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Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 9 - Powder

Summary: Zaun is free—and must grow into its unfamiliar new dimensions. So must Silco and Jinx. A what-if that diverges midway through the events of episode 8. Found family and fluff, politics and power, smut and slice-of-life, villainy and vengeance.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

Playlist on Youtube

Chapters: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48

CH 9: Vi and Caitlyn bite off more than they can chew.

Tw: aftermath of war, violence, police brutality, hazing, parentification, implications of sexual abuse.

Gonna get my pound of flesh Burn it 'til there's nothing left Think you you can handle this? Yeah, you wanna bet?

~ "Mutiny" – Neoni

It smells like rotting rainfall.

Exiting the air-conditioned oasis of the Hexadraulic Elevator, Vi is engulfed in the stench. It is one she'd always associated with the Undercity. The smell of home. The first thing that hits is the humidity: like being folded into a sodden body-bag. The second is the texture in the air: slick and gritty at once.

Above, there is a scudding of storm-clouds. A hazy ring of green smog traces the skyline.

For a moment, Vi just—breathes. Her heart is beating fast; she'd put it down as nerves. Her gait feels unsteady; she'd dismissed it at the same. Now she realizes it's the change in the atmosphere. In Piltover, she'd been caught off-guard by the cleanness. Or better put: the absence.

The Undercity is different. A presence, so palpable she can feel its foul density pushing into her lungs.

Vi takes a slow breath, and exhales.

It's just air. She'll get used to it.

Six months since she's been down here. Things have changed. The aftermath of the Undercity's standoff with Piltover still irradiates the atmosphere. It stains each surface, from the crumbling old mortar buildings at the Promenade, to the patched-up neon casinos piled gaudily along the Riverside harbor, right down to the construction cranes and cyclone fencing beneath the shadow of the Old Hungry. Here and there, Vi glimpses bombsites, unnerving in their emptiness; like holes blasted into a beloved face.

Life is already creeping through their cracks. Catastrophe robs Fissurefolk of everything but their will to keep living.

Vi nearly smiles. But sorrow has calcified her muscles. Her lips barely twitch.

Her two Enforcer escorts—big of muscle and stupid of eye—step beyond the checkpoint. One coughs and fishes for a gas mask. The other breathes audibly through his sleeve.

“Cho'Gath on a cracker,” he grunts. “It’s bad as ever.”

“Like raw sewage.” Jerome wheezes into his mask. “With potato fries.”

Vi scoffs. "You'd eat 'em anyhow."

They crack into laughter. Not because they have a sense of humor. Their laughter is just a way to prove their manliness. Or whatever the hell passes for pride with Piltie menfolk. They try too hard. It makes them easy marks.

Thank Janna Vi is making the trip alone.

"You must be happy," Jerome sneers. "Home sweet home, eh?"

"Home stinky home, you mean," Timothy sniggers.

Vi deadpans, "Yep. I'm all choked up."

They burst into laughter again. She lets them. She doesn't care what they think. She never cares about the opinions of people who look down on others for being different. And these men are soft, on top of stupid. None of them would survive a night in Stillwater, or a bare-knuckled brawl in the Lanes.

Or, let's face it, a sip of the tapwater.

"Now remember," Jerome says, wagging a finger. "No insubordination."

"Right."

"You follow the rules down here. Ours. Not theirs."

"Uh-huh."

"Go straight to the local liaison. Like the Council ordered. No detours. No delays. Got me?"

"Got it."

Timothy sets a hand on Vi's shoulder. "Be a good girl, Vi-pie"

Vi meets his eyes, and congratulates herself for not decking him. There's no friendliness in the gesture. Just another attempt to assert dominance. Play the big man to the little woman. The high and mighty Piltie lording it over the lowborn Sumpsnipe.

She pastes on a false smile. "Sure." A beat. "Timmy-Wimmy"

His face flushes an ugly color of purple. Vi's smile turns real.

Shoving her hands deep in her pockets, she shoulders past them. Their angry stares burn into the back of her neck.

She doesn’t care.

Nothing matters except why she came here.

Beyond the steel barricade sit the Boundary Markets. Late evening, and the city throbs with life. To the left, the bright-glassed storefronts and festooned awnings of bazaars. To the right, the green-gray slice of the Pilt between monochrome office buildings. Practically anything of value—iron, glass, wood, leather, wire—has been salvaged from the disaster sites for resale. The sidewalks are crowded with pedestrians: clerks spilling outdoors after work with loosened ties and unbuckled galoshes, shopgirls collecting their laundry in brown paper parcels, families on trips to the grocer with children squabbling at their heels.

Language is a familiar medley. Vi shuffles through the voices like a deck of cards: Standard, Shuriman, Ionian, Va-Nox. High on variety, low on content. Just the usual brays of, "How much?" "D'you want to get a drink?" "Shit—there's gunk on my shoe!" "Is this a good club?"

The anthem of post-apocalypse.

All the hurly-burly can't conceal a haze of shellshock in the air. Or maybe the shellshock is all Vi's? She'd barely slept the night before. Her dreams were disorienting—a hellish redness like at the Bridge. She'd turned her head to where Mom lay crumpled on the cobblestones, her eyes staring glassily. Except it was Vander, his hulking coat of muscle unzipped into spoiling purple meat.

Powder was crouched beside him. Everything about her was misshapen—her braids too long, her skin etched with tattoos, her smile too wide. She'd been whispering as she played with something. Vi couldn't see what. Maybe a gadget? A toy? Pow was always talking to her toys, remarks that used to crack Vi up. Sometimes, she'd stand outside their shared room at the Drop’s basement, listening in. Sometimes Vander would be there, his eyes shining as he mouthed, Where's she come up with this stuff?

Then Silco stole everything.

Stole Powder, and broke her, so now whenever Vi remembers her sister, it's from inside the eerie glittering shell of Jinx.

The rage builds in Vi like a strangling scream. At the Bridge, she'd seen Jinx's carnage unfold. The firelights. The bombs. The bodies. She'd let Ekko handle Jinx—I’m so sorry Ekko—and crossed with Caitlyn to the other side. She'd felt the rumble of the grenade blast in her bones. She'd stood trapped behind bars of striped shadow while the smoke faded. She'd watched Enforcers swarm the scene.

She'd done nothing.

Meanwhile Silco took her sister, and she'd let it happen. Again. She'd failed to protect Powder, and failed Ekko, and Vander, and everyone in the Lanes, and she could never take it back. She couldn't take back the past, but she could change the present, the same way the past had changed hers.

She wasn't the girl thrown into Stillwater. The girl whose family was devoured by a monster. The girl who ran away when she should've fought. That girl is gone, and she'd grown into someone who has survived, and bided her time, and grown stronger. She won't run this time. She'll face the monster.

No.

Scratch that.

The monster will face her.

In the sky, the clouds thicken and the green drains into gray. Raindrops begin pattering the pavement. Within moments, like a bucket upending, it becomes a downpour.

Vi ducks under an awning. There is a pocket umbrella stowed inside her jacket, but she doesn't fish it out. She uses the moment to catalogue her surroundings. A sumpsnipe's reflex that the Peacekeeper Academy has layered with more sophisticated tricks. Evasive maneuvers. Vigilance. Stealth.

The Peacekeeper Academy.

Vi would never have set foot inside the place. Not unless handcuffed. And yet violent circumstances belowground had compelled Vi to make a choice once unthinkable.

She'd joined the Enforcers.

The Enforcers, who'd amputated her and Powder from their parents. The Enforcers, who'd spread brutality in the Lanes. The Enforcers, who'd kept the Undercity in squalor for the sake of safeguarding Piltover.

The Enforcers, who had access to Piltie funds, government databases, and legal resources. The department was mired in corruption—but the Council, under the pretty-boy Talis, was finally doing something about it. The Peacekeepers were a newly formed division, meant to serve as both liaisons and buffers between Piltover and neighboring territories. They could act with a measure of diplomatic immunity, and had clearance to pass between nation states.

Including Zaun.

Vi could say her reasons for enlisting were rational. Pragmatic, even. She knows better. The weeks of carnage between Piltover and the Undercity were horrific. She'd seen bystanders blown apart by shelling. She'd seen an old man twitching in death throes at the Bridge. She'd seen a little girl floating facedown in the bloodied Pilt. So much death and suffering. She needed to protect people, people like Powder, and she felt diminished, powerless, by what she couldn't do for them.

During the conflict between Piltover and the Fissures.

During the reunion with her sister.

During the disaster at the cannery.

None of those events transpired in a vacuum. A monster created them. The same monster who sat at Zaun's pinnacle, ready to hurt more people. Ruin more lives. She hated him. She needed to stop him. Not just his schemes and stratagems. She needed to take down his empire.

And save her sister.

The Peacekeepers were a means to an end. But Vi never expected to land the position. Sometimes she wonders if Caitlyn's mom pulled strings. Something to get Vi standing on her own feet, with a salaried job and a place of her own. Her two-week layover chez Kirraman had already stretched to a month. Caitlyn would have let Vi stay longer. She'd told her plenty of times, with that sweet confiding smile that could've melted chocolate.

But Vi refused to survive off charity. She'd survived off worse.

So she'd applied with the Peacekeepers. She'd endured a battery of interviews. Then came the tests: physical fitness, background checks, polygraphs. Her criminal record had been expunged by the Council for information on Silco, and an insider's view into the Undercity. Caitlyn had pulled all-nighters with Vi to prep her for the written portion. The physical, she'd passed without breaking a sweat. There was nobody she couldn't crush on the mat or outpace in the obstacle courses.

The polygraph gave her a little trouble. She'd practiced saying the right things. She'd done a trial run with Caitlyn on equipment that they'd… borrowed… from the office's interrogation unit. She'd passed with flying colors. During the real interview though, she'd had blips on a few questions: Have you committed any major crimes? and Have you ever inflicted physical injury to a child in your care?

The indicia weren't enough to trigger alarms. But the interviewer brought them to Vi's attention. She'd stuck to her answers: No, on both counts.

Afterward, she'd broken down sobbing in an empty alleyway, and cracked the wall with her bare fist.

The rainfall skitters off the awning like marbles. Vi takes a slow breath, and leans against the wall. She observes the oily froth of traffic, attuning herself to the rhythms of the Undercity.

Zaun.

To look at her, you might believe she was still a local. Her street clothes are nondescript: red-striped jacket, white undershirt and jeans, the labels cut away. Her boots are the same: plain, but with strong grip. Good for staying on her feet during 12-hour patrols in downtown Piltover, but also for vaulting to the closest rooftop in an emergency belowground.

Low-key in all but one respect: she is armed to the teeth.

Beneath her untucked shirt, clipped with a belt at her spine, she carries a spool of grappling wire. A switchblade is tucked into the specially-stitched pocket of her pants, and an Emerson folder is concealed in her wallet.

Hardly her full freight. But the precautions are necessary.

She wasn't allowed to take the Hexgauntlets. She didn't have the clearance with the Wardens. Even if she did, she was less concerned with administrative crap than with personal headaches. It already took a month of back-and-forth bullshitting—oops, her bad, diplomacy—between Councilor Medarda and Silco to let her set foot belowground. Next they'd taken forever on the regulations for Piltovan firearms within Zaun's borders.

In the end, Vi was allowed a pen-sized canister of mace. Not Academy-issue. The kind of crap a tourist would carry.

Well, Vi thought, Fuck you too.

At the final checkpoint, Zaun's blackguards had searched her top-to-toe. But she'd still managed to smuggle the contraband inside. A security guard—a schoolmate of Caitlyn's—had stashed the weapons in the Hexadraulic Lift. Vi had collected them during the last leg of her journey. Zaun's security was none the wiser.

It might blow up in her face later. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything except getting to Powder.

Raindrops hit the bridge of Vi's nose and trickle down her cheekbone. On a surge of bitter nostalgia, she shuts her eyes.

(Soon, Pow-Pow.)

(I'll get you out of here.)

The rain softens to a luminous mizzle. Vi takes her cue. She palms a cherry-sized gizmo from out of her pocket. And tosses it into the air.

It leaps high—and flits off.

Likewise, Vi pushes off the wall and takes off. In her ear, Caitlyn's voice thrums. "All clear."

"Okay," Vi says.

They are keeping touch with a tiny pair of microprocessor earpieces. A Hex-technology that hasn't yet gone public. Each earpiece operates in burst transmissions to preclude eavesdropping by a surveillance team. The equipment is a convenient proxy for other methods of communication, like radios, which can be jammed.

Vi can't ignore the prickling paranoia that this is an elaborate setup on Silco's part. Nor, apparently, can Caitlyn. To preempt the possibility, Caitlyn is currently dawdling at the vibrant night-markets by the Boundary. She has a video-fed controller wired to a cherry-sized Hex-drone. The same one that Vi just tossed skyward. Through it, Caitlyn can observe the periphery.

For tails.

Or threats.

Vi moves smoothly, fitting through the small spaces in the crowd. So far, no one has set off her radar. But that means nothing in and of itself. If Silco is having her shadowed, his crew will be pros. They won't favor the soft-target strategy. Most likely, one half will handle recon, the other half action. The last few will stay back, potentially with reinforcements, and serve as a makeshift mission-control.

The natural question is, Will they hurt me?

Vi ignores it in favor of what's more relevant to her survival, How do I get rid of 'em?

She knows, if she puts her mind to it, she could evade them as long as need be. She knows the terrain. But why bother? She's not interested in a game of cat-and-mouse, always looking over her shoulder and second-guessing. Nor is she interested in politely contacting the Zaunite liaison.

She's not here to play by Piltover's rules. Or Silco's.

If there are tails, she's ready to disorient them. If there are threats, she's ready to trounce them.

Vi passes beneath the colorful awnings and smoking chimneypots of Nosh Avenue. It was named after the coffee-stalls, patisseries, delicatessens and tea houses glowing through its hivelike streets. Nothing fancy. The poky little establishments would've appalled any Topsider daring a closer look. But for Vi they always held the powerful allure.

She remembers wandering the jumbled paradise with Mylo and Claggor. Sometimes Powder would tag along, little fingers folded through Vi', her eyes aglow with childish glee. They'd laugh together, boiling over with restless energy: Mylo and Claggor jostling, Powder making cute little wisecracks, Vi keeping her eyes peeled for a spot they'd liked the last time.

Shops popped up and vanished so quickly in Vander's heyday. Most were driven out of business by gangs. Others lost custom because Enforcers prowled the streets, regularly stopping and frisking anyone who looked at them cross-eyed.

Nosh Avenue looks so different now. The hodgepodge of stalls have been swept clear as if by a gale. Instead, there is a glossy honeycomb of dinettes and cafes, tier upon tier, festooned in neon and brightly glassed. A declaration of a different future, one where the grime of the Undercity will be replaced by a Zaun that's no different from Piltover: posh, paved and pristine.

It would be almost attractive. Except, of course, it's Silco's handiwork

Vi wends her way through the increasingly dense crowds. Stopping to eye the barbecued wares behind the soot-flecked glass, and the reflections of the moving pedestrians, she says, "Nothing so far."

"Stay alert."

Vi drifts on, her gait steady, while a small piece of her gut chews itself to pieces. She doesn't like to think of Caitlyn, alone, her unarmed body at the Boundary like a living vein of vulnerability. She's taking risks on Vi's behalf. Too many risks. If something happens to her—

Vi pulls the plug on the thoughts. She has to stay focused.

