#I don’t even need plot to happen I’m just enjoying Guy In Constant State of Wonder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toontails · 3 years ago

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Toon Quest|| Reader Insert

Chapter 3: I'm Here, You're Here, Everybody's Here!

A/n: Hey guys! Sorry I’m late (5 months late) sorry about that. I was busy! I promise! I had to

Split the chapter as this was a lot longer than I wanted it to be. So you’ll be seeing Chapter 4 and possibly chapter 5 real soon! I won’t leave for so long again. Don’t worry.

But I’ll make this note quick. A couple people messaged me and said that this story reminds them of Babqtfim. At the time I didn’t know what that was. Until I did research. And to satisfy some of you. I incorporated some of that in the plot. Don’t worry. It won’t change the plot drastically.

I particularly didn’t wanna publish this chapter as I feel nothing really happened in this chapter. But I couldn’t leave you all waiting for any longer!

Oh! And the next chapter. I’ll introduce to you—musicals! Don’t worry they won’t stay for too long in the story. I know not everyone likes songfics lmao. But it goes with the plot I promise! We’re starting to get rolling again so buckle up.

Enjoy!

“Now...where did I put that folder…” M/n searched the desk for a folder she was searching for—for about 4 minutes now. The day has pretty much been frantic—after Henry and M/n left from the board meeting yesterday, work had to be done in all departments. To start the new set of episodes—M/n was in charge of getting the scripts from the writers that were out of town—meaning they had to be shipped into the studio. Which was delayed about a day everyone was supposed to be scheduled to start reading through the script. But that was pushed off because of Bendy now being out of town and the fact that there was a new objective for everyone in the studio to do. Or...more to attend to in that matter.

M/n was silent as she looked under the receptionist desk. Muttering under her breath incoherently. She hardly noticed Charley sauntered over. After pestering Annie for a few minutes M/n so happened to be in his path as he was on his way to go find Edgar. Leaning over the desk he looked as M/n stood back up with a time ticking expression of annoyance slowly etching on her face. That was until she saw Charley standing on the other side of the desk where she flinched slightly, surprised at his sudden appearance.

“God dammit Charley—what did I tell you about sneaking up on me—“ she held a hand to her chest to feel her heart pace slowly slow down after seeing Charley.

“I dunno, I lost track, I think this is the...uh….5th time?” He fakes a thoughtful expression as if he were really counting the many times M/n told him to announce himself before just standing off to the side to be noticed. Which he was known around the studio for.

M/n shook her head and rubbed her forehead. “Did you see my clipboard today? It had stuff on it that I need because Henry wants to have a meeting with everyone in the conference room later on today and I need that.” She said, Charley raised an eyebrow, his eyes slowly sliding away from M/n and to the background where he saw..Edgar! Thank god...Edgar was holding a clipboard as he skipped down the hallway where he left earlier to follow Boris and Alice. He hardly noticed Alice and Boris trailing behind the spider as they talked to each other. The clipboard that Edgar had a grip on was yellow...well from what it seemed from where Charley was standing.

“Is it yellow?” He asks her. M/n perks up, removing her gaze from a stack of paper to look at Charley, In hopes that he had a clue to where her clipboard went. “Yes, it is. Do you know where it is?” She smiled at him. He looks back at her.

“Nope.”

“Then why did you—“

“But, I’ll go find it for ya’, how about that? I got a keen eye, don’t ya’ worry about a thing! You stay right there and I will be back in a jiffy!” He said before turning the other direction and walking off. M/n looked as if she were about to say something...but took his word that Charley would have her clipboard. The only reason Charley was going after it was so he could find out what Edgar wanted to speak to Alice and Boris for.

He, Edgar and Barley rarely talked to Alice and Boris and Bendy—actually they talked a lot because they were a part of the same production. But seeing Edgar seemingly...in a rush to speak to the two? Did raise questions to Charley. But Charley then remembered as he stopped walking.

“Where is Barley..?” He muttered.

“Fer’ the love of—where are ya’ takin’ me? You toss books on my head then expect me to venture off with ya’ to spy on Eddie, so what? Let the guy have a li—“

Charley smacks the back of Barley’s head who wouldn’t stop bantering with him. The eyepatch wearing toon grunts at the impact and rubbed the back of his head.

“Shut up you moron, you sure do love to bicker…” Charley grunts as he and Barley walked

down the hall where Alice, Boris and Edgar once were walking down. “We’re going to see what Ed and the others are talkin’ about, Alice has been rambunctious lately.” Charley said, looking at a door as they passed by, listening to see if anyone was in the room. Barley raised an eyebrow. “And why would that be our problem? Look—Bendy’s outta town. I can finally get a full night's sleep without him somehow having the urge to pull a joke on me at 3 in the morning. And I’d like to say, I slept wonderfully.” Barley said. Bendy was always around the studio doing little jokes and...well being a disruption. Especially to Sammy. It was just that Bendy rarely got out and interacted with other people—other than anyone in the studio. But now that he is gone for a day or two. Barley was glad to get some sleep in and some peace and quiet without having to run into Bendy’s antics.

