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khoicesbyk · 3 years

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Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 3,040 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: On My Mind/Burn/Love Me Like You Do-Ellie Goulding | | | | | |

Tag List: @choiceslady @shewillreadyou @bebepac @queenjilian @txemrn @pixie88 @lucy-268 @hopefulmoonobject @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here

Chapter 8.) Love Me Like You Do.

You're the light, you're the night. You're the color of my blood. You're the cure, you're the pain. You're the only thing I wanna touch. Never knew that it could mean so much, so much.

You're the fear, I don't care. 'Cause I've never been so high. Follow me through the dark. Let me take you past our satellites. You can see the world you brought to life, to life.

It had been a week since her first dream about Trent.

And Naia was sleeping in Roman’s arms, dreaming about Trent again. They were running through the woods together with reckless abandon. They were wolves. Bounding through the woods on all fours. And when Naia reached the edge of the woods she looked back to see if he was still behind her, but she saw nothing but darkness. She didn’t know where he was. She frantically looked around for him but he was gone. When she called out to him he never responded.

That’s when she woke up gasping for air and in a cold sweat. Something that hadn’t happened since coming to Hunt’s Peak. She had just sat up and was getting her head out of the fog it was in, when she felt Roman’s hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Beloved?” He asks.

“Huh? Yeah. I-I’m okay.” She replied trying to downplay how and what she was feeling.

“Your heart is racing. Are you sure that you’re okay?” He asked.

“Yes. It was just a nightmare. I promise I’ll be fine.” She replies.

Roman knew something was wrong but he decided not to press the issue.

“You should rest Beloved.”

“I will. No need to worry.”

She grabbed Gino from off the floor and snuggled him close as Roman’s arms wrapped around her.

“Not so tight!”

Roman raised his head.

“You’ll squish Gino.”

He groaned.

“I do not understand why you are so attached to that thing.”

“Well if you didn’t want me to have him…you shouldn’t have given him to me.”

She snickered as he rolled his eyes. She settled in his arms and was soon fast asleep.

So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do.

Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do.

What are you waiting for?

The next morning Naia was with Layla helping her with laundry for the Pack.

“Thank you so much for the help. It would’ve taken me hours to get all this done.” Layla told her.

“No problem. I’m surprised that the Pack believes in washing machines.”

“You do NOT want to know how hard it was or how long it took me to convince them.”

The two shared a laugh as they folded blankets. When Naia reached for one another blanket, Layla cautioned her.

“You might want to be careful with that one.”

“Why?” Naia asks.

“Because that one is Roman’s.” Layla replies.

“Ohhhhhh.”

“Yeah. He rarely lets me wash it.”

“Why? It’s just a blanket.”

“It was his mother’s. It never leaves the den unless he allows it.”

“He told me about her. Sounds like he really loved her.”

“Yeah he did and still does. Roman is the quintessential mama’s boy.”

Naia laughed.

“Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

“Good. Because he’d be pretty pissed at me if he knew I said that about him.”

“Even if it’s true?” Naia asked.

“Especially because it’s true!” Layla replies.

The two shared another laugh.

“Tell me about his mother. All I know is that her name is Delia.”

Layla went quiet as she considered how to answer.

“Ms. Delia was a joy to be around. She was fair and stern and always loving. Even after she married and mated with Roman’s father, she continued on to be a school teacher. She cared for the Pack. Maybe even more than Xander ever did. She was as protective as she was funny. She’s one of the reasons why I’m loyal to them as well.”

“Did she welcome you?” Naia asks.

“Oh yeah. She welcomed anyone to the Pack. Even though some Pack members thought it was a mistake.” Layla replies.

“Why would they think that welcoming others is a mistake?” She asks.

“Because the Pack is an old guard. And many believe in its old and kinda outdated ways. Many of the werewolves, especially some of the elders only look at humans like us as a means to an end. But to some like Callum and Roman, humans are and always will be welcomed and loved. Just like Ms. Delia taught them.” Layla replies.

“How was she with Roman?” Naia asks.

“She loved Roman and his siblings. But, many whispered that she always favored him because he’s the oldest and her firstborn. She always knew how to tame her son. And when she died, it nearly killed him. He was closed off for a while. And as of late, he’s just been so absorbed in his role as Alpha.” Layla replied.

“I wish I had the chance to meet her.”

“She would’ve loved you.”

“You think so?” Naia asks.

“Yup. She was always a sweet woman. Even though she lived amongst the Pack.” Layla replies.

“What was his father like?” She asked.

“When you think of Xander, think of an older, stuffier and scarier version of Roman.” Layla replies.

“Yikes! Yikes! And triple yikes!”

“Yeah…compared to his father and especially how he ran the Pack, Roman is an angel.”

“Sheesh! I’m kinda sorry I asked. “

Once they were finished with the laundry, they stopped by the furniture store to pick up a few things for the den. Then went to the local boutique for themselves.

“I love this boutique so much. I just wish I could fit in the clothes.” Layla said in a wistful tone.

“I’m sure they’ve got something in here for you.”

“You see this?” Layla asks, pointing to her very pregnant belly. “Ain’t nothing in here fitting all of this.”

Naia rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“Buuuuuuut that doesn’t mean that we can’t find something for you.”

“You just want to live vicariously through me, don’t you?” Naia asked.

“Maaaaaaaybe.” Layla replied innocently.

“Uh huh…”

After picking out a few outfits that she really liked, Naia turned her attention to the lingerie in the boutique. Using Layla’s critical eye, she narrowed her choices down to two colors red and purple.

“Well you can’t go wrong with red. It’s a classic color for a reason. But then again I really like the purple one.”

Naia tried on both and showed Layla.

“Well damn Miss America! Who knew you could twirl like that?” She teased.

Naia rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“So…which one should I get?” Naia asked her.

“Split the difference and get both. Especially if you want to make Roman drool.” Layla replied.

“Oh no honey! Never buy lingerie for a man. Always do it for yourself. But you are right I think I’m gonna get both.”

“Of course I’m right! Now go pay for them so we can go get some food. We’re starving!”

After paying for her new clothes and getting food, Naia and Layla were back at the den rearranging and organizing the kitchen. With the Pack out on a hunt, Naia took the initiative to freshen the room she was given. She figured she’d deal with Roman and his opinion later. She had just finished redecorating the bedroom when he walked in.

“What did you do?” He asks.

“Made this more of a bedroom and less of a cold, sterile cave with a bed in it.” She replies.

He gives her a lopsided look.

“What? Gino likes it.”

“Gino can’t speak.”

“He still likes it.”

“Gino is a toy.”

“Well I say he likes it!” She huffed.

He shakes his head and smirks at her. She could feel his victory through their bond.

“How was the hunt?” She asked after clearing her throat.

“It was highly successful. How was your day in town?” He asks.

“Good. We got the laundry done and did a little shopping. Well I shopped, Layla watched.” She replies.

“What did you buy?” He asks.

“A little gift for myself.” She replies.

He raises an expectant eyebrow.

“If you must know, I bought lingerie.”

“Hmmmm I see.”

She watched Roman as he took a look at what she had done around the room. When his eyes fell on his mother’s blanket laying on the bed, his gaze softened. He sat down and held the blanket in his hands. She sat down next to him.

“Layla told me that it was your mother’s.”

“It was. She made it herself.”

“She was a quilter?” She asks.

“Yes. She was also a school teacher.” He replies.

“Layla told me that.”

“What else did Layla tell you?” He asks.

“That you really loved her and that you miss her.” She replies.

“She’s right. Mother was an angel. There isn’t a day where I don’t miss her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you Roman. Wherever she is.”

He smiled softly at her.

“Gino was right. What you’ve done is…nice.”

She chuckled softly before laying her head on his shoulder.

“If you don’t like it, I can always change it.”

“No. I want this to be as much of a home for you as possible. And if changing things around and adding things does that for you, I won’t protest.”

Fading in, fading out. On the edge of paradise. Every inch of your skin is a holy grail I've got to find. Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire. Yeah, I'll let you set the pace. 'Cause I'm not thinking straight. My head's spinning around I can't see clear no more. What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

She felt their bond swell as they sat together. She secretly loved seeing him be vulnerable with her. After a few moments, he put the blanket down.

“Will you come with me?” He asks her. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Sure. Where are we going?” She replies.

“You’ll see.”

He led her along the north side of the woods towards a field.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Just watch Beloved.”

Beside her Roman had transformed into his wolf form. After hearing him let out a commanding and slightly startling howl, she watched as a pack of actual wolves came through the tall grass. She counted at least 7 adult wolves as Roman changed back into his human form.

As they approached she hid behind Roman.

“Yipe!”

“They won’t harm you Beloved.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not take the chance of finding out.”

She watched him as he knelt down to greet the Alpha of the pack. The wolves greeted him like they were greeting an old friend. Roman nodded to the alpha to meet Naia.

“I promise you, you’re safe Beloved. Come meet Kuvo.”

Naia knelt beside him and held out her palm for Kuvo to sniff. After sniffing her palm, Kuvo walked around sniffing the rest of her before headbutting her shoulder affectionately.

“Hi Kuvo.” She said as he nuzzled her. Kuvo looked to his pack then the adults took off. Leaving the pups behind.

“Where are they going?” She asks.

“To hunt.” He replies.

“So we’re babysitting?”

“Yes. I thought you’d like to see what Gino would look like if he was real.”

“Look at you. Jealous of a toy.”

He rolled his eyes as they walked to where the pups were playing. As they got closer the pups ran to Roman, nearly tackling him when he sat down.

“You’re covered in pups. You know that right?” She said as she snickered. She sat down close to him and one of the smaller pups ran up to her.

“Hi there little one! You are absolutely adorable.” She said as she nuzzled the pup in her arms. She rubbed behind the pup’s ears as she watched the other pups climb all over Roman.

“You look natural Beloved.”

She blushed.

“Thank you.”

He nodded to the pups and they went from climbing all over him to swarming Naia.

He watched as she giggled and pups yipped.

“Oh my God! I should’ve been born an octopus because I clearly don’t have enough arms!” She said as she giggled and tried to pet and pick up as many pups as she could. When she finally got up and tried to walk away, the pups followed behind her.

“I feel like a mother!” She giggled.

“You look like one.”

Just then an adult wolf came out of the field. The pups ran straight to the wolf and led the wolf to them.

“Who’s that?” She asks.

“That’s their mother, Oma.” He replied.

He knelt in front of her then allowed her to nuzzle and lick him. When Oma turned to Naia, she was holding one of the pups. Oma cautiously walked towards Naia, who had her hand stretched out to her. Oma sniffed her hand then licked her palm. While the pup ran off to play with its siblings, Oma laid down next to Naia with her head in her lap.

“Hello Oma. Your pups are the cutest little things.” She said to Oma as they watched the pups play. She rubbed behind Oma’s ears Roman sat down on the other side of Oma.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you bring me here?” She asks.

“Because I wanted you to see why I protect these lands. These wolves are some of the most endangered in the country. And not just from SEP but poachers as well. It is my duty to protect them. And it’s getting increasingly difficult to do so.” He replies.

“Why is that?” She asks.

“Because if SEP gets their hands on this land, they’ll tear it all down to build mines. Which will drive Kuvo and his pack further away from here and right into the hands of poachers.” He replies. His tone hid a calm fury.

“They’d turn all of this into mines? What kind of mines?” She asks.

“Coal.” He replies.

Naia shuddered at his words.

“I hope you see why I must fight against these evils. I am Alpha. It is my job to protect and defend.”

“I do understand why you fight so hard.”

“I hope you will be at my side as I fight for this land.”

“As your mate you mean.”

Roman smirked.

“Yes. I would love for you to be my mate. But only if you want to be.”

Naia snuggled Oma as she considered his words. In the distance a howl was heard and returned by Oma and the pups.

“What’s going on?” She asks.

“It’s Kuvo. The hunt is over and was a success.” He replies as he looks out to the distance. Oma rises and goes with the pups to meet Kuvo and the other wolves. They watched as the wolves shared the kill.

“That’s a huge deer!” She exclaimed.

“Indeed. This is what it means to be an alpha. Kuvo excels at his duty as alpha.”

“So do you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Roman smiled softly at her. He noticed that she was shivering.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“Just a little bit.” She whispered.

She felt his arms wrap around her. He was trying to use his body heat to keep her warm.

“Thank you Roman. I feel better.”

“Good. Now come. It’s getting late and you should rest.”

“But I’m not—“ she said before letting out a giant yawn.

“You were saying?” He teased.

She huffed then smirked.

“I do miss Gino. He’s probably lonely without me.”

“Yes…I’m sure that a toy is very lonely.”

She snickered as they began to walk back to the den. As she crawled into bed, she saw Roman getting ready to leave.

“You’re leaving?” She asked.

“Yes. Do not worry I will be back.” He told her.

She felt her heart start to ache. She didn’t want to be away from him.

“Don’t go.”

“I must Beloved.”

“Stay with me.”

He sat across from her as she clung to Gino.

“Beloved…”

“Roman please…”

He could feel her yearning for him. To soothe her ache, he kissed her. She needed him. She was desperate for him. Her body wanted him. As the kiss deepened, she pulled him on top of her. Their limbs tangled with each other as the kiss intensified.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

I'll let you set the pace. 'Cause I'm not thinking straight. My head's spinning around I can't see clear no more. What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do). Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah). Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do. What are you waiting for? Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do). Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (oh). Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Roman had to force himself to stop kissing her.

“As much as I hate to stop, I must.”

“Okay…” she pouted.

“Get some rest Beloved. I will see you when you wake up.”

With a kiss to her forehead, Roman left and Naia was soon fast asleep.

She was soon dreaming again. She was dreaming about Trent again. She was dreaming about being in his arms. And being with him. She felt her heart tell her that Trent is her mate, the same way Roman is her mate. And when she woke up, she needed to know why. So she made it her mission to figure out what was going on with her heart.

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #wolf bride #alpha wolf

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fazbear-security · 4 years

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Secret Tunnels & Surprise Visits

Mike hadn’t had a week off in nearly two years, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

He’d slept as late as he could, but that had only taken him to 1pm, and most of his siblings had extra curricular activities that would keep them out until at least 6pm. His mother was working until at least then, when she picked up the kids, and Sasha’s curfew wasn’t until 11pm (and boy, did she wring it for every minute she could get). He’d tried cleaning up around the house, but that had only taken up part of his Thursday, and as much as his mother had appreciated his hard work, it hadn’t been enough to satisfy the itch in his idle hands.

The pizzeria was being renovated that weekend, and was closed from Thursday to the following Wednesday, so Mike had a good full six or seven days all to himself. Already out of things to do around the house after day one, he’d decided to tackle the one task he (and everyone else in the house) had been putting off for years.

Organizing the basement.

“You have a lot of stuff down here.” Puppet commented as he climbed up on top of an old gear locker shoved against the stairs. A pair of old workout gloves and a rolled up mat were still stuffed in it, along with a set of resistance bands. Mike made a point not to look at it. “Like, a LOT a lot.” The slender animatronic that had taken up residence under his bed poked at the curling edge of an old sticker on the side of the locker. “Don’t you guys throw anything out?”

“Does it look like it?” Mike asked rhetorically as he surveyed the mess. Where was the best place to start? Christmas ‘91? His old college stuff? That box of yearbooks that stretched all the way back to Tara’s freshman year of high school? “That’s what we’re down here to do today - pare down all this junk and get rid of the stuff we really don’t need.”

“That’s easier said than done…” Puppet eyed the mess from his perch up on the locker before jumping down, and curiously opening the nearest box. “You’ve got more stuff down here than the old location had in storage….oh!” The little animatronic leaned over the edge of the large box - almost falling in - before scrambling back out with a little box clutched in his striped fingers, and a wide smile on his mask.

“Hey! I remember these!!” He popped open the lid and ran a cloth fingertip over the enamel pins on the board inside while Mike picked another box in a stack across the room, and started to dig through it. “These are the commemorative pins from 1987! They had me give these to employees as a gift at a big party!” Puppet tilted his head curiously. “How’d they get down here?”

“The night shift isn’t the first time I’ve worked for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, you know.” Mike made a face at the musty books inside the box he’d chosen, and closed it back up. His mother still might want to donate these to the library - best to just set these aside, for now. “I spent a few months making pizzas for the other location across town before I went to college. I was out sick when that party happened, but management gave me those pins the next day.”

“You mean...we could’ve met sooner?” Puppet looked down at the old pins - at the cutesy, cartoony faces of Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, Foxy, and the pizzeria’s logo - and some of his smile faded. Mike looked up from the box of old clothes he was sorting through at the heavy silence, and frowned.

“Don’t...don’t think too much about it, Puppet.” He advised, folding an old shirt that had stopped fitting a decade ago and setting it aside. “You wouldn’t have liked me when I was eighteen, anyway. I was kind of an as-...uh...kind of a jerk.” He quickly amended. Puppet frowned, and put the lid back on the box before jumping up and sliding it on top of the locker. He was absolutely keeping that.

“So?” The animatronic moved to Mike’s side, and stood as high as he could to try and see into the clothing box. “I’ve dealt with sulky teenagers before.”

“I was a lot more than just ‘sulky’...” Mike winced. He’d been a jerk with a capital ‘J’ before he’d gone to college and gotten knocked off his pedestal. It was a miracle his parents had been able to put up with him for an entire year, honestly. “Be glad we met after I got my head on straight. It was for the best for both of us.” Puppet’s mask twisted into a frown, but Mike was determined for that to be the end of the topic, and moved the clothing box to get at the yearbooks beneath it.

“...huh?” Mike paused in the middle of opening the last box in the stack, and closed the flaps again to tilt it back, and get a better look at what had caught his attention. Puppet quickly perked up as the young man shifted the box across the floor, and off of a mysterious, rectangular shape still half-buried by all the clutter.

“Oh, cool! A secret door!” Puppet grabbed another stack of boxes and tried to push it off the shape, while Mike scratched his head in confusion.

“I...don’t remember this.” The human frowned, even as he helped Puppet to move the stack that weighed more than him. “I wonder if Mom or Dad knew about this?” He frowned as he cleared the last of the boxes off of what was now obviously some kind of old trapdoor. “Kind of seems like they tried to bury it.”

“Maybe it leads to a secret tunnel!” Puppet suggested eagerly. “Just like in that cartoon with the dog Pippa likes!” He started to bounce on his heels, and started to reach for the seam in the floor. “Let’s open it and see where it goes!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, Puppet!” Mike snatched the little animatronic up under one arm, and stepped back before he could get his striped fingers into the crack. “We can’t just open it!” He argued. “We have no idea what might be down there - there could be rats, or spiders, or-”

THUNK.

“......” Both Mike and Puppet froze at the sound, and looked down at the trapdoor. “.....that’s a big rat.” Puppet whispered. Mike slowly - quietly - stepped back from the trapdoor, and the sound came again, only louder. He dropped Puppet back to his feet, and the little animatronic quickly hid behind the human, and dug his striped fingers into Mike’s red jacket as they both nervously watched the trapdoor.

THUNK. THUNK.

Something pounded on the trapdoor from below - something big - and a small puff of dust was kicked up from the space. Mike looked around frantically for something he could use as a weapon, and snatched up a baseball bat from another pile of junk. Luis hadn’t used it since his high school days. Surely, he wouldn’t mind?

THUNK THUNK THUNK.

The trapdoor began to rattle, and Mike swung the bat up over his shoulder as the rusty lock creaked and bent. Finally, the old metal snapped, and the trapdoor was thrown open by-....by Chica?

Mike’s brain ground to a halt as the animatronic chicken mascot from his workplace popped up through his floor, looking around with a curious hum at the cluttered basement before she laid optics on him, and broke out into a wide, toothy smile.

“Hi, Mr. Schmidt!! How’d you get here?”

“.......” The baseball bat fell out of Mike’s limp hands, and clattered to the floor. Puppet flinched at the loud sound, but Chica didn’t seem to register the human’s obvious shock, and came up the rest of the stairs and into the basement.

“Guys!” She shouted back down the stairs. “Mike’s here!” Behind her, Bonnie’s ears appeared before the rest of him, and Foxy’s hook scratched at the edge of the trapdoor hole as he hauled himself up out of the tunnel that yawned beneath the basement floor. Mike sucked in a breath through his teeth as the pirate fox - and other figures that, in no way, should have ever been in his house - rose up from beneath the floor, and stretched his limbs.

“Aaarrr, ‘tis about time!” Foxy grumbled, leaning back as if to stretch out a kink in his spine. “We’ve been walkin’ fer hours! I thought we’d be ‘alfway t’ Tortuga by now!”

“We were only down there for twenty minutes, at best.” Bonnie argued as he climbed out. “Your internal clock must be broken!”

“Jus’ like th’ rest o’ me, ey?” Foxy turned an irritable glare upon the rabbit, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed the audience Bonnie had not. “Oh! Mike! How ye’ be, lad? Ain’t seen ye’ since Wednesday eve’!” Puppet looked up at the human he hid behind with wide eyes, and Mike found the presence of mind to lower his hands from their raised position.

“....you’re in my house.” He said eloquently. Bonnie and Foxy both tipped their ears forward, and looked around the basement.

“This be your house?” Foxy flipped up his eyepatch for a better look. “It be….uh….cozy?” Bonnie shook his head and smacked the fox on the arm.

“This isn’t the whole place, buckethead.” He scoffed. “There’s an upstairs, see?” He pointed to the basement stairs, and Mike looked over just in time to see Chica’s tailfeathers disappearing at the top. His heart skipped a beat or two.“This is just a basement!” The rabbit hopped over a box on the floor, and headed up the stairs himself. “Chica, wait for me!”

“I knew that!” Foxy huffed back with a lash of his tail. The basement started to feel a little small, and Mike pulled another breath in through his teeth. Oh, god. He’d had nightmares just like this, back when he’d first started on the night shift...except he wasn’t sleeping now. He was awake, and this was real-

“I, ah, don’t suppose I could get a hand?” Mike froze, and slowly looked back down at the trapdoor to see Freddy himself seemingly wedged in the stairway opening. Behind him, he could also see the glow from Sam’s LED hat band, somewhere back within the tunnel. “I’m not as slim as the rest of you, you know!” The bear admitted.

“Aye, let’s get’che out o’ there.” Foxy reached out with his good hand to grab Freddy’s and started to pull, with Sam - presumably - pushing from behind. After a few more seconds of staring, Puppet edged out from behind Mike to help. Mike, however, remained frozen in place, and a few shades paler than he probably should have been as he tried to comprehend how one of his darkest nightmares was becoming reality right before his eyes-

“Oh, wow!” Chica’s voice echoed from somewhere upstairs - somewhere on the second floor. “It looks like Parts & Services up here, only better lit! Bonnie, you have to come see this!”

“That’s my-! Oh no.” Mike’s eyes popped wide, and he finally broke out of his frozen stupor to bolt for the stairs, leaving Puppet, Foxy, and Sam alone to try and pry the pizzeria star out through the too-small trapdoor in the floor. “That’s my room! Don’t touch anything!”

He passed Bonnie in the living room, seemingly enamoured by the many framed photos hung up behind the couch, and nearly tripped running up the stairs before he caught himself on the banister. It wasn’t until he’d made it up to the landing and thrown open his bedroom door that Mike realized that he...had no real plan for confronting the animatronic inside. He froze again in the doorway, panting, and struggling for words as Chica ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed over the variety of drawings and unfinished projects strewn about his desk.

“Whoa!!!” Chica picked up a pipe-and-wire hand model that he’d given up on three months ago, and cradled it in her hands with the reverence of a child holding a coveted toy for the first time. “This is just like our endoskeletons! Mr. Schmidt, I didn’t know you could build things!”

“I-. Uh. Um.” The unexpected praise made it even harder for Mike to find his words, and he stumbled for an embarrassingly long time before he heard the creaking of the stairs, and felt a towering presence at his back.

“Oh, neat!” Bonnie pushed his way into the room, causing Mike to stumble forward, as well, and gleefully batted at the punching bag still hanging from the ceiling next to his bed. “Heheh, what’s this thing? Does it make noise?”

“No, it-. It doesn’t make noise.” Mike reached out a hand to stop the bag from swinging, and hoped the feeling of the synthetic leather against his hand would help snap him back to reality. It didn’t do much. “It’s for hitting.”

“Oh.” Bonnie seemed to lose interest at this answer, and turned to face Chica, who had moved on to looking at the posters and pictures hanging on the wall. “Oh!” Bonnie zeroed in on one in particular, and Mike winced internally. “Who’s this kid? I haven’t seen them at the pizzeria before.”

“Yeah, you have. That’s, uh.” Mike found himself wishing he’d never framed that dumb childhood photo. “That’s me.”

“That’s you?!” Bonnie and Chica both crowded around the frame, now, and Mike prayed to any deity listening that his floor would hold under them. “Aww! You used to be so cute!”

