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wordsinwinters · 3 years

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Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color.

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain.

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them.

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself.

Okay.

Alright.

No distractions.

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal.

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way.

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them.

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again.

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two.

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too.

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat.

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?”

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times.

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us.

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second.

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one.

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?”

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents.

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing.

Flash nodded.

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started.

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god.

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp.

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake.

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition.

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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tatertotthethot · 4 years

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The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

_________________________________

Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

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evakuality · 3 years

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Mia, episode four

1. Hanna staring deep into Mia’s face as she talks = not loosening my conviction they should be together. But either way, I like this little scene. One thing I think Druck does well is translating the ideas of all the russ-stuff from the og into its own thing that makes sense in its own context. These suggestions really are all terrible, though. I’m not at all surprised that Jonas and Matteo are taking the mickey out of it (side note - I missssss themmmmmm). I know I’m seriously anti Alex and so I’m not feeling even remotely charitable, but I really dislike the way he’s walking in all ‘I have a much better idea than you guys’ and acting as if he’s better than them. Plus, then they ended up using it and... ugh. I just... I really hate William and poor Alex is bearing the brunt of that. It’s probably not his fault; I just brought a whole lot of baggage into this viewing.

2. I do love that Leonie is still ‘in charge’ in this way. It’s a nice continuity from s1. And she’s not perfect in any way; a lot of her little mannerisms and the way she acts and speaks from s1 are still here, but she’s mellowed a bit. It’s not as directed and petty; she just likes being in charge and running stuff.

3. Wow a lot is going on in this first clip. Amira is getting her voice heard like a boss here! (sidenote #2: she is stunning in this outfit with this makeup etc). It’s obvious that she’s pretty used to Mia and her very set opinions (a bit like Leonie but she does it in a different way) and knows the only way to get what she/they need is to basically steamroll over every attempt Mia makes at speaking. I like the point that Mia’s principles aren’t as important as the people who wouldn’t be able to pay the larger price. Like, I get it - she’d rather not have anything to do with Alex (me either tbh) but Amira is also right. Excluding him on principle isn’t fair to the bulk of the students. However, ‘he shows up with all his money and his damn poster and now he’s a nice guy?’ - I mean, exactly. Still. There are other considerations and it shouldn’t be black and white.

4. Oh, this walkway/ramp thing again. My beloved setting returns! Honestly, I really really love this school building. It’s got so many little corners and changes and different spaces and this space in particular is used to really good effect. Like rn, Alex has the high ground and while Mia is trying to stand up to him, it’s ineffectual because they’re having to use high angles on her vs low on him. He still has the power. And even when they come together, and there’s a seeming meeting of equals, he’s still got the high ground, even if just barely. And as he walks away with his insufferable smirk, he regains that high ground even more (do I like this plot at all? No, but I do like the film techniques used to explore it). I just really really love the way the camera works in these spaces. Unlike a ‘normal’ school, this one has so much depth and variety even when they reuse the same spaces. None of the times this thing is used is the effect exactly the same even when it seems similar. Hmmmm, now part of me wants to look at every time it’s used and see how it’s done. Somebody stop me.

5. Yikes - I’m only 6 minutes in and I already wrote an essay. Okay, let’s try to be more brief as we continue. Oh. Mia alone and in a nice space with warm tones around her (unlike the other two scenes this episode). I do like these moments when we hang out with our mains and I’m glad we’re starting to get that more with Mia. Very interesting that she chooses to fold and iron her clothes as a reaction to the ‘mega geil’ comments about Alex. Clearly she’s starting to feel out of control about the whole business with Alex and the things he’s saying to her, and this is one way of her reasserting her control. She likes having things under control and we see it coming out in these odd ways now that she’s found something that is out of her control. She clearly gets some peace out of it, but it’s so rigid that you can tell it must be about to crack soon. Nice touch with Hans bringing the comic relief. I love him so much!!

6. Lol, Matteo looks super disgusted by this chirpy conversation about Hans’ affliction. I like that his characterisation is still traceable. He’s not AS low and isolated as he seems in his season (the benefit of perspective I guess), but he’s still slumped and isn’t as engaged in the things around him - here and even with Jonas earlier. It’s just nice to see because I know his season came pretty close after Mia’s so it’s good that it doesn’t seem to come out of nowhere. Continuity - Druck is good at it. Also how uncomfortable he is when the discussion turns to what gay penises look like - clearly he already has some ideas about how himself and equally clearly he doesn’t want to talk about ‘gay’ anything when it might be connected to him. Little does he know, his phone already gave them ideas. But I do like him already being the biggest Hanna/Jonas shipper - like, he’s so determined to make up for his interference that he’s fully trying to interfere again, and it’s a nice segue into ‘why does anyone spend a whole evening stalking someone’ - yeah, we see you Mia. You’re more intrigued by Alex than you care to admit. I enjoy these little seemingly unimportant clips of them just hanging out that actually advance the plot or characterisation.

7. Hanna: Mia, please come to this place to save me from being alone with Jonas. Mia: I’m on my way (despite not wanting to go at all) - are we seriously telling me she’s not at least a little bit in love with Hanna? Seriously. The need to help Hanna out is strong in this one. But also... more mirror reflections, but this time she’s more centered (not entirely but more so) and her whole face is in shot. Things are ‘coming together’ so to speak. And ion hindsight, I can’t even seem to spot Jonas? Is he even there? Was Hanna trying to get Mia there through stealth????

8. Yikes, this thing they’re doing where they say stuff about each other is a bit brutal. Amira’s ones are mostly pretty awful, and targeted at her religion. Very interesting that for the others, they seemed more focused on who they are rather than ‘what’ they are, but it’s not the same for her? Like, I know we explore this a bit in her season but there’s been so much through the whole 2 seasons so far that I feel even more like we lost the opportunity to truly explore that more. RIP the s4 she deserved!

9. I don’t like Alex still (he’s still too arrogant and irritating for me) but I do like the quiet slow way Mia is warming up to him. She doesn’t want to, but you can see her re-evaluating him and starting to recalibrate her thoughts. Like it’s not rushing and he is at least a little more interesting than William and has more charisma so I can see why she would become intrigued once she shifted her perspective. Unlike William, who remained gross through the entire thing.

10. So Mia’s desperate need to be in control and have everything perfect even extends to Alex’s place and his stuff? Considering she still thinks she doesn’t like him, she’s taking a lot of trouble with his space. Suuuuuper awkward alone times here though I do like this shot of Mia exploring Alex’s place and the camera just sort of following along with that and taking in what she sees. Being this tight on her really plays up how ‘tight’ her PoV is and how she’s not seeing outside the bounds of what she wants to see.

11. This is a very very long clip, but there’s something charming about it too. Alex is... hmmmm, not exactly a good guy as yet (he’s still doing some quite douchey things), but he’s starting to open up and be real while still trying to protect some stuff that’s and that’s a lot more believable than William was. I know he was supposed to be like that, too, in a lot of ways, but I never found him convincing. Not the way Alex is. I don’t like him (this is genuinely not a type of guy that appeals to me at all) but I can see why he might win Mia over. Which I never did understand with Noora. We shall see - there are things from later in Noora’s season that fill me with incandescent rage, and if those happen then I can’t warm to Alex properly at all. But for now, I can see why Mia might be won over. Even if I can’t forgive him for the way he treats Kiki and acts like he’s the only one with all the right answers.

Lots of long clips in this one with a whole heap going on. It would have been something to go through this live, I’m sure. I found lots of little moments in this one to like, and I like how Druck has managed the characters and the interactions to make it feel natural. Considering that I really cannot stand the og of this and that one was very long, I think they’re doing a fairly good job of keeping this one engaging and a decent pace even if I still dislike one of the characters.

#druck #mia - episode 4 #wow this got long again #update on feelings about Alex - still don't like him

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zoefandom127 · 3 years

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Part 2 of HUIYWM!!! here’s part 1

Hands Up If You’re With Me Ch. 2

"Dude, that was awesome!" Reggie spoke to Luke as the foursome ran off the stage. "Great way to end the tour. But I'm kind of sad that it's ending."

Luke shrugged while putting his arm around Julie. "Yeah, but at least I get to hang out with my favorite people." He winked down at Julie and she returned by elbowing him in the ribs with a grin.

Alex rolled his eyes. "People or person?" He implied with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, we've been stuck on a bus together for 6 months. Trust me, we do not need to spend any more time with each other. I've seen things that could break a man."

"Good thing you're not a man then." Luke snorted.

Alex laid an offended hand on his chest while the rest of the group snickered. The group rounded the corner into the backstage common room and were greeted by their manager, Macy.

"Amazing show, guys! The audience loved it." Macy smiled a warm smile as they walked into their dressing room.

"Thanks, Macy." Julie returned the warm smile and proceeded to take a seat on the armchair placed in the corner.

"Yeah, thanks Mama Mace." Reggie winked as he moved to the couch that was next to Julie His back was met with a halfhearted glare by Macy.

"Anyways, you guys are completely free this upcoming save for a talk show with Carrie Wil—,"

A collective groan was sounded throughout the room.

"Carrie?" Julie whined. "The meanest person on earth, Carrie?"

"I'm sorry but she insisted and it would look bad for you guys to reject the hottest talk show host right now."

"She's definitely hot," Reggie spoke, thoughtfully. All eyes landed on him. Julie almost had a look of disgust. "What?"

"Look," Macy put the attention back on herself with her "business voice". "I know you don't like her but whatever drama you had going on in high school needs to be put aside."

Luke saw the dejected look on Julie's face. "Hey, it's only gonna be for like an hour. What could go wrong?"

Julie pondered all of the possible scenarios of what could happen in her head with the demon that is Carrie Wilson. It may seem immature and petty to hold grudges since high school but Carrie was the one factor in her high school experience that made everything miserable for her. Especially after her mom died.

But if it's for the sake of the band...maybe she could let it go for an hour.

"Fine, but if she says anything off to me I just want to let you guys know now that my actions will not be my own at that point." Julie crossed her arms and hardened her face.

"Oh please, like you could hurt a fly." Reggie laughed.

"Hey, I can be mean!" Julie argued.

The boys looked at each other with a knowing look and busted out cackling. Julie looked to Macy but all she could do is shrug and attempt to hide the laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Julie simply huffed and leaned back in her chair. Assholes.

"Aw c'mon now we've made her mad. Jules, you want a lollipop?" Alex snickered from the left side of the long couch that held the boys. Julie stuck her tongue out at him and lifted her middle finger in his direction, resulting in more laughter.

Macy glanced at her phone and broke through their cackles. "Time to go, guys. Limo's outside."

"Oh limo. What did we do to deserve that." Reggie said as the group hopped up from their seats. They suspected that people have already gathered their stuff into the car since no one told them to get it.

"I thought you guys could use a little post-tour reward." Macy grinned, leading them back to where the car was.

...

The gang moved through the fans that crowded the exit as best as they could, stopping occasionally to make comments for paparazzi and sign autographs and take pictures with fans. There were two tall, built bodyguards at the front and back of the group to stop any handsy and assertive fans from getting too close. Usually, it would be one at each end but after an incident where Reggie lost his shirt, Luke almost got his pants ripped off and Alex practically got manhandled by a group of teenage girls, Macy thought it was best not to risk it.

Just as everyone was set into the car a persistent man with a camera arrived at Julie's side right before her door closed. Almost pushing himself inside of the car to keep the door from closing, he assembled his camera right in Julie's face and flashed it mercilessly.

Dots covered Julie's vision as she placed a hand in front of her eyes to shield them from the nearly blinding proximity of the light. Another hand, which she assumed was Luke's because he was the only other person at her side, moved her head into his shoulder to help get away from the man who was shouting at her as he continued to take pictures.

"Hey, man could you not?" Alex complained while Reggie glared hard but the man paid no attention to either of them.

The man simply continued on with his shouting at Julie. "Are you and Luke Patterson dating?"

He was basically in the car at this point, moving his camera around to try and get different angles of Julie and Luke. Julie's breathing began to escalate. Everyone knew that she was a major advocate for mental illness and that even though she's a performer, her anxiety is still very present. Especially in situations like this.

She's talked on her platform many times about what triggers her and how her anxiety and depression started after her mother died. She's explained how sometimes the chaotic energy of being in a band can get to her sometimes but it's gotten better the more time she's spent in the spotlight. Although, paparazzi brought an entirely different kind of anxiety that Julie usually tried to avoid.

Normally she would answer whatever questions she could from the annoying photographers but sometimes that wouldn't be enough for them. And though some paparazzi can be considerate and respect her wishes when she's done answering questions, most aren't as forgiving.

This guy was among the most.

"Julie Molina, are you and Luke Patterson an item?" The man grabbed Julie's arm significantly hard to try and turn her around to face the camera.

Julie's eyes widened in horror and tried to yank her arm back but the man was unrelenting. "Get off of me!"

"Just answer the question." The man growled.

Luke and Alex pulled Julie back while Reggie broke the grip of the man with a strong pull. Security came in time at the break of contact to gather up the resilient man and drag him away from the car. Reggie shut the door quickly and Luke told the chauffeur to go ahead and drive them away from the venue, his arm still around Julie's shaking form.

"Jules." Alex started, his eyes laced with worry.

"You okay?" Reggie asked in a concerned tone.

Her head was back in Luke's shoulder and her eyes were shut tightly.

Luke moved her so that she faced him, both of his hands on either side of her face. "Julie. Hey. It's okay. Breathe."

A gasp escaped her lips. She hadn't even noticed she wasn't breathing until Luke pointed it out. Luke started to speak but she couldn't hear a word. Her eyes darted around the inside of the car rapidly. She tried to take a breath but for some reason she couldn't.

"Julie." Her eyes met the source of the voice. In her frenzy, Reggie and Alex seemed to have moved behind Luke, all of their gazes were on her. "Julie, do what I do," Luke spoke in a firm voice as demonstrated a deep breath in through his nose and an exhale from his mouth

Julie followed as best as she could until her breathing became semi-regular. Luke smiled a reassuring smile at her once he saw she was regaining control. She saw the panic on all of the boys' and she desperately wanted to ease their concern.

She cracked a small smile and spoke in a hoarse voice. "Nothing like a mini panic attack to end a tour, am I right?"

The boys grinned at her happily and at her horrible attempt to make the situation lighter. Yet it worked.

"Group hug!" Reggie moved to the side of Julie that Luke wasn't on and ambushed her in a tight embrace. Alex wiggled himself in between Julie and Luke and attacked her other side in a warm hug.

"Hey, what about me?" Luke whined with a pout.

Julie rolled her eyes and opened her arms as wide as the hugs on either side of her body would allow. "Come on, you puppy." Luke beamed at her and tackled her middle without care. Julie let out a hearty laugh.

"This is nice." Reggie said. And it was.

After a nice, comfortable moment in their band embrace, Reggie spoke again. "Can we get ice cream?"

this fic is basically gonna be some jatp drabbles set in this universe. hope y’all stick around for what else i’ve got in my brain!

#jatp au #jatp reggie #jatp alex #jatp julie #luke jatp #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #julie molina #julie and the phantoms #carrie jatp #panick attack #jatp drabble #willex #team juke

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sabraeal · 5 years

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Written for Trope Madness’s betting kitty winner, @ruleofexception! It’s been....over six months, but here is this HUGE BEAST of a chapter. I know I said I thought this would be the last Laxdo chapter, BUT...there’s gonna be at least one more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of entertainment, back in the country. At least, not the way Shirayuki’s constantly bombarded with it here, videos up on billboards and scrolling across phones on the subway. The B&B had a limping internet connection, and with the only television in the common room, she’d spent more time inside a book or outside the house than struggling to find a channel the other boarders would agree to.

So when Zen asked her to join D&D, when Kiki had teased her for not even knowing what she’d said yes to --

Well, she’d done her research. Not just the kind Izana gave her, reading source books and studying lore, but watching videos, listening to podcasts, finding the D&D episodes of popular shows -- anything that would give her something to expect. Nothing could have rivaled her disappointment or her relief when she realized costumes were optional; she hadn’t known how she would cobble together historically accurate, fourth century Welsh gown when even the SCA shrugged their shoulders at the idea, but, well...it was exactly the sort of challenge she would have risen to, if she had the excuse.

Still, she’d thought she had an idea of what to expect: roleplay, quick thinking, rich story, complicated feelings, improv, maybe even some funny voices, but --

Nothing had prepared her for the amount of planning.

“So that’s it?”

Shirayuki startles; she’d been deep into splitting healing duties with Mitsuhide. Paladins are only half spell casters, only good for buffs and an occasional off-heal, so all the curse removal duties fall to Lynet. Bedwyr is more or less moral support; unless the curse itself had some sort of permanent stat drain, there’s nothing he can do.

Zen isn’t invested in this conversation, of course; magi don’t have magic that can’t be applied to themselves or their weapon. Which is why he’s craning his neck toward Izana, incredulous. “We just cast a whole bunch of Remove Curse and then hit the road?”

Shirayuki isn’t an expert on Izana’s expressions, not when the difference between them is the angle of an eyebrow or the twitch of a lip, but she feels confident in calling this one positively withering. “Is that what you think you should do?”

The temperature of the room drops two degrees. That’s a question where everyone knows the answer.

“We still don’t know who started this,” Mitsuhide tries, haltingly, thick fingers worrying at the edge of his character sheet. From the dog-eared corners on every side, this isn’t a first-time occurrence. “It’s not a good habit to leave enemies behind us.”

“Not a healthy one, at least,” Kiki adds, leaning her knee against the table.

“But we don’t have any hints either.” Zen’s flushed, frustrated. “Do you guys just want to hang around here, waiting for him to come back? If he comes back?”

“Or her.” Kiki’s brow twitches, and Shirayuki’s not sure whether to read it as amusement or annoyance. Maybe both is the better bet. “Then again, you haven’t tried to woo any rescued damsels this session, so probably not a dread sorceress. Unless there’s something Shirayuki isn’t telling us.”

Kiki turns to her with an inquisitive look, and even though she knows she’s joking, even though she sees the quirk at the corner of her lips, Shirayuki’s cheeks flare fire-engine red.

“Hey!” Zen snaps, not looking much better. “Shirayuki--”

“Well.” Obi’s mouth cants, eyes catching hers from their corners. “I know Beaumains is under her spell.”

She can feel it, this moment of opportunity being flung open like a window, and -- and his wink is not helping matters. Not at all. Especially not when Kihal’s flirt back or make out with his face is burning a hole in her pocket, reminding her of what she was trying to do before plot carried her away. It’s just --

She can’t say something now. This isn’t Lynet and Beaumains, this is -- is them, Shirayuki and Obi, and that might mean something, and she doesn’t -- she isn’t --

Well, there’s just a huge difference between a flirtation and a boyfriend, probably. And she hardly knows if she wants the first, let alone -- that. Not with some college boy she’s known a week. He might play trumpet, for all she knows.

The moment stretches on, too long, and Kiki hums, amused. “I suppose that is some damning evidence.”

“Okay.” Zen’s folded himself into a huff, fuming so hard it’s an honest surprise smoke isn’t pouring out his ears. “So you all think we should just...hang around? Hope for some Big Bad to come wandering back to check his work?”

“Well.” The word bursts out of her, unbidden, but -- she’s committed now, with everyone watching her. “We do have, um, another reason.”

He blinks, some of his flush fading back to pink. “Oh?”

“I, uh, only prepared one Removed Curse at our last rest.” Her hands twist themselves in knots under the table, anxious. “But I can fix that at our next one! If this works like it should, then I should be able to get everyone on their feet in...a few days, maybe?”

Zen lets loose a whine that would make a puppy worry. “A few days.”

“Um, well...” Shirayuki squirms in her seat. “Give or take.”

Kiki’s eyes narrow. “Just how many spell slots do you have?”

“Um...” She flips through her sheet, squinting at the chart on the second page. “Three?”

Mitsuhide lets out a worried hum, too high-pitched for a man his size. “How many people are under this spell again?”

The question sits heavily at the table until Izana leans back, the picture of surprise, and asks, “Oh, are you asking me?”

Zen stares. “Is there someone else who would know?”

“It could have been rhetorical. A nice little thought exercise.” He shrugs, and Shirayuki does not miss the way his mouth twitches at a corner. “But the answer is: as many as it takes to make a castle of this size function.”

Zen groans.

“Oh, looks like we better get comfy, my liege,” Obi says with a wolfish grin. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

This night is your longest yet; you had thought the first interminable, when all the miasma of illness hung thick over the room, choking you even behind yours mask. Despair had clung to every wrinkle in your gown, tight like a child’s hand on a mother’s apron, always niggling, reminding you that time would run out, that perhaps no amount of your cleverness could save them.

But hope is worse.

There is no reason to pick the man you do -- or rather, the lack of one becomes it. With only a single brew, Bedwyr suggests that you spend it on the castle’s healer, but--

But this magic is familiar somehow. It slicks along your skin like a drop of oil in water, and though you cannot divine its maker, you do not trust it to act as it ought. Curse though it may be, there is a part of you that worries any cure that you brew will only add to your troubles.