“Look, I just wanna know what Ed’s got planned. Shut your trap and help me find them.” Charley walked ahead of Barley in search of the three. Barley muttered under his breath.

“Fine..”

“Don’t worry about society’s problems, they say, their problem isn’t our problem, they say—“ Y/n mocks. Watching the fields go by. It was still the afternoon and they..obviously were still on the road. Oswald was still seated next to Y/n. His ears flat against his head as he watched her...rather sarcastically bring up the last ‘meeting’ they had at the studio about all that was going on between toons and humans and how—it wasn’t their concern nor responsibility. And;

“Now look at us.” She said, She leaned far back into the car seat. Arms crossed across her chest. Bendy was still looking at the road. But Y/n could see his expression had almost turned sour.

“Are you hintin’ towards somethin’ or talkin’ just to be talkin’?” He asks her. Finally getting a reply from him. Y/n shook her head slowly. Looking at the road as well.

“I didn’t expect a diner to be a place where toons weren’t allowed. I don’t even know when they started doing that.” She said, Oswald opened his mouth to speak. As he did so his ears raised slowly.

“I’m pretty sure there’s other establishments that serve all of us.” Oswald said. Y/n didn’t reply for a second. She silently agreed with Oswald. There’s no way every single establishment or building had a no toons policy.

“Yeah…” she muttered. Everyone fell silent and for the most part the sound of the car's muffled engine was heard. It was nice to have a quiet feeling. Considering what had happened a few minutes ago. Y/n was no longer hungry after the altercation at the diner so for the most part her main focus was no longer on getting food. But figuring out what was in Idaho—or more who was in Idaho and what their next objective was. She felt Oswald sit back next to her. His shoulder touched hers as there wasn’t much room to begin with. But the space was still comfortable to sit with him in. She saw Oswald turn his palm face up and edged it over to Y/n. Y/n looked at his hand, uncurling her hand from her crossed arms hovering it above his and looked over at Oswald who was already looking at her. He must have seen she was maybe upset from not eating—or just the fact that the people at the diner were so...rude and the unexpected turn of events. Was he trying to comfort her somehow?

Soon he lifted his hand and took her hand in his. Y/n smiled and looked back out the window feeling the warmth cascade her hand—touching a toon seemed—odd. She could feel a soft texture from his ‘fur’ but then again it didn’t feel like fur. He was warm and not to mention, odd feeling four fingers instead of five intertwined around her five fingers. But, either way. It did relax her and stop her from bickering she was

Once doing it for about 40 minutes—which was mostly aimed towards Bendy but he didn’t seem to give her a reaction from her constant complaining. But either way, she was calmer and serene.

Soon the car slowed down. They were in a small town—similar to the one they just left in Oregon considering they were now entering Idaho. Y/n blinked momentarily. “What’s wrong?” She asks Bendy.

“The trail is gone.” He said his gaze still focused outside of the window to try and see if he could spot any sort of hint towards their new direction, but to no avail he couldn’t find any sort of trail or subliminal hint anywhere. Y/n looked at the welcome side on the side of the road. A chipped green painted sign with white letters elegantly painted on the wooden sign. ‘Warlington Hillside’

“Warlington Hillside…” Donald read the name, Panchito looking out the window at the sign as well. “Well. A mile back I saw we entered Idaho so..I guess..it’s up to us?” Y/n said. Turning to look at Bendy and then over her shoulder to Panchito and Donald. Donald's expression stirred into utter confusion.

“Why would it drop us off here? It couldn’t just lead us to where we need to be? Or who we’re looking for? For all we know—whatever we’re looking for can be in an entirely different town in this state.” Donald took the book that was on Y/n’s lap. He shook it momentarily as if it would make the book shake to life and get to working again. Panchito tilted his head.

“Ah...Donal—I don’t think it works that way my friend. It would just be best that we start here. After all! We are in a town!” He motions towards the front window of the car towards the town that would have been entering if Bendy kept driving.

“What are we supposed to do? Ask everyone in town if they see any suspicious activity?” Donald sarcastically said as he flipped through the pages of the book. Panchito froze for a moment. And then he shrugged as if to say the idea wasn’t so bad after all.

“Actually, I think that would be a perfect idea!”

“I was kidding—“

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. This is the dumbest idea ever…” Donald rubs a hand across his face and soon edged his beak. Y/n closed the car door and looked around the town. She actually took notice that the town wasn’t exactly a town? But more of a city. Its twinkling lights from each building caught her eye. The street lamps were now flickering on as it was nearing sunset—but the sun was still out, showcasing its melodious colors in the sky. Her eyes traveled around the area. Watching the cars drive by in the street and watching such...fashionable people walk down the street.

