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nowandajenn · 3 years

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Can i ask for a fic wich chris and reader had a fight and broke up and chris really want to take her back but can't find her because she was mad and change her adress and number but he didn't give up and finally find her but also find out that she has their new born Triplet ?!

So I’m finally just now getting around to writing this, and I apologize for it taking so long to get done! I did decide to make it twins instead of triplets, because triplets is a fucking lot lol. I hope you still enjoy it!

Not proofread. All mistakes are my own.

It had taken months to find you. After the break up, you had essentially become a ghost. You changed your phone number, you moved, and it seemed like nobody knew where you had gone, and the ones that did know sure as hell weren’t about to tell him how to find you. He had been a complete idiot; going to lunch with Jenny and spending time with her while he had a girl that he was slowly falling in love with waiting for him. They had such a strong history together though, and so many memories shared together, that he couldn’t seem to just walk away from it all.

Of course, they had been snapped out at a restaurant together, talking and laughing, and it wasn’t long until the pictures hit the internet and your friends and family had been blowing up your phone, asking what the hell was going on. Your relationship with Chris was still fairly new, as you’d only been seeing each other for about eight months or so, and you were trying to enjoy just being with Chris and being happy while also worrying that you were a rebound for him after he and his ex had broken up a second time.

Chris had come home later that evening with flowers for you, only to find you going around the house packing up all of the stuff that you had kept there. He had recently been bringing up you moving in with him since you spent most of your time there anyway, but you felt like it was too soon, and you didn’t know if he was quite as ready for that step as he said he was. Now you were really glad that you had held off.

The two of you had stood there and fought and argued, you telling him that you deserved more than to just be a rebound to try and help him get over the girl who he once claimed was “the love of his life” and you weren’t going to stick around if he was going to go behind your back and spend time with her and try and rekindle things for a third time. You told him that he was an idiot to think that the third time would be the charm when it hadn’t worked out the first two times they’d been together. He tried to explain that even though they had broken up, he still cared about her and just because they spent time together didn’t mean that they were getting back together. He told you that you absolutely were not a rebound, and he was falling in love with you, but you weren’t hearing it. You had picked up your duffel bag, and with a kiss to his cheek and hugging Dodger around the neck and stifling a small sob into his fur, you had walked out of his life.

It didn’t take long to see what a huge idiot he had been, and how wrong he had been to see Jenny and not tell you about it or have any sort of conversation about it. He hated that you had been blindsided, and he hated that he made you feel like he was using you as a distraction or something to fill the void left after Jenny left. He tried to text you and call you, but all the texts were left on “delivered” and you would reject his calls, until one day he tried calling you and a stranger answered and told Chris that he had the wrong number. He finally psyched himself up enough to try and swing by your apartment to see if you would at least see him and let him try and apologize, but when he showed up, your apartment was empty and the landlord said that you had moved out and hadn’t left a forwarding address. He was heartbroken. He had tried talking to your friends, but they were unfailingly loyal to you, and wouldn’t tell him anything.

It had taken just over seven months, and a lot of failed tries, but he finally had an address in his hand. It was in Chicago, where you had grown up, and he had booked the first flight that he could. He wasn’t sure if you would slam the door in his face or punch him or even open the door to him, but he had to try. If he didn’t, he knew he’d regret it.

Chris takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, nerves suddenly overtaking him and making his stomach turn itself into knots. After a few seconds, he knocks again and hears a male voice yell “Coming!” His heart drops, immediately assuming that you had moved on from him and he lost his shot.

The door swings open, and he’s surprised to see an older man, probably in his mid 50s, standing in the doorway.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh.....sorry, I think I have the wrong address. I was looking for y/n y/l/n. I’m Chris.”

The man steps forward onto the porch, making Chris fall back a couple steps.

“Oh, I know exactly who you are. You’re the one my daughter wouldn’t shut up about for a few months, and then never wanted to speak about again.”

Chris swallows hard, his mouth dry as the desert and feeling a little scared, because your dad looks kind of mean and like he could lay him out if he wanted to. Your dad turns around and walks back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

He exhales hard and turns around to walk back to his rental car.

“That went about as well as I thought it would.” he mutters to himself.

He’s halfway back to the car when he hears your front door open. He looks up and his breath catches when he sees you standing there, your arms crossed over your chest. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts that show off your legs and a baggy Tshirt, your hair thrown up in a messy bun. You look like you’ve gained a little bit of weight since the last time he saw you, but it looks good on you.

“Hey.” he breathes out.

Your jaw clenches. “How did you find me?”

“Well, you didn’t make it easy. I had Josh track you down. It took a lot longer than I wanted it to. I would have been here about seven months ago if I had known where you were, but nobody would tell me.”

You scoff. “Yet here you are. Because Chris Evans just doesn’t know when to give up.”

He winces slightly, knowing that you’re not just referring to his search for you, but the whole thing with Jenny that caused your breakup.

You both stand there in silence for a few minutes, unsure what to do next, when you breathe out a heavy sigh and wave your arm towards the house, gesturing for him to come in.

“Come on. We have a lot to talk about.” you tell him.

Your dad shoots him a glare as you lead him into the house, and he swallows hard and follows you into the kitchen, taking your offer of a bottle of water and sitting at the table with you. He’s so focused on you that he doesn’t really take in his surroundings. If he did, what comes out of your mouth wouldn’t have almost shocked him into a heart attack.

“I tried calling you a couple times over the past few months, but every time I did, I got your assistant, or a P.A. or someone else. I left a message with my number with someone, but I’m assuming that you never got it, or you just didn’t care.”

He shakes his head almost violently. “I never got it. I don’t know who you gave it to, but it never got back to me.”

You lean back in your chair and take a deep breath.

“About a month after we broke up, I found out I was pregnant.”

Chris is pretty sure his heart stops beating for a few seconds, and then he realizes that he’s holding his breath. He lets it out in a deep exhale and his heart starts hammering in his rib cage.

“You.....we.......what?” he gasps.

“The doctor said I was 7 or 8 weeks at the time. I......I was due to get another shot but I had been so busy that I forgot about it, and.....well. At first, I wasn’t sure I was even going to keep the baby, honestly. We had just broken up and I didn’t know if you even wanted kids right now, or with me, and it took me a while to come to terms with everything. I tried calling you once I decided that I was going to keep it. I knew you had a right to know, even though I was pissed at you and hurt.”

I look over and Chris is just staring at me, gaping like a fish.

“So....you had a.....we have a.....” he takes a deep breath. “We have a baby?”

“Uh, well......I guess you must have some really strong sperm because we kind of.....have two.”

Chris looks like he’s about to pass out, and I shove his bottle of water towards him and he drains the rest of it in one go.

“Look, I don’t need anything from you. We’ll be okay. We’ve been staying here with my dad and he’s been helping out, and I’m getting help from the state. We never talked about having kids, and I know that this is just being dropped on you out of nowhere. If you want a paternity test, we can go today if you want. I’m not trying to trap you into anything or trick you. You have your own life and you’re.....well, you’re you. And I’m nobody. Nobody outside of your family and close friends even knew we were together.”

I know I’m rambling, but I’m nervous and I know I should just stop and let things sink in. We sit there in silence for a while, and I can tell that Chris’ brain is working to try and digest all of the new information and the fact that he’s a father twice over now. I need to do something to keep myself busy, because I can’t keep just sitting there in silence, so I go over to the sink and start washing dishes.

Chris gets snapped out of his reverie when he hears a sharp cry ring out. He looks around wildly before realizing that it’s coming from a baby monitor on the kitchen counter. You drop the dish your holding in the soapy water and wipe your hands on a dish towel before turning and running upstairs.

Chris isn’t even really sure he realizes that his feet are even moving before he finds himself upstairs in the doorway of the nursery. He stands there, feeling like his head is disconnected from the rest of his body, watching as you lean over the crib and lift out an impossibly tiny baby who can’t be more than a month old.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” you whisper, holding the baby against your chest. You turn around and see Chris standing there in the doorway, still looking shocked out of his skin.

“Come here.” you say softly, beckoning him over.

He walks over to the crib slowly, his eyes on the infant in your arms and then on the one still sleeping.

“This is Steven Lucas Evans” you say softly, kissing the baby you’re holding on the forehead, “and that is Christopher Michael Evans.”

Tears immediately fill his eyes and he inhales deeply, his breath stuttering.

“How old are they?”

“Three weeks and two days.” you tell him.

Chris can’t keep his eyes from drifting in between his two sons, and not wanting to be left out, his namesake wakes up and starts making soft little noises.

“Go ahead. Pick him up.” you tell him softly.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You nod.

Chris leans over the crib and gently lifts Christopher out, holding him gently against his chest. He’s soft and perfect and has that amazing baby smell that drives people nuts, and Chris feels like his heart is about to explode. He walks a few steps over to you and gazes down at his other son, taking note of both babies’ bright blue eyes.

“How can you love someone so much you’ve just met?” he breathes.

You give a small, watery laugh. “I ask myself that every day.”

Watching Chris with his baby sons is everything you didn’t know you needed. You told yourself that even if Chris didn’t want to be involved, you would get through it and you would be fine. But seeing him sitting in the cushy armchair in the nursery with a baby in each arm is more than you could have hoped for.

“Tell me about when they were born.” Chris pleads.

“I went into labor on the 23rd of last month, but they weren’t born until about 6pm the next night. I was in labor for about 20 hours. The doctor wanted to go in and get them, but I knew they’d come on their own time. Christopher was born first, and then 15 minutes later, Stevie showed up. He was screaming before he was even fully out.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I could have seen it.”

“You still can.”

You pull up a few videos on your phone from different stages of your labor, and one of Christopher being born and then Steven coming along. Tears are running down Chris’ face as he watches, and he’s laughing and crying at the same time, completely overwhelmed with emotion. You flip through a ton of pictures on your phone of you through the pregnancy, and then of labor, and the first pictures of you and the babies.

“Can you sent these to me? Just....everything you have?” he asks.

“Yeah. Not a problem.”

After making bottles and feeding one while Chris feeds the other, a double diaper change, and laying them back down in the crib, you both sit back down.

“You didn’t get two cribs?” Chris asks.

“No. I couldn’t really afford two, and when we were in the hospital, they would cry if they weren’t near each other, so the nurses just put them both in the same bassinet and they would calm down. So it all worked out.” I tell him.

“Come back to Massachusetts with me.” he blurts out.

He says it so suddenly and with such conviction that I’m speechless for a minute.

“Chris.....”

“No, just please.....I love you. I love you and I was an idiot and you had every right to leave me. But being without you has been hell, and I don’t want to be without you. And I can’t go back and not have you or them there with me. I want to be there for everything. I want to see everything. I won’t let you do everything on your own. You don’t have to struggle and get state aid. You can move in with me, or I can get you an apartment close by........just......please come home with me.”

“Chris, slow down. Listen, you’re their father. You can have as much access to them as you want. I’m not going to take them away from you or keep you from seeing them. That’s the last thing I want. But moving back to Boston......I don’t even have a job right now. I’ve been doing freelance articles for the last few months to get by. And we have all this stuff....and there’s furniture and......”

“You can write from anywhere. You’re so talented; you’ll find a job in no time. I promise. Until then, I can take care of you guys. That’s my job now. As for all the stuff, I can get a UHaul trailer and we can drive back. Or I’ll get a moving company to move it and we can fly back. It doesn’t matter. We can make this work.”

I can see the desperation in his eyes and how badly he wants this, and it’s enough to break my heart, and I don’t have it in me to tell him no.

I sigh heavily. “We have a lot to work out and talk about.....but I don’t want you to miss out on anything with the boys. So.......I guess we’re taking a road trip.....with two infants........halfway across the country.”

Chris grabs me and hugs me to him tightly.

“It’ll be our first family vacation. I can’t wait for Mom to meet them. She’s going to lose her mind over them. And you.....she’s missed you so much. You have no idea the verbal ass kicking I got from her after you left.”

You smile. “Glad to know that a grown man is still afraid of his mommy.”

The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @southerngracela @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo @harrysthiccthighss @jessaywahh-blog@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5 @chezdricks @denisemarieangelina @christ0pher-evans @supersquirrel1996

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #rpf #daddy chris #babies #twins #twin boys #fluff #need some fluffy stuff to balance out the angst #cute #family

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ajbwasntwriting · 4 years

Text

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

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For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak @aestthete

#AJ's Negan's Daughter AU #twd negan #negan fic #negan twd #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan x daughter reader #daughter reader #daughter x negan #daughter reader x negan #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd carol #carol peletier #the walking dead carol #twd laura

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years

Note

I’m back! With more oneshot suggestions! Woo!

Please, if you have the ability to, supply me with alter brainrot. Here’s a basic plot outline (I always come prepared lol):

BadTimes has finally been banned. After years of antics with his counterpart, he finally stepped over the line. He doesn’t know what he did, all he knows is that it was too much. He gets dragged out of the void by EX and Hels, who also want to apologize to their counterparts. The three set out on a short flangsty journey of misunderstood-ness and attempts at proving themselves worthy of forgiveness.

;)

Now THIS was a lot of fun to write! Ended up being very long tho so I’m sorry about that, but I hope the quality is still good. I also hope you like the ending, even though it went off in a different direction than I originally intended :)

...

“He’s there! He’s right there! Just grab him!”

“It’s harder than it looks, okay?! Back off!”

He gasped as he felt himself get wrenched back into existence. Stumbling as his feet touched the ground, he pitched forwards and would have fallen over if he hadn’t been caught by a pair of strong arms.

“Easy, man,” came a British-accented voice. “Easy. Just breathe, alright? Breathe.”

He took in a few gulping breaths, his oxygen-starved lungs drinking in the fresh air, and closed his eyes against the dizziness that was threatening to topple him. He widened his stance slightly, his shaky legs strengthening by the second.

Finally, he opened his eyes and found himself looking at two people. One was wearing a familiar helmet and the other was dressed in full armour. They both looked almost exactly like two people he knew very well.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“You first,” said the helmeted one, identifying them as the British-accented one who had caught him earlier.

“My name is BadTimesWithScar,” he said. “You can call me BadTimes, or just Bad.”

Bad could see a spark of interest in the helmeted person’s eyes, even through the visor. “You’re GoodTimesWithScar’s evil counterpart?” They circled Bad, looking him up and down. “I guess I should’ve expected that, huh? Considering you look almost exactly like him.”

“In that case, am I to assume you guys are Xisuma and Welsknight’s evil clones?” said Bad.

The helmeted being nodded. “Sure am. I’m Evil Xisuma, but you can call me EX.”

“Hi, I’m Helsknight,” blurted out the armour-clad one. “I like rap battles and medieval-style architecture.”

Bad stared at him.

“I’ve been making him do group therapy,” EX explained tiredly. “He was utterly obsessed with violence and destruction when he got here. It got a little too much to handle after a while.”

“Speaking of which, where is “here”?” Bad asked, staring around at the blank world they were standing in.

EX shrugged. “It doesn’t really have a name. It’s the place I ended up after I got banned by Xisuma.”

“B-Banned?! Wait a sec…” Bad frowned as memories came back to him. “How did I get here?”

“Well, I pulled you out of the void,” said EX. “That’s where people go when they get banned.” They jerked their thumb at Hels. “I fished him out of the void too a few weeks ago.”

“I tried to kill them,” said Hels helpfully.

EX nodded wearily. “He did.”

“Wait, wait.” Bad stared at the two in shock. “Does this mean… I’VE been banned?!”

“Yup.” EX spread their arms wide. “Welcome to the banishment club.”

“What did you do to get banned?” Hels asked eagerly. “Did you destroy stuff? Kill someone? Try to take over the server? I did that, by the way.”

“I…” Bad hesitated, his shoulders drooping. “I don’t know.”

Frowning, EX and Hels exchanged a look. “How do you not know?” the former asked slowly. “Surely you must have done something bad enough to get flung into the void permanently.”

Bad shook his head. “Look, you guys are legendary on the server. So legendary I didn’t even believe you existed. Everyone knows the evil stuff you guys did to get banned, but I’m not like that. I like spreading mischief and pranking people. That’s what I exist to do; it’s literally what Scar created me for. So the fact that I’ve somehow crossed the line without even realising what I did is beyond worrying.” His eyes widened in fear. “Oh no, did I hurt Scar?! Oh no, oh no… I gotta… I gotta go apologise to him!”

EX caught him by the wrist as he tried to dash off. “Hold on, there. You’ve been banned, remember? You can’t just waltz back onto the server.”

“There has to be another way!”

“There is, there is.” EX gave him a serious look. “But it’s risky. Going back to a server you’ve been banned from can be more trouble than it’s worth. If someone sees you before you get the chance to talk to Scar… Well, let’s just say there’s worse punishments than just being banned.”

“I have to see Scar,” said Bad determinedly. “I have to find out what I did and apologise for it. Are you two gonna help me or not?”

After a moment, EX said, “I’m up for sneaking back onto Hermitcraft. I’d like to apologise to Xisuma for… uh… the incident that got me banned. What about you, Hels?”

“I just wanna have another rap battle with Wels,” Hels said.

Bad frowned at him. “Are you… you know… alright? In the head?”

Hels stuck up both his thumbs. “Nope!” he said cheerfully. “Thinking about rap battles and medieval-style architecture is the only thing keeping my taste for blood at bay.”

A pause followed his words.

“Wonderful,” EX sighed. “Remind me to join you in group therapy next time; it doesn’t seem to be working all that well. Anyway, time to sneak back onto Hermitcraft. Let’s get going.”

…

“Are you sure this is the right way?” asked Bad, unable to see even his companions in the pitch black tunnel. “Who even put this tunnel here? And where does it lead?”

“I’m not taking questions about secret tunnels and whether or not I know where I’m going,” came EX’s voice from the front of the group. “Something tells me the answers won’t alleviate your fear.”

Thoroughly unnerved by this, Bad leant forward slightly to address Hels, who was walking between him and EX. “Hey Hels, what are you gonna do when we get back to Hermitcraft?”

“I’m gonna apologise to Wels for trying to take over the server, explain to him that group therapy has helped me calm my bloodlust, and then destroy him in a rap battle.”

Bad sighed quietly. “Well… at least you’ve got a plan.”

“Up here,” called EX after a few more minutes.

Light was starting to shine through the end of the tunnel. As Bad followed EX and Hels out, blinking against the light, he recognised the place they had ended up.

“Wait, is this the Mycelium Resistance headquarters?” he said.

EX shrugged. “Don’t ask me; I’ve never been in this world before. I got banned on the last one and I’ve never had a reason to sneak back. That being said, what on earth is the Mycelium Resistance?”

“Oh, it’s a loooong story. But the good thing is nobody uses this base anymore, so we should be safe down here if we need to flee from an angry mob of Hermits. Which we will.”

“That’s the spirit,” EX responded wryly. “So which way out?”

Bad led the other two towards the giant hole in the wall. “We can get out this way. I remember Scar brought me down here to show me the excellent work he and his government buddies did at destroying the rebel base.”

“Government?” repeated EX confusedly.

“Oh, yeah, Scar’s the mayor. You didn’t know that?”

EX shook their head. “Like I said, I’ve never been in the Season 7 world. Not properly, anyway. Not enough to know the ins and outs of what’s going on.”

The group made it to the surface of the shopping district. Bad could see the town hall nearby. “Okay, I’m gonna go see Scar.”

“Good luck,” said EX. “I’ll wander around and see if I bump into Xisuma.”

“I’ll take you to his flower farm,” Hels offered. “I went there once to hide from Wels and steal some flowers. Didn’t work; he caught me and banned me.”

“Well, hopefully history won’t repeat itself.”

Bad left his new friends behind and headed to the town hall, keeping a wary eye out for any Hermits nearby. He didn’t see anyone around, but that didn’t mean nobody was there.

But thankfully, he made it to the town hall undetected and entered quietly. He found Scar just inside, polishing the diamond throne. The mayor glanced up, his eyes widening when he registered his evil clone standing there. “Bad? Oh my gosh, I… What happened to you? Where’s your hat?”

Bad’s hands flew to his head, realising for the first time that he didn’t have his hat anymore. “It must have fallen off in the void. Scar, I got banned and I don’t know why.”

“You were banned?! And you still came back here?!” Scar shook his head. “You need to leave before Xisuma finds you.”

“But I-!”

“No, just go! Before we get into trouble.”

“I just want to know why I was banned,” said Bad desperately. “Then I’ll go right back to where I came from and I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

Scar hesitated, a conflicted look on his face. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t actually think X was gonna do it.”

Bad frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Back during the war, I was under a lot of stress. I did things I’m not exactly proud of. Eventually, I realised that what I was doing… was making me more like you. I couldn’t handle that, so I went to Xisuma and asked if he could get you out of the way so people didn’t notice I was turning into you. I didn’t-.”

“Wait, wait, wait…!” Bad waved his hands to stop his counterpart. “Let me get this straight… You got me banned because you were afraid you were becoming evil, like me?”

Scar nodded slowly. “I swear, I didn’t think he was actually gonna ban you.”

“What else did you expect the server admin to do?!” snapped Bad.

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, Bad, really!”

“If you’re really sorry, then go to Xisuma and explain you want me unbanned!”

To Bad’s surprise and dismay, Scar shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but I’m the mayor; a good mayor now. A good mayor can’t have an evil clone of himself on the server anymore. I really am sor-.”

“Oh, stop saying you’re sorry!” Bad’s voice cracked. “I can’t believe this! After all these years of funny pranks and harmless shenanigans, you’re just tossing me aside?”

“Bad, you’re not harmless,” Scar snapped back. “You don’t realise it, but you’ve caused some real damage over the years. You’ve destroyed things, killed people, upset people, caused irreparable damage to the server. The only reason Xisuma hasn’t banned you sooner is because I kept standing up for you. Did you seriously never notice the fact that I was the only Hermit who ever had kind words for you? You never noticed the other Hermits glaring at you in the shopping district or walking the other way when you came by?”

Bad stared at Scar in shock and horror. “N-No, I… I didn’t… Scar, I… I never meant to cause bad things.”

“Your name literally contains the phrase “Bad Times”!”

“I-I can change, Scar!” Bad was almost physically begging at this point. “I can change, I promise! I can be worthy of forgiveness if you give me a chance.”

Scar firmly shook his head. “You’re an evil Hermit and you always will be. I’m sorry, but there’s no place on the server for you. Not anymore.”

Red hot anger started to build inside Bad. “No, you… you can’t do this to me. After everything we’ve been through, you can’t just decide I don’t belong here anymore!”

Scar took a step back, away from Bad. “Just get outta here before I call Xisuma to deal with you.”

Bad hesitated.

In the ensuing pause, a loud crash sounded from outside.

Seizing his chance, Bad snatched the hat from Scar’s head and dashed out of the town hall. When he got outside, he found Xisuma and EX locked in a battle just outside the building. Xisuma appeared to be winning.

Bad dashed down the stairs and slammed right into Xisuma, sending the admin tumbling to the ground. Before Xisuma could recover, Bad grabbed EX’s hand and pulled them back towards the shopping district.

“Where’s Hels?” Bad demanded.

“I sent him back to the tunnel. Whether he’s still there, I don’t know. Bad, what happened?”

“I’ll explain later.”

The two jumped down the secret entrance to the base and rushed back towards the entrance to the tunnel.

“Hey, guys.” Hels emerged from one of the rooms, holding an armful of mycelium. “They have purple grass here.”

Letting go of EX’s hand, Bad beckoned to Hels. “C’mon, we’re getting outta here.”

“Can I bring the purple grass?”

“Will it help distract you from, as you put it, your bloodlust?” EX inquired.

Hels beamed. “Yes.”

“Alright, then, yes. You can bring the… uh… purple grass.”

As the evil Hermits made their way back through the tunnel, EX eventually decided to break the silence. “So… Long story short, Xisuma didn’t forgive me. How’d it go with Scar?”

“Scar got me banned because he was afraid of turning into me,” replied Bad shortly. “And he refuses to get it reversed because he’s afraid having an evil clone whom everyone on the server hates will damage his image as mayor.”

A pause followed.

