#also also because my resistance band snapped a couple of weeks ago so the shoulder strengthening exercises haven't been done

[gynandromorph]

the reason my hand is so fucked up right now is because i spent like a week and a half drawing this folie a dupe strip, which is still majorly unfinished, and will probably be around 40,000 pixels tall... i can't even say it wasn't worth it, i feel like it was. it was unique for a folie a dupe strip.

in the end, it's supposed to have a background like this

and textured edges like this

which will make it unfortunately pretty time-consuming to finish. right now i can't even do the bare minimum and use the fill tool or dab the textures around the edges without feeling significant strain, though, so that sucks.

[pathofcomet]

just paint the time

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC (explicit!)

summary: Eventually, one by one, everyone retreated to their own rooms for the night, late enough. Or rather, very early into the next day already. And rather, almost everyone. The fire is slowly dying in the fireplace, when she grabs the corner of the blanket draped around his shoulder and shimmies herself inside the warmth of his embrace.Written for Isaac Week, day 7. Prompt: Presents. (AO3)

note: And that’s a wrap on Isaac Week!! Thank you to everyone who wrote during this event, who read and shared and commented and bookmarked for later! Hope you’ve enjoyed this past week as much as I did writing! And wishing a Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating. Happy Birthday, Isaac <3

Isaac feels – light. There’s no more proper word to describe it, though he also feels like his brain is not entirely in control, to search for a more fitting one. He’s gotten lulled into drinking too much mulled wine – the cinnamon aftertaste strong on his tongue, the sweetness of it way too enticing. It didn’t help that he’s been smiling for what feels – what is – hours, and as such, so much more eager to do things unlike himself.

They’ve had a lively evening, swapping presents between each other, names pulled at random out of Theodorus’ hat, a tradition that she insisted on. His face has soured at the sight of his paper slip, Arthur’s own handwriting staring up at him, because he has hoped for hers. That doesn’t mean he didn’t get her anything – far from it, but now he won’t have an excuse to hide behind, when it becomes clear that he’s went a bit too much over the top with his choices.

They feasted on – mostly their favourite food; when everyone is from all over the place, it’s hard to have something considered ‘traditional’, most food ordered in so that Sebastian can join them at the dinner as well, a rare sight. He fit immediately by Napoleon’s side. They passed around stories, Arthur’s voice getting louder as the night progressed, Theo’s head on Vincent’s shoulder halfway through. Even Jean and Mozart’s faces had the scowl not so obvious.

Mozart even played for them. What he’s expected to be a Christmas carol, quickly turned into the familiar tune of happy birthday, and Isaac has frozen on the spot, Napoleon’s voice in his ear, as he looped an arm around his shoulder, a bit too loud. He has laughed and thanked them (surely, what is one even supposed to do when this happens?) and she has winked at him, as friendly pats were slapped all over his back.

It was worth bearing all that, because by the end, she came around, kissing each of his cheeks and hugging him close – intimate enough on its own, way less than what Isaac was hoping for. But they are in mixed company, and he doubts Dazai would let it ever die that he enjoys her kisses maybe a bit too much. So when she back away, he lets her, just a squeeze around her waist in parting. She stops for a second, to open her mouth and let the tip of her tongue out, pressing her thumb against it. Then the hand comes up to his cheeks, wiping away the leftover red marks left by her lipstick, and Isaac can feel it wet against his skin.

Have it had come from anyone else, he would have hated it. Like this, he just holds her gaze, burning with something alike the feeling blooming in his body, until she looks away.

By then, he was already two or three mugs in. Now it’s later – much later (he’s not that sure?) and Isaac can barely keep his eyes open anymore, tired and relaxed to the surprisingly, insanely high levels that he is. Sometimes in-between, they retreated to the library, so that Leonardo can smoke freely. He has played a couple of cards games with Arthur on the couch, and that scoundrel even let him win, earnestly, today.

Eventually, one by one, everyone retreated to their own rooms for the night, late enough. Or rather, very early into the next day already. And rather, almost everyone. The fire is slowly dying in the fireplace, when she grabs the corner of the blanket draped around his shoulder and shimmies herself inside the warmth of his embrace.

He immediately awakens, as she positions herself on top of him, knees on either side of his waist, blanket now pooled on the couch, and Isaac is not cold at all. She smiles at him.

“Hi, birthday boy.”

He grins before he realizes he’s doing it.

“Hi.”

She grabs his hands, slowly but intently lacing her fingers together with his. She’s also just a bit flushed – the redness growing when she leans closer, pressing her chest against his, so that she can press her lips against his in a chaste gesture.

Isaac sighs when she moves away, tugging at her hands enough to unbalance her, so she falls against him with the softest oh. His heart is thrumming in his chest, when her breath comes hot against the skin at his neck, her head tucked under his.

“Isaac?” she says, the gentlest of whispers.

“Hm?”

“I love you,” she murmurs, and she brings their hands to her lips, so that she can kiss his knuckles.

Isaac stutters, mouth open but his entire vocabulary forgotten. It comes to him, belatedly, that he loves her too, and he should remind her of it, but by now too much time has passed, and it’s too awkward to just blurt it out after so long –

She squirms a bit, finding a new position so that she can look at him, but resolutely refusing to let go of his hands. Isaac closes his eyes for a second, when she grinds against him.

“Isaac?” she says, bolder this time around.

“Hm?” Isaac opens his eyes, knowing he’ll regret it but unable to resist her.

“Thank you for being born into this world,” she presses a light kiss at his neck, and Isaac sighs, having been right.

“Thank you for letting me find you,” a kiss at his jaw, and Isaac, pathetically, moves his head to chase her lips, which she denies with a tender smile.

“Thank you for letting me love you,” another one, this time at his temple.

He feels his face like it’s been lit from the inside, and he can’t even blame the alcohol anymore, having been long ago struck aware and awake by just having her in his arms. She shifts again, enough to pin their hands to the back of the couch, enough that there’s another merciless grind against his now hardening cock.

“You’re the best thing in my life,” this time, her voice turns tender, and she finally meets his mouth.

Isaac groans, opening his mouth immediately, hungry for her, having gone without her taste on his tongue for too long, in too many ways. His tongue goes for her, and he’s not sure he can remember anymore that they’ve already gotten a warning about fucking on the couch or that he still hasn’t brought down her present.

When they part for air, it’s his time to rest his head on her chest. Only now does she let go – his hands immediately wrap around her body, hers go to play with his hair.

“I-” he struggles with his words, like he’s always done.

She tugs, just the tiniest bit harder at his hair and she simply hums, waiting; for as long as he needs it, he imagines. Which makes it easier.

“I’m happy… with you.”

She pushes a bit of his hair behind his ear.

“Me too.”

Isaac struggles with exactly what he wants to say, fearing it’s too much, too forward – even after all the time they’ve been together, even after the countless times she’s shown him that everything is okay. Maybe he’s been too spoiled, maybe he’s still (definitely) tipsy, maybe he can say it because it’s his birthday.

“I mean… Y-you make everything better.”

She snorts, mean thing that she is. But she does it with so much incredulous love, erupting into proper laughter a second later. Isaac’s pouting for quite a while by the time she calms; his own body has been jolting together with hers, since they’re so entangled.

 “This is not about me, you stupidly loving man,” she says, kissing the top of his head, grinding against him again with the movement.

Insults shouldn’t feel this good, right? He shouldn’t take insults like such wonderful compliments, surely? But something inside him breaks, almost instantly, at how offended she sounds that he’d dare compliment her back, after she put so much effort in turning him into a blabbering, melting mess. Doesn’t she know he’s already all of that. when it comes to her?

  He looks at her – and if he misses the feel of her chest, he stores that information for later, when they can be lazy, where they can take their time. Right now, he doesn’t feel like he can wait.

“Can I – ask for something?”

“Anything,” she breathes, and she’s kissing him before he can actually say what it is that he wants, just because she wants to, just because she can. Isaac’s hands move lower, fingers digging in the soft flesh of her ass, and she groans through their kiss, breaking it soon after so she can slow down her breathing.

“I want you,” Isaac whispers, and his fingers are already moving under her skirt, teasing at her thighs.

 “Have me, then. In any way, I’m yours.”

Isaac’s head immediately goes dizzy and blank at the admission, and his fingers tighten to an almost painful degree. His hand immediately goes to the lace margin of her panties, teasingly pulling as much as he can, letting it go so the satisfying sound of the elastic band slapping against her skin is loud in the room. Her face immediately goes red, and Isaac grins at her, his thumb already soothing the spot.

Then, he’s not joking anymore. His fingers dip beneath the material of her underwear, finding her already needy. He’s slow and careful in coaxing her, even when she’s not, swearing at him and gripping his shirt tightly in her fists, hips grinding so that she can match the movement of his digits inside her. It’s still not enough, and yet she’s still close to reaching her climax.

“Feels good?” Isaac asks, hot whispers at her ear, and she shivers above him.

The bastard is entirely enjoying it way too much.

“No,” she snaps, but his fingers curl inside her and she moans, movement stilling with the pleasure. “Don’t s-stop, I swear to God if you d-”

Isaac presses his thumb against her clit at the same time his mouth presses against her neck, and she comes, even if the bite at her skin has not been the vampire kind, a mimicry of their usual times. It takes her a bit to come back to herself and catch her breath, and in the meantime Isaac has removed his hand from inside her panties, now languidly licking her off his fingers. When she realizes what he’s doing, his tongue in-between two fingers, her face erupts in a blush again.

“Isaac!” she hisses, covering her face with her hands.

His own hands come to drag hers away, so he can look at her again. His fingers are still wet, a mix of her climax and his saliva now at her wrist too. He leans close to kiss her – he coaxes her mouth open, his tongue against hers, so that she can actually taste herself. When he leans back, he looks just stupidly proud of himself.

“You told me I can have you in any way I want.”

Isaac can be a terrible bully when he feels like the end purpose is worth it.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles.

So Isaac moves his fingers to her mouth, and she opens and sucks without any other encouragement. His other hand comes up to per her hair.

“Good girl.”

His thigh tenses just a bit, snapping her attention back to his face. He raises an eyebrow at her, and that’s all the hint and approval she needs. Her hands immediately go to his belt, pulling his member free, already hard, precum leaking. She licks her lips. Holding on to him, she, albeit clumsily, drops to her knees, holding him in her palm, pushing her hair behind her ear with the other. She looks like a woman who has gone hungry for days, as she meets his eyes, leaning a bit closer, forcing his knees apart with her shoulders. He has a really good view at her cleavage like this – her dress already wrinkled from their earlier session, showing more skin than would have been proper if they weren’t lovers already.

It still makes him go a bit crazy.

This – it’s usually a slow process; she likes the teasing and she likes how he gets when the teasing is too much, but it seems she has decided to be merciful today, because after the first two testing pumps around his shaft, her mouth is already over him, taking him all in.

Isaac hisses, his head dropping to the back of the couch. His fingers reach for her, tangling in her hair – not pulling, not pushing, not yet. Just resting there, acknowledging her, and she hums around him at the touch.

“Greedy,” he sighs, and his other hand fists at his side.

She hollows her cheeks just to get him to shut up. He yanks at her hair, and with a wet pop, she pouts up at him. Her tongue comes out, just barely touching the tip of his dick – and he releases her. It was supposed to be just a warning for her to behave, and so she does afterwards, head bobbing around him, keeping up a rhythm. She’s been doing this enough times that she knows what to do, how to do it – and to recognize when he is close enough. Isaac bites his lips, still not quite without shame to just leave his sounds of pleasure ring loud, even in empty rooms, even in the middle of the night. Then, finally, the beginning of her name, the hand returning in her hand.

“H-how… do you want this?” he asks, and she licks her lips, now her hands around his dick, continuing his sweet, sweet torture.

“How do you want this?” she asks back.

His eyes linger at the expanse of skin at her neck, and dipping lower and lower, her boobs almost spilling over the tight material of her dress. She shifts a bit, pulling her dress even more downwards with a hand, and her tits bounce as she resumes and tightens her grip around him, quickens her movements as well. He would have liked it better if she were naked – but maybe he can carry her back to his room, undress her and start this all over. He’s the one who called her greedy, and he’s the one who wants to take until she breaks.

It doesn’t take him much longer to come, white strings all over her face and cleavage, and she helps him all the way through the orgasm. Her nickname, darling, broken in his mouth. Every time he comes for her, it feels like just barely enough to tickle his need for her (always present, thrumming just under his skin). She allows him to regain his breath, to come back to her.

 “Hi,” she says, when she blinks up at him, smile so large on her face that it makes him smile as well.

It’s a conversation that they’ve already had before.

“Hi,” he says back, and he’s helping her up.

She looks like a mess, hair sticky against her forehead, dress and face stained.

Isaac can feel his face burning, as he shoves his dick back inside his pants, as he fishes his handkerchief from his front pocket. Slowly, while she’s smiling at him all throughout, he wipes at his own cum, cleaning her up as much as possible. There’s no way that, if someone were to see her, they wouldn’t know exactly what she’s been up to, though.

“How does a bath together sound?”

She pouts.

“I’m the one supposed to spoil you…,” she complains, but she’s all weak and tired in his arms.

Isaac rubs a finger at her neck, fingers splayed all over her upper boobs. She knows what he means by the gesture: that he’s already gotten what he wanted. Fair enough. She opens her eyes again, to the full weight of his gaze already on her.