Looking over she saw a man and a woman walking by. Arms intertwined with each other as they both seemed to be in a deep conversation. But what took Y/n’s attention was the clothing. Their clothes seemed—dated back. The vest. The pants. The dress. It seemed tailored. With rich fabrics. Vintage clothing of something straight from a film in the era of the 40s.

Y/n never heard of this place before. In the distance she could hear jazz.

“Now. All we have to do is ask around!” Panchito glanced at the small group as he extended his arms to motion around his surroundings. Bendy had a hand on his hip. Giving Panchito a blank expression. Obviously he thought the idea of going around asking random strangers for any suspicious activity was a horrible idea. What kind of idea is that?!

“Oh lighten up. I like the looks of this place.” Oswald nudged Bendy. Bendy only sneered before moving away from Oswald’s constant nudging.

“This place—I don’t know. I don’t like it.” Donald denied. Crossing his arms and tapping his webbed foot to the pavement. The four turned their gaze to Panchito who caught their attention when he spoke to a random stranger passing by.

“Hola! A quick question.” Panchito says. The man stopped walking and looked at Panchito. A smile appeared on the stranger's face.

“Of course!” He said.

“Do you have any news around town? Anything suspicious? Anything new? Or big?” Panchito asks. The man thought for a moment. Bringing a hand to tap his chin.

“Well—nothing too out of place has happened around town! But you all should really go to this jazz band tonight—might not be the place you all are looking for. But it really is a good way to relax and loosen up for the night!” The man informed—not exactly information they were looking for. But then again. It was something.

“Is this some place everyone frequently goes to?” Y/n’s asks. Walking over to Panchito to look at the man. The man shook his head. “Oh no—I assume you all are looking for something? There’s been this toon in town—I can’t remember his name. But he’s looking for two other people? From what I remember he said something about them being on the radar from some other group of men. But anyway! He’s mostly at this bar around sunset after—well I don’t know what he does throughout the day—but either way. He’s always at this bar a few blocks down on Columbus Street. I would go ask if he needs works done if that’s what you all are askin’ for.” He thoroughly explained. Panchito hummed in amusement before glancing at Y/n to see what she had to say. Which—was great. Not only did they get information on the fact someone was kidnapped? Y/n wanted to assume it were toons in the same predicament Oswald was once in. But who was at the bar more than likely on the lookout for the same thing they are.

“Thank you! We’ll certainly give him a visit.” Y/n smiled. The man smiled and nods.

“He’s a toon—he’ll be easy to spot in the bar. I wish you all luck! Bye!” The man then turned around and walked off. Donald still had his arms crossed.

“I wonder who’s the big guy that’s on the same page we’re all on.” Donald said. Y/n turned around and looked at Donald. Bendy and Oswald stood next to Donald. Y/n tapped her fingers on her leg. Was it a good idea to even ask a random stranger that would seemingly have information? Maybe. Maybe not…but—either way.

“It’s worth a shot.” She muttered to herself. Glancing around the city she looked at the group of toons.

“Alright. Let’s go find this guy.”

“Okay—“ Alice took the yellow clipboard from Edgar. Edgar scattered into the empty meeting room. Past Alice. Boris walked in shortly after, closing the door as he walked in. Alice read over the list of things that M/n and wrote down—it was more of a to-do list. A series of things that needed to be done—mostly before the week let out. Alice ran a hand through her hair as she tapped her foot to the ground.

Boris stood by the table and then looked at Edgar. “So—what was it that you were trying to tell us? Other than that clipboard.” Boris spoke up. Edgar squeaked as he hopped on a chair. Standing on two legs. He placed his hands together as if he were some sort of pastor. He then pointed over to Alice mostly signaling towards her halo—but she was too busy reading the clipboard to take notice. Boris tilts his head. His gaze moved over to Alice when he took notice of Edgar’s gesture.

What could he be referring to? Looking back at the spider. Boris’s nose twitched. “I need more detail.” He says. Edgar nods before looking around before dashing off to the side of the room. Ripping open a closet and pulling a black throw over blanket from the closet before speeding over to Boris and hopping back in the chair. Edgar placed the black blanket around him as if it were a cloak. Edgar placed his hands together once again. As if he were praying. Boris' ears perked up slowly as his tail slowly swayed side to side.

“Is it someone or a something?” He asks. Edgar points to himself. Alice looked away from the clipboard and focused her attention on Edgar.

“Were you pointing at Alice’s halo?” Boris asked. Edgar nods once again. Finally! They were starting to understand him! What a miracle!

“I’m assuming this someone takes on—something religious?” Boris asks. Edgar once again nods. Alice was about to speak before a familiar voice interrupted. “He’s talking about nuns, you idiot.” Boris and Alice turned around and saw Charley standing in the corridor. Alongside Barley who had his arms in his pockets—as he always had them.