“Oof, that’s rough,” EX remarked sympathetically. “What are you going to do now?”

“There’s nothing else I CAN do. I’ve been banned and the only person on the server who might stick up for me is refusing to do so. I guess that means I’m stuck with you two permanently.”

Another pause.

“I didn’t even get to have another rap battle with Wels,” said Hels sadly.

“Hey.” EX stopped at the very end of the tunnel, turning back to face their friends. “Let’s all quit moping. We tried asking for forgiveness and it didn’t work. No more grovelling, no more trying to change, no more stupid group therapy. We’re evil Hermits, right?”

“Yeah!” cheered Hels.

“And evil Hermits want to spread chaos and destruction, right? We should be who we are, without worrying what our counterparts will think of us. They’ve rejected us, so now they think we’re no longer their problem. Let’s show them how wrong they are. Let’s show them how evil we can really be.”

“YEAH!” Hels whooped, his red eyes flashing dangerously. “BLOODLUST!”

“We’re not straight-up murdering people, though, Hels,” added EX sternly. “That’s not the kind of chaos we spread.”

“Oh.” Hels settled down. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Chuckling quietly, EX turned to Bad. “What do you say?”

After a moment, a grin spread over Bad’s face and he swept Scar’s hat onto his head. “I say let’s do it. If Scar says I’m evil, who am I to deny it?”

“Exactly.” EX slung one arm over Bad’s shoulders and the other over Hels’s, grinning at their evil compatriots. “It’s time to be the evil Hermits we were created to be.”

#hermitcraft #evil xisuma #helsknight #badtimeswithscar #xisuma #goodtimeswithscar #welsknight #long post #Vaunna writes

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starlostjimin · 3 years

Text

dirty little secret

Pairing: Namjoon/Seokjin, side Yoongi/Hoseok Rating: E Warnings/tags: college au kind of?, art history professor namjoon, acting professor jin, fluff, smut, angst with a happy ending, namjoon is awkward af, so many bad jokes thanks jin, porn, masturbation, more tags to be added Genre: fluff/smut Summary: Kim Namjoon is an art history professor with a terrible dating history and a desire for love that he’s all but given up on. When actor Kim Seokjin joins the university as an interim professor, Namjoon’s world is turned upside down. But is everything as it seems? Chapter 1/?

Namjoon zipped his pants and pulled off his dirty shirt, tossing it into the nearby laundry hamper. He glanced at his bedroom door out of habit, knowing nobody would be there to witness his shame. Dropping his head back against the headrest of his computer chair, he let out a sigh before clicking out of the browser window and switching to his work folder, opening the file of saved essays he had to mark.

*****

“Alright, everyone, that’s it for today. If you have any questions about the mark you received on your paper, please come see me during my office hours. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If you don’t understand the assignment or need any clarification, please come and visit me well before it’s due. I can’t help you if I don’t know there’s a problem.” Namjoon leaned against the lecture stand and grinned at the class. “See you Thursday.” There was a flurry of movement and the usual clatter of students packing up for the day as Namjoon’s Art History 100 class began to file out of the classroom. The first year classes weren’t his favourite. Too many students were there hoping for an easy A without actually caring about the subject material, though he did usually manage to find one or two who developed a spark of interest in art over the course of the semester. It was those instances that kept him going, always hoping to find a few more that would experience the joy he felt flipping through the books, studying techniques and inspirations and finding ways to incorporate those into his own life. As the last student trailed out, Namjoon picked up his folders and pushed his glasses a bit further up his nose, hoping not to lose them and break yet another pair. A laugh came from the doorway.

“Making sure you don’t break the new ones?” Namjoon looked up from his folders to see his best friend, Min Yoongi, standing in the doorway. He tried to scowl, but held it for only half a second before breaking out into laughter.

“I mean, I did just get these ones. And I like them,” Namjoon said. “Lunch?”

Yoongi nodded, and Namjoon walked up the steps in the lecture hall to join him at the door.

*****

The walk to the cafeteria was short, the building being only two down from the arts building that both Namjoon and Yoongi’s classes were held in.

“So anyway, until they get someone from the tech department in, I can’t do half my lecture because they won’t let me fix the equipment on my own. Even though I could do it faster than any of the tech guys because I mean, they’re good, but they’re computer guys. Not music guys.” Yoongi scrunched up his mouth in frustration.

“That sucks, Yoon. When are they supposed to be coming?”

“Tomorrow,” Yoongi sighed. “Not that long really, and it’s before the next time the class runs, but it’s fucking frustrating when it’s something I could fix in ten minutes.”

Namjoon nodded. “It’s probably insurance reasons. Like, only IT guys can do repairs or the insurance is void.”

“You’re so rational,” Yoongi said, scrunching up his face. “Speaking of which…” his change in tone had Namjoon on guard. “How’d your date go the other night?”

Namjoon groaned. “Don’t ask.”

“Namjoon, again? Come on. I thought you said this one had potential.” Yoongi sighed as he grabbed a sandwich before heading to the coffee counter, Namjoon following close behind.

“He did, I mean, he was really cute and everything. An accountant. But he laughed when I asked him if he liked art, Yoongi. I mean honestly hyung, what am I supposed to do with that?”

Yoongi sighed. “Look, Joon, I get it. I do. I couldn’t date someone who wasn’t into music. But honestly - how long has it been since you got laid? Because I’m telling you, you need it. I’d be shocked if your students couldn’t tell.”

“Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon’s voice was shocked. He swiped his card, thanked the cashier, and walked towards a table near the window, away from prying ears. “Look,” he said, once they were both sitting, “you’re not wrong. I could use...that. But that’s why there’s...websites. And stuff.” He could feel his cheeks getting hot as he said the words.

Yoongi stared for a moment before his head fell forward in laughter, barely missing the tray in front of him. “First of all,” he said between breaths as he tried to control his laughter, “I can’t believe you’re that embarrassed about porn. You’re a fully grown adult dude, nobody cares. Second of all, that takes the edge off but we both know it’s nowhere near as good as the real thing.”

Namjoon turned away from his friend, staring out the window and trying to bring some semblance of calm back to his face. “No, but there’s a lot less humiliation involved,” he said. “And there’s someone I like watching. It’s not the same as a relationship, I know, I’m not delusional, I’ve never even seen his face...but his voice is nice. And he’s got art in the room he...records...in, and great abs. And,” he paused for a second as he realized what he was saying. “And why in the hell am I telling you all this? Jesus fucking christ.” Namjoon dropped his face into his hands. “I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic, Joon,” Yoongi said. “But you do definitely need to get laid. Look, the arts and humanities department is having this big mixer thing to welcome some new staff tonight. Hobi and I are going. You should come with us.”

“Things are going well with you two, then?” Namjoon asked, brightening up.

Yoongi blushed as he raised his right hand to the back of his neck and scratched at it awkwardly. “Yeah. I don’t know why he puts up with me though.”

Namjoon shrugged. “You two make sense. The musician and the dancer. Plus, he brings you out of your shell. If you two aren’t careful, you’re going to turn into a full-on fairy tale. Have you seen the way he looks at you? You two are the dream.”

“And that, right there, is why you need more than porn, Joon. I wasn’t even looking for romance because, like, what’s the point, and I found Hobi. You dream about this shit. The white picket fence, the kids, the dog...but you need to find a guy first. Well, maybe not for the dog. Don’t tell Monie I said that.”

Namjoon laughed. “That might be the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go, even if it has been ten years.”

“Well, I love you, dumbass,” Yoongi pouted. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Namjoon said softly, putting his hand on Yoongi’s forearm. He sighed. “What time is this thing tonight? I know I got the email about it but I deleted it.”

“Seven, in the theatre,” Yoongi said with a grin. “Meet you outside at six forty-five.”

*****

Namjoon glared at his closet, convinced it was hiding some miracle outfit from him on purpose. From his bed, his phone alarm rang loudly, his incredibly annoying reminder that if he didn’t leave in five minutes, he was going to be late.

He was definitely going to be late. He stepped over to the bed to silence the alarm, and glanced again at the clothing he’d discarded there. Resigned, he grabbed a blue and white striped button down shirt and a pair of straight black pants, pulling them on quickly before going to fix his hair.

It was 6:59 and Namjoon was still standing alone outside of the university’s theatre. He glanced around once more, trying to decide if he should go in alone, when the decision was finally taken away from him.

“Namjoon, hey!” The bright voice of Jung Hoseok greeted him from behind as the man walked towards him, hand in hand with Yoongi.

“Cutting it kinda close, hey guys? I was thinking about leaving.”

“Liar,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, we all know they won’t actually start anything until at least 7:15. If we’re lucky. But hey, there’ll be food.” He eyed Namjoon up and down. “You look good, Joon. Glad to see you prepared,” he said with a wink.

Hoseok looked back and forth between the two friends, a blank expression on his face. “I’ll explain later, Hobs. Don’t worry,” Yoongi said, the gummy smile that had enchanted Hobi so much when they’d first met coming out.

“Yeah, yeah, okay you two. Let’s go in. I want to get this over with,” Namjoon said. There was a book waiting for him on his coffee table that was bound to be more interesting than the seemingly unending speeches and networking that always occurred at these staff mixers.

The trio stepped inside the theatre, each waving at a few colleagues they saw, and beelined it for the snack table. “I may not know anything about love, but I know about snacks,” he said to Yoongi with a smirk on his face as he lifted his plate towards his friend.

“You’re impossible. Let’s go sit down. I hate standing,” Yoongi said. They found seats in the middle of the theatre, knowing that with the amount of people in the room, sitting at the back would be more conspicuous than anything.

Sure enough, it was 7:15 when the Dean of Arts walked onto the stage. “Ha, told you,” Yoongi said to Namjoon beside him, just loud enough for his best friend to hear. “Looks like it’s our lucky day.” Namjoon shook his head slightly as the Dean began to speak.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight to welcome our new professors to the faculty. It’s a testament to the culture we’ve built here, I believe, that so many of you were willing to give up your evenings to make our new colleagues feel like they belong.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I was past sitting through lectures,” Hoseok said, sliding down slightly in his seat. “Just let us meet the newbies already!” The Dean continued to drone on for several minutes until it became clear that nobody in the theatre was listening to him.

“Anyway, without further ado, let’s introduce our new professors. For the dance department, Assistant Professor Park Jimin.” The Dean gestured to a blonde man sitting directly in front of him, who stood up and waved at everyone.

“Jimin-ssi is good, really good,” Hoseok whispered. “I did his interview myself. He’s basically a prodigy.”

“He’s cute,” Yoongi said softly.

“Yeah, but not as cute as you,” his boyfriend said, sensitive to Yoongi’s insecurities. He placed a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek before turning back to the front.

“For the photography department, Kim Taehyung,” the Dean said, signalling to a man sitting beside Park Jimin. “And finally, for the drama department,” he started.

Whether he finished, Namjoon had no idea. He assumed the man had, but Namjoon’s mind went blank as soon as the third man stood. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a white lace top under a black blazer. His black hair was slicked back, and unlike the other two, who had just stood, given a quick wave, and sat back down, this man stood, turned towards the back of the theatre, and blew a few kisses out towards the others sitting there.

“Actors,” Yoongi scoffed after the man sat down, before realizing Namjoon hadn’t twitched since the beginning of the introduction. “Uh, Joon? You there?” he waved his hand in front of Namjoon’s face teasingly.

“Uh, what?” Namjoon said. “Yeah, of course. Just uhhh,” he paused, trying to both think of an excuse and settle down his racing heart. “Spaced out,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded even as the words left his mouth.

“Oh, I see,” Yoongi said, a look of understanding passing across his face. “Spaced out. Of course. Well. Let’s go introduce ourselves to the new professors, shall we?”

“You go. I’ll catch up,” Namjoon said.

“Nope. You came with us and we stick together,” Yoongi said, pulling Namjoon up by the arm and dragging him down the centre aisle to the area in front of the stage, where people had begun to gather. Namjoon glanced around, hoping to avoid the new acting professor for the time being. He bumped into someone and began to stammer out an apology as he turned towards them. His words trailed off as his eyes met two sparkling brown ones, the lace shirt and black blazer looking too familiar for his liking already.

“Hi. Kim Seokjin,” the acting professor introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake Namjoon’s.

“K-Kim Namjoon,” Namjoon said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing.

“Great last name,” Seokjin said, and when he winked, Namjoon was certain he was going to pass out.

#bts fic #namjin #namjoon x seokjin #namjoon x jin #fluff #smut #namjin fic #gaaaaaaaaaaaay everyone's gaaaaaaaaaaaay

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

lost in space || s.r

summary: post-IW in which you’re stuck on the ship with tony and nebula. knowing you didn’t have much time left before oxygen levels ran out for good, you decide to send a final goodbye message to the man you’ve grown to love over the past several years.

words: ~2.1k

warnings: angst in the beginning, fluff, major feels, worried steve ;-p

a/n: i took inspo for another oneshot like this that i read but then i got a bunch of new related ideas, so here we go!

22 days.

22 days of drifting through empty space with Tony and Nebula.

After day 16, you began losing hope in returning home. Nobody had to say anything for you to put two and two together and realize you didn't have much longer before what little was left of your oxygen supply ran out. So this had the three of you accepting you wouldn't make it through, opting to make the best of the time you had left. Your breathing became more heavy and labored, as the act of taking a single breath had now grown more difficult with each passing minute.

While she didn't want to admit it, Nebula thought having you and Tony by her side was much better than imagining being alone. It was an unspoken agreement that you all enjoyed each others' company; seeing you were all you had now after losing almost everything.

You exhaled as you sat in the cockpit of the ship, chin resting in your hand as you gazed out the glass dome and took in the eerie yet beautiful sight that space had to offer.

Feeling a rough hand clasp your shoulder, you turned around to see Tony standing there.

"Hey," he smiled softly, holding his remaining granola bar out to you. "You haven't eaten all day. Why don't you take the rest of this."

"No, I can't do that," you shook your head. "You need to eat, too."

"Your health is just as important, Y/N. You've lost too much weight in these past three weeks."

"Haven't we all."

"Just take it."

Knowing he wasn't going to stop arguing, you mumbled a 'thank you' and took the bar from him, taking a small bite.

You pushed yourself out from your chair and took a seat next to him, lowering yourself to the ground on the steps as he leaned his helmet against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving them a message. In case things go wrong, and...we don't make it," he replied as he took in a deep breath and began fiddling with the helmet, flicking a switch inside it before tapping its' side, projecting a blue light over you two.

"Tony...we're literally going to die. I don't get why you're doing this, Steve and the others probably think we're already dead..."

"Might as well say a last good bye, then. And, recording...is this thing on?" He tapped the side of the helmet again. "Hey, Miss Potts...Pep. If you find this recording, don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear-jerker. I don't know if you're ever going to see these. I don't even know if you're...if you're still...Oh, god. I hope so. Today is day 21, uh..."

"22," you corrected as you leaned back against the wall. “Or 23. Wait no, 22.”

"Yeah, 22. You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today. The infection's run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there."

"You’d love her. She’s very practical," you added, "Only a tiny bit sadistic."

"Anyway...some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about 48 hours of time. But it's now dead in the water. We're 1000 light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow. And that'll be it. And Pep, I...I know I said no more surprises, but I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like...well you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt. I should probably lie down. Please know that...when I drift off, I will think about you. Because it's always you."

You both fell into silence afterwards and you quickly looked away, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to try and stem the flow of tears that threatened to spill. Tony must've noticed the look on your face, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as you stared blankly out ahead.

This really was it. When you imagined dying, you saw yourself going down on the battlefield, maybe jumping into the crossfire to save someone. Or simply passing in your sleep, dying of old age, anything but being unable to breathe.

You didn't think you'd meet your demise by running out of oxygen as you drifted mindlessly through space.

"Why don't you talk to Capsicle," Tony finally spoke up several minutes later. "This might be your only chance to get the closure you've wanted for so long."

"I'm not...it's not like that," you sighed, running a hand down your face. "He's just a friend."

"Don't bullshit me, Y/N. I know you're in love with him."

You let out another sigh, staring at his helmet blankly for a moment before opening your mouth to speak.

"Hey, Cap. You know, for the longest time, I was stuck trying to figure out what I was really meant to do, why I was ever placed on the earth to begin with," you spoke, looking out the glass at the darkness of space again, "When Fury first recruited me to the initiative, I was...I was in a dark place. And I didn't know how to get out. I felt stuck, frustrated...lost. I felt like I wasn't worthy or even the slightest bit prepared to take on the responsibilities of a hero because of all that I'd done in the past. I'd committed my fair share of sins, and...it all came down to a point where I almost lost the will to keep going, to keep living. My demons held me back from the perfect life I so desperately wanted and followed me everywhere I went. But then you came along, and for the first time in a long time, I started to hope, to...feel things again. You taught me that there was such a thing as second chances and forgiveness, that it's okay to make mistakes, and most importantly, I was meant to feel things; to love.

"You taught me that I was meant to feel happy, to allow myself the chance at living that burden-free life. That I didn't have to feel so doubtful when something good happened because all I'd ever learned was to feel suspicious when an event occurred in my favor. God, I really do owe you, huh? I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you. Maybe spiral down into an endless pit of despair and destruction? But really, I'm grateful that you walked into my life. I don't know how I'm supposed to repay you for all that you've given up for me.

You chuckled lightly and sniffled, hastily wiping at your eyes. "I know you're still out there. I hope you are. Because I know Captain America would never go down without a fight. This fight, though...you don't need to keep fighting. I've already accepted my fate. I'm going to die in less than two days...and I'm not bitter or mad at all. Death is inevitable, you know? If there's anything I took away from my torturous days in the Red Room, it was to never fear death because every girl would eventually meet her end. I'll be completely honest with myself here, I don't mind dying alongside these two...Tony and Nebula are some pretty great roommates. Who knew an alien could be so good at paper football?

The helmet flickered and you knew you didn't have much time left. "Steve...I don't want you to look back at all this in pain. I want you to live your best life...one that isn't filled with regret. And if this means moving on, starting anew...then do it. I want you to be happy. Be happy...for me.

Another tear fell, but this time you didn't bother to wipe it away. "I guess since my days are now numbered, I should let this weight off my chest...I love you, Steve Rogers. More than you'll ever know. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember and I can only hope you feel the same but I guess I might never know that answer now...we can't always get our happy endings, can we?

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to say goodbye one last time, I love you," you choked out as the recording finally powered down and you let your head fall into your hands, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. The ache of longing to be with him echoed through the marrow of your bones; a chill wind trapped inside your heart and a million little glass shards tearing at your guts. Nausea swirled around in your stomach, head swimming with thoughts as your blood felt like tar, struggling to flow steadily.

Reaching over, Tony carefully grasped your hand, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. "It's gonna be okay," he muttered, eyes closed as you trained your gaze on the glass. "It's gonna be okay."

It could've been five minutes or five hours later, but suddenly, a vast white light illuminated the space surrounding you, forcing you to shut your eyes again.

As you focused on the bright ball of light, you could make out several features of a woman, though you initially thought you were dreaming. This couldn't be real. Was it?

"Hang in there, guys, I've got you," her voice flooded your ears, before she disappeared from view.

You opened your eyes a second time to see you were speeding towards Earth, the ship slowing down slightly as the familiar outline of America came into view.

Then, a steady jolt of the Benatar indicated you'd hit solid ground, in the middle of the field in the Avengers facility.

Nebula helped Tony up first, then you. The entry hatch opened, and you carefully stepped down the ramp together onto the grass.

It was pitch-black out, the only sources of light coming from the lights that projected from the compound, but it didn't take long for your vision to adjust. A small smile found its way onto your face as you saw six familiar figures came running towards you.

"Oh my God," Pepper cried, throwing her arms around Tony's neck and holding on as if her life depended on it. "Oh my God."

You smiled wistfully as you observed your surroundings, lowering yourself onto the ramp's last set, arms crossed over your chest as you realized just how cold it actually was.

A sudden warmth enveloped you and you felt someone's leather jacket being draped over your shoulders. Seeing Steve's familiar tall figure out of the corner of your eye, you moved over slightly to allow room for him to sit.

He looked over at you in concern, taking in your pale and malnourished figure. His chest ached at the sight.

"I'm okay," you found yourself saying, "don't worry about me."

"I've been worrying about you for the past twenty-two days," he replied, hands in his pockets, "I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," you swallowed hard.

Steve let out a shaky breath and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"I thought you were dead," his voice cracked, "and if you really were, then...I don't know what I'd do."

“Me neither,” you breathed out. “God, I missed you so much.”

Then all of a sudden, the whole word seemed as if it was on standstill as his sapphire blue eyes bored into yours with such an intensity that sent a chill down your spine, keeping you firmly locked in place. And it utterly terrified you because you’d never felt something so intense like this before and he was the reason why you even felt this way to begin with.

And before you can protest against your own thoughts, you closed your fists around his shirt and gently tugged him towards you, closing the gap and kissing him. The sudden action took you both by surprise but Steve doesn’t waste any time in reacting, moving a hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck to kiss you back.

Everyone’s too exhausted, too busy feeling relieved at the fact that you returned safely to make a teasing comment towards yours and Steve’s relationship. They’ve secretly been betting for a while that you’d finally get together, though not in this exact way.

Until Rocket breaks the silence. “Nice welcome back gift, Agent.”

"You cockblock," Nebula flicks him in the head. "Let them have their moment, geez."

#steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #marvel imagine #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x you #marvel reader insert

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darkdevasofdestruction · 5 years

Text

Save Me From Myself - Leone Abbacchio

The best thing that could ever happen in my life is to become a part of the gang Passione - Or, to be more specific, a part of Buccellati’s team, filled with people with so many past issues that somehow manage to work together and support each other with everything they’ve got, despite their huge differences.

We have, from youngest to oldest, we have:

Giorno, a super cute and pure angel of a kid who is super smart and ambitious. Fugo, a super smart and caring yet hella violent kid who can’t control his temper. Narancia, ADD kiddo who behaves like a 10 year old, but is funny and has nice dance moves. Mista, hella funny guy and easy going, but can get distracted by weird things. Bruno, the mum of the group, everyone loves and looks up to him. And we have Abbacchio, who’s the oldest, acts somehow like the responsible dad of the group, yet he’s more of a very gloomy wine dad.

Of course, being a part of Bruno’s team, we already know each other’s backstories and we know how to support and protect each other when we need it, both morally and emotionally, since, after all, nobody is made of ice or stone.

But that is something that perhaps neither Abbacchio nor I chose to admit...Or maybe we already know that, but we don’t want to say it out loud, because if we do, it will make it real, and we don’t want the bad parts to be real.

When we have pair up missions, I’d usually be paired with Abbacchio, since apparently, we make quite a good team, and can’t say that I complain - He knows when to stay silent, when to make a witty or sarcastic comment, has very nice dark jokes and can be a great conversation partner, especially when it comes to music and bands.

What I realised, however, that I’m not sure everyone knows, is that Abbacchio has a dose of self-hatred so large that it would include the dose of everyone from the team...No, rather said, of all Italy.

Unfortunately, when you’re someone like me, you can easily realise when someone isn’t doing mentally and emotionally too well, and what’s worse, as an empath, you can feel it just like an arrow impaling your heart.

It’s already been about a year since Giorno joined our team and for some reason, things started taking a turn for the unexpected whenever we’d have our weekly restaurant gatherings.

It all started when Mista got himself a girlfriend, and honestly, everyone was shocked because so far, nobody actually had any kind of love life, but we were all super proud and happy for him. He has always been a fun and easy going guy, very adventurous and this charm of his unexpectedly drew interesting girls to him, and managed to get completely head over heels with one.

Three weeks later, Mista couldn’t come to the hang out because he was taking his girlfriend on a date out of the city, but we found out that Giorno, with his really cute tricks and natural innocent charm, found himself in a relationship with a flower girl, very kind and sweet. They met when she was walking her puppy and he pulled on the leash so hard that she fell, but Giorno caught her and helped her out with the puppy, and it was love at first sight.

Of course, we were all very happy for them, because obviously, Giorno deserves the best in life...

