#i get carsick if i’m not driving GOD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

schvmacher47 · 6 months

Text

venus | oscar piastri (preview II)

1 | quick pause in conversation (preview word count: 2054, total word count: 4044)

»Maybe it wasn't boiling enough… Maybe I just have no talent… I think this might be the biggest issue here«, Oscar mumbled. His body language was very much giving signs of early defeat, as if he’d already accepted his fate, when Robert went and whispered something into his ear. I couldn’t quite make out what Robert said, but I was pretty sure it was something along the lines of ‘You’re so doing this on purpose, I know you’re not that bad…’.

»There’s microphones on!«, Oscar exclaimed and looked straight into the camera, or more like behind the camera, to see if anyone of us heard what was being said.

»They’re not listening«, Robert reassured him and grinned knowingly. Sure, nobody was listening…

»So let’s try this again«, Oscar said. »I’m sticking to the ‘no swirling’ technique«, he added and immediately put the second raw egg into the boiling water.

»This one’s even worse!« He sounded very disappointed, especially as he watched Robert attempt and then succeed the challenge with his second try.

»That one’s actually pretty good!«, Oscar exclaimed, as he inspected Robert’s attempt. Robert started celebrating, being very sure of his second victory in a row. »He actually did a good job on that…«

»Did I split the yolk? Maybe… Is that a problem? No…«, Oscar mumbled with a wry grin on his lips, as he took out his mishap of a poached egg. Both he and Robert erupted into a fit of a full body laughter, as they inspected the poached egg. »And to think this was my best bet–«, Oscar laughed, as he presented his rock solid poached egg to the camera. I chuckled, innerly thanking God for choosing to make Oscar a racing driver and not a cook.

»I bet Kaia is very impressed by your cooking skills!«, Robert said, laughing.

»Oh I sure am!«, I grinned, but also started laughing. Their laughter was simply too infectious to not join in.

Robert’s egg was the definition of a perfect poached egg, the yolk was still runny, when he cut the egg open. Both he and Oscar went to try the poached egg and were visibly impressed by how good it was.

»You seriously have to try it!«, Robert said and waved me over to the kitchenette.

»Are you sure you don’t want to poison me?«, I joked, but still got up and left my spot behind the camera, to take the fork loaded with bits of the egg, which Oscar held out to me.

»Poison you? I don’t think we’re that bad…«

»That’s why your egg is rock solid… but sure, you’re not that bad«, I grinned, as I finally took the fork from Oscar, our fingers brushing as he passed it to me.

I inspected the egg one last time, for safety reasons, before I got over myself and gave it a try.

»Yeah, Robert definitely wins this round… Without a doubt, which also means I get the honour of driving you to the airport…«, I grumbled, giving Oscar my best deathglare, to which he only raised his hands in surrender, as if he were rejecting all blame. »Just to warn you now, I get to choose the songs we’re going to listen to. Capito? My car, my rules«, I playfully said.

»Yeah, whatever, as long as I’m getting to the airport, that’s fine with me…«

Oscar did end up winning the fried egg, but over easy challenge, but it didn’t change a thing about Robert’s overall win. As soon as the cameras were off, Robert put on that mischievous grin again.

»Well, I guess you’ll be having the honour of driving Mr. I don’t get rental cars to the airport. Please do my car rides justice and don’t be too nice«, he said, a big grin playing on his lips.

»I’ll make sure he’ll still get the Robert experience,« I chuckled, as I started packing up the camera equipment.

»I know that’s not gonna happen because you’re most definitely not as reckless of a driver as Robert. So that’s a relief for me because I for once won’t be carsick.«, Oscar said, getting rid of his apron and chef hat.

»On the expense of my dinner, thank you very much«, I joked.

»Now you’re making me feel bad…«, he mumbled as he helped me clean up the kitchen.

»If I remember correctly you’re the one who lost the challenge, so I think that’s deserved.«

»Evil!«

***

»Do you have everything?«, I asked Oscar as I grabbed my bag and car keys.

»Yes!«

»Are you sure?, I asked again, making sure we wouldn’t have to turn around. I remembered all the countless times Robert had to turn around because Oscar forgot something. At this point, the only important thing he didn’t leave behind was his phone. I hoped I didn’t just jinx it… If his head wasn’t permanently attached to his body, there would’ve been a great chance of him losing it somewhere around the world.

»Yes«, he confirmed as he pushed his suitcase to the main entrance. I quickly grabbed a water bottle from the minifridge before I followed him to the main hall. Oscar had already brought his luggage outside and was waiting for me to unlock the car.

As I stepped outside, the crisp evening air sent shivers down my spine. The sky was painted in beautiful hues of oranges and pinks, as the sun began its descent. I unlocked the car and opened the trunk for Oscar to put his, multiple weeks worth, of luggage into it.

»Buckle up, you’re in for the ride of your life!«, I told him as I got into the driver’s seat. I connected my phone to the car’s bluetooth and chose a playlist as Oscar also got into the car. The first notes of ‘Red’ by Taylor Swift sounded softly from the sound system as I pulled out of the car park. Loving him was like driving a new maserati down a dead-end street.

»As long as we don’t end up in a dead-end street, that’s fine with me«, Oscar said, a knowing smile resting on his lips as he made himself comfortable. It took a minute for my brain to process the ambiguity of his words. He for sure knew how to use his words, how to send my brain cells into a frenzy. Still waters could run deep. Very deep.

»Are you questioning my abilities right now?«,

»I would never!«

»You better not, since you’re relying on my abilities right now…«, I said, grinning as I drove onto the carriageway.

»I promise I won’t complain«, he said. »This is definitely an upgrade, came here thinking I was going to have to deal with Robert’s horrendous driving, but got an unexpected upgrade to first class.«

»As if you didn’t lose on purpose to get this upgrade, let’s be honest.«, I stated, quickly glancing over to him. He shook his head, but had a knowing grin on his lips. He of course did it on purpose.

»I would never!«, he repeated his statement from before.

»Yeah, as if I’d believe you… Just say it, you enjoy my company.«

»I thought that was obvious…«

»No shit Sherlock, it was obvious from the moment where you all of the sudden forgot how to boil an egg to get me to drive you to the airport«, I joked.

»So where’s the problem?«

»I don’t know, you tell me?«, I asked, grinning.

There was a quick pause in conversation, we fell into a comfortable silence, as I focused on the traffic ahead and Oscar was doing God knows what. Probably just staring out of the window for most of the time.

At some point, I turned the music up. I felt the need to fill the void with some background noise. A few songs in, which I classified as my ‘warm up’, I started humming along to One Direction’s ‘No Control’. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Oscar glancing over at me. A grin spread across my lips. Oh, he had no idea of what he was going to witness. I wiggled in my seat, as I started to sing along to the last lines of the first verse. The One Direction carpool karaoke video was my roman empire, the choreography to No Control was engraved into every single one of my brain cells and everytime that song popped up in my playlist, I couldn’t help but dance along.

Oscar chuckled softly next to me, shaking his head in amusement as I belted out the lyrics. Once the chorus hit, the last bit of self-control left my body and my hands left the steering wheel to do the choreo justice. I was challenging my inner Harry Styles. I literally had no control.

»First of all, I would very much appreciate it, if you would keep your hands on the steering wheel and focus on the street head…«, Oscar mumbled, a terrified expression resting on his facial features as he watched my impromptu performance. »Secondly, I sometimes wonder if your mothertongue really is English or you’re just fucking with me…«

»Why?«, I asked, once the chorus was over.

»The way you sing these songs with so much confidence really has me questioning if you know what you’re singing about«, Oscar chuckled. I raised an eyebrow. He thought this was bad? I made a mental note to introduce him to Zara Larsson’s music in the future.

»This isn’t even the worst one…«, I said, grinning as I continued to bob my head to the beat.

»There’s worse?« I just nodded in amusement and watched him shake his head.

»Could you take the next exit please?«, Oscar asked, when we were halfway through our journey to the airport.

»Why, do you need to use the toilet?«

»Just do it, okay?«, he practically begged me as we approached the exit he was talking about. It was a service station area that even accommodated smaller versions of supermarkets. I sighed and moved over into the exit lane, slowing down as I reached the parking lot.

»I’ll be quick«, Oscar said, as he got out of the car. He rushed over to one of the service points, but then disappeared behind a passing truck. As I waited for Oscar to come back, I decided to also open my door and stretch my legs out of the car. I reached for the water bottle that I’d placed behind my seat, and opened it to take a few refreshing sips.

A few minutes later, I saw Oscar coming back. He was carrying a brown paper bag, seemingly from one of those supermarkets. I raised an eyebrow when he opened the door and flopped down on the passenger’s seat.

»Why are you looking at me like that?«, he asked and fastened his seatbelt again.

»I thought you had to use the bathroom?«, I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

»I lied, my bladder is not that weak –«

»Funny coming from you, when you have to go to the toilet right before getting in your race car, but sure, go on«, I chuckled, earning a death glare from Oscar.

»If you’d let me finish, you’d know the reason why I lied«, he stated. »I felt bad, when you said you still had to go grocery shopping and since I am basically the reason for you not having a proper dinner tonight, I got you something…«, he mumbled and pointed to the brown paper bag. I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness.

»You did what?« He didn’t even acknowledge my question, instead he put the bag on his lap and reached into it.

»I got you dinner.«, he said, pulling out what looked like a big salad bowl, bread and a bar of chocolate. »Consider it a thank you for driving me to the airport.« I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief.

»You didn’t have to do that«, I mumbled. I was at a loss for words. »Thank you…«, I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. »I really appreciate it.«

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 x you #oscar piastri x female reader #best friends to lovers

35 notes · View notes

mmmeto · 4 months

Note

Any time!

But i won't lie i'd love to play a little with your carsickness. Like taking you Out to a surprise Destination and stuff you before we get into the Car. Obviously we'll Take the windy roads to get there. There would be lots of belly rubs and a whole lot for you to get Up.

And then we finally arrive at a fantastic all you can eat Restaurant, you must be hungry after the Long Drive 😏

Seeing you contemplating If you can stuff yourself, how much you can realistically stomach, now knowing what awaits you on the Drive home. *Chefskiss* 🦄

Mmmmmm…. Stuffing myself silly before taking the scenic route back home… I’m sure I’d be in for a surprise 🫣 better pack lots of plastic bags for the way back, I’d have a feeling they’re gonna be needed.

But god, do I love playing with carsickness. The swerve of the vehicle as you desperately clutch at your belly, swallowing back against the rising nausea and hoping that you don’t make a mess of the floor… it’s so hot

#emeto #emetophilia #carsick

11 notes · View notes

justmeandmysickies · 2 years

Note

may i humbly request a character getting sick in the car without anything for them to puke into except a small bag or cup, leading to your preferred variety of chaos and/or misery?

thank you so much for the request, nonny! I hope this is enough chaos for you haha

characters: Leo and Cyril warnings: emeto and slight emetophobia

Leo, please!

Leo was not a good passenger. Never had been, never will be. The problem? He was an even worse driver so unfortunately; he was stuck on the passenger side most of the time.

Leo had been a fairly anxious person ever since he could remember. And his anxiety while driving a car was off the charts so he usually tried to avoid that. He was an anxious passenger as well, using his imaginary brakes, whenever Cyril just got a little too close to the car ahead of them and gripping the door and closing his eyes at any minor issue. Cyril had gotten used to that over time.

He’d even gotten used to Leo’s occasional “Watch out!” when there was absolutely nothing to watch out for, although it used regularly gave him heart attacks back when the pair had first started dating.

What Cyril was not used to in the slightest was his husband being silent. In all those years they had known each other, Leo had never been silent. Usually, he was quite the opposite actually. Cyril had never in his life met anyone as energetic and chatty as his husband. He was simply a constant source of noise. So, Leo being quiet was honestly unnerving to Cyril.

The older man took his eyes off the road for a moment, to look at his partner.

“Are you okay?” Leo nodded but he didn’t look at Cyril, intently staring out of the window instead.

He wasn’t feeling well, and he had absolutely no idea why. The drive had been going smoothly so it wasn’t anxiety. He hadn’t had any food yet today, the only thing in his stomach being an iced coffee from Starbucks. But for some reason he was feeling nauseous as hell, and it was getting worse by the minute.

“I know when you’re lying. Even when you’re not doing it verbally.” Leo sighed at his husband’s scolding.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling well.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Stomach.” Cyril looked alarmed at that revelation. Leo never got carsick. Which also meant that they had absolutely nothing to be sick into. And on top of that, they were on the freeway right now, so pulling over was most likely not going to be possible anytime soon.

“Are you gonna be sick?” He was praying to god Leo’s answer would be no.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Well shit.

Now that Leo had told his husband he wasn’t feeling well, his nausea seemed to increase tenfold. He put a hand onto his rolling stomach, in a desperate attempt to calm the angry organ. But as the time went on it was getting more evident by the second, that he was going to be unsuccessful.

“You’re gonna have to pull over.”

“What?!” Cyril whipped around to look at Leo. He had a hand covering his mouth as a silent but forceful gag made his body jerk forward.

“Leo! Do not throw up in my car!” Another gag brought tears to Leo’s eyes.

“Leo, please. I’m begging you. Just give me a chance to find an exit.” Cyril was pleading but his husband’s stomach wouldn’t have it.

Leo looked around frantically, painfully aware, that the next heave would be productive, and his eyes landed on his empty coffee cup. He managed to get the lid off just in time for a wave of vomit to rush up his throat.

“Leo!” Cyril had never been the type to handle vomit well. The puke itself technically didn’t bother him too much but unfortunately, he had the tendency to get sympathy sick. So, when he heard the painful retch tearing up his husband’s throat he couldn’t help but gag as well.

There was an exit coming up and Cyril almost breathed a sigh of relief, if it hadn’t been for the cup. Because the cup was clear, Cyril could see what was inside of it – as well as the fact that it was basically full. And Leo looked far from done.

“Dear Lord, Leo please.” He knew it wasn’t Leo’s fault, but he was at a loss. They still had about an hour to go and the idea of vomit in his car made Cyril shudder.

Leo was trying. He really was. He’d only brought up two waves so far, but the cup was dangerously close to overflowing and his stomach was still revolting inside of him. He briefly had time to feel bad for Cyril before he went back to pitying himself. Why did he always have to end up in such predicaments?

He hadn’t even noticed the car was stopped, before Cyril threw upon the door on the passenger side.

His stomach got the memo before his brain did, so he only had time to lean to the side before another rush of sick noisily gurgled up his throat and landed on the pavement. Nope – judging by the yelp his husband let out, he’d definitely thrown up onto Cyril’s shoes.

He heaved emptily a couple more times, but Leo finally felt a bit better. He looked up to apologize to his husband, but Cyril was preoccupied with trying to keep his stomach in place as he was gagging a couple of feet away.

Leo was about to get out of the car, when he realized he was still holding a cup full of his vomit. The sight made him cringe and gag again but luckily nothing more came up. He placed the cup on the pavement to be dealt with later and stepped out of the car.

By the time he had reached Cyril, his husband had calmed down. Leo had to laugh a little bit at Cyril taking deep breaths. It was rare to see his husband lose his cool like that. Before he could say anything however, Cyril spoke up.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry.” Cyril waved him off.

“No need. It’s not like it was your fault.” Leo nodded but he still felt bad. And Cyril knew. Cyril always knew. So, he hugged his husband as tightly as he could without upsetting his stomach. Leo breathed in Cyril’s scent – a perfume he himself had gotten his husband and immediately relaxed.

“Ready to get back in the car?” Leo sighed but he knew they had to. Luckily, he was feeling better so there was a chance they’d make it home without incident. He’d hold onto that hope.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Just give me one minute to clean my shoes.” Leo had completely forgotten about that. However, watching his husband retch hard enough to bring tears to his eyes as he tried to wipe vomit off his shoes in the grass was quite amusing to him.

“I love you!” Leo found himself hilarious as he yelled over to his partner.

“I love y -hurp you too.”