She has to get to Powder.

She is near the intersection when she spots the first tail. A long-boned male, with a bald head and an intricate geometric tattoo on one sinewy arm. The man is at a noodle stand, the semi-shaded booth offering both privacy and an unobstructed view of the streets.

Vi thinks, That's #1.

Outwardly, she stays relaxed, offering no sign that the man has even registered on her radar. Her tail is similarly discreet. When Vi stops at the traffic light with the other pedestrians, the man maintains a safe distance. Once the light goes green, he doesn't follow Vi so much as bob in and out of the margins, a cork in the tide of the crowd.

Halfway down the street, Vi spots the second tail. A woman, in a brightly-patterned caftan, her hair gelled into green cornrows. She lounges at the outdoor dining patio of a café. She meets Vi's eyes only in passing, exhales something under her breath, and looks away.

On the mental tallyboard, Vi marks, That's #2.

Her heart judders in her fingertips and temples: the first lick of adrenaline.

Casually, she strolls along the glossy shopping district, where sleekly-groomed women and sharp-dressed men spill in and out of an emporium's revolving doors with oversized bags. Watching them gives Vi a pang. Following the war, there were rumors of riots and curfews in the Fissures. Piltover's border patrol, from their vantage at the arrow-headed promontory, reported bursts of flame from the darkened city stretching below.

Now it’s like nothing happened. The meandering strip of the Promenade is contoured in neon and flush with trade. And yet there is still so much poverty—beggars, homeless bums, children practically in rags, some toiling away as slop-cleaners, others as bootblacks.

They were around in Vander's tenure too. But the fancy shops and flashing lights make their presence that much starker.

Silco may have brought more money to the Undercity. But it's only for a special few.

Vi pretends to browse the luxury goods on display in the storefronts. She pops in and out of a few more downscale shops, before reemerging with a blue shopping tote in one hand. To onlookers, it seems as if she's picked up a last-minute gift.

In the periphery, her pursuers keep pace. She pegs them as the reconnaissance unit: logging her routes and giving their counterparts the run-down. The latter won't converge until she is well clear of the tourist district. They are still too close to Piltover. The number of uniformed Piltie patrolmen at the Boundaries would inhibit even the ballsiest hit-team—no matter how Silco spins it afterward.

From a vending machine, Vi buys a bottle of cherry soda. Popping the top, she takes a sip, and murmurs, "Just made two tails."

In her ear, Caitlyin says, "All clear on your left and right."

"I'm crossing into Entresol. Can you gimme a visual at the next chokepoint?"

"I can, and will."

"Thanks, Cupcake."

Gradually, the seething crowds grow sparser. The street cuts sharply south, spanning a narrow incline that splits into a spider's web of alleys. In the distance, Janna’s Temple looms. Vi remembers it as a bare stone façade with leftover scorch-marks from Bloody Sunday—the night Enforcers flung grenades at six-dozen worshipers, killing mostly women and children. The bloodbath had triggered riots and culminated in the Day of Ash.

The night Vi lost Mom and Dad.

The Temple isn’t bare now. It is a world of mirrored lanterns and brightly colored smoke against a darkening sky. In the small courtyard, worshipers throng, hands reaching toward the painted golden gates in invocation. Drumbeats stir the air in a hypnotic rhythm. Vi catches the sweet whiff of hashish and the more savory aroma of stew bubbling in the open kitchens.

The goddess’ maxim, Janna Omnia Amat—Janna Loves All—glitters on a plaque festooned in cavern-blossoms.

Janna can afford to love all. She’s a damn goddess.

Vi’s own life hinges on nastier choices.

As her route progresses, she switches tacks—from nonchalant strides to increasingly aggressive twists and turns, no longer luring her tails, but forcing them to either retreat or come out in the open.

Within minutes, her two pursuers fall back. It signals no relief. Now the secondary team—the bone-breakers—will come out to play.

Sure enough, once Vi turns a corner, footfalls echo after her.

Vi doesn't glance around. She moves down a narrow potholed alley. In the late-evening hours, it is a remote green-lit dreamscape, lined on each side by ashen buildings. They give off the dank, weeping smell of old gravestones. There is no other sign of life anywhere.

Then, in the puddles along the cobblestones, Vi glimpses the reflection of a flitting shape.

The Hex-drone.

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Two targets spotted. One behind you at thirty meters, one ahead at fifty meters."

"How long 'till they converge?"

"One minute and ten seconds."

"I'm signing off," Vi says.

"Vi—please be careful."

"I will."

She sips her soda, the adrenaline icing up her spine. At the same time, she makes her first offensive move, finesse inverting to speed. Breaking rhythm with the footsteps behind her, Vi darts to the right. There are a cluster of neon signboards below an old-fashioned alcove in the alleyway, half-enveloped in darkness. Eye-blink fast, Vi vaults the farthest one, and climbs the gritty walls, using the crevasse of pipes as footholds.

There, she crouches in darkness, balanced on a dusty overhang. An aluminum vent bellows on her left, its outline a hellish orange. A heat exchange whooshes to her right, sucking air into the brickwork building. The sounds, like the wings of monstrous metal birds, muffle the crinkling from Vi's shopping tote.

From inside, she fishes out a pair of pantyhose, in black nylon. Into each toe, she slips two identical souvenirs, heavy-duty metal and shaped like oversized dice, then ties the material above the ankles, so their weight clacks solidly together. Then she takes another sip of her soda.

Below, her first pursuer passes the jumble of signboards. Vi listens to his footsteps, clattering in the dark, then fading as he crosses Vi's hiding spot. Taking a steadying breath, Vi gives the man five seconds to realize that he's lost his target. At the opposite end of the alleyway, the other goon—now face-to-face with his counterpart—will come to the same conclusion.

Their surprise offers Vi a critical window.

Now.

Vi drops like a shadow. The moment her boots touch the cobblestones, she charges.

Her periphery blurs into blackness. There is only her unstoppable momentum and the whistling wind and the red-lit halo of the alley's mouth where the two heavyset goons stand below a neon wire artwork—a pair of red boxing-gloves—in featureless silhouettes.

They turn towards Vi as one. The first goon's mouth drops on a ragged, "Oh fu—" while the second, with better reflexes, lifts his right arm up and out. A snub-nosed chem-taser glints in his fist. He flicks the switch.

A whorl of purplish energy punches through the air, streaking towards Vi.

Vi dodges left, feeling the blast buzzsaw millimeters from her ear. It slams into the wall behind her, shards exploding in all directions. Vi doesn't falter or slow, but leaps forward in the same path of movement.

Before the goon can fire off another shot, Vi lashes out with the weighted ends of the pantyhose. They collide with the side of the man's jaw, a satisfying crunch. The goon staggers back in shock, his eyes losing focus, and his lapse buys Vi enough time to whirl in the same movement, kicking out at the second goon's knee. The man howls and lurches forward, his head at an angle for Vi to spit a mouthful of tepid cherry soda right into his eyes.

With a cry of pained disgust, the goon lifts a hand to swipe at his face. Vi's own hand is faster. Her fist slams against the man's nose, and tendrils of blood pop off her knuckles. The K.O. is instantaneous. The man jerks like a marionette, eyes rolling back, then drops as if his strings were cut off.

Blam.

A second walloping of energy nearly catches Vi's left shoulder with enough force to shove her sideways. She feels the fabric of her shirt singe, feels a streak of blood spread hot and slick against her skin. She rolls, drops down sideways, her stance low and narrow.

The first goon has recovered from the blow with the dice. Now he braces his chem-taser like a beretta fired straight from the hip. The energy blast shoots out with a strobelike flash. Vi evades, and a hole punches through the wall behind her, plaster flying to reveal corroded metal undergirding.

The goon torques his torso to fire off a third shot. By then, Vi has already struck, lightning-fast and going for broke, her grappling wire whipping out to wrap itself around her opponent's upraised arm. She yanks, and he stumbles face-first.

Right into her slamming kneecap.

The impact drives itself so deep into the man's face that it nearly inverts itself inside-out. In the next breath, his head caroms off her knee and he stumbles backward. His expression is dazed, as if he has utterly no frame of reference for the magnitude of pain he is experiencing.

Tough shit.

Vi hits him with a rapid-fire one-two. The man drops to the pavement with a boneless thud. Out cold. Meanwhile, his partner twitches to life. Vi steps over the first body and goes to him. He is stirring feebly, his shallow breaths intermixed with retching sounds. When Vi approaches, he tries to crawl away. Vi plants a foot between his shoulderblades and slams him back to the ground.

Time is short. In the next five minutes, the recon duo will notice their teammates' radio silence. Alarms will be raised, and back-up deployed.

Vi needs to complete her interrogation in that time-frame.

Five minutes in total.

With a quick efficiency, Vi pats the man down for hidden weapons or wires or wallets—something she'd never have considered before the Academy. He's unarmed. But from the pocket of his trousers, she retrieves the wallet. She flips it open. No ID, but a business card. Kieran Marshall, a captain of Zaun's blackguards.

Beneath Vi, the man croaks, "Wait—you—you—"

Vi comes down hard on top of him, knees pinned to his hips. Snatching up a fistful of damp hair, she yanks the man's head up and back, throat bared to the enfolding vise of her elbow.

"Any special reason you guys were following me?" she asks.

The man makes a wheezing sound, working his jaw back and forth. Vi's attack probably dislocated it. Still, it's hardly an excuse to turn shy. He is just stalling for time.

Keeping arm around his throat, Vi makes a wedge of three fingers in her other hand, jabbing them hard into the man's side. There is a burbling noise like someone flailing in the deep-end of the pool. The blackguard spasms, then forces himself to still.

"All right," he pants, "All right. We—we work for the head of War and Treasury—"

"Who?"

"Sevika," he groans.

Vi cocks her head.

Sevika? In charge of war and treasury?

Shit—Silco really is turning nepotism into an art form. What's next? Will that tatted-up henchman from Stillwater be Minister of Education? This entire business—Zaun—is as rotten as Silco, and the stink will seep into every square inch of her home unless she can stop him.

Conversationally, Vi says, "You still haven't explained why you're following me?"

"We're s'posed—to keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

"I d-don't know. My orders were to—"

Vi slams the blackguard's chin to the cobblestones, his teeth colliding with a brittle crack. The man yowls and struggles, but with his arms pinned, he's like a fish flopping furiously towards the water's surface.

"You got three minutes left," Vi says. "Make 'em count."

"Okay, okay." A rivulet of blood pools the corner of the blackguard's mouth. "We're here on Sevika's orders. To keep you busy. Keep you away from Jinx."

"Jinx." The name sours in Vi's mouth. "You mean Powder."

"Whichever. Look, I'm just—"

"Shut up." She digs her knee pointedly into his kidney. "Listen."

He obliges.

"You're gonna tell me where Silco's keeping my sister. You're gonna tell me fast."

The blackguard works his jaw. Either testing the damage, or anticipating worse.

Finally, he nods.

"She's at Bridgewaltz. The Lodging Project. Top floor."

"What? The Last Drop didn't cut it anymore?"

The blackguard gives Vi a blank, blindish look. "Well—yeah. It blew up."

Vi absorbs this in shocked silence. An unpronounceable feeling bubbles in her chest. No. Please no. Bad enough Silco had stolen their home like he'd stolen her sister. Yet Vi had still counted on the Drop being there, as if it was part of some potential future that she didn't halfway believe in anymore, but clearly hadn't rejected either.

Now that's gone.

Like Vander. Like Benzo. Like Ekko.

Fuck.

Must Silco destroy everything he touches? He's like a wasting illness. Just when you believe you're in the clear, the next bout hits you, worse than before, a paroxysmal sucker-punch right to the guts.

Worse, it spreads to everyone in your life.

Vi stares down at the blackguard, weighing her options. She needs to knock him out. Then she needs to haul ass to Bridgewaltz. Reinforcements will arrive soon. Then it's only a matter of time before they realize Vi's up to no good. To assume otherwise would be stupid.

Powder. The name is a pulsebeat in the aching debris of Vi's heart. I need to get to her.

To the blackguard, Vi says, "Tell Silco I said Hey."

His eyes bulge. "Wait—don't—"

Matter-of-factly, Vi squeezes her elbow around his throat. The man's liquid gurgles fill the alleyway. Once she feels the barest thrum of pulse, Vi lets his unconscious body fall.

Dusting off her hands, she rises. Scattershot plans gather at the edges of her mind. Bridgewaltz. She needs to get there before the inevitable secondary attack. She needs to cover her tracks so the reinforcements can't trace her. She needs to reach Powder, and convince her to escape. She needs to—

A little voice, the same pitch as Vander's, pops into her mind:

Steady, girl.

One thing at a time.

Vi turns and starts walking. The further she gets, the faster the adrenaline leaks out of her body. Suddenly, she feels the heaviness of moisture in her jacket. A rivulet of sweat runs down her spine. She takes a moment to drag in a breath and wipe her face. Then she presses her fingertips to her temples, to clear them of the high-pitched buzz.

The same sensation she grew up with in the Undercity—breaking bones and winning brawls and yet so fucking scared of losing herself.

The sensation she never wants to feel again.

(Soon, we won't have to.)

(Neither of us will, Powder.)

(I promise.)

Nightfall.

The rainfall has slowed. There is barely a smattering of isolated water-drops, the neon striking off them. The street-lit world is no longer dominated by brilliant marketplaces, or the background clamor of hundreds of people eddying in and out.

The Entresol block is quietly lantern-shaded, with a maze of high-arched rowhouses and cobbled streets that are reminiscent of Piltover's upscale neighborhoods—except they are stained black with decades of soot. At the corner glow a modest collection of shops, their signboards flashing in the gloom. A chop-house serving sump-vole flanks with river herbs. A tavern exuding gin fumes and piano skirls. A respectable-looking dry-goods store, the kind of place where you can buy loose cigarettes with a carton of milk. In the periphery is a rusted playground, where children are playing keep-away beneath the sprawling branches of a neon-wire tree that throws a surreally blue glow over the space.

It's cleaner than Vi remembers. But why wouldn't it be? This is the milieu of Silco's headquarters. All of Zaun's big-wigs have probably congregated here. They like things to be nice for themselves. But in the lower reaches, there are likely still shabbier neighborhoods and poorer Fissurefolk, grubbing for scraps.

Silco can pretty up the façade to his heart's content.

Inside, it's as hollow as he is.

Vi keeps to the shadows. At intervals, she carries out countersurveillance moves. In semi-private spots, she checks in with Caitlyn for a visual via the Hex-drone—and for a morale booster. She can hear the stress-notes in Caitlyn's voice the deeper Vi travels into Zaun. But her steadiness never wavers. Talking to her always steadies Vi in turn.

It had scared Vi at first; tried to make her keep Caitlyn at an arm's length. It didn't last long. The first time she'd kissed Vi, something unfurled with the slide of Cait's lips against her own: soft, sweet, breathless. It was like the first time Vi had seen sunlight at the blue skies of the Boundary, its glow limning Piltover's cityscape.

A dizzying sensation of flight.

Sex would've made their dynamic easy to nail down. Or not nail down. Even as a teenager, Vi was used to wielding the physical stuff as a shorthand for no strings attached. But with Caitlyn, it was more than that. They both knew it. Sometimes, tangled together in the cool cotton of bedsheets, Vi joked that Caitlyn must've reincarnated from a past life as a turd-polisher. Caitlyn would shush her with good-natured impatience.