And yet, it was weird when we were so few at the table at weekend hang outs.

It didn’t take long for Bruno to fall for a beautiful singer at a jazz bar, who, he found out, always bought meals for children of the streets and bought them clothes and tried to take care of them the best she could.

And now that our Mum friend was busy with his beloved, we are told by Fugo that he also managed to find a girl who is extremely calm, patient and intelligent, just his type, and they are planning a few museum and bookshop dates, as well of some very chill hang outs in the park.

Not even a week later, it was only me, Abbacchio and Narancia at the table, but the little duck was overly enthusiastic today, and told us that he found a girl who doesn’t mind his energetic and airhead personality and wants to take HIM out on an arcade date, and he needs some dating advice so he wouldn’t screw up.

“These kids are so pure and adorable, don’t you think, Leone?” I let out an amused breath, realising that, by now, it was only I and him at the table. “Yeah...They are. they deserve it.” he nodded simply, yet he seemed to not be over with his thoughts. “You seem like you want to say something else. Do you have anything on your mind that you’d like to share?...Hold up, is that lipstick on your neck?” I ask in a gentle voice, that turned into a gasp, which made him hum as he closed his eyes and think over, trying to wipe away the lipstick from his skin. “Well, I suppose I should say it after all. I asked a girl out and we’re going on a date next weekend, so I won’t be present for our weekly hang out...Not that it would make much of a difference, considering we’re the only ones left.” hearing him say that so nonchalantly, broke my heart in very little pieces, but at the same time, I was happy for him. “Woaw, that’s great, I’m so happy for you, Abba! I hope she’s everything you wish for and that you’ll both be happy together!” I congratulated him, but he only let out an amused breath, looking away slightly. “Yeah...Thanks, I guess.” he spoke in a low voice, seemingly absent minded. “You still have something on your mind -... No, rather said, on your heart. Is it something you’d rather keep to yourself?” I ask in a softer voice, leaning a bit on the table. “I’m not sure...” he trailed on, before glancing at him, blinking but not saying anything for a while. “Well, doesn’t matter, I’m not really a talker anyway. I have to go. See you around, Kat.” he nodded at me before leaving the restaurant, leaving me alone. “Bye...” I mutter to myself, staring at the empty seat in front of me.

It was then that I was reminded just how alone I really was, even when surrounded by people that I hold dear, and in turn, hold me dear... Well, not that it really mattered now anyway, since I was truly alone now, both spiritually and physically.

I got up from my seat and started walking around the city aimlessly, not really knowing what to do. When everyone else wasn’t so busy, I’d cling on one of them, depending on the mood I had at the moment...But now? Now I feel like nothing more than a wingless bird, or a paper plane in the wind, just trying to stay in the air.

Everywhere I looked, everyone was happy, everyone had someone that made them happy, and in turn, would make said person happy... And then I’d think at myself, and I’d find nothing more than an endless void of nothingness.

It’s true, I used to date someone too, before Giorno joined us, but...I never, even once, missed one of our hang outs. I suppose the team, my family, for me, was always more important than a relationship that may or may not be fleeting. And...I suppose that’s why my ex kept speaking like that to me, and seeing me in such a bad light. A difference in ideals and mind views that is so radical is never going to work out.

I already miss my Family, despite of how dysfunctional we all are.

How odd.

The next weekend, I went to the restaurant at the regular time, hoping that I would see at least one of the guys... But I was merely lying to myself, or my heart, that is. My brain already knew I was going to be alone.

One week, two weeks, three weeks...

The only time I’d meet them is when we’d have to go on missions or stuff like that.

I can’t believe how fast happiness can disappear...It’s almost like it never existed in the first place. How is that fair?

Why am I the only one left alone? Am I really that much of a bad person? Am I really that bad? Or ugly? Or annoying? Or what the hell is wrong with me? And more, what the hell is wrong with my heart? Why does it hurt so much? Why do I keep feeling the need to break down and cry every night with no exception? But I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that I feel the need to cry my emotions out and scream my frustrations out at the sky... Or the fact that I can’t?

For the love of God, I can’t express my emotions, I can’t feel them, or maybe I feel too many at once and they threaten to explode, hell, I don’t even understand anything anymore.

This...Is really not fair at all...

About two months into this whole mess, I found myself going out by the sea every night, drinking some red wine that Abbacchio always drank and surprisingly, wasn’t too bad for my tastes, and I would just stare at the sky and let my emotions pour out, but not without cursing myself for looking like an alcoholic.

What was different that night, however, was a very familiar voice that seemed rather irked, continued by a very pitched and nagging female voice.

It sounded like Abbacchio...But I could always be mistaken. After all, drinking a whole bottle of red wine by myself wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

They seemed to be arguing...I don’t know...I wouldn’t want to intervene in their couple affairs. Or at least, that’s what I said, until I heard a loud slapping sound, followed by a deathly silence, which is when I realised that the woman he was with slapped him.

I may not be his girlfriend, but godamn it, nobody treats my family like that...

I marched to where the sound of the woman yelling at him came from, and despite possibly being a bit wobbly, I wasn’t even sure, I glared at her, catching her wrist before she could slap him once again.

“Who the hell are you?! Who do you think you are, getting between me and my boyfriend like that?! You look like some drunk slut from the highway, we have no money for your cheap ass!” she shrieked in my face, trashing violently, but I made no hostile move, except for glaring blankly at her. “He’s my family...And I’ll be dead before I allow anyone to treat my family with such disrespect.” I spoke in a low and threatening voice, gripping her wrist tighter. “It’s fine, Katrina, I deserved it.” Abbacchio tried to defend his girlfriend, but I was having none of it. “No, it’s not fine. And you didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves to be treated like that by the person they love.” I reply simply, but that seemed to make hell break loose. “Oh my GOD! Leone, this is all your fault! Who the hell made you know such a fucking annoying chick like her who doesn’t mind her own damn business?! Screw it, I’m going home! You owe me a nice fucking date next time!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, before pushing me away and stomping in the opposite direction. “God damn it...” Abbacchio’s low voice was barely audible. “Are you okay, Abba...? Does it hurt where she slapped you? Can I heal it with my Stand?” I tried to reach out instinctively with my hands, but he slapped them away harshly, glaring at me, which made me widen my eyes in shock. “Abba...?” I was barely able to speak out. “What the fuck is your problem?! Why do you have to put your nose everywhere that doesn’t concern you? That was MY girlfriend! My date, my problem, my responsibility! ALL mine! You never stop trying to pry into others’ business, under the pretext that we’re family and you want the best for us, but have you ever thought that maybe we DON’T need OR want that?!” it was the first time he spoke so harshly and aggressive toward me, that I had to take a few steps back, away from him, then turn around to hide the tears streaming down my face. “Okay. I won’t bother you ever again. I’m sorry I’m such a bother for everyone around me. Goodbye.” I manage to speak in a shaky voice, as I started walking back towards the place where I stood previously, but I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. “W-Wait...Are you crying...?” Leone spoke in an unsure voice, as if he was somehow taken back to reality. “That shouldn’t concern you, should it? It’s none of your business and you shouldn’t pry so much into it. That IS what you said, right, Abbacchio? Who cares about poor little, annoying Katrina, after all? Nobody. Let it remain that way. Who knows, maybe you’ll have the look to completely get rid of me very soon.” I slapped his hand away, before disappearing into the night, not even bothering to hear him out anymore.

From then on, I wasn’t even able to fake my happiness, my face remaining blank and emotionless for most of the time, and I’d only stay around the team for as long the mission needed me, and then I’d just leave back home, to my little safe heaven where I could be myself... But honestly, I couldn’t even be myself there, for I wouldn’t even be able to cry out my feelings or anything of the sort, and for the most time, I’d just watch a movie or listen to music, without feeling anything at all, just wasting my time blankly.

The other guys would voice their concerns quite often and loud, since I wasn’t my usual calming, gentle and happy go lucky self anymore, and it was clear that something was wrong...Especially when I refused to stay anywhere near the silver haired man.

It wasn’t until Bruno paired me up with said man that hell broke loose in a way, and the whole drive to the assigned place was filled with awkward silence, with Abbacchio trying to make conversation by asking if I like the song that’s on or I want to change it, but I didn’t bother giving him any answer, merely looking in front of me as I drove.

By the time we got to the docks to investigate the place, I walked away from him to do my job, but he just stood there, staring into the horizon, trying to say something, but something was keeping him - Most likely his own walls he created.

“We should talk.” he finally spoke up after excruciating minutes. “Really?” I asked sarcastically, now even bothering to look at him. “What were you doing at the beach that night?” he asked after a long pause. “Strictly confidential.” I replied blankly, looking at the little dock house. “What...?!” my response seemed to shock him since I was never so harsh and direct with him, always preferring to speak with a gentler and softer way. “It’s none of your business, is it? Your words, not mine.” I explained as I got inside and looked around the place. “I didn’t mean that. Not a word I said.” he tried to say, but I cut him off fast. “Activate your Stand already, stop wasting time.” I got out, looking at him with a bored expression. “Besides, words spoken always have a meaning and consequences. Action-Reaction, like in Physics, y’know?” I pointed out, as I took a seat on one of the logs around. “Look, I know I fucked up. I lashed out at you for no reason, and I’m sorry about that. I want to make it up to you. You were right to worry about me. Anyone from the team would have done the same. I was an asshole with you, I know that. I let my feelings go out of control... I'm just that kinda guy... a worthless guy who can't see anything through to the end. I always screw it up halfway through.” he spoke now more than I’ve ever heard him before, but the way he described himself made me cringe. “Don’t...Speak like that about yourself...” I muttered, shifting my gaze from him to Moody Blues. “Huh? Even now, after I was such an asshole with you, you try to protect me? Aren’t you an angel?” he chuckled lightly, which only made me sneer. “Shut up. I’m sorry for caring about you and for not wanting you to go through what I’ve been through. But I should’ve known better. You’re 21, you already have enough experience to know what you get yourself into. I won’t say a word next time, don’t worry. I promised not to bother anyone again.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my legs to get more comfortable in my seat. “That guy really was a bastard, wasn’t he...?” he muttered with a somehow softened expression. “Don’t try to turn this around. This conversation isn’t about me and nor should you be concerned about me or my feelings in any way.” I reminded him once again, but he was always a stubborn guy. “Lately, I’ve been feeling worse and worse...I guess I just needed a distraction. I never held any feelings for that woman, nor did she for me.” he tried to justify himself, but I merely shrugged. “I don’t see how that concerns me in any way.” I scoffed in annoyance. “You’re the only one I’d trust with my feelings.” he spoke after a brief silence, but I could only laugh sardonically. “Oh, really? Really, now? Are you sure you want to say that after that night? Because, as far as I’m concerned, you want me out of your life! Why would you even bother trying to justify your actions to someone like me anyway?!” I got up, glaring at him dead on. “Look, I give you every right to be mad at me! You can go ahead and punch me or kick me or slap me or whatever, it doesn’t matter, I won’t feel anything so if it will make you feel better, lash out your anger on me, I’d deserve it anyway.” he spoke a bit louder, yet he wore his raw feelings on his sleeve. “Why...Would I do that? You, of all people, should know that I would never, in a million years, do something like that, no matter how angry I am. Are you trying to mock me...?” I narrowed my eyes at him, but he merely shook his head. “I’m trying to get you to forgive me. I’m just very bad at this whole feel-thing...Or people-thing. You already know my past and I’m pretty sure you figured by now why I act the way I act. It’s not rocket science. So just...Tell me what to do to get you to forgive me and be the way we were before. I can’t stand the idea of you hating me.” his voice became much softer and more emotional by the end of it, something uncharacteristic of him. “I don’t hate you.” I looked down, crossing my arms. “You don’t...?” he stepped forward, his face shocked. “I can’t. No matter how much I want to hate you for what you did...I can’t.” I mutter, biting my lip, averting my eyes away from him, until...”Hey...Doesn’t that look oddly enough like your girlfriend...?” I ask breathlessly as Moody Blues took the shape of the girl at the beach. “Oh, great...My hookup is a villain Stand user. Great news.” he facepalmed in anger, before he ran full speed towards me, pushing me away. “Look out!” “Wh-What...?! Leone...?!” I gasped in shock, seeing him on the ground, a really ugly wound on his torso. “Guess we have to kill her.” he chuckled weakly, as I could feel a drop of sweat run down my back. “Damn it, you idiot! You shouldn’t have done that! Why the hell would you do something like that?!” I freaked out, looking at his bleeding wound. “I’ll tell you if I make it through this.” he wore the ghost of a smile that almost challenged me. “...You always know how to irk me the wrong way, don’t you?” I grit my teeth, before I got up, activating my Stand. “I’m not a violent person, chickadee, but now you’ve done it. You really got me mad.” I growled, creating blasting shots of water and throwing them at the woman in front of me. “Awww, what is it? Were you jealous, after all? Were you after my man all this time~?” she giggled, throwing her own blasts of whatever kind of energy that was. “I have no reason to be jealous. Especially not on someone like you.” I smirk as I made molecules of water depart from the actual blast, that would glue themselves on her skin and would get absorbed into her organism. “Oh, really? Can you really afford to say that, even now, knowing that he fucked me?” she laughed condescendingly, but she had no idea what a gruesome demise she’d have. “I almost pity you, you know? You seem like the kind of person who never knew what love is...Not that I’m sympathetic to you in any way. But sure, use that as an excuse to pretend you’re not just an empty shell of yourself.” I chuckled, before snapping my fingers together, which made her explode. “Au revoir.” I flipped my hair, looking at the place she was at just a few seconds ago, before rushing to the fallen ally. “That was pretty cool.” Abbacchio smirked breathlessly. “Guess my plan worked. I tried to look cool in front of you.” I let out an amused breath, before I took off his top, focusing the water to regenerate the cells on his wound so he would heal. “It worked damn well.” he said in a lower voice, watching me heal his wound. “Next time, don’t do that. I almost had a heart attack.” I bit my lip, not daring to meet his gaze. “It’s fine...I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long while.” he tried to make light of the situation, but I knew. I knew the truth, but I couldn’t say anything.

I didn’t even realise that I stopped healing him until tears started falling down my cheeks without any means to stop.

“H-Hey, why are you crying? I was joking, don’t take me so seriously-” he tried to take that back, but I knew better. “Don’t do that...Don’t. Just don’t. I already know...I know that so much that it hurts...” I manage to speak, hiding my face with my hands, not wanting him to see me crying. “Hey, come on...No need to cry over someone like me. Your pretty face should shine with a smile all the time, not cry.” he put his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. “Don’t act so brave in front of me, it’s annoying. Not when I already know how much you’re hurting...I understand you so well...I’m just too scared to say it out loud...But lately, I couldn’t even pretend that it’s not true. That’s why...I wanted to protect you from everything bad that would make you feel even worse...” I tried to explain myself, until I felt a kiss on the top of my head. “Look, I’ll be frank. I love you. I’m done hiding. I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause you deserve better, not a depressed guy who’s stuck in the past. You deserve someone bright and caring like Buccellati who’d treat you like a princess and all that. I’m not worthy of your feelings.” he stroked my hair gently, pouring all his feelings out. “Don’t...Say that...Ever again. Look at me...You think I’m any better? Do you have any idea how lonely I’ve felt all this time since you all got too busy for your family? Do you have any idea how bad I felt without you guys around? As if before that wasn’t bad enough...Now I’ve become an even greater mess. I either cry randomly, or feel nothing at all. I don’t even know what I am or what I feel anymore...And you say you’re no good for me? Did you hit your head too or what?” I spoke out everything I had to say, not even feeling embarrassed or scared anymore. “Don’t say that...You will regret it later on. I can’t even help myself, how could I possibly support you emotionally in any way?” he asks in a self-deprecating tone. “You’re impossible...” I sigh dramatically, as I raise my head and cupping his face, I capture his purple-painted lips in a tender kiss, with enough passion to show him that I mean it, but gentle enough, almost as if afraid that either of us would break from the pent up emotions that kept overwhelming us. “Are you sure...?” he mutters, his eyes wide in surprise. “If you want another one, you can just say so.” I smirk softly, before he put one arm around me, while his other hand was on the back of my head, and he pulled me into another kiss, just as full of love. “Do I really have to ask?” he let out an amused breath. “No. I’ll just let you steal them.” I could feel the ghost of a side-smile creeping on my face as I helped him get up from the ground. “Well, mission complete. Let’s go back home now. We gotta report to our dear Capo, after all.” I intertwined my fingers with his. “There’s gonna be a lot of explaining to do. How bothersome.” he said, yes the chuckle betrayed his words. “Hey, I’ll just look at the bright side. I won’t have to sit at the restaurant table by myself anymore.” I shrugged with an innocent smile on my face. “Low blow, tesoro. Low blow.” he shook his head, yet he was smiling, just as much.

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loving-jack-kelly · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do

The path was hidden. Barely visible. It was rarely used. Almost never, in fact, leaving the path faint.

The entrance was marked by a stone, perfectly round and covered in moss that was just slightly too bright green to be entirely natural.

It was always talked about in hushed whispers. Whispered warnings told to friends who wandered too far off the road.

If you wander, the whispers said, the path will appear. And once you take the path, you can’t step off of it until you’ve given it what it wants.

What it wants, nobody knows. Names, some said. Lives, souls, wishes, hopes, dreams, money, goods, anything you have. It wants.

But some whispers didn’t stop there. Some whispers kept going, some whispers dropped even quieter, hard to hear over crackling fires, hidden in the dancing shadows cast by candles. Some whispers went past the warnings and delivered the promises.

The promise that the path, if sought, not stumbled upon, could give up what you needed in return for what it wanted.

The path was dangerous if you wandered onto it by mistake. Keep your eyes on the road, watch for the round, mossy stone and the faint trail, and avoid them.

Perhaps, the promises said, the path was even more dangerous when sought. Perhaps there’s nothing more dangerous than seeking your wishes and being willing to give yourself up for them. But perhaps, for some things, it would be worth it. Perhaps, for some wishes, having no name would be worth it. Perhaps, for some dreams, fewer years would be worth it. Perhaps, to some, the most dangerous few, perhaps vengeance would be worth never leaving the path at all.

David had heard all of it before. It was cookfire gossip, stories of old relatives told to young children to scare them into staying on the well-traveled road and staying off the hunting paths. That was all. About a half-hour outside their little village there was a decent-sized rock that marked an old deer trail, and that was what kids pointed to to tell the stories. They dared each other to step onto the faintly-there trail, and nobody ever went through with it.

Because maybe they all claimed they didn’t believe the stories, but was it worth it, really? To risk it? To risk everything to test a story?

There was another stone. Further along the road, and smaller. Almost hidden in the undergrowth, but almost perfectly round, and covered in moss so green it almost seemed to glow. And just beyond it was a path so faint it was almost invisible, little more than a simple break in the trees. Too natural to be a hunting path, and almost too narrow to have been made by an animal.

That was the stone and the path David was staring at.

Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk of this being the real path? Was it worth giving up a piece of himself?

Yes.

It wasn’t as hard of a choice as it should have been.

David stepped onto the path.

It didn’t feel any different than the rest of the forest. It felt like what it looked like, a barely used rough path through the trees. He followed it, feeling the underbrush catch at his pants, the dead leaves and dry twigs crunch under his boots.

He was hyperaware of everything around him. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting, but he kept waiting for the path to shift. To change. To become whatever it was that could grant his wish.

It didn’t.

The path ended against a boulder. It wasn’t a clearing, just a big boulder with the trees and brush growing up right against it.

David sat down with his back against the boulder. The path he’d followed hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, he could follow it back to where he came from.

Maybe this was the wrong path. Maybe there was another somewhere, hidden even better.

Or maybe he’d been stupid to believe the stories, even for a second. Even out of desperation. Maybe he’d just wasted his afternoon following a path to nowhere.

“Been a while since anybody’s been down here.” A voice came from somewhere above and behind him, startling him out of his moping. “You here on purpose?”

David stood up and turned around.

A man who looked like he was several years older than him was sitting on top of the boulder. David didn’t know him, had never seen him before, and hadn’t heard him approach or climb up the boulder. He was just…there.

“Must be, if you sat down. When people end up here on accident, they’re freaking out by now. Cursing the name of someone or other, whoever told ‘em to follow the path.”

He was grinning at David, a bright, disarming smile. Something about him just seemed…strange. Maybe it was his eyes, the same bright, bright green of the moss on the round stone. They didn’t seem to match the rest of him. He had dark hair, dark skin, his clothes were muted natural colors, and his eyes were so bright they seemed to glow.

“Nice to have somebody come visit who isn’t kicking and screaming. Guess that probably means you want something, though, huh? Nobody’s ever here just to visit. I wasn’t, the first time. Just got lost in the woods, picked the wrong place to wander.”

He was sitting cross-legged on top of the boulder, and as he spoke, he rested his elbow on his knee and his face on his hand, still grinning.

“Cat got your tongue? I don’t bite. Unless you try to trick me, then I do. It’s in the contract. Clause eight. If trickery is attempted, bite them. Hard. Draw blood. I’m paraphrasing, of course, no need to look so scared. I just have to trick back. You won’t try to trick me, will you? You gotta say something, here, I won’t be able to help if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“You’re…”

“I’m a wish-granter, a man of the path, a soul stealer. A life taker. I’ve been called many things. I guess you could call me Jack.”

“Jack.”

“That’s what everyone called me, once. A long time ago. Nobody has asked in a long time.”

“This is the wish-path, then.”

“That’s one name it’s been given.”

“What do you call it?”

“Home.” Jack’s smile widened, and David pinpointed another slightly unnerving feature. His teeth were ever so slightly pointed, just a bit sharper than a human’s. “And what do you want with it? Nobody comes here on purpose without a wish in mind.”

There was a glint of something in his eyes, David decided. He was speaking charmingly enough and seemed friendly enough, but he was dangerous. Maybe he’d been kidding less than he’d seemed when he’d said he would bite back.

But he was right. David had come here for a reason, and he did have a wish, and he was going to make it.

“I wish that my father was healed.”

“Oh?”

“He got hurt. Two weeks ago. He can’t work, and without him working our family doesn’t have enough. My little brother and I have to work, instead.”

“And you don’t want to work?”

“I don’t mind, but Les is only ten. He shouldn’t have to be working yet. He should be in school. Playing with his friends.”

“You know, making a wish is a dangerous thing. Answers come with a price.”

“I know.”

Jack’s bright green eyes seemed to look right through David like he could see his every thought and his true intentions and was analyzing them closely to see if he was worthy of the wish.

“And you’re willing to pay the price?”

“If I can.”

“I never charge an impossible fare. That’s also in the contract, clause two.” Jack smiled again. It was unsettling, how close he was to human with just the details slightly off. Human but a bit to the left.

“What would the price be?”

“Your wish is simply to heal your father?”

“Yes.”

“Your name.” Jack’s eyes flashed a deeper green, and David wasn’t sure if it was the light or if they’d actually changed colors.

“My…name?”

“I can heal your father if you give me your name.”

David knew those stories well. It seemed like such a simple request. Give Jack his name, just say the word, and his father would be healed. Only that’s not what Jack was asking, not in the way any normal person asked for David to give his name. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t “what is your name?”

It was a price. If Jack told David to give him his name and David responded, then his name wasn’t his anymore. It was Jack’s.

Was it worth it?

David thought about why he was here. About the expression on Les’s face when he had to go to work instead of to school, about how Les was too tired to play with his friends. Was it worth giving up his name for his little brother?

Yes. It didn’t take long to decide. Of course it was worth it. His family was worth anything.

“Okay.”

“In exchange for healing your father, give me your name.”

“David.”

In a flash of a moment, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t his identity that was gone. He knew who he was, where he came from, who his family was. Why he was here. He could remember that a moment ago, he’d had a name, and that it was David. But he could feel that it wasn’t his name anymore. He didn’t have a name. He was himself, but there was no name to attach to that.

Jack’s eyes glowed. This time he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light, light came from Jack’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name. Strong.” Jack looked down at him from his seat on top of the boulder. “Your father is healed.”