#em writes #leo #cyril #my ocs #emeto

36 notes · View notes

allylikethecat · 5 months

Note

More on the carsickness haha bc it’s such a sweet and like niche hc but also like makes so much sense ?? Also because I’m obsessed w atkh at the moment just like probably everyone else who ever stepped foot into ur tumblr page lol. How do you reckon fictional George ends up finding out about it? Bc obviously this fictional Matty is less of a complainer and more likely to like pretend everything is fine ig? I guess it’s just one of those things that he’d notice when they spend more time together?

ALSO. Since I’m here, and you said send asks so you can’t stop me ;)

I have been slacking on my atkh chapter comments and I realised I was sooo taking them for granted SO

Starting from the chapter where he breaks down at fictional! George’s, OH MY GOD ????? Written to perfection and I cried. I feel like it’s just such a good way for it to all happen but also so devastating?! And they fact that he’s finally realising that he was soo wrong about everything So then I’m super glad that they got some time to like- be happy- even if you’re going to crush that for a bit..

And then the chapter w charli and everything was so sweet. Fictional Carly is really just another mini protector

The SLEEPOVER ???? Was definitely NOT too self indulgent from you I ate it up oh my god.

And then the date oml. I love anything w the horses in tbh it all seems so personal and real. And the blushing oml so sweet.

Hope your team win the hockey game ? If that’s still going?

I am going to start off by apologizing for how long this response is I got very excited about your WONDERFUL ask...

IDK maybe I'm just projecting but like Matty, fictional and IRL just gives me "gets carsick vibes" so like he will be getting carsick in all of my fics lol Also thank you SO MUCH for being obsessed with ATKH because I am also very obsessed with ATKH and I am just so excited and so grateful that people are enjoying it and will to chat with me about it because that is what I want to be doing at all times lol I don't know if Fictional!George is ever explicitly going to find out - but if he does its probably going to be in the sense that they're going somewhere that's further away, Fictional!George is driving as always, and it starts out fine, but maybe they hit some stop and go traffic, and it's just taking forever and Fictional!Matty has gotten quieter and quieter, and he's got his forehead pressed against the window and his eyes squeezed shut and he is breathing really heavily and Fictional!George is like what's wrong you're really pale and Fictional!Matty is just like "I need you to pull over as soon as you can because I am going to throw up" and Fictional!George is like 😮 what shit and is scrambling to try and pull over and is just like in awe of how calm Fictional!Matty is about the entire thing and is like why didn't you say anything! But Fictional!Matty is just like I get carsick it's fine and Fictional!George is like THIS iS NOT FINE HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS and next time they go on a roadtrip he's got like water and ginger ale for him and like anti-nausea lollipops and is READY.

No part of me wants to stop you keep the asks coming this is absolute AMAZING and thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to read All the King's Horses I'm just so extremely grateful for everyone who has given it a chance and who has taken the time to chat with me!!

AHHH I'm so happy that you liked the chapter where they really ~talked~ about Fictional!Matty's history, that was one of the very first chapters I saw like fully formed in my mind when I started outlining this fic! It had moments where it was hard to write, but looking back I am happy with how it came out! Fictional!George is very obsessed with Fictional!Matty and that line between love and hate when it comes to obsession is very thin... but yes! They are going to be happy for a little bit 👀

I LOVE Fictional!Charli SO MUCH she is the MVP and the voice of reason in this fic and Fictional!Carly is a compilation of all the fabulous wealthy women who ride at my barn and have adopted me as their like bonus adult child I love them all so much and am so grateful to them and have had so much fun turning them into Fictional!Carly

HEHE I was so excited about the only one bed thing, that is like one of my FAVORITE things and I was so happy and excited to like full send it lol

YAY! I'm so happy that you enjoyed the date chapter! That was another one that was very self indulgent because I NEEDED to get Pop in there - I had to make some major edits to that chapter because I had accidentally made Pop the main character haha he might be the main character in my life but I was like this fic is about Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George not you Pop lol He retaliated IRL today by getting his third eyelid stuck over his eyeball and absolutely freaking me out because he can never NOT be the center of attention lol I was also really amused by how much Fictional!Matty was blushing - part of me worried it was too much but I was also like this fictional man has hardly had anyone do anything truly nice for him just because, ever, in his life, so he is going to be so anxious and embarrassed about it the entire time.

LITERALLY AS I WAS ABOUT TO START TYPING THAT IT WAS IN OVER TIME AND I WAS HORRIBLY STRESSED MY BOYS DID IT MY FAVORITE PLAYER DAVID PASTRNAK FUCKING SCORED IN OVER TIME HE WON THE GAME FOR US WE ARE GOING TO ROUND TWO OF THE STANLEY CUP PLAYOFFS I CANNOT RIGHT NOW OMG LETS GO MY FAVORITE LIL NOODLE!!!!!

❤️❤️❤️ALLY

2 notes · View notes

stormyoceans · 2 years

Note

[VICE VERSA episode 7 parts 3&4]

So much for “Up take the wheel”

TALAY’S TRYING TO BE A RESPONSIBLE DRIVER PUEN STOP LURING HIM TO THE DARK SIDE

“It one if missing, the other will be sad” He’s actually comparing them to fried chicken oh my god

“I’m going fast” ARE YOUS PEEDING

IT’S THE SONG!!!!

Jumping on Puen while he’s driving, I’m so done

The actors must be so sick of KFC at this point omg

For a sec I thought Up was gonna run into the lake askljdf

“It’s worth the carsickness” NOTHING is worth feeling sick, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world for me

THE INHALER-UP-THE-NOSE THING CAME FULL CIRCLE

Saaadhu~

Talay seriously drinks too much, I’m worried for him

K… kiss?

Kiss? Yes?

TALAY’S CLOSING HIS EYES FOR IT, C’MON

FUCK!!!!!!!

Oh my gosh no! TALAY COME BACK

THIS COULD’VE BEEN SO ROMANTIC *KICKS SOMETHING AND HURTS MY FOOT*

TALAY YOU’RE MAKING ME SAD

Even though the subs are out of sync, as soon as I heard him say “Friend Credits” I knew what he was saying ughughugh

Talay I wanna cut you for wringing yourself out of Puen’s grip

LOOK HOW TORN UP HE IS

Man this board is ass, first times serve as a learning experience, no one is perfect right off the bat

“Can you believe the only thing he talked about to me is you?” PUEN IS SO PATHETIC (affectionate)

I wish Pang got more screentime tbh, she seems great

“TALAY’S SMILE IS YOUR SMILE”

Can’t believe they’re saying all this a couple meters from where Talay is sitting

I LOVE HOW TALAY’S BEHAVIOR AFFECTS PUEN’S BECAUSE THAT’S A REAL LIFE THING BETWEEN FRIENDS

Omg shit’s hitting the fan

Also don't think I'm overlooking /your/ driving Talay *narrows eyes*

“Because it’s the only thing I get to do with you” SOBBING

Omg Puen, I really feel his sadness, Jimmy’s acting his ass off

FOREHEAD KISS!

THE WAY THEY’RE HOLDING EACH OTHER

BUT WHY NO ACTUAL KISS!!!!!!

I have no idea why people overlook this episode, it’s an emotional rollercoaster and so important for both T&P and their relationship

TALAY’S TRYING TO BE A RESPONSIBLE DRIVER PUEN STOP LURING HIM TO THE DARK SIDE // “I’m going fast” ARE YOUS PEEDING // Jumping on Puen while he’s driving, I’m so done <<<<< I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR COMMENTS ON THIS PART SINCE EPISODE 3 I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR CHAOTIC DRIVING SFJKSGDKSGDJ

“If one is missing, the other will be sad” He’s actually comparing them to fried chicken oh my god <<<<< puen was like 'talay you are the fried chicken to my sauce' AND THEN THEY SAY ROMANCE IS DEAD (....why is my mind suddenly in the gutter and filled with filth......... ANYWAY. MOVING ON)

The actors must be so sick of KFC at this point omg <<<<< sfgsfjksg poor sea has probably eaten so much of it to last him for a lifetime ;;;;;;; i've personally never had KFC but it does look like something you eat exactly ONCE and then never again (and before you ask yes every day i have to fight myself not to buy it just because of vice versa im not letting the capitalism win [hides the bag of lay's currently in her pantry])

For a sec I thought Up was gonna run into the lake askljdf <<<<< SFJKSGDJS I MEAN that wouldn't have been so out of character tbh

“It’s worth the carsickness” NOTHING is worth feeling sick, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world for me <<<<< i couldn't agree more, feeling sick SUCKS!!!!!! i remember during school trips i would always end up getting carsick and even if it was just some nausea it always prevented me to actually enjoy the day

THE INHALER-UP-THE-NOSE THING CAME FULL CIRCLE <<<<< vice versa coming up with parallels even for their product placements KINGS OF UNDERSTANDING THE ASSIGNMENT AND DOING THE MOST i have nothing but respect for this show

Talay seriously drinks too much, I’m worried for him <<<<< you know.. i've always focused on puen's drinking habits because it's something that lead him to his death, but we do see talay drink (and actually get drunk) WAY MORE than puen in the show.... EXCUSE ME FOR A SECOND I NEED TO PONDER STUFF

K… kiss? // Kiss? Yes? // TALAY’S CLOSING HIS EYES FOR IT, C’MON // FUCK!!!!!!! // Oh my gosh no! TALAY COME BACK // THIS COULD’VE BEEN SO ROMANTIC *KICKS SOMETHING AND HURTS MY FOOT* <<<<< PLEASE DON'T HURT YOURSELF YOU CAN JUST KICK ME IF YOU WANT. IT WOULD PROBABLY HURT ME LESS THAN THIS SCENE ANYWAY LIKE EVERY TIME I REMEMBER TALAY CLOSED HIS EYES AND WAITED TO BE KISSED IT GENUINELY FEELS LIKE SOMEONE IS CURB STOMPING MY HEART AND THEN PUTTING IT IN A MEAT GRINDER FOR GOOD MEASURE. GOD IT'S JUST. the way talay desperately WANTS but doesn't let himself HAVE, while puen desperately WANTS but no longer dares to TAKE, and they both want the other to choose them but they're not sure their feelings are reciprocated. puen asks "this time, i can kiss you, right?" because he needs to know he won't hurt talay again but talay hears that and thinks puen doesn't really want him AND I HAD SO MANY THINGS TO SAY BUT I CAN'T PUT THEM INTO WORDS IM JUST BITING CLAWING KICKING SHAKING THIS SCENE IN MY TEETH LIKE A DOG WITH A CHEW TOY

Talay I wanna cut you for wringing yourself out of Puen’s grip // LOOK HOW TORN UP HE IS <<<<< WOULD LOVE TO SAY SOMETHING COHERENT ABOUT THIS SCENE UNFORTUNATELY THE SECOND I THINK ABOUT TALAY HAVING TO PRY HIMSELF FROM PUEN'S HOLD I WANT NOTHING MORE THAN SET MYSELF ON FIRE WHILE LINKIN PARK'S HIT SONG 'NUMB' PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND CONTINUOUSLY. "IT'S YOU WHO'S GOING TO LEAVE ME"!!!!!! "ARE YOU REALLY ASKING ME TO LET YOU GO"!!!!!! IM CURRENTLY FIGHTING DEMONS AND THE DEMONS ARE WINNING!!!!!!!

“Can you believe the only thing he talked about to me is you?” PUEN IS SO PATHETIC (affectionate) <<<<< HE REALLY IS THE MOST PATHETIC LITTLE MEOW MEOW AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭😭🤧🤧🤧

I wish Pang got more screentime tbh, she seems great <<<<< I LOVE PANG SO SO MUCH I WISH WE COULD HAVE SEEN WAY MORE OF HER TOO. unfortunately i think the actress was also filming for another show or got scripted for a new one as the lead and she couldn't be around much, which means i now have a whole set of headcanons for pang and im giving her a girlfriend just because i can

“TALAY’S SMILE IS YOUR SMILE” <<<<< the way in episode 5 pang says the crew of the series she and puen worked in together gave him the nickname 'solemn face' because he always had a cold and solemn face on set and now he's smiling so fondly just talking about talay and she's so surprised because she's never seen him like that!!!!!! TALAY'S SMILE IS HIS SMILE INDEED!!!!!!!! feeling like im being flayed alive thanks for asking

Can’t believe they’re saying all this a couple meters from where Talay is sitting <<<<< while talay is thinking puen is leaving him behind and moving on with pang :))))))) CHEWING THROUGH LAYERS OF DRYWALL AS WE SPEAK

I LOVE HOW TALAY’S BEHAVIOR AFFECTS PUEN’S BECAUSE THAT’S A REAL LIFE THING BETWEEN FRIENDS <<<<< every day i mourn the fact that we didn't get to see more of puen and talay picking up each other's habits BUT THEN AGAIN MAYBE THAT'S A GOOD THING BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE DIED

Also don't think I'm overlooking /your/ driving Talay *narrows eyes* <<<<< SFJKSGDKSG he was worried about puen we gotta forgive him just this time

FOREHEAD KISS! // THE WAY THEY’RE HOLDING EACH OTHER // BUT WHY NO ACTUAL KISS!!!!!! <<<<< THAT'S WHAT WE ALL ASKED WHEN THAT SCENE HAPPENED BUT LISTEN. IT ACTUALLY MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!!!!!! because puen basically confessed here ("i believe you are my portkey. the only reason i spent time with pang is that i wanted you to be happy. i didn't know if you're gonna let me love you. i don't want you to look for anyone else. please don't ask me to leave you again."), puen CHOSE talay and talay is finally realizing and accepting that puen's feelings are real, but even if talay apologizes and agrees to go back together, he still doesn't spell out his feelings and puen needs to hear that to know he can take again. that's why we get the kiss next ep when talay CHOOSES puen AND I SWEAR TO GOD SOMEONE IN THE VICE VERSA WRITER ROOM IS GETTING KISSED ON THE MOUTH FOR THE WAY THEY NARRATIVELY CONSTRUCTED THIS SHOW

I have no idea why people overlook this episode, it’s an emotional rollercoaster and so important for both T&P and their relationship <<<<< YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME TO HEAR YOU SAY THIS because i know a lot of people kinda got frustrated with this episode and lamented the lack of plot and the overabundance of product placements but it's such a pivotal moment for puentalay relationship and I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

#im gonna need GMMTV to either fix the damn subtitles on part 4 or release the vice versa dvd box set #and since i'd rather not embarrass myself more than i already am CAN THEY JUST PLEASE FIX THE SUBTITLES #vera and monica watch vice versa #m: ask

5 notes · View notes

olddirtybadfic · 2 years

Text

The Book of Moltres James: The Annunciation to the Virgin Moltres James (part two)

In which our Man-Mother of Everlasting Blaze is born anew in the purifying flames of the fire chicken. We're getting real weird with this one.

Part one is here.

This fic includes/will include: Pokémon/Human romantic relationship (but since it’s the human form of the spirit of Moltres, maybe it’s okay?); mpreg/male pregnancy; loose understanding of religion, cults, and the occult; lack of medical knowledge; bizarre focus on James’s virginity; mentions of blood; general angst; shaky grasp of the realities of pregnancy and childrearing; possible out-of-character moments for Jessie, James, and Meowth; unrequited blueshipping from Meowth; original characters; odd ideas about romance; ellipses abuse

-O-o-O-o-O-

(James's point of view)

I wanted to die.

I knew I was Pokébestial and in love with Moltres. I wanted to be with him, but he was dead. Even if he were alive, I couldn’t do it with him because I valued my virginity.

I didn’t know Moltres was in love with me until one fateful day.

I was fine until Jessie, Meowth, and I got in the van. I had been driving for about five minutes before I felt like I was going to vomit. Jessie and Meowth noticed.

“Why are we driving so slow?” Jessie asked. I pulled over.

“Hey, you okay, Jimmy?” Meowth asked.

I grabbed an empty paper bag and threw up in it.

“Jessie, I think you better drive,” Meowth said.

Jessie and I switched places.

“Maybe it’s just carsickness,” Meowth said.

“No, I never got carsick. Why would I start now?” I said.

When we got home, I went to the bedroom to lie down. I overheard Jessie and Meowth talking.

