighed, holding back her tears of being tormented.

“Yusei.. please.. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not now. One day but not now.”

Helplessness tied his hands behind him, frustrated that he couldn’t give her aid that she deserved. So he did what he knew could as he immediately hugged her, Squeezing her tight for an assurance her soul needed.

“I’ll always be here for you Aki. When you feel ready to talk about it with me.. I’m ready to listen.”

She lightly returned his embrace, letting her barrier down from her easy going personality into a more intimate level. A mask she let chip away piece by piece.

…

In the kitchen, Ruka started to make tea for herself. As a means to get herself to relax to go back to sleep. Yusei closed the door to Aki’s room, still not understanding what happened. He knew that she had a nightmare, but not understanding why she’s hiding this from him. It propelled him into a loop of concern, worrying about the health of his meister. Wondering how frequently these terrors were to her and how long she had been dealing with them.

He let his forehead touch the cold maple door as he closed it behind him, with his hand briefly squeezing the handle. Not understanding her rejection, but respecting her boundaries. Saddened by the barrier she had put between them.

“ Would you like any chamomile tea, Yusei?”

He gave out a sigh, still trying to figure out what she’d seen that would change a stubborn girl to an injured animal cornered by a hunter in a span of hours.

Ruka, very tired, could even see that there was something a bit off with Yusei. Yes, him and aki are partners, from her understanding they haven’t known each other for very long. Really, his body reacted with more concern and sadness than the average person. Acting more of a concerned “very good friend”, bordering on boyfriend.

“.. No thanks.”

For some unknown reason to him, he couldn’t look Ruka in the eyes. Not from guilt, likely bordering on his lack of energy starting to catch up with him. However, he needed an answer, he’s known Ruka since their family had moved to Tops despite the two of them having a range in age difference.

“Yusei..”

Giving out a sigh he started to pace a bit. Sifting his fingers through his messy hair, he couldn’t understand her behavior. It didn’t make sense for his meister to shut him out.

Why is she shutting me out? Aren’t we supposed to understand each other to make this partnership work?

Ruka leaned against the kitchen island, looking through the open layout created in the house. Remembering that the common factor between him and his meister were the twins. Rua traversed back upstairs a bit ago, though Ruka was still awake.

She might have an idea about why Aki’s shutting me out.

“Ruka.. You’ve known her longer than me..Why won’t she talk to me?”

Inter slotting her fingers between her hands, she knew the answer. Still trying to adapt to receiving help, as she’s been pulling herself up by her own straps at her own expense. Only a matter of time before it’s going to take a massive toll on her. And when it does, it’s going to be massively impairing on her. Though, she needed to water it down, to the point where she would give a bit of push to him to ask Aki. She may have known her for a while, but this was something he needed to approach Aki on.

I have a strong bond with her. What more do I need to do so she’ll open up?

Ruka gave a sigh, shaking her head.

“Yusei.. give her time. She has a large gap in her memory and is used to taking care of herself on her own. I’m not sure what happened to her during that time– .”

Yusei, perked at this piece of information, as many questions now popping up in his mind, forcing him to stop his pacing; concerned that something else is going on.

“What do you mean a gap in her memory? She didn’t tell me anything about that when we met!”

Ruka sighed, mainly at Aki. As that is one major detail she needed to lay out in order to make a partnership work. Though she couldn’t quite blame her on that, as memories can be falsely manipulated within the human psyche and be taken advantage of. Still nonetheless she was going to have to fulfill an exposition for him so their bond won’t slip.

“She left Neo Domino at one point. When she came back to Neo Domino, I don’t know when or why she left in the first place. All I know is that when she did come back, paramedics found her body in an alleyway, unconscious from an anonymous tip. Towards the eastern Entrance of the city. Her father made attempts to visit her while she was in a coma for roughly a month or so.”

Narrowing his eyes he kept his gaze on Ruka, slowly nodding to acknowledge what she was saying not liking anything that he was hearing.

Her body in an alleyway?… What happened to her?

One thing he knew for certain, the words he could remember his father stating to him, solidified their meanings in gold. Reaffirming his acceptance that he was going to uphold those meanings at any cost. Ruka’s kettle whistled a loud tune as the steam leaked from the spout as she turned off the stove.

“She’s been telling me about these dreams she’s been having ever since she woke up. I knew her dreams were bad.. Even, she wasn’t even telling me the severity of them. That’s just.. how she deals with things, I suppose. Downplaying and doing it all herself. ”

He just wants her to confide in him. He’s supposed to protect her from harm! What about that is that so hard to understand? Supporting his head as he leaned against the partial table connecting to the open kitchen, the gears in his head started to turn thinking about why she’d shut him out over a dream of all things.

Something in his head clicked, eyes widening making a connection he should’ve made earlier; realizing his mistake.

That’s right.. she’s always having to take care of herself, on her own. It’s no wonder that she insists on rejecting.. help.

Making an executive decision he landed back on the couch with the furniture suddenly shudder from his sudden weight. It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but he was damned if he was going to let her scream again in the middle of the night, focused on the sound for any level of disturbance before sleep took over his body.

As the morning sun rose, neither of them brought up the night’s events. He was keeping his word to her, letting her come to him on her own terms. Though that still didn’t mean that he needed caffeine in his system to function. With classes starting soon he needed to get up earlier, though that wasn’t as hard as getting Aki up. As most of the time, she slept in until noon or later assuming from whatever night terrors she’d suffer from the previous night.

…

As the nights strode out, she’d still wake up to him. Just as concerned and with just as much tired relief every single time.

Though she hasn’t confided in him about her dreams. With similar ones reappearing and new ones materializing every so often, fearing if he would leave her one day for a better partner from an emotional scale. She couldn’t help but still keep to herself, expecting him to immediately leave when she wakes up. Expecting him to vanish into another world.

Yet he’s still there.

He always goes into a trained sentence from something about being ready to listen to her or something. Half of the time she’s really groggy, but always remember seeing him as she wakes up. Usually tired, but a relieved expression that she’s back from hell; with water and sometimes a small snack ready for her if she needed it. She had little faith in herself, that she can rely on someone in her life. Just wanting comfort, but expecting it to be a justification of poor behavior.

Still couldn’t figure out why he was doing this for her, after all she can take care of herself.

Why was he doing this for her?

…

“ I’m always here for you.”

Papa and momma have said that to me before.. He’s.. Promising me too much.

Fake promises were easy to make, put up a mask until the purpose has been fulfilled. Something kept bugging her, his legitimacy. How long would it be until he gave up on her and marked as a lost cause? How long would it take for him to walk out “for groceries” to not return?

Those thoughts were softly interrupted by the gentle weight of blanket landing on her soft shoulders as the weight on her left had shifted a bit on the couch. As lo and behold, it was her weapon with a couple snacks in hand with that smile.