“Thank you.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and slid down to the ground. Almost floated, really, very gently and gracefully. Jack was shorter than him by a few inches, and once he was close his energy was almost palpable, like the feeling before a lightning strike. Jack paused, looking into his eyes, and too late, he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to say thank you. After a long moment, Jack smiled, a much softer smile than the one he’d displayed before.

“You’re honest. You have a good heart. Take a gift from me. I give you a name, not as strong as the one you gave me, but a good one anyway. Davey. And I give you a promise, that nobody will ask to take it away.”

As soon as he said it, the void left by giving up his name was filled, and he knew that he was Davey.

A gift from Jack. Not a filled wish, not a trade, but a gift. Maybe that was even more dangerous, maybe it left a debt unfilled, but that was a powerful gift. A name that nobody would take away.

Jack reached out and touched the tip of his finger to Davey’s nose, and another space was filled, this time one he hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. His name was secure, now, immovable. The second part of Jack’s gift.

“Use it well.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and when Davey blinked, he was back on the road, staring at the stone that marked the wish-path.

Wish-magic was a dangerous thing. Davey knew that. He’d known that before he sought the wish-path and he’d known that while he was making his wish and he knew that as he made his way home, a new name in his being and a gifted protection burning at the tip of his nose.

He could feel it, where Jack had touched him. The imprint of Jack’s finger, right at the tip of his nose, where the magic flowed around him and protected his name.

Wish-magic was dangerous, and gifts from wish-granters were dangerous, but when Davey got home and the village all knew him as Davey even if there was a little bit of confusion like they knew it had changed, and his father was out of bed, still weak but no longer in pain, it didn’t matter how dangerous the magic was.

He was home. He had a name, and a promise that he would always keep it. His family was safe and cared for. That was what mattered.

In the months and eventually years that followed, Davey was almost able to forget Jack, the man with the bright green eyes who’d granted his wish and given him a gift.

Twice, the tip of his nose burned like it had right after Jack had touched it. Once, when an old woman in the center of the village, passing through selling her wares, asked his name. He gave it, without thinking, and when his nose burned, he noticed her face fall.

And again, walking on the road and passing by a stranger going the opposite way. As soon as Davey looked at him, his nose was burning, and he knew better than to take a second look.

On those occasions, Davey was forced to remember his trip to the wish-path because it was clear the gifted promise was still in effect. When he passed the stone that marked the path, covered in its otherworldly green moss, he remembered. And sometimes, when he wanted something so bad it hurt, he remembered.

But most of the time, he didn’t think about it. The things he wanted were things he could get himself or go without, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d get off so easy on a second venture to the wish-path.

So while he occasionally thought of the wish-path and of Jack the wish granter, he didn’t really seriously consider going back.

Until, that is, he was told that he was to be married.

He knew that his parents wanted what was best for him and what was best for their family, but he also knew that he would never be happy married to the woman they’d chosen. Mostly because, well, she was a woman. And he didn’t want to marry a woman.

He knew they didn’t understand why it upset him so much when they told him, and he didn’t know where he was going when he left, but somehow he wasn’t surprised when he found himself standing in front of the moss-covered stone.

When he started walking down the path, his nose burned. The closer he thought he was to the end, the stronger the feeling got. It wasn’t painful, but it was very present.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a repeat visitor before.”

Jack’s voice hadn’t changed at all in the three years since Davey’s last visit. When Davey looked up and saw him, again perched on top of the boulder at the end of the path, his face hadn’t changed either. The same bright green eyes framed by dark, dramatic curls. The same muted clothes. He hadn’t changed at all.

By looks, Davey had caught up to his age.

“How are you, Davey?”

That question surprised him. He couldn’t think of any way it could be twisted around. He wasn’t be asked for anything, just a simple question.

“I suppose that’s a silly question, actually. Why would you be here if you were good? Your gift is serving you well, though. I can feel it working now, and I’m not even trying to trick you. I must have made it more powerful than I meant to.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled, and Davey was sure it was with humor.

He had a feeling Jack didn’t do much on accident.

“Do you have another wish?”

“I wish that I didn’t have to marry her.”

Jack tilted his head, and for a second time Davey felt like he was reading every detail of Davey’s mind, thoughts and motivations and desires.

“Strange,” he said after a long moment. “That’s a selfish wish, and yet you still aren’t selfish.”

“What?”

“People have made that wish before. It’s almost out of nothing more than selfishness. Because she’s too ugly, or he isn’t rich enough, not out of consideration for anything. You don’t want to marry her because it will make you unhappy, but also because you know it wouldn’t be fair to her. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? Is it selfish to want that?”

“It’s selfish to want your own happiness even if it means the unhappiness of others. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something for your own happiness when what you want will also make somebody else happy.”

Jack slid down to the ground, again with the otherworldly grace Davey had seen the last time he was here.

“Selfishness is addressed in the contract. Clause four. If a wish is made for selfish gain, it may only be granted at the highest cost. Even though I don’t think your wish is selfish, it’s a powerful wish. Much more powerful than simple healing. I can grant it, though.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Give me your time.” Jack extended his hand, his eyes glowing like they had when he’d healed Davey’s father.

Davey hesitated, but he took Jack’s hand. It was warm, and Davey could feel energy coursing through the connection, like the burning at the tip of his nose but more comfortable and powerful. After what only felt like a few seconds, Jack let go.

Davey felt dizzy. Something had happened, he could tell, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“A powerful wish. A powerful price. I hope it was worth it.”

“What did I give you?”

“A year of your time.” Jack tilted his head, studying Davey’s reaction. “She’s married. Happy. There’ll be a kid in a few months.”

“You mean it’s been a year since I came here?”

“I told you. A high price for a powerful wish.”

“What will my family think?”

Jack shrugged.

“They know you’re safe. They probably know you found a path, people are smart about these things. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“I…I have to go.”

“Of course.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and he gave Davey a small smile. “Hey!” He called when Davey started to walk back down the path.

“What?”

“You don’t have to have a wish to visit. Come back any time.”

“You…you want me to just come to visit?”

“Gets pretty lonely here. People don’t come very often. It’d be nice to have a friend.”

Davey’s family was glad to see him. His parents had tears in their eyes when they hugged him, and Sarah and Les did too. The people in their little village looked at him differently. He’d been gone for a year, of course they did.

He didn’t tell his parents, or his siblings, or anyone that his missing year had been a wish. Of course he didn’t, that would require explaining too many things. He told them he’d gotten lost. Took a wrong path while not paying attention, and when he’d found his way back, it had been a year. Just like that. A year passed in the blink of an eye.

And that was what happened. Technically. Just with a little extra intention behind it.

For a while, things were wonderful. Even though it hadn’t felt long for him at all, and he hadn’t aged that year he’d given to Jack, for his family it had been a long time that he’d been away from home. They were happy to have him around, happy that he was safe and home and with them again.

Every once in awhile, Davey found himself wandering down Jack’s path, spending an afternoon just talking to him.

There weren’t many people his age in the village. And he knew, obviously, that Jack wasn’t his age either. Jack was something old and powerful, not even human. But he had a face that seemed to be Davey’s age, and when he wasn’t talking in riddles or saying things just outside of Davey’s realm of understanding, he sounded like he was Davey’s age, too. In fact, he was easy to talk to.

Friendship with somebody like Jack was probably even more dangerous than wish-magic, but he was easy to be friends with. Easy to talk to. Even if the tip of Davey’s nose burned whenever he was there, it was easy to feel comfortable at the end of the path at the moss-covered boulder.

Jack asked questions about life. He’d been human once, Davey learned, a long time ago, before he signed the contract he kept referencing. He wanted to know how much had changed since then. The answer seemed to be not much.

Davey sometimes was brave enough to ask questions back. He learned that Jack was bound to his path, that he could walk from the top of the boulder to the smaller stone that marked the entrance, and no further. He learned that there were limits to Jack’s power, but not many. Jack could raise a person from the dead. He couldn’t force somebody to fall in love. He couldn’t change a person’s nature, make a bad person good or a good person bad.

It took a lot of visits before Davey asked why Jack had signed the contract.

It was clear that he was lonely. He missed being a human, having friends. He wanted to grow up.

“I found this path on accident and made a very, very powerful wish,” Jack said simply. “Signing the contract was the price I paid.”

“What was your wish?” Davey asked.

Jack’s eyes, which changed shades with his mood, darkened to the deepest green Davey had ever seen in them.

“Justice. Something the world rarely offers, which makes it a very costly wish.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t hesitate. “Justice served more than me. It was a bigger cause than my life was worth. And one day somebody will come along and sign their name under mine, and I’ll be able to walk away.”

“That’s how it works? A trade?”

“Of sorts.”

For a while, that was wonderful. Davey was happy at home, and happy to continue his friendship with Jack. Happy to continue his relationship with Jack.

If wish-magic was dangerous and being friends with a wish-granter was dangerous, surely falling in love with one was deadly. But could Davey help it? When Jack was interesting and kind and always willing to listen, and always had something to say. Maybe for the same reason he’d been drawn to Jack as a friend, that there weren’t many boys his own age in the village, Davey couldn’t help it.

When his parents began to urge him to find a wife again, that only intensified it, because the way he felt when he was around Jack, leaned back against the boulder in a conversation he was actively enjoying…that kind of feeling never came from anybody else, least of all the girls his parents were pushing him towards.

It was that realization that took him down Jack’s path again, with a wish in his heart.

Whenever Davey came, Jack asked.

“Do you have a wish?”

Normally, Davey told him no.

“I do.”

“Really?”

“I wish that everyone would understand.”

Just like Davey hadn’t had to explain who he hadn’t wanted to marry, he knew he didn’t have to explain what he meant. Jack understood.

“That’s a selfish wish.”

“I know.”

“Clause four. I have to charge a high price.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked into Davey’s eyes, reading him.

“Give me your breath,” he finally said.

His breath.

That was a high price.

Before he could change his mind, he nodded.

Jack’s eyes flashed.

And then he kissed Davey.

It took his breath away.

When Jack pulled back, he was laughing.

“There’s more than one way to steal a person’s breath.”

“That seems like a cheat.”

“Isn’t that my job? To trick? I tricked you. I tricked the contract.”

Davey was also laughing when Jack kissed him again.

The summer sun streamed through the trees, the boulder was solid behind his back, and Jack stole his breath until the light was gold and he had to leave.

And when he got home, everyone understood.

It was a strange thing, long after Davey’s third wish had come true and everyone understood and nobody was trying to push him into a relationship. Long after he’d started to find excuses to spend sun-drunk afternoons with Jack, somehow easily falling into a relationship that should have felt impossible.

A man walked down the road into the village.

He looked familiar, Davey thought. Dark curls framing a dark face, worn in clothes that almost faded into the forest behind him. Eyes so dark brown they were almost black. He was pretty. He walked with a slight limp like there was a stone in his shoe.

Davey didn’t recognize him at first, not until he was much closer.

“Jack?”

“Hello.”

Davey’s nose wasn’t burning the way it always did when he visited Jack’s path. Jack’s eyes weren’t green, they didn’t shift when he smiled. But it was Jack. Unmistakably Jack.

“You left the path?”

“Somebody made a wish,” Jack said, sitting down next to Davey on the step to his house. “A selfish, powerful wish.”

“Oh?”

“There is nothing more selfish or more powerful than wishing to live forever. To leave behind everyone and everything, to cause your loved ones pain, and to disrupt the way of the world.”

“Somebody signed the contract.”

“And now he’ll live forever, and I can live my life.” Jack smiled again, and Davey decided that his brown eyes suited him much better than the green.

“I have one more wish, then.”

“I don’t know if I can grant it.”

“You can.”

“Oh?”

“I wish that you would stay. Here. With me.”

“That might be the most expensive wish from you yet.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Give me your life.” Jack opened his hand, palm up, and extended it to Davey. Resting on his palm was a ring, made out of something as green as Jack’s eyes had been. As green as the moss on the stone that marked the wish-path.

“Okay.” Davey took the ring and slid it on his finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did, Jack seemed to know everything he wanted to.

Out of all of the prices he’d paid for his wishes, this was perhaps the easiest to pay. Hadn’t he already started to make the decision anyway?

Jack’s smile widened, and he twined their fingers together, staring at the bright green ring against Davey’s skin.

Davey realized that this was the first time he’d seen Jack smile without anything else behind it. Nothing but happiness.

And that meant that Davey’s wish wasn’t selfish. Jack had decided that before, that a wish wasn’t selfish as long as it was to make more than one person happy.

Maybe this was the most worthwhile wish yet, even if magic hadn’t been needed to accomplish it.

#Asper Yells #newsies #javid #davey jacobs #jack kelly #i wrote this #what started as an exercise in atmosphere has become javid because i love them simply too much #i haven't posted a fic on tumblr in a long time but it's too late to go on ao3 and i wanted it up Now #txt

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meraki-sunset · 5 years

Text

The game begins with reader finishing reading the epilogues, so we know that they read all homestuck (but not homestuck2) and finally understands everything that is happening around them.

When they go to confront doc scratch they find the place full of photos on the floor and that doc is fighting with slick spades.

That means I was right in my previous theory! And Reader escapes in the middle of the altercation.

But unlike what I thought would happen, reader does not just cross the portal and warns his friends about the arrival of the meteorites that lead to the 12 trolls.

In fact at first I did not understand what happened, but giving it a little more time to think, it is kind of obvious to me what happened.

Reader got into the fenestrated window while it was turned off. So they fell into the void that exists between the windows and got themselves inside a dream bubble.

just like Roxi did when her window got disconected, she landed on Meena’s dream bubble

And within this bubble, they find the retcom juju

The dream bubbles if you remember, they generate a mixture of memories of who is inside, and the bubble where the juju was kept was a convination of places from vriska’s and caliborn’s memories (from their lands during the game)

But being alone in the bubble, arriving long before anyone else to the juju, all that reader found were smooth walls and the juju itself, not in the caliborn’s denizen box, but on the floor.

Reader recognizes the juju and puts their hand in it, but not being a character of the web comic, but from a side story the power is too much for them, and they’re sent to the beginning of homestuck, outside of John’s house on the day of apocalypse.

Later Reader says they probably found the juju by accident, making this the point in wich this timeline divides from the canon alpha timeline. We’ll have to wait and see what results from this separated reality in wich nobody ever plays the game.

We realize now by how they describe everything so vaguely and calmly, by how he does not recognize John and that he is looking to make friends again, that reader now has amnesia, and not only do they don’t remember reading homestuck (which I originaly thought would be their motivation to change the history during this game) but also does not remember their experiences in alternia during Friendsim.

So basically we are at Zero again. Reader is delighted and eager to make friends again, with the added advantage that they can travel between time and space.

This gives them the ability to alter the timeline in the process of making friends. So without even trying, they destroy the homestuck’s narrative from it’s very core, which is, they prevent the children from playing Sburb.

I always assumed that there was no escape from the game and that if the children did not play it, the meteorites would fall anyway annihilating the earth, and that the game was the only way for someone to be saved. It turns out that it’s not the case. The apocalypse can be avoided only if none of the children created in sburb starts the countdown. (because other people on earth tried to start the game but never worked)

As an extra fact John mentions that the mailmen are unstoppable when delivering mail, which reminds me of mendicant. And in addition to the theory that pawns can not go back and therefore reader can not stop or withdraw from any encounter and if they do it, that timeline is doomed (reinforcing my carapace theory)

But back to reader, they seems to have vague memories of having been elsewhere and having read homestuck, because the encounter with John seems familiar to them although they do not remember his name

they refer to the first pages of homestuck when they try to remember.

And they think they remember making many friends and having died several times, although they have no memories of anyone or anything specific. The oldest memory they can recal is right after they finished reading homestuck before leaving Doc scratch mansion.

In a timeline, reader teaches John their powers and teleports him to a week in the past, where they accidentally intercept Epilog-John doing the same, and stopping in the backyard of his old home a week before the apocalypse to regroup everyone and choose the Plan of action on Lord English.

Maybe reader knew within himself that this would happen due to their incomplete memories in which they read the epilogue, but they guided themselves by following John's suggestions so it might just be a matter of luck for them to have found Epilog-John.

When they return John has a vague existential crisis after seeing himself from the future for a moment, similar to his extensive existential crisis after winning the game and moving to the Earth c.

Maybe John is not made for this heroic future (even tho he was created for it) and will always end up having crisis, no matter to how little of his magical destiny he is exposed to.

In another timeline reader never shows their powers to John and they both just hang out in his room.

John implies that he does not have a good time with his father's cake madness, which reader worries that could be an abusive situation, but then he clarifies that everything is really fine and that he should not worry. Thing that calms reader down but still they still feel that they would be able to help someone in an abusive situation if the case ever presented to them (wich have actually done multiple times)

(Ironically, of the 4 children, John is the only one who is not in an abusive situation, contrary to the popular trope of stories involving teenagers, where the protagonist is the one in the most compromising situation which drives them to move the story forward, John actually was the only one from the group who had a loving family and stable home and lost it all on the game while the other three kids gained character development, friends, family and partners. Sad.)

Speaking with Dave, John tells him that the reader doesn't even look like a person, just something humanoid.

He mentioned that before even

So it’s finally confirmed by the kids that Reader is in fact not a human, like we all kind of suspected. (reader themselves seems to believe they are tho)

He also mentions that they are not wearing pants :/ (all this time I assumed that they did, and that Mallek had given them a pair as he had promised and that we as players simply did not notice due to the type of art in which reader is represented but, oh well. No pants. In addition, if it is a carapace, then they are a piece of chess created by cloning, no pants are needed, there is nothing to hide)

In addition Dave seems to be much less gullible than John and immediately understands that reader is not a mailman and that it’s probably their fault that John did not receive his game.

During the conversation reader scatters the things in John's treasure chest on the floor, like in homestuck (I still think they unconsciously mimic homestuck when they encounters scenarios they previously saw)

And in the end they make a tower of cakes on John's bed and it should be noted that reader is wrapped in John's sheet in the same way that the mayor did with the same sheet and in the same way that all renegade carapaces do. (which only throws more fuel on my carapace theory, with y’all probably sick of hearing by now but i stand by it o:< )

That’s all i have for John’s chapter!

(yes i know reader is confirmed not a carapace, this theory it’s old)

i already have 3 word documents with Rose, Dave and Jade’s analysis i just need to organize them. i’m planing to post all the 8 kids first and then explain the trolls for convinience here you have a link to my 3 part theory for the oncoming hiveswap game!

Part 1 of Hiveswap theory

Part 2 of Hiveswap theory

Part 3 of Hiveswap theory

Link to the HomestuckTheory hashtag on my blog where you can find more stuff

#pesterquest analyisis #Homestuck theory

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fanfics-andstuff · 3 years

Text

The Time When Olivia Got Drunk

George ‘We are outgunned!’ Washington 3rd POV

Olivia burst into the room where all the generals of the Continental Army were having dinner. She leaned over the door frame, looking like she was about to burst out laughing. George knew straight away that something was wrong, and so did the other people in the room.

“Did you know that Xander, Jack-Jack, and Benji are doing extracurricular activities?” She giggled while saying the last three words that suggest that the three men mentioned weren’t doing anything innocent, “I always thought that my brother would be a top, turns out he was a bottom, and a submissive one too,” Olivia leaned forward and in a loud whisper she said, “If you know what I mean.”

‘She’s drunk’ George thought, ‘The last person I would ever think to be drunk is Olivia. Oh sweet Lord help me.’ George had dealt with a drunk Alexander Hamilton before and sweet Jesus it was not a fun task.

‘Both Olivia and Alexander’s Nevis accent became more prominent when they were frustrated, drunk, annoyed, or speaking in another language,’ he noted.

Olivia half walked half ran towards him and almost fell to the ground face-first if George hadn’t caught her in time.

“Olivia, how did you get drunk at this hour and how did you even get it?” he questioned her as he sat her down in his chair. Her face looked like she was concentrating, but all he got was a shrug.

“Did you know that Xander almost got decapitated?” That question took everyone off guard.

“Miss Hamilton-”

“Olivia.”

“Alright, Olivia” Benedict Arnold emphasized her given name, “did you say that your brother, Alexander Hamilton, almost got decapitated?”

She nodded yes, “I call it the melo-melay-something along those lines-”

“You mean a melon?”

“I said that, you big blue bear.” Olivia rudely replied to Arnold, “Anyways, I call it ‘The Meloy Incident’.” He heard his friend sighed exasperatedly when she pronounced ‘melon’ wrong, while the other generals laughed at his newfound nickname.

“Xander somehow had gotten stuck at the hole thingy of the guillotine and the blade started to fall, I have somehow gotten him unstuck from underground and replaced his head with a melony. Any questions?” She asked everyone, looking innocent as nothing ever happened.

George needed to get Olivia to bed before she started rambling on about other things, specifically about the fact the twins were actually his biological children.

“Let’s go, daughter, I’ll take you to your bed to rest,” he announced.

“Don’t...” she yawned. That one sentence pierced his heart greater than any musket, if Olivia were to repeat that again, his heart won’t be able to take it.

“I don’t have a real father,” she finished. George had nearly dropped the tea he was making for her. Real father, he wasn’t a real father to her. Sure he hadn’t been the best when it comes to parental affections, but he wasn’t the worst.

“He left Jamie, Xander, Mama, and me when back in ‘65. I like to think he’s dead, but…” Olivia had trailed off. After a few beats of agonizing silence, she gave him a crumpled piece of paper and told him to read it.

“Olivia,

It has been years since I left you behind with your brothers and mother, but I need your help. I have been receiving less and less and I need you to send money. I know you have them because you have been working in the Continental Army for a few months. Heed my warning, if you do not give me what I want, I will come there myself and give you your lessons when I was still with your good-for-nothing mother and brothers.

Your Father In Blood,

James Hamilton Sr.”

Silence had stretched for seconds, minutes, George didn’t know, but he knew once he gets this James Hamilton, he’ll have him flogged immediately. He could tell by the other generals that they were thinking the same thing, especially those with who Olivia was friends.

But he had to know.

George needed to know if his twins got hurt by this thing.

He couldn’t even call the man-no coward a human.

No, anyone who hurts a child is not a human being.

But the devil’s followers.

“Olivia, please tell me that he didn’t hit you,” he asked her in a calm voice, but everyone else in the room could tell it was to not startle the girl.

When the older of the Hamilton twins looked down and didn’t say anything, every man was in an uproar, including Lee, who was not as heartless. George gave Olivia the cup of tea to prevent him from throwing it to a nearby wall.

“He didn’t want to raise a good-for-nothing bastard daughter. He tried to hurt Xander, who was the youngest of the three of us, but Jamie and I tried to protect him as hard as we could. When we were beaten to unconsciousness, he would move on to Xander.” she said, voice void of emotions.

George had retrieved the empty teacup, “When was the last time you ate because when I lifted you up to sit on my chair, you were surprisingly light.”

Though Olivia’s eyes were unfocused and unseeing, she looked around her, as if she was afraid that someone else would hear what she was about to say, “Probaby...fivedaysago.” she said it so fast George had almost missed it.

“I didn’t eat for five days because...the army needed it better than a measly woman, besides I’ve been doing it since I was a teen.” Olivia tried (and failed) to reassure them.

“No one cares about me, not even Xander. I’ve been stealing his limelight since I got here.” She tilted her head up, and he saw her eyes glistening with tears.

“I care, Olivia, I care about you a lot.” George contradicted her statement.

She looked fearful at him, like prey to a predator, “Don’t tell anyone, but I plan to leave because I don’t want anyone to be burdened with me.”

As she yawned, the men in the room exchanged looks of helplessness, pity, and concern. Just how did Hamilton Sr. affect Olivia to feel that way. Didn’t she see that they loved her in a familial way? Didn’t she know the rest of the army sees her as a sister to the elders and mother to the young? Didn’t she see that her leaving would be an emotional blow to them?

“I’m a nobody, always has been, always will be. I don’t want anyone to be mad at me because they’ll hurt me somehow. Sometimes, I’m scared of His Exlency because the anger he displays looks like James’.” That sentence broke his heart to a million pieces.

His girl, his only girl, was afraid of him.

Him.

HIM!