From the start, she'd say, kiss-shaped against Vi's shoulderblade, There was something about you.

Oh yeah?

Your eyes. A softening sigh. They didn't match the rest of you. There was this… hurt in them. It was like a puzzle that didn't fit.

You like puzzles, huh?

I like you.

Just a little?

Yes. A thumb tracing the ridge of Vi's knuckles. Or a lot.

The memory makes Vi smile.

She needs it. She's too keyed up. She needs something positive to focus on. As the hours wax, she wonders if this is a rescue mission—or a suicide run. She remembers the carnage at the Bridge. She remembers her sister's crazed laughter. She remembers Ekko's warning: All that's left is Jinx and she belongs to Silco.

What if Powder is upset to see her? What if she lashes out? What if Vi can't convince her to come back?

Vi grits her teeth. She realizes that something about being in the Undercity, its gloom and grit, is draining away the hopefulness she'd felt in Piltover. It's making her feel like her old self, the teenager who'd lost everything. She'd thought that girl was gone, and lived on only as a lesson, a warning to do better.

She'd been wrong. That girl is still there.

But if she is, then maybe Powder is too?

Vi can still reach her.

Silco's headquarters loom in a glittering twist above the cityscape. A skyscraper shaped like a helixing braid of burnished metal. The chrome surface is new; there is no tarnishing of soot. At its zenith, a glowing green triangle, like a shark's fin, slices through the clouds. The effect is both surreal and unnerving. The building might as well be its own insignia, like the tacky Eye of Zaun.

A message to the masses: If you cross me, I will cut you.

The headquarters are fringed by a neighborhood of low-slung architecture. Vi scans them, first with a sumpsnipe's eyes, then with a Peacekeeper's. One of the primary attractions of this spot for Silco’s security team must be the multiple points of egress: through the main roads, through the side-streets, through the alleys. The second is that the narrowness of the district obstructs any attempts at large-scale ambush. Third, there is a refreshing absence of the electrical wires otherwise tangled across the Undercity's rooftops, thus curbing any acrobatic hijinks.

Vi's heart sinks a little. She'd hoped Powder would be somewhere out in the open. Except Silco wouldn't let his prized prisoner loose. Not as Zaun's First Chancellor. He'd keep her close—and closely hidden.

But nobody is unreachable.

Vi squeezes through an arterial-thin alleyway—a ginnel, Vander used to call them—between two buildings. Her senses stay tuned to sounds. It is harder than it seems. The airwaves of the Undercity are different from Piltover. In the latter, residential districts are so hushed you can hear the leaves dropping from the trees. Here, there is an ambient tide of generators and music and motorcars, rolling in and out in waves.

Vi had grown up memorizing this soundtrack. Once, she'd barely paid it mind. Now, every little noise makes her jumpy.

Easy.

You can do this.

Vi takes a deep breath. Fixes on the building that is tallest and closest to the skyscraper. Then she catches hold of its piping, and climbs. It's a slow ascent. Blackguards are roaming the streets. She'd glimpsed their shadows as she'd woven in between the buildings. She'd heard their footsteps, so sickeningly similar to the marching boots of Enforcers from her childhood. Like an army of darkness, they flooded the area, so nothing felt safe.

Nothing was safe. Not in Silco's nation.

(I won’t lose you to him, Powder.)

By degrees, Vi hauls herself up and across the roof's edge. She crouches low, chest heaving. The humidity is suffocating. Her body is lathered in sweat. She hasn't realized how accustomed she's grown to the pleasant climes aboveground. Her past had toughened her to a different world; oppressive and violent and dark. A ration on food. No hot water. Threadbare sheets and summer blackouts. She'd never forgotten it. Certainly not in Stillwater—which was barely a cut above, and in some ways, a cut below.

Now she realizes staying in Piltover has unfitted her from her old life. Her real life?

She'd expected everything to click seamlessly back into place. Instead, it takes effort. Like a conversation with someone you no longer have much in common with.

Focus.

The discomfort doesn't matter. Her insecurity doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but Powder.

Vi slinks toward a good vantagepoint. A sniper's aerie, but that's Caitlyn's expertise. Vi isn't here to shoot anyone. She just needs the elevation, so she has a perfect line-of-sight to Silco's headquarters.

And the top floor.

The blackguard said it's where Powder was kept. But Vi isn't going to take his word for it. She needs to check. Her location is ideal: near-total darkness, with just a little secondhand radiance from the shops below. The air is perfectly still. She wipes her face with a shirtsleeve, then fetches a narrow tube from her jacket.

A monocular telescope.

Vi kneels, perfectly balanced, elbow braced on one thigh. She aligns her eye to the scope, and sights along the cityscape. It takes a moment to zoom in on the skyscraper's top floor. Its triangular peak is distinctive. The eye-popping green. Vi flicks the switch to magnify the lens. For a moment her vision is studded in pixelated dots. Then the images sharpen. The headquarters' top floor is an atrium, she realizes. More than that. A penthouse suite. She can see the intricate scrollwork of stone masonry. She can see tall casement windows covered in heavy swagged billows. She can see the elegant curling banister of a balcony.

Vi's pulse skips.

Was the blackguard telling the truth? Is Powder there? In the highest tower?

She flicks the magnification switch again. Her view enlarges. The balcony has a smooth-tiled patio set into it. Fancy. The kind of thing she'd see in a Councilor’s digs. There is an oblong-shaped pool, its underwater lights casting a dreamy undulation of blues. The water looks so pure. A glittering temptation in the nighttime boil.

Vi sees someone there.

A girl.

Vi's pulse doesn't skip. It stutters wildly. Her breath rasps through her nostrils.

In her ear, Caitlyn's voice crackles: "Vi—what's happening?"

Vi can't answer.

Powder is there.

Right there, miles away and yet up-close. She is perched on the diving board, legs dangling playfully. Her small body is clad in a black two-piece swimsuit. The lens is so sharp that Vi can see each detail. The underwater ambience throwing eerie ripples across the tattoos on Powder's arm and torso and thigh. Her skin glowing-white and gleaming-wet. The insanely long blue braids undone and dripping around her face.

Oh, Vi thinks.

A tsunami of love and grief and pride engulfs her. She forgets her surroundings. She forgets the last time she and Powder squared off on the Bridge. She forgets the brutality and bloodshed. She forgets Jinx, and Silco's tainted darkness oozing from her pores.

She just sees Powder.

Gods, she looks so grown up. Seventeen now, right? Same age Vi was when she'd gotten sent to Stillwater. Except Powder has none of Vi's scruffiness. In the fall of her loose hair, her graceful profile, Vi sees their Mom. She is the replica of her, but daintier. It's crazy. Her smart, funny, amazing little sister, who has grown up in six short months into such a—

In her ear, Caitlyn says, "Vi?"

She jerks back to the moment. "I'm here."

"What's happening?"

"I—I've got a visual. On the headquarters. Top floor." She swallows dryly. "Cait—she's there."

"She?"

"Powder. She's right there. Now I just need to—"

"Vi. Hold on." Caitlyn's voice is rigid with strain. "You have a clear view?"

"Right into Silco's bougie-ass balcony."

There is a beat. Then Caitlyn says, "I'm circling the drone across your location. Don't move."

Her stressed-out tone cuts through Vi's euphoric fog. "What's wrong?"

"Stay put." She hears Caitlyn's forcible calm. "I need to check for sentinels nearby."

"Caitlyn—"

"You shouldn't have an unobstructed view into Silco's balcony. Not unless your location is also a guardpost for his network."

Despite the heat, a chill crawls across Vi's scalp. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying it's too easy. Practically an open invitation to snipe your sister."

"Maybe I got lucky?"

It's a joke, and a poor one. It's also a stalling tactic. Vi knows she should hightail it. Except her eye is still glued to the telescope. She can't help it.

Powder is there.

Right fucking there.

As Vi watches, she slithers off the diving board and into the water with barely a ripple. Cuts across the pool in smooth strokes, then climbs out, dripping wet. She shakes herself like a cat coming out from the downpour, her hair shimmying around her body. Vi recognizes the motion from their childhood, when she'd haul Powder out of the old metal wash-tub as a kid, then bundle her into a towel.

Someone is waiting with a towel.

Vi's equilibrium crashes like a freight train. Shock—then rage.

Silco.

The shuttered balcony doors have swung open. He stalks out. Fully-dressed, in a three-piece suit, a towel slung over his arm. He moves in the same prowl Vi remembers: loose-limbed and languid. Predatory. The nightmare shape she'd seen from the casement window at Benzo's, coalescing out of green fog to wreck her world. Take Vander away.

Take everything away.

Powder doesn't shy from him. She walks over to him. Not just a walk—a—a fucking sashay. Like a showgirl across a stage. Like the girls at Babette's beneath the blacklights. Vi remembers one girl saying that the trick was to pick a spot above the crowd's heads and focus there—so they wouldn't have to look at all that sick crawling greed oozing everywhere.

The same greed in Silco's eyes.

Vi's mind spins. She watches as Powder takes Silo's hand. She lifts it high over her head and turns a playful pirouette, like a ballerina in the music box from Caitlyn's dressing table. She radiates the innocence of a little girl. Except nothing about her and Silco together seems innocent. Not the way he drapes the towel around her shoulders and pulls it closed over her near nakedness. Not the way he takes her wrist and tugs her back indoors. Not the way she clings to his side, rubbing her cheek against his arm.

Nausea bubbles in Vi's gut.

Sevika had called Jinx Silco's daughter. Yet as far back as Stillwater, pounding Silco's goons into mincemeat, Vi remembers rumors. The kingpin and his loose cannon. The girl he'd taken off the streets. Someone he'd groomed into an asset in more ways than one. Someone who rested her bones in Silco's lap, and broke bones at his command.

They'd called her Jinx.

Big deal, Vi had thought. Just another of Silco's mad dogs.

She'd never fathomed who the girl would be.

Powder.

Fuck—there is no way. Powder wouldn't let that monster touch her. Not that way. It is obscene to imagine it, when he's already brutalized her into becoming Jinx.

Brutalized them all. Their family. Their home.

Suddenly, Vi wishes the telescope was a sniper's scope. Wishes she could put a bullet right between Silco's freakish eyes. Wishes she'd brought her Hex-gauntlets, so she could smash through his headquarters and pulverize him into a smear on the balcony.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"—Vi!"

She snaps back to reality. "Wha—?"

"Vi—something's wrong!"

"What is it? Is there someone nearby?"

"Blackguards."

"Where? Above me, or below?"

"No—they're here. Where I am. At the Boundary."

Adrenaline cranks up Vi's body like a furnace. "That's—that's impossible. That's Piltover's territory."

"They're with Enforcers. They're all heading my way. Shit. Vi—get out of there!"

"Caitlyn—"

"We've been made! Silco knows you're there!"

"I—"

"Run."

It sounds like Caitlyn says something else. But the words are strangled off into static. The connection cuts off.

Vi stays frozen. Staring into the scope, into her sister's sweet smiling face.

Then Silco shuts the balcony door.

The effect is like being clubbed with a two-by-four. Suddenly she is hyperventilating. Something splits down her center: terror for Caitlyn, terror for Powder. Worse is the sickening déjà vu. Her memory rewinds so she's back at the old cannery, eye-to-eye with Vander. She still remembers the way his body, strapped in the chair, went completely still, his face ashen where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Oh Gods. You have to get out. Now."

Spots dance in front of Vi's eyes. She'd done it again. She'd been reckless, an idiot; she should have planned all the way through. Now Caitlyn is in danger, and Vi needs to get to her, get moving, before—

Something glitters on Vi's wrist. Something alive. A firelight? No, it is too big for that. A dragonfly, or something resembling a dragonfly. How long has been clinging to her? Vi squints in the half-dark. Then she gasps. The creature's shimmering thorax with its shroud of translucent wings is all copperplate and gears. A machine. Something Powder would design.

No—not Powder.

Jinx.

Vi jerks her wrist. The creature skitters off. She braces herself for an explosion. Instead, the contraption's wings flicker. In an eyeblink, it vanishes. Maybe it's jumped off the roof. Or flown off into the muggy atmosphere. Whatever: it's gone.

Vi needs to get gone too.

She stashes the telescope away. Keeping low, she creeps along the ledge, and over it. The climb up the building hadn't felt long. She was so juiced on adrenaline. Now, the adrenaline is replaced by a clammy dread. The Undercity throbs around her, no longer a familiar presence but a sinister one. In the variegated neon glow, the streets seem alien: the air itself seems to whisper about the interloper in their midst.

Vi's boots hit the concrete. The alleyway is empty. She hears no footsteps of prowling blackguards. It's thirty minutes from Entresol to the Boundary.

If she redlines on the last of her endurance, she can—

A rustle in the background.

Vi turns, and comes face-to-face with Sevika. Her muscled shape is folded into a form-fitting black suit, jacket wide open, pimping d-cups and a hardbelly in a tight maroon crop top. She radiates a tough sleekness, hair cut short and shiny, lips licked a nasty shade of red that matches the sharp twist of her smile.

Seeing her, Vi glowers her old defiance before falling perfectly still.

Fanned around Sevika in a semi-circle are six blackguards, their tac-suits contoured by the stark red neon of the streetside signs. Their guns are out and ready.

Aimed right at Vi.

"Officer," Sevika greets.

Then she punches Vi.

It is a brutal overhand fired straight from her hip. It connects with Vi's solar plexus, sending her sailing back several feet. She hits the alleyside wall and slumps in a heap. Pain rebounds through her ribcage. Sevika had used the mechanical arm. The kickback is like taking a shot from an elephant gun.

Sevika struts closer. Her steel-toed boot prods Vi's shoulder. Reflecting the red neon lights, her eyes seem to be the color of blood.

"Get your ass up," she says. "Silco wants a word."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #arcane netflix #arcane silco #arcane sevika #arcane jinx #arcane vi #arcane caitlyn #silco #sevika #jinx #caitlyn #vi #caitvi #vi x caitlyn #fanfic #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo

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aidtale-of · 10 months

Text

Aidtale: Origins-Chapter 3

The same morning begins down in the Underground. Papyrus knocks on Sans’s door, calling to him.

“Sans? Sans, are you awake?”

No answer. Papyrus knocks until he’s sure Sans has woken.

“Sans!”

“What?” Sans grumbles, rolling over in bed, glancing at his clock and noting that it’s only 6 am.

“Sans, you have to get ready right now.”

“Why? It’s barely morning.”

“Because we have to be the first ones there. I heard from tv that some humans are nocturnal, so one probably fell at night. Plus, I’ve got some new puzzles I want to try out!”

Sans sits up in bed. “Alright, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Great!”

Footsteps recede from Sans’s door, followed by a door closing. Sans goes to head downstairs. He holds his foot out over the first stair, then teleports into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of ketchup from his side, ignoring the sense of deja vu. He goes to sit on his couch, taking a moment to feed his pet rock. Still tired, Sans settles further into the couch. Papyrus comes out of his room to see Sans already napping on the couch. He stands over him in a huff.

“Sans! You lazybones! Are you sleeping again?”

“Nah, just resting my eyes.”

Papyrus picks up Sans and places him on his feet. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one again. Have you eaten?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

They leave their home. As Sans goes to lock the door, Papyrus pats his non-existent pockets.

“Oops! I forgot something!” Papyrus runs back into the house, leaving Sans outside to wait. He comes back out with a box of bones. “Ok, now we can go.”