“Where did you two come from?” Alice asks. Turning to face the two. And placing a hand on her hip. Her upper lip twitching in annoyance. Charley motions towards Edgar. “Lookin’ for him! And M/n is looking for her clipboard—which you seem to have and I’m here to retrieve that and Edgar—“ Alice quickly cut Charley off by turning the clipboard around and showing it to Charley.

“July 23rd. A board party for toons and humans. It’s more like an integration celebration.” Was all she said. She practically shoved the clipboard in Charley’s face to show the circled date at the bottom of the list. Charley glared at Alice snatching the clipboard from her grip. He looked down at the clipboard and he felt Barley walk closer to him to read the list as well.

“Wuss so bad about it? It’s just some shindig.” Barley asks before looking at Alice. Instead of Alice explaining. Edgar hopped from the chair. Leaving the black blanket in the chair. He landed in the middle of the circle the four created. He squeaked and squeaked frantically. Waving his arms in the air. Charley furrowed his eyebrows.

“Aye! Calm down! What’s the rush?!” Charley told Edgar. Barley took the clipboard from Charley’s hands and read the list attentively. Alice looked between Edgar and Charley.

“What’s he’s saying?” She asks quickly. Edgar huffed before he went still and composed himself before looking at Charley. Letting out a series of squeaks.

“He’s going to explain from the beginning.” Charley translates. Alice nods before raising a hand. She leaned over and closed the door.

“But first. Charley—Barley. There’s something going on. World wide that is.” Alice said. Charley huffed. “Yeah—obviously we can tell. Sudden flux of toon riots and anti toon lovers are starting to rise.” Charley said. Alice nods—that was one thing that was out of the way that she didn’t have to explain. Thank goodness.

“Yes that. And—the fact that Bendy—and a few others are—I guess you can say are resolving some upcoming problems.” She said. Barley laughed under his breath. “What’d he do? Wreck private property again and get himself in cuffs?” He asks—mostly jokingly but Alice deadpanned for a moment as she shook her head.

“No. This is serious. Long story short. The real reason he’s away and out of town because M/n’s daughter found this book—the—“

“The one on TV.” Boris finished for Alice. Alice nods. Charley furrowed his eyebrows and thought for a moment…when the hell was the last time he looked at TV? He did remember seeing a news segment about some government artifacts being looted from a museum a few days ago. Now that he remembered. He could remember being told that the artifact was a book. And…he did hear Bendy in a room the night fumbling around as if talking to someone—now mentioning he heard more than one voice.

Well…he be damned.

“Now that’s somethin’ new.” Barley absently said—it were as if he read Charley’s mind. They were on the same page. Charley crossed his arms and gave Boris and Alice a look.

“You know I didn’t think Bendy would be this stupid and troublsome enough to steal a book for fun and then run off with M/n’s daughter.” He missed the point.

Smack!

“Ow! What was that for?!” Charley rubbed his forehead where Alice deliberately gave a slap to. Alice had her hands on her hips as she glared at Charley.

“He didn’t steal the book you idiot! There were three of them that night. Edgar knows it all—as well as additional information. Edgar can explain all that—but what I need for you too to know…” Alice looked between Charley and Barley.

“Is that we are now working together to help Bendy and the others—“

“What?! No! I’ve basically been told he had a stolen book with him. I’m not gettin’ involved in this mess. Look at society’s impression on toons right now. You think that when they find out that a group of toons with a young girl are on the run, with a book they are currently lookin’ for would look good on us?” Charley sneered at Alice. Barley on the other hand agreed with Alice.

“I’m agreeing with Alice on this. Bendy wouldn’t just do anythin’ fer just the fun of it. When was Tha’ last time Bendy stole anythin?” Barley asks Charley. And Charley couldn’t name off a single time. Charley’s nose twitched as he sneered yet again. Of course Bendy caused trouble around the studio. But anything revolving anything in public—he was—well. A normal toon. That didn’t cause any trouble. So obviously there had to be a reason why he was traveling around as of now. Alice took note of Charley’s silence and then continued speaking.

“Charley. We know. You hate Bendy—hell. Even at times I get angry at him. But he’s still family. And if we have information that will very much help him and the others he’s with. We should help him as best as we can.” Alice’s halo slowly glimmered the beautiful golden light. Charley silently stared at her before grunting and waving his hand.

“Fine! Tell me the info and let’s get started.” He said. Alice smiled and clasped her hands gently at his participation.

“Edgar. Fill Charley and Barley in first on what’s going on. As well as the book.” Edgar nods at Alice's command before turning to both Charley and Barley. It took only a few minutes to inform and get the two to update them of what was going on. Charley stood in front of Edgar, arms crossed and nodding his head every once in a while as he took in the information. Despite it being a bunch of squeaks and motions. He still could understand the spider—as well as Barley.

“So. He’s in Oregon now?” Barley asks. Alice nods slowly. “From last I checked. He is. I was going to give him a call today to see where he and Y/n are—I believe that’s her name.”