He is her father, and she’s scared of him.

His anger.

That’s what she was afraid of.

Oh when he finds that poor excuse of an adopted father, he’ll have him personally killed by George.

She leaned forward to the table and used her arms as pillows and promptly fell asleep.

He quickly tucked Olivia in her bed, which was, thankfully, in the same building they were in, and slipped back into the dining room.

The generals were contemplating about Olivia and what she said. In the end, they agreed to never speak of that again and acted as if nothing had happened.

#oliviarachelhamilton #Olivia Hamilton #george washington #turn amc #turn: washington's spies

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edgythought · 4 years

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Strangers in the Bar II

Part I | Part III

Alex Turner x OC (I guess??)

Description: Two lonely people observe each other in a bar. It leads to something nice. Word count: 2,982

Warning: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking.

A/N: Nobody wants the second part but I am posting it anyway. Maybe, you'll enjoy. If you do, let me know!

The time flew by like a super-modern spaceship through the deep void of silent space and my stay in LA was coming to an end about just as fast. I still didn't know if I liked the city or not. It was totally different from what I'd seen before, but the aftertaste wasn't that pleasurable as I thought it would be. Maybe I was a prisoner of my own superstitions and prejudices, but I will never know. Moreover, Californian weather is just not my cup of tea, I would prefer something a lot more northern than constant heat and melting asphalt. But I must admit the city has its own unique vibe you cannot casually pass by, it wipes you away with its simultaneous boldness and sneakiness.

It was a challenge for me not to think about the dancing dude I met the first night. Let's be clear, I hadn't fallen in love, but there was definitely a spark between us, even if it was a result of drinking too much. Some nights I even wanted to google him, but my drunk ass never asked for his name. His face looked familiar, like I've seen him before, but I couldn't remember for shit when and where. So, I gave googling up and continued with doing my stuff, which was a lot more important than some random guy I popped into at some bar. I thought it was a drunk adventure and this gave some assurance it will not happen again and I can move on. But I'd be lying if I said what happened didn't bother me in a way I didn't want it to.

I was always very sensitive to vibes and energy people are emitting. That feature brought a lot of pain, but also a lot of understanding, so I tried to develop it as much as I could. And what I saw and sensed that night made me think about it way too much. I saw a lonely person trying to enjoy a simple moment of happiness, but I also saw a sharp mind and a visible ache in his eyes. I totally understand it may sound like an absolute bullshit, but I got the impression we were vibing at the same frequency in some way and it would be stupid of me not to admit I would do it again without thinking. And this fact was bothering me a lot. It was something I couldn't accept, like, how can it possibly be real — to meet a guy and have such a connection with him without even speaking to one another? Bear with me, I told my friends a lot, while sharing this story with them. But could I bear with myself? The answer is not really.

My time in LA is coming to an end, I thought, it would be nice to say goodbye where I started. To finish the adventure properly and leave for good.

It wasn't much later when I saw some familiar spots I observed while smoking near the bar on my first day in LA. Those palm trees were actually fascinating in a pastel background of the twilight sky, warm and so close you may have had a chance to touch it. There was no clouds whatsoever, so I took a pic of tree silhouettes to remember this beautiful view when I'm back home. What if Los Angeles becomes my home? I thought to myself strolling down the road, searching for a sign indicating a spirit-scented place. Soon enough I saw it on the other side of the street and rushed there. It wasn't as crowded as I remember it to be, but I guess that's going to change in an hour or so. I came too early, but I desired to get wasted and nothing was standing in my way so I just followed the waitress into the bar and crawled on the stool with all the grace I managed to find in my body. The bartender asked me what I'd like to have and I ordered "Orgasm" without thinking. Dude tried to make a joke out of it but unfortunately I wasn't impressed since I heard it way too much throughout my whole cocktail-drinking life. It was only funny the first couple of times. Anyway, I came to drink and I got what I wanted in 4 minutes. I spent the time glaring around, but there was nothing unusual for my eye to catch, just a bar, millions of them around the world. The music was on point, though. I thought it was a jukebox, the one you pay to put a song on, but I was wrong. Turned out, it was one of the bartenders who was in charge of music for the night and they took turns to be a DJ. At least, that's what I heard from the bartender, when I made a remark on the music. I was quite impressed, since it's mostly jukeboxes I saw in this kind of places. I found it pretty authentic and also very encouraging for the personnel to try their chances with music. What is more LA than that?

My cocktail was tasty enough for me to distract myself with it for a while. My head was almost empty and I felt I achieved what I was striving for, so I needed to think what to do next. I was alone and a little bored. Maybe I can try to talk to someone? Just for the sake of having a conversation… - I thought - People are probably thinking I am a weirdo, I came alone and I drink alone. Well, this is who I am now and bitches shall accept that. Anyway, the drink was so delicious I finished it without realizing it. I ordered another one and decided it would be nice to smoke.

When I got out I saw the last couple of minutes of the hot Californian twilight and was left to enjoy the early night. Cicadas were singing their oddly rhythmic song and I was inhaling smoke like it was my last cigarette on earth. It was nice to feel the relaxation spread from my chest to my hands and then knees. It felt nice having nothing to worry about for a night and just do whatever your heart tells you to, even if it's totally stupid. The smoke twirled in the air above my head in irregular spirals. I watched it slowly dissolve in thick warm air, traffic noise making the whole experience a little bit ambient. I took out another cigarette and lit it from the previous one, as I had lost my lighter a few days ago and hadn't bought another one yet. I know, I know. My mind was in a weird state, I felt very calm and very nervous at the same time and I couldn't say what exactly caused it. I should probably stop drinking and smoking so much. But not today.

My cigarette was quickly coming to an end as I watched people gathering near the bar entrance for a small chat or a smoke. I went back inside to continue my contemplation with a cocktail in my hand, but I was also determined to get to know someone. Maybe, that cute bartender who served the "dancing juice" will be back? I could talk to him, at least I did last time and it wouldn't be that awkward. But I haven't seen him today yet and I wasn't sure I will, therefore I decided to concentrate on people, cruising back and forth between table area and the bar itself. Everyone seemed very comfortable and friendly, but not a one familiar face in the whole room. Suddenly, I heard a phrase that made me jump on my stool and rush to the dance floor, occupied by two young men in weird shorts.

Get on your dancing shoes!

I cannot explain why the indie tunes from 2000s made me so eager to dance, but they did and I was fine with it. I wiggled my ass to the beat, shook my head and pretended to sing the song to the boys in weird shorts. They somehow agreed to take part in my performance and the three of us had a very nice time dancing and jumping around for the next couple of songs. Soon I was very hot and went back to my place at the bar to take a sip of my drink and order a refill and some water. I went to the bathroom right after I saw the bartender nod at me, letting me know he heard what I told him, as the music was getting louder.

I was surprised to see there was no queue to the bathroom, so I used my chance not to hurry and take my time to fix my makeup and hair. I was even more surprised to see the bar crowded when I finished and I was absolutely flabbergasted to find my place at the bar occupied by some dick! Can you tell I went from 0 to 100 in a couple of seconds? My mood wasn't so great before but now it was pretty much spoiled. I saw the guy talk to the bartender and put my drink aside and my ass went off. Somehow in such situations I have a resting bitch face, which may serve an impression of me being unbothered, but it's not exactly how I felt then. I was furious because there was no other place to sit at the bar and it was just rude of the guy to sit on my stool, cause there was my drink, signifying it was occupied.

I came up to the dude and touched his shoulder to catch his attention. He turned around with half a smirk quickly changing into a look of surprise. I could feel my eyes grow in size when I saw who it was. "Is it fucking real?" - I asked myself, trying to be less shook. What an amazing coincidence, my stool at the bar was occupied by the dancing dude! - Who would have thought, am I right? — he said, fully turning to face me. — Not me, for sure. Get off my stool. — I shoo'd him from the stool but he didn't move a muscle. — Nope. You weren't sitting here when I came in, so it's mine now. — I raised my eyebrow in disbelief. — Don't be a little dick, you've seen my glass standing right here. — I will buy you another one if you get off my dick. And once we are talking about that…. — he chuckled a bit. — You can sit in my lap if you fancy. My eyes widened, I was astonished by his bold move. — Are you flirting with me? — Who knows. So, mardy bum? Are you climbing in my lap or …? — he asked, looking attentively at my face with a wide smirk, pleased with himself.

I threw my hands in the air silently and turned my back on him. I didn't fancy sitting in a random dude's lap, even if the dude was kinda hot and not actually random. Oh God, FUCK! He looked a bit different this time; his beard was trimmed and his hair was gelled back, black shirt and pants so tight I could probably see the outline of his underwear if he wore any. What a dweeb. I guess I'd recognized him instantly if I saw those pants.

Why is this so embarrassing? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted to sass this bitch out, but I couldn't come up with anything merely appropriate for the situation, so I decided to ignore his questions and turned to take my glass. At this exact moment a very familiar and a really slow song came on.

I somehow lost my breath and fell into a spiral of memories I had associated with the song playing for a second. I was watching people dividing into pairs on the dance floor and it broke my heart a little. I remembered my ex-sweetheart holding me tight to him while this exact song played quietly in our apartment, right after the final fight we had. I remembered the emptiness I felt then and my eyes became too watery. I am not going to cry at the bar today, I told myself. No one was going to ask me to dance today anyway, I thought, and it stroke me pretty hard. I turned to go out of the bar to have a cigarette when the dancing dude touched my hand. I looked at him, struck by the sensation. He was offering his hand to me.

"Shall we dance a little?"

I had no time to think properly and the whole situation felt a bit like deja vu. He was waiting for me to take his hand, eyes on me, wandering from hair to eyes, to boobs and back. I accepted his almost silent invitation and followed him to the middle of the dance floor.

When I'm around slow dancing in the dark Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms

We were surrounded by different couples and that's one of the reasons I loved LA. It was just beautiful to see people simply dancing together. No one really cared what people might have thought of them, this is how it should be. He held my hands in his and as we're almost the same height I almost touched his long nose with mine. We remained silent while we were swirling in a very little space we had among all the people. His palms were soft and warm and I enjoyed his touch, even though I didn't want to admit it.

Soon enough we got even closer and danced way slower. My lips were almost on his jaw as we were almost hugging each other to a sad song. Him being so close yet so far made me puzzled in some way. I didn't want this to happen and yet here I am, staring at dude's earlobes and gelled strands of wavy hair on the neck. Pretty view, should I say. He smelled exactly the same as I remembered and I found the smell heavenly complex. This sparked an idea to spend as much time in his arms as possible, but I shooed the thought away. It would be inappropriate.

I turned my head a bit to see his face clearly. His eyes were closed, but I could sense something going on in his head. He moved easily and graciously, even with me by his side and I was pleasantly surprised to realize he led me all the time we were dancing. I smiled a little to myself. It felt good to be in his arms and I decided it won't hurt to put my head on his shoulder, so I did. I took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne and smiled again. He tilted his head a bit, so it would touch mine. I thought about how we looked like on the dance floor seen by others. We probably look like two sad people dancing to a slow song, I sassed myself and shook my head a bit. Dude asked me if I was okay and I responded "sure". That was it, the whole conversation during the dance.

Can't you see? I don't wanna slow dance In the dark

As the song was reaching its climax, we almost stopped moving at all. My hand that was placed on his shoulder slid down to his waist. He did the same with his hand, still holding mine. I liked him not pushing anything on me and appreciated the effort to be nice. It felt right to be this close to him somehow. I saw him lip-synching a little to the song and felt his warm breath on my cheek. I kept smiling as I watched his private performance. With the final phrase we stopped completely and just stood in each other's embrace for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. I didn't want to let him go. He seemed to feel the same. I blushed a bit, because it was getting awkward. Eventually, we split and I followed him to the bar.

He sat on a stool next to mine which appeared to be empty and gestured a bartender to come over. I sipped my cocktail, which I completely forgot about, to be honest. I was watching the dance floor and the dude turned to me and asked "Whatcha gonna drink, mardy bum?"

I did not expected that and took some time to proceed with the question. I looked at him, confused. "Nothing for now. Excuse me" i said and rushed to the bathroom. I didn't want to use it, however, I felt an urgent need to get away from his deep dark eyes inspecting my face. I turned on cold water and splashed some on my neck and chest to calm myself down. I guess I shouldn't have left like this, I thought, maybe I need to go back and try to have a normal conversation? I wanted to talk to someone less than half an hour ago. Oh no, there would be no conversation, darling, you will just stare at his face for an uncomfortably long time until he finds you creepy and leaves, I told myself. Well, this sucks but I have to go back anyway. I'd fancy a smoke, after all it was an experience and I definitely needed some nicotine in my system. I went out of the bathroom to finish my cocktail at the bar and found the dude's stool empty. It made me a bit sad, but I didn't say goodbye either, so it's only fair. I knocked my drink down and headed to the exit.

#alex turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #arctic monkeys #the last shadow puppets #miles kane #do i wanna know #los angeles #la #oc #original character #short story #strangers in the bar

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dreamiesdotcom · 5 years

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[7:35] Is it just you, or is the dinner lighting warmer than usual? Or maybe it was the ambiance that changed rather than the lights — the table is full of fancy dishes and everyone is placed on their respective seats, chatting. The extravagant glasses are shiny — if you look closer and focus hard enough, you could see the convincing smile plastered on your face. A sarcastic laugh rings inside your mind as you remember what you had said earlier in front of the mirror as you doll yourself up; Just pretend like you're happy until you eventually forget that you're pretending. A sigh almost draws from you, but you hear a call of your name, diverting your attention from the glassware and you meet a pair of eyes.

The Na's are back in town, and your parents being your parents, invited them over without even telling you that they would be coming until two hours before the whole deal. It's not like they had to tell you though, your opinion doesn't matter and it wouldn't mean, nor change, anything — not like it ever did.

The sound of your name sounded foreign. It has been so long since someone called you by your name that you almost forgot you even had one. To think about it, you believe that it was the way he had said it that was different — unlike others who called your name so blandly, his lips dripped with all sweet things and honey as he spat out every syllable of your name. Looking back, you remember sitting on the same bench for years, listening to the sounds of time passing like fast cars on highways, and the way that you tried to look for the sugar-coating on every cries surrounding you — the way you brushed everything off because of their plain and harsh realities until you finally stopped trying, and never listened to anything, or anyone, ever again. Nothing made you feel alive since then. Nothing was the same.

Not since Jaemin.

His gaze was still soft and it brings you back to years ago — despite not seeing each other for years, he still seems so inviting and his scent never changed one bit. His smile is gentle, kind, and it annoys you because of how much it reminds you of how you still completely, undeniably, stupidly miss him, and you're thinking that at this point, nothing is gonna change that. Alongside the memories, he brings back feelings you'd rather keep buried.

You want to run to him. You can't run to him. He left you. He left you like he said he wouldn't, like everyone else who he said he wouldn't be anything close to — he lied to you and you don't want to run to him who is a liar. But damn was it tempting.

"Oh, I remember our little Y/N and Jaemin running around the playground before," Mrs. Na smiles as if on cue before Jaemin tries to start up a conversation, "I still remember Jaemin asking about how to make flower crowns for his princess Y/N."

"Weren't you guys dating?" your dad cracks up alongside the whole table, except you who had your hands clenched, "I remember my little girl coming home to me and telling me that she has a boyfriend and is gonna be married, at five years old."

"We’re just friends," you say firmly, "Me and Jaemin, we’re just friends," you force yourself to push his name out of your mouth and it left your throat parched. You feel their gazes burn you and you look away, like you always did.

It’s usually not a lie. Usually. But this time, it's true, you're just friends. That was partially true because that's what you called it, but that was not how it felt like. Jaemin is your best friend. Or was. Maybe Jaemin was your best friend — although he was always more than that. Either way, the things you said as a five year old isn't supposed to make you that defensive, and you apologize about being so uptight when you're supposed to have fun with them. They brush it off easily, laughing about how adorable you are despite growing into such a woman.

This feels nice. Just your parents, Jaemin's parents, Jaemin himself, you and the wall you built around yourself. The attention given to you tonight was worth the attention your parents give you a year, and the compliments you got in a single night was equal to what you had in years and it frightened you how strange it felt. You dwell on it until you couldn't anymore, and your past is swallowing you up yet again.

It was a mess after Jaemin and his family moved, leaving you with his favorite hoodie and a snow-drop. You tore it all to shreds — or you wish you did. You didn't want to face the fact that it is still safely tucked under your pillow, and the flower pressed in between the pages of the novel the two of you used to read together. It's still there, marking your favorite chapter, as safe as the piece of clothe — wanting to forget but afraid to get rid of him completely. Jaemin was the only one who saw you. Jaemin was the only one who gave you attention and love your parents deprived you of, and Jaemin was the person who broke you more than all of the others did.

You were in too deep when he left and to distract yourself, you decided to do volunteer work because it kept you busy and the work gave you satisfaction — it made you feel as if you were needed. For the next months you tried to make everybody happy to fill the void in your heart, until it ended the way it's bound to end — you completely forgot yourself trying to make everybody glad, until it drained you, until you had nothing left, until you stopped.

You realized that sulking did you nothing so you eventually resorted to making friends — it was a wild ride. At first you befriended the nice ones, but all it did was make you realize that you were really a disposable person. You weren't there because anyone liked you, but instead they took you in because they didn't want to look rude. You were with them, but you didn't belong, and as you predicted, they all left you and all the blame was directed on you by your parents — they said, you were too uptight, too clingy, too emotional and you always over talked to people it became annoying and awkward.

In spite, you loosened up, isolated yourself so much that you hated affection, let yourself out in the cold too long that your heart froze. Being the good child didn't do you good, maybe you can get more attention with destructive tactics — it's not like there's much to destroy in you, anyway. You made up a lot of stories about your adventures when someone asked you about them, and always told people you're okay, you're fine, you're doing well, even when you're falling apart. Maybe it was partly because you didn't want anyone to know, maybe it was because nobody was interested about you to insist you talk about things because it's so obvious that you're not fine at all — and maybe because you knew that no one would be around long enough to figure out you were lying. As expected, none of your friendships worked out.

You never learned how to make and keep friendships. You did your best to be outgoing for years, but at the seclusion of your room, you can always just stay alone and be fine. As fine as a sad person could be. Whenever someone comes over, you do your best to help them be comfortable — you have to help them. You cook food, serve drinks and even let them have control on what to watch even if it bored you — 'If I keep helping them, they’ll hang out longer'. You just grew tired of it — chasing people who don’t want you for affection they wouldn't provide you with. You grew tired of being so easily led on. It never felt like you belonged anywhere else, and you like it. You grew to like it. You liked it so much it made you cry sometimes, or that's what you wanted to believe. At day you daydreamed of being the person everyone needs, and at night you thought of having someone cuddle you close and whisper assuring things in your ears — every second that passed, you imagined living far, far away.

"Hey," a voice snaps you out of your daze and you recognize your bedroom from the velvet pillows and lavander fragrance — you don't remember your room being this bright, you didn't find the sense of switching the lights on because it was just endless dark even with blinding lights, anyway. "You spaced out."

You settle down and he takes the space beside you before lying down, making a comment about how your room changed a lot but your bed frame didn't even move an inch (despite it being bigger now, he just became a giant). You remain silent through it all, still trying to comprehend that Jaemin is beside you.

"So, how's school going?" he asks you, trying to spark up a conversation. A bad start, really. "Any friends?" An even worst follow up.

"None," you focus your gaze elsewhere, as long as it's not his eyes, "I always transfer schools anyway. All the friends I make the past school year ends up leaving." Lies. You were just not that interesting to make them stay.

Still, you're not about to make yourself look like the broken hearted fool you are to Jaemin — you miss him, yes, and he's not about to know that.

"That's it? You just let yourself be alone?" he suddenly springs up in a sitting position, "Didn't I tell you to surround yourself with people before I come back, so you don't feel lonely?"

'And you also said you wouldn't leave, but I didn't question you about that, did I?' was what you desperately wanted to tell him, but you settle with the plain and boring "Well, it was just easier for me to be alone than to explain why I can't be what they want me to be."

A moment of silence wraps around the two of you and neither dared to breathe, neither dared to speak. He laid back down, groaning when his head meets a hard surface and your eyes widen at the realization — he already took away the pillow and revealed the old piece of clothe and the book way before you could even stop him, and your heart beated so rapidly and so slowly at the same time.

"Oh… you... you kept it," he says, in awe as he scrambles to get up and stand in front of you, "Y/N… You…"

"I didn't know what to do with it. Why did my parents let you upstairs in my room, anyway?" you mutter, eyes looking up at the ceiling, your voice quiet until you decide to crack up to a laughing mess, "If you wonder why I kept it, you said it was only an out of town trip for a week… so naturally, I kept it and waited until you came back to retrieve it. I got tired of waiting and forgot about it, until today. It doesn't mean anything."

Lies. Infact, you though about it everyday, every second that passes, every breathe you take. You whine silently when Jaemin moves to kneel in front of you so that you are at eye level, hands moving to grab yours and you couldn't see anything through the blur covering your sight. You found the tears that spilt pathetic. You almost forgot about them — you hadn't cried in years. Maybe it was Jaemin. You nod your head, yes, of course it's Jaemin. It always is. A hand presses against your cheeks to dry them, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have lied, because it would've been so hurtful too if I knew someone was lying to me, but I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to break your heart that way."

"So you broke my heart another way, instead?", you chuckle sarcastically, and even if you want to push his hands away, you didn't. It felt nice. It felt cozy. It felt like many years ago, it felt like something you shouldn't get used to because of it's uncertain nature, "Leave." you say in a brittle voice, "Leave before we end up saying things we'll regret later."

"No. You're mad, Y/N, I know, but it wasn't meant to go this far, I swear. It wasn't supposed to," he grasps your hands tighter, "Do you trust me, Y/N? Do you trust me enough to know that I would never intentionally break your heart like that?"

"Why? Will that make you stay?" your tone was shaky and you couldn't help but sob, because hell, that's what you want him to say and that's what you want to hear. That he will stay. That he won't leave. That he's yours, and has always been.

He stands up, and you're just so ready for him to leave. You thought it was the best option for the moment, but the hug he tugged you into proved you wrong, and in his hold, you realized that you were content with being alone, but you didn't fancy being lonely.

This feels nice. Just Jaemin, you, and the wall you built around yourself that took itself down to let him in.

"I'm gonna stay. I'm here to stay." he whispers, and it was enough to open all the doors you locked away from people's reach. It felt weird but welcomed, being hugged by him, and the first time after so many years you felt safe — safe enough to let your guards down. You talked and talked until there was nothing to talk about anymore, until every little heartache was explained to him, until he confessed his love and until he claimed your lips, ever so gentle and dripping of the honey you craved for so badly.

This feels nice. Just Jaemin, you, and the home the two of you built for yourselves. Always happy, maybe facing little bumps every now and then but not any less content, warm, and never short of sugar, sweets and honey.

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writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Silence

A/N – After a very successful vote in which Swerve won out, here is the next chapter. As always, a great thanks to @rocksinmuffin for continuing to inspire this story with their amazing imagines.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

As a rule, the Lost Light was a ship that prided itself on noise, adventure and laughter, but with you in sick bay, under the careful operation of three medics and two scientists, the ship held nothing but a deep and terrible silence. It didn’t matter that Swerve was quietly sobbing outside the operating theatre; the ship was still a static void in which no sound mattered.

If you were beside him, Swerve knew you would make the best of such a situation, probably saying something like, ‘Huh, I guess in space, nobody can hear you scream. Who’d’ve guessed?’

When Swerve was in the operating theatre all that time ago, you left him a message to listen to until he got back. He had listened to it over seventy-two times while you were in the medics’ servos, if only to hear your voice again. Primus, it wasn’t fair! Swerve couldn’t leave you a message because you weren’t Cybertronian, and worse than that, he wasn’t even allowed to be in the same room as you because Ratchet had thrown him out when he started to get in the way.

