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percyinpanties · 4 years

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this has been in my drafts since 2018, apparently. I edited this and added to it, and god it feels good to get some words done. have an innocent lil highschool au.

pairing: jercy rating: teen+ (light swearing)

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When something small and sharp hits his cheek, Jason startles out of his thoughts and blinks slowly. His gaze is unfocused, as is his mind - he was so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even quite recall what it was that had his mind this occopied.

Jason blinks again, deliberately slow, trying to clear his vision. For the first few seconds, he isn't sure where he is and what he's doing, let alone what hit his cheek in the first place. Maybe he has imagined it?

His thoughts are still sluggish and Jason has to rub his eyes before the room around him finally comes into focus.

The library.

Right. Finals.

Jason came here right after his last class, meant to grab some books and hide away in one of the study corners to go over his notes and force the material into his brain. Apparently the lack of sleep last night, well last week if Jason is fully honest with himself, is catching up to him.

Even now, shaken out of his daze by whatever has hit him, Jason's mind is slow to process what is happening.

How long has he been sitting here? Was he asleep? Did he even read anything before his mind went to a place far far away from where it should be this afternoon?

Jason looks around.

On the table, between his own unreadable notes and two open books, sits a small paper airplane. Jason doesn't have to look up to know who the culprit is - the airplane is made of vibrant blue paper and there is only one person at this school who’d even carry something like this in his everyday pack.

“Did I wake you?” The whisper, dramatic and teasing in tone, comes as if on cue from Jason's right.

Jason aims for a glare when he looks up, but instead ends up meeting Percy's gaze with a weak smile. Unfair paper plane attack or not, Jason evidently had needed the wake-up call. It is probably for the best if Percy's here to distract him, if only for a few minutes.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason mumbles as Percy pulls out the chair next to him and turns it around to sit, arms crossed over the backrest. It's only then that Jason realises how empty the library is now. Jason could swear that just five minutes ago, it was brimming with other students and staff, so busy that he hardly found a space to occupy with his own study notes.

“You didn't answer my texts.” Percy says casually and Jason thinks he imagines there's some concern in Percy’s tone too. “And then Thalia said you hadn't even come home yet. So I thought to myself: Where does one find a nerd two weeks before finals?”

Jason huffs and playfully punches Percy's arm. There's no heat behind it and judging by the little laugh that escapes Percy, he knows it too.

“How late is it, exactly?” Jason asks, quieter now.

If it’s late enough that both Percy and Thalia have been worrying, Jason must’ve wasted his entire afternoon sitting around staring at the wall, losing time he can’t afford to lose this close to exams. Sure, his marks have been good this year so far, but that has been because he’s continuously worked for it. His parents, especially his father, have certain expectations and he’s not about to disappoint them.

Jason takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up to punch the bridge of his nose. He can feel anxiety creeps up in Jason’s chest, like tar filling his lungs. Two weeks is nothing, especially not considering how many topics he still wants to cover again. He knew the content when they were tested on it before, sure, but most of that is months back now and frankly, Jason doesn’t trust his long-time memory all that well.

It’s getting hard to breathe, Jason knows he’s spiraling, but that doesn’t give him any more control over his thoughts.

A hand gently covers Jason's lying on the table and squeezes, stopping the thoughts, if only for a moment. It feels like Jason's heart stutters for a few beats, before resuming its rhythm faster than before. Part of Jason wonders what this means, if it’s only meant to be a calming gesture, but the larger part of him is too scared to question it. None of his other friends are this comfortable being close...

Jason opens his eyes and finds Percy looking at him quizzically. When Percy speaks, his voice betrays nothing.

“Half past six.”

Jason groans and drops his head to the table. Of course, he wasted the entire day. He’ll have to stay up again tonight if he wants to make up for it, which means he’ll be tired tomorrow and…

“Which is exactly why I'm here. You need a break, my dude.” Percy sounds half joking, but this time Jason realises it's only to hide the concern. “You need to get out of here. Let's get some food, my treat?”

When Jason raises his head and looks at him, Percy is watching closely, brow furrowed.

Food sounds tempting. Jason isn’t sure when he last ate, anyway, not having had time for breakfast in the morning. If it’s already six-thirty, he was supposed to be home for dinner half an hour ago, so all that’s awaiting him there are cold leftovers. Plus, while his mother will hardly have noticed, Jason knows his father won’t be pleased about him missing family dinner, and he doesn’t think he can handle that lecture right now.

Jason doesn't know how to answer, mainly because Percy's right: This isn’t getting him anywhere right now and he clearly hasn’t done himself any favours by not taking even a single break and studying late most nights. Even so, spending time with Percy now means losing time Jason needs to study and he already knows he’s going to beat himself up for it next week.

“It’s one evening, Jason.” Percy says gently. “I promise you’ll be fine. You’re a smart cookie.”

Jason manages a little smile and turns his hand over under Percy’s palm so his own is pressed to Percy’s. The other boy doesn’t hesitate, he shifts his hand to lace their fingers together and this - this certainly isn’t something that friends do, generally.

“You gotta take care of yourself, too.” Percy says now, looking at their joined hands rather than meeting Jason’s gaze. His cheeks look a little pink, but Jason is sure he must be imagining that. “And if you can’t, I’m still here to help with that, yeah?”

Jason’s chest feels tight, although this is entirely different than the heavy anxiety that took him over before. It’s not like someone’s tied a too tight ribbon around his ribcage, but rather feels like his heart has grown too big for its case.

It's very quiet for a moment, then Jason sighs. Jason doesn’t really want to face his parents yet, and what is one night, really?

“Fine.” He says, defeated. Percy squeezes his hand. “I’m starving anyway.”

Percy smiles so brightly that it makes something inside Jason ache, and yet he finds himself smiling back.

Fifteen minutes later, they're walking down the halls of the school toward the car park. Percy is carrying the books Jason has checked out of the library, and even though Jason insisted earlier that he was fine carrying them by himself, he's glad now for the weight lifted from him. At first, every step away from the library had filled Jason with guilt, thoughts of how much time he’s wasting that he won’t get back when he realises in a week how much he’s still got left to study, but with Percy here, with his persistent chatter and teasing, it’s easier to push them aside for now.

He called Thalia, told her he’d be back later, that he needed a little break. He hadn’t even gotten to asked her about it when she promised to cover for him, so their father wouldn’t make a big fuzz about the whole thing.

“I can practically hear you thinking.” Percy says and nudges his shoulder against Jason's lightly. Neither of them have spoken in a while, and Jason knows it’s mostly because he is overthinking again. “Let it go, just for tonight, yeah? You deserve a break.”

Jason knows that, objectively, Percy is right.

He knows that he’s been overworking himself, that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep and not allowing himself enough breaks. He knows that, at this rate, all his studying will be for naught anyway. That does nothing to lighten the anxiety that comes over him every time someone so much as mentions their exams though. Most of the pressure originates in his own perfectionism, Jason knows all that, but even so he can't bring himself to care even a little less. Failing is not an option for him.

When Jason doesn't answer, Percy keeps talking.

He is speaking quieter and slower than he usually does, which Jason and his tired brain are grateful for. It’s about nothing important, not really, and maybe that is intentional too. Little by little, Jason finds himself relaxing again. Percy’s voice is soothing, there’s no edge to it, no hidden jab or teasing. Jason wonders if Percy knows how much he appreciates this right now.

The walk to the car park isn’t far. Percy has parked his crappy old car close to the entrance and Jason jogs a few steps ahead when he spots it to open the trunk for Percy to dump the books in.

“Perfect. Now, Chinese?” Percy asks and Jason frowns. He still has a hand on the back door of the car, halfway pulled down to close it again. It takes him entirely too long to realise Percy is asking about food.

“Or…” Percy adds with a drawl, grin growing on his face. “We could get milkshakes.”

Jason perks up at that. Percy knows him far too well and Jason knows exactly which fast food joint Percy is thinking of. He must know it’s Jason’s favourite too, or he wouldn’t look so smug at Jason’s reaction.

“I want a milkshake.” Jason mumbles before he can stop himself. He looks at Percy with his best attempt at puppy eyes, and given his current state he probably looks more convincing than on an average day.

Percy grins at him. “Milkshakes it is then.”

Percy’s car starts with a sputter.

As they drive, Jason isn't quite asleep, but he is not really awake either.

Percy doesn't seem to mind.

They don’t speak this time, Percy turns the radio to some random station on a low volume and starts humming along under his breath whenever he recognises a song. It makes Jason’s lips twitch with a smile, and when he turns his head to the side he can see Percy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and dancing in his seat as well.

Percy catches Jason looking, looks back and winks at Jason before his eyes are back on the road. The action is so quick, Jason isn’t sure if he hasn’t imagined it. Jason feels his cheeks warm, but his gaze lingers a little longer, taking in Percy's profile with his messy hair, plush lips and long lashes. He’s pretty, Jason thinks, then bites his lip and turns his gaze away. The lack of sleep is getting to him, clearly, and he shakes his head lightly as if that would help push the thoughts away from the dangerous path they’ve threatened to go down on just now.

They get their food from the drive-through, and Percy takes him to the lake just outside of town. The sun’s going down, setting over the water and tinting everything orange and red. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think this was a place Percy would take his dates to.

It’s blissfully quiet, and luckily just warm enough that they can sit down on the grass outside while they share their food. Jason practically lets himself fall to the ground and Percy isn’t far behind.

There’s no one around but them, the air is pleasantly crips and this far out and away from school and his family, Jason feels some of the stress fade away. Maybe he can allow himself this, just tonight, to let go for a little while.

“Thank you.” Jason says quietly, picking at their food before turning his head to look at Percy. They’re sitting close, almost touching, and for a second Jason contemplates reaching out his hand to take Percy’s in his own like the other boy had done in the library earlier. Jason knows though that it would be different now, where no one could see, where it’s just them, and when Jason has no real reason to reach out.

Percy knocks their knees together playfully, smiles from behind his milkshake. Jason can’t quite pull his gaze away.

“Anytime.” Percy says, and Jason knows he means it too.

Jason bites his lip, tears his eyes away and casts them out to the lake instead. He’s not quite sure what is going on with him, with them, but this isn’t the first time he’s noticed that more often than not, he feels entirely different around Percy than he does around their other friends. It’s not in a bad way, that he knows, because this, the here and now with Percy at his side, it feels peaceful, and it feels right.

“You’re thinking too much.” Percy says, and this time, he leans into Jason’s side. It’s unprompted and unexpected, but works as intended, it stops Jason from thinking, at least for the moment.

Percy’s cheek rests against his shoulders, their arms and thighs pressed together. Jason feels the warmth of Percy’s skin, the soft fabric of his sweater,...

“I know.” Jason replies, because it’s true, and there is no point in lying to Percy. “I… don’t think I can stop, though?”

It’s phrased like a question, rather than a statement, and it makes Percy laugh quietly before tilting his head back to look at Jason.

“Oughta help you with that, don’t I?” He says, and he grins, and Jason’s heart does a funny little squeeze in his chest. His gaze falls to Percy’s lips, for only a split second, and before he can work out where his thoughts are taking him this time, Percy seems to be moving closer.

Ping!

Ping. Ping.

Jason blinks and Percy stills. For a split-second, neither moves, then Percy shifts back and Jason turns to the side to check his phone. His cheeks are burning, but even so, he has no idea what just happened, or what was about to happen. It feels… important, somehow, like this was a turning point, or a chance that won’t come back, and Jason isn’t sure why or how, but he’s sure he’s ruined it regardless.

#jercy #pjo #jason grace #percy jackson #my stuff #my writing #high school au #teen+

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

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Ectober Day 26: Aim - Would You Like Some Bullets With That, Sir?

Vlad would absolutely have a few people who want him extra dead and maybe one or two actually willing to try. Too bad that doesn’t really work when the guy’s already half-dead. In fact, it does pretty well nothing other than provide mild amusement. Danny gets more of a kick out of it than the billionaire does though.

Danny and Vlad were having a decent walk and talk, a decent bonding experience. Surprising, he knows. But one of the key words there was ‘were’, because of course him and Vlad can’t be getting along without pissing off the universe.

Danny had been pointing the straw of his green tea matcha Frappuccino, with more than a couple espresso shots mixed in, at Vlad; trying to explain the nuances of food-related puns, because if he’s going to influence one thing it’s going to be Vlad’s tendency to use foods as swears. Vlad wasn’t exactly being receptive but hey, neither was Danny on the whole ‘etiquette’ lessons the man was trying to give him. But all that got interrupted when a big ass stereotypical white van pulled up with a screech and the doors slide open to a dude with a fucking machine gun. Well fine, handheld Gatling gun is more accurate but sounds a little less cool; besides it’s still technically a machine gun. Which is, in Danny’s opinion, massive fucking overkill. Vlad would be inclined to agree.

Needless to say, they get shot. A lot. Repeatedly. It’s very loud.

All the bystanders around physically pause, stunned a bit stupid that this was happening in Amity of all places not to mention rather desensitised to violence; regardless everyone starts booking it because, y’ know, big ass gun. Vlad actually crouches and moves to cover his head while flashing angry red eyes, he’s dealt with a fair few assassination attempts but in broad daylight? Really? He’ll give them a few points for having the guts. Danny meanwhile, is way too used to getting shot at to even react beyond just standing there at first, before glancing at his cup -which is draining all its contents through the holes onto the road- and grumbling a bit. The gun man stops when Danny bends over and starts laughing though. Even Vlad gives Danny some concerned looks as Danny waves the gun guy off with one hand on his knees, “sorry! It’s- it’s just! Just that! No ones ever-ever shot me! Shot me with a real- real gun!”. Danny sits on the ground and continues laughing while effectively bleeding out of multiple holes as flesh starts moving to slowly repair itself; which clearly the men have noticed and are scared shitless by, as both he and Vlad can feel, see, and smell the fear coming off the truck.

Vlad huffs, stands himself upright and goes about brushing off and inspecting his suit. Huffing again and turning to the van, crossing his arms, “I do believe you owe me a new suit, young man”. Someone inside the vehicle chokes. Danny thinks that’s a pretty reasonable reaction here. But there’s literally zero fucking point of them acting human here, because fuck they were both riddled with bullet holes and their blood was very literally splattered around the ground. Might as well scare these assholes a little.

Hence why Danny sticks a finger in one of the larger holes due to multiple bullets going through the same general area and giggles, “huh, that tickles”, and grins meanly at the driver who looks absolutely disturbed and too far into shock to try driving away yet. Though thinking of it, Vlad might actually try to kill them; tit for tat was absolutely Vlad’s primary go-to in any situation. Hence their arguably insanely prank wars. So Danny stands up and promptly launches himself inside the vehicle, knocking over the man with the bloody machine gun -seriously, how is that not overkill- and landing with his feet on the guys chest. Danny’s pretty sure the guy wet himself. Which, ew, but understandable.

“Okay I’m feeling nice because this is absurdly hilarious and would qualify as some ridiculous ass overkill for normal folks. Kinda pointless against immortals though, dontcha think?”, turning his head to look at Vlad -who’s quirking a single well-groomed eyebrow while his eye goes about repairing itself- through the door, “what do ya think?”.

Vlad walks over calmly and humming, “well I’ll give them points for accuracy, they hardly damaged the surroundings at all. Which I find I can appreciated since that avoids me having to make yet another dip into the damages funds. And I’ll be generous and give another point for dramatics; board daylight, middle of the city, biggest high-powered rapid-fire weapon anyone’s ever aimed at me, the sudden loud noise. Why I’m almost impressed. But I do find the overall end result to be rather lacking”. Vlad kicks one of the front tires hard enough to puncture it while the driver starts scrambling and fumbling to attempt at driving off. The psssssh sound the tire makes actively increases the smell of fear filling the van. Understandable, these guys had effectively just lost their getaway vehicle.

Danny chuckles, “aww, looks like someone’s not going anywhere anytime fast”, Danny grins meanly and flashes his green eyes. The guy passes out. “Ah damn, he passed out”, shrugging, “eh, hopefully he’ll think this was just some bad dream”.

Vlad hums as he climbs in, ecto-beaming another guy in the head to knock him out. Huh, guess Vlad’s really truly genuinely chilled out some in the evil villain department. “Yes that would be preferred, Daniel. I take it Phantom will be delivering these men to the jailhouse after having shielded the mayor and a young boy at the last second”.

Danny snorts as he gets off the gunman and kicks the driver in the head; the guys head bouncing off the steering wheel and obviously knocking him the Hell out. “Obviously. And hey, why not say Phantom healed any injuries to boot. Not like anyone’s sure about the power set of that spooky bastard”, and smirks. Talking about himself like a different person was arguably not necessary right now, no one was around after all, but hey it was kinda funny.

Vlad nods, riffles through the mens’ pockets and pockets all their cash. Which Danny rolls his eyes at, “old bank robber habits die hard?”. Vlad rolls his eyes, “hardly. This is simply to repay me for the damages. This was a nice suit I’ll have you know”. Which Danny rolls his eyes right back at him over while Vlad hops out of the vehicle, looks around, readjusts the remaining scraps of his suit, and saunters off; grabbing a surprisingly intact handkerchief from a definitely not intact pocket and starts dabbing blood off his face, hair, and hands. Danny’s not going to question why the man doesn’t just phase it off or reabsorb it into his body again.

Danny closes the vehicle doors purely to attempt at not transforming directly in open view in the middle of the street. Grabbing up the three guys before pausing and deciding eh why not and telekinetically floating the freaking machine gun onto his back and making that invisible. Flying off through the vehicle's roof.