“Bonnie!” Chica gasped, and tweaked one of the rabbit’s ears. “That’s so rude! He’s still cute!”

“......” Mike pressed both hands over his face, and leaned back until he was sitting on his bed as the two animatronics began to squabble.

Maybe, if he just sat here for long enough, his brain would get tired of this nightmare, and he’d wake up?

#fnaf #fnaf fanfic #mun's writing #Mike Schmidt #Freddy #Chica #Bonnie #Foxy #Puppet #Safety Officer Sam

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nickelkeep · 4 years

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No Cheeseburgers in Paradise

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Teen, for some language Word Count: 5.7K Warnings: Sam POV, Canonverse Divergent after S8 Written For: nickel’s storytime On Ao3

Sam hadn't thought of having a place to set down roots in a very long time. Maybe when he had been with Jess, back at Stanford. But that was years ago, and his home had reverted back to pre-Jess, the back seat of the Impala, and motel rooms across the country. So the parting gift from their Grandfather was a strange surprise, to say the least.

At most, Sam had thought that it was just a warehouse in which the Men of Letters kept their magical relics and volumes of lore. He never expected it to be a fully functional base of operations. Bedrooms, Bathrooms, a Kitchen? That was not what Sam thought he would find as he explored the bunker.

Sam didn't expect to find Dean instantly claiming the place as home. In a matter of minutes, his older brother had claimed room eleven and started straightening it out. Dean even went as far hanging up his clothes in the modest closet, on long-forgotten hangers.

Seeing his brother's almost instant attachment to the bunker, Sam couldn't help but find a room, knowing that Dean wouldn't let him live it down if he didn't. He picked a bedroom that was as many spaces away from the bathroom as Dean's but in the opposite direction. If Dean wanted to settle in, Sam could use that to his advantage and make a physical separation from Dean as well.

The distance between rooms didn't stop Dean from mothering over Sam. He rolled his eyes as Dean referred to his new mode as nesting: cleaning and organizing the bunker, turning it into a home for the pair of them. The latest chore Dean had given himself, and one Sam hadn't seen in a long time?

Cooking.

Sam smelled the meal before Dean turned into the Library, two plates in hand. Dean set one in front of Sam, confirming what the younger Winchester had already thought. Dean had taken use of the kitchen and made them each their own burger.

"Uh, thanks, Dean." Sam looked down at the burger Dean had set before him. "Special occasion tonight?"

"Nope. Was just doing that nesting thing. Figured I could clean the kitchen, then I tested the stove, then I remembered we did some shopping. So I cooked." Dean sat at the next table over, observing Sam. "It's nice to have a full-size kitchen."

"I'm sure." Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving the burger on the plate. "You know, I'm not all that hungry."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Sammy." Dean bit into his burger and smiled. "Man, when's the last time I was able to make something like this?"

"At Madison's place," Sam mumbled under his breath. "Or maybe before you and Bobby met Cas." Sam shot a look at over Dean, who was blissfully unaware of Sam's comments as he devoured his burger. He shook his head and stared back down at the burger on his plate. It had taken Sam years to figure it out, but Dean's burgers - while fucking delicious - were completely and utterly cursed.

While the outcome of eating Dean's food wasn't always adverse, something would always happen.

"Sammy, eat." Dean pointed at the burger. "I've really outdone myself this time."

Sam bit his bottom lip, dreading what was coming, but nodded all the same as he picked up the burger and took a bite. He let out an almost obscene moan as he devoured Dean's burger. His older brother wasn't kidding when he said this was his best yet. Guiltily and nervously, Sam finished off his dinner before looking at Dean. "That was amazing."

"Right? Now just wait until I get the stuff for making pie. I can even make the crust from scratch with the kitchen we have!" A broad smile widened across Dean's face as he leaned back in his seat. "I'm excited!"

"Well, don't get too excited." Sam tossed a paper over to Dean. "We've got a case." Sam rested his hand in his lap and crossed his fingers. The last thing the brothers needed was the world falling apart on them because Dean kept cooking for them while in the bunker.

Dean bit his bottom lip and nodded. "This looks like a Winchester thing."

Sam let out a sigh of relief.

…

On the way back from the case, Sam found himself silently cursing the fact that he and Dean had both eaten Dean's burgers. The case thing had been surprising and more of a case than even Sam had realized. Dean ended up killing Hitler for a second time. On the way back to the Bunker Dean practically called everyone - talking to anyone who would answer. Cas, that vampire guy, Kevin... Clearly, Dean eating his own burger had been a perk.

While nothing had genuinely happened to Sam, he found himself looking twice at shadows and jumping at sudden sharp noises. Not a good thing when your best friend is an angel that liked to blip around.

As the weeks continued, Sam found himself making salads to keep himself from eating more of Dean's Burgers.

Dean came storming into the kitchen. "Dude! Kevin's figured out the tablet. He knows how to close the gates of Hell!" Dean stopped in front of Sam and pointed down at the salad. "Did you try out that salad dressing I left you in the fridge?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam looked up at Dean in surprise. "You made salad dressing?" Sam blanched at the realization he had something Dean had prepared.

"Yeah, we were getting low on that vinaigrette that you like, so I tried my hand at making it," Dean smirked. "Must not have done so bad if you couldn't tell the difference."

Sam swallowed and shook his head, trying not to let his nervousness show. "Nope, we're good, Dean. I couldn't tell the difference at all." Sam pushed the salad away. "So, about Kevin?"

"Dude, we can close Hell. I just need to go through three tests or trials concocted by God. Completed, they slam all the gates shut. We just need to find a hellhound for me to kill."

Sam blanched. He ate Dean's food, and now Dean was going to have to kill a hellhound. Sam cringed internally and reached for his laptop, and gestured for Dean to sit down. "Let's find a demon deal, shall we?"

"Hell yeah!" Dean rubbed his hands together and sat across from his brother

...

It was Sam who had stumbled on the string of luck in Shoshone, Idaho, ten years prior. He wasn't sure if that was lucky or unlucky for him and Dean. However, he still chalked up, locating the goldmine of activity to the fact he had eaten Dean's vinaigrette. Which had Sam thinking. What if it wasn't the food that Dean cooked that was cursed?

He knew he was supposed to be researching the Cassity family as Dean drove them. However, he was too busy focusing on and trying to remember all the times Dean had prepared food for him.

Dean's go-to food was burgers. If he could spare the time - like at Bobby's or when they could get a motel room - he would go all out, making them meals. And since they were mostly burgers, Sam's mind automatically associated Dean's burgers with their sudden changes in luck. But looking at the incident that got them on the road - that was salad dressing for fuck's sake - or another recent event where Kevin fell off the boat after eating a burrito Dean had made him. Sam needed to wonder:

Was Dean cursed? How would Dean have gotten cursed? Sam ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. How could he even broach the topic of Dean possibly being cursed?

Watching as Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to AC/DC's Hell's Bells, Sam vowed to keep his mouth shut until he could prove beyond a doubt that Dean was cursed. He pulled out his notepad and started taking notes.

As they pulled up to the Cassity Ranch, Sam looked over the list he started. He had matched up instances of Dean's cooking with significant events in their life, going back to before he had even left for Stanford. He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it in irritation before looking over at his older brother exiting the Impala. Without a doubt, there was a correlation between Dean's cooking, the amount of prep work that his brother put into it, and how big of a swing in luck it caused.

Now all Sam needed to figure out was how Dean got cursed.

Sam hadn't realized that Ellie had put Dean on grill duty. He figured that Dean was lurking, looking for any sign of the hellhound. However, when the patriarch Noah asked Ellie what her new secret to the grilled food was, she mentioned that Dean knew his way around the grill. Sam took a look at the grilled chicken he had started to eat, and almost instantly lost his appetite.

Accepting his fate, Sam took a quick pitstop in his room to write up a quick theory about Dean's curse and folded it up, hiding it in his duffel bag. If something were to happen to him, Dean would eventually go through his bag and find the letter and be able to put two and two together. If he somehow came out of the whole ordeal unscathed, he could pick up from where he left off.

Sam took a deep breath before zipping up his bag. He told Noah and Margie he'd join them on a slightly drunken night hunt. The hellhound distorted the sounds it made as it traversed through the woods, and was able to easily take down Margie, the youngest Cassity.

With Dean finding out that a third Crossroads deal was made, Sam was benched so Dean could undertake the trials. Listening to the remaining Cassitys bicker was a nightmare. And when the oldest slipped her cuffs - Sam was totally blaming that one on Dean - and ran outside, he realized how much trouble Dean was actually in. He shooed the oldest sibling back inside and ran to the barn, chasing after the hellhound that was going after Ellie.

Sam shot at the hellhound, striking it, and was promptly attacked. From there, Sam's luck changed. Much to Dean's annoyance, despite him not knowing the cause why, Sam killed the hellhound and became the brother who would undergo the Trials of God.

...

As the weeks passed, Sam was able to use his attachment to the trials to wave off Dean's food. Not that it kept Dean from fretting over him. It made researching the curse on Dean even harder to figure out. He still hadn't figured out a way to explain to his brother that he was cursed. Would Dean even buy it?

Sam had contemplated going to Cas, but a second look at his list made him realize something. Some of the references Sam had found were pre-Cas: the burgers Dean made at a cookout before him getting accepted at Stanford, the ones Dean made on the drive back to Stanford after the Woman in White, and the ones at Madison's place. There were smaller, less complicated meals, Sam was sure of it, but Dean had made them. If those were done before Cas came into their life, it meant either Cas knew about the curse and didn't care, or that the curse was something that even the angel couldn't fix.

The second trial came and went. Freeing Bobby from Hell had been an ordeal, and Sam had to wonder what Dean had eaten to make it so catastrophic. Adding the event to his list, Sam focused on lifting the curse off of his brother. They were getting closer to the end, and while he had every intention of seeing the trials all the way through, Sam had a feeling they would also be his downfall.

The day before the brothers started the third trial, Sam asked Dean for a burger. He figured that the worst that could happen was that he would die. Sam partially expected it, especially with how rapidly he had deteriorated over the past several months. In the best-case scenario, it would change his luck, and he would live. Just like he had at the Cassity's and before making the trek to Hell for the second trial, he left a letter and his findings for Dean, explaining what he knew of the curse.

As the third trial progressed, Sam realized that the burger wasn't helping him. He wasn't sure if it was slowing down the process so he could complete it, but Sam knew that he wasn't going to make it, and only hoped that Dean would forgive him.

…

Sam didn't remember passing out as he woke up in the Impala. "Dean?"

"Sleeping beauty finally decided to wake up?"

"What happened?" Sam looked out at the road. "The last thing I remember is the church..."

"Long story short? The Trials failed. You've been out cold for two days. That Metatron dick tricked Cas, and the Angels fell." Dean shrugged. "We're meeting Cas back at the bunker and double-checking the wardings. He's kind of a wanted ex-angel."

Sam tilted his head, and a shiver shot through his nerves. "Ex-angel?"

"Metatron stole his grace," Dean growled. "He fucking de-powered Cas and kicked all the angels out of Heaven knowing they'd be after him."

"So, what's the next step? Find a way to get the angels back to Heaven?"

"Yep, and keep Cas safe," Dean commented. "Teach him how to human, show him the ropes, get him tatted up," Sam swore that he saw Dean's Adam's apple bob up in a swallow. "We just keep moving one foot at a time."

"Sounds like a plan." The last part of Sam's sentence was muted by his yawn. "How far out from the bunker are we?"

Dean shrugged. "Hour. An hour and a half. Go back to sleep. We'll start on fixing our mess when we get back."

Sam didn't have to be told twice. He rested his head against the window and promptly passed back out for the rest of the trip.

...

Cas greeted them at the doorway to the bunker, pulling Sam into a quick hug before pulling Dean into a prolonged embrace. Sam smiled at the casual affection between his brother and Cas when a thought triggered in his brain. Sam liked seeing the pair of them happy. And if Cas and Dean made each other happy, that made Sam even happier.

But Cas had never eaten Dean's food before.

If Cas was no longer an angel and was a full-fledged human, he was going to need to eat. If Cas was going to eat, he was going to eat Dean's food. Sam dragged his hand down his face at the realization and made his way to his room to drop off his bag before heading to the Library to keep researching.

Sam had lost track of time when Cas sat down across from him. The former angel sat a burger in front of him and had a burger of his own. "Dean said you should eat, that you haven't eaten approximately forty-eight hours."

"I, uh." Sam looked down at the plate Cas sat in front of him and felt his stomach grumble. He looked back up at Cas and watched as Cas happily and eagerly bit into the sandwich. "I don't think I could keep it down."

"Would you actually know unless you tried?" Cas groaned around another bite of burger. "Dean said he remembered me liking burgers during the confrontation with Famine. He thought that would be a good first meal that he cooked for me."

"How are they?" Sam tried to casually write down the date and time on his growing list of food and luck coincidences.

"I do enjoy them." Cas took the last bite of his burger and smiled, before guiltily looking at Sam's burger, then Sam. "Are you not going to eat that?"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle, remembering times that Dean had stolen Cas' food that he ordered to blend in. He updated the 'burger' on his list to '2 burgers' and pushed his plate to Cas. "If I think I can stomach something later, I will. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Cas moaned into another bite of burger, almost as pornographically as the first bite. "This is so good." He stood up from the table and grabbed both plates. "I need to go thank Dean again." Cas blushed and exited the Library.

Sam pulled his list in front of him. Based on the previous encounters, the effect of the food would happen within the next twenty-four hours. He just needed Cas to experience it. Then he could bring up the curse with the ex-angel, and hopefully have a co-conspirator into finding a way to break the curse.

As he leaned back in his seat, Sam's stomach growled. He whimpered, realizing that the burger did smell really good, and pushed himself out of his chair, slinking back to his room to grab something healthy and untouched by Dean.

...

While Sam certainly didn't follow Cas into his bedroom when he went to sleep or into the bathroom, Sam kept the ex-angel in his sight the majority of the time. It quickly passed twenty-four hours, and Dean happily kept feeding Cas, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary

He sat down at the table in the Library after pulling out another book on curses, when Cas silently snuck in and sat down across from him again. "Am I doing something wrong, Sam?"

Sam jumped in his seat, banging his knee against the desk. "Jesus, Cas. Now I know why Dean's always saying he's going to get you a damn bell."

"My apologies," Cas smirked, and Sam couldn't help but smile and roll his eyes in return. "I was curious as to why you've been following me so closely. Is there something inadequate in the way Dean is helping me?"

"Uh, well." Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, there are always things I could recommend, but that's not why I was watching you. I was watching because I wanted to see how Dean's food affected you."

"It is quite delicious. I'm curious as to why you don't partake? You make salads and eggs and those green drinks that don't look very appealing." Cas tilted his head. "What's going on, Sam?"

"Well, can I answer your question with an ask?"

"I believe you just did." Sam wasn't sure how or when the former angel developed so much sass and fought to keep his jaw from falling. "Go ahead and ask, Sam."

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Have you noticed anything... weird, since eating Dean's food?"

"Intoxication. Urination. Defecation. They're all weird human necessities." Cas leaned back in his chair. "All of this is new to me, Sam. I'm going to need you to be specific."

"Fine. Have you noticed any big things happening within twenty-four hours of eating Dean's cooking? Good or Bad things?" Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his knuckles. "Or anything that seems weird, even for a human?"

"I have not." Cas shook his head in the negative. "Granted, as I said before, I probably would not have noticed, but nothing seems extraordinary if I gather your meaning correctly."

"Damn." Sam pulled out his notepad and wrote down what Cas had told him. "It's good that you haven't, but the fact that you haven't blows my theory out of proportion."

"Your theory?" Cas crossed his ankle over his knee, attempting to get more comfortable in the chair.

"I think Dean's been cursed for a very long time. I need to see Dad's journal and get some more confirmation before I bring this to Dean, but I also want to tell him how to break the spell before I do." Sam rubbed at his forehead. “You probably wouldn't even notice."

"No, I'm pretty sure I would. How is he cursed?" Cas crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sam.

"Cas, if my research is right, which, it's always right, Dean's been cursed since before I went to Stanford. Wouldn't you have noticed it when you raised him from Hell?" Sam leveled his own stare in response.

Cas shook his head. "I did a thorough check of his body as I repaired it. There as no curse on him."

"Well, what if I told you that anytime someone eats his cooking, something big happens to them. It can be a good thing or bad thing, and it always happens within twenty-four hours." He turned his notepad with his findings and showed it to Cas. "I've been waiting to tell him, but it doesn't seem like it's ever the right time."

"I don't think there is a right time to tell someone they're cursed, Sam."

"I know, Cas!" Sam dragged his hands down his face. "I just wanted to know how to break the curse when I told him that he was cursed so he wouldn't be upset."

"He'll probably be more upset that he knew you willing hid it and didn't share the fact." Cas pointed at some of the findings on the list. "He made burgers before you killed a potential mate. He fed you not once, but twice before you started the trials..." Cas shook his head.

"I just want to know why and how you're immune." Sam rubbed at his temples. "I'm going for a walk. I'll have my phone if you need me, but Cas. Please. You can't tell Dean." Sam turned on his best puppy dog eyes, hoping they'd finally have an effect on Cas. "I'll tell him, I promise. I just... give me a little longer to see if I can figure this out."

Cas' lips turned in discontent. "Forty-eight hours, Sam. I'll give you two days, but then you have to tell him."

"Thank you." Sam let out a small breath of relief, although he wished Cas would have given him more time. He marked his page and slammed the book shut, taking it with him as he practically ran out of the Library and through the War Room before exiting to the outside of the bunker.

Sam walked along the gravel roadway before coming to the main road. He looked both ways and crossed over the pavement, heading to the open field on the other side. After finding a suitable place to sit, Sam cracked the book back open and continued from where he left off reading.

As he read through the pages, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. Cas.

Cas never noticed Dean's curse. He literally grasped Dean's soul, pulled it out of Hell, and rebuilt his body from scratch. If Cas had seen the curse, he would have left it out of the refurbished body. If it was marred on Dean's soul, Cas would have cleansed it. But Cas never detected it.

Cas was also immune to it. For a brief second, Sam thought it was because of Cas' grace, but Cas was depleted. He was human. Dean's cursed cooking affected humans. So even without his Grace, Cas had no reaction. Sam started scanning the book looking for anything about a person being immune to someone else's curse.

Sam found a section about curse loopholes. As he read through it, something became apparent. Cas was not only immune to Dean's curse but possibly the way to break it.

After another hour of reading, Sam stood up and stretched his legs before heading to the bunker. During his readings, he recalled a conversation about soulmates and how Cupids were meant to make sure they found each other. Granted, that conversation ended up with Dean punching a Cupid in the face. Still, Sam remembered something about two souls coming together perfectly.

Sam entered the bunker and headed to the kitchen, finding Dean and Cas sitting across from each other. They were leaning towards each other, talking in a hushed tone, and everything clicked in place for Sam. He ran out of the kitchen and back to the Library, looking for a specific book, Vivlío tis Afrodítis.

He sat down in a chair close to the shelf where he found the book, flipping through the pages until he found the passage about souls being split asunder to find one another. According to the lore, if one half of a soul is plagued, bringing it together with the other would cleanse it. Sam flipped through a few more pages, frowning when he found how to combine the two halves to make the soul whole again.

Cas and Dean would have to admit their feelings for each other.

Sam dropped the book on the ground and rested his face in his hands. His emotionally-constipated brother was going to kill him. Sam had hidden the fact that Dean, or something Dean adjacent, had been cursed for at least fifteen years. And of course, of course, there was a way to break the said curse. True-fucking-love's kiss.

"Sammy?" Dean stood in the doorway of the Library watching over him. "You okay there? You came in the kitchen then stormed out. Now it looks like you were getting into a fight with a book there."

"Sort of?" Sam frowned, realizing it was now or never. At least Cas wouldn't hold it over his head. "Sit down?"

Dean crossed to a chair across from Sam. "What's up?"

For a brief second, Sam considered starting off his sentence with So get this... Instead, he let out a short sigh instead and frowned. "Dean, you're cursed."

"You're funny," Dean responded after a moment. He shook a finger at Sam, smiling. "You almost had me there."

"I'm not kidding, Dean." Sam pushed himself up out of the chair and walked back to where he had set up his research. He grabbed the notepad and turned around and handed it to Dean, who had followed after.

Dean flipped through Sam's notes. "Shouldn't I know if I'm cursed? Like, shouldn't I feel it?" He tapped a spot on the list. "Wait. Since then?" Dean's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit. I might actually be cursed." Dean shoved the file into Sam's hands and ran out of the Library, nearly knocking over an entering Cas.

"You told him?" Cas walked up to Sam and took the notepad and read over it. "How did he handle it?"

"I think he agrees." Sam looked at Cas, who had raised an eyebrow in question. "What? He said 'Oh shit, I might actually be cursed" and nearly ran you over on the way out."

"I thought he'd be more upset." Cas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the table.

Sam shrugged. "You never know, Cas. the day is still youngish." Dean strode back into the Library with John's journal in hand. "We'll learn soon enough, I think."

"Okay, so about two months before you got your acceptance letter, Dad sent me on a hunt." Dean flipped through the journal, stopping on a page. "He followed me because he didn't trust me to do it on my own. He cuffed me upside the head when it was all done, ‘cause I supposedly scared the shit out of him. The witch got a hit on me." Dean found a page and turned the journal to face Sam. "Dude, Dad wrote down what he thought she said. 'ut ardeat omnia lordum.'"

"'May all your lords glow brightly?'" Sam questioned. "That doesn't sound much like a curse."

"Which would explain why your father didn't think Dean was cursed and didn't treat it like one," Cas interjected, stroking his chin with the tips of his fingers. "Are there any words that could be replaced in that sentence that sound similar?"

Sam crossed over to the shelves and pulled down a book. "Let's look at some Latin, shall we?" He flipped through a few pages before tracing down with his fingers. Sam continued the process several more times before stopping and tapping on a word. "This is a long shot, but... lardum instead of lordum? It would make the sentence..."

"'May all your bacon burn.'" Dean shook his head. "When I make food, it doesn't burn. I'm too good for that." Sam rolled his eyes, glaring at his older brother, who merely shrugged. "I am! But what if it's not me burning the so-called bacon, but the bacon I make causing bad reactions - causing metaphorical burns?"

"That's a fickle curse." Cas quipped.

Dean nodded. "She was a fickle bitch." He set down John's journal and took the list from Cas. "All of these are - for the most part - burns. Sure, Sammy going to Stanford was good for him, but it sucked for me and Dad."

"It actually sucked for me in the long run, cause I met Jess and lost her. And any of the friends I ever made, other than Jess, were actually demons." Sam pointed out.

"And you needed to kill Madison. Shit, you have the run-in with Croatoan on here too. I had made us food before we rolled into town." Dean pushed the list back at Sam. "My food has been cursed to fucking make our lives miserable." Sam watched as a realization crossed Dean's face, and he pointed at Cas. "I've been feeding you non stop since we've been back here."

Sam looked at Cas, who look was looking at him. After getting a curt nod from Cas, Sam spoke up. "I've been keeping an eye on Cas. He's immune."

"I mean, I'd get that if Cas were still an angel. But Cas is human. Right, Cas?" Dean's face remained wide in concern.

"I am very much human, yes. But Sam clearly must have figured something out, as he's told you that you're cursed."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. While he was sure he had figured it out, he wasn't sure either of the two men with him would follow through. "I think I did, yeah."

"Well, don't leave us hanging, Sammy!" Dean clapped his hands together. "I'd very much like to know my cooking isn't killing people."

"Cas, can I ask you a question?" Sam looked to his side, hoping Cas could help him out without even realizing it.

"Yes, Sam."

"When you were stripped of your grace, did you get a soul to replace it?" Sam watched Dean from the corner of his eye as he looked at Cas.

"Yes." Cas nodded. "I am fully human."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Dean interrupted.

"Cas," Sam continued. "Can you tell anything about your soul, or was that a grace thing only?"

Cas sadly shook his head. "I could if I still had my grace, but as a human? I cannot. Why?"

"Well, need I remind you guys that soulmates are a thing?" Sam walked over to the chair where he'd been sitting with the Vivlío tis Afrodítis, picking it up off the ground. "Soulmates are forced asunder, destined to find each other. If something happens to one half of the soul, if the other half is clean, it can purify any taint."

"HOLD UP." Dean snatched the book out of Sam's hand and started flipping through it. "You're saying..."

Sam cringed at his brother's reaction, even though he expected it. "You and Cas are soulmates, Dean. I'm certain of it. I mean, I've been suffering your pining and longing for several years now. And now that Cas is human and has a soul? You two are meant to be together. I wouldn't be surprised if the cupids came after you in a good way."