 “Thank you,” he says, and he sounds so honest, so open – his earns turning red.

Really, his beloved is just a bit daft: he’s spoiled every day with her love. Isaac has always considered it enough, but if he can get away with this from time to time, all the better.

It’s not until way later, after their bath and after she’s fallen asleep next to him in her bed, that he remembers there’s a present still left unopen. But she’s holding onto the sleeve of his shirt as she sleeps, and the cold has settled properly through the room – and Isaac can wait until Christmas morning.

[violetwolfraven]

Ghost Guitar Battle (2/3)

((Part 2 of I have no impulse control and squirreled on this random idea, ignoring those asks in my inbox. Don’t @ me this concept is fuckin awesome if only to me.))

Part 1 here.

Part 3 here.

Warnings: mentions of mind control.

...

12 days ago

“You what?”

Julie was pretty sure she was hallucinating, because this was something she had honestly never expected to happen.

Sure, there were days when she missed this certain ex-friend, but she’d never expected her to actually let go of her ego long enough for something like this to happen.

Carrie sighed before repeating herself, “I need your help.”

“Oh, we heard you,” Flynn said, “We’re just trying to think of reasons why we would ever help you with anything.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Flynn.”

“It concerns Julie, so it concerns me. Why would either of us ever help you with anything?”

“Because I’m not asking for myself,” Carrie snapped, “It’s about Nick.”

...what?

Nick and Carrie had broken up weeks ago. Why would she be asking for help involving him?

“What’s up with Nick?” Julie asked.

Simultaneously, Flynn laughed out, “We’re not helping you get him back.”

“It’s not about getting him back,” she insisted, “He’s acting weird. Like, really weird. And no matter what’s gone down between us recently, I’m worried about him.”

“Have you tried talking to him about this?” Julie asked, honestly unsure what was going on.

“No, because...” Carrie made a frustrated huff, “Because have you been paying attention to him at all recently? It’s like he’s a completely different person.”

By the look Flynn was getting in her eyes, it was starting to dawn on her that Carrie was being serious about this.

Julie, for one, still wasn’t sure what to think. Truthfully, she hadn’t been paying much attention to Nick lately. She’d been pretty preoccupied with the band, with the guys now able to give hugs and stuff and be seen whenever directly touching her. Plus, there was the new weirdness of figuring out if she and Luke wanted to try out some form of dating. Honestly, that uncertainty was creeping into their songwriting, which they’d still been doing a lot of.

In short, she’d been pretty busy.

Nick had been hovering around but barely starting a real conversation lately, which was weird now that she was thinking about it, but... was that just awkwardness left over from when Julie rejected him?

“How do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“Well for one thing, he’s actually talking to me,” Carrie explained, “Which he really hasn’t done since the breakup at all. And for another, all he does is ask about you.”

Flynn rolled her eyes, “This is weird how?”

Carrie glared at her, “It’s weird because mostly, he keeps asking if I’m mad about Julie and the Phantoms upstaging Dirty Candi. Bringing up the fact that it happened twice, as if I’m supposed to hold some kind of major grudge.”

“Okay, that’s weird,” Julie admitted.

“You don’t know the half of it. As if that’s not suspicious enough, he asked if I found your band members suspicious. Like, sure, I knew you’d only hurt him cause you’ve got a crush on your guitarist, but—“

“What?!”

“Oh honey, it’s obvious,” Flynn admitted.

Julie really, really hoped it wasn’t and Flynn and Carrie just knew because they’d known her for a long time.

“Whatever,” Carrie said strategically, “Getting back on topic, what really tipped me off is... he asked about my dad. He asked how much I knew about his past, about bands he was in before he made it big, or whatever.”

Okay, that was a big red flag, Julie had to admit. Rule #1 of being friends with Carrie had always been to make sure she knew you weren’t in it because of her dad’s fame. Bringing up Trevor at all as anything other than a dad was off limits, and would have been even more so to Nick.

If he was acting that off, Julie felt a bit guilty for not noticing.

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with him,” Carrie admitted, “But I know something is. Besides just what he’s been talking about with me, he’s been playing jazz in music class. He carries himself differently when he walks. And if nothing else, have you both seriously not noticed how much not like himself he’s been dressing the last couple days? Nick doesn’t wear that many dark colors except for dance performances.”

Wait... there was something familiar in that description.

Reggie had done a good enough impression, according to the others, that Julie and Flynn had a good idea of the style of a certain dark color-wearing, jazz-loving ghost.

A ghost with magical powers they didn’t really know the limits of.

Flynn was clearly thinking the same thing, so there was only one last decision to make.

Unfortunately, Flynn would probably hate Julie’s call on this one, but Carrie had brought this to their attention in the first place and probably deserved to be kept in the loop.

“Are you free to meet at my house after school?”

Carrie nodded, but looked kind of surprised.

Flynn also looked surprised. And mildly horrified. Julie ignored that.

“Good. And fair warning, you’ll need to get real cool with some weird stuff real quick.”

...

Now...

“So you haven’t heard from your boyfriend at all?” Carrie asked, frowning.

Alex was pacing, which meant Julie had to pace with him so that Carlos, Carrie, and Flynn could keep seeing and hearing him.

Maybe that was for the best. She was pretty anxious, too.

“Well, Willie’s not exactly my boyfriend,” Alex mumbled, “We haven’t labeled anything. And plus, he’s risking everything every time he even sees me. That’s not—“

“Alex,” Luke said pointedly, despite the fact that half the room couldn’t hear him, “Get to the point.”

“Right. No. No, I haven’t heard from him. He said Caleb was possessing Nick and he was going to try to help him and that was it. It’s been a day. I’m getting worried. This is the first time he’s really ever stood up to Caleb openly. Who knows what could happen to him because of it?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Flynn said.

She didn’t sound very certain, but she was glancing over at Carlos like she was worried this would scare him.

Julie wasn’t that worried. She knew her little brother was tough. And that he actively sought out creepy cryptid videos on YouTube.

“I mean, he’s already dead, right?” Carlos said with a shrug, “So it’s not like he can kill him again.”

Luke raised his hand, beckoning Julie over to come and grab him so the other lifers in the room could hear him.

“No, he can’t kill him, but he can hurt him.”

“Yeah, death’s not the worst thing that can happen to a person, shockingly,” Alex muttered, the worry clear in his voice.

“Wait, what does this mean for Nick?” Carrie asked, “If Caleb’s controlling him, does that make him, like, partially dead?”

That was... that was a good point.

It was just starting to fully register that Nick was really in danger.

God, he didn’t deserve that. He was in danger and it was all because he’d gotten closer with Julie.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, “Willie made it sound like Caleb was... shoving him down. Like, Nick’s fighting it, but he’s losing.”

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Julie asked, “Once we figure out how to get Caleb out?”

“Willie said he’s still alive in there, and he’s okay, for now. But... but the longer he stays out of control, the harder it’ll be to get Caleb out of his head.”

Despite all the differences between them, Julie could see the same anxiety she was feeling reflected in the look Flynn and Carrie exchanged.

It had already been two weeks.

All the supernatural stuff aside, that had to be a nightmare, to be out of control of your own mind and body.

“He must be so scared in there,” Julie muttered.

“Yeah,” Reggie agreed, coming over to put a hand on her shoulder so he’d be visible, “And we lost our inside man, so we don’t even know what’s going on in there now.”

Luke smacked him upside the head, “Dude, not helping.”

“Sorry.”

Carlos perked up suddenly, which was... alarming.

Julie knew that look. It was the look he got right before he was about to say something that in all likelihood would cause trouble.

“Do you think we should call Ryan and Chad?” Carrie asked quietly.

“Oh, how would that go?” Flynn shot back, “Just, ‘sorry, your son is under the control of an evil ghost and we don’t know how to get him out?’ That’s a great thing to tell a parent.”

“How long do you think it’s going to take them to notice something’s up on their own, Flynn? Sure, Lizzie needs more attention than Nick does, but he’s still their son and it’s only a matter of time. Heck, they probably know something’s weird already and just don’t know why.”

“They probably just think he’s going through his emo phase. Why make them panic when there’s nothing they can do, anyway?”

“Wait,” Carlos said slowly, “We don’t know what’s going on in there... but what if we did?”

Carrie rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but we don’t anymore.”

“Not in the Hollywood Ghost Club,” he clarified, “In Nick’s head.”

“I applaud your out of the box thinking,” Reggie said, “But we don’t really have a way to do that.”

“We don’t. You do.”

Julie slowly started to realize what he was suggesting.

“What happens if one of you tries to go in and possess Nick while Caleb’s already in there?”

“What happens if you can drive him out?” Flynn realized, “You’d be able to just let Nick go.”

“Theoretically,” Alex admitted.

“It’s worth a try,” Carrie said hopefully.

“It’s risky,” Julie corrected, “What happens if you can’t push Caleb out? Would you just be stuck in there, too?”

Luke shrugged, “There’s no way to know... I’ll do it.”

“Whoa, Luke—“

“Reggie, we’re already dead,” Luke said firmly, “Nick’s not. He got pulled into this because of us. It’s our responsibility to get him out of it.”

“But why you specifically?” he argued, “Why—“

“Because unlike you and Alex, Nick and I have something in common.”

Julie wasn’t sure if he was talking about guitar or her.

Either way, he had a point. She didn’t like the idea of the risk, but she couldn’t see another option that possibly ended in getting everyone back.

“You said you resisted Caleb before,” she pointed out hesitantly, “Before our Orpheum performance. At least a little.”

“Yeah, exactly. Alex and Reggie, neither of you could do that. Going in to try to get Nick out, I’m the only one that stands a chance.”

They both clearly wanted to, and honestly, Julie did, too, but none of them argued.

“Willie said Nick had a chance if he ‘dug deep enough,’” Alex said quietly, “Something about needing to not hold anything back?”

Luke nodded, “I’ll tell him. And I’ll try to find out about Willie if I get the chance.”

They were all well aware how much risk this was taking, and even Carrie seemed hesitant to send Luke into it.

Still, Julie nodded as they made eye contact.

“Make sure you both come out of this.”

[spideytingle616]

Five Months

Masterlist / Part 2

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, swearing, possible implications of anxiety/panic, mentions/implications of sexual activity, blood/injury

Description: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Chapter Summary: You and your best friend Peter Parker are having a study date. Upon learning that you’re soulmates, more secrets and truths are revealed, and you story might close before it even starts. (Takes place during “Homecoming”, give or take some plot details.)

Word Count: 7.7K (all text in bold and italics are thoughts)

A/N: Hello to whoever is reading this, happy holidays! This is my first ever story that I’ve ever written, and I’m excited but also super nervous to be sharing it. I’m not too sure about the ins and outs of writing or being on Tumblr in general, but I’ll try my best. Please enjoy and leave some comments if possible <3 

Month One, Denial: The Flashforward that Never Happened

“You think by now I would be able to write a stupid chemical equation,” you complained, throwing your hands up in exasperation and slumping into your bed.

Your best friend Peter lets out an airy laugh from your desk, not even looking at you. He was too busy with the book in front of him, making sure he remembered as much as he possibly could. You were having a big study session tonight to prepare for midterms. For the past couple of days, you, Ned, Peter, and occasionally MJ have all been hanging out to prepare. However, tonight you and Peter just wanted to study with each other. Not only were you two the only ones that could keep up with each other, but you were also best friends. Shoutout to your freshman physics teacher for pairing you two up, you’ve been inseparable ever since, despite what Ned might think. When it came down to it, you and Peter were each other’s number one.

“You can look at my notes for that chapter if you want, hopefully, they help.” Peter offered, but all you could do was let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know at this point; my wires are getting crossed. I’m fifty percent sure what I’m studying is chemistry. Can we please take a break or something?”

“Maybe later, I’m almost done with this section, can’t lose steam now,” Peter said as he continued to trudge on, not even blinking an eye at you.

You admired his determination, for a second it makes you think he might be the smarter between you two, but you would never say that to his face, no matter how cute it is. You couldn’t deny that your best friend was probably one of the most adorable people you’ve ever met, but that didn’t mean you liked him in that way. After all, you knew it would never happen. He’s not your soulmate.

Everyone is given a soulmate when they are born. A soulmate could be found by as simple as a touch. From a hug, a friendly high-five, or even an accidental check to the shoulder, you’d be able to find out who was made for you. After physical contact with your future partner, both people can see what the future holds for them. A quick glimpse, and you could see your happily ever after. You and Peter have been friends for about three years, meaning there have been plenty of opportunities for physical contact with each other, though you couldn’t exactly remember a specific one. It must’ve happened at one point though; if you had a romantic future with your best friend, surely you both would’ve realized by now.

However, even though you tried to push away any romantic thoughts, you just couldn’t resist every now and then. Since the start of this year, you started to pay closer attention to Peter. MJ taught you how to quietly observe, and you occasionally used these newfound skills on him, albeit with slight guilt. You started to notice when Peter’s curly hair got messy throughout the day, and you caught yourself watching as he struggles to keep it neat. You also noted how he had a habit of talking nonstop when he’s excited, probably trying to organize his sporadic thoughts. You felt a small flutter in your stomach when he smiled, and a slightly bigger one when he laughed at your jokes. Yet these moments didn’t mean anything to you. It was harmless. You knew when your soulmate came, you would instantly fall for them and forget all about the brunet. In the end, Peter would always just be your best friend. Nothing more.