Danny unceremoniously drops the men on the jailhouse floor, “gotcha a present. They tried to unload, like, a bazillion bullets into the dear ol’ mayor”.

Officer Jay sighs, “we were getting some calls about a shooting? But with regular guns”, motioning a few other cops to drag the guys away.

Danny chuckles and nods, “try machine gun”, the cop almost chokes while Danny continues, “not that that is particularly effective on intangibility”.

The cop looks him over, obviously noticing the healing bullet wounds here and there. Healing however many bullet holes takes time you know! “Obviously you weren’t quite fast enough”.

Danny shrugs, “eh, blowing a bunch of holes in a ghost doesn’t really do much other than make a mess. Mayors cool though”.

“That’s... good”, Jay shakes his head, “well, we’ll take care of these guys and I doubt they legally had a machine gun. You didn’t just leave that out in the street did you?”. Danny waves the guy off nonchalantly, “Fenton was there too, took it as his plundered booty”, he makes a point to make that last bit sound pirate-like. The cop sighs and rubs his temples, “so there’s a seventeen-year-old running around with a machine gun”.

“Yup”, absolutely popping the ‘p’.

Danny easily hears the guy mutter, “somedays I would really like to quit”, before looking back to him, “well that family has every weapon license known to man, so I’m not even going to bother. Have a good day and a fulfilling afterlife”. Danny salutes with a cheeky grin before phasing up through the roof.

Sam and Tucker don’t so much as blink from Danny suddenly appearing from around a corner and barging in-between the two of them, “hey guys, some guys left me a little present”

Both give a mildly interested and slightly worried, “oh?”. Which is fair, Danny has described getting a taser stuck in his leg as ‘a present’ before.

He grins a bit psychotically, makes the gun visible, and whips it around to be holding it in his hands, “a machine gun!”.

Sam slows her pace slightly, just enough to no longer have a freaking mini-gun pointed at her stomach, “that’s nice Danny”. While Tucker looks much more excited, “Holy frick that’s awesome. Where’d that come from though?”.

Sam sighs, “or more specifically how and why. Ghosts don’t exactly use human weapons and ‘some guys’ is vague as shit”.

Danny chuckles, because that who ordeal was still stupid funny. “Curtsy of one poorly informed assignation attempt in dear ol’ uncie Vlad”.

Tucker blinks, “wait, someone actually tried to assassinate him”, then pauses, “wait no, of course someone tried to assassinate Vlad. He’s Vlad”. Making all three chuckle while Danny fiddles with the massive ass barrel.

All three grin viciously when they spot Dash and co. across the street. Danny deciding to yell, “hey Dash!”, and easily tilting the machine gun up due to, y’ know, super strength, and fires off a bunch of bullets into the air; extending his intangibility to the bullets of course so that they don’t actually hit anything and forming some ectoplasm ‘round his friends' ears so he doesn’t, like, blow out their eardrums or some shit.

Dash stares at him a little bug-eyed before scowling, sticking his arms out to the side, and shouting back, “I haven’t bullied you in a year! Why you still giving me vague ass death threats!”.

Danny cackles, aims the gun to shoot the sign over the assholes head, and riddles it with bullets, “it’s payback bitch!”. Sure Danny would never have done that if he wasn’t absolutely certain his aim was so fucking flawless that there was zero chance of him hitting anything other than what exactly he wanted to. And sure, maybe he swirled some invisible ectoplasm around the bullet trajectory too but no one needs to know that. Dash predictably staggers back, flips him off, and books it down the road.

Danny lowers the gun with a chuckle, “that was fun. So worth getting shot a few times”. Sam blinks at him and looks more than a little not impressed, “you actually got shot, Danny”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “what, in any world, would make you think I didn’t get shot”. Sam just huffs, obviously having no argument for that. Because yeah, Danny always got shot or stabbed or electrocuted or set on fire or a lot of other things.

Tucker shakes his head, “and yet you look totally fine”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “Tuck, what can a regular ol’ bullet do to me”. That gets both his friends to blink and give him disbelieving, “wait, they weren’t even ecto-bullets”. Tucker shaking his head with a laugh at Danny’s nod, “wow, whoever really did, like, zero research”.

“I know right. We scared them real good though”.

Tucker laughs a bit more, “never before have I actually wished to be at a shooting”, shrugging, “first for everything”.

“Amen to that”, Danny emphasises that statement by smacking the gun.

End.

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pixie-mage · 6 years

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#SamLives - Pt.11

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

[This story has been edited and reposted on the official #SamLives Tumblr. The new post of Chapter 11 can be found here.]

(There is a big difference between the phone calls in this version and the updated version of Chapter 11. This version features Signe; the updated version features Robin.)

Jack hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he and Mark were planning on doing some collabs. In the few days that followed the initial video, they recorded a good nine or ten videos worth of content each, most of it consisting of two-player games. (Being able to record one session for two channels had its perks.) Jack still hadn’t gotten over his wariness of technology in that time. He had to steel his nerves before starting every session, had to take a breath before hitting ‘record’. He found himself frequently checking his facecam on the monitor to make sure nobody was in the background, and every flicker, every stutter, every lag in whatever game he was playing made his hands tense and his breath hitch.

Today was no different. After spending a good five minutes mentally convincing himself that his computer mouse wasn’t about to come to life and strangle him, he and Mark dove head-first into a new game of “Sea of Thieves”. It was just the two of them this time, with no time to schedule a play time with Bob or Wade or Ethan. At the moment, Jack was trying to fend off skeletal attackers while his friend dug up the buried treasure.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuckin’ bastards!” He took another swipe at the nearest skeleton, cutting it down. Another attacker was quick to take its place. “Hah! That’ll teach ye not to mess wit’ ol’ Jackaboy.”

He pulled out a blunderbuss and took two shots straight through the newcomer’s chest.

“DIE BITCHES! How’s that chest comin’, Markerino?”

Mark, who Jack now realized had been oddly quiet the past few minutes, let out only a distracted hum in response. Jack turned his avatar to look at Mark’s rather voluptuous character, only to find him standing still over the half-buried treasure chest. Jack chuckled, a little bewildered.

“Mark? Th’ fuck are you doin’?” he took a shot at another skeleton. “Are ye just waiting for it to unbury itself or–”

Thwack!

The familiar-yet-unexpected sound made Jack jump, his heart pounding in his chest as he whipped his head around to stare at Mark. The other YouTuber had turned his seat away from the desk, NERF gun in hand, aiming at the closed door with narrowed, focussed eyes.

What the fucking–

Jack swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, his panic ebbing away to make room for amused irritation. He swiped a small crocheted Sam from his desk and chucked it at the side of Mark’s head.

“Hey! What–?!”

“Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that, shithead!” Jack shoved Mark’s shoulder playfully. “What th’ hell was that for?”

“Target practice.”

Mark’s grin was cheeky and a little mocking.

Jack blinked at him, slowly, fixing him with a look that clearly said ‘Are you fucking kidding me right now?’ He snatched the NERF gun from Mark’s hand with a barely-restrained chuckle and brandished it in the other’s face. Mark took a swipe at it, pouting and trying to take back his toy.

“Hey!”

It turned into a game of Keep Away, with Jack holding the NERF gun high above his head and Mark practically falling out of his chair and climbing over Jack in his attempt to reach it.

“I’ll use you fer target practice if you don’t–”

“Jack! Give that back, you asshole!"

“–get your head back in the game!” Jack suddenly whipped the NERF gun back at Mark, who fumbled to catch it. “I’m dyin’ here!”

Mark clutched the gun tightly to his chest and retreated to the safety of his seat, pouting and hugging the toy as though Jack might attempt to steal it from him again. He stuck his tongue out childishly before turning back to his screen - and he stifled a laugh.

“Uh…” He carefully set his precious plastic weapon on the desk, out of Jack’s reach. “Not to alarm you, but I think we’re already dead.”

Jack’s focus snapped to his own screen, and sure enough, both he and Mark were now standing on the deck of a ghost ship, waiting their turn to return to the land of the living. He threw his hands in the air and flopped backwards in his chair.

“Fuckin’ DAMMIT all!” He sank in his seat with a groan, Mark’s deep giggles permeating the air around them both. “I blame you entirely for that.”

“Yeah...heh...yeah, that’s...that’s on me. Sorry, man…” Mark still hadn’t stopped giggling, his mood far too bright to be dimmed by a death in the game.

“I’m makin’ sure everyone knows it’s your fault,” Jack bemoaned from his slouched position. “I’m gonna make you buy me a fancy-ass tombstone, an’ put one o’ those shitty rhyming couplets on it…”

He held his hands out in front of him, pretending to frame the words.

“Here lies Jack Just blame his friend Whose NERF dart brought Their bitter end.”

Mark’s only response was a slow golf clap while he pretended to be tearing up.

“Beautiful,” he told Jack, voice laced with false emotion. “Absolutely beautiful. You should’ve become a poet instead of a YouTuber. Clearly you were meant for greater things than video game commentary.”

Jack almost fell out of his chair in his attempt to chuck another Sam plush at Mark’s head.

“D’you think that cop really believed that nothing was wrong?” Jack asked Mark with a mutter later that evening.

Mark had already sent the day’s raw videos from both him and Jack to Robin, and Robin was planning on doing a little bit of content cutting before passing them along to Kathryn. There were certain things that had to be cut out from their recordings that really, really didn’t need to be shared with anyone beyond their immediate group. Not yet.

“The guy from the other day?” Mark asked, looking up from his phone. “I dunno. I mean I don’t think he believed all the anonymous tips, anyway. He was trying not to crack a smile the whole time he was explaining stuff to us.”

Apparently, some of Jack’s fans had taken Anti’s appearance on the stream at face value. They had believed (rightfully so) that it was real, and when Jack went silent on all forms of social media for more than twenty-four hours after it had happened, people had started to panic. While nobody knew for sure where Jack and Signe lived, the local police station in Brighton had gotten call after call after call from concerned teens and young adults who all claimed that a YouTuber named Sean McLoughlin had almost been killed on a livestream. If it hadn’t been for the sheer number of phone calls and the video proof that looked almost too real to have been edited, Jack was sure the police would have ignored it.

But two days ago - three days after the stream itself - a police officer had come knocking on the apartment door asking if a Sean McLoughlin or a Jacksepticeye lived there.

After explaining - through stifled grinning and amused chuckles - that a lot of fans thought he had been hurt, Mark and Jack had tried to awkwardly laugh it off and explain that, no, it was just a video, and nobody had actually gotten hurt.

(Jack was wearing makeup on his neck again for recording, thank god, otherwise the bruises might have brought on some unwanted questions. As it was...)

“I dunno man.” Jack sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, sinking back on the couch. “I swear he kept lookin’ at my neck. I’m sure he watched the video for th’ sake of the calls. Probably checkin’ to see if I really got strangled.”

“Ah, quit worrying. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mark scrolled through Twitter again, reading a few more tweets before, “...and we’re sure we don’t want to get the police involved?”

Jack leveled him with a blank stare.

“Do you honestly think the police are gonna know how to deal wit’ a computer virus of a demon that came to life from my YouTube channel? I mean WE barely know what we’re doing and we’re fully invested in the lore of it all!”

Mark stifled a laugh.

“Okay, yeah good point,” he admitted. He shook his head, eyes falling back to his phone gain. “Fully invested in the lore...god, we sound like we’re trying to solve Five Nights At Freddy’s conspiracies. That’s how complicated this whole mess has become. Frankly, if anyone overheard what we were talking about in the cafe that first day I showed up, they’d probably think–”

Jack jolted upright in his seat, eyes wide and expression one of stunned realization.

“Holy shit.” He grabbed Mark’s arm and shook him a little, his movements suddenly intense and a brilliant grin splitting his face in two. “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit what?” Mark gripped his phone a little tighter so it wouldn’t go flying out of his hands from Jack’s enthusiasm.

“Mark, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

“Well - I mean, yeah, I thought we established that, but what the hell did I say?!”

Mark was rightfully very bewildered by his friend’s sudden change of mood. He gave Jack a quick once-over with his eyebrows raised, wondering if he should be concerned.

“Five Nights at Freddy’s!” Jack exclaimed. He looked far too excited and far too proud of himself for his own good.

“...Five Nights at–”

“Dude! Don’t you get it?” Jack leapt up off the couch, pacing, and Sam - who had been dozing in Jack’s hoodie pocket - poked his ‘face’ out with a sleepy blink, wondering what all the commotion was about. “This whole thing is too fuckin’ complicated right now, right? We don’t know what exactly Anti is, or how to stop him from comin’ back. He’s solid but he’s not. He’s made of glitches but - who the hell even knows what that means.”

“Okay…?” Mark just watched the Irishman pace the room, his phone long forgotten in his lap. “Where are you going with this?”

“Anti doesn’t make sense!” Jack was grinning like an idiot. He stopped in his tracks to turn and face Mark. “We know why he’s here but that only gets us so far! We need somebody who’s used to picking apart ridiculous bullshit to find the real answers, somebody who already kinda knows what’s going on.”

“Jack, you’ve lost me,” Mark said flatly. “Who are you talking about, Signe? Amy?”

“No!” Jack was talking with his hands, talking with his entire body, like he couldn’t contain all the energy that had built up inside him. “Five Nights at Freddy’s. Crazy timeline. Bullshit lore. There’s only one person I know who was able to tear that shit to pieces and make sense out of it.”

And then it hit Mark like a load of bricks, and he was on his feet too, his exclamation coming out as a loud and incredulous question in the same moment that Jack was busting out the same words.

“MatPat?!”

“MatPat!”

“Waitwaitwait, hold on–” Mark was trying to sort out his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose while he watched Jack rush around in a frantic search for his cell phone. Mark didn’t have it right now and Jack couldn’t quite remember where it had ended up. “What the hell do you mean Matt already knows what’s going on?”

“Well, okay, he doesn’t know about Anti,” Jack admitted, his ass in the air while he leaned over the armchair in the corner to see if his phone was plugged in back there. “He knows about Sam though.”

“He knows about Sam?!” Mark’s jaw dropped.

At this point, Sam had abandoned Jack’s pocket to hover a few steps behind the Irishman, watching him with quiet curiosity. At Mark’s question, Sam let out a happy little squeak and nodded, twirling through the air a little.

“Did you tell him before you told me?” Before Jack could even answer, Mark had continued: “But he posted a video like two weeks ago about how Sam couldn’t possibly exist!”

“Well, duh, he posted that because he knows about Sam,” Jack rolled his eyes and shoved away from the armchair, detouring to the kitchen. He spoke up to be heard across the apartment. “He was tryin’ to throw people off. And I didn’t tell him about Sam.” Jack returned to the living room, cell phone in hand and a sheepish smile on his face. “He...er...kinda found out on his own.”

“How?”

“Tacos and Rachel Ray.”

Mark didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“Look…” Jack huffed and came back over to Mark, sitting on the edge of the coffee table while his friend sank slowly back onto the couch. Sam settled onto his shoulder and nuzzled up against Jack’s cheek with a quiet purr. “Sam was sick, so I brought him with me for the taco-making contest. Matt was on my team. He bumped into me, I tripped, Sam almost fell out of my hood, and Matt saw him.”

“And he didn’t freak out?”

Jack’s lips twitched into a wry smile and he looked up from his phone.

“Oh, he freaked out, but not until later.”

“Let me get this straight.” Mark watched Jack carefully as he spoke. Jack nodded and went back to shakily tapping out a message to Matt. “Just so we’re both on the same page. Sam exists, clearly. Anti exists. You, me, Signe, Robin, and Matt know about Sam. You, me, and Robin know about Anti.”

“And Signe, sort of.”

“And Signe,” Mark agreed. “And Amy too, come to think of it. Is there anybody else who knows anything else, just in case we need to recruit people for a battle of the digital age?”

“Nope, nobody else,” Jack shook his head. He paused and looked thoughtful, setting his phone aside (looking relieved to get the thing out of his hands) and tapping his chin. “...though I probably should bring up that Anti mentioned being late for a date or something last time? What was the name...something...something Warfstache…?”

Mark looked like he might explode

“WHAT?!”

“Oh my god!” Jack cackled, doubling over with laughter and trying not to slip off the edge of the coffee table he was sitting on. “Oh my fucking god your face! That was PRICELESS! You fuckin’ - Haha! - f-fuckin’ believed–” He could barely breathe he was laughing so hard, his laughter sounding a little wheezy.

Mark groaned and flopped backward across the couch, a low, pained chuckled escaping him.

”Oh, you absolutely piece of shit. Fuck you.”

“Y-Yeah, I - heh - I probably...haha...deserve that one…” Jack was grinning, wiping tears from his eyes.

Sam had bounced over to Mark to make sure he was okay and was now nestled on the American’s chest, Tim’s curious little eyes watching from the arm of the couch not even a foot away. The little box tumbled forward and landed right next to Mark’s head, patting his cheek softly in what Jack assumed was a comforting motion. Another low, rumbling laugh bubbled up from Mark’s chest.

“But no, to answer your question,” Jack continued once he could breathe again. “I think that’s everyone.”

“Good. Great. Excellent.”

Mark was absolutely done. Just...done.

“Ah, lighten up, Markimoo,” Jack snickered. “Consider it payback fer that NERF scare.”

“Considering that you were implying that Warfstache is alive too, and that he and your evil twin are getting it on–”

“Hey! I only said they went on a date!”

“–I’d say we’re far from even right now.”