You worry over that same thought for endless hours, trying to get to the marrow of it, to logic out why dread settles so firmly in your gut. There has never been an instance, not one, where your gifts have failed you, where the joy of victory has turned to ashes in your mouth. Except for the one, of course.

Despite your misgivings, the man wakes at dawn.

It is not a calm thing, oh no; he heaves into life, breath filling his chest so forcefully it arches him upright. He clutches at his breast, wide-eyed, but besides the atrophy expected of long illness and the shock of waking, he is healthy. So healthy he empties the first bowl of broth you give him, and the second, and when you bring the third he inquires after a heel of bread as well.

“Well, this certainly stands as a testament to your skill,” Arturius remarks, bemused, as the man sops up his bowl. You are tired, and for a moment you are tempted to ask if he had doubted it, but -- it would be picking a fight, and it is not the prince’s fault that his particular skills meant he slept, rather than wait.

“I brewed more last night,” you tell him. “Enough dose for three.”

“Our priority is the healer, of course.” He bites his lip, head tipped back in thought. “But the others...”

For the first time in hours, you feel your mouth lift into a smile. “I did have a thought about that...”

Izana blinks. “The dwarf?”

“He’s cursed, isn’t he?” She must be the only one that remembers; despite happening only hours ago, the rest of the party stares blankly at her. “Worse than anyone else, if I’m remembering right.”

“Oh,” Obi hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I remember that. He’s human.”

“Oh, right.” Zen scoops up the dwarf’s figure, squinting hard at its shapeless features. “I thought he was going to be the Big Bad’s sidekick, honestly.”

“Mm, agreed.” Kiki leans over, giving the plastic the same skeptical look. “I was waiting for the backstab.”

“Such little faith in your fellow man,” Izana clucks, shaking his head.

She arches a brow, eloquent in her disdain. “It is your game.”

His mouth stretches, curling into a smile Shirayuki’s only ever seen on the Grinch. “That is fair.”

“Still.” The word drags Izana’s attention back to her, his eyes almost comically wide. “I want to give our friend at least one of these. After all, he’s been helping us this whole time.”

“Has he though?” Obi mutters, and without even thinking, Shirayuki puts an elbow straight in his side.

Every hair stands on end as she realizes what she’s done. She’s -- she’s practically scolded him, the boy she maybe-kind of-might want to flirt with. Or his character, at least. For, you know, fun.

When she dares a glance at him, his eyes have rounded, eyebrows practically up at his hairline, but -- but --

He almost looks impressed.

“Huh,” Izana huffs out, drawing her attention back to the topic at hand. “Do you now.”

It’s not a question, but she hasn’t gotten this far by letting him practice his rhetoric. “I do.”

He hums, tapping at his notes. “Well, I suppose you could...try.”

“Me?” The dwarf shifts on his spindly legs, wringing his thick-fingered hands over his belly. “But -- but there are others. Other who would be of much more use than me!”

“We have more than enough for your healer,” you assure him, though you have to grit your teeth as he dances.

There’s something strange, off-kilter about the way he moves, about the way his face changes, as if your mind is trying to make him into two different people entirely -- one which is familiar, and one which is entirely not. It is tiring to say the least.

You meet his eyes, those warm hazel-green, and say, “You have helped us immeasurably. Who else could be more important than you?”

“The head of the guard?” he supplies with a squeak. “The steward. The -- the cook? Anyone, my lady, would be more helpful that me.”

You lower yourself to a chair, coming to his height. “No one is more important here than the man who knows how this all came to be.”

His gaze is watery when he tears it from yours. “No, no,” he insists, voice ragged. “Spend it on the others. All of them are more deserving than me.”

"Welp.” Obi pops the ‘p’, annoyed, and it draws attention to his mouth, to the way it fits around the words he speaks and -- well, Shirayuki really didn’t need help with that. “We’re doing real good, solving this mystery.”

It’s been three in-game days, and with every awoken man, more questions are asked than answered. So far none of them can remember being cursed, and when they bring the dwarf in front of them --

Well, Shirayuki knows this is all pretend, that the dwarf is really just Izana bending his voice into something new, but the way his expression crumples as every soldier calls him a stranger -- it’s a lot.

“What is even happening here?” Zen groans, fingers pulling at his face. “The dwarf knows something, but he won’t tell us.”

“He can’t tell us.” It comes out a little sharper than she intends, but -- it’s an important distinction. “He’s cursed.”

“Right,” he agrees absently. “But also he won’t let us help him, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Her hands clench on her lap. “It’s really n--”

“Can’t you just cast it on him anyway?” Obi asks, chin in hand, drumming his fingers on the table. “Then bingo-bango-bongo: the whole problem is solved.”

Her jaw drops. “I’m not going to treat a patient without his consent!”

Obi rounds on her, eyes incredulously wide. “He’s not real.”

That...is a good point, she’ll give him that.

“Well, he’s real to Lynet,” she informs him primly, setting her hands flat on the table. “And she would never.”

For a moment is mouth goes flat, annoyed, but then -- then it curls, Obi leaning casual on one fist. “I’m sure Beaumains could be persuasive.”

Her mouth wraps around the word, silent. The look he gives her is too knowing, eyebrows lifted in invitation, and she’s so, so tempted to ask just what kind of persuasion Beaumains might be inspired to do--

“Even if Shirayuki cast it, he could still resist it with a Will save,” Mitsuhide interjects, sending the moment skittering. “If he wanted to, at least. And then we’d be out of a spell slot.”

“If we’re stuck here, we should be focusing on the Big Bad anyway.” Zen settles back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably askew, like he’d just woken up. “Someone has to have said something interesting, right? And we’re not just thinking about it.”

Mitsuhide leans a chin in his hand, pondering the idea. “The head of the guard mentioned that a traveling caravan came through before this all happened.”

Kiki nods. “And the steward mentioned buying wood from traveling merchants. Probably the ones who supplied the logs with the Will debuff.”

Zen settles back, thoughtful. “So you think they were force to sell the wood?”

“They must have some leverage on them,” Mitsuhide agrees. “They didn’t mention any children--”

“Or maybe,” Kiki deadpans, “they were all bandits?”

Mitsuhide gapes. “But there were women in the caravan.”

“Oh my,” she hums, teeth flashing behind her lips. “You’re right. How silly of me. We all know a woman could never be dangerous, oh no.”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh?” Kiki smiles, and the room drops an entire degree. Shirayuki practically shivers in the chill. “It better not be.”

Shirayuki blinks, and between one moment as the next, Kiki stabs her pen into the table, leaving it quivering like a knife.

Izana huffs in annoyance. “Kiki, please. The table didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just between the leaves.” She shift her character sheets, and there it is: pen nib wedged perfectly into the crevice. With nothing more than a sharp tug, it’s back out again, twirling between Kiki’s long fingers. “Besides, it’s not like this is some family heirloom.”

“No,” Izana agrees, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Okay, aside from Princess Kiki’s love for violence, which, by the way--” Obi tosses her a wink, which absolutely does not send a jolt of disappointment spear through Shirayuki’s belly-- “hot. It looks like our only lead are these bandits.”

Mitsuhide grunts. “We don’t know if they’re bandits.”

“Fine, Schrödinger’s bandits,” he sighs. “We don’t--what?”

The table is quiet, wide-eyed -- even Izana -- and into the silence, Zen says, “You know Schrödinger?”

Obi huffs. “What? I go to college. I know memes.”

“Wow,” Kiki manages, drawling every letter.

“Anyway.” Zen wields the word like a knife, trying to cut through the distractions. “We should track down these bandits--”

Mitsuhide clears his throat.

“Potential bandits,” Zen amends, annoyed. “So while Shirayuki is tending to the people here, we can start canvassing the area.”

“Oh!” It slips out of her, like a punch to the gut. If she’s back at the castle, and Beaumains is out looking for bandits --

She shakes her head. That’s not what this game is about. It’s about saving her sister and having fun with her friends, not -- not practice flirting.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to take it back. Every eye at the table falls on her, and she squirms. “Um.”

“That isn’t very fair,” Kiki observes, dragging her gaze to Zen. “Shirayuki should get a chance to have an adventure too, not just heal in the background.”

“But we can’t take her with us.”

She hadn’t even minded being left behind -- Izana would give her something to do, and it wasn’t as if Lynet would feel strongly about bandit chasing -- but it stings, hearing it from his mouth. Zen had wanted her to be Gwenhwyfar, to be the one waving the handkerchief from the parapets. Instead she’d made Lynet -- an alchemist, an arcanist, an asset -- but even still he’s finding ways to keep her at Camelot, leaving her behind when the knights rode out.

Mitsuhide grunts, disapproving.

“She’s using her highest slots to do this curse thing,” Zen explains, and she gets it, she does, it just doesn’t help. “If we find the Big Bad--”

“--We should probably have our healer with us.” Obi’s mouth cants into a lop-sided smile, cajoling. “Come on, my liege. We don’t have to jump in the deep end the second we get a hint of where this guy is. We have plenty of time to give my lady here a heads up before we get ourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

He winks, and -- and maybe she’s just projecting, but it feels different from the one he gave Kiki. More...personal.

“Um.” Now is really not the time to blurt out, I’m more upset that I can’t flirt with your character, so she just nods, ducking her head so he can’t see her blush. “Okay! But I’ll need a day to swap out my spells.”

He’s just -- adjusting, she knows that, but his foot swipes right along the bottom of hers and every hair stands on end. Oh, goodness. “We’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Each day, more men awake from their stupors; three at a time, all of them disoriented, groggy. You had hoped that when you woke the healer, he would at least be able to ease your burden, but all the cursed are emaciated, their muscles atrophied to the point that they must be helped to the chamber pot and back. It is up to you to brew the potions, to cook the broth and, eventually, heartier stews to strengthen them.

And still there are more chores; small things: opening windows and keeping your stores stocked, organizing and documenting the treatment of your patients. Each day blends into each other, sleep only coming in fits and starts and never restful. Still, it is enough. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, hands doing what you ask of them, until --

Until one day they don’t.

Most of the men have not been moved from the great hall, though now, at least, there is room between them to walk, not just bodies laid haphazardly across the stone. It is not a situation you find ideal, however -- it is not feasible to move so many, and in their fugue state, few will care about privacy or proximity. However, those awoken few have been moved to more private chambers; the weft of the curse is thick, as fine a weave as any linen, and you suspect it does not allow any inference, either magic or mundane. Those who lay dreaming are free from any ailment save the caster’s making, but the others --

Well, that many men pressed so close is just tinder waiting for a kindling.

There is a way within Laxdo’s halls to reach the dormitories from the great hall, however, a quick dash through the courtyard’s arcades cuts minutes off a day that already has too few to spare. You hurry through, gaze set ever forward, laden with yet another heavy box of supplies.

Your mind is not on your day, of course. Oh no, it has long wandered far into stranger lands. The dwarf is what plagues your thoughts, for with every man that wakes, their eyes passing over him with barely more than a curious glance and no flash of recognition, he fades a little further. One day, you fear, you will turn to see he is little more than a shadow, a suggestion rather than a reality.

Whoever he is, he must be much changed. Perhaps he is knight, strong bodied and deep-voice; or perhaps he is truly only a boy, and --

Your heel catches, so hard that your teeth jitter in their sockets. It snaps your spine straight, feet staggering beneath you to balance both your weight and the box’s.

All for naught; the shock jolts like lightning through your limbs, and the moment you right yourself, the box slips from boneless fingers, straight to the stone below.

There is a moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Or at least, the last week, which has felt like a lifetime. On shivering fawn legs, you bend, touching each bottle and jar as if they were the saints’ bones themselves. It is not the first inventory you have done with your heart lodged in your throat, but it is certainly the one where you had the most to lose. After all, it wasn’t as if the people of Castle Perilous would rely on their young mistress alone.

Your breath huffs out on a sigh. Misfortune’s bony fingers have no hooks in your skirts today. Not one cracked jar or one broken seal.

You get to your feet, hauling the box into you arms, but -- but you are made suddenly and terrifying aware that you have not slept for days. The world swings in a mad carousel around you, and with the momentum of your lift and the weight of the box you tilt back --

But never hit the ground.

“Oh,” Zen groans, flopping back in his seat. “Come on. Really?”

“Oooh, master, you just wish you had moves like me.” Obi’s hips give a sultry swivel in his seat as he scoops up his natural twenty. It absolutely does not give Shirayuki any -- any ideas. The room is just unnaturally warm for a basement.

“Careful, smooth moves,” Kiki deadpans. “K-pop impressions and bad pick-up lines won’t save you from not investing in your health.”

Obi huffs out a laugh with one of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I don’t invest in nerd things like hit points, I invest in being cool, and I stand by that decision. Besides,” he says, pink flaring high on his cheeks, “my pick-up lines are great.”

“Name one that worked.”

“I dunno.” His shoulders hunch, defensive. “All of them.”

Kiki’s eyebrows lift. “On who?”

Me. Shirayuki catches the word in her teeth, swallowing it down. It’s not -- it’s not even true. Beaumains has been using them on Lynet, and Lynet is the one interested, not -- not her. They’re different people. Probably.

“You know.” He sniffs. “People. You don’t know them.”

If anything, Kiki’s brows only raise higher. “Hmm.”

“If we’re quite done speculating about Obi’s romantic prowess,” Izana interjects smoothly. “I do believe we’re in the middle of something?”

Heat blooms across your back, the way it would when you sat at the hearth, tilting a book so it might not lay in shadow. It smolders along your side, not like a bonfire, but a brazier, or even a bed warmer --

Ah, now there is a thought your father would not appreciate you having.

Your gaze is fixed to your supplies, but it takes you a long moment to realize you are not holding them. No, it is a steady hand over you, sheathed in black leather, and in one, delirious moment, you realize that bare indigo must be pressed into your back, hooking just so at your hip. He doesn’t even shake.

“Careful there, my lady.” The words rumble against your ear, too intimate in the cage of his chest. “Keep this up, and a man could get ideas.”

You lift your gaze, gold tangling with green, breath catching in your throat. He might have made a shoddy assassin, but as your protector, well --

“Do you think if it happens another time, you will believe it?”

He blinks, eyes as wide and gold as coins. “Believe what?”

With all the courage you can summon, you mimic his flirtatious smirk and say, “That I’m falling for you.”

If the birds still sang at Laxdo, then the air would not be so still, so silent. At it is, you could hear a pin drop, so long as it was louder than the throb of your heart.

In a single, staggering moment, you are back on your feet, and Beaumains shakes his head, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “You need to work on your delivery.”

Your jaw snaps shut. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the flirting type, my lady.” He shrugs, a smirk peeking out from behind his cowl. “Too earnest, I think.”

Blood boils in your veins, and you know he can see it on your skin when you say, “It does not seem fair that you may make love as you wish, but yet I cannot.”

He huffs out a laugh, sweeping a step closer. Oh, he smells...nice. Leather and pine with a hint of brimstone. “You know what I have and you don’t, my lady?”

“What?” You wish it wasn’t so breathless.

He leans in, and unbidden, your eyes flutter to half-mast. “Charisma.”

“Wait.” Kiki snags his sheet, sliding it across the table. “How on earth is your charisma higher than your con?”

“I’m a rogue-sorcerer!” Obi squeaks, snatching it back. “It’s my casting stat.”

“This is ridiculous,” she decides. “Are you planning on using it any time soon?”

He gapes. “I use it all the time!”

“I mean besides for bad pick-up lines.”

“How do you think I snuck up on Shirayuki at all?” He waves his hands. “Obviously magic!”

“I mean...” Kiki shrugs. “There is a stealth stat for a reason. A good rogue wouldn’t need Invisibility--”

He sniffs. “There’s just no reasoning with you, Princess.”

“I thought you were supposed to be bandit hunting.” The words come out breathless, and you wish you were like Morgaine, who never sounds as if anything bothers her at all, instead of -- of this. A girl ripe to be teased, since she can never wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve.

He looks out over the yard, eyes squinting into the distance, and it is a fine view for watching the smirk creep up the side of his face. “Seemed like my job was here, my lady.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, as suddenly and easily as if he had laid a hand over your heart. Still, you frown. “And you did not think to announce yourself?”

“You did well enough alone,” he tells you with a speculative glance, and the flash in his eyes makes you think he likes what he sees. That he is, perhaps, even a little impressed with you. “And anyway, it seemed like you understood well enough about hiding in plain sight.”

You do not miss the bite of censure in his words, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. He put space between you, but you close it as you say, “I am the only one who can do this work, I do not have the luxury of--”

“Peace, my lady.” He holds up his hands, as if he might ward you off like a bitch anxious over her pups. “I know well enough. Still...” He edges a step back, teeth flashing white against the dark of his face. “Should you not be wary of me?”

You stare, brows furrowed. “Wary? Has not Uther himself consigned me to your care?”

“That’s true enough,” he admits, hand raising to squeeze at his shoulder. An old injury must lay there, aggravated by the heavy weather. “Though I thought His Grace would fill your head with all sorts of things.”

“Things?”

“Speculations. Rumor.” He grins, sharp enough to cut, though it is not a blade faced outward. “Maybe even something close to the truth.”

“Beaumains.” You step closer, and he watches you now, not the quintain creaking in the distance. “I think my own thoughts, not those of Arturius. And I have never been wary of you.”

The arcade is so quiet, you can hear his breath rasp in his chest.

“Besides--” you let yourself share in some of his smile-- “I was the one who had you pinned.”

“My lady,” he protests, “I let you--”

“I think we can call this argument thoroughly explored,” Izana informs them. “Not that I do not enjoy the enthusiastic roleplay.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki chirps, hands clapping to cover her blush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No need.” You do not miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I think we all know it was your tanglefoot bag that did the pinning.”

“In any case,” you continue, perhaps a little forcefully, “you have proven yourself to be a man worthy of trust in my eyes.”

Beaumains stares, inscrutable. “My lady...”

Whatever words he means to say are lost; he folds his lips around them and the moment carries them away.

“My lady,” he tries again, more sure. “You’re wearing yourself down.”

“I am fine--”

“Perhaps His Grace--”

“I am fine,” you insist, sharper than you intend. “There is no reason to worry Arturius. So you might as well not.”

The silence between you itches, and when those golden eyes look at you, when they stare through you as if you were a specimen under glass, you want to squirm out of your own skin. “Who says I have to listen to anything you say?”

Uther. The name bubbles up, unbidden. You would have to be a fool to speak it; what passed between assassin and king is known by them alone. To pretend you know either of their minds would be a mistake of the rarest form.

Instead, you take a step forward, skirt brushing over the toes of his boots. “You owe me.”

His eyes narrow, thoughtful. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You do.”

He stares at you, and you know he remembers the same as you do: the botched assassination, him grabbing your wrists and pulling you under him, the way his skin had warmed so pleasantly against yours --

“Fine.” His gaze swivels away, chin turned so much your neck hurts just looking at it. “But...why keep it a secret, my lady?”

Teeth prick at your lips. You cannot just say, Arturius. Not when he has been so kind to you, when he has taken on this quest that no other would. But still, still -- you were barely allowed to come. If he were to know that you are weary, or weak, or, Father forfend, overwhelmed --

Well, you do not have to imagine what sort of behavior that might invite from His Grace.

“Because I can manage on my own,” you say instead, lifting the box from his hands.

Or at least, you would, if he would let go. “We’re only having this talk because you’re not managing, my lady.”

Ah, that is...a point. Your shoulders drop, grip loosening until it is once again only Beaumains that holds it. “I...”

“My lady?” You cannot meet his gaze, but you feel it on you, warm and inquisitive, perhaps even concerned.

“It’s only...”

He leans in. You can feet his heat against your skin.

“The dwarf,” you manage, a flush gathering at where your wimple meets your collar. “There’s something about him.”

“He’s short?” Beaumains offers, voice low, a pleasant rumble so close to you. “He’s cursed?”

Your mouth pulls thin. “That is not what a meant. However...” You shake your head, at a loss. “I only have this...this feeling. It is important that he be cured of his affliction. But...if he does not want to be saved before the others...”

Frustration tangles your tongue. If only you knew what words would convince him, what proof you needed to lay before him --

“Ah,” Beaumains sighs, mouth crooking into a grin. “Is that all?”

Izana blinks as his phone hoots at him, scanning the screen.

“Hm.” He sets it aside, laying it square on the table. “Obi, if you would come with me.”

Zen’s eyes narrow as they stand, gaze darting between them. “What are you doing?”

“Me and the big boss here have some business in hallway time,” Obi tells him with a grin even Shirayuki has to admit is insufferable. “Got a problem with it?”

He frowns. “Why do you need that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Obi skips around the corner of the stairs and is gone. The door above shuts with an almost jaunty click.

“Wha--?” Zen stares after him, sputtering. “That’s why I’m asking!”

It is quiet, for once. Only the moan of the wind outside and the scratch of your nib against parchment reach your ears, the crackle of the fire long faded into the background of your mind. It lulls you, the gentle sweep of your own hand, and you close your eyes -- just a blink --

Only to wake at the creak of your door.

“Lynet.”