Peter was the friend that you could confide everything to. There wasn’t a secret that you didn’t tell him, and you know he feels the same. You trusted each other with your lives. At least you thought so.

A few months ago, he got an internship at Stark Industries, something that you have been applauding him forever since. It was a great opportunity, and you were glad Peter was the one who got it. However, despite the achievement, you couldn’t help but be disappointed in his new schedule. He dropped marching band and robotics club for the internship, leaving you to fend for yourself in both activities. Peter has been having more late nights since then, causing him to fight his fatigue during the day. Most importantly, his internship left him canceling your plans last-minute, leaving you in the dust. The time spent together seemed to be shortening every day. You try to let it slide as you could only imagine the hectic schedule Tony Stark has, yet you still couldn’t exactly make out the sense of it all. Peter was a normal, although brilliant, kid. How important could an intern be?

You push those thoughts aside for today. Right now, he’s yours. Peter has been available all week for studying, so both of you took advantage of your time together. You realize that you’ve been staring at the back of Peter’s head this whole time, spacing out, but also admiring how focused he was. Even if he didn’t study, his classes were so effortless for him. You sat up, glancing at your friend one more time before returning to your worn-out notebook. Just as you were starting to focus, you hear police sirens race by your apartment. You ignore the noise as it quickly dies away and continue to look at your notes. However, Peter suddenly became tense, the hair on his arms prickling up.

He knew that he should go out and follow the emergency, but he couldn’t leave without warning. Peter starts to fidget with the pen in his hand, maybe the cops didn’t need Spider-Man tonight. As he was trying to ignore the sirens, he couldn’t help but run through a list of plausible excuses just in case. A few minutes pass and more police cars speed past the road.

Forget it, I just need an excuse.

“Sorry Y/N, Mr. Stark texted and said he needs to see me right now,” You snap your head up as Peter scrambles to pack his things. “Uh y-you can take my notebook to study. I don’t need it.”

He continues to stuff his books in his backpack and doesn’t notice the irritated look on your face. “You can’t be serious right now, what could he possibly want this late at night?”

You don’t want to snap at the boy, but Jesus Christ. Why is he always leaving at the worst possible times? You clench your jaw, trying to bite back on saying anything you might regret.

“I’ll explain later, I have to go now or it’ll be too late.” Peter throw his backpack over his shoulder, the guilt starting to pool inside.

“No, you don’t Peter, you’re just an intern. He’s not asking you to save the world.”

If only you knew. It hurts Peter that he couldn’t tell you the truth, but it’s for your own good. Yet this isn’t all that great either, both of you were tired of the sudden disappearances. But what else could he do? If Peter told you his secret, he’d be putting you at risk. The last thing he wanted was for his best friend to get hurt, especially if it’s because of him.

“Y/N please, I’m really sorry. I promise we can study tomorrow if you want.” Peter’s urgency increases, and he’s praying to god that you’ll let it slide.

You don’t seem to be letting him go that easily. He could see the anger in your eyes as they narrowed, drowning him in guilt.

“I don’t care about that!” You yell, Peter’s shoulders tensing up.  “I want to know why you’re running off late at night for no reason.”

“And I’ll give you an answer later, just not right now.” With that, Peter is almost out the door before you jump up to meet him.

“This is such bullshit,” you snarl as you grab his wrist, stopping him from turning the doorknob.

Suddenly, you and Peter were outside. 39th Street, in front of the Daily Bugle, to be exact. The street is usually buzzing, people at every corner, but it’s dark and empty. You couldn’t help but feel an ominous mood surrounding the area. You were kneeling on the sidewalk, the rough pavement scratching on your knees. You look down and finally notice Peter on the ground with you. Your arms were wrapped around him as you basically cuddled him. He felt cold, shivering just enough to feel the vibration throughout your arms. After the initial confusion about the position, you start to take in his features. His lower lip was cut, a fine red line in the middle that contrasted the paleness of the rest of his mouth. His right eye had a red bruise under it that was turning purple, and a bloody gash could be spotted in the upper corner of his head. The rest of his face was decorated in smears of dirt and dust. Beyond the confusion and the horrendous state of his face, you could see that Peter was absolutely terrified.

“Y/N I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I don’t know what happened I-“

“Shhhhhhh, it’s okay Peter. It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise.” You assured.

It was like word vomit; you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. You didn’t even know what was happening right now, but the conversation seemed to know where it was going. Stunned and confused, you felt a terrible strain on your heart. You couldn’t exactly make out an emotion that went along with this, but something in the back of your head knew what was happening. Heartbreak.

Unless you suddenly became a wizard overnight, you did not have the ability to teleport. How could this be happening? Was this a dream? Just seconds ago you were arguing with your best friend about his recent flakiness. You were annoyed with the secrecy, so you stopped him and grabbed his wrist…

His wrist.

Your hand.

You grabbed his wrist.

You made physical contact with Peter.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was a glimpse into the future.

Peter was your soulmate.

Panic started to radiate off your body, your breaths getting heavier with each inhale. You tried to focus, looking around the scene in front of you for clarification. Your eyes started to water, everything slightly blurring together. An urge to cry was crawling up your throat. Your body felt like it was on fire, you were surprised it didn’t spontaneously combust at that very moment. Everything just hurt.

Forcing yourself to ignore the burn, you saw the rubble that covered the road across from you and the destroyed buildings it fell off from. Cars were almost pressed flat like a pancake and you could see the sharp crystals of glass surrounding it. You heard sirens and car alarms in the faint distance, but no one was here to save you two from this nightmare. Finally, you look down and are met again with the face of a broken and scared Peter.

That’s when you notice the feeling on your hand. Warm and wet. You pull it up to your face to look at it, but it’s covered red. Blood. Thick, warm blood drenched your entire right hand. You let out a shaking gasp when you realize it wasn’t yours. Looking down past Peter’s face, you see his stomach covered red. In a panic, you put your hand back to where it once was. You vaguely remember people saying to keep pressure on the wound. Holding Peter tighter you try to keep your eyes away from your hands. You realize he wasn’t wearing normal clothes. He was wearing nothing but red and blue. In Peter’s right hand, you see a bunched up, red cloth, almost like a hat, or a mask even. But on the chest of his hoodie, just above the blood…

A spider.

You wanted to question the wounded boy in your grasp, but his eyes started to close. You were about to scream at the sight. It was too late. At that same moment, you were back in your apartment, hand on top of Peter’s. The scene before you was gone.

You direct your stare from your hand to his face. He was pale and his eyes looked hollow. Mouth parted in shock; you could imagine you looked the same. You tried to focus on Peter, trying to find something to say. You were tongue-tied, mouth going dry at the thought of making words. Your right hand was still firmly grasped onto Peter’s wrist. The same hand that was covered in blood. His blood.

The shock of the memory made your body go numb. So, you let go. You stepped back to stare at him, squeezing your hands into fists. Arms shaking and knuckles turning white, you were almost ready to cry. You tried to keep a distance from him as if he was some bomb waiting to go off. In fact, he kinda was.

Face still white as snow, Peter is snapped back into reality when he hears the sirens engulf the borough. This time, you paid attention too. All you could do was listen to the noise and let it ring through your ears. It almost felt like the emergency was you.

“Y/N I have to-’’ Peter tried to speak, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Yeah, y-you need to go,” Fully understanding what he meant all these times.

Peter nods, lips slightly pursed. He couldn’t handle your terrified, icy stare, so he quickly faces the door once again. He turns the doorknob with less force this time, but still just as guilt-ridden. When the door closes, you were officially all alone. You blink, a single tear slipping from each of your eyes. Three thoughts kept your brain occupied for the rest of the night.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was your soulmate.

Peter Parker was going to die, and you didn’t know what to do.

——-

After he left and the morning after, you didn’t hear back from Peter. When you woke up in the morning, your first instinct was to check your phone. Sadly, you lacked any messages from a certain spiderling. You weren’t surprised, but you were still disappointed. As you got ready for school, you couldn’t help but be nervous. It seemed that every step you took, there was a sense of uncertainty. One wrong move and a boobytrap would show itself. But you couldn’t miss school due to midterms. The school also didn’t have “existential crisis due to future with soulmate” listed under possible excuses, but that wasn’t exactly a common issue among students. Ignoring the terrible feeling in your gut, you grab your backpack and head out the door.

The subway ride there didn’t clear out anything in your head. You enter the building with muddled thoughts and a twinge of unsolved anger. Peter has been keeping this secret for months. Ever since the videos of Spider-Man appeared over the past year, it’s all everyone at school talks about. In fact, you’ve probably gushed about how he cool he was to Peter. You were one of many that happened to have a celebrity crush on Spider-Man. Did it not occur to him that he’s had so many opportunities to tell you?

Frustration continues to boil your blood, but you knew better. You couldn’t be mad at his secret right now, not after seeing what the future holds for you two. But then when can you be mad at him? It seems like you were at a loss for answers and until you talk to Peter about it all, you were going to be left clueless.

You opened your locker and grabbed your books for class. Too focused on avoiding thoughts about a certain hero, you didn’t notice MJ on the other side of your locker door until you closed it, making your shoulders tense up.

“And I thought I was the mopey one,” MJ observed.

“Yeah well, I guess I’m just not in the mood today.”

Dozens of thoughts started to wrap around your brain. Does she know about Peter’s secret? MJ’s smart, with enough observation she might’ve been able to figure it out. Did Ned know? Was Spider-Man a secret he could only tell another guy? Peter isn’t sexist, is he? What if you weren’t actually his best friend and you were the third wheel between him and Ned all along?

“Y/N?” MJ asked, eyebrows scrunched. Her head was tilted in confusion.

“Sor-sorry. Spaced off,” You dismissed.

MJ nodded, but she was still a little confused by your shaky attitude. You wanted to end the conversation there, but you couldn’t wait to talk to Peter. For all you know, he wouldn’t even show up to school. You decided that MJ will suffice as a confidant.

“This is a super random question but, what do you think of soulmates?” You didn’t know how to word the question without sounding like a weirdo, but you hope that MJ will just answer it without questioning you back.

“I mean, what about it?”

“Just- what do you think? Is it real?”

You kept trying to avert your eyes, but when you looked back at MJ she seemed her normal, uncaring self.

“Well, I mean, I couldn’t care less,” You can only stare at her in response. “Who knows when that’s gonna happen to me, or you for that matter. But like, why argue with the universe? Seems like they know what they’re doing.”

Well if that’s the case, then the universe has a terrible hit list.

“So, you think being with your soulmate is inevitable?” You continue to ask.

“Well, what are you gonna do, avoid them forever? Seems kinda stupid to do that, don’t you think? If you find them, just go for it, you have no reason not to.”

You could think of a million reasons why not to, but before you could list them all in your head, MJ continues to talk.

“I’m sorry but why are you bringing this up? Did you find yours or something?” Silence fell between you two.

“No, I was just wondering. Cause, wow, you know?”

“It hurts to watch you lie. You know that?” MJ states.

“Hey, I can keep a secret. In fact, I have tons of secrets.”

Like the fact that my soulmate has an expiration date.

MJ laughs at your response. “Uh, okay. You keep telling yourself that. Last time you tried to pull a lie you ended up telling Ms. Gonzales that you had a long-lost twin.”

You cringe at the memory. Maybe she did have a point, but you knew you couldn’t tell her the exact details without Peter’s permission. Your somewhat pathetic lies will have to do.

“Anyways, back to the case at hand… It must’ve happened recently. Maybe yesterday?”

You were starting to think that MJ was the real-life Sherlock Holmes, she was going off of nothing but a question and a terrible lie. Amidst being impressed by her detective work, you wish this case was left cold. You continued to remain silent as she scanned your face for clues.

“Wait, didn’t you have a study date with Peter?”

You were by surprise at how quickly she guessed correctly. MJ knew she hit the target when your eyes shifted away from her.

“It’s him. Peter’s your soulmate. Oh my god, I had a feeling you were, but you’ve been friends for so long I wasn’t sure. How did this not happen sooner? By now I thought you’ve made out at least once for the heck of it. Not even a hug or something?”

You sighed, looking sadly at your friend. “I don’t know MJ. I don’t want to go into all of it right now, I just wanted an opinion. And no, we have not kissed ‘for the heck of it’.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you gave a small eye roll, falling silent once again.

Your dark-haired friend was left confused by your statement. Since when were soulmates a bad thing, especially when your soulmate was your best friend? MJ knew better than to push it. She would just wait till you were ready to say more.

“He left before we had a chance to talk about it. I was afraid he wouldn’t show up today, I talked to you so I wouldn’t go crazy thinking about it all day. But I might just have to. This was stupid to even bring up in the first place.” You apologized, frustrated.

There was so much that you couldn’t talk about, you regret talking about it at all. The only person that you were able to talk to isn’t to be seen. Your deepening frown indicates to MJ that the conversation was coming to a close. She simply nods and you say your goodbyes before parting ways.

Your first period class goes by slowly as you try to shake off any negative thoughts along with your grogginess. Your teacher lets your class have a study hall to prepare for your tests. You decided to finish up your studying from yesterday, grabbing your chemistry notebook and opening it up. Sadly, you forgot how confused it left you last night, so you shove it in your backpack before spotting Peter’s. Just because he wasn’t talking to you doesn’t mean you couldn’t use his notes.