“Oh, fuck off! That’s totally even!”

“And what if I tricked you into thinking your Dr. Schneep guy was alive and I caught him flirting with Dr. Iplier?”

“Oh, dude, no,” Jack groaned, laughing through it. “Nooo...I mean, yeah, Henrik totally would. He’d flirt with anything that moved. But hell no.”

“See my point?”

The living room was silent for a long moment, save for the little questioning squeaks Sam was making from his position on Mark’s chest. Then Mark heard the buzzing clatter of plastic against the coffee table. Jack’s phone was ringing, but on silent. Mark cracked open one eye to glance at Jack, who suddenly looked a lot more tense than he had a moment before.

“...you good, Jack?” he murmured, watching the other YouTuber. Jack nodded stiffly, looking a little pale. “Is it MatPat? He calling back already?”

Jack swallowed thickly.

“It’s...Signe.”

“Answer it,” Mark encouraged him evenly. “Go ahead. We’re all in the room with you, it’ll be fine.”

Jack nodded, the motion a little jerky, and he reached over to press the ‘Answer’ button. He quickly put it on speaker and withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned. The phone stayed sitting on the table.

“Sean?”

“Hey Signe,” Jack murmured.

Mark could see some of the tension melt out of the Irishman’s shoulders when he heard her voice, saw the way his lips quirked into a smile at the corners and the way his eyes softened in the moment.

“Hi! I just wanted to check in,” Signe continued, a smile in her voice. “How’s everything going? How’s Sam?”

“Sam’s great!” Jack’s grin became more genuine, and he giggled when Sam bounced over to sit beside the phone. He was wiggling on the spot in excitement. “He and Tim are gettin’ along famously. He’s been so damn happy, Wiish, I can’t wait for you to see ‘em together.”

“You can thank me later,” Mark chimed in with a smirk.

“Is that Mark?” Signe asked. “Am I on speaker?”

“Oh! Yeah, you are. Sorry. Shoulda said.” Jack chuckled softly.

“No, it’s fine!” Signe giggled, the sound melodic even through a phone speaker. “Hi Mark!”

“Hi Signe!”

“How are you doing though, Sean?” Signe’s tone had turned concerned, softer than before. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on with the whole Antisepticeye thing.”

Jack stiffened. He could feel Mark’s eyes on him, his look a knowing one. It had been five whole days since he’d talked to Signe at the cafe, and while they had texted back and forth every day since (in very brief interludes, as there were still moments Jack couldn’t even look at his own TV for fear of Anti jumping out of the dimmed pixels, let alone carry his phone in his pocket all day), not once had Jack brought up the livestream. Any time she asked about it he evaded her questions and promised to explain soon and made her promise to please don’t watch the livestream, I’ll tell you when you get home, please wait until then. So far, Signe had done as he’d asked, but he could tell she was growing concerned.

“Eh…” Jack cleared his throat and shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. A little worn out, but Mark an’ I have been really goin’ hard, knockin’ out tons of videos now so we can get some free time to hang out later…”

“Sean.”

And there it was, the gentle scolding of her Mama Signe voice. How she managed to make Jack feel like a misbehaving child every time she used it was a mystery to him...but it worked. Every damn time. He sighed and let out a quiet groan.

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise,” he whimpered. “I promise I will, it’s - it’s just - I can’t–” He dragged a hand through his hair, and his gaze landed on Mark. The other YouTuber had sat up in the past few minutes and was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his expression a searching one. He quirked an eyebrow at the Irishman.

“One second, Wiishu,” he said softly, reaching over to tap the ‘mute’ button on Jack’s phone. He watched his friend for a long moment before speaking. “Jack...I’m not gonna push you to tell her, but - oh my god, man. It’s almost been a whole week. The longer you wait, the more likely it’ll be for her to figure it out on her own. She already told you yesterday, people have been sending her tons of tweets and tumblr messages asking about you. Didn’t she ask you why they wanted know if you’re dead or not?”

Jack nodded stiffly, wincing.

“I told you I’d help you tell her the truth.” Mark smiled reassuringly. “I meant that, okay? And - hell, I can get Amy on the line, and we can have a big ol’ Double Date Egos Theory Skype Call.”

Jack snorted out a nervous laugh, shaking his head in amusement. Double date…

“Only you would see it as a date opportunity, Mark.”

“What can I say?” Mark grinned cheekily and winked. “I’m a hopeless romantic.” His grin faded back to a soft, understanding smile and he tried to catch Jack’s eye. “Waddaya say? You up for it?”

“...I eh…” Jack stared at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt while he thought.

Was he ready to tell Signe yet? Would she even believe him? Would she freak out, or take it all in stride? He didn’t want to worry her and didn’t want to put her in danger. He had known that, once she was home, he would have no choice but to tell her - so that had been his plan. To tell her when she got home, and let her enjoy her time with her family free of any of Jack’s current stresses. Once she was back in Brighton they could clear the air and talk about how to move forward.

But Mark was right too. The longer he waited, the worse it could get.

Jack sighed heavily. His hand was shaking when he reached for his phone, but he still pressed the ‘mute’ button to let Signe hear them again.

“Hey Wiish,” he mumbled, to let her know he was back. “You there?”

“Still here, Sean.” The usual sweet lilt was in her voice, her tone smiling and her words kind.

It helped Jack with what he knew he had to do next.

“I...eh. D’you mind waitin’ a few minutes?” he asked, wringing his hands in his lap. “Mark’s gonna get Amy on a Skype call wit’ us, an’ we can all talk face-to-face, and I’ll...I’ll fill you in on what’s been, er, happenin’ in my part of the world.”

“Really?” Signe asked, sounding surprised. “You’re actually going to tell me this time?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I am.” Jack took a breath. His nervousness was clear with every word that left his mouth. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Wait!”

Mark’s outburst made Jack jump and his head shot up.

“What–”

“My smoothie! I totally forgot my smoothie!”

Jack stared, and he heard Signe giggling on the other end of the call.

“Your smoothie,” he repeated, his lips twitching into some semblance of a smile. “You mean the one from after dinner? From, like, two hours ago?”

“Yes, from after dinner!” Mark rocketed off the couch, skirting the coffee table and grabbing his rental car keys as he went to the door. “It’s still in the car. This is super serious.”

“Super serious?” Jack repeated. He watched Tim bounce off the couch and hop curiously around the room in pursuit of Mark, doing his best to keep up. “More serious than Serious Shit?”

“YES! MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT!” Mark, who almost stepped on Tim in his haste to get to the door, let out a rather undignified squeak and immediately crouched to the ground beside the tiny box. “Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? C’mere, my little biscuit, let’s get you off the floor. I would neeeever want you to get hurt, I would neeeever step on you…”

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re such a mom.”

“What? It’s not like you’re not the same way with Sam!”

At this, Jack chucked a pillow from the couch across the room, hitting Mark in the legs to avoid hitting Tim.

“Go get your fuckin’ smoothie!”

“Fine! I will!”

Mark flipped him off and pretended to storm out of the apartment, putting Tim on his shoulder and “slamming” the door shut (only to stop it at the last second to close it with a quiet click.) Jack shook his head with a smile. Only Mark.

“Hey...Sean?”

“Hm?” Jack returned his attention to his phone, still sitting beside him on the coffee table. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask...you said Anti is real, right?”

“Yeah…” His answer was a tense one, his hands coming up to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie.

“Did…” Signe’s voice trailed off, and there was static in the speaker, like she had taken a breath. “Did he hurt you, on the stream?”

Jack swallowed thickly. He was suddenly very aware of the sore bruises on his throat, and he felt rather than saw Sam land lightly on his shoulder.

“What...eh…” He cleared his throat, and Sam nuzzled up against his jaw, little waves of reassurance and worry filtering into the back of his mind. “...w-what makes ye ask that?”

“I told you I was getting messages and asks,” she told him. He could hear footsteps in the background, movement. Like she was pacing. “And I turned them off for now, because I was going to wait until you told me what was going on. And I know you’re going to! But...I’ve been tagged in a few things too. I saw some gifs of you and Anti–”

Jack closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly. Oh. Hands shaking, Jack picked his phone up off the coffee table and took the call off speaker, holding the mobile to his ear and getting to his feet.

“Holdin’ me up against the...eh...th’ wall?” he asked hoarsely. His movements were stiff, his footing a little unsteady as he crossed the room to pick up the pillow he’d thrown at Mark. He squeezed the edge of it tightly in his hand, lingering there by the door.

“...yeah.” Signe took another deep breath on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again her voice was shaking. “He – Sean, he was hurting you. That...th-that was real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t Robin’s editing?”

Jack’s chest felt tight, his throat constricting from both the memory and his own emotions. He took a shaking breath and dropped the pillow into the armchair closest to him, his free hand coming up to rest against his opposite shoulder. By Sam. Sam’s tail trailed down and brushed against his fingers, helping to soothe some of the uneasiness that had begun to build inside him.

“N-No, that...that was. Um.” Real. It was real. He blinked rapidly and his grip tightened on his phone. “It really happened.”

Signe gasped sharply from the other end of the line.

“Oh, god, Sean–”

But whatever Signe had been about to say, Jack never found out, because the call was suddenly filled with static and audio distortion, Signe’s words lost in a mass of broken sound that had Jack freezing where he stood.

“...Signe?” he whispered, eyes widening. “Signe...Wiish...I need to go. Okay? I can’t...I can’t hear you, but I th-think–”

The call dropped before Jack even hit the end button, the cell phone slipping from his hand and tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump against the carpet.

There was a static in the air, a crackle, an energy to it that made the hair on the back of Jack's neck stand on end. His breath hitched. The hand that still lingered near his shoulder tensed, and he could feel Sam curl closer to his neck.

"I'm not the only one feelin' that, yeah?" Jack breathed, his eyes darting around his apartment and landing on nothing. He took an involuntary step back toward the door.

"Nuh-uh. I feel it too..." Sam's worried voice floated across the back of his mind. Jack nodded. Alright. So he wasn't crazy.

A lamp across the room sparked and popped, the bulb blowing out suddenly, and even as small of an occurrence as that was it made Jack jump. The room was plunged into darkness. Wide blue eyes latched onto the deadened lamp. "W-What the hell is going on...?" His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.

But the question he asked was one he was almost certain he knew the answer to. This static, this...tension. Electricity. He knew this feeling. It was one he was far too familiar with, one that he had experienced before.

Anti.

The room had felt much the same as this when Anti had appeared during his stream last time, when he had pinned Jack to the wall by his throat and toyed with him in front of an audience, had left him scared and shaking in a way he never expected he'd have to feel in his life. Until then he hadn't been sure if Anti was real. But now? Now there was no denying it. So the feeling in the air, the tension, the spark? It flooded him with a very real and tangible fear that wasn't without reason.

"Ďid̎ ÿo̊u m̰i͋šs̶ m̰ē?"

A voice, so close, a cold breath against his ear. Jack cried out and flung himself away from the sound, knees hitting carpet as he hurried away from his own front door now, scrambled across the living room with desperate movements, one hand clamped over Sam so he wouldn’t lose him. There, by the door, his smile just as sharp and as wicked as Jack remembered, was the glitch himself. His image crackled and distorted for a moment - Jack could see the pixels separating as he stood there - and a moment later he had flickered forward, appearing a few steps closer.

Shit...shit, shit, shit...he had half a mind to scream, to call for Mark, but at this point Mark had probably already made it down to his car and wouldn't hear anything. All he could hope for now was that he could stall long enough for his friend to make it back inside. Two on one were better odds in this situation.

"I̥ d̠on̪'t e͊v͐enͥ g̴ét a h̒e͊llo̖, J̠åc̮k̾a͈b͗ö́y?"

“Go away!”

Jack’s eyes widened and he went stiff, panic doubling. Sam had wriggled free from his spot on Jack’s shoulder and he was hovering in mid-air between the two men in the room, planting himself boldly before Anti as though he was planning on defending Jack himself.

“Sam, don’t–”

“Leave him alone, you meanie!” Sam sounded so brave, so determined, so…so angry for such a small little being. “You hurt Jack, and you made him sad, and - and–” Sam wriggled in the air and tried to make himself look intimidating. “–and I’m not gonna let you hurt him again!”

Contrary to what Jack was sure Sam had wanted, Anti didn’t look scared at all. In fact, he smiled...a gleeful smile that had Jack dreading whatever was about to happen.

“W̠e͆ll, a̒re̮n't y͞oṳ a̸ b̸ra̢v̜e lĭt͉tle t̹oa̤s̈t̤èr̔?” Anti crooned, his head tilting far to the side in a way that was eerily non-human. He held out a hand, palm-up, and the air above it distorted and warped impossibly. A worn, dark jewelry box appeared there in a flurry of pixels, its lid popped open to reveal the empty space within. “Sȯr̬r̗y t̸o b̓ur̢s̈ţ ŷou̬r͊ b᷆u̫b᷇b̍l͑ě, S̕a̺m̮my̳, b̝u᷈t...yo̔u'rē no̸t̹ ne͑e̓d̐ed f̔o͍r̈ toñḯgh̠t̡'s ća̧s̱t̎ o̱f͗ c̟har̐a͐ct̊e͓r̊s͊.”

Quicker than Jack could react, Anti glitched, vanished, and reappeared inches from Sam with the jewelry box held out before him. With one swooping motion, Anti had flicked Sam into the box, snapped the lid shut, locked it with a key and tossed the box over his shoulder to land neatly on the armchair in the corner.

“NO!” Jack sprang forward without thinking, arm outstretched as though to reach the box–

“D̹ǐd̵ I̽ s͌a̝y y̪o͚u͘ c̡o̾u͎l̦d͗ m̐o͋v̫e͕?”

Before Jack could register the giggling words, he found himself tripping head-over-heels, colliding soundly with the front of the cabinet his television rested on. A jolt of pain pulsed through his shoulder and he cried out, biting his lip, biting his tongue. Desperate fingers clutched at his aching shoulder and he gritted his teeth.

“What the fuck do you want?!” he bit out, panting and tense as he watched Anti slowly stalk toward him across the room. “You here to...to k-kill me? Hurt me? S...Strangle me again?”

“Wh͔a̠ţ d᷁ō ÿ́o̊u̖ t͔ak̓e m̉e̥ f̓or̓, a᷇ s᷀a͂di͉s͟t͊?” Anti scoffed incredulously.

Jack blinked at him, a sassy retort on his lips before he could stop himself.

“What, you - ngh - aren’t one? Could’ve f-fooled me...”

“I'̗m̺ m̛or̬e̍ ǫf a m̭a͒s᷅ochi͙s̜t̕,̘ r͖ea̪l͟l̓y,͏” Anti shrugged. Jack was surprised that Anti had even bothered to answer the question at all. “Bu͂t̢ bo͑t͐h̬ a᷊r̛e͞ p̭r̂ett͒y̎ a͘c̬c᷅u͑ra̻t̎e̍.”

Great. Good to know. Wonderful.

“N̚o̫, i͓t̋'s no͙t̘h̺i̝n᷆g s͕o̻ s͑i̔m͕pl̖e̍ as a̖l̥l̆ t᷁h̄a̓t,” Anti smirked, waving the thought away with one hand.

The air around his palm distorted and glitched, and a shining blade appeared in his hand on the way down.

Oh, fuck.

Anti was a few steps away now, and Jack scrambled backward across the floor, trying to get as much distance between himself and the glitch as possible...but he was cornered, pinned between the side of the TV cabinet and the wall, blocked in with no way out. It was starting to become a struggle to keep his breathing steady, his heart hammering away a tarantella against his ribs, his throat coarse and tight from tension.

The burst bulb from earlier had thrown the room into near-darkness, but what moonlight was coming through the living room window reflected off the sharpened blade in Anti’s hand, the light bouncing off into Jack’s eyes as the glitch knelt in front of him - close, too close - his eyes beginning to swirl with an inky blackness that Jack never wanted to see this close again.

Jack kept his eyes fixed on the blade, wide as saucers, and his breath hitched when he saw it inching closer and closer to his face. The touch of cool metal against his cheek made him tense and he clenched his jaw with a gulp. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t painful. Anti was dragging the flat side of the knife along his jawline, and Jack could hear the sound of its edge scraping against the coarse facial hair there.

“No̫…” Anti shook his head, and the sharp grin widened wickedly, appearing to split his face in two. “No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch...͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k.”

Mark was humming to himself as he made his way down to the rental car, the keys jingling in his hand. Tim sat perched on his shoulder, one tiny hand clutching the collar of Mark’s shirt, and he was trying to hum along to whatever song Mark had stuck in his head right now.

It wasn’t his fault Katy Perry’s music was so catchy.

By the time he unlocked and opened the driver’s side door, he was well into the chorus, mumbling the words in an undertone to himself and for Tim’s entertainment.

“California girls, we're undeniable! Fine, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock~” Tim was giggling, and the sound brought a warm smile to Mark’s face. He shifted into the driver’s seat so he could reach his smoothie easier, but not before belting out the next few lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“West coast represent, now put your hands up!”

He did so, dancing in his seat, grinning and playing it up for his little biscuit’s benefit.

“Ooh, oh, ooh! Ooh…”

Something flickered in the corner of his eye, something red...or was it blue?...and he trailed off, a crease forming in his brow. Tim was still giggling softly. Had he been seeing things? With a soft chuckle, he reached over and plucked his half-finished smoothie from the cupholder, still somewhat chilled from the cool weather of the evening.