You do not expect the prince to darken your door, not this late at night, but here he is, cloak dusted with snow, sword at his hip. He follows your gaze, and he seems shocked to find his blade there as well, as if he does not always keep it at his side.

“Arturius,” you say, rising to your feet. “I didn’t think to see you so late.”

“I needed to know something.” He sweeps a hand toward your bed. “Would you mind?”

You blink, and for a moment, he is a different man telling you to get to a bed, gaunleted hands reaching --

“Yes,” you gasp, shaking yourself. This is different. Arturius is a friend. You trust him. “Of course.”

Your legs dangle off the side of the bed, toes just brushing the floor, and he draws his chair up in front of you, holding your hand.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I’m going to count.”

“Are you taking my pulse?” His fingers are not in the proper place for such a thing. At your wrist is truly--

“Please,” he laughs. “Just trust me.”

You do, and so your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you are only aware of your breath, of his touch, and you --

Jolt awake, as the door flies open again.

“Beaumains!” Arturius snaps, dropping your hand as if it scalds. “What are you--?

It is only once he is in the room room that you can see -- there is someone behind him. A small someone.

The dwarf.

Beaumain’s smile stretches smugly from ear-to-ear. “Our friend here says he’ll do it.”

“What?” Zen squaws, glaring daggers at his brother before settling back on Obi. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Obi grins, hooking his hands behind his head. “Get the job done?”

“Intimidate him!” He waves a hand vaguely towards the head of the table. “He’s our friend!”

Obi blinks. “Izana?”

“No, not -- I mean the dwarf!” He lets out a huff. “Izana is definitely not our friend.”

“Brother.” Izana presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re like Rasputin,” Zen tells him. “You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t intimidate either of them.” Obi darts a glance at her, hooking her with a grin. “I just used my raw charisma.”

Kiki groans. “Go home.”

“Are you certain?” You glance at Beaumains behind him, but there is no menace to the man, just an unseemly amount of gloating. “I will not force you.”

The dwarf hesitates, wringing his small hands over his belly, but in the end he nods, meeting your gaze with a confidence that is wholly new. “I am ready, my lady.”

Your hand shakes as his fingers cup the rounded bottom of the flask, as he pulls the glass from your grasp, and with a deep, steeling sigh, upends the entirety of the potion into his throat.

“Oh!” The sound hiccups out of you, and though you’ve worn a groove in your voice the shape of the warnings you give each time, they tangle in your mouth. It is too late to say, drink slowly, to say, stop if it does not feel right, and oh, you are usual say this to a man prone, insensate --

And yet, nothing happens.

It takes time, you know. Your palms itch, eager to reach for your notes, to see if this was too long an interval, if this was a sign that this geas was worse, that the caster was fighting your remedy --

A muscle twitches. The dwarf blinks, raising his hand -- his hand that is now large, now small, that cannot decide its size at all, which is fine since his whole body follows suit, growing and shrinking. His shoulders rounds as his spine stretches, as if he’s hit a wall, some sort of barrier --

And it shatters, like an egg’s shell, his body growing well beyond its confines, the proportion of his limbs and face changing, until --

“Oh!” You whirl around, putting your back to him. “Oh my!”

“Ah,” the man says, his voice reedy, yet not as high as you remember. “I had hoped that this might be better done.”

“Here.” Arturius tosses one of the sheets from the cots. “Cover yourself.”

“I thank you,” the man says, humiliation riding high in his tone. “My lady, please forgive me, I did not think--”

“You...you are--” it is hard to find the words with your cheeks as hot as this -- “you are the lord of Laxdo’s son!”

He lets out a single, pained laugh. “I am afraid I am more than that now, my lady. I am Laxdo’s lord.”

“But--”

“Arturius!” Bedwyr sweeps into the room, ragged. “The men are all waking!”

“Wait, wait.” Shirayuki shakes her head, brow furrowed. “I removed his curse, and now everyone is healed?”

Izana lifts a hand in a lazy shrug. “So it would seem.”

“But...but...” She swivels, fixing on him. “But he didn’t want to be turned back! He wouldn’t let us, not until--” Shirayuki stops, her brain rushing to put the pieces together. “That was part of the compulsion. He wouldn’t let the curse be broken so that we -- so that I--”

She groans. “We could have done this in a day.”

“Welcome to Izanafinder,” Kiki deadpans. “He may not kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead.”

“My name is Shuuka,” the man says, better settled with the sheet around his hips. You still keep finding the wall just over his left shoulder fascinating. If only Bedwyr would be faster at locating the young lord’s costume. “I must admit, I had hoped you might remember it, my lady.”

You grimace. “I am...very bad with names. My father often despaired of it.”

And as in all his wishes, it bore very little fruit.

“I think I remember that.” He laughs, weary. “It is no matter. I am in your debt regardless.”

“Pray, do not think on it,” you tell him, even as Arturius grunts. “I would not have a soul beholden to me.”

You do not miss Beaumain’s cough, nor the amused way he watches you from the door. Doubtlessly, he would find time to say his piece on that, but it will not be now.

“But, my lady--”

“What would help us most would be if you told us what happened,” Arturius says, oddly strangled. “Since you are the only one that seems to remember.”

Shuuka blinks, as if he had forgotten his prince sat mere steps away. “Of course. I shall explain it all to you.”

“That would be--”

“But first.” He slips his hand around yours, smiling shyly. “We must celebrate how you have saved us.”

“Oh,” you breathe, gaze flying to Arturius. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I do not think--”

“Please, give me this,” Shuuka insists. “A banquet in your honor.”

You do not look at him, but you can feel Beaumain’s grin as a palpable touch. “Truly, it is not necessary. It was all of us who--”

“Ah yes, then in all your honor!” He squeezes your hand, and gives you a boyish smile that sends you straight back to girlhood. “All the men have been healed, and it would do them good to have a night of merriment.”

You cannot refute it would raise morale. Which would be much needed, once they took in the state of Laxdo’s disrepair. “I suppose...”

He leaps to his feet, thankfully taking the sheet with him. “Then a banquet it is!”

Shirayuki buries her face in her hands. “Oh my.”

“Oooh,” Obi croons. “Looks like you got some competition, my liege.”

Zen frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #Dungeons & Dragons AU #my fic #ans #for all of you that were hoping for flirting #YOU NOW HAVE THIS #also please enjoy 6.5K of this because THERE WAS NO GOOD PLACE TO STOP #I keep hoping this arc will wrap up so i get get to SOME STUFF but NOPE #can't possibly shut up XD

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snorlaxlovesme · 5 years

Text

SoMa Week 2019

Day 6: Hands

You know that hectic panic you get in when your mom is gonna be home in 20 minutes and you just remembered she had left a list of chores for you to do before she got back? This fic is like that. Except it's Soul with his arm stuck in the dishwasher.

This is a very serious SoMa Week fic.

“Alexa, record my last will and testament.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know that one.”

Soul looks at the clock. Maka should be home any minute now, he thinks hopelessly, mostly because he had that exact thought 3 hours ago and he was wrong then, so who really knows when she’s going to be back? His neck is absolutely burning from being in this position, and his left arm has taken on a new feeling that’s hovering somewhere between the realm of “stabbing pain” and “complete paralysis.” He’s been sitting on the floor of their kitchen for so long that he’s starting to find shapes in the weird stains on their tile like some kind of fucked up Rorschach test. The one shaped like his mother’s disappointment in him might be blood from Maka’s cut from their last mission. He’s also discovered they have ants.

This all started out with good intentions. Kind of. Okay, no, it started off with Maka leaving him 300 passive aggressive sticky notes (she was the fucking queen of those) saying that if he didn’t start cleaning up their apartment she was going to dump him in the street like the lazy weapon he was and someone else could cook and clean after him. Which is not the Top Ten Most Romantic Ways for the love of your life to tell you to do chores, if you ask Soul. So yeah, maybe he waited until the day before Maka came back from her trip to see her mom to finally start cleaning. And yeah, sure, maybe he was getting kind of aggressive about how he was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. So what?

He’d never admit to Maka that he doesn’t know anything about their new dishwasher, but now he really doesn’t have a choice. When he was maniacally stacking dirty dishes before Maka’s plane landed, he managed to drop one of Maka’s metal chopsticks in between the racks and into the bottom of the dishwasher. He had considered just leaving it down there and hoping for the best, but with the literal signs all over his kitchen calling him LAZY WEAPON, he decided to do the right thing and retrieve it instead of leaving it down there to potentially destroy their new appliance.

Big mistake.

His arm is stuck and it fucking hurts.

He didn’t know the space in between the bottom rack and the water-propeller-thingy was so small, okay? His hand went in just fine! But once he got in up to his shoulder he knew he was fucked. He had the chopstick in hand, but his arm was bent in a position that left no room for wiggling out. And force did not seem like the best option when they just sunk $600 into this stupid fucking appliance. If Soul broke it, he’d never hear the end of it, for sure.

So Soul’s only option? Waiting for Maka to come save him. Pathetic.

He didn’t even have his phone on him when he trapped himself, so he’s been sitting on the kitchen floor for the past three hours (has it been hours? Days? Time has no meaning anymore) wondering if this is how he’s going to die. It’s hard to think of a more undignified way to go at the moment, but he’s sure it could be worse, right? At least his hand isn’t in the toilet.

A tickling on his ankle has him flinching aggressively. An ant has attempted to crawl up his pantleg. Soul pinches it between his fingers on his right hand and flicks it across the kitchen, only to belatedly realize it would have been better to just kill it. Now it has time to come back and tell all its ant friends that the kitchen is open for business and essentially unguarded. What can one boy do when 20% of his body is wedged inside of an over-priced dishwasher?

He tries again to morph his arm into a weapon, like maybe trying it now might be more successful than the 8 other times he’s attempted this solution. But Soul’s arm is bent at an angle that would absolutely destroy the dishwasher if he morphed it into a blade. Maka’s favorite “I closed my book to be here” mug is directly above his hand on the top rack and would for sure be shattered if he transformed. That would even worse than destroying the dishwasher, probably. His arm returns to miserable skin and bone.

“Alexa, play ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses’.”

“Here’s a sample of ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses. To play the full version, please purchase Amazon Unlimited Music by—”

“Alexa, stop.”

Soul’s pretty sure he’s dying.

The floor-stain shaped like the pain in his left arm has a gathering of ants around it. Maybe it’s spilled soda? Or maybe they’re all congregating to discuss how they plan on eating Soul’s body after he inevitably perishes? He tries to save himself and tamp on them with his foot, but shifting his body just sends shooting pain up his arm. He stills and grits his teeth. He’ll just have to wait for Death to take him.

Minutes later, hours later, years later, he hears the clicking of the lock to their front door, and Maka walks in with two large duffel bags in hand and her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, Mama, I made it home safely, I’m just gonna—Soul?”

He looks up at her with sad, sad eyes.

Maka gingerly sets down her bags. “Mama, I’m gonna have to call you back. Okay. Yeah. Bye.”

“Help,” he whines pathetically. No traces of coolness to be found in a situation like this.

She kneels next to where he lays, slouched on the tile. “What happened here?”

“I found out why I never do chores.”

She makes a face at him. “If you did chores more often, maybe you’d hurt yourself less. Practice makes perfect, you know.” She looks at his stuck arm with a morbid kind of wonder. “Wow, you’re really stuck in there. How long have you been sitting like this?”

“You were supposed to be here hours ago” is Soul’s only response, because fuck if he knows how long it’s been.

She runs her fingers through his messy hair. “Sorry, sorry, my layover got delayed and things got all hectic. I guess this explains why you weren’t answering your phone, too. Does it hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Can you get me out? Please?”

She gives him a little kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, let’s see here.” She moves him over a tad so she can see better (“sorry, sorry!” she shrieks as he groans) and discovers that not only is he mega-stuck, but there doesn’t seem to be a sensible way to bend his arm to free him.

“Okay then, we’ll just do this,” she says, and in one Superman-like motion she’s grabbing the bottom rack of dishes and straight-up ripping it off the track so Soul can pull his arm free. He about cries in relief, then from pain when finally puts his arm into a position that lets the blood flow back into it. His shoulder is so fucking stiff.

Maka sets the mangled rack onto their kitchen floor, apparently not giving a damn when the dishes still inside it clank together in a dangerously-close-to-shattering cacophony. She sits down beside him, digs her fingers into the crook of his neck, and starts massaging.

“I can’t believe you broke the dishwasher to get me out,” Soul says, rolling his eyes back a little because her hands feel so fucking good on his sore neck and shoulder.

“Well, I wasn’t just going to leave you stuck in there,” Maka says. “Plus, it’s under warrantee, so we can just get the people from the department store to come back and fix it in a few days.”

“WHAT?” Soul roars so loud that Maka jumps a little bit. “Are you saying that I just 127 Hours-ed myself for NOTHING because I could have just BROKEN IT TO BEGIN WITH??”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, Soul, just because you don’t listen when the people who install our appliances tell us about what we’re paying for!”

“I was stuck there for hours because I thought you’d be mad if I broke it!”

“When on earth did I imply during our five-year partnership that I liked a dishwasher more than I liked you in one piece?”

When she puts it like that, he does sound a little stupid. Or maybe she sounds a little sweet. Or maybe being trapped inside a dishwasher for half a day is just distorting his view of reality. He needs to get up off the floor, like now.

He stands up, popping his spine in like nine different places and offers her his hand to help her up too. When he reaches down, the metal chopstick that has been trapped in his raccoon-like grip finally slips between his fingers.

It falls on the floor and bounces before rolling away, and Maka scoots to go retrieve it.

“Is this what you were trying to grab when you got stuck?” she asks. “These don’t even go in the dishwasher, Soul. You handwash them.”

Soul swears his vision whites out for a moment. He can’t even dignify that statement with a response because he’ll probably live to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next. Besides, all’s well that ends well, right? He got the chopstick, he didn’t technically break the dishwasher, and his meister is home and happy. So it was all worth it in the end, right?

Maka finally slaps her hand on the runaway chopstick, shouting a dorky little “a-ha!” Her hand lands near a floor-spot that looks like a wonky heart.

Soul sighs. He’d probably do it again, for her, if it came down to it. He squats down beside her and plants a kiss on her unsuspecting cheek.

“Missed you while you were gone,” he tells her, because it’s worth saying.

She smiles warmly at him and leans in to give him a proper kiss. She doesn’t make it all the way there, because suddenly she’s jumping a foot in the air with a yelp, coming close to headbutting him in the nose. Maka looks down at where her hand rests on the floor, where a small black insect is skittering across her knuckle. Soul watches in horror as her eyes zero in on 10 of its closest friends a few feet away on the floor.

There’s the briefest moment of silence as she ponders what she’s looking at. The calm before the storm. Then:

“Are those ANTS?”

She whips around to face him, but Soul’s already gone. He can still hear her shouting from down the hall. “Soul, I told you to MOP while I was gone!!”

His shoulder twinges painfully as he slams the door shut to his room. He thinks he’ll just live with the sticky notes for this one.

#soma week 2019 #soma week #soma #soul x maka #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul eater #se fic #*throws garbage into the wind* i havent posted writing in ages so LETS START WITH THIS #my writing

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shortcakemonster · 5 years

Text

Go-Away Green pt. 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

(Reposted because the last one was missing action and drama and the like. Sorry, everybody.)

Summary: In a frantic rush, Peter takes you back to his place to recover. But more trouble awaits you at school the next day.

May Parker was in for a treat when her nephew came tumbling into the apartment, clad in his Spider-Man suit, with a dripping, half-conscious girl in his arms.

“Hey, Aunt May!” Peter called as he dove into the bathroom.

May was out of her seat and hot on his trail two seconds later, only to find him gently depositing you into the bathtub (mind you, you were still fully clothed) and turning on the faucet.

“Karen said you’re suffering from the first stages of hypothermia, but don’t worry, she said it isn’t too serious and that it’s okay to give you a hot bath,” Peter explained to you in a hushed tone.

“Peter.” Her nephew’s back went rigid at the mention of his name. “Mind telling me who that is?”

Peter quickly stood up and positioned himself in front of you, blocking most of you from his aunt’s sight.

May was suddenly struck by a strange haze over her perception, like she’d walked into a cloud of mental blurriness. Every time she tried to look in the direction of the bathtub, her gaze would be led away. She forced herself to look at you, squinting as you started to... turn invisible?

“Is she-”

“May, could we talk about this outside?” Before she knew it, Peter had herded her out of the room and shut the door gently behind him. Her mind seemed to clear once she was out in the living room, and she breathed deeply, blinking and shaking her head.

She propped up her hands on her hips once she fully got her wits about her. “This better be good.”

“She’s, uh, one of Mr. Stark’s interns.” Peter kept eye contact with her for most of his statement, so May concluded that this was at least mostly true.

...Which didn’t bode well for her opinion regarding the billionaire playboy. “Oh, great, because the man didn’t have enough teenagers risking their lives for him.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped downward. “May, that’s not fair-”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Why does she have hypothermia?”

“We were on a ship,” Peter stated, as if that were the perfect answer to all of life’s- or at least May’s- questions. “She fell.”

May pinched the bridge of her nose. For all of Peter’s intelligence, he didn’t always employ it at the most convenient times.

“Doing what, exactly?” she asked.

“Fighting off some human traffickers,” Peter mumbled.

It had taken a while, but May had finally stopped asking Peter why he did the things he did, at least regarding his Spider-Man self. She knew why he fought crime. She knew why he willingly put himself in danger to help others. So, she skipped all of her knee-jerk sentiments of What in the hell were you doing fighting some human traffickers? and instead moved on to a question to which she did not know the answer.

“Where do her parents think she is?”

Peter’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He could have lied. For your sake, he could have told his aunt that your parents thought you were at the library, or a friend’s house. But Peter had never been good at lying, and the moment’s hesitation that he took to consider his options was what did him in.

“It’s... complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” May demanded.

“I can’t,” he insisted. “Really, May, it’s not my business to tell you.”

May raised an eyebrow. Usually, Peter wasn’t very good at keeping secrets.

...Alright, so he’d had her in the dark on the Spider-Man thing for quite a while, but he was slightly better at keeping secrets that were vitally important to him. Which meant that you, and therefore your situation with your parents, had to be important. And that was enough to raise an alarm or two.

“Is she alright?”

Peter sifted through all the possible answers in his head. “...Yes?”

“Peter-” May huffed, clearly fed up.

“Look, if anything bad was happening to her, I would’ve gotten her out of it. I promise.”

May took in the pleading look on her nephew’s face and decided to let this one go, at least for now. She sighed, most of the tension leaving her body. Peter was a superhero, for Lord’s sake, if he thought anyone was in trouble, he’d get them out of it.

“You’re both okay, then? After this human trafficker business?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, May, we’re good.”

“And... did I see her turn invisible in there, or...?” She jutted her thumb out in the direction of the bathroom.

“Yeah, she does that,” Peter confirmed. “She also, well... She can do this thing where... You haven’t seen Doctor Who, have you?”

May shook her head, letting her hand down. All she could surmise from such an inquiry was that you had some sort of strange, alien-like powers beyond the invisibility.

“Well, the long and short of it is that she can keep people from paying attention to her, so if you feel a little like you can’t focus around her, that’s why.”

May furrowed her brows. She had felt that, and she was glad to have an explanation for why she’d felt so strange around you. But why would you not want anyone to pay attention to you? Again, this couldn’t say anything good about your relationship with your family.

“Seriously, Peter, is she okay?”

Peter’s jaw tensed, but his eyes softened with that same puppy dog look that May was oh-so familiar with. “She... I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m trying to help her, but...”

May cupped Peter’s shoulders with her hands. “You can’t save everyone, kiddo. Especially not from themselves.”

Honest to God, Peter nearly pouted as his head lowered to his chest. May hooked a finger under his chin and angled his face back up to hers. There was an important question that no good aunt would leave out of a conversation like this.

“So, how long have you had a crush on this girl?”

Peter rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something- probably to protest May’s assessment- but simply let out a sigh. “A few days.”

“She’s cute,” May commented, grinning. She hadn’t actually gotten a good look at you, but she knew that her nephew had good taste. It ran in the family.

“Yeah, alright, May,” Peter scoffed, clearly trying to play it cool. May knew better, though, because when Peter felt things, he felt them one hundred percent. “Could you make her some tea, or something? Please? I need to get her some dry clothes.”

“Alrighty, Romeo,” May conceded. She gave Peter a kiss on the forehead for good measure, then retreated to the kitchen.

This wasn’t a big deal, right? Totally not a big deal. You’d just fallen into the ocean and barely maintained consciousness as Peter yanked you out of the water and swung across the city and brought you to his apartment so you could sit fully clothed in his bathtub.

This was a completely big deal.

Not only all of that, but you’d briefly encountered Peter’s aunt, and your sudden panic over someone you didn’t know seeing you in such a vulnerable state had caused you to flicker momentarily.

So now you sat alone in the tub, shivering despite the steam rising from the water that engulfed you. You peeled off your socks and stuck the top of your head beneath the water for a moment, knowing that keeping your head and feet warm would be integral to fighting off your hypothermia.