You flip through the pages trying to find the section you were looking for when a dog-eared page catches your eye. You open it to find the title “Web Fluid, Version 3.01” written in blue ink. You can’t help but smile at the page, admiring his neat handwriting and sketches scattered throughout. His work was admirable, and you’ve seen plenty of videos of him webbing through the city that proved his formula to be true. The stuff was strong, and at that moment, you could only be impressed by his work. Peter was truly was of the smartest guys out there, and he was using his skills to save the city, how could you not be proud of him?

Yet as amazing as Spider-Man was, he was also Peter Parker; the guy who hasn’t talked to you since last night. The person who ends up risking their life to save New York. The boy who was your soulmate. Dispirited, you closed the notebook and decided to study for your calculus test instead.

Second period was chemistry, a subject that seems to keep coming up not only in your studies but also in your life. You and Peter were lab partners, which meant if he was here, you would be met with his presence very soon. Less than a minute later, you spot his curly hair entering the doorway.

It doesn’t look at neat as it normally does. He’s probably just as distressed as me. Probably more, cause… death…

Peter takes his normal spot next to you, keeping his stare straight forward toward the whiteboard. At first, you thought you should do the same, but you hated the silent treatment. It was now or never, you had to confront him now.

“Uh, h-hey.”

Nailed it…

He awkwardly turns his head to meet your gaze. Nodding, he gives you a classic white person smile before saying hi back. This was such foreign territory to you, Peter might keep to himself with people he doesn’t know, but the two of you always had something to say to the other. A small part of you wished none of this ever happened. You liked going to school. You liked the friend group you settled into. You liked the life you’ve been living. Most importantly, you liked the relationship you had with Peter. Any other feeling besides friendship felt null and void. You could easily give it up to stay friends with Peter, but that doesn’t seem like an option.

“Pete, I wanted to talk about-” The bell cuts you off before you finish your sentence.

Normally, the bell wouldn’t stop you from talking. Throughout the class, you and Peter would continue to make small talk as you paid attention to the lesson. But Peter turns away from you and stares back at the board. You knew this wasn’t a topic that you could just push onto him, you were on the outside looking in. Opening your backpack, you grab his notebook and slowly slide it sideways across the table.

“The webs are impressive by the way.” You complimented, mouth curling into a small smile.

Peter ignores your comment and grabs the notebook. In another reality or situation, he would’ve been extremely flattered by the compliment, but all he did was avoid your stare. He spaces off the rest of the class and you could tell by the emptiness in his face. You were in the same boat. Words went in one ear and numbers out the other. This was probably the trickiest class for you and you knew you needed to pay attention. But when there’s a human-sized obstacle sitting right next to you, everything else was blocked.

You couldn’t blame Peter. He could go rob a bank and you wouldn’t blame him. He was dying. It seemed like it was your fault. You touched him and you were the one that was running toward him for a confrontation. The thought only makes you more disheartened. When class is over, he quickly heads for the door and is one of the first people to leave. You don’t go running after him, not right now. Slowly standing up from your chair, you leave the classroom and head to your next class.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for both you and Peter’s sake, you had different classes third period. The only friend in your English class was Ned and you had a feeling that might be just as awkward. You weren’t sure how much he knew of the situation.

Walking toward your desk, you make eye contact with Ned. You tried to force a genuine smile for him as he awkwardly sends one back. He seemed unsure of what to say to you, his thumb rubbing back and forth on his pen. Your smile turns into a look of concern as you sit down.

For midterms, your English class had to write research essays, but you and Ned both finished yours early. Proud that you didn’t procrastinate on your work, you wish you both had something to keep yourself occupied. You turn your head to look at Ned, but when he turns back, you look away. Your leg was shaking, and you were torn between talking or keeping your mouth shut. Taking in a deep breath, you grab your chair and move it next to Ned’s desk.

“Hey,” You whispered so the whole class didn’t hear you.  

“Hey Y/N.” Ned replies.

“Do you know?”

“Know what?”

“You know… the thing?” You asked, referring to the soulmate situation.

Your eyes widened, trying to give him the look. It only left Ned confused, and to be honest, a little scared. You had a slightly crazy look in your eyes like you were on the hunt for something.

“There’s a thing?” He questioned.

“Peter… me…”

“Spider-Man?” He does know, about one thing at least. How could Peter trust him but not you?

“What no, that’s not what I’m talking about dude.”

“Oh. Well, then he’s not Spider-Man…” You give him an are you kidding me look, squinting your eyes.

“I already know his secret, Ned. I’m asking if you know about last night.” You wanted to know how Peter felt so you could help him. The silence was understandable, but he couldn’t do it forever.

Ned bites his lip and takes a deep inhale. “Well, I know some.” You nod your head, encouraging him to continue. “All he said was you two were soulmates, but Spider-Man would just put you in danger. That’s pretty much it. But it was weird though, he seemed super out of it this morning. Like something else was bothering him.”

You swallow hard. Peter didn’t give him much to go off of so you don’t say anything else. You give a half-smile to Ned as a way of saying thanks. Neither one of you knew what to say, and Ned hated the awkward silence. Ned’s eyes light up and he turns to grab something from his bag.

“Hey, we still have thirty minutes left of class. Do you want to play World of Warcraft with me?” He smiles, opening up his laptop.

You let out a soft chuckle at the offer, appreciating the gesture. Ned truly was one of the sweetest guys ever. You’re jealous of whoever gets to end up with him.

“Hell yeah, dude.” You grin, scooting your chair closer to him.

That was the first real smile from today.

 Peter had successfully avoided you for the rest of the school day. He skipped out on lunch to study in the library. In the two other classes you shared, he managed to be the first one in there and picked a spot in the back corner. By the time you got into class, most of the spots around him were taken, leaving you to sit close to the front. The boy thought he was in the clear when he opened the front doors to head out. He stopped walking to take in the fresh air and let the traffic lighten up. However, you got there faster and were already outside. You realized that Peter would try to avoid talking to you forever, but you both needed answers now.

You both spot each other at the same time. Peter was a deer in headlights, but he took his feet and try to quickly walk away from you. He was so close to the gates before you stopped right in front of him. You were concerned, how could you not be? Peter stops too, not moving away from you. The expression on his face was hard to read, but you could see his jaw tense up. Has it always been that chiseled?

You swat away the ridiculous thought. It was a miracle that you were able to catch up to him, especially at the speed he was going at. Afraid that he could run away at any given moment, you opened your mouth.

“I let you ignore me all day, but I know you’re going to keep at it unless I stop it. I have no idea what to say right now, but that doesn’t mean you should run-”

Once there were fewer students in the way, Peter started to push away from you. He didn’t know what to say anyway, what was the point?

“I’m sorry Y/N but I should be going.”

“Peter please…” You trail off, but it was no use.

“I-I’m sorry. I just, I need to go.” Peter excuses himself as he took a running start before jumping over the ten-foot gate in front of you.

Was he always this obvious? Jesus, dude.

“I’m not going to stop until we talk!” You yelled, but you doubted he heard.

However, Peter’s senses were able to pick up your exclamation, much to his dismay. He hated that he didn’t talk to you all day, but looking at you brought a wave of emotions. Confusion, panic, fear. The idea of confronting what was at hand seemed hard, but manageable. But when it actually happens, or almost happens, it feels like he’s looking at a black hole. If he got too close, he might get sucked in.

He turned a corner and was met with an alleyway. Webbing his bag to the wall, he starts changing into his alter-ego. Halfway into getting into his suit, Peter starts to breath heavier. It felt like he was struck by lightning, all of his senses going into overload. Seconds later, his chest is heaving. Oxygen couldn’t get into his system fast enough, the buildings around him tilting and spinning. The pain in his upper body increased and the rest of him started to burn up. He had an urge to be dunked into cold water, but he already felt like he was drowning. Knees buckling, he collapsed to the ground as his face almost meets the ground. Peter found his mask but kept struggling to open the hole for his head. He stretched the fabric as far as it could go and onto his head. Lopsided at first from his shaky hands, the mask adjusted itself and starts tracking his vitals. The mask helped calm down his enhanced senses, but it only does so much. The nausea remained as the world started to settle. Peter could see that besides his heartrate being over 150, he was perfectly fine health-wise. Too bad he still felt like he was dying.

The thought crossing his mind made his face scrunch in agony as hot tears began to spill. A cold breeze passes by and Peter slowly finishes getting dressed. He continues to leave the mask on to hide his tears, even if the mask isn’t fully soaking them up. The mask hides his identity from the world and puts up a barrier. Bad guys don’t see his fear, and he can pretend that he’s not scared. Hiding his cries, he pretends that his life hasn’t changed. After regaining control of his breathing and heart rate, he bites his lip hard as he blinks away the last of his tears. Crime was living on the streets and he needed to stop it. As he shoots a web, he takes a deep breath and ignores his burning, red eyes. For now, he’s just a friendly, living, neighborhood Spider-Man.

——-

 May treated you as if you were her child, so it wasn’t a surprise when she let you into her apartment with ease. You felt guilty for doing so, but you tried to assure yourself it was for good reason. You wanted to help Peter and possibly save him. Whatever you could do to help, you wanted to figure it out. The only way to do so is to talk to him, which is why you decided to wait in his room until he came back. May said he was at the “Stark Internship” and should be back soon, all you had to do was wait.

More than thirty minutes pass and you were growing impatient. You didn’t do anything to pass the time, as if occupying yourself was disrespecting the matter. All you could was think and try to imagine the fear he must be experiencing. Maybe he knew it was a possibility given his job, but you knew Peter. He looked out for others before himself. You were similar in that way, which is why you two worked so well together. You looked out for one another, which is why you were sitting on his bed waiting for him to come home.

You pull your knees to your chest and place your chin on top. Studying has put a toll on you and the lack of sleep from last night didn’t help either. Fatigue began to creep in as your eyes started to close. You would’ve had completely fallen asleep if it weren’t for Peter opening his window, crawling inside.

He locks the window, snapping you out of your catnap. You look around the room to find it empty. Well, all except a red and blue spider on the ceiling. You closed the door after you came in, so you were able to yell, “What the fuck Peter?” with more volume.

He didn’t even notice you when he came in, too busy trying to be silent. You were the last person he thought he would see. The surprise was so alarming, he loses his grip, back meeting the carpet with a loud smack.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You panic, leaning forward on his bed.  

He only replies in a grunt, slightly in pain.

“A-are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’m great. Just perfect.” He says as he starts to sit up, taking off his mask.

There was more sarcasm laced in his voice than normal. You figured it wasn’t due to the fall, although that probably didn’t help. A wave of guilt hits you once again. The meeting wasn’t ideal, but it had to do.

Peter begins to stand up, taking off his mask. His face looked more tired than it did this morning and his eyes were slightly swollen. Neither of you says anything as you both knew why you were here.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. And I know this isn’t the best idea, but it was the only idea I had. I get why you’re avoiding this, but I want to help. You’re my best friend Peter, you’re so important to me. So please, can we talk? For both our sakes.”

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, which pulled on Peter’s heartstrings even more. He couldn’t run away from you, a clever move on your part. You couldn’t solve anything if you didn’t talk about it, and Peter really missed not talking to you, even if it was only for a day. It might’ve been the dread, but school felt bleak and boring without you. Even though he ignored you in chemistry, it was still the most interesting part of his day.

The silence got less awkward as you could see Peter thinking. He sighs and gives you a small nod, agreeing. You give him a small smile in response.

“I didn’t actually think this far through; I was so nervous just to come over.” Peter quietly chuckles at your lack of preparation. His face warms up to you, boosting your confidence. It’s just Peter. Your friend Peter.

“Wait actually,” Peter interrupts. “Do you mind if I change out of the suit? It’s just, May doesn’t know so…”

“Oh, yeah sure. Sorry.”

You don’t move, however, confusing the brown-haired boy.

“Oh, you meant here. Right. My bad. I’ll just, yeah.” You stutter, motioning that you’ll turn around.

It takes you a second to realize his suit was different. More high tech, probably Tony Stark’s doing. In the future, he was wearing an older suit, one from his earlier YouTube videos. A relief fills your body. It might not happen after all, with an upgrade like this he would never go back to his original Spider-Man costume.

Peter presses the spider on his chest and his suit loosens and slips right off of him. He rummages around for a shirt and you start to slowly turn your head toward him before you even realized. It wasn’t a good idea, but there was a sudden urge of curiosity that made you want to look. What you saw made you draw back a breath. You figured Spider-Man had a lot of muscle, but seeing it on Peter was different. The idea that they were the same person is still very new to you, so you couldn’t help but stare.

If you had to describe Peter’s attractiveness, the only word you could use was “cute”. Looking at him now, you could see it wasn’t the case. He was beautiful, hot even. Your stare wasn’t a sexual one, but one of admiration. Part of you thought you were starting to notice who Peter truly was. He quickly puts a baggy shirt and some sweatpants, and you look away at the last second. A pink blush warms your cheeks. When he’s fully composed, you turn and both look at each other. Peter seemed to be at a loss for words as his mouth kept opening, almost looking like a fish with his pathetic attempt. You flash an awkward smile before starting the conversation.  

“I’m sorry. I know I’m pushing it, but I’m at a loss right now. You’re my first priority, forever and always. I’m always here for you, even if you don’t want me to be.” Peter flashes you a sheepish smile at your words. “But why, Peter? Why would you keep this from me?”