Yeah, it was probably nothing. The whole Antisepticeye thing had been keeping him on edge since he’d arrived here in England. He pushed himself out of his seat and shut the door behind him. But when he turned to head back inside, something in the reflection in the car’s window caught his attention.

Mark dropped his smoothie.

A quiet thumping rose up across the living room, a rattling that caught Jack’s attention as well as Anti’s.

Sam. Sam was trying to get out.

Anti looked away from his victim for a moment, only for a moment, some space coming between Jack’s cheek and the metal of Anti’s blade.

A moment was all he needed.

Jack lashed out with a fist and a knee, landing a punch square across the glitch’s face and driving a knee up into his gut. Anti tumbled away from him, distorting and flickering, a static-fused snarl of pain and annoyance bubbling up from his prone form. Jack shoved himself to his feet, leaping over Anti and heading for the front door. He had to get out, had to leave, had to get Sam and go–

“I d͓O̬n͈’Ṭ t̉H͠iN̼ḱ sͅO͊!”

Static, feedback, a crackle in the air, and Anti was in front of him again, seething with fury, blocking his exit. Jack was running on pure adrenaline now, veering left and heading down the hall toward the bedrooms. The bathroom. Recording room. Anything.

“y̜O̰u̯’̒R̡e̿ N̈o̽T͔ g̓O̩i᷈N̸g̽ Ản̉Y͋w̳H̤e̦R̸ë́!̉”

There he was again, cutting him off, keeping him trapped in the same room. Shit...fuck…

Mark. Mark was downstairs. He just - he needed to stall, to wait it out until Mark came back with his stupid smoothie. He could make it that long.

Jack did a one-eighty and darted back down the hallway, the rug slipping beneath his feet and making him stumble. He caught himself on the wall and kept going, kept dodging. He could do this. Distract him. Hold him off. Something. Anything.

Green.

...green?

Something green, in the corner of his eye. Green and orange.

Jack risked turning his head, risked a glance, and he caught sight of the NERF gun - Chase’s NERF gun - sitting on the kitchen table. Mark had been playing with the damned thing for days, and for the first time since it had resurfaced Jack was unendingly grateful that Mark had found it again. He made a detour through the kitchen, snatching it up and shoving the ziplock of foam discs into his hoodie pocket.

Disc. Pull back. Load. Click. Wait for it. Be ready.

Jack circled his way back into the living room, Anti’s laughter echoing through the apartment, and he dove behind the coffee table with his plastic weaponed primed. He was ready.

He was terrified.

Jack would be an idiot if he pretended that this entire situation wasn’t scaring him within an inch of his life. He knew - he was trying not to think - that he could die at any second tonight, and that the pixelated parasite hunting him down in his own apartment was far too strong of an opponent for him to handle, with or without Sam. With Mark, maybe he had a chance, but even those odds were slim. If he didn’t die tonight, or if he didn’t at least get stabbed, he was going to drink until morning then invite every single one of his friends over to England to have the party of a fucking lifetime.

“O͗h͢,᷄ Jȁa͚a̕a̓a̻c̈́k̘~” Anti’s distorted, chilling voice echoed through the room and sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. “W͘h̅e͔re a᷇r̰e̶ y̑ou͏ hid͛ǐnͅg̤?”

Jack caught sight of a flickering black sneaker from his hiding spot and he popped up from behind the coffee table, firing the NERF gun at the center of Anti’s chest.

Anti barely flinched as the foam disc bounced off of him with a spark of electricity. He blinked - dark, void-like eyes - and stared down at the harmless green projectile on the floor.

“A̛ n᷄er̼f͈ d̑i͞sč? Ȓe͏a̧ll̐y̕, Ja͙c͂k̇?᷀”

Jack shrugged. He pretended that he wasn’t sweating buckets and shaking like a leaf behind the nerf gun in his hands.

“N-Not like I’ve got anythin’ else.”

“H̆o̲w͘ v᷁e̛ry “C̰h̦a͘s̟e B̜r̵o̦d͔y” o͈f̹ y̬öu͍.”

Somehow the mention of another Ego’s name on Anti’s lips made Jack tense up. It was surreal. It was strange. They were all fake - all of them fictional - yet Anti had somehow become so much more. The concept of the living incarnation of his once-fictional character mentioning another of his still-fictional characters so casually like that...it was unsettling, to say the least. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. He just needed to hold out a little longer, just a little while longer, until Mark came back from the car. Keep talking. Keep going...

“W-Well...well…it’s t-technically his gun...s-so…”

Jack opened his eyes.

Anti wasn’t there.

“I̚ kn̴ơw̼ w̖h̖a̽ẗ y᷆o̠u᷄’͍r͖e do̕i͖n̖g̉.”

The chilling voice seemed to come from all sides at once, and Jack could make out flickers of pixels and static in the dark shadows of the room. He fumbled with the ziplock in his pocket, pulling out a foam disc to load his NERF gun again.

“Oh?” Jack asked, his voice coming out higher than he’d intended. “Do…” He cleared his throat. “...do you now?”

“M᷅a̪r̿k̀i̟pl̻i̘e͛r᷀ i̵sn̄’t͡ c̊o͇m̕i͝n̩g͚ to͆ s̲a͙v᷀e͎ yo̫u̥.”

Jack’s blood ran cold.

“What–”

“H᷁e’̘s̎...ă li͢t̺t͖l̷e᷄ ţie͓d᷄ u̯p̉ a̳t̀ th̪e͡ m̘oͥmȩn͇ẗ́.” Anti’s distorted giggle echoed and circled in the empty air, causing goosebumps to sprout up along Jack’s arms. His breath hitched, eyes flying wildly around the room, trying to spot any sign of his doppleganger. “Y᷇o᷅u̥ wer͖e̸ṇ’t̃ p̼l̯a̿yi̟n͘g̉ fa̯ir̤, Ja̒c̉k̩a̫b᷉o͎y…” The next words came front right over his shoulder, whispered into his ear like a dirty secret. “...s̥o̾ Į le͍veͅlèd͎ t̏h̬e͕ p̭l̎ay᷊i̹n͑g̵ fi̥el͔d͙.͝ Ġot̥ ą c̋er̒t̛a͙i͇n da̢r͍k a̭cq̑ŭa̖in͊t̮a̠n̸ce̬ of̿ m̪i̎ne t͖õ ẖęl̍p̖ m̓e̺ o̢u̟t a̲ li̫t͕t᷈l̪e.”

Mark was scared to blink, staring at his own reflection in the car’s window with his jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his neck. A figure stood just behind his shoulder, his body outlined in a familiar red and blue, looking so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. By the time his smoothie hit the concrete and burst open, splattering the ground, only fractions of a second had passed...but it felt like an eternity. He blinked.

Dark was gone.

“Mark?” Tim’s voice cropped up beside his ear, confused and a little worried.

“...hold on to me, okay?” Mark murmured, and he brought a hand up to try and shield his familiar from whatever might happen. Whoever might happen.

“I’m not here for him, you know.”

The voice, deep and echoing and so like his own but different, startled him into turning around. He hadn’t been in the reflection, but he hadn’t actually left. His name left Mark’s lips in a strained whisper.

“Darkiplier.”

“Face-to-face, at long last,” Dark nodded. He smirked, folding his hands behind his back. “And like I said...I’m only here for you. This is all coming from your mind, Mark.”

“Mark? What’re you lookin’ at?”

Tim. He sounded so innocent and confused, so worried about Mark, and what Dark was saying suddenly registered in Mark’s mind.

“Tim can’t see you, can he?”

“Tim doesn’t have to see me,” Dark corrected, raising an eyebrow in clear impatience. “I don’t want him to see me, therefore he can’t. But you…” His head tilted to the side and he made his neck pop, his shell cracking and separating for a moment. Then he leaned forward, intrigued. “...you, I can never quite hide from. Not completely. Why is that?”

“I...don’t know,” Mark shook his head, confused. Lost. Dark was here, and he was very real, and he was talking to Mark as though none of this was odd. “Maybe...uh....maybe because I made you?”

“Y̙̭o͏̖͔͙͓̼u d͇͈̭i͎̤͉ḍ̼̠̭̟̯͡n̡͕͎̙̜’̠̹̫̦͙͡t ̝ma̟k̼͎͝e̗̗̱͈̬ͅ m̰̥ḛ.”

There was an echoing fury boiling under the words, and the air around Dark seemed to darken considerably in the moment. Mark took an involuntary step back towards his car.

“I - what?”

“You didn’t make me.” Dark’s anaglyphic image was separating, tearing itself apart, and one of his echoing reflections seemed to scream silently into the cold night air. All the while, his core image remained stern and unyielding, showing barely any emotion at all. “You destroyed me - destroyed us. You stole his body. You condemned her to hell. You drove him to insanity. You ruined their lives.”

It clicked, then, what Dark was talking about. This was exactly what Mark had been scared of, worried about, when he was talking to Jack in that cafe. This was why he was regretting the creation of “Who Killed Markiplier”...or more accurately, he was regretting the addition of the character of Mark. The Mark who was an actor. The Mark who was an asshole. The fictional Mark who ruined everything and destroyed so many people…

...Dark was under the impression that Actor Mark and YouTube Mark were one and the same.

Mark blinked, and suddenly Dark was so much closer than he had been before. The darkness that had been enveloping the demon was surrounding Mark too now, and it was absolutely suffocating.

“...but, I suppose I should be thanking you,” Dark continued, a smirk finding its way onto his face. He tilted his head to the side, regarding Mark thoughtfully. “In a way, you...are the reason I exist. Your damnation of your friends led to my creation. A part of me is furious...but a part of me is more than grateful. You set the darkness free, Mark.”

Mark’s heart was pounding, rapid, in his chest and he could feel a minute panic slowly flooding his very soul. He gulped and shook his head, one hand still holding Tim close - Tim, who had fallen strangely silent, though Mark didn’t stop to question it.

Dark wasn’t here to hurt him. Dark didn’t resort to physical violence unless he had to, Mark had written him that way. While Anti went straight for the knife, Dark resorted to other means of making his point and making his mark.

This was all in his mind. Dark wasn’t physically here.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You...I’ve been seeing you, for months, but this is the first time you’ve actually spoken to me. What changed?”

Dark’s gaze trailed off to the side, toward the apartment, before settling back on Mark.

“A friend asked for a favor.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I merely agreed.”

A cry of pain broke the odd non-silence of the evening, a cry of pain that sounded all too familiar and was coming from the apartment Mark had been trying to return to. His eyes widened.

A friend asked for a favor.

A friend of Dark’s. Anti.

“Jack!”

Mark shoved away from the car and ran through Dark’s mirage of a body, the blue and red dispersing into wisps of dark smoke. Mark only made it halfway to the stairs.

“Clever boy. But you can’t leave. Not yet.”

Dark’s voice echoed in his mind, sending a blinding pain through his skull that brought him to his knees with a shout. He clutched at his head, fingers tangling in his hair and digging into his scalp. He felt rather than saw Tim tumble off of his shoulder, falling the few feet to the ground, making Mark wince in sympathy. There wasn’t enough strength in him to free himself from the mental onslaught, let alone help his tiny friend.

But he needed to. He needed to get Dark out of his head, needed to help Jack. If Dark was out here, then Anti must be in there, and he’d already seen what Anti had done to Jack the last time he had shown up. It wasn’t pretty. Mark didn’t fancy seeing a reenactment.

Get out...get out!

“Why would I? I have a job to do, Mark. You better than anyone should know that I never put in a half effort.”

Images began to surface in his mind, horrible images, memories that had never happened...memories of his friends, his real friends, getting hurt…

Please don’t. They don’t deserve this.

“Neither did Damien. Neither did Celine. Neither did William.”

“That...w-wasn’t me!” he protested, finally finding his voice, the words hoarse and weak. “You’ve got it - ngh - wrong! I’m - y-yeah, I’m Mark, but I’m n-not that Mark! I–”

“Oh, quit with your pitiful lies,” Dark sneered. “Celine is already angry enough with you as it is.”

��No, listen! I made up that version of Mark the same way I created you and Wilford and Abe – I’m just a writer, okay?!”

“Give up, Mark. Nobody can hear you. Let’s see how long you last before you begin pleading for forgiveness. I have all night…”

Hold on, Jack. I’m coming. Hold on–

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jack shuddered and shot to his feet, almost tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get away from Anti, who cackled in amusement from where he’d appeared directly over Jack’s shoulder. Jack rounded on the glitch and aimed his NERF gun at the glitch’s chest, not even caring that it was basically harmless.

“What did you do?!” he demanded, his concern for his friend overtaking his fear for his own life. “Is Dark gonna kill him?”

“D̙o͕n͑’̚t b͐e͟ s͋i̧lly!” Anti smirked and rolled his eyes, playing with his knife out of sheer boredom, tossing it between his hands and flipping it in the air. It was clear he was skilled with his weapon on choice, throwing it around with ease like one would a half-filled water bottle. “O᷄l’ D̜a̩rki͈e̚ do̶ẹs̨n̈́’ť ju͊st̽ ķill̔ p̠eo᷈p̰l͌e̞. O᷀r͋ hē w͈on̎’̞t k̇i͏ll̫ Ma̻r᷊kipl̮i̧er͕, an̋y̑w̩a͕y̒.”

The knife soared a good foot or two in the air before tumbling downward, making Jack tense even as he watched Anti catch it cleanly by the handle.

“Fa͐r a͓š I̩ c̠a᷊n̅ t͂ell͚ he̟’̤s̄ p͞r̃et᷇ty̚ p̝i᷅s̱s͚e͔d͐ a̤t᷆ ṱh͔e̓ g̹uy̗. Be̘en̒ t͑oy̕īn͗’͈ w̶it’ hi̛m᷆ f̦o͐r̬ m̽o᷆nt̾h̟s̞,̈ o̊ř so̊ h͍i᷉s̝ r̓oboͅt́ s̽a᷁ẏs͍.”

Robot? Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. Dark had robots now?

“N̛a̡h᷾, Da͖r̓k̺’s͗ n̠o͊t̻ g̦onnå k̬i͗l͙ḽ Mar̃k̝. P͑ŕe̽t̩ṯyͅ s̒u̕r̾e ḣe᷇’d̈ r̯a̱the̗r dr̹i͖v̓ę h͂i͔m̃ t̰o̐ i͢n᷀s̷a͛nityͅ ḅefo᷾r̞e͓ tͅh͙a̓t ĥap̆p̝e̾ns.”

Jack swallowed thickly. Drive him to insanity? Could Dark so that? He was brought back to the conversation he and Mark had had almost a week ago, in the cafe. The first morning Mark had shown up.

“Dark’s more subtle,” Mark had said. “He works behind the scenes. He doesn’t deal with face-to-face conflict as much. He mostly sticks to the shadows. I mean, I gave him his backstory, I should know this…honestly, it makes me wonder if ‘Who Killed Markiplier’ wasn’t a horrible, horrible idea.”

Mark had been worried, beyond worried, about the concept of Dark actually making his move. Jack had noticed it that day but hadn’t bothered to ask about it. He was beginning to think that, perhaps, he should have pushed a little more.

“Bu̼t y̾o̲u̱ h᷁aͅve̕n̰’t̰ goṯ th᷁a͗t͓ to w᷁o͢r͊ry̽ ab̻o̱u̺t̍, Ja͖cͅka᷁b͐o̱y!” Anti was grinning again, and Jack would swear that his doppleganger’s teeth were sharp, pointed. Deadly. “A͟ft̸ëṙ t᷁o᷁n̎ig̙h̸t, you̅ w᷄o̓nͅ’̥t͂ b͐e̡ w̢OR̵r̈Yi͇N̞g a᷊BoUt a᷅N̡ÿ́T͒h̛i͙N᷇g͋.”

Anti’s distorted shadow grew around him, engulfing his side of the room in a glitching, pulsating, corrupted darkness, and from its depths shot out a dozen or so venom-green cords of light. At Anti’s command, they darted forward and curled tightly around Jack’s wrists, his ankles, his knees and elbows, his chest - his throat. Not tight enough to strangle, but with his bruises still healing, it was more than tight enough to hurt.

Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The NERF gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ.”

Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click.

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

[A/N] - Woot! It's done! ^^ And ending on a cliffhanger too? Shocking! :0c

This chapter actually took a lot longer to finish than I originally intended. For some reason I was really struggling to get going on it, but once I started into the ambush, it really started rolling. Believe it or not, this chapter is about twice the length of all the others. While most other chapters finish off at around ten pages in Google Docs, this one? This one hit a solid twenty. Absolute insanity.

Anyway! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and comments and critiques are always appreciated! Ta!

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

#SamLives #Sam Lives #Jacksepticeye #Sam Septiceye #JSE FanFic #JSE FanFiction #Jacksepticeye FanFic #Jacksepticeye FanFiction #Sam #Antisepticeye #Darkiplier #Markiplier

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simkaswriting · 7 years

Text

Rumours-(Carlos De Vil)

Characters: Evie, Mal, Jay, Ben, Carlos and (Y/N)

Pairing: Eventual Carlos De Vil x Reader

Warnings: Swearing + underage drinking

Word Count: 1596

Summary: Carlos finally gets the courage to ask (Y/N) to be his girlfriend, albeit in a strange way.