You looked around at the bathroom. It was fairly small, and your phone and earpiece sat on the sink counter beside a bunch of hair and bath products. You weren’t sure who, between May and Peter, used which products, but there was no way Peter could get his hair perfectly curled like that every day without at least a little bit of help.

Under the water, your hand dug around in the pocket of your jeans for your ring. You pulled it out and held it in your palm, wondering if you should wear it. You’d already revealed your powers to Peter’s aunt, and Peter likely wouldn’t appreciate it if you tried to use your “mind control” on her.

You sighed and slipped the ring over your finger. The least you could do was accommodate him, considering everything he was doing for you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but soon a trio of knocks came from the other side of the door. Your head rose from the water as Peter called out your name softly and peeked his head inside.

“You doing okay?”

You nodded, wringing out your hair. “Are you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he assured you with a smile. He slipped inside the bathroom, now dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, carrying a pile of folded clothes and a towel. “These are for you, we can put yours in the dryer later.”

“Thank you,” you murmured.

He smiled again, setting the clothes and the towel down on the lid of the toilet seat. “May’s making some tea, by the way. We could watch something in the living room while you warm up.”

Your heart sped up at the idea of spending more time at Peter’s apartment, for several different reasons. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“Nope, stop right there!” Peter exclaimed. He whipped out his Spider-Man mask from the waistband of his sweatpants and shoved it over his head. “Karen, would she benefit from taking a load off and having a hot drink?”

“Yes, but Peter, I’d recommend learning to express your feelings in a more effective way. If you want to spend more time with her, then-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Peter said, ripping off the mask. “She said you should rest.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing more. Peter took this as a sign of victory and grinned as he left the bathroom.

Eventually the water cooled down, and you let it drain from the tub as you took off your clothes, dried off, and changed into Peter’s: a pair of fuzzy socks, Midtown sweatpants, and a shirt that said COME TO THE NERD SIDE WE HAVE PI.

Oh, Peter.

Despite your embarrassment over the pun, when you looked up at yourself in the mirror over the sink, you couldn’t help but smile.

You dried your hair the best you could, then gathered up your clothes and the towel and made your way out of the bathroom. You took in the apartment, which was slightly small but very warmly lit and filled with eclectic furnishings that made the space feel quite cozy. Perfect for a family of two.

Why is it just the two of them?

You shook the thought out of your head and stepped into the kitchen, looking for Peter. Instead, you found May standing over the stove with her back to you. You tried to say something, but the words died on your tongue.

She turned around anyway, seeming to sense your presence. “Hi!” she greeted with enthusiasm. “I’m Peter’s aunt, you can call me May. I don’t think I got your name...”

“(Y-Y/N),” you replied, your voice sounding incredibly loud in your ears.

“Okay, (Y/N), I’ll take those from you and put them in the dryer.” May gave you a friendly smile as she scooped the towel and clothes out of your arms, then carried them down the hallway.

Just as quickly as she left, Peter made his way down the hall with an armful of blankets that you could barely see his head over.

“H-hey, (Y/N)! I have some- oh jeez.”

Peter’s superhero abilities decided not to make an appearance as he dropped half of the blankets onto the floor. You crouched and helped him pick them up.

“Couch?” you asked. He nodded, and the two of you carried the blankets into the living room and dumped the blankets onto the couch.

You didn’t anticipate Peter gently pushing you onto the couch and wrapping you in a million blankets without even asking you first. You might have protested, but it was so very warm under all those blankets and you’d never felt cozier.

It was also pretty funny, the way Peter fretted over you like a mother hen. You decided to focus on the humor of the situation, rather than how all the attention made you want to disappear beneath the sea of blankets, never to be seen or heard from again. Without a word, he left the room and returned moments later with a mug of tea, shoving it into your hands.

He layered his hands over yours, pressing them against the warmth of the mug, before staring into your eyes with far more care and affection than you felt you deserved.

“Better?” he whispered.

You nodded, at a complete loss for words, and cleared your throat. “So... your aunt knows about the Spider-Man thing?” you asked, glancing down the hall that May had gone down.

He chuckled and sat down next to you on the couch. “Yeah, she found out on accident. You know, now that I think about it, nobody who currently knows found out by my own free will.”

You looked down, feeling oddly guilty. “Sorry.”

Peter tapped his fingernail against the mug in your hands, and you took a sip from it. The heat and aroma soothed you deeply.

“I’m glad you know. We make a good team.”

You scoffed, staring downward. “Yeah, except when I get myself thrown into the ocean.”

And the rest of the time, when you’re generally useless.

Peter shrugged. “You can save me, next time.”

He said it like it wasn’t some impossible feat. For him, it probably wasn’t. Saving people was practically second nature, to him.

“Except I can’t, because I never got bitten by a radioactive spider.” You suddenly found yourself very interested in the contents of your mug, despite the fact that they weren’t really all that interesting.

“Yeah, but have you seen yourself with a ladle?”

Rather than say anything, you simply rolled your eyes. Peter then pulled out a box set of the entire Star Wars series and began to flip through its contents, deciding on what to watch.

Now was probably as good a time as any to ask about this, especially since his aunt wasn’t currently present. “H-hey, Peter?”

“Hm?” He turned his head towards you, his curls flopping over his forehead. You had to fight the urge to reach out and push them back into their proper place.

You rubbed the mug with your fingers, as if it were a genie’s lamp that could give you more courage. “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you live with May instead of your parents?”

Peter looked down at his lap, crossing his legs. “They, uh...” His next words came out so quietly that you nearly missed them. “They died when I was little.”

The admission was so soft and shocking that it didn’t quite hit you, at first. But then it finally sunk in, along with a deep feeling of dread. “Oh, I’m- Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t remember that much about them.” He absently thumbed through the contents of the box set, refusing to meet your eyes.

You shook your head slightly, never letting your gaze stray from him. “That doesn’t sound like it makes it easier.”

“No, it really doesn’t,” he replied quietly, a hint of a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You didn’t know what to do, but suddenly you found one of your hands floating toward his, without even thinking about it beforehand.

STOP STOP STOP STOP DON’T DO IT!

But somehow you did it, and magically enough, the world didn’t collapse in on itself when you carefully scooped Peter’s hands up into yours. His head darted up in your direction, and you suppressed a laugh at the surprised look in his eyes as he kept glancing between your face and your hands, unable to believe that you were the one who’d initiated the handholding, this time around. Eventually, a small, content smile graced his face as he intertwined your fingers with his own.

You decided to pair the contact with some comforting words. “I’m sure they’d be proud of you. Just like May.”

Peter chuckled, but you detected some bitterness within the sound. “I dunno if May’s proud as much as she’s worried.”

“Of course she is, she loves you.” You momentarily wished that you’d had somebody in your life who looked after you the way May looked after Peter, then inwardly scoffed at your own hypocrisy.

Someone like her would forget you, just like everybody else. Half the time, you don’t even have to make them. You’re just plain forgettable.

“It’s more than that, though,” Peter protested, waking you from your thoughts. “May... She was married to my uncle Ben, but he was killed, a while back.”

Your heart broke even further. How much hardship was the universe going to put this poor boy through? “Peter-”

“It’s okay,” he said, clearly tired of your apologies. “It was a while ago. But he was the love of May’s life, and she’s had to go through so much and... And she works so hard to provide for me, and now she’s worried I’m gonna get killed every night...”

Peter’s eyes began to well up with tears, and the hand that wasn’t holding yours served to cover his own face as he struggled to control his breathing.

A lump formed in your throat at the sight of him. You drew yourself closer to him and placed your other arm around his shoulders. It was a strange kind of role-reversal, you comforting him instead of the other way around, but you couldn’t say you minded. You almost preferred this over the alternative- not that you at all enjoyed seeing Peter suffer in any way. But you liked being able to help him in some small way after all he’d done for you.

He holds the world on his shoulders but he’s also just trying to get through school and he has an aunt who loves him and lots of friends and he’s such a good person and he’s so young...

He sobbed slightly, letting his hand down from his face. “S-sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted, squeezing his hand. Your palm ran circles around the space between his shoulders.

He seemed to calm down after a few minutes, giving you a grateful smile as your gentle strokes slowed to a halt.

Peter cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “So, which Star Wars movie is your favorite? We can pop one in while May makes dinner.”

Your chest tightened significantly. As much as you wanted to stay and make sure Peter was alright, you didn’t want to make yourself a further burden on the Parker residence. You considered yourself in good enough shape to get yourself home. He didn’t need to worry about you.

Of course, Peter noticed your hesitation and probably figured out the kinds of things you were contemplating, so he naturally combatted them with the following:

“You could stay over,” he suggested.

Your eyebrows shot up as you shook your head. “What? No, I don’t-”

“You don’t wanna stay over or you don’t want May and me to go to the trouble?” Peter questioned.

You opened your mouth to say something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. If he weren’t so busy with a million other things, you bet that Peter would make a good candidate for the debate team at school.

“I have a bunk bed,” he offered in a sing-songy tone. “May’s making spaghetti.”

At the mere mention of food, you swore you could smell the aroma of tomato sauce hanging in the air, even though you knew May wasn’t in the kitchen. Your stomach rumbled, almost as if on cue.

“Well, you’ve gotta stay, now!” Peter laughed. “I can’t exactly let you go home on an empty stomach.”

You sighed, finally relenting and nodding your consent. As daunting as it was to think about sitting down for dinner with Peter and his aunt and conversing with them for an extended period of time, you couldn’t really deny him this. Also, you wanted to make sure he was okay.

Peter double-fisted the air in triumph, causing you to snort with laughter. Without another word, he bounced off of the couch and began to gather supplies for the movie viewing.

All plans to evaluate Peter’s wellness and prepare yourself for a dinner conversation with his aunt flew out the window as a sudden, overwhelming lethargy swept over you. You didn’t even know which Star Wars movie Peter put in the DVD player. You barely made it past the opening credits before the warmth of the blankets overtook you and you fell into a deep sleep.

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt your head land on his shoulder, then had to suppress a chuckle when he actually spared a glance down at your face. He supposed that this was inevitable, considering that he’d practically drowned you in blankets.

Okay, Peter, maybe “drowned” isn’t the best word to use in this situation.

Regardless, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have you leaning on him like this.

Was it creepy to watch you sleep? Probably, yes. Definitely. If it was creepy when Edward Cullen did it, then it was creepy when Peter Parker did it. But he honestly couldn’t help it (and it wasn’t like he was going to be crawling into your bedroom anytime soon). Now that you were wearing the ring that Tony had given you, it was so much easier for Peter to simply let his eyes gravitate toward your face.

And at the risk of sounding even creepier, it was a very nice face.

Alright, who am I kidding? She’s beautiful. And smart. And kind and brave and patient and-

Okay, Peter. Slow your roll.

There was no way you felt the same way that he did, was there? Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt. He’d only known you for a few days, you had so many issues and hangups, half the time you could barely make eye contact with him.

But you liked him, right? You held his hand and hugged him by your own free will, after all. That had to be a good sign!

Surely there was something about him- about Peter Parker- that was appealing, right? Some reason you chose to hang around him besides your crime-fighting responsibilities?

He knew he was rushing into his feelings, a habit that he hadn’t quite managed to get over, being a teenager, and all. Aside from that, he’d only barely gotten over his crush on Liz-

Liz.

He bit his lip and glanced back down at you as an idea sprung into his head. It was a bad idea, he knew it. You’d probably get upset at him. But if it went well...?

He had to try.

Making sure not to disturb your sleeping position, Peter picked up his cell phone and found Liz’s contact name.

Your time at the Parker residence the previous night hadn’t been nearly as mortifying as you’d thought it would be. Sure, you woke up and had to face Peter’s cheeky grin and undivided attention when you found your head resting on his shoulder, and you had to suffer through May’s questions (“So, have you ever used your mind control to get a date?” “May!” “It’s a perfectly reasonable question, Peter, and a possible explanation for why you-” “MAY!”) through a slightly undercooked plate of spaghetti, but you enjoyed yourself, all the same.

Besides, Peter definitely seemed to have cheered up, by the end of the evening, which meant the world to you.

Now you stood at your locker, having gone home the night before. At Peter’s own insistence, he escorted you home via his web-slinging abilities and bid you goodnight on the front steps of your apartment complex with a tender hug.

You looked down at your phone and found that you had a missed call and a voicemail from an unknown number. At first, you thought it was just a random telemarketer trying to tell you that you’d won something or that this was your last warning to take care of your credit card debt (you’d been getting these supposed last warnings for a year and a half, and besides, you didn’t have a credit card). You figured there was no harm in listening as you opened your locker.

A voice that you immediately recognized soon filled your ear, and it filled the rest of you with a sick feeling of panic.

“Hey, (Y/N). I don’t know if you remember me, but I... Actually, I think you do remember me. That’s why I’m calling. This is Liz, by the way.”

You gripped the door of your locker, feeling your face flush with heat as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Anyway, the reason I’m reaching out is because Peter gave me a call...”

No no no no no no no nO NO NO NO NO NO NO-

“...and he shed some light on some things that I’d completely forgotten about. Honestly, I don’t know why. I guess I just blocked it out because I didn’t want to remember how I used to be.”

I don’t want her to remember I don’t want her to remember I don’t want to remember.

“I know I was pretty horrible to you. I really don’t have an excuse as to why I did any of that, but if I’m honest, I was always kinda jealous, you know? Remember how our math teacher always read out the top scores on any tests we took? You always got better grades than me. And I was used to being the best at everything before you came along.”

I can’t breathe I can’t run I can’t go anywhere what do I do I’m trapped I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t I can’t I can’t.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about everything, and I hope... well... Bye, (Y/N).”

You dropped your phone into your locker, like it had burned you.

You couldn’t believe Peter. Why would he do this? Why would anyone do this? You’d made Liz forget you for a reason! What right did he think he had to interfere with that? Did he think he was making it better by bringing up old wounds that nobody needed to be reminded of?

And how were you supposed to fix this? Fly out to Oregon, track Liz down, and make her forget you? You began to toy with your ring, wishing now more than ever that you could just disappear from the face of the Earth.

She knows she remembers and there’s nothing I can do nothing I can do please just forget me Liz if I can reach you forget me forget me forget me-

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

Your head darted up to see Peter approaching you, a cheerful smile on his face. Your face flushed with heat- though not for the usual reasons- as you returned your gaze to your locker, gathering your textbooks.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Unable to look at him, you grabbed your phone and started to play Liz’s message on speaker. You could only listen to it for about five seconds before the nausea bubbled back into your stomach, so you hit pause and let silence take over.

“So, uh... she called you,” he muttered with an awkward chuckle.

You finally looked up at him, tears of anger beginning to well up in your eyes. “Because you told her to.” Your voice barely managed to choke out the words above a whisper. “You told her about me.”

“I mean, yeah, I-”

You slammed your locker and spun on your heel, marching away from him.

Peter wasn’t about to let you get away that easily. He followed you, trying to grab your hand, but you ripped it away from him. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

“You had no right to tell her about that,” you said.

“About what?” His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he genuinely didn’t understand that he’d messed up. “About something that she did wrong, that she just happened to forget about? You deserve an apology.”

You huffed, stopping in your tracks and causing Peter to nearly bump into you. “That’s not more important than...”

“Than what? Staying forgotten?” He was clearly growing angrier and more incredulous by the second, but at the same time, so were you. “(Y/N), you heard what she said! She was jealous of you! You see? It wasn’t your fault, any of it!”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, Peter,” you scoffed, “but you still didn’t have any right bringing that up. It's my business, not yours.”

Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line. Satisfied that he had nothing left to say, you turned away again and began walking toward your first class.

Of course, Peter wasn’t one to leave things unresolved, and stopped you dead in your tracks with the following:

“How do you expect to survive the rest of your life without talking to people?”

“I don’t!” you yelled, wheeling around to face him.

The outburst had shocked both you and Peter. It was the first time you’d raised your voice in years, and it was directed at him, of all people. He stood there in the middle of the hallway, completely aghast and without words. You had no idea what you’d meant when you’d said it, but it sounded worse than it was. It sounded awful. It sounded like...

You didn’t want to think about what it sounded like.

On top of that, various students in the hallway had taken notice of you and your eruption. Unable to deal with everyone’s stares any longer, you tore out of the building, ignoring Peter’s calls for you. You could deal with making everyone forget later, but right now, you desperately needed to be alone.

You didn’t stop running until you’d escaped the school campus and rushed into the alley of a couple of nearby buildings. You collapsed against the wall, panting, tears streaming your face.

You sank to the ground, covering your face with your hands. What were you going to do? Your one and only friendship was basically ruined. Had you overreacted? Peter had only been trying to help you, you were sure of that. But still, was there any coming back from this?

He’s better off without you, anyway.

“Well, if it ain’t Spider-Man’s girlfriend.”

You jumped up at the sound of the voice, but you didn’t have time to do more than that as your front was shoved against the wall of the alley, your arms splayed crookedly in opposing directions. Keeping a knee wedged against the small of your back, your attacker clawed your wrists and wrenched them behind your back, securing them with a cable tie.

“What do you want?” you gasped in pain. Almost instantly, a piece of duct tape was slapped over your mouth, stopping any further questions from you.

“I’m the captain of the ship you were on, yesterday,” a man growled as he fisted your hair and yanked your head back, his mouth right next to your ear. Tears squeezed out from your eyes. “You and Spidey cost me a lot of time and money. Not to mention most of my men were arrested. Fortunately for me, I caught your face as good ol’ Spider-Man pulled you out of the water. I didn’t think I’d get to see that pretty little face again, but imagine my luck! I was hiding out in the streets, trying to lay low, and I saw the friendly neighborhood spider deliver you to your very home!”

Home. Oh, God, your parents.

“Couldn’t get you right there and then, of course. I didn’t have a truck, or anything. I waited until today, figured it would be enough time to round up some supplies, get a good plan going. I almost missed you when you went to school, but here you are! You’ve made my day a lot shorter, you know that?”

Your heart felt like it was going to race out of your chest and through the wall that you were being held against. How were you going to get out of this? Would turning invisible help? He knew where you lived! Could you make him forget you? It was a long shot, he clearly held a grudge against you and Spider-Man. If you could just get your ring off...

Your fingers squirmed around, trying to inch the ring off. The stress of the situation wasn’t making it any easier to focus on your task.

“So be a good girl, and you won’t get hurt.”

Almost there...

“At least, not yet. We gotta get our information somehow, don’t we?”

“Thanks for the monologue, man, I nearly missed the fun!”

In the blink of an eye, the attacker fell to the ground with a shout, releasing his hold on you. You lost your balance and dropped onto your side, pain shooting up your arm just as a red-and-blue superhero entered your vision and began webbing the man to the ground.

You wormed your hands under your feet so they were now in front of you and peeled the duct tape off of your mouth. After a few moments of effort, the ring dropped to the ground with a tink! and you focused all of your thoughts on making this man forget you, practically screaming the words at him in your head.

Forget me forget me forget me you don’t know who I am you’ve never seen my face you don’t know where I live you never saw me forget me forget me forget me FORGET ME!

You didn’t even realize that Peter, appropriately clad in his Spider-Man suit, had crouched in front of you and freed you of your bonds, his back facing the man on the ground. You barely registered him assuring you through gentle whispers and gentler touches that you were alright, that the danger was over, that Tony had been notified and your attacker would be taken care of. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the captain.

Forget me forget me forget me forget me forget me forget me forget me.

Peter’s voiced sounded faraway, as though he were trying to call to you through water. He slowly inched his mask up over his face, leaving it partly on so it covered his hair. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Oh God, he did, didn’t he? I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Look, I can take you to the...”

But every word past that went in one ear and out the other. You were in a blind panic, the residual feeling left over from being in such a terrifying situation.

You locked eyes with Peter, and soon enough, his words trailed off and a strange, glazed look slowly overtook his eyes. You didn’t realize that your thoughts were still flying at a million miles per hour, and at first you were confused at the stare that Peter was giving you, but then it dawned on you.

You don’t know me I’ve never existed I’m not here look through me walk away forget me forget me forget me forget me forget me...

Peter was forgetting you.

A/N: It’s been months. Wow. I’m so sorry. Is anybody even going to read this? Regardless, I’ll have the next chapter up soon. Like, actually soon. Pinky swear.

Btw, shoutout to that one anonymous person who messaged me because they were concerned that I was dead. Only on the inside, kid, but I appreciate it.

Tag list:

@1enchantedfantasy1 @11mb0 @3003st @aubreylovesthegames @bookchic20@catnolannn @embracethemagic @gladerofcabin4 @greenarrowhead @hawaiiantozier @honestlysasha @ivykinsnake @justapotatonow @lucille-lovely @maybesomeday @meyrapp @myhealingstar @satansladydoor @soullesstrashcan @southsidejournal @stone2576 @thekidsofneibolt @timelordy-fangirl2 @uwu-sebastianstan @wicked-wiccan-witch @dat-one-goat @eye-of-the-owl @qandnoablog @millennialpinksimblr @speckles-s @cartwheelandfaceplant @the-spidey-dork @spider-stud@meashy-moo @boogie-woogie-wooogie @be-more-heidi-hansen @cartwheelandfaceplant @khaleesiclifford @veryhealthyobsessions

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #spiderman #spider man #spider man x reader #marvel #MCU #go away green #reader insert

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sceptilemasterr · 5 years

Text

Catalysts Play Open Heart: Chapter 6

Summary: Varyyn takes a request a bit too literally, and Raj and Craig discuss Guinness World Records, and Aleister debates Batman-related grammar with Diego.