They walk through Snowdin, saying hi to everyone as they go. They walk all the way through Snowdin forest to Sans’s station.

“Alrighty Sans, don’t forget to recalibrate your puzzles. We don’t need anything failing if the human arrives.”

“I’ll get right to it.”

Papyrus, satisfied, walks away with his box of bones. Once he’s far enough away, Sans sits at his post, pulling a hot dog from underneath. As he eats, he gets a notification on his phone. He looks, and sees that it’s a text from Alphys.

“Hey Sans, I need you to look at this.”

She then sends a photo accompanied by some text.

“I was checking on some things regarding our research, and all of this just appeared out of nowhere.”

The picture is one of her computer screen. There are diverting lines going all over the place.

“u already sent me this” Sans texts back.

“W-what? What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve seen this. There’s no way that i’ve sent this before. Though, now that you mention it, it does seem familiar.”

“ah, its probably just deja vu or smth. why do they stop like that though?”

“Uh, well, my theory is that there’s something powerful enough to simply stop time and restart everything.”

“kinda like flowey was doing?”

“. . . .Yes? But this looks wayyy different.” She sends a video accompanied by text. “Watch.”

The video shows Alphys scrolling through the timelines. Sans watches as the timelines start to lose variation, turning from varying lengths to the same, consistent, cut-off line, then disappearing entirely, leaving a number where a timeline should’ve gone. The count stops at 570, with the 570th one showing as in progress.

Huh, that’s weird. Sans rewatches the video in curiosity.

“where are the other ones?”

“Idk. Like I said, i’ve never seen this before.”

“hmm. maybe you accidentally deleted it”

“Maybe… I’ll check. What are you up to rn?”

“working”

“:( ok good luck.”

Sans puts his phone away and leans back in his chair. He closes his eyes to sleep, then dodges a pellet thrown at him from Flowey. He opens an eye.

“Y’know, if you wanna kill me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, just seeing if you were awake.”

“Why? Are you looking for Papyrus? Cause, uh, he isn’t here.”

“I don’t need him. I was looking for you because…” He grumbles.

“..why? Because it looks like you’re about to say something you might regret.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Depends.”

“...I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need your help.”

Sans is taken aback. “Uh..is this some kind of joke? Cause it ain’t particularly funny.”

“Trust me, you were the last person I’d ever even want to talk to,” he sighs, “But, unfortunately, you’re the one with both the knowledge and strength I need.”

“What for?”

…

“In about an hour or so, a human’s going to fall into the Underground-”

“Cool, thanks for the heads up.”

“No! Not cool! They’re going to kill everyone. And I mean everyone! And the only way we can stop them is if someone takes their soul for good.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” Sans pulls his hood over his head. Flowey looks at him, displeased.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Well, I could, but even if I did,” he peeks from under his hood, “why would I help you?”

“You don’t want to see everyone die, do you? This does include you and Papyrus, y’know.”

“..Funny. I coulda sworn that that’s happened before. Though, that wasn’t because of a human, now was it?”

Flowey’s face scrunches, seething. “I thought your job was to help people.”

“My job is to watch for humans, not help weeds I don’t trust.”

…

“Fine. Don’t believe me.” Flowey scorns, his voice full of venom. “But when everyone you know and love starts to die and you wonder what you could’ve done, I hope you think about this moment and cry.” Flowey burrows into the snow, disappearing from view. Sans scoffs and pulls his hood further down. “By the way,” Flowey calls out from farther away, “at the very least, go see Papyrus before packing your things.” Flowey leaves again. Sans is left alone, so he goes to sleep.

Sans wakes up later to the sound of the door to the ruins closing. He takes a look, but can’t make out the person that just walked out, so he teleports closer. Taking a closer look, he sees it’s a human, just like Flowey said. Sans gives the same introduction and they go through the same old routine, telling the human to keep pretending to be one, then teleporting away. The day goes about as well as one could expect with trying to get a murderous child to participate in puzzles and japes. Soon, Sans finds himself in Snowdin Town, once again helping the monsters evacuate. He goes to his home and is about to pack his and Papyrus’s things, but pauses for a moment, thinking about what Flowey said earlier. Sans backs slowly from the front door and instead heads for where Papyrus was going to fight the human. Fog clouds the area. Sans can barely make out the shape of something disintegrating into the snow. He walks closer, the fog disappearing. The human walks away into Waterfall, stepping in Papyrus’s dust as they go. Sans’s mind runs a million miles a minute. How could this happen so quickly? How strong is this kid? This thing?...Why does this feel so familiar?

His phone starts to ring. Sans stares at his pocket for a moment, letting the phone ring, before he picks it up. Alphys is on the other end, yelling.

“Sans? Sans, help! I-I can’t find them! I can’t find the human!”

“They just entered Waterfall. Look near the entrance,” Sans tells her, his voice monotone.

“R-really?! Oh my gosh, they’re moving so fast! W-what about you and Papyrus? Are you two..Have you made it out?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Where are you? Where’s Papyrus?”

“. . .”

“..Sans?”

“..He’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh god. I..I’m so sorry..”

Sans shakes his head, “It’s fine. We should focus on evacuations.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Get here as soon as possible.”

“I will. See ya.” Sans hangs up, staring at the pile of dust.

“Bet you believe me now.” Flowey’s voice pipes up from behind. Sans slowly puts his phone away.

“Yeah. Sure. I believe you.” Bones rise out of the ground around Flowey and lift him into the air, taking the dirt along with him. Sans turns to face him. “So tell me, if you knew what was going on, why are you helping them?”

“Ha..helping them? What do you mean?” Flowey’s voice tremors a little.

“Don’t play dumb. Papyrus…all of his puzzles and traps are covered in vines, and last I checked, the kid’s not made of plants.”

Flowey shifts around, uncomfortable. “I was making things go faster. This timeline’s already screwed, and you weren’t going to help, so might as well let the human reset and try again.”

“Reset, huh?”

Flowey nods. “That human..they have..way more determination than I could ever hope for. That’s how they’re able to come back every time and kill everyone. If I remember correctly, they’ve reset about 570 times already.” Sans thinks for a second, then pulls out his phone as Flowey continues. “And the worst part is that no one else remembers. No one can remember. All of you just spout off the same stupid lines about ‘deja vu’ and…what are you doing?”

“Just checkin’ something.” He turns back to Flowey. “Ok, so, question. If you knew all of this was happening, why didn’t you try getting help before..oh, I don’t know, 100 runs? Or even 10?”

Flowey pauses for a moment in reminiscence. “I..thought they were…,” he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to stop it now, isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe.”

Sans looks back at his phone. The video Alphys sent earlier with the timeline list finishes playing, stopping at 570.

Flowey tries to look Sans in the eyes. “So? Are you helping or what?”

“Heh,” Sans puts his phone away, “sure. I’ll try to help… in the next run.” He starts to walk away.

“What? Why the next run?”

“Well, it’s like you said. This timeline’s screwed, so why bother?”

“You’ll forget everything in the reset though.”

Sans thinks for a moment, then smiles wider. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Luckily, I have a solution for this. A passcode. One that only I know. I usually save it, just in case I come across a time traveler. So, next time, just pop by my window or something, tell me the code, then fill me in on everything, capiche?”

“Ok, what’s the code?”

Sans gets closer, gesturing for Flowey to do the same. He whispers the code to him. Flowey reels back.

“I’M NOT SAYING THAT! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“Well, that’s the code I have.”

“You gotta have something else.”

“Can’t. If I change it now, you’ll use the wrong code and I won’t know.”

Flowey grumbles, “You jerk, fine!”

“Cool.”

Sans recalls the bones, sending the chunk of dirt crashing back into the ground. He begins to walk off when Flowey calls out after him.

“That’s what they’re looking for, by the way.”

Sans takes a look back. Flowey continues.

“A change. That’s what the human’s looking for. So try to act normal.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Flowey disappears into the dirt. Sans stares for a bit, then teleports into Alphys’s lab.

“‘Sup Al.”

“AH!” Alphys flinches at Sans’s sudden appearance. She readjusts her glasses. “Sans! I-I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t either, whatcha up to?”

“I, uh..I came up with a plan.”

“K. What is it?”

“Uh, well, I-I called..well, I didn’t call her, Mettaton did, b-but we called Undyne a-and told her what’s going on. So she’s going to help evacuate Waterfall and maybe, hopefully stop the human. And if..if she…if she can’t..then..uh..” Alphys readjusts her glasses, “S-sorry.”

“It’s alright. What happens if she can’t?”

“..If she can’t, then I’m supposed to call Asgore and t-tell him to absorb the human souls so m-maybe he can defeat them.”

“Ok. Where will the escaped monsters go?”

“Well, we could take them to less populated areas, or harder to access places. I-if we really need to, we could take them to places that have already been affected, considering that it’s unlikely the human would look there again.”

“Ok. Are we going to help?”

“I need to put out the notice to the other areas, and after that I’m going to help with Hotland.”

“Alright. I’ll go move some monsters in Waterfall.”

With that, Sans teleports into Waterfall. The day goes just as last time, and soon, Sans finds himself back to dying in the judgment hall, telling the human where he’s going and asking if Papyrus wants anything before dissolving into dust.

Next---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723938110179803136/aidtale-origins-chapter-4?source=share

Previous---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723937991398162432/aidtale-origins-chapter-2?source=share

#ask aidtale #undertale au #undertale #writing #chrono

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inkedmyths · 1 year

Text

S1: E19 "Provenance"

Brought to you by Splatoon, and also I have school again so I forgot to post this last night

This ep featuring: Rich people, art history, dolls are creepy, and Sam lacking any kind of smoothness

Is the painting haunted

Yep called it

Uh oh lady is going to die

SQUISH

OOH they dead

Dean No

"I can get my own dates"

"You can but you don't"

DEAN. PRODUCER? DUMBASS

Whsgsgsgsgs honk honk wakey wakey

Yeah its the stuff

Is. Is it being auctioned

Dean. You're an idiot

Sam you're also an idiot

HAUNTED PAINTINGGG

DHSHS DEAN LOOKS SO OFFENDED THAT SHES MORE INTO SAM THEN HIM

Lmao they aren't on the guest liiist

Wh. What the fuck is this room. What is this music

Unison "Huh"

Oh thats what a provenance is huh

Sam sounding offended at using a "pickup" for info and Dean's just like yeaaaa all in a day's work now go get flirty

Ah yes dead mom. Classic

Climbing the gate we go! Going to try and steal and burn a painting! We're not even halfway done, are they going to get arrested or something before they get it

Or is it going to jump to a new host painting or something

Breaking and entering!

Im so nervous. Half expecting the police to jump in at any moment

Oh? oh OH IT JUST REFORMED

DEAN YOU IDIOT YOU DROPPED YOUR WALLET? HOW

Sam you are so bad at this. Sam. Sam no

Ooh ok so this Isiah? Isaiah? Killed his family. Ok

Uh Oh Someone Is Buying It

Dean REALLY does just think Sam needs to get laid to cool off

[ Melon says knowing Dean, it might be based on personal experience. ]

Sam having sad about his fridged girlfriend moments

Love the 2005 phones

GOD. SAM HES SOOO NOT SMOOTH

Oh no this poor old lady

HES MOVING

Uh oh Sarah followed theeeem

Jesus Christ

Yeah here's the part where they sound crazy

IM SORRY HELP IM GOING TO LOSE IT

THE WAY THAT HE SAYS "We think that painting is haunted". Like the way a parent tells their kid we think Sadie ran away because someone left the door unlocked. Like the "I'm so sorry sweetheart, do you nedd a hug" voice.

"Sam. Marry that girl" SCREAMING

Crypt? Mausoleum? Is this where the family's remains are?

Go go gadget bolt cutters!

Oh yeah the toys are creepy

Urns!

Ohhh he wasn't cremated

Sam pulling the "People I care about get hurt around me" card

"That's very sweet... and very archaic." Oh I like her shes got spice

I love how shes holding the light while they go grave robbing

SAM IS TRYING TO SCARE HER OFF BY BEING CHEERFULLY CHILL WITH THIS. thats so funny

HOWLING. DEAN. Dean you're so so terrible

HUH?

WAIT? WHY THE CHILD?

IM SO CONFUSED

Wait. Wait wait WAS IT A MURDEROUS CHILD ALL ALONG

Hello evil baby

Hhhrrr that feels too easy still

Aha!! The doll!!!

LMAO DEAN. DRIVES RIGHT THROUGH THE GATE

Shoot the glass shoot the doll

Whats up with the kid like what was the story there

Were both father and child trapped in the painting. Did she kill everyone and he killed her and then himself or something

SCREAMS Dean is sooo salty she doesn't even give him a second glance

Girl I know but you gotta find someone not getting hunted all the time

Dean let your brother do his thing in PEACE

Sam gets a girl, Dean's not as great a wingman as he thinks he is. Altogether a trainwreck, but a funny one, even if it did subject me to a PAINFUL amount of secondhand embarassment.

#on the highway to superhell #their dynamic is rlly funny tbh #dean 'i'll hold all my feelings right here and one day i'll die' winchester #sam 'i am so sad all the time' winchester #and together. they are assholes with a singular braincell

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spellbook-gayboy · 2 years

Note

prompt 58? :D

58.

"Oh yeah, cause that worked out so well last time!" Kate replied sarcastically, head ducking as a chunk of the car they were hiding behind exploded burst of in a violent red. What had started as a simple mission had soon spiralled out of hand when Slaying Mantis had shown up, isolating the two of them and pinning them down behind a destroyed convertible, knocking off large pieces with his suit's blasters. "God, if we die, I am going to kill you!"

"C'mon, kids! No point in hiding behind that wreck now, so just come out and I'll be sure to make it quick." the supervillain called, his tone mocking in its sincerity.

"Go to hell, scumbag!" was the only reply, Kate's voice harsh.

Mantis laughed. "Lord above, kids these days! Oh well, I guess that thing about spilled milk is true after all, then!". He held his hands forward, bright lights growing outwards as he charged his largest blast yet, the thrumming growing louder and louder with each passing moment. Eventually the blast was released, its light almost blinding as it struck its target.

Unluckily for him, however, that target wasn't the car.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." a voice called out through the smoke cloud left behind, deep and very familiar to the supervillain. "I thought you were above killing kids, Sean. Guess I put too much faith in you!" it continued, as the man behind it walked forward. He was clad in olive green, his outfit the perfect mix of tactical and heroic, complimented by the bronze shield on his left arm.

Slaying Mantis took a step back. "That's not possible. You- you died. W-we killed you!"

"Guess I got better. Wonders of modern medicine, huh?" Frontline answered, accompanying the comment with a wry grin. "But now that you're all caught up, I get to enjoy how hard I'm about to hit you." he added, raising a fist up as if to show it off.

To say the supervillain wasn't as confident now would be an understatement. "Oh shit" was the only phrase he managed to get out before the super soldier rocketed forward, fist striking with enough force to completely smash his insectoid helmet while also sending flying back into a nearby wall, slumping down into unconsciousness.

"You kids okay?" Frontline warmly asked the two Guardians, looking behind at them with a much kinder look, almost enough to make you think he hadn't just given someone a concussion. “You seem shaken!”

Kate leaned over, asking her teammate “So, you remember when you told me about that guy they were keeping in the hospital? Is that-?”

“Yep. Yeah, that’s him.” Rex answered, not keen on reliving that memory.