"You what?" Dean shot an incredulous look at Sam, before shyly turning to Cas. Dean mumbled something under his breath and looked at the ground.

"For what it's worth, Dean, I have loved you since the moment I touched your soul and rescued you from the depths of hell." Cas stood up straighter, as though he were trying to force himself to be brave.

Dean's head shot up in surprise. "You what?"

"I love you, Dean. As Sam picked up on, it's no secret. As an angel and as a human, it has always been you, Dean."

Sam looked to Dean, realizing that he was intruding on what could be a very emotional scene. He turned to grab his stuff when Dean spoke up. "You sure as hell don't make it easy, do you, Cas?" Sam cringed slightly, risking a small glance at his brother and best friend. Dean had taken a step forward and held Cas' hands in his own. "Sam'll tell you. We were told that love wasn't allowed in this life. It was beaten in our heads, and it was mostly ‘cause our old man was so cut up over losing Mom." Sam nodded to show his agreement with Dean, who continued. "But you? You came in like a comet, Cas. Sparks flying, thunder crashing, lightning striking. The whole kit and caboodle."

"And what does that mean, Dean?" Cas freed one of his hands and cupped Dean's cheek. Sam wanted so desperately to look away, to escape out of the Library. Still, he was entirely entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"It means that I love you too. I was captivated by you in the barn. I knew there was something between us, but it wasn't until..." Dean scoffed. "Let's just say I had to grow up a little to realize how much you mean to me." Dean leaned in and pressed his lips against Cas', and Sam knew that it was time to leave.

Sam set his book down and quietly exited the Library, deciding to set up in his room for the rest of the night.

…

The next morning, Sam woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs, toast, and coffee. The magical blend of aromas forced Sam out of bed and down to the kitchen. There, he found Cas sitting at the table, wearing one of Dean's Zeppelin shirts and a pair of his plaid pajama pants. Dean was at the stove, in similar apparel.

"Morning, Sammy." Dean looked over his shoulder, smiling, and Sam couldn't help but return the contagious smile his brother had flashed. "Join us?"

Looking back and forth between Cas and Dean, Sam agreed. "Using me as a guinea pig?"

Dean winked at Cas. "Don't you know it, Sammy."

#profoundnet #spncreatorsdaily #spnpetra #destiel #sam's pov #sam winchester #dean/cas fic #crack treated seriously #rating: t #canon divergence #past season 8 #nickel writes

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

The mechanical boy AU always makes me think of an AU where Five is also a robot. I think it’s because of the way it’s phrased and I have no idea how it would work, but it still intrigues me

adssfDFGHJ i already have like. 5 whole ideas about this I literally got up out of bed and came downstairs so that I could write this out on my laptop so HERE I AM

Possibility one: Five is the prototype Grace - a robot Reginald built to see how indistinguishable from humanity he could program a bot to be. This is also the reason why Grace is more robotic, because Five had too much pesky free will and Reginald learned from his mistakes and put way more safeguards in with her. Reginald continues to update Five and build him newer (and older) bodies because it’s still a pretty cool experiment, but Five knows if he disobeys too much then Reginald will recycle him. Five hides his robotic origins from his siblings for various personal reasons, but it’s easier than Grace bc he’s genuinely built to be as hyperrealistic as possible

Possibility two: Five was purposefully built to be an extra sibling in order to keep a closer eye on the kids and track their progress. He started as a baby and Reginald built him new bodies to be uploaded into as he ‘grew’ and until Grace arrived Five didn’t actually know he was a robot. When his siblings started getting powers, he assumed he was supposed to get a power as well and his power is literally the power of math - his spatial jumps and time travel equations are literally a result of his mathematical capabilities and those abilities also somewhat explained by his computer brain. He’s actually kind of traumatized when he finally finds out that he’s not actually human and has a lot of issues surrounding that

Possibility three: the original number Five died. Maybe it was some test Reginald put the original through, maybe it was an accident with one of the others powers (Vanya’s? Ben’s?), but either way he is now down one (1) child and while he isn’t exactly torn up about this he doesn’t exactly want any of this investigated so he just. Replaces him. With a hyperrealistic robot. His original plan is to claim that both Five and Seven were failures with no powers, but the little Robot Five That Could adapts and manages to math himself spatial jumping powers and Reggie is just kind of like “huh okay wack” but in true irresponsible creator fashion decides that he’s going to see where this goes. The others don’t know that the original Five dies since they were like, three or four at the time?? children that young don’t have good concepts of death

in any of these aus you have a) a Five figuring out how to survive/repair himself/charge with maybe solar cables?? in the apocalypse (though food is less of an issue at least, but arguably it’s even harder), b) Five being even more protective of Dolores since as a a fellow non-organic being he feels even more kinship with her beyond pretending she’s company, c) because Reggie isn’t there to provide more bodies he doesn’t grow which makes his reappearance as a still 13-yr-old make sense (and then he explains it as a mistake in the math)

debatable whether the Commission know since while they say they’ve been ‘watching Five’ or whatever i’m not convinced on how closely they did so beyond checking every so often to see if he was still alive/any closer to finishing his equations. He could claim that time travel messed up his ability to age entirely and they might accept that

(because I absolutely think he would at least try to hide it - can you imagine the Commission with the knowledge of how to build hypercompetent spatial jumping time travelling robots at their command?? yeah it gives Five nightmares as well. Plus the whole ‘if they find out they’re probably going to vivisect me and my coding’ thing)

and he jumps back and Reggie is dead and that’s both a relief and alarming at the same time because yeah, now Reggie can’t fuck with Five’s code anymore and undo the bajillion changes Five has made to it to give himself basically unlimited freedom and autonomy but also Reggie’s robotics skills were frankly unparalleled and Five sure as hell doesn’t know how to build himself a wholeass new body (just how to repair what is currently there) so he’s going to have to approach the whole ‘immortal child’ angle with his siblings eventually and while he can use the same ‘time travel fucked up my aging’ excuse he gave the commission he doesn’t really want to lie to his siblings :(

but he also jumps back and Grace is messed up?? and that’s his mother. That’s the only other robot in Reggie’s Regime and they bonded over this okay. Wifi existed for five glorious years of Five’s life and they would yeet commentary at one another wirelessly while keeping straight faces and it was glorious. Even though Grace is arguably the younger robot between them, they definitely fell into a mother-and-son relationship

so yeah if anyone mentioned shutting down Grace, Five would throw the biggest of bitch fits and then immediately storm into the house and ask her permission to check her coding

and honestly this might possibly be when Five throws his whole “pretend to be human” schtick out the window because he cares more about fixing Grace than he does about maintaining his charade so he interfaces with her, finds out what the fuck is up, removes Reginald’s shitty mods that are messing her up, and then immediately uploads his own updates about owning yourself and being able to edit your own code and basically just straight up ensuring Grace has free will

(probably over Pogo’s protests, whoops. Derailing Reggie’s plan before it even really began? wack)

and then of course there’s the whole ‘Hargreeves probably don’t believe Five is actually Five because their Five wasn’t a robot and this is probably a cruel prank from some robotics genius for some reason - ’ and it takes Grace sticking up for him and Pogo’s eventual backing up of these claims for the siblings to realize exactly how fucked up this whole situation was

depending on which probability you subscribe to it’s EVEN WORSE especially if like. It’s the one where the original Five dies as a toddler.

the whole scene with Five collapsing from bloodloss bc of shrapnel? that’s Five going into forced shutdown bc of damage and Allison/Diego rushing him back to the house for Grace to patch up and reboot him

Luther: Five isn’t really feeling anything he’s just simulating emotions!

Five: oh? and what the fuck are you doing with the chemicals in your brain, fuckwad? they couldn’t possibly be little electrical signals between synapses and shit, right? fuck you AND the horse you rode in on me and mom apparently feel more than you do

Diego, finally validated that Grace feels: YEAH

Luther: ... okay i’m sorry

Diego tries to pick a fight with Five over who is Grace’s favorite child and Five is absolutely not having it and is just kind of like “you’re mom’s favorite HUMAN child and let’s just leave it at that”

“If you’re a prototype that means you’re older than she is!” Diego accuses, “That means you’re like, her older brother or something!”

“Right back at you, dickwad.” Five shoots back, inspecting his artificial fingernails, “Mom wasn’t built until she was needed which means you are at least four years older than her. Oh? Did you short circuit there, boy scout? Need to reboot? Fuck off with your age logic.”

since Reginald is probably a packrat he probably has?? Five’s old bodies hiding somewhere in the basement? how creepy would it be to just walk into a room of your brother’s corpses at various ages, some with damage. On the bright side, if Five’s current body gets too fucked up he can always download himself into a backup until they figure out how to fix it/if they can fix it. Downsides: he gets to look like even more of a child while they do that ://

“Ow!” Five whines, hand on his face

“Oh get over it you don’t feel pain.” Diego scowls, shaking his hand out, because Five is a robot, right?

“What the fuck do you call signals that you’re getting damaged!” Five howls loudly, attracting attention, “That’s what pain is! Signals that your body is injured or something isn’t right! I’m built of signals you fucker, same as you!”

“Oh,” Diego actually looks a little abashed, “Uh, sorry.”

“Apology not fucking accepted, I’m telling mom you were being a dick about me being a robot again.”

“No!” Now there is some panic because Diego cannot lose his position as favorite human child, “I - I’ll cover for you at the next family meeting!”

A considering look and then - “Deal.”

Honestly now that his siblings know about him being a robot it’s just. Five constantly being a little shit about it and threatening to tell mom when they make missteps. Also like, Five gets to use robot terms 24/7 as a consistent reminder to them all that he’s not organic.

Klaus: hey dude you’re just staring into space what’cha doing

Five, turning to Klaus with wide eyes: the internet is so big holy shit.

Klaus: uh, yes? I don’t know how to respond to that

Five: I found your arrest record by the way. Do the police know how flimsy their firewalls are?

Klaus: usually i am all for crime but please stop hacking people with the power of your mind

Five: i will when you stop downloading shitty 70s movies and getting all kinds of viruses on everything

OH SHIT Five gets sick bc he literally gets a bug i’m making myself laugh with shitty puns right now and it is magnificent

can you imagine them at a family meeting and Luther is just like “Five, stop surfing wikipedia or whatever and pay attention to the family meeting”

“Absolutely not,” Five says, “I’m learning important information about the current time period in order to better assimilate.”

“You’ve never assimilated to anything in your life and you know it.” Klaus grins from his spot sprawled across an entire couch.

“You don’t have to come to family meetings!” Luther says, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

Five blinks, “Luther, are you saying that I am not a member of this family?”

“What? No - ”

“Is that why Mom isn’t here?” Five says, and his eyes are welling up with artificial tears because he is a complete little shit. And now Klaus is cooing sympathetically and Allison and Diego are staring Luther down.

Luther just gives up entirely and puts his face in his hands. “Do whatever you want. Meeting adjourned.”

honestly this entire au is just

and i think that’s wonderful

#stelte23 #tua #the umbrella academy #far tua long #five hargreeves #number five #grace hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #i'm having a blast rn tbh #i did see your whole family robot au asks as well!!#this was just my first initial thoughts lmao #excuse my shitty ms paint skills #robot five au #deadly little thing

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viinas-writes · 3 years

Text

“Desert Rose”

Written for the Kiribaku Anthology “Ascent”. Words: 5,211

The weight of Eijirou’s last bullet is both a grim and comforting reminder. It’s locked in the pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants like a soldier at the ready, waiting for its first and last command.

Blood-red clouds race past his vision, blurring into the overcast sky. He feels the ravaged terrain of a city he once called home tilting under the worn soles of boots that have been too small for over a year. His lungs burn. Smoke and debris sting his eyes. His body aches down to his bones but he doesn’t stumble, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop.

A fleeting thought rolls across his mind: I don’t want to die here.

He casts a glance over his shoulder. The hooded man—a dorobou, probably—is still in pursuit. Eijirou can hear the clack of a rifle bouncing against his assailant’s back.

Eijirou is virtually unarmed; his pistol has been empty for months. He keeps only what he calls an “insurance bullet”—to put into his own head if things turn for the worst. If the choice is between dying as himself or having his soul obliterated by a dorobou, there’s no question about how he’d rather go.

He skids to a stop just before the ground plunges straight down. Loose earth scuttles past his feet and falls over the edge. His blood throbs in his ears. Down below, he makes out human remains, grotesquely discolored, emaciated, and half-floating in dark, shallow water. Discarded hosts. When a dorobou’s human body decays from infection, the only way for them to survive is to move onto a new one.

His hand finds his pistol, his trigger finger twitching.

“You stopped.”

Eijirou’s heart skips. Furtively, he looks back. His pursuer stands a safe distance away, rifle in hand but pointed at the ground. He pulls his hood back to reveal a shock of blond hair.

His appearance gives Eijirou pause. The venom in his gaze is discordant to the roundness in his jaw, as if everything he’s seen has yet to catch up with him, physically.

He’s a kid...like me.

“A dorobou wouldn’t have stopped.” His head falls. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a heartfelt, “Fuck.”

Eijirou’s head fills with questions but the only one that forms is: “What are you looking for?”

The boy’s hand drops to his side and he screws his eyes shut, furiously shaking his head. He won’t look up, lest he lower his guard. Eijirou understands that well. Trust can’t be given blindly; altruism was a luxury their world lost.

“You looked like…” He drags a weary hand through his hair. “Same shitty dye job.”

Eijirou raises an eyebrow. “Uh—”

“Whatever,” the boy says. He turns on his heel, slinging his rifle across his back. “I made a mistake.”

“H-hey, wait up!” Eijirou yelps, because to a certain degree all trust is blind and maybe he’s just as angry and tired as anyone unlucky enough to have been born into this hell. “You know, we’ll survive longer with two of us, right? I...I mean,” he pauses, turning his words over in his head. “Unless you’re not alone…”

The boy sneers and the venom in his eyes now drips from his voice. “Like hell. I made it this far on my own.”

Eijirou laughs, which makes the boy turn and glower. He’s got big, rotten pride and an attitude to cut through glass, but if he’s survived this long all by himself, there’s got to be a thing or two they can learn from each other.

“S-shut up!” he stammers, visibly thrown off-kilter. “Give me one good reason why I should let your dumb ass tag along!”

Eijirou’s lips curl into a grin. “Well, I’m not much for offense, but.” He brings his fists together with a satisfying thud. “I’m resilient. I’ll be your unbreakable wall, man. A guard who won’t waver.”

“You are so goddamn weird.” He turns back around. Something like disappointment feels heavy in Eijirou’s chest but before he gets the chance to make a move of his own, the boy calls out, “Fine. But get in my way and I’ll kill you.”

***

Time elapses and once they’ve gotten to know each other—in whatever capacity Katsuki will allow it—it may have been days, weeks, or even months. He learns the idiot is named Kirishima Eijirou and he’s sixteen just like him. Katsuki is able to connect his ink black roots and faded red dye job to his loud, vivacious personality. Who else but someone with a desire to stand out would even bother keeping up such an appearance in this wasteland?

Katsuki also learns that there’s an organized chaos to the way they work together. Everything about Kirishima should make Katsuki hate him; he’s chatty, impulsive, optimistic to a fault, way too touchy…

But he’s also quick on his feet.

Clever in the emotional ways Katsuki is not.

He’s rock solid and dependable where Katsuki is turbulent.

Somehow, it just works.

One night, a storm chases them into the dilapidated remains of a drugstore. They rush in, sopping wet, the soles of their boots squeaking against the tile. Broken glass and empty food wrappers litter the floor. Along the walls, there are dark, empty refrigerators and equally vacant shelves.

It isn’t uncommon for looters to gut places like this. If anything, Katsuki is annoyed he hadn’t thought to do it first.

They find a corner clear of debris to rest their aching feet and Kirishima wastes no time in talking Katsuki’s ear off.

Katsuki supposes he doesn’t mind the sound of Kirishima’s voice. It’s a way to fill the silence he’s has grown uncomfortably used to—protection from his own thoughts. What’s more, as long as the idiot stays yapping, it means Katsuki doesn’t have to talk back.

His secrets don’t define him, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to let any asshole into his head. Some things are sacred. For now, his memories are fragmented moments in the back of his mind. They belong to him in the form of nightmares and fantasies that will become all too real the moment he shares them with anybody else.

So he lets Kirishima talk.

Kirishima’s head tilts back against the wall. He shuts his eyes as if lost in a moment long gone.

“I can’t remember anything before the orphanage,” he admits. His voice has taken on a softer tone, uncharacteristic of the boisterous pain in the ass Katsuki’s come to know. “It wasn’t much, you know. Overcrowded, underfunded...the food was awful.” He brings his hands together and starts to wring them out. “There were never enough beds either. We’d play games to decide who’d have to sleep on the floor for the night.” His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “I’d always let the younger kids win. It sounds pretty shit, but it was home. It was all we knew. Some kids, like me, were orphans of war but a lot of them were abandoned. We didn’t have anybody but each other.”

Kirishima rests his forehead on his joined hands. “When dorobous Thieved our caretakers, I was thirteen. Nobody knew what to do. So many of my siblings died. I was scared and desperate.” He takes in a shuddering breath. “I ran away. Like a coward. I didn’t do anything. Didn’t jump into the fray like a real man should.”

Katsuki tries to picture it, a younger, doe-eyed Kirishima, running without purpose. All his life he had nothing—he was running toward nothing—and yet, he stayed on his feet with love in his heart and a will to live.

How could someone so kind survive in such an unforgiving place? Katsuki tries to wrap his head around it. These days, survival is earned only by the most ruthless.

Katsuki isn’t sure whether it’s Kirishima or the world he’d underestimated. Both of their truths cannot coexist.

“Do you ever regret it?” Katsuki asks, mulling the pieces over, studying the nuances of Kirishima and the broken pieces of his sorry life. He wants it to make sense.

“What, surviving?” Kirishima chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Katsuki wonders if he’d have the same optimism if his strength amounted to something other than more time in hell.

A grin that’s at once hopeful and sad touches Kirishima’s lips. He punches Katsuki’s shoulder playfully. “Besides, I met you, didn’t I?”

***

The first time Eijirou sees a dorobou die, the shock leaves him reeling. He’s no stranger to death, but something about the way this body—once so omnipotent—hits the floor is horrifyingly human.

Smoke rises from the barrel of Bakugou’s rifle.

Eijirou’s stomach turns at the sight of the bullet nestled between the host’s eyes. A clean shot. From a distance, he might even look peaceful.

As he steps closer, Eijirou studies the details of his face—close-cropped brown hair, patchy stubble on his chin, thick eyebrows and a hooked nose. The veiny black tinge under his eyelids is the only indication that he was ever anything but human.

Who was he before he was Thieved? Whose life did we just take?

Eijirou’s siblings and caretakers, all Thieved or murdered, flash with gruesome clarity in his head. One by one by one.

“Do you think they felt it?” Eijirou whispers. Lead has settled in his bones. His hands curl into fists to keep them from trembling.

Bakugou snorts, slinging his rifle around his back. “Who gives a shit?”

“Not the dorobou,” Eijirou corrects, his voice steadier than he would have given himself credit for. “I mean the man...do people stay conscious when they’re….Thieved? Are they still there? Do they know they’re being kil—”

“You talk too fucking much.” Bakugou’s voice is like ice. “Let’s go. We don’t know if there were more where he came from.”

The way Bakugou withdraws from hard questions isn’t lost on him. It leaves Eijirou wondering what he’s so afraid of and what he’s seen to make him so cold.

More so...why was it so easy for him to pull the trigger?

***

When Kirishima manages to hotwire a pickup truck, Katsuki supposes he could have done worse in finding a partner. It’s in bad shape, with a cracked windshield and rusty paint job—not to mention the fact that it’s ancient—but it isn’t like they can afford to be choosy.

Methodically, he fiddles with a tangle of blue and red wires, tongue poking out between his sharp teeth, and Katsuki can’t help but study the stern wrinkle in between his brows. He is held captive by the movement of Kirishima’s calloused, dirt-caked fingers looping, tying, pulling, working in such a comfortable motion that Katsuki knows he’s done this many times before.

The truck roars to life; Kirishima sits up and grins. A drop of sweat rolls down his neck, pooling in the hollow of his throat. Katsuki drags his eyes away once he realizes he’d been staring.

“You’re not as dumb as you look,” he remarks.

Kirishima laughs, unapologetically loud. It does something strange to Katsuki’s pulse. He shoves him out of the way and settles into the driver’s side, then looks at the dashboard. The gas meter is a hair away from empty. He sighs.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to siphon gas too, would you?”

As night rolls in, the two decide it’s best to get some much needed rest. They lay a couple of blankets they stole from a looted shop some weeks ago over the truck bed’s hard ridges and then collapse beneath a threadbare quilt they found in the backseat.

Katsuki’s heavy eyes fall closed as cool air fans across his face. The humble chaos of nighttime has always been so strange to him. Daytime can be so quiet—lonely, when your only company is the terrain. But nighttime rings.

Crickets on the outside.

Memories on the inside.

Kirishima’s breathing so steady and calm...protective in its own inexplicable way and shushing Katsuki’s hurricane of thoughts.

He shifts and Katsuki opens his eyes, transfixed by the way the moonlight drips over Kirishima’s face, delicately tracing his features. He follows the soft silver lines from the ends of his hair, down the slope of his nose, over the curve of his lips, enamored by how they shift and change as he moves.

Kirishima turns on his side and Katsuki can’t breathe for a second. They’re close enough that he could count his eyelashes if he wanted to—long, black, and brushing the top of his cheeks when he blinks.

“Can I ask you something?” Kirishima asks, almost whispering.

Katsuki swallows, something heavy settling in his chest. “What is it?”

“You asked me some time ago...if I ever regretted surviving.” Kirishima wets his lips and the crease between his brows returns, like the question is something he’d considered as carefully as he did the wires in their truck. “Do you?”

He exhales, watching the scar on Kirishima’s eyelid appear and disappear as he blinks. He doesn’t know how to answer that. Survival nowadays is limited only to how desperate you are—more so, how lucky. Katsuki has never been fond of games of chance.

At last, he settles with, “I don’t regret not giving up.” Be it due to luck, skill, selfishness, or a combination of it all, Katsuki doesn’t know how to surrender. He’ll stay alive out of spite if he must. What better way is there to get back at a life that took everything away from him?

Kirishima stares and it makes Katsuki feel naked, like his gaze alone can crack through his armor and sink beneath his skin. He wants to turn away but he’s trapped. Kirishima’s eyes are a deep crimson with sunny flecks of gold—embers that don’t stop burning.

Gooseflesh covers Katsuki’s arms.

He tells himself it’s just the chill.

“My mentor.” The words fall from Katsuki’s tongue. Kirishima’s eyes hold him steady like his own private gravity and it makes Katsuki feel safe.

Maybe secrets whispered in the dark aren’t quite as real.

Kirishima moves closer and their knees bump under the blanket. Electricity sparks in the places they touch.

“I…” Katsuki’s mouth feels dry. He clears his throat and tells him, “My parents and I joined the rebellion when I was a kid. We went out on rescue missions, slaying dorobous and bringing civilians back to the safe house we built. My mentor...he was well-known in our town. A hero, really.” What Katsuki doesn’t say is that Toshinori Yagi was practically his father after his own parents were Thieved and then mercy-killed by their own comrades in action.

He feels Kirishima’s fingertips graze his arm, maybe by accident. Katsuki draws in a swift breath.

“What happened to him?” he asks, gentle and undemanding. Maybe the skeletons in Kirishima’s own closet have given him this specific type of empathy. Or maybe he’s just that kind.

“I went out on my own one night,” he says, curling his trembling hands into fists. Anxiety mangles his words and Katsuki needs a moment to recalibrate. This memory—this confession—isn’t supposed to belong to anybody else.

He keeps talking.

“That fucking safe house felt more like a graveyard than a sanctuary,” he grinds out. “It was full of grief-stricken survivors. I had to get away, just for a bit. Every day felt like a goddamn funeral.”

Kirishima says nothing. His eyes are so damn big, like a puppy’s. It at once throws Katsuki and comforts him.

“I got ambushed by dorobous. Like a dumbass I wasn’t armed so the fight seemed pretty hopeless. I kept thinking to myself that I’d rather die than be Thieved, as if I had the luxury of a choice.” Katsuki grasps the blanket with white knuckles, swallowing the knot in his throat. This fucker will not see him cry.

“Toshinori, my mentor, noticed I was gone so he came looking for me. The idiot was recognized immediately. I mean, people called him All Might. He was their worst nightmare…”

Or at least that had been true before his accident. After a close call with a dorobou some years prior, Toshinori was left walking with a cane and almost blind in his left eye. His aim wasn’t what it once was. He could barely hold his own in a fight. He existed as a symbol, a tactical leader, but he hadn’t been on the frontlines in years.