Previous Chapter: Link

Note: The things in bold are scenes from the actual Choices chapter. Ian (x Estela) and Alyssa (x Jake) are my twin Endless Summer MCs.

Warnings: Alcohol use, swearing.

“No. No, no, no. We’ve spent enough time chasing after Furball as it is!” argued Michelle. “We all know he can handle himself, anyway.”

Quinn pouted. “But… what if he gets lost? What if he can’t find his way back?”

Michelle shook her head. “I’m not worried. He’s always managed to find us no matter how far apart we ended up. Have a little faith in the blue guy!”

“Purple guy now, actually,” Alyssa reminded them. “And, honestly, Quinn, I agree with Michelle. Furball will turn up again. Promise.”

“Thanks. See, even Alyssa agrees!”

Quinn huffed and crossed her arms. “Aww… fine. I just hope he’s okay.”

“If it would help, I could send a message to Elyys’tel, asking them to be on the lookout for Furball,” offered Varyyn.

“Sure, that’s better than nothing, at least. Thanks, Varyyn,” said Quinn.

Varyyn nodded and got up to head outside. How exactly he was going to send a message to Elyys’tel from the Celestial, no one was quite sure, but nobody really wanted to ask. After a momentary awkward silence, Michelle shrugged and stood up. “Well, if there’s nothing else… should we go ahead and start?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Varyyn to get back?” asked Sean.

Diego nodded. “Thanks, Sean. I mean, it can’t take him very long…”

The next morning, the doors to the lobby slid open and Varyyn sprinted inside, panting heavily. “The message has been passed!” he announced. Then he paused, looking around and realizing that the Catalysts were all very sound asleep. “...Hello?”

Jake and Alyssa lay side-by-side in a pair of armchairs, their hands resting close enough to each other that they had probably fallen asleep holding hands. Sean was curled up in one corner of a couch, leaving the rest of the couch for Zahra, sprawled out along its length. On the floor next to her was Craig, sleeping with his face on the floor and his butt in the air, which looked uncomfortable but apparently he didn’t mind. Michelle and Quinn had fallen asleep leaning against each other, on the loveseat near the projector. Raj lay in his recliner, which he apparently hadn’t moved from in six hours. Aleister and Grace lay on the floor, Aleister sleeping perfectly still with Grace draped over his chest. Diego was curled up in a large pile of pillows in the center of the circle. Only Estela and Ian were missing, but Varyyn didn’t notice their absence right away.

At the sound of Varyyn’s voice, Diego stirred, pushing himself up out of the nest of pillows he’d made for himself. “Huh?” he asked groggily, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Oh! Varyyn! How long was I asleep?”

“I do not know, Diego,” said Varyyn, crossing over to sit next to his husband. “I only just returned from the village.

“From the village… wait, you mean you ran all the way back to Elyys’tel?! By yourself?”

“Well, yes,” Varyyn said simply. “How else was I to give the message to the village?”

Diego shook his head incredulously. “Varyyn…” he sighed.

“Who’s there?” asked Estela suddenly, walking in from the kitchen with Ian. “Oh. Varyyn, you’re back!”

Slowly but surely, the rest of the Catalysts started to wake up, one by one. “...Mornin’,” said Jake, staggering to his feet. “Varyyn? Where the hell were you?”

“I ran to Elyys’tel and back, as I had said that I would,” he explained.

Craig pushed himself up, leaving a large head-shaped indentation in the carpet where his face had been. “Whoa, Varyyn’s back! About time! Does this mean we can keep going with the story now?”

“Geez, Craig, give us some time,” groaned Zahra. “With this hangover? I’m not starting anything ‘till I’ve had my coffee.”

“Just make sure it’s not that Rourke Ultra-Energy nonsense again,” said Alyssa.

Everyone laughed. “Guess that’s my cue,” said Raj, pushing himself out of his chair. “One pot of normal coffee, coming right up! And some breakfast, while I’m at it. Sounds good?”

“Hell yeah, Raj!”

“You’re the best, man. Thanks so much!” said Sean with a smile.

Quinn got to her feet, being careful not to disturb Michelle, who was somehow still sleeping. “Need any help, Raj?” she asked.

Raj grinned broadly. “You know it!” he exclaimed as the two of them headed into the kitchen.

A short while later, once everyone had been well-fed, well-caffeinated, and (more or less) starting to recover from their hangovers, Quinn and Michelle returned to the projector to try to connect Quinn’s phone back to the screen. The operative word, of course, being “try.”

After several long minutes of everyone waiting expectantly while Quinn and Michelle struggled with the tangled mess of wires, Zahra stood up with an incredibly melodramatic sigh. “Goddammit, just… let me handle this,” she announced, stomping over to the projector. Quinn and Michelle backed away as Zahra knelt down to look at the wires. “Holy shit, what the hell did you even do?!” she demanded.

“Connected… the wires?” said Quinn innocently.

“That is not how you… holy hell, this does not go there… are you trying to make this thing explode?!”

“That would be AWESOME!” exclaimed Craig.

Zahra glared at him. “No, it wouldn’t. Now, would you all shut the hell up?” Everyone hurriedly complied, and there were several awkward moments of silence as Zahra disconnected and reconnected all of the wires in the jury-rigged projector setup. At long last, she sighed, stepped back, and flipped the projector on.

“Hell yeah! Go, Z!” shouted Craig.

Zahra smirked but said nothing as she sat down next to him. Quinn shrugged and picked up her phone, loading the Choices app. “Alright, let’s get this thing started!” said Raj excitedly as the loading screen appeared.

“Hope the competition actually starts in this chapter,” said Diego, leaning forward in his seat. “Last chapter was fun, but I’m kinda getting impatient!”

“Agreed, I’m ready to do this!” said Michelle. Finally, the app finished loading, and Quinn handed her phone off to Michelle, who began the next chapter.

Open Heart: Chapter 6

Housewarming

“That music does not fit that title at all,” Diego commented.

“Agreed. Can we get the happy title music back?” asked Alyssa. “At least that other music we could dance to…”

Nurse: Dr. Nguyen! Your post-op patient is in distress!

“That explains the music, at least,” said Michelle.

“Have we skipped something?” asked Aleister, bewildered. “This is the correct chapter, right?”

“I don’t think it even lets you skip chapters,” Jake pointed out. “‘Sides, didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“I do not! I… I just… er…”

Grace giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re having fun with this, too,” she teased. “Admit it!” While Aleister continued to protest, Michelle continued reading through the story.

MC!Michelle: What happened? I saw her two minutes ago and she was fine!

Nurse: She can’t breathe! She has fluid in her lungs!

Nurse 2: Her heart’s in atrial fibrillation! Rate’s pushing 160!

Nurse: Her B.P.’s crashing. She’s hypotensive!

“Already with the sciencey words? It’s too early for that,” said Craig. “I’m confused.”

“Honestly, Craig? I’m confused too. What a weird start after the way the last chapter ended,” Michelle told him.

“Maybe it’s a dream?” suggested Sean. “Or just a weird time skip?”

“Who knows?” asked Ian.

“You know what they say, only one way to find out!” said Raj. “Let’s keep going! And hopefully save the patient.”

Nurse 2: What do you want to do, Doctor?

What do you use?

Jake shrugged at the choices that appeared. “Yup. This one’s ALL you, Doc.”

“...Is that an ice pick at the bottom?” asked Craig.

Michelle shook her head, laughing. “No, but now that you mention it… a laryngoscope does kinda look like an ice pick…”

“Seriously? Whoa, I was right!”

“...You really weren’t,” snarked Zahra.

Michelle stared at the screen, pondering the choices. “I feel like each of these would fix a different one of the patient’s symptoms,” she muttered to herself, “so… in an emergency, always secure the airway first…” She nodded and selected “A breathing tube!”, or, as Craig referred to it, the ‘ice pick.’

The next morning…

Landry: Michelle? Are you listening?

MC!Michelle: Sorry, Landry. I got… distracted.

“So… did that actually happen, or were you daydreaming?” asked a still-confused Diego.

“I’m still not sure,” Michelle admitted.

“This chapter’s confusing as hell,” complained Jake. “I need a drink.”

“Wouldn’t that just make the confusion worse?” asked Alyssa.

“Dammit, Princess, you’re probably right.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Landry: Still thinking about that patient from last night?

“Huh. Mystery solved,” Estela observed. “You all need to have some patience.”

“Wait, did Estela just make a pun?!” asked Raj, shocked. “Call the press! It’s the apocalypse!”

“That was completely unintentional,” said Estela.

“Well, I thought it was pretty funny. Ever thought of being a comedian?” teased Alyssa.

Estela averted her gaze as the story continued, but from his angle, Ian could see her trying and failing not to smile. He raised an eyebrow, and she shot him an amused glance that only he could see.

Sienna: She survived.

“Oh, good,” said Diego. “I was getting nervous.”

“After what happened with Dolores, I think we’re all a little on edge whenever there’s a patient issue in this story,” Sean said.

MC!Michelle: But when a million bad things happen at once, I panic. I can’t handle when everything’s spiraling out of control.

“Amen to that,” said Quinn. “Who wouldn’t panic?”

“Myself, for one,” Aleister replied. “I pride myself on staying perfectly in control of my emotions at all times...” While Aleister was talking, Jake picked up a piece of pancake that had fallen on the ground and chucked it at Aleister’s ear. “AIYEEEE!” shrieked Aleister in an incredibly high-pitched voice, falling out of his chair and landing with a thud on his rear.

“...You were sayin’?” smirked Jake as the rest of the group burst into laughter.

Aleister, flustered, stammered a bit before halfheartedly chuckling. “I admit I… have my moments of weakness…” he admitted.

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sean reassured him. “We’re all only human.”

“Most of us are, at any rate,” Aleister corrected him, looking at the twins.

“Shut up,” laughed Alyssa, tossing another piece of pancake at Aleister’s face. This time, the pancake piece sailed right over his head.

“Hey, if you’re gonna chuck food around, chuck it at me!” said Craig. “So I can eat it!” He held his mouth open for emphasis.

“Ugh, Craig, that stuff was on the floor,” Zahra complained.

“So? Five-second rule!”

“It’s been a hell of a lot more than five seconds since breakfast.”

“...Five-hour rule?”

Zahra made a disgusted face. “That’s seriously not a thing.”

“Alright, Michelle, this conversation is getting gross,” said Grace. “Can we please keep going?”

“Thank you, Grace,” said Aleister as Michelle obliged.

MC!Michelle: You’re right.

Landry: I don’t want to brag. But, statistically speaking, I usually am.

“...Why does that sound like an Aleister line?” asked Zahra.

“Damn, you’re right!” laughed Alyssa. “Aleister, read it!”

“I… what?”

“Read Landry’s line out loud!” said Raj, chiming in. “Come on!”

“This is absurd.”

“I think you mean ‘hilarious,’” said Jake. “Do it!”

Aleister sighed. “If it will make you all shut up… very well. ‘I don’t want to brag. But, statistically speaking, I usually am.’”

Everyone laughed and applauded at the same time. “Oh, man, that was perfect,” Raj said. “It’s a little early for drinking, so… coffee toast?”

“Why not?” agreed Jake, raising his coffee mug as everyone else did the same. Aleister looked around at the others, utterly confused before shaking his head and exchanging a glance with Grace.

“It’s okay. I don’t get it either,” she admitted.

MC!Michelle: Wow. It looks like everyone signed up for the competition.

“So I was literally the only person there who didn’t sign up until the last minute?” complained Michelle. “Seriously?”

“Hey, at least you’re in!” said Diego. “That’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Michelle admitted.

Jackie: Only a complete jackass would pass that up.

MC!Michelle: Thanks for that, Jackie.

“Alright, Zahra, fair is fair,” said Michelle, laughing. “Your turn.”

“Great, is this a ‘thing’ we’re doing now?” she asked.

“To be fair, you started it,” Craig reminded her.

“‘Only a complete jackass would pass that up,’” quoted Zahra after a brief hesitation. “There. I said it. Happy?”

“Can Zahra just read all of Jackie’s lines from now on?” suggested Diego. “That was perfect!”

“Sure, if she wants,” said Michelle. “Zahra?”

Zahra sighed. “Sure, why the hell not,” she decided.

Elijah: How about this? Whoever’s ranked lowest has to pick up the keg for tonight’s housewarming party?

Jackie: I like the way you think.

“Alright, now we’re talkin’!” yelled Craig. “Party time!”

“Sure took ‘em long enough,” said Jake. “It’s been… how many chapters since we got the apartment?”

“Better late than never, right? Besides, you gotta wait to do the party properly,” Raj said.

“I just hope they don’t make us wait through another filler chapter like last time,” said Diego. “Once was okay, but they keep teasing us with things.”

“Remember the title, though?” Ian reminded him.

Diego’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah! You’re right, it’s gotta be in this chapter then!”

Landry: You guys, our place is nice, but it’s not that big! We’ve gotta keep it small!

MC!Michelle: Landry…

“Chill out!” said Craig when the choices appeared. “I vote ‘Chill out!’”

“...We are actually voting, then, right?” asked Aleister. “About time.”

“As much as I think Landry has a point, I get the feeling ‘Chill out’ is gonna win anyway,” Sean admitted.

Sure enough, when Aleister took the vote, ‘Chill out’ won 10-4. “Yeah!” exclaimed Craig, high-fiving Raj.

Dr. Ines: Oh, are you talking about your housewarming tonight? I can’t wait!

“Wait, we invited her, too?” asked Michelle, surprised. “Elijah wasn’t kidding when he said ‘everybody.’”

“I like her!” said Quinn. “She’s so nice!”

“Can you imagine if she brought Dr. Zaid, though?” suggested Raj.

Everyone laughed at the mental image.

Dr. Ines: I was actually just on my way to tell Zaid about it. You don’t mind, right?

MC!Michelle: You want to bring Dr. Mirani?

“Wow, we called that one!” said Diego.

“I can’t even picture him at a party,” Michelle commented. “Like, ever.”

“He and Dr. Ramsey should have a grumpiness contest,’” suggested Raj. “Loser has to be nice to everyone for a week.”

“That would be pretty funny, actually,” Michelle admitted. “So, what should we say?”

“I say we invite him,” said Zahra. “Just because he’d be hilariously awkward. Who agrees?”

Raj, Craig, Diego, Michelle, Jake, Estela, and the twins all voted along with her. Aleister sighed. “I suppose majority rules, in this case,” he said as Michelle selected the option.

Dr. Ines: But he’s loads of fun at parties.

MC!Michelle: We look forward to seeing that.

“Whoa. Plot twist!” exclaimed Diego.

“I am SO glad we invited him now,” laughed Craig. “This is gonna be AMAZING.”

“That’s for sure!” agreed Alyssa, air-fiving him.

Sienna: Is it just me, or is he even grumpier than usual?

MC!Michelle: He’s probably…

“I feel like he’d have to defy several laws of physics to be “grumpier than usual,” said Ian.

“You’re not wrong there,” agreed Raj as everyone dissolved into laughter.

“I’d say he’s annoyed about having to pick an intern,” suggested Grace. “Who else agrees?”

Michelle nodded as she, Sean, Jake, Alyssa, Aleister, and Diego all raised their hands to vote along with Grace. “Okay, who likes ‘Got something else on his mind?’” Ian, Estela, Quinn, Zahra, Craig, and Raj raised their hands. When she counted up the votes, Grace frowned. “Aww… well, guess we’ll go with the majority,” she said, dejected.

“It is quite alright, Grace,” Aleister reassured her. “Such is the nature of leaving decisions to the whims of the majority.”

In spite of herself, Grace smiled. “You always know just what to say.”

“What? It is simply a fact.”

Dr. Ramsey’s List: Read it.

“Drink, y’all!” said Jake reflexively. Then he remembered that no one was drinking any alcohol this time, due to how early it was. “Uh… drink coffee? …Y’all?”

Everyone shrugged. “Sure, why not,” said Zahra, taking a gulp of her coffee as everyone else followed suit.

Elijah: Nineteen? Looks like you’re on keg duty, Michelle!

“What? Seriously?!” demanded Michelle. “That’s not even fair!”

“Yeah, we didn’t even get a chance to do anything yet!” agreed Quinn. “I hope Dr. Ramsey isn’t just deducting us for being late!”

“Talk about bullshit,” said Jake.

MC!Michelle: I’m number nineteen?

Everyone laughed as the choices came up. “Well, looks like we all know what Jake’s voting for,” said Alyssa. “Though, gotta admit, I’m picking the same.”

“I think we all agree with ‘that’s bull,’” said Estela. “Right?”

Everyone mumbled a bit, and eventually all raised their hands to agree with Estela. “Alright, that was easy,” commented Michelle as she picked the ‘that’s bull’ option.

You follow Ethan down a hall adjoining a new wing of the hospital, still under construction.

“Uh, what’s with the weird music?” asked Diego.

“Dunno,” said Ian, shrugging. “Hope everything’s okay…”

MC!Michelle: You’re… not going to berate me?

“Whoa, plot twist again!” exclaimed Raj.

“Guess there really is something else on his mind,” Michelle observed. “Wonder what it is.”

“Only one way to find out!” said Diego.

Dr. Ramsey: Now get back to your patients. Doctors shouldn’t be anywhere near the construction.

“Uh… hypocrite, much?” said Grace.

“What does a ‘hippo crate’ have to do with anything?” asked Craig, confused.

Aleister sighed. “Not ‘hippo crate,’ hypocrite,” he explained. “As should be quite obvious.”

“Oh. Right. Got it,” said Craig, clearly not understanding at all.

MC!Michelle: Wait… one more thing. (What do I do?)

“Wow… there’s an actual choice called ‘Suck up?’” said Zahra. “I kinda want to pick it just because.”

“Aw, but Z, imagine how funny it would be if we invited him to the party!” argued Craig. “How else can we have a ‘grump-off’ between him and the other guy?”

“Professionalism, guys, come on,” protested Michelle. “‘Promise to do better next time’ is clearly the best option!”

“For once, I agree with Michelle,” said Aleister.

“But Dr. Ramsey at the party? Talk about hilariously awkward,” said Raj. “Pick it, pick it!”

“Are we going to blabber all day, or shall we VOTE?!” demanded Aleister through his megaphone as everyone started talking at once. The room instantly went silent. “That is much better. Now then, all in favor of the first choice?” Raj, Craig, Alyssa, and Jake all raised their hands for ‘Invite him to the party.’ “And the second option?” This time, Michelle, Quinn, Ian, Estela, Aleister, Grace, and Sean raised their hands. “Very well. Final choice?” Zahra and Diego raised their hands. Zahra scowled when she realized how outnumbered they were. “There you are,” said Aleister. “We have our answer.”

“Thanks, Aleister,” said Michelle, selecting ‘Promise to do better next time.’

Dr. Ramsey: Radiology just got a new f.M.R.I. machine, but they haven’t tested it out yet. I’m growing impatient.

“Freakin’ Monkeys… Running… uh, Internets!” suggested Craig.

“...‘Internets?’ Plural?” asked Zahra incredulously. “Yeah, no.”

“Aww, but I was close, right?”

Michelle shook her head. “Not at all. Try ‘Functional MRI.’”

“Wait a moment, that is utterly unfair!” protested Aleister. “You cannot answer an acronym with another acronym! Be reasonable!”

“Uh, what’s an acronym?” asked Craig.

Zahra slapped him. “The letter things you’ve been guessing for the last six chapters!”

“Oh. Right. I knew that!”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Fine. ‘Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging.’ Happy now?”

“Yes, actually,” said Aleister.

Help Ethan test the machine?

“Oh, come on, it costs diamonds?!” yelled Zahra when the diamond choice appeared.

“To be fair, I kinda saw that coming,” Quinn said.

“True,” agreed Michelle. “So are we doing it, or no?”

Alyssa shrugged. “If you want to, but this is only the first diamond choice in the chapter,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, good point,” Jake agreed.

“Okay, then, let’s vote?” suggested Michelle. No one voted for the choice, realizing that there might be better choices later. “Wow. That was easy.”

Dr. Ramsey: Of course. I shouldn’t be asking interns anyway. I do need functioning brains for this to work, after all…

“Ooh! Sick burn!” said Craig.

“Alright, that was pretty funny,” admitted Zahra. “Who knew he had a sense of humor?”

The patient’s awake, typing furiously into a laptop as she argues vociferously into her Bluetooth earpiece.

“Sorry, but what does ‘vocif… whatever’ mean?” asked Alyssa.

“‘Vociferously?’ It means loud and forcefully,’” explained Grace.

“Thanks,” said Alyssa, smiling gratefully at her friend.

Mrs. Turner: I’m a little sore in the throat and around my operation scars, but otherwise fine.

“With how much she was talking? No shit her throat is sore,” snarked Zahra.