“Wow,” she thought out loud, “you weren’t kidding about the whole ‘wall of muscle’ thing!”

“You guys know I can hear you over there, right?” Frontline interjected, starting to get uncomfortable. “Well, uh... just stay here, okay? I have some ‘old friends’ that I need to have some very strong words with!” he closed, turning and running towards the explosions and fighting down the street.

“Why does he sound like my grandpa?” Kate asked.

“He’s a lot older than your grandpa, Kate.” Rex told her knowingly. “Like, ‘a hundred years old’ older.”

“Huh?”

#talk about making an entrance #invincible #invincible show #invincible amazon #invincible oc #🦅🛡#Kyle Washington #rex splode #rex sloan #dupli kate #kate cha #my asks #sequids #writing prompt friday

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sonic-blue-moon · 1 year

Text

Sonic: Blue Moon - Prologue (Part 3)

It was disturbing for the red echidna to suddenly be just dead and gone like that for Sonic. A friend he had known to be headstrong and resilient as a mountain to be a slumped-over corpse. Sonic knew then he had made a very big mistake, and had got to get him and Tails out as far away as possible. He ran as fast as usual, trying to get to the twin-tailed kit. Hoping to get there before whoever assaulted Knuckles got to him first. A couple of minutes later, he arrived. Seeing rays of sunshine stream down onto Tails, sitting on a crumpled-over Badnik.

Tails were letting his feet dangle over the destroyed robot he was relaxing on, letting his feet swing around casually like he was in no danger at all. Knowing nothing bad at all would happen to him. Sonic was here, after all. He’d defeat whoever would even try to threaten his friends or the world. At least, that is what Tails thought about his big bro and his best friend in the world.

Sonic soon arrived, looking like he had seen a ghost. Stumbling over his words and looking almost panicked. “Tails. Fire up the plane, we need to leave. Now.” Sonic blurted out to Tails, his tone serious and cold.

“Huh? Already?” Tails asked, an expression of massive confusion contouring on his foxlike face “Where’s Knuckles? We aren’t leaving him here, are we?” Sonic flinched at the mention of Knuckles, his eyes flicking up and to the right for a second before meeting Tail’s gaze again.

“He…uh…found an exit. Told me he’d take it and head back to Angel Island again.” Sonic said, lying through his teeth. A part of him felt bad for doing so but also reasoned he couldn’t tell him the truth. Not just yet at least. Tails looked at him, processing what he was told for a moment. Before nodding and smiling, showing his teeth which were pearly white, and his innocent baby-blue eyes looking at Sonic like he was a hero. “Okay, Sonic. Whatever you say. We’ll meet up with Knuckles later, but man…to Angel Island from Station Square?! Man, that kills me to even think about it.”

Again, Sonic flinched a bit upon the mentioning of Knuckles, and the word “kill”. The blue hedgehog laughed nervously at Tail’s reply. “Yep. A total…uh…heh…killing,” he said, his ears pinned back to his head like a guilty puppy.

The duo headed back to the Tornado, Tails getting ready to start the iconic biplane up for takeoff. Sonic got into the passenger seat, hurriedly waiting for his fox friend to finish. After a couple of minutes, he was. The propellers spun up, the aircraft picking up speed to take off from the air base they were in.

Sonic looked back from the passenger seat in the front of the plane, looking alarmed and just shook. Tails noticed this but kept it to himself. Trying to piece together what has gotten his hero and role model so visibly terrified.

A few minutes later, it was seen some Badniks were attacking the town. Which was odd, considering the blue hedgehog knew Robotnik was not in “sending out robots” condition. Something else must have sent them out. But who?

But that line of questioning had to wait, for our bunch of heroes were fending off the robots that were threatening Station Square and residents within its borders.

Amy was leading a bunch of them to the railway. As was Blaze, Silver, Shadow, the Chaotix, and others.

“Station Square is under attack! We gotta go down there.” Tails said, pushing down on the stick to tilt the nose of the plane towards the water. Having it coast just above the surface, firing off a few missiles.

Sonic got ready to jump off, his scrape being shown clear as day to Tails back in the pilot’s seat.

“What the? Sonic, your leg! Are you alright?” Tails asked. “No…” Sonic answered, “But I got to get in there.”

Sonic leaped off the Tornado, spin-dashing into a Badnik. Landing right near Amy. “Heya, Ames! What’s goin’ on?” Sonic asked her.

“Trying to coordinate with the others. Everyone is all over the city, doing different things.” Amy said. “Blaze and Silver are together, as are Rouge and Shadow. The Chaotix and multiple others were there also.”

“I see, backup has arrived,” Sonic said, smiling cockily. Seeing more Badniks surround both him and Amy.

“Hey, Amy. Spinball me!” Sonic said, going to hop into the air and curl into a ball. Amy sent him flying with her hammer into multiple enemies.

Piko!

After several minutes, the attack was over.

Both Amy and Sonic, as well as the rest of the group, were all tired from what transpired.

“That all of them?” Sonic asked Amy, not expecting an answer. Sweat dripped off of his forehead and face. His chest breathes heavily as he tries to wind his body down from what happened.

The group reconvenes and takes a head count. Sonic was there. As well as Amy, Shadow, Silver, Rouge, and Blaze.

“That’s everyone, except for Tails,” Amy said, telling Sonic. “Weird, Tails was flying in the Tornado during the fight. Maybe he ran out of fuel and had to land? His lab is not that far from here?”

“Near those mystic ruins in that jungle? Yeah…but why would he land there?” Amy inquired. “Amy, he has a ton of space in there. Where do you think he keeps the Tornado when it isn’t used?” Sonic pointed out.

The pink hedgehog looked sheepish, her hand going to reach to her quills. She giggles nervously as well before going to respond. “Sorry. Must’ve been too busy today? No matter, let’s go.”

Sonic nods, going to take the lead. He put her on his shoulders and bolted off towards the lab. Minutes later, the pair of hedgehogs were there and looked horrified at what they saw.

It was Tails, broken and bruised. Dangling over the cliff by his tails…which were clutched in the metallic grip of the copycat known as Metal Sonic.

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lemnonbones · 2 years

Text

It Starts Here

Prologue

A Stardew Valley X Farmer Series.

Concept: you’re done with Joja, you’re done with corporate and you’re done being worked to the bone. You finally decide to open the letter that your grandfather left for you all those years ago, finally deciding to do something for yourself for once.

Little note: things in this fic aren't going to go according to how you progress in the game (ex: you get a horse early on and whatnot) and I grew up on a farm, so I'm going to try to clarify what some items are the best I can as I know some people may not know. But I hope you enjoy reading! - LemnonBones

You sigh as you lean back in your office chair, stretching your arms up to the ceiling, trying to find something interesting to look at other than the blank walls of your cubicle. As you stretch you can hear your back pop, ‘work in corporate they said, it’ll pay well they said. Well it doesn’t pay enough for the chiropractor appointments I’m going to need.’ you think to yourself bitterly. You look at the time at the bottom of your computer, 3:30 looks back at you in black bold font. ‘Great, yep, totally a-okay staying here another 3 hours. Yep, uh-huh, no animosity here. Me? Animosity? No never, totally impossible’ you thought sarcastically with a less than amused expression on your face.

In your search for looking for something, anything, interesting to look at, your eyes land on your desk drawer. Ah right, the letter. You had forgotten when you put it in there. I guess you decided to lock it away, for Joja, for a company that saw you as little more than a pawn in their game of corporate scams. After all, you barely open your desk drawers at Joja. So little actually, that some of your coworkers started a theory that they were there just for aesthetics ‘the sad, depressing grey aesthetic maybe’ your growing animosity for the company becoming more than just a little annoyance. Your emotions telling you to reach for the letter, that there ‘has to be something better than Joja, right?’ you deice to listen to your emotions. Maybe they were right this time, maybe there is something better than a corporate scam. Reaching for the letter you retrieve it from the drawer, holding it up just enough for the light of your computer to make the details legible.

You look at the letter with a bittersweet expression. You remember the farmhouse and your grandfather, just barely, but enough to make a solid picture in your mind. You remember building sandcastles along the beach, and your grandfather rolling his eyes as you came into the house covered in wet sand and saltwater. You remember helping your grandfather tend to crops, even if your help was just getting muddy while watering the crops. You remember being fascinated with the neighbor's farm animals, so much so that your grandfather got a small pony for you. As sassy and stubborn as that pony was, you remember the love both you and your grandfather held for her.

You sigh longingly, wishing for that childlike freedom again, instead of sitting in a corporate office slowly wasting away for the likes of Joja. You contemplate, going back and forth between staying at Joja and opening the letter to look at its contents. Before you allow yourself to overthink anymore, you bite your lip and open the letter, hoping for the best. Reading the carefully placed ink that strung itself into words on the old paper, a smile makes its way to your face ‘grandpa always was blunt. Wow, I wonder where I got it from’ you reread the letter, again, and again. Contemplating once more, weighing pros and cons, trying to think about careful decisions. You only get yourself lost deep in thought before you finally think ‘you know what? Fuck it, you only live once. How bad could this possibly go anyways?’

From that moment on, your life would change, what those changes would be and what the future holds is unknown, but you had decided to take all of it head-on.

#stardew valley #sdv farmer #sdv shane #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #stardew fanfic #stardew elliott #stardew farmer #sdv #stardew abigail #stardew #sebastian sdv #x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader

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wastefulreverie · 3 years

Text

don’t forget kudos

The camera pans on a shot of gray carpet for a solid three seconds. There are flakes of silver and green in the carpet, not obvious unless shining in the right light. The camera swivels up to reveal Phantom sitting cross-legged in a dim-lit room. He’s wearing a black hoodie over his usual HAZMAT suit, sleeves pushed up to his elbows so that his white gloves are peeking out underneath. Beside him, a black-haired girl enters the frame for a moment before skirting out of the way of the camera. The video is not in focus enough to make out details about her.

“Hand it here.“ Phantom holds out a hand to the camera. It wobbles a moment, and then Phantom is holding the camera with one hand. “Eyy, what’s up Amity Park! It’s your favorite ghost, Phantom.”

“My favorite ghost is Ember,” calls a male voice somewhere off-screen.

Phantom scoffs. “No one fucking asked. Anyways, I’m here tonight with some of my friends and we’re going to be reading uh. What are we reading again?”

“AO3!” calls a female voice, the girl from earlier.

“Right, that. Fanfiction about me, I guess. I didn’t know I had fanfiction until today. So thanks?”

“I wouldn’t be thanking them yet,” calls the guy.

“I appreciate my fans! Anyway,” Phantom hands the camera back to the guy from before, “there, that’s good. S—um, yeah. Hand me the tablet?”

“Got it!”

A tablet flies into the frame, and Phantom lifts off of the floor to catch it midair. “Hey, don’t throw my stuff! I got this for my birthday!”

“Tough, ghost boy.”

Floating back to the floor, he sticks his tongue out. “Whatever.”

Phantom swipes on the tablet, before frowning. He taps it a few more times. “It’s not going.”

“I did NOT break your tablet, I swear to God—”

“Take your gloves off, dumbass,” says the guy.

“My gloves? Oh. Yeah, my gloves.”

The guy laughs. “‘Oh yeah, my gloves—!‘”

Phantom pulls his right glove off and throws it somewhere behind the camera. His exposed hand pulsates with faint green light, traces of scars wrapping around his hand. Lichtenberg figures.

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

“No.” Phantom shakes his head. “You like Ember more.”

“Phantom!” the girl cuts in. “You pulling up AO3 or what?”

“Oh, don’t you get on my case.”

“We’re making a video here. Get it up!”

“Fine, fine. Celebrities and Real People... am I under Phantom or Danny Phantom?”

“Phantom RPF.”

Phantom taps the screen, before almost dropping the tablet.

“No,” he says. “That can’t be right.”

“What. You found porn already?”

“Huh? No. It says there’s like eight hundred stories about me. Eight hundred!”

“That few? Wow. Yeah, I thought there’d be more,” says the girl.

“More!” Phantom waves the tablet. “Eight hundred! Eight hundred and forty-seven stories about me. What the fuck...”

“You’re famous, dude. Not just in Amity, you’re Internet famous.”

Phantom holds his still gloved hand against his head. “Eight hundred... how are we even going to pick which ones to read? Seriously, this is more than I’ve ever expected. If you’re one of the people who’s written for me, like, thanks.”

“Pick the first one that comes up under recently updated,” says the girl, almost laughing. “That should be fun.”

“K.” Phantom turns the tablet around so that the camera can see his screen. “Our first fic today is... Danny Phantom Tickles in Bed by ghostdaddy30. Oh, Ancients. Alright.”

The guy holding the camera cackles so loud that it drowns out all other sounds.

“—slash Yin. Who’s Yin?”

The girl sighs. “Y/N. Your Name, not Yin.”

“My name?”

“No, the reader’s name. When you’re reading a fic, Y/N means you pretend that it’s your name in the story. It’s interactive.”

“So... for me it would be Phantom slash Phantom?”

“Yep! But Phantom slash Phantom is also a ship on its own.”

“Wait.” Horror dawns on Phantom’s face. “People ship me with myself?”

The guy snorts. “You can make duplicates, can’t you? Pretty sure duplication is a kink.”

“Gross! Like ew! I can’t even—” Phantom takes a moment to recompose himself. “Alright. They ship me with myself. That’s weird, but it’s the Internet and that’s expected on the Internet.”

“Got that right,” the girl agrees. “You don’t even want to know about Pompous Pep.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“It’s you and Vlad Masters.”

Phantom opens his mouth and then shuts it no less than four times. His voice is a high-pitched whine when he finally speaks. “It’s what.”

“There’s footage of you and Vlad assaulting each other on the dark web somewhere and now people ship it. Billionaire Mayor and Heartthrob Town Hero... supposed to be romantic or something. People justify it because you’re dead and could be older than him.”

Phantom still looks pained. “Why do you know this?”

The girl laughs. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t either.”

“I’m fifteen! I’m fifteen and he’s my parents’ age! That’s disgusting. I want to vomit just thinking about it. Actually, maybe I’ll beat the shit out of him again to drive the point home that I hate his guts.”

“No, that’s more homoerotic,” the guy points out. “Not that I’m against Vlad getting his ass kicked.”

Phantom’s eyes glow a brighter green.

“Fuck!”

“You heard it here folks,” says the girl, “Phantom is not infatuated with our creepy, perv mayor.”

“Hell no, I’m not! Now, back to Tickles in Bed or whatever.” Phantom clears his throat. “You had finally done it. You had finally confessed your love to Phantom, and to your ultimate surprise, he confessed his love back. The world didn’t feel real anymore, and you wondered for a moment if you’d died and gone to heaven. Nevertheless, you were here. Back in Amity Park with the ghost boy you loved.”

“That’s actually not that bad, fic wise,” the girl says. “I’d read this.”

The guy wolf whistles. “Oh, you would?”

The camera shakes and for a moment, there is a flash of dark-skinned hands and khaki pants. “Watch it!”

The camera is back on Phantom, unimpressed with his friends’ antics. He resumes reading.

““Y/N,” Phantom said, breathing cold ghostly air down your neck. “I wanna cuddle you tonight, my love.””

The room is filled with raucous laughter. “G—go on.”

“You blush, fire in your cheeks, opposite Phantom who was like ice. Two worlds that should never meet, but still, in love all the same. “O—o—Of course, Phantom! I’d love that SO much.”