“No way! That can’t be what’s happening to James!” I heard Jessie say.

I went to the hallway so I could hear more clearly.

“I know the signs,” Meowth was saying.

“What signs?” I thought.

“After what happened while we were on the Shuckle potion, it wouldn’t be surprising if James was pregnant.”

Oh my gods.

“You did that with him?” Jessie said.

“No, not like that. I mean, I didn’t do it with him. But maybe some magical Poké-force was attracted to him and did it.”

You are crazy, Meowth.

“That could be possible,” Jessie said.

Please stop talking about that! I silently screamed. I ran back to the bedroom. A few minutes later, Meowth came in.

“Want any water?” he said, holding up a glass of water.

I just stared at him, dazed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He knows! He knows I overheard him and Jessie, he knows what I’m thinking. I just know it, I thought.

“James, there’s a special doctor you can go to,” Meowth said.

-O-o-O-

“A midwife?!”

“It’s just for a checkup,” Meowth said.

We were standing in front of a small building.

“They check for interspecies pregnancies in case anything really weird happened,” Meowth said.

We went inside. We were the only people in the lobby except for the receptionist. We already had an appointment. The doctor came out. He led Jessie, Meowth, and me into the exam room.

“According to what the receptionist told me, you’re here to get a pregnancy test,” he said.

I nodded.

“Okay.”

I had to lie down with my legs spread. The doctor used his machinery to look around my nether regions. When the test was done, the doctor looked over the results of the test. He looked completely surprised.

“Would you come in my office for a minute?” he said.

I went into the office with him.

“Have you had sexual intercourse with any Pokémon?”

“No, I’ve never even had sex. Why?”

“Because these test results are positive.”

I was shocked. “But that can’t be….”

“The test results are positive and you show all the signs. Also, my machinery detects that the child is of legendary Pokémon ancestry.” Then, he leaned in closer. “I think a greater force did this to you,” he added.

“What…?”

“This isn’t just a regular hospital. We study magic here, too.”

“Oh.”

When I walked out of there, I still had questions, but the doctor probably couldn’t answer them.

When we got home, Jessie and Meowth went to talk privately. I went into the bedroom, dazed.

Then, suddenly, a voice called me over to the window.

It was Moltres!

“Moltres!” I whispered, running over to the window.

“It’s me, James,” Moltres said. “I returned to tell you I did this to you.”

“You mean I’m…? O Mighty Moltres, it is an honor,” I said, bowing.

“I chose you because you were the purest Moltres Witness. Also, you are a virgin and still will be after you have the child.”

Then, just like that, Moltres disappeared. Just before Moltres disappeared, I saw a ghostlike figure of a person. The person had red-streaked yellow hair and was wearing golden robes.

Could they be Moltres’s human incarnation?

I told Jessie and Meowth the whole thing.

“Moltres did it?”

“The spirit of Moltres came back and told me.”

“Moltres? It would be okay if Meowth did it or even one of the twerps, but if Moltres did this to you, it might be some sort of evil spirit.”

“Jessie, don’t preach. Moltres isn’t evil.”

It wasn’t easy, but I finally convinced Jessie that Moltres wasn’t evil and he did it because I was a virgin and I was pure.

-O-o-O-

(Meowth’s point of view)

James was seven months pregnant with Moltres’s child.

He got emotional at times.

He seemed to be getting weird cravings for chicken blood.

We had found out James’s child wouldn’t be a Moltres, but a human.

James still worshipped Moltres every day.

One day, James got a fever. Jessie and I took care of him so his unborn child wouldn’t be harmed. We later found out that James was feverish because Moltres was a fire Pokémon. That’s also why the child was unharmed by the fever.

Once, I saw James streaking his face with blood and chanting to Moltres under the full moon. It was pretty weird, because I thought James wasn’t the gothic type.

Another time, I saw him crying in bed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why did Moltres have to die? Who would be so cruel to run over the Mighty Moltres?” James sobbed.

At that moment, I wished I knew.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Apparently James's conception was an Immaculate one.

#old fic #moltres james #fanfic #fanfiction #pokefic #james team rocket #jessie team rocket #meowth team rocket #pokemon fanfiction #mpreg #moltres

0 notes

arroelin · 3 years

Text

— how they are with a bad driver

characters: miya atsumu, akaashi keiji, bokuto koutarou, tsukishima kei, nishinoya yuu

genre: crack

wc: 1000+

you knew how dramatic ATSUMU could be, but this was just too excessive. he was clutching tightly onto the grab handle with one hand, knuckles almost white, and the other- holding on to his seatbelt in a deadly grip. “slow down! slow down! slow down!” he yells, staring straight ahead with wide eyes. you could barely focus with how much atsumu was yelling. “y/n! stop! stop! oh god...” your lips press together and your grip on the steering wheel tightens with each word that leaves your boyfriend’s mouth. “how did ya not see the other car!!!” he exclaims when you slam to a stop at a red light. you’ve just about had enough of his constant yelling. “atsumu, shut up! it wasn’t even my fault that time!” you whine, eyebrows scrunching in annoyance. he didn’t even notice that you had called him by his full name. “baby, are ya tryin’ to kill us?!” “you’re the one distracting me with all your screaming!” finally, you pull up in the parking lot. “see, we made it just fine,” you announce triumphantly. “y/n-” he sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him. “i love ya, but please never drive again.”

AKAASHI couldn’t understand how you managed to pass your driver’s test- not that he would tell you, of course. he also couldn’t bring himself to tell you just how bad of a driver you are, when you were so excited to finally get your driver's license, so all he could do is sit stiffly in the passenger seat and secretly pray that both of you would make it home alive. “hey, keiji! i think i’m driving a lot better now!” you exclaim excitedly as you make a sharp turn around the corner. akaashi closes his eyes, trying his best to control his breathing, before throwing you a reassuring- but painful- smile. speeding towards a red light, you slam harshly on the brakes, jolting the two of you forwards. it takes all of akaashi’s self-control to not let out a deep sigh of relief. when you finally arrive home, akaashi lets his head fall onto the dashboard. “hey, are you okay?” you ask worriedly, turning to face the passenger side. he could only nod in response. “i didn’t know you got carsick,” you muse. “i’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, lifting his head up slowly. “but maybe next time, i could drive?”

BOKUTO is scared out of his mind. he doesn’t want to complain because he doesn’t want to make you upset, so he settles on closing his eyes for the entire ride. scrunching his eyes tightly and grabbing onto his seatbelt for dear life, bokuto tries his best to imagine that he was in a relaxing car ride along a smooth road. but even with his eyes closed, he could feel the pull on his entire body when you make a sharp turn, and hear the rumbling of the accelerator as you speed down the road. “kou, why are your eyes closed?” he freezes, racking his brain for a good answer. “u-um, i was tired,” he stammers. “don’t sleep in the car, we’re almost home.” he nods, but keeps his eyes closed. “i’ll drive faster so we can get home quicker,” you declare, pushing down on the accelerator. his eyes jolt open and he turns towards you, shaking his head vigorously. “no, no, no, you don’t have to do that.” “i thought you were tired?” you ask, knitting your eyebrows in confusion. bokuto sits up straight in his seat and opens his eyes wider. “nope, not tired anymore! so just take your time!”

you frown as TSUKISHIMA reaches out- yet again- to stabilize your steering wheel. you shove his arm away, and his eyes widen when your hand briefly leaves the wheel. he lets out a loud sigh and shifts to sit obediently in the passenger seat. it wasn’t long before his hand was back again- this time, hovering over yours above the wheel. “what are you doing now?” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at the road. “i'm doing my job.” he mutters. “and what is that?” “keeping the both of us alive.” your jaw drops at the insult and you shift your eyes to glare at him. “what’s that supposed to me-” “hey! keep your eyes on the road!” he exclaims suddenly, interrupting you. “oops, sorry!” tsukishima moves his hand from yours to rub his temples, letting out a groan. “i seriously really need to talk to whoever let you pass your driving test.” “stop being dramatic, my driving isn’t even that bad.” he slowly turns to gaze at you in disbelief, scoffing loudly. you purse your lips in annoyance and glare at the road ahead, reminding yourself to give your annoying boyfriend the silent treatment when you return home.

you and NISHINOYA are the same breed- he thinks it's perfectly normal that every time you make a turn, the both of you are flung in the other direction, or when you stop and both of you are jerked forwards. driving with nishinoya is absolute chaos- especially when he gets impatient. “y/n, you have to pass that car over there.” “huh?” “faster! faster!” you look up to see that the light had turned yellow, and in the pressure of the moment, you step on the pedal, hearing the familiar rumble of the engine. “i don’t think i can make it.” you exclaim nervously, gripping your steering wheel tighter. “go around that car, you can do it.” nishinoya states confidently. you swerve to the side- barely missing the other car- before speeding past the intersection. “oh wow, we actually did it.” you exclaim breathlessly. you both look back to see that the other car was stuck at the red light. “see, i told you we’d make it,” he brags. “that other driver just didn’t have what it takes.” you take one hand off the steering wheel to give him a high five, grinning widely. and you both wonder why no one wants to carpool with you guys.

260 notes · View notes

marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 29: Happiest Place on Earth (Vacation/Roadtrip)

AO3

Marinette blinks at her dad, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

“B, you have a private jet. Why the fuck are we driving?” Jason asks, and Marinette swears his eye twitches.

“I thought it would be nice to do a family vacation the normal way, complete with a road trip.” Her dad says and Marinette frowns. Now? Now is when he decides to be normal?

“Father, we can not all leave. Someone must stay behind to patrol and watch over Gotham. As much as it pains me, I will stay.” Damian says, and Marinette resists the urge to whack him. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all to get to stay, he was doing it on purpose. She wanted to go on vacation with her brothers and dad and Selina, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with them being so close to her for over fifteen hours in an enclosed vehicle.

“No need. Clark said he would make sure to listen for any extreme trouble, Stephanie and Barbara will still be here, and if all else fails we’ll use the Zeta tubes to get back.” Her dad says, his tone filled with finality. This was serious. He was really going to do this to them.

“Well, I’ll drive the second car. And I call Pix-”

“We don’t need to take two vehicles, Jason. Selina and I went out and bought a new car that will seat all of us perfectly, and there’s plenty of room in the back for luggage.” He says, and Marinette makes eye contact with Damian. His face says ‘fix this’, but all she can do is shrug. There was no way she was going to be able to save all of them from this one. Their dad looked way too determined. Alfred had somehow managed to plan his own trip to England to line up perfectly with their trip, which meant he was saved from the inevitable horror the trip would bring.

---

Marinette was willing to bet that her dad had never been on a road trip before. She honestly doubted he’d ever seen a movie with a road trip before, because if he had, they would most definitely not be on one. Even movies with road trips show how awful they are. Sure, the family is smiling by the end, but that’s because they’ve come up with a foolproof murder plan. Marinette frowns and blinks. She’d definitely been spending way too much time with Damian.

She had even tried to convince her dad to use Kaalki, even though he hated magic. In fact, Kaalki had begged as well. But no. So Kaalki was riding in the spare tire shell on the back of the car, unwilling to sit with her brothers for so long. Not that she could blame the Kwami. They were only an hour into the drive (that was scheduled to take fifteen hours and forty five minutes, not including breaks or traffic). She wasn’t too upset with the seating arrangement, but it had been calm so far. Too calm. Her dad and Selina were, of course, in the front. The next row, which also contained bucket seats, had Dick (he claimed one of the seats as the oldest) and Tim (who had to sit there because he got horribly carsick). That meant that she was stuck in the very back, sitting between Damian and Jason. But that was fine, they’d gotten along so far. They could keep it up for another fifteen hours, right?

---

They couldn’t even keep it up for another five minutes. Jason reached behind her and whacked Damian, which made him let out a battle cry, one that was way too loud for the car, before turning and attacking Jason again. She wasn’t sure how Tim was still asleep, even with his headphones on, but she supposed it was for the best. She really didn’t want to deal with her brother’s car sickness this early in the trip.

“This family is a fucking nightmare!” Jason yells, kneeing the back of Dick’s seat. Marinette glares at him and his dramatics. He was definitely trying to get their dad to turn the car around and switch to the jet. But Marinette had a feeling that instead of turning around, he’d drive even slower.

“Jay, I love you. But if you don’t stop screaming, they’ll never find your body.” Marinette whispers with a smile. Jason frowns, elbowing her gently.

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be all over this shit.” He says with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes.

“What, annoying shit?” She whispers snarkily, and Jason blinks. She frowns, until she realizes what she said. “Don’t tell dad!” She begs, latching onto Jason’s arm.

“Bruce!” Jason yells. Marinette yelps and covers his mouth.

“Jason, I am begging you not to do this.” She says, making eye contact with her dad in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. “He was just guessing for, um, uh, I spy!” She yells, sighing in relief as he just nods and turns back to talk to Selina more. She’s about to give Jason an ultimatum, when he licks her hand. She gasps, yanking her hand back and wiping it on her pants with a frown.

“Karma!” Jason declares and Marinette huffs.

“No, it was just gross you mega jerk.” She says.

“Could I have the aux cord?” Dick asks suddenly. Marinette watches amusedly as Jason lunges forward to try and rip the cord from him.

“No, B, why would you give it to him?” He yells, trying to reach it, but unable to because of the seatbelt.

“I think you’re old enough to take turns, Jason. It’s not the end of the world letting Dick use the aux cord.” Dad says, and Dick cheers, plugging the cord into his phone. It’s completely silent for a moment, before ABBA suddenly blasts through the speakers. Marinette turns to Damian, her face stuck in a deadpan expression.

“I know you have a knife. Kill me, please. Or at least stab me badly enough that we have to stop.” She instructs, her eye twitching as Dick starts singing off key.

“If I had two, I would. But I refuse to allow you to escape this hell and leave me to deal with it by myself. If I am stuck here, ukht, then so are you.” Damian says, his tone just as flat.

“Nuh uh. Either all of the resurrected bitches get to die, or none of us do.” Jason pipes up and Marinette sighs.

“Completely unfair, but whatever.” She says, as a horrible thought suddenly crosses her mind. “Oh my god.” She says.

“What?” Damian asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and lets out a long breath before looking at her brother sadly.

“We have to drive all the way back, too.” She says, and chaos erupts in the backseat.

---

Jason glares at Bruce in the rearview mirror, waiting for the man to look back and notice him. He finally, finally does, and Jason just grins at Bruce’s responding sigh.

“What?” He asks, and Jason frowns.

“What, can I not just glare at you for no reason?” He asks, snorting at the overly done look on B’s face. “Okay, okay. I was just gonna ask you to stop at the next gas station. I need to walk around, my legs are literally dead.” He says.

“How? I thought Marinette was lying on your legs?” B says and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, she is, but I’m also scrunched up back here because Replacement just had to have the other good seat. I have long legs, B, I’m dying.” Jason says.

“Tt. If you were dying, I would not be forced to hear your voice.” Damian snarks, not even opening his eyes. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but is stopped by a finger raising slowly into the air.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” Pix says before dropping her finger back down and shifting around. Jason just rolls his eyes, trying hard not to smile at his baby sister. Maybe he could wait to walk a little longer. He leans up against the window, letting the soft noises of the car lull him to sleep.

---

Marinette Dupain Cheng was not dressed to impress as she walked into the random McDonalds, somewhere in North Carolina. Her dad had wanted to drive the whole way in one day, so at the last stop before she fell asleep, she’d changed into a pair of leggings, fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies. Add in slides and a messy bun that could be mistaken for an abstract art exhibit, and Marinette was not willing to talk to anyone. At least, not until she had some coffee. She’s barely able to order her food before she’s following her brothers to a table in the corner. Sitting in the seat between Tim and Jason, she doesn’t even blink at the oddly stick table. It was six in the morning, the cleanliness of a table wasn’t exactly her number one priority. She narrows her eyes as Dick tries to say something to her, not quite able to comprehend his words. Just as she thinks she’s going to fall asleep on the sticky table, a huge cup is placed in her hands. The smell makes her sigh in relief before she takes a giant swig of the coffee, barely registering how hot it is.