“A magic book…” Charley muttered under his breath. It sounds so—made up. Childish. But if Edgar seemed pretty serious about it. Then Charley was willing to go the distance with the others.

“The night when M/n’s daughter came to the building and when she and Bendy and—a third person That was in the room. Edgar was in there—but you said you had more information. Right?” Boris asks. Edgar nods frantically. Charley motioned Edgar to continue.

“Alright then let’s get to the important stuff.” He said.

Edgar looked at the four before he started explaining.

“What are we gonna do now? The brat and those toons got away.”

Edgar peeked from behind the garbage can. A few blocks away from the studio. Edgar was entertained by the action in front of him. The rabbit that he saw as he peered from the ceiling out the window in the room where Bendy and two others were discussing with each other—two when how Bendy and that rooster leaped from the window with a lasso.

He had to follow them to see—what were they up to? Edgar had always mostly been in the studio all his life. And seeing such adventurous actions take place out of nowhere really caught his attention. Unfortunately he was too afraid to wander near the bar. But when he saw Y/n, Bendy, the rooster and the rabbit appeared from the buildings. Edgar could tell that they were after something. Which led to them chasing two people—who he now deemed the bad guys. He followed the car chase—but mainly swinging from building to building by his web. Which was how he kept up. And how he ended up behind the garbage can in the alleyway where the van of the two ‘bad guys’ had crashed near. He saw the man in the trench coat slip off his jacket. The two backs were turned towards him. So he couldn’t take in any facial details. But with the coat off. Edgar could see a black blazer vest. A velvet red undershirt. The man's hair was a familiar dark color slicked back with hair—not a single strand disobeying.

The woman had dark hair as well. Fair skin. And a dark knee length dress. Her hands on her hips as she stared at the wrecked car. The man sighed and rubbed his temple.

“We need someone that can get in there for us to grab the book…” the man muttered. The woman glanced at him as she silently watched him contemplate. The man reached in his pocket slowly before pulling out a device—a phone now that Edgar thought back on it—at first he didn’t know what it was.

“I’ll contact him. You know he’s been practically yearning to join.” The man told the woman. Who had then nodded. The two had abandoned the crashed van and wandered down the sidewalk. Edgar squeezed between people who had checked to see and check on people in the car crash. Followed after the two as they then turned down an alleyway after several minutes of walking. Which only led Edgar further away from the studio—but he knew his way back perfectly. So he didn’t have to worry.

Edgar peeked from around the corner. The alleyway had a few puddles from the rain from earlier. The brick walls glistened from the water and the fluorescent street lights that gave light to the alleyway. Edgar saw that the two slipped into a building from a metal door. But it closed unfortunately so it wasn’t able to make it. Looking up. Edgar could see an exhaust hood near the top of the doorway. Scurrying over. Edgar with ease climbed on the wall and up to the exhaust hood. Edgar placed four hands on the hood and with a strained grunt and groan using all his strength he pulled the exhaust hood from the wall. Anyone would have fallen back from the sudden motion of something being ripped from the wall. But seeing Edgar was a spider and could travel up and down walls. His balance didn’t falter. Edgar tossed the torn metal behind him—a distance; ‘clank!’ Echoing in the hall. He quickly crawled in a dark humid vent. The feeling of dust tickling his form wasn’t his worries.

“You had one job!” A shouted echo was what Edgar followed. It seemed the lady that man was with was the one who was shouting. No doubt there may be more people. Edgar crawled through the vents and absently walked by a vent that peered down into the room. Perfect.

Edgar backtracked and quickly placed his full attention down below.

Despite outside being what seemed to be a worn down warehouse. The inside seemed more of an office building. He could see the features of the woman. But the man stood in blind spot. Standing next to a coffee table as the woman stood in front of the coffee table as well as standing in front of three toons—the beagle boys. Magica was standing off to the side. Arms behind her back.

The beagle boys seemed to flatter at the woman's scolding.

“Was it so hard to catch that girl!? She’s 18 for crying out loud! What damage could she do?! She’s a kid! And that—that damn toon! You couldn’t catch him?!” She shouts. The shortest of the three beagles raised a finger to speak. “They all worked together..Miss..” he said slowly.

The woman’s expression only hardened.

“It seems we can’t depend on you three to take them out and take the book. This isn’t some ordinary schemed show where every episode the plan foils and we say oh well better luck next time—and the same thing happens! We mean business!” She shouts. Soon Magica finally spoke up.

“Miss Susan. Might I remind you that this particular group is indeed chosen by an ancient powerful book. She’s more than just some teenage girl with an absent mind and those toons are more than just toons.” The duck said. The woman—now Susan now that a name had been given sighed as she raised both her hands and slowly rolled her fingers down to lock them both into a fist. Each finger gives a satisfying crack. But before she could say anything. Two figures burst through the front door. Standing around the same height. They both were toons. One had two horns on his head. And black fur—he almost resembled a goat. His yellow optics gleaming at everyone in the room. “Ding dong!” He shouts as he extends his arms. Next to him stood a toon. Dressed in a tailored purple suit. His head was a dice. Arms behind his back as he trailed

Behind the demon like-goat into the room.

