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possibilistfanfiction · 5 months

Note

happy new year! maybe a prompt for sleep/nap bc i need one lol

bea 🧑🏻‍⚕️🐝❤️‍🩹 (4:27 am): If you’re done with your post-op and would like to stop by, I’m in the on-call room.

it’s so late it’s almost morning, and you really should be headed home because, technically, your shift is over and you’d been at the hospital for, like, too many hours to really want to keep track of at this point. but bea — beatrice choi, md, the resident in charge of you — is, like, so handsome, and kind, and an incredible teacher, with her perfect handwriting and her free gender-affirming clinic and all the languages she knows fluently. you think you’re a little in love with her, but who can blame you — you’re sleep-deprived and sometimes in awe of the skill and calm she has, even in just her third year.

Dr. Ava Silva (4:31 am): sweet yah omw :)

when you open the door, a little harried, you immediately still and quiet as much as you can. bea has the room darkened, the only light coming in from a sliver under the window curtain, blue and red from the ambulances and easy white-gold from the street lights in the hospital parking lot. you’ve spent so much of your life — way too much of your life — in dark rooms in hospitals in uncomfortable beds that, for years, you could barely even feel, so you should want to run away. you should want to leave as soon as your shift is over and go home to your cramped apartment with its rickety table you found on the side of the road and its lumpy couch and the chipped mug in the kitchen — it’s not much; you can’t afford more, but it’s yours.

but you’re starting to think in some way maybe beatrice is yours too. all of the tension in your shoulders from the day — from countless central lines and three boring laparoscopic surgeries and one fatal stabbing in the er, from sutures and journals and so much to learn — melts away when you see her fast asleep. bea is on her back, scrub top off, one arm over her head, the blanket pooled around her waist, her phone face down on the flat plane of her chest — scars you haven’t seen before there that make you smile, just a little, beautiful — like she’d fallen asleep texting you. based on the fact that it’s only — you check your watch — 4:35 am, you’re pretty sure she did.

camila keeps pestering you, and probably bea too, knowing her, to just talk to chief superion about your feelings so you can be on another resident’s service, so that there won’t be any issues and you can kiss bea if you want, but it’s, like, totally terrifying to imagine not only telling beatrice your feelings, let alone dr. superion, who puts up with your antics but just barely.

you could leave. you could sneak out the door right now back to your apartment. it feels like a cliff to jump off, or a knife’s edge — but maybe it’s not that. maybe it’s something warm and easy and not really a choice at all, to love the steadiest person you’ve ever met.

it’s easy to pull your running shoes off and discard your white coat and climb into the small space in the small bed next to her. she stirs a little, and so you say, ‘hey, i’m here.’ and she puts out her arm so you can lie down. it’s an invitation, albeit a sleepy one, so you make sure: ‘is this okay?’

she hums and nods. ‘hi ava.’

her voice is heavy with exhaustion; later you’ll come to find out that the hardest part of residency for beatrice — beyond literally everything else you personally find abhorrent and impossible — was just a lack of sleep.

‘hey bea,’ you say, close enough to count her freckles and take in the warmth of her skin. she curls into you when you scoot closer to her, and it’s cramped and these beds are horrible for your back but it’s still basically heaven. you feel such deep fondness for her, small and in the dark like this, so different from her ramrod straight posture and clever hands in the light.

she mumbles something incoherent and pulls you closer, and you fall asleep just like that. you’re awakened by the sound of her pager — a crime in your book, totally homophobic — just as the sun has risen. she’s disoriented, seemingly, as she wakes up painfully, and you kind of expect her to panic upon seeing you. but she smiles apologetically, a little nervous but apparently happy you’re there.

‘i don’t remember you coming in,’ bea says, searching for her scrub top until you hand it to her from where it was discarded over the side of the bed. she looks at you questioningly for one second, the tiniest bit of trepidation crossing her face, and so you just smile.

‘you were very asleep, mere minutes after texting me. kinda rude to knock out after inviting me, don’t you think?’

her little blush is worth everything as she checks her pager and slips into her clogs. ‘you’re lucky i even managed to get that text off.’

’the er was that bad?’

she groans. ‘worse than.’

you’re ready to just lay around for a few minutes before you go home, but then she pulls on her quarter zip and you think about the scrub cap she’d had on earlier, blue with little otters all over it, unexpectedly adorable, and you decide to get up anyway. ‘have time for me to grab you a coffee as i head out?’

‘i’m sorry i kept you here. that can’t have been comfortable.’

you have to physically hold back the urge to tell her about how good she smells, even smooshed near her armpit. you’re, like, the best at all things self-control though, obviously, and so you don’t. instead you just shrug and stand, thankful for the last round of jillian’s shots that seem to be helping your back. ‘well, if you weren’t so ripped.’

she rolls her eyes, but her blush remains. camila is right, you think, because all you want to do is kiss her right now. but you don’t, you’re good for once, and you get ready too, as quickly as you can, and then hold the door open for her. she blinks a few times at the light, rubs her eyes behind her glasses, but then smiles at you — just for you.

‘maybe, soon,’ she says, taking a brave little breath after you’d waited in easy silence at the coffee counter, ‘you might want to join me on a hike? i go most days off if i can.’

and, like, that’s a terrible idea for you maybe, but whatever, some of your most ambitious terrible ideas have earned you an md and a phd and this very cool person in front of you, offering. ‘i’d really love that,’ you say. ‘text me.’

she nods, definitely pushing the time it would take to answer a page — lilith is going to be pissed, a delightful detail — and then reaches out to squeeze your hand, just once.

‘have a good day, dr. choi.’

she smiles. ‘see you soon, dr. silva.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #prompts #wn #avatrice #surgeons au #like i'm kind of obsessed w this again but it'll probably stay as little prompt fills #idk it's a good one #anyway lol #butch bea 🥺🫡

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stealtharchaeologist · 1 year

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If it would be fun, can you please tell me some Bakura things I wouldn’t know if I haven’t paid any attention to YGO since the end of the original manga?

His favorite food is roast pork and his least favorite food is... uh... chickpea paste or something that's basically hummus. Which is blasphemy in my opinion and a bit odd considering that he literally eats raw garlic in the manga. Also did hummus exist in ancient Egypt? Idfk.

By the by, pork was considered an unclean food in ancient Egypt and you only ate it if A, you were super poor and couldn't afford anything else, or B, didn't give a fuck about the gods. So, you know. Struggling orphaned child giving a middle finger to the gods who abandoned him.

If you haven't seen me already post about this, he is shorter than Ryou and as a gemshipper I find that fucking adorable. Smol king!

Kul Elna is based on Deir el-Medina, a real-world village of ancient Egyptian tomb builders who became tomb robbers because they weren't making enough money to survive. However, there is also a modern village in Egypt named Kurna/Qurna/Gurneh that is also known for its tomb robbers - there was a famous family called the abd-er Rassul brothers who had an "uncanny ability" to find tombs. They discovered the famous royal cache of mummies in Deir el-Bahri in the 1870s and were ratted out by other Kurnans to local Egyptologists in the 1880s, which is how we know about the cache. Anyhow. Kul Elna - or how it's written in Japanese, Kurueruna - sounds a lot like Kurna and I think that's very interesting.

By the by, one of the ways the abd-er Rassul brothers found tombs was by watching the way water ran through the Valley on the rare occasions it rained. So I think Bakura would have enjoyed the rain. I also feel like he'd thrive in the chaotic and obscuring environment of a desert storm.

I had more typed up but was veering more and more into headcanon, so I'll stop here. I could go on forever, lol. Thank you!

#yugioh #thief king bakura #Bakura #thief Bakura #kul Elna #character analysis #ask #toushindai

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salty-cs · 8 months

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List pets are list pets for a reason. "Special releases" only come out once a year, and are omgsr from the beginning. Not many people get them, and people go nuts for them. They are literally way way more rare than any random ER, VR, or Rare pet. That's why they are omgsr. Heck, some of them even end up more valuable than other omgsr pets already on the site. Why? People like the design, and can afford to get them. If you can't, just say that and stop being mad that others have better stuff than you. Most everyone in here yelling about this issue, is either a person who uses the list, respects it, and understands it; or a person who has little to no value on their account, got scammed out of something valuable, or isn't able to grasp the logistics of the list. This is a majority of the people having this conversation. Yet, people keep bringing up how it's about kids and a kids game. I must say, CS, while originally a kids game; is majority adults now. We all found this game as kids, and still play. However, i don't know a single kid in todays time, that will spend much or any time on a game like this. They don't understand the coding we had to learn for sites like this. They don't understand the logistics of high value trading, due to not being into the game. They are 98% more likely to have tiktok or snapchat, than play this game. But mainly, They don't seek out games like this, the way we did as kids. Back when CS was created, this was a common type of game, and you could just randomly stumble on it. Now, there's no ads or talk about games like this, and they are very niche and not exactly going to count under "well known". That's just the reality/truth. There is a majority of adults on CS now, and many many of us have been begging the owners and the staff to realize this. Yes, kids do play. I know there's a few coppa's still floating around the site. But, they are fully a minority on CS, not the majority. List trading was made with adults in mind, because even when kids do play cs, they aren't exactly trading large, complex value pets. Most of the time, they can never even get one. That sucks, but they weren't the people being focused on when the OG list was made. Horror, didn't even really make a list. He compiled TRADE DATA. He made an outline of the OG list, and re-made it with sound trade evidence, and real data. THEN, he made a SECOND list, where he compiled DEMAND trade evidence. He then COMBINED them into an archive where users who want to trade high value pets, have a guideline on how to do so. Heck, He even tried to make it easy to understand, and detailed simply enough a kid could understand it, and learn. I started playing this game when I was 10, and if there had been a guide like horrors, I would have been much more comfortable with trading, and wanting to get high value pets. Instead, i quit like 8 separate times, and continually got treated like a brat who didn't know anything when I was genuinely trying my best. That is the system we need to work on. Teaching people how to use these guides, and show them ways to better interact with other traders, to get the pets they want. If we could do that, there wouldn't need to be a debate on if the list should be used, and instead be HOW the list is used.

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically.

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go!

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person.

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

Check out my Masterlist for more!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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withcreamandsugar · 3 years

Text

Chamisul Chapter 1 | Yabuki Nako

word count: ~1,200

category: fluff, fluff, more fluff

a/n: Chapter 1 of a decently long Nako x gender neutral reader series I plan to write! I haven’t decided if i wanted to go sm*tty with this yet but we’ll see 👁👄👁

a/n2: hi i’m not dead (again)! i moved for college (fun fact i’m a chemical engineer uwu) and i’ve been absolutely swamped in work, sorry if updates are slow and unanswered asks pile up 🥺 in the future i will try my very best to answer all of them!

a/n3 (last one i promise): u can read on my wattpad if u want! idk what people prefer so i’ll post updates both here and wattpad! thank you and enjoy the fluff!

Chapter 1: Strapped for Cash

"₩1,000...2..."

"2 thousand won... that's barely enough for a ramen pack..."

You stashed the loose bills back into your pocket and trudged along the neon lit cityscape, eventually ending up at a 7/11. Funnily enough, you moved to Seoul in hopes of escaping your mediocre life in the States, but that ever familiar convenience store smell pervades hemispheres, it seems. You thought anything would be better than sitting at home, doing nothing and putting your life to waste; now you sit in a 20 square foot apartment that costs thousands in rent and put it to waste.

"Beef..? or chicken?"

The selection of ramen flavors remained a coin flip to you; the two were equally bad for you, giving off the illusion of choice. Two choices, both bad... sounds familiar.

Settling for chicken, you perused the other aisles (not that you could have afforded anything else). You turned the corner, and a girl, not even as tall as the 5 foot or so shelf, caught your eye. She was on her tippy toes, reaching for a rather large case of alcohol sitting at top of the shelf. Your "chivalrous nature" (you barfed in your head as you said that) instinctively instructed you to walk over and grab the box off the top for the clearly struggling girl.

"Do your parents know you're underage drinking?" you said, smirking at the now pouting girl.

"These aren't for me. They're for my members," the girl said, reaching over your arms to take the box for herself. The instant she did, however, her entire body lurched over, the weight of the soju box causing her to wobble back and forth. After a few stifled giggles, you patted the girl on the head and hoisted the box to carry it. "Come on," you said, "let's go to the cashier."

"You know, I'm not a little kid," the girl said to you as you waited in the long line together, nudging your shoulder. "My name's Nako, and I'm almost 20."

"20 what? Centimeters?"

You stifled another giggle as she punted your shins. "Ouchie. My name's Y/N."

You dropped the soju box down at the cashier's counter, a weight lifted off your shoulders. "ID?" the cashier asked you. You looked at the girl, who was already looking down and away. "I see her game now," you thought to yourself. You pulled out your own ID and flashed it at the cashier, who gives an assuring nod. While the cashier bags up your purchases, you feel a hand reaching down your jacket pocket. You glance over to see a still sheepish Nako, and find enough money in your pocket to cover the soju.

You patted the girl on the head again, who turned to look at you. You appreciatively looked into her eyes for a long time before finally saying, "I need 2,000 more won. For the ramen." The girl, initially taken aback, pout-smiled and begrudgingly pulled out a couple more bills. When leaving the store, the two of you were surprised when you ended up walking in the same direction.

"I could carry that if you want," Nako said to you, with a hint of a worried tone.

"And I would let you, if I wanted to see you fall again". You hoisted the somehow increasingly heavy box up again, stopping it from falling. "How far is your place?"

"So first you're a bully, now you're a stalker?" she joked. "Not far."

The two of you turn a familiar corner, and are met with a familiar building.

"I live here," the two of you said at the same time.

Her expression elicited a mix of shock, doubt, and just a hint of delight.

"You're not just saying that to get into my apartment, are you?" The two of you shuffled into the crowded elevator, Nako hitting the button for the 8th floor.

"7th floor," you whispered. "So you're the one blasting music and keeping me awake at night. "

Nako unlocks the door to her dorm. "Get ready to meet my 11 other members," she whispered. You prepared yourself to be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of 11 other teenage girls, but you heard not a sound coming from anywhere in the apartment. "Just kidding. The others all have a schedule this time on Fridays."

"So what's a young girl like you doing drinking along on a Friday night?" you said, plopping the box down, opening the box and twisting open a bottle for yourself.

"Hey I paid for those! And technically I'm not alone." Nako opens another bottle for herself and plops down on the couch opposite you.

"You're right. You're with a stranger, instead." you replied, downing a good quarter of the bottle.

"So tell me about yourself." Nako inquired, taking a tiny sip from the bottle and grimacing in disgust.

"Let's see... I like long walks in the park and travelling..." you joked. Thoughts of what to say first flooded your mind, making you stumble on your words. You told her about how you moved from the States to study abroad in Korea, and, begrudgingly, how strapped for cash you are. You drunkenly told her, 2 bottles in, how much you missed home, how you felt a tinge of regret coming to Korea. You told her, now 4 bottles in, how tonight was the first nice night in a while.

As you drifted off to sleep right there on the communal couch of Nako's apartment, Nako thought about how she felt like she was talking to a longtime friend rather than a stranger she met a few hours ago. All those thoughts faded when she realized she had to carry you to her room so that her members wouldn't come home to a stranger on their couch.

"Ngh... hmph.." Nako grunted as she literally dragged you from the couch to her bedroom. "God, you need to lay off the ramen..." It took almost half an hour and a herculean effort, but Nako managed to tuck you in her bed. Sweaty and tired, Nako plopped down on the floor in front of you. "I know what it's like, moving from home." She brushed the hair from your eyes. "Korea was scary for me at first too. Sometimes it seems like moving was the wrong choice, like I did everything for nothing. But it's the little things, like yo- er, like my members, that remind me there's more to appreciate than comfort and home. I hope soon you'll find your inspiration too."

Nako gets up from her seated position and takes out a sleeping bag, plopping it on the floor and settling down for the night. You laid awake that night, half drunk and giddy about hearing Nako's entire monologue.

#nako #yabuki nako #izone #izone scenarios #izone fluff #izone smut #izone nako #izone reactions #izone imagines

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emily-prentits · 3 years

Text

you're gone (and i'm all alone)

read on ao3

literal kind of trash but last day of @caruliaweek

tw: death mention

Julia stood at the rain-streaked window crading a mug of tea that had cooled long ago, staring vacantly out. Everything was dull, everything was drab. The world seemed to have been drained all of its color in a single week, along with her inclination to wear them. The same single week during which Julia’s life had turned upside down and collapsed in on itself.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she wouldn’t cry no matter how bad it hurt, her tear ducts seemed frozen. She hadn’t cried a single tear since she had gotten the call. Julia now understood why the saddest parts in movies involved no dramatic sobbing. Some pain was too deep to express. It could only be felt, it could only be endured.

Julia heard the quiet creak as someone opened the door. She turned slightly. The female redhead–Ivy–came up next to her quietly. “We’re almos’ ready, Jules–er, Julia.” Julia noticed Ivy’s stutter and felt a pang in her heart. Carmen called— had called her that.