Mrs. Turner: It’s okay. I might be a lawyer but I’m not going to sue you for being honest.

MC!Michelle: Mrs. Turner…

“Hang on… is she the patient from the beginning flashback?” asked Jake. “Because that would make a lot of sense.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she is,” said Michelle.

“Ohhhhhhh,” said Raj as the realization dawned on him.

“So, uh, what do we choose?” Michelle asked the group.

There was a momentary awkward silence. “I mean… both of these seem like good choices,” said Diego.

“Yeah, I’m honestly good with either one,” said Alyssa. “Who wants to vote?”

Everyone just sort of stared at the projector screen for a few minutes. After a long, drawn-out silence, Estela sighed and stood up, scowling. “If no one wants to choose… I would say ‘I’ll be ready next time,’” she said.

“I mean, uh, sure?” said Jake.

“What the hell,” sighed Zahra. “Sure.”

After a quick glance around at the rest of the group, Michelle went ahead and selected Estela’s choice when no one else objected.

Mrs. Turner: I have a great team behind me, and I’m damn good at telling them what to do.

“I like her already,” said Zahra.

MC!Michelle: That sounds…

“‘Easy enough,’ certainly,” said Aleister when the choices appeared. “Delegation is essential to running any business. ...Er, or rather, hospital, in this case.”

“You’ve got a point,” admitted Michelle. “I can imagine that trying to do everything myself would just cause more problems for the patient.”

Grace nodded. “If you let yourself get too stressed and overworked, you won’t be able to help anyone. I learned that the hard way.”

“Alright, are we votin’ or what?” asked Jake. “I mean, I’m fine with Malfoy’s answer.”

“You want to do the vote, Jake?” asked Michelle.

“Wait, what? Nah, I didn’t mean-”

“Jake! Jake! Jake!” chanted Alyssa. “Do it!”

Jake made a face at his wife, but sighed and took the vote anyway. “Alright, who wants to say ‘Easy enough?’” He, Aleister, Grace, Alyssa, Michelle, Zahra, and Craig all raised their hands. “...And ‘kinda bossy?’” Ian, Estela, Quinn, Raj, Sean, and Diego raised their hands. “Alright, looks like ‘easy enough’ wins.”

“There, was that so hard?” asked Alyssa.

“Yes.”

Finally, after your long shift, you lug the beer keg to your apartment…

“YES! PAR-TY! PAR-TY! PAR-TY!” chanted Craig, as Zahra pulled out her earmuffs and jammed them over her ears.

“Hell yeah! PAR-TY! PAR-TY! PAR-TY!” Raj joined in.

“This should be fun!” said Diego excitedly. “So glad they’re actually doing the party in this chapter!”

Music thumps from Elijah’s speakers while everyone dances and plays drinking games.

“Nice,” said Jake appreciatively.

“I’m glad we got the bigger apartment now,” said Quinn. “Even if we did have to pass up a Bryce scene for that.”

“On the bright side, maybe there’ll be a scene with him at the party!” suggested Diego. “And we saved our diamonds this chapter, so…”

“I hope you’re right!” said Quinn, her eyes lighting up.

Dr. Zaid: This is really great, Nguyen. I’m loving the party.

MC!Michelle: I… can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.

“Neither can I,” admitted Zahra. “And I’m the queen of sarcasm.”

“Wait… was THAT sarcasm too?” asked Craig.

Zahra smirked. “Ha! You’ll never know…”

Bryce: Lemme help with that. I was wondering where you were.

“He’s back!” exclaimed Quinn.

“You called that one, Quinn!” said Sean, smiling. “Hope he gets a diamond scene!”

“Agreed,” said Estela. Everyone stared at her. “...What?”

“Nothin’, just… still surprising to see you so invested in this,” Jake told her.

“Six chapters in and you’re still surprised?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Smack him for me, would you, Alyssa?” Her sister-in-law quickly obliged, much to Jake’s annoyance.

You rummage through your clothes after the world’s fastest shower.

“Whoa, is that a real thing?” asked Raj. “I bet I could beat the record! ...Wait, what’s the actual record?”

“I highly doubt that ‘World’s Fastest Shower’ is an actual record,” said Aleister.

“Aww,” Raj groaned.

Grace shrugged. “To be fair, there are a lot weirder things in the Guinness Book of World Records. Hang on, I’ll be right back.” She sprinted out of the lobby and into the elevator.

After Grace had left, everyone looked at each other awkwardly, not sure what to do. “...So, uh,” said Raj finally. “Anyone… done any, uh… stuff?”

“What kind of question is that?” demanded Aleister.

“Dunno, couldn’t think of anything,” Raj admitted.

There was another long, awkward silence. Diego started humming the Avengers theme randomly. Estela sighed and snuggled up closer to Ian; Alyssa mimed vomiting and snuggled up closer to Jake in response. Ian rolled his eyes at the ridiculous ‘competition.’ Zahra pulled out her phone and started doing something on it, while Craig looked at it over her shoulder, trying to see what she was up to. Aleister pulled out a book on physics and started reading. Sean idly started tossing and catching a pillow. Raj promptly fell asleep. After a few minutes, Quinn joined in singing along with Diego while Michelle started tapping her foot impatiently, watching the elevator doors.

After several long minutes of this, the elevator finally opened and Grace emerged, carrying a silver Guinness World Records book under her arm. “I’m back!” she informed the group.

“Huh, wha?” asked Raj groggily as he woke from his mini nap.

Grace sat down in front of a side table and opened the book, flipping through the index. “Hmm,” she said, frowning, “doesn’t look like there’s a ‘World’s Fastest shower,’ but there is a ‘World’s Largest!”

“Wait, really? I bet we could beat that!” said Craig.

“...How the hell would we do that?” asked Zahra.

“Pfft, it’s easy! Just turn this entire hotel into a giant shower!”

“And how exactly would that be accomplished?” asked Aleister incredulously.

“Umm,” said Craig, thinking hard. “Maybe you could, like… get a billion buckets of water and chuck them at the ceiling?”

Everyone stared at him, completely at a loss for words. “I… I just… where on EARTH did you learn logic?!” Aleister demanded.

“Alright, let’s just keep going,” said Michelle finally, interrupting the random discussion about turning the Celestial into a giant shower.

“Thank heavens,” Aleister muttered.

Housewarming: Home is where the party is.

“Wow, what an outfit!” exclaimed Quinn when the premium outfit appeared.

“Too bad it costs diamonds though,” Alyssa reminded her. “We don’t wanna miss a Bryce scene!”

“Agreed,” said Sean. “Alright, let’s vote. Who says ‘no?’” The vote this time was, surprisingly, unanimous. “Huh. That settles that.”

“Okay, but if there isn’t a Bryce scene, I’m gonna be annoyed,” said Michelle. “That outfit was gorgeous.”

“Also, drink coffee, y’all!” Jake reminded everyone. “...Y’know, it doesn’t really have the same ring to it.”

Jackie reaches down to the floor and holds up three shot glasses.

Jackie: You have some catching up to do.

“Yep, that’s 500% what Zahra would actually say,” said Diego.

Zahra laughed. “You’re not wrong there.”

Sienna: Guys! This is Wayne!

Wayne: …

Jackie: He is real. I owe Landry twenty bucks.

“Ha, I totally would’ve taken that bet,” Craig said.

“With the glasses, he actually looks more like Superman,” Diego commented. “New theory: he’s a secret fusion of Superman and Batman!”

“That is awesome,” agreed Ian. “Plot twist: this was all happening in Gotham all along!”

“I would literally die from the awesomeness,” said Diego. “And it’s also a Ninja Turtles crossover?”

“Uh, of course!”

“Alright, moving on,” said Michelle, clearly uninterested in the superhero talk.

Wayne: I don’t have time to come all the way over here to hang out or whatever. I have a very important job.

MC!Michelle: An important job?

“Being Batman, duh,” said Diego. “I mean, that’s pretty important.”

“I seriously doubt he’s Batman,” said Michelle.

“Aw, come on! Let me dream!”

“Hey, it can’t hurt to ask, right?” suggested Raj. “I say ‘doing what.’”

“Thanks, Raj,” said Diego.

Michelle shrugged. “Fine, if it’ll finally make you shut up about Batman,” she said, selecting the option.

“Wait! We haven’t voted yet!” protested Aleister.

“Too late,” said Michelle as Aleister pouted.

Wayne: I’m lead programmer at a software company.

“...by DAY,” added Diego.

“Sounds like you, actually, Craig,” said Sean. “Is there something you’re not telling us? Are you also secretly Batman?”

“Don’t encourage this,” groaned Michelle.

“Dude, that would be so badass!” said Craig excitedly.

“How many Batmen are there, anyway?” asked Quinn.

“Excuse you, I believe the proper plural form would be ‘Batmans,’” interjected Aleister.

“Actually,” said Diego, “there was a storyline in the comics about multiple versions of Batman, and it was called ‘Rise of the Batmen,’ so Quinn’s right,” he pointed out.

“Oh, please. You are making that up.”

“I would never make up something like that!” protested Diego.

“It’s true, I’ve read that one,” said Ian.

Aleister pulled out his phone and googled the comic in question. “Hmph. It appears I was wrong. My apologies. Clearly I am not very well-informed on the subject of Batman.”

Diego grinned. “The best subject!”

“You’re damn right,” agreed Estela. Diego held up a hand to air-five her from across the room.

Jackie: If I’ve gotta deal with that guy all night, I need another drink.

“Yep, sounds about right,” admitted Zahra. “That’s pretty much how I feel whenever I have to deal with Aleister.”

“Er… was that an insult?” asked Aleister. The rest of the group dissolved into laughter. “...What?”

Elijah: Michelle! You up for a game of beer pong? I’ve never played before!

“Wait, seriously?” asked Craig. “What has this guy been doing with his life?!”

“...Pursuing his future?” suggested Grace.

“You gotta let loose every once in a while, though. Otherwise you just burn out,” Raj said.

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” Grace admitted.

Jackie: Hey, Michelle. What do you say we go kick some ass in drunk rounds?

What do you play?

“Beer pong! Beer pong! Beer pong!” chanted Craig.

“Do you just wait for the moment you can chant something?” asked Zahra.

“Duh!”

“Can we please vote on this one?” asked Aleister. “Seeing as we skipped the previous vote.”

“It was an accident, I swear!” Michelle protested.

“Hmph. Whatever.”

“Alright, who votes ‘Beer pong?” asked Raj, while spinning his chair in a circle for some reason.

“Hell yeah!” shouted Craig, as he, Raj, Quinn, Diego, Alyssa, Jake, Zahra, Craig, and Sean raised their hands.

“Cool, beer pong it is!”

“Too bad,” said Michelle, frowning. “Drunk rounds sounds hilarious.”

“Sure, if you understand sciencey words,” said Jake. “For us ‘mortals,’ though…”

Michelle sighed. “You have a point,” she admitted, selecting the ‘beer pong’ option.

MC!Michelle: Let’s do this.

“LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOY! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENKINS!” yelled Craig. Zahra had to clamp her hands over her earmuffs in response.

“You go to all the trouble to avoid saying it, and the app says it for you,” said Michelle, shaking her head. “I think I’m gonna go deaf now, too.”

“Nobody appreciates the classics,” said Craig, frowning.

Bryce: We need a fourth… Rosa?

Rosa: Sure, I’ll play!

“She looks familiar,” said Michelle. “Where have we seen her before?”

“The basketball game a few chapters ago! Remember?” said Sean.

“Wow, you’re right!” said Michelle, remembering the character’s previous appearance. “How’d you know?”

Sean smiled at her. “It was a sports scene, of course I’m gonna remember it,” he said, laughing.

“Ha. I should’ve guessed!”

Bryce: Alright, pick teams.

Play with…

“Uh, Bryce, duh,” said Quinn immediately when the choices appeared.

“Agreed,” said Estela. “Who else?”

“Wait, is Estela actually doing the vote? It’s the apocalypse! Again!” joked Diego.

Estela glared at him. “Look, just vote already,” she said. Ian, Quinn, Michelle, Diego, Sean, Alyssa, Zahra, and Raj all voted along with her. “Huh. Looks like I win.”

“I just hope this story doesn’t ask me to choose between Rafael and Bryce, or my heart would explode,” said Quinn as Michelle picked Bryce.

Bryce aims and shoots, sinking the right cup!

MC!Michelle: Nice! Now I just have to make the same one…

PING-PONG BALL: Pick up.

“Drink coffee, y’all,” said Jake.

“So we gotta pick ‘right!” said Craig.

“Craig, there isn’t even an option yet,” said Zahra as she sipped her coffee.

You shoot, aiming for…

Which cup do you aim for?

“See? Now there’s an option!” said Craig.

“Okay, Craig, this one’s all you,” said Michelle, picking the ‘right’ cup.

Bryce: We win! We win! You’re my hero!

“Chyeah!” shouted Craig.

“Nice job, Craig,” said Michelle.

“I’m tellin’ ya, if there’s a ball involved, I’m gonna kick ass!”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” said Zahra, “you’re not wrong.”

MC!Michelle: Hey, Sienna. Are you okay? Where’s Wayne?

Sienna: He had to go home. He works early in the morning, so…

“‘Cause crime doesn’t sleep, am I right?” said Diego.

“He’s not Batman!” said Michelle.

“I mean, he still could be Batman,” Ian pointed out.

“Thanks, Ian,” said Diego.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Tell her how we really feel,” said Alyssa. “Who’s with me?”

“Wait, is this an actual vote?” asked Ian, confused.

“Oh my god, you idiot!” said Alyssa. “Of course it’s a vote!”

Ian laughed and shook his head. “Never change, Alyssa. Anyway, I agree.”

In addition to the twins, Michelle, Jake, Estela, Zahra, and Aleister all raised their hands. “Yes! I win!” crowed Alyssa, as Michelle went ahead and selected the choice in question.

Elijah: Sienna cleared it with Farley. We’re good until midnight.

MC!Michelle: ...which is in ten minutes.

“Ha, uh, whoops,” said Diego.

“Yes, it is prudent to think such things through,” said Aleister.

“Easy! Just clean everything up super fast,” said Raj.

“...That sounds easier said than done,” Michelle commented.

“Aw, it’s not that bad! You just have to get everyone to help out!”

“Like I said. Easier said than done.”

Elijah: I’m Michelle, and this is Elijah.

MC!Michelle: Other way around.

“Pfft, I’ve definitely done that before,” laughed Craig.

“Why am I not surprised?” said Zahra.

She smiles at Elijah as she slips past you into her apartment.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“Aww! Somebody’s got a crush!” squealed Quinn.

“Too cute,” agreed Grace. “They’d be an adorable couple! We should definitely encourage him. Aleister, want to take a vote?”

“What? Oh, right,” said Aleister, looking up from his phone suddenly.

“What were you looking at?” asked Michelle.

Aleister blushed. “Oh, nothing,” he said quickly.

Grace leaned over and looked at his phone. “Oh, he was looking up information about Batman!” she declared.

“Grace!” said Aleister, blushing furiously as he pulled his phone away from her view.

“Wait, that’s it?” asked Diego. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about! You know, if you want to know more about him, you can always ask me.”

“It’s just… well… you know,” stammered Aleister. “I quite dislike not knowing something. Even if it is about a fictional superhero who dresses like a bat.”

“Dark Knight marathon, anyone?” Diego asked the group. “Wait, Aleister, have you never seen the Dark Knight trilogy?”

“I have...erm… heard of it,” Aleister admitted.

“Oh, you are missing out! We are definitely having a Dark Knight marathon next get-together! For Aleister’s sake.”

Aleister looked like he was about to protest, but upon seeing Diego’s enthusiasm, his expression softened. “Ah, very well,” he said finally. “I suppose I might as well see what all the fuss is about.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it already,” said Estela.

“I remember getting to see The Dark Knight in high school,” Grace told him. “I actually enjoyed it! I think you’ll have fun.”

“I am quite glad to hear it,” said Aleister. “I trust your recommendations.”

“Movie night! Yes!” shouted Diego excitedly.

“Alright, alright, next reunion we’re watching Batman movies. Can we continue the story already?” asked Michelle, frustrated.

“Party pooper,” complained Craig.

Michelle went to keep going with the story, but then stopped when she realized no one had voted on the choice yet. “Okay, voting time,” she said.

“What?” asked Ian, looking up from his in-depth Batman discussion with Estela and Diego. “Oh, uh… what was this choice about again?”

“My brother is an idiot,” groaned Alyssa. “It’s about… wait… uh… what was it about, again?”

“Epic fail,” laughed Jake.

“Shut up!”

“It was about Elijah’s crush on the girl who lives next door!” Michelle reminded everyone. “Now, are we gonna tease him or encourage him?”

“Encourage him, obviously!” said Quinn.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go with that, too,” said Sean. “Who else?”

Ian, Estela, Michelle, Raj, Diego, and Grace all raised their hands. “Nice, majority rules!” Michelle proclaimed, picking the ‘Encourage him’ option.

MC!Michelle: Don’t play dumb. She was flirting with you!

Elijah: She was just being friendly.

“Sounds like my brother, first time he met Estela,” snarked Alyssa. Ian threw a pillow at her in response.

Landry: You guys, it’s midnight! Why is everyone still here?

Jackie: It’s okay, Landry. The apartment’s not going to turn into a pumpkin.

“I understood that reference,” said Raj.

“I understood that reference to ‘I understood that reference,’” said Diego.

“I understood that I’m confused,” said Craig.

MC!Michelle: Oh! Hi, Farley!

Farley: What’s going on here? Mrs. Edelstein called with a noise complaint, dragged me away from watching Aliens Among Us.

MC!Michelle: (What do I do?)

“I mean, I feel like we’ve got everything under control,” said Michelle. “I say we fudge the truth.”

“I say we KILL THE BEAST!” quoted Diego randomly. Everyone stared at him. “...Sorry, the way you said that kinda sounded like… never mind.”

“Whatever. Who votes ‘fudge the truth?” asked Raj. Ian, Quinn, Estela, Diego, Sean, Aleister, and Grace all raised their hands to agree with him. “And ‘flat out lie?’” Zahra, Craig, Alyssa, Jake, and Michelle raised their hands. Raj took a moment to count up the votes. “Looks like ‘fudge the truth’ wins,’” he told Michelle, who picked the option in question.

Farley: Mrs. Edelstein’s such a damn whiner. Carry on! I’m going back to my show.

“Wow. That was easy,” said Zahra. “What a dumbass.”

“No kidding,” agreed Alyssa.

“To be fair, if I got interrupted while marathoning a show, I’d want to get back to it as soon as possible too,” Diego pointed out.

“Ha. True,” admitted Zahra. “Never underestimate the power of cliffhangers.”

Who do you talk to?

“Yes! Bryce, please,” said Quinn. “I was hoping for this!”

“It’s not a diamond scene, though,” Sean observed.

“It might be, eventually! I can dream, can’t I?”

“True,” admitted Estela, “though we haven’t had a scene with Jackie in a while, either.”

“Talk about a tough choice… who wants to take the vote?” asked Sean.

After a momentary silence, Michelle shrugged. “Sure, I’ll do it,” she said. “Who votes for Bryce?” Quinn, Jake, Diego, Zahra, and Grace all raised their hands along with Michelle herself; after a brief hesitation, Sean joined them as well. “Okay, and Jackie?” Ian, Alyssa, Estela, Raj, Craig, and Aleister voted. “Great, looks like Bryce wins!” Quinn smiled gratefully as Michelle chose Bryce.

As you hand Bryce an empty bottle to recycle, your hands graze each other. The touch lingers.

MC!Michelle: You know… you don’t have to go home.

“Awwwwww!” awwed Quinn. “I love it!”

“Diamond scene, please?” asked Diego eagerly.

What do you do?

“Yes! Totally called it!” shouted Alyssa excitedly. “Let’s do it!”

“Yes, please!” agreed Quinn.

“Definitely,” said Sean. “I mean, do we even need to vote at this point?”

“...Yes,” said Aleister bluntly.

Michelle sighed. “Okay, fine,” she said. “Who votes NOT Bryce?” Literally no one raised their hands, not even Aleister.

Sean raised his eyebrows at Aleister. “Like I said. Did we even need to vote?”

“Yes,” Aleister said again.

Michelle shook her head in amusement as she chose the diamond scene.

His hands cup your chin as he closes the door and presses you against it, kissing you slowly.

“Sexy music detected,” said Diego when the music changed. “I think we know what that means…”

“Definitely,” agreed Michelle.

Bryce: You are gorgeous and I need to see a whole lot more of you.

“Wow… is it hot in here, or is it just me?” asked Quinn.

“It’s definitely not just you, Quinn,” said Sean. “Bryce is… wow.”

“Yeah, how come you never say things like this, Jake?” asked Alyssa, shoving Jake playfully.

“...Cuz you’re deaf? I say that kinda stuff a lot, Princess!”

“Like when?”

“Last night, for one,” said Jake, winking at her.