You were trying to ease him into an easier conversation, although without the whole soulmate doom looming over you, this subject wasn’t an effortless manner to discuss. Peter sighs, remorse shown on his face.

“You’re my first priority too, I care about you so much. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt, fo-for anyone to get hurt.” He stutters at the last part. “But I have an obligation to save the city. The world doesn’t hand around powers like these to anyone, so I need to use them. I didn’t want anyone to be caught in the storm, especially you. Ned found out on his own when he caught me red-handed, I didn’t mean for him to know. But I should’ve told you afterwards too, and I’m sorry about that. I was just looking out for you and everyone else.” The confession earns Peter a half-smile from you.

“It’s okay, Pete. It hurts, yeah. But I’ll get there.” You never use this nickname on him very often, but it felt like the right time to do so. “I understand, I probably would’ve done the same thing. I was just shocked, you’re the Spider-Man after all.”

A small chuckle surrounds the two of you, the first smile between you two today. You wish you had more time to process this more, but both of you had more important issues. Knowing that eventually you’ll get over his secrecy, you accept his apology. He did it because he cared, and you shouldn’t be mad at someone for caring.

“I’m going to be honest, Peter, I don’t know what else to say. Surely you have a million thoughts running through your head.” You encourage, hoping he’ll shed some light on how he’s feeling.

“I-I, I don’t know actually.” He shrugs.

“Oh. Okay, uh, that’s fine. I guess we’re on the same page.” You say, followed by an awkward and uncomfortable laugh.

Nothing? How could he be so nonchalant about all this? Peter seems so calm and collected, you weren’t sure if he realized the situation at hand. Or maybe he does, and he’s just in denial of it all. You weren’t sure which of the two it was. Hesitant on asking, you tried to think of something else to say. However, Peter stops you from speaking again.

“Actually, this is kinda weird. Um, you see the thing is, I’ve been interested in Liz lately.”

The confession made you surprised and hurt, to say the least. You figured Peter would at least feel a slight attraction like you did, given the news that the two of you were soulmates. But you also couldn’t blame him for eyeing Liz. Popular, smart, beautiful in every way, of course, Peter would be into the captain of his decathlon team. Well, his used-to-be decathlon team. It now makes more sense as to why Peter quit, yet another club he left you behind in.

“Th-that-that is great. She-she is great.” You reply, trying to make this conversation less awkward.

“Yeah, I know that’s not how it works…”

No shit, Sherlock. We end up together no matter what.

”But I don’t know, she’s cool and I want to get to know her. It’s not like, illegal to date your non-soulmate. Plus, she seems like she likes me enough, why not at least try?”

Why try when you have your freaking soulmate right next to you? Why are you so dense?

You wanted to scream these thoughts at him. Grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him. But you couldn’t push Peter, not now, maybe not ever. Going along with whatever he said seemed easier for him, and hopefully you too.

“Yeah no, I get it.” You lie.

How could you get it? You’ve had eyes on him for more than half a year. The soulmate discovery only confirmed that your feelings were real and not a fling. You had the love of your life right in front of your eyes, but he was nothing but a ghost right now. Wasn’t the concept of soulmates supposed to make love easier? The romantic comedies that you watched were set in universes that didn’t have this luxury, and it was a pain seeing them try to find “the one”. You pitied the characters, but now it seems like you’re one and the same.

“So, what do you want to do about all this? About us, or whatever.”

“Uh, nothing really.” Peter awkwardly crosses his arms. “I mean, there’s nothing really to do, right? I mean, I don’t really like you in that way.”

Ouch.

“So, yeah. I say let’s just keep doing what we’re doing. S’been working for a couple years already, why ruin our friendship?”

You nod at Peter, but your eyes try to look anywhere but at his. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s ripping your heart bit by bit. But the situation is just too much and too awkward, it seems that your heart is too busy to be broken right now. Maybe his idea is what’s best after all, though to your dismay. Both of you were in agreement, and you were off on your depressing way. The journey home felt like the longest ten minutes of your life.

And that was that; the rest of the week at school goes by as if nothing happened between you two. He would sit next to you at lunch and joke around with Ned with a smile on his face, and it actually seemed genuine. Peter was not a good liar, but when your life is on the line, perhaps anyone’s inner actor can be brought out. You reluctantly continue with your life, cracking half-ass jokes across the chemistry table. Midterms came and gone, you and all your friends passing with flying colors. It kept you all occupied for the last two days, and any awkward conversation was blamed on your focus toward your studies. To the outside, it seemed that your friendship was the same as it’s always been. And maybe to Peter, it felt the same way.

But in the back of your heads, you know better. You could never look at each other the same again.

Masterlist / Part 2

[wannawritefast]

Breaking Down Doors

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I wrote this for fun and I had such a great time writing it. HUGE shoutout to my beta reader/editor/fan material dealer. She is only feeding my fangirl addiction and I am loving it. Also, big shoutout to @hollandroos. I admire you so much as a writer and you inspired me to come back to writing. Here you go! Enjoy my darlings! xoxo, Echo (1/2/18)

Pairing: Brian May x Reader

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of alcohol, fluff(?)

Your new neighbor had moved in a couple of weeks ago. You hadn’t properly met him yet, only catching fleeting glances of the lanky, curly-headed brunette while the two of you headed out for the day in a rush to get to work or class or wherever he went; you always went opposite directions after hustling down the thin wooden flights of stairs of questionable structural integrity.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was like aside from brushing your book bag against his denim-clad pant leg in the narrow hallway. Sometimes you’d even see a new person with an instrument case show themselves into his flat from the safety of your peephole.

You weren’t nosy! Ok, maybe you were but that was only because the neighborhood was dodgy, the walls were thin, and the stairs jostled the whole floor when someone so much as tiptoed up those steps from hell. It didn’t help that one of your cats was always so irritated that a cough from two floors up set him off.

You couldn't help your curiosity and you were even kind of intrigued. But right now you were simply steaming mad.

You couldn't imagine why your unnamed neighbor was hosting what sounded like a rock concert in his shoebox of an apartment this late on a Thursday evening. You hadn’t minded the noise that much during the previous Thursday concerts but you had an exam the next morning, an important one that you could not afford to just brush aside and/or fail. You were knackered and desperate for at least a minute of quiet study time before retiring to bed.

A drum beat (the same that had been starting and stopping for the past hour) began again and you smacked your sock-covered feet flat onto the creaky floor and stomped to your door. Your cats chirped curiously.

You threw it open nearly pulling it off the hinges and not bothering to close it behind you; your cats examined the small hallway from the doorway but you didn’t notice.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The drums, bass, and guitar continued. You had unintentionally knocked on beat with whatever melody they were playing, and they hadn’t heard you.

Your cats had since experimentally drifted into the hallway. You tried again, staggering your knocks to no rhythm in particular and making them more frantic in pace and volume.

THUMP! Thump. Thump. THUMP! THUMP! Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP!

To no avail, they didn’t even slow down. The music, in fact, got louder.

You were going in.

At this point, you were beyond angry and just plain exhausted. You wrapped your palm around the knob and pushed against the door with your shoulder and all the anger in your body. Nothing a little brute force couldn't fix.

To say you got a bit more than you bargained for would be quite the understatement.

The door not only opened but was knocked off of its hinges and boomed when it hit the floor with you on top of it. A cloud of dust poofed up around you wearing nothing but your thin slip dress for pajamas lying on the door. The instruments ceased playing immediately. You certainly had the band’s attention now.

For a solid few moments no one said anything and no one moved. Even the blonde drummer’s arms remained suspended in midair from shock. You glanced from person to person, eyes wide and jaw dropped at what you had just done. You had just broken down your neighbors door…

“I’m Y/N,” you said, sprawled awkwardly atop the fallen door. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in.”

Your neighbor chuckled heartily. “Brian May.”

“Either you’re really strong or this building is a piece of shit. John, by the way,” You shot your gaze to the bassist who had spoken.

“I think it’s both,” a voice sounded from behind and above you. You looked over your shoulder at who had spoken. “Sorry I’m late.” A man stood in the hallway with one of your cats cradled in his arm and the other standing on one of his shoulders. Both were purring up a storm. “Interesting ensemble, darling. All you need is booties and a patterned jacket and you’ve got yourself a show stopper. Mary would agree.”

“I-” you stammered. What on earth was happening? You blinked furiously. “This is just my pajamas.”

“Nonsense,” The man replied. “Nice knickers, by the way.” You gasped at his comment as the man nonchalantly stepped over you, your cats still tight in his embrace.

That seemed to snap the drummer out of his stupor. He dropped his drumsticks and stood to his feet attempting to catch a glimpse of your mentioned unmentionables. Brian picked up one of the dropped drumsticks and threw it at him in your defense. The drummer exclaimed in pain and you adjusted the hem of your quite short nightdress as you attempted to stand up.

Brian set his electric guitar down and stepped over to you to help you to your feet.

“Are you alright?” Brian asked. His hazel eyes scrutinized your face for any tell that you were injured.

“I broke down your door and you’re asking if I’m alright,” you dusted the front of your dress off as you finished standing. “But yes, I am alright. A little bruised but ok.”

“I think knocking would have sufficed to get my attention.” Brian joked as he released your hands after guiding you off of the fallen door.

“Wearing that certainly got my attention,” the drummer cut in.

You snapped your gaze to the smirking drummer who had his arms crossed over his chest. That seemed to reignite the anger that sent you to this side of the floor in the first place. You rolled your eyes. Brian resisted the urge to laugh at the incredulity of his friend’s sexual advances being ignored.

“Yeah? Mine should be on my books in my flat. Some people are trying to study you know,” you quipped. Your legs were raw and covered in dust and splinters. You would certainly have to either take a second bath tonight and not take one tomorrow or risk putting splinters in your bed, but you simply couldn't afford to put another bath on your water bill. You were barely getting by as it was.

“Who in the bloody hell studies on a Thursday evening?” Little drummer boy would not shut his trap.

“I bloody do!” You fired back. “I have a massive exam tomorrow and I can’t focus with you guys banging on your instruments over here.”

The drummer moved to speak but you pointed your finger at him to stop his smart mouth. “Just don’t, blondie.” You turned to Brian. “Could you please either move your rehearsal to some other place or some other time?”

“No can do, darling,” the man holding your cats decided to finally butt in again. “We’ve got a gig tomorrow. A big one. We can’t not rehearse.”

“Well, I can’t not study.”

There was silence in the flat as a stalemate ensued. The band members and you stared at Brian waiting on him to make a decision.

“Don’t look at me!” He put his hands up in surrender. “I mean, I think we deserve to be able to rehearse in peace. Especially since you broke down my door.”

Your jaw dropped. Oh no. This was not getting pinned on you. “I tried knocking. Twice. But nobody heard me over your ruckus. Would you rather me file a noise complaint instead? Because that can be arranged.”

Brian began to get a little upset. “I don’t see the difference since I would have had to pay out of pocket anyways. Pile on the costs, why don’t you?” His hazel eyes crinkled as he frowned. You took a step forward and glared straight up at him.

“If you guys hadn’t been making so much noise this late, I wouldn’t have come over here to complain!” You shot back.

“Oh, so, now it’s my fault that you broke down my door?!”

“Look I said I was sorry-”

“No, you didn’t,” Brian cut you off. He crossed his arms. How did he end up looking strangely attractive at a time like this?

“I beg your pardon!”

“Pardon granted,” he sassed. “You did not apologize.”

“Yes, I did! Right…” you gestured to the man now cradling both of your cats.

“Freddie.” He answered.

“I’m Roger, by the way,” the drummer butted in. You stared at the cheeky look on his face before turning back to the cat whisperer.

“Freddie! Right? I apologized!”

“No, you didn’t, darling.” Freddie corrected.

You flushed a bit. You could have sworn that you had apologized. You must have been mistaken. You blinked your embarrassment away and looked back at Brian who was looking down at you with a smug look on his face. “You were saying?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry for breaking down your door. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Can you let us finish our rehearsal in peace?”

You huffed begrudgingly. “And how long is that going to take?”

“Now that Freddie’s here… 2, 3 more hours if we don’t take breaks.”

Your jaw dropped. “3 MORE HOURS?!”

“Probably closer to four because we’re debuting a song tomorrow. You’re welcome to come by the way… I can get you in for free if you-”

“I have an exam tomorrow and you’re going to be keeping me up even later?!”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You couldn't believe this. You admired the band’s tenacity but you wished it was happening elsewhere. “I’m leaving.” Your cats didn’t even pay you any mind. Taking steps toward them, you extended your arms to take them away from Freddie but one ignored you and the other seemed to glare at you.

You began muttering to yourself. “Great! First they take my study time. Then my sanity. And now my cats! Just perfect!” You turned on your heel and stalked toward the door.

“It was great to meet you!” The drummer called after you.

“Can’t say the same,” you called back. “Freddie, just drop the cats off when they’re ready to come back. I’ll leave the door unlocked so nobody gets any ideas.” You glared pointedly at Brian and Freddie bowed his head in salute.

And with that you turned on your heel and went to the flat. “So are you saying that you like me?!” The drummer yelled after you again.

“Oh, bugger off!” You cursed at him as you shut your door behind you.

“I think she likes me, Deaky.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s correct.”

You spent the rest of the night hunched over your books with your fingers in your ears, attempting to block out the rhythmic drumming happening what sounded like right in your room. You weren’t sure that plugging your ears really helped you focus, what with the drumbeats shaking the floorboards. Only time would tell, you supposed.