“He swept you off your feet and into the air, flying, like magic. Was this what it’s like to be a ghost? Flying above the town, untouchable? He phased through the wall to your bedroom. With a flick of his fingers, the candles on your nightstand burst into green flames. They smelled like cinnamon. The flames danced like the longing look in Phantom’s deep opalescent eyes.”

“Mm, spicy!” the guy claps.

“Please, stop,” Phantom says, continuing. “Phantom leaned close and wrapped his arms around you again. He carried you, elegantly, like you weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, and sat you on your bed with him. “Y/N... I could say here forever with you.”

““Me too,” you said, brushing his snowy white hair out of his face.” He stops reading. “Snowy white hair? Really?”

“I mean, I see it. Glows like snow in sunlight.”

“No, that’s dumb,” Phantom says.

“You’re dumb.”

“Whatever. “I love you more than anything, Phantom. I want to be yours.”

““You already are,” he pressed his lips against mine. They were cool, like Antarctica. His touch was electric, and I knew nothing else but him. He laced his gloved hands through my hair before lowering them to brush my neck. I squirmed at the touch, ticklish.

““Oh,” he said. “Does that tickle you there?”

““Y—y—yes!”

“That got weird, fast,” says the guy.

“In fanfiction?” the girl scoffs. “Nah. This is tame.”

““You’re so cute when I tickle you, Y/N.” Proving his point, he tickled me at my neck again and I dissolved into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help it. But Phantom... he looked so beautiful, gorgeous. Enjoying himself. He continued to tickle me and—” Phantom lowers his tablet, shaking his head. “Aight, I’m done here. This has gone out of my comfort zone, reading about myself like this.”

There are two cries of protest.

“But that’s the point of this!”

“You try reading about yourself! It’s fucking weird!”

“Phantom... don’t be a wuss. Tell us what happens when you keep tickling her!”

“No. Nope.”

“You tickle fiend! I bet you tickle somewhere down south don’t you, Phantom?”

Phantom raises a fist, gleaming with soft blue light. “I will freeze your lips shut if you keep it up.”

“Bet.”

Phantom stands up from where he was sitting on the floor, and the guy with the camera scampers backward. “Wait, hold up—!”

The camera cuts to black. There is a card at the end of the video, asking viewers to subscribe to the channel. The video ends.

Maddie closed the YouTube tab. She often watched the ghost boy’s content to gain clues about him, to figure out his weaknesses. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with two anonymous human companions, but it was definitely the first video of this nature.

Fanfiction, huh?

Well, if that bothered the ghost boy... she and Jack might have found a weakness.

“Jack!” she called across the lab. “I’ve got a video to show you!”

It was worth a shot, after all.

#Danny Phantom #who doesn't love X characters read their own fanfics trope #but this time in-universe #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Maddie Fenton #fun fact the ending is inspired by a SUPER angsty cordria fic I aDORE where vlad makes maddie watch a video of him turning Danny #into a ghost except it isn't revealed that it's Maddie watching the events in the video until the VERY end and I LOVE IT SM ISTG #Fanfiction #Fic #Fanfic #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #wrwritings #Phicc #Phic

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lucy-sky · 2 years

Text

Games We Play (Terrance Swaino x f!Reader)

Swaino suddenly discovers your secret drawer™ and is up for experiments.

Warnings: uhh... sex toys, handcuffs, oral sex f receiving, Swaino being a tease and making dumb jokes in bed :’)

Words: 2138; gif by me; AO3 link if you prefer reading there

A/N: um okay guys, this is once again a total PWP and I’m posting it from my shame pit, but I had to get it out of my system because I’ve been thinking of Swaino and sex toys for a shamelessly long time already okay bye :’)

Swaino’s lips are warm and insistent against your skin as he kisses your neck with abandon, hovering over you, his knee between your parted legs. You both are already hot and bothered, almost no clothes left on you except your panties and his ridiculously bright boxer briefs.

“Shit, babe… You got condoms, right?” Swaino grunts, looking at you with hope in his eyes.

“Damn… Did you forget?..” You bite your lip.

“No! No, it’s just… it’s in my jacket, and the jacket is… you know… somewhere…” He nods at the bedroom door. Yep, in the heat of a moment, you both started undressing once you got into your apartment, so the clothes could literally be anywhere, this’ll be a quest to find them all.

“Relax,” you grin at him. “I’m just kidding. Course I’ve got them. Here, check the left drawer.”

“Yeah,” he presses a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up and reaching the bedside table.

“Whoa. Hey, what’s that??”

Damn.

“I told you the left drawer, not the right one, T,” you groan, rolling your eyes at his reaction. Swaino looks like a fascinated kid as he turns to you with your vibrator in his hand. “Yes, I have a couple of toys, so? There’s nothing wrong with that.” You say it mostly to yourself, because even though you know it's true, you still feel the heat on your cheeks at the sight of Terrance discovering your stuff.

“Well, didn’t say it’s wrong…” He murmurs as he keeps curiously observing the device. “It just looks so… fancy. I thought they all look like uh… dildos or that rabbit thingy like in Sex and the City…”

“Sex and the City?” You can’t suppress a giggle.

“Hey, don’t give me that look! My sisters are obsessed with this fucking show,” he retorts, and his flushed face makes you laugh even more.

“Okay, so this one - I get it. It… Vibrates. And this?” Ignoring your amusement, Swaino grabs another toy from the drawer. Funny enough, its color almost matches his boxer briefs - bright pink.

“It’s uh… It’s a clitoral stimulator. You seriously haven’t seen such things before?”

“Nope. You’re the first girl whose secret stash I found,” he chuckles. “So, what exactly does it do?”

“Well… You just press it against the clit, and when you push this button it starts to kinda… suck in the air… And it feels good.”

“Yeah, you like that?” Swaino raises his eyebrows, clearly amused.

“Yep. I actually like it better than that vibrator,” you confess.

“Hope not better than me though, huh?..” He winks, sticking out his tongue.

“Ughh come on, stop fishing for compliments, Swaino! As if you don’t know what you do to me…”

“Oh yeah, for real?”

You roll your eyes again at the smug look he’s giving you.

“Yes, for real. I don’t even remember when I recharged them last time,okay?” At this point you start to lose your patience - you're lying here in nothing but your underwear, and he seems to be more interested in your sex toys rather than actually having sex with you. “Can we, maybe, go on now?..”

“Wait a minute… Now that’s really interesting!..” Swaino exclaims. “How can you explain that , ma'am?” With this, he fishes out of the drawer a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

“Oh, this… It’s just a silly birthday present from a friend. Look, it’s not even opened. I just tossed them here and forgot about them. T, please. Put them back and let's get to where we were before you opened this goddamn drawer!”

“Sure, but hey…” He gives you a wicked smirk, “I got an idea…”

“Oh no.”

“How ‘bout we use those, hmm?..” Swaino wiggles his eyebrows.

“The handcuffs? I-I really don’t know…” You stumble. On the one hand you’ve never thought of really using this toy - it just felt like such a thing belongs to porn films and stuff like that, so you couldn’t take it seriously. But on the other hand… On the other hand, the idea of giving yourself to Swaino like that actually seems kinda hot. Maybe you haven’t been dating for very long, no serious milestones in your relationship yet, but you trust him enough to be comfortable with it.

“I mean why the hell not?” Terrance shrugs. “I bet your friend would be glad to know you finally put the gift into use.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Swaino echoes you as if he can’t believe you agreed that easily.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s do it,” you nod.

“Ah, babe!” He grins at you, wicked twinkles in his eyes, as he tears the package open. “You’re not gonna be disappointed, I swear.”

“You better be right,” you chuckle, putting your hands up. It takes Swaino a couple of minutes to figure out how to fix them against the headboard with the cuffs. Drawing back, he observes the result of his “work”, that wicked grin still playing on his lips.

“Happy now?” You cock an eyebrow.

“I pretty much am, yeah. Wait here, I’m gonna go grab some pizza…”

“Swaino!” You kick him with your foot as he hoots with laughter.

“Just joking around. Calm down, sweetheart.”

You want to mutter something about how terribly unfunny his childish jokes sometimes are, especially right now, but this thought vanishes the second he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as his hands roam your sides, finally landing on your breasts, giving them a firm squeeze and letting his thumbs brush over your nipples. He then kisses slowly down your neck and chest, until the tip of his tongue makes contact with the hardened bud, causing you to gasp softly. Swaino hums as if he’s tasting something delicious as his lips envelop your nipple, gently sucking on it. You’re so lost in his sweet caress that only a familiar buzzing sound makes you open your eyes and come back to reality.

“T?..”

“Oh, um… I thought if this thing sucks in the air, it could work not just on the clit, right?” With this, he carefully presses the device’s head to your nipple. The unfamiliar sensation makes you squirm a little at first, but you have to admit it feels quite enjoyable.

“Good?” Terrance asks, examining the expression on your face.

“Mhmm… But I liked your mouth better.”

“Got it,” he smiles, and his lips are back at your breast.

Having both your nipples stimulated like that soon makes you crave for more. Your moans are getting louder, and you instinctively try to squeeze your thighs in an attempt to get some pressure on your aching clit.

“T… I-I need more…” You pant.

“Oh yeah, could you ask like a good girl?”

“Seriously, Swaino?”

“Come on, sweetheart. If we’re playing with handcuffs let’s do it right, huh?” He smirks, letting the fingers of his free hand gently rub against your still clothed pussy. Damn. This man’s gonna be the death of you.

“Okay, okay…” you murmur, bucking your hips against Swaino’s hand. “Please, Terrance, I need more…”

“Now that’s my baby girl,” he croons, looking very pleased with himself, as he moves your panties aside and finally presses the stimulator to where you need it to be. Your hips jerk as you let out a desperate whimper. Satisfied with the effect, Swaino wraps his free hand around your waist and dips his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping on the tender skin there. And even though you’re already familiar with the toy, now it feels so much better. With Swaino that close to you, the warmth of his body against your skin, his lips and tongue and teeth on your neck… You’re completely blissed out. It’s only the first intensity level on your device, but it’s fine, you just don’t want it to end too soon, you love how the pleasure is slowly building in the pit of your belly, how your walls pulse and flutter even more when he whispers praises against your flushed skin.

“That’s it, baby girl… I love how you moan for me…”

He bites and sucks on your earlobe, and you feel so, so impossibly close to the edge, when all of a sudden the buzz dies and the toy stops working.

“Ughhhhh!...” you groan in disappointment.

“What the hell?” Swaino draws back, staring at the device in his hand confusedly.

“Told you I don’t remember when I recharged it,” you reply, breathing heavily.

“Well, fuck it then,” he tosses the toy back into the drawer. “It was fun while it lasted, but now… Time for some serious emergency measures. Get over here!”

“Oh thank god!” You exclaim, as he finally tugs your panties off and lifts your legs up to place them on his shoulders. You feel so shamelessly exposed like that, your hands still attached to the headboard, your pussy spread before your lover’s hungry gaze. You imagine how obscene the two of you look right now and it makes your insides clench with the need of release.

Swaino is quite unhurried though, as he tickles your inner thighs with his beard, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his way to your aching center.

“Damn, girl…” He glances at you, licking his lips. “You’re so soaked I might drown in there. That’s freakin’ hot, you know.”

“For fuck’s sake, Swaino! Can you stop being a tease, and just… just do something!.. You want me to beg?..”

“Well you could try…” With a devilish smirk on his face he dips his head down and gives your clit a quick stroke with just the tip of his tongue. After all the stimulation, this gesture hits you like a lightning strike, making you shudder and hiss through clenched teeth.

“Huh? Didn’t hear ya,” he licks you again, and you lose it.

“Ah! Please!” You cry out. At this moment you literally cannot think of anything else, and thankfully Swaino complies. Still grinning, he leans down, and you cry out again as his greedy mouth practically devours your pussy.

Your clit is an oversensitive bundle of nerves right now, and when he finally reaches it, your first reaction is to jerk away from his caress because it feels too much. Swaino holds you firmly though.

“Shhh… I got you, sweetheart, relax…” He hushes as his thumbs rub soothing circles against your thighs. “My bad. I’ll go slower now, okay?”

And he actually does. You moan in delight as the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation disappears, making way to pure bliss. Swaino’s tongue is working wonders on you, as it always does. You desperately want to sink your fingers into his hair, to tug on it, to pull him closer. But somehow being like that, unable to touch or push him, completely at his mercy, turns you on as well. When he pushes two fingers into your heat and curls them just right, tongue still pressing against the throbbing bud, it doesn’t take you long to finally reach the climax. Your orgasm is intense and surprisingly long, and you’re pretty sure all the neighbors could hear your high-pitched moan.

“You alright?” Swaino asks when you get back to planet earth, still trembling a little from the aftershocks of your pleasure.

“I’m fucking great!” You breathe out. “But… Could you release me, maybe?”

“Oh. Sure.” He sits up and starts to rake around the drawer. “Shit. I think I lost the key…”

“What?!” Panic instantly rises up within you.

“Just kidding,” he laughs shamelessly. “Here it is!”

“It’s not funny, you idiot!” You punch him on the shoulder as soon as your hands are free again. But as silly as he can be, Swaino is not dumb, and he knows from the tone of your voice that you’re not really mad at him.

“Yeah, right, I’m an idiot. C’mere,” he rasps, catching your hand and pressing his lips against your wrist. And then he kisses you with sudden tenderness, the warmth of his tongue and the salty taste of your arousal on his lips make your head spin, as well as this smile of his. A kind of a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. Gosh, you love this stupid smug face so much.

“So, uh… Are you… Can we…” He glances down at the bulge between his legs, then looks back at you questioningly.

“Not so fast, cowboy,” you smirk, placing your hands on his shoulders to gently push him away. “Lay back down, honey. Now it’s my turn to be a tease.”

An expression of disappointment on Swaino’s face slowly turns into an excited grin, as you let your hands stroke down his torso until you reach his boxer briefs.

“I dunno what game are you playing now, sweetheart, but something tells me I ain’t gonna complain.”

Thank you for reading!

(first fic of 2022, and it’s porn... if you still didn’t know what kind of a mutual I am to you, now you know - I’m a horny mutual :’D)

ANY FEEDBACK IS STILL GREATLY APPRECIATED! 0=)

#terrance swaino x reader #small engine repair #jon bernthal fanfiction #lucy tries to write

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

Note

Its my birthdayyyy 😈 i just turned 14 lol my sister got the coronavirus so i really cant go out on my birthday so i just have to stay home all day 🙋‍♀️ can i pleaseee request toman boys preparing a birthday party for y/n cuz she did alot and helped them sooo they just wanna do something nice for her ig? Sorry if its too much u can ignore this request

my darling, happy birthday!! happy 14th to u bub, enjoy ur day, ok? i fell asleep and woke up really late for my class so I'm sorry if i ended up posting this on the 16th but i hope u and ur sister are doing okay and ur day was well spent! thank u so much for requesting and stay safe always, we gon celebrate this together yep (･ω･)つ⊂(･ω･) <33

𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘

PAIRINGS: Toman x gn! reader

GENRE: fluff fluff fluff, humor, (not proofread cuz i got so sleepy)

- Two days before your birthday, Hakkai was the first one to alarm the gang about it, not even realizing that he let out a secret a little too late but they knew they shouldn't spare a single moment to take it to their advantage. "You guys have any plans for the weekend? I'm shit bored all the time." Peh-yan sighs and Mitsuya eyes him.