Alyssa giggled. “Right! Remember? When we were-”

Ian interrupted them with exaggerated fake vomiting noises. “TOO. MUCH. INFORMATION,” he told the amorous couple.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, like you and Estela haven’t-”

“Alright, conversation over!” declared Estela suddenly. “Michelle. Please.”

After seeing the expression on Estela’s face, Michelle quickly grabbed the phone and continued the story without hesitation.

MC!Michelle: Wait… how am I nearly naked when you’re still dressed?

“That is a problem,” Diego agreed. “He should fix that problem.”

“Amen to that,” said Zahra. “That shirt belongs… somewhere else.”

Bryce: Better?

“So much better,” said Michelle with an appreciative whistle upon seeing Bryce shirtless.

“Seriously, about time!” agreed Diego.

“Diego, we saw him shirtless in his very first scene, remember?” Michelle reminded him. “How could you forget?”

“Oh, I didn’t forget… I just couldn’t wait to see him shirtless again, duh!”

“Makes sense to me,” said Quinn.

MC!Michelle: So much.

“Drink coffee, y’all,” said Jake. Everyone stared at him, confused. “...What? Her character reacted the same way she did for real!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we had that rule!” said Raj.

Zahra glanced into her cup and made a face. “Damn, I’m out of coffee already,” she complained. “Be right back.”

“Yo, Z, while you’re up, could you make me some coffee too?” asked Craig as Zahra got up to head toward the kitchen. She flipped him off in response.

Bryce: Are you sure you want this?

MC!Michelle: …

“Uh, keep going, duh!” Alyssa blurted out.

“Is it weird that I’m jealous, but also kinda agreeing with you at the same time?” asked Jake.

“...A little bit, maybe?”

“Who will take the vote?” asked Aleister.

But to his dismay, Michelle went ahead and selected the ‘keep going’ option anyway. At his scowl, Michelle shrugged. “We all know it would’ve won anyway. I just saved us all some time. You’re welcome.”

“Hmph,” hmphed Aleister.

You groan as your phone alarm goes off, slapping at the nightstand until you find it and hit snooze.

“At least you didn’t hit the phone off the table, sending it flying into the wall and completely destroying the stupid thing so badly that it took me a week and a half to fix,” said Zahra as she walked back in from the kitchen.

Everyone stared at her. “That was… uh… weirdly specific,” said Sean.

“C’mon, to be fair, that phone was too loud!” argued Craig.

“Craig. It’s an ALARM. It’s supposed to be loud!” Zahra said.

“Not my fault I didn’t know that!”

“Where the hell did you learn… like, basic logic?!”

“Okay, moving on!” announced Michelle before this argument could escalate any further.

Elijah points to the couch, where Sienna and Danny are sound asleep, slumped beside each other in front of the T.V.

“Aww… that’s so cute!” said Quinn.

“Not gonna lie, it does sound adorable,” Michelle agreed.

MC!Michelle: Okay, that’s pretty adorable.

“Yep. You’re literally her,” laughed Jake.

“That is not what ‘literally’ means,” complained Aleister. “Unless, of course, you are implying that Michelle is actually a character in a mobile game, which is, quite frankly, ridiculous.” Then he frowned, staring momentarily into space. “Why on Earth am I suddenly picturing a crab? How absurd.”

Your Pager: Read the message.

“Hey, another one!” exclaimed Diego when the one-option choice appeared. “There haven’t been enough of those this chapter.”

“You’re right,” agreed Raj. “I feel like there’s less of them each chapter.”

“Fewer,” corrected Aleister.

“Okay, Stannis,” Diego joked.

Jake frowned. “Hey, I was gonna say that! You stole my reference!”

“Guess great minds think alike?”

Jake sighed and shook his head, amused in spite of himself. “I just can’t stay mad at you, Underdog.”

Aleister just looked back and forth between the two of them, completely bewildered, as Michelle went ahead and continued the chapter.

MC!Michelle: (A 9-1-1… for Mrs. Turner!)

“Oh no, not again!” said Quinn. “I hope she’s okay!”

“Don’t worry, she’ll definitely be fine,” Alyssa reassured her.

“Did you predict that? Was this another one of your time tricks?” asked Quinn curiously.

Alyssa laughed. “Nah. I just remembered there wasn’t a warning at the start of this chapter.”

“Huh. Didn’t think about that before. That makes sense, actually!”

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, realizing that Alyssa was probably right.

Danny: Body temp skyrocketing. She’s in AFib, her B.P.’s crashing, and she’s got a pulmonary edema!

“Aah! Too much science!” yelled Craig.

“Yep. All you, Michelle,” said Sean.

“Thanks. The choice should be no problem!” Michelle declared confidently.

MC!Michelle: (One… two…)

Michelle couldn’t help but laugh when the choice appeared. “Oh, sure, of course there’s only one option,” she said. “I was all prepared and everything!”

“Diego, I think you jinxed it,” laughed Ian. “The app must’ve heard you when you said there weren’t enough one-option choices!”

“I can believe it,” Diego replied as Michelle chose the only option available, ‘Three.’

Dr. Ramsey: Sounded like quite the litany of emergencies. Good work.

“Wait, did he just… did he just… compliment us?!” asked Grace, shocked.

“Holy shit, plot twist,” said Zahra.

“Of course he finally compliments us when we didn’t actually get to choose anything,” complained Michelle.

“Maybe he’s intentionally messing with you,” suggested Diego.

“Seeing as it’s Dr. Ramsey, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised…”

C.T. Scan: Pick it up.

“Yep, the app definitely heard you, Diego,” said Ian.

“Also, I think it knows we ain’t drinking this time,” added Jake. “It’s just throwin’ these things at us all of a sudden on purpose.”

“‘Choices: The App that Trolls You,’” suggested Diego. “How’s that for a better subtitle?”

MC!Michelle: (‘Patient X?’ What does that mean?)

“OH MY GOD, X-MEN CROSSOVER YES PLEASE?!” shouted Diego excitedly. “Patient X is totally a mutant! Calling it right now!”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” said Michelle.

Diego frowned. “I can dream, can’t I?”

“I kind of want you to actually write this crossover,” said Ian. “Batman, Ninja Turtles, and the X-Men?”

“...I’d read that,” admitted Grace.

“Really? You think so?” asked Diego. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

MC!Michelle: (What could Dr. Ramsey be hiding?)

“That he’s secretly a mutant! It’s so obvious!” said Diego, only half-joking.

“As much as that’s probably wrong,” said Michelle, “it is an interesting cliffhanger. Maybe it’s a celebrity! They usually hide famous people’s identities in medical records.”

“It’s the secret vampire president from the first chapter!” Raj blurted out. “Michelle, I think you’re onto something!”

“A vampire? That’s even less believable than Diego’s X-Men thing,” snarked Zahra.

“But it already happened in the first chapter!” argued Craig.

“She wasn’t actually a vampire, dumbass!”

“She totally was! C’mon, Z!”

As the two of them continued to bicker, Jake stood up and stretched. “Well, as long as the chapter’s over, I’m gettin’ a snack,” he announced. “Princess, want anything?”

“I kinda have a weird taste for popcorn, actually,” Alyssa told him. “Is there any left?”

Jake shrugged. “Guess I’ll find out.”

“I’m going for a run,” Estela said. “Ian?”

“Right beside you!” The two of them stood up and headed toward the entrance as the rest of the Catalysts started to disperse as well.

From the couch beside Diego, there was a sudden loud yawn, and Varyyn sat up, blinking and looking around the room. “Ah! Diego!” he said with a smile when he spotted his husband. “It seems I needed a brief nap after my run to Elyys’tel. Are we ready to begin the next chapter of the story, then?”

Diego scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Varyyn? I, uh, don’t know how to tell you this, but that was more than a ‘brief nap.’ You kinda… missed… the whole chapter.”

“Wait… what?!”

Next Chapter: Link

Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @marmolady @endlesssummerfan

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darling-i-read-it · 6 years

Text

The Queen Part 7

FP Jones x reader

First Part Second Part Third Part Forth Part Fifth Part Sixth Part

Word Count:1741

Warnings:language, okay so in this one there is a sexual assault. It does not go far however it is still there so PLEASE IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH SEXUAL ASSAULT DON’T READ. If you feel uncomfortable reading you can DM me and I will happily give you the rundown of the chapter.

Author’s Note: Thanks for still reading and PLEASE READ THE WARNING. Italics are flashback

Summary: Diving into the reader and Hiram’s past while showing how he was going to deal with her leaving.

Playlist:

(not my gif)

You awoke on the couch, tired and worn. An arm was around your waist protectively, which made you smile. You were still dressed in yours/Hermione's pants and FP’s shirt. You laughed at the fact that almost zero of the clothes you were wearing were yours, which woke up the sleeping man beside you.

“Don’t go,” he murmured and you didn’t, laying back down on the couch with him. FP nuzzled his head into your back and groaned at the sunlight that seeped through the cracks of the trailer. Your phone buzzed on the floor beside you and you realized you must have left it here. Did you bring it to the Lodges?

When you picked it up the answer to your question blared in bright lights. The phone number read ‘Hiram’ which meant without a doubt he had been in your phone. You didn’t have much to hide in it, didn’t have any social media or anything but still the thought of him scrolling through your personal item brought back bad memories, something you would rather forget.

Fred sat across from you at the table in science class. He had goggles on and was pouring a bubbly liquid into another different color beaker. You watched as he did this ready to catch any reaction that the chemicals would have to one another.

“Hey muffin,” Hiram whispered behind you. You jumped, knocking over the beaker that sat next to you causing Fred to backup causing the stuff he was pouring in to spill over his lab coat. Immediately the two of you went to sop it up but Hiram could only laugh at you as you did it.

Before today you had only just mildly disliked Hiram. He was the rich kid of the school and you avoided him at all costs but he seemed almost to be seeking you out. He even had a attraction to calling you ‘muffin’ which made you go crazy with madness.

You had nicknames for your friends not creepy dudes you barely saw in the halls. But you were always somewhat nice to him for some reason. It was probably because you felt bad for how selfish and shallow all of his actual friends were.

“What do you want Hiram?,” you asked through gritted teeth. He leaned against the table and went unnoticed by the teacher and most of the students that were helping you avoid a chemical mishap. Hiram leaned down beside you but only so he could see your face.

“You,” he mumbled. You froze.

The way he spoke made you feel not even the least bit flattered or in need of him as well. It made you feel threatened. Hiram always gave you a unsettling feeling but you were never scared around him. You were scared of his much larger frame in that moment as you tried to think about what you wanted to say to him, what could you say to him to get him to go away? If only Fred wasn’t in the nurse's office getting checked for burns. If only this wasn’t a AP class that there were no serpents in. You could use some saving right now.

“I’m sorry Hiram but I’m not for sale,” you spoke as snarky as you usually would, trying not to get him hinted at just how nervous you were by his very presence.

“I don’t know sweetheart, that outfit looks like someone dressed you for sale to me.” He picked at the hem of your shirt which was a crop top but nothing to revealing. Today’s outfit consisted of about a 6 inch above your knee skirt and the shirt with your serpents jacket. This was nothing special.

“Hiram keep your hands to yourself,” you pleaded. His eyes were on fire and you had backed up as far as you could with the counter. Everyone around you was still ablaze with the chemical mishap that no one noticed your fear. Hiram was flush against your body now and his hands roamed up your shirt, to far, way to far. Your mind raced in a hundred different directions. “Stop,” you told him sternly, feeling around the table for something to defend yourself with. He grabbed at your notebook and turned around, cracking it open leaving you cold from his touch. You reached for it, your book of doodles and poems and personal things you’d rather keep out of the hands of a Lodge. But he was stronger than you and overpowered you.

“I think I’ll keep this for awhile,” he mused, turning it sideways to look at a picture from a different angle.

“Hiram please just give it back,” you pleaded once more desperate to keep your thoughts to yourself. But he didn’t listen and took the book anyway.

He left you feeling violated and stripped of yourself for the day.

The book was returned with a smug smile to you at the end of the day but it no longer felt safe guarded and you threw it in the nearest dumpster on your way home.

You told no one of this assault and kept it to yourself. The serpent's couldn’t handle a blow from Hiram Lodge that they were bound to get if they invoked a fight. So Fred, FP, everyone we’re oblivious to the fact you felt as though a part of you was missing after that day.

You moved from FP and stood up, walking toward the other room. You closed the door behind you as you entered the bedroom and you almost felt odd answering the phone here.

“Hello?” You whispered.

“You left the house,” Hiram spoke. His voice sounded so far away like he wasn’t really in the present and rather living in the past.

“I’m sorry I really appreciate the hospitality but I needed to come home.” Hiram scoffed on the other line.

“Home? You haven’t had a home in 20 years Y/N.”

“How do you know that?” You inquired. Hiram didn’t answer at first and you were surprised that he could be caught off guard

“I have my ways old friend.” His voice was chilling, causing you to lean against the door to steady yourself from fear.

“We were not friends.” Hiram chuckled.

“Are you sure about that muffin? We were fairly close. On the odd day,” he told you. Although he was the only man who was able to make you tremble with fear by just saying words, you had to stand your ground. If you were going to stay here with FP you had to be able to stand Hiram.

“I am sure Hiram. I have a name if you were unaware. What do you want? I’m keen on sleeping so make it quick,” you sounded strong and were amazed at the fact that your voice wasn’t quivering. Hiram sighed.

“You’re right Ms.Y/L/N I shouldn’t keep you awake we know how cranky you get. I only have one request in return of my hospitality and your utter rudeness leaving without breakfast.” He waited.

“Yes Hiram?” you asked impatiently.

“My daughter was especially hurt to your leaving. You’re going to make it up to her and her friends by speaking with Alice.” You squinted.

“How will that help Veronica?” you asked. Hiam was quick to answer you.

“All you need to know is that you need to speak with Alice. She and Betty will give you all you need and you’ll do as your told. It’s simple really just a favor for a old...acatinces. I’m confident you won’t speak a word of this to my daughter?” You thought this whole situation very odd. Alice and Betty and Hiram all needed help? Together? And this needed you? You’d only just come back to Riverdale and you were already being asked for weird favors and people were acting already as if you owed them anything!

“Alright Hiram whatever I’ll talk to the wicked witch of the west and Betty. I don’t know why and I don’t really care. Will you just leave me alone after this?” you whispered when you heard shifting in the main room.

“It’s a small town Y/N. I’m sure we’ll run into one another again.” He hung up and left you feeling as though you had just been given a quest of a video game as you stepped outside the door to be met with FP who was standing just outside the door.

“How long have you been standing there?” you pondered. He placed his hands on your shoulders and pulled you into his embrace easily. “FP? What’s wrong?” He didn’t speak at first.

“Did you stay with the Lodges last night? Tell me you didn’t.” His voice was low and quiet as though he were trying to make sure no one heard your conversation. You were confused.

“Is that a problem? Nothing happened if that’s what-” He let you go.

“Dammit Y/N!” You were truly confused on why he was so angry at you, you had just made up.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes something is wrong! He asked you to see Alice didn’t he?” You nodded. “The real reason that Alice was here last night Y/N. She’s a accessory to murder. Veronica killed someone last night.” You had trouble believing that even coming from someone you trusted.

“How? Who?” FP took in a deep breath as you awaited the answer. You had just woken up and were very unsure how he even knew this. You had woken up before him for goodness sake.

“A gun. A student.”

“Who?!”

“She shot and killed a Serpent Y/N.”

All the time tag list: @swanky-batman

The Queen Tag List: @southsidemistress @unaveragewriterfreak @outerxorbit @alixthealmighty @winter111502 @evyiione @fangirlbitch02 @sweetest-siren @xsuperhero-expertx @savannah-m-99 @sjlovestory @nikkipea

@skittlesxlola @river-serpents @findmeinpops

Part 8

#riverdale #fp jones x reader #fp jones imagines #veronica lodge #hiram lodge

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wannawrite · 6 years

Text

let go, 고맙다 🤙(二)

group: seventeen

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst but more mature

🗻 happy birthday, jihoon! i love you 🗻

_______________________

Jihoon's line from yesterday kept surfacing onto your thoughts as raindrops drummed onto the window of the bus lazily, drowning out the excited chatter of two female students about their idols and what not.

Feeling slightly bored, you peered outside the rain splotched window to distract yourself with the surroundings. The city was dark, still largely shrouded in a big blanket of calmness and stillness. It was currently 6:30AM in the morning, and the small quadrant of a sun peeking out from the building near you seemed to tease you, like "Ha, you can wait forever for me to light up Busan, sucker."

The occasional rattle of the bus whenever it veered up a ramp hammered your head against the window incessantly, which undoubtedly didn't feel very nice, but you really couldn't care less when you had been made to wake up at such an ungodly hour.

If it weren't for Jihoon leaving today, you'd still be in the warm wrap of your thick blue blanket, enjoying a sweet dream of meeting EXO or some shit.

EXO was pretty important to you.

Your mother had figured that Jihoon was more than that.

The white, glaring light stretching across one end of the bus to the other invaded your eyes with stings for swords as you looked away from the window, which was definitely a huge mistake. Eyes narrowing in disdain at the poor structure of the bus, you cursed the architect under your breath.

Freaking Busan and their shitty plane timings, to drag you out of bed at such an hour.

You sighed.

At least the bus was more or less quiet.

On top of that, you had another thing to be way more sad over.

At that thought, you instantly plugged in your earphones to listen to some soothing EXO ballads and tried to zone out.

You were going to save the tears for later.

_____________________

"Gimhae International Airport."

The sound of the announcer served as the loudest alarm ever, causing you to wake up with a jolt as you realised what was happening, and quickly shoved your water bottle into your backpack.

She's Dreaming droned in your ear softly as you ran out of the bus and tapped your card, but you yanked the earpiece out and stuffed it into your wallet.

It seemed to be a habit of yours-being a total mess and forgetting to pack before arriving at your stop.

Jihoon would always nag at you to be more organised, and you'd roll your eyes in annoyance.

Now, you'd do anything, just to be by his side again.

In slight worry of being late, you held your wristwatch to your eyes. It was now 7AM, and the sun had found that you weren't really that exasperated at it anymore, so it had more or less rose into the air in a hot, red-yellow gradient. The darkness was slipping away slowly, and so was the time that you had with Jihoon.

In all its glory the glass surface of the airport stood there beautifully, boasting its lovely white borders and sophisticated, turquoise tinted glass panes. The sun hit them generously, bursting in front of you into a sparkle-seeming to light up your way to the airport, as if it was sorry for its earlier actions.

After a bit of running, you spotted the doors of the airport and ran in, caked with sweat in the cool of the morning. You would have laughed, but you really had more important things to do than make a fool of yourself. The airport's crowd daunted you a little-kids running here and there, playing catch with each other, couples pushing carts of luggages to go on vacation...there was no way you could be able to see a 155cm boy in the midst of all this.

You got out your phone.

You: yo im here already where ya at

Probably the worst thing of it all was that, Jihoon wasn't even online.

You were breaking down inside. With a jumpy heart, your eyes darted around the crowd for a small boy with bangs, and soon, before you knew it, you were calling out his full name, with such gusto and brokenness laced in your shouts.

It was probably stupid of you to do so, considering the amount of Lee Jihoons there could have been in this airport. It would have been funny if a 5 year old boy named Lee Jihoon approached you with small grabby hands. Eyes of the public followed you everywhere you went, staring at you with a judgemental, irritant gaze.

But you'd do anything at that moment, just to see Jihoon for that one last time.

Soon, you were out of breath after shouting for a whole 5 minutes. You were sweating even more before, and your shirt was clinging to your back uncomfortably. Heavy breaths escaped your lips, as you hunched forward to take a short break.

Your fatigue didn't dispel the uneasy feeling in your heart.

You felt your grip loosening in the control of this situation, and you yelled.

Fate was playing its games again.

At least a bit of it went in your favour.

A voice called out to you.

"Silly, I'm here. I heard you call my name so many times."

At the sound of the light, familiar voice cutting into the climax of your worry, you managed a smile as you turned around to face Jihoon.

He stood in front of you, the same old boy with small, neat bangs and miniscule eyes that held the boundlessness of the galaxy. With a shy smile on his face, he took your hand, which was rare-Jihoon didn't really do skinship, but maybe, this was just as exceptional to him as it was to you.

"Do you see anything different about me today?" he asked, with a small blush creeping up onto his face. Inside, you were just as embarrassed as he was-Jihoon was really cute when he was shy, and his petite figure didn't exactly help.

Still, you scanned his face, shirt, nose. At the sight of his quirky features, like his round glasses and small smiles, it seemed to thrust spears into your heart, one by one.

You'd always look at Jihoon, the same old Jihoon, exactly the same as you did yesterday.

But today you realised his personality, that was weird and quirky? Yeah. Cried easily without anyone knowing? Yeah. Was the source of your strength in your darkest times? Yeah.

Could you live without it? No.

"I-I don't find anything..." your voice trailed off sadly, not wanting to cry as badly as you did yesterday as you swallowed down your feelings with a gulp.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, scanning the expressions on your face-before replying matter of factly, "I have a ponytail today, that's all. Why are you so sad?"

You sighed. It was a stupid reason for being such a wet blanket, but you weren't planning on lying to someone who you loved with all your heart.