The last thing you remembered before shutting your eyes was rereading the same paragraph over and over. When you opened your eyes, your nose was stuck in the crease of the book on your coffee table and you had a pencil hanging limply in one hand.

You sat up slowly expecting to feel tight back muscles from the cold air in your apartment but you were surprised to feel a woven blanket draped on your shoulders instead. Oh, that must’ve been why you hadn’t woken up…

Behind you on the couch cushions, your cats were sprawled on top of blankets of their own with a sheet over the both of them. Spoiled rotten the both of them were…

You reached your palms toward the ceiling, stretching your spine and arms. You yawned as you looked about the gray London sunlit room.

Sunlit…

Sunlight.

SUNLIGHT!!

Oh, shit! You looked at the clock nestled above your door. You had exactly 12 minutes to get ready.

Jumping to your feet you bumbled around your apartment, grabbing various items of clothing and yanking them on. You pulled your brush through your hair quickly and shoved your books into your bag.

As your cats finally yawned awake at your commotion, you wrenched your door open. Without a second thought you sprinted through the doorway. You only made it one pace before you slammed right into somebody.

Newton’s laws of physics taught you that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. And that’s precisely what happened. You fell painfully right on your bum with an ‘oof’ and some… other choice words tumbling out of your mouth.

“Blimey! Are you ok?”

You sat up on your elbows and looked up at who exactly had caused you to test out gravity. Your guitar-playing neighbor stood over you with disposable travel mugs in his hands. Of fucking course you had to run into him. Brian immediately set them on the floor and leaned forward to help you up.

“I’m fine,” you got out through gritted teeth.

“You certainly have a knack for falling down,” he joked. If you had been on more amiable terms with him, perhaps you would have laughed. But you were much too tired, stressed, and cross at him to do anything but grunt in agreement.

It’s not that you hated Brian. You actually decided, while you were studying last night, that you found him quite attractive. Rather, you hated that he had kept you up and been a completely inconsiderate neighbor.

You dusted off your sore bum as Brian let go of your hand and went to pick up the travel mugs on the floor. He extended one of his lanky arms toward you, offering you a mug.

“Here,” he said. You looked him in his hazel eyes to make sure that he hadn’t been joking with him.

“Are you having a laugh?” You asked as you began to reach for it. This had to be some kind of a jest.

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Brian exclaimed. He pushed it into your hands, your fingers instantly warming up. “I got you a coffee. I didn’t know how you liked it, you’ll have to forgive me. But I brought some creams and sugars.”

Brian produced a crumpled brown paper bag from one of his pockets in his jacket. He handed over the entire thing that was halfway full with the aforementioned condiments. It was far more than what you needed but, an unspeakably kind gesture nonetheless.

You were rendered speechless. A man you had just met, rather unpleasantly, might you add, had extended an olive branch to you. A hot, liquid, caffeine-laden olive branch.

Needless to say, you felt like an arse.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say, Brian,” you confessed. “Thank you… so very much. You did not have to do this.”

“Rubbish!” He shook his head and his dark curls bounced around. “I wanted to. I felt bad for keeping you up when you have an exam this morning. Hopefully the coffee helps keep you awake.”

You closed your door behind you and locked it as you began to head slowly for the stairs. Brian kept pace with you.

“It will, don’t you worry about that. It’s just that I should have gotten you coffee,” you explained. “I did break your door clean off of its hinges. I owe you big time.”

“It’s no big deal, honest,” Brian brushed it aside.

“No, I mean it,” you urged. “That was not okay of me to do. I was angry and brash and unapologetic. And if you’re living here, I imagine you aren’t making much more than I am.”

“No no! It’s just fine-”

“Please, Brian…” You cut him off. “Let me make it up to you. How can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to! I literally said that you are alright.”

“But I want to! I can give you money to pay for the door. I can clean your entire flat-”

“Ok, fine! I’ve got it!” Brian stopped your ramblings. You looked up at the tall man and stopped at the bottom of the sidewalk, awaiting his proposal. “Come to our gig tonight.”

“What?”

“Yeah, come to our gig tonight. If you think we’re utter bollocks, you never have to come to another one again. If you end up liking us, you’ll always have a ticket to our shows. Free of charge.”

“Brian, the point of doing a favor is to be charged. How is me going to your band’s gig a favor to you?”

“Because I said so. You asked me how you could make it up so I answered,” he said, giving you a cheeky smile.

After you agreed, Brian quickly gave you the details and told you to tell any of the bouncers at the pub they were playing at that you were with Brian May. The implications of the statement made you flush a bit but you didn’t let it show.

“Well, Brian May,” you started, “thank you again for the coffee. Oh! I’m sorry about my cats by the way.”

“They were no bother really. I didn’t wake you when I dropped them off, did I?”

“Not at all!” He put a hand on his hip and his sharp features angled upward into a smile at your answer.

“And I didn’t wake you when I put the-” Brian mimed pulling a cloak over his shoulders. So he was the one that covered you last night? That was so sweet.

“No, I was out like a light,” you laughed. “You don’t want any cream or sugars?” You shook the bag in your hand.

“I drink my coffee black,” he replied. To prove his point, he took a drink from his coffee with no accoutrements. Brian didn’t even seem to flinch at the bitterness.

“We get it, you’re a badass,” you poked at him.

He chuckled lightly and ran his thumb over his upper lip. “Don’t you have an exam or something?”

You rolled your eyes and began walking backwards. “Thank you again for the coffee, Brian.”

“Good luck! Not that you’ll need it.” He nodded his head in farewell accompanied with a wink. It took you aback a little bit. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/n!”

“See you tonight!”

You blew through your exam. Either you had known everything or you had known nothing. In fact, you were one of the first to finish.

And you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for tonight. You practically skipped the way back to your flat from university.

It was like the anger and exhaustion that had plagued you not even 24 hours earlier had been replaced by excitement and, dare you say, giddiness. Your cats were beyond confused at the piles of clothes now littering your room. You supposed they weren’t terribly upset about it though since they had bundled themselves into one of your jumpers.

After about a half hour you decided on an outfit to wear and worked on your chores until it was time to get ready to leave a few hours later. Soon enough, you arrived at the pub that Brian had specified.

The doors were bursting at the seams and the air seeping out of the pub already smelled of alcohol, sweat, and cigar smoke. But you didn’t mind. If the crowd was any sign of how good the music was going to be, you decided it was well worth the sea of people. Besides, it had to be good to some degree if it kept you up so late and the band had stayed up so late to rehearse.

There was queue of people at the entry booth waiting to pay to get in and it looked like the line was at a halt. And you were 30 minutes early as it was! You gulped harshly wondering how on earth you were going to get inside…

And more importantly, how you were going to get to Brian with all of these people…

Following Brian’s instructions you stepped up to one of the bouncers guarding the door. He towered over you.

“Um, Brian told me to tell you that I was with him…” The bouncer only blinked. “Brian May… The guitarist.”

The man huffed. “What’s your name?”

You squeaked out your response and he only raised a brow at you before he picked up his radio and spoke into it. Wow… This was a big deal. A big gig for certain.

And perhaps a big mistake… What if you were at the wrong pub? Oh, God… What if Brian had been having a go at you and hadn’t-

“Y/n?” The man gruffly called out. You took a step forward and nodded. “Follow me please.” The man turned and another man of equal size and stature took his place as he led you inside the packed venue.

You followed as the bouncer elbowed his way through the jackets and glasses of beer. You actually didn’t do much of the elbowing; you just followed the path that was being cleared by the bouncer a few paces in front of you.

After a few minutes of what you began to think was your march toward death, the man finally stopped at a door next to the stage. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The bouncer pushed the door open and held his hand flat out against it, waiting for you to go inside. As soon as you had made it into the semi-lit but busy hallway the door shut behind you.

Without any further guidance.

Brian hadn’t told you what to do when this happened…

“Excuse me,” you gently called out, trying to get just one person’s attention. The people were bustling with equipment, wires, radios, and trays of drinks. You kept trying to get somebody to stop with no luck.

“Ma’am!” You heard.

You turned around seeming very out of place and very relieved to see that someone had noticed you. You let out a breath.

“Hello! The bouncer-”

“What are you doing back here? This is restricted access only,” the woman with a headset stalked toward you.

“You see, I’m here for the guitarist and I-”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Another groupie… Seriously, how do you guys get in here? This happens every time a new band comes to perform but usually not until after the show starts.”

The woman began to usher you back to the door. Wait, you thought. No! Where’s Brian? You came to see Brian not to be shown the door as soon as you made it backstage. No! This isn’t how this was supposed to go at all!

“No, you don’t understand,” you urged. “Brian told me to say I was with him. Brian May.”

But the woman didn’t hear you. She continued to shoo you back. “Wait, wait! My name is Y/n!”

“Y/n! You made it!”

That caused the woman to halt in her tracks and turn around as you peeked your head around her to see who had called your name.

Brian. Impeccable timing. He took long strides toward the interaction happening between the two of you.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face. That could have ended messily.

“I’ll take it from here, Diane. Thank you,” He stopped right next to you, latched a secure arm around your shoulders, and gave you a swift wink. Diane nodded at him and gave you a look that said ‘don’t cause any trouble.’

As soon as she turned the corner the two of you burst out laughing. Brian’s arm dropped from your shoulder and oddly enough you missed the contact. “Thank goodness you came… I thought she was going to eat me alive!” you said breathlessly.

“I’m just glad you survived the bouncers. They’re quite scary, don’t you think?” He began walking to guide you to wherever you were supposed to go.

“They’re terrifying! It was a jungle out there,” you confessed.

Brian shook his head in laughter. “Speaking of terrifying, how was that exam?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Not bad at all actually. I was the first one to finish. I don’t mean to brag, but I do believe I aced it.” You tossed your hair over your shoulder proudly. He laughed as he led you up a flight of black stairs with bright tape. It suddenly got much darker.

You had made it to the side wings of the stage. Brian paused to let you take it in for a few moments. There was various speakers, mic stands, and stage equipment set up strategically around the space. The stage was unlit but you could see the outline of the drums, guitar and bass stand, and, front and center, a single microphone with its cord running along the floor and coiled neatly in a pile on the path from one of the wings (where you were) to the stage. Something told you that it was not going to remain neat for long.

You took in your surroundings even more now that your eyes had adjusted to the dim blue lighting resting on the wings. You could barely see the outlines of the people in the audience but based on their lack of attention they could not see you. John walked up the stairs that you had just come up and gave you a short nod and a quick smile in greeting before immediately setting to work on his case.

“Very good,” he praised. “It’ll be nice for you to enjoy the music tonight.”

“If I enjoy it,” you corrected.

“Yes, if you enjoy it.” He stopped walking and turned to look at you. “But I’m confident you will.”

“And what makes you say that?” You teased.

“I have a hunch.”

“Y/n!” You heard suddenly. Turning around, you spotted a grinning Roger, with drumsticks sticking out of his pocket precariously, jogging up the stairs. He didn’t even notice that he had rammed innocent stagehands to the other side of the narrow railing in pursuit of you. Oh, Lord… Before you could dodge it, the weight of a leather clad arm, belonging to a certain blonde drummer, was wrapped around your shoulder. “Glad you came to see me!”

“You better move that arm before I bite it off, Roger,” you threatened with a sidelong glance.

“I wouldn’t test it, mate,” John suggested, as he sat tuning his bass.

“Yeah, mate,” Brian added, smothering a laugh, “She looks serious.” He gave you a wink and you glared at the drummer to hide the heat stinging at your ears. Thank goodness it was dark backstage.

What was with this damn man and winking? And why on earth did it have such an effect on you?

“Worth it,” Roger sent a toothy smile at you.

You pretended to jerk a knee at the drummer’s bollocks and he leapt away with a yelp of fear. Arm removed successfully.

“Y/n, darling!” You shifted your attention to the lead singer who had just come up the stairs that you had, a beautiful woman’s hand in his. He outstretched his arms in a friendly manner. “You are a vision!”

You laughed as you walked into the hug the friendly singer was offering. “Thank you, Freddie.”

“Y/n, this is Mary. Mary, this is Y/n.” You extended your hand to shake Mary’s petite one. She smiled brightly at you. “Mary is my girlfriend.”

“Lovely to meet you,” she said. Freddie pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek and began to get ready for the show.

“Likewise,” you agreed in a friendly manner. “So tell me…” You leaned closer to her. “How do you handle so many divas at one time?”

Mary threw her head back in laughter for a moment before answering. “Usually one of them whips the outlier into shape.”

As if on cue, Roger flung himself onto John haphazardly for no other purpose than to get a rise out of the seemingly patient bass player. “I’m neglected and starved for attention in this band!” he cried woefully.

John wordlessly stood up and let Roger roll to the floor with a thud, then sat back down and continued to tune his instrument, unfazed by the antics of the blonde now lying on the floor. “I am unloved and will die here in this spot if I do not receive affection within the next minute!” Roger declared, rather melodramatically in your opinion.

“Can the dead still keep a beat?” Brian asked as he shifted his hazel-eyed gaze from you to the bassist as you all attempted to ignore the drummer writhing on the floor melodramatically.

“I believe so,” John answered.

“Lovely,” Brian nodded his head and turned to you and Mary to continue the conversation. You didn’t even try to suppress your giggle at Roger’s antics.