It seemed as long ago as a past life.

“Jus’ thought I should tell you. Carlotta’s gonna be here in a bit. She said she's gonna come see you before the, the uh...I’ll be downstairs.”

Julia bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement as Ivy awkwardly made her escape, the lump in her throat not allowing her to speak. She was afraid that the strange empty feeling would come tumbling out. Julia hadn’t missed the stutter. Ivy meant well, but her word choice had very nearly caused Julia’s emotions to jump start and she couldn’t afford to lose her poise and willpower now.

Julia would need all of her willpower for the memorial service.

She stepped away from the window and toward a freestanding mirror to inspect herself as the doorbell one again sounded throughout the house. She studied herself warily. Black slacks, black button down, black blazer. The golden triangle shaped pendant necklace that Carmen had given her. She fingered it absently. The same round glasses she had always worn. The usual hint of red was missing from her attire for the first time. How could she bear to wear such a cheerful color– hercolor–on an occasion like this?

Julia sighed. She hadn't gotten much sleep the past few days, but there was nothing she could do. She glanced out the window at the rain drenched world once more. Julia could almost hear Carmen calling her. Rainy afternoons were the times that they used to cuddle up with a blanket and a book–most often an ancient history volume–and read for hours at a time.

Jules, where’d you go? She would say. Mysteries of the Olmecs is calling your name!

She had loved those afternoons.

A knock on the bedroom door snapped Julia from her reverie, and Carlotta walked into the room. At the sight of her Julia almost collapsed in shock.

Carlotta looked so painfully like her daughter. Almost like Carmen would have looked if she had lived to see her fortieth birthday.

Carlotta froze, probably reading Julia’s expression for what it was, and rushed to envelop her in a hug.

“Oh, Julia.”

She didn't say anything else, for which Julia was grateful. Carlotta must’ve known that she didn’t want to hear another empty and insincere sounding “I’m sorry.”

Julia tightened her hold on the woman, releasing a shuddering breath. This was the closest she had come to tears since she had gotten the call, a week earlier minutes before one of her most important seminars of the semester.

“Is this Julia Argent?”

“It is,” she had answered.

“I’m sorry to inform you but your fiancee was caught in a warehouse fire earlier this afternoon. We weren’t able to save her.”

No matter how many times she had heard variations of the same line on medical dramas, that didn’t stop the world from falling out from under her feet. Carmen couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. She had kissed Julia goodbye and told her some stupid joke just that morning. The operator was lying.

“Miss? We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Just then her teaching assistant had come to get her for the lecture, so she couldn’t afford to have her emotions take over just yet. Instead she had suffered through the entire three hour seminar, in a state of silent shock.

Julia knew the risk of the job. Hell, Carmen had known the risk of the job. But when one was as good at evading threats as Carmen was, the dangers weren’t as apparent.

Which made it all the harder when the danger caught up and killed her.

VILE had set fire to that warehouse and left her for dead.

By time the paramedics had gotten to the warehouse, there wasn’t much of her body left to save. It was charred and unrecognizable except for a few strips of red fabric and her cell phone that had miraculously evaded the flames, laying a few feet away.

So here Julia stood, embracing her dead fiancee’s mother, the image of Carmen’s badly burned and lifeless body seared into her mind, struggling to hold back tears in vain. Yet Carlotta still stood with her in silence, tracing soothing circles on Julia’s back.

Julia sniffed as the doorbell rang again. “I suppose we should bring her ashes to the memorial.”

***

The rain still hadn’t stopped. The small band of people that had come to the memorial service stood somberly in front of Dexter Wolfe’s memorial. Player only contacted the few people that Carmen had impacted during her life, the few people he knew she would want to see her to her final resting place--although none of them had dreamed that it would be this soon. Shadowsan and Hideo, Sonia, Carlotta and Julia, and of course Zack and Ivy. Even Player was there in the flesh.

Carmen hadn’t wanted a big gathering, so they had made a quiet arrangement with the owner. Carmen’s final resting place would be on her father’s memorial.

Julia thought that it was fitting how Carmen had been so fixated on finding her family, to be able to know them, and she was able to be with her father in death, if not in life.

And with that thought, after a week of numbness, a single tear fell from Julia’s eyes. And suddenly she was crying, releasing all of the pain, all of the heartache that she had been carrying around all week. Mourning her dead fiancée at the ripe old age of thirty.

It only made her cry harder.

Shadowsan stepped forward grimly and handed her the urn.

You’re gone and I’m all alone, Carmen. What am I supposed to do?

The rain hid the tears streaming down her face as she set the urn next to Carmen’s father’s memorial and stood there, memories playing in her head of past times with her love, of things she had wanted to say desperately but never did. She would never be able to now.

The guests trickled away one by one until it was just Julia and Carlotta under a single black umbrella, mourning a soul stolen before her time.

#Carulia #caruliaweek #carulia week #carmen #carmen sandiego #carmensandiego #death tw #julia #julia argent #jules argent #carmulia #carmelia #julethief #julimen #Carjules #carmen x julia #julia x carmen

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nicklightbearer · 3 years

Text

whatever here is the fic

we happy few, nick lightbearer is once again hunted by foggy jack but this time he fights back. just..... not.... well.

this is a tickling fanfic fair warning <3

“Nick.. Nick!”

Rolling over, Nick Lightbearer grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head.

“Virgiiiiiiiiillll.. Five more minutes…” “In five minutes you’ll be dead, idiot! Up, up!”

Nick blinked a few times before feeling a small something land on his stomach- with a high-pitched screech, he sat bolt upright, scrambling to throw the blankets off. There was an oof! from the floor where they landed, and Nick shivered as he peered over the bed.

A rat. There had been a rat- wait- Virgil?

“.. What? What! You’re dead! I- I already avenged you- what do you want now??”

The rat huffed indignantly.

“Well, maybe I’m trying to keep your stupid arse alive, huh? He’s headed here already- so put some pants on, for god’s sake, and find a weapon!” “He? He who?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who do you think??”

Who would- ah bollocks. Nick leapt to his feet, clutching at the wall for support as his head spun. God, even the reds and yellows were wearing on him..

“Foggy- Foggy Jack?? But I- I thought he-“ “Oh, come on. Put two and two together, Nicky.” “Ooh, if you weren’t dead, I’d right love to throttle you for the stupid vague clues…”

Virgil wheezed out a laugh that made Nick roll his eyes as he dug through the dresser.

“You may have blasted the bastard right hard, but it’d take more than a riff or two to kill a man. He’s more starstruck than ever, now.” “See, that wasn’t so hard! Straight answers, Virg, straight answers!”

The room wavered again and Nick cursed angrily as he toppled over trying to pull his slacks up.

“Who taught you how to quip back, huh?” “Could have something to do with the fuckin’.. Broken mood booth outside.”

Grumbling, he finally managed to stand up and pull his pants up proper, tugging on his jacket with only a moment’s hesitation. The blue one, yes, he’d rather wear dark colors if he’s hiding from a serial killer.

“Anyway- where is he now?”

There was a pause, and Nick looked up. The rat was gone.

“Virgil..? Dammit.”

A sudden jiggling of his door handle made him gasp, and he backed away before bolting towards the window.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckit in a bucket, ooh, I don’t have my-“

The front door splintered under a heavy blow, and Nick squealed another curse to himself before nearly leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

”Guitar!” “Mr. Lightbearer.. Do open up, please! I brought ahh.. Some whiskey! A gift from a fan!”

It almost gave him pause before he shook his head wildly.

“No, no. Focus, Nicky!”

He cast his gaze around the room in a panic. Empty pill bottles littered the sink and floor, and he shoved a few of them out of the way to rummage through the cabinet. Nothing.

Nothing but a plunger next to the toilet- though he considered it, the flimsy weight felt more useless than his own fists, and he discarded it quickly.

That left.. the tub.

Wait. The tub! He leaned over to whip the curtain back, and cringed slightly at the sight of the woman inside- thank god, she was clothed. But in her hand was his goal- just last night, he’d been on the.. Receiving end of…

Pulling it carefully from her grasp, he sighed in relief before jolting at the sound of the door splintering again. Fuck, fuck! He couldn’t let Jack see this poor bird- wait-

Checking her pulse, he sighed in relief. Okay, problem for later. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman woke up alone in his house. He quickly pushed out the door again, closing it and jiggling the lock just to make sure it wouldn’t open again- yep!

Then again, that left only himself and the eye that now peered through his former front door, which was largely splintered to bits. He backed up a little before dashing to his bedroom, both hoping and not hoping that Jack would follow.

“Ohh, Mr. Lightbearer… Nicky~!” The slip from formal to a deeper purring tone sent a shiver down the rockstar’s spine, and he clutched at his makeshift weapon nervously as he pushed his back against the door.

“Hey, lock it and get back, idiot! He just broke the other one down, what happens when he slams an axe through this one??” “Virgil- ooh, you’re right!”

He’s always right. Nick jumped back, casting his gaze around the room after clicking the lock shut. Not much to work with, really, but he could.. He could hide- er- well, the closet would be too obvious, right? Or would it be so obvious that he wouldn’t check?

“No, he knows you’re stupid, Nick. Fucksakes.” “Well, what- ooh!”

Pulling open the dresser drawers, he started throwing clothes on the floor next to the window. The rat perched on top of the dresser sighed as he watched, but Nick ignored him for the moment.

“And what, pray tell, is the plan here? D’you have a gun you never told me about? A machete? Hell, even a baseball bat-” “No- I’m fine for weapon, thanks. This is- well- you’ll see!”

Shouldn’t say it out loud, not with how the door groaned as a weight was thrown against it. Nick shuddered as he pushed the clothes haphazardly closer to the wall, then scooted behind the curtain. The pile on the floor was enough to hide his feet- and the curtains were against a black window, so no light would give him away…

It wasn’t perfect. But if the closet was checked first, he’d have the upper hand.

The door splintered after only a few more hits, and Nick held his breath. He could just barely see through the fabric, having his face so close- and seeing Jack again, albeit this time with a slightly more ruffled appearance, made his heart leap into his throat. Terror was enough to keep his fist gripping the weapon, and he watched with wide eyes as the killer stalked into the room, the red glimmer from his own eyes casting an eerie light over the room as a cloud of fog rolled in after him.

It was nothing if not dramatic, he mused, almost inspired by the sight if he hadn’t been fearing for his life.

Jack hummed to himself as he glanced around the room, the familiar tune to Cheer Up bringing a grimace to Nick’s face. Genuinely, the guy was still a fan- it felt bad to be holding a weapon towards any fan for any reason, but..

Seeing the glittering knife that Jack held whipped his perspective back instantly. Fuck, this guy was absolutely bonkers- though, granted, that only made him feel worse- he couldn’t afford to be wishy-washy about this!

As predicted, Jack didn’t even notice the curtains, instead peering under the bed before turning towards the closet.

“Nick, Nick, Nick… Really, I can’t believe you’d let yourself be cornered so easily. Really, I expected more resistance. No activated security system-”

Fuck! He’d forgotten to turn it on in his drunken stupor the night before!

“No bobbies to guard the house, and not a single manager in sight.. Oh, wait!”

A flash of anger nearly made him leap out right there- but no, he’d wait and bide his time.. For just the right moment…

As Jack grasped the handle on the closet, Nick tensed.

“I suppose you don’t have one of those, do you?”

He flung the doors wide with a taunting laugh that died slowly, his outstretched arms lowering with confusion.

“What..?”

Now!

Nick leapt from his hiding place, nearly tripping on all the clothes but somehow managing to stumble so that he was standing on the bed- not unlike someone hiding away from a mouse, except the mouse was a person and that person had a big knife with his name on it, possibly literally.

However, his unsure footing made him miss his target of ‘back of the skull, god, please let me just knock him out’ and instead slam the instrument across Jack’s back. The impact made him tense, and he squeezed the handle nervously-

Only for electricity to zip out of it, making his palms tingle as the killer gasped. Oh, fuck on a stick.

But.. Something was off. Rather than immediately whipping to stab him, Jack stumbled, slamming against the dresser and clutching at his suit.

“What- what in the blazes-”

Well, no time for hesitation! He swung again, this time holding the button down with purpose. Anything to catch this guy off guard, right? It was also far easier to tap repeatedly at his body rather than his head, and… It worked.

Somehow, it worked. Jack’s arms were glued to his sides and he shimmied away from the assault, expression shifting from a confused pout to a more.. Well, his cheeks puffed out and he cringed, but a smile still seemed to tug at his lips. This smile was different, though, and seemed far more genuine than the mask let on.

“Stop- hey, stop! What- waha- wait!”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Foggy Jack. Serial killer, menace to society, his personal fuckin’ stalker….. Was ticklish.

Okay. Okay. Well, this information was definitely going to be put to use- let’s see- right the fuck now. Nick slid down from the bed, using the Tickler to bop Jack closer to it- an easy task, given that he nearly tripped himself right onto it. With a quick push.. Perfect!

Foggy Jack was now on his bed. Disheveled, covering his mouth to hold back giggles, and with an expression bordering on infatuation shining out from behind his hand.

For a minute, he was stunned, before remembering the knife. Glancing down, though- oh, he wasn’t holding it. He’d dropped it- there, on the floor.

Jeez, it was almost like he didn’t want to kill Nick.

….. Shelving that thought to dwell on later, Nick grinned with as much menace as he could muster.

“Well, well, well. Ya know, mister Foggy Jack, you’re not half so scary like this.”

Jack yelped as the Tickler was pushed squarely against the middle of his stomach, trying to grab it but letting go quickly as Nick tapped the button a few times. The sensations of light electricity dancing across his torso quickly gave rise to more giggles, ones that he could hardly hold back for all the delight he clearly felt.

“Really! Sheesh, if I’d known about this before, all this lot of stuff would have been so much easier.. Hey, arms up!”

Nick huffed, pushing the arms that seemed nearly glued to his sides before just wiggling a hand between sleeve and shirt. For practiced fingers like his, coaxing out more shocked laughter was easy- and with the Tickler now running up and down his stomach, Jack finally broke.

“Waihihihit! No- stop! St- ahaha! It tickles!” “Well, I sure fuckin’ hope it does, lovely… That’s the point.”

Though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle things from here. Sure, he could wear out Jack and- wait, perfect. He’d just tickle the man until he properly passed out, then run and find a bobby. Perfect!

Though, as he watched the man writhe beneath him, escalated to proper laughter as skilled fingers squeezed at his sides and the Tickler continued tormenting his stomach, he was a tad hesitant. The ticklish near-agony that made shrieks ring out was… Hm, fun!

As he listened to more of that adorably broken-up laughter, he wondered how addicting this sort of drug might be.

“PLEHEASE- DON’T- DON’T TICKLE ME- IHI CAN’T, I CAN’T TAKE IT! M- MAHAHA- NNNNICK!” “That’s Mr. Lightbearer to you, mister Foggy. Go on, ask me proper to quit, maybe I’ll think about it. Probably not.” “Mr. Light- eehee! Lightbeareheher! Please!” “Please what??” “Plehehease- dOHON’T! Stoooohohop tickling mehehe!” “Don’t stop tickling you? Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart!”

Though the petname didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Nick chose to eliminate any chance of a response by ducking down- the sudden closeness of their faces made Jack go silent, breathless with both laughter and starstruck awe. Nick winked before ducking his face down and blowing a raspberry right against his neck, sliding the Tickler to press down against his torso again.

The response was immediate. Jack flailed wildly and cackled, beating at Nick’s back weakly as he choked out wordless pleas. Of course, none of them were heeded, and a few more raspberries were instead strategically placed on the man’s neck. In all his years, even knowing that most people were at least a little ticklish around the face (due to the masks, certainly), he’d never garnered a reaction quite this intense. Must be extra sensitive- therefore, weak, and the wheezes between laughs made Nick grin.

It was honestly.. Kinda cute. He was glad that his goal was to tickle the man to pieces, since otherwise he’d normally give a break by now.

As the struggling became weaker, and the laughs reached pitches that frequently dipped into silent snorts, Nick hummed to himself. Now would be a good a time as ever to drop a little.. Finale, let’s say. He pulled back for a moment, easily readjusting their positions- now, with Jack laying limply on the bed and only weakly with his arms linked around his waist, he climbed on after him properly. It wasn’t hard to sit above his prey, wiggling his fingers a little for extra effect- and relishing in the burst of giggles and flinch- before tapping his chin.

“Now, let’s see.. Something tells me you’re nearly tuckered out. But I’m not quite done, oh no.” “N.. No??”

Something about the way his voice was suddenly softer, even shy in a way- it made Nick’s stomach do a few flips.

“No! Of course not. You’ve been awful rude, banging my door down and threatening me. But I can put that behind us.”

Bending down again, he placed a hand on either side of Jack’s head, their faces nearly touching- once again, Jack held his breath, eyes wide.