“-nette! God, that was definitely too hot.” Dick says. Marinette blinks, the pain in her mouth finally helping her to register the fact that the coffee was too hot. Way too hot.

“Ouch.” She says quietly, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be more careful.” Dick says, passing her another cup. She glances at it wearily and he sighs. “It’s a glass of ice water. It’s gonna feel a lot better than the coffee right now.”

“But, coffee.” She says and Dick gives her a look.

“It’s not going to kill you to drink the water. Now eat up. B wants to get back on the road as soon as possible.” Dick instructs and she groans at the food he passes her.

“You are such a dad.” She mumbles, picking apart the weird hash brown patty he’d passed her, eating small pieces of it.

“I officially hate road trips.” Damian says in a matter-of-fact tone. Marinette glances at him sleepily and grins.

“Just wait til we get to Disney, petit oiseau. That’ll be your own personal hell.” She promises him, snorting at the look on his face. In fact, she doubted any of the family would actually enjoy Disneyworld, given the fact Mar’i and Starfire were off planet again. Well, she knew she would enjoy it. But she doubted her brothers or dad would. Selina would enjoy it, until someone inevitably pisses her off and she steals from them and then gets in a major fight with her dad and- yeah. This was definitely one of her dad’s worst plans ever.

---

Dick insists on taking a family picture at the first rest stop inside Florida. He’s grinning at the palm trees and dolphins painted on the ‘Welcome to Florida’ sign with so much excitement, Marinette almost starts to think that this plan wasn’t awful. Almost. Because three seconds later, Damian is charging at Jason with the katana that he had somehow managed to sneak into the car. Which should have been impossible. She purses her lips as she tries to figure it out, when she sees Kaalki and the wide smile on their face.

“Did you open a portal so that Damian could get his sword and attack Jason?” Marinette asks Kaalki tiredly. She was relieved that her dad had decided they would spend the rest of the day at the hotel (once they finally got there, they were still currently stuck at that stupid welcome sign) instead of trying to go to Disney today. She was exhausted, and right now, the Kwami was not helping.

“I only helped him. He’s so small, and he is your brother, you know.” Kaalki says and Marinette snorts.

“So is the one that he’s currently trying to kill, Kaalki. But okay, sure.” She says, rubbing her face tiredly. She did not have the energy to deal with this right now. She sighs as Jason yells, turning on her heel and rushing after Damian.

“Get the fuck away!” Jason screams at Damian.

“Damian, no, drop the sword! Damian, please!” Marinette yells, rushing after him.

“Todd insists that he’s bunking with me. If he’s dead, I don’t have to worry about that.” Damian calls back, continuing rushing towards Jason. Marinette groans, running faster after him. Apparently, he was excessively crabby when tired. Joy.

---

“Do you think I could get away with wearing these all the time?” Dick asks, pointing to the Toy Story themed ears on his head.

“Might make some aspects of life a little hard.” Marinette points out with a grin as she imagines him, in his Nightwing uniform, with Toy Story ears on.

“We’d definitely amuse more villains, that’s for damn sure.” Jason adds with a smirk.

“Like yours are much better.” Dick says with a pout, pointing at Jason’s bright red Lightning McQueen ears.

“At least I’m wearing one of the better Disney characters.” Jason counters, glancing at Tim. Tim just frowns at him, sleep deprivation clear on his face.

“Goofy is one of the original Disney characters, Jason, I will not be accepting criticism.” He says flatly. Marinette giggles.

“What’re you laughing at sparkles?” Tim asks, pointing at the sparkles and huge bow attached to her ears.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Timmy.” She says with a grin. She glances down at her watch, wondering what’s taking her dad so long. “Mo-Selina, do you think Dad’s alright?” Marinette asks, barely catching herself. She hadn’t asked Selina, or her Dad, if it was okay to call her that. And she didn’t want to be the kid to ruin the vacation. She currently had money on Jason being the one to ruin things, and she didn’t want to self sabotage that bet.

“Oh definitely. He’s probably just having trouble finding the perfect ears. After all, animal ears aren’t really his thing.” Selina teases, giving Marinette’s shoulders a quick squeeze. She grins and leans into her, content as she stands there and watches the door waiting for- yup. That was her dad. Walking out of a store, in public, with Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Oh this is amazing.

“Nice ears, B.” Jason teases and Marinette giggles. Sure, his ears were the most basic out of everyone (just plain black) but it was still hilarious to see her usually serious dad with mouse ears on his head.

“Tt. I cannot believe that you insisted we all wear them.” Damian complains, but Marinette can tell he likes his ears, even if he won’t admit it. They were Stitch themed, which was Damian’s favorite Disney movie. Really, it was one of three that she’d found that he could tolerate.

“I think you all look adorable.” Selina teases, her ears, like Marinette’s, were on a headband rather than a hat. And Selina’s were white with a veil. Marinette adored them.

“Can we please go get some coffee at Friar Nook’s?” Tim asks, looking dead on his feet. She frowns, slightly worried. They’d only been at the park for half an hour and he was already ready to pass out?

“Did you not sleep at all last night?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing but still concerned for him.

“Blame Dick. He snored all. Night. Long.” Tim complains, sighing deeply. Marinette winces.

“Why don’t you switch with Jason? He can sleep through anything.” She suggests.

“Absolutely not.”

“I would rather chew off my own foot.” Tim and Damian speak at the same time, turning to glare at each other before huffing.

“Come on, let’s go do some rides or something.” Dad suggests, and Marinette agrees, trying her best to hype up her brothers. Even though she’d been wary of the trip, and she was still NOT looking forward to the trip back, she could tell her dad wanted this to go well. He was obviously trying to let them have once nice (normal) vacation together. So she was going to do her best to make sure the rest of the trip was as amazing as possible.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

#maribat #maribat fanfiction #mbdbwm2021 #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat bio dad au #maribat bruce wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #maribat selina kyle #maribat dick grayson #maribat jason todd #maribat tim drake #platonic dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic timari #platonic daminette

91 notes · View notes

secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

Text

Traffic Jam: Madix Food Poisoning

Madix awoke with his head in Riley’s lap. It was awfully disorienting. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with his head against the car window while Dakota and Blair chatted quietly in the front. He also remembered that his stomach was quite full from dinner, and that it lulled him into a deep food coma. He definitely ate too much at the buffet, so he welcomed the drowsiness that came with the heavy meal.

Now he was completely horizontal with his legs curled up on the back seat. He could feel Riley playing with his hair which felt heavenly, but he did want to know how he ended up with his seatbelt off. He also registered the fact that his stomach didn’t feel any lighter. In fact, it was hurting and churning more than before.

With a groan, Madix sat up and looked around. It was dark out, like it had been before he fell asleep, but now the car’s interior was flooded with red from other people’s brake lights. Everywhere he looked, he only saw the lights from many stationary cars on the highway. He couldn’t have been out long if they were still on the highway.

Dakota looked back as he saw movement in the mirror. “Did you sleep off all that food, Mads?”

“Not really.” He squinted more from discomfort that anything else. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Close to two hours.”

“Two hours!” he exclaimed. They should have been back home by now. The four lanes of stopped cars answered some of his questions. “How long have we been in traffic?”

“Close to two hours.”

Madix huffed and fell back on Riley’s lap. He would have much preferred to be home rather than stuck in a sea of parked vehicles. He looked up at Riley with as much of a smile as he could manage with the ache in his belly. “Thanks for keeping me comfy.”

“I didn’t want your neck to hurt from sleeping against the window,” Riley said while leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. “When it seemed like we’d be stopped for a while, I took off your seatbelt.”

“What the hell is keeping us stopped for two hours?”

Blair looked back at the boys and chimed in saying, “the rumour is that some guy got hit trying to cross the lanes. People gave up a while ago and got out of their cars.”

“They have the right idea,” Madix mumbled. He really had to pee and now it seemed things were about to get worse with the nausea that was slowly growing in intensity.

The car was mostly quiet, the conversation having died an hour ago. Madix closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep again, and sleep off the stomach-ache this time. He still had the taste of the ocean in his mouth from the seafood portion of the buffet. It made him want to gag just thinking about it.

His belly was so full and swollen. He could feel it pressing against his jeans, so he undid the button to give him some room to breathe. As he did, his stomach let out long gurgle that he could feel beneath his hand. The air must have traveled up his throat because the next thing he knew he was burping wetly into his fist.

“Ugh, excuse me,” he moaned. Lying down was not the best position to be burping in. His throat was already burning from the reflux.

Riley’s hands went back to playing with Madix’s hair, but it felt more tense this time. “Your stomach was making a lot of noise while you slept.”

“Mmh, it’s kinda upset,” Madix said with his eyes closed. For a moment, he forgot who he was talking to. “I’m actually a little nauseous to be honest.” The gentle massage ended as Riley’s hands froze. Shit. Madix sat up and fixed his hair nervously. He wanted to tell Riley that it wasn’t that bad – that he could hold off until they got home. But he didn’t know when that would be and God his stomach was cramping. Whatever he’d put into his belly really didn’t like it in there.

Riley started to bounce his leg and bite the nail of his thumb. Madix could see the war on his face. Half of his brain told himself to run away while the other half told him that Madix was able to comfort him all the time. It was no big deal. But the louder half was the one telling him to escape. There was only one problem. “Madix, we’re in a car. I—I don’t like this…”

Before saying something that would help, Madix couldn’t help the belch that escaped past his lips. Sitting up straight made the air and food shift around in his stomach. There was another gurgle that made him push his hand into his abdomen. He hated the fear that came across his boyfriend’s face. “Ry, it’ll be fine. I can always get out of the car if I need to.”

That’s when Dakota piped up, perhaps sensing the change in atmosphere. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Madix says he’s nauseous and thinks he’s gonna puke,” Riley said quickly with a quiver in his voice.

“Well, I didn’t say the part about—” Another wet belch caught him off guard and forced him to put a hand over his mouth. Okay, yeah Riley was right, he did think he was gonna puke.

Dakota and Blair both looked back worriedly. It was weird to see Dakota so well from the back seat, but it wasn’t like he had to concentrate on driving. He gave his friend a sympathetic look which morphed into an alarmed one as he heard the burp that Madix let out. “Damn, that didn’t sound good. Are you—”

Madix suddenly opened the door and left before Dakota could finish his sentence. Dakota just stared at the place where Madix had been. He blinked a few times and then simply turned up the car’s music up much louder than normal. With his hand on the door, he looked back at Blair. “You should talk to Riley about something really awesome. I don’t know what, but just talk. Or sing!”

“I’ve got him. Go help Madix.”

Dakota didn’t need to be told twice. He left his passengers in the beautiful company of Freddie Mercury as Bohemian Rhapsody started to play. Good, that was a long song.

He went around to the back of the car where he found Madix hunched over and coughing. There was no puddle of vomit by his feet. Yet. The boy’s hair was a mess and sticking up from sweat. Dakota placed his large hand in the center of his back. “You know, you puke in my car a lot.”

Madix groaned and spat on the ground as his mouth filled with saliva. “I didn’t this time.”

“I know. It just got me thinking of all the lovely memories,” Dakota said with a grin. The grin turned into a grimace as Madix burped, the sound of it hitting the back of his throat. “Did you catch a bug? ‘Cause I can’t imagine you’d be carsick.” Looking around at the traffic jam, Dakota tried not to make eye contact with the car behind them. It was only then that he realized that they might be giving a few people a show that they didn’t want to see.

Madix shook his head. This was worse than motion sickness. This was something spoiled trying to crawl out of him. Or swim out of him. He was going to tell Dakota the reason, but a harsh retch put an end to that plan.

Dakota’s eyes went wide. “Oh boy, sounds like you’ll tell me later.”

Madix’s stomach heaved into his throat as a gush of partially digested food rushed out of his mouth. It splattered in between his feet, forming an impressive yet disgusting puddle of sushi and ice cream, and everything else that the buffet offered.

He felt big circles being rubbed on his back which made the pain of his next retch less terrible. Still not great. His throat burned from the second wave of sick. The burn invaded his nose, making him wish he had a tissue as the sniffles came on strong.

Dakota gave his back a firm pat in between the light circles. “There you go. Get that shit up and you’ll feel better.” He had no idea how true those words were. Madix just had to get it out of his system because it was wreaking havoc on his stomach.

There was a rare moment of quiet in between bouts that Madix used to contemplate if life was worth living. He leaned against the back of the car, trying to catch his breath before the next round started.

“Are you finished?” Dakota asked, “Because I have water in the car.”

He moaned. “No, but water would be great.”

Dakota came back to the car just in time to hear the last verse of the song. Riley and Blair were indeed singing, albeit shakily in Riley’s case.

“How’s he doing?” Riley asked with concern in his voice.

“Beautiful, very impressive boyfriend you’ve got,” Dakota said with the same energy that he gave to everything. “But seriously, he’s okay. We’re managing. Lovely voices by the way.” He gave a Blair a wink and left.

Madix was back to gagging over the puddle with sick hanging from his lips. Yep, so beautiful, Dakota mumbled to himself.

“Thanks,” Madix said as he wiped his sleeve across his mouth and took the water bottle from his friend. “It was something I ate by the way. Sorry about this.”

“Hey, I got nowhere to go,” Dakota raised his arms, gesturing to the traffic jam.

As if the universe wanted to prove Dakota wrong, the cars started rolling ever so slowly. It was more movement than they’d seen in the last two hours. “Finally. Do you think you’ll be okay for the rest of the drive?”

“I hope so.” Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “I hate doing this to Riley.”

“He’s singing his worries away with Blair.” Dakota waved his hand in the air.

“I thought I heard Queen.”

Dakota chuckled. “And I think I’m going to take the backroads home, so I’ll pull over whenever you need.”

Before Madix could thank his friend, the car behind them honked at them to get a move on. Dakota shouted unkind words to them and waved goodbye with only one finger.

#emeto #emetophilia #emetophile #emeto fic #emeto kink #sickfic #food poisoning #Madix #Riley #Dakota #Blair #my ocs #vomiting #puking #platonic

96 notes · View notes

elytrafemme · 3 years

Note

dream smp ghost hunters au, preferably featuring sbi + tubbo and ranboo. the scenario can really be anything, but I'm a big fan of sbi and a big fan of ghost hunter aus so boom. this came to mind.

[google doc vers]

There’s something really cool about driving out, far from most buildings, on a straight road there-and-back with barely any cars around.

Mostly, Tubbo just sort of finds the nature really cool. There are a lot of mountains out here, which hasn’t made the ride that bumpy so far– thank God, because he gets carsick pretty easy, always has– but is pretty cool to look at. There are a lot of trees, too, all with thick trunks and long branches, with these really green leaves that makes Tubbo happy that it’s summer again. He imagines it’s probably a more miserable sight, being out here when it’s winter, ‘cause then the mountains and the trees would all just look pretty bare. And that’s sort of sad.

He can’t see it all that great from the car, which is sort of a shame, but right now he’s standing at a gas station with a bag of chips watching as the sun sets over the mountains, and he feels pretty fucking content, just standing there. Tubbo thinks he should make going out in the middle of nowhere a more regular thing.

The only reason he’s out here, though, is for something specific and probably a one-time ordeal. Which he’s pretty quickly reminded of when his silence is broken by his best friend loudly approaching him, soda in hand and a bright grin on his face.

“How’s it going, Tubbs?” Tommy asks, taking a swig from the can and ruffling Tubbo’s hair, which is just unnecessary at that point. “Anything cool happen?”

Tubbo shrugs. “I saw a deer, I think.”

“Well, that’s not very interesting.”

“We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere, Tommy,” Tubbo points out, “there’s nothing very interesting out here.” For Tommy, anyway. “Where is everyone else?”

“Pissing,” Tommy replies, which, yeah, Tubbo should have expected that. “I think Wilbur got into some small talk with the gas station guy. Between you and me, Tubbo,” Tommy dramatically leans in, and Tubbo tilts his head in his direction, “I think the gas station guy is sus. I think he might be trying to kill us.”