“Are you joking me right now?!” Roger called incredulously. “Y/n, my true love, you care for me deeply, don’t you?”

“Abso-bloody-lutely, dear,” you answered sweetly. That made him sit upright, and Brian frowned at you. Roger extended his hand out for you to take. You grasped the tips of his fingers lightly.

“Really?”

You dropped his hand. “No.”

Roger flopped back to the ground and began to sing his rendition of ‘one is the loneliest number,’ pretending to sob through the lyrics.

Freddie walked back and finished straightening out his jacket sleeves. “Roger, you’re a little flat.”

“It’s because I’m deprived.”

“You want love and affection?” Brian asked. Before Roger could respond, Brian stood over him and poked at his ribs playfully. “How’s this for love and affection?”

Brian wrestled Roger to his feet and drove his fist into the roots of the drummer’s hair. Roger began to fight back.

“Not the hair, May! Not the hair,” Roger wriggled violently to get out of Brian’s grip.

“My point exactly,” Mary muttered to you. The two of you giggled together at their behavior.

“I’m excited to see them perform,” you confessed.

“You’ve never seen them perform?”

“Does breaking down the door to Brian’s apartment mid-rehearsal count?” You ask.

“Ah, yes, I do believe Freddie said something about that earlier. He’s quite fond of your cats by the way.”

“Are you two ladies done chatting?” Brian interjected. He had his guitar slung across his front, tuning it as if by second nature. Roger was now spinning his drumsticks along his fingers, already winking at and flirting with girls out in the audience. Deprived of attention, your ass.

“Are you boys done pissing around?” You replied snarkily.

“The show’s about to start,” he answered with a good-natured eye roll. “You better get out there and enjoy it.”

“If I enjoy it.” You leaned forward and took a few steps toward him.

“If you enjoy it. Which I know you will because-”

“You have a hunch.” You finished for him. “Yeah, yeah… we’ll see how good those instincts of yours are.”

Someone behind you cleared their throat. You turned around and Brian looked up too. A bouncer was standing next to Mary as if waiting for you. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“We get special viewing,” Mary answered your nonverbal perplexity.

You looked back at Brian, stunned and jaw dropped. ‘Special viewing’? Brian had a knowing smirk on his face.

“Well then, enjoy the show!” And with that Brian turned on his heel and joined his bandmates for a quick huddled pep talk.

You walked mindlessly to the bouncer and followed him through the darkness, down the stairs with Mary. Before you got to the bottom you glanced back at Brian who was already looking at you and sending a wink your way.

The bouncer led you through back walkways and hallways that you would have had bugger all luck navigating on your own. After a few minutes, the bouncer opened a door and you stepped out onto a viewing platform.

The balcony was directly in line with the stage about 5 meters up from the ground. There were a few small tables outlining the border of the platform surrounded by a guard rail but the rest of the smaller space was open, presumably for a dance floor. It took you a moment to realize that the platform was, in fact, a second level directly above the pub’s bar.

From where you were standing there was nothing blocking your vision of the stage but you saw a mass, no, a sea of people (standing room only) packing into any and all available space the venue had to offer. You silently reminded yourself to thank Brian for the special view. There was no bloody way you would have survived the living sardine can below you.

You looked at Mary, still processing the awe that you were experiencing. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that the band you were about to watch was going to be amazing. The sheer number of people present spoke for itself.

“Is this normal?” You asked.

Mary nodded once in response and removed her coat, placing it on one of the tables with her purse. She gestured for you to hand over your jacket to her. You shimmied your arms out of the sleeves.

“I actually feel alright right now.” It wasn’t too hot in the pub to be totally honest.

Mary laughed as if she knew something that you didn’t. “That’s going to change once they start playing.”

Not seconds later the beloved group stepped on stage to the screams of groupies and applause of plastered bargoers. You finally took the chance to look at the band name on the drum set.

‘Queen.’

You couldn’t keep the smile from your face. Freddie stepped up to the mic and wrapped his hands around the stand. “Hello, everybody!” He yelled.

The roar that erupted from the crowd made you feel like you were in a stadium.

“Who’s ready to rock?”

And with that, the concert began.

The room was electric. You didn’t know any of the songs or any of the words to the songs but they felt familiar to your heart. You were far too busy dancing with Mary and living in the moment to care.

And to be entirely honest, the set ended way too bloody early; you could’ve danced all night. To your recollection, you had never had so much fun ever in your life before tonight.

But amidst getting lost in the music, you couldn’t help watching the band play. Or rather, watching Brian play. Between the funny faces he made at you and the winks he sent from the stage to the balcony you were on, you saw something that warmed your heart quite a bit.

Brian was certainly talented and he played that guitar like he was born to do it. He was at home on stage, strumming away and picking at the strings. You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t fallen in love with how he looked when he played his guitar. It was truly magical.

Roger hit the drums with a final flourish and the lights followed the beats and the crowd joined in on the hullabaloo. You cheered with them and Mary clapped from the platform while Freddie blew her a kiss.

Mary suddenly hustled to grab her things and all but threw your coat at you. You followed her and the bouncer to wherever they were hurrying to get to.

Before you knew it, you were backstage again waiting for the boys to walk off after greeting their fans. You watched as they greeted the people who had come to see them.

Roger was flirting up a storm with the groupies and John was shaking hands with a few men who looked like some old friends. Freddie was moving through the queue quickly, no doubt excited to see Mary after the set.

Brian took his time with each person. He was polite and friendly with the girls who were throwing themselves at him. He gave them proper attention but he seemed uninterested in even the prettiest of them.

The four band members plus one (Roger had a girl from the crowd swooning on his arm) finally made it back stage. Freddie immediately went to Mary and gave her a deep kiss. You averted your eyes to give them some privacy.

John set to work packing his bass. Roger was giving the girl his full attention as she ran her fingers along his chest and through his hair. You had a feeling that this flirtation wasn’t going to end well nor anytime soon.

Brian ever-so coolly meandered over to where you were standing with a shit-eating smirk gracing his sharp features. “And? What’s the verdict?”

You sighed, reluctantly handing over your pride. “You guys were really good.”

“I knew it.” He waggled his finger at you. “I knew you’d like it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Your hunch was correct, oh, all-knowing one,” you admitted.

“‘All-knowing one’ has a nice ring to it.” Brian pulled you into a side hug and you leaned comfortably into it. This was nice.

You looked straight up at him as he pulled his arm away. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

He chuckled and shook his head to himself as unslung his guitar. “Hey,” he cleared his throat, “we’re gonna get drinks or something after we’re all packed. Would you like to join us?”

You were taken aback. He invited you to go out with him… and the band too, of course. But he had invited you?!

“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose-!”

“It’s not imposing if I invite you. Imposing is, oh I don’t know, someone breaking down their neighbor’s front door,” Brian teased as he began securing his beautiful red guitar in its case.

“Hey! I apologized!” You swatted his arm as you gasped in offense. “And besides, you are more than welcome to break down mine anytime.” You hadn’t realized what you had implied until it had fully left your mouth.

“Anytime, yeah?” Brian put his guitar in its case and began latching it closed.

“Oh, certainly, as long as it comes with a favor,” you confirmed. He moved to stand up and you offered your hand to help him up. He took it and suddenly he was a little closer to you than he had been before, with his guitar case in his other hand.

“And what would that be may I ask?”

“Teach me how to play that,” you gestured to the guitar case in his hand. “You know, so I can keep my neighbors up at ungodly hours of the night.”

“Ah, well, you see then we’d be stuck in a cycle of breaking down each other’s doors… it’s completely inefficient really.” He twirled you around all of a sudden for emphasis and you giggled at the goofy action. His hand and yours were still latched together… not that you were complaining.

“So? Do you have any better suggestions?” You asked a little breathless.

“I do actually.” His hazel eyes glittered. “Go out to dinner with me.”

You couldn’t help the grin that came after he had spoken.

“I’ll tell you what,” you started, “you break down my door and I’ll go to dinner with you. You know, to keep things even.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than Brian began pulling you away from where you were standing. He dragged you to the bottom of the stairs. What on earth was he doing?

“Where are we going, May?” You asked curiously, already attempting to follow after his fast pace.

Brian looked over his shoulder, a cheeky grin on his face. “To get a head start on that door.”

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 1/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: animal cruelty, entirely off-screen and non-graphic

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can't imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You've got a lot of love to give!

You're just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who's been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can't resist investigating...

AO3 Link

Prologue - Curiosity

You weren’t quite sure what to make of the new guy.

When your boss had bullied you into using some of your vacation days, you hadn’t been thrilled. You’d protested, actually—you didn’t have anywhere you wanted to go and no social life to speak of, and the animals needed you!

There was always so much to be done at the shelter and you prided yourself as one of their most dedicated full-timers. If there was a dog needing a walk or a cat screaming for some dinner, you were right there with a smile (and some silly baby-talk), ready to take care of it.

Pets were your passion and nothing made you happier than to help out the ones that hadn’t found their forever-homes just yet.

But…maybe you were working a bit too hard. As the shelter manager was quick to point out, you were going on three years without a full day off and no matter how much you loved the work, burnout was a thing that happened to people and not something she wanted to happen to her best worker.

Flattery: your Achilles’ heel.

She insisted on a break, no less than a week, and since you were so worried about the animals, she’d even try to get a couple extra volunteers to keep things covered while you were out.

You caved in and had a frustratingly great week at home doing absolutely nothing and then went back to work where the same amount of nothing had caught fire in your absence.

Everything was totally fine, great even, thanks to the irreproachable work of the newest volunteer your manager had dug up.

“hey. where’d you want these again?”

You turned, jumping just a little when you came face to sternum with the man himself. He was staring down at you from his considerable height, his single brick-red eye large and glowing as he waited for your answer… probably about the three pallets of kibble he had slung over his shoulder.

“Oh! You can just put those over by the dog room, I’ll take it from there.” You smiled at him, hoping you looked friendly. “Thanks for getting them, I can never reach without the step-ladder!”

He just shrugged. “s’cool. i got it.”

And then he was off, moving far quieter than you thought a skeleton of his massive size should be able to.

Then again, it’s not like you knew many skeletons: it was just Sans.

Monsters had come up to the surface only a year ago: creatures of magic emerging from the depths of the earth like out of a fantasy novel, but all too real. Humanity was collectively horrified and demanded an immediate response to their arrival, governments from all over the world snapping into action faster than any bureaucracy had moved in centuries.

And you were so proud of your dumb species for the first time in a long time.

The appalling conditions of the Underground and the hunched and broken bodies of the monsters who emerged from it had triggered a visceral, emotional response in nearly everyone who saw them. In an outpouring of pity and compassion, monsters were quickly granted legal rights, facilitated access to very necessary health care both physical and psychological, and even regular stipends from relief fund donations to help them establish stable lives.

It was true humanitarianism at its finest, people banding together to right a terrible wrong and it warmed your heart to see it happen. There were dissenters, of course, bigots here and there who thought monsters were evil and should’ve died Underground, especially after…what was done to the humans who had fallen down there….

But Queen Undyne, the monster monarch had taken full responsibility for all of those deaths already. Even now, she was serving out her prison sentence for it so it wasn’t as if justice wasn’t being done just because her people weren’t locked up with her.

You may not have known all the details but you didn’t think you needed to and your opinion was one shared by the majority: humans put them down there and humans should make it better. Monsters were owed at least that much.

Even in spite of the government money they were receiving, the grateful monsters who were physically able seemed quite happy to return the kindness given to them, entering the human workforce wherever they could and giving back as productive members of their new society.

That was the category that seemed to best fit Sans.

When you’d first come back to work, he’d been… a little bit of a shock, to say the least. Going to say hi to all the cats you hadn’t seen in days and finding a towering and frankly terrifying death-omen standing silently amongst them had actually really rattled you.

You had frozen, just a little, transfixed by his blazing eye-light and the jagged, gaping hole in his skull that looked positively grisly.

It wasn’t until your manager came in behind you, introducing him to you as the new volunteer that you noticed that the ‘death-omen’ was wearing a fuzzy hoodie and a frankly adorable pair of novelty skull slippers and you realized how rude you’d been.

Things had gotten busy, as they always did—litter boxes to scrub, animals to socialize, families to interview—and you kind of lost track of him, but you did ask around.

“Sans? Nice guy, a little bit of a scatterbrain maybe, but I’ve seen worse,” was the endorsement from a long-time coworker of yours. “I’ve never had to show him something more than twice, so y’know, he’s already better than Michael, god, remember Michael?”

“He kinda creeps me out,” another volunteer told you, “but the animals love him. One time, I saw him carrying around that big Rottweiler in one arm like it was a baby or something and she was totally cool with it.”

“He’s been great so far,” your manager had promised. “I think you two will work really well together.”

Oh, yeah, sure. If he didn’t think you were a total monsterphobic jerk by now.

You’d spent basically every day since you’d been back, in between actual work, trying to talk to Sans. Not to apologize for freezing like a scared deer, the window for that was probably way past, but… you could be better going forward, right? If you were actually nice and showed some manners better than a wild boar’s, you could be friends…right?

Wrong. So wrong.

You discovered quickly that Sans was as much of an enigma as he was deceptively scary. He rarely spoke and when he did, it was quiet and to the point; never anything about himself.

It actually hurt your feelings a little bit at first until you learned that it didn’t seem to be personal. Nobody at the shelter seemed to know anything about Sans: even the big boss maxed out at knowing he just showed up one day asking to be put to work.