“.. Close your eyes for me, Jacky.”

The speed at which his hesitation faded to nervousness, then to giddy anticipation.. It was adorable. Jack finally closed his eyes, then covered his face with a shuddering giggle.

From there, it was easy for Nick to unbutton his jacket- and even easier to bury his face against Jack’s stomach, nibbling through the shirt and earning a new set of squeals.

“No! No- ahaha- ooh, you-!” “Go on, give me a laugh! Just for me, Jacky! Ooh, those could be lyrics..”

He hummed a bit with the idea before returning to his previous actions- and it wasn’t long before the laughter died down, Jack barely writhing beneath him. Nick sat up eventually, finally giving it a rest as he watched the killer gasp a few times before he was silent.

… He leaned forward to check for a pulse. Yep. Hammering away, actually, but calming down.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do. Sitting back on Jack’s legs, he gazed down, watching him sleep with a foggy confusion building in the back of his skull.

Sure, a bobby might.. Be able to help. But he was so tired. And Jack was warm- warmer than he expected, and…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He did crawl over to the side of the bed to push the knife under the dresser, first, but.. Yes, a nap.

Popping a spare Joy he found under one of his shirts, he flopped onto the bed, resolving to take care of the matter later. It was probably fine.

#this one's for you #hackneyfashioninstitute #<3 #we ticklish few #lightbearer #foggy poggy

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 33

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Feel free to follow the Instagram account for this story - whenihaveyou.romione

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Chapter 33

Ron looked despairingly into the Gringotts bank account he and Hermione had set up when they’d moved in together. It had been easier that way — paying all the funds as one, such as rent for the flat and withdrawing Galleons when they were going out. At the time, earning his own money and now on a level playing field with Hermione, he’d been okay about it. But now… well, now was more challenging.

Money was going into it on a weekly basis, but money was also coming out every time he took the payment for the ring out. And someone like Hermione, who was good at keeping track of all that kind of stuff, would eventually notice. Surprisingly, she hadn’t yet. Or, if she had, she hadn’t said anything. Perhaps she thought he was just using it to buy other things for himself and didn’t think anything of it.

That was good in a way, but it bothered him, too. As the weeks wore on, as everyone was still talking about Percy and Audrey’s wedding, he was beginning to think this whole plan had been the wrong plan. He should have just gone with what he could afford and gotten it over with. What did a ring really matter in the scheme of things? Hermione didn’t care about that kind of stuff. She would have agreed to marry him regardless of what he offered in return. He knew that, and yet… he’d let his desire to do it ‘right’ take over. And it had been very, very wrong.

He frowned. That was what came with growing up poor, he realised. He finally had the money to buy something nice and so he went all out.

And now look where he was. With a debt to pay and nothing to show for it in return — not even the ability to call Hermione his fiance.

“How much this week, Mr Weasley?” the goblin asked, snapping Ron from his thoughts.

Ron looked down at the goblin, then back into the vault. “Er, ten I suppose. As usual.”

“And send eight of it via owl to Hogsmeade?” the goblin continued.

“Yes,” Ron said.

The goblin gathered ten Galleons from the vault and stuck eight into a small bag. She passed the other two to Ron. He placed them into his pocket.

“Is that all?” the goblin then asked.

Ron nodded. “Thanks,” he said, and he watched as the goblin closed the door. It was a small vault compared to the Lestrange one they’d broken into once, or even Harry’s, but it still contained more gold than the Weasley family ever had.

And it was theirs.

He and Hermione were doing alright, he supposed. Maybe just not good enough to be taking ten Galleons a week out of it without one of them noticing.

“The money will be sent via owl this evening, Mr Weasley,” the goblin said. “As per usual.”

“Thanks,” Ron said again, and he jumped back into the cart that would take him back to the surface. Their vault wasn’t too far underground, but it was still a decent journey back to the entrance. And no matter how short it was, it was unpleasant.

Once he reached it, climbing out of the cart, Ron had to stop for a moment for his eyes to readjust to the light.

There were a few hours of daylight left, which meant that the shops in Diagon Alley were still open. He had a few Galleons to spare, so he may as well make the most of spending some of it. At least he would have an excuse if Hermione found out about the money this week.

He strolled past the goblin guards, some of them wishing him a good evening. Ever since the war had ended, he found them far more pleasant than he ever remembered them being, which was surprising considering he’d contributed to the near destruction of the place. Perhaps it was his new outlook on magical creatures thanks to Hermione, or perhaps the goblins were much happier now that their lives weren’t being threatened every day. He couldn’t really tell, but either way, he didn’t hate the visit to the bank as much as he once had.

Tucked into a little corner near the entrance via the Leaky Cauldron was a florist. From the front door to the back of the shop, the tiny space was decorated in so many bouquets and bunches and designs that Ron had difficulty even entering.

And the moment he did, he was greeted by a young woman who reminded him very much of Madam Rosmerta in her younger days. But she spoke with the mystical voice of Professor Trelawney, which really ruined her good looks for Ron.

“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, I want the biggest bouquet, or whatever you have, for two Galleons. The nicest ones, too.”

“Of course,” the woman said, and she swept to the back of her shop, disappearing amongst the flowers.

“Is it for someone you love or someone you wish to scare?” she asked.

Ron stared for a moment. Then shaking his head, said, “My girlfriend.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Ron stared for another moment, opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, “Something nice.”

“Of course.” The woman then swept in and out of vines, elaborate chain bouquets, picking this, plucking that. Ron decided he was safest waiting at the counter. Last time he’d been in here, this woman hadn’t been there. In fact, on the multiple occasions he’d thought to buy Hermione flowers, they had been put together by a kind, normal witch.

After about five minutes, she came to the counter where she laid a bunch of unrecognisable flowers on a bunch of red paper. With her wand, she cut a piece of white ribbon and then waved her wand again. The flowers were immediately bunched and wrapped, and then tied.

“Two Galleons, Sir,” the woman said.

Ron dug into his pocket and passed over two Galleons.

“Have a good day, Sir.”

“Thanks,” Ron replied. “Er, you too.” He left quickly, hurrying down Diagon Alley with the flowers clutched in his hand to the entrance to their flat. Hermione would be home from work by now.

He made his way up the stairs with an aroma of smells making the short journey pleasant. Those who lived in the neighbouring flats always cooked something nice and it made his stomach growl in anticipation. Unless they went to the Burrow for dinner, he and Hermione didn’t eat as well as the neighbours ever did.

He used his wand to unlock the door and was immediately greeted by Hermione’s beaming face right in front of him. She was so close, he was forced to take a step back through the door.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten to,” she said, and her eyes fell on the bunch of flowers still in Ron’s hands.

He passed them to her. “I got you these. I thought you might like them.”

Hermione accepted the flowers with a small smile on her face. She then looked back up at him. "What are these for?"

"Because I love you, and I wanted to," Ron said. "Though, the lady in the shop today was really odd. Probably won't be going back if she's there."

"They're beautiful," Hermione said, and then placed them on the table, almost discarding them. Ron might have been upset had he not bought them for her because he was feeling guilty to begin with.

Instead, he said, "What's got you in a good mood?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, though there was no hiding her apparent excitement over something.

"Well, you almost knocked me over when I came in, and you just threw those flowers to the side like they were nothing. You seem happy about something, and I don't think it's just because I came home."

Hermione watched him for a moment, as if contemplating something. A smile still played on her lips, though her expression had turned serious.

"Out with it!" Ron demanded. "Did you get made Minister for Magic or something?"

"Of course not," Hermione said, and she led him over to the breakfast table. "I just… I have a proposal for you."

"A what?" Ron asked, his head snapping to her as she all but pushed him into the chair.

"A proposition. An idea. A thought. Whatever you want to call it." Hermione sat in the opposite chair, though Ron now watched her warily.

He didn't think she meant the word proposal literally, but it was all that was on his mind these days. He couldn't really see what else she might have meant. Had he waited too long? Was she becoming frustrated with not getting married? After their unexpected talk at Percy's wedding, had she decided to take matters into her own hands?

"Well?" Ron asked after she didn't speak. "What do you want to say?"

"I've been thinking," Hermione began, "ever since we talked about it at Percy's wedding."

Dammit.

"What about that?" Ron asked, feeling his chest tighten a little. If she got too far into things, maybe he should just blurt it out over top of her. He wanted to do it.

"Big decisions," Hermione said. "The next step. I have been thinking about the first one."

"Oh?"

"Why don't we get a house together?"

Ron paused. His eyes scanned the flat they were sitting in, with the bedroom off to the side, the living space, the kitchen… he looked back at her, not sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed that she hadn't suggested marriage.

"But… we have a house." It was a dumb comment, because he knew what she meant, but…

"Not one that's ours," Hermione said. "Not one we've bought, not one with a garden, lots of rooms… not one for the future."

The future.

The words sounded good to his ears. A confirmation that everything he was doing, everything he had planned, really was worth it. Even if he had to wait a little bit longer, they still had a future. A long future, he hoped.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Hermione continued, and she seemed delightfully happy that Ron couldn’t help but smile. “Even before we discussed it a few weeks back. This place is cramped — even for the two of us — and… well, I really like the idea of planning the future with you, and I think this is a good first step.”

“A big decision,” Ron said.

“But a smaller, big decision.”

They were silent for a moment. The idea of living in a bigger place with Hermione was greatly appealing. They’d always known that this flat wouldn’t be forever, and if he was being honest, he’d always imagined getting a place somewhere secluded, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. A bit like the Burrow or Shell Cottage.

They could do magic freely without the risk of Muggles seeing, and, well… it would be a good place to raise children, and he was extremely confident that that was one of the things Hermione was alluding to when she spoke of the future.

“What do you think?” Hermione asked. “I know it’s convenient here — it’s close to everything, but we can Apparate, Floo, all that kind of stuff. Wherever we live, we’d arrange connections to everywhere important via the fireplace.”

“Yeah…” Ron said. “That would be nice.” He smiled at her, suddenly feeling delusionally happy. He loved living with Hermione. Waking up next to her everyday, or stumbling into the kitchen on weekends after she’d already been up for an hour, seeing her messy, unbrushed hair, in her pyjamas… cuddling her at night before they fell asleep…

There was nothing more calming than knowing she was always there.

It seemed like the next step, naturally.

“Let’s do it!” he said after a moment. “A house of our own. One we can add our own touches to.”

Hermione’s smile widened. “This is so exciting!” She then flushed, sheepishly taking out her wand. “I’ve, um… been looking already. Just a little bit.” And before them appeared some newspapers — reminding Ron from when he was back in Grimmauld Place and they were looking for this flat.

Ron liked the sense of normalcy to it all. Three years ago, he had been convinced they’d all be dead, so to be sitting at a table talking about something as simple as a house was the best feeling.

“You wouldn’t be the Hermione I know and love if you hadn’t already researched this,” Ron said, drawing some of the newspapers towards him. He paused at the first one, his smile faltering for the first time.

“What?” Hermione asked. “I know it’s in a Muggle area, but I thought —”

Ron shook his head. “It’s not that. Wherever you go, I go. It’s just...” It hadn’t occurred to him until he saw the large number in the advertisement. This was going to cost money. Money he was already spending on an engagement ring.

“We can afford it,” Hermione said gently, seeming to understand his hesitation. “It’s alright.”

Ron looked up from the paper to her. Why was it that whenever he thought something wasn’t going to work, he could just look at her and it didn’t matter anymore?

Wherever you go, I go.

“It’s going to be tough until training’s finished,” Ron said.

“But we can manage. I’ve done the calculations. It’s okay.”

Ron nodded, and Hermione reached out to grab his hands. He squeezed hers tightly. “Then let’s do this,” he said.

How could he say no? Even if it meant he had to take another look at the ring repayments to ensure that they really could afford it. And what if he couldn’t? What was he supposed to say to Hermione then?

She smiled at him again and suddenly, his decision was easy. Who needed to be married? He had everything he wanted sitting at the table with him.

And it was just about to get a million times better with their first big decision.

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bohemianrequiem · 3 years

Text

Here’s my Codeswapped gift for @nemesisadraste ! I had so much fun writing for Sam and expanding upon her relationship with Odd and the other Lyoko Warriors. I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

Prompt - Sam becomes a Lyoko Warrior

If you had told Sam earlier today that her evening would be taking a turn for the unexpected, she wouldn’t have doubted it-

Things were always that way when Odd was around and that was how she liked it. The unpredictability of their dates as a simple plan for dinner would turn into an hours long romp through the market district of town, both of them perusing clothes neither one could afford, was just another part of the fun of their relationship. Funnily enough, she had come to begin expecting these little pleasant surprises the more time they spent together. However, there was another trend that Sam was beginning to develop over the last few weeks.

First, Odd’s phone would ring and would with his nonchalant greeting of “What’s up,”followed by the name of one of his various friends from Kadic. Usually Jeremy or Ulrich, sometimes Yumi, and very rarely a strange girl named Aelita would be on the other end. After a moment, Odd’s brow would furrow, his jaw would set, and an uncharacteristic seriousness would envelop his entire person. “For real? Yeah, I’ve got it. On my way.” He would then flip his cell shut and turn his gaze towards Sam, his features slowly softening to the goofy boy she’d come to care so much for.

“Sam, I know what you’re gonna say-“ He placed his hands up in mock surrender, a worried chuckle already slipping past his lips before he could even finish his sentence.

“Let me guess, you’ve gotta go?” Sam sighed, more out of habit than any actual disappointment. Like she’d said, this was becoming a frequent portion of their date nights. At least this time they’d actually got to enjoy a movie together and make it halfway through dinner. Her burger half eaten and now being laid down on a plastic red tray, she shrugged. “Do what you gotta do, man. Text me when you get back to the dorms for the night?”

Odd blinked once, then twice. “A-Are you sure?” Obviously surprised at her lack of frustration at his need to preemptively end their date. Sam just waved her hand in dismissal, as if pushing the worry out of existence.

“Yeah, Dude. I know Kadic’s got you guys doing hella group projects this semester. Go help your friends.” At least, that was the excuse Odd had used before. She might have believed it the first time or two, even if schoolwork wasn’t usually that high up on Odd’s list of priorities, but something about his behavior recently had clued her into the fact that this was about something much bigger than school. “So, go on. I’ll be fine making it back to my place.”

Odd took his bottom lip between his front teeth, a habit that Sam had long since stopped trying to break him of, then nodded. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” He gave a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, then dashed off down the sidewalk. “I’ll text you later, okay?!” He called out over his shoulder as he rounded the first corner.