“Well. What do you know?” Susan mutters. Edgar felt himself shrink at the sight of the horned toon. It indeed was the Devil! He’s heard of him—not someone to be messed with. His Right Hand Man as most toons know of—King Dice. Was also another toon that meant business.

“We heard the news. They got away? Bummer.” The Devil circled around Susan. His tail brushed under her chin as he then stood by the coffee table. Susan scoffed and shook her head slowly.

“Yes. They got away. With the book—we planned this all out. I don’t see h—“ she was cut off by the man in the trench coat.

“As I said. We need someone to go along with them to get that book.” He said. The Devil placed a hand on his chest. “Which..ladies and gentlemen. Is why I’m here.” He grinned. Showing the sharp rows of piercing teeth that were ready to sink into anything.

“Who do you have?” Magica asks. The Devil glanced over to her and placed his hands behind his back.

“Two hard headed people. And might I say. That can make anyone run for their money. Two toons. They’re brothers and I think they would do this mission just fine. After all, They do owe me their souls. Having them run a small errand for me won’t be a problem.” The Devil said. Susan's interest had been caught with the new way to retrieve the book. But there was a small problem.

“Where are they?” She asks.

“Good question. They got away from me a couple months prior to this entire plan you all manifested. But nevertheless. They still owe me. It should be easy to track them down. After all I have their souls and can do what I please with them at any time.” Susan nods at the Devil’s explanation. “I can track them down if need be.” Magica pipes up.

“That would be perfect.” Susan whispers.

“When we find the brothers. All it would take is for me to tell them their objective. Which is to retrieve the book from those toons. And bring them to me.” The Devil said. The man in the trench coat spoke up yet again.

“They would need to approach the group carefully. Go along with them, not startle them.” The man said. Susan nods.

“Heard you loud and clear.”

“I’ll go and track down these brothers.” Magica straightens her shirt before turning to face the Devil. The dice man had yet to speak. More so standing next to his boss with a calculating expression.

Magica had her eyes closed as she furrowed her eyebrows. She was a powerful force. A witch. With powers so ancient and powerful. It wasn’t a surprise how quick she was able to get the location of their supposed ‘minions’.

“They’re in Idaho. Not too far of a drive.” Magica speaks up. Susan grins.

“Well. Off we go! It’s only a matter of time before those toons and that brat get too far!”

“They’re sending hitmans?!” Boris shouts. Tugging at both of his ears. Alice had a hand over her mouth taking in the information that Charley basically had to translate to the group.

“They’re sending someone out to go after the book and kill them…” Alice said slowly. Charley had a hand on his hip as he looked between Boris and Alice.

“Why don’t we just head down there and warn them?” He asks.

“Henry will be looking for us.” Boris answered. And Alice nods. Barley shook his head. “Ah please. The lad is busy gettin’ a headache about that board meetin’ we can leave now maybe make it to Oregon by midnight.” Barley said. Alice raised a finger.

“I have a feeling we should head to Idaho instead. If those brothers are down there, No doubt the others will be.” Alice said. Barley perks up yet again.

“Wait a minute…Charley. Ya’ said somethin’ about nuns?” He asks. Charley looked at Barley and slowly nodded. “Well Eddie did. But yeah. Why?”

“Those boys are in Idaho for a reason. Ed. You said somethin’ about that Devil guy ownin’ their souls. Yeah?”

“Squeak.”

Barley nods at Edgar’s confident answer before looking at the four.

“Well in this city located in the state. There’s this monastery. Filled with nuns. It's an ancient chapel. I remember Wally sayin’ somethin’ about learnin’ in his history class that that monastery has this jewel that can keep away all evil. Spirits and demons. Those boys must have been after that if they’re bein’ chased by the Devil himself.” Barley informed. Alice clasped her hands together. Brilliant! Just the information they needed!

Charley snorts. “Good luck with them thinkin’ anyone would let them inside the sanctuary.” Alice ignored Charley’s statement before she focused her attention on Barley.

“What’s the name of the church?” She asks. But Barley shrugs. “I dunno. Neva’ asked. We could ask Wally. But I doubt he’ll give us an answer without questionin’ why? And I’m pretty sure we should all lay low for now and not run our mouths about all that’s goin’ on.” He said. He was right. Alice wasn’t too upset. At Least they knew that the chapel was in Idaho. That was a start.

“Well..if you think about it. The Devil is also after the others as well…that jewel can come in handy..” Boris said. Charley raised an eyebrow. “You sayin’ Bendy and the others should steal it?”