"Right, the 15th, huh? That's Y/N's birthday." Hakkai calmly states, in contrast to the two who were sharing concerned and startled expressions now that they had to rush a plan. "Wait what?"

"THIS SATURDAY?"

- The hectic schedule begins with Mitsuya sending an emergency text to their group chat, calling on their cells to let them in on this new found information and everyone seems to blame Hakkai, much less to blaming themselves for not even thinking about it at the first. "You could've told us sooner." Mikey scolds and they nodded their heads to his words. "Well—I thought all of you knew? What are we gonna do about it now?" And sharing the same links to their worry, they all shift their gaze to Mitsuya who already took part in expecting that they'd name him the handler for the event.

"Fine, I'll plan it and shit but everyone will help out. Not just me and Draken, alright?"

"Hell yeah! Let's do this for Y/N!" Chifuyu cheers which causes the rest of them to follow his glee at how ready they were to succeed with this.

- The sectioning of the plan starts by Mitsuya separating them by their abilities. He sticks to the division members and captains but for other instances, he's composing a team of three from different teams. "Smiley, Pehyan, and Baji—you three need to deny everything if they ask about what's going on, keep them distracted too—make sure Y/N doesn't even begin to think about it, okay?"

"Understood, boss!"

- The next day, those same boys were acting like stealthy undercover agents when someone brings up what you were going to do. They're invested on your answer all the way through. "Nothing strikes my mind for now but I'd like to spend it with the guys." You responded with a smile, a subtle imagination of the fun it contained if it turned into reality. Raising an eyebrow, Peh-yan scoffs while you walked his way and he half panics when he failed to construct his words.

"Oh, hey!" You greeted them, a bit curious to why those two were in your class. "You need something?" You asked them but Smiley let's out a chuckle. "None of your business." Baji says with a slight aggression to his voice as he receives a slap to the back, courtesy of the oldest Kawata twin.

"You suck at this." Peh-yan whispers. "Well uh, I'll see you then." You bid them good-bye and the curiosity sinks to you but you choose to pay not as much attention to it for now.

- "Draken, Chifuyu, and I will take care of the decor. Can any of you cook?" Mitsuya questions, eyes switching to every member while they shrug. The silver haired boy sighs, running a hand to his face at how he's carrying everything. "We can pitch in for the cake so you don't have to worry about it." Draken suggested and they nodded at his offer.

"I don't trust anyone else in the kitchen anyway."

- Mikey, Souya, Hakkai, and Takemichi were in charge of buying whatever the party leaders needed to have. Strolling in the mall with balloons in their paper bags, some streamers, and confetti bombs—they didn't really expect to see you sipping on your coffee with a bag of your own while your eyes dart to them and suddenly they were all pushing each other to detect who'd be able to lie the best. Their leader walked as far as he could and the three other chickens were left to hand the carry ons from one person to another. Unfortunately, Souya was the chosen one to converse with you.

"It's nice to see you here, Angry." You send him a smile but with the banter behind him, he horribly panics and covers your eyes, a kick to Hakkai for them to run and the two obey, scramming as the blue haired twin's chest began to pant.

"Souya? Is everything okay?" You asked him when he lowered his hand. He shakes his head in response while you tilt your head, blank spaces filling your mind at his bizarreness.

"Y-yeah! BYE BYE!" He simply walks out in shame.

- "I don't want to talk to, Y/N. We're avoiding them as much as possible, remember?" Takashi reminds, sewing for the banner with a needle in his mouth. Unbeknownst to them, you stood outside their room right where your name had been mentioned. Clutching the strap of your bag, you stopped in your step, taking a peak to Peh-yan and Mitsuya who were the only ones inside.

"Avoiding?" You whispered to yourself but Ryohei sees your figure and nudges on the person beside him. Both of you shared a glance until that same boy comes in front of you, hands on either side of your shoulders. "Peh?"

"Y/N-chan! Nope we're closed, Mitsuya's busy!" He ushers before shutting the door right to your face out of panic all over again which leads the president to be worried of your reaction. Though, when he opens the door, you're gone in a flash.

- The next day, the word has gone out that you've been suspicious of their doings and they're even more pressured to maintain the secret because you're asking them if they needed some sort of help when you see them but all they do is excuse themselves. "What's wrong with them today?" You asked, your back slumping from your lack of conversation with him. Since then, you did avoid Mitsuya for the mean time because of the homeroom incident, to which he absolutely feels guilty about.

"I think Y/N is getting the wrong idea. They probably think they did something wrong." He states. "We need to hurry up or else."

- The boys continue on—working extra hard even if they were facing arguments by a dozen of hours. "What if Y/N's allergic?" Souya asks, looking at the cake. "They're not... right?" His brother hinted. "Shit, I don't know!"

"Can you aim it higher? A little more to the left—no too much—stay—more to the side please!" Takemichi orders Chifuyu who was groaning from the arm strain. "Oi, let's switch! My arms hurt so much!"

"Okay so when Y/N comes in do we bomb the confetti the moment they walk in?" Mikey questions and Draken shakes his head. "They're gonna choke from all the paper."

- It is slightly concerning when the Kawata twins were suddenly paying for your snacks, giving each a critique just to know if you were allergic to anything. "How's that one taste like?" Souya asks.

"It's okay, the flavor is...average, I guess." You observed while the two share a glance, mentally cursing when they realized it was majority of the flavor they got for you.

"More food for Y/N!"

- There were stupendous remarks, often made by Takemichi and Chifuyu just to get a reaction out of you. "I sure don't like...metallic stuff!" Raising an eyebrow, you turned to the duo and with a pen ready to write, Chifuyu squints his eyes to you.

"What is your opinion on color? Do you like it scattered or-"

"Is this an interview?"

- You're more persistent in what they were up to but it does pain you that you resembled a plague at how they kept their distance around you. Draken tries to assure you everyone else is busy with a Toman meeting but you weren't updated on anything. It was a clear lie for the rest, especially Peh-yan and Souya who were jittery and too obvious. Smiley and Baji were the only ones capable of holding out until the end, keeping the conversation fresh without the mention of your birthday.

- Still, they really want to make this a special day for you. Because of everything you've done for them to respect them and defend them when needed, a display of gratitude is what you deserve. "I don't want Y/N to feel like we're ignoring them too much but I'm excited to see their reaction though." Takashi had a proud smile on his face now that the full view of the set up looked so much better than the rough first day. Chifuyu was panting beside him from taping all the balloons from multiple walls and Draken wipes his sweat who was done putting the rest of the banner on the high parts.

"Y/N's gonna love this!" Takemichi hypes up from behind. "Not bad. How are we gonna lure them in?" Baji asks.

"Maybe it should be Mikey." Hakkai suggests and the blonde disagrees. "I'll mess it up. Now that all of this is set up, can we talk to Y/N? Maybe they'll be out after school and we'd never know." Their leader proposes.

"I'll do it. I owe an apology to them anyway." Mitsuya volunteers which relieved the others for the task.

- Much to their excitement for your actual birthday, you ended up avoiding them in return. The last two days felt like they pushed you away for a reason and it's taking a toll on you at how clueless you were. When the second division tried to approach you, you ended up turning to a different hall, purposely throwing off his direction which strikes him. "What's going on?" He whispers to himself and the next couple of minutes were spent trying to catch your attention.

The moment you do look at each other, mans is terrified. There's a chill cascading from his lower back to his nape at how closed off you were and it dawns on him that the whole situation of avoiding you ended up on the bad side of their decisions. "Oh shit." He cusses.

- "H-hey, Y/N!" Hakkai greets you with a nervous smile and you could only give a bow to him, eyes intent on the floor as cold sweat drops from him. "Okay bye Y/N!" Peh-yan then, out of the many instances he's slipped up, took the opportunity by grabbing your hand.

"I promise—this time I really have something to show you."

- You were quiet for the rest of the trip, they decided that it was best for you have a blindfold on which doubles your anxiety of where you were going anyway. It doesn't help that they kept murmuring and the more you took a step, the more you dreaded waiting for them to greet you. "Okay, stand there, we'll let go." Hakkai informs you as you shake your head. "Wait—don't leave!" You cried and that was when no one else surrounded you.

Until a voice spoke, "Take of your blindfold, Y/N!"

- And as the fabric drops to you nose, your eyes were mesmerized by the sudden flash of light, surrounding the entire room. The decorations were well organized and a big banner that said happy birthday with a table filled with meals and gifts, even party hats with toy trumpets to celebrate. You covered your mouth out of shock, your heart not even letting it sink into you that this was the reason they've been avoiding you for a while. The words that ring in your moment of awe was, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" From all of the main captains and founding members of Toman.

Though, the confetti bomb didn't exactly blow up after they said it and Mikey was struggling so hard on pulling the object. "I can't do it." He complains while you let out a laugh. As a joke, Baji turned his gaze to you.

"Hey, Y/N? You think you can walk in again and let's do a retake?"

"Oh absolutely." You giggled at their inconvenience before obeying the long haired boys demands, walking in with a brighter smile than the first time and another chorus of happy birthday resonates through the building as the sound of the confetti finally working mixes with it. A rain of colorful strings and papers poured on all of you while you ran to them, catching them in an embrace.

- After hearing their plan with a couple of apologies here and there, you couldn't stop smiling and laughing at their stories of how close they were to giving in especially when you ignored them. "So? This was all the big fuss about?" You asked Mitsuya as he bids you a nod with a hand to your shoulder. "If it's all for you then it's worth it."

Mikey then brings in the cake, lit up in the amount as your age and they urge you to stand up. "We're thankful that you're here Y/N. We thank you for everything that you've done for us and we had a lot of fun planning this entire day out for you to enjoy, so, why don't you make a wish and let's begin your party!" He spoke with a smile to you and your heartbeat fastens at how lucky you were to be treated by such amazing friends.

They started to sing the classic happy birthday song, Peh-yan and Angry's voice casually above the others but they had to match that energy so even when the song was meant to be slow, the anticipation and rest they got now that everything was settled brought even more warmth to the room and a kick in the rhythm.

Closing your eyes as a wish is said in your mind, you blew the candle and with a few more embraces, they all began to cheer,

"Happy birthday, Y/N!"

TOKYO REV : @strawberrieas @kwrg @raya-sano @kimrena-stuff @heavensbeloved @rosewood1999 @beezebub @l-luci @bekky06 @keiisukebaji @manjiroarchiviste @smileysmileysmiley @tendo-shairdye @toshiswifey @thispenguinrocks @kleesboom

OVERALL: @stesphy @itsmeaudrieee @crapimahuman @meguroshi @floydenai @dai-tsukki-desu @inu1gf

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hyenahunt · 2 years

Text

Obbligato: The Baptism of Jun Sazanami - 3

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, three years ago

Characters: Tatsumi, Kaname, Jun

Proofreading: 310mc + Remi (JP) & honeyspades (ENG)

Translation: hyenahunt & Peace

Kaname: What? Please refrain from staring at me. Keep it up and you'll have to pay for the view.

Tatsumi: "♪~♪~♪"

"... ♪"

"Amen."

"Haha. Good afternoon, new arrivals. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"My name is Tatsumi Kazehaya, and I am a second year here at Reimei Academy."

Kaname: Tatsumi Kazehaya...?

Jun: Tojo...uh, -kun, you know this guy?

Kaname: How couldn't you know him? Don't tell me you don't even know who I am, then?

Jun: What's wrong with not knowing, huh? I've spent my life practically stuck in house arrest by my whack parents and haven’t had the chance to do much else besides train up as an idol, so I’m pretty clueless about the world.

Kaname: You trained to be one? If your life is that entwined with the industry, then how don't you know of us?

It doesn't make any sense. In other words, you're a liar.

Jun: Geez, this guy's a real pain... You look smart but nothing I'm saying is gettin’ through your head, huh?

Kaname: Oh, I see. You're making fun of me, aren't you? Well, I'm no idiot, so therefore you really are a liar!

Jun: Dude, chill, stop shouting like that... The ceremony's starting, so if you don't keep it down you're gonna get in trouble with the teachers.

Kaname: Teachers? What teachers? I'm sure you can tell just from a glance around you, but there isn't a single instructor in Reimei Academy who'd be interested in you Non-Special Students.

Jun: Man, there really are barely any teachers over here... Practically none, actually.

Kaname: Well, that’s because investing in you all is a total waste, so why would they ever spare a moment to even glance your way!

Jun: I told you to keep it down, dude... Everyone around you is a Non-Special Student, so it's pretty bold of you to say all this shit that'll piss 'em off.

Kaname: My name is Kaname Tojo, not dude.

If you don't know it now, then learn it. It'll become a household name soon enough.

Jun: That so... Well then, oh almighty Kaname Tojo-kun, I take it you know the long-haired guy talking on the stage?

Kaname: ...? How did you know that... — hold on, are you some kind of investigator? Or maybe even a spy...?!

Jun: (Ah~ Having to deal with this idiot is becoming a serious pain in the ass.)

(Are all Specials like this? I keep hearing that they’re supposed to be worlds apart from broke students like us, but is having all these weird quirks just part of the package?)

Kaname: What? Please refrain from staring at me. Keep it up and you'll have to pay for the view.

Jun: Yeah, yeah, apologies for that~... Sorry for saying all this weird stuff. I'll leave you alone now, so just forget you even met me.

Kaname: If I forget you, then that'll mean that I've done what you told me to do — so no, absolutely not.

Jun: What a pain... What an absolute pain...

Kaname: Heehee... So that's the rumoured Tatsumi Kazehaya, is it?

Jun: Woah dude, no way, you’re actually getting back on-topic.

Kaname: All of the Special Students who are attending Reimei Academy, or any of the other idol training schools affiliated with CosPro, have already made their entertainment industry debuts.

Even a halfwit like you should know that much.

Jun: Yep, I sure do... You’re all pretty full of yourselves, considering you’re just students, but I guess Jin Sagami did debut while he was still in school.

Kaname: Jin Sagami? I know of him — he's the Super Idol who made waves a while back. If I remember right, he was from Yumenosaki Academy, wasn't he?

Jun: Seems like you've got a pretty good memory despite being an idiot.

Kaname: I am not an idiot.

Anyway, at Yumenosaki Academy, with its extensive history in the idol industry, even those who aren't selected as Special Students can debut as idols.

Jun: Well, I dunno how it was back in Jin Sagami’s time, but it sure seems to be the case recently.

So, rather than being a melting pot of good and bad, Yumenosaki’s got a reputation for being full of useless garbage.

Kaname: It's different at Reimei. Here, only those who've proved their worth as people — in other words, Special Students like myself — are allowed to stand on stage as professional idols. We're guaranteed to be the cream of the crop.

Even among the Special Students, however, Tatsumi Kazehaya is beyond outstanding. He just... gives off a different impression in school uniform, so I didn't recognise him at first.

He seemed quieter — cooler — on the shows he'd appear on.

When he’s like this, with his hair down and everything, he looks softer... Is this what Tatsumi Kazehaya is usually like?

Jun: Ah~, he’s kinda got some soothing vibes, huh? Then again, I’ve heard it's pretty common for idols to play up a personality that's totally different from their true nature.

Kaname: It appears that there are plenty of idols who've been showing off parts of their private life for a little fame, so rather, those taking on a persona are moreso in the minority.

However, idols affiliated under CosPro traditionally develop their own distinct stage persona instead.