(A/N) This does contain some underage drinking, though let’s be real nobody gave a shit on the Isle

The phrase ‘the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree’ is often repeated around Auradon as an insult to the VKs. though in this case it doesn’t ring true. The Evil Queen was conceited and self-absorbed, yet her daughter is smart and independent. Maleficent is cunning and sneaky, as is her daughter, though she’s much more selfless and polite now. Jafar is sneaky and selfish, and Jay can be too, though he’s more and more trustworthy and empathetic as the days go by. Cruella is egoistical and downright a murderer, yet Carlos wouldn’t hurt a single fly, let alone a dog. Ursula is vengeful, yet I couldn’t possibly be more different from my mother than I already am.

The five of us were chosen by Prince Ben to study at Auradon a few months back, and since Mal defeated her mother, things haven’t been going so bad. Jay and Carlos have taken a new liking to Tourney, Evie has fully immersed in her academic success, and Mal is enjoying being engaged to the King himself. Though as for me, there isn’t much I do. I cheer for Jay and Carlos at their matches, let Evie use me as a model in her fashion classes and help Mal deal with her stress. And today isn’t any different.

I watch as Carlos scores yet another goal, earning the congratulatory pats on his back from his team mates, definitely having improved in the recent months. He grins at his team before he spots me and jogs over to the bleachers. His smile has the ability to light up any room and make any girl go weak at the knees, including me.

“Hey (Y/N), you know you don’t have to come to every practice, right?” Carlos grins at me as he takes a seat on the bench in front of me. His forehead is glistening with sweat and he’s slightly breathless due to running like a maniac for the last hour.

I roll my eyes, knowing that no matter what he says I will still be attending every practice.

“You did amazing today, excited for tonight's match?” I ask, my mind running 100 miles per hour yet not thinking at all.

He’s had this effect on me since the moment I began spending some time with him when we got here. Back on the Isle we didn’t really get along, since I’m Ursula's daughter just like Uma, but now that I have the freedom, I can finally fantasise about him and I. Even if that’s all it will ever be, just fantasies, I can live with that.

“Of course, you’re coming over to mines and Jay’s before for pregame, right?” He asks, eyes full of hope, though maybe I’m just imagining this.

I stand up and begin to walk back to the dorms with him.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I smile at Carlos as we part ways at my dorm. He sends me one last quick smile before disappearing.

Carlos’ P.O.V.

Laying on my bed, my thoughts all seem to be occupied by one particular VK. Everything is perfect about her from the smallest thing like the way she her eyes always widen when she realises she forgot something. Or the way her hair blows in the wind when she’s watching Jay and I at our practice. Or the way she’s scared of water, as ironic as that may sound. She’s adorable, and smart, and selfless, and caring and so many other things they all fly at me out of nowhere. It’s like every time that I’m with (Y/N) nothing matters, as long as she’s with me.

“Snap out of it, dude.” Jay laughs at me from across the room, knowing that it’s (Y/N) I’m thinking about once again. It’s become a habit lately. Is there a possibility that we could be together? Back on the Isle dating wasn’t a big thing, we didn’t really do it. Not to mention we didn’t even get along that well. But maybe now that we’re on Auradon...

The knocking on the door interrupts my thoughts, and the loud giggling gives away that it’s Evie, Mal and (Y/N). My heart jumps a little as her laugh rings out. It’s like music to my ears, as cheesy as it sounds.

Jay sends me a quick grin before opening the door and letting the girls in. Mal’s wearing Ben’s spare tourney jersey that he gave her a few weeks ago, which sparks off an idea in my head.

The three girls walk in, all in high spirits.

“Okay, so this isn’t really the stuff from the Isle, but it’s powerful enough to give you a kick.” (Y/N) walks over to my bed and pulls out two bottles from her backpack, both full of some dark liquid. Alcohol.

The other three gather around (Y/N) with raised brows but proud smiles. She’s always been the sneaky one back on the Isle, even more so than Jay. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to me. She once stoles a bandanna from my back pocket and I only realised at the end of the day.

“Mind me asking where you got this from?” I ask.

We did make a pact that we wouldn’t be evil anymore, that we’d try to integrate more into Auradon. Yet Jay still steals once in a while, Mal still uses her spell book and Evie cheats on some of her tests. So really it doesn’t come as a surprise.

“The Kings and Queen parlour.” She grins cheekily before opening one of the bottles and taking a swig.

“Way to be subtle.” Mal chuckles and takes the other bottle. My eyes wander to (Y/N), who’s not even flinching. For someone so young, she can handle her alcohol well, which can’t be said for me. That’s why I decide I shouldn’t drink, especially not when I have a game in half an hour.

“Okay, I’m buzzed now. Are you guys excited for your game?” Evie asks, a huge grin on her face. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, though I can’t tell if its because of the blusher she uses or the alcohol.

Am I excited? Sure. Am I nervous? Of course. But am I ready to win? Definitely.

“I’m ready to kick some preppy kids asses.” Jay exclaims, pumping his fist in the air like he’s already won the game.

(Y/N) sits down on my bed and looks at me with a small smile, melting my heart. I glance behind her at the spare jersey hanging over my chair. This gives me an idea.

(Y/N)s P.O.V.

I slowly trail behind Mal, Evie and Jay, waiting for Carlos to get all of his things for the big game. He seems in deep thought, though I don’t question it. He’s usually like this, if he’s not laughing at some corny joke I spit out.

I walk over to the little desk with books between his and Jay’s beds and kneel down to read some titles. Perhaps they have some good books. ‘How to be Good: 101 Tips on Bettering Yourself’ catches my eye. Of course, there’s no surprise.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Carlos asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. I turn around and look at him, he’s holding his spare jersey. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“I was thinking maybe you’d want to wear my jersey to the game?” He asks, eyes searching my face.

My heart skips a beat. Only girlfriends of the players wear the jerseys. I’m not with Carlos, so why does he want me to wear it? Is this his way of telling me that maybe my feelings are reciprocated? I don’t let my hopes get too high though.

“Are you sure, Carlos? It could start off a whole sea of rumours.” I walk towards the boy and cock my head to the side, feigning confidence, but God knows my legs feel like jelly and my heart is racing.

Carlos looks down at the ground for a second, before looking at me with a grin.

“Why let them be just rumours?” He asks, catching me off guard.

My eyes widen and it takes me a few seconds to process what the boy in front of me just said. He wants to be with me? Like dating, which nobody ever did back on the Isle? Something neither of us know, or properly understand? The thought of being known as Carlos’s girlfriend makes the pit of my stomach pool with warmth. And that makes my answer clear as Evie’s mirror.

“I’d love to wear your jersey, Carlos.” I beam at the villain in front of me and take the shirt from him. I place a quick kiss on his freckled cheek before slipping the jersey over my tanktop. It smells like him, mint and apples and dirt, which is more than comforting. As he looks at me in his jersey, a huge smile appears on his face.

“Perfect.” Carlos grins before biting his lip contemplatively. He takes a hold of my hand and brings me closer. Hesitantly, as if afraid he’ll break me, he caresses my face and places a small kiss on my lips. The sudden surge of warmth through my body takes me by surprise. There are no fireworks, no exploding cage of butterflies in my heart. But there is, however, the feeling of content and comfort, the feeling of adoration aimed at the boy who’s jersey I’m wearing. Aimed at Carlos De Vil, my boyfriend.

“Fucking called it!” I hear Jay yell from the doorway, causing both Carlos and I to laugh and look back at the three VKs standing at the door, huge smiles plastered on their faces.

#the descendants #Disney the descendants #Carlos the descendants #carlos de vil #carlos #descendants Carlos #carlos de vil x reader #the descendants x reader #carlos de vil imagine #cameron boyce #mal the descendants #dove cameron #jay descendants #jay the descendants #booboo stewart #evie #evie descendants #sofia carson

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loading99percent · 6 years

Text

Exclusive 1/3

Pairing: LYJ x OC (Melanie/Li Xiangjun) || CXK x OC (Serena/Jiang Yingyue) Genre: slice of life, college!au, fluff Word Count: 4,389 Summary: Lin Yanjun openly flirts with Melanie, yet she’s tired of his games and can’t take him seriously. Cai Xukun and Serena chill on a daily, but there’s gotta be more than that between them. Eventually enough, the boys just want the girls exclusively to themselves.

part one.part two.part three

Warning: matured content as in college related stuff. swear words. NOT MOBILE FRIENDLY! not sure why, but it has all the breaks and stuff while on a desktop. (teach me if mobile is different and it can be done!)

Here is my second one! Not requested, but will get to the one that I did receive! Also this is going to be split into parts because I had a commentator complain about the length that they had to scroll, but like I can’t do anything about that if you’re on mobile besides give a warning. Anyways, so yeah, this is part 1 of and happy reading! kthxbai, Admin Lia~

"Alright, fellas. Tomorrow's the start of our annual one day scavenger hunt." Yu Bin, the president of Iota Phi Theta, announced to his fellow members. "I know there hasn't been any incidents as of yet, but don't break any laws or school's rules while obtaining the picture or video proofs in completing the list." Yu Bin reminded them. "I-P-T ain't like that and we're not going to start now."

"So when it hits midnight you guys can start on the list." Li Junyi, the vice-president of IPT, spoke next. "You have until eleven-fifty-nine P-M to return back to the house. You'll be disqualified if you're not back before then and your points won't be added to Iota Phi Theta's End of the School Year raffle. Or for the chance to be I-P-T's center for the End of the Year photo and host of the last banquet. Or the monthly prizes."

"Let's all remember it's all for fun so there's no real competition except if you wanna win the raffle and center and host positions, of course." Zhou Rui, the secretary of IPT, informed them with a smile. "An entry with your name is added to the raffle for every thirty-five points you earn. So make it count if you're aiming for that." His gaze then scanned the many faces before him. "If not, then you can still turn your points in for awesome monthly prizes."

"Don't forget your placards needs to be present in the picture or video as it will indicate validation." Kaihao, the treasurer of IPT, concluded. "We ask all of you fellow brothers to represent Iota Phi Theta with respect and anyone or something else involved with respect, too." Kaihao looked at the other three for approval as the trio either nodded before gazing back at the members. "Meeting adjourned. Have a good night, fellas"

Serena abruptly woke to Melanie's ring tone going off. She sat up in bed to glare at the sleeping figure who wasn't disturbed by the sudden sound at all as it continued to ring and vibrate simultaneously. Serena let out a huff as she felt about her bed for something to throw at Melanie. Once she felt one of her stuffed dolls she chucked it at Melanie across the room, but it missed its target.

Serena reached once more around her bed, found another doll a second later, and threw it. It made contact with its target, but it surely didn't wake the sleeping girl. Serena groaned while rubbing her face in annoyance, but lied back down when the ringing stop.

Closing her eyes once more, Serena groaned when Melanie's phone went off again. "I swear this bitch has selective hearing even while asleep."

Serena let out a sigh as she rose from bed and made her way over to Melanie. Shaking the edge of the bed with her foot, Melanie didn't budge from the action. Serena moved her foot and tapped on Melanie's feet, but still nothing. Serena rolled her eyes and placed both hands to shake Melanie's figure roughly which jerked the other girl awake.

"Hmm?" Melanie hummed in a half-awake and half-asleep state.

"Answer your phone. It went off twice and I'm sure who's ever trying to contact you is gonna call again." Serena said in a tired tone just as Melanie's phone went off again. "Answer it or I'm chucking that shit out the window."

This woke Melanie as she brushed off Serena's threat. "Yeah, yeah, go back to bed, Rina."

Serena huffed to indicate that she was still annoyed, but returned to her bed while Melanie checked to see who it was and silenced the sound to not annoy her friend some more. Melanie noticed the two missed calls as well as several text messages from three people. Not wanting to deal with it at the moment Melanie silenced her phone until it was placed for only alarms to go off which would be at around 9ish AM and went back to bed.

Serena did the same thing when she felt the first vibration upon settling back in bed. It was only twenty-one minutes passed eleven, but she needed all the sleep she could get before attending her 8AM class tomorrow. The other person can totally wait until then. Or not. Depending on her mood.

"You have got to be kidding me." Serena said in disbelief upon arriving early to her 8AM class which was apparently cancelled for the rest of the week. "You think by now I would check the stupid thing." She scolded herself before sighing afterwards while running a hand through her hair.

Serena heard a chuckle from behind her and turned around to see her classmate and friend, Cai Xukun, standing there with two bubble tea drinks and an amused expression upon his face. "I knew you'll be here since you hardly check your phone or the school's app."

"Oh you're so smart, KunKun." Serena mockingly stated as cast him a tired look. "What are you doing here anyways if you knew class was cancelled?"

"Well, I knew you would show up and thought I would make your morning better after realizing there's no class this early morning." He grinned as Serena rolled her eyes. "Oh wow, the great and mighty Cai Xukun gracing me with his royal presence."

Xukun's excited expression dampened a bit. "Gee, thanks. I was going to give you this taro milk tea to make you feel better, but instead I'll enjoy it myself." He smirked as he took a sipped out of the purple drink. "Ah, so delicious."

"Go ahead." She shrugged as she walked right passed him. "I'll buy myself something else and kill time before my next class."

Xukun followed after her with a pout. "You know it was for you."

"I do, but you put your nasty germs on it and so I don't want it."

"But you share things with everyone else though?"

"I know, but you're a different story."

"Then you can have the other one." He offered her the yellow drink.

"No thanks. I don't really like passion fruit."

"It's not like I have cooties, YingYing."

"Um, KunKun, have you forgotten that you're a bit of a germophobe? That's why I said you were a different story." Serena eyed him as Xukun shrugged nonchalantly. "A little bit, but it's not that big of a deal. Really."

"Yeah right, next time say that in front of your fangirls because I don't wanna get killed by them which I realized right now and am definitely surprised that there are none lurking around sending me death glares."

"Stop. I don't have fangirls. They're just..." Xukun trailed off as Serena cast him a knowing look and repeated her previous statement. "Fangirls."

"Whatever you wanna call them, they won't kill you. You're my friend and I haven't seen them give you any dirty looks."

"Because, one, they're two-faced because when you turn around their so-called angelic face appears. Two, I'm a female friend that's closer to you than they'll ever be to which to this day I still don't know how we're friends, honestly. We don't really have that much in common."

"Friends don't always have to have similar interests, Ying. It's mutual respect and a connection. Anyways, is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?" Xukun interjected upon hearing the friend part

"You can take it however you want." Serena chuckled before continuing. "Anyways, I guess that's true about not having similar interests. Maybe that's why you're a brat and always copy my homework and sit next to me in class when you can literally sit anywhere else."

"Because you have better handwriting and you don't stare at me constantly."

"I wonder why." She rolled her eyes before shooting him a look. "Psh. And here you say they're not your fangirls." Serena then took the purple drink from him and took a sip. "Thanks though, but you still owe me something to eat from last time."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You won't stop reminding me. Anyways, forget about them. They're not important." He dismissed the topic about the fangirls. "I'll meet you in the library at our usual spot then." Xukun informed her as the two split in different directions.

Melanie was peacefully sleeping before it was disrupted by her phone going off. At first she didn't hear it, but eventually after the third time it went off, she woke and stared at her phone in confusion.

"Didn't I put it only for the alarm?"

She chucked it and realized she didn't and only assumed that she did. She let out a sigh when her phone went of again.

"Hello?" She answered sleepily not even checking to see who the caller was.

"Hey, do you have a bra that you no longer use and are willing to give it up. No questions ask?" The person on the other side asked causing Melanie to open her eyes with furrowed eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"I want your bra, JunJun. Give it to me." He demanded seriously and Melanie finally looked at her mobile screen to see who the caller was and rolled her eyes before sitting up in bed. "Shut up, Fen. The last time I gave you my bra you gave me back another girl's bra."

"I said I was sorry."

"It wasn't even the same size or color."

"I said I would buy you a replacement."

"Which I'm still waiting for, my dude."

"I'm working on it, but I really need it." There was a pause before another voice spoke. "Can you make it two, Jun?"

"Ugh, BoBo. I thought you were better than this."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Both males asked a second later as Melanie groaned. "I'm going back to bed. Talk to me after I wake up."

"Fine. We'll see you in class." The duo responded and Melanie hung up on them with a sighed. "So annoying."

Serena was casually making her way towards the library and before she could walk up the steps towards the building she suddenly and loudly heard her nickname, Yue Tu which meant Moon Rabbit, being shouted from behind her. Just as she had turned around to see who it was she was suddenly tackled to the ground with the person on top of her while her drink fumbled away from her.

"Smile!" The male announced happily as he held up his phone with one hand while the other hand held a placard to take a self-portrait of himself and Serena whereas Serena partially blocked her face in time while trying to shove off another friend and classmate of hers off of her. "Get off, Qin Zimo!"

Zimo chuckled nervously as he obeyed while backing away from Serena with a good amount of space between them as another friend and classmate, Jing Peiyao, joined them a moment later while catching his breath.

"Sorry, Yue. I would have stopped him, but once he saw you he ran so fast that I couldn't keep up." Peiyao said once he caught his breath before a cheeky smile appeared on his face. "Also, I wanted to see what would happen and the outcome was hilarious."

"You're a brat, Yao." Serena scoffed while fixing herself, but shot the two a friendly look. "What are you two doing out and about?"

"Trying to complete the scavenger list." Zimo answered as he held up his placard. "I really want that anime figurine set although I have no idea which anime figurines they are."

"Of course." Serena rolled her eyes before it landed on the boba that Xukun had given her. "You owe me a drink, MoMo."

"I will if only..."

"If only what?"

"Basically Zimo wants you to help him out with gaining points." Peiyao answered with a blank look. "That's why he ran so fast to catch you."

"The last time I helped I still didn't get my reward."