Another thing Sam had come to accept about Odd was that he was a terrible liar. Case in point, he had literally just ran off in the opposite direction of his school. After a couples minutes of anxious internal debate, she began to follow.

~~~

When Sam arrived at the old factory on the outskirts of the river that cut through town, she had initially worried that she’d lost Odd’s trail and accidentally followed someone else’s. After all, what would Odd be doing at some old place like this?

However, maybe this place wasn’t quite as abandoned as she thought. Despite the paint having chipped off the walls decades ago and piles of scrap iron cropping up throughout the interior, the floor looked relatively clear of dust and other small debris. Somebody, or maybe a groups of somebodies, had obviously been coming through here quite frequently to keep the dust and other objects from settling. That and the ropes hanging from the ceiling, one of which was still gently swaying from side to side as if it had just been handled, clued her into things not being quite what they appeared.

Deciding not to trust the rickety old elevator, which likely didn’t even run anymore, Sam followed one such dust-free path from the main floor of the factory down to another area full of old machines. They looked like the ones used in car factories to put heavy pieces of metal on the chassis of vehicles together, but had obviously been in a state of disuse just as long as much of the factory.

From this room, a winding trail that many times lead Sam to various dead-ends finally culminated in her opening a door into a spacious computer room, complete with some type of projection emanating from the center of the room. A few steps in and she could hear the frantic clicking and clacking of a keyboard across the room. Hidden by the sizable monitor in front of his face, a young boy spoke little.

“Okay, Odd. You should be able to see the construct now.....Yes, I know it’s huge, but you need to get inside of it and regroup with Yumi and Ulrich. I’ve lost contact with them for exactly-“ He checked his watch. “Ten minutes now. And communication with Aelita is spotty, at best. It’s up to you to....to uh....” His eyes lifted from his watch’s face to see Sam standing just a handful of steps into the room.

“Yo,” She put her hand in the area in a tentative wave. “Jeremy, right? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this isn’t your social studies project, is it?”

Sam swore she could see a vein in Jeremy’s forehead pulse as he slowly sat backwards and readjusted a microphone attached to his earpiece. “Odd? Were you aware that your girlfriend is here at the factory?”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Was he seriously just going to ignore her and act like they weren’t even in the same room together? “Is that really Odd on the other end? Let me talk to him.” She took a number of determined steps towards Jeremy, the boy defensively putting his hands up around his earpiece.

“No, no, I don’t think she’s infected, but she does look awfully upset. What’d you do to her this time, Romeo?” He stood up and put his hands out placatingly. “Samantha, please-“

“It’s Sam,” She interrupted as her march came to a standstill in front of Jeremy, placing her hands on her hips and impatiently tapping her foot. “Never Samantha.”

“Sam. Right.” He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I know this is gonna be difficult to understand, but you can’t talk to Odd right now. He’s on a very important mission right now. Odd’s still here at the factory with us, at least technically, but you’re not going to be able to see him until he’s finished.”

A mission? Was this some kind of code or was this dude seriously losing his marbles? “What do you mean he’s here but he’s not? Why can’t Odd just tell me all this himself, without all the lying and hiding?”

“He’s not hiding, Sam, he’s doing something extremely important. Come look.” Jeremy motioned her over to the computer monitor behind him. As she took in the many blinking lights and constantly changing lines of code, Jeremy sat down and relaxed. “See? He’s right here, located outside of this massive structure the geography of which I’ve been mapping for days now. The only problem is that I can’t quite figure out what’s inside of it. That’s where Odd and the others come in.”

“The others? You mean Yumi, Ulrich, and Canada girl, right?” Sam shook her head. “Wait, wait, so you expect me to believe that Odd’s inside there? Inside the computer?”

Jeremy nodded. “Exactly.”

Sam had come to accept a lot of things about Odd: from his personality, to his hobbies, but this went beyond all of that completely. Just as she was about to voice her disbelief again, a frantic beeping came from the computer. She watched over Jeremy’s shoulder as he began typing with near reckless abandon and spoke into his microphone again.

“Odd, bad news. You’ve got hostile hornets inbound. Four of them by the looks of it.” Four red dots appeared on screen, worryingly close to a blue dot indicating Odd’s location. The hornets zipped around the screen, surrounding Odd and barraging him attacks that Sam couldn’t see. From the way Jeremy’s face contorted with worry, though, she didn’t need to see the attack to know things were bad.

“This isn’t good. The hornets shouldn’t be able to move that fast. It’s like being inside the construct has super charged them or something.” A dull beep sounded and Jeremy tsked. “Odd, you’ve just lost fifteen life points. Be careful!” Sam could barely hear her boyfriend’s voice over the other end and desperately wished she could reach out and answer.

“What happens when he hits zero?” She asked, the quietness of her voice surprising her in the moment.

“What?” Jeremy was busy typing away on the keyboard as he tried to discover the source of the hornets’ sudden power-up.

“I asked you what happens when Odd hits zero life points. You said he already lost fifteen, so what happens to him when he hits zero?”

Jeremy pursed his lips. “He’ll be devirtualized. Right now, he’s inside the computer program, but if he loses all of his life points when he’ll be ousted and return to being here in the factory with us.” He added under his breath with added frustration. “At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen....”

“And what does that mean?” Sam was beginning to lose her patience with Jeremy’s infuriating tendency to under-explain what was going on.

“It means, well, that they aren’t coming back like they’re supposed to.” He leaned back and breathed out a deep sigh. “Yumi and Ulrich have already lost all of their life points, and yet haven’t devirtualized. I can only guess as to why, but their shared code must be stuck in some kind of feedback loop within the simulation. To put it simply...” He looked up to her. “I can’t get them out.”

Sam nearly slammed her hand down on the computer keyboard, but fearing damaging Odd, settled for simply unleashing a verbal tirade onto Jeremy. “And you just sent Odd in there to deal with it by himself? I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends!”

“Of course we are!” Jeremy shouted back. “Odd knows the risk, so do Yumi and Ulrich. He’s not alone though, he has Aelita inside Lyoko to help him and he has me out here to provide support. Ever since we’ve met, we’ve all always had each other’s backs and that’s not going to stop now.”

“Then...” Sam’s gaze turned from Jeremy and settled on the computer screen. Her anger slowly ebbing away and revealing the worry underneath. “What are we going to do now? What can we do to help Odd and the others?”

Jeremy bent over the keyboard. She could practically hear the gears turning inside of his mind - there was a reason his friends all called him Einstein - until he snapped his fingers. “If we could temporarily overload the construct with some bad data, then that should be enough to slow down the hornets and put Odd at a greater advantage.” A flurry of keystrokes filled the air. “But, ah, it’s no use. I have no dominion inside the construction, no access to any towers, and I can’t directly send anything to Aelita in order to sabotage the hornets. If we went that route, I would have had to given the bad data to Odd right as he was being virtualized. But it’s too late now-“

“So give it to me.” Sam cut in. “If you can’t give it to anyone else to make the enemies easier to destroy, then upload the data with me and I can take it to Odd and Aelita.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Jeremy was about to launch into a deep explanation of the danger of a first timer launching themselves into an already precarious situation, before Sam put her hands on the arms of his chair and gently swiveled it around to face her.

“You said you care about Odd, well so do I. I don’t care about what might happen to me, I just want to chance to help.” Her voice was quiet, but sincere. A bit of insincerity slipped in with her next words. “ ‘Sides, I wasn’t asking, Pointdexter. Now put me in before I start keyboard smashing this thing.”

Jeremy thought for a long moment, then another, before slowly nodding. He could see why Odd was so crazy about this girl. “Fine. Head downstairs to the transporters and I’ll guide you from over the speakers. I can’t follow, but I can get you where you need to go from here.”

~~~

It was like a rush of electricity moving up her spine, before spreading throughout her entire body. The next thing she knew, Sam was staggering to the ground and could barely catch herself before falling face first. In her ear, Jeremy’s voice spoke.

“A little rougher than the usual, but not bad for your first time. I kind of had to rush your Lyoko avatar, but it should suffice for the time being. Most of it was procedurally generated anyways so-“

“Dude, c’mon, mission at hand before we start talking technical?” Sam shook her head as if clearing out his voice.

“Right, right, of course. You should be able to see the construct before you, it’s geometry is marginally different from the surrounding sector.” True to his word, her dark eyes scanned upwards and eyed the pale stone fortress before her. It’s coloring clashes drastically with the surrounding fog and light lavender rock of the Mountain Sector.

“The entrance is wide open. Isn’t this usually the part of the game where you have to defeat some kind of gatekeeper or something to get further into the dungeon?” Sam remarked as she swiftly passed into the threshold of the construct fortress.

“This isn’t a game, Sam. This is a matter of whether or not XANA can gain a new foothold within the Lyoko program, thus giving him greater power in the real world.” Jeremy pauses for a moment. “And, uh, Yumi and Ulrich already took care of the krabs guarding the entrance earlier....so there’s that.”

“I knew there had to be a gatekeeper!” Sam yelled triumphantly as she trekked further in. Hard, angular edges formed from what looked like polished stone walls guided her deeper and deeper into the otherworldly building. “So, speaking of mobs, what kind of weapons do I have?”

Jeremy audibly pressed a few buttons on his end and Sam could hear the sound of metal clinking together on her belt. “Like I was saying, I didn’t have much time to code anything too fancy. These digital shurikins should help if you encounter any ranged enemies and this-“ A weight suddenly appeared on her back. “-Is a copy of one of Ulrich’s katanas. I’d suppose you know how to use these?”

“Of course.” Sam chirped. “Sharp end towards the bad guys, then throw and stab, right?” On the other end, Jeremy groaned uncertainly. “Kidding, kidding. I think I can make these work. Now, what about this thing?” She motioned towards the metal gauntlet that encased her right forearm.

“In addition to being armor, it acts the as the containment module for the bad data I need you to inject. Once you engage the enemy, all you have to do is get within striking distance with the gauntlet and then-“

“Uh, Jeremy? I think the enemy’s already here.” After turning a particularly sharp corner, the narrow hallway Sam had been traveling down opened up into a room with high ceilings and expansive flooring. Towards the center, Odd pushed a very weary looking Aelita out of the way of a hornet’s well placed laser blast.

“Get behind me, Princess, these bozos are stronger than they look!” He fire a quick barrage of laser arrows towards the trio hornets, but their impressive speed allowed them to easily dodge each blast.

“No, Odd! Here!” Aelita kneeled down and bowed her head. Within a moment, a rock-like structure the same color as the rocks from the Mountain Sector appeared overhead. It shielded them from the hornet’s blasts, but shuddered with each and everything strike.

Within Sam’s ear, Jeremy voice came to life. “Aelita can’t maintain that barrier forever. And once it breaks, they’ll be totally defenseless. It’s up to you now.” Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Sam removed one of the shurikins from her belt. As the hornets were completely focused on breaking Aelita’s barrier, they all but ignored Sam as she quietly slipped closer towards the enemy.

Angling her shot towards the wall, Sam let one of her bladed weapons fly. The shurikin gained speed as it bounced off the wall and hit it’s mark on the broad side of one of the hornets. The virtual insect fell to the ground, dazed from the sudden damage it had taken.

“Now! Sam!” Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to the screen.

“Already on it, Pointdexter!” She ran forward and, with a small leap, descended upon the hornet. “Slow!” Out of the wrist of her gauntlet popped two bladed prongs, that soon became buried deep into the hornet’s body. It shuddered for a moment as it’s virtual body was pumped full of problematic data manufactured by Jeremy. Sam pulled the prongs out of the hornet’s body and threw up a hand to cover her face as the creature exploded.

Above her, the other hornets shuddered and jerked midflight before falling to the ground. “You’ve done it! The hornets are down for the count, and the rest of the construct’s data steam has been disrupted too.” A few keystrokes pass. “And Ulrich and Yumi are being devirtualized now!”

“So, now what? Do we keep going further in or...?”

“No way. Everyone’s life points are way too low, not to mention you and I are going to have some explaining to do to the others.” Sam nodded her head as Jeremy’s voice left her ear. Before she could ask anymore questions, Odd practically slammed into her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked Sam straight up into the air.

“Sam! You were so cool! You were like ‘pew’, ‘shing’, ‘stab’, ‘jab’, and then you-“ Sam groaned out-loud.

“Dude, cool it! You’re gonna strangle me to death after I literally just saved your life! Put me down!” Odd loosened his near death grip around his girlfriend and slowly lowered her to the ground. He gave a sheepish laugh. Beside him, Aelita giggled at his bashfulness in front of Sam.

“Right, sorry. For real, how did you get here? Did Einstein call you or something?”

“Not exactly. I, kinda-sorta, followed you here from our date. Then when I saw you guys needed help, I had Jeremy virtualize me.” Sam looked Odd up and down for a moment. “Why...Why are you a cat boy?”

Aelita put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing, but failed to contain her amusement as tiny snickers slipped past. “Yeah, Odd. What is with the cat get-up?”

Odd’s cheeks flushed with color. “W-Well, it’s kind of a long story. I sorta showed up here like this the first time and since then I’ve just learned to roll with it. But what about you? You look awesome!” His eyes ran over the black jumpsuit with satisfying white lines going down the lengths of her covered arms and legs, accented by an indigo crop top overlaying the outfit.

“Jeremy told me he was using Yumi and Aelita’s outfits as a basis for mine, but most of it was generated automatically when I first got here, I guess.” Sam looked at Aelita and her gaze was instantly drawn to her point eyes and face markings. “I guess between you two, I’m kinda the odd one out. No cats ears, no elf ears, just plain ol’ human ones.”

“Hey, you guys.” Jeremy spoke to all of them through his computer’s microphone. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation on fashion, we really should get you three back home. Ulrich and Yumi are already here, so I’ll start the devirtualization process. You first, Aelita.”

As Aelita began to disappear into unraveling strands of code, Odd put a hand on the back of his neck. “Sam, I’m sorry you had to find out this way about what I’m always doing with my friends. I wanted to tell you, and I didn’t like lying to you, but trying to explain all this to you always just seemed so...impossible.”

“Odd, if you had told me about all of this, I probably would have thought your brains had finally melted out of your ears from playing so many video games. I’m not angry or anything, more like amazed really. I almost still can’t believe anything like this even exists. I’m glad you’re safe though. Aelita and the others too, of course.” She kicks the ground with her shoe. “So, uh, does this mean I’m like part of the team now or what?”

Odd shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to be. I’m sure the others would agree that you’ve already more than proven yourself, but there’s still a lot we would need to talk about first. What Lyoko is, what we’re fighting, where Aelita really comes from...”

“I knew she wasn’t from Canada!” Sam yelled, before laughter overtook both her and Odd.

“It was the best we could come up with on such short notice. You’re telling me people from Canada don’t naturally have pink hair?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure nobody from anywhere is a natural pink, dork.” Sam flicks his nose with her index finger as the devirtualization process begins to take her. “I’ll see you back topside, alright?”

Odd nodded. “Yeah, see you back in the factory, dork-kisser.”

#code lyoko #code: swap #odd della robbia #jeremy belpois #Sam King

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onetuffbunny · 3 years

Text

"So you're meeting up with some rando you met on the Internet?" R.A. says over the phone in the tone of voice that implies that meeting up with some Internet rando is not, in fact, a wise course of action.

"I'm pretty excited. I haven't seen another person in, like, awhile. I mean, I know we've been doing the video call thing lately but it's not the same, you know?" Bunny says, completely oblivious to the hints she is throwing out.

"Dude. You are going to meet up with some rando. That you just met. On some alien site for aliens. Which you don't really have the first clue about. You're meeting some random person on the Internet."

"Yeah, basically!"

R.A. audibly sighs.

"Okay, Bun, let me put this into terms you can understand. If Lucy told you that she met someone five minutes ago on some app she just signed up for and she was fucking off to the nearest city to meet them, would you say "wow, have fun" or would you go "Lucretia, don't do this, they're definitely tricking you to harvest your organs?"

"Dude, Lucy's way smart. She'd never do that. I raised her better than that, man."

"If something is bad when your adult daughter does it, then it's also bad when you, an adult-aged person, do it, jackass. You're tall, dude, not invincible," R.A. says and oh, okay, when she puts it like that, maybe there's a point there.

"I'll be careful."

"Will you?" she replies. "Look, tell me you're at least meeting this Internet weirdo in public, right? Someplace well-lit? You didn't invite them to your house?"

"...We're meeting in public."

There's a muffled sound on the line, almost like R.A. is cursing but trying to cover it up so the kids don't hear.

"Oh, fucking great, either you were about to invite an actual, real vampire into the house where you live so they could eat your vital essence or you were going to invite someone you just met to your house out in the middle of nowhere with no one around. Dude, would you go to someone's house in the middle of nowhere with no one around if you just met them? Most people think that's a good way to get serial killed, dummy. You gotta think about this shit. I love you, man, but what the fuck, dude, why do you not think about shit when it comes to yourself?"

This is a bad question because Bunny would, in fact go to the house of someone he just met, especially if they were a hot 'werewolf' guy with huge fucking fangs, and that's how he got into this whole mess to begin with (remember kids: think a second before you make out with someone who clearly isn't human because then they're just going to get real confused when they realize that you are, in fact, a human even though of course you are, you never said otherwise.) so clearly that was a bad idea. This may be because he has the self-preservation instincts of a lemming but despite everything being stacked up against his favor, has still lived to 30-something. He should probably not do shit like this.

"...I'll be careful, I promise," he says sheepishly.

"Dude. Literally every time I've talked to you lately, you've about given me a heart attack. I can't afford an ER trip. Geeze, first you tell me you met a vampire in the woods, then you tell me a fish made you a shapeshifter or whatever, now you tell me you don't know basic Internet safety. Look, once you got all this shit sorted out, I'm not letting you leave the house without adult supervision. I'll put a GPS tracker on you, swear to god, I'll do it."

He's not sure if R.A. is joking or not.

"Just get everything figured out, okay?" she continues. "The kids miss you. I'm not good at this shit, dude. I don't even know how you get Avery to eat."

"I just leave little bowls of snacks around the room and if he wants to eat them, then he'll eat them. I...I really miss everyone. Even you and you're an enormous asshole and I can't wait until we get divorced, you heartless wench, counting down the days as we speak. The fish goddess said it'd be alright but I don't...I don't know, okay? They can make you forget. Just talking to you about this shit is space illegal, I guess, but you already know, so...I'm kinda scared."

"Well, it's going to be fucking fine, everything's going to work itself out, you just focus on alien shit and I'll focus on normal people shit and whatever happens is going to be fine," she says and she does not feel fine, he knows that, and neither does he. "Hey, you want me to bring you over some cookies? They had the good shit in the clearance aisle today."

"Nah, I'm good, it's fine. Prudence needs all the cookies she can get."

"Your loss, bitch, they're amazing...oh shit, you still can't taste, can you? Aw, fuck you, now I look like an asshole."

"You always did, mate," Bunny says. "Can you tell Pru & Avery I love them big bunches, big time? I mean, I know I already said that to them earlier, but they have to know, you know?"

"Of course I'm going to tell them that."

"Okay, thanks! I don't love you big bunches, big time. I don't even love you small bunches, small time."

"Fuck you, man."