Even when I went to Reimei Academy's associated junior high school, they told us to work on creating a face we would show the world. I was told that I looked intelligent, so I should base mine around that.

Jun: Makes sense, since if you've got a pretty face but talk like an idiot, your image is gonna be totally off.

Kaname: Indeed. I'm not an idiot, after all. I can't be, because I'm meant to be an intelligent kind of idol.

Jun: Huh, that so... Honestly, it sounds kinda suffocating.

Kaname: Suffocating as it may be, that is what being an idol is all about. If I can't be who the audience wants me to be, then I don't deserve to stand on stage before them.

Jun: ......

✦✦✦✦✦

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#jun sazanami #tatsumi kazehaya #kaname tojo #himeru #s: obbligato #hyenahunttl #ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

Never Try, Never Know

Pairing: Peter Parker enemies to lovers

Synopsis: Flash pesters you about your sex life

Read the series or read on its own

Masterlist

A month later, you were in Peter’s room once again. Doing your homework together had once again become a make out session.

You were underneath Peter with your hands up in his hair. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist and his jeans were brushing against you every time he moved. His hand was resting just below your boob, pressing firmly on your rib cage. As you kissed him, you slowly moved his hand up and kept yours on top of his. You squeezed your hand, prompting him to squeeze your boob. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he gained more confidence. He slipped his hand under your shirt and brushed his thumb over your bra. You moaned into his mouth, hoping he would keep going. You could feel his boner against your thigh and you were dying for him to take the next step already.

“Can I take my shirt off? You whispered against his lips. He nodded eagerly in response. You pulled away from Peter for a moment to pull your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His cheeks tinted pink since this was the first time you’d done this. He shyly looked at you and gulped so you gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay.” You told him. “You can touch me.”

Peter hesitated before putting his hand back on your boob. He bent down to kiss you again and slowly trailed kisses down your neck. You were combing your fingers through his hair as he kissed the tops of your breasts, thinking you were finally about to go all the way with him. Before you had a chance to do anything else, Peter pulled away and groaned.

“Oh my God.” He gulped and sat up.

“Are you okay?” You sat up as well to check on him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

You slumped back on the bed as Peter climbed off and went to the bathroom. Once you heard his shower turn on, you let out an angry huff. You squeezed your legs together in frustration before slipping your shirt back on.

That was how it always went. You’d get close but never go all the way. You knew Peter was a virgin, but you were starting to think he wanted to stay that way. You didn’t want to push Peter before he was ready, but your sexual frustration was getting to be more than you could handle. If you waited any longer, you thought you might explode.

“I’m back.” Peter announced, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Sorry about that. I get overstimulated very easily. All my nerve endings are extra sensitive.”

“It’s fine.” You faked a smile as he sat next to you. “But you know, you don’t have to calm yourself down every time. You could run with it.”

“Run with it?” Peter asked. “You mean, you want me to…”

“Fuck me. Yeah.” You nodded. “Just a suggestion.”

Peter’s face blushed all the way down to his neck at your bluntness. He shyly laughed and put his lap top on his lap.

“You’re crazy.” He chuckled. “What do you want to watch?”

“I’m fine with anything.” You faked a smile and rested your head on his shoulder. You didn’t want him to know you were disappointed. If he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. The only problem was, you were a little more then ready. You were two close calls away from begging him to fuck you, and you could only hope it wouldn’t resort to that.

You were in a bad mood the next day at school. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to get off. It felt like Peter was dangling himself in front of you but never letting you have him. To make a bad day worse, Flash spotted you at your locker and decided to pester you.

“Hey, pretty lady.” He smiled as he flicked some of your hair off your shoulder. “What are you doing tonight? Wanna get Flash-y on a Friday?”

“Fuck off.” You groaned. “I have a boyfriend.”

“There is no way you and Parker are actually together.” Flash scoffed when you rejected him. “This has got to be some weird hate sex thing.”

You froze when he mentioned sex since it was currently a sensitive topic for you.

“It’s not.” You said quickly. “Peter is my boyfriend, and you make me drier than sandpaper. Buh bye.”

You pushed him away from you and kept walking, but he followed.

“Who do you guys think you’re fooling? Everyone knows you guys hate each other.” Flash insisted.

“We used too.” You shrugged. “Now we love each other.”

“Are you sure you’re not just hooking up to get your frustration out and thinking it’s a relationship?”

You sucked in a sharp breath when he mentioned it again, growing frustrated now.

“I’m positive.” You grumbled.

“Why?”

“Because we haven’t even…” You trailed off when you realized you said too much. But it was too late. Flash’s jaw dropped as he bounced up and down.

“You guys haven’t had sex yet?” He asked. “How? You’ve been together like two months.”

“Can you keep your voice down please?” You hissed. “It’s none of your business. And it’s normal for couples to wait.”

“You know what?” Flash snickered. “I’m not even surprised that you guys haven’t done it yet. He’s not man enough to try anything.”

“Yes he is.” You said. “Shut up Flash.”

“Are you sure about that?” Flash taunted.

“Yes.” You snapped as your confidence slowly faded. “I’m sure. Now leave me alone.”

“I kinda feel sorry for you.” He continued. “You’re dating the man who played the girl part in last years musical. It’s probably the only girl part he’s ever seen.”

“Shut up.” You repeated. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Because I’m willing to bet Peter doesn’t have a single clue what to do in bed. He’d be like, “orgasm? You mean organism? It’s an animal, plant, or single celled life form”, or something.” Flash mimicked his voice. “He’s probably awful. He’ll never be able to please you.”

“Yes he can.” You said quietly, but you weren’t sure. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to think Flash might be right.

“How would you know?” Flash taunted. That pushed you to your edge. You knew if you didn’t say something now, Flash would tell the whole school and humiliate Peter.

“Because I was kidding. We have had sex.” You lied. “He sexed me like, a hundred times. Including last night.”

“Really?” Flash narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah. He nearly broke my pelvis.” You continued. “That’s why I’m in leggings today. I’m really sore.”

“Peter Parker left you sore?” Flash snorted. “What’d he do? Forgot you were there and sit on you?”

“No. He fucked me.” You said confidently this time. “Really, really well.”

“Nope. I don’t believe you.” Flash shook his head. “There is no way Little orphan Annie is having sex. Not a chance.”

“Well, he is.” You shrugged. “And he’s got a huge dick. Like, the size of a salt shaker.”

“Salt shakers are like two inches.” Flash scoffed.

“Not the kind you have at home.” You rolled your eyes. “Like, the really big ones at Italian restaurants. That size.”

“For real?” Flash’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.” You began to lose confidence in your lying ability. “Real, um, real monster cock on that boy. He’s uh, he’s a mouthful.”

“You mean handful?” Flash asked.

“I said what I said.”

“No way.” Flash gasped.

“Uh huh. He’s the best I ever had.” You egged it on. “By a long shot, too. He really knows what he’s doing.”

“You’re telling me Peter Parker is some kind of sex god?” Flash raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.” You replied. “In fact, I’m going to his apartment later for more. I just can’t get enough. You’d understand if you were getting it this good.”

“Who would have thought.” Flash shook his head. “I certainly didn’t see this coming.”

“Well, speaking of coming, I better go. Peter’s expecting me.” You smiled tightly and walked away from Flash. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you left him, unsure of how much damage you had just done.

Flash spotted Peter at the lockers the next day and thought of your conversation from the day before. Always looking for trouble, he walked up to Peter and leaned against his locker.

“Hey, Penis Parker.” Flash said with a grin.

“Go away Flash.” Peter groaned.

“Woah.” Flash held up his hands. “That’s no way to talk to someone who knows your dirty little secret.”

Peter stiffened when he heard this and gave his full attention to Flash.

“What?”

“Yup.” He nodded. “I was just talking to Y/n and she told me all about your double life.”

“She what?” Peter asked as he began to panic.

“Yeah. I can’t believe you were able to keep it hidden this long. I’m almost impressed.” Flash said as he folded his arms. Peter grabbed him by the shirt and pressed him up against the lockers as Flash gasped.

“Woah, woah, woah. Take me to dinner first, jeez.” Flash said as Peter loosened his grip.

“What do you know?” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“Not much. Just that you’re not the man I thought you were.” Flash winked.

“What?” Peter flushed with rage.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Flash said before blowing him a kiss. “Bye!”

Peter watched him leave as a nervous anger settled in his stomach. He didn’t know Flash was talking about something entirely different. He assumed you told him about his Spider-Man secret and he was furious with you.

After school, Peter walked to your apartment and used his spare key. He found you in your room and wasted no time in letting you have it.

“What did you tell Flash?” Peter demanded as he slammed the door behind him. You were someone who hated being yelled at, so you were immediately annoyed with Peter’s behavior.

“Woah.” You scoffed. “Nice to see you too.”

“Why did Flash tell me I wasn’t he man he thought I was?” Peter continued. “Did you tell him I was Spiderman?”

“Excuse me?” You stood up angrily. “You can’t just barge in here, yelling at me and accusing me of exposing your secret.”

“I can when you told the worst person we know something I trusted you with.” Peter snapped. “Did you seriously tell him I was Spiderman?”

“Yes, Peter. I told Flash your biggest secret.” You said sarcastically. “I went straight up to him and said, “hey, want to hear some information my boyfriend specifically trusted me to keep?” Then I made rode off in his porch and we made love under the stars. Oh, and we’re writing a cookbook together. It’s called “I Didn’t tell Flash Your Fucking Secret”. You can preorder now.”

“Real funny.” Peter seethed. “If you didn’t tell him, then why did he say you told him my secret? Why was he impressed that I had hidden it for so long?”

“Because I told him…” Your shouting trailed off when you realized what you told Flash was much worse.

“Told him what?” Peter asked angrily.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell him anything. Just calm down.” You rolled your eyes and flopped back on the bed.

“I am calm.” He yelled. “You have to tell me what you said to him.”

“No I don’t.” You said simply. “I have the right to remain silent. I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“If you didn’t tell him I was Spiderman then what could you have possibly told him?” Peter whined as he sat next to you. He was smart enough to know yelling at you would just make you more defensive.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You said quietly.

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face.

“So is your outfit.” Peter shrugged. You uncovered your face to narrow your eyes at him.

“Fucker.” You grumbled.

“Just tell me.” Peter groaned. “Or I’ll shit the bed next time we cuddle.”

“I need you to take a step back from this conversation and think about what you just said to me.” You said seriously.

“I’ll do it.” He threatened.

“Fine. I told him you were…” You mumbled the end of the sentence so even with his super hearing, he couldn’t hear you.

“What?”

“I told him you were really good at sex.” You reluctantly confessed. “I told him all the dirty little secrets of our sex life and that’s what he was talking about when he came up to you. I didn’t tell him anything about spiderman. I cannot believe you think I’d do that to you.”

“You…wait, what?” Peter stuttered as his face went bright red. “What?!”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You pleaded.

“How did you tell him about our sex life if we never...” Peter’s sentence tapered off like it usually did when it came to talking about something real.

“Fucked?” You raised an unamused eyebrow. If he couldn’t even say the word, you wondered how he’d ever do the action.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “That.”

“I don’t know. I made stuff up.” You shrugged. “I told him we had sex all the time and that you were super good at it. And that, you know, you have a monster cock.” You mumbled the last part out of embarrassment.

“A what?” Peter sputtered. “A fucking what?”

“I was hyping you up.” You defended yourself. “And it’s not like I can’t feel it when we spoon.”

Peter flushed again and rubbed his face.

“Why were you telling him any of this?” He asked wearily.

“Because.” You mumbled, not wanting to tell Peter why the topic ever came up.

“Because why?” He pressed.

“Because he was saying you’d never be able to please me and you were too inexperienced to try anything so I put him in his place.” You explained. “I’m the only one who can make fun of you like that. Not him.”

Peter looked at you with sad eyes as the weight of your words hit him.

“Is that what you think?” He worried. “That I couldn’t please you?”

“What? No, Pete.” You shook your head. “I don’t think that. That’s just what Flash was saying. You know how he is.”

“But he’s right.” Peter gulped. ��I am inexperienced. You were my first kiss. I’d have no idea how to...you know.”

“That’s okay.” You assured him. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

That didn’t sit well with Peter. Instead of cheering him up, it made him feel worse.

“Have you had sex before?” He asked quietly. You blinked a few times, knowing your answer would only make the situation worse.

“Yeah.” You nodded stiffly. “I have.”

“Shit.” Peter whispered as he looked down. You noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fist, something he did when he was anxious.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You got off the bed and put your hands on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. We can just drop this. It doesn’t matter.”

“You feel the same way, don’t you?” Peter frowned with glassy eyes. “You agree with what Flash said so you overcompensated on my behalf. That’s why you told him all those things.”

“Pete, I don’t give a fuck what Flash says.” You told him. “I never have. I was just trying to shut him up.”

“You just told me you don’t expect anything from me.” He said as he moved away from you. “You don’t think I could please you, do you? You think I’m too innocent and inexperienced.”

“Well, you are innocent and inexperienced.” You said calmly. “But that’s not a bad thing. We love each other, okay? And when we’re ready to take the next step, we will.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and bit his bottom lip, telling you he was fighting back tears. You put one hand on his shoulder and one on his face in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey.” You said soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

“First you tell me you wanted to sleep with Bucky, and now I find out you’re telling Flash about our ridiculous make believe sex life because you were too embarrassed to tell him we don’t have one.” Peter said sadly.

“What do those two things have to do with the other?”

“I can’t compete!” Peter exclaimed. “Flash is probably right. I probably can’t please you. I’m just…I’m just a virgin who can’t drive.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckled. “I knew both of those things before I started dating you.”

You only made the situation worse by saying this. The confidence had been knocked right out of Peter and it showed. He was visible shaken over the conversation and you wished it never started.

“Pete.” You sighed. “You don’t have to get upset about this. It’s just a stupid thing Flash said.”

“A stupid thing Flash said that you’re worried is true.” Peter stated. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it when you realized he was right. As much as you hated to admit it, Flash had gotten in your head.

“I’m not worried.” You said weakly.

“I can smell when you’re lying.” Peter said as he glared at you.

“That’s not fair.” You groaned. “Don’t sniff out my emotions.”

“It’s not just your emotions. It’s what you’re saying.” Peter protested. “You were too ashamed to tell him we haven’t had sex yet, weren’t you? And now you think what he said was right.”

“I’m not ashamed. But, I mean, it’s not like you ever try anything.” You shrugged. “We make out and then you take a cold shower and put on a movie. I’m not trying to push you before you’re ready, but Jesus Peter. You can’t even say the word “fuck”. You could barely say “horny” a month ago. They’re just words. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

“I’m not scared. I was trying to be a gentleman. But apparently, that’s not good enough for you.” He shot back.

“Are you mad at me? Is this a fight?” You honestly wondered. You didn’t expect him to react the way he was and it was throwing you off. You’d gotten into plenty of arguments before, but never like this. You were a couple now and the stakes were much higher.

“I don’t know how I feel right now. I know this conversation made me feel really bad, though.” He answered. Your eyes softened for a moment before your anger returned.

“What’s your problem? You should be thanking me.” You insisted. “Flash is probably telling the whole school how great you are in bed. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m upset because my girlfriend thinks I can’t fuck her.” Peter gravely as he stared you in the eyes. You uncrossed your arms and blinked a few times, surprised that he finally said it.

“Yeah.” He stated as he got ready to leave. “I can say the word.”

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