“Not that!” Boris quickly shook his head. Alice had a look of concentration written on her face. She then furrowed her eyebrows.

“We’re leaving now.” She said. Charley, Barley, Edgar, and Boris all looked at Alice with the same expression. Puzzled and shocked.

“Now?” Charley asks.

“Now.” Alice said. She walked over to the door and opened it. But Charley quickly shot in front of the door and blocked her exit.

“Hey now. Let’s think about this. We have the Devil involved and the government and a witch. Are you sure this is a good idea? Besides. Idaho is hours away from us. And neither of us can leave because everyone will be looking for us.” Charley quickly spilled all of the reality common sense out. But Alice furrowed her eyebrows.

“They need us. I doubt they know those ‘minions’ are after them. Alongside with the Devil himself. This has gotten serious. So everyone let’s go. We have a road ahead of us.” She was serious. A hint of malice dripped in Alice’s voice. Charley stared at Alice. Contemplating. He had no choice. One way or another some sort of altercation would happen.

“Whos car are we takin?” He muttered before moving away from the door.

“Thanks Wally! Love you!” Alice sat in the drivers

Seat as Boris sat in the passenger. Wally stood on the sidewalk watching the toons. Charley muttered under his breath as he slipped in the car. Alongside Edgar and Barley. No bags packed. Just them.

“Okay….uh..when will you be back?” Wally asks. Alice smiled innocently. “Soon! Bye!”

And with that. The car pulled out of the parking lot and down the road. Wally blinked—but he never questioned a thing..good thing his apartment was close by.

“Now. Let’s go get our friends…”

Pushing the doors open. The sound of various people talking. Cigars. Music—jazz and liquor wafted into the air. Y/n looked around and saw toons and humans together in the bar. All dressed in their Pristine clothing. Some at pool tables and booths interacting with one another.

The floor was made of mahogany wood. The dim golden lights after so lightly lighting the room. It had a warm feeling and not a feeling like that dinner that had that odd feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Thought the guy said our guy would be easy to find.” Donald said. He crossed his arms and his eyes looked around the area. There were toons in the building. And the person they were looking for could be any one of them.

“We could ask around.” Panchito piped up. But Donald scoffed. “Not that again!”

“Well. We have no other choice.” Bendy said. He looked around the building. At Least to find a hint of their target. Hopefully they would track the guy down more sooner than later.

“Let’s go sit in the meantime.”

The five had wandered over to an empty booth. And sat down. Feeling the tension in Y/n’s leg let go. Y/n relaxed in the booth and sighed in pure relief. “At Least for sure we won’t get kicked out from here.” Y/n told the four. Panchito and Donald sat across from Y/n. As Oswald sat next to her and Bendy sat next to Oswald. Sitting on the outside of the booth.

Taking the menu and opening it. Y/n absently went over what would be served in the bar. “What time is it?” Donald suddenly asked. Y/n took her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time. 8:14PM

“It’s 8PM.” She groaned. It was so late already! Suddenly the thought of where to sleep appeared in her mind. She looked over Bendy who was looking over at a small crowd of people.

“Bendy. Are we sleeping in a hotel tonight or are we still on the road?” She asks. Bendy turned his attention to Y/n. “Well. We hadn’t exactly found out what we needed from here—not to mention. We still need to find that toon that guy was talking about. More than likely we’ll stay in town for tonight.” He replied. Thank goodness. She didn’t think she could stay cramped up in the front seat much longer.

“So! Oswald. Where have you been for these past couple of years?” Donald asks. Turning his attention to the rabbit.

“I could ask the same for you, pal.” Oswald gave Donald a smile. Donald huffs before placing his head in his palm. “Watching my nephews. It was a headache. But they’re good kids.” Y/n perked up and placed her attention on Donald. “Oh? You have nephews?” She asks with a small smile. Donald nodded at her answer.

“They left with their mother a few weeks ago.” He said. To which Donald and Y/n strikes a conversation. First talking about his nephews talking about living in a boathouse. Which Y/n still saw as interesting. Within a few minutes. The sounds of cheering and laughing and clapping were heard. Causing the group to turn their heads over by the bar.

Bendy had been rubbing his temple as if his head was aching. He stopped when he heard the cheering and looked over to the bar. A toon was standing on the bars tops. From what it seemed to Y/n. He was a cat, with a white face and black fur. He had on a brown button up undershirt..an odd color for a button up. He had on a tanned faux leather bomber jacket. The shoulder pads seemed to be tanned like soft cotton. And the collar of his jacket was a sherpa design. Which also had that soft cotton look. He had on brown dress pants and brown loafers. An odd choice for his outfit. But that wasn’t Y/n’s business.

He also had on a brown cloth fedora hat. Which, now she’s thinking about it... He sort of resembles Indiana Jones. On his hip was a wrapped up rope underneath a yellow Fanny pack that was wrapped around his hips.