"Fuck you too~<3"

#ooc #drabble

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pitviperofdoom · 4 years

Text

It’s impossible for me to get into a fandom without coming up with an AU or two. Or ten. I’ve got several for TMA, and I’ve written for a few of them already.

Under the cut is the beginning scene of the one that I’ve developed the most. I’ve been sitting on it for a while, and I don’t have enough to start posting on AO3, but I thought I’d share this here at least.

Hope you guys like Head Archivist Martin!

***

When Martin received the e-mail summoning him to Elias Bouchard’s office at his earliest convenience, he thought, Well, that’s it then.

It was only a matter of time. Honestly, it was a miracle he’d made it this long. It was a miracle he’d made it in at all; he’d applied to the Magnus Institute almost on a desperate whim, because surely an academic institution would take the time to run basic background checks on new hires. But then he’d gotten a call back, and then he’d gotten a second interview, and then he’d been called in to fill out all the necessary paperwork, and that had been years ago, now.

And now here he was, staring at a formal message from his boss, requesting his presence for a meeting to discuss “his future with the institute”. And that could only mean one thing.

Of course, Martin thought distantly as he typed out some generically polite response. All things come to an end eventually. It might be a stretch to say all good things come to an end, because sometimes he wondered if this job really was a good thing, if the stress of waiting to be caught in his lie was worth it when he still had to stretch his funds to cover rent and food and Mum’s care and scrape together a rainy-day fund for any inevitable disasters.

Martin got up from his desk, half-heard Hannah’s greeting as he passed her on the way out of the library, and numbly pointed himself in the direction of Elias’s office. Already his mind was racing through the math, calculating how long he could afford to hunt for a new job.

At some point he shook himself. It was no good to walk in panicking. He just had to stay calm, somehow. Be polite. Hope like hell that he’d made himself useful enough to at least broach the topic of listing someone as a reference.

…Yeah, right.

He was lost deep in thought—so deep, in fact, that he didn’t notice his coworker until he was already colliding into them.

Luckily, he was walking slowly enough that the crash wasn’t terrible, even if the other employee seemed to be in a hurry. It was more surprising than painful, and they both kept their footing, so… could have been worse, really.

“Sorry, so sorry—” Martin stammered out, stumbling back, and froze when his eyes landed on his coworker’s face. “O-oh. Morning, Jon.”

The look he got in return could have split rock. “Do try to watch where you’re going.”

Martin couldn’t help but wilt under the glare, for all that Jonathan Sims was nearly a head shorter than him. “Sorry, again,” he said. “Are… you alright?”

“Obviously I’m alright,” Jon retorted, already storming away.

“No, I know, I didn’t mean us crashing into each other, it’s just, I was wondering if…” Martin hesitated, with the growing dread of someone stepping into a minefield. Jon had paused but was looking increasingly impatient, so Martin ripped the bandage off. “I mean, are you alright, work-wise?” Jon’s scowl deepened. “It’s just, if you ever need—I dunno, an extra set of hands, or—” Jon left without a word.

“Guess not,” he muttered, mentally kicking himself. It was stupid to offer anyway, when he was probably minutes away from being let go.

Something about literally running into Jon had knocked his growing nervousness off balance, and he was almost paradoxically calm when he knocked on Elias’s office door. It was mostly open already, but it seemed the polite thing to do.

“Ah, hello, Martin.” Elias’s voice, calm and clipped though it was, brought the nervousness rushing back. “Close the door behind you, if you don’t mind.”

Martin did as he was bade, then took the chair that Elias indicated for him and tried not to fidget. “You, er, wanted to see me?”

“Yes, of course.” Across from him, Elias shuffled papers that Martin was too nervous to look at. “It’s a matter of some urgency, so thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” Martin said, trying not to fidget. He opened his mouth to say something else, couldn’t think of anything, and closed it again.

“You’ve been with the institute for about six years now, haven’t you?” Elias went on.

“A-almost, yes.” Martin replied, heart pounding in his throat. Distantly he wondered if Elias could hear it.

“Good, good. As I said in the e-mail, I was hoping to discuss your future with—”

“Have I done something wrong?” Martin blurted out, and immediately regretted it. For a moment he longingly imagined vanishing into thin air just to escape the situation. Or a hole opening up underneath him, maybe.

Elias raised an eyebrow at him. “If there’s anything you can think of…?”

“I mean, the wording was a bit ominous,” Martin stammered out. “So I was just wondering if—if there was something wrong… with how I was doing things?”

“Hardly, Martin,” Elias replied, and the relief that flooded through Martin made him light-headed. “Quite the opposite, actually. I was more than satisfied during your last performance review, and you’ve yet to give me any reason to change my mind.” Elias leaned forward, hands clasped neatly in front of him. “I’m sure you’ve heard about… recent developments, with Gertrude Robinson.”

“The head archivist? Y-yes.” Against all odds, he did know about recent developments with Gertrude Robinson, namely that no one had seen her in a while. She was already a reclusive woman—Martin had only met her twice and seen her from afar a few times besides that—but lately she seemed to have vanished outright.

Martin wasn’t close with anyone at the institute, either in the library or elsewhere, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hear the gossip. It didn’t mean he didn’t notice things, like the lack of people coming in to give statements. Or how dark and still the Archives had been over the past week or so.

Or how sullen and angry Jon had been, for about as long.

“Well, work in the Archives is never done, and unfortunately she was already somewhat… understaffed,” Elias went on. “Since the beginning of her absence, I’ve been reviewing employee files in the hopes of finding a replacement.”

“Oh,” Martin replied. In the back of his mind he thought, No, absolutely not, he can’t possibly mean…

“Simply put, Martin, I think it would be best for the position to go to you.”

“Oh,” Martin repeated. “M-me? Really?”

“I can think of no one better for the job,” Elias said with a thin smile.

“Really.” Martin struggled to keep most of the disbelief out of his tone. “No one better? Not… I-I don’t know, the person who’s already been working in the Archives for the past year?” He swallowed, with some difficulty thanks to his dry throat. “I… sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful? But I thought… I thought Jon would replace her, as her assistant… since he’s already been working under her, a-and he’d know the archives better, and…” His voice trailed off.

“I understand,” Elias assured him, his smile turning almost friendly. “And you’re right, I did strongly consider him for a time. But, his duties were largely research and clerical work for Gertrude, and he unfortunately lacks a background in library and information science.” He indicated one of the papers in front of him—a familiar CV, Martin realized. His CV. “You, on the other hand, have been working in our library for the past six years, and you listed a previous job at a records repository.”

“Oh, right,” Martin said faintly. What his CV didn’t say was that he’d been in the night cleaning crew, not the accessions department.

“I understand if it feels a bit daunting, but don’t worry,” Elias went on. “I have great faith in you, Martin. And as you said, Jon’s familiar with Gertrude’s system, so you’ll have his expertise to fall back on.”

Oh God. Oh God, if he took this job then he’d be Jon’s boss. Unqualified, clueless, and living a lie, and Jon—with actual experience and competence and an existing predisposition to dislike him—would be his subordinate.

Oh, the thought made him ill.

Martin took a deep breath. He’d just have to turn it down. There was no upside to taking it; he was technically unfit for the job he already had, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to be anyone’s boss, especially not Jonathan Sims in the archives of the Magnus Institute. If he took this job, they’d find him out for sure.

“So, if that’s settled, we may as well discuss a pay raise and expanding your benefits,” Elias went on lightly. “These things come with a promotion, of course.”

Martin froze in his seat, uncomfortable and stiff in spite of its padding.

He thought of the bills on his kitchen counter, and the perpetually empty rainy-day fund. He thought of his mother, in that care home in Devon that wasn’t going to pay for itself.

“A-alright,” he said quietly, slumping a little in defeat. His eyes were fixed on that damned CV, and because of that he almost missed the look of calm satisfaction in Elias’s eyes.

Twenty minutes later, Martin wandered back out of Elias’s office in a daze. His feet carried him not back to the library, but down to the archives where the air turned dusty and stale. He wasn’t sure what he was there for. Maybe to apologize? Jon must have heard. Elias must have told him first, and that was why Jon was so irritated with him when they ran into each other.

Not that it mattered, in the end. Jon was nowhere to be found down there, and Martin could only search for so long before the air of the place got to him and he fled back to the library.

Even down there, away from the rest of his coworkers and well away from Elias Bouchard’s office, Martin couldn’t shake the feeling that every eye in the institute was on him, just waiting for him to screw up.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #fanfiction #assistant au #tales from the pit

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helloalycia · 4 years

Text

noise complaint [three] // alycia debnam-carey

summary: after becoming friends with the neighbour you really like, you decide to come clean about who you are. You didn't expect it to result in something else...

warning/s: none.

author's note: it's literally been a year since I posted part 2 to this. I never even intended for there to be 3 parts, but here we are! Hope you like the lil conclusion to this :)

part one | part two | masterlist | wattpad

"...write their full names down and don't forget to give them a leaflet. They're more likely to give that way."

"You done, mom?"

I gave my friend and colleague a knowing look. "Ty."

He rolled his eyes playfully, holding the door to my building open. "I won't forget, Y/N."

"You did last time," I reminded him as I gladly walked through the door.

"Well, I won't this time," he promised, before checking his wristwatch. "I gotta go, shoot."

"Thanks for walking me," I said, giving him an appreciative smile. "Now, if you screw up, please tell me before the event and not after."

"I will." He laughed as he gave me a hug. "See you later, Y/N."

"Bye." I waved him goodbye with an amused smile.

When he left, I headed to grab my mail, seeing a familiar brunette already there, grabbing her own mail. The same teasing smile that adorned my face when I was around her appeared and I headed over there confidently.

Alycia and I were kind of friends now, though it was very obvious I liked her. I tried to tone it down for her sake, but sometimes it was funny watching her glare at me playfully.

"ADC, to what do I owe this pleasure?" I said, stepping beside her to open my mailbox.

She cracked a smile, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You approached me, Y/N."

"My point remains."

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she continued looking at the letters in her hand. "Just checking my mail, like you."

I kept smiling as I glanced at her, before looking to see what letters I got.

"So... was that guy your boyfriend?"

I quirked an eyebrow as I tore my eyes from my letters. "Huh? Oh, Ty?" I laughed when it dawned on me what she thought. "If he was, I definitely didn't know."

She seemed to relax a little, an embarrassed smile on her lips.

"I'm gay," I clarified with a humoured expression. "I've got the hots for a certain Australian neighbour, remember?"

Alycia rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Seriously? Besides. I didn't want to presume. You could've been bisexual or something."

"Not in this life," I said, shuddering at the thought of being with a man. I suddenly grinned as I looked at her though. "Why d'you ask anyway? You jealous?"

Alycia glared at me playfully, though her cheeks were getting pinker by the second. I refrained from laughing, loving teasing her until she usually slapped me on the arm and changed the subject. As funny as this was though, I guess I did secretly wish she was jealous. But Alycia wasn't interested, that much she had made clear.

"Ladies, it's lovely I caught you both here!"

Alycia and I spun around when we saw our landlady, Mrs. Khan, approaching us with a smile.

"Mrs. Khan, hey," I greeted. "Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "I just thought I'd check in since the last time we met." Her eyes fell to Alycia's. "Any complaints, Miss Debnam-Carey?"

I looked over to Alycia with a cheesy grin on my face, causing her to crack a smile and roll her eyes.

"No complaints on my end," Alycia told her honestly. "Y/N seems to be behaving herself."

"How lovely," Mrs. Khan said, almost with relief. "That's great to hear. I guess I'll leave you both to it."

With that, she left us in the hall with our mail.

"She's totally warming up to me," I said with a knowing nod.

Alycia chuckled as she closed her locker. "I'm sure she is."

I closed mine too and followed her as she walked up the steps. "Hey, if you hadn't tattle-tale-d on me like a kid a month ago, she would have no issues with me."

"You're forgetting the part where you blasted your volume whilst playing video games," she said with an amused smile, her green eyes bright as they stared at me.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I waved her off dismissively.

She laughed when she knew she was in the right, and I watched with a smile, admiring how beautiful she looked when her eyes were closed and her teeth were showing in a wide smile. The sound was contagious, making my stomach do somersaults, and it made this whole thing a little worth it. She was ethereal.

–

That same evening, I was going around the whole building and collecting some last minute donations for the charity gala I was attending on the weekend. The charity I worked for raised money for schools in deprived countries to help them afford supplies, textbooks, computers, the whole lot. My job was to help fundraise in schools, offices, even on the street, and I was doing some last minute fundraising to help the kids in our local schools increase their donations.

People were quite generous in our building, and for the most part, weren't rude. There were a few who may or may not have shut the door in my face, but otherwise it was going well. I purposely saved Alycia's door for last however, wanting to see her face when I asked her.

She didn't know what my job was, just that it was office-based, which technically wasn't a lie. I just wanted to have another excuse to tease her, so I headed over to her place and knocked on the door with my clipboard and envelope in hand.

When I knocked on, it took her a moment to open up, but when she did, a confused smile appeared on her lips.

"Good evening, miss. I was wondering if you would be interested in donating some money to [a charity name], to help children in deprived countries have a better education?"

Alycia quirked an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip as she met my eyes with confusion. "Huh?"

I chuckled and lowered my clipboard, cutting the act. "How do you do, m'lady?"

She stepped to the side to let me in and I walked in, casually taking a seat at her kitchen counter. I'd been over at her place a few times in the past month, and vice versa, so this was pretty normal for us.

"What's with the clipboard?" she asked, grabbing a glass and pouring some lemonade in it.

"Thanks," I said, accepting the drink, taking a sip before explaining. "Part of me was trying to pull your leg, but the other part is actually trying to raise money for charity."

"Wait, you're serious? This isn't you being your dorky self?"

"No, I'm serious," I said, though I was laughing. "I'm in charge of organising donations and making sure the kids raise enough. I've been going around the building, asking for donations. Just thought I'd see if you wanted to donate? Of course, you don't have to, but yeah."

Alycia was still struggling to believe me as she studied me curiously. Eventually, she sighed and went to grab her purse from the coffee table.

"How's... thirty dollars?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as she held it out towards me. "More than expected. People usually give, like, ten."

She chuckled and waved the money towards me again. "Here's thirty. Can't deny kids their education, right?"

I accepted the money, an appreciative smile on my lips. "Wow, thanks, Alycia." I filled in her details on the clipboard and put the money in the envelope before jumping off the stool.

"So, you do charity work?" Alycia asked, as if still trying to believe it.

"What? Do I not seem the type?" I teased, before finishing the lemonade off in a quick gulp.

"No, no, that's not it," she reassured, a little embarrassed. "I just, I don't know. It's strange seeing you serious about something. You usually take the piss."

"Only with you, Alycia," I said with a grin. "Besides, this is a good job. It helps people. I love it."

Alycia smiled as she listened, nodding in agreement. I bit my lower lip as a thought crossed my mind, but I wasn't sure whether to push my luck. Then again, we were friends, so it wasn't really...

"Hey, Alycia?"

"Yeah?" She was at the dishwasher now, filling it up with dishes by her sink.

I ignored the nervousness I felt and said, "All this money is gonna get counted up and announced at this gala this weekend. Everyone who works with the charity will be there, and I've got two tickets. I was wondering if you, maybe, wanna go with me?"

Alycia stopped what she was doing and looked up, raising her eyebrows as if she'd misheard. "You want me to go with you?"

"As friends, of course," I clarified, offering a small, nervous smile. "It could be fun! It's for charity, and it's gonna be all fancy and stuff. You like dressing up, right?"

Alycia began to smile. "It sounds lovely."

I felt my heart fluttering nervously. "So, that's a yes?"

She chuckled. "Yes, Y/N, it's a yes. I'd love to go with you."

I tried to hide the excitement in my voice as I said, "Yeah, great, that's great. Er, yeah. Okay. I'll let you know all the details tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, flashing me a heartwarming, weak-in-the-knees smile.

I swallowed hard, returning the smile, before grabbing my clipboard. "I should go get this sorted out, but yeah, I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, for the donation."

"Anytime."

I tried not to trip over my own two feet as I let myself out, a massive grin on my lips. I'd wanted to ask Alycia since the gala had first been announced at work, but I figured she might say no since we'd only just recently established our friendship. She didn't though. She said yes!

I was thrilled, knowing it was my chance to share another part of my life with her, an important part. Yes, I'd been teasing her and annoying her since we'd met, but I began to trust her as a friend, and I wanted her to know everything about me, now that I knew she liked me for me and not for anything else.

–

I played with the edges of my blazer nervously, constantly checking the door of our building to see if Alycia was there.

The weekend had come by soon enough and Alycia was finishing getting ready, telling me she'd meet me outside. I was super nervous though, unable to keep still as I thought about whether the car and driver was too much.

I just wanted Alycia to have a great time and be treated how she deserved. It's not like we would stand out – everybody at the gala had much more glamorous modes of transport.