Swerve looked up when he heard a door open, but it wasn’t the operating theatre, it was only the waiting room entrance that led to the decks. Tailgate waved awkwardly at Swerve, soon lowering his servo out of respect. He and Cyclonus simply made their way to the right-hand wall and left two small vials of their innermost energon before leaving to stand with the bots in the corridor; that made exactly ninety-seven vials of innermost energon thus far. Swerve was glad that none of the others tried talking to him upon leaving their energon; for once, he was in no mood to talk. He also appreciated that the bots outside were staggering their queue times in leaving their innermost energon. One or two bots would come in every half hour or so to leave their vials, and before the day was through, Swerve was sure there would be almost two-hundred vials for you. It seemed everyone loved you, almost as much as he did.

Another round of sobbing racked Swerve’s body. He pulled out his locket with your hair in it, clutching it close to his spark, as if it might will you back to full health. The two of you had only been married one year, how could the universe be so cruel as to threaten that so soon?

“Swerve?”

Swerve shook his head, as a memory of your voice surfaced, followed closely by a visual feed of the event in his processor’s optic.

“(Y/N)?” Swerve beamed, repeating your confused tone, even though he was well-aware of what you were going to ask.

“I um- I know we said we were going to re-decorate the hab-suite, but why… why does it look like the friends set?”

“You don’t like purple?” He asked all too innocently.

You jumped as a laugh-track played aloud, “Oh my God…. You didn’t. Swerve, tell me you didn’t add a laugh track to the apartment.”

Swerve looked far into the background, winking at nothing, “Maybe.”

The laughter briefly continued, only escalating when you face-palmed.

“Why are you like this?”

At that, Swerve only chuckled and splashed you with paint, triggering the first of what he hoped would be many paint fights along your life together.

Coolant sprung from Swerve’s optics and he choked out another sob. That memory was from April Fool’s Day and he had re-decorated the apartment with you properly the day after. Swerve prayed to both Primus and every deity he knew of on Earth that you would come out of this okay and that he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of his mistake forever.

He needed you. Couldn’t the universe see that? He needed you to reassure him that everything would be okay. He needed you to come in the bar every day and lean over to kiss him, no matter what anyone else muttered under their breaths about him. He needed you to waylay the fears and doubts from his mind that he wasn’t good enough.

More than that, he wanted to be there for you as-well.

“(Y/N)! ARE YOU SICK? PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG!”

Swerve scrunched his optics shut as another memory hit him like a tonne of bricks.

You were curled up in pain, hugging yourself and groaning. You forced yourself to shake your head, shuddering as you breathed out slowly. “Shark week,” You winced.

“SHARK WEEK?” Swerve cried. You had already forewarned him of this, but he didn’t think it would hurt you so badly. Hurriedly, he ran to your tiny cupboards, bringing out extra blankets, a two-litre bottle of water, several boxes of pills (one of which surely had to be the right one), a large bar of synthetic chocolate, and a heat pad. After you mentioned shark week the first time to him, Swerve had visited Ratchet to learn what would help you and Ratchet had given him these supplies.

“Which do you need?” Swerve asked frantically.

You could tell he was about to go into full-blown panic mode, as he usually did when he first encountered some new experience of organic life that he hadn’t seen before. Before you were married, you had generally avoided him when this happened to save him from any embarrassment, but now the two of you were married, you knew he wouldn’t be awkward about organic matters; well, not that awkward anyway.

Sitting up slowly, you took a few sips of water, smiling when the nausea passed, “Good job sweetie. I’m all better now.”

Swerve pointed an accusatory finger at you, “No! that’s your placating smile, not your happy smile. Tell me the truth, do you need Ratchet? Are you still in pain? If so, how much pain? Should I get Rodimus to stop on a nearby planet? I could-”

For once, you left Swerve to rant on, while you simply went to sleep. In retrospect, that wasn’t your best idea as he gasped and sped of to the medical bay, dragging Ratchet back with him, but honestly you were too tired at the time to answer his questions. After giving you the once-over, Ratchet gave Swerve a stern-talking to about heeding his research into humans before wasting his time.

“If (Y/N) says she’s fine, she’s fine,” Ratchet glowered, walking out of the hab-suite. “Next time, listen to her before you come to me.”

Swerve chewed his lip anxiously, before approaching you again. Now you were well-rested, you were sat under a blanket with the heating pad over your stomach.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

“With you to take care of me? Always.”

Swerve stared at the operating theatre door. That was the problem; he wasn’t there for you now. Granted, Swerve was smarter than most bots gave him credit for, but he wasn’t a doctor or a scientist. He didn’t have healer’s hands. He was a barman. Why in Primus’ name had you married him instead of somebody useful? You could have been with somebody who listened to you when you told him not to cross that bridge. You could have been with someone who hadn’t got you shot.

The hall door swished open again and Rung came quietly in to leave his innermost energon. He looked like he wanted to say something to Swerve, perhaps even comfort him, but he knew the protocol was to stay quiet when somebody's Conjunx Endurae was in in fate’s servos. Swerve could have invited him over, giving Rung permission to comfort him. After all, Rung was almost like a creator to you, but quite frankly, Swerve didn’t think he deserved to be comforted when all of this was his fault.

“What are you doing married to Swerve anyway? Don’t you know there are better mechs onboard this ship?”

Swerve could hear the cheesy 70’s music playing in his bar as if it was yesterday. He had briefly left you to grab some supplies from the back but when he heard Getaway say that, he remained hidden, knowing it was wrong to listen in on you like this, but needing to hear your response all the same.

“Please don’t talk about my husband that way,” You said, giving the overcharged mech a chance to back off and apologise before you ripped into him.

“Come on, he’s not even here right now,” Getaway guffawed, admittedly somewhat jealous that you loved Swerve instead of him, even though the two of you had hardly spoken before; Getaway always coveted that which he did not have. “He won’t hear what you really think about him.”

‘If only that were true,’ Swerve thought, though he still continued to eavesdrop.

“I mean, who would really notice if you and I just kind of slipped away right now to have some fun. You’ve got to have wondered what it would be like with another, more charming mech right?”

Swerve gulped, sure he was going to purge his tanks out of nervousness. He knew for a fact that most mechs considered Getaway to be charming and none considered him to be.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully. “You’re really good at sex?”

Swerve fell against the wall, wanting to claw out his audials, but frozen in place as the conversation continued.

“The best.”

“Good, then go fuck yourself, and never ever talk about my husband like that again. Swerve is ten times the mech you are.”

Giddy elation filled Swerve up and he rushed out from the supply closet, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He could have waited a little bit longer to compose himself, but he was afraid Getaway might be just overcharged enough to hurt you if you injured his pride any more than you already had. Getaway left irately and you turned your attention to Swerve who pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

“What’s his problem?” Swerve asked casually, though he could hardly keep the giggle out of his vocaliser.

You shrugged, “Small man syndrome.”

“Huh? Okay, whatever you say, (Y/N).”

Before any more memories could torture him, the med-bay door finally opened and Ratchet stepped out, looking grimmer than ever. Swerve wanted to blurt out a million questions, but fearing for your life and knowing every second counted, he waited through the agonising seconds for Ratchet to speak.

“I have sent the medical team into the back so you and (Y/N) can spend some time alone, but I hope you are ready to face the consequences of what you have done Swerve. The lies you’ve told her – to everyone on this ship – will not go unnoticed.”

Swerve swallowed fearfully, “But she’s alive? She’s going to be alright?”

Ratchet considered the question before answering, “Physically, yes. Mentally however… Only time will tell. If you will excuse me, I’m going to join my team in med-bay two, where we will wait until you are ready.”

Swerve waited momentarily for Ratchet to back-track though the medical bay; it gave him a few minutes to compose himself and think of what he would say when he saw you. Then, forgetting his composure, he ran into the medical bay, stopping short when he saw you, in your new Cybertronian body. He knew there was a chance this would happen, but he had told Perceptor and Brainstorm to wait until they were sure your organic body couldn’t be saved.

Swerve looked to the bed across from you, where a sheet covered the corpse of your previous organic body. Why hadn’t he immediately told you about the mini-bot shell he’d had made? If he had, he knew the conversation ahead would be easier. All the same, your optics were offline and Swerve knew by instinct that Ratchet and the others had left them off to give him the chance to explain before you saw yourself.

Before he approached you, he took a few silent steps over to the organic corpse. He held the corner of the sheet that covered it, hesitating before he lifted it to look into your cold dead eyes. He needed to see this, to burn it into his memory of what his mistakes brought on. Granted, your mind and memories were still alive, but this mess of a cadaver that had been stitched up by servos inexperienced with organics, that still had patches of dried blood caked around the sealed wound, was his cross to bear.

Finally, when he could look at it no longer, Swerve covered the corpse with a sheet again, and moved to your side.

“(Y/N),” Swerve whispered.

You moved your head frantically to your left where he was standing, “SWERVE?! I- I CAN’T SEE- I CAN’T-”

Swerve grabbed your servo, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m going to explain everything. What- What do you remember?”

You went quiet for a long time, thinking back to the bridge. Almost silently, you spoke, “I was shot.”

Swerve nodded affirmation, speaking aloud when he remembered you couldn’t see, “Yeah… That was it. (Y/N), I’m so, so sorry this happened to you. It was all my fault. I never should have put you through that. Uh- (Y/N), the docs here, they’ve been working on you for a really long time.”

“Swerve… Am I blind?”

“No sweetheart, that’s only temporary, I promise you’re not blind.”

“Then are you- are you in holoform? You hand feels so small, but it doesn’t feel like skin. Swerve, what’s wrong with me? Nothing feels right. I don’t feel real. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel all wrong inside.”

“Yeah, about that… (Y/N), I need to tell you something… Something I should have told you when we got married, and I need you to listen okay.”

“Okay,” You shivered, and coolant leaked from your offlined optics.

Swerve pressed his helm to your servo. “From the moment we wed, I was so scared something like this might happen… That you’d get hurt and I’d lose you. So, I had Perceptor and Brainstorm work on something, a- a new body of sorts. I- I was scared that you would think I was trying to change you, so I didn’t warn you about it, but now- Well, now you’re different.”

“Swerve,” You whimpered, “You’re not making sense.”

“I know… (Y/N), I’m going to sort out your eyes, make them work right, y’know. Please trust me, okay?”

It seemed you weren’t focusing on what he was saying, as you groaned, “My head hurts.”

Swerve sighed solemnly, then opened your head panel to reveal your processor. From there, he connected the wire that would allow you normal control of your optics. As your optics flickered to life, you caught a reflection of yourself and Swerve in the chrome wall across from you. Your previously human mind tried and failed to connect with the newer faster Cybertronian processor. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Swerve had his servos inside your head and all you could feel was numbness where you should have felt pain. Everything from your past and present crashed together in a way you couldn’t handle. Then, you screamed.

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proxylynn · 5 years

Text

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #23

Chapter 23: Recompense

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

So after being a massive bitch and retreating to his "in case of bullshit, go here" place, Sans finds himself doing the one thing he'd been avoiding to do by drinking himself numb...Reflecting on his life. This place is hard to get to and not a known area one wouldn't think even was there. A small room with nothing more than a mere bench and lonesome echo flower to fill it's void. While there is a dock to this area, it doesn't get any use. He found this spot during a really bad night of heavy drinking. He had no idea how he got here, but since it's so hidden, he keeps it as a safe place. That used to be his lab. But Papyrus converted that into his torture room like an asshole.

A small reflective tin dully catches his eye from under his seat. A reminder of his last effort to try to do something nice and embodies his state at that time. An abandoned quiche. A psychologically damaged spinach egg pie. Tastes delicious, but it has some serious trust issues. He thought about throwing away the abandoned quiche. A tremor of shame runs through his body. He can't do it. He isn't ready for the responsibility. The quiche was left all alone...Like he is now.

No. No, he needed to not think like that. His loathing and negativity are what got him here in the first place. Well, that and pushing everyone away by being a massive fuck! His attitude made him say shit you never want to say to family. He then hides at the one person that would dare call him a friend's house. And then someone that should be his enemy wanted to help him yet he may have just seriously hurt them. Yeah. He had no excuse for this. It doesn't matter how he's had to drink or the lack of sleep. He made those choices. He has to live with them now. So with that being acknowledged...How was he to fix it all?

"argh! fuck my life!"

If anything, it was probably a safe bet to begin with the ones that would be willing to listen to him before kicking his bony ass. Taking a few moments to slap some sense into himself, he gets enough courage to teleport back to Grillby's bar.

Inside it's dark and shutdown. The result of his dumbassery. Snoring gets his attention and the memory of the sleeping flower comes to him. It's a dirty move, but having a minor hostage never hurt to prevent instant attacks. He collects the slumbering flora's pack and nervously approaches the door to Grillby's home. Nervousness has him staring at it for quite some time before his hand knocks on its own. The time before the door opens is painfully tense. Though not as painful as when it does open and Grillby, understandably, hurls the skeleton inside with anger. Causing the bonehead to crash into a few things.

"You have a lot of nerve for a skeleton."

The fire of Grillby crackles harshly. His body casting an immense glow due to the exposed nature of his shirtless torso. Probably he removed the clothing due to all the blood on it. Not wanting to point out something so awkward or wanting his marrow boiled, Sans quickly recovers and holds the pack up.

"ease off for a bit. ya don't want to burn her bro, do ya?"

Grillby glares.

"Dirt move, Sans. But well played."

No! That's not the way he meant.

"i'm not trying...*sigh* i just want ya to hear me out first. then you can do whatever it is ya want. just...let me say my peace. please?"

Grillby eyes him before seemingly relenting, lessening the strength of his flames.

"Fine. You can speak. But not to me. You beg her for mercy before I'll think about giving you any."

He figured as much. However, looking around showed little sign of her apart from a few stains on the floor.

"um...where is...?"

"Follow me."

Not like he was given much of choice when the fire elemental grabs his coat and drags him down the stairs. This was new territory for him. He'd never been down here before. Though it's not like he'll be able to memorize how many doors or which was what room. All he knows is that Grillby pulls him into one where the lights are dimmed and there's a bed. Forced inside, Grillby lets Sans go to walk over to the bed and nudge the one on it.

"Lynsie? Dear, wake up. Did you take the medicine I gave you?"

Some soft tired groans were her return to consciousness.

"*weak* I did...tasted bad."

"Do you need more water?"

"*weak* Please?"

He pets her head.

"Of course, dear."

He leers over his shoulder at the skeleton.

"You have a visitor."

"*weak* Visitor?"

"I can make him leave if you're not up for it?"

"*weak* I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

She does something Sans couldn't see from behind Grillby but whatever it was it has the bartender stand up.

"I'll be back with your drink. Just stay awake, okay?"

"*weak* I'll try."

Grillby heads towards him and takes the pack from his shaking hands. How long was that happening?

"I won't be gone long. Don't make either of us regret this."

Grillby leaves and Sans hesitates to move.

"*weak* To be honest...I wasn't expecting you to show up so early, Sans."

This gets his head working again and he steps closer to see her.

"early? it's been like an hour or something since then."

"*weak* Really? Damn. My sense of time sucks even more than I thought."

She looked so tired. Like it was taking everything to be this awake. Her shoulder is bandaged and she's in a tank-top that probably belongs to Grillby. Thank god she was changed out of that outfit.

"kid..."

She pats the spot beside her.

"*weak* You look like you have a lot to say. Sit. Talk to me, friend."

Why did that feel so weird?

"why are ya doing this?"

She tilts her head softly.

"*weak* What?"

"you're still being nice to me. even after this. why? why aren't you mad at me? why won't act like a normal person and be upset when you should?!"

It was happening again. He was losing control of himself. He had to get a grip before...

"*weak* Cute."

She stunned him. Very easily too. And with very little effort. All it took was a dumb word and her hand lightly touching his.

"*weak* Please...Sit with me, silly bones."

For his sanity's sake, he prayed this was due to Grillby giving her pain killers. He gives in and sits.

"fine. ya got me."

"*weak* No I don't. I don't have the energy to hug you again."

He eyed her funny.

"how high are you?"

She giggles and he is pretty sure that's a maybe to her being a bit loopy.

"*weak* You said it wrong...It's 'hi, how are you'."

It takes him a moment to register that, but when it finally clicks, it becomes the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

"*laughter* oh my fucking god..."

"*weak* There we go. That's much better. I don't like seeing you sad. Your smile is so cute."

Wait, what did she say?

"*weak* Now that you're you again..."

She tries to scoot herself into a sitting position but can't get past a lounging pose.

"*weak* Why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

Her calm not pissed off attitude was both relieving and bugging him.

"seriously, why aren't ya tearing into me right now?"

"*weak* Easy...I can barely move, numskull."

The humor, while funny, wasn't helping.

"no. i mean it. you should be the one wanting to kick my ass. yet grillz is the one just waiting for you to say the word and burn me to ash."

She shakes her head.

"*weak* Sans, buddy, we've been over this. I don't want to hurt anyone. Especially you. Not over something so dumb."

"dumb? look at ya! you nearly die from blood loss and for what? because ya hugged me? don't let me get away with that!"

She looks at him funny.

"*weak* You want me to be mad at you over an accident?"

"yes! maybe? i don't know. just...do something than just automatically forgive me."

"*weak* You know, for a guy that shouted he wasn't my friend, you sure do care a lot about how I should feel about you right now."

That caught him off guard. Why did this bother him if he didn't care? This line of thought is broken by the entering of Grillby and his approach.

"All is well I hope."

For a guy made of fire, he can sound and be downright cold when the moment is right.

"*weak* Be nice."

"I am being nice. If I wasn't, he'd be dead right now."

She scoffs.

"*weak*And I thought women were over-reactive."

The barkeep comes over and glares at Sans while handing her the glass of water.

"*weak* Thank you, sweetie."

"Anytime, dear."

Their seemingly happy relationship made the skeleton uncomfortable. They were sweet, loving, and uncaring about anything that was done in the sight of others. Other than them being of warring sides, they were the definition of an odd couple by Underground standards. She drinks slowly as her eyes droop a bit.

"maybe i should come back later. you're not looking too good."

She grabs his sleeve with a quickness neither guy was expecting.

"*weak* Not yet. We still have things to say."

Sans wants to retreat but that feeling only pisses him off. He hated this. This cowardice. Didn't he come here to prove that he was done running from his problems?

"yeah...we do."

Grillby clears his throat to make his presence in the room still apparent.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, dear?"

She's quiet for a moment.

"*weak* Can you make sure my brother is okay? I need to speak with Sans...alone...please?"

"If you think I'll leave you alone with him..."

"*weak* Would you speak of hard to talk about stuff if others were around?"

"Well, no, but..."

"*weak* Then please..."

Grillby is visibly against this. Her persistent grip on the skeleton's sleeve wasn't helping either.

"*weak* Ten minutes. That's all I ask."

Grillby sneers and she stares hard at him. The intensely awkward standoff ends with him heading towards the exit.

"I'll be right outside this door."

"*weak* I know you will."

Grillby parts from them and she lets Sans go.

"well, that was uncomfortable."

"*weak* Yeah...So you wanna fuck?"

Before a reaction beyond blushing comes to Sans, the door flings open and slams into the wall, yet she laughs.

"*weak giggles* Wow...I knew you were hot under the collar, but I didn't think you'd be that ready to blow up."

He points threatening.

"Do not test me! I am not in the mood!"

"*weak* Heh...Love you too, sweetie."

The utterance of the L-word has the fuming fire-man burning up for different reasons. His hue shifts and he slowly backs away in a state of shock, shutting the door behind him.

"*weak* Adorable."

"you said the l word."

She looks at him funny.

"monsters don't use that word. not unless it's truly meant."

"*weak* What? Love? But monsters say it all the time for Level of Violence."

"that's different."

"*weak* Please, let's not waste time splitting hairs. We'll be at it for hours."

"fine. but don't mess with him like that."

"*weak* I wasn't trying to...*sigh* Fine."

He rubs the back of his skull.

"so...where to start...?"

"*weak* How about the easy one?"

He chuckles nervously for a moment.

"easy you say...heh...alright. i...i'm sorry. ya know i didn't mean to do all this crap."

She nods.

"*weak* Dude, I know. You've told me a lot that you're not into being hugged. And I knew you would probably wig out. But I needed you to stay and hear what I had to say. I wanted you to know that Pap isn't Pap without you. He misses his bro. A hard thing to imagine, yet true."

He shifts his gaze to the floor.

"i...i don't know if i can face him."

"*weak* Probably no point in asking...But what happened?"

He sighs heavily and rubs his face a few times.

"i wasn't in the best mood when it went down. some messed up stuff was going through my head. then pap comes over and starts his dumb shit. it got to me...and i snapped. he made that always good for a laugh remark that if i wasn't his brother he would've dusted my ass ages go and ya know what i said...can ya guess? i said do it. if i was that much of a fucking burden and if he hated me that much, then to just go ahead and kill me. that way i wouldn't have to deal with his shit anymore."

Her face is full of concern and for good reason. He's smiling. He's smiling and yet tears are trickling.

"ain't that fucked up? he's all i got and i told him to kill me so i wouldn't be with him anymore. how? how can he miss me after that?"

For once, she didn't have an answer to follow up with. So letting his emotions take hold, he keeps going.

"i mean...what am i to do? how can go to him and explain to him that it was a mistake? how can i take it back something like that?"

"*weak* You can't."

"then what do i do?"

She looks up at the ceiling.

"*weak* There isn't one simple fix for things like this. The answer mostly comes from the one you're trying to apologize to. Knowing them and how they are, you can get a scope on how to make amends. And if anyone knows Papyrus...It's you. So, what can you think of that will surprise him and make him feel better?"

That made him pause. She drinks while the room remains silent for a time.

"*weak* If I can make a small suggestion...Don't spend money. Making something yourself means so much more than store-bought."

"yeah, like that narrows it down."

"*weak* Whoa. You monsters really aren't used to the whole 'nice' thing. Well...most of you."

"like i've been telling ya...being nice or kind isn't normal down here."

"*weak* Publicly at least. Behind closed doors...?"

"depends on the monster. you've seen me and pap at home. we aren't nice there either."

"*weak* Hard to say really. I was there, yes. But seeing you guys as you truly are as if I wasn't? No clue."

"heh. hate to break it to ya, but it's basically the same."

"*weak* Then...There are good times when I'm not around."

Now he was the confused one.

"what?"

She shifts and makes herself sit up straight, her strength coming back.

"*weak* I remember a lot of beatings, that's true. But there were times when things were nice. Like when we'd sit down to watch TV and eat. We'd make a few dumb jokes and talk like...like good friends. I..."

She cuts herself off, getting his attention. A soft smile is on her face but her eyes look a little sad.

"kid?"

She fiddles with her hands.

"*weak* I'd be a terrible liar if I said I didn't miss that. Sure, Toriel acts the mom role and it feels good to play the daughter. But being around you guys...You don't play a part. You don't fake anything around me. And those moments, when we're not at each other's throats...It felt real. You know? Like, the rest of the world didn't matter and time was meaningless because it just felt so good. And..."

This time it was his hand on her's that made things stop. Before she can speak as to why the answer comes in the form of liquid landing on her arm. The realization of her own crying gets her to chuckle.

"*weak* Heh heh...I can't even remember the last time I wasn't crying. No wonder you hate me so much. Not only am I a human that can RESET and that troubles your life so much. But I'm a pathetic broken crybaby too. *sniffle*"

She doesn't wipe her tears away. She lets herself soak in her sadness. This sight...This sight he's seen so many times before. It mirrored himself. Each time a good ending happened only to wake up back in the Underground. Each time a bad ending happened and he died only to wake up alive again. Each time he failed to keep his brother safe and was allowed to live. Each time a piece of himself was taken away and it left him more hallow than the last. Now he could see it himself. And it wasn't something he liked.

"you're not pathetic..."

She looks at him.

"a crybaby? meh. who isn't when feeling so down? but pathetic? nah. that ain't you."

"*weak* Don't lie to make me feel better."

"i ain't lying. no one in this bitch ass hellhole has the balls to do what you do. you fall down here and find monsters. so what do ya do? you try to be friends. you refuse to fight. you refuse to gain power in pain. and you're brave enough to be yourself when my dumbass tells you to stop. you're more badass than you realize."

She gives him a small but indifferent smile.