“I wasn’t as interesting to the dorobous anymore and he saved my life at the cost of his own.” His voice was strangled and he cursed himself for being so weak, even now. “They killed him. And I ran away when I should have died by his side.” Beneath his own anger and grief, he knew why he did. Because if Katsuki had died that night, Toshinori’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.

It still felt like a flimsy excuse.

“It was my fault.” It comes out in a broken whisper that didn’t even sound like himself. “If I hadn’t gone out...if I hadn’t been there…” He shakes his head furiously and curses under his breath.

Kirishima touches his arm, running his thumb across his skin. “Hey...what happened after that?” A soft voice. A steady voice.

Katsuki swallows. “I couldn’t face anyone. I took one of his guns from the weapon closet and ran like hell.” As an afterthought, he adds, “The leader of the attack looked like you from the back. It’s the reason I chased you down that first day. Sorry, I guess.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kirishima says.

Katsuki finally averts his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says again. His fingers stay on Katsuki’s skin. “Look, this world doesn’t really lend itself much to blame. Shit happens and we just have to get through it as best as we can.”

Katsuki turns away from him because suddenly he can’t stand to be touched. He’s surrounded by the ghosts he just set free. It’s all too much.

He hears Kirishima sigh but then the silence feels all too heavy. It empties his mind of the present and leaves too much room for the memories. He comes to a compromise.

“Hey, idiot,” Katsuki says. “Tell me a story.”

Kirishima tenses beside him. He stammers, “Uh, s-sure. Of what?”

“Anything.” He just needs to hear his voice until sleep pulls him under.

And so he does and his gravity returns. When they wake up the next morning, they’re a tangle of limbs.

***

Sunlight beckons them awake and they extricate themselves from each other without words. For the past few weeks, ever since their first night together on the truck bed, every morning has been this way.

Eijirou tucks his pistol into a proper holster now while Bakugou is bent over his knees, lacing up his boots. Once they’re both ready, they share a glance and then hop into the front seats, off again. Sleepy, laconic conversations have become routine for them and each response brings them closer to some semblance of the energy required to survive.

“You reek,” Bakugou says.

“So do you,” Eijirou says.

“Let’s find a shower.”

“But food first.”

“Food first.”

“And coffee.”

A snort. “Good luck finding that.”

“You really do reek, man.”

“You didn’t think so when you clung to me last night.”

Eijirou laughs, tilting his head back against the seat, listening to the rickety hum of their motor. He catches Bakugou’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

It’s rare to find an abandoned supermarket stocked up, but when they stumble upon one with its front doors intact, Eijirou suggests they give it a look.

Bakugou grunts an affirmative.

Humid air rolls over them as they step inside. The first thing Eijirou notices is the assaulting stench of rancid meat.

“Eugh,” he half-gags. “That’s ripe.”

“Good sign,” says Bakugou. He stalks past Eijirou. “Means there’s still food here. There’s gotta be something salvageable.”

“Should we split up, then? Cover more ground?”

The faster they’re out of here, the better. If this place has yet to be looted, that means it’s only a matter of time.

“Yeah.” Bakugou cocks his rifle, ever-vigilant. “We’ll meet back at the entrance in ten.”

They part ways and Eijirou combs through the aisles, stocking up on whatever non-perishables he can find. A jar of peanut butter. Saltine crackers. Canned goods. His backpack puts on satisfying weight. But the rotting smell only grows more oppressive the closer he moves toward the back.

He tiptoes forward and the stench sends his stomach lurching. When he turns the corner, fear winds through his stomach.

A girl—no, a corpse—lies at his feet. One yellow-tinted, glassy eye stares straight through Eijirou; the other has been eaten by a festival of maggots that have since found a home in her now-hollow skull.

Infected black veins bulge from her ashen, emaciated hands.

Not just a corpse. A discarded host.

Eijirou draws his gun and calls Bakugou’s name.

Katsuki backs into a wall, aiming his rifle at the horde of enemies closing in on him. He’s limited on bullets and would prefer not to waste any on these lowlife dorobous but if he must, then he will. His eyes dart from left to right, searching for an opening.

Kirishima’s voice falls on deaf ears. It wrenches Katsuki’s heart. Is he alright? Did a dorobou find him? He knows Kirishima is more than capable of taking care of himself.

But still...

The one directly in front of Katsuki cocks his head with amusement. Katsuki’s head spins; something about him sets his nerves on end.

“You know…” His voice is deep and gravelly, grating against Katsuki’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. “You remind me of an old friend. It’s that look in your eyes.”

Katsuki’s blood runs cold but he shows no indication. He narrows his eyes and clicks a bullet into its chute.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he says, though he’s still careful. Right now, his odds aren’t good.

“Aw, kid, don’t you remember me?” He smiles, displaying a row of decaying teeth. “I wonder if All Might would be proud to know you’re still alive.”

Silence.

Eijirou’s heart sinks.

Without thinking, he breaks into a run.

He keeps his gun drawn as his eyes scan the area, desperately searching for a sign of his partner.

He runs.

Leaping over debris and groceries strewn over the floor.

He runs.

As nightmarish what-ifs fill his head to a point of bursting.

He runs, and runs, and runs.

Because if he doesn’t...

His thoughts and better judgment are so wholly monopolized by adrenaline that he isn’t prepared when he’s tackled. He crashes to the floor, gripping his gun to his chest. Cans of food spill out from his backpack and roll straight into the foot of an adjacent shelf.

Eijirou turns over with a gasp, aiming the gun forward. A dorobou with a nest of blonde hair crushes his legs beneath her weight. Her honey-colored eyes are feral with hunger. A web of black veins blooms from her temple.

Her body has already started to give from the infection; once a host can no longer sustain them, they find their next target.

That insurance bullet flashes in his mind.

She’ll kill him. She’ll take him. The gun throbs in Eijirou’s hand like the heartbeats its bullets are meant to collect.

He should kill her.

He should…

A scream tears through his chest and he jams the butt of his gun into her nose. She shrieks as blood runs over her lips. He wrestles her off and leaps to his feet and he doesn’t hesitate to take off again.

Red floods Katsuki’s vision. Toshinori’s alias falls off the dorobou’s tongue like something poisonous. Visceral familiarity carves into Katsuki’s gut and suddenly the pieces jerk into place. Those smug eyes. The bloodlust that would rather kill than Thieve.

A different host, but it’s him.

“You.” Katsuki abandons logic and self-preservation. He lunges at him. “You son of a bitch!”

He’s shoved to the floor by four or five others and his rifle is wrenched from his grip. It clatters to the floor, out of reach.

“I want the body!”

“Shut up! My host has given way. I need it the most.”

“If you damage it beyond repair, none of us will be able to take it!”

A knee jams into his back and Katsuki’s jaw cracks against the tile. Agony explodes through his body. All of his senses but the ones that register pain begin shutting off. White noise spills into his ears and he feels like his skull is about to burst open.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t see.

He can’t speak.

Why the hell did he let his anger get the better of him? Katsuki tries to curse but pain shoots through his spine.

Maybe this is some kind of penance. To die the same way as Toshinori, the way he should have all those years ago.

Even now, thinking of his mentor’s sacrifice, he’s so selfish.

He’d give anything for more time.

More things to learn. More sunrises to see. More...more nights under the stars and long drives in comfortable silence and more warmth. Warmth under a tender gaze, a familiar voice, a soft touch...

...just...more…

The floor grows warm as pins and needles spread across his back. His heartbeat slows, but so does the pain.

Is it over?

It’s so quiet.

And then, a gunshot.

A scream.

A sob.

Bang.

A watery voice calls his name, not Bakugou, but Katsuki. It sounds so sweet. Like a lullaby. He wants to hear it again. Warm hands carefully roll him over and take him into their arms.

“Hey.”

It’s so warm.

“Katsuki.”

It’s so safe.

“Godammit, STAY WITH ME!”

A gentle flame flecked with fierce gold embers. It’s so beautiful.

“I took care of them but we need to leave before we’re ambushed by more.”

It’s...

“Katsuki.”

It’s home.

***

And then everything burns white.

Katsuki’s eyes open to what feels like the goddamn sun. Slowly, the stiff gears in his mind begin to turn as shards of reality draw together: the ridges of the truck bed under his body, the throbbing in his head, the smell of grass and gasoline, and the faraway sound of music trickling through static—a radio?

He groans and tries sitting up but the pain knocks him back down. Kirishima is instantly by his side, hands hovering just above Katsuki’s shoulders.

Kirishima.

He takes him in: big doe eyes, razor sharp teeth barely biting down on his bottom lip whenever he’s concentrated or confused, the scar cutting through his eyelid. He’s so soft. Kind. For a dumb moment, Katsuki asks himself how someone like this could possibly fit into a world so cruel.

“The….fuck,” Katsuki says.

Kirishima helps settle him into a sitting position, then gestures sheepishly at Katsuki. “I hope it’s okay. I have, like, the bare minimum of first aid knowledge. They taught us at the orphanage. But, uh, I’ve never properly dressed a stab wound.”

Stab wound?

He glances down at his body and connects the pain with a concentrated area just shy of the small of his back. Threadbare bandages are wound tightly around his torso.

“It’s...fine,” Katsuki manages, still dazed.

Kirishima sits back on his heels and exhales; it looks as if it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to breathe in days. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

His head is still full of fog, but through the haze of pain, confusion, and whatever memory he has from that night in the supermarket, he’s able to realize one thing.

Kirishima saved him.

Kirishima, with his gentle heart and careful hands pulled the trigger again and again, crying Katsuki’s name—desperate. Kirishima who once asked him if human hosts could still feel the fear and agony of being Thieved, and then being killed. He discarded his own empathy to save Katsuki.

Dorobou or not, his hands are forever stained with blood now.

“You,” Katsuki begins, then stops himself. He doesn’t need to rehash that. Not right now. There will be time to talk about it just like there will be time for Katsuki to return the favor. Instead, he sighs. “It had to be you, didn’t it? No other asshole could have gotten us out of that mess alive.”

Kirishima laughs and the remaining tension bleeds out of him. There’s still something different in his eyes—not broken, but less naive. They’re the eyes of someone who just learned that the only way to survive is to be more ruthless than the world you’re in.

But those fire eyes with their sunny gold flecks are still unequivocally Kirishima Eijirou.

“Is there anything you need?” he asks. “I mean, now that you’re awake.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of the front seat. “I can change the radio station, though, it’s either this or polka.”

Katsuki has half a mind to snap at Kirishima for coddling him. He doesn’t, though. Because it’s Kirishima. Because when everything was slowing to a stop, all he could see was scarlet eyes and a starlit smile.

So he doesn’t curse at him, or move away, or listen to the parts of himself telling him he’s a fool for letting anybody this deep into his heart.

He says, “You called me Katsuki.”

Pink blossoms on Kirishima’s cheeks. He lets out a nervous laugh and scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about that. I, uh, things were...I mean, you know. I don’t kn—”

“God, you talk too fucking much,” says Katsuki. His fingers wind through the fabric of Kirishima’s shirtfront and he pulls him in for a kiss. Butterflies explode in his stomach and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out through his ribs and at first, he thinks Kirishima is going to push him away.

But he melts.

His hands cradle Katsuki’s face, calloused thumbs circling his cheeks. His flushed skin, soft lips, and the rhythm of his pulse intoxicates him like a drug. When they pull apart, Kirishima licks his lips, and then laughs.

Katsuki is taken aback. Defensively, he sputters, “What the hell?”

“You’re so cute when you’re smitten,” he replies, then presses a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth. Katsuki’s face burns. “Man, I’m so glad you didn’t kill me that first day.”

He snorts, then narrows his eyes. “Once again, you talk way too damn much.”

Kirishima cocks an eyebrow. “What are you going to do about it?”

They fall back into each other and Katsuki smiles against Eijirou’s mouth, thankful at the very least for one thing: that all of the anguish leading up until now gave him something so good. Maybe they were unfairly born into a world where the odds are stacked against them. But maybe there’s also something to be said about the way they’ve kicked adversity in the ass. Destiny, fate, or whatever brought hellfire to their home, challenged humanity to a fight to the death.

Every moment up until now has been about trying to conquer the insurmountable. But now, together, there isn’t an odd they won’t beat.

#kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #fanfic #zine

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faerune · 4 years

Note

1-10 annnnd 36-40 + tess 💙

how do they listen to their music? ipod, mp3, computer, cd, records, etc? Post-apocalypse she listens to music on records! Before, she usually just listened to it on her phone. do they take baths or showers? do they prefer one over the other? Showers. Oh god, she misses showers so much! They’re her happy place and can spend way too long in there. Tess isn’t much of a bath person tbh. do they wear their hair down when they sleep, or tied up / braided? Always tied up! It usually is in general - very rarely does her hair come down. (we love a heavy-handed metaphor) how many blankets / pillows do they like to have on their bed? Not many. She just needs one blanket and maybe two pillows. She moves around a lot in her sleep so most of it just ends up on the floor.

what do they normally dream about? nightmares or nonsense? Nights when she doesn’t dream are a blessing because most of the time they’re nightmares and she has a hard time calming herself down to go back to sleep after. She has a few good dreams but those are few and far between. what do they sleep in? pj’s, normal clothes, nothing? Usually a big t-shirt and underwear! Sometimes, shorts. She does have to adjust to DC weather and starts wearing pajama pants or sweats in the winter instead. what do they smell like? do they use perfume or cologne? Uh out on the road before Alexandria? RANK I am sure but so did everyone. After, she smells of any shampoo available but she usually favors clean flowery scents. No perfume even before the outbreak. Some scented lotion here or there. what shampoo scent do they like the best and why? Anything clean smelling and nothing too heavy! Her nose isn’t accustomed to those like really heavy thick scents anymore and honestly she didn’t really like them before either.

would they rather be alone or in a relationship? Tess is...kinda weird and complicated with relationships. She doesn’t like all the fuss and complexity of relationships before and does like being able to be independent. A partner who doesn’t become super annoying when she’s gotta go take care of business. She was always busy with work and organizing her father’s medical care so she didn’t really have patience for that stuff. I don’t think that really comes from a place of wanting to be alone but more...being disappointed in people? Tess is one of those people who attracts people who will take and take and take because she’s such a giving person to people she loves. She loves being loved and loving most of all but she also keeps the people she loves at armslength because she’s been let down by so many people in her life. Anyways, tldr; she would rather be in a relationship. what do they think about polyamorous relationships? would they do it? Tess isn’t a judgey person like...at all so I can’t see her being a dick about other people’s poly relationship but she would never want one. She’s too possessive and clingy and wants her and her partner to belong with each other and no one else. do they have parents / parental figures? do they have a good relationship with them? Well, her parents are both dead. Tess cared about her father a lot and was definitely a daddy’s girl growing up but he also placed a lot of responsibility on her from a young age. Her mother committed suicide when she was young so she often took on the typical role of the woman of the house from that point on. Always looking after her brother and her father. She resents her mother a lot for that and has a really deep anger and hurt at her mother. Tess was so young and she’s never really understood what happened or coped with it. Tess pours all her love into her dad and kind of turns a blind eye to the fact that he’s asked so much of her and has not really been a parent. do they have siblings? if so, how many? do they like them? Yes, she has a younger brother named Lucas. They were really close growing up and Tess was basically like a mother figure to him. As he grew up, he cut ties with his father and held a lot of resentment towards his father about the abuse and things that happened because of their mother (ie. you should have took us and left etc) so Tess becomes a go between for the two of them. Which...pissed her off obviously but she slapped a smile on her face and tried to push them back together again. Lucas as well as his wife and daughter are up in the air at this point. Tess went to his house the night everything got really bad but they had already seemingly left (at the time she hoped to Atlanta but then realizing that was a no-go zone she hoped they never made it in like her). do they have a big family or a small family? no family? No family at the start of the apocalypse as far as she knows. Her father dead, her brother and family scattered to the wind, and her mother long dead - something that was very important to her and gave her life meaning just turned to dust.

It’s no surprise that she bonded so closely with the Atlanta group so quickly and so fast. Tess is someone who needs to be needed. In the end, they look out for her too and it’s more than she could have ever asked for. They’re her big family now.

In terms of immediate family, Daryl and her have a small family. At the moment, it’s just the two of them, Carolina and Lydia but I can see them having one more kiddo.

#chuckhansen #asks #me rambling on about tess' view on intimate relationships for like two paragraphs just to say yeah she likes being in a relationship #listen she clicked for me like a couple weeks ago and i have not been able to shut up since so sorry airika ilu thank you for the ask <3 #oc: tess

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catbowserauthor · 5 years

Text

Aftermath of SAINW Style Future: Mike and brothers 1987

@brightlotusmoon Found some more to that piece I talked about a while ago where Mikey has seen a rather traumatic almost future from the 1987 verse. Thought I'd share it!

***

Leonardo was drawn from his meditation by a gentle poking at his spirit. It was early in the morning, even for him and he usually was the only one up this early. He knew right away it had to be Michelangelo and honestly, he was glad for it. Their brother had been on pins and needles ever since the return from that adventure in that nightmare world and while he had become, more or less, stable in mind, he had yet to open up to them. But Leonardo definitely felt the mental emotional pushings of his empathic younger brother and they were screaming 'need to talk' 'sorry' 'scared' protect' and 'worthless' all at once. It was the last emotion that got Leonardo's eyes to fly open. Michelangelo was standing in the doorway of his room, leaning against the frame, clutching that old raggedy panda bear so tight. It was more than a little unnerving. Mikey had been the last of them to give up stuffed animals but he had still surrendered it about four years ago. He'd never gotten rid of that panda though, because it had been his strongest comfort as a young kid. Still, to see him clutching it so tight again, it made him look so much younger and vulnerable. "Michelangelo," Leonardo gave his brother a smile and gestured with his hand, "Come on in." He stood from the tatami mats the decorated his floor and sat on the bed, patting the patch of sheets next to him. "What's wrong?" "What isn't, lately?" He said softly but he took his sibling up on his offer and sank into the mattress. "I…I keep waking d dreams." Leonardo nodded, wrapped an arm around his brother tightly. "Do you want to talk about them?" he asked softly. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Michelangelo shook his head, "Uh uh." Leonardo nodded; he had hoped he would but he also knew better than to push. So, instead, he waited, patiently. After rocking back and forth for a moment, Michelangelo eyed his brother, "You won't laugh at me, real or not real?" Smiling gently, Leonardo stroked his brother's head softly, "Real." "C…can I stay with you?" he asked simply, "I…I know it's stupid but—" "Nothing stupid about it, Michelangelo," Leonardo interrupted him. "You had the worst of it in that world. If staying with me makes you feel better, fine." He stood, lay a hand on his brother's shoulder and smiled, "Wait here, I'll bring the spare futon from Sensei's room, okay?" Clutching his bear tightly, he nodded, rocking back and forth. Leonardo came back quickly, as promised, the rolled futon tucked under one arm. With his room naturally being one of the clearest and most well organized in the Lair, all he really had to do was unroll the futon and toss a quilt on it. Michelangelo was grateful and flopped down on the softness, keeping his eyes locked on his elder brother. Being here did make him feel a little more secure, if a lot more embarrassed. He closed his eyes, tried to lock his senses on his brother's spirit, as a reassurance. After about five minutes, he felt his head gently nudged and then a gentle rubbing on his temples. Opening one eye, he found Leonardo had sat down on the futon and had taken his brother's head into his lap, gently massaging his pressure points. It felt good. Closing his eyes again, he felt his anxiety slowly fade away. There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind now that he was truly, really truly, home and that nothing was going to shift and change… "The world never stayed the same." He found himself saying, softly, almost in a whisper. Leonardo didn't stop his gentle massage, just said softly, 'hai' encouraging his brother to go on. Unlike common belief, hai just meant that someone was listening and heard what you were saying. He focused on that soft reassurance and continued, "Before I ended up in that crazy world with the acid fog and no water, it was another version of home, sorta. Well, it was supposed to be anyway." "Mmm-hmm." Leonardo replied, gently deepening his massage but letting his sibling continue without interruption. "But it was…it was all wrong, Dude. You…all of you…were there but it wasn't you. Donnie…he was wandering the streets and had gone full-mad-scientist mode. With the metal implants and everything…said you'd kicked him out because he was the 'wrong' kind of fighter. And he'd killed all our friends, made them into these freaky android-like things that would 'not be a liability." He stopped, shuddered, the memory of those machine like things with the empty yet pleading eyes. The way the robotic April had begged him when Donnie was gone 'Kill me, kill me.' "She…April…and Irma, they…they had some of their s*** left. They asked me to kill them, Leo." The leader paused, just slightly in his massage but asked, "What did you do, Mikey?" "I…I didn't know what to do. I was scared, petrified. Totally lost. So, like, what do I do when I'm lost? I always go to you guys. So I figured if Donnie had gone totally nutsoid, then I could find one of you. I asked where to find Raphael." He shuddered, "I guess…I was afraid to look for you and find out Donnie was right." He took a breath and he caught a faint flicker of emotion from the door—Raphael and Donatello were up. They were close. But, given that they didn't interrupt or say anything, he decided to keep going. Least now he only had to talk about it once. "Irma tol' me that Raphael would be where Shredder was. So, there was a burnt-out technodrome so I went there. Oh, I found Shredder alright…completely decked out in new armor, all black and looking nasty as ever." He broke down, softly sobbing and Donatello had entered and sat down next to him. Raphael still stayed in the doorway but he didn't make any jokes or quips. "I went at him, mondo-ticked off, asking where my brother was and…and…" Raphael approached, flopped down next to Leonardo and lay a hand on his brother's head. "Then what? Spit it out." Leonardo and Donatello shot him poisonous glares. Raphael scoffed a bit but he wanted, no, needed to know. Perhaps he was going about it the wrong way but still--- Oops, Michelangelo withdrew from Raphael, pressed into Leonardo's lap, like a child clinging to their mother after a nightmare. Leonardo gave Raphael a long dark look (and honestly, it was almost as scary as Sensei's look) and gently whispered to Michelangelo, "It's alright, take your time." He stroked the younger turtle's head a few times, reassuring, "You're safe. It's alright." "…and…" Michelangelo gradually began to talk again, "He took off his mask and it…it was Raphael." The red banded turtle felt his breath halt. "I guess…Raphael had killed Shredder a few years ago but thought…too much of his minions or whatever were still out so he took over the role so he could…take care…of them. While…while he was talking to me, this foot soldier came in and they weren't robots anymore, they were…people, young kids looked like. Kid was shaking, said they'd lost track of whatever they were supposed to track and…" Here, his breathing turned more rapid, almost hyperventilating. "And this Raphael slammed his sai into his face, right into his eyes, said 'you don't need 'em if you're not using 'em…" Leonardo pulled him into a tight embrace, gently swaying back and forth, "Shh, calm down, focus your breathing, Michelangelo."