After what felt like forever, I saw Alycia's figure stepping outside, an apologetic expression on her face. I lost my words though, my mouth going dry as I looked at her. She was radiant, wearing an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with some high heels that accentuated her legs. It's like she was purposely trying to make me have a gay panic attack, honestly.

"I am so sorry for taking a little longer than I said," she said when she approached me. "I couldn't find my shoes and then I lost my purse when I found them."

I was still awestruck by how gorgeous she looked, her dark eye makeup making her bright green eyes stand out and sending shivers down my spine.

"You look amazing," she complimented, eyes looking me up and down. "You clean up nice."

She was smiling playfully, and I tried to find words as I nodded.

"I... thank you. You look... wow. Like, good wow. Really good wow. Really good wow."

She looked down bashfully as she smiled to herself. "Thank you, Y/N."

I swallowed hard, before clearing my throat. "I, er, yeah, we're taking the car." I nodded to the Porsche parked out front. "I hope that's okay."

She looked to where I was and her eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? That's a bit too fancy isn't it? I didn't mind getting a taxi."

I smiled, finally catching my breath, holding out my hand. "Now what kind of date would I be if I made you get into a taxi dressed like that?" She looked to me with an unreadable expression, and I quickly added, "Friendly date, of course."

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile, and placed her hand in mine. "That's sweet. I don't even know what to say."

I began to lead her to the car, opening the back door. "Don't say anything. Just get in and enjoy the ride, yeah?"

She paused by the open door, directing a small smile my way. To my surprise, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, making me melt on the spot.

I closed the door after her before going around to the other side, sliding in beside her.

"Straight to the gala, Miss Y/L/N?" the driver asked, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.

"Please, Jerry, thank you."

Jerry nodded and set off. Alycia glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, a surprised smile on her lips.

"What?" I asked, refraining from chuckling.

"You better have not spent a lot on this," Alycia warned playfully, though I sensed truth to her words. "And don't say your work arranged it because nobody's work arranges stuff like this."

I laughed, meeting her intoxicating gaze. "I promise you that everything was completely in my price range."

Alycia narrowed her eyes, attempting to figure out the grin on my lips, but when she realised she couldn't, she sighed and leaned back into her seat.

"You're off the hook," she gave in. "For now."

When Jerry reached the gala, I escorted Alycia out of the car and watched as she took in the vastness of the building.

"This is... wow," she muttered, looking around at the high ceilings and carved-out wall work in the entrance.

"Wait until you see the inside of the ballroom," I said with an amused smile. "You'll love it."

She glanced at me with disbelief, before allowing me to lead her further inside. I handed in our tickets, received two champagne flutes for Alycia and I, and led her in the main ballroom that was bigger and brighter than anything even I had ever seen.

It was elegantly decorated, with beautiful flower arrangements lining the walls and sitting on the tables, and fairy lights were strung across the ceiling, twinkling above like stars. The room was packed with people who worked with me and some parents of the children who had been raising money in the local schools. I also recognised some sponsors and partners of the charity, but ultimately, I was subtly watching Alycia to see what she thought.

"You were right, this is even better," she admitted, intrigued by everything we walked past.

"I knew you'd love it," I said, staring at her with admiration. Even when she was distracted like a kid in a candy store, she still looked so beautiful, leaving me with butterflies in my stomach and tingles up my arm from where hers was touching mine.

She turned to me, eyes brighter than any of the fairy lights above. "I didn't think you liked events like this."

"I don't."

She cocked her head to the side. "Then why did you come tonight?"

"Well, there's two reasons," I admitted. "One was because it's for charity. I thought I'd show my support."

She smiled adorably. "And the second reason?"

I gave her a knowing look. "You agreed to come with me. How often do I get to take you out?"

She rolled her eyes, but I saw her fighting the smile from her lips.

"Y/N, hey!"

I turned around at the mention of my name, a little disheartened that they interrupted Alycia and I's conversation. It was Ty, all dressed in his best clothes, a grin on his face.

"Great to see you," I said to him, smiling at him nonetheless. He hugged me as I said, "You doing okay?"

He nodded. "Amazing. Apparently we raised a lot this time 'round."

"Fingers crossed," I said hopefully, before glancing at an awkwardly smiling Alycia. "Ty, this is Alycia. She's my date."

I laughed when Alycia smacked me on the arm playfully.

"I'm her friend," Alycia corrected, before shaking Ty's outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Ty replied with a friendly smile. "You must be the Australian neighbour she's always talking about."

I rolled my eyes, knowing my face was heating up as they both looked to me with humorous expressions.

"Huh, I must be," she agreed teasingly.

"Anyway, Ty was just leaving," I said to Alycia, ignoring the playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"Actually, I came to tell you that your parents are looking for you," he said matter-of-factly. "And they're heading over here as I speak."

I knew I'd be seeing my parents tonight, since it was their charity after all, but I was expecting to prep myself a little beforehand then speak to them. So, when Ty sheepishly told me they were walking over to me, I may or may not have panicked a little.

"Your parents?" Alycia asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

I nodded, seeing my parents approaching me with smiles on their faces. "Yeah. I was supposed to mentally prepare for this, but I guess we're gonna see how this goes."

Alycia opened her mouth, a questioning gaze on me, but my parents suddenly stopped by and spoke first, silencing her.

"Y/N, there you are!" my mum said, before pulling me in for a quick hug. "You look lovely!"

"Thanks, mum," I said, smiling with embarrassment. "You both look great. And this gala is the best you've done yet."

"It's certainly a stand-out event," my dad agreed with a shrug, before he noticed Alycia, who was still looking between my parents and I as if piecing us together. "And who might this young lady be? A date?"

For once, Alycia was too confused to correct them, so I did.

"This is Alycia Debnam-Carey," I introduced her. "She's my friend and neighbour. She donated and so I thought I'd invite her to show her a bit of what I do."

"The glamorous parts of it," my mum joked, before smiling kindly at Alycia. "It's lovely to meet you, Alycia, dear. I'm Y/M/N and this is my husband, Y/D/N."

Alycia suddenly cleared her throat, eyes darting to mine with surprise. She plastered an easygoing smile on her lips as she shook my parents' hands.

"Y/L/N as in..."

"The founders of this charity?" my dad finished for her with a quirked eyebrow. He suppressed a laugh. "Yes, that's us. Didn't Y/N say...?"

Alycia licked her lips, shaking her head. "Er, no... you guys are amazing though. I've read a bit about the work you do and I've even donated a few times."

"Only a few?" my mum teased.

Alycia smiled, a little flustered. "Well, I'm actually a regular donator to The Salvation Army. It's a postal thing that I don't really know how to stop, but yeah."

I contained a smile as my parents chuckled at Alycia's truthfulness.

"Your honesty is refreshing," my mum admitted before glancing at me. "I see why you're friends with her."

I glanced at Alycia, noticing she was smiling politely at my parents and giving them her full attention.

"Well, Alycia, I hope you enjoy the the evening, and on behalf of the whole organisation, I thank you for donating to a great cause," my dad concluded with a grateful smile. He looked to me and said, "Enjoy yourself, Y/N, you deserve it."

"See you both later," I said, giving them a nod, before watching them walk away.

When they were gone, Alycia breathed out shakily, looking to me with an unimpressed look.

"Were you planning on telling me that you're the daughter of billionaires and that this is your parents' gala, or were you gonna wait until I made a fool of myself in front of them?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with disbelief.

"Bit of an exaggeration," I said playfully, before losing my smile when I saw her serious expression. "Alycia, you didn't make a fool of yourself. They loved you."

"Y/N."

I sighed, offering a small, nervous smile. "Look, I don't really think of myself as a billionaire's daughter. I mean, you've seen where I live. I just work for them. I barely see them. I prefer to stay lowkey."

"Clearly," she noted, making me chuckle.

"I don't really tell people who my parents are until I trust them," I told her truthfully, eyes softening as they met her unreadable green ones. "I never know if people want to be my friend for me or for them. So, it was better this way. I know I lied, but I hope you understand."

She breathed out slowly, nodding. "I get it. I do."

I smiled hopefully. "So you're not mad?"

She chewed on her lower lip as she smiled, shaking her head. It seemed like she was distracted, but I didn't think too much on it as I realised she wasn't as bugged out by the whole thing as I thought she would be.

"Thanks," I said, breathing out calmly. "Sorry, again. Come on. You're hungry, right? The appetisers here are practically main courses."

She didn't argue, so I grabbed her hand and led her to the appetisers table to make a small plate.

–

A few hours had passed and the evening was in full swing, with some rich people drunk enough to do very YouTube-worthy embarrassing things and others judging them immensely. It was my favourite bit at events like these.

Alycia seemed to be enjoying herself, I think. I introduced her to some more of my colleagues, as well as some parents I'd befriended when visiting the schools, and she was her lovely, charming self. Yet, something seemed a little off.

I didn't know what it was. Ever since she found out about who I actually was, she'd been acting quieter. Not distant, but quiet. I didn't think anything was going to change since I was clearly the same person, but she didn't seem to think so. And I was beginning to regret telling her at all because I was missing our signature back and forth very much the rest of the evening.

It got to a point where even Ty was noticing how off she suddenly seemed, so I decided to pull the brunette aside and talk to her. There was no point forcing her to stay tonight if she didn't want to.

"Is everything okay?" she asked with confusion when I pulled her into a quiet hallway outside of the ballroom.

I pursed my lips, feeling nervous the longer she stared at me. I was scared that she'd admit she was pissed because I lied, and I'd lose a friend.

"You don't want to be here anymore," I said, eyes flickering to the ground, unable to hold her gaze. "It's because I lied to you, isn't it?"

I heard her sigh quietly and I knew I'd made a mistake.

"Alycia, I'm sorry," I apologised again, meeting her eyes. "I shouldn't have lied. I–"

"Y/N, no, it's not that," she cut me off, shaking her head.

I relaxed my shoulders subconsciously. "It's not?"

It was her turn to look nervous, as her eyes looked up to the ceiling with discomfort. "It's just– you had to go and tell me and ruin everything..." she mumbled with agitation.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "I– er... huh?"

She clenched her jaw, eyes meeting mine. "I had it all planned out, for God's sake. Now it seems like I only like you because you have money and that's far from the truth."

I widened my eyes, second-guessing myself. "You like me?"

Alycia groaned aloud, rolling her eyes. "Of course, you idiot!"

Still unable to believe it, I asked, "Like, like like me?"

She glared at me. "Yes, but now you've–" She shoved me in the shoulder, "–gone and ruined it because the timing is all wrong and now you're gonna think I'm using you!"

My stomach was raging with butterflies as a grin appeared on my lips. I couldn't help myself as I realised she liked me back. I'd been teasing her this whole time, but the feelings were real. I never actually thought there was a chance she'd reciprocate.

"Y/N, please be serious," she said, crossing her arms and staring at me with a firm expression.

She looked really freakin' cute with her jaw tense and eyes darkened with annoyance.

"Just to clarify," I said, ignoring her for a second, "the other day, when you thought Ty was my boyfriend... that was you being jealous, right?"

Alycia breathed out slowly, uncrossing her arms and straightening up. "Are you really gonna make me say it?"

My childish grin was on my lips, making her roll her eyes and sigh.

"Fine. Yes. I was jealous. You happy? Now look. I know you might think that I–"

I moved forward and kissed her, cutting her off from saying anything else. I closed my eyes and felt her slowly reciprocating, lips moving against mine. Her hands rested on my shoulders as I caressed her cheek with mine, the other pulling her closer by her waist.

I'd wanted to kiss her for so long, but I was so afraid of the rejection. But here was she was, kissing me back...

I pulled away when we needed air, opening my eyes and feeling my lips tingle. I was submerged in green instantly, a smile curling on my lips. Every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire, in the best way possible.

"I feel like you did that to shut me up," she spoke first, voice soft as she pulled back to take a breath.

I chuckled. "Partially."

She licked her lips and stared at me expectantly.

I stared at her with serious eyes, grin fading into a smile. "Alycia, I know you'd never use me. You're not like that. I mean, you put up with me for this long, didn't you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

"Look, I only told you the truth about my family because I realised I wouldn't have a chance with you," I admitted, and saw she was hanging onto my every word. "I thought it was best to come clean. If I could only have you as a friend, I wanted to do so right. I trust you to know the truth and still like me for me. You liking me back doesn't change that. Just makes me extremely lucky."

She cracked a small smile, but still seemed uncertain. "Are you sure?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you want me to not trust you?"

"No, no, I'm not– ugh." She was flustered, her cheeks going an adorable pink colour. "I just want you to be sure. I know how I feel about you... I know that was before you told me. I mean, I don't really care about any of this." She motioned around her. "You were annoying at first, but it grew on me. I just... I want you to be sure."

I smiled genuinely, stepping forward and grabbing her hands. "I'm sure. Also, you know you can never live this down now, right? You like me."

Alycia raised an eyebrow playfully. "You can't tease me about liking you, you idiot."

"Why not? You were supposed to hate me, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I never hated you."

"Pretty sure you filed a noise complaint against me," I recalled, pulling her closer to me, getting goosebumps when her body touched mine.

She gave me a knowing look. "That was because your volume was way too–! You know what? Forget it."

I grinned, staring at her even though she was avoiding my eyes to prove a point.

"You're doing it again," she mumbled, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine.

"Doing what?"

"That thing," she said, as if I should know. "Where you act like you've won this thing between us."

I chuckled. "Once again, I didn't think there was anything between us. Well, I guess now there is... if you want there to be?"

Alycia wrapped her arms around my neck, eyes looking between mine thoughtfully.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Probably."

She breathed out, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah. Probably."

She leaned forward and closed the gap between us in a soft, sensual kiss. I closed my eyes and revelled in her warmth whilst wondering how on Earth I got this lucky.

#alycia debnam carey #alycia debnam carey imagine #alycia debnam carey x reader #alyciajasmin #Alycia debnam carey x you

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jamaiskookie · 4 years

Text

chapter two ; vent shenanigans

🎃 warnings: mentions of injury / falls, police officer jargon (?)

🎃 word count: 4.1k

🎃 genre: crack + humour = quality bangtan fics

🎃 A/N: i’m back!! i missed you... what’s up ? :-) go flood my inbox okay thanks HEHEHEHEHHEHE I’M EVIL FOR ENDING IT LIKE THIS BUT I’M NOT SORRY

main masterlist. heist masterlist. PREV

🎃 synopsis: “it’s heist time, baby!“ detective jeon jungkook is not nicknamed ‘golden maknae’ for no reason. he’s good at everything, except pleasing his superiors, something his colleagues find to be a piece of cake. which is why he jumps on the opportunity to finally prove himself in something he knows he’ll excel in: a halloween heist.

“Who has the key?”

“It’s not me! It’s Jeon, I can feel it in my bones!”

“Wha-? Are you kidding me right now?”

“It’s you! I never saw where the key went after you took the box away, you must’ve stashed it on yourself instead of putting it inside the box! Guys, I got it, it’s Jungkook. Now everyone just hOARD him-”

“Don’t you dare touch Jungkook!”

“I left the key in the box so no one can snatch it!”

“Jimin, get your hand away from my ass or I swear to God I will murder you- ”

“Wait, so are we trying to find the key or the box or the watch? I’m honestly just confused?”

“JUNGKOOK. It’s Jungkook, I’m literally calling it.”

“Bitch- pardon my french- but, Bitch?? I have been staying still all this time! I think it’s Namjoon, he’s making random accusations with zero reasoning.”

“I literally don’t know what’s going on.”

“What’s the use of teams if we’re all going to be like this? I vote that we all split up, every man for themselves.”

“I agree, Seokjin is not a very good teammate. He spent the last few minutes practicing a dance to Beyonce’s ‘Partition’. I think he’s in a cult, but we’ll get back to that.”

“I’m not in a cult, it’s a dance team! It’s a sport, you know?”

“Fuck, who was that?”

“That’s my hand, what the fuck? Why are all the lights off?”

“Is there a power shortage?”

“Holy fucking goddamn shit, someone must be trying to get the box! Protect, protect, protect! I repeat: Someone is infiltrating!”

“How do we know it’s not just you pulling a trick, huh, TAEHYUNG?!”

“The box, it’s fucking gone!”

The lights abruptly switch back on. Jimin and Taehyung fall back with a thud, wincing at the sudden intrusion of light. Everyone turns to the middle of the room. A gasp goes around the precinct.

Yoongi.

literally only ten minutes ago :

Jungkook is slightly regretting all the decisions he has made over the course of his short 23 years of living. It may be too late for that- He’s made some really stupid desicions before- but if only he had come clean and just taken disciplinary action. Maybe he wouldn’t have been roped into such an elaborate plan.

Although, he must admit, it does appeal to his competitive side. But if only he had just told the Captain earnestly, that he was just eating overripe bananas for the hell of it, he wouldn’t be hanging upside down from the ceiling of the precinct right now.

Because if there’s anything he’s learned from his accumulative 10 hours per week spent on Among Us, it’s that vents are the best invention known to mankind for all things sneaky and deceitful. This particular incident checks both of those boxes.