"*weak* The attempt is nice. Thanks."

Something about her tone got to him. That falseness. It's a slippery slope and he could see her falling deeper into her darkness. That's when he did something they both didn't expect. He swallowed his pride and embraced her, making her flinch in puzzlement.

"*weak* S-Sans?"

"i don't hate you. sometimes i say things i don't mean. but that's 'cause i hate myself. don't be like me. take care of yourself, kid. 'cause someone really cares about you. don't do anything to lose that."

He hides his face in her neck and could feel her form tremble. The sniffling came back louder as the tears were being fought.

"*weak sob* Can...C-Can I...?"

He nods against her and she hesitantly puts her arms around him.

"*weak* T-Thank you."

He wasn't exactly sure what the reason for the thanks was. But if it helped her than he'd go along with it. It's not like this bugged him. Her hugs, while unwanted most times, always felt warm and caring. Something this world they live in severely lacked.

"no problem...friend."

Her arms tightened a little bit for a comforting squeeze and an old fuzzy memory of his mother began to come to his mind. However, the opening of the door took that away and Grillby's throat clearing made the pair let go. The appearance of a seemingly sentimental intimate moment didn't sit well with Grillby. His limit was reached.

"I think I've been rather generous with the time. Even gave you a bit extra. But now she should really get some rest."

Not wanting to press his luck any further, Sans takes this as his cue to skedaddle.

"thanks for listening to me, kid."

"*weak* Thank you for making me feel better."

"it's the least i can do. we boneheads gotta make sure we don't crack. right?"

"*weak* Heh...right. See you later, numskull. And think about what I said."

He nods, standing up and moving slowly towards Grillby.

"i'm gonna go, but i have something to say to you."

Grillby leers but listens.

"nothing i say can let you know just how much of a fuck-tard i feel like. and there's nothing i can do to even begin to repay you for everything you've ever done for me. but know this...i'm gonna try."

Grillby's expression lessens but doesn't change much. That being said, Sans teleports out and leaves the pair alone. His new mission now was to think of a way he was going to handle Papyrus.

[Meanwhile: Grillby's house]

I smile at Grillby as he sighs to himself.

"Don't say it. I already know."

"*weak* You don't have to act like you're mad at him. You know as well as I that he didn't mean to do this."

He comes over to me.

"As much as I find your kindness charming, you need to give it a limit. Sometimes you need to be assertive and not dismissive of things."

"*weak* This wasn't one of those times and you know it."

"I didn't say it was. I just want you to keep that in mind."

Something Sans said comes back to me.

"*weak* Grillz..."

"Hmmm?"

"*weak* Did I...Did I go too far saying the 'love' word earlier?"

He blushes and looks away. This makes me feel bad.

"*weak* I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know what you meant. I just...wasn't expecting it is all."

I pout and open my arms to him.

"*weak* Hugs?"

He gives me a small warm smile and crawls onto the bed with me, moving to lay in my embrace.

"Like you even need to ask."

Warm. He's so very warm. It's nice. Gentle and soothing. So nice. I nuzzle into his flaming hair.

"Awww...Are you in a sweet mood?"

"*weak* For you? Always."

He shifts up against me, kissing his way up to my ear where he nibbles the lobe.

"I know you need to heal, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm tempted to have a little fun with you."

I smirk and nestle in against him.

"*weak* You have fun if you want. I'm just going to cuddle you, you snuggly heating pad. Just don't..."

"No worries. I won't cross any lines."

"*weak* I was gonna say don't let me sleep very long as Toriel expects me home by 9 pm."

"Oh."

"*weak giggles* Naughty flamer."

He takes his glasses off and puts them by my water.

"*weak* What are you doing?"

"Shhhhh...Rest now, dear. Everything is okay."

I look at him funny before his bite makes me moan.

"*weak* G-Grillby?"

He grins into my neck and starts sucking on the skin. This has me fidgeting and moaning more which only pleases him more.

"*weak* Grillby, please...I don't think I can get away with another hickey."

His fire crackles a groan, his hands grip my body, and his actions get more heated.

"*growl* Mine..."

Okay, that's new.

"*weak* Grillby?"

"*deep growl* Mine."

His tone doesn't sound so good.

"*weak* Are you okay?"

"*harsh growl* Mine!"

His sudden possessiveness makes me tremble. And soon what once started out as something playful turns into something I don't know how to handle.

"*weak* Grillby stop."

"*burning* Mine. You are mine. They know it. He knows it. You know it. So why? Why do you get so close to him and not me?!"

"*weak* That's not true."

"Don't lie to me!"

His heat flares. The smell of singed hair tickles my nose. He pulls back from me to glare at me with hate, confusion, and...pain?

"Why do you help him? Why do you let him get away with hurting you? Why do you let him touch you? Why would you allow all that if you didn't like him? Please...Tell me."

At this point, he's scaring me. This is a side I've never seen before. This must be him when threatened or jealous or...wait. Is he actually jealous?

"*weak* Are you...Are you worried I'm going to leave you?"

The anger in his eyes falters and I sigh.

"*weak* Sweetie, how did such a thought come to you? Sure, Sans is a dear friend and I let him get away with things because he needs someone to be patient with his problems. But that doesn't mean I like him more than you."

His intensity turns down.

"It doesn't?"

"*weak* No, silly."

I hold his face in my hands.

"*weak* If I liked him, then why am I with you?"

He sighs.

"Because you don't like him that way. And I'm being a dumbass."

"*weak* Why would I give you my first kiss if I liked Sans?"

He smiles a little.

"Because you care for me more."

"*weak* And if I liked Sans more than you, why would I..."

Die to turn back time and bring you back to me.

"*weak* Why would I share my soul with you?"

His eyes widen in a state of absolute dumbfoundedness.

"...What did you say?"

I can't fight the blush coming to me or the goofy smirk.

"*weak* You heard me. I know you don't have ears, but that's never stopped you from doing so before. Come to think of it, how do your glasses stay in place when you wear them? For that matter, you don't even have a nose. I have so many questions..."

He doesn't bother to answer anything. Instead, he smothers me in a smoldering hot kiss that burns my lips. When he finishes, he presses his forehead to mine in nuzzling affection and I snicker at his return to the guy I care for.

"Lynsie, dear, you make my soul burn."

I'm starting to think that's his way of saying 'I love you' without actually saying it. Such a dork.

"*weak* Love you too, Grillby."

He smiles and returns to holding me. We stay like this for a while. All snuggled in each other's arms. His warmth slowly undoing all the activity in my brain that's been keeping me awake. And in no time at all, I'm fast asleep.

He waited till her breathing became steady before moving off of her. She looked so peaceful like this. He was surprised he didn't blow it when he overheated like an idiot. Lucky for him she was not like the women down here. They wouldn't put up with something like that. Honestly, his behavior made him sick. Him, jealous of Sans. The idea was laughable. She cares for Grillby. She gave him her all. So why did he still feel weird? Why did he still feel uneasy about the San's closeness to her? He needed a drink.

[Sometime later in Snowdin Town]

Papyrus dragged his feet while heading home. The pride in his stride not there. Why get to an empty house with any sort of exertion? Just to sit in the dark with a hot meal that will grow cold from a lack of wanting to even bother. In all honesty, he hadn't eaten in a few days. His system pained with a need for nourishment but he just couldn't bring himself to feed. He hadn't even cooked anything. And the closer the house got, the more he dreaded opening the front door to a dead home. Though something caught his attention along the way. Grillby's bar was closed. An unusual sight knowing that it didn't close till much later at night. Did something happen? Was Sans involved? The blackout building did little to provide any clues and forced him to keep heading home. Yet again, something got his attention. Only this time it was the opposite of the last thing. There was light...coming from his home.

Two possibilities came to him as the cause of this light. One, some soon to be dead fucker made the mistake of breaking in. Or two, his brother was there. Hoping for the latter but still unsure of danger, Papyrus approached with caution. Taking note of anything as he came closer. Footprints? There were none. Broken glass? There was none. Tampering with the door? It was untouched. Carefully and quietly, he unlocked the door before slowly opening it to a surprise. A warm familiar scent made his mouth water and some low snores coming from the couch. Shutting the door with a soft touch not expected from him, he found him smaller older brother passed out with a paper in one hand a pen that seemed to escape the other.

While relieved to see him once more, Papyrus still felt the sting that came from his last interaction with Sans. Forgiveness would not come so easily. Still...The attempt is a good start. He reheated some food to be ready for his return and wrote something before falling asleep like the log that he is. Strange. He's never known Sans to write anything that wasn't something profoundly stupid. Probably nothing more than a list of jokes that will be used to piss him off later. Best be rid of such a thing before the other woke. So Papyrus grabbed the paper and gave it a look, to see just how bad the puns truly were. Yet...that's not what he found. Instead, it is a letter.

"pap, you know i ain't one to say shit like this out loud so i hope you can accept this because i honestly mean it. every single thing i've done has made me who i am today. i've done things, fucked up things. i've seen things and gone through hell. burning bridges in my wake all for one goal. the only thing i would take back is hurting the one reason my life has meaning. hurting you. you're my brother pap. the closet family i got. no matter how messed up i am, i have no right to take my crap out on you. i know i'm always the best bro. i piss you off and make you look bad. but damn it, i try. not for the others. because fuck them! i don't need to apologize to them. i don't need to impress them or give a shit about they think. my life doesn't have anything to do with the rest of the world. i do it all for you, papyrus. so knowing that i've disappointed you...well...i'm disappointed in myself for making you put up with a schmuck like me. if i could go back in time, i'd do it all over the right way. maybe then i could be a brother you're proud of. a brother worthy of the great papyrus."

Many things have struck Papyrus. But none wounded him more than these words. Emotions began to swell in his chest. It compelled him to react before his mind came up with any thought. Without warning, he grabs his slumbering brother into his arms. Naturally, this spooks the sleeping skeleton to the point he nearly punches his brother until recognition kicks in. That's when the panic of attack turns to the panic of a different kind.

"uh...h-hey bro."

Papyrus didn't respond. This is worrisome.

"you okay?"

"DID YOU MEAN IT?"

Papyrus pulls away and points to the message.

"DID YOU REALLY MEAN EVERYTHING ON THIS?"

Sans rubs the back of his skull nervously.

"yeah."

Anger comes to Papyrus and Sans braces for the worst, punishment for being weak.

"YOU IDIOT! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK..."

At this point, something in Sans's head blocks out Papyrus's shouting. A building feeling has his hearing ringing and something inside comes to a boiling point that can't take this shit any longer. He snaps.

"papyrus...will you stop being a prick for five minutes?"

"WHA...?"

"shut your yap and listen for once!"

Papyrus glares with his right socket slightly twitching.

"you have no idea what i do or what i've done and gone through for you. and i'm not talking about the human either. i got a list a mile long. day after day, i work my bony ass off and the only thing i want out of it...the only fucking thing...is an acknowledgment of approval. and not just from any schmo. no. i would expect it from the guy that i helped raise. the guy that looks down on me even though i'm older. but no! that's not what i get. i get looked on like trash. not good enough, you say! work harder, you say! hit harder, you say! make harder puzzles, you say! nothing i do is ever good enough for you, the great and terrible papyrus! mister fucking perfect right here and can do no wrong!"

Now Sans is standing lividly. Papyrus opens his mouth but doesn't get to say a word as Sans continues.

"oh, but you're always there. waiting right there when i've had enough to tear me down even further. why do i even try anymore?! i'll never be good enough for you! then again, why would you want me to be better? you look better by comparison if i'm a fuck up. yet you know the more fucked up part...i still have this sickly twisted hope that somehow, someday, we can go back to how we used to be and finally act like real brothers!"

The fire in Sans fizzles as his sockets moisten and Papyrus holds his arm sheepishly.

"but...i guess that's just a dumb dream. right? because if it was possible, it would've happened. i've tried everything already. so many times...so many resets...just trying to find the right answer...to make you proud of me."

Papyrus seems to remember how to talk.

"I AM PROUD OF YOU, SANS. I...I'M ONLY HARD ON YOU BECAUSE I'M TRYING TO MAKE YOU THE BEST THAT YOU CAN BE. I KNOW YOU CAN DO SO MUCH MORE. YOU HAVE AMAZING POTENTIAL FOR GREATNESS. YET WE BOTH KNOW THIS WORLD IS INSANELY TOUGH AND I DON'T WANT IT TO GET TO YOU. I...I JUST WANT TO TOUGHEN YOU UP SO THAT OTHERS WON'T MESS WITH YOU. AND NOT JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE MY BROTHER. YOUR POWER IN FIGHTING..."

"is that what you think? ya wanna talk about power...i can dust you, undyne, the king, and every other asshole in the underground with the same amount of energy it takes to snap my finger. you have no clue, no one does, just how powerful i am. i hold all this in because i don't want to be a fucking psychopath like everyone else in this hellhole! and you what all that does to me? i'm losing my god damn mind! with each passing day, i feel less and less like a real person anymore."

Sans begins trembling.

"i...i'm scared, pap. not of dying. that's happened so many times i'm numb to it by now. i'm scared that one day...i'll fucking snap. i'll have had enough and just start offing people. and the sad thing is, the one person i want to understand my pain is the one that's hurting me. even more pathetic part is that the human, the damn girl we all need dead and she knows it, is the shoulder i lean on to vent all this heavy shit to which she is just as messed up as i am. but maybe that's what i need. someone just as broken as me to not drive me into lashing out at everything. because that's what's gonna happen one day. i'm gonna wake up and just not care anymore. slaughtering all in my sight. even you. then i have to live with that. damn it, pap, you're my brother! my only brother! my only family! but you're hurting me and i don't want to hurt you back!"

"I...SANS, I..."

Papyrus reaches out for Sans. But Sans smacks his hand. Yet Papyrus grabs the smacking hand and Sans's left eye sparks in surprise due to all the emotional stress.

"I DIDN'T KNOW...I THOUGHT...I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP...PREPARING YOU SO THAT YOU WOULDN'T GET HURT..."

Papyrus pulls Sans close and puts his free arm around his back.

"BUT I WAS WRONG. I'M SORRY, BROTHER."

Sans, overwhelmed, clings desperately to his brother and rattles his bones trying not to weep. This wasn't the lashing Sans was expecting when he returned home. But this was a fairly better outcome. They stay like this for some time. Papyrus lightly patting Sans's back in comfort and Sans slowly recovering from unloading so much at one time.

"YOU OKAY?"

"...i guess."

"ANYTHING I CAN DO TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER?"

"...actually...while i appreciate what you're doing, it just feels awkward."

"AGREED. I THINK SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY, WE FORGOT HOW TO DO THIS."

"so...baby steps then?"

"HOW SO?"

"we ease off each other but still, ya know...act normal."

"...VERY WELL."

Papyrus clears his throat and seamlessly reverts to being a douchebag.

"DON'T EVER THINK THESE STUPID THOUGHTS AGAIN. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

Sans knew this was what he wanted but his brain still had one dumb question left.

"but...don't i piss you off?"

It takes a moment for Papyrus to register his brother's question.

"OF COURSE YOU PISS ME OFF. EVERYTHING PISSES ME OFF. BUT THAT'S JUST HOW FAMILY IS. PISSING EACH OTHER OFF. BUT LESS THAN OTHER PEOPLE."

"what about all those times where you tell me if i wasn't your bro that you'd have killed me by now?"

"BECAUSE IF YOU WERE JUST SOME ASSHOLE THEN I WOULDN'T GIVE A SHIT! BUT YOU'RE MY BROTHER AND I DO."

"do...what?"

This flustered the terrible Papyrus. A rare and unexpected reaction. Though it made Sans more curious.

"pap?"

"YOU."

"huh?"

"I GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU, SANS! THERE! I SAID IT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?"

An almost wounded look comes to Sans from the amount of confused he is.

"YOU'RE A LAZY COWARDLY UNFUNNY BAG OF SOCKS, BUT DAMN IT ALL, YOU'RE MY BROTHER. YOU'RE ALL I HAVE AND I CARE ABOUT YOU."

Sans's eyes cast their gaze to the floor in shame.

"DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DID? HOW MUCH YOU HURT ME? LOOK AT ME, DAMN IT!"

The slight crack in Papyrus's demand made Sans look up. His sockets widening to the sight of his brother, the great and terrible Papyrus, softly tearing up. Guess this was Papyrus's turn to vent.

"p-papyrus..."

"DO YOU KNOW HOW PAINFUL THAT WAS? FOR YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, TO TELL ME TO KILL YOU? MY OWN BROTHER. WHY NOT STAB A KNIFE IN MY CHEST? THE EFFECT WOULD'VE BEEN JUST AS EFFECTIVE."

"pap...i..."

His tears were falling freely at this point.

"AND THEN YOU WOULDN'T COME HOME. INSTEAD, YOU HID AWAY LIKE A FOOL. DID YOU NOT SEE ME AT ALL? DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I JUST WANTED TO DRAG YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THERE?"

"w-why didn't you?"

"BECAUSE I WANTED YOU TO DO IT ON YOUR OWN! I WANTED YOU TO FACE ME LIKE A MAN AND OWN UP TO YOUR PROBLEM. I JUST DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD TAKE YOU SO LONG TO DO SO."

Now it was Sans's turn to shock his brother. Increasing his hug tally for the day greater as he clings to his sibling.

"i'm so sorry, pap. i...i was a huge bastard. can you ever forgive me?"

Papyrus slowly returns the hold.

"I FORGIVE YOU, SANS...CAN YOU FORGIVE ME?"

"of course, pap."

"OKAY THEN."

Papyrus then shoves Sans back onto the couch.

"IF YOU EVER DO SOMETHING SO MORONIC AGAIN, I'LL HURT YOU BACK TILL YOUR BONES ARE BLACK AND BLUE."

His tough words had less bite due to him wiping the tears away. Yet Sans took this as a good sign. Big bad bro was back to his normal self. Which meant things were good. At least he hoped as much. Papyrus made his way into the kitchen as Sans relaxed. Removing his jacket and shoes, feeling at home again.

"SANS! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

A sigh leaves him, a strange sense of familiarity in this that just feels right warms his bones as he gets up and strolls over to his confused brother who is eyeing a funny looking glass baking dish.

"yes?"

"WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

"oh, that?"

Sans smirks embarrassed.

"i wanted to treat ya to something as a surprise by cooking. and i know i've watched ya cook for so long, but i'll be damned if said i knew what the hell i was doing when it came to making lasagna. so...i made spaghetti."

Papyrus cocked his brow.

"IN THE OVEN?"

"i made it on the stove like normal. i'm not that slow. but i didn't know when you'd get here. so to keep it warm, i baked it on low."

Inquisitively, Papyrus gets a fork and strings himself a sample.

"HMMM..."

"i tried to make it like you used to. probably won't be as good as when you cook."

"DON'T FALL ON YOUR SWORD YET."

"sorry."

"SO FAR...IT LOOKS DECENT. NO NOODLE STIFFNESS AND THE SAUCE IS THICK BUT NOT TOO THICK."

Papyrus takes a deep whiff.

"NO SPICES USED?"

"i didn't want to screw it up by adding too much. 'cause once it's in there ya can't exactly take it back out."

A grunt of understanding was his reply before biting into the amount on his fork. Papyrus mulls the food for a bit and follows it with a long slow swallow.

"well? is it bad?"

There's a long pause.

"COMPARED TO MINE? THIS DOESN'T HOLD A CANDLE."

Sans's heart sinks.

"BUT..."

Oh?

"COMPARED TO EXAMPLES YOU HAVE MADE BEFORE? THIS...THIS IS DELICIOUS."

A strange warmth comes to Sans.

"r-really?"

Papyrus doesn't say a word. He merely makes himself a very large plate and doesn't wait to reach his seat in the living room to begin eating. Following his brother's lead, Sans too gets a plate full of food and joins him on the couch. The pasta brings a sense of nostalgia. Like a past moment softly being revisited again in each bite. Who knew something as basic as spaghetti could bring out such strong feelings?

"SO..."

Papyrus breaks the eating silence.

"I TAKE IT YOU SPOKE WITH THE HUMAN BEFORE COMING HERE."

Not so much a question than a statement. One that Sans rolls his shoulders at.

"yeah. kid said she saw ya earlier."

Papyrus pauses for a slight second before continuing to eat.

"she said that you missed me."

"THAT WOMAN TALKS TOO MUCH."

"but you did...right?"

"YOU KNOW I DID. WHY BOTHER ASKING ME WHAT YOU ALREADY KNOW?"

"no reason. i just like hearing you say it."

Papyrus scoffs.

"I SEE YOU'RE STILL AN ASS."

Sans merely snickers.

"SHE GETS TO YOU LIKE NO ONE ELSE, DOESN'T SHE?"

This ends Sans snickering.

"huh?"

Papyrus stops eating.

"THE HUMAN. SHE TOLD ME SHE WOULD SPEAK WITH YOU AND HERE YOU ARE. BACK HOME AFTER DAYS OF HIDING. EITHER SHE SAYS WHAT IS NEEDED TO BE SAID OR SHE HAS SOME WAY OF SWAYING YOU."

Sans ignored the latter implication.

"she just...she's a good kid is all."

Papyrus cocks a socket his brother's way.

"RIGHT...AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE TWO OF YOU BEING 'SECRET BUDDIES'."

He knew that was coming to bite him in the ass someday.

"it's not what you think."

"THEN WHAT IS IT? BECAUSE IT JUST SEEMS LIKE THE BOTH OF YOU ARE UNUSUALLY CLOSE. *GASP* DON'T TELL ME THAT SO-CALLED 'FRIEND' OF YOURS THAT LIKES SOMEONE THEY SHOULDN'T IS ACTUALLY YOU AND THE HUMAN!"

Sans nearly chokes on a forkful of noddles. His skull as red as the sauce and sockets painfully wide in shock.

"the fuck?! no! fuck no! i just said it's not what you think it is!"

"THEN BY ALL MEANS, DO ELABORATE."

"she's just..."

"YES?"

"she's just...a nice kid. that's all."

"OH? AND THE OTHER HUMANS WEREN'T NICE ENOUGH FOR YOUR LIKING? IS THAT WHY YOU DEALT WITH THEM SO QUICKLY?"

"why are ya busting my hump on this? i thought we agreed to go easy on each other."

"I AM GOING EASY ON YOU. I'M NOT MAKING YOU TELL ME ANYTHING. OTHERWISE, I'D BE ASKING A HELL OF A LOT MORE."

"then i ain't saying shit."

"WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DEFENSIVE?"

"because i fucked up!"

There is a tense pause.

"all she wanted to do was help me like she always does. and my dumb ass nearly kills her."

Papyrus is intrigued to say the least.

"*SIGH* WHAT HAPPENED?"

Sans gulps down an obscenely large forkful of pasta to join the lump in his throat.

"she nearly bled out after i bit her."

Papyrus rubs the space between his eyes.

"WHY DID YOU BITE HER?"

"in my defense...i was annoyed, i told her to stop hugging me, and i didn't mean to sink my teeth in that deep."

That only made Papyrus more confused.

"SHE WAS HUGGING YOU?"

"*sigh* i was gonna leave before hearing her out and she grabbed me so i couldn't."

"THAT...MAKES SENSE I GUESS. DID YOU...?"

"i already apologized. if you can imagine..."

"SHE FORGAVE YOU WITH NO EFFORT."

"yep."

"SHE TRULY IS AN ODD ONE."

"true that."

A few slurps are made.

"...not like it's a bad thing."

Papyrus shrugs.

"I SUPPOSE...SOMETIMES...WHEN SHE'S NOT BEING A CUNT."

Sans chuckles and they continue to eat. This tranquil normalcy, it made Sans think about what the human said. How these small moments make things feel better even when the world is a ruined hell.

"*weak* Then...There are good times when I'm not around. I remember a lot of beatings, that's true. But there were times when things were nice. Like when we'd sit down to watch TV and eat. We'd make a few dumb jokes and talk like...like good friends. I'd be a terrible liar if I said I didn't miss that. And those moments, when we're not at each other's throats...It felt real. You know? Like, the rest of the world didn't matter and time was meaningless because it just felt so good."