That damned smile, the same one he gave back when she accepted his invitation to live with him as a discombobulated family. Emanating the same warmth from the evening sun escaping the moon.

Though his clothing today was fairly more relaxed with a black tank top matching his jacket and grey sweatpants. He took lazy saturdays and sundays just more than face value, rather fully invested in it at times though, she was just as guilty.

“ You looked cold, and the twins wanted to marathon some cartoons tonight. Wanna join?”

She couldn’t feel it, though her heart started to speak for her. Returning the same energy that he’s given to her, giving a smile that could speak from the reflection. Though eyeing the box of pocky he was holding captive in his hands, gently pointing out the box to her desires.

“ Why not?.. Though, you better save me some chocolate pocky this time!”

He gave her a soft nudge back in playful banter, before eyeing the blanket as his eyes made its way back to meet her own.

“ Only if you share the blanket.”

Glancing into his cheerful eyes, she gave an exaggerated pout of thought as if she were trying to make a deal on at a pawn shop.

“… Deal.”

Giving him an affirming smile, she flung the soft material over yusei’s lap. Sounds of munching and laughter echoed through the house, as life for today, was good. There’ll be more bright days ahead of her darkest nights. Maybe, just maybe, one day she’ll have the faith in herself to tear down the wall built up blocking out her heart. After all, there seemed to be sounds of chipping away the hardened shale on the other side.

At least for today, that promise’s legitimacy is real as her tired head made its way onto his shoulder; trying her best to stay awake under a warm schenel blanket, watching cartoons far into the night.

…

—submitted by @taytay4674788—

Sorry if it took me so long to reply!!! And- ASDFGHJK thank you for this magical piece. Honestly, I love them both so much ;-; Poor Aki, the fact that she saw Yusei in her nightmare telling her those ugly things shattered my heart

He’s so loyal and lovely but he has to break through her defenses (canon easter egg?) and she’s got so much trauma she will have to digest, eventually… sdfghj my poor girl, you’ve got the right people around you this time

I also love that there are the twins too!! Ruka is such a nice younger sister, I really love their whole dynamic ;;

Tbh the soul eater AU is absolutely fantastic and the fact that you added in so much background makes everything even better sdfghj

He doesn’t insist. He gives her so much space. It’s hard for her but he’s doing everything in his power to help her, know her more, let her feel safe…. sdfghj there goes my heart

Thank you again for this submission <3 <3 <3

#taytay4674788 #submission #soul eater au #yugioh 5ds #my comment is under the cut!

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yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years

Text

A Different Sort of Rage

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.“ – Anne Carson

Toby grieves Claire. He also helps to save the world, again.

You know, at least once while writing this, I asked myself why I’d even bother. Claire doesn’t affect 3Below Season 2 at all, so why would that change because she’s dead? Well, Toby deserved better.

That’s right, almost a year later, the 3Below Interlude to Juliet Dies in This has been completed! That being said, you don’t need to have read Juliet Dies in This to understand this story; you just need to know it’s an au where Claire didn’t make it out of the Shadow Realm during the Eternal Night.

If you did read Juliet Dies in This, then this takes place between chapters 3 and 4.

Trigger/spoiler warning: there is drowning, mild body horror, and talk of suicide in this fic.

AO3

FFN

Toby clung to a set of wooden planks with one arm; the other was wrapped around Jim’s unconscious body. Saltwater slammed against his lower body, cold and angry. On the other side of the planks was Claire and a heavy anchor connected to a length of chain. With each moment that passed, the planks splintered just a bit more. Too much longer, and there wouldn’t be enough wood to hold on to.

“Can you keep the planks steady for me?” Claire asked. “Then I can shove the anchor into the ocean, and we won’t have to worry about it.”

“Be careful,” Toby said, adjusting his grip on the planks and Jim. Claire hoisted her entire body onto the planks. With a grunt she lifted the anchor and began to scoot it to the ocean.

She was about to drop it when the chain glowed gold and wrapped around her.

Toby didn’t let go of Jim, who would surely drown with no one holding onto him.

Toby didn’t let go of the planks, because he wasn’t a strong swimmer even without a friend to hold on to.

Toby didn’t grab Claire. Instead, he watched in horror as she fell into the cold ocean, her hair indistinguishable with the blackness that she was pulled into.

And then Toby woke up. It had been a while since he last had nightmares about drowning and sinking boats. He had had one or two back when Jim had been in the Darklands. Most of this species of nightmare had occurred before he started puberty but had been old enough to really understand just what had happened to his parents.

“Wingman okay?” AAARRGGHH!!! asked.

“Yeah,” Toby said. “It was just a dream.” He glanced at his clock. 12:51 am. He loved having a semi-normal sleep schedule again, but with most of his friends being nocturnal phone calls weren’t always easy. Oh, well. He was awake anyways; may as well call Jim and Claire.

Wait.

Claire didn’t go to Jim and Blinky to find a Heartstone in New Jersey. Claire had disappeared into a black void and Toby had been the one to lock her in.

So that was why he had that dream.

Toby put a reminder on his phone to look into what mental health options his nana’s health insurance had and then went back to sleep. Or at least, he tried to.

Sunshine streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Catholic church that Claire’s funeral was held in, which meant that even if trolls were allowed to go, they couldn’t have. Claire had family outside Arcadia, and to them she had died because she got trapped under rubble in the freak earthquake-and-tornado that had occurred. To them, Claire was inside the coffin, though badly mutilated by rocks that had slammed into her.

Her body was probably mutilated by Morgana, come to think of it.

Toby tugged at his tie. This felt so stupid. Claire was a hero, and her extended family wasn’t allowed to know. He understood, though. They didn’t want to get anyone from the government involved, at least, the non-local government, since obviously Claire’s mom and thus the rest of the city council involved. The trolls were weakened, and Toby didn’t know if they were bulletproof.

It was probably for the best that trolls weren’t allowed to attend the funeral, but that didn’t mean that Toby wasn’t angry with the situation. AAARRRGGGHHH!!! had been Claire’s friend, too. He should be here. Besides, he hadn’t been the one responsible for this mess.

The unsettling calm in the week-and-a-half since the Eternal Night had given Toby a lot to think about. Specifically, how everything had gone wrong.

He should have smacked Morgana into the Shadow Realm with his warhammer and then destroyed the staff. He should’ve been smarter. He had been fighting alongside Claire for months; surely, they could’ve come up with something so that she would be either in Arcadia or on the road to New Jersey.

There was one thing about this funeral that wasn’t a farce: Claire was dead. Toby didn’t think Morgana would be interested in keeping Claire alive. After Merlin cleared away the Eternal Night, Jim had proposed going to Trollmarket to see if there was anything in Blinky’s library to see if it could help them save Claire. Blinky had told them that he had had one book on constructing magic items, but it was among the first of Dictatious’s books he had burned. Strickler, for all the dark magical knowledge he had from the Book of Ga-Huel, had nothing on making a new Shadow Staff. Probably to keep the changelings from rebelling against their Lady Creator, the former history teacher had mused.