“Oh, that’s a given,” Tubbo laughs, which makes Tommy’s eyes widen. To which Tubbo laughs harder. “We’re in the middle of nowhere at sundown. One of us is dying.”

“Well it won’t be me, bitch!” Tommy says, with the exact confidence of someone who dies first in a horror movie. “Maybe we should have left earlier, though. I dunno how Techno is gonna drive us back when it’s pitch dark.”

Tommy sounds actually worried, now, so Tubbo looks away from the mountains to face him. He offers Tommy the bag of chips, and the other proceeds to shovel half of it into his mouth, which is as good a way to pacify someone as anything. “I’m sure we could just use the headlights. It’ll only be a problem if a deer jumps in the road or something, but, whatever. I kinda wish we went earlier, though, so we could chill once we got back.”

That was something that Tubbo had pointed out to Wilbur when this whole plan was being hatched. It was one of those days where Tubbo came home with Tommy, just to hang out and play video games and do each other’s homework and stuff like that. They had gotten two steps into the house before Tommy turned to look at Tubbo with bright eyes, and he told him that he needed his help convincing Wilbur and Techno of something.

Tubbo went with it, but it took him until ten minutes into the conversation before he realized what Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur were all going on about. Apparently, from what he could glean at the time with Tommy’s confusing narration and his brother’s vagueness, Wilbur and Techno signed themselves up on Fiverr to be for-hire ghost hunters, just to make some money over the summer and do something with all of Wilbur’s old equipment. They actually got someone to hire him, some guy named Quackity who lives in the middle of fucking nowhere with his boyfriends, and Tommy wanted to get in on it.

Things sort of spiraled from there, and after two hours of arguing, Wilbur and Techno finally conceded, both to letting Tommy join, and allowing Tubbo to come, too, with both of them promising that they wouldn’t do anything to sabotage the job.

Tubbo fucked that up pretty quickly by bringing his partner, Ranboo, to come with them last minute, but thankfully, Techno is pretty keen on Ranboo and Wilbur’s fine with him, so it worked out okay.

The only thing Wilbur wouldn’t budge on, though, is the time that they left. He was convinced that the sanctity of ghost-hunting meant that they should do it at night, to which Tommy whined about him wanting to sleep, but Tubbo was less concerned about getting sleep– he has nightmares, anyway, so this is a win for him– and more about the time they would get back.

Surprisingly, Tommy’s dad Philza didn’t really give two shits about them going out, so long as all of them were together and returned back together, and Ranboo’s moms were okay with it once Tubbo told them very nicely that he would take care of their son, and, well, Tubbo’s dad doesn’t give a shit about these things ever anyway. So, it’s sort of fine. Mostly.

Tubbo and Tommy stand outside the gas station, idly chatting, for five more minutes before Techno, Ranboo, and Wilbur leave and start heading back to the car.

“How was your conversation with the gas station guy, Wil?” Tommy asks curiously as they all pile in: Techno in the driver’s seat, Wilbur in the passenger’s side on radio and GPS duty, and Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo squished in the back with Tubbo sat on something that isn’t even meant to be a carseat. He fucking hates being the smallest.

Wilbur turns in the passenger’s seat to look at them in the back. “He was quite an interesting guy, I’ll be honest. Ranboo joined in on the conversation halfway, he can vouch for me.”

Ranboo laughs nervously. “I, uh, actually thought he was gonna, uh. Kill us.”

“Didn’t that make it more exciting?” Wilbur counters.

“... No, not really.”

Wilbur sighs, but he’s smiling, and he turns around again to face the front and turn on some music. It’s some old indie rock stuff, which Tubbo isn’t the biggest fan of but can vibe with somewhat. Tommy’s really sick of it, though, which means that about one minute into the track he’s going to start yelling, and Tubbo is going to have to tune out of that.

Which is exactly what happens, almost to a T. It just took a guitar solo to really nail Tommy in.

As Tommy and Wilbur get into an argument with Techno chiming in to tell them to shut up occasionally, Tubbo turns his head to look up at Ranboo, who seems a little entranced by the hot takes about 80s rock. He’s wearing a long-sleeved cardigan despite the fact that it’s literally June, and he has long dangly earrings on that Tubbo sort of wants to fiddle with. Tubbo can’t really criticize him, considering his sense of fashion is stealing people’s hoodies and wearing the same three pairs of jeans in an endless cycle, but Ranboo has some weird mix between looking like an pretentious goth and a thirteen year old boy attending boarding school going on, which Tubbo finds strange but cute, for some reason.

It takes Ranboo a few seconds to notice Tubbo looking at him, but when he does, he gives him a small toothy smile and whispers, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Tubbo whispers back. “Excited?”

Ranboo nods. “A little nervous, but I’m excited, yeah.”

Tubbo sort of gets that.

See, the interesting thing about Tommy bringing Tubbo along to go ghost-hunting is that Tubbo doesn’t believe in ghosts. At all. He doesn’t do superstitious shit like that: death’s death, everyone goes to nothingness in the end, and people don’t fucking haunt places with their spectral frames.

Ranboo is superstitious, though, which Tubbo can respect. He believes in zodiac signs heavily, and Tubbo has spent more time than he thought he would Googling about astrology– which was pointless, honestly, because apparently a Cancer and a Sagitarrius have a lot of issues in relationships, but Tubbo thinks they’re doing just fine, and the descriptions barely match anyway– and Ranboo’s moms have a lot of black cats, too, and all that sort of stuff. They’re all big ghost believers, and that was one way that Tubbo convinced Ranboo to come with him.

Tubbo leans his head against Ranboo’s shoulder, some of his black hair tickling Tubbo’s nose, which Ranboo moves out of the way pretty quickly. “I reckon it’ll be fun to see Tommy shit his pants,” Tubbo comments, which earns a breathy laugh out of Ranboo and a punch in the shoulder from Tommy, who was apparently listening.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Tommy shouts. “Stop laying on your boyfriend’s shoulder and look me in the eyes.”

Right when Tubbo was getting cozy. Homophobia.

Tubbo sits up and holds his hands in a surrender position, replying, “You literally cried the last time we watched a horror movie together.”

“That’s because you have fucked up taste in horror movies,” Tommy argues. “Plus, Ranboo was scared.”

“I don’t think I was, actually,” Ranboo says. “I was a little, uh, curious as to how everything happened, but it was actually kind of cool-”

“Oh, fuck you. I hate you and hope you die.”

“Well, that’s just a little rude, actually.”

“Maybe let’s, uh, not tell Ranboo to die,” Techno suggests from the front of the car, eyes still very focused on the road despite the fact that they’ve been driving in a straight line for the past forty minutes, now.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “You are so boring, Technoblade.”

Techno huffs out a laugh. “I’m just doin’ my best here, man.”

Tommy slumps back in his seat, crossing his arms over each other. “Whatever. How much farther are we?”

“Thirty more minutes.”

Tommy and Tubbo groan in tandem, while Ranboo and Wilbur quirk their lips up.

“Who the fuck would willingly live out here?” Tommy asks once they’re at the destination, stretching his legs out and sighing loudly. It’s a fair enough question– the place that they’ve pulled up to is a pretty old house with a modern extension off the side, which is pretty weird considering Tubbo can’t imagine anybody coming out this far for construction work. It’s a big house all in all, the sort of place you’d expect to be haunted, and it’s secluded in the trees and rocks and everything around it.

Tubbo shrugs, rolling his shoulders back and wincing as they pop. Sitting in the not-really-a-seat middle seat is not a fun experience. “I guess people like the quiet,” he suggests, because it is dead silent out here. Tubbo’s not a big fan of the silence, it’s too stifling for him, but he gets the appeal of ditching the city buzz.

“It’s a pretty house,” Ranboo comments.

Tommy scoffs. “‘Cause it’s all goth and shit, like you.”

“I don’t think it’s gothic.” Ranboo seems entirely nonplussed by the insult. “It doesn’t have any pointed arches or anything, and the tall ceilings aren’t there, either. I guess it wouldn’t have stained glass, because it’s-”

“Yeah, yeah, I watched HGTV,” Tommy says flippantly.

“That’s not-”

“Okay, I called the guy,” Wilbur interrupts, the bag of the equipment open on the ground. He kneels down and starts sorting through them, and it’s a miracle that nothing’s broken, considering they literally put delicate equipment in a fucking duffel bag, like they’re drug dealers or some shit.

Tubbo recognizes most of the equipment that he sees: there’s an EMF reader, a crucifix for some reason, a UV flashlight and a lot of regular ones, a busted-up spirit box, a camera, thermometers that look like they were nicked straight from a high school chemistry lab, glow sticks that they probably brought just for Tommy’s enjoyment, and a salt shaker. If it wasn’t already apparent that Techno and Wilbur literally got this job off of Fiverr, their equipment is a tell-tale sign of it. God, they’re all so fucking broke.

Just as Tubbo predicted, Tommy’s immediately excited by the glowsticks, darting up to where Wilbur’s drawing out the equipment. “Can I hold the glowsticks?” he asks.

“They’re actually, uh,” Techno looks down, eyes squinting, and after a few seconds continues, “yeah, they’re on strings. So they’re basically necklaces.” Tubbo gives Techno a look, which makes him snort. “Listen, man, we’re runnin’ on a budget here. If the glow sticks from that concert Wilbur went to work, then we’ll use ‘em.”

“They’re not even UV glow sticks in that case,” Tubbo points out. “Isn’t that the entire point?”

Tommy huffs. “Maybe they’re for fun and giggles and happiness, Tubbo, you bitch. What color do you want?”

Tubbo raises his eyebrow. “You’ve got colors?”

Tommy holds up all the necklaces by the glow stick, the colors peeking out behind his fist. There’s a surprising range, which makes Tubbo wonder how many Wilbur took from his concert, because there are at least seven glow stick necklaces which is way too much for what was initially meant to be a two person job.

“Just get me green,” Tubbo says, holding his hand up to catch the necklace as Tommy tosses it over.

“I will be pink,” Tommy announces triumphantly. He wraps it around his necklace, throwing on two of the same color, which is just unnecessary but if it makes him happy, Tubbo can’t complain. He hands Wilbur a yellow one, which Wilbur accepts distractedly as he tries to get the EMF reader to work. Techno ends up getting a blue one that clashes against his bright pink hair, but Tubbo doesn’t know shit about color theory.

Ranboo is thrown a purple one. He looks at it for a few seconds before whispering to Tubbo, “Hey, what color is this?”

“Purple,” Tubbo replies.

Ranboo looks at it before mumbling, “It looks blue.”

“You’re colorblind, Boo.”

“Oh. You’re right.” Ranboo pauses, staring at it for another few seconds, before shrugging it and putting it over his head. It looks nice on him, but Tubbo’s not going to say that, because Ranboo’s the sappy one in this partnership and it’s going to stay that way, dammit.

Behind them, the door to the house opens suddenly, which startles Tommy bad enough that he reflexively screams. Wilbur flinches at the sound, then scoffs at Tommy and stands up, giving the stranger a friendly smile and saying, “Hi, I’m Wilbur.”

“Hey, man.” The guy looks relatively chill, with a beanie covering his dark hair and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He also has these red eyes, not like he’s been crying much, but kinda like how it looks when someone doesn’t sleep for a while. Tubbo gets that.

“Do you and your boyfriends have somewhere to go while we do this?” Wilbur asks professionally. He’s honestly very good at being professional, Tubbo’s noticed. Maybe he’ll make it far in the freelance world, especially with Techno’s dazzling charisma at his side.

He shakes his head. “Nah. They were just gonna hang out in the kitchen or something while you handle the whole- the whole thing. I do have a question, though.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Are you going to charge me more than we previously agreed upon?” He frowns. “Because there are five of you, I’m noticing.”

Wilbur laughs and waves his hand casually. “Nah, I won’t charge you more. If you want to renegotiate, by all means, we can do that, but these are just my brothers.”

Tommy wrinkles his nose and whispers, “That’s a little fucked up, Wil.”

“Two of them are my brothers,” he corrects. Which isn’t exactly correct, but Tubbo’s used to being conflated as part of the Tommy household. “The other one is my brother’s partner, but he’s good with ghost-hunting too. Sorry, I recognize this isn’t conventional, but we can just leave them in the car if you want?”

The man looks at Wilbur for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s fine. I just want the ghost out.”

“That, we can do,” Techno chimes in to assert something so confidently when Tubbo’s pretty sure they’re literally going to find nothing. “Remind me, you’re, uh.”

“Quackity.”

“Right. Quackity. I’m Techno.”

“So I’ve heard, yeah.”

“Cool.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Tommy breaks the silence again to ask, “Can we go inside? It’s fucking hot out here.”

Wilbur looks like he’s about to scold Tommy, but Quackity laughs, which is a pretty good sign. “Yeah, man, you can come inside. Karl and Sapnap made dinner, I think, if you all wanted it?”

Wilbur is the last one to step in the house and Techno is the first, which is maybe some protective maneuver. Tubbo isn’t a thousand percent sure they briefed Philza enough on the semantics of doing this that he’s aware they’re bringing three seventeen year olds into a stranger’s house.

Wilbur politely replies, “No worries, we ate before we came. I appreciate it though.”

“Of course, of course.” Quackity shuts the door, and Tubbo moves to stand close to Tommy and Ranboo. Tommy’s fidgeting, noticeably more nervous now that they’re in the house. On the other hand, Ranboo just looks curious, eyes flickering quickly from thing to thing inside the household, one gloved hand wrapped around his glow stick necklace.

Wilbur and Techno wander into the kitchen, and by the sounds that Tubbo hears, they find Quackity’s partners in there.

Meanwhile, Quackity turns to look at the three of them, a friendly smile on his face. “What are your names?” he asks.

“I’m Big Man Tommy,” Tommy introduces, a nervous laugh flitting out between his words. He nudges Tubbo’s shoulder and says, “This is Tubbo. He is like a brother to me.” Ranboo’s too far away for him to reach, so he just vaguely gestures in that direction and says, “That’s Ranboo. He is not like a brother to me.”

“Good to meet you three, then.” Quackity seems to find Tommy funny, which makes him at least a little trustworthy and also not that insufferable to be around. Tubbo was a little worried that the owner of the supposed haunted house would be really pretentious or some shit. Quackity seems… a little weird, but fine. “Did Wilbur and Technoblade tell you about the situation?”

“You have a house,” Tubbo starts, which is admittedly not the strongest of starts. “You live with your two boyfriends, and you’re worried there’s a ghost haunting the library.”

“Yeah, that’s basically it.” Quackity sighs. “Bastard’s been here for a while, but he’s really starting to freak us all out. Well, me and Karl, at least. My other boyfriend, Sapnap, doesn’t really believe it’s a ghost, but he’s concerned nonetheless.” Thank God, at least there’s one other non-believer here. “I just want it out.”

“If I may ask, why did you hire Wilbur and Techno?” Ranboo inquires.

Quackity shrugs. “I needed someone willing to come out here. Not a lot of paranormal investigators come up this way, you know, so I took to the internet and found them. They seemed nice enough, said they had the equipment and could come all the way, so I took their offer.”

Ranboo gives Quackity a nod and seems satisfied, returning to a silence broken seconds later as he quietly says, “This is a pretty house.”

“Thank you, we built half of it ourselves,” Quackity jokes. At least, Tubbo thinks so; it sounds like a joke and it’s delivered like a joke, but Quackity looks serious.

Wilbur and Techno return from the kitchen, and Wilbur gives Quackity a thumbs up. “Alright, man, we’ll start looking. We’re gonna be in the library, although Karl said that he was worried about something in the bedroom?”

Quackity shakes his head. “Don’t worry about the bedroom, just the library. Karl gets night terrors, that's all.”

Wilbur nods. “Okay. Then we’ll get started in the library.”

“Thanks for doing this, man. I know I live far out from… most shit, really.”

“You do,” Techno replies bluntly.

Quackity is clearly thrown off by that, but he gets back to what he was saying after a moment. “... Yeah, I appreciate it, is all. Good luck.”

“You too,” Wilbur replies, which is a little ominous, but he starts walking off towards the direction of the supposed library, which, Tubbo’s not even sure he knows what this library is going to look like, because surely they do not just have a whole ass library in the house.