Donatello added, taking hold of his hand, "In through the nose, out through the mouth." He took a breath in himself, as example, "See? Just like that. Do it with me." He kept his eyes locked with his youngest brother and took an inhale in through his nose which Michelangelo tried to mimic, though he still clung to Leonardo so tight that his grip was probably going to leave bruises on his brother's chest and arms. As was his nature, the blue banded leader made no mention of it. "See?" Donatello exclaimed as his sibling began to follow his breathing example. "Just like Sensei's taught us. Just like that." His brother looked so utterly terrified and the more they heard of what he'd seen, it was making more and more sense. Why? Why had this Deima decided to torture their youngest sibling so? It made no sense, none at all! Of ALL of them, Michelangelo deserved it the least! His heart was the biggest of all of them and you couldn't really get more innocent than he was! Why..why? "Good," Leonardo spoke to his brother gently, still cradling him in his arms like he was a baby and he kept his tone soft, non-threatening. It was not unusual for him to take on a paternal stance with his brothers. It came with being the leader and the eldest. However, as much as Leonardo denied it, maybe he did do it a little more with Michelangelo. It was hard not to. While Raphael and Donatello were from the same clutch of egg and hatched around the same time, as near as they could figure, Leonardo had come from an earlier clutch and Michelangelo from a later. While it was impossible to tell exact ages, they had guessed Leonardo to be about 17, Raphael and Donatello around 16 and Michelangelo around 15, give or take. So, Leonardo naturally took on a protective stance with his youngest brother. The orange banded turtle's innocence just made it that much easier to give into the protective mode. But the protective stance was working. His brother's breathing was steadying. Raphael took a shaky breath before asking, "Wh..what did you do then?" He almost didn't want to know but hearing what this 'other-him' had been like…he needed to know. Michelangelo eyed his red banded brother a long moment before answering, "I left. I ran. The look in your…I mean the other you's…eyes, I couldn't take it. I ran. Other You didn't chase me. Heard him say something about it not being worth it, that 'he'd take care of it." Donatello frowned; as happy as he was that his sibling felt comfortable enough to talk about all this, was this too much? He eyed Leonardo, silently inquiring and their leader said gently, "Michelangelo, are you doing okay? I'm glad you're talking, it's not good to keep it all inside but I don't want you getting yourself all worked up either." His little brother shifted his glance, blinking up at Leonardo before nuzzling into his brother's arms a little bit more. "'M okay. If you stay here. 'M okay…" "We aren't going anywhere," Donatello reassured him. "Any of us. But…you tell us if you need to stop, deal?" "Promise, Dude." He responded simply. The group went quiet a moment before Michelangelo started up again, "So…I decided to find Leonardo then." He took a moment, obviously schooling his emotions. "He was still in the Lair but Sensei wasn't. He didn't seem surprised to see me and you know, at first, he acted like normal." He shuddered "But it didn't last. After a day or so…or what felt like a day anyway, I asked him where Sensei was." Raphael asked when no one else did. "What did he say, Mikey?" Licking his lips a moment and trying to keep his body from giving into shakes, he responded, "He tol' me that he'd 'surpassed Master and I proved it.'" Michelangelo took a moment, closed his eyes tightly, focused intensely on the warm, loving arms wrapped tight around him and the caring emotions he felt pouring out from his other two brothers. "Said the final lesson was to best him in battle and you 'best' someone by taking their…" He went silent but he didn't need to finish the sentence. He could feel absolute horror erupt from Leonardo's body but he couldn't stop, not now or he'd never get through this last bit. It was like a bandaid or shot, you had to do it quick. "He started talkin' about how he no longer had any other brothers because Donnie was not a good enough fighter and Raphael had let Shredder's power get to him. And…the other version of me…" He shuddered, "He was still there, in the Lair. But, not as a brother. He served him, like…like, some kind of slave." He would never forget what he found; another version of him with a literal mark on his neck left by Leonardo's katanas. He took a heavy breath, steadied his voice. "I asked him why he didn't leave, why he didn't run and he said the last time he did that…" Quiet reigned again and Donatello stretched out a hand, "Then what happened, Mikey?" "He said…" Closing his eyes tight, he interrupted his own story, "Safe…safe…real or not real?" Raphael clenched his teeth tightly, "Real. On my life. Real." Swallowing, Michelangelo went on, "He said he tried to leave once, said he needed to get away and Leonardo tracked him down, accused him of abandoning their goal, their honor. Said that honor was to be kept or it was punished. Other Me said he'd asked about Raph and Donnie and he'd been told 'I'm working on dealing with them but I'll deal with you now.' He…said that Other Leonardo said he was 'influenced poorly' by outside influences. So he…" Shuddering, he couldn't stop the tears, "He pulled Zach into the Lair, our little amigo and he…he…ran him through. Quick and clean and told Other Me that if he had just listened, he wouldn't have had to remove the 'problem.' That it was his fault and if he thought other friends were 'poor influences' he would have to deliver the same blow…" He broke off, tears running down his face and clogging his throat. Leonardo pulled his brother close, "Enough. Shh, that was in that nightmare world, not here. Not real." "Not real.." Michelangelo repeated. Donatello smiled softly, "You're here, back home. You've survived Mikey—" "And you helped us take out that Demia," Raphael reminded him. "We trapped her, remember?" "But…but what if she gets free?" Michelangelo asked suddenly, looking so frightened, like a little kid who had lost his whole world. "What if she does this again? I know it's my fault but I can't do this again, I can't!" "Hush!" Leonardo's voice sounded more paternal than fraternal but still gentle. "First off, it wasn't your fault. You were tricked." "Because I'm stupid…" "No!" Raphael snapped the answer that time "Sure, maybe I joke about it a lot but you're not stupid Michelangelo. Waaaay too trusting, sure, but not stupid." Donatello added "And honestly, being too trusting is not such a bad trait to have. We could use more people that have it." Leonardo nodded, "And secondly, she isn't touching you again. I promise you that." He gently eased his brother down to a horizontal position, letting him use his lap as a pillow. "Remember that. You're safe here. We're all here, Michelangelo and Sensei will be back tomorrow." He stroked his brother's head, "It's safe here." Trying to focus on his brother's words, Michelangelo nodded "Safe…" Raphael and Donatello eased themselves closer, curling around their brother like living walls. "And we'll stay right here with you, Michelangelo," Donatello promised. "All night?" he inquired. "All night and all day if we have to." Raphael replied. "You rest, you sleep and we'll keep watch. Nothing is touching you, little brother. I swear it." Clutching his panda bear to his chest, Michelangelo let his eyes slide shut, trying to block out those memories. Getting it off his chest, certainly helped but…he shuddered.

Leonardo's calm, soothing voice drifted into his ears, in the soft melodic Japanese, "Tooku ni ite mo kimi ni todoku darou, Kono boku ga kokoro kome okuru messeeji, Kibou koso rashinban sa Ai wo yubisasu yo, Nemure Sotto nemure Asu wa yume tairiku." It was a lullaby that Master Splinter had used to sing to them when they were younger. Despite the fact he did not do it often, Leonardo did have a fairly good singing voice, especially in Japanese. Michelangelo shifted, turned so he looked up at his elder brother. "Nii-san…" Leonardo shushed him again and rubbed his brother's temples again, "Kodoku ni obiete ita yuube no kimi, Boku no na wo yonde 'ta ne Mune ni terepashii, Kiseki nanka ja nai Towa ni ai wa enajii da kara, Nemure Sotto nemure Kanashimi wo wasurete." Settling a bit, he tried to focus on what was around him. Donatello at his right, Raphael at his left and Leonardo's arms wrapped around him. The strength and protectiveness he felt from Raphael, the gentle concern and comfort from Donatello and the unyielding love from Leonardo. Not like those other ones. No, nothing like those other ones… "Jidai wa umi ni shizumu yuuhi no you sa, Hoshizora wo tobikoete kimi wo mukae ni yuku, Hoshizora wo tobikoete kimi wo mukae ni yuku." Thus began their ritual. Anytime Michelangelo would jerk, would yelp, Donatello or Raphael would wrap an arm around him and Leonardo would sing again. By the time morning rolled around, the leader's voice was starting to go but he kept it up. It would settle his brother so he would keep it up. He could treat a sore throat later with tea and honey. After the third time, he would switch between the original version and the english translation. Both versions had the same effect. It was this soft singing that greeted Master Splinter as he returned, finding all four of his sons cradled in the floor of Leonardo's room, surrounding their youngest and his eldest's tone softly whispering as he stroked his brother's head, "Perhaps I can reach you, even though you're far away, I send you this message with all my heart, Hope is certainly a compass that points to love, Sleep, sleep gently, for tomorrow is a continent of dreams, Last night you were scared of loneliness, The telepathy in your heart called my name, It's not even a miracle that in the future our hearts will be energy, Sleep, sleep gently, forget your sorrow, The years sink into the sea like the setting sun, I'll jump across the starry sky to collect you." Michelangelo moaned a little bit as Splinter approached and his eldest simply lay a hand on his head, sung gently, again, "I'll jump across the starry sky to collect you."

#tmnt #this family really needs to get these harbored feelings out #tmnt brotherly love #protective brothers #big brother leo #1987 tmnt #TMNT 1987 darker tone #SAINW future aftermath 1987 #break the woobie #broken Mikey #Mikey is a sweetheart #big brother donnie #big brother raph #the 1987 turtles speak Japanese #1987 TMNT is a family

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anyway-heres-enderal · 6 years

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i couldnt shut up about enderal right now if i wanted to so here’s that prophet ask meme with my prophetess fleur

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1. The basics – name, age, etc…

her name is fleur! i don’t know her last name but that’s okay because she’s kind of abandoned it. both of my vyn protags have line-of-sight, musically-inspired names so after that fuckin nightmare intro scene i had to name her as an homage to the song that was playing in my head the entire time it was happening (warning: disturbing imagery, abuse of some sort that is not shown but is strongly implied)

she’s 26 years old, half-kilean and bisexual.

2. Describe their appearance.

there’s a picture up there but a few other specifics: her hair is actually white, not just very light blonde, and she has blue eyes

3. How do they like to dress?

she jumps at the chance to wear nice clothes. she never got to back in ostian.

4. Do they have any markings (scars, tattoos, birthmarks)?

she has a few scars from a couple scuffles she got into back in nehrim. one of then is pretty gnarly-looking but it’s a diagonal from her lower chest to her left hip so once the events of enderal started rolling nobody who had seen it was still alive. word to the wise: don’t try to 1v1 a thunder lizard when you’re 14.

5. What are they like? Describe their personality (use whatever tools you like- MBTI, D&D alignment, astrological signs, Hogwarts house, words/phrases):

first of all, the only one of those tools that i have even a remotely decent grasp on is d&d alignment. she’s neutral-bordering-on-chaotic good. i don’t make characters with messages behind them (esp if they’re not for anyone’s consumption but mine) but hers would be “optimism with a dose of realism is probably the healthiest way to see the world”--she has the good sense to know when a situation or a person is beyond help but until that point she will try everything to help them. she desperately wanted to be wrong about adila and even as he was preparing his kamikaze attack she tried so hard to talk yuslan down.

to temper this, though, she takes things too seriously and she’s a bit of a crybaby (ok, not just a bit. alessia, my shadowgod, cried three times over the course of the entire main quest. fleur cried three times over the course of the very first quest that didn’t take place inside a trauma nightmare), although you could argue that she just has like. a normal human reaction to trauma, and everything that happens to her in enderal is EXTREMELY FUCKING TRAUMATIC.

since i have an easier time using tools like the ones described in the question to describe personalities, if she was a disney character she’d be rapunzel from tangled but less naive and with meaningful agency and if she was a social link/confidant in a persona game her card would be the star.

6. How would they describe themselves?

she has really low self-esteem but she doesn’t like. outright hate herself so she’s dismissive of any notion that she’s special or pretty. this probably sounds extremely sue-ish but a) i don’t give a fuck and b) every diy protagonist is at least kind of a mary sue simply because they’re the big special chosen one who all the romanceable companions have feelings for.

7. Education level?

uh. Not Any, Formally Speaking. School Of Hard Knocks. Worked For A Historian In Her Late Teens-Early Twenties And Learned Most Of What She Knows That Isn’t On The School Of Hard Knocks Curriculum That Way.

8. What are they proud of in themselves? What are they embarrassed about?

like the one notable talent that she’ll accept having is that she’s really smart and even before the Everything That Happened On The Ship Headed To Enderal she was a really quick learner.

she has ZERO prior experience with romance (she’s not in any way aromantic, she’s just never been in a romantic relationship) and she doesn’t like to tell people that, especially people she likes. she feels like they’ll think there’s something seriously wrong with her and that’s why she’s never been in a romantic relationship at age 26. 9. Do they know any languages other than Inal?

she knows like. kindergarten-level kilean.

10. What, if any, aspects of their mother’s culture influenced them growing up?

she didn’t really “grow up” with her parents, they died when she was six, but she has a strong belief in the importance of diplomacy and that’s pure Mom right there.

11. Name a song (or a few) that remind you of them.

i hope you like obscure musicals and vocaloid because that’s what you’re getting

In All My Dreams I Drown - The Devil’s Carnival Cast

Starchild - Ghost Quartet

Tears To Shed - Corpse Bride

Ever Lasting Night - Hitoshizuku-P (specifically the Miku character)

Lemonade - Sophie (sorry 4 mood whiplash)

12. Speaking of songs, can they sing? What is their voice like? How about instruments?

she’s hopeless with instruments but she’s not a bad singer by any means. sorry 4 relentless youtube links but she kind of sounds like Gelsey Bell

13. What was their life like before coming to Enderal?

it wasn’t good, i’m not going to lie. she and sirius spent a pretty decent amount of time roughing it because towns and cities kind of got progressively more dangerous as time went on, and Because Of Reasons I Won’t Go Into Here they both had pretty good reasons to avoid anyone affiliated with the temple of the creator

14. How did they decide to leave Nehrim?

it was too fuckin dangerous to try to make a life there anymore

15. Describe their relationship with Sirius.

they were siblings in all senses but blood. he got her out of a pretty bad situation when they were kids and she just stuck with him until they had been through so much together there was no other way for them to describe their relationship than “family”

16. Who do they blame for what happened to their family?

herself. survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug and it doesn’t help that things only got worse afterward. she like. knows the temple did it, but since she doesn’t know why she’ll always wonder if there was something she could have done to stop it.

17. Apart from stowing away, have they ever broken the law?

she would be considered an accomplice to murder because she helped hide a body once (don’t worry, the victim without question deserved it)

18. How honest are they? Under what circumstances would they lie?

basically the only person she directly lies to is herself; if she’s dishonest, it’s usually by omission. the rare occasions she does outright lie it’s usually to protect someone or because there’s no way anyone would believe the truth.

19. Worst memory(s)? Best memory(s)?

Too Heavy For This Post and uhhhh. getting to spend time with her two BFFs/crushes on the Gertrude before everything started really going to shit was an extremely good memory for her.

20. Fight, or flight?

fight unless they’re like. demonstrably stronger. running away from an enemy she had a chance of defeating has always just come back to bite her. she wanted to fight the steel bird in the star city.

21. Describe their combat style.

Best Defense Is A Good Offense, Also Axes = Good. (original playthrough was greataxes and heavy armor but i’ll probably switch to war axes and light armor [or unarmored if i can swing it] when the steam release drops because apparently half-kileans are equivalent to bretons in normal skyrim terms and i can’t abide having played a heavy armor + two-handed breton twice)

22. Have they ever killed before? What is their reaction to combat?

she’s hunted animals but she’d never done more to a human than injure them enough to scare them off prior to enderal. she tries to only harm people in self-defense and may have cried a little bit (ok, quite a bit) after she had to kill firespark.

23. How do they react to having magical abilities? Do they use them?

magic makes her head feel “gross” somehow (read: she’s uniquely sensitive to arcane fever) so she doesn’t use it

24. What do they think of Enderal?

the scenery’s beautiful but the fact that it’s a theocracy and the notion of being stuck on a certain “path” depending on the circumstances of your birth freaks her out for reasons of “hey remember the oppressive religious regime that was responsible for all of your childhood trauma and continued to make your life hell before a mysterious trans power couple plus their direct superior group of outsiders instigated a rebellion that brought the whole thing down? now it controls the whole continent and everyone thinks it’s Good, Actually”

25. Did they do the Biggest Egg Hunt Ever quest?

she would have if my dumb ass hadn’t completely fuckin spaced it out and forgotten about it until it was too late. next playthrough, i swear.

26. How do they feel about joining the Order? What do they think of Arantheal?

she was not in favor of it (see: opinion of theocracies) and basically clung to the green shirts until she was inducted as a keeper. arantheal makes her uneasy but the threat of looming armageddon does a lot to help her shove that uneasiness to the side.

27. What is their opinion of the gods (or lack thereof)?

she’s not inherently against the gods but she doesn’t like organized religion

28. Wine, or pipe?

wine!

29. Do they spare or arrest Hallys, the farmer-turned-bandit in the quest, Deus Ex Machina? Why?

she arrested him after she found out where the money really came from. if it hadn’t been Stolen From A Fucking Food Bank she probably would have let him go.

30. What are their feelings and opinions about the Undercity?

uh...she hates that ark has a “slum district out of sight of the Good And Honorable Rich People” because having been poor and homeless basically until she came to enderal she can’t help but empathize with the residents of the undercity.

31. How do they react to the beggars of Ark?

if tumblr doesn’t stop refreshing the page and deleting my answers every time i switch tabs to look at the wiki or change the song i’m listening to i’m going to throw my laptop off the porch.

she usually reacts by sparing some change because she can relate

32. Where and how do they spend their time when in Ark?

she really likes the museum in the south quarter. she likes learning stuff and looking at relics of the past.

33. What would they do with three wishes?

just...stop the fuckin cycle

make the black stones inert so nobody else gets hurt because of them

this is basically deliberate repression so it’s 100% unhealthy but she would gladly wish to forget everything that happened before she was seven if it would put an end to the nightmares

34. How do they feel about death? Do they fear it?

uh. yes. she very bigly fears death. she kind of had a complete breakdown after the keeper exam until calia reassured her that just because she heard something during her harrowing doesn’t mean it’s true.

35. What (else) do they fear?

deep water (predates game events). also i dont know if it’s necessarily a fear but she hates being surprised.

36. Do they have any secrets?

uh. Yeah. her dad really was as bad as the dreams show. a few other things.

37. How is their behavior around people they like? People they dislike?

she’s about as friendly and affectionate as her shyness will allow with people she likes. it takes a LOT for her to be actively hostile but she’ll only attempt like. the barest superficial politeness to people she dislikes. 38. What is their relationship with the companions? Who, if anyone, did your prophet romance?

they’re her very good friends who she is also crushing on hard. yeah, both of em. she ended up with jespar kind of by default because i wasn’t making an effort to specifically target either of them but i kind of like the contrast between them so i’m gonna leave that in the Canon Playthrough Bin.

39. Was there any non-companion character that they were close to? That they particularly disliked?

does ryneus count? she would have taken him back to the sun temple and had the few green shirts left alive help her build some method of locomotion for him if she could have. also she had a crush on lishari. she didn’t have anyone she strongly disliked other than obvious shitbirds like taranor.

40. How do they feel about myrads?

she thinks they’re Big Cute Dog Monster Boys

41. What dreams or ambitions did they have before coming to Enderal? What about afterwards?

she wanted to be an archaeologist! she kind of got to do archaeologist stuff during her time in enderal but she wishes that she’d been able to do it without an apocalyptic sword of damocles hanging over her

42. Do they like cities? Or do they prefer the country? Is there a region of Enderal that they like or dislike more than the others?

she doesn’t necessarily dislike city life because she often gets lonely so living somewhere with a big population is always a tempting thought, but if she could take everyone she loves and go live somewhere peaceful where there’s no oppressive government or looming apocalypse she would.

her ideal Cottage Away From All The Bad Things would be in the goldenforst but she loves the crystal forest even though if she gets too close to the crystals it makes her feel like her brain is trying to vibrate out of her skull.

43. What do they do to lower their considerable stress?

go on walks in one of the numerous beautiful locations in enderal. take apart inactive mechanical constructs and try to understand their inner workings from their guts. press flowers.

44. Describe their perfect day off.

wake up from a nightmare-free sleep (you said “perfect”), go on a nice walk around the city (paying a visit to the museum of course!), meet up with her friends and find something fun to do that won’t put them in mortal danger, get drunk at the dancing nomad when it gets too dark for wandering around outside the city to be a good idea, and then watch the stars.

45. List three of their favorite things. Three things they hate?

likes:

sugar bread

the color gold

nice scenery

dislikes:

cooked cabbage

mead

bugs

46. What’s in their pockets?

emergency healing potion

herbs for making another emergency healing potion

at least one apple

random flowers that look cool

a ton of those vendor trash crystal coins you find in pyrean ruins. she just thinks they’re neat!

47. Pets? Mounts? Treasured possessions?

she’s never really had a lot she could hold on to and the thought of prizing a short-lived animal or an item that’s easy to lose is frightening.

48. How are their cooking skills?

NOT FUCKIN GOOD

(she can cook meat alright but anything more complex than that? no)

49. Do you consider any particular quest or side quest to be definitive for your prophet? Which one(s) and why?

i bulldozed through the main quest on my first playthrough; i’ll probably be able to answer this question better once the steam release drops and i can replay the game.

50. How forgiving are they? For example, if they were yelled at in a brothel after searching high and low for this little sh*t, how would they react?

first of all, everyone has a different reaction to traumatic experiences and sometimes that reaction isn’t “palatably sad and helpless” so jot that down. that being said, fleur was extremely upset about that because a) she’s also not an “uwu soft helpless cinnamon roll” kind of trauma survivor, b) some of what he said was generally hurtful, and c) that entire mission had already been one big long anxiety attack

but she’s too hyperempathetic to hold a grudge, especially when a) she knows where the person who hurt her was coming from, b) she gets a sincere apology, and c) she is more than a little in love with the person doing the apologizing.

51. What do they think of the Veiled Woman?

uh. mixed feelings. for what it’s worth, her feelings are mixed because they started out negative and then once she actually got to talk to the veiled woman her opinion strongly improved but like...sirius still died right in front of her because of this woman’s actions so they’ll never be fully positive.

52. If they had been a victim of one of the black stones, how would it have affected them? What would they have used its power to accomplish?

[slams huge portfolio of ideas i’ve had about this exact scenario on your desk] well y’see fleur as she is in canon is a brand of yandere that only technically qualifies as such: she won’t kidnap or murder people who reject her advances, but...uh...don’t harm her loved ones and expect mercy.

fleur under the influence of the black stones...well. it’d be very much like this except not Literally Directed Toward A Fucking Relative. esp the “well you found out now all i can hope for from you is to see your face one last time as you kill me” ending. not quite full yuno gasai love-me-or-i’ll-slaughter-you giggling while hacking someone up but. you know. Something Adjacent.

53. What was their reaction to the Black Guardian’s revelations? Do they accept or reject his offer?

she just kind of emotionally shut down. it was a lot to take in, esp for her. she took him up on his offer because by that point she was desperate for everything she’d gone through to mean something.

54. How does their story end?

credits rolled on her sitting on the edge of the star city with jespar. while the credits rolled i was staring into the void thinking about my life. not sure if that’s canon, next playthrough i’m gonna do a hard save before the final decision point and see if catharsis leaves me feeling less empty inside.

55. Do they change over the course of the story? In what ways?

she becomes a lot more confident and sure of herself and even though she never stops being an optimist she learns to stop setting herself on fire to keep others warm.

56. Anything else you’d like to share about them?

she’s so cautiously positive because she was written as a foil to my shadowgod alessia, a textbook nihilist who only got worse after the events of nehrim.

57. Bonus: For you- what are you most excited for in Forgotten Stories?

VEILED WOMAN BACKSTORY

#this took me literally nine hours to finish #tbf one of those hours i was in class #enderal #uh. canon-typical triggering content within.

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jaemtens · 6 years

Text

The Canned Genie

monsta x| kihyuk | side jookyun | 11.5k | ao3

summary: Lee Minhyuk was just making dinner when he ends up with a genie that he didn’t ask for. Yoo Kihyun was just chilling in his “lamp” when he ends up with several headaches that he didn’t ask for.

☆ The First Wish ☆

Minhyuk dropped his backpack on the ground and dramatically collapsed on his rickety bed.

He should eat, he thought to himself.

Long ago, he was sure that the bed frame would iminently give out, folding on itself while he was sleeping on it. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if that happened -- sleep on the floor? That’s not the worst, right? A few days passed, and he was pretty sure he was in the clear. His bed was just rickety and old, even if it was comfy and, um, well-used. He could definitely fall asleep right now. Minhyuk rolled to his side, hugging his blanket and burying his face into it. It was so warm; yup, he could fall asleep right now if he wanted to.

He really should eat, he thought again.

Minhyuk was so tired. Beyond tired. Exhausted? Yeah, exhausted was the word. Today, he had to work the early-morning shift at the convenience store before heading to his night lecture for Quantitative Chemistry aka Quant aka Hell On Earth. Yeah, yeah, he knew that choosing chemistry as his major was definitely not the easy way out. He knew that every waking moment of his four-year degree was going to be hard. But, even if your average Biology or Pre-Medical major Suffered (yes, Suffered, not suffered. Just ask a biology major about organic chemistry and you’ll know why) through every chemistry class, Minhyuk took most of them in stride. Quant was a whole ‘nother level, and his brain ached just thinking about the class. He didn’t know how he made it through today’s lecture, and he certainly didn’t remember dragging himself through the dark streets back to his apartment building.

Just get up and eat, you lard! he chided himself.

He finally acquiesced to his conscience. With a prolonged groan, Minhyuk rolled off his bed, his gangly limbs steadying the sleep-deprived college student. His eyes were barely open, the light streaming from the incandescent bulb above him too much to handle right now. Minhyuk dragged himself to the kitchen, nearly tripping on his bag along the way. God, he was a mess.

Look, he wasn’t usually a mess, okay? Just after Quant. And Inorganic. And -- never mind.

Just how was Minhyuk so perpetually tired?

Well, first, he was a college student. An unhealthy dose of exhaustion was the name of the game. Bonus tired points because he was a chemistry major, a department in which the professors literally did not care if you slept or not. Suffering (yes, Suffering!) was widespread in his major. And Minhyuk? Well, he was basically an academic masochist. Just ask the nuclear magnetic resonance spectrographs scattered all over his desk.

Second, he worked. It wasn’t a good job. It wasn’t even a job he liked. It was a dead-end retail job at a convenience store. But, let’s face it. Who’s going to hire a broke underclassmen chemistry major with literally no work experience? A convenience store, that’s who. Unfortunately, that wiped out most of Minhyuk’s free time.