Zimo nervously rubbed the back of his neck before casting the female a pleading look. "I will double the reward, for sure this time, just please help me out, Yue Tu, especially since your a Nu Chi Phi member and it'll double or even triple the points."

"Ugh, fine, but I'm only doing two with you since you tackled me." She then glared at him. "You already took one, so you're left with one now."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Zimo thanked her while wrapping his arms around her in a hug. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah, just tell me one of them that you need to do."

"I don't get why you put up with it, Yue, when you know that you don't want to do it." Peiyao stated as Serena shrugged. "I dunno. I guess you gotta give good karma to receive good karma."

"Wow. So it's basically for your own selfish gain?"

"Sure, why not? Don't judge me, Yao." She narrowed her eyes at Peiyao. "How come you're not doing any?"

"Because I have enough points to get what I want already." He answered with a smirk. "Besides, I would rather enter the raffle then collect now."

"I see."

"Anyways, I already did the 'Tackle the opposite gender'. Let's see what else I can do." Zimo muttered loudly as he checked his list and marked off the ones that he had already done. "Oh, how about this one, Yue Tu?"

Zimo showed Serena the option as Serena nodded. "Sure, MoMo."

Zimo happily got his phone ready to take the picture as Serena endured the Iota Phi Theta's scavenger list for the sake of friendship while partially covering her face since she didn't want to get exposed either. She ended up doing a few more. The things she does in wanting to help out Zimo since the subjects weren't breaking laws or humiliating towards the members or others. Something she gave Iota Phi Theta credit for while being a fraternity.

Peiyao laughed at the scenes before him as he knew this wasn't Serena's thing, but she still went with it just for the sake of being a kind friend. Of course Serena glared at Peiyao when the camera wasn't in her face because she knew his taunting laughter was just to tease her. After that the trio bid good-byes with Serena picking up her wasted boba drink to toss before making her way inside the library.

Melanie was woken again by her phone, but by a different person. She ignored it the first and second time, but grew annoyed when her mobile went off again and she gruffly answered the caller.

"What?"

"Sheesh. Who peed in your cereal this morning?" The male responded.

"That's nasty, Jing." Melanie replied as she sat up in bed knowing she wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep and should've silenced her phone after Qin Fen had called her. "What do you want, You. Zhang. Jing?"

"Wow. Seriously, Li. Xiang. Jun." He mimicked the way she said his name before speaking normally again. "Why are you so grouchy, huh?"

"Because I can't go back to sleep now. People been bothering me with phone calls all morning. Like you."

"Rude. I was gonna invite your fellow fat ass out for breakfast, but since you're being such a morning bitch, Xiang, I'll leave you alone."

"Breakfast where?"

"Oh, now she wants to play nice."

Melanie rolled her eyes hearing the sarcasm in her friend's voice. "Shut up, Jing. You still owe me from last. Four times."

Zhangjing groaned. "You're still keeping tabs on that? That was like weeks ago."

"Yeah, because your bitch ass supposedly forgot your wallet those four times."

"I did forget it. What?" Zhangjing hurriedly changed the topic to avoid facing Melanie's annoyance tone once again. "Anyways, XiangXing, I got you, girl. I won't forget my wallet and I'll even treat you. Whatever you want."

Melanie grew suspicious. "What's the catch?"

"What are you talking about? There's no catch."

"Yeah there is. You never offered to treat me. And you also never say 'whatever you want' so there's more to this than you're telling me."

"That part was an afterthought, Xiang. Don't get so analytical." Zhangjing scoffed. "So yes or no to breakfast?"

"Yes. Text me and I'll meet you."

"Already did."

"Brat."

Zhangjing laughed as he hung up and Melanie went to get ready for the day.

Xukun entered the quiet area where he and Serena met often in the library and hung out while spotting his friend sleeping with her arms folded on the table and her head using them as a pillow. He chuckled at the sight while placing a bagel sandwich with ham and cheese along with a Starbucks coffee by her things.

Once Xukun settled in the chair next to her while taking a sip of his own Starbucks drink did Serena stir awake and looked over at him sleepily while scrunching her nose at the aroma of the drinks. "Gah, I hate the smell of coffee."

Xukun's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you like coffee?"

"I actually don't like coffee at all." Serena answered as she pushed her coffee away and towards Xukun while picking up the bagel to eat. "Thanks."

Xukun stared at Serena questioningly in mid-bite of his own bagel sandwich. "Wait a minute, YingYing. Are you telling me that you hate coffee despite me buying it for you every time we have study sessions together since we've met?"

"Uh, yeah, basically." Serena answered with a sheepish laugh. "Sorry, not sorry?"

"Dude, why didn't you just tell me? You honestly finished it every time or leave a little bit and I didn't think anything of it."

"Because you genuinely looked pleased every time you gave it to me and I just didn't have the heart to tell you or throw away a majority of it since you used your own money to buy it."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"You'll get over it. Anyways, KunKun, now you have double the coffee for your day today."

Xukun side-eyed her while taking the other drink back and taking a quick sip from it. "What else are you hiding from me?"

"A lot of things, KunKun. A lot." Serena answered nonchalantly as she bit into her sandwich while not expanding further leaving Xukun to just leave it at that for now.

When he brought out his materials to study, a loose piece of paper floated to the ground and Serena went to retrieve it instead before Xukun could. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was the same IPT scavenger list that Zimo had.

"I forgot you were in Iota Phi Theta. " Serena said while placing the paper on top of his bag. "So you're doing this, too?"

"Something like that." Xukun answered as he picked it up to scan it. "I haven't really started, but I don't think I'm going to do it either."

"Why not?"

"I don't have time. I really need to pass my classes this semester. I barely managed last semester."

"It's easier to do with a friend. The scavenger hunt list, I mean. I'm sure you have some."

Xukun rolled his eyes. "I do, Ying. I'm not completely as anti-social as you, but my schedule doesn't correlate well with theirs."

Serena glanced at him dismissing the comment about her being anti-social. "Do you want to complete the list?"

"Well yeah, I do, but I don't have the time to do so."

"What do you get out of this list if you complete the whole thing?"

"Well the points I accumulate will give me entries to the End of the School Year raffle."

"But there's something else that you want, right?"

Xukun smiled embarrassed as the thought of what he wanted popped into his head. "Yeah."

"And that is?" Serena tried to get it out of him. "Tell me and I'll help you."

"You will?" He asked shocked before eyeing her suspiciously. "Wait, why? You would rather be in bed right now than doing anything really productive."

"I have my moments, Kun, and I feel like doing something productive today besides school stuff at the moment."

"Y'know there's like fifty things on that list."

"True, but it's mainly to help out a friend. Also I know that you want this. So what is it?"

"If I complete that list or score the most points out of anyone for that list, then I get to be center for the group photo when school's over."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Oh and I get to host the final house banquet this school term and the first house banquet next school term."

"Okay, that's good."

Xukun looked at Serena unsure. "Are you sure you want to help me?"

"I mean, not really, but I don't mind helping out others from time to time." Serena shrugged with a small smile.

"Alright, thanks, but I do need a date though for the banquet."

"And I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"Could I ask you in advance since you won't be all..."

"Fangirl mode."

"Yeah."

"See, even you're thinking they're fangirls now."

Xukun rolled his eyes, but looked at her with hopeful eyes. "So what do you say? Will you be my date?"

"I'll think about it."

Xukun scoffed at her response as Serena chuckled. "Anyways, let's go make you center, Cai Xukun, and a banquet host."

Melanie was currently messaging Zhangjing asking him how long he'll be since she's been waiting at Little Tangerine for at least ten minutes now when she heard the chair across from her scraped against the floor and assumed it was her friend.

"About ti-" She paused when she saw Lin Yanjun instead of Zhangjing and mentally strangled Zhangjing in her head. "I knew it was a set up."

Yanjun chuckled as he glanced at her. "What's a set up? I thought we were all meeting for breakfast?"

"Zhangjing didn't mentioned a third party."

Yanjun shrugged with a smile. "He mentioned you to me."

"I bet." Melanie rolled her eyes before roaming her eyes over to the male before her. "Anyways, then where is the one that invited us?"

"Dunno."

"You guys are roommates."

"Doesn't mean I keep tabs on him."

"Mmhmm."

Melanie leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest shooting Yanjun a knowing look. Yanjun imitated her posture, but he had on an amused expression instead. The two stared at one another for a good few seconds before Yanjun broke the silence.

"Don't give me that look, Melanie."

"What look, Evan?"

"The one you're giving me now."

"What about it?"

"Stop looking like you wanna kill me."

"Oh, it's not you I wanna kill, today. It's your friend."

Yanjun rolled his eyes as he casually leaned forward. "He's your friend, too, but don't kill him yet. I still need him to pass this semester and you can kill me after I graduate."

"Fine." Melanie rolled her eyes, but relaxed her posture. "Anyways, what are you doing here when you and I don't ever hang out?"

"Zhangjing invited me of course, Xiangjing, but really I came for the bread." Yanjun grinned as Melanie shook her head with a laugh. "You can buy bread anywhere, Yanjun, and say no to the invite."

"But I love the ones here and why would I say no when I get to see your lovely face."

He grinned at her as Melanie made a disgusted face before brushing off his rights. "Right."

Silence fell between them again with neither of them wanting to get up and make an order. The duo continued to wait for Zhangjing who was still running late. Yanjun broke the silence once more.

"Hey, so I was wondering if-"

Melanie interrupted him. "No."

"But you haven't even heard the whole thing yet."

"I don't care."

"But you don't even know what I was gonna ask you."

"After what happened last time, Evan, I don't wanna be involved with whatever you got going on for the fourth time." Melanie narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm going to put a restraining order on you the next time you you want a crazy psycho bitch of a fangirl to stop bothering you."

"Look, they all have their moments." Yanjun tried to explain, but Melanie held up a hand to stop him. "Save it. I don't care because I'm not gonna let you use me again for a fourth time to which I didn't even agree with the other three times. You basically forced me and put me on the spot each time."

"Okay, Melanie, okay. I get it. I'm sorry." Yanjun apologized with a genuine expression. "I know it was selfish of me to use you as my pretend girlfriend to get these girls off my back, but you happened to be conveniently there at my time of need all those times."

"So were practically twenty other girls, Lin. Yan. Jun."

"I trusted you the most."

"We're only mutual through mutual. We're technically not even friends if I was to be honest. Hell, even Yirang, Fu Jing, Manjun, and Niyi were there and you know them better than you know me and you could've used them over me."

"You were closer." Yanjun reasoned as Melanie rolled her eyes giving up on trying to pull the truth out of him while standing up and collecting her things. "Whatever. I'm gonna order and sit at another table so that I don't have to deal with you further within the morning."

"Oh, c'mon, Xiangjun. My company's not that bad."

"Not really you, per se, Yanjun, I think, but those involved around you just gives me a headache with all the bullshit that surrounds you."

"Wow."

"Okay, bye!" Melanie happily told him while making her way towards the front counter as Yanjun looked after her with a defeated expression before his phone pinged indicating he received a message.

He checked it and saw that it was from Zhangjing. 'Lin Yanjun, zero. Li Xiangjun, nine thousand'. Yanjun glanced around the shop and spied his friend across the room in disguise while eating a bag of chips and waving at him mockingly.

'Better sleep with one eye open tonight, buddy'. Yanjun messaged Zhangjing back before shooting him a smirk and Zhangjing stopped his little antics and hurriedly left Little Tangerine without Melanie noticing him.

#loading99percent #idol producer scenarios #nine percent scenarios #9% scenarios #9 percent scenarios #lin yanjun #cai xukun #idol producer #nine percent

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

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How about a fic where Peter gets a concussion while playing basketball and starts like puking and tony has to come get him bc idk parent tony au xD

(Hey beautiful friend, here’s your not so beautiful fic, for a beautiful person who deserves a better fic but tbh this is all I can produce!! Anyway, so here’s a short little fic starring parent Tony bc that’s some good shit yo)

Peter had never liked sport.

He hated how his chest felt like it was on fire when he ran, how the world seemed horribly heightened and horrifying. He felt out of control, and felt as if the world was tipping out of balance as he’d become painfully aware of his existence.

Peter would dread gym, often purposely leaving his gear or trying to find jobs to do around the school. He’d seek out the nice little old receptionist lady or the janitors or workmen to see if they needed help, just to get out of gym. Peter had gone as far as to fake injuries in the past, to a successful degree. Middle school drama had served its purpose, and Peter was thankful for it.

In fairness, ever since the radioactive spider incident, exercising wasn’t quite as agonising as it used to. His bones wouldn’t screech at him and his lungs wouldn’t be begging for air as he ran, or how exhausted and heavy he felt after a basketball game. Having a new spider body was pretty good, and he could do sit ups without struggling and failing to get up, his core aching and like it was being weighed down by a rockslide worth of stones.

But something Peter would never ever get used to was the pressure of competitiveness.

It only seemed to get worse.

Peter hated how the world seemed to be teetering on his shoulders, appearing to threaten to topple over at any second. He had one body, and he couldn’t do it, and he certainly couldn’t do it with glaring eyes and monstrous voices yelling at him. He hated there angry voices echoing in his head, pushing how he wasn’t good enough, how bad he was. This hyper awareness he’d get was too much, his hands wouldn’t feel like his hands and his legs would feel wrong. He felt like he didn’t belong in his own body, and the anxiety rendered him functionless.

It was a hundred times worse with the spidey senses. The heightened senses that came with the whole Spiderman ordeal proved to be useful for the most part, allowing him to fight baddies to a better standard but came at the cost of heightened anxiety and illness. Everything was too much, so much that the world would spin and that he’d feel horribly woozy and just want to drop down on the floor and cry.

Peter didn’t really know how, but despite his utter detestation of sport and physical education, he ended up going that fateful Thursday.

He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, if he genuinely felt bad for missing that many classes at a time and felt like he should turn up because otherwise he’d feel wrong, or some holy light shone upon him that morning and flicked a switch and made him go, “You know what? Screw it, I’m going! What’s the worst that could happen?”

A lot could happen, and Peter wished he didn’t make that dumb decision. But this was him, he was Peter Parker and this was his life, so of course it happened. It was written in the stars.

Peter let out a tiny squeaking noise as the basketball flew right by his face, narrowly missing the margin between Hannah and his face.

“Dammit Peter!” He heard one of his teammates yell out frustratedly.

“Cop on!” The same person hiss angrily.

“Sorry!” Peter yelped squeakily, awkwardly trying to run after the ball.

The ball seemed to be flying around like some kind of golden snitch from Harry Potter, unbelievably swift and hard to catch with the human eye. It was a horrendous experience, like when the movie seemed to be fast forwarding ahead of him, way beyond his own pace as he frantically tried to find the buttons on the damn remote and stop as it reeled on and on, further away from his reach. Except now he couldn’t even find the damn remote, he had no control of himself.

Peter didn’t even know how much time had past when he was being scolded again.

“Dammit Parker, wake the fuck up, will you?!”

“I’m sorry–” Peter had tried to say, and suddenly the air around him seemed to drop into the negatives as it froze. It chilled his bones, goosebumps emerging as the hair on his arms stood up. His eyesight seemed to focus in, hearing increasing and everything seemed to slow into this agonisingly slow pace, as what was once a horrifying warped world fastforwarding into light speed turned into a never ending slow motion.

Then the impact.

The disastrous and pain inducing collision of his head and the basketball, the sickening thwack of the velocity of its contact. The concerned and mortified screaming of Ned, the ringing in his ears. And finally the lightness of his body as it free falls and thuds against the cold wooden floor.

“Parker!” The coach yelled in shock.

“Flash, what the fuck?!” Michelle yelled out from the sidelines, running towards them.

“I didn’t mean to!” Flash gasped defensively, eyes widening.

“Sure thing, Barry Allen! You just killed a dude!” She shot back aggressively.

“What?! Oh no, Peter!” Ned whimpered, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, fuck, sorry, no, Ned. He’s not dead, probably a concussion,” Michelle apologises, beginning to crouch down to examine Peter’s limp body.

“I swear I didn’t mean to coach,” Flash said worriedly to their teacher, who was currently in the middle of scratching his head in confusion.

“Yeah, so you just happened to aim the basketball towards his head by accident, and now you’ve killed my best friend!” Ned accused tearfully.

“Shh, Ned, he’s not dead,” Michelle reassured as she proceeded to check for a pulse.

“I just wanted to wake him up!” Flash protested, growing to be genuinely concerned and guilty.

“Smart move, jackass, now he’s more asleep than ever,” Michelle taunted, then proceeded to avert her attention back to Peter.

“Peter? You hear me?” Michelle tried in vain, hoping she’d get to him somehow.

No response.

She sighed deeply, “Yup. He’s out cold.”

“…uh…so, what should we do?” The coach asked quietly, lost.

“Huh? What should we do? Dude, you’re the coach, aren’t you supposed to know what to do?!” Flash exclaimed, a little taken aback.

Michelle rolled her eyes, “This is our school, did you expect much?”

Flash shut his mouth.

“We’ve got to get him to the Nurses, just to make sure there’s nothing serious going on,” Ned suggested.

“Good idea Ned,” Michelle stressed, shooting daggers in the direction of the coach.

“Here, I’ll lift him–” One of the jocks offered, crouching down to lift him when Peter stirred.

His body convulsed for a brief moment, beginning to awaken from its short slumber. Ned gasped in alarm and got to his knees to level with him.

“Peter?! Peter, my dude, are you okay?!” Ned asked worriedly.