Except he isn’t killing one of the players and chucking them off a spaceship.

Jimin whispers in his ear through Jungkook’s airpods, “Are you okay? Over.”

“Hello Carbonara Boy, please use our code names. Over.” Jungkook whispers in response.

“Justin Seagull, is everything going smoothly? Over.” Jungkook cracks up as quietly as he is able to at his code name.

“Carbonara Boy, the coast seems to be clear. Going in.” Jungkook mumbles into the phone.

“Okay Justin Seagull,” Jimin pauses before continuing. “Be careful, don’t fall out of the vents like you did last time.” Jungkook swallows his annoyance down.

“That was one time, and it was barely a fall.” Jungkook says through gritted teeth. “Carbonara Boy.” He adds as an afterthought after he realises he had foregone the codename formalities.

“You were almost rushed to the ER, what do you mean barely-?!” Jimin argues, and Jungkook’s eye twitches. He’s so tempted to mute Jimin on his call, but he can’t afford it. He needs someone to be on the lookout in case Yoongi pops back from his fourth coffee run of the night.

Jungkook’s head bangs against the top of the vent, and he wordlessly curses whoever designed these things to be so tiny. It’s like they didn’t even consider that an (almost) 6 foot man would be crawling through the ceiling vent to win a Halloween Heist. He crawls army style on his elbows, inching forward slowly to the next opening.

“Justin Seagull- ” Jimin stops. “Wait, what’s Namjoon’s codename?” Jungkook’s about to reply when a voice rings out, clearly from below him. He stops in his tracks, not paying attention to Jimin’s question.

“- helping Jeon? From what I know, you take delight in ratting him out.” Says a voice which sounds suspiciously like Taehyung. Jungkook can feel the force of Namjoon’s eyes rolling all the way from the ceiling.

Wait. Taehyung? Namjoon? Did he accidentally crawl to the break room? Jungkook throws his head back- as much as he can in the enclosed space, internally groaning and working out the physics of how the heck he’s going to be able to turn around in this tiny vent.

What he meant to do was get to the middle of the precinct. He strategically had placed his watch box straight underneath a vent covering, meaning he could swing down and grab the box immediately while Jimin created some sort of distraction. How did he manage to get to the break room instead?

“I can’t.” A snobby sounding voice pipes up to answer Taehyung. Yes, that was definitely Namjoon’s nagging voice. “He’s attacked my pride now, I have to win!” Taehyung sighs- a sound that Jungkook has practically memorised just from the sheer amount of times Taehyung has sighed at whatever kind of stupid antics Jungkook has found himself doing.

“Okay,” The sergeant relents. “It can’t be too hard. It’s just taking a watch. It’s not even guarded, or hidden, or anything. Just out there in plain sight. I’ll go out and get it. I have work to get back to, and I need to be back home early tonight, the twins are going trick-or-treating.”

Jungkook hears a loud scraping noise, and then a goose quacking from below.

“Are you stupid?” Nevermind, it wasn’t a goose. Just Namjoon screeching. “It’s a Halloween Heist. No way it’ll be that easy, we’re playing against the best officers in the force. If you go out and grab it, then the others will come out and pounce on us.”

“Okay!” Taehyung relents, giving in so that Namjoon will stop his duck screeching. “Then what do you propose we do?” There’s a pregnant pause and the unmistakable sound of Namjoon fiddling with his glasses- a habit he’s built up when he’s concentrating.

Jimin is still yelling through Jungkook’s airpods, even though Jungkook can’t reply. Jungkook drags himself back by a centimeter experimentally, accidentally bumping his head against the top of the vent. His face twists up in pain, wordlessly hissing.

“What was that?” Taehyung asks.

Curses.

Jungkook scampers away (As much as he can scamper in a tiny vent.) going backwards on his elbows as fast and as quietly as he can. But then suddenly, his abdomen sinks in the metal below him, and the vent floor rips apart. Jungkook freezes, and promptly falls into the air.

Bemusedly, Jungkook wonders if this is how felons feel when they hear a police siren nearby. It’s terrifying. Maybe he should be more empathetic to his perps. Jungkook lands on his stomach with a deafening, telltale screech of the metal scraping the floor, rolling across on his back in excruciating pain.

“- Kook, did you hear me? I said that I think you’re headed to Namjoon- what was that noise?” Jimin questions worriedly from the phone. Jungkook sighs in relief, because Jimin’s clear voice means his phone is still intact from the fall. He brings his knuckles up to his eyeline and winces.

His phone may be intact, but his body is slightly ruined. Nothing new, he thinks. At least he didn’t break a bone this time.

Namjoon and Taehyung look on confusingly. After a wild pause of silence and tension, Namjoon speaks. “Were you,” He says, enunciating each syllable. “Spying on us?”

“Not intentionally.” Jungkook defends, still hurt on the ground. “I just fell out of a vent, and your biggest worry is that I was spying on you guys? Wow. I’m hurt. I thought we were closer than this, Kim.” Namjoon waves away Jungkook’s concerns.

“You always fall out of things. This isn't even the first time you’ve fallen out of a vent.”

“- Why does everyone keep bringing that up!”

The break door swings open, and Jimin screams when he sees Jungkook laying on the floor. “Oh, god! Oh, god, oh God! Oh no, what happened?” He blanches at the sight of the tiniest amount of blood lacing Jungkook’s knuckles.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grumbles, reaching his hand up to motion at Jimin. His hair is sticking out in all directions, his clothes crumpled and his Jimin grabs a hold of him with his left hand, pulling him up so he can stand. Jungkook groans, clutching at his stomach. “I’m fine, this isn’t even that bad. The metal took most of the fall.” He insists. “I’m not going to break my three year streak of not going to a doctor.”

“You haven’t been to a doctor in three years??” Before Taehyung can jump into his lecture on how poorly Jungkook is managing his health, Jungkook balances on his feet and flings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, smiling brightly.

“Carry on with your heisting, men. Apologies for the interruption, my B. Definitely my bad.” Jungkook dismisses it and heads to the direction of the door as if there is not a whole chunk of vent on the ground, which he just fell out of. But Namjoon just shrugs. That’s Jungkook for you.

The man has unorthodox ways and almost always lives spontaneously.

“What is going on here?” Hoseok asks just as Jungkook and Jimin are about to walk out. The Captain stares suspiciously inside, and Jungkook’s smile stretches unnaturally up to his ears; the smile he puts on manually when he has something to hide.

“Nothing! I didn’t break any government property, that’s for sure.” Jungkook reassures the Captain, slowly closing the door behind him, concealing the mess inside with a blinding grin. Hoseok’s glare narrows, but he doesn’t make an attempt to investigate any further.

After all, the watch is still shut tight in the middle of the room, untouched and unmoving.

“What were you doing in the Kims’ territory?” Seokjin asks, but his gaze is fixed on his phone screen, texting furiously. He looks up when Jungkook doesn’t reply.

“Umm,” Jimin fumbles. “We were just-”

“Jeon fell out of a vent.” Hoseok proposes, filling in the rest of Jimin’s sentence.

“The fuck?” Jungkook sputters out. “How did you know?” Jin breaks out in laughter, pushing both of them aside to peek into the room. Sure enough, metal scraps lay in the center with the imprint of Jungkook’s back seen in the middle. His laugh grows more obnoxious and he leans over his stomach.

Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a satisfying victorious glint in the corner of his eye. “You have blood on your knuckles, I can see the Kims in there looking at something on the ground, and I figured the large crash we heard could only mean that Jungkook did something.” Jungkook pouts.

“Plus,” Hoseok points out. “This isn’t the first time Jungkook’s fallen out of a vent, so it was fairly simple figuring out what happened.” Jungkook holds his palm up, signalling his superior to stop.

“Okay,” He sighs out. “We get it. I fall out of vents. I’m not the imposter, I swear this was an accident.” Hoseok turns to Seokjin, forcing him to abruptly force down his laughing fit, as he always does when he doesn’t understand a pop culture reference.

“Oh,” Jin begins explaining. “It’s this really popular game online. There is an imposter which acts as a killer, and they have to kill everyone on the ship before each crewmate finishes their tasks.” If anything, Jin’s explanation leaves even more questions unanswered, but the Captain doesn’t pry any further. Jungkook’s grin softens sheepishly.

“Nothing suspicious here!” He exclaims loudly, hobbling away with Jimin back to the evidence room. Four pairs of eyes follow his footsteps, waiting just in case he suddenly reaches out to grab the box. But Jungkook is smart enough to know that his colleagues aren’t afraid to tackle him, crippled or not.

Reluctantly, Hoseok walks back to his office, dragging Seokjin by the collar. Namjoon sighs, pursing his lips in annoyance.

“Well,” He remarks defeatedly to Taehyung. “There goes our vent plan.” He crosses off ‘Among Us Vent ~ Plan #53’ off the gigantic bright pink binder which lays on the table. Taehyung not-so-secretly lets out a relieved exhale, which Namjoon pretends not to notice.

But the vent isn’t what triggers the chaos about to ensue. No, that was entirely a misunderstanding. Jungkook balances himself on Jimin’s shoulder, while Jimin is chastising him, scolding him for not being careful.

“If you keep falling out of vents-”

“Again, it was only twice-”

“Two times more than necessary. Normal people don’t fall out of vents that often, Jungkook.” Jungkook beams down at Jimin, the tip of a bad joke already rolling out his mouth.

“But we’re not normal people, Chimmy,” He says proudly. “We’re cops.” He says it as if he’s reciting a speech after being awarded a medal for his work in the force, not like someone who just fell (Quite spectacularly) out of a vent.

“The vent just couldn’t hold all this muscle.” Jungkook says. “All of this,” He holds up his knuckles and flexes his knee out cautiously. He really isn’t that badly hurt. Jimin just makes a big deal out of everything. “Will be healed soon.” Jimin doesn’t seem too convinced.

Jungkook shuts the evidence room door behind him, rubbing the back of his neck in slight regret. In hindsight, the whole vent idea was probably a bad idea. Even if it did end up sounding like a good plan, he should’ve sent Jimin in the vent instead of him. Jimin’s short stature and thin stance would have given him a much larger advantage than Jungkook had in a vent. Jimin also has a better sense of direction than Jungkook does. He probably wouldn’t have ended up crawling to the break room.

Jimin sits Jungkook down, still side-eyeing him annoyingly for the vent incident.

“Okay, so plan A failed!” Jungkook exclaims, worriedly positively. “Time for plan B!”

Jimin’s right eyebrow lifts up in confusion. “Do you have a plan B?”

“Well… ” Jungkook pauses. “No, but we’ll work one out.”

“Just no more vents, please?” Jimin pleads, and Jungkook agrees. As if Jimin would let him go five feet near a vent ever again even if he didn’t agree.

“Okay, no more vents. I promise.” (Jungkook crosses his third finger over his index finger behind his back. Just in case. You never know when going inside a vent is going to come in handy.)

“You know, I was thinking… ” Jimin ponders, and Jungkook perks up, listening intently. “It’s weird that Yoongi’s not back- ” Jungkook put a finger up, silently telling Jimin to shut up for a bit. He peeks outside the door through the blinds, frowning. After almost zero thought or consideration, he flings the door open and steps outside.

“Hey!” Jimin squeaks out. “You’re not fully healed yet, you shouldn’t walk-!” He follows Jungkook out the door. Outside, possibly the most brutal fight ever happened in the precinct is going on. And that’s saying something. They have some of the highest arrest records in Seoul.

You would be surprised how violent teenaged girls can get when you take away their phones.

Jimin can still feel that bald spot at the back of his head if he reaches back far enough. That patch of hair will never grow back, he thinks sadly. Curse Kim Yoona, that little delinquent. He should’ve just left her alone when he saw her drinking a can of beer on the sidewalk.

Outside, Jin and Taehyung are currently engaged in the most intense screaming match Jungkook has ever seen.

“- Well then, WHY would you be out here messing with the box then?!” The squawking noise comes from Seokjin.

“MESSING WITH THE BOX? I did no such thing!” And the shrieking is Taehyung’s voice.

“You’re clearly trying to steal the box straight in front of us, idiot!” Squawk.

“I was just trying to get to my desk!” Shriek.

“wHY would you go through this path to get to your desk?” Squawk.

Jungkook waves his arms, walking in between the two feuding men, as if his body can block out the squawking and shrieking. It doesn’t, and the men continue to argue through Jungkook’s torso.

“You’re trying to win the heist by being an idiot? That’s what you’re doing?”

“An idiot-? - Jungkook get out of the way I’m going to commit murder- ”

“Seokjin,” Jungkook sighs. “Don’t murder him in a police station. If you must, you might as well do it in a dark alley or something.” Taehyung looks offended, but he doesn’t have enough time to get mad or berate him through Jungkook’s ongoing speech.

“What’s going on? Is the box still here?” Jungkook asks. The box is sat still just about a meter next to him, which is slightly relieving and at the same time, disappointing. He thought some real drama had been going on.

Hoseok and Namjoon are huddled in a corner, watching. A sigh leaves Namjoon’s lips, but nobody can tell whether the source of the sigh is from frustration or just one of Namjoon’s periodic i-can’t-believe-i-work-with-these-idiots sighs, which Jungkook is usually the recipient of.

The captain and the exasperated officer step forward, about to enter the screaming match. Jimin also shuffles towards the huddle of police, craning his head to examine the box- which is still sitting untouched. But not for long, of course.

Namjoon frowns, already suspicious of the other side and he slides over next to Taehyung, defending him. The very same way, Hoseok stands at Seokjin’s side, quietly displaying a rare case of loyalty. Seokjin preens over the box, but he can’t open it to see if the watch is still inside- the others would surely protest.

And Jungkook and Jimin are just left awkwardly to the side, looking over the looming threat of the severe conflict going on.

“Who has the key?” The Captain asks.

And well, you know the rest. (Just scroll up, please. For efficiency’s sake there will be a slight time skip. Thank you for your cooperation!)

two minutes after the start of the screaming match ~

“Yoongles-!” Seokjin yelps at the sight of Yoongi bursting in. Yoongi looks seemingly confused; obviously some sort of distraction or act he’s played up to confuse the precinct- well, Jungkook will have none of that, thank you very much.

“Okay,” He scowls. “We get it, Yoongi, you intellectual smuck.” Yoongi stares blankly at Jungkook, mouthing the words ‘intellectual smuck’ silently to himself.

“What, suddenly you have the vocabulary skill of an actual adult?” Yoongi asks in his signature dry and emotionless tone. Jungkook should be offended, but he still hasn’t passed that vocabulary test from the second grade, so maybe he has a point.

Even the Captain is staring warily at Yoongi. Namjoon and Taehyung are just straight up glaring at this point. Jimin is just confused.

“I just came back from a Starbucks- I didn’t want to support capitalism, but nothing else was open this late- what are you guys doing?” Before anyone can answer his obvious lie, he notices the chair in the middle of the room. “Oh hey,” He says, the expression on his face lifting up a little. “Are you guys done already?”

Six heads slowly turn to the middle of the precinct to the chair that Jungkook had dragged out just half an hour ago. It’s empty, with just a light coating of dust left on the surface of the seat. The six heads turn back to Yoongi with knowing glances and pointed glares.

He lifts one hand- the hand not holding the starbucks paper cup in surrender.

“Wasn’t me.” He said, unconcerned. “Why would I bother stealing it?” But his hand clutching the coffee cup is placed weirdly, like he grabbed it hastily in the dark. And, Jungkook notices Yoongi's left knee is weirdly pressed against the second drawer in his desk.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow.

“Then if you didn’t steal it,” Yoongi rolls his eyes in irritation when he hears the word ‘steal’. “What’s in that second drawer, Yoongles?” Yoongi halts. After an odd moment of hesitation, he sets down his coffee. He swallows down nothing, gulping while darting his eyes around. His cheeks turn rosy, which is unsettling to see on his pale as white face.

Min Yoongi is nervous, which is a sight Jungkook never thought he would live to see.

Strangely enough, he exchanges a brief look to Jimin before stuttering out a response to Jungkook. “Ah- ” He blurts out. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Namjoon barks out. “I take back the accusation I placed on Jungkook, then. Yoongi clearly orchestrated this whole thing.” Yoongi sputters out some noise of complaint.

“Open the drawer, Min.” Hoseok commands, exercising his authority in a slightly (?) questionable way. However, nobody seems to be complaining. Nobody but Yoongi, of course.

“Hey!” He yells. “That's an infringement of privacy! You have no right to do so, even as my employer!” Hoseok, regrettably, has to commend his employee’s knowledge of rights and bylaws in the workplace. Jungkook curses. He only has two options to win the heist now, each just as unlikely feasible as the other.

1. Somehow manage to convince Yoongi to open his drawer, then grab onto the watch-box before anyone else gets a hold of it.