Turns out Tubbo had been incorrect. They do, in fact, have a whole ass library in the house.

It’s part of the more modern extension to the house, which is also weird for a lot of reasons, but as soon as Wilbur pushes open the door, it is unveiled for what it is. Several stories tall at the least and far back enough in the house that it wasn’t easily seen from the front view, all covered with books. There are a few armchairs and tables, with even more books scattered around, but all in all, it’s just… a library.

The second they all walk in, Tubbo feels the temperature drop by at least ten degrees. Which doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of the house was fairly warm, and there’s a fireplace in the library– which, actually, why the fuck do they have a fireplace here, that’s a terrible idea– but that probably means they won’t really need those high school classroom thermometers after all.

“It’s fuckin’ freezing in here!” Tommy complains, shivering in a way that is slightly overdramatized, surely.

Wilbur rolls his eyes and reaches into the duffel bag, bundling up an oversized sweatshirt and tossing it to Tommy. He takes it gratefully and throws it over himself, making sure the glow sticks are securely resting over them. Wilbur looks over to Tubbo next. “I only brought one sweatshirt with me because I knew Tommy was going to be a little bitch-” Tommy lets out an indignant sound and starts complaining, but Wilbur talks over him, “-will you be fine?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with the cold,” Tubbo dismisses. His house loses its heating a lot, so he’s pretty much fine. Plus, Tubbo can just stick by someone and steal a little bit of their warmth. “Still sort of weird it’s this cold in June, though.”

“I don’t hear any AC either,” Techno points out. “Look. Be quiet for a sec.”

Hard task with Tommy in the group, but all of them manage to shut up for at least a couple seconds. Long enough to tell that there’s no vent circulation sounds. Nothing that would indicate that there was air conditioning going on in the room.

“See?” Techno concludes. “Think we can just tell ‘em they need to fix their heating?”

Wilbur’s eyebrows are furrowed. “No, I think there’s something more to this than that. Do you think they would care if we lit the fireplace?”

Techno shrugs. “I’ll ask, hold on.” He walks out of the library, relaxed in comparison to a now high-strung Wilbur, and Tubbo feels a gush of warm air before the wood doors shut again.

“It’s kind of interesting,” Ranboo comments from the bookshelves, which he’s been looking over since they walked in here. “These books are… really well organized. It’s literally like a library, they’re all sorted in the right way. Uh, with the author’s surname and everything. It’s just… really well kept, for a lot of books.” His eyes glance down, and he gestures at one specific shelf. “Except this one. Not that it’s really out of order, just… it’s mostly journals, I think. Not books, just… journals.”

Tubbo walks over to where he’s standing and carefully removes one of the journals, Ranboo holding the adjacent books apart so as to not mess up the order. Tubbo doesn’t open it, because that would be a wild invasion of privacy, but he observes the front cover and notes, “It doesn’t have any distinguishing details compared to the others. All of them are just- just leather.”

“That’s sort of strange, isn’t it?” Tubbo’s suddenly aware that Wilbur and Tommy are having a separate conversation, so it’s the two of them talking alone, now. “I’m honestly a little curious if there’s anything about ghosts here. Or, like, one of those books that ghosts can write in? Do you think they’ve ever tried to get the ghost to actually write something?”

Tubbo shrugs.

Ranboo hums. “I’ll, uh, keep looking at these unless any of you want me to do something else. Are you doing alright?”

Tubbo nods, because Ranboo’s really sweet but he worries too much about him. “I’m fine, big guy, don’t worry. Keep reading those books.”

Ranboo smiles. “Yessir.”

Techno comes back into the library, face blank as always. “We’re in the clear for the fireplace.”

“Sick,” Wilbur responds. He starts fiddling with the firewood as he talks, pulling out a box of matches from his pocket. Tubbo’s not really sure where he goes those from, but Wilbur’s an ex-smoker, so Tubbo guesses it makes sense. “We should get started looking for clues. I think the fireplace is going to be a pretty big sign in terms of if the room gets warmer, if it blows out, shadows, all that. We’re gonna want to turn the lights off after to check for ghost footprints and all that. Then we’ll do the communication stuff.”

“Did you, uh, want to send anyone to the bedroom?” Techno asks.

“That’s what I’m going to do after I light this.” Wilbur starts trying to strike a flame, having to position his hands awkwardly to avoid lighting anything unneeded on fire.

Tommy kneels beside Wilbur to watch the fire, asking as he does, “Why do we need to go into the bedroom? Didn’t Big Q say it was fine?”

“Don’t call a stranger Big Q, Tommy,” Wilbur lightly scolds. He manages to get a small fire going and starts leaning forward to try and let it catch the firewood. “And yes, he did, but Karl outlined some… concerning things about the room. I don’t think Quackity wants us up there, but if me and one other person head up there quietly, it won’t be a big deal.”

Tommy looks ready to counter that, but then the firewood abruptly catches fire, startling both him and Wilbur back. All of them watch with held breath as the fireplace lights up, and Techno turns the lights off seconds before the fire dies out again, as quickly as it started. Wilbur tries to light another fire, but the same thing happens– the fire won’t stay, and the room is freezing still.

“We’re so fucked,” Tommy whispers.

Wilbur stands up, shoving his matchbox back in his pocket. “Techno, Tommy, Ranboo,” he says, voice authoritative. “You three are staying here. Try to see if you can get the ghost to talk to you or if you can see any footprints. Me and Tubbo are going to the bedroom.”

“I am?” Tubbo asks.

“I’m not leaving you three unsupervised for that long or else Dad will kill me,” Wilbur explains, “Tommy’s loud, and Ranboo knows what he’s doing. You’re quiet, and you’re a good liar, if Quackity asks. So, we’re going.”

“Sound enough reasonin’,” Techno approves, “what stuff are you gonna take?”

“I need the crucifix, the spirit box, two of the normal flashlights, and two of the thermometers.” Techno hands him what he needs as he lists it off, and he goes ahead and gives Tubbo a flashlight and a thermometer. Wilbur adds, “Make sure to set up the camera here. And since we have the spirit box, you’re going to want to leave an open book, like I said. Ranboo, are you down to do that?”

Ranboo nods. “Yeah, I- I think some of these books would be, uh, good for it. Some of these labeled books have no writing in them, I’m noticing.” Ranboo says this really casually, but Tubbo has not heard of anything sketchier in his life.

“Then we’re off. Text if you need something. I won’t answer any calls, but if you ring me we’ll come back here. If any of the hosts get weird, call. Most likely, there’s nothing going on upstairs, so we’ll be back anyway.” Wilbur does not look as if he believes his own words. “See you guys. Tubbo, c’mon.”

“Good luck,” Ranboo says softly.

“Get that ghost’s ass!” Tommy says loudly.

Techno says nothing, only gives Wilbur a nod and watches them as they walk out.

“Alright, Tubbo,” Wilbur tells him under his breath, already strategizing, “Gonna go and talk to our hosts, just to see if they’re still there. Then, we’re up.”

“Do you think they’ll get pissed at us?” Tubbo asks, because Wilbur’s right to say that Tubbo is a good liar, but that doesn’t really mean he likes going behind people’s backs like this.

Wilbur shrugs. “One of them wanted us to, so it’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, I have a knife with me.”

“And do you know how to use that knife?”

“Techno taught me.” Wilbur gives him an odd look. “Why, do you?”

“Yeah, I can use a knife.”

Tubbo has, after all, stabbed someone before. Not fatally or anything, and it was self-defense, but, well. It’s a long story. Only Ranboo knows about that, and he really hates it when Tubbo brings it up, but if it can keep both of them safe, then Tubbo doesn’t really see the problem with it. It’s one of few things the two of them argue about. Regardless, Ranboo’s not here at the moment, and Wilbur is a little more pragmatic.

“Good. Then in the worst case scenario, we do that.” Wilbur gives Tubbo a smile before stepping into the kitchen.

Sitting at the table are three men– one of them being Quackity, another with light brown hair, and the third with a white bandana around his head. They’re talking to themselves and laughing, which is a good sign, Tubbo thinks, but Quackity immediately stops when he notices them walk in.

Wilbur raises his hand and says, “Hey, sorry to interrupt you guys again. Just wanted to make sure it’s alright if we set up a camera in the library? It can catch ghost activity or let us know if something is tampering with the device.”

“That’s fine,” the bandana guy says. “Whatever you guys gotta do.”

“Awesome, thank you,” Wilbur taps Tubbo’s shoulder, and the two of them walk out of the kitchen.

Tubbo silently follows as Wilbur takes off his shoes and starts walking up the stairs. Tubbo does the same, tense every second that the house creaks, but seeing as the laughter from the kitchen has returned, Tubbo doesn’t think they’re at any risk yet.

The bedroom looks very normal. There’s a king bed in the center of it and a master bathroom, with a really big closet and a single chest at the end of the bed. Tubbo figures the only reason everything is so large is because of the number of people staying in there, which is entirely fair. What he’s more confused with is how absolutely normal it is, then– the library was pretty fucking weird, Tubbo will be honest, but this looks… fine?

“Alright, Tubbo.” Wilbur isn’t whispering anymore, but he’s still keeping his voice low, which makes sense. Tubbo’s probably gonna just stick to whispering, just as an in-case thing, but they should be secure enough. “Apparently, Karl has been able to see someone walking around this room late at night. Neither Sapnap nor Quackity have seen it, but Karl seemed pretty convinced.”

“Do you believe it?” Tubbo feels a little weird just carrying his shoes around, so he leaves them beside the door. “Like, all this ghost shit in general, but also that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Wilbur admits honestly, “it’s money, and it’s fun. I haven’t fucked with most of these gadgets since I was like, ten.”

“But do you believe it?”

There’s a beat of silence– not completely, since there is ventilation up here, apparently– before Wilbur replies, “Sort of. Not really. I believe in it more than Techno does.”

“Is that so?”

“Techno believes in a higher being, not a bunch of otherworldly things,” Wilbur explains. “I’m the exact opposite. Anyway, the temperatures are to monitor– if they drop, ghost activity. Flashlights are mostly just to see in the dark, since I left the others with the UV ones. Crucifix is to ward off the ghost or some shit, I dunno, we just had one around so I got it. And the spirit box is the big guy. If the temperature drops, we start it.”

“Sounds good.”

“The thing with the spirit box, though, is that one of us has to be out of the room.” Wilbur adds, and Tubbo frowns.

“Then why’d you bring me with you, bossman?”

“So I have a second eye on things.” Wilbur sets the crucifix down on top of the bed, moving some of the curtains to be kept entirely shut, and says, “Also, I thought you should do it.”

“What?” Tubbo had not been made aware of this part of the plan. “Why? Wouldn’t Ranboo be better for that? Or, you know, you?”

Wilbur sighs. “I’m… bad. With ghosts.”

“You’re a freelance ghost-hunter from Fiverr, Wilbur, I don’t think Quackity’s expecting high quality results.”

“No, just…” Wilbur goes quiet for long enough that Tubbo’s convinced he’s not going to say anything else, and he starts fiddling with the thermometer, sitting on the edge of the bed before wandering into the bathroom before coming back out, restlessly checking, until Wilbur abruptly finishes his sentence with, “I’ve tried to talk to ghosts in the past, and they don’t like me.”

Tubbo looks up and tries to meet Wilbur’s eyes, but Wilbur averts them. “And you think I’m a better choice?” Tubbo doesn’t even believe in ghosts. “Don’t know if you didn’t realize this, but unless you count me and Tommy fucking with a Ouija board when we were eleven talking to ghosts, I’ve never done this before.”

“So they might like you,” Wilbur retorts, and Tubbo still doesn’t think Wilbur’s getting this, but then he meets his eyes and says, quietly, “Do it for me, Tubbo?”

And ultimately, Tubbo is a little weak to people in his life asking him to do things for them, be it sitting in a not-really-a-seat middle seat, or leaving the knives at home instead of his pocket, or trying to communicate with a ghost through a spirit box. So, Tubbo just sighs and responds, “Fine.”

Wilbur grins. “I’ll get you a smoothie after.”

“At midnight?”

“I know a place.”

“Sure. Also, the temperature isn’t dropping at all,” Tubbo points out. “I’ve been watching this bitch since I got ‘im, and literally jack all is happening.”

“Did you try the bathroom?”

“I tried fucking everywhere,” Tubbo insists. He goes into the bathroom just to prove his point, and sure enough, nothing happens. Just a nice room temperature bathroom.

“Huh.” Wilbur’s eyebrows are knitted, and after a second, he gets a different thermometer and traces Tubbo’s steps. He concludes after, “I thought yours might be broken, but mine is doing the same thing.”

“I reckon the ghost is in the library,” Tubbo tells Wilbur, but Wilbur’s already distracted again, that pensive expression lingering on his face as he slowly walks corner to corner through the bedroom. Nothing seems to happen for the most part, but the second that Wilbur walks by the window, he stops.

Tubbo rolls his eyes. “Wilbur, it’s a window. Of course it’s going to drop-”

“It’s June, Tubbo, like you said earlier,” Wilbur argues. He gestures Tubbo over, who begrudgingly walks over and looks at the thermometer. His breath catches, and Wilbur nods. “Yeah, pretty normal of June for temperatures to drop by seven degrees, what do you say, Tubbo?”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, Wilbur, I’ll level with you.”

Wilbur’s lip quirks up. “You ready to talk to one?”

“Oh, go on, then,” Tubbo concedes begrudgingly, taking the spirit box in his hand. “How the fuck does this work?” He clicks a button and immediately, loud static noises are let out. His heart stops and he quickly shuts it off. “That’s really loud, Wilbur, I don’t know if we…”

“They know we’re going to be making noise,” Wilbur says.

“But we’re not where we’re supposed to be.”

“You aren’t, maybe.” Wilbur’s smirk morphs into a full blown grin, one of the ones he gives when he’s outsmarted someone or figured something out. “But I’m heading back downstairs, swinging by to talk to them about the temperature of the library. Unless this ghost likes monologuing, I can buy you time. And let’s be honest, man, there’s five of us and three of them. They’re not going to tear this house apart looking for you.”

Tubbo listens, and he feels a thick knot form in his gut. Part of it is anxiety, maybe, but there’s excitement there, too. Because Tubbo doesn’t like lying, but he likes being trusted. And Wilbur’s trusting him with this, even if he’s being weird about it like always. And Tubbo would rather talk to a ghost he doesn’t think exists then be bored to hell and back, doing nothing.

“Click the button like you did before, and it’s going to flip through radio frequencies,” Wilbur explains. “Ask a question, it’ll answer.”

“Sure.”

“One last thing, Tubbo,” Wilbur says, and he gives Tubbo a serious look. “Just in case. Only ask them about their age and location.”

“Like a dating app,” Tubbo blurts out. Maybe the anxiety is getting to him.

Wilbur laughs. “Yes, like a dating app. Just… don’t ask anything that could get an aggressive response.”

“Yessir.”

“Then I’m off.” Wilbur grabs his shoes and opens the door quietly. “Leave the lights off. When you get what you need, call. Otherwise, I’ll be up in ten minutes.”

Then, Wilbur closes the door, and Tubbo’s alone in darkness aside from the light of his glowstick.

“Okay,” Tubbo whispers to himself, grabbing one of the flashlights off the bed and turning it on. He thinks that wouldn’t be a problem, right? Well, if the ghost has a problem with that, he can suck it.

Once he has at least a little more light, he can breathe a lot easier. Tubbo’s not scared of the dark– he actually is more scared of bright lights than the darkness, funnily enough– but he still doesn’t like feeling as if any of his senses are muted.

He sits down beside the window, with his back to the wall, and turns on the spirit box. The static scares him like it did before, but he forces himself to keep it going, trusting that Wilbur will keep them all distracted enough that he can avoid a confrontation. Not that Tubbo couldn’t get his way out of it, but sometimes he clams up and– yeah, he doesn’t want to deal with that, actually, not at all.

“Hello, ghost,” he says to the empty room, because that’s as good an opener as any. “I- uh, okay. Are you old? Or, shit, that might be a bad question. Uh. How old are you?”