To Toby’s right, Darci and Mary and their families stood for a prayer. Toby’s eyes traveled upwards to the rafters. One troll, or rather, changeling, had made it despite the odds. NotEnrique would probably deny the fact that he had been crying later.

“Dude, you sent me a thousand texts, what is your data plan?” Toby asked as he crawled through Eli’s window. It was easier than he had expected, despite his gym pass not feeling as intense of a work-out as fighting trolls and sparring Jim and – sparring in the forge. That was, that was pretty good, actually, he wouldn’t be the reason for anyone else getting hurt or worse if he tried to keep getting stronger.

“Some of them might’ve been queued up,” Eli said, shrugging as he held up a flashlight under his chin. “I… this is important, but I thought I could’ve gathered more evidence and, well…” Eli frowned and dropped the self-important tone. “I wanted to give you some time, since the funeral was a couple days ago.”

The light returned to Eli’s eyes, or maybe it was just the flashlight glinting off his glasses. His voice once more took on an air of self-importance. “Now, Tobes, are you ready for me to rock. Your. World?”

Toby glanced over at his girlfriend and Mary, who was complaining about boredom. Toby’s hands curled into fists. They had been friends with Claire for longer than he had been, how could they be so, so normal?

“TP, come here! I wanna talk to you about something!” Steve called from where he was leaning against Aja and Krel’s house.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I mean, it means vaguely the same thing as buttsnack but nicer?” Steve said as Toby made his way over to the house.

Toby rolled his eyes. Well, at least one person realized why he hadn’t wanted that nickname. If only Claire had realized that, before she, before she, before she had spread it around the school.

Toby blinked several times, trying to get the stinging sensation out of his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Dude, relax,” Steve said quietly enough as to not let Mary and Darci hear from their spot by the pool.

“Relax? Relax?” he whisper-shouted. “How am I supposed to relax when we’re in the middle of a war that will decide the fate of not only Earth, like the one with Gunmar and Morgana, but also Aja and Krel’s planet too? I relax, people die. If I’m not alert, someone else has to take the hit for me. If I don’t pay enough attention, then I’m the one responsible for trapping someone in an alternate dimension!”

Steve just looked at Toby for what felt like five insufferably long minutes.

“Stop freaking out,” Steve said, pinching his brow. “Or else you’ll be so high strung that you’ll end up swinging your oversized mallet at the wrong thing.”

“Warhammer,” Toby corrected, even though Steve did have a point.

Toby’s therapist said that it was important to have hobbies. Between trollhunting and school, Toby was used to having to be constantly alert and vigilant, and that may have been helping to contribute to his restless mind. Granted, Toby hadn’t told his therapist about the ruthless Akiridion dictator trying to attack Earth because that probably fell into the “I will alert the authorities if you’re going to harm yourself or others” clause in the doctor-patient confidentiality forms he and his nana had signed. However, filmmaking was both a good way to bond with his friends as well as maybe destress.

Pretending that he was only interested in making a short film made him seem vapid, like less of a threat. He didn’t trust these military goons, but he also knew they probably underestimated him. What could a short, fat kid with a warhammer possibly do to them?

Rule One of Trollhunting was to always be afraid, with the caveat of goblins. If Area 49-B was unafraid of Toby, then they’d underestimate him.

Besides, these people wanted to capture all sorts of extraterrestrials. Who knew what they’d do to trolls?

Toby still didn’t know if trolls were bulletproof or not. He got the feeling they wouldn’t be laser-proof.

Angor Rot hadn’t been laser-proof, if that’s what Morgana’s magic had been.

Angor had been their enemy, but he had saved them, too.

Tronos had been their enemy, but he had just saved the entire world.

“Get in my phone!” Toby yelled at the armored extraterrestrial as the Area 49-B goons approached, clearly interested in his warhammer. It reminded him a little of the robbers who had kidnapped them.

“What?”

“You did it before! I’m not letting anyone else die.”

Toby and Tronos barely escaped with the others.

“Okay, so, just so that we're clear, by ‘Earthly forces’, you mean me, Eli, Steve…” Toby said, covering his mouth to hide the sound from Darci. He didn’t want to worry her.

“And the brute,” Zadra said. “Yes.”

“Technically, AAARRRGGHH!!!’s a troll.”

“I'm not confident about your chances, but these are desperate times.”

“Well, not even the word ‘hopeless’ is void of hope, I guess,” Toby said.

“What?”

“Trollish saying. I, we’ll do our best.” The call ended; Toby turned to his girlfriend. “Hey, babe, you seem like you got this stapling thing down pat.”

Darci crossed her arms, suspicion in her eyes. “Toby, what’s going on?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“Then start talking.”

Toby looked away from his girlfriend.

“Is it more troll stuff?” she asked.

“No…”

“Then what’s. Going. On?” Darci grabbed his hand. “Toby, I’ve been to enough funerals this year. I don’t want to go to any more of them, and I really don’t want to have to go to another funeral angry that the person I cared about lied to me about the supernatural battles they were fighting. Not when I could’ve maybe helped.”

Toby sighed. “Okay, to make a long story short, there is life on other planets, including a planet called Akiridion-V. That’s Aja and Krel’s home, but it was taken over.” Toby tugged his hand away from Darci’s, giving her an apologetic look. He grabbed his warhammer and expanded it. “And the guy who took it over is going to attack their house so I really gotta go make sure they’re safe so bye I promise I’ll tell you more later!”

Between all the other problems of his life, having a creative outlet was a great way to destress. Usually. Theoretically. Considering that Chompsky broke character on every take, this was really just another source of stress.

His film wasn’t as important as the Akiridions in orange pods.

“Are those your parents?” he asked Aja and Krel. “Do you want me to help?”

“No, we’ve got it!” Krel shouted, waving him off as he, Aja, Varvatos, and Stuart set up the daxial array.

“What are you doing?” Aja asked.

“Well, while I was holding down the fort, I thought I’d finish my director’s cut.” Toby scowled. “But then Chompsky started acting out.”

There was chattering that only one who had lived with a gnome for months would understand. He was almost surprised that Bagdwella never learned how.

“No, I can’t make you taller in post!” Toby had a realization as he walked away from the gnome. “Wait, does this mean you’re going home soon? Back to Akiridion-V?”

“Of course,” Krel said with a glance towards his parents. “That was always the plan.”

Right. The plan. Aja and Krel were going to leave him. They had more important things to do than live a life in Arcadia Oaks. They were royalty from another planet.