Highly unlikely that Yoongi will open his drawer in the first place; that man is the physical manifestation of the word stubborn.

2. Cause a distraction and break into Yoongi’s drawer.

Quite unethical for a police officer to do in the first place. And also, he’d really prefer to come out of this heist alive. And Yoongi would definitely skin him alive if he went through his private stuff. So the best chance he’s got is to prod at option number one.

Jungkook crosses his arms together. Beside him, Taehyung and Hoseok do the same. “There’s only one reason you wouldn’t open the damn drawer, sunbae.” He says. “It’s because you have the watch-box inside, isn’t it?”

Seokjin nods in agreement. “You put up this whole front saying you want nothing to do with this and then dropping off to go get coffee so we wouldn’t suspect you!”

“How else can you explain all the lights suddenly turning off?”

“Must have been a freak power cut, I don’t know!”

“Also!” Jimin adds furiously. “You didn’t even get us anything from Starbucks! How could you? You know the pumpkin spice latte is only here until Halloween!” Which is the least of their worries right now, but Jimin’s remark is enough to make Yoongi flinch.

“I’m telling you,” He insists, but his grip on the drawer hasn’t budged an inch. He’s nervous, but there’s a tiny proud or smug look in the corner of his eye. He definitely has the box. Jungkook’s now absolutely and completely sure of it. “I don’t have the stupid box thing!”

“You lie.” Taehyung accuses, and Hoseok nods. He’s been strangely silent, although Jungkook supposes the Captain can’t very well get angry and begin reprimanding his officers for something like this. A secondary theory he has is that the Captain can’t afford to lose his steely-cool reputation, which would be upheld no matter what Hoseok does, but he doesn’t bother to point that out.

“Hand over the box,” Jungkook says. “You can’t stay here all up until midnight.”

“I don’t have the goddamn box, for fuck’s sake-!”

“Language. If the ‘goddamn box’ isn’t hidden in your desk, then what is in your drawer of mystery, Officer Min?”

“Can a man not have his secrets?”

“Your secrets… are hidden in your office desk?”

“... Never mind that, I heard Jungkook fell out of a vent again, what was that about?”

“He just can’t keep himself from falling out of vents.”

“ONE TIME. - And you’re changing the subject! Stop it!”

Amidst the chaos unfolding, Namjoon stands in the corner, occasionally jumping in to jab a few words at a very infuriated Yoongi. When nobody is looking, the corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts up in a smug, but subtle smirk. Nobody, not even his own ‘partner’ Taehyung is aware of the rectangular box containing someone’s certain watch in the second drawer of his desk. Now all he has to do is hold on to it until midnight.

TO BE CONTINUED.

🎃 talk to the bangtan officers! add yourself to the taglist!

TAGS; @extremeobsessions101 @jksbbyfacebunny @dwcljh @stonyiscanon @bishuthot @s0seo @cecedrake2217

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saladejin · 4 years

Text

Call An Uber? | 21

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Angst with some fluff, cursing

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Re-reading this through is so weird to me. I’m sorry for all the angst, I hope you guys forgive me T_T

< masterpost >

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Bold = English

Books, clothes, equipment… It didn’t matter what was, if it was in my way it was getting shoved in my haste to reach the phone. It was like I could feel the storm of anger awaiting me on the other side of the hotel door, but priorities did come first. Soojin could go fuck herself for all I cared at the moment.

My thumb hovered over the tiny green telephone symbol for longer than necessary. Was it urgent enough to put above my job at the moment? I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother had just pocket called me or drank a little too much. It was too strange to have any positive implications. To be frank, I was probably trying too hard to convince myself otherwise because the opportunity to stall was too tempting to ignore.

Anyone who knew me well would know just how much I loved to procrastinate problem solving. Long lasting ones weren’t an exception in any case.

“(Y/n), you finally showed up.”

What? Fuck, I must have tapped it while I was lost in my brain.

“Mother,” I responded through gritted teeth.

Trepidation weighed my tone down to the floor.

Then there was a silence that made me feel as unsure as ever. If you asked me to explain the feelings caused by the echoingly empty sound, I couldn’t tell you. It was as if she was carefully handpicking her next words. Tiptoeing so cautiously around her thoughts, just in case I didn’t like what she had to say and barred myself away once more.

She’s too foolish to understand that I can see through her, even if she’s not physically here.

I fiercely fought down the urge to grind my teeth in anger and chose to wait patiently instead. If she had to take the time to think about what she was saying, then she obviously wanted to be in my favour somehow. I could not for the life of me understand how she’d possibly thought that was a scenario that existed, but apparently it did.

“Honey … how have you been these days?”

A surge of bile bubbled up through my windpipe. This problem was becoming borderline toxic.

“You better get to the point before I hang up,” I seethed. The plan was to keep my tone calm and neutral but there was no way the hurt wasn’t going to seep through the cracks. Hearing how fake and desperate she’d become just single-handedly destroyed what little snippet of respect I had left, buried deeply somewhere there in my heart.

She scoffed almost soundlessly before heeding the request.

“Fine, if it’s really going to be this way. I need money. Your dumbass father has gone and crashed the car again, but this time he’s pretty messed up. We can’t afford all these bills and I really need some booze if I’m gonna stay sane in this shithole. You’re the only child still attached to us so you’re going to be the one to get your dunce of a dad out of debt.”

I felt my chest tighten the longer she spoke, albeit rather roughly, but the words were still heavy with wrenching information. I didn’t know exactly how to feel, but I knew this whole situation would be a hell of a lot easier without the tugging family ties making me second guess everything.

“Hold on, how bad is the accident?” I growled, trying to ignore the rest of her sentence about alcohol and shitholes. The thought of my own father being severely injured made my heart skip a beat in sudden fear. It wasn’t too bad, was it?

“Pretty damn bad, I guess. He was in the ER, and I’m sure the doctor said something about rehab? Acute rehab? Ugh, can’t remember.”

This is terrible, and she can barely bring herself to care!

Tears unwillingly pricked at the corners of my eyes and I furiously blinked them away.

“Is he on life support or something?”

“Not anymore. Dunno why he’s still being a dickhead and drink driving everywhere. Something was bound to happen eventually, and if it was up to me they should have slapped a band aid on it and sent him on his way. These fancy doctors just want to leech money from us.”

“You realise that money is what kept him alive, right?” I murmured in disbelief. There was a raging war of conflict taking place in my mind, and I couldn’t even fathom how she was being so nonchalant about all of it. Her own husband had almost died, and she was blaming the hospital for their crippling poverty.

“(Y/n), darling…”

There it was again, that wickedly sweetened voice that could only be a feeble attempt at manipulation at this point.

“I’m only going to think about it for the sake of life and death, I literally can’t believe how fucking disgusting you are. Don’t consider me attached to you ever again,” I choked out in a haze of fury. I could feel every shred of dignity and hope I had left for my family burn away into cloudy ash before me.

“I should have known better.”

And with that I hung up. The silence was too deafening, too close and invasive to be even remotely comfortable. I didn’t even know why the disappointment and vindication was hitting so hard and fast either, because in the back of my worrisome mind I always knew that nothing good could come from such a reach.

Wishful thinking. It seemed to be something I lived by too closely.

My eyes blurred with a watery film as I brought the phone screen upwards again. Soojin was waiting for me like a brewing storm outside, but I knew that I just couldn’t stitch myself back together for a meeting mere minutes after feeling my tendrils of a childhood slip away from me.

‘Can you come in here for a minute or two? It’s okay if you and Yoongi left already.’

I sent the text to Namjoon after a second of hesitation. I knew normally I would’ve dealt with the emotion and carefully hidden it away to move on with my working life. I wouldn’t have allowed anyone see past the drawn curtains into the darkness behind, but things had changed drastically over the past few months.

Since I had pulled that stupid stunt and distanced myself from everyone I cared about, things had changed. Yoongi’s words rang clearly through my head again and again like a broken record.

“You could’ve talked to us, we wouldn’t just ignore you if it was about something serious. Jesus, especially if you were feeling depressed. (Y/n), please…”

Then Taehyung’s.

“This is why you can’t hide your feelings. At least talk to one person, a close friend or something, because I know you haven’t…”

“I’m here.”

I sniffled in surprise as the hotel door clicked shut suddenly. Namjoon was by my side in less than a moment, breaths coming out in quiet pants even though he seemed to be trying his best at controlling the strained puffs of air.

“Oh God, you really ran back here for me?” I sighed, trying to tip my head back to get rid of the annoying things called tears.

“I was only down the hall, trust me,” Namjoon assured softly, taking notice of my sorry state of emotions and instantly switching his gaze to one full of concern. I watched as his perceptive eyes trailed down the length of my arm to the phone clasped into my shaking palms.

“(Y/n) …”

I almost jumped in my skin when he moved to slowly unclasp my fingers from around the warm device. The man took the rectangular object and slid it carefully onto the surface of the bedside table before taking a seat beside me on the bed. His honeyed voice was nothing but soothing to the ears.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Then I spilled it all, like a broken dam rushing to meet what physics required of it. His eyes hardened as I spoke about my mother and her overall attitude, but softened when I couldn’t help voicing my newfound conflictions. I wasn’t surprised to find myself cradled into his broad chest by the end of it.

“A-and Taehyung had just pretty much convinced me to try reaching out to them last night. Now I’m forced into making a decision I don’t even want to find myself making. It’s just that…if he dies I will never forgive myself, and I really, really fucking hate that.”

I was almost ready to openly cry into the flimsy polyester shirt he wore, but once again I found myself holding back in fear of losing face. I never knew why I just couldn’t let it all go for once in my life. Maybe it was something too utterly routine after years and years of practice.

“Nobody can blame you for feeling that way about your own father, (Y/n). It’s like a natural instinct to try and protect those closest to you,” Namjoon murmured lowly. I let my eyes droop shut as I tuned into the rumblings coming from his chest.

“That’s the thing. I’m not close to them at all.”

A hollow sigh was next. His body relaxed further as he grew used to the feeling of my tears sinking through his exercise shirt, because even though he was the one to bring me into the reassuring hold, he still wasn’t accustomed to such a close proximity with someone other than his bandmates. I felt so indebted to him in every way.

“Even so, it’s family. You feel this connection that no-one else can, and even if you don’t like who they are as people, there will always be a love there that you might think is just too unexplainable. Now that I think about it, your nature to care about others probably made you even more susceptible.”

I couldn’t help but widen my eyes. He was always able to just come out and spin my thoughts into the words I couldn’t come up with. He just seemed to understand the very world we lived in, along with all of its nasty people and ideologies, in a way I struggled to. I was shocked at how he was able to take any point of view, turn it around to see the other side of it, and grasp the concept just as easily. An optimistic part of it, nonetheless.

“Namjoon, why are you just so amazing?” I chuckled after a minute of contemplative silence. He’d fidgeted slightly when I hadn’t responded, wondering if he’d done something wrong or made things worse. He was a little goofy sometimes, but nobody could deny how brilliant he truly was as a person.

“I’m not really,” He huffed bashfully, and I was shocked again when I felt one of his large hands come up to stroke my hair in comfort. It was so weirdly easy to be comforted by him after such a stressful morning.

“It’s just easy to see why you’re feeling the way you are. Take my advice and think hard about what you want to do about it.”

I felt the pad of a finger wipe away the last of my salty tears from my skin. The action was so sweet I couldn’t help but lift my head to meet his heartwarming gaze. The sight of his slight smile and tiny dented dimples made my heart almost stutter to a halt.

“In the end, they may only be using you and may only continue to turn a blind eye to the wonderful daughter they have, but at least you know you did what you believed was right. Use the love they may not feel to love yourself and the person you are.”

“Namjoon, stop before I…”

Taehyung I wish you could look, because this is me opening up. It’s ugly isn’t it?

More tears suddenly flowed and for once I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Namjoon’s face fell as I sobbed loudly into his chest, the liquid remorse tumbling out unstoppably. I couldn’t see his saddened expression of relief, but I knew I wasn’t alone in feeling the pent up tension flow away along with the waterworks. His muffled ‘shh, it’s gonna be fine’ and gentle strokes of encouragement to my head began gradually replacing the emotions with joyous ones.

I felt so much appreciation and love for the man it almost hurt.

“I haven’t cried in front of anyone since primary school, up until this morning in the hallway and now here,” I whimpered after a few minutes, almost letting myself doze off to the feeling of his presence enveloping me. How long had it even been?

“I’m just glad you even told me as much as you did. Taehyung might have mentioned that a few of us could see your pain, even if you didn’t know it was there yourself,” Namjoon said after clearing his throat slightly. I felt bad that I’d forced him into staying with me through the bout of misery, but his words violently struck more than one chord.

Yeah, and he also mentioned something else.

I was suddenly reminded of Taehyung’s big revelation from the night prior. The feelings they all had for me. I forced myself to keep my eyes trained forward, but there was no way Namjoon hadn’t noticed the way my body tensed up all of a sudden.

I can’t ask him about it now, or confirm it. They’re in the middle of a busy schedule and I also have stuff to deal with. I’m going to have to wait until we’re back in Korea to confront them about it.

I relaxed again and finally removed myself from Namjoon. He looked up at my standing figure with slight confusion, not really being sure of my stability or composure just yet. I could only sigh to let us both know that I was feeling a hell of a lot better than before.

I took one amused moment to glance over his slightly ruffled black tresses, probably having little to no effort put into the style for a day such as this one. Soft hours were now open in the messy hotel room.

“Thank you so much, I really needed … all of that,” I smiled crookedly, indicating that I was ready to move on with my life and away from the dilemma of my family for now. Namjoon got to his feet quickly after almost knocking over the vase of flowers on the bedside table. He grunted in surprise while I laughed and grabbed for his flailing hand to help keep him steady.

“It’s fine, you know it always is. You’ve been through more shit this morning than most go through in a week or months. I’d say you deserve a shoulder to cry on whenever you need one,” he spoke seriously and nodded, averting his widened eyes down to where I still held his hand within my own. These guys really did love a lot of hand attention, I did come to find after all this time.

“You’re sent from the heavens Joonie,” I chuckled airily, feeling so many feelings but nowhere near as crushingly as I had earlier.

“You confused me with you, angel,” He replied abruptly, moving with a confidence I rarely saw to shift a stray lock of hair away from my face. His smile was so warm and his line incredibly cheesy, but I felt something within me snap. The love was too intense for me to overlook.

I stepped forward and reached up to cradle his smiling cheeks into my palms. There was a need to rise onto my tiptoes before my lips finally grazed his in a very restricted but needy kiss. I fought back a smile when I felt his muscles slacken in absolute shock, but then he was returning everything wholeheartedly. His large hands pulled me closer by the waist and his lips started moving against mine just as surely, as if it were something that had been waiting to happen for too long.

I almost felt myself get lost in the sensation, but something nagged at me the further I slipped away into the moment.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I gasped, pulling away reluctantly and squeezing my eyes shut in burning shame. I was embarrassed of myself for not upholding the pact I’d created about leaving the whole feelings thing until later on, plus I had basically thrown myself at him without giving anything resembling a warning.

“Why are you sorry? I think you just made me the happiest man on Earth,” Namjoon protested in shock, eyes wide and hands spread open to anticipate any sudden movements I made to escape. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and I found it undeniably gorgeous to contrast his complexion.

“I promised to leave it, but I just couldn’t control myself. Can we finish this-”

I made a little circular motion with one finger.

“-once we get back to Korea? I just have to speak to everyone.”

Namjoon nodded and agreed tentatively. I could tell by the way his brows furrowed slightly that he’d probably figured out the reasoning behind my request, but he would have to wait to question Taehyung at another time. I inwardly thanked him for his overarching awareness.

“If you see Tae, tell him I’m alright and that he needs to stop blaming himself. I know he’s probably taking the whole Soojin thing badly. I’ll fix it all,” I continued in a more level tone of voice, bringing back the sense of professionalism as I began thinking of how I was going to go about this predicament.

“Of course. Good luck out there,” He gave my shoulder an awkward pat before moving towards the door. I sighed regretfully as the leader left without another word, the strange tension lingering but somehow not becoming an overpowering force.

It’s your own fault. You went and kissed him, so now you’ve gone and confused everyone and yourself.

I didn’t know what lay in store for me now, as the news would surely spread like an untamed wildfire; stemming from Tae and Namjoon undoubtedly. What a bloody dumb thing to do, considering I’d just been accused of fucking around with one of them already.

My phone vibrated against the smooth surface of the bedside table loudly. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, being the devil incarnate herself.

‘We’re waiting in the office area downstairs, I suggest you make it snappy or I’ll get on with this on my own.’

tagged: @joyful-jimin, @l4life, @gee-nee, @m0chilattae, @rossemayme, @doilooklikeinoe, @jeon-joker, @topthis808, @justyouraveragerando, @booklover240, @midnight1199, @k-popin-hoe, @xctvme

#bts x reader #bts #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #bts crack #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #ot7 #call an uber?#salade-tb

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