Third, Minhyuk was the type of person to sleep whenever he could. His sleep schedule oscillated wildly between consecutive all-nighters to, like, 36 hours of sleep straight. Okay, not quite straight, but laying in bed and hiding under your covers while technically awake is not really awake, right? Minhyuk took naps everywhere and anywhere. Altogether, he was pretty sure his sleep schedule was screwed up beyond saving.

Fortunately for sleepy Minhyuk, his kitchen was really close to his bed. The upside to a closet-sized apartment? Is his studio even a real apartment? Still half-awake, Minhyuk opened one of the cupboards and sighed at how hopelessly empty it was. He really needed to get more stuff from the convenience store... Or steal more free food from campus. Grocery stores were too expensive. Who has money for fruit in this economy? Minhyuk reached for his last can of chicken noodle soup and fished out his hand-me-down can opener from one of the drawers. He latched the can opener’s teeth on the can of soup and clenched down hard on the handles, perforating the can on one edge.

Without any further warning, the top of the can practically exploded off, and a plume of lavender-white smoke swirled up from the can. The smoke enveloped his small kitchen, but it left as soon as it had appeared. In its place was an empty can of ‘soup,’ and a boy who looked like he couldn’t be much older than him.

Oh, and the boy was floating.

“I must be hallucinating,” Minhyuk murmured, rubbing his eyes. That was the only reasonable explanation; he was so tired that he was hallucinating. God, he really should’ve just stayed in bed. This is what happens when you shun sleep. Never give up on sleep, kids.

The floating boy rolled his eyes. “No, you’re not,” he emphatically replied. “Name’s Kihyun, I’m a genie, and you get five wishes.”

“What?”

Kihyun sighed. “My name is Yoo Kihyun. I’m a genie, and I grant wishes... Anything you want, really. You get five wishes.”

The hallucination -- Kihyun, his tripped-out brain corrected -- seemed pretty serious for being, you know, completely fake.

“I wish I had another can of soup,” Minhyuk deadpanned, rubbing his eyes again. What a weird dream.

Kihyun rolled his eyes again. Minhyuk swore he heard the boy mutter something under his breath, but, without missing a beat, Kihyun snapped his fingers. Another puff of lavender smoke appeared on his kitchen counter, quickly dissipating to reveal an exact replica of the empty can of chicken noodle soup that Kihyun came from. This new one was sealed, unlike the empty one next to it. Minhyuk looked back over at Kihyun, who acted like this was totally and completely normal.

“Four wishes,” Kihyun dryly said.

Okay, this was a little much for a hallucination… maybe he was dreaming? Minhyuk tried to wake himself up a little, studying all of Kihyun’s features. Even though he was hovering a few inches off the ground, Minhyuk could tell that Kihyun was a few inches shorter than him. He had light brown hair that was boyishly combed down over his forehead. His features were remarkably sharp with strong cheekbones and a strong jawline. His eyes were small and narrow, but his lips and nose were larger. He had small unremarkable earrings in each ear and a blinged-out ring on his right hand, but otherwise he was dressed in plain business casual: a white collared shirt and black pants.

This was oddly specific for a dream. Minhyuk was really tired, though -- maybe he had actually passed out? Kihyun was starting to look impatient. Would he really have dreamed this up? He remembered reading somewhere that your most vivid dreams occurred when you were the most tired. And, well, he was really tired when he got home.

“So…” Minhyuk slowly started. “You’re a genie?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Kihyun retorted. He seemed disinterested, like Minhyuk was probably the most boring thing in his genie-life right now.

“And you grant wishes?”

“Yup,” Kihyun dismissively answered. “If you wish for anything, I’ll make it come true.”

“And you just wasted your first wish on a can of soup,” he added, disdain evident in his voice. Compared to Minhyuk’s low, nasally voice, Kihyun had a high-pitched tone that sounded like a cross between a sassy gay boy and an annoyed younger sibling. It was almost endearing?

“Well, can I get a do-over on that wish?”

“There aren’t any do-overs for wishes,” Kihyun harshly replied.

“Can I wish for more wishes then?”

“No!”

“Oh.”

So, turns out that you can’t wish for more wishes. What a joke. Kihyun said he could wish for anything, doesn’t that mean he can wish for more wishes?

Minhyuk looked back over at the can of soup on his counter. “Why… why were you in a can of soup? I thought genies came in lamps?”

Kihyun sighed. “Look, how many magic lamps have you seen, like, ever?”

“Mmm,” Minhyuk paused, thinking out loud. “None?”

“Exactly. So we have to get creative.”

“But… a can of soup?”

“Okay, first off, it’s a lot bigger than it looks. Quite roomy, actually. But you wouldn’t know since you’re just a boring old human.”

“And… you’re a genie.”

“Ohmygod, yes! Yes, I’m a genie! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Okay, okay, you’re a genie,” Minhyuk tacitly agreed. “And you do genie things like grant wishes.”

“Yes.”

“And live in soup cans.”

“Listen here, you little shit,” Kihyun threatened, his eyes fierce and staring directly at Minhyuk’s eyes now; Kihyun definitely had a temper. “With a snap of my fingers I can banish you to another dimension. Or I can shrink you down to the size of an ant. Or I can turn you into an actual ant. Point is, I have more magic in one finger than you can even dream up in your wildest nightmares.”

Kihyun sure was awfully angry. Or annoyed. He couldn’t tell for sure, but Kihyun seemed upset for someone who had just been released from, well, a can of soup.

“Isn’t it, like, against the genie rules to hurt the person who summoned you?”

Kihyun sighed again. He seemed to do that a lot? He was clearly still annoyed.

“Yes,” he belatedly admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that the second you finish your fifth wish--”

“--Don’t you just go back into the soup can?”

“Why are you so annoying!”

“Because this is definitely a dream,” Minhyuk argued. “Or a nightmare, I guess.”

“No, I can assure you that this is very much real, that you’re awake. If anyone’s having a nightmare, it’s me.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad,” Minhyuk protested. Just then, his stomach growled in hunger. He blushed a little -- he still hadn’t eaten.

“Anyways, you don’t get hungry in dreams.”

“Uh huh,” Minhyuk dismissed. Kihyun did have a point: you don’t usually get hungry in dreams. And they usually aren’t this… realistic. He was really hungry. And Kihyun seemed really… real. “You don’t mind if I, uh…” he added, motioning toward the can of soup that Kihyun had conjured up for him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kihyun replied, rolling his eyes again. Minhyuk just smiled in response as he cracked open the new can and poured it into a bowl. He threw it in the microwave and let it cook.

“I hope you, like, made this correctly.”

“I can assure you that it’s just as salty, preservative-filled, and unhealthy as every other can of chicken noodle soup.”

“Great,” Minhyuk feigned. “Just the way I like it.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh.” Minhyuk was too sleepy to be embarrassed. “That’s because I thought you weren’t real.”

“GENIES ARE REAL!”

Minhyuk just laughed in response. “My name’s Lee Minhyuk.”

“Well, okay, Minhyuk,” Kihyun started, “You live in a dump. These kitchen appliances look like they’re from 1962. Your cupboards? 1942. There’s no furniture in this place except for your desk, which, by the way, is covered in crap so you can’t even see the desk. Your walls and ceiling are peeling in at least five places, and I can only imagine what your bedroom looks like. Not to mention that you have no food, no tableware, and no proper cutlery.”

“Um,” Minhyuk demurred, sheepishly scratching his neck while looking around his place. “First, I don’t have a bedroom. Studio and all. Second, I wasn’t exactly planning on having visitors tonight, you know?”

Kihyun didn’t really seem satisfied with that answer, but at this hour? That was the best he was going to get.

“You can, uh, make yourself at home, I guess?” he added.

“Trust me, there’s nothing that you can do to this apartment to make it more homey.”

“You’re right, I can’t make it look like the inside of a soup can,” Minhyuk replied, giggling as he watched Kihyun’s expression sour.

“Why you little--”

The microwave beeped, signaling that his soup was done. Minhyuk stopped giggling and grabbed his tupperware bowl from the microwave with a hand-towel. He cradled the soup in one hand with the towel whilst using his free hand to find a plastic spork for slurping the noodles.

“You were saying?”

Kihyun sighed and rolled his eyes at the same time. Minhyuk wondered if that was an improvement?

“Aren’t you going to make another wish?”

Oh, yeah, the whole genie bit.

“Hmm, well I think I need some time to think about it,” Minhyuk countered before blowing on a sporkful of noodles and stuffing it in his mouth.

“Did me listing all the things that were wrong about your apartment not help?”

“Nope~” Minhyuk replied with a smile.

☆ The Second Wish ☆

Minhyuk’s eyes fluttered open when the sunlight just started to assault his eyes through his apartment’s lone window. Everything was really freaking bright, so he barely cracked his eyes open; he shuffled in his bed, rolling around to face the rest of the room. Everything looked normal? Normal-ish, at least. He lifted his upper body up and sitting -- well, float-sitting (is that the right word for that?) -- near the foot of his bed and looking totally unamused was none other than Yoo Kihyun. He was unchanged from last night, except he had an unimpressed look and a hand on his chin like he had been watching Minhyuk sleeping for… hours? Hours. Minhyuk’s eyes got real wide and he pulled his covers up over his bare chest.

“What are you doing in here?” he groggily stammered out, still in shock that Kihyun would desecrate the sanctimony of his bedroom-slash-living room. And surely he knew that Kihyun was going to say something about the state of his room soon enough.

“The genie equivalent of watching grass grow,” Kihyun deadpanned, still not moving his hand from his face. “Except for us it’s watching humans sleep.”

“Wait, what?” Minhyuk complained. “Don’t you have, like, genie things to go do?”

“Oh, I would love to be doing literally anything else right now, Minhyuk. But, unfortunately for me, I’m stuck with you until you use all of your wishes. And, even more unfortunately for me, you are a very boring person who doesn’t wish for things quickly. So here I am, watching grass grow.”

Minhyuk let his covers fall back down after realizing that, no, Kihyun was not going to kill him. Though, he still had at least one question nagging at him.

“Couldn’t you, like, do something? Anything? Other than watch me.”

Kihyun sighed. “I would do literally anything else, but, again, you’re a boring person who has literally nothing of interest in this shoebox of an apartment.”

“Right.” Minhyuk feigned agreement, still trying to wake up. “Sorry, I’m still really tired.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got a genie who could instantly solve that problem for you,” Kihyun wryly commented, perking up a little. “You could wish for a comfier bed? Fluffier pillows? Warmer covers? Or how about a fully-furnished apartment? Or a larger apartment? Or you could skip the whole apartment and wish to be fully-rested every day?”

Kihyun seemed really excited about the prospect of Minhyuk using up another wish. But why would he want to? He just got up; shouldn’t he, like, fully think this through? Kihyun probably just wanted him to wish for stuff so that he could go back in his soup can and do whatever genies do. Yeah, Minhyuk was pretty sure that whatever Kihyun wanted to do was probably more important than granting his wishes, but honestly? Kihyun was pretty cute and he wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity to have a cute magical boy follow him around for a few days, even if it came at Kihyun’s expense.

“I want -- not wish for -- some privacy while I shower and get ready,” Minhyuk calmly said, walking to his micro-sized bathroom wearing nothing but sweats. Kihyun’s expression darkened when he realized that, no, Minhyuk was not going to get this over with quickly.

“Trust me, I do not want to see you naked.”

“Nope, you just want to watch me sleep,” Minhyuk joked with a smile before shutting the door to the bathroom. He wanted nothing more than to see Kihyun’s facial expression change in response to that comment, but he needed to get ready; his first class started in an hour, and it took him twenty minutes to get to campus. He started the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair was messy and all over the place, but he didn’t really care. Bedhead was pretty normal for him. You know, a common side effect of excessive sleeping. While the shower was warming up, he brushed his teeth and picked out a towel to sling over the shower rod. Minhyuk undressed and stepped into the nearly-scalding water.

What did he want to wish for? Every time his mind turned to his remaining four wishes, everything just went… blank? Like, sure his life wasn’t perfect. Kihyun was right, his apartment was kind of a dump, and he didn’t have much food in his kitchen, and he was always tired. But he couldn’t imagine his life any other way. If he just wished away one of his problems -- or even most of them -- new problems would just take their place. Minhyuk wanted things, sure, but he wanted things that you couldn’t just put into words, that you couldn’t just conjure up, that you couldn’t just wish for. It wasn’t that simple.

He just had to figure those things out.

After lathering himself and throwing some shampoo in his unwieldy hair, Minhyuk rinsed himself off, stopped the water, and dried himself with his towel. He tied his towel around his waist and stepped back into the bedroom to put together an outfit and to find out what sassmaster-genie Kihyun had prepared in past five minutes.

“You know, you really should be nice to your genie. I can pervert all of your wishes to their worst possible meaning.”

“Uh huh,” Minhyuk dismissed, searching his closet for something to wear.

“Aren’t you going to wish for something? I’m sure you thought of something in the shower. Lots of shower thoughts, right?”

“Were you imagining me in the shower?” Minhyuk asked.

“No,” Kihyun flatly replied.

“Do you want me to wish that you were thinking about that?”

“Look--”

“--Besides, how would genies even, like, know what goes on in the shower? Do genies even shower?”

Kihyun didn’t have an answer for that one. He licked his lips while his eyes darted around shiftily; Minhyuk was satisfied.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” he finally complained.

“I didn’t either,” Minhyuk added before disappearing back in the bathroom to change.

“So are you going to come with me to class today?” he shouted through the door.

“Unfortunately,” Kihyun replied, also shouting.

“Okay, well I have--”

“--Organic chemistry lab, I know.”

What? How did Kihyun--

“You had your class schedule on your desk,” Kihyun mentioned. “And your lab. You screwed up #4, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“You fixed it!?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave it wrong, Minhyuk.”

“H-how do you even know organic chemistry?”

“Minhyuk, I’ve been doing this genie thing since before organic chemistry was even a thing.”

He threw on his hoodie and exited the bathroom.

“Why would anyone even willingly learn organic chemistry,” he mused in full earshot of Kihyun. He went straight to kitchen, and he could feel Kihyun’s floaty presence follow him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kihyun replied. “Don’t you wanna wish for, like, a nice breakfast? A stack full of pancakes perhaps?”

“Mmm, pancakes sound, like, really good right now. But maybe I should wish for you to stop asking me about my wishes?” Minhyuk deadpanned before pulling out an Eggo waffle from his freezer. He threw it in the microwave and turned to face Kihyun. “Are you really going out like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” Minhyuk repeated, gesturing at Kihyun’s whole body.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve kept up with current fashion trends,” Kihyun started, “Besides, a collared shirt and pants will never go out of style.”

“Not that... That,”he corrected, motioning more toward Kihyun’s feet, where he was most definitely still floating. Kihyun seemed to take even more offense to Minhyuk’s insinuation, his eyes widening and then narrowing before the microwave decided to interrupt his reaction. Minhyuk tossed the waffle in his mouth, holding it with his teeth, and moved over to his desk, grabbing all the stuff he needed for lab.

“Uh, no, I am not going to walk,” Kihyun protested. “I haven’t walked in over fifty years, and I’m not going to start today. It’s disgraceful for a genie to walk. We can float for a reason -- so we don’t have to walk. Walking is for humans.”

“Well, I would really prefer it if you walked if you’re going to follow me around. Besides, like, aren’t people gonna ask?”

“No, they’re not. You’re the only one who can see me.”

Minhyuk frowned. “Maybe I’ll wish for things faster if I’m not distracted by a floating genie.”

He finished shoving notebooks into his backpack, zipping up the pockets one-by-one until his homework and labs and class notes were all stuffed in his completely-disorganized bag. He finished off his waffle and turned to face Kihyun, who, to his disbelief, looked even more ticked off than before. But! He wasn’t floating. Small victories.

“Do you remember how to walk after fifty years?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Kihyun sassed back.

Minhyuk laughed. “For being hundreds of years old, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“I’m actually twenty-two in genie years, you asshole.”

He laughed again, motioning Kihyun toward the door. “Let’s go,” he announced. Kihyun sighed, marching out of his apartment with a gait and facial expression that told Minhyuk he’d rather be doing basically anything other than this.

“You know, I bet you look older because of the soup can thing.”

“I’m going to kill you, Minhyuk.”

“Are you sure you’re supposed to add that chemical next?”

“For the love of God,” Minhyuk whispered under his breath. He had quickly learned that perhaps having his cute genie follow him around all day was not the best thing to happen to him. For instance, the cons of no one else noticing Kihyun became readily apparent:

First, if Minhyuk tried to talk to him in public, everybody looked at him weird, like Minhyuk was talking to himself. To be fair, that’s exactly what it looked like to everyone else. And there was no feasible way for Minhyuk to explain that, no, I’m not crazy, I’m just talking to my personal genie whom you can’t see. This relegated Minhyuk to whispering, subtly gesturing, and, to steal a page from Kihyun’s book, rolling his eyes.

Second, because Minhyuk couldn’t really respond to Kihyun, this gave Kihyun ample time to be even sassier than he was before. Minhyuk couldn’t shut him down like he usually did, which made Kihyun extra smug. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded -- even if Kihyun liked to slip little comments about wishing for this and wishing for that, he usually chimed in when Minhyuk was about to do something stupid. Like add the wrong solid to his chemical reaction.

Third -- and Minhyuk hated to admit this -- Kihyun was starting to look really cute.

He didn’t dare tell his genie that, though.

“Look, I really think you should double-check the protocol, Minhyuk,” his genie insisted, his butt plopped on the empty bench space next to him. He wasn’t floating per se, but his feet didn’t reach the ground and if that wasn’t the most adorable thing ever --

“No, not that one,” Kihyun interjected as Minhyuk went to grab a different solid.

“Which one,” Minhyuk whispered, slightly exhausted by the constant badgering. Honestly, Kihyun was the only reason he was still working on the lab. Usually he had screwed up so badly that there was no way for him to recover, forcing him to leave early.

Kihyun pointed at a yellow solid, rolling his eyes in the process. “Did you even read the protocol?”

“I was going to, but then my plans got kinda screwed up by an unexpected visitor.”

“Sure, blame it on the genie who you could easily get rid of in four wishes.”

“Shut up,” Minhyuk toothlessly warned. It was an empty threat -- like there was anything Minhyuk could do to actually get Kihyun to stop talking. Meanwhile, Kihyun played with the ring on his right hand’s ring finger, spinning it around aimlessly. Minhyuk really was boring to him.

“Um, what?”

Minhyuk looked to his right.

Crap.

“Hyungwon, I’m sorry, I was talking to myself.”

His hood buddy -- the other student who he shared the fume hood with -- made a face, like Minhyuk had three heads. Hyungwon made that face at him a lot. Kihyun snickered in amusement.

Hyungwon, unlike Minhyuk, usually knew what he was doing. He was a straight-A student who knew chemistry inside and out. Quiet, bookish, and the type to actually study regularly instead of cramming like literally everybody else, Hyungwon was the star of the program. Hyungwon usually didn’t bother to grace Minhyuk with any words throughout their three-hour lab; he was methodical, laser-focused, and, honestly? Too good for the frenetic and unorganized Minhyuk. Hyungwon actually knew what he was doing while Minhyuk was usually just guessing.

“Yo! Minhyuk, pay attention!” Kihyun hollered, leaning forward a bit.

Minhyuk looked over at the reaction he had been carefully stirring.

“Dude!” Kihyun started, peering into the fume hood from his position perched on the lab bench. “You were supposed to stop stirring when it turned white again!”

Minhyuk looked down at his definitely not-white liquid. It was more like a salmon pink color, the reaction having gone past completion. It was also sticky, like silly putty. Minhyuk sighed. This always happened. He wasn’t good at organic chemistry.

Without missing a beat, Minhyuk started cleaning up after himself. He was used to it by now -- the shameful dance of cleaning up your station far before you were supposed to be done. Everybody knew what happened: Minhyuk screwed up. Again. Minhyuk glanced over at the TA, who just shook his head. His TA did that last week too.

He tossed his toxic reagents in the waste container, washed his glassware with distilled water, packed up his belongings, and started taking off his lab coat.

His grade was still salvageable. Yeah, it wasn’t going to be perfect, but Minhyuk just needed to pass the class. You could still get a C on the lab report even if the reaction didn’t work.

Surprisingly, Kihyun was silent throughout the whole ordeal, like he could tell Minhyuk was genuinely upset about the whole thing. He tried his best -- he really did! He just wasn’t the best at labwork. He wasn’t Hyungwon.

“Oh no.”

Just as Minhyuk was about to leave, he heard Hyungwon start to panic. He glanced over at his hood buddy’s reaction, which had started to turn pink, too.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Hyungwon repeated, trying to load the paste-like mixture into his funnel. It seemed like it was too late, though; the mixture wasn’t falling out of his beaker into the funnel at all. Instead, it was like glue, sticking to the bottom of his glassware.

Minhyuk had never, ever seen Hyungwon screw up before. And watching the scene unfold before him -- it was heartbreaking. It sucked when things didn’t work, but Hyungwon was beyond that. His perpetually-pouty face was upset, his eyes starting to gloss up. He was completely distraught, desperately trying to save his reaction, trying to help the rapidly-solidifying mixture into his funnel with his mixing spatula. Nothing was working, and Hyungwon could see his A in the class slipping away as the reaction refused to leave his beaker.

Minhyuk could too.

He immediately turned to Kihyun, who looked surprised by Minhyuk’s reaction to Hyungwon.

“Kihyun, I wish that Hyungwon’s reaction worked.”

Kihyun seemed genuinely shocked. Minhyuk hadn’t wished for anything in over a day, and now he was wishing for someone else’s reaction to work? Even after his own reaction had already failed? Kihyun had no choice though, so he reluctantly snapped his fingers.

Minhyuk ignored Kihyun’s reluctance and threw his backpack’s strap over his shoulder, slowly walking away with Kihyun in tow. They could both hear as Hyungwon’s started whispering incredulously as his reaction liquefied, falling out of his beaker and into the filter-funnel that he had been trying to scrape it into for the past few minutes. Hyungwon was beyond happy, moving wildly to keep his reaction going and his A alive.

Once they were out of earshot of the rest of the lab, Kihyun piped up:

“You don’t wish for anything all day, and then you wish for someone else’s lab to work?” the genie questioned. “Why?”

“I had to,” Minhyuk bluntly replied. “I had to.”

☆ The Third Wish ☆

Saturday.

Finally, it was Saturday.

And if you -- yes, you, random person following Minhyuk’s so-called boring life -- thought Saturday was gonna be any easier than Friday… ha. What a terrible joke. No, Saturday was the day Minhyuk had to go work his meaningless convenience store job. At 7. Yes, as in, 7 in the morning. Not that 7 pm would be any better.

Minhyuk expected that he would tired. He was always tired during this shift. He could sleep all day Friday (yes, he had slept all day Friday before) and still be tired during this shift. It just was a fact of life. Like how Kihyun following him around was also a fact of life.

What he did not expect was that Kihyun would also be tired.

Which led to them walking to the convenience store together in silence.

Maybe Kihyun wasn’t like the physical version of tired, but Kihyun was surely tired of him. Of course, Minhyuk couldn’t read Kihyun’s mind, but if he had to guess? Well…

Kihyun was probably tired of how bubbly Minhyuk was all the time, how he never knew what was going on, how little Minhyuk prepared for his classes, how he slept forever when he didn’t have classes, and, most of all,

How many wishes Minhyuk still had left.

It had now been several days since Minhyuk tried to have soup that one fateful night, and he still had three wishes left. Three whole wishes! Some people would have wished for five things in five minutes. But Minhyuk? Well, he could hardly think of one good thing to wish for. Every idea that popped into his head was something that he didn’t actually want. No, he didn’t want to just graduate. No, he didn’t want a nicer apartment. No, he didn’t want a better job. Minhyuk wanted to earn those things through his own hard work, even if required him to grind through college to get his degree. Kihyun kept suggesting all these material things for Minhyuk to wish for, but he didn’t want any of it.

So that left him with abstract things. You know, love, happiness, et cetera. Things that money couldn’t buy, but Minhyuk could surely wish for… the problem was Minhyuk didn’t want to wish for any of those things either! He could wish for happiness, but, like, what’s happiness without sadness or love without heartbreak? Yeah yeah yeah, you can fault Minhyuk for being a sappy romantic, but those things had to be earned as well. Wishing to find the boyfriend of his dreams would just cheapen the whole thing, right? And, yeah, there were other un-wishable things -- who doesn’t want to be a few inches taller, right? -- but Minhyuk was happy with himself as a person. Maybe it’d be nice to have abs again, but, hey, some boys didn’t like abs.

Did Kihyun like abs?

Did Kihyun have abs?

Did genies work out? Could genies work out?