“But wait, not yet!” Toby protested. He wanted more time with his new friends, and maybe he had just the thing to get them to stay. “I’ve got good news! Captain Kleb is going to premiere before Gun Robot 7 at the local drive-in!”

“That’s amazing,” Krel said, sounding surprised. He gave an almost incredulous chuckle. “All our friends are going to be there!”

Not all of Toby’s friends, but a good portion of them.

“Yeah,” Toby said, less enthusiastic than he was a moment before. “We’ll be local celebrities.”

Maybe they city would dedicate a nice park bench to him, for all his combined work as a filmmaker, trollhunter, and crook-catcher. He didn’t deserve an entire street, even though Domzalski Drive had a nice ring to it. Besides, Jim Lake Lane and Claire Court sounded better, more fitting.

“Your moving picture party will be the perfect way to celebrate after we stop Morando,” Aja said, breaking Toby out of the beginnings of yet another depressive spiral.

Toby turned to Aja, Krel, AAARRRGGHH!!!, and Varvatos. Sure, the crystal staircase didn’t light up with each step, but they were about to see the most incredible place ever! It deserved every bit of gravitas that he, Jim, and Claire had been given. “Welcome,” he said in his best impression of Jim and Blinky, “to Heartstone Trollmarket!”

Toby gasped.

“This is ‘the most incredible place ever?’” Krel said.

“Was,” Toby sighed, “before the Eternal Night.”

It was probably a good thing, that Blinky and Jim went to New Jersey so they wouldn’t have to see it. That Claire, Draal, and Vendel would never have to see it. The darkened, broken heartstone and the rubble-strewn streets were horrible to see; this was a place that Toby had considered to be practically a second home. He could only imagine just how terrible his Wingman must have felt at the sight of it.

“I know what it’s like, to lose one’s home,” Aja said as they passed by Bagdwella’s old shop. She was better at comforting AAARRGGHH!!! than Toby himself was. Probably Krel and Varvatos, too. They had left behind their homeplanet, and their house was gone, too.

“Your friends, Jim, Blinky, and the trolls are safe, and that’s what matters the most,” Krel said. Toby was about to thank him for the reassurance – he had gotten good at dealing with human feelings – when rocks collapsed.

Varvatos was right. There was definitely an aura of death and decay. Stupid Morgana, ruining everything.

“That looks… deep.” Varvatos said.

“How do we get down there?” Aja asked.

“We don’t!” Toby said. Memories of watching Jim’s cage fall filled his mind. “If you go down there then you face your deepest fear!”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Krel asked. The light from the Soothscryer came back up again insistently.

“It’s a long story,” Toby said as the light spiraled downwards once more. “Jim made it out alive, and unfortunately, he’s the only one who has.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Aja said. “We have to find Gaylen’s core before Morando.”

Krel held two of his arms in front of his sister. “I’ll go!”

“No, if we have to fight then it’s better to have safety in numbers. We’re stronger together,” Toby said.

“But you and Varvatos need to fight whatever’s coming,” Krel said as Aja pulled out her hoverboard.

“We will,” AAARRRGGHH!!! said. He raised his voice to a slightly higher pitch. “So, fight!” he imitated, before lowering his voice. “Make proud, Wingman.”

“Will do.” Toby pulled out his warhammer and followed the Tarron siblings down into the Deep.

Unfortunately, Toby followed them straight into a stony wall.

Toby stood on a dock, watching a cruise ship sail away. His nana waved good-bye to him, along with two relatively young adults. They were familiar, just like the ship was. They were familiar from blurry memories and from morbid curiosity because at age twelve, Toby wanted to know just how his parents died.

“Don’t go,” Toby pleaded softly, but he knew it was no use. He looked over his shoulder and caught Jim’s eyes.

“Well, bye, then,” Jim said flippantly. He began to walk away, and Toby realized that so did all the other trolls. Darci, and Dr. Lake, and pretty much everyone Toby knew walked with them.

Toby tried to catch up, but each step was a herculean effort. Eventually, everyone passed beyond the horizon. It started to rain, and Toby realized that he had managed to find his way to the bridge where everything always went down.

A dark sliver appeared in the thin air in front of him. It widened, and Claire stepped out of it. Except “stepped” wasn’t quite the write word, not with how her limbs and neck bent at all the wrong angles. Golden manacles with small lengths of broken-off chains were attached to her wrists and ankles. A noose connected her neck to the Shadow Realm, and when the portal closed Claire collapsed, almost like a puppet whose strings were cut. She caught herself at the last second, dust swirling off the bridge to reform the Shadow Staff in her hand. She stretched each of her limbs as they popped into place with the sound of crunching bones and scraping metal. She then rolled her neck, the noose catching on one of the spikes of her helmet. It didn’t seem to bother her, but it added a gruesome effect.

Claire’s brown eyes opened, going from blank to full of hatred in the span of an instant. “You,” she said. Her voice echoed above the sound of rain and distant thunder. “You let me die!”

She lunged for him, and Toby found that the sluggishness to his limbs was gone as he jumped out of the way.

“You killed me!” she screamed, disappearing through a portal. She came out from almost directly above him, staff pointed to skewer him.

Toby caught it with his warhammer, sending it away from himself. “You, you told me to. You told me to break the staff,” Toby said.

Claire attempted to stab him in the back. “And you didn’t think to wait, did you? You didn’t think that maybe you should have waited for Blinky to have saved me?”

“There was no time, and you know this.” Toby knocked the Shadow Staff out of her hands. It crumbled into ash. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t think of any other way to end Morgana. It’s… it’s not my fault that you’re dead!”

The rain stopped, and the clouds started to part. As Claire looked up to the sky, Toby realized that he was crying.

The sun was eclipsed by the moon and then by even darker clouds. Claire closed her eyes as it began to rain again, this time even harder than before.

“You want to know what’s the best part of being dead?” she asked in an eerily soft voice.

She opened her eyes. They were purple and black. “I don’t have to look at your stupid fucking face anymore.”

Claire lunged for him, knocking his warhammer out of his hands. She pinned him down with one hand. “No one wants to have to look at it. And I’m going to be the fucking martyr that makes sure no one will ever have to again.”

And then she began to punch his face, the edges of her clawed armor piercing him. With each punch more cracks began to grow on her face and hand, but Claire didn’t seem to notice them. She didn’t look like she was in pain like the last time she had grown those cracks. If anything, the lightning glinting in her eyes made her look sadistic.

And then Toby woke up.

“I did it,” Krel said, overjoyed. “I did it!”

“I’m proud of you, little brother,” Aja said, rubbing at her arms. She sounded spooked. “Congratulations, you probably beat me by half a mecron. What… what did you see?”

“Morando destroying Arcadia Oaks and everyone in it, which he’ll do if he gets Gaylen’s core,” Krel said with a slight frown. “And you?”