Peter opened his eyes and gagged immediately as a sudden wave of intense nausea hit him hard, causing his stomach to whirl and churn uncomfortably. He pressed his hands against his stomach to try and calm it to the best of his ability, biting his lip to try and withstand the intense pain pounding harshly at his head.

“Peter?”

“Whhhuhhhh….?” Peter slurred.

“Do you know who I am?” Ned asked cautiously and slowly.

“Ned,” Peter slurred, squinting and struggling to keep his eyes open as he began to see double.

Ned managed a shaky, relieved smile at that.

“Do you know where you are?”

Peter squinted, trying to look around but every little movement he made caused the world to rapidly spin like it was a spinning top. Which in turn caused another wave of dizziness and nausea. A state of panic and confusion as he couldn’t quite make out where he was.

“H-hang on, I need to stand up t-to see w-where I a-am,” Peter tried, lifting himself off the ground with his hands.

“Wait, no, Peter, slow–”

Peter leaped up onto his feet, only for the world to double, quadruple and go around in circles on a confusing and nightmarish hell of a merry go round.

“Woah,” Peter choked as he felt the dizziness and wooziness get to him, incredibly shaky and unstable, trying to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground only to find all the forces all joining together in a joined attempt to uproot him.

It didn’t take much to do so.

Because the world tilted rapidly and the floor rose and ripped him with it, and he was falling again, but this time before he could fall there was a pair of strong arms catching him by the waist and dangling him over.

Ned’s arms were firm, holding him steady, far away from the ground. He wasn’t going to fall. But Ned was a little too firm, holding him on the stomach just a little on the wrong side. Whatever it was, it was just enough to push him over the edge.

Peter pushed off him frantically, hunching over as his stomach contracted and cramped painfully and then the contents were pushing up his throat horribly, scorching it on its way up. Then he expelled onto the floor, heaving and gasping for air as his muscles clenched and retracted as he vomited.

“Oh, gross!” Peter could hear someone gasp in the background, causing him to heat up and go red with embarrassment and shame.

When he finally finished, Peter felt so exhausted and weak and drained he couldn’t help but drop to his knees. He shook violently from how ill he felt, and the dull ringing at the back of his head was a bit too much and the panic and shame was too much he started to cry.

Ned frowned, approaching Peter gently, after saying, “Go call Tony.”

Peter cried for the next while, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed and full of self loathing, but Ned remained by his side the whole time.

Peter couldn’t quite stop crying, and cried through being gently escorted by Ned to the Nurses office.

He kept crying as he was escorted onto a bed, and kept crying as he laid his weakened body down and cried into the white sheets.

He felt horribly embarrassed, unwell and ashamed. Peter wished that he just decided to help old Hilda instead, and wondered why the hell this always happened to him. He wondered if there was some cure to this odd unfortunate occurrences curse he seemed to acquire from his parents. If there was, he better be hooked up fast because he wasn’t quite sure if he could deal with this any more.

But the moment Tony walked through the doors of the nurses, his soft kind voice calling his name out like a lullaby, everything felt a little bit better.

Tony had this magic about him that filled him with fatherly reassurance. An anchor that kept him steady even during the strongest of currents.

“Hey buddy, how’re you doing,” Tony asked warmly, his approach gentle and soft. He pulled a chair over and sat down, looking at him with such kindness that made Peter forget about how ashamed he had just been moments ago.

“Awful,” Peter whimpered, tears beginning to spill from his eyes yet again.

“Awh, I’m sorry kiddo, hey, c'mere,” Tony cooed softly, opening up his arms and taking Peter in into a loving and comforting embrace.

Peter melted into the embrace and cried softly, shaking, but still steadied by the strong embrace. He felt a little more okay just then.

“I’m so embarrassed and ashamed..”

“Of what? There is nothing to be ashamed of when you’re you. You are the most remarkable kid I’ve ever met, and I’m Tony Frickin’ Stark, I’ve met plenty of remarkable kids. So..That’s real saying something. There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

Peter couldn’t help the soft smile that laced his features.

“You’re going to be just fine, kiddo. We can go home and watch Rick and Morty, how’s that sound?” Tony offered, a warm smile playing on his face.

“The ‘home’ part is enough.” Peter chuckled shakily.

“Then I will deliver,” Tony promised, slinging an arm around his son’s shoulder as they commenced their journey home.

“I know, you always do.”

#peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spiderman homecoming #spiderman #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #dad tony stark #marvel #mcu #whump #sickfic #tw emeto #tom holland spiderman #prompts

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sweetbunpura · 7 years

Text

Recovery Finale

A month had roughly passed since Ryuji had apologized and since then, the others had worked out a way to help the werewolf speak. Futaba and Makoto dug through books in the library before they came across a series of books on Sign Language. Ryuji caught on quickly to the teachings and eventually the blond could hold a conversation without using paper. Currently, the hunter and the werewolf were taking requests from the residents in Pyramid City. Ryuji had been taking the cool air of the palace for granted as he and Akira strolled through the desert. Despite the protective clothing, the werewolf felt like he was burning alive. A soft chuckle caught his attention and his head jerked up to glare tired daggers at the laughing prince.

“Something wrong, Ryuji?”

Ryuji shook his hands out of the sleeves and signed out. ‘Too much heat.’

“You’ll get used to it.”

‘Dude, I don’t think so.’

Akira let out another soft chuckle and Ryuji pouted, fighting the urge to kiss away the smile on the raven’s face. Eventually, the pair reached a set of heavy stone slab locked doors carved into the side of one of the canyons. Akira carefully unlocked it and waited for Ryuji to step inside before relocking it. The depths of Mementos was… disturbing. Red veins decorated the walls of the hidden area and seemed to go in and out of the ground. The room was dimly lit with red colored webs that pulsed as if the walls were alive and breathing. Murmurs of indescribable whispers echoed throughout Mementos and brought an unnatural chill with it.

A shiver ran through Ryuji body and the blond unconsciously curled in on himself. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and he turned to see Akira giving him a concerned look.

‘Creepy.’ Ryuji signed and made a spinning motion with his finger. ‘Is it normally like this?’

“Yeah.” Akira made his way down the quiet hallway. “Morgana and I tend to avoid it.”

‘So, why did you take me instead?’

“You’re strong and I like spending time with you.” Akira replied with a soft smile.

Ryuji huffed and rub the back of his neck as they continued to travel further in. The whispers seem to get louder the more they travel and Ryuji wishes his ears didn’t pick up on every little sound. It got darker until the nearby bright orbs no longer worked and the only light was coming from the pulsing veins and Ryuji’s yellow eyes. Akira held Ryuji’s hands and the werewolf froze at the sudden contact.

“Sorry, it’s too dark in here. I hope you don’t mind me clinging to you.”

Ryuji shook his head rapidly, thanking the darkness for hiding his blushing cheeks. When the reach one of the lower, better lit floors, Akira lets go of the blond’s hand and digs through his pockets for the requests. Ryuji leans against the wall and watches him, perfectly content with the somewhat quiet atmosphere until an unearthly chill runs down his spine. Akira must’ve felt it too since he quickly unsheathed his daggers just as Ryuji pulls out his hammer. A couple of ghouls rushed out from the darkness and made a beeline towards the prince. Ryuji quickly moved to intercept them and slammed the four pronged side of his weapon into the closest monster, sending it flying into the ghouls behind it. Akira swiftly dealt with the ones that emerged from the other side of the hallway.

“I think they were waiting for us.” The hunter says as he throws one of the ghouls to the ground before kicking it into one of the advancing monsters.

Ryuji couldn’t give an answer as he dealt with another hoard of ghouls that jumped him. He thrust the flat end of the warhammer to clear the way and grabbed one of the spirits that had managed to climb on his back. Ryuji was so wrapped up in the battle of the flesh eating monster that he nearly missed the chilling sound of chains rattling. His head whipped around and his eyes widen upon see the glistening end of a gun barrel pointed at a distracted Akira. He couldn’t grab the prince’s attention in all this mess and Ryuji wished he could speak again. The gun clicked and Ryuji felt the blood drain from his body.

Akira! Dammit!

What’s stopping you form speaking, Lad?

Who are-

The one you love is about to die and you’re not speaking up.

I can’t.

You can’t or you won’t?

I can’t talk.

Can’t or won’t?

I can’t!

Can’t or won’t?

I can’t! You’re not listenin’!

Ryuji shook his head and beat back a few of the ghouls before running towards Akira.

You won’t reach him in time.

Shut up.

You’re gonna lose him.

Shut up.

He’s going to die and all because… You. Won’t. Talk.

Shut up!

Moments of the journey and the blond’s recovery flashed in the werewolf’s mind, he still had a lot to tell the raven. A dreaded feeling settled in his stomach as he opened his mouth.

“Akira! Behind you!”

Ryuji’s voice was raspy from unused, but it managed to reach the prince. Akira’s eyes widen as he looked at the blond before turning to dodge the aimed gun just as it fired. The ghouls fled as the bullet found its way into one of their own. The raven rushed forward and grabbed Ryuji’s hand.

“Wh-what are you?”

“We’re saving this for another day.” The hunter answered. “I wasn’t expecting Reaper to appear.”

The pair ran to the entrance as the sound of chains rattling grew closer and closer until Ryuji could swear that Reaper was right on top of them. They managed to escape where Akira quickly locked the door behind them before slumping onto the sand. Ryuji panted as he sat against one of the boulders nearby, his hand rubbed tenderly as if he couldn’t believe that he had just spoke. Akira said nothing as he got up and walked over to the werewolf, Ryuji timidly raised his brown eyes to look up at him.

“Ak-“ A pair of lips hastily placed themselves against his.

Ryuji made a noise of surprise at the sudden kiss before slowly wrapping his arms around the prince. Akira broke away and tenderly placed his hands on the blond’s cheeks, a soft smile was on his face.

“You can talk. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t get to hear your voice again.” Akira placed his forehead against the lycanthrope. “I’m so happy.”

“S-so am I.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight embrace. “I wanna tell you somethin’.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you… Sorry, I took so long to say it.”

“It’s okay. I love you too, Ryuji.”

#p5 #pegoryu #akiryu #werewolf ryuji #bounty hunter akira #thorn writes #AYWTSYA?

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seashellkittyatsunset · 7 years

Text

Home is Where the Heart Is

The sunlight beating down from the heavens was harsh against Ignis’ back as he ran, dodging around a couple of bushes that had the nerve to be growing in his path. Duscae was quite the beautiful region when things weren’t so hectic but that wasn’t the case this day. He could feel his panic building and try as he might it was hard to stifle. His heart was thundering in his chest and his head was throbbing from the exertion. It was supposed to have been a good day, spent with friends and family at their yearly camping trip, yet it had turned into this disaster.

“Dude! Slow down!” A voice called out to the harried man and he turned, nearly colliding with a low branch in his haste. His old friend, Prompto, was hurrying to catch up with their older friend, Gladio, right on his heels. Ignis finally came to a stop as the other two reached him and all three of the companions paused to catch their breath.

“Man, I thought I was a fast runner!” gasped Prompto, bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees and wiping his scruffy chin.

“He’s giving you a run for you money, that’s for sure.” Gladio huffed along with them, running a hand through his hair, part of which had come out of his ponytail. “Iggy’s a man on a mission. Doesn’t get more serious than that.”

“Quite right, which means we must keep moving.” Ignis was irritated at having had a delay, the trail growing colder with every second, and went to go back to his chase when a strong hand grabbed his right arm. Looking with his good eye, he could see it was Gladio.

“We’ll find ‘em Iggy, but don’t run yourself ragged looking for them. We’re as worried as you are.” Though both he and Ignis bore similar troubled looks on their faces, Gladio was right. It would not be good to be in a frothing state at this moment.

“Yeah! With us on the case it’ll be a cinch!” A smile cracked Prompto’s mien as he finally stood upright, throwing the two of them a thumbs up.

“Right…” Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, Ignis shoved his shades back up on his nose and squinted around, Prompto and Gladio doing the same. The brightness was not doing him any favors and was hurting his eyes something fierce; especially his left one which had just recently regained its sight. He closed it in hopes it would diminish the pain but kept his right eye open, searching. Finally he spotted a scrap of cloth lazily waving in the breeze off of a bush’s limb and hurried to grab it. Studying the flowery pattern, he knew they were on the right track.

“This way! And don’t dally!” Ignis took off towards the thicker part of the forest with his comrades following close behind. They had spent the next couple of minutes running north until the scared kwehs of a chocobo and shouts of children reached their ears. His heart plummeting into his feet, Ignis was the first to break through the tree cover to the scene now unfolding.

A vicious pack of Coeurls had cornered three black chocobos towards an outcropping of rocks, the birds trying to keep them away with angry squawks and pecks. Hidden behind the mounds were several mops of hair just barely visible over the top, trembling in fear. Jet blacks, dirty blondes, light brown, silvery blondes…

With a roar, Gladio unstrapped his greatsword from his back and charged at the cats, taking a huge swipe at the group to make them scatter. Prompto wasn’t too far behind, unholstering his pistols with a steely look in his blue eyes as he started firing to further disrupt the pack. Ignis leapt into the fray last with a snarl, whipping out his daggers and expertly hitting the eye socket and neck joint of one of the offending animals and fully capturing the beasts’ attentions. They worked together like a well-oiled machine as they effectively dismantled the animals’ own unity, their years of experience hunting and fighting giving them the advantage. A well-aimed kick from Prompto sent a Coeurl staggering where Ignis awaited, his daggers giving off a flash as they sliced through the cat’s jugular. Seeing its brother’s fall, another was ready to pounce at the man’s exposed back before a gigantic blade came slicing through its spine, bisecting it clean in two as Gladio came up from the side. Within minutes of the fight starting it had ended, the dead bodies of the pack lying strewn across the clearing and the comrades standing none the worse for wear.

Several curious heads soon popped up from behind the rocks, and seeing that the coast was clear and the three men that had come to save them, the kids rushed out all at once with their chocobo guardians following to greet their rescuers.

“Daddy!” Two raven haired children were quickly swept up into Gladio’s embrace, the man giving them a huge bear hug with his sword planted forgotten in the ground.

“Pops!” Twin blondies tackled their father Prompto to the dirt, with him barely having enough to time holster his guns before his girls were on top of him laughing.

“Papa!” The remaining three, two sliver-blondes and one brunette, were encircled in Ignis’ arms in a warm embrace, his daggers safely strapped back to his legs. He crouched on his knees and buried his face into them, his heart finally relieved of its stress. The chocobos gave happy kwehs and nuzzled their masters along with the kids, ruffling their feathers in contentment now that the danger had passed.

“Just what were you all doing out here?” Ignis looked down at his children, searching their faces for answers. His oldest, Lucie, was the first to speak up.

“We’re really sorry, Papa…” she pouted, her green eye shining in apology while the other was covered by her eyepatch. The scrap of fabric he had found had belonged to her skirt, and he was grateful to see that his daughter was otherwise unharmed. She shoved some of her silver blond hair out of her face before she continued. “We were just taking Ebony, Midnight, and Blacky out for a ride when those Coeurls jumped us and the chocobos just took off…”

“Yeah, but you sure showed them jerks what for, Daddy!” Belladonna, Galdio’s daughter, piped up from the shelter of her dad’s arms with a grin. Her older brother, Ratree, shushed her quickly. “Sissy! Don’t use a bad word!” She was quick to respond with her tongue out before earning a stern look from Galdio.

“You rascals gave us one heck of a scare, that’s for sure.” He sighed, ruffling their hair before setting them down and sheathing his sword onto his back once more. He then picked them both up again with one arm, depositing them onto Midnight and grabbing the reins.

“Awe, we didn’t mean ta!” Lillith frowned, her and her twin Cuprum having already clambered off of Prompto, allowing him to get up.

Cuprum had her arms crossed, nodding in agreement with her sister. “Shucks, it’s not like we WANTED to scare ya n’ the uncles, Pops.”

“We know, but that doesn’t make us any less worried about you kids.” Prompto huffed, helping his girls onto the back of Blacky who trilled quietly in preparation to return to their camp. “I swear, your mom was about to whack me with a wrench for letting you guys outta my sight…”

“Auntie Cindy must’ve been kidding!” Ignis’ second child, Julian, was looking incredulous as he spoke, glancing down at his father for reassurance from the saddle on Ebony. He was practically the spitting image of the man, right down to the way he arched his eyebrow inquisitively. Except for his silvery hair, which he had inherited from his mother. “Right, Papa?”

Ignis, letting out a small groan as he placed his youngest, Fraxinea, onto Ebony’s back behind her brother, just smirked at his son. “I’m afraid not, Julian. Your mother had much of the same sentiments and would have used her lance to skewer me, if she hadn’t been, ah, “indisposed” at the moment.” He chuckled, knowing that Aranea would’ve still done it anyways had he not taken off with Gladio and Prompto at that moment.

“Is Orpheus giving her trouble again, Papa?” Lucie furrowed her eyebrows together and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “He really needs to be born soon so he can stop giving Mama so much grief.” The oldest out of all the children, she always made it her business to look after everyone and so was maturing as quickly as her father did when he was her age, speech patterns and all.

“He will come when he is ready, my dear.” Ignis gave her a kiss on the cheek, and took the lead of Ebony, guiding the small group back out of the forest.

“At least Cereus isn’t doing that to our mom now!” Belladonna said in reference to her and Ratree’s youngest brother, who had just been born not a month ago. Ratree elbowed her and they nearly broke into a fistfight until Gladio stopped them.