"I'll miss all of you, Jihoon. The simple, boyish bangs that tiptoes on your thin eyebrows, seemingly insignificant yet of such importance. Your small eyes, curving into a small oval, that would angle up into two slits as they squint to follow the lyrics spread across the computer. The thin, chapped lips littered with the holes that the winter digs. Your silent, unboasting care for me, that I'll never get again until I don't know how many years later." you ranted on, squeezing Jihoon's hand in yours a little too tight for comfort. "I'm sorry I got so attached to you. I love you so, so so much."

A smile floated onto his face, and Jihoon laughed.

"Am I such a beautiful person to you? I never knew." he responded, with dark red tints blossoming like roses all over the area of his cheekbones. "In all honesty, I don't think I'm very good looking, but you saying that makes me feel like the most beautiful person on earth." Jihoon added with a sheepish chuckle, lips digging out the small dimples in the sides of his face.

You smiled. Jihoon really was so beautiful, inside and out.

But your words said otherwise.

"Bold of you to assume you can beat my visuals, Lee Jihoon." you scoffed, in a faux haughtiness and getting out a good reaction from him, "Your ponytail is cute, but I'm cuter than you'll ever be."

At this, Jihoon burst out into a long fit of laughter, clapping his hands as he always did-it was a cute habit of his.

"Okay, shit, I take that back, you look way cuter than I'll ever be right now." you added on quickly, and both of you exchanged small smiles.

But at last, the moment didn't last long.

"Hey...I kind of have to go now." he said tentatively, lips raising into a boxy, awkward smile, and before you said anything, Jihoon pulled you closer to him, letting your head rest on his shoulder-despite being short for a boy, he was still taller than you by a few cm.

You gently pushed his neck onto your shoulder, and craned over to bury your head further into his neck, just to hide the tears that were already falling down your face.

You were going to remember Lee Jihoon, the boy that had spent a good 7 years of your life with you.

Feelings choked your nose, stinging it painfully, as you heard a few foreign sobs that weren't coming from you. The only liquid on your shirt wasn't just sweat anymore.

Hands on each other's necks, and tears on each other's shirts-it had almost seemed like both of you had become one entity, before leaving for a short while to meet again later on.

As both of you looked at each other's tear stained, snot covered faces in pain, you stuck out your thumb and your pinky, stretching your hand to Jihoon.

"Please, always remember me."

The corner of Jihoon's lips twitched up.

He stretched out his own pinky, and at the same time, both of your pinkies bend to interlock.

"Remember me too, world's number one cutie." he laughed lightly.

Then, before you knew it, his pinky broke away from your grasp, and all that was left of it was a small figure with an even smaller, cute ponytail at his neck area, but really, really big dreams as he walked towards the departure area.

Like cherry blossoms scattered on the floor, you were then, left with all your unforgettable memories with Jihoon.

All but one.

The ponytail disappeared, to reveal a small, smiling face.

He cupped two hands to his lips, and shouted.

"고맙다!"

Subconsciously, his smile formed onto your face.

"지훈이, 고맙다!"

_______________________

#admin n #svt #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #lee jihoon

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edsbrak · 6 years

Text

sixteen weeks (chapter 4)

pairing: reddie chapters: 4/? rating: explicit tags: college AU, FWB

read on Ao3

Summary: Eddie and Richie are roommates in college, and after the events of one drunken confession they both agree it wouldn’t hurt to start casually hooking-up. Things go about as well as expected.

warnings: nsfw content

a/n: sorry for the long wait guys! holidays and whatnot, but i hope you enjoy this one, the plot thickens oooo

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

In the weeks following since their helping-hand-sex-agreement, Eddie was actually feeling pretty good about where things were going. Maybe it had something to do with the factor of he and Richie not being close that allowed them both to feel as cavalier as one can about suddenly bedding your roommate several times a week. Therapeutic, some might say, because you weren’t necessarily obligated to get to know this person as you share these intimate moments with them.

That’s not to say Eddie had made a stance on keeping their lives separate; that idea seemed to be becoming harder to ignore as the days passed, but to no real shock.

Mostly everything Eddie had observed about Richie’s habits and personality traits in the beginning of the school year still remained true. He did seem to hang around their room a bit more now, though – perhaps after having someone’s dick in your mouth any previous hesitancy went out the window. But Eddie still had trouble reading him from time to time.

He had also hung out with Richie’s friends several more times since their gig that night. Eddie liked to watch them all bounce topics off each other, to see how well they all blended so fluidly and how welcoming they were to have Eddie join them. It was nice, and most often Eddie would wonder how it took him this long to actually find decent people to hang out with.

Richie was quite different around his friends, and more specifically, with each of them individually.

Around Stan, he seemed to enjoy spouting any nonsense that came to mind, but it was clear he held Stan’s opinion higher than the others. Stan seemed to laugh the most around him.

With Bev, he grew louder. She seemed to challenge him socially and politically. Occasionally they would drag the others into their heated discussions as well, and Eddie could see the amount of respect he held for her in the smiles Richie would try to conceal.

And Ben’s Richie appeared mostly the same, only with an ease of familiarity, like two friends finding each other again and again in each new lifetime.

So Eddie pushed himself to join in, throwing around opinions and titbits and instantly welcoming the pleasant rush of people actually caring about what he contributed to the table. There was no special treatment to atone his new-kid status in the group. He’d just slipped in, like it was nothing.

“Hey, Eddie, you hang out with anyone else here at school?” Bev had asked one afternoon in the library. They’d started meeting up for study sessions together now that finals were coming up.

Eddie had shrugged. “No. My best friends went to another college, so.”

“That sucks,” Bev had smiled sadly and tilted her head. She never said things like oh, I’m sorry or I know how you feel, and it was strangely refreshing to Eddie. “Well, hey, you should invite them out with us one night. We’d love to meet them.”

Stan, who was sitting with them also, had given Eddie a small nod from behind the extraordinarily large book he had in front of his face.

Eddie had made a surprised noise, but took the offer in stride. Typically, trying to blend friend groups together was impossible, but for some bizarre reason Eddie felt as if this time it might actually work. And even if it didn’t, he would be gone from this school in a year, anyway, and none of this would matter.

It was now Saturday again, and Eddie had work in two hours. All morning he wondered if anything with Richie was going to happen today, finally landing on a no, but then the guy had walked into their room as he whistled aimlessly, his drum sticks in his back pocket and a Redbull in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Jeff Porcaro reincarnate,” Eddie says lazily from where he sat on his bed.

Richie quirks his brows and chugs the rest of his drink. Eddie watches the movement of his throat. “What are you up to?”

Eddie looks down at his lap. “I really should be studying, but I’m watching Parks and Rec instead,” he pushes the nagging guilt down with a stick until it eventually wins over, so he shuts his laptop with a sigh.

“So, nothing important then?” Richie asks.

Eddie squints at him. “I’m curious to know what you think is important,” he says, thinking about Richie’s non-existent study life.

“Saving the polar bears,” Richie clicks his tongue as he begins removing his shirt. “Bees. The postal system.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Sure, reasonable. Anything else?”

“Dicking-down ‘n dirty,” Richie shimmies off his pants unceremoniously. He looks down at himself when he’s done. “Yep, my dick definitely has importance.”

“You think very highly of yourself,” Eddie muses, following Richie’s dark happy trail until it disappears below the waistband of his boxers.

Richie shrugs. “Someone has too.”

“So, you’ve got a package for me, then?”

“That was bad,” Richie tells him, but his tone is clearly proud.

“Fine,” Eddie fakes disinterest and picks up a book near him and starts reading at a random part. “I guess I won’t sign for it.”

“Ah, see now…” and then the book is being lifted out of his fingers and Eddie’s face is now dangerously close to Richie’s crotch, so he angles up to find Richie’s gaze. “When I said that was bad, what I really meant was you’re a comedic genius and also signing the package is required by law.”

“That’s so not true.”

“Whatever, I don’t get lawyer stuff,” Richie says flippantly, and then he’s leaning down to place each hand behind Eddie’s head along the wall. Eddie smiles coyly, gesturing expectantly for Richie to act first.

“Eds, c’mon, you gotta meet me halfway,” he practically whines.

Eddie sighs dramatically. “Fine, you insatiable horndog.” It had been a great night when he’d discovered how fun it was to tease Richie with the metaphorical carrot.

So he grips his hands in the curls at the back of Richie’s neck and hauls him down for a deep kiss. Richie fumbles along the wall briefly before he finds his balance, and soon he’s tugging at the clothes still on Eddie’s body, like they were personally offending him. Eddie swallows down his laughter and pushes himself up, their lips still attached as he shrugs off the first layer with some difficulty.

Richie helps by undoing the buttons of Eddie’s jeans, and Eddie jerks slightly when Richie’s hand dips into his underwear.

“Fuck, dude, your hand is freezing,” Eddie scolds and slaps his hand away.

“Sorry, Redbull can,” Richie offers before he makes an effort to warm them up.

As he does, Eddie’s chest is now bare and he hops down from the bed to strip completely. It strikes him sometimes how easy this all has been since that first day. Sure, Eddie has his off days, not quite feeling the mood or liking how he looks – he’s only human. But Richie always seems to understand. He’s never pushy, and seems to read the vibes Eddie puts out quite well.

The hands are now back and circle around his waist, and there’s no temperature shock this time, and soon Eddie finds himself relaxing back onto Richie’s chest. It had the capacity to appear as a sweet moment, maybe, if Richie’s dick wasn’t currently fitting in the cleft of Eddie’s ass as he whispers “Time to put the mail in its slot,” into Eddie’s ear.

“Dude, the ear,” Eddie grouses. “Also, really?”

“Eh, seemed fitting,” Richie laughs. “In more ways than one.”

“No.”

Richie laughs again. As much as Eddie hates his stupid as shit voices, his laugh is actually quite nice. They move over to the bed, and this time Richie lays down on his back while Eddie settles nicely on top of him. Eddie likes this position, for reasons previously stated in the beginning, but it has its bonuses when he gets to stare Richie down into sexually charged silence.

They end up going slow for a while. Eddie remembers how he’d said foreplay was a hit and miss for him, and as it turned out, Richie was a surprising hit. Something about his touch, the care he must put into for his partners sparked something in Eddie he was glad to greet.

Eddie keeps up a rhythm as he grinds their dicks together. It was a nice build up, but never enough to come close. Richie was growing restless, trying to speed things up by manoeuvring Eddie around faster with his hands.

“C’mon, I’m gonna die of old age here,” Richie groans pitifully.

“Oh, so when you stall that’s okay? You can only dish it out?” Eddie badgers him.

“Okay, fine,” Richie huffs. “But that’s only when I—” Eddie silences him with his tongue, shoving it so far in Richie’s mouth he can lick the roof. He snaps his hips forward roughly, relishing the choked sound from Richie that gets stuck between their lips. Just as Eddie is about to give Richie exactly what he wants, his phone beeps on the table next to them.

He pulls back and eyes it for a moment. Richie’s hands grip at Eddie’s thighs desperately as he groans again.

“I feel like God is punishing me somehow…”

Eddie ignores him and stretches out to pick it up. It’s work, and they want him in an hour earlier. Eddie hates to say no to more money. He throws Richie a sheepish look once he’s done typing.

“We’re gonna have to speed things up, shift got changed,” Eddie says.

“That I can do,” Richie challenges, or at least, it sounds challenging. He flips them, so Eddie is lying on his side with Richie lined up along his back, chest sticky with sweat. Eddie had planned to shower after work, but he might have to have one before, instead.

“I’m not sure we have much time…” Eddie starts.

“I’m pretty worked up, don’t worry,” Richie assures him, reaching over to grab the bottle of lube out of his bedside drawer. Richie nips along Eddie’s back as he slicks himself up.

Eddie’s about to say he hasn’t prepped, but then Richie is murmuring “Squeeze your legs really tight.”

Eddie does, and catches on quick. Richie lines up and fucks between his thighs as he works hurriedly with Eddie’s own foreskin. Eddie’s only ever done this once before, and it wasn’t exactly a success, but Richie has enough determination for the both of them. It works Eddie up, has him panting wetly into the pillow in minutes, and Richie bites into the junctures of Eddie’s back. Nails dig into Eddie’s skin, and Eddie reaches back blindly to grip Richie’s hair. Richie begins to rut faster and Eddie feels hot all over from the force of it, the slick sound of Richie slapping against him doing wonders.

“A-ahh, fuck—”

His release catches him off guard this time. Richie pumps him through it, still going himself, and Eddie tries to centre his energy into squeezing impossibly tighter around Richie. Finally his roommate follows, grunting lowly and hips spasming, and Eddie slowly drops his hand as he waits for his breathing to calm down.

“Customer feedback means a lot to us,” Richie rasps, and Eddie can feel his grin pressing into his skin like a carving. “Our promise to deliver packages on time is what we aim to achieve. We hope you’ll use our service again in the future.” Eddie full on hates him.

“Shut. Up.”

Eddie had ended up taking a shower after their little impromptu round of fun.

He’d then rushed out of their dorm building with a half-eaten muesli bar in his mouth, forever thankful he didn’t have to take public transport to get to his work. He speeds walks the few blocks there and circles the building to walk in the back way instead. He throws his loose items in an available locker before tying off an apron at his back.

He spots his manager first who tells him to take orders at the register. Eddie holds back his scowl. He both hates it when his manager works the floor with them and when he has to type in all of the ridiculous ways people can think of when it comes to ordering coffee.

There’s already a line waiting for him when he walks over, so Eddie plasters on his best greeting face and calls the next customer over.

The small café was packed out, so Eddie could understand why they needed him to come in sooner. Although, he also blames how hopeless his management were at planning out decent rosters for everyone.

Greta was busy pumping out coffees to his left. She was arguably their best at it. Eddie likes to steer clear of her whenever she got into her ‘zone’.

Eddie steps out from behind the counter when there was a break to clear away the empty mugs on the tables. There were mostly people his age occupying seats, in groups or alone. At one table sat a guy by himself, books open in front of him and glass empty, so Eddie walks over to collect it. Typically, Eddie prefers to avoid attention and just go about his job, but with a slip on the floor he unwillingly catches the eye of the – admittedly – attractive guy with striking green eyes.

“Thank you,” he says with a smile.

Eddie fumbles momentarily. He clears his throat once. “No worries.”

He’s still smiling and Eddie is still staring awkwardly, and then a distraction presents itself when a customer approaches the register.

When he has their order done with and passes it along to Greta, Eddie looks up to see Bev step inside the café. Her hair is done up in a high bun, and Eddie watches as she wipes her combat boots on the mat by the door. She walks over immediately after, and a grin stretches out her lips when she spies Eddie.

“Eddie, hey!” she says once she’s close enough. Luckily there’s no line now, so Eddie doesn’t have to push her along in a rush. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, hey,” Eddie smiles kindly. “Just here weekends, mostly. Gotta pay these loans somehow.”

“I hear ya,” Bev nods as she grabs her purse. “Man, I just love the caramel lattes here. But now’s the only time I can get them.”

“Really, why?” Eddie frowns. He presses some buttons randomly when his manager eyes him off for slacking.

“I get so hyped up on coffee. I try to only have it around finals,” she laughs whimsically. “Kinda like a reward, I guess.”

“Smart…” Eddie hums, and punches in her order. He also adds an extra free pump of caramel for her. “Did you want something else?”

“No, no,” she says, holding up a hand. “If I come back for more I’ll need you to escort me off the premises.”

Eddie gives her a look. She laughs again. “I’m kidding. No, but really. Don’t let me have more than one.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, eyeing her warily. He’s sure she’s kidding. Almost.

Bev steps off to the side as she waits for her order to be made, and Eddie busies himself for a moment with restocking the sugars and napkins at the milk station. He’s only been here for an hour and already he wants to finish up. Of course he had to pick a job in a 24 hour café. Bev takes a sip of her coffee when it’s done and makes an appreciative noise before whipping out her phone. Eddie makes to go back to his post, but is stopped short when a throat clears behind him.

“Uh, hi again.”

Eddie turns to see the same guy from before. He was even taller than Eddie pictured he was; broad shouldered, arms almost as big as Eddie’s head. There was a scar than ran from his ear down underneath his shirt. Normally not Eddie’s type, but somehow it works?

“Hi. Sorry, did you need help with something?” Eddie asks, basic protocol.

“Um, maybe?” It was striking to see a guy of this size sound so nervous. “I was just wondering – and I hope it’s not too forward… but, would you be interested in maybe… going out sometime?”

Eddie blinks rapidly. He’s sure Bev has lowered her phone and is now not-so-subtly listening in. This had quite honestly been the last thing he was expecting to hear. What was happening?

“Oh,” he says, his hand gripping tighter on the sugar bag. Eddie tries to recall the last time he was asked out like this. “That’s… really nice of you to ask. Um…”

The guy’s look turns a touch disappointed. “Ah, I’m sorry. You’re not…?”

“Oh, no, I—” Eddie waits a second for his nerves to settle. “I am. I… sorry, I was just caught off guard for a second there.” He smiles encouragingly.

“Okay,” the guy chuckles lightly, relieved, before extending a hand. “I’m Jacob.”

Eddie watches his hand almost disappear in the strangers own. “Eddie.” When the touch lingers, Eddie hears Bev cough loudly off to the side, so he pulls back hastily. “Right, so… yes. To answer your question.”

Jacob practically beams. His eyes crinkle up, and Eddie is endeared. “That’s great. Really. Um, okay, so. How about tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, that works with me,” Eddie smiles.

“Alright,” Jacob nods several times. “How about we meet here. At eight? We can find some other place to eat.”

“Sounds nice.” Eddie hopes this isn’t all some elaborate punk’d situation.

“Cool, well,” Jacob says and backs away slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites his lip. “Bye. For now.”

Jacob grins and turns to leave, but not before giving Eddie one last look as the door closes behind him. All at once Bev is sliding up next to him to sling an arm around his shoulders. Eddie is aware he should be working, but, fuck, he really couldn’t care less right now.

“Damn, he was a looker,” Bev whistles unabashedly. Eddie is instantly reminded of Richie.

“I didn’t think stuff like that still happened,” Eddie says honestly.

“Really?” Bev looks at him. “You’re a catch, Eddie. I don’t blame him for not resisting.”

Eddie tingles from the compliment. Suddenly Greta is yelling at Eddie in the most professional way possible to get him back to work. Funny, Greta should really take over as manager.

“I have to get back,” Eddie says. Bev pats his shoulder and steps away to leave like Jacob had.

“Sure, sure. I might see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, remembering the looming mountain of paperwork that is finals week.

“Thanks for this!” she jingles her coffee by the door, and then she too is gone.

Eddie stands still for a moment longer, mind processing. A bone chilling voice finds him eventually.

“Eddie, I swear if you don’t move that little ass of yours I’m gonna wear it like a hat.”

Eddie moves his little ass immediately.

It had been along shift, so Eddie was glad to finally return to his room to fall face down on his bed. But he thinks of Jacob and his delighted smile, and figures it was worth it.

Stan is in their room when he walks in. He’s the one actually doing homework while Richie appears to be talking his ear off about something as he lies on his bed throwing a ball in the air.

“Hey,” Eddie says through a yawn.

“Hey Eddie,” Stan waves. Richie bounces the ball off Eddie’s arm in greeting. “I’ll finish up soon so you can sleep.”

Eddie waves Stan off. “Nah, it’s fine. I think I can sleep through anything right now.”

“Ah Eds, doing the lords work by giving the people what they want,” Richie pauses his rambling to say.

“What do they want?”

“That sweet, sweet cocaine. I mean – caffeine.”

Eddie snorts. He leaves to go and brush his teeth down the hall, and when he comes back, Richie has fallen into discussion of what would be considered the perfect superpower to have. Eddie wonders if Stan is capable of writing out his work and listening to Richie simultaneously, or if he’s simply just ignoring his friend entirely. It’s hard to tell.

Eddie settles into bed, and as he’s considering putting in his earphones, Stan turns to him.

“Eddie, we’re seeing a movie tomorrow night. Wanna come?”

Eddie hums tiredly and closes his eyes. “Can’t. Got a date, actually.”

“Oh?”

Eddie isn’t sure if that was Stan or Richie, his mind is too tired to differentiate the two.

“Well, well. Look at ol’ Eds getting some.” That was definitely Richie. Eddie peaks open an eye to see Richie now sitting up in bed, and he gives Eddie a seductive wink. “So, who asked who?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Eddie tries to put energy into glaring. “But he did. Seemed nice.”

“Oh, I bet,” Richie brings his hand up to make a blowjob gesture. Eddie scowls.

“Alright then,” Stan, apparently not bothering to catch any of their exchange, says with a shrug. “I hope you have a good time.”

Eddie hopes so too.

He ends up falling asleep to the sounds of Richie describing, in perfect detail, the death scene of Tony Montana, to which Stan eventually began hitting Richie repeatedly with his book.

Tag list!: <3 (lemme know if u wanna be added!) xx

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#reddie #reddie fic #sixteen weeks #my fics #i hope these tags still work i have no idea #im sorry if they dont ahh!! :((

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