“The same, but with Akiridion-V,” Aja said. The two of them turned to Toby.

They were going to have to leave anyways; they didn’t need to know that Toby’s worst fear was a combination of Claire hating him in her dying moments and everyone he cared about leaving him.

“Oh, well…” Toby gave a slight chuckle, and hoped that they’d believe the fat stigma. “Dieting.”

They had no time to question his lie because Varvatos and AAARRRGGHH!!! came crashing in.

“Purple. Pretty,” AAARRRGGHH!!! said, gazing at the altar to Gaylen’s core.

“Claire would have loved to have seen this,” Toby sighed, and then startled with a realization. “Kanjigar, do you know if Draal and Claire are, you know, resting in peace?”

Unfortunately, the previous Trollhunter had gone back to the void.

Toby supposed it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, not with Aja and Krel being shot down. Still, closure that his friends were okay in the end would have been nice.

“Where’s Krel and Varvatos?” Toby asked as he dismantled yet another OMEN. “Would be nice to get a little more help.”

“Krel’s working on getting us some reinforcements,” Aja said, “and Varvatos is protecting my parents and Stuart. I trust him enough to not try to power the canon with my parents’ cores twice.”

“Wait, why would he do that? He’s not evil enough to power things up using unwilling people!”

“I thought that too, but since two royal cores are needed it’ll be Krel and I and not my parents.”

“No.” Toby brought his warhammer down enough that deep cracks were left in the concrete where the OMEN once stood. “Aja, you can’t. That’s suicide.”

“It’s not suicide, Toby. It’s sacrifice. Of all people, I thought you understood that.”

“Oh, trust me. I understand that. I also understand that those two look really similar sometimes. Aja, promise me that I won’t have to attend any more of my friend’s funerals this summer.”

“I can’t, but that’s why Krel’s working on reinforcements. I don’t want to do this, but I will if that’s what it takes.”

Toby would have argued had an OMEN not thrown a truck at a random kid. There had to be another way, one that wasn’t trying to fight a losing battle. One where all his friends made it out.

“He’s too strong,” Toby said. “He’s stronger than…”

No.

Morando was not stronger than Morgana. He couldn’t let himself believe that. They were all going to live, and no one was going to sacrifice their life for the good of everyone else, even if they were on the very same bridge where Angor and Claire died.

And Toby had legitimate hope when Zadra and various ships from Akiridion-V came through the wormhole.

Except they weren’t enough. Morando grew red wing-like appendages and created a massive explosion of red light.

“Morando is too powerful,” Krel said.

As the Tarron siblings hugged each other for what shouldn’t be the last time, Toby tried to think of another way to kill Morando.

“Go back to town,” Aja said. “Make sure everyone’s safe! And… I’m sorry, Toby. There’s a reason why I didn’t promise.”

“On it!” Steve said. “Please don’t get stepped on!”

“You too, my Palchuk!” Toby couldn’t tell if it was cruel or not for Aja not to say goodbye.

There had to be a third option.

“What are you waiting for, give me a ride!” Steve shouted. Toby fired up his warhammer.

Morando was at least as strong as Morgana. Maybe he was stronger. Two people would die. Someone’s hand would get cut off by a –

There was another way.

Toby set Steve down and began to fly off in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going, buttsnack?” Steve shouted.

“To save your girlfriend’s life!” Toby began searching through his phone to find the number for Akiridion-V. They could try to open a portal from within Morando’s body, and hopefully Akiridion anatomy was such that it would kill him.

It was probably a good idea that Toby had used his warhammer instead of the Shadow Staff. Too gruesome.

He was on the second ring when he watched Aja and Krel fire the canon.

He felt relief, and then guilt.

It was over.

Toby didn’t know what to say. Aja, Krel, and everyone else from Akiridion-V were leaving. So were the Foo-Foos and Eli.

“Do you have to leave?” It was selfish. Of course they had to leave. Toby closed his eyes and tried to drown out Deep-illusion-Claire’s words. They weren’t leaving because of him; Aja and Krel had to go and rule an entire planet.

“Thanks for keeping that promise about me not going to your funeral”? Too selfish. It put the focus too much on him.

“Being an orphan isn’t so bad, just look how I turned out”? Too insensitive, considering that he could barely remember his parents.

“Sorry about your parents, but I’m glad they’re dead instead of you”? That wouldn’t stop the guilt.

Except, Krel was staying.

Toby would figure out something comforting to say, eventually.

The world was going to end. Again. And this time, Toby’s new allies were a talking, bipedal cat and a pair of teenagers who were currently going through their emo phase. Said emo teens were about a year older than Toby, and supposedly they were wizards, but honestly? Aja and Krel seemed more competent than these two.

At the very least, Aja and Krel were better at lying. The minute after the cat had called them out on “experimenting unsupervised”, Zoe had started rambling about college apps, which had segwayed into summer homework, which somehow turned into how she and Douxie could make non-exploding potions without Archie’s supervision.

It was a little creepy, just how exasperated the cat looked.

Douxie stared at Toby quizzically before interrupting his friend’s rambling. “Your friend – the possessed one. Is she okay?”

A cold sort of rage crept into Toby’s bones, and with it, came the desire to scream at Douxie for having noticed that Claire wasn’t okay, and not having really done anything. Storm out of the apartment, telling Steve to tell Toby anything important, but refuse to work with the wizards.

But Claire made her decision. There was nothing that Toby could’ve done to change that, much less a guy who went to their rival school.

So instead of yelling, Toby took a breath, and said coldly, “Let’s just say that Claire’s at peace now.”

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 69

Obligatory pun - Nice.

Now that I have that out of my system and can therefore stop making horridly adolescent puns about it, this really is a pretty important chapter. We finally see what is going to become of Else!

This is also a particularly long chapter - 4500 words, probably my longest to date. Happy Insert Winter Holiday, Everyone!

I seriously considered splitting it (you can probably figure out where the break would be), but cooler heads prevailed (namely, @satan-parisienne, my beloved beta/sister/IRL!Tyche, and @baelpenrose, my constant source of mutual squeeing).

This is being queued up on December 23, to post on December 24. I still hope to have a chapter to post next week, especially since what I have is so thematically appropriate for the date ;)

After Grey’s revelation of our timetable, the Council decided that negotiations with Else would take place within twenty-four hours. To his credit, Eino promised to deliver the lexicon, but admitted that there would not be time for the precisely worded questions to be drafted and approved. Since we also didn’t have time for Grey to locate another person who had spoken directly with Else, the questions were ultimately unnecessary – I had been making up questions on the fly for Else to this point, so I had no problem continuing to do so.

Once Xiomara closed the channel on our end, I tried to stand. Almost immediately, my traitorous knees objected and I was only saved from hitting the floor by Xio’s quick reflexes. “You’ve been on bed rest for the last three weeks, take it slow, dumbass,” she grumbled.