The static continues, and nothing happens.

Tubbo nods. “Okay. Are you from around here? I’m actually from a while away, myself, me and my friends. Well. Friends is the wrong way to describe them. You get what I mean. You probably don’t, you’re a ghost. Uh. Where are you from?”

Nothing happens, still, and Tubbo opens his mouth to say something, until he hears a sound that isn’t the static noise, nor is it footsteps.

It’s probably something outside, but hey, if all of this is bullshit, then Tubbo’s allowed to collect more to add to it. So Wilbur and Techno can get money to buy them smoothies. Yeah. “Did you say something, bossman? Where are you from?”

This time, Tubbo hears the sound much more clearly.

It sounds like someone saying, “I’m close.”

Tubbo blinks.

… Well, that’s fucking weird, alright. But this spirit box is also literally over a decade old, so Tubbo doesn’t really trust this shit, honestly.

“Sounds cool. Same here, actually. I am also, uh. I am also close.” Tubbo rests his chin on his knee. “Say, can you tell me if you’re old or not?”

“Old,” the spirit box replies.

This is so fucking batshit. Alright. “Cool. I’m young, personally. Well, older than Tommy and Ranboo. We… think. Ranboo’s birth certificate is really weird. It got fucked up because he was born the day the courthouses shut, something about a flood. I dunno. Anyway, uh, want to talk? Talk to me, man, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m close,” the spirit box repeats.

“That’s cool. Do you say anything else?”

“I’m close.”

“How close?” Maybe Tubbo can outsmart the supposed ghost. Really, he knows that the spirit box is probably fucked up and is just saying the same stuff over and over, but he can try, can’t he? “Like, you’re close. But how close?”

“I’m close.”

“I’m starting to think I’m the only one giving in this relationship,” Tubbo complains. “Me and Ranboo aren’t like this, so you’re gonna need to step it up. How close are you?”

“I’m close.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Tubbo huffs and rolls his eyes, letting his head hit the wall. “Do you have a name, at least? Can I call you, uh… Jared?”

Tubbo hopes that everyone else is having some fun downstairs, because it’s getting a little boring sitting in the complete darkness, freezing his ass off, and talking to a broken spirit box Wilbur got eleven years ago that just repeats the same few phrases. “Can you give me a name? My name’s- actually, I won’t tell you my name. I probably shouldn’t have told the people who live here my name, actually, but Sapnap and Karl don’t know, at least. Anyway. Name? Please?”

There’s a rush of air from outside, and then Tubbo hears, “Karl.”

So it's just echoes. Damn. “You know, today is the first time I ever learned there are actually Karl,” Tubbo tells the spirit box conversationally. “I don’t know how my heart’s gonna take it finding out there’s two. Like, that’s such an objectively shit name, if you think about it. Fucking Karl. It reminds me of this video Tommy showed me years ago– which was actually pretty funny, but still– like. That’s such a shit name.”

The static continues.

“To be fair, my full name is literally Tuberculosis. Which- actually, no, you know what? Tuberculosis is a cooler name than Karl. Mostly because eight year old me picked it out and he was pretty cool. Just a guy, y’know?” Tubbo pauses. “Okay, this is getting really boring. I’m out. And you’re close, I guess.”

“I’m close,” the spirit box confirms.

Tubbo shuts it off, ears ringing now that the room is absent of static, and he pulls out his phone to call Wilbur. He lets it ring twice before he hangs up, and after sitting there for another minute, he gets a text back.

Wilbur: Come down the stairs, I’m waiting for you down there pretending to call Phil.

[

Tubbo: k

Tubbo gets up and grabs all the equipment, which is a pain in the ass, honestly, and decides that he probably doesn’t have arm space to carry his shoes, too. So, he leaves them there, walking down the stairs until he sees Wilbur, talking to himself about curfews and the like.

Wordlessly, Tubbo shoves his stuff into Wilbur’s arms and then goes back up the stairs. When he gets back into the bedroom and grabs his shoes, he notices that the curtains are wide open.

Weird.

Tubbo makes it back to the foyer and gives Wilbur a thumbs up, and after he gets his shoes back on, the two of them start walking back to the library.

“How’d it go?” Wilbur asks.

“Your spirit box is old as hell,” Tubbo replies, and Wilbur’s eyes light up.

“Does that mean you heard something?”

That’s the exact opposite of what Tubbo was trying to get across. “Yeah. But it was the same bullshit over and over.”

“Really?” Wilbur presses. “Nothing different?”

“It told me it was old,” Tubbo amends, “and when I asked for a name, it told me Karl. But it also kept repeating ‘I’m close’ over and over again, even when it didn’t make sense, so I think there’s just something up with your spirit box.” Wilbur pales, but Tubbo shrugs and pushes open the library door, adding before he does, “Also, the curtains were open when I went back to get my shoes.”

“Aye, Tubbo!” Tommy shouts excitedly from where he lays on the floor, swirling salt around. “Can we go now? Techno’s been staring at the camera for the past five minutes silently, and it’s starting to freak me out a little, I’ll be quite honest.”

Tubbo squints, glancing at Techno, who is sitting on the armchair doing exactly that. “Why?”

“He’s looking for ghost orbs,” Ranboo elaborates. He has a book open in front of him, and both of his gloves are off, his pale hands smeared with charcoal instead. “I didn’t get anything from writing. I don’t know, maybe I did something wrong.”

“No,” Wilbur says, a little breathlessly. “The ghost is in the bedroom.”

“That wasn’t a ghost, Wilbur,” Tubbo argues. “Literally, your spirit box is just fucked up. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“The ghost talked to Tubbo through the spirit box,” Wilbur explains, ignoring Tubbo’s side comment. He sighs and goes to sit down beside Ranboo, who wraps an arm around him. Despite Ranboo’s poor circulation, he’s surprisingly warm. “The ghost said he was close, he was old, and said his name was Karl-”

“I asked for a name,” Tubbo corrects, “and the spirit box echoed back Karl. The name I had just said aloud.”

Wilbur runs a hand through his hair. “And we shut the curtains, but Tubbo left the room quickly and when he came back, they were open.”

There’s a silence, and then Techno says for the first time, “I’ll be honest, I’m with Tubbo on this. But, I think we should tell the guys.”

“We didn’t expel it, though,” Ranboo points out. “If it’s still there, and possibly agitated, then- then we really shouldn’t leave them with it. Did anything, uh, did anything keep it… calm?”

“The crucifix,” Wilbur says. “I bet the crucifix did. And, Tubbo, you didn’t- you didn’t ask any aggravating questions, right?”

“Nope,” Tubbo promises. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wilbur sighs. “Okay. Then, hm. Techno, let’s talk to our hosts. You three, put everything in the duffel bag and head back to the car.” Techno nods and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his car keys and handing them to Ranboo, who holds onto them tightly. “We’ll be back anywhere from five minutes to thirty. Keep yourselves company. Techno, c’mon.”

The two of them leave the library and shut the door, and the three of them are just left there sitting.

“Be honest with me, Tubbo,” Tommy says, “were you bullshitting that?”

Tubbo shakes his head. “No, I genuinely wasn’t.”

Tommy pauses, then he lets out a scream. “What the fuck, man, that’s fucked up! Why is it- why did it talk to you?”

“It didn’t. Because ghosts aren’t real.” Tubbo glances at Ranboo, who has started to put the book and charcoal away, and meekly adds, “Sorry.”

“Oh, you’re okay,” Ranboo reassures. “I just… I’m confused why the library is, uh. Like this, for lack of a better word. If you heard something in the bedroom, I would guess that’s the place of more concern, but this library is still… really, really odd.”

“They have four fucking copies of Macbeth, Tubbo,” Tommy says, seemingly calmed down now. “Four. Why the fuck do they have that many copies of Macbeth.”

“It’s a good play,” Ranboo defends.

“You don’t invite someone to your house when you have four fucking copies of Macbeth, what does that make us? We’re like the… who's the guy who dies in Macbeth?”

“... Macbeth?”

“The other guy.”

“Tommy, a lot of guys die in Macbeth,” Ranboo replies, sounding a little confused. He manages to pack everything into the duffel bag, and Tubbo feels a little bad for not helping, but to be fair, this is amusing to listen to. “It’s not- a whole family is massacred at one point, I don’t really- I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Tommy gets up from the floor finally, kicking the salt under an arm chair before pushing the library door open. Tubbo gets the lights while Ranboo carries everything out, and the three of them walk past the kitchen and head out to the car.

“Which one’s the hot one, though?” Tommy asks.

Ranboo blinks. “Uh. You’re asking the wrong person for this.”

Tommy huffs. “Tubbo, which one’s the hot one?”

“You are asking an even worse person for this, considering that I can’t fucking read,” Tubbo responds, “but, uh, isn’t that Banquo guy kinda, like-”

“Tubbo, please don’t call Banquo hot,” Ranboo interjects.

“You talk about him a lot.”

Ranboo exhales, sounding a little exasperated. “His dying lines are cool, that’s all.”

“Oh my fucking God, Lady Macbeth,” Tommy blurts out. “That’s who I was thinking of. The hot lady.”

“Oh.” Ranboo struggles to open the car with two full hands, so he hands Tubbo the keys. After a few shots, Tubbo gets the car open, and the two of them pile in the back seat while Tommy futilely crawls in the passenger’s side. It gives Tubbo space to breathe, at least. “Yeah, I, uh. To each their own. I’m gay, so.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Tubbo complains, leaning his head against Ranboo’s shoulder.

“I dunno. I’m killing time ‘til Wil and Techno get back.”

They have to kill a hell of a lot more of it before the two of them finally leave the house. Wilbur comes out smiling, which is a good sign, even if Techno looks emotionless as ever. They get to the car and Techno slides into the driver’s seat while Wilbur tries to pull Tommy out of the passenger’s side while he flails and kicks him.

“Cain instinct,” Ranboo whispers, and Tubbo smiles.

“How are you?” He checks in, “I know this stuff can get intense for you.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Ranboo weaves his fingers between Tubbo’s, and the feeling of fake leather against Tubbo’s skin is as comforting as always. He wonders if the charcoal is smudging underneath the fabric, if a little bit of it will get on Tubbo later. “I might have weird dreams about a library tonight, haha, but I’m fine.”

“Call me if you’re not,” Tubbo tells him, because that always goes for them, but Ranboo’s not the best at reaching out when he needs it; he’s always worried about bothering Tubbo when Tubbo literally would go to hell and back for him. And then, because everyone else is distracted, Tubbo chances it and whispers, “Love you.”

Ranboo nods. “I will. And I love you too.”

The nice moment is pretty quickly ended by Tommy tumbling into the backseat, slamming into Tubbo’s side and making both of them fall onto Ranboo’s lap, who is still holding Tubbo’s hand but is looking down at both of them with a slightly concerned expression on his face.

The two of them straighten up and untangle their limbs, and Wilbur says from the passenger’s seat, “Well, I promised Tubbo smoothies, so we’re getting those.”

“Wake me up when we get there,” Tommy requests, “I’m going to fucking sleep.”

“It really doesn’t feel like it’s late right now,” Tubbo comments. “This was kind of fun, even if it was all bullshit.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how our ratings are going to look, honestly,” Techno admits, “but, uh. This was kind of fun. And we still got money that we’re now going to spend on smoothies, so. That’s pretty cool.”

“And now you know to bring us with you when you go ghost-hunting.”

There’s a silence in the car, then, one that lasts for a second but feels longer. Tommy has his eyes shut on one side of Tubbo, and on the other, Ranboo is looking out at the mountains with a thoughtful expression on his face. Techno is driving with a rhythmic whir of the engine, and Wilbur is popping a piece of gum in his mouth to counter his ears hurting from the altitude later. And it’s nice, honestly– it’s nice being out here, even though it’s late, even though Tubbo has to go home after this unless Ranboo’s mothers let him crash the night, even though he a little worried he was going to get murdered in the middle of nowhere an hour or so ago. It’s all just… nice. It feels a little like living, ironically enough.

Then, Wilbur scoffs and says, “There’s no fucking way I’m letting you guys come with us again,”

and by its nature, the car explodes into chaos again.

#nightmare.requests #nightmare.fics #tubbo fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #sbi fanfic #(minimal philza but idk how to tag this)#c!tubbo fanfic #c!tubbo fanfiction #REBLOGS HELP ME SO MUCH

26 notes · View notes

thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Text

~A Literal Nightmare~

(Omg I fell asleep after writing that last post for Hawks. Anyway, I’m continuing clearing my drafts now with this one. Please enjoy me bringing back my “Chrono can’t drive” headcanon lmao)

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

The white car sat at the end of the entryway as Nemoto and lugged out some suitcases into the trunk while Mimic sat atop his hat. Kai went ahead and got into the back seat while awaiting Mimic to sit on the other side of him and Nemoto to sit in the front. “Why sit in the back Overhaul?” Hari asked from the driver seat. “Because I have the most personal space with Mimic on the other side behind Nemoto.” Just as he said that, Irinaka interrupted him while pushing his small stature up into the seat. “It’s because it makes him feel special when riding in the back.” Nemoto and Chrono chuckled while Kai scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Nevermind all this small talk. Nemoto, I trust you secured all the money and left it in the suitcases. We can’t even fall short by a dime. This deal has to go through for the Hassaikai’s sake.” Kai was pleased when Nemoto nodded. “Fall short?! I stayed up for an extra 4 hours to recount everything! If anything, we’re over by at least a couple tHoUsAnD yEn!!!” Mimic shouted and Kai groaned loudly. “Be quiet Irinaka, I’m begging you. It’s 10 in the morning and I’m already getting a headache. Chrono, pull off and let’s go please.

From that very moment it was clear that the others made a mistake...

The way Hari whipped the car out of the driveway and literally sped to the stop sign (which was only a few feet away) was alarming on its own. The way he also abruptly stopped at the sign way too short before taking off again...it was a red flag.

Kai was in the backseat wondering when he had gotten to this point. When they were teens, Hari’s driving was questionable but never this bad. Irinaka was gripping on the seatbelt for dear life. It was his desperate attempt to not become a crash test dummy. Nemoto was already online googling ‘how to create a last will and testament’. Meanwhile Hari was vibing like it was any old day. Not to mention he had already switched the radio on under the opinion that ‘its too quiet’ which it wasn’t. Now they were doing almost 20 over the speed limit on back roads while Hari was spouting off Chopper City. Thank God Nemoto toughened up a bit and turned the radio off suddenly. “My apologies but I think it’s best if we calm it down so early in the morning. We don’t want to get pulled over and lose all the money.” Hari sighed but he complied nonetheless. “Nemoto if the music wasn’t your style then you could’ve just said that.” He teased with a smirk. “My taste??? Please, I can...handle it. Just not so early. Besides, Master Overhaul already mentioned a headache earlier. And if I may add something, this is a 2016 Honda Accord, NOT a Hellcat. Please stop pushing it like one.”

“Nemoto you literally drive an Altima. Please don’t speak to me.”

“Excuse me!?” Before they could break into an altercation, Kai reached forward and overhauled his glove so they could get the message to shut up. The men both fell silent and within 15 minutes they started small talk as if they weren’t fighting earlier. Mimic groaned every time Hari rounded a corner too fast and mumbled something about being carsick. Kai started to consider taking an Uber back to the base instead of stepping foot into this car again. And before you know it, Hari got into a wreck...no not a wreck going almost 100 on the highway. No not a wreck from rounding the corners without slowing down. No not a wreck from merging without using his signals. He got in a wreck trying to pull out of the parking lot after the meeting with the rival gang. Instead of waiting to sort out the dent he put in the car, he quickly sped off. “Eh, I’ll get that fixed eventually.” He mumbled carelessly while the others stared at him with wide eyes. That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst situation of the evening is when they stopped to get food on the way back home and Hari locked his keys in the car. Overhaul had to handle the business in freeing his keys, but in all honesty Kai considered just getting that Uber and abandoning the men. It became increasingly clear by the time they got back home that they would NEVER consider Hari to be the driver ever again. “I would soon get in the car with Rappa behind the wheel before I ever set foot in a car with Hari Kurono ever again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go kiss the ground.” Nemoto grumbled as he stepped out. Kai went shower and Mimic probably ended up going to go vomit somewhere.