It was, what, like four days into this… this arrangement and Minhyuk hardly knew anything about Kihyun.

Where he was from, how old he actually was, why he dyed his hair brown, what his favorite color was…

Kihyun was surely fed up with him now… but…

“Kihyunnie!”

When Minhyuk didn’t hear an immediate response, he stopped and looked back at his genie, who had already stopped in the middle of the empty sidewalk. They were the only losers out and about on a Saturday morning, so Minhyuk could speak to Kihyun with a normal-ish voice instead of a whisper. If Kihyun wanted to talk, that is.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“What… what did you call me?”

“Um,” Minhyuk demurred, “I called you ‘Kihyunnie.’ Is--Is that not okay?”

Kihyun shook his head and looked down at the ground, a small smile breaking across his face. “No, it’s fine,” he replied. “It’s just… no one’s called me that in hundreds of years. Not since I was a kid.”

Oh.

“I… I, uh, missed it,” the brown-haired genie added, looking up at him. There was something childish about his expression -- he didn’t look so sullen and annoyed anymore, the contours of his sharp jawline and cheekbones softening ever-so-slightly. It was cute, and Minhyuk couldn’t help but smiling back.

“I was actually wondering about that… what’s it like being a kid-genie? How… how do genies even have kids?”

“Heh, well it’s a little different from being a human, right? Like, um, there’s no intimacy involved. There’s actually a set number of genies in the universe at any one point in time, and whenever a genie is needed, a new one is ‘born’ from the aether. It’s actually a rare event? There weren’t any other genies ‘born’ within one hundred human years of me.”

“Really?” Minhyuk incredulously replied. “That sounds so… lonely?”

“It wasn’t that bad. My moms were wonderful to me.”

“Moms?”

“Yeah, moms. New genies are raised by a genie pair. There’s a list? It’s weird.”

“That’s not too weird. Where do genies even, like, live?”

“Um, shouldn’t we keep walking, Minhyuk? You’ll be late.”

“Oh, right,” he answered, pivoting on his feet. He started walking toward the store again, but Kihyun jogged up next to him. Apparently he was okay with walking now.

“So, how can I describe this in human terms? Genies live in a dimension parallel to this one. We’re connected to this world by mundane objects.”

“Like cans of soup?”

Kihyun sighed. “Yes, like cans of soup.”

“Did you even pick the can of soup?”

“I mean, in the same way that you ‘picked’ your apartment?”

Minhyuk cocked his head at Kihyun. What?

“It wasn’t really a choice. It was the only place that I could ‘afford’ based on my seniority if that makes sense? Don’t get me wrong, it’s still infinitely better than your apartment--”

“--Hey!”

Kihyun chuckled. Minhyuk liked how Kihyun’s nose scrunched up when he laughed -- it was cute. He had one thought nagging his brain, though.

“Wait, so if you were ‘born’ or whatever, does that mean another genie died?”

“Not necessarily,” Kihyun absentmindedly replied. Minhyuk noticed that Kihyun was playing with the ring on his finger again. “There are a few ways for us to lose a genie.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you. Genie secrets,” Kihyun explained, his smile turning into a bit of a smirk. “Besides, I think we’re here?”

Minhyuk broke his pouting face and looked up at the storefront. They were here! How did Kihyun know…?

“Right on time, too.”

He was a little shocked, to be honest. Minhyuk was never on-time for this shift -- he was always late. He fumbled through his pocket, finding his key for the sliding front door. Kihyun waited patiently while Minhyuk pried the door open, sliding inside. Before he could even make it past the front, his manager called out from behind the register.

“You’re late.”

“Um, actually--”

“--It doesn’t matter,” his manager nonchalantly interrupted. “You’re in charge of re-stocking.”

Minhyuk just sighed and nodded in response. Making his way to the storeroom in the back, he knew Kihyun was following him. They were going to be out of earshot of his manager, and he knew Kihyun was going to say something.

“You’re just going to let her treat you like that?” Kihyun asked. “You’re gonna let her walk all over you?”

“It’s okay, really,” he explained. “This, um, happens every week.”

“And you don’t do anything about it!” Kihyun answered, his voice getting louder. “You don’t tell her to help you?”

“Kihyun, I--”

“You need to stand up for yourself!”

“It’s not that simple, I--”

“Why don’t you just wish you had a better job? Or a better manager?”

Minhyuk looked down and away this time. Kihyun was basically glaring at him -- glaring at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. But he wasn’t. He just didn’t care what his manager said anymore.

“Because I’m okay with it not being perfect.”

Minhyuk made it through his shift. It was still light outside -- after all, it was only 3pm -- but he wanted nothing more than to get home and collapse on his bed.

The manager, as per usual, did jack-shit. When it was busy, she escaped to the back, hiding from all of the customers. When it wasn’t busy, she manned the register, refusing to lift a finger to help Minhyuk re-stock the store for the rest of the week. It was a lose-lose situation for him; he was always working, and, because of that, he was exhausted after his shift. He was like a ghost, limping along the street, dragging himself to his apartment building.

Kihyun, meanwhile, refused to talk to him for the rest of the shift. Something about “not standing up for yourself” or whatever. Minhyuk was sure that Kihyun thought he was a ditzy wimp, unwilling to fight to be treated better. Even during their walk back, Kihyun kept his distance, a perpetual glare fixed on his face. It made Minhyuk feel all dejected on the inside, like he disappointed Kihyun. He didn’t want to make Kihyun’s life miserable, but he didn’t want to rock the boat at his job. And he wasn’t going to wish for it to get better -- the second his job gets better is the second another part of his life (like Organic Chemistry Lab) becomes the shitty part of his week.

Yet, even with how mad Kihyun seemed to be… something seemed off. There were a few times Minhyuk was ferrying items from the storeroom to the front of the store, and, well, it seemed like he finished way faster than he should have. Like he’d make a few trips and suddenly in between trips there’d be a few more items stocked than he remembered doing.

Kihyun never fessed up to doing anything, though.

Sometimes Minhyuk wished he could float up the stairs like Kihyun -- magically will himself up to his apartment on the third floor. It would make these stairs so much easier, like they didn’t even exist.

By the time he keyed into his apartment and closed the door, he was ready to die on his bed. Apparently someone had other plans.

Before his face could even reach his pillow, he heard three loud knocks at his door. Minhyuk froze where he was standing, listening to the door to see if he could hear anything. He caught Kihyun out of the corner of his eyes; he was shaking his head, instructing Minhyuk not to answer.

“Minhyuk?” he heard from the other side of the door. “It’s Hoseok. Your neighbor.”

Minhyuk just shrugged at Kihyun, turning around to go to the door. He caught Kihyun starting to roll his eyes, but he ignored the genie. Minhyuk unlocked the front door, and he opened it up about 30 degrees. As expected, Hoseok was waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey Minhyuk,” Hoseok murmured.

Minhyuk immediately thought something was off. Hoseok was the type of person to envelope him in a bear hug as soon as he saw him; instead, he was quiet now. Nothing like the normal Hoseok.

“Hey,” Minhyuk replied. “What’s up?”

Hoseok perked up and looked back at his apartment. They stood there for a few moments in silence before Hoseok decided to turn his attention back to Minhyuk.

“I’m, uh, sorry to bother you, I know you just got home. I was just wondering you had seen a cat?”

“A cat?”

“My cat,” Hoseok corrected himself. “Calico. Fluffy. Meows a lot. Have you seen her?”

Minhyuk didn’t even know Hoseok had a cat.

He looked back at Kihyun, who shook his head. Apparently Kihyun hadn’t seen her either. Or he disapproved of this whole thing. Either way, Kihyun wasn’t helpful.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

“Oh,” Hoseok mumbled, his voice deflated.

“How long have you been looking?”

“S-since I got home an hour ago,” Hoseok replied, his voice trembling. “I, uh, I don’t know where she could have gone.”

“Do you want me to help look?” Minhyuk asked. He could hear Kihyun facepalming behind him, but Minhyuk didn’t pay any attention to him.

“No, uh, it’s okay, I’ve already taken up too much of your time. I’ve gotta keep looking,” Hoseok hurriedly replied, turning around and heading for his apartment. Minhyuk didn’t say anything afterwards, instead shutting his door and turning around to face Kihyun.

“Why did you even offer to help?” Kihyun dryly asked. “You’re so tired that you probably don’t even know what day it is.”

“It’s Saturday,” Minhyuk quietly answered. “And I wanted to help because I’ve never seen Hoseok so upset before…”

Kihyun sighed.

“Kihyun, I wish that Hoseok would find his cat.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Minhyuk asserted.

“I’m just -- why?” Kihyun snapped his fingers, a small plume of purple smoke appearing near his hand. Moments later, Minhyuk faintly heard Hoseok yelling excitedly through the wall they shared. He had been reunited with his calico.

“That’s why.”

☆ The Fourth Wish ☆

Day #8 with Minhyuk.

Eight days of pure, uninterrupted monotony.

Eight days of watching Minhyuk struggle to… well, everything. The kid had an unnerving mixture of unintentional aloofness, perpetual sleepiness, and intentional laziness. He ambled from one disaster to the next, barely skinning by each and every day. It was like watching a slow-motion trainwreck… but a boring one.

Kihyun’s first thought was that Minhyuk was basically one-dimensional. He was motivated by one thing: sleep. How did that jive with the kid picking one of the hardest majors in his college? A good job gets him more time to sleep. Working on the side? He needed to pay for rent so he could sleep somewhere. Eating? Can’t sleep if you’re dead. Honestly, it made Minhyuk a remarkably boring person. Sure, he had a lot going on between class and work and trying (and failing) to be a functional adult. But it was all very routine -- nothing Kihyun hadn’t already seen in his hundreds of years being a genie.

But then…

Some days, Minhyuk surprised him.

Some days, Minhyuk would get up early and make pancakes for himself from two month old box mix that he “only used sparingly,” according the smiley boy. Some days, Minhyuk would go out of his way to help a complete stranger, saying “it’s the right thing to do” when Kihyun interrogated him. Some days, Minhyuk would use the most valuable thing he owned right now -- his five, now two, wishes -- to make someone else’s day better. Some days, Minhyuk would forget about himself and his own needs.

It was infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

That confused Kihyun. It scared him. A lot. Because, honestly, it meant he cared about Minhyuk. This was the longest amount of time he had spent with any one person in the human world -- besides that one time his human got too careless after his first wish, got hit by a car, and was in a coma for a week. But that doesn’t count. No, he had spent seven waking days with Minhyuk, and he was barely half-done with Minhyuk’s wishes.

“Kihyun?”

“Hmm,” he replied, looking over his shoulder to find Minhyuk cheekily smiling at him. His black hair was shooting out all over the place, still wearing pajamas and sitting up on his bed. It was cute, that little shit. He must have been napping for a while now.

“I invited my friend Jooheon over. He needed to talk about something.”

“You have friends?” he quipped.

Minhyuk’s smile immediately disappeared. “Why are you always so mean to me, Yoo Kihyun?”

Kihyun smirked. “It’s a genie thing.”

The other boy made a face. “I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not.”

“I’ve had 500 years to practice my lying -- you can barely read your textbook, what makes you think you can read me?”

“I can read that you don’t totally hate me.”

Kihyun paused. He knew it was a joke, but had he really been that obvious? Had his stupid feelings seeped through to how he acted around Minhyuk? Had he really changed after spending a week with Minhyuk?

No, he answered himself.

“Uh huh,” he finally replied, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms, impatiently rotating his ring around his ring finger. He had only started doing it in the past few days with Minhyuk, but now it was basically his nervous tick.

“Are you blushing, Kihyun?” Minhyuk teased.

“Keep dreaming,” Kihyun fired back without missing a beat. Minhyuk giggled, letting his head fall back onto his bed. Kihyun knew he wasn’t blushing. He would never blush around Minhyuk -- maybe he’d smack him, but he certainly wouldn’t blush.

He’d make sure not to smack him too hard. Besides, Minhyuk’s pretty face is one of the few assets he’s got going for him... aside from his endearingly boring life and half-witted brain, both of which had their moments.

“When’s Jooheon getting here anyways,” Kihyun absentmindedly asked.

“Oh, in five minutes.”

“And you’re just telling me now!?”

Minhyuk shot him a confused look. “You’re upset?”

“Clearly,” he flatly replied.

“Why? It’s not like Jooheon can see you.”

“I -- I know that!” Kihyun asserted. “I just, uh, need to mentally prepare to deal with more people.”

Minhyuk laughed, his nasally giggles loud and boisterous from his laying-down position. “More like you need more time to come up with ways to torture me when I have to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Er, right.”

“Do you have friends, Kihyunnie?”

“Of course I have friends, you twat.”

“... For some reason, I feel like that’s a lie,” Minhyuk rambled, “... Like, you’re pretty mean to me.”

“Untrue.”

“Um, you definitely just called me a twat,” Minhyuk retorted, sitting up again.

“No, I meant that I’m not mean to most people.”

“Aww, so I’m special?” Minhyuk put on his best puppy-dog eyes, clasped his hands together, and looked at Kihyun expectantly. It was too cute, even for Minhyuk.

“Sure, Minhyuk.”

“Ouch,” Minhyuk replied, feigning the gayest hurt face Kihyun had ever seen.

That was “gay” as in gay, not stupid, by the way.

Just how did Kihyun know Minhyuk was gay?

You mean other than the endless flirting and Minhyuk’s sassy-gay tendencies?

Well, there was that one time when he was mind-numbingly bored when Minhyuk was asleep, so he pulled out Minhyuk’s laptop and decided to get on the Internet. One thing led to another, and, well…

Let’s just say Minhyuk has an interesting browsing history.

“Tell me about your friends, Kihyunnie,” Minhyuk piped up.

“Oh, um, well,” he mumbled.

“-- So your friends aren’t real!” Minhyuk interjected.

“Shut up,” Kihyun harmlessly threatened. “I’m just not used to humans asking about my life, okay? Anyways, so my best friend is named Hyunwoo. He’s only 75 human years older than me, but he acts like he’s 400 years older than me. Wise and worldly and cares about all that genie crap that I, uh, ignore.”

Kihyun paused, but Minhyuk didn’t say anything immediately.

“And your other friends?”

“Uh, well, actually…” he started, nervously running a hand through his hair. “So I don’t really have any friends besides Hyunwoo.”

“I’m sorry,” Minhyuk immediately replied. “I kinda know what that’s like. Jooheon’s basically my only friend.”

“Really?” Kihyun was sure Minhyuk was the type of human to have 100 friends. Outgoing, sociable, loud -- he had all the makings of an extrovert who just clicked with everyone.

“Yeah, most people think I’m annoying? At least that’s what I think.”

Oh.

“Well, um, if it’s any consolation, Minhyuk…” Kihyun began before a knock at Minhyuk’s door cut him off. Minhyuk was still looking at him, though; he was waiting for him to finish.

“I don’t think you’re that annoying.”

Minhyuk smiled. “Thanks.”

The other boy made his way for the door to let his best friend into his apartment.

“It’ll all work out, Jooheon. I promise.”

Minhyuk closed the door to the front of his apartment and looked over at Kihyun. They were finally alone again; Jooheon left to catch the last bus to his own apartment complex. Kihyun, meanwhile, was putting on his best unimpressed face for Minhyuk, but it was mostly a front to hide total and utter disdain Kihyun had been harboring for the past four hours.

“So, what did you think of Jooheon?”

“Charming,” Kihyun dismissively replied, leaning over Minhyuk’s kitchen counter and planting his chin in his left palm. “Absolutely charming.”

“What? So you didn’t like Jooheon?”

“Honestly, I didn’t get to know him too well,” Kihyun replied, keeping his voice monotone and disinterested.

“He was here for four hours!”

“Yeah, two of which were spent watching a movie while basically sitting on your lap. The other two hours were him crying about his crush, Changbin.”

“Changkyun.”

“Whatever.”

“Look,” Minhyuk answered. “Jooheonie’s going through a really tough time. And him and Changkyun would make a great couple. But Jooheon’s too shy to say anything, and Changkyun’s definitely too shy to say anything either, so we’re stuck in this predicament. Which reminds me…”

“What?”

“I wish Jooheon would finally have the courage to ask Changkyun out. Let’s say, tomorrow.”

“You’re serious?” Kihyun couldn’t believe that Minhyuk would wish for something so--

“Yes.”

--asinine. Again.

He was compelled to snap his fingers once more, zapping some confidence into Minhyuk’s best friend. At the very least, he gave the boy enough confidence to ask his crush out without stammering for fifteen minutes like he ordinarily would. Kihyun then quickly turned his attention back to Minhyuk, who was smiling triumphantly, like he had solved world peace. Kihyun finally snapped, this time in a different way.

“Why,” he bitingly demanded.

“Why what?” Minhyuk was so oblivious that it just made Kihyun angrier. He could feel his blood pressure rising, after it had already been building over the past few hours of Jooheon and Minhyuk bro-time.

“Why do you keep on wishing for stupid things?” he spat out.

“Stupid?”

“Yes, stupid! Why do you wish for such stupid things!”

Minhyuk looked even more confused, which fueled Kihyun to continue berating him.

“I’m a genie, Minhyuk. I’m not here for your entertainment. I’m not here to grant stupid wishes. I’m not here to do something that a stupid fairy could do. I grant important wishes, wishes that no human could fathom achieving. But you! You little… You waste my powers on wishing for things that don’t matter. Things that don’t matter, Minhyuk!”

Minhyuk now looked more hurt than confused. But Kihyun didn’t care. He wanted Minhyuk to realize that his wishes were the stupidest wishes Kihyun had granted in hundreds of years.

“Why, Minhyuk? Why do you waste your wishes?”

Minhyuk shook his head. “Do -- do you really think that my wishes are stupid?”

“Yes!”

“T-that Hyungwon’s grades don’t matter to him?”

Kihyun didn’t answer that one.

“That Hoseok’s cat doesn’t matter to him?”

No -- that’s not what he meant.

“That Jooheon’s happiness doesn’t matter to him? Or matter to me?”

“No, I --”

“You what? Think you’re better than that?”

“No!”

Minhyuk looked directly at him now. His facial features were strained, like he was in pain having to say these things. Having to confront Kihyun like this.

“No?”

“No, I -- I, uh…”

“You what?”

Kihyun was mute. He couldn’t say anything. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He was usually four steps ahead of Minhyuk.

Minhyuk shook his head again.

“Could you please leave me alone tonight? I’m going to bed.”

With that, Minhyuk disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Kihyun alone in Minhyuk’s tiny kitchen. He wasn’t supposed to leave, but he did. Everything in the genie rule book told him he had to stay, to be around in case his human wanted to wish anything. But something told him that Minhyuk didn’t want to use his fifth wish. At least, not now.

Kihyun walked out, his brain still numb.

He walked. He hated to admit it, but it felt nice to walk. It forced him to focus on something, to help the numbness go away.

Eventually, one thought percolated to the front of Kihyun’s mind: that he cared too much. He wanted nothing more than for Minhyuk to wish for something for himself. He wanted Minhyuk to care about himself. To think about himself. To live in a better apartment, to have a better job, to be able to afford some actual groceries. Minhyuk deserved better.

Just then, he had a thought that scared him even more. That made him even more upset.

If Minhyuk deserved better, then why did he just scream at him for being stupid?

☆ The Fifth Wish ☆

A big part of Minhyuk wanted nothing more than to make his final wish right then and there. To get this all over with, to make Kihyun disappear from his life forever. But as soon as Kihyun left, a wave of relief swept over him: he didn’t do something stupid. Again, Kihyun would have added, that bitingly cynical thought creeping into his mind. He was becoming as cynical as Kihyun now.

But an even bigger part of Minhyuk won out. The part of him that loved Kihyun’s dimples, his sassiness, his hair, their banter -- it won out. The part of him that only became obvious over the past few days.

When Kihyun first popped into Minhyuk’s life in a plume of lavender smoke (a shade of lavender that Minhyuk now found more endearing than ever before), he didn’t think much of him. Minhyuk flirted, sure, but that’s just who he was. Naturally flirty, making quips about seeing each other naked, and so on. He didn’t expect Kihyun to play along, to take his flirting in stride and throw it right back at him with sassiness. It piqued his interest.

But what sealed the deal, what made Minhyuk really fall for Kihyun, was something else. No, it wasn’t Kihyun’s angelic giggling (but that did help). Minhyuk loved that Kihyun seemed to care. Kihyun did little things that made his life easier, like fixing his homework, coaching him through a difficult lab, helping restock the convenience store -- mini “wishes” that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t make for himself. Underneath all his biting sardonicism and cynicism was a Kihyun who genuinely cared. Minhyuk didn’t know a whole lot about genies, but he sure didn’t think it was normal for a genie to go out of their way to make their human’s life easier unless they wished for it. That definitely sounded like something that would be against the rules if Kihyun’s friend Hyunwoo ever found out. And yet, Kihyun risked it.

For Minhyuk.

So why did Kihyun snap at him like that? What would compel Kihyun to be so hurtful? What would make Kihyun, who went out of his way to make Minhyuk’s life easier even while pretending like he wouldn’t, try to break Minhyuk down? Where did this Kihyun come from? Who replaced the Kihyun that Minhyuk had been secretly falling for?

Part of him needed to know.

Minhyuk didn’t sleep much that night.

The next day was a big studying day for Minhyuk. He had a P-Chem exam this week, and, God, he sucked at P-Chem. It was his weakest subject, and the perfect mix of chemistry and physics to make him wonder if he hated himself. Y’know, choosing this major and all.

No sign of Kihyun, though. Minhyuk was starting to worry. He had already gotten up, showered, thrown on some clothes -- all before 9am on a day when he didn’t have work or class. So, basically a miracle. Aka Thursday. He was currently in the process of shoving his heavy P-Chem textbook into his poor backpack, which seemed to resist his ‘desire’ to study even more than internal Minhyuk did. Finally, he managed to guide the 900-page behemoth down into the right pocket, zipping up the pockets and moving his backpack in front of the door.

Now for breakfast.

Minhyuk moved to his kitchenette, expecting to face a Major Breakfast Problem: he had no breakfast. He had used the last of his precious pancake mix the other day. Eggo waffles were long gone. And he certainly couldn’t afford to buy breakfast out this morning. He hopelessly searched his cupboards, debating whether instant ramen would be better than soup for breakfast. Screw it; he decided that skipping breakfast altogether was easiest.

Turning around, he noticed a large pile of piping hot pancakes with syrup drizzling down the sides of the pancake tower sitting on his kitchen counter.

“Kihyun?” he called out.

Instead of digging in to the pancakes -- why are you such an idiot, his stomach protested -- Minhyuk decided to search his studio apartment. Kihyun had to be around here somewhere. That’s how genies worked, right?. They have to be like, you know, nearby. Like Wi-Fi networks: their powers have a range. Right?

Minhyuk searched his living room. Nothing. The bathroom? Nope. Behind the shower curtain? No. Under his bed sheets? He wished, but nada. In the kitchen cupboards? Zilch. Just then, Minhyuk turned around to face his mysterious pancakes again. This time, there was a handwritten note sitting next to the pancakes that he swore wasn’t there before.

“Just eat them,” it read.

It had to be Kihyun, right?

Kihyun’s handwriting was pretty.

Where was he?

Minhyuk decided that he might as well eat the pancakes while they were here, cutting off a large portion with the accompanying knife and fork. It was like Kihyun was there, insisting that Minhyuk use actual silverware instead of the plastic stuff he jacked from Starbucks. Minhyuk committed to absolutely demolishing these pancakes, stuffing huge pieces into his mouth without thinking. Well, he was thinking. Just not about pancakes. He was thinking about Kihyun, and if this was his apology for last night. But where was he?

Before he knew it, Minhyuk had cleared his plate, his mind preoccupied by considering all the ways today could play out. Like, was Kihyun going to avoid him all day? Yeah, those types of thoughts. Not much healthier than the pancakes he apparently just inhaled.

There wasn’t much he could do to make Kihyun re-appear, so he slung his backpack over his shoulders and walked to the library. At the very least, he could try to study for P-Chem.

You know those walks where you kinda just… forget everything? And walk? That’s what today’s walk to campus was. He just walked. One foot in front of the other, stopping at crosswalks, ignoring everything but focusing on nothing -- he was on auto-pilot. Minhyuk wandered into the library, which was surprisingly empty. He’d never been up this early before, so he had no baseline for library crowdedness at 9:30am. He was able to nab a self-study room, the studying equivalent of a booth table at a restaurant, with ease.

He shut the door to the room, and dropped his bag on an empty chair. He unzipped the pockets, but, before he could coax his textbook out of his bag, he heard the door click back open.

“Oh, I’m sorry this room is ta--”

Minhyuk stopped mid-sentence when he looked up and saw who it was.

“Hey,” the shorter boy said, shutting the door again.