I forced myself into a standing position, propped up on the bed. “I have to talk to Conor and Maverick, and I’m sick of seeing the inside of this bay. Either get me the closest thing we have to a wheelchair, or I’m going to crawl to my quarters.”

“You do realize that even the Ark has backless hospital gowns? Everyone on the Ark would see you practically naked.”

I grabbed her shirt, and my pride was mollified when she leaned forward and gave me the illusion that I pulled her down. “Either get me a moving chair, or I will crawl down the corridor. Naked.”

With a barely-suppressed chuckle, she helped me into some clothes and onto a transport in the corridor. “While we are on our way, I’ll go ahead and give you the rundown of everyone you are going to ask about. Derek and Sam came out of everything mostly unscathed. They’re a little more jittery than usual, but that’s honestly to be expected. Alistair is grumpy as hell from being flat on his back for so long, but once he was notified you were awake, he limited his bitching to the sheets, the mattress, and the lack of exercise. Charly is awake and alert, but tired and nervous… dropping by to see her would probably be a good idea, honestly. Grandma Kim is Grandma Kim and taking everything in stride. Zach is completely undaunted and unimpressed.”

The slouch I had been suppressing made itself apparent in the wake of my relief. “So, everyone is okay?”

“Well, Hannah and Thor are still asleep, but they’ve been upgraded from comatose to just ‘asleep’. Nixe is breathing on her own, the new lungs are working fine.”

My breath left my body suddenly. “No brain-damage?”

“Not comparatively, no.”

Good. Allowing myself to take in the condition of the real Ark, several things caught my eye. “Xio….”

She grinned and shook her head, locks flying. “Ah. You saw the trees.” I nodded dumbly, speechless. “As soon as they were approved to get out of bed, Derek and Sam started pestering Conor to start setting up the trees for Insert Winter Holiday. Apparently, they were behind schedule, and Derek was very upset about that.”

“And they’re already done?”

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “They just started yesterday. Even with both of your boyfriends helping, they still have at least two more days to finish.”

“They’re already decorated,” I murmured.

“Sam was bored while he was on bed rest,” she shrugged. “So there are a lot of really intricate bows to put on all the trees.”

“Awesome,” I gushed enthusiastically. “I love trees that are over-decorated.” When she quirked an eyebrow at me, I rushed to reassure her. “No, I’m serious. The more heavily decorated the better. I know not all cultures do trees for winter holidays, but if there are trees, I love seeing them absolutely covered.” Truth be told, the decorations were helping dismiss some of the melancholy that came from knowing that I almost missed Insert Winter Holiday in everything that was going on. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. “So, I’m going to guess the trees are the reason we are most certainly not headed toward my quarters.”

With a blinding grin, she shook her head. “Nope. They should be somewhere on Level Eleven. That’s where we’re going.”

Soon enough, we stumbled upon an energetic argument between Maverick and Derek. “But this side looks nicer!”

“That’s not how it was placed last year. The same side should show. That’s why Sam put more bows on the correct side.”

“How can you even tell!?”

Conor was standing back, smiling like he was watching the cutest thing he had ever seen. When he glanced up and saw me, the smile vanished and he promptly reached between them to point in my direction. “Looks like our girl is up and around.”

Astonishingly, Derek beat them both to me and reached to tap my hand three times in succession, dropping his hand to his side each time. My heart swelled with emotion, realizing that he essentially just gave me a bone-crushing hug. “Yeah, I’m okay, Derek. Just tired and a little weak.”

I braced myself for a much more physical greeting, but was saved when Conor and Maverick stopped dead in their tracks and backed up slightly. In their rush to make sure I was okay, it looked like they tripped the proximity alert in Derek’s implant. “Did you do that on purpose?” I asked in hushed tones.

Without looking up, Derek flashed me a knocking gesture, positioned between his body and mine so the other two couldn’t see it. “They get carried away, and if you didn’t walk down here, they may hurt you by accident.” A brief pause. “Besides, they were in quarantine with you. I haven’t seen you since you brought me your blanket.”

“I missed you, too. And Sam. Looks like he was busy, by the way.”

“You have no idea. Zach was practically buried under Sam’s bows. I got lucky. Mac kept trying to play with them and accidentally tore one to pieces. After that, Sam stopped piling them on my bed.”

“If you see him before I do, let him know the bows are beautiful.”

“Duh. Sam makes the best bows. But I’ll tell him you said that.” With that, he stepped around to the other side of the transport so my partners could approach, with a warning to them about being gentle and not breaking me. Xiomara was practically vibrating in her seat from suppressed laughter at this point.

“Hey, you two,” I said softly as they gently checked me over before giving a very restrained double-hug. I took a moment to just breathe them in before breaking the news. “Trees look great – are there more this year?”

Conor nodded, shoving a hand through his shaggy hair. “We started cultivating them last year, so they would all be about the same size. As soon as we were given permission to get up and about, I figured everyone could use the cheer.”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head. “You know how I feel about throwing food at people to help recover from a crisis.”

Maverick nodded solemnly. “But, last year when Insert Winter Holiday happened, there wasn’t a crisis, was there?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Xiomara beat me to it. “No, there really wasn’t, unless you count all of us being abducted for our own good. Which makes this more a need to feel normal than anything else.”

“That was kind of the point last year,” I grumbled.

“And it worked,” she reassured me. “Just like it will work this year.” With that, she issued a very pointed look, silently reminding me why we were here.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Conor and Maverick. “The reason everyone feels better is because Else is dying.” Both of the looked confused, so I clarified. “They are killing themselves in an effort to stop hurting us. They aren’t eating, and they aren’t spreading. If something doesn’t change, they’ll be extinct in less than two weeks.”

“This is bad,” Maverick stated uncertainly, looking between the rest of us for confirmation.

“It is,” I nodded. “Because they are sentient species, we can’t just let them die off without trying to help. And,” I held up a hand to prevent the inevitable questions and objections, “I don’t mean just letting them go back to making us sick. Xio and I talked to the Council, there are two solid options on the table as far as relocation – a dying planet or a nebula. The trick is, Else has to agree to whatever is decided.”

“And if they don’t?” Conor asked in the calm tone he always used when he knew he didn’t have all the information.

“If they don’t agree to anything, and keep dying off, we think there is a chance that they will drop below some kind of threshold for sapience. In that event, it’s mostly likely that they would forget to restrain themselves, start multiplying and spreading again.”

“So, they would dip below sentience and pop back up?” Conor tilted his head skeptically. “I’m not getting something. Usually, the plants I cultivate don’t end up with feelings and the impulse control of toddler.”

“To begin with, we don’t know how sick we got before they developed that level of intelligence,” I pointed out. “Second… if they do evolve back into sentient status, there is no guarantee they would be the same – version, for lack of a better term. Different neural connections are what give us our own personalities… this Else wants to help us. What if the next one doesn’t? Worse, what if it wants to actively hurt us due to some primordial memory?”