Yeah. These little moments were the windows into a peace that needed to be peered in more often. This was something that they could get used to.

[Hours pass by]

"...wake up."

The voice is soft and wispy.

"...you hear me?"

Warmth nudges my shoulder.

"...cat?"

Cat? Oh...heh...Pussycat. It must be time to go. Thanks, Grillby.

"...fooling around. You don't want to keep..."

The yawn I let out muffles the rest of his speech as my eyes take their time to open and adjust.

"*groggy* Sorry, Grillz...Your bed is so comfy."

Grillby playfully ruffles my hair.

"Silly, pussycat. How are you feeling?"

I rub my eyes and sit up. Noticing he's in some more casual attire. Part of me is disappointed he's not still shirtless. Mmmmmm...topless Grillby.

"Naps are amazing. I feel much better."

"Good. It's getting to be that time you told me to wake you."

"Has Flowey woke up too?"

He shakes his head.

"Your brother is even more of a lightweight than you."

"He is a flower. It's not like he has a system made for dealing with booze."

He helps me out of his bed and motions to the end of the bed where the clothes I came here in now lay.

"We can't have your mother seeing you come home like this."

"Yet the second hickey was a good idea?"

His flames flicker a moment in nervous embarrassment.

"Yeah...Not my brightest move."

"No worries. I forgive you, hot stuff."

"You do?"

"Sure. You were a little upset and got a bit carried away. I'm not gonna hold it against you..."

I surprise him with a hug.

"Not when I can hold you against me."

He smirks and snakes his arms around me.

"My, someone's being affectionate. Not sure if it's because of the blood loss, meds, or you actually find me genuinely worth it."

I nuzzle his shoulder.

"Kindness given gains kindness in return. You've been good to me, Grillby. Why wouldn't I be affectionate to a warm soul such as yourself?"

"*sigh* What did I ever do to deserve you?"

I have no words to answer him with. I simply lean into him with a soft kiss. He, on the other hand, decides to reciprocate by sending warmth throughout my system with an overly hot kiss and a grip that's strong but not like the possessive one from before. He breaks the kiss, leaving me stolen of breath.

"You know...There's still some free time before you need to get back home."

A sly smirk plays on his charming face.

"What say we have a little fun till time's up~?"

His hands knead a trail to my hips where they rub tender circles. The naughty flamer sees a rare opportunity and is willing to take it. However, I know how Toriel is and how she'd react if I'm late. Still, it's not like I don't see an opportunity myself. I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a sultry look.

"Fun huh? What kind of fun do you have in mind, hot stuff~?"

"Hmmm...I was thinking..."

He leans into my ear and nibbles the lob a bit.

"Maybe I can cross off a few more of those things you've never experienced..."

Knowing how sensitive my nape is, he moves his nibbling to there and I bite my lip to keep it together.

"Perhaps we kick this heat up a notch and make things a bit spicier...How do you feel about that?"

Even like this Grillby is patient soul. Though part of me is curious to test his limits and mine.

"I guess we could try. There is something I've never done that's pretty simple."

His eyes widen a bit.

"R-Really?"

"Yeah, and since I'm in the Underground, it's kinda a bit more thrilling."

I feel his fire intense.

"You...You're not just teasing me are you, pussycat?"

I shake my head.

"No tease."

A slight highlight in color touches his face to match the goofy excited look coming to him.

"A-And...um...W-What is it you'd like to try?"

"Well...promise not to laugh?"

"Dear, I'd never..."

"I want to hold hands as I walk home with you."

His mouth remains open as I stole his ability to speak. I see the gears of "what the fuck" turn behind his eyes so I try to explain in a not stupid way.

"I know, it's not what you wanted to hear. But...I dunno...You make me feel special. And as childish as it sounds, I've always just wanted to hold the hand of someone that cared for me. Plus, you escorting me home will give you major good guy points with mom."

I try to sell this with an embarrassed smile.

"But you don't have to if you don't want to. I understand that..."

He shuts me up with his laughter. This doesn't make me feel good for sharing and after a moment or two, he sees my dower expression then quickly attempts to fix this.

"No no, pussycat, I didn't mean...*sigh* I laughed because you're innocence never stops to amaze me. After our game earlier, this caught me off guard."

I rub my arm shyly.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I adore this about you. It's precious."

I fight weakly to stop the blush coming to me.

"Thanks."

He cups my chin and kisses my forehead.

"God, you're cute. Go get dressed. I'll be waiting with your brother."

My eyes light up.

"Wait...Does that mean...?"

He merely nods and my heart flutters with giddy delight. I collect my clothes and head for the bathroom to change. Ah to be back in my real clothing. Not to knock on the outfit Grillby got me because it fits like a glove and wasn't as messed up as it could've been, but nothing beats something you're used to wearing. The bandage on my shoulder slightly shows under the shirt collar, so I have to tear part of it though now it feels weird. I guess I'm dealing with it now. I leave the other garments in the bathroom and go to find Grillby, whose humming I follow out into the bar. He's donned his thick coat and coolly has my backpack over his shoulder, a casual smirk gracing him.

"Ready to go, pussycat?"

"Are you sure you wanna do this? I won't make you go into the cold."

A small chuckle leaves him.

"It's fine. Besides...If it starts to bother me I'll just have to hold you close."

"Cheeky boy."

He holds out his free hand.

"Milady, shall I walk you home?"

I smile and slide my hand into his.

"I would be honored, kind sir."

I open the door and he fakes a swoon.

"A lady opening the door for a man? You're definitely a keeper."

"Heh. Lovable dork."

And like that, we begin our stroll to the Ruins. Whether he knows it or not, I'm very grateful Grillby decided to walk with me. I know not how much more the Underground mimics the surface, but I'd rather not risk walking home alone at a late hour when a target is already marked on me labeled "free EXP, please kill me". The air is still and no snowfall. There is a faint feeling of hidden onlookers yet nothing makes a move.

"You know...I've never been out this far."

Grillby breaks the silence.

"Really? So you've never seen the guard posts?"

"Nope. Are they odd?"

"Most look vaguely like doghouses that you'd be sold lemonade at. But there are two exceptions."

"...The brothers?"

"Bingo."

"Care to give me any hints?"

"And spoil the surprise? I think not."

"Oh, now you're building up my curiosity."

"Trust me. You shall not be disappointed."

Indeed he is not. The dog guard posts are the same basic wooden house design and have a mean dog head decorating the top. But when I show him Papyrus's post...The look on his face is priceless at the sight of the dark metal and even has Gothic-styled torches that make it look very spooky.

"This...This is Papyrus's station?"

"I know right? So cool."

"Is that...a plaque?"

"Go on. Read it."

[YOU OBSERVE THE WELL-CRAFTED SENTRY STATION. WHO COULD HAVE BUILT THIS, YOU PONDER...I BET IT WAS THAT VERY FAMOUS ROYAL GUARDSMAN! TREMBLE WITH TERROR BEFORE IT'S GREATNESS!]

He's holding in so much laughter even though some of it is slipping out.

"Oh my god..."

"Best let it out now. You won't be laughing when you see Sans's."

The confusion gets to him a moment before taking another look at the structure and laughing. Seeing him like this is a relief. I don't like seeing him grumpy or jealous.

"*chuckling* Oh man...I needed that."

"The ego of the great and terrible Papyrus is always worth a giggle or two."

"And Sans's post isn't?"

"You'll see."

Our journey continues. Along the short way between Papyrus and Sans's stations, we encounter the Snowman who seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll of its own in the relative safety of the evening hours. See us, it waves "hi" as if nothing out of the norm is happening. I wave back at and resist any temptation to bust out a "Frosty the Snowman" tune but Grillby is baffled that the snowman is alive. I teasingly remind him that he's literally living fire and he becomes slightly bashful. So damn cute. We come upon Sans's station and, as I figured, Grillby's reaction is not of amusement...more like pity. Sans's post is made of wood like the dogs' stations are but it's open from so many places and lacks real fortification. There is no back to it or true sides, it's mostly a hollowed-out dresser with a beam on each corner connecting to the roof yet only just enough so that all the weight in front doesn't have it tipping backward.

"This is a joke, right?"

"If you ever wondered why he hated his job, this is a good starting point."

"It's got nothing. How do they expect the first line of defense to be ready if they're not even properly protected, and from the freaking snow no less?"

Is this really the same man? Earlier he was ready to kill Sans, now he's upset over how Sans is treated at work. And here I thought I was the emotional flip-flopper.

"It's not all bad. He's made it useful to his needs. Come here."

I guide him behind the station and here I show him Sans's stash. Mustard bottles kept chilled in the snow, car magazines, and assorted hotdog stuff.

"See? Not completely shit."

"...How do you know about this stuff?"

"When I first left the Ruins, Sans hid me from Papyrus so I wouldn't be killed on sight. Saved my butt."

He looks a little dejected.

"Sweetie?"

That snaps him out of it.

"You okay?"

"Oh...Yeah. Just got distracted by a random thought."

I pat his back.

"Want to see something else funny?"

Curiosity gets to him, so I lead him to the "gate" thing that Papyrus made and that Toriel made useless.

"What am I looking at?"

"This was once the bane of coming out here. To keep people, mainly humans, from getting to town and the rest of the Underground, Papyrus made a gate over this unbelievably deep pit. It was very effective due to the tight spacing making it very difficult and time-consuming to bother with squeezing through the bars. The option of the surrounding forest is also a hard choice due to the tress being so close together. However, the gate stood no chance against a mad goat woman with fire powers."

That has him snickering. We cross the bridge and at long last, we arrive at the door that keeps us apart.

"So...This is my place."

"Heh. Feels a little cheesy. You know? Walking a lady home."

"Good cheesy like nachos or bad cheesy like Limburger?"

He just smiles and pats my head.

"You are too cute somethings."

I giggle and there's a bang on the other side of the door, making Grillby jump. I sigh and knock on the door.

"Is that you, Nanny?"

"*muffled* Indeed, my child. Do you need help with the door?"

"Yes, please."

The door rumbles. Pushed outward and showing Toriel, who is delighted to see me and puzzled by Grillby being here.

"Oh...Hello there."

Grillby, who has been holding my hand this entire time, tightens his grip.

"Evening, Mrs. Dreemurr. I hope we are on time."

Toriel is blank for a moment, then she smiles.

"My, such a gentleman. Walking a young woman home. Perhaps good men still exist."

I so called it on her thinking this!

"Here, dear."

Grillby hands me my pack back and I kiss him quickly much to his cheeky surprise.

"Call me later, hot stuff?"

"Heh...Oh, you know it, pussycat."

We share a moment of contented gazing into each other's eyes till Toriel coughs.

"I have to go now."

"I know."

"Be careful on the way back."

He merely smiles, turns on his heel, and heads back the way to town with a cool wave.

"Come along, child."

"Yes, Nanny."

I follow her inside and upon the doors being shut, I take notice of the difference in temperature. Sure, I'm not in the cold anymore. But the warmth of home is nothing compared to Grillby's natural heat. My hand, the one that held his, feels cold and empty. I miss him. We've only just parted and I already long to be with him again.

"Child? Is everything alright?"

Toriel notices my distraction. I'm not about to tell her my feelings about him so I play normal.

"Yeah. Just some stuff on my mind."

"Anything you wish to speak about?"

I shake my head.

"Nah. It's nothing."

She pouts a bit.

"You care about him a lot, do you not?"

I say nothing.

"It is not shameful if you do. He appears to be a fine man. And he seems to have the same feelings."

"Mom, I really don't feel comfortable talking about my feelings."

"Why not? It is not as if feelings are a foreign concept to us monsters. We just do not express them so freely."

"It's just...*groan* I'm just..."

[RING-RING]

Of course, my phone goes off. Like some sort of contrived plot convenience. My heartbeat increases at the thought of it being Grillby, yet it is a very short-lived feeling. It's not his number. It's not even Blooky's. It's Mettaton. Fuck my life.

"Child?"

"No worries, mom. I'm gonna take this call and follow you. Only slower."

She nods and keeps walking. I answer the call and slowly follow.

"Long time no ring, Mettaton. What's up?"

I'm given amused robotic giggles.

"OH DARLING, IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG, HASN'T IT? SEEMS LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY WE WERE MAKING PLANS TO MEET."

"After you threatened to off a guy on TV in hopes I'd stop you."

"TRUE. HAD YOU NOT BEEN WATCHING, THAT WOULD'VE BACKFIRED ON ME AND THEN I'D HAVE ONE LESS SCUMBAG ON MY PAYROLL."

"Not to sound rude, but why are you calling? Surely it's not to get all cutesy. It's late and people should be eating before becoming mindless bed zombies that must feed on dreams to survive."

He's silent for a few seconds.

"...ARE YOU OKAY WITH LETTING ME TAKE THAT FOR A BOOK IDEA?"

"Sure. Whatever. Don't avoid answering the question."

"HARSH. I WASN'T AVOIDING ANYTHING. I WAS MERELY STRIKING UP CONVERSATION. YOU KNOW? BASIC INTERACTION AND ALL THAT JAZZ."

I pause in my following of Toriel to casually smack my head into a wall, feeling dumb for my attitude.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to come off as a cunt. It's been a long day and I have no right to take it out on you."

"OH? CARE TO SHARE?"

"I'd rather not."

"WOULD IT HAPPEN TO INVOLVE THOSE SKELETONS? OR THAT FIREY MAN THAT WALKED YOU HOME?"

Toriel must be rubbing off on me because my grip on the phone tightens harshly at hearing something I don't like.

"...You really need a better pastime than to watch me."

"BUT DARLING, YOU ARE SO INTERESTING."

"Please refrain from further viewing me like you're watching some cartoon character."

"BUT DO TELL...ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH THAT BURNING MAN?"

The crunching my phone is making is loud. It's at this point I've stopped following Toriel due to anger. And the pack holding Flowey is on the floor.

"Who the flying fuck do you think you are?!"

"I'M METTATON. AND YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT IN A PLAYFUL MOOD. SO YOU PROBABLY DIDN'T HAVE SEX. OTHERWISE, YOU'D BE LESS AGITATED."

"You have no right to just blurt out a personal question like that."

"ON THE CONTRARY. I THINK I SHOULD KNOW."

"Why?"

"BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW IF I SHOULD KILL HIM OR NOT."

My rage simultaneously grows and dies.

"If you do anything to him..."

"AH, POOR DARLING. YOU ARE A UNIQUE FIND DOWN HERE. BUT THAT IS ALSO YOU'RE BIGGEST WEAKNESS. YOU CARE ABOUT THE SAFETY OF OTHERS."

"Don't mistake that as a weakness. For I'll pull terrible power from knowing of someone else's pain."

"OH I'M SURE YOU CAN."

"Don't play games with me!"

"YET GAMES ARE SO MUCH FUN. SPEAKING OF WHICH...I WANT TO PLAY A GAME WITH YOU, HUMAN."

I don't like this.

"THE GAME IS A SIMPLE ONE. ALL YOU MUST DO IS FOLLOW A SERIES OF INSTRUCTIONS. ANY ATTEMPT TO NOT PLAY OR DOING SOMETHING WRONG WILL RESULT IN A PENALTY. THE MORE PENALTIES YOU HAVE, THE WORSE PUNISHMENT WILL HAPPEN FOR SOMEONE YOU KNOW. AND I'M SURE YOU DON'T NEED CONVINCING ON A SOMEONE OF MY FAME BEING ABLE TO DO SUCH THINGS."

I growl.

"I'M SURE A SMART GIRL LIKE YOU CAN FOLLOW SIMPLE DIRECTIONS AND UNDERSTAND THAT PLAYING THE GAME WILL RESULT IN NO HARM BEING DONE. WITH THAT SAID...ARE YOU READY TO PLAY?"

My growling lessens.

"Fine. But make the game short. A smart guy like you knows the furry of a pissed off Toriel."

"Lynsie...?"

Speaking of which. She calls out into the echoing hall.

"Are you okay?"

I cover the phone.

"Yeah. The phone call is running longer than I thought. I'll be up there soon."

She doesn't respond and I assume she's going back to her own business, so I continue the call.

"See what I mean?"

"VERY WELL...THE GAME BEGINS. YOUR FIRST INSTRUCTION, LEAVE THE RUINS."

I pause.

"...You're going to get me in trouble for your own amusement, aren't you?"

"PLEASE STEP OUTSIDE OR YOU WILL BE GIVEN A PENALTY."

I grumble in annoyance but walk back to the door.

"You're lucky you said please."

I shove one of the doors with some shoulder effort and get hit with that frigid cold I hate so much. I poke my head outside before creeping out.

"GOOD GIRL."

"There's a camera right outside the door, isn't it?"

"MAYBE~...EITHER WAY, YOU'VE EARNED ONE POINT. COLLECT THREE AND WIN."

"Okay, thanks for making it short."

"I DO AIM TO PLEASE. NOW THEN...YOUR SECOND TASK, TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF."

"Whoa, I am not doing that!"

"PLEASE, DON'T THINK THAT WAY. I'M A ROBOT. IT'S NOT LIKE IT DOES ANYTHING FOR ME TO SEE YOU TOPLESS."

I snicker.

"No, dingus, I meant I ain't taking my top off because it's fucking freezing. What the hell are you thinking, ghost-bot?"

I don't think I know what a flustered/embarrassed robot sounds like, but it's quite possibly the weird electronic sounds that are currently scrambling my eardrum.

"But, no. I refuse this task of yours."

He calms down.

"*AHEM* UH...LET'S SKIP THIS ONE. UM...NEW TASK, SPIN AROUND AND AROUND TILL YOU FALL DOWN."

"...Can I question why?"

"NO REASON. MOSTLY FOR SEEING HOW LONG YOU CAN."

"*sigh* Just promise not to record this."

I clutch the phone and feel dumb even before taking that first spin. My eyes keep sight to the ground so my mind won't lose itself too quickly. Though the fluid swirling around my brain is not making things feel as lucid as I know things are. I twirl, dip, nearly smack the door twice, but ultimately trip over a small stick that was hidden in the snow, and I smash into the magical frozen powder with a large poof. My eyes spin in my skull as the sound of digital laughter eventually is recognized by my senses. My strength in direction is a bit off, though I still drag my phone to my ear after first poking it into my eye.

"*dizzy* Did I do the thing?"

Fuck trying to make cognitive sentences while my brain is sloshing.

"*SNICKERING* YES, DARLING. YOU DID THE THING AND DID IT WELL. YOU HAVE TWO POINTS NOW."

"Yay!"

The most unenthusiastic yay ever.

"NOW, DARLING, YOU NEED ONLY DO ONE LAST THING TO WIN THE GAME. ARE YOU READY?"

"*dizzy* Okily dokily."

"GOOD...GOOD...ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS...DON'T LOOK BEHIND YOU."

If my mind wasn't so messed up, I wouldn't have fallen for such a dumb thing. But dumb dizzy me gets worried about if something is there because of random monster attack paranoia...So I end up turning to look back...and see douche cat holding a bat.

"Uh..."

He smirks and readies his bat.

"You should've listened to the rules."

Processing the incoming strike takes longer than I need to actually do anything. The crack against the side of my head has enough force to roll me over. I might have rolled more but I blacked out during that initial spin my neck did on impact.

[In Hotland, Laboratory]

Mettaton continues to watch the monitor, seeing Burgerpants snatch the discarded cellphone out of the snow and answer it.

"Hey, Boss."

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BE THAT ROUGH. SHE WAS ALREADY DISORIENTED."

"Be happy I didn't get her in the face. Can I go now?"

"YOU KNOW THE DEAL. DELIVER THE PACKAGE AND YOU WILL BE PAID HANDSOMELY."

"*groan* Fine. What do want me to do about that bartender?"

"LEAVE HIM BE. HE ISN'T OF ANY IMPORTANCE. JUST DON'T LET HIM SEE YOU. I GET THE FEELING HE WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH HER."

"No kidding. That reminds me...I'm getting an extra day-off for putting my ass on the line like this."

"IF YOU CAN BRING HER BACK AND SHE ISN'T DEAD OR BLOODY, I'LL GIVE YOU TWO."

"Score!"

Burgerpants pockets the phone, sheathes the bat on his belt, picks the human up and proceeds to flee the area before the Boss Monster within is any the wiser.

"So..."

Alphys slithers towards the pleased automaton.

"You finally did it. You went and 'collected' the human."

Mettaton shrugs.

"IT WAS SHOCKINGLY EASY TOO. I ALMOST FEEL BAD ABOUT IT."

"You probably could've just asked her over and save some of the trouble."

"TRUE. BUT THEN WHERE WOULD THE MOTIVATION BE?"

Alphys tilts her head.

"MY DEAR ALPHYS...FOR ALL THE STORIES YOU WATCH AND READ, YET YOU CAN'T SEE THE PLOT I'M WEAVING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU."

"Don't patronize me, asshole."

"FINE. I'LL PUT IT AS SIMPLY AS I CAN. SURE, INVITING HER WOULD GET HER HERE BUT IT WOULDN'T MAKE HER PERFORM AS NEEDED. BUT NOW SHE HAS BEEN ATTACKED. ABDUCTED. AND WILL SOON WAKE IN AN UNKNOWN LOCATION. THE CONFUSION AND ANGER WILL DRIVE HER TO SEEK ME OUT, THE ONE THAT ORCHESTRATED THE INCIDENT. YET LITTLE DOES SHE KNOW THAT IT'S WHAT I WANT HER TO DO. I NEED HER TO PLAY THE PART OF THE WRONGED HUMAN SEEKING REVENGE. SHE WILL BE TESTED AND, OVER THE COURSE OF INTENSE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS, LEARN OF THE HARDSHIPS THAT HAVE LEAD UP TO THIS. ALONG THE WAY, WE SHALL MEET. FIRST AS ENEMIES. BUT OVER TIME, A BOND OF RESPECT WILL FORM. AND MAYBE...SOMETHING MORE. YET AT THE END, WE SHALL FIGHT, FOR IT IS THE WAY OF THINGS AND THE LAW MUST BE FOLLOWED. SHE WILL RESIST. I WILL 'UNWILLING' INSIST ON FIGHTING. OVER A LONG AND HEROING BATTLE, THE GRANDEST DISPLAY OF REMORSE WILL HAPPEN, ENDING THE FIGHT WITH EITHER A DISPLAY OF GRAND FRIENDSHIP OR A LOVE CONQUERS ALL TWIST. I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHICH THE AUDIENCE WILL ENJOY MORE SO THAT PART IS AMBIGUOUS FOR NOW. WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

Alphys just stares at Mettaton, mouth agape in utter shock.

"ALPHYS?"

She resets her composure by adjusting her glasses.

"Usually your ideas aren't so well thought out. They tend to be glamourizing drama pulls that crash due to shitty writing and poor taste. But this? ...You've surprised me."

A flash of random pixels appear on his screen from disbelief.

"REALLY?"

Alphys turns and slithers off towards her private workroom.

"I look forward to this show of yours. Hope you don't disappoint."

Mettaton, for once, was at a loss for words. Alphys never was supportive of his ideas, at least, not lately anyway. This was the kind of confidence boost he needed. He was going to put on the show of a lifetime for all the Underground to see. But there were still loose ends that needed tying up. For this was merely stage one of his brilliant plan. Stage two will be somewhat more challenging. For one, he'll need to keep Toriel from going on a homicidal rampage. And two, a means to buy off the Snowdin guards. The second part is simple enough. The dogs don't give a shit. The skeletons however...those two might become a problem if they find any clues. Yet any good actor worth their soul knows how to plan and improvise on the fly. This was the part he was grateful for having a staff of underpaid teens that were desperate for any hope of something more, they'll do anything. With the click of a button, he enacts the next phase.

"ATTENTION, ALL YOU HAPPY HELPERS OF MINE. IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO SHINE. CLEAN UP BURGERPANTS'S MESS AND DO IT RIGHT. OR YOU CAN KISS THAT 5G INCREASE AND YOUR JOBS GOODBYE. THANK YOU!"

It's showtime.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #flowey #chara #Asriel #asgore #toriel #frisk #napstablook #alphys #undyne #mettaton

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