If anything, though, learning that just made you all the more determined to befriend him.

Sans was a mystery and the less you realized you knew about him, the more driven you felt to figure him out. Who is this skeleton in comfy clothes who comes in most days and works hard for no money and barely says a word to anyone? You wanted to find out, even as it was proving just as hard as herding cats.

Harder, probably. The cats usually pay pretty good attention if you’re holding something jingly.

But you were getting way too in your own head and there was work to be done, lest you’d made Sans lug all that kibble from the stock room for nothing.

A deafening barrage of barks and whines greeted you from the second you opened the door to the dog room and it brought a smile to your face.

“Oh my god, I know,” you laughed, “I know, I’ve been gone for like an hour, I could’ve been dead!”

Princess, a pit bull mutt and the biggest, whiniest baby you’ve ever seen in your life, certainly seemed to think so. She was the closest to the door and whimpering at you with her paws up against the chain-link of her enclosure, wiggling so hard it rattled.

“Alright, jeez, I’m here now, aren’t I?” She looked right at you and let out a long, low whine that sounded so pathetic you had to laugh again. “You want lunch first? Will that take the sting out of my betrayal?”

A loud bark was your answer from Princess, and from every other dog in the room. They didn’t know a whole lot of human words but anything food-related got picked up real damn quick.

“Okay, shush, then, I’m on it, you all know the drill.”

You headed over to the big bags of kibble propped up against the door jamb, right where Sans had left them, and got to work.

It used to be that you felt a little silly talking to the animals as if they could understand you, even when you and them were the only ones in the room, but those days were long behind you. They understood your tone of voice at least, so you were happy to chat with (or at) your furry wards about whatever popped into your head while you doled out their food.

It was a step up from talking to yourself… which you’d definitely also done. You hadn’t been exaggerating that ‘no social life’ thing, but it’s not like you’d ever felt lonely.

“Well, maybe not never,” you muttered, nudging an eager little bulldog back with your foot to edge into his room and set down one of the bowls you were holding. “But not like…seriously. I see everybody here all the time, plus adopters, and the cats, and you guys. That’s plenty, right?”

You looked down to realize you were being pointedly ignored, a little doggy face planted firmly in his food. “Yeah, you’re plenty. Good talk, Smoochie.”

If you weren’t already pretty sure you were going to end up as a crazy animal person, this might’ve been the moment it hit you.

You didn’t really have time to dwell on that, though, not with the downright chilling screams that suddenly erupted from outside.

Automatically, you found yourself headed for the noise, goosebumps prickling up on your skin from the awful quality of the sound. You just barely remembered to fasten the latch of the cage one-handedly behind you before walking, jogging, running towards the lobby where it seemed to be coming from and what were you going into that it could be heard from so far away in the building?!

There was a loud clatter and even more screaming and when you finally made it through the door, you skidded to a halt.

And your heart broke.

The horrible, discordant screaming sound was coming from a dog. The poor thing was skinny, shaking, fur so matted and dingy that it couldn’t even see through it, every worst nightmare you’d ever had from those Sarah McLachlan commercials come to life. It looked like it had knocked over some chairs trying to scrunch itself into a corner and was cowering in a puddle of its own pee. And screeching every time it heard a noise.

You didn’t often see ones this bad, but it didn’t hurt any less when you did.

“Oh, baby, no,” you whispered. “What happened?”

You hadn’t been talking to anyone in particular so it startled you when you got an answer.

“H-he slipped his lead,” you heard and turned to see one of the new volunteers standing beside you, wide-eyed and holding a useless green rope in her hands. “I don’t know… I was just… What do we do?”

Glancing around, you suddenly realized that you were the most senior person in the room. Even with the trickle of onlookers drawn by the noise everybody else was just hesitating at the edges of the lobby, nervous and unsure while the poor animal wailed and shook in front of them.

Right, then. Up to you.

“Go get the vet,” you told the volunteer and took a step forward, reaching out to take the lead from her fingers…

…only to watch a much bigger, paler hand close over the rope instead of your own.

Sans took it, silently ghosting his broad body between you and the girl and heading straight for the dog.

Your jaw nearly dropped. A million thoughts raced through your head at once—where did he come from? What is he doing? Shouldn’t you stop him? He barely has any experience, he’s not even staff!— but when you tried to say something, your throat was too tight and all that came out was…

“Be careful…!”

Sans didn’t even turn. “it’s fine,” he said, just as soft-spoken as he ever was. “s’just a little spooked, that’s all.”

You watched with bated breath as he knelt down, right in front of the scruffy animal. It prompted a fresh bout of screaming that made you flinch, but Sans acted like he didn’t even hear it.

“heya, bud. there’s no need for all’a that, is there?” The dog’s mismatched ears flicked once, but immediately flattened back against his head. Sans kept talking. “it’s good here. we’ll take care of ya. it won’t be like wherever ya came from. nobody here’s gonna hurt’cha.”

It was the most you’d ever heard him say at once and the deep, sonorous quality of his voice was a surprise to you. His tone was slow and even, almost lulling; it was putting you at ease, so to see the poor dog responding the same way, his hackles lowering ever so slightly and his shriek dying into a pitiful little cry shouldn’t have been so shocking.

You were amazed, anyway.

“that’s it, bud. there ya go.” Sans raised the rope, moving it carefully to the dog’s head.

Once he was leashed, it should be a little easier to coax him to the vet’s exam room. He’d get checked out, bathed, shaved, fed, and settled into his own little kennel.

Thank god you were under capacity right now, you’d really lose sleep if you had to turn this one away. As long as he was here, you could help him.

But there you went, getting ahead of yourself again.

The dog panicked at the very last second. He lunged forward, snapping his jaws shut on the closest target—Sans.

Your gasp was loud in the tension-quieted room, chorused by others and even a muffled yelp from the receptionist, everyone alarmed by the sight of Sans’ blue hoodie caught in a semi-feral dog’s muzzle.

You had already taken several steps forward—to do what, you had no idea—when Sans just cinched the rope into a proper lead around the dog’s neck with a triumphant, “gotcha,” as if he hadn’t just had a sharp set of teeth successfully come at him.

You were speechless for several long seconds. Had he…not noticed? Did the dog just graze him? Was he even bleeding? If he was, you’d want to drive him to the hospital just in case, you never knew what a strange dog could be carrying and even if it was shallow, the stomach seemed like a terrible place to get bitten…

And then, the obvious hit you.

The dog had lunged at Sans’ abdomen. The abdomen he didn’t have. Because he was a skeleton.

Oh, god, duh.

Of course Sans was fine, that bite had never come anywhere near him. You wanted to physically facepalm, just a little bit, at your own apparent stupidity but that would hardly be helpful right now.

You managed to take some slight pleasure in knowing you weren’t the only dumb human in the room that’d had the same thought and then tried to forget it. “You okay, Sans?”

“yeah, we’re fine,” he answered easily. The dog may have disagreed, having unlatched himself from Sans’ hoodie and, when that last defensive bid had so totally failed, resigned himself to making heart-wrenching crying noises and continuing to cower. “he’s not happy, but i got ‘im.”

There were sighs of relief all around. You scanned the room, seeing the tension fade and normal activity start to hesitantly resume—and the volunteer girl still standing by the door.

“What are you still…? I said to go get the vet!” you reminded her, maybe a little more sharply than you intended because she squeaked and scurried off.

You immediately felt a little bad about it. Seeing an animal in such bad shape for the first time wasn’t easy and not all newbies had the kind of brass ones Sans did.

Sans, who suddenly turned to look right at you and said your name.

“I…. Me?” You wanted to kick yourself for saying that. There was only one you at the whole damn shelter, but Sans didn’t seem to care.

“yeah, c’mere. he’ll probably chill out a little if he’s got some food, right?”

You were already moving forward again before you fully realized what he meant—the shiny metal bowl of kibble in your hand that you’d apparently run all the way here holding, stars, what had that looked like? But if you were accidentally prepared, you probably shouldn’t criticize yourself too hard.

You knelt down next to Sans, moving carefully but the skittish animal still yelped and scrabbled when he heard you coming. There was a blur of blue and suddenly Sans’ arm was between you and the dog.

“it’s okay, pal,” he soothed. “you’re fine, stay cool, just friends here. you want some food, don’tcha?”

That was your cue. You placed the bowl on the floor and gently slid it over to the dog before pulling your hand back.

The dog whined again, upset and unsure. You couldn’t quite see with Sans’ arm in the way and straightened up to look over it, bracing just one hand against his humerus. The dog was blinded by his own matted fur but he could clearly smell the kibble and his nose found its way to the bowl, sniffing cautiously with his tail tucked between his legs.

You slumped in relief when he took the first hesitant bite, and the ravenous second, third, fourth.

Thank god.

Sans seemed just as pleased, lowering his protective arm and looping the lead around his other hand, shortened for better control. He said your name again and you turned; even kneeling, you still had to look up.

“you should pet him,” he said. “i don’t think he’ll bite again.”

Glancing at the dog, you agreed, but also… “Why me?”

His one red eye met yours, gleaming with earnest sincerity. “you’re good at dogs,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Grass is green. Water makes stuff wet. You’re good at dogs.

Feeling unaccountably flattered, you reached out and carefully stroked your fingers along the dog’s back. He flinched at the touch but didn’t stop eating or try to bite again, so you had high hopes for his adoption chances later on.

You kept petting him, crouched on the floor of the shelter lobby next to a gentle giant of a skeleton and watched the dog finish the whole bowl.

“That’s a good boy,” you cooed. “You’re gonna do just fine.”

It felt like you were there for a long time, but eventually you heard footsteps and finally, the vet arrived. He was flanked by a couple of other staff members, bigger guys who you knew had experience with nervous and aggressive dogs.

Sans stood, and you with him, and you watched as he gingerly handed over the leash to one of them and let them coax the dog forward. The vet was already looking him over even as they got the little guy moving and you were relieved not to hear him point out anything that sounded too serious.

Soon they had all filed out to take care of business and it was just you and Sans left there in the lobby. Even the receptionist had fled for a coffee/need-a-breather-right-now break and you didn’t blame her.

“So that was…intense.”

“yeah.”

You turned more fully towards Sans and tried to catch his gaze. “You’re okay, right?” you asked. “Like…really okay?”

He looked at you like you’d said something bizarre. “said i was, didn’t i?”

“Well, people say a lot of things, and that was…a lot, even for somebody who actually gets paid for it. You’re good?”

Sans didn’t look any less bemused. “…yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else for several long moments. His single glowing pupil was cast down away from your face and when you followed it, you saw…

Oh jeez, your hand on his arm, still.

You pulled back immediately, feeling yourself go red and hoping he didn’t notice. “Sorry!” you definitely didn’t squeak. “Sorry, that was…. Oh, no, your hoodie…”

Sans looked down and quickly spotted what you just had— three sizeable holes torn into the bottom of his sweatshirt, right at the hem of the pocket. He picked at it, poking two thick, bony fingers straight through. “huh.”

“He got you pretty good.” You winced a little at the damp tear in the fabric: it was a jagged rip and pretty frayed. “I’m not sure that’s gonna be salvageable. Sorry.”

By the expressions Sans kept fixing on you, you’d have guessed you were the most confusing human on the planet. “what for?”

“The holes? That’s your favorite jacket, isn’t it?” You hesitated, realizing you didn’t actually know that. “Or at least, you wear it all the time. I kinda guessed you just loved that thing.”

“i do. but it’s just a thing. shit happens, y’know.” He shrugged. “’sides, not like anybody got hurt, right?”

“…Right.” Of course. That really was the most important thing.

That, and cleaning up the mess your new little friend had made of the lobby.

You sighed just looking at it but it wasn’t about to fix itself so you dove right in, picking up chairs and moving them to the side while you skirted around the puddle on the floor as best as you could.

“……can i help?”

The gentle inquiry from Sans made you pause. The man got literally snapped at not fifteen minutes ago, at a place where they worked him like a…well, like a dog without even having him on the payroll, and he still wanted to help?

Sans really was something else.

“You could get the mop and bucket for me from the supply closet,” you said lightly, pointedly not making it an order. “And maybe finish feeding the dogs for me? I hadn’t even gotten halfway through when all of this mess happened, I’m sure they’re not too happy about that.”

“yeah, sure.” But Sans seemed just a little nervous all of a sudden, his permanent grin looking more like a grimace while his eye-light darted quickly to one side. “uhhh…which dogs did you already…?”

You smiled. “It was Tina’s turn, but I didn’t pick anything back up. Any cage that doesn’t have a food bowl in it needs one.”

The skeleton’s shoulders slumped in relief. “okay, cool.” That was an easy way to remember what needed doing. He probably wouldn’t have to come back and ask you again like he did some other times. “i’m on it.”

You opened your mouth to thank him, but between one blink and the next he was gone.

Literally. Not even a motion-blur, just gone. You turned to the reception desk to see if anybody else had just seen that, but of course it was still just you there—you and the mop and bucket that had just appeared where Sans had been standing when you’d looked away for no more than two seconds.

“Well,” you announced to no one. “That’s new.”

No one was very appreciative of your dry and pithy wit, you were quite sure.

You grabbed the mop and got to work on the glamorous task of wiping up urine, just one of the many hidden perks of your job—that you really did love, warts and all.

You really weren’t sure what to make of the new guy, but after today you were damn well going to figure it out.

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