“Better the devil you know,” Maverick murmured.

I sagged in resignation at what I had to tell them next. “Pretty much. Which means humanity needs to negotiate with Else to figure out a solution both sides can live with.” Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I braced for the torrent of words that would inevitably come.

Instead, I got two beats of silence and Maverick speaking softly. “Is there anyone who can do this instead? Anyone at all?”

“Not that Grey has been able to locate,” Xiomara responded over my shoulder as I cracked an eyelid.

What I saw was a clearly upset Conor biting his lips and holding Maverick’s hand, which was resting on the taller man’s bicep. “Conor?” I asked slowly. “Are you angry?”

He took two deep breaths before answering. “Yeah,” he finally sighed, tension dropping from his body. “But at the situation, which I can’t do anything about.” Gently, he put both his hands on my shoulders and rubbed my arms lightly. “How soon does this need to be done? Is there more time to find someone who isn’t you?”

“No one knows at what point Else will basically devolve into just another bacterial infection,” I admitted. “So, we want to do this as soon as possible, and regardless of the option chosen, as soon as an agreement is reached, they’ll be placed in coldsleep in the interim to prevent further degradation of us or them.”

“You’re being cagey.” Both he and Maverick pinned me with very pointed looks. “That’s never a good sign.”

“No more than twenty-four hours.”

More deep breaths as he stepped away, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his neck as he paced in a small circle. “That should be enough time to get the rest of the trees up, as long as we just let Derek call the shots on placement. Mav, can you manage to do that?”

He shuddered. “I may need to just find something else to do. I can only handle so much.”

Conor nodded. “Right then. You keep our bonnie lass company while they get her ready, let me know when they plan to start. I’ll be there, even if I have to tell Zach and Derek to just – I dunno, space the damned trees out an airlock.”

“Conor, you don’t – “

Two long strides and he was back in front of me, stroking my hair. “Love. I’ve mucked up in a big way lately, letting myself be too afraid and not being there like I should be. ‘S not fair to you, ‘s not fair to Mav being pulled like that. I understand if you don’t want me in there, with the way I’ve been acting, but otherwise? I’ll be parked by your berth til we land this lady on the colony if I have to be.”

With a sniffle, I nodded my head silently. Xiomara was not as convinced. “Conor, if you lash out one more time, I will take you into custody, do you understand? I could not believe that you raised your voice the way you did before – you are one of the kindest people I know.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He managed to sound only slightly embarrassed by his previous behavior.

Wiping my eyes, I straightened the best I could. “Okay. I need to head back to the med bay – I’m exhausted. Maverick, ride back with me?”

“You got it, Sophie.” With that, he hopped in behind me in the transport

Twelve hours and a nap later, I was in my all-too-familiar berth in medical, being hooked up to an infusion drip for medication. By grace alone, there was no need to hook me up to any wires like there would have been on Earth – they could monitor my brain and cardiac activity with scans instead. “No sedation if I get mad again, okay?” I demanded sternly. “I need to be clear-headed for this.”

“I make no promises,” Grey replied in a very similar tone to when they observed that my plants had grown. “If your heart rate becomes dangerous, or you show signs of an anxiety or panic attack, I will sedate you for your own sake.”

Ugh. Grey was back to being logical. “Can I at least request the minimum effective dose, nothing more?”

One dark eyebrow arched. You are on thin ice, it screamed. “That is acceptable, provided it does not endanger your health.”

Before I could do more than scowl, the door hissed open to reveal a daunting number of people. In addition to the entire Council, I saw Tyche, Antoine, Alistair of all people, Zach and Derek. Bringing up the rear was Conor, who quickly darted over to my far side, beside Maverick. Tyche and Antoine took up their now-usual positions on my other side, with my sister’s grey eyes colder than I had ever seen them, daring the Council to try to make her move.

They better have Archimedes’s lever if they plan to try that, I mused. Gently resting a hand on her arm in solidarity, I turned to face the breathless man who just sat on my opposite side. “You made it,” I whispered.

“Told ya I would,” he grinned. “Can’t abandon you and Mav to do this alone.” He glanced up and his brows instantly furrowed. “Why’s the Council here?”

Maverick tackled that one, having been present for the initial explanation. “In case any solutions are suggested by Else that weren’t already covered by the Council, but have merit.”

“Okay… How’re they supposed to know what is discussed, exactly? Noah can only get vague hints, can’t they?”

Grimacing, I rocked my head side to side in hesitancy. “Yes and no? They know the lyrics to songs that are stuck in my head, sometimes. Or at least understand the concepts enough to make it seem like he does. We are going to try having me stop and repeat, slowly and emphatically, what Else is suggesting if they go off script.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’ve – I may have been given executive authority in an emergency,” I admitted.

Conor whistled through his teeth. “Sophie. That’s – that’s a lot of pressure.”

“No shit,” I muttered before turning to everyone else standing in the room. “Okay, is this my entire watch party, or are we still waiting?”

Simon spoke up – he was getting better at that. “This is everyone. And a few extras, but I am not going to be the one arguing with your family, especially since the majority agreed to stay out of your way.” He coughed and rubbed his neck before explaining the obvious exceptions. “Tyche and Antoine are claiming official capacity.”

My sister held her head high, chin out – if there was an encyclopedia entry for not gonna budge, that profile was probably the photo next to it. “Should something happen, the responsibility would fall on me to identify candidates for her replacement to suggest to the Council. Since I would rather not, I am staying to observe and ensure it doesn’t come to that.”

Before Antoine could do more than straighten his spine, Grey spoke up. “Mr. Costa is a medical professional, and I have requested him be present, in that capacity, for this procedure.”

Eino attempted a token argument. “Councillor Hodenson, you are a doctor. Can you not – “

“I have a doctorate. Three, actually: biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry. None of that replaces practical training, which Mr. Costa possesses and I do not.”

The educator’s hands went up, mollified. “I stand corrected. Objection withdrawn.”

“Okay, can we please get on with this before I have fourth thoughts?” Second and third were out the window at this point – I had been lying in the berth with nothing else to do but worry for nine hours at this point.

“Any further objections or inquiries from the Council before we proceed?” Grey asked drily. When only silence followed, they nodded. “Per my reports, Else can currently only communicate when a person is in a REM state. Our previous attempt involved Sophia being lucid during this process, to great effect. However, I believe that her complete immobility is what caused the difficulty in relaying information back to Miys. I have adjusted the medication to allow for voluntary muscle control in order to allow her to hopefully subvocalize while relaying information, as this has shown to provide accurate communication with Miys. Sophia is already aware, but to ensure there are no surprises, a spinal block will be placed in order to limit motion to head and jaw. This is only to prevent flailing and potential injury to Sophia.”