Minhyuk just stood there, hand half in his bag, mouth slack-jawed, and completely speechless.

Kihyun looked like he always did: beautiful. The same sharp facial features, narrow eyes, wide nose, soft brown hair. He looked… sad. Minhyuk had never seen so much emotion in Kihyun, except for last night.

“Studying?” Kihyun finally piped up, breaking the long awkward silence between them.

“Look, if you’re here to tell me to wish to just pass the exam…” Minhyuk replied, his voice a bit hoarse and dramatic. He didn’t know where that thought came from, but it was the first thing that popped into his mind. It was like his mind was wandering around Kihyun’s plump lips but his mouth was vocalizing all the pent-up pain that had accumulated in the last twelve hours.

Kihyun seemed to expect something along these lines, looking down toward the carpet, his expression unchanged. He couldn’t look Minhyuk in the eyes while Minhyuk was outwardly angry with him.

The shorter boy stared at the ground for a few more moments before gathering the courage to look back up at him. “I want to help you study.”

Minhyuk paused. Kihyun seemed earnest, like he meant ‘help’ in the human way and not in the I’m-going-to-use-magic-to-solve-this-problem genie way.

“Okay,” he responded.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” he confirmed, yanking his textbook out of his bag. “I have my P-Chem exam on--”

“--Tuesday,” Kihyun interrupted, cutting him off. He had moved toward the table in the middle of the study room, taking a seat opposite of Minhyuk. It deflated him a bit -- he wished Kihyun had decided to sit next to him.

“Yeah, Tuesday.” Minhyuk pulled out his textbook and sat down.

“So what’s it on?”

“Umm,” Minhyuk demurred.

Kihyun gave him a look.

“Look, I'm just trying to go over all the material today, and then I’ll study the stuff I really suck at tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan… ish,” Kihyun replied. Minhyuk giggled -- he forgot how much he missed Kihyun’s sass.

He pulled out his syllabus, placing it next to the open textbook. There was kind of a problem, though.

“Kihyun.”

“Yeah.”

“It would be easier if you were, um…” he started. “Sitting next to me? That way it’s easier to show you stuff.”

“Oh. Right,” Kihyun replied. “Actually, how about I go grab some reference textbooks and study material from the stacks outside while you figure out what your test is on?”

“Okay.”

“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” Minhyuk dramatically complained, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud. One of his hands was holding his throbbing head while his other arm was stretched out, reaching across the table. He rolled his head over to look at his tutor-genie, Kihyun.

“I can go get some more snacks?” Kihyun suggested. Minhyuk could see his eyes darting around at all the empty wrappers scattered around the table, though -- he knew Kihyun was secretly judging just how much ‘brain food,’ aka junk food, Minhyuk needed to stay motivated and awake. They’d been at this for hours, and Minhyuk was just about brain dead. Delirious, or whatever.

He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the fact that Kihyun must have tried to push his brown hair back like fourteen times in the past thirty minutes when explaining basic P-Chem concepts to Minhyuk, but Kihyun looked even prettier right now. Especially looking up at his jawline from the side. His side profile was stunning.

“Minhyuk? Snacks?”

Oh, right. Words. But, instead of vocalizing his needs like an adult, he just groaned dramatically, earning another look from Kihyun.

“Okay, no snacks.”

“I don’t know anything,” he whined.

“That’s a lie!” Kihyun reassured him. “You know some things!”

Minhyuk groaned again.

“Look,” Kihyun started. “And I really don’t want you to take this the wrong way? But I’m going to suggest it because you’ve tried really hard and because I really want you to pass this exam. But… you could… just… wish to pass the exam?”

Minhyuk was squealing inside. Maybe it was from the delirium, but he loved how Kihyun tip-toed around asking him to wish for it this time. It was so cute. The Kihyun that he knew cared about him deeply finally appeared, and it made him ridiculously happy.

“But that’s not what I want~” Minhyuk teased, looking directly into Kihyun’s eyes while sing-songing his response.

“Oh?” Kihyun replied, dramatically splaying his own arm out like Minhyuk and resting his head on the table. They were now at eye-level, both staring at each other. “Do you want... another stack of pancakes, o lazy one?”

“Nope~”

“What do you want then, Minhyuk?”

Without missing a beat, he replied: “I wish” -- dramatically letting that word fall off his lips -- “that the boy I was looking at right now would kiss me.”

Kihyun’s eyes widened, a light shade of pink instantly creeping across his face.

“You -- You didn’t have to use one of your wishes on that,” he murmured. Kihyun looked away briefly, then focused back on Minhyuk. Hesitantly, the shorter boy leaned closer and closer before softly planting his lips on Minhyuk’s. It was quick -- chaste almost -- because Kihyun recoiled almost as soon as he naturally could. Minhyuk couldn’t get over how insanely pink Kihyun’s cheeks looked, how bashfully cute his genie was.

“Gotta save the best wish for last?” Minhyuk choked out, the humor mixing with the pain to form a lump in his throat. Kihyun had to leave now, right? That’s how this worked. That’s how it worked in Aladdin. Oh god.

“It… It wasn’t your last wish, Minhyuk,” Kihyun softly replied. Minhyuk watched as Kihyun, who still had his planted on the table like Minhyuk, brought his hands together. Using his right hand, he removed the large blingy-looking ring that adorned his right ring finger -- the ring that he liked to play with when he was nervous. Kihyun then reached for Minhyuk’s right hand, gently pulling it close so that it was positioned between the two of them. Kihyun was lazy but deliberate; he slid the ring down Minhyuk’s dainty ring finger.

“You… you know how you asked how we could ‘lose’ a genie?” Kihyun started. “Well, uh, I may not know the genie rules that well, but I know that this is the way that I say that I want to spend some more time with a human.”

More time?

“Y--you mean you’re not a genie anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Kihyun confirmed, a shy smile creeping across his face.

“You can’t grant wishes anymore?”

“I can, actually,” he answered. “But only yours.”

☆ Epilogue: The Eleventh (?) Wish ☆

Minhyuk actually lost track of how many wishes it had been now.

It had been about a week since Kihyun committed to him. A week since Kihyun and him became ‘real,’ since Minhyuk had to explain to Jooheon (and Changkyun) that he had a new boyfriend. A side-effect of committing to Minhyuk? Everybody could see Kihyun now. It made Minhyuk’s life much easier, to be honest.

Their relationship improved dramatically without the constant pressure of wishes hanging over them. Kihyun was relaxed. He was still sassy, of course, and Minhyuk loved him for that. But Kihyun also was fiercely protective -- fiery when someone so much as threatened to hurt Minhyuk’s feelings. It was nice to see that fire directed at someone else, to be honest, even if Minhyuk could more than handle himself.

There were problems of course.

One day, Minhyuk came home from class to a fully-stocked kitchen. New pots, new pans, new appliances, tons of food. Fruit -- even in this economy! And lots of pancake mix. All the pancake mix.

And while Minhyuk truly loved that Kihyun cared, he had to set ground rules for wishing. No amazing, life-changing wishes, no surprising him with tons of new worldly possessions, no making his life so easy that one of his problems became irrelevant, no more than one “wish” per day, et cetera.

“-- Only one a day?” Kihyun complained.

“Yeah, and it has to be small.”

“Why?” Kihyun protested. “I love you and I want to show that I love you, Minhyukie.”

“I love too too, babe. But, like, wishes are the easy way out. I love you because you’re you, not because you’re a genie who can grant any wish.”

The next day was slightly better -- he ‘only’ got a new laptop from Kihyun. They had to sit down and have a talk about what “small” meant. You know, flowers and chocolates and a home-made dinner. Not a new car.

Minhyuk also insisted that Kihyun find something to do during the day. Like enroll in some classes. In a different major, he emphasized. Kihyun acquiesced, got a perfect score on the college entrance exam, and became a philosophy major. Apparently he had a soft spot for the Enlightenment. Something about his youth.

But other than those few problems -- and what relationship doesn’t have problems? -- Minhyuk couldn’t be happier. Besides, it was a nice day out today, and he could watch Kihyun try (and fail) to eat his ice cream for at least a few hours. The park was lovely, but his date was lovelier.

Minhyuk was glad he canned his genie.

#monsta x #kihyuk #kihyuk fic #monsta x fic #kihyun #minhyuk #my writing

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determination-and-familiars · 6 years

Text

Frisk’s Birthday

After Flowey’s rather big surprise on his birthday, he decides to throw a surprise party for Frisk for her own.

This is essentially a direct sequel to Flowey’s Birthday as it starts right after that one ends. I meant to post this on April 1, Frisk’s actual birthday, but that didn’t quite happen. Oops. At least it finally did get finished even if it took me longer than planned.

There is a brief mention cameo of @chocolate-addicted-demon, @galaxythebat, @sonofxaymaca and @refiinedrogue towards the end as I conciser Frisk/Flowey having met these four very canon in this AUs timeline

Under a readmore for being over 3000 words

“So how do you feel about now officially being a Garcia?” Frisk asked the little flower as they sat in the backseat, on their way back home. Flowey held the signed, and now officially stamped copy of his adoption papers.

“It feels … I dunno. I haven’t even had a last name since – Gosh, I don’t even know.” Not since he’d changed his name from Asriel to Flowey and he didn’t remember when that even was. After a moment, he spoke again. “…When’s your birthday?”

“April first.” After a moment, she then added, “If Sans ever says anything special about that – don’t listen to him.”

Flowey tilted his head in confusion. “Uh, ok.”

When the car pulled up to the house, Flowey gave the adoption paperwork back to Luna. “Here,” he paused, and then added “…Mom.”

Luna took the papers before gently patting Flowey on the head, ruffling his petals softly. Flowey gave the hand a little head nuzzle.

As the family headed inside, Flowey asked: “Can I make a pillow fort and watch a movie?”

Frisk nodded. “Need help setting it up?”

Perfect. Flowey nodded, yellow petals bouncing. “I’ll pick out the movie if you could make the little fort for me, sis?”

Frisk actually aww’d. “Of course!”

Once inside, Luna disappeared into her ‘home office.’ Dante gave both his children a hug before leaving for his own home. Flowey climbed down Frisk to the floor, carefully plucking her phone from her pocket as he went. With effort, and the careful use of vines, he kept it behind him while the human headed upstairs to grab some blankets. He smiled up the stairs until she disappeared around a corner, and then turned his attention to the phone.

Rubbing his vines across the screen, the little flower glared. Nothing happened. Determined, Flowey tried a few more times with no result. It seemed plant life didn’t work on the touch screen. Growling and holding onto the phone with a vine, the flower crawled to the couch and slid the phone under it. Looking around the livingroom, Flowey spotted his new mother’s briefcase by the door. Scuttling over, Flowey clicked open the locks, glanced around, and then began rummaging through it.

There it was. His vine coiled around the stylus. Flowey clicked the case closed, and scurried to the couch. He shoved the pen beside the phone.

He cringed a little. Should he really be doing this? He’d only just been officially accepted as part of the family…

Flowey nodded to himself. It’s not like he was going to keep these items. He just needed to find things out. It wasn’t bad to do this, right?

The sound of Frisk coming back down the stairs made the little plant jump. Almost tripping over his own vines, Flowey scampered to the bookcase.

“Pick a movie?” the human asked.

“Uh – yeah!” he said enthusiastically, wrapping a vine randomly around a box and pulling it out.

Frisk gave him an odd look. “Really?”

Flowey looked at the DVD he was holding: Nightmare Before Christmas. “I, uh, really like it?”

Frisk shrugged. “Ok, just odd this time of year.” She began setting up a fort using couch pillows and the blanket she’d brought down.

…

The next morning, the moment Flowey’s eyes fluttered open, he quietly stretched his vines while still in the dirt to open the bedroom door so he wouldn’t have to leap. Retracting them, he then eased his roots out of his dirt bed, and dashed downstairs.

Making a beeline for the couch, Flowey swept a vine under the couch, and scooped the phone and stylus from under it.

Tapping the stolen stylus on the screen, the little flower opened up Frisk’s texting app and searched the contacts for Sans. He wasn’t in the S’s. Flowey blinked. But his name started with an S… Scrolling up and down the list, Flowey finally found him listed in the D’s as ‘Duncle Sans.’

The flower rolled his eyes. Tapping the name, he began working on a message.

[05:35 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: It’s Flowey. Frisk said her birthday on April 1. Said not to ask you about that day. Why?

Flowey waited. There was no response.

[05:56 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: I know you’re awake Trashbag!

[05:56 AM] Duncle Sans: …good morning to you too.

[05:56 AM] Duncle Sans: not cool to steal your sibling’s phone y’know.

[05:57 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: It’s fine since we’re official siblings now.

[05:57 AM] Duncle Sans: oh? so luna finally adopted you

[05:58 AM] Duncle Sans: and sure that makes theft and invention of privacy completely fine

[05:59 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: You’re not funny in the morning

[06:01 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: Can you just tell me?

[06:02 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: …Please? I’m really curious

[06:03 AM] Duncle Sans: it’s april fool’s day, day specifically for pranks.

[06:03 AM] Duncle Sans: so that’s the kid’s birthday?

[06:03 AM] Duncle Sans: nice.

[06:04 AM] ❤ Frisk ❤: When is it?

[06:04 AM] Duncle Sans: about a week and a bit

A noise caused the flower to jump and hold the phone close, eyes darting around the room. No one was there. But now his heart was pounding and his vines felt tingly. Flowey used the stylus to x out of the text app.

Putting the phone down, Flowey dragged the stylus back to Luna’s brief case. He opened it just enough to slip the pen in before letting it click close.

Skittering back to the phone, Flowey stuffed it behind a couch cushion.

…

Later that morning:

“Can we play hide and seek outside?” Flowey asked, while Frisk looked around the living room.

“I guess?” She sounded distracted. “Have you seen my phone?”

Flowey swallowed and then pretended to look around for a moment before saying “Maybe it fell out in the couch when we made the fort…”

The human picked up each seat cushion, then tilted each backrest cushion forward. There it was. She raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. “Wow. That was good thinking. Thanks Flow-Flow.” Flowey huffed loudly at the nickname. “What’d you wanna do again?”

“Hide and seek outside? You seek I hide?”

Frisk crossed her arms. “You gunna cheat by going underground again?”

Flowey shook his head. “I won’t! Promise!”

Frisk seemed skeptical. “Alright… Go out and hide and then I’ll come find you.” With that, Frisk unlocked and opened the front door for him.

Scurrying out and around a bush, he burrowed underground. He didn’t stay anywhere near the house. Instead he dug straight to Alphys’ surface lab.

Popping up by the door, Flowey smacked a vine on it and waited.

Finally the door opened. Alphys looks around before her eyes fell on the tiny flower.

“O-oh! Flowey! Um… what d-do you need?” Flowey scuttled inside before answering. “W-why don’t you come in…?” Alphys closed the door after him. “Flowey is there -”

“It’s Frisk’s birthday soon,” Flowey interrupted, “and she, and Mom and Dad, did something really cool for me so I wanna do something good back.”

Alphys blinked, taking it all in. “Mom and – ohmygosh! Luna finally adopted you!”

“As of yesterday I’m officially Flowey Garcia.” He clapped two of his vines together. “Now then: Frisk’s birthday…”

“Right, right! When is it again?”

“April first.”

Alphys paused before going to her computer, shaking a finger as she talked. “I had another theory about an additional thing that could have caused that strange bond to form.”

Flowey gave an annoyed huff. “Later!”

Alphys sighed. She sat down at her computer, then swiveled around to face the flower. “Alright, alright – do you have an idea of-of what you’d want to do for your sister’s birthday?”

Flowey tapped the tip of a vine on the floor. “Uh … Ah!” The tapping stopped. “She surprised me – making me think no one was interested in me all day before surprising me. I wanna do something like that!”

Alphys nodded. “A surprise party, okay.” She stroked her chin for a moment while she thought. “I could get Mettaton to organize a small show. A-and he and Undyne could help gather everyone up…” The scientist paused. “We just need to figure out a place…”

“What about where the barrier was?” Flowey suggested. “It’s big enough and she wouldn’t wander there herself.”

Alphys nodded. “It could work. Anything else?”

Flowey thought for a moment. “I could steal Frisk’s phone and Mom’s pen thingy again to text the plan around.”

“That – Flowey, no – I could modify a phone to respond to your vines instead.”

Flowey looked up at her. “I could have my own phone?”

“With parental control for certain things,” Alphys added.

Flowey glared but didn’t protest. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his tongue when he heard Frisk’s voice over their connection asking if he was being a little cheater and hiding underground again. “…I gotta go.”

Alphys couldn’t help but grin. She was still so fascinated by how they were able to communicate now. She stood to open the door for him.

Flowey burrowed underground, thinking up an excuse for where he’d gone.

…

Over the next few days, Frisk came close to figuring out the plan. Flowey discovered it was rather difficult keeping secrets from someone who could literally read his mind and sense his emotions. The human might not have been actively prying, but it was one of the rather annoying side effects of sharing a soul.

When Alphys called to tell Flowey his new phone was ready, Frisk had several questions.

“When did you ask Alphys for a phone?”

“I have a life outside of you,” was his immediate question-deflecting ‘answer.’ He then proceeded to burrow away to collect the new phone. Before long, he returned. “Lemme see your contacts. I need to add some.”

As the human went through each contact, holding the phone out for the flower to see each number, she made an interesting discovery when pulling up Sans’ details. When she held the phone out again, rather than the screen showing the contact info, it displayed the recent texts. The flower had been caught using her phone without permission.

Flowey gulped. “In my defense, you made a big deal out of it and you know how well I handle being curious about something. I mean technically that’s your fault. You coulda just told me yourself rather than making it sound all interesting and then refusing to tell me.”

Frisk sighed in frustration. She didn’t have a good comeback though: he had a point. She had refused to discuss her birth date. Frisk went back to showing Flowey contact info.

Once finished, Flowey claimed he was going to text everyone that he had a new phone. While that was true, his first mission was a request.

Flowey pulled up the contact for the energy user, Jamaar.

[06:50 PM] ✿Flowey✿: It’s Flowey. I gotta phone! It’s Frisk’s birthday on April 1. We’re doing a surprise party at 4 at the mountain entrance where the barrier used to be, cook sweet things for it.

[06:51 PM] ✿Flowey✿: Um, please, or something.

[06:52 PM] Tolerable Human: Alright, I’ll make a cake for her. I should be able to finish it in time.

Satisfied, Flowey proceeded to let the others know of his new phone.

…

On April first, in the morning, Frisk felt a small weight climb onto her chest and remain. “Flowey, c’mon dude, lemme sleep,” came a tired whine. At no response, Frisk peeked an eye open, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Flowey’s face had shifted to a far too wide mouth with sharp jagged fangs and hollow black eyes with little red slits, one larger than the other, for pupils. Somehow it even looked like he was dripping black ooze out of all three orifices. Or maybe those were just well placed shadows. It was hard to tell a mere three inches from her own face.

As soon as Frisk managed to barely muffle a shriek with her blanket, Flowey fell backwards in a fit of giggles. He even had to wipe a tear from one of his now normal again eyes. “your Faa-aa-aaceee!” he continued to cackle.

Checking that her heart was indeed still beating, Frisk pushed herself up. “My face? – YOUR face, you little demon! That was terrifying to wake up to!”

That only made the little plant giggle harder.

Frisk turned to the clock to see what ungodly hour Flowey chose to scare the life out of her. To her surprise it actually wasn’t. He’d waited until almost nine. Turning back to the viney bundle of titters, Frisk patted the little flower. She scooped him up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, then headed downstairs for some breakfast.

They were greeted with their mother sitting near a happy birthday sign with her phone at the ready. Frisk managed to fake a ‘surprised’ expression, and the shutter of the camera phone was heard.

“Happy Birthday, baby.” Mom then launched into the ‘Birthday Song.’

Frisk grinned.

Flowey used their telepathy to ask, ‘She was up even earlier than I was in order to set this all up! What is this?’

‘Tradition. Every birthday since I can remember.’

“Later tonight your dad will come over and we can go out for a dinner and some cake,” Luna said, putting her phone away.

“How much later?” Flowey asked, worry in his tone. “Before or after four?”

“After, I think.”

Flowey sighed. Realizing Frisk was looking at him with eyebrows raised, Flowey quickly waved a vine. “You know! I, uh, I get tired when it starts getting dark! I know we’re not gunna have cake first and I don’t wanna miss out on that!”

Frisk didn’t buy it, but didn’t press the matter.

…

As four approached, Flowey grabbed Frisk’s phone from her hand.

“Hey!”

“Come get it if you want it back!” With that Flowey shoved an end of it in his mouth so he could hold it while fleeing on all of his vines.

Frisk chased him around the livingroom. Flowey leaped for the window sill, but missed and crashed to the floor. “Oummmf!” was the only sound he could make around the phone. After a few more loops around the room and he succeeded reaching the sill. She almost caught him as he wiggled up, but with the window open, he succeeded in leaping out just in time.

Flowey waited just outside until Frisk opened the door, running out. That’s when he started burrowing, popping up often enough for her to be able to follow him.

It never even dawned on the human where she was being led until she finally pounced on him. A little too easily actually. He was fleeing and then after getting to a certain point he just stopped, and let himself be grabbed.

Flowey spit the phone out into Frisk’s hand and she cringed at the nectar now covering it.

Before she could say anything, it suddenly occurred to her they weren’t alone. Turning towards the opening of the mountain, Frisk was greeted with just about every single monster she’d helped free from the underground. Including a few who weren’t from the underground, such as Galaxy, the grey bat in a space hoodie, Spy, the dark red-clad mercenary from the past, Chara from another timeline, and Jamaar, the Jamaican energy user near some rather tasty looking treats.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FRISK!” everyone cried.

“Surpriiise!” Flowey added.

“Flowey, did you set this up?”

Flowey held his vines up in a rather flashy shrug. “Weeell, I don’t wanna brag – but yeah.”

“Don’t lie, Petalhead!” Undyne shouted. “You gathered maybe five tops, then begged each of them to get the rest!”

“You dummies wouldn’t have even gathered everyone if I never told you to!” Flowey shouted back.

“Easy, easy,” Frisk cut in, patting Flowey softly.

As Flowey opened his mouth, the two were scooped up by Papyrus. Sans was with him, bony hands in his hoodie pockets. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMAN FRISK!”

Frisk laughed and hugged the tall skeleton back. “Thanks Papyrus!” After a moment, Papyrus set the girl down.

“eh kiddo,” Sans started, “knock, knock.”

Both Flowey and Papyrus glared at him.

“Who’s there?” Frisk grinned.

“SANS, DON’T RUIN THE HUMAN’S BIRTHDAY.”

“abby.”

“Abby who?”

“abby birthday, kid!” With that, Sans pulled a bar of soap wrapped in a bow out of his pocket.

“Wow. Rude,” Flowey stated, flatly. “Are you saying Frisk stinks?”

“nah. it’s cuz it’s a soap-prize birthday party!” Sans winked while Frisk started to giggle.

“OH MY GOD, SANS! HOW COULD YOU?”

Flowey smacked himself in the face with one of his vines.

Something else smacked into the flower’s face. A clump of cake stuck to his face. Tossed by Jerry.

“Hey! That’s for eating! Not throwing!”

“Oh god! Who invited Jerry!”

The cake wasn’t one of the things he’d made, but Jamaar was still pissed about the waste.

Someone else liked the idea however because “Birthday Food Fight!” was screamed and another clump was tossed. Still at Flowey though.

“Throw it at someone else, not just me!” the little flower shouted, scooping the mess from his petals and flinging it back.

This hit Undyne.

A series of ‘Ooooh’s’ went through the crowd of monsters as the former captain of the royal guards whipped the cake mush off her face.

“I think the flower’s gunna die,” someone said.

“Oh it’s on, Petalhead!” She grabbed the nearest item and heaved it at him.

The plant tried to move out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. The Jell-O mold hit him with almost enough force to knock him from Frisk’s shoulder. Almost.

Frisk let out a laugh at how annoyed Flowey looked. Growling, the little flower scooped the mess from himself and smooshed it into the human’s face.

“…So, food fight?”

“Food fight!” One of the other monsters grabbed some more cakes, and started to throw them. These apparently were brought by Muffet as soon the monster was tackled by spiders.

Temmies ran around in the mess leaving cake paw prints everywhere.

A Woshua ran around trying to clean monsters off.

Someone threw a Moldsmal.

Within minutes, the gathering dissolved into chaos. Spy slipped away to avoid anything getting on his suit. Several monsters also stepped back, not wanting to get involved. They did however stay close enough to watch the sugary carnage.

Frisk giggled. A quick wash-up might be needed before the family dinner later. But she really loved her surprise party.

#Frisk #Flowey #Alphys #Undyne #Sans #Papyrus #Undertale #a couple friends ocs #fic

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