“I don’t know why you guys are overreacting. That’s not even my normal driving. I took it slow for yall.”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

73 notes · View notes

waka-chan-out · 3 years

Note

HIIII!! omg i’m so happy we’re both actually back! i feel like our schedules never lineup and i miss youuuu <33 i passed all my finals and life is easy going for now, hbu hermosa<3

HIIII APRIL. god it’s been forever. i miss you too and i’m so glad i get to talk to you again 😭 i did well in all my classes but i’ve kinda been running around like an insane person since classes ended. i’m on my second flight of the day right now. then i gotta drive three hours to home, sleep for like four, and then drive ten hours to minnesota so we get there for early church. my papa won’t compromise and let us go to the late service. but we’re all covid negative !! so there’s something. and the long drive will give me time to write ((when i’m not horrifically carsick 😅)). i’m feelin motivated. and maybe i’ll do an ask game !! so much potential.

#the way that hermosa hit me in the chest #sobbing #ily baby #i missed you so much #gah #good to be back #🛤..april

6 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Handicapped Parking

Pairing: Javier Peña/disabled Reader

Word Count: 2,992

Warnings: Reader is wheelchair bound, canon-typical violence, nightmares, small bit of angst, one use of (F/N) (L/N).

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Javier could not believe what he was seeing. A handicapped parking spot at the embassy. Who the hell worked at the US embassy and for the DEA that was disabled enough to need handicapped parking? You, that’s who. The brand new recruit and official partner for Steve and Javier, you are about to be hell on wheels for those two boys.

Javier Peña had never seen anything like what he was seeing now. A handicapped spot right in front of the building with a car parked in it. A new car that hadn’t been there yesterday. As Javier parked, he eyed the spot. Who the hell chose a job like this if they were disabled? Best anyone could do was paperwork, and that was mind numbing.

Javier almost forgot about it as he walked into the building, greeting the same people he did every morning. Steve was at his desk, hunched over some new paperwork, and he looked up when Javier walked in. “Hey, Javi. Check this out. We have a new partner.”

“Hm?” Javier lit a cigarette. It was too early for this.

A paper was pushed across the desk. “Yeah. Hired yesterday. Meant to keep us in check.”

Javier snorted, reading over the papers. “This says,” he said, looking up at Steve. “This says they’re disabled.”

“So what if I am?”

You had just come back from a very frustrating bathroom break to find your other new partner standing at his desk. You rolled forward, holding out a hand. “(F/N) (L/N), DEA.”

Javier shook your hand and introduced himself. You slotted you and your wheelchair into your desk, which was perpendicular to Steve’s and Javier’s. “So, anything new?”

Steve explained everything they knew and what their current goal was, and you raised an eyebrow.

“He’s in prison,” you pointed out. “Why are we trying to disrupt that.”

“We want his ass in a real prison,” Javier grumbled without looking up from his typewriter. “Not that palace he calls a jail.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, looking over the terms and conditions of the surrender. “So we prove he’s violating these terms. Easy.”

Steve shrugged. “Not as easy as it sounds. Cigarette?”

You wrinkled your nose at the offered cigarette. “I don’t smoke.”

“Okay. One less person I gotta share with,” Steve said, holding his cigarette out to Javier, who picked up his lighter and lit it all without looking up.

The three of you worked in silence for a while. You managed to go through four pots of coffee before three PM, which would’ve been only mildly concerning. However, you and Steve each only had maybe a pot and a half between you. Javier drank the other two and a half pots. So it was mildly concerning for you and Steve, and pretty damn concerning for Javier.

“Jesus I don’t know how your heart hasn’t given out yet,” you said when Javier went back for his seventh or maybe eighth cup of coffee.

“This is a light day for him,” Steve said, looking up when someone placed a piece of paper on his desk. “Usually he’ll have three pots and I’ll have one. He doesn’t sleep much.”

You made a face, putting new paper into your typewriter. Javier came back with his coffee cup and immediately groaned upon seeing Steve reading the paper. “Who wants us to do what?”

Steve chuckled. “You remember that pigeon coup? They want us to stake it out.”

Another groan, this time a bit louder. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing while looking expectantly at Steve. “Can I see?”

Steve handed you the paper and you read it over. “Well. I guess that solves our violating the terms problem.”

The stakeout was to last as long as it had to, and as you pulled up to the prison before dawn on one warm morning, you immediately knew this would be hell. Steve and Javier took turns waiting outside while you sat in the car, your typewriter in your lap. Your window was open and you occasionally handed the boys whatever they needed from inside the car.

Finally, when the sun began to crest the hills, you braved the outside. Strapping your crutches to your arms, you swung your legs out and slowly made your way across the grass.

“I thought you couldn’t walk.” Javier said as soon as you were standing beside him.

“I can,” you promised. “Car accident. Left me paralyzed, but with lots of therapy, I was able to regain some of my legs. I just prefer the chair because no matter what, my legs won’t support my weight for more than a few steps. When I walk I use crutches and braces to keep my knees, ankles, and waist stable.”

Steve whistled, handing Javier a thermos. “I’ve never seen crutches like that before.”

“Gutter crutches.” You watched Javier take one sip of the coffee and immediately pour the rest of it out onto the ground. “Mostly for long term work. Is that a pigeon?”

Steve turned and Javier raised his gun. Three wasted shots later, and you were scoffing. “Damn. You’re a shit shot Peña.”

“Think you can do better?”

You took the gun, abandoning your crutches and catching the next pigeon in your sight. Your legs wavered, but you locked your knees and tried to stay steady. “I got it.”

“Shoot.”

You waited, ignoring Javier.

“Shoot!”

Again, you waited until the perfect moment before shooting and killing the pigeon in one shot.

Steve smiled, taking the gun from you. “Ever been duck hunting?”

Javier watched him jog after the pigeon. “No, I’ve not been duck hunting you fucking hillbilly.”

You wavered, falling flat on your ass as your knees gave out. “Damn these legs!” You swore, grabbing your discarded crutches and strapping them to your arms. By the time you’d finally struggled to your feet, Steve was back with the pigeon.

“Thanks for the help,” you said sourly at Javier, who had simply watched you grapple upright.

“In my experience,” he said in an equally cool tone. “People like you don’t need much help. I’m sure all I would’ve gotten was a crutch to the knee for my help.”

You glared at him while he read the small letter tied to the pigeon’s leg. God you hated that man.

The next few months were odd. You fell into a rhythm with Steve and Javier. Neither underestimated you anymore, and finally, they learned exactly where your boundaries lay with help. Steve had a bruise on his leg for two straight weeks after you whacked him with your crutch when he asked if you needed help shooting a gun (you most definitely did not) and Javier only ever gave you help when he noticed you struggling. Like when some new intern put the coffee mugs too high for you to reach without standing up and Javier had, very kindly, silently handed you your mug. He did a lot of things silently, usually with that scowl on his face.

“We got a call,” Steve said one day, poking his head into your office space, if it could even be called that. “Let’s go!”

You groaned, standing and hearing your back pop four times as you followed Steve out, your crutches clicking on the linoleum as you headed to the waiting Jeep.

“Why’s Javi driving?” You asked as you got into the back. “I get so carsick when he drives!”

Javier gave you a look in the rearview mirror. “Strap in sugar.”

You rolled your eyes. None of you wore seatbelts. You just didn’t have time for it. So instead, you simply gripped the back of Steve’s seat while Javier drove like a maniac towards your destination.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you grumbled as you got out of the car, shaking off the car sickness and looking around. Nothing seemed very out of the ordinary aside from the cop cars surrounding a particular building. “Who’s in there?”

“We don’t know,” Steve said, helping you with your tac vest. “Whoever it is, they’re worth the cavalry.”

Half of your job was waiting, which was hell. You stood leaned up against Steve, trying to keep your weight off your aching back. As the minutes ticked by, you talked to one of the younger cops who’d been left outside. He was sweet, teaching you a few Spanish phrases and smiling when you butchered them.

So of course, when the man you were trying to catch raced out of the building, wildly firing his gun, the young cop got a bullet to the back of the head.

“Shit!” You yelled, looking around as the man raced off. You yanked your crutches off your arms and gestured to Javier. “Come on!”

Javier was on your heels as you ran, trying to steady your feet and knees. Your hips and lower back screamed, but you just kept going, relying entirely on your braces to support you.

Eventually, the stress became too much. Two blocks down, your legs stopped working, sending you screaming to the ground, wildly throwing your hands out to catch yourself before you broke your nose on something. Thankfully, the road was long and flat, so as soon as you righted yourself, you raised your gun and shot the guy in the shoulder.

He went down, clutching his shoulder in pain while you breathed heavy, dragging your limp lower half over to the wall of a building, leaning against the worn down brick.

“Hey,” Javier said, coming to stand in front of you. “You ran.”

“I ran,” you agreed, holding your left knee as it twitched. “That’s a week and a half of chair time, straight. Fuck.”

Javier sat beside you, watching cops run past to grab the man you’d been chasing. “You want help back?”

You snorted. “Javi, I won’t make it three steps like this.” To demonstrate, you attempted to haul yourself upright and almost immediately hit the pavement, hissing sharply as you came down harder than intended.

“So.” Javier looked you up and down. “Is that a no?”

“Yeah that’s a no.” You stared at the sky, feeling your stomach twist. “Y’know what I want? A cup of tea. I haven’t had one in a while.”

Javier shrugged. “I’ve got a really good tea at my apartment,” he said. “My mother mails me some once a month. You’re bleeding.”

You looked down at your hands, finally noticing the ragged scrapes across your palms from when you’d fallen. “Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“How’d you not notice?” Javier asked, taking your hands and digging through his pockets. “We can disinfect it for real back at the office, but for now,” he said, producing a small roll of gauze from his pocket. “This will have to do.”

You sat still while Javier bandaged your hands. By then, the street had been completely cleared, and you were looking for Steve.

“He’s probably waiting in the car,” Javier said, finishing up on your hands. “We’re gonna have to go to him.” He looked hesitantly at your legs. They’d stopped twitching, but they were still completely useless. “Got any ideas?”

“Unless you wanna carry me,” you said with a sigh. “It’d probably be easiest to call Steve.”

Javier stood, crouching down in front of you. “Can you get on?”

It took some maneuvering and a bit of heavy lifting on Javier’s part, but eventually, you were being carried back to the Jeep, arms slung over Javier’s shoulders and him gripping your legs as he gave you a piggyback ride.

“Comfy?” He asked, and you chuckled.

“Mhm. Totally not in horrible pain,” you replied, feeling yet another stab of discomfort hit your back.

Javier was quiet for a minute before speaking again. “Why’d you come here? No offense, but you’re not exactly fit for the job.”

“Like I got to pick this,” you said, leaning to cheek against Javier’s shoulder. “I was reassigned. I never asked to come down here.”

Another long beat of silence, and then, “I’m sorry.”

“Nah. It’s fine,” you promised. “Just a bit stressful sometimes.”

Eventually, the car came back into view, and Steve rushed over to meet you, your crutches in his hand. “What were you thinking?”

“Chase the bad guy,” you said, smiling as Javier turned around and put you down in the car. “Really, I wasn’t. I just went.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, ever the voice of reason. “Don’t do that again. You scared me.”

The drive back to the office was quiet. Javier had to carry you inside the building, and Steve found a hot water bottle to press against your back. Javier finished properly treating your hands while Steve filled the water bottle with water from the kettle.

“Really, a hot bath will probably help the most,” you said, putting the hot water bottle in between your back and the chair you used whenever you didn’t need your wheelchair. “But this’ll do for now.”

Your night was late, as it always was. You weren’t attempting to leave the building until well past ten PM, and when you tried to stand, Javier put a hand on your shoulder. “Nope.”

“No?” You said, surprised. “Let me up Javi, unless you want a crutch to the ankle.”

Javier didn’t move. Instead, he scooped you up in a bridal carry, causing you to squeak indignantly. “Javier!”

“Yes?”

“Put me down! I am more than capable of walking myself to your car!”

Javier shrugged as best he could while carrying you. “You had me piggyback you two blocks earlier and you couldn’t get up all day to get your own coffee. I’m carrying you to the car.”

You pouted, but realized that squirming would only serve to hurt you and probably Javier as well, so you remained still as Javier placed you in his car.

The drive home was, as with most things Javier did, quiet. When he pulled up to the building, you made him go into your apartment across the hall from his and grab your wheelchair. When he came back, you smacked him away when he tried to help you into it.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your back pop painfully. “Fuck.”

“C’mon,” Javier said softly, handing you back our crutches so you could put them across your lap. “I believe I promised you tea.”

You sighed. “Javi, I wanna go home.”

Javier nodded. “I’ll bring it to you. How’s that sound?”

At the notion that Javier would be coming to your apartment, you sighed and gave in. “Fine. I’ll leave it unlocked.”

Ten minutes after you’d gotten settled on your couch, Javier came into your apartment, carrying two cups of tea. He set one down on your coffee table and kept the other in his hands. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually,” you said, reaching and grabbing the mug. “Painkillers are my new best friend.”

Javier sat down on the couch. “You know you could ask to be sent home,” he said. “They’d probably do it.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you or Steve anymore.”

“That’s what’s keeping you here? Me and Steve?”

You nodded. “Javi, before this, no one would even look at me. I was disabled and trying to work in law enforcement. You and Steve treat me like a capable adult, and people actually listen to what I have to say now.”

Javier was quiet. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You took a sip of your tea, smiling. “This is good.”

“Custom blend,” Javier said. “Mamá always insisted it could cure anything.”

You smiled. “You tell her to mail some extra if she can. It’s amazing.”

You and Javier sat in your living room until midnight, drinking tea and swapping work stories. Finally, when you began to yawn, Javier stood. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Aww,” you groaned, pulling your wheelchair closer. “But I was having so much fun.”

Javier smiled as you sat in your wheelchair and headed towards your bedroom. “Need anything before I go?”

You nodded. “Yeah, actually. Can you help me into bed? When my back hurts a lot it’s kind of hard to haul myself into bed.”

“Sure.”

Between you and Javier, you were able to slide into bed, immediately feeling weary. “Javi?”

“Hm?” Javier turned, standing in your doorway. “What is it?”

You fidgeted nervously. “Stay? Please? I’ve started having nightmares recently and they really scare me.”

Javier nodded. “Okay. Let me grab my pyjamas, I’ll be right back.”

By the time Javier had returned, you were half asleep. He waved to you and settled down on your couch, likely not falling asleep, but you sure as hell did.

It was early morning, before sunrise but well after midnight, that you woke up, breathing heavy and immediately starting to cry. The shattered pieces of your nightmare were practically gone now, leaving you with nothing but jitters, a looming sense of dread, and the image of blinding headlights in your brain.

“Hey,” a gentle voice said, and you jumped, heart pounding before you remembered you’d asked Javier to spend the night. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. No point in trying to lie to him. He could see you crying.

Javier slid into the bed with you, pulling you close and letting you cry into his shirt. When you were spent of tears, he continued to rub your back, his warmth seeping into your skin. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t remember much,” you admitted. “I think.” You had to force your words out, your throat pulling tight. “I think I dreamed I was in the car accident.”

Javier was quiet. “You’re fine,” he promised after a beat. “Hey, you hear me?”

You nodded, wondering when you’d begun to shake.

“You’re safe here,” Javier said. “Safe as can be.”

“I trust you,” you said softly, still buried in Javier’s shirt. “Trust you a lot,” you mumbled, yawning widely and feeling your eyes blink shut.

“I think you need more sleep,” Javier said softly, helping you lay back down. “Agent’s orders.”

You smiled, the sick feeling in your stomach sliding away. “Mhm. Stay with me Agent Peña.”

Javier lay down beside you, pulling you close. “If you insist.”

For the first time in a long time, both of you slept fitfully, cradled in each other’s arms.

#narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

37 notes · View notes