Tyche and Conor both turned toward me with wide-eyed stares. I just nodded. “We’ve tested it a couple times to make sure I could still talk. It’s the same way Noah kept me from hurting myself further when I came aboard, originally.” Unspoken was the fact that being held down freaked me the fuck out, whereas I had found the spinal block did not do the same thing when I knew to expect it. In theory, dream-me would never notice the difference.

Grey continued. “Miys will begin transmitting Eino’s lexicon into Sophia’s lingual implant. Sophia, please recite the lexicon once it starts transmitting. This will allow us to monitor communication, both from us to your implant and from you to Miys.” They looked around the room. “It is essential that no one speak unless absolutely essential that they do so. Sophia will perceive this as being whispered, and it is imperative that she hear the lexicon accurately.”

“I love you,” I whispered to the four sitting around my bed, before I started reciting a list of words. True to Eino’s promise, his team had put together a much more concise recording, one which looped back to the beginning. Within thirty minutes, I had completed the entire list twice: once completely out loud, once seeming to trail off as the sedation took effect. The spinal block gave a similar sensation to being weighed down by a heavy blanket, making it more therapeutic than nerve-wracking, and only encouraging the sedatives. When I stopped speaking aloud, Grey nodded to confirm that I was still subvocalizing effectively. Not long after that, my eyes drifted closed.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the familiar dream-Ark, still reciting the lexicon. So far, so good. I wanted badly to call out and check on Else, but determinedly stuck to the script. Tears of concern flowed down my cheeks as I completed repetition after repetition. Were we too late? Was the threshold closer than we expected?

Threshold. Late threshold.

“Else!” I cried in relief. “Are we too late?”

Threshold further.

“The threshold is further away? Is that what you mean?”

We mean threshold further away.

Belatedly, I remembered I needed to supplement the lexicon with my questions. “That would be a yes. Thank goodness. I was worried you would be – no longer here.”

We are here.

“We know what you are doing. You don’t have to kill yourself. We don’t want you to go extinct. We want you to live, just like you want us to survive. I’ve been sent to discuss options. Most likely relocation, like we talked about before.”

We do want you to live. What are the options?

There we go. Much more coherent. I sat cross-legged on the floor, craning my neck around. “Is there any chance you can try to… manifest or create something for me to look at? I keep trying to see you, just out of habit, and it would be easier if I had something specific to look at.”

I will try.

Slowly, a fuzzy yellow blob came into focus on the floor in front of me. It was about the size I associated with a corgi, but bright yellow. I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face as it slowly drew on grass-green eyes and too many stubby appendages.

Else looked – cute, for lack of a better term. Like an oversized, fuzzy, cartoon caterpillar

“That works,” I laughed.

I tried to manifest as non-threatening as possible.

“I think you nailed it.” I couldn’t help wondering if this was what Else would look like as a larger being. One could only hope. “The people on my ship have asked me to negotiate with you. They are monitoring the best they can what I am saying, but there are going to be times that I need to repeat something to be absolutely sure. When that happens, I am going to do this – “ I touched my ear with my hand. “That way it is clear – to me – that I am repeating it for my shipmates, okay?”

Okay.

Still going well. “Like I said earlier, we know you have stopped feeding, and stopped reproducing. There is a serious chance that you won’t be sentient anymore… you won’t be you.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

“But… Else. If you stop being you, you won’t remember that you don’t want to hurt anyone. What is the first thing you remember?”

Hungry.

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “You’ll just be hungry, again. We want you to stay who you are now – intelligent, with feelings, and able to communicate with us. And we hope to help you with that.”

Help how.

“Well, you and I already talked last time about taking you to a nebula, or to an iron rich planet with no atmosphere. We can even place beacons to let others know you live there, so maybe a species who doesn’t depend on iron to survive can find you.”

We really like humans.

I sighed. Of course they did. “The problem there is that we need the iron you eat so that we can function properly, just like you need it. Even if you die faster without it, we can still die without constant transfusions.” I focused on what it was like being in medical, sick and scared, connected around the clock to a machine that basically fed Else. “Humans cannot thrive like that. But you can thrive without us.”

I was one-third my current population when I realized I was hungry.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Wait. Did you just tell me the threshold for you to be sapient?”

Yes.

Breathless, I reached up to touch my ear and focused as hard as I could. “Whoever is speaking in fractions out there, I owe you dinner.” I repeated it several times in a whisper, praying it made it through clearly. Finally, I turned back to Else. “The information you just gave us creates more options, Else. We can ensure you survive.” I stood and started pacing around the now-wiggling caterpillar. “If we remove you from our bodies, can you survive in a culture?”

Yes. There are several of me in cultures now.

Right. Grey’s tests. “If we removed you, placed you in cultures, would you promise to stay in the cultures and start reproducing again?”

I can, yes.

“Next step: Half of you in a nebula, to guarantee you would survive, and half on a planet? You could potentially be like Miys, and develop more individuals of your species without risking your sentience.”

Thirds.

“Not thirds, halves.” It seemed confused by the change in fractions.

Nebula, planet, Ark. Thirds.

Not as confused as I thought, apparently. “You want us to keep part of you on the Ark!?” I asked incredulously.

All options. One-third of me in a nebula, ensure survival. One-third on a planet, meet a new species. One-third on Ark, in culture, stay with humans. Absurdly, it wiggled even more, as though excited at the idea.

I repeated the proposal back to the Council and Miys, again praying they heard me. After several minutes of hoping in vain, I received nothing. Knowing that much more time was passing for them, if I hadn’t had a response by now, it wasn’t coming.

“I need to think this through,” I said aloud. “The Council agreed to taking you to a nebula OR a barren world… surely they would agree to both of those, no problem…. But they didn’t agree to you staying on the Ark, except in coldsleep.” I changed direction and paced clockwise this time. “They – we – also had no idea that you would be willing to stay in a culture, like some fish in an aquarium.”

Aquarium. I like that. Can I stay in an aquarium instead?

“On the scale we are talking, it’s basically the same thing, but please don’t push your luck,” I scowled at the wide-eyed caterpillar. That thing was just too fucking cute, which was decidedly not helping me.

Executive authority. Executive authority. I had the power to make this decision, but probably because they knew I would agonize over it. With a groan, I stopped in my tracks. “Else, if we let part of you stay on the ship, we need a guarantee of good behavior. Meaning, if you infect us again, you have to agree that we are taking that entire third of you to the nearest nebula or planet. Do you understand that?”

The caterpillar fucking bounced, like it was happy. Yes, I understand. And I agree to those terms.

I was going to regret this. I just knew it. Huge mistake.

“Welcome to the Ark, Else.”

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#the miys #aliens #original sci fi #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #apocalypse #science fiction #original work

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