“ENOUGH, you two. Save the sass for when we get back to the campsite…” His long legs were keeping an even stride in the direction of the haven, though he was exasperated at his children’s usual antics.

The warmth of the sun’s rays bathed them as they made their way towards their encampment at a much more leisurely pace than moments before. Ignis couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his children chattering on top of their ride. Fraxinea could only babble along with her siblings, her brown ponytail swinging in time with Ebony’s strides. In no time they were back to safety, the rest of their loved ones coming to greet them. Cindy instantly chastised Prompto whilst smothering their twins, causing him to just sheepishly apologize. Belladonna and Ratree cooed over their baby brother Cereus with their cousins Jared and Amaryllis begging them to come and play as their parents Iris and Talcott watched with matching grins. Gladio got a soft hug from his wife in gratitude for the rescue and a genuine smile from Cor for a job well done. Aranea lastly hobbled over to her small family, Biggs and Wedge close behind, and they along with the children devolved into a pile of hugs with Ignis in the middle.

The scarred man counted his blessings as he pulled his wife close, feeling their son kick his side from within her; surrounded by the most precious people in his life. Giving Aranea a soft kiss and seeing the sunlight dance in her eyes as she laughed, perhaps he had been too harsh the sun…

#ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis x aranea #prompto x cindy #I took Iggy and Aranea's kids names from several of my fav fics about them so I hope the authors don't mind!#And yes I left Galdio's wife ambiguous since he is involved with someone in the World of Ruin but we dunno who #I still lowkey ship Gladio and Gentiana but because of the story I still dunno xD #And I have Iris and Talcott together because I think they'd be adorable #Also it'd be the same kind of age gap between them like Ignis and Aranea and they're adults so I think it's fine #Ok rant over hope you liked this!#The conclusion kicked my ass lol #Oh! I also had each of the guys name at least one of their kids with night themed names to honor Noctis :3 #TabbyCatScribbles

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

We’ll Be Ok, And I Swear, Only One Of Us Is Lying - Phic Phight

Prompt Creator: @burning-clutch Prompt: Hero's hero. Phantom always saves the day while Fenton is seen as the wuss and a failure. When the pressure gets to much someone unexpected helps cheer him up. Summary: Sometimes Danny needs help to see the shades of gray between all the black and white.

Warning: depression, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, suicidal, gore, injuries, blood, violence, self-sacrificing, regret, there's a voice in his head and he's listening, immortality is a curse, the kids are not ok.

(season 3 doesn’t apply)

He skilfully slides his sweater sleeve over his bandaged hand, as his two friends join him by his locker.

“Been pretty quiet ghost wise, huh?”, Sam nods at Tucker before turning to him, “yeah, you haven’t even called us once this week for even the Box Ghost. It’s almost worrying actually”.

“Well, hopefully, it’s just that they’ve mostly gotten the whole, don’t fuck with Amity or Phantom, message. It’s been two years after all, makes sense they’d slow down”, he gives his friends a loose smirk, ignoring the little voice in his head.

That’s a lie, it’s worse than ever.

He knows his sister would worry if she knew just how good he’d gotten at hiding a limp, as he heads to class with his friends. He’s been easing into this slowly, his decision to ease his friends out. Out of ghost fighting, out of danger, and out of all the worrying. It’s no life for normal teens, and the only thing not basically normal about his friends was them playing sidekick to a superhero half ghost. Without that, they’ll get to be normal. Get to have lives and futures outside of his duties. And they should get to have that, so he’ll give it to them; even if they never realise he’s doing it.

So he’s been slowly calling them up for fights, research or a fix-up; less and less. Only ever bringing them to the easier fights, filled with plenty of puns and witty banter. And never ever telling them about any of the newer ghosts, the ones that seem to feed off death and destruction, that only want to see him hurt. Now he’s hiding most injuries entirely, unless he can blame it on his own clumsiness. Even if he isn’t actually clumsy anymore, he’s sure his friends don’t know that though. There have been over twenty ghost attacks in the last four days and they only know of two. One that was televised and another he told them, because he’s not a fool. Knowing full well there’s no way they’d believe that there had been zero ghosts. Also knowing that if he only told them about the televised fights, they’d clue in that something was up.

“So dude, want to enjoy the, most likely short-lived, break for a movie marathon?”, he would absolutely love to; Zone knows he could use the break. But he knows full well this marathon will run well past ghost hour, when the nasty ones come out. He can’t afford to not be patrolling for them or having to allow his friends to tag along to the fight. The nasty ghosts actually aim to kill, they don’t want fear or to mess around; like the ghosts his friends know of. These ones are only content with staining their forms with blood and ectoplasm.

“Naw, I think I’m going to say hi to ClockWork. See if somethings actually up, if he even gives me a proper answer anyway”, he shakes his head and chuckles while Sam rolls her eyes at him. “You should be enjoying the break Danny, but you’re self-sacrificial to a fault. Though, I think we’ll both have to pass on joining you. You two might get along but CW is a bit...much”. Which is exactly the reason he used him as an excuse, knowing his friends would join him on patrol if he said that’s what he was doing.

How very manipulative, Vlad would be so proud.

He covers his ghost sense up in class but duplicates, keeping his duplicate invisible the whole time. It’s a skill he mastered in his room, he doesn’t really care about people knowing he’s leaving. He just knows that his friends will know what’s up, if he asks to go to the bathroom. It makes him weaker and distracted, but it’s worth it for their safety and eventual easing into a normal, ghost fighting free, life.

He doesn’t really pay attention to his next two classes as he’s more focused on the fight with some hundred eyes horned cat. He knows Jazz would also worry about him if she knew how tolerant of pain he really was, as he hardly even flinches either bodies as Phantom gets gored. Making sure Phantom keeps the brunt of injury so Fenton does bleed through his shirt.

Standing next to his locker, his friends never even notice an invisible Phantom phasing his medical supplies out as they talk with Fenton.

“Obviously tell us if CW’s got anything useful. But dude, leave out the riddles. For our sanities sake”, Tucker rubs his temples as if to prove a point. While he laughs at Tuckers’ antics, “yeah whatever Tuck, he’s not so bad you know”. Earning eyerolls from both his friends. All the while, Phantom is stitching up a hole in his chest and wrapping it loosely with gauze.

“It’s not just the riddling, Danny. He’s just so distant, hard to read, and secretive. Even towards us”, Sam frowns and shakes her head almost sadly.

Just like you are, they just don’t know it

ClockWork doesn’t care what they think, so he has no problem coming off as such. Danny, however, does care. So he tells just enough, keeps up with the jokes, and gives the truth as he finds safe. His goal is having them as just friends, Fenton’s friends, not kicking them out of his life altogether. And certainly not having them as Phantom’s sidekicks. They’re just too breakable, like every other one of his regular humans. If he had it his way, Valerie would cut it out too; but there’s no cutting her off from it. Just like him really, so he’s not even going to try.

Waving goodbye to his friends, as he goes out to do what he actually needs to do. He knows his sister hates it, but being Phantom trumps his grades everyday. He’s honestly happy she’s off at university now, not getting caught up in his everything. She pays way too much attention and there’s no way seeing him injured isn’t hurting her. He’ll feel a lot better when Sam and Tucker head off as well. He’s not really sure what will become of his friendship with them after they go though.

Flying invisibly at an even pace past buildings, he watches his town and his humans. Everything going about it’s life as it should be, not consciously aware of his current presence. Though, everyone in town knows about their personal ghostly protector. It does sting him a little seeing them live normal human lives, close friends playing with no cares, lovers kissing as they enjoy fine treats, and parents swinging their kids around. All stuff that’s just simply not in his future, his future is this; patrolling the skies, fighting villains, and gettting hurt.

Don’t forget lying and hiding. Playing a big game of pretend. Pretend you’re just the vigilant hero. Pretend you’re just a weak timid human. Pretend you’re not hurt. Pretend you're happy. Pretend you’re ok.

He watches the sun finally set, before snapping his head to the side as his ghost sense goes off. Flying off to fight another fight, take another hit, and add another scar. He’s not entirely sure how no one ever notices them, as they pepper most of his body now. His face and soles of his feet are two of the few places with very few. Everyone, even him, is instinctually protective of their heads. This rings true as he takes a hit with his forearms to protect his face, slamming into a wall before being pierced through by the ghost's tail. He doesn’t care that his vision becomes blurry for a while, he doesn’t care that his ectoplasm drips down off his foot, he doesn’t care that he ran out of bandaging yesterday.

It’s not like your pain means anything, you deserve it.

Capturing the ghost, as he floats softly to the ground; only wobbling slightly as his feet touch down. It’s hard, all of this. But it’s his fate and he accepts that. Even at times like this, when he feels like he’s falling apart into tiny star shaped pieces. In a sense he really is, as he struggles to hold in all the shredded bits of organs. Groaning has he leans against a wall, part of him wants to laugh but that would take energy he just doesn’t have anymore. He reserves whatever he has to things more important than what he wants for himself.

Besides, you like the pain. It tells you you’re alive. It’s not like anything else does, even this body says you’re a dead man walking.

He gets only seconds of reprieve before there’s another fight to be faced. Taking a bedsheet from inside a ruined store window and wrapping it around him like an over sized belt. Pushing off the ground towards where he’s called. By the time the sun is peaking its face up, 7 more have been fought. He’s not sure if he can really feel his limbs anymore, without the weight of gravity it’s hard to tell if they’re there.

Why care anyways? If you’re weak enough to lose them, then it’s your fault.

All that confirms his right legs existence is it getting suddenly yanked on by a long whip-like tongue; sending him smashing into the street below. But the bright flash of purple ectoplasm and the going off of a thermos, tells him there’s no more fight to be had.

You know the grounds always comfy so you’ll just wait for the next fight, and the next after that. No need to move now.

Staring up at the sky as a shadow falls across him.

“Are you going to get up?”, Valerie hovers on her board looking down at Phantom. Who’s just laying on the ground, normally she’d love the opportunity at an easy shot; but that seemed really cheap to take right now. He’s missing an arm and leg, and she’s sure that shredded fabric used to be off white.

“There’s nothing more for me, so just leave me lying here”, he’s not really talking to anyone in particular. And his vision’s not really up to the task of watching her as she moves towards him, and his mind can’t be bothered to care.

She likes taking shots at you, and you always give her the pleasure of doing so. You destroyed her life, brought her into this; it’s the least you can do.

Part of her really does want to just shoot him but she can’t help but think he looks like a half-drowned mutt that’s letting itself be eaten by wolves.

Gliding closer to his face, she can see the blank expression. One she’s not really used to seeing on him, that’s more than enough to tell her something is up. “You look like shit, Phantom”

He can’t help but feel she looks the same, she looks more like him every day. Another scar, another poking out bloodied bandage, another clearly sleepless night.

Because you didn’t get to the fight first, because you failed to discourage her, because maybe you want someone else to be like you. How selfish.

Letting his eyes move to her battered arm, and the blood he can see leaking out of her helmet. A harsh dark red to offset his toxic bight green. He knows he said he wouldn’t try to stop her, that it was an unwinnable battle. But he’s never been one to turn from a fight, even when there’s no chance left to succeed. “Why? Why do you keep doing this? You could be normal, you have family. A real home. So why?” Looking to the skies as he mutters, “nothing bad will happen if you stop or change”.

But that’s not the case for you, is it? Everyone will die and you know it. And what will happen then? You know. You’ve seen it.

“Because I have to. Because I want to. Because it’s in me to do”, she knows these words mean something to him. She knows these are his reasons too, even if she’s sure his are founded in some ghostly obsession rather than true good.

He watches her suit, knowing how it flows through her veins like the ectoplasm in his.

You really did a number on her didn’t you? Just like you, her veins were changed by your foolish mistakes.

“No one will die or hurt, you know. I’ll be here, always. It’s my place to take the hits. Not yours”

It’s not like you’re breakable, not like her. She won’t be better tomorrow, though are you ever actually better? But why care? The world knows you don’t deserve to be, after everything you’ve done. They’re here because of you, they attack because of you, they hurt people because of you. It’s your fault.

Sometimes he regrets walking into that portal. The gift or curse of half-life wasn’t worth the cost. And it will be costing him, the world, and everything in it; till forever.

And you’ll take it all, forever. There’s always another fight, another burden to bear, another life to save. That’s how your world works, the day it stops is the day you crumble apart into nothing. So you’ll keep paying the toll, you’ll keep slipping father; because you don’t have any reason not to.

“Pain is no ones place. Especially not alone”, she pauses as she too realises how cut off and alone she’s become. The closest she has to friends are her ex’s friends and her father resents her every choice. She dares not bring anyone near, lest they get caught in her crossfire’s. Clueing in that that’s what he’s doing to her, right now. Trying to push her away and out of his crossfire’s.

“Get up you stupid ghostly hero”, she cups her hand under her helmet to gather and stop the flow of blood from it. Watching him, she knows he let himself be hurt so much and she knows those wounds should kill any living thing.

As she’s taking in the hurt he's endured, genuinely doubting her belief that he must not feel pain, he lays acutely aware of it. Of each piece of jabbing concrete, the shards of glass in his foot, the organs completely out of place, the sting of fire burnt eyes, the torn ligaments, the wailed raw throat.

Pain is always your place. You’ve earned it. What else is there for a ghost in the shell of a- “did? Did you just call me a hero?”, he speaks as her words finally worm their way into his thick, with the numbing syrup of pain, brain.

“Yes, you moron. That’s what you are. And heroes never stop. So stop stopping”. She watches as he laughs loudly for a few seconds before it turns to tears. While she hovers awkwardly with her hands to her chest. Unsure of what to do with the ghost, no fellow ghost hunter, no hero; who appears to be having a mental break down in front of her.

Making her choice as she lets him stand, teeter and fall against her left side. The ectoplasm from his torn off arm dripping down her back. She pays it no mind as she slowly slides to the ground with him; his one leg giving out.

“How long have you been living in the rain?”, she pulls him to sit on her board, noticing how he neither seems to care nor notice. She feels like she’s moving around a ball-jointed doll and in a sense she is. His words are permeated by a hollow laugh, “when haven’t I?”.

Groaning against her shoulder, “no need for you to join me. And yet...”. He’s not about to deny that her warm shoulder and metal board feels like a sturdy island in a sea of hurt. He forgets he’s supposed to be a hero sometimes, not just a shield that can fight back.

He feels, more so than sees, her shake her head, “you can’t join someone in their rain. It’s a place for you and you alone. I would know. I’m just going to drag you out, like you did for me”. She knows she nearly drowned in her rain when she lost it all. Ghost fighting saved her, and he’s why she did it, even she’s starting to think her blame was misplaced. Seeing him now, she can see he’s crashing; but not even bothering to flail as he’s starting to drown. Reminding her that everyone needs someone, reminding her she can’t push everyone away, reminding her that she’s not a just shield herself, reminding her that she’s a hero too.

“What? How have I ever made you better?”, he finds it hard to believe that he’s caused her anything but hurt. But maybe, just maybe, he’s to blame for something that’s actually good. Or maybe he’s to blame for a lot of things that are good.

“You gave me a life worth living and then slapped me back to reality. The reality that we can’t do this on our own. Everybody hurts, it’s ok to take a shoulder, to give a shoulder. Having to let people in and that’s ok. Even heroes, and that’s ok too”, as she speaks he can’t help the slide show of smiles he sees filtering over his eyes. A child holding a balloon he just saved, a old lady aggressively offering him free food just so his face will reflect her smile back at her, a father who’s secretly thanking him for making him late to work, a kitten goofily batting at his nose as he carries it out of a tree, a young teen on a bridge who changes their mind at the sound of his otherworld laughter. A genuine laugh he forgot how to do; that he didn’t even know he’d forgotten.

Sensing that he’s lost in his head, she speaks quietly, knowing how good another’s quiet or silent presence can be. Sometimes all you need is someone to simply exist in your space, no questions asked and no expectations given. “We’re glowing stars racing through the skies, but even stars never shine or burn alone. And they’re what makes space beautiful, they can destroy sure but they’re peoples guides. When all the world’s vast knowledge and technology fails, the stars are still there; mapping out the skies. Helping is in their very nature and in everything they do. Of course, you helped me be better, it’s not just the people below them that the stars help; but their fellow stars as well. Constellations aren’t completed alone”, she’s always known him to have a thing for the stars. The way he looks at them and can forget all troubles when in their presence, makes that clear to her.

He can’t help but smile deeper, as his mind goes to the night sky. One which he seldom really gets to enjoy between all the fights nowadays. “Well, I’ll never burn out. I am immortal after all, Red. So I’ll always be a little black and white star. I’ve got all of time, for as long as I am needed”, he can feel her deep laugh in her back as he rolls to lean his against hers. Her board hovering a foot off the ground as both their feet dangle off either end.

“Well, don’t forget there’s a red one up there too. Even if my time is limited. Careening through the skies and space, burning heroes, glowing stars. And we’ll both keeping drawing in more of varying colours, into our constellation. Till it’s so grand that nothing could even dare harm our earth or its people”, she’s not sure he even heard all she said; soft as it was. As she hears him murmuring, while falling softly to sleep. Sleep she knows he shouldn’t need but clearly does and has clearly been missing, “and one day, no one will be left to be my hero”.

As the two sit on Valerie’s board, battered bodies back to back. She slowly goes wide-eyed as she realises something, she can feel Phantoms’ heartbeat through his back. Though never noticing the amethyst star and turquoise star watching as the black and white member of their constellation of three, now truly grown to four, slowly starts to pull himself back together.

End.

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