“It almost killed me! But I was too quick! It quickly tried to grab onto me with its claws—but. As quick as I was, it only nicked me.” The cat reached down and pulled his button up. Untucking it and lifting it up to show his torso. A healing wound was seen on the side of his torso. Three distinct claw marks ripped into his fur. The wound was pink which made it much more noticeable.

“That’s more than a nick!” One person shouts. The cat only smiles wider.

“Tell us more!” Another shouts. They obviously were intrigued by his story. He must have been the guy that was drawing that crowd over by that bar when they first walked in.

“Yes. Another. Let me buy you a drink lad. You must be thirsty from your last journey!” A man states. But the cat shook his head. Waving his hand he turned down the offer.

“Ah. No thank you sir. The only thirst I have. Is the thirst for adventure!” His statement made the crowd cheer loudly.

“Who is that guy?” Y/n asks as the cheering calmed down enough for her group to hear. Donald was the first to reply. “He’s this archeologist. I only know about him because my uncle reads his books. His name is Felix.” Donald explains. Yet seeing a renowned person was in the same building as him. He didn’t seem too excited though.

“I’ve heard of him too. I think he’s a cool guy.” Oswald said. His eyes still planted on the cat toon. Who was now off the counter speaking to someone. But Bendy didn’t seem too interested in the toon as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “That still doesn't answer our question as to where this person is we’re searching for…” he muttered. Y/n noticed his change in demeanor and energy. She leaned over Oswald slightly and pressed the back of her hand on Bendy’s forehead. The heat coming from his head gave a little warmth to Y/n’s chilled hand.

“Bendy, are you coming down with something?” She asks him. Before he could speak. Y/n removed her hand and spoke once again. “You need to rest. You’ve been up all day. I think it’s best if We all stay in town tonight.” She told the small group. Panchito looked away from the cat and placed his attention on Y/n. “You still have not eaten anything.” He told her. Y/n took in account that she indeed still hadn’t eaten anything. And it would be best to eat before they ventured off to do anything. And now it seemed they had a lot on their plate to get through.

“So. What are you in town for?” One of the patrons of the bar asks the cat. Y/n, Bendy, Oswald, Panchito and Donald looked over back at the bar and saw the cat was sitting on a stool facing a man—most likely no one important but their conversation caught their interest.

“I’m lookin’ for two fellow toons. I ran into them about four days ago because they were looking for something down here—to stop someone—that had something to do with a church I believe. They were talking so quickly I could barely latch onto what they were panicking about. So. I helped them here. Where the church was located. But an hour ago when we got here they were napped. Someone took them when I was off on the street asking for the location of the church.” The cat explained. Despite the sounds of the bar with the clattering dishes and murmured talking from other patrons. The group was able to hear the conversation crystal clear.

The cat must have felt the gaze of the five staring and listening to the conversation. His ear pivoted in the direction of their booth before he turned his head to look at the group. Bendy quickly grabbed the menu and lifted it up towards the end of the table to block his gaze. Using it as some sort of wall. Ducking his head. Y/n, Panchito, Oswald, and Donald followed the same as Bendy as they leaned into the table as if having a group meeting.

“Are we all thinking the same thing?” Y/n asks the toons. Bringing her voice down. Oswald glanced at her before he spoke.

“Well the man down the street did say something about someone looking for kidnapped victims. He might be the person we’re looking for.” Oswald said. Y/n sighed and placed both hands on her face to ease the tension. Why him?

“We can’t have him tag along. He more than certainly knows about the book. He’s a damn archeologist! And if he finds out we have it—lord knows what would happen to us.” She whispered to them. Bendy raised his finger to inject something. “Then again doll, he might know more info about the book than we do.” He said. Donald slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Okay—that’s nice. But what about those kidnapped victims? Are we looking for them..?” He then slowly pivoted his thumb towards Panchito—which he was really motioning towards the direction a few feet away at the bar where Felix was.

“—Or the cat?” He finished.

“Well we can’t look for the people that were taken. We don’t have any information on them. But he does.” Oswald answered Donald’s question. Hinting towards Felix. So making it clear. Felix was the person they were on the search for. And now. Someone they needed to lend a hand maybe for the night.

Bendy sets the menu down and sits properly in his seat. “Well I guess we all can agree that he’s helping us.” Bendy glanced at the group. Which they nodded in agreement. Y/n was about to add something else—about who would go to speak with the cat. But with luck on their side. The cat decided to come around himself.

“Hello!” The five looked at the end of the table and saw Felix was standing by the table. A smile planted on his face as he glanced individually at the group. The group was caught off guard by the cat's sudden appearance—other than Panchito. Who waved in return for his greeting.

Felix continued speaking before he placed his gaze on Bendy. “I notice you’re Bendy, right? From the show?” He asks. And Bendy slowly nods. Odd having someone who travels a lot know about his show—but he didn’t complain.

“I am.”

“Great! Nice to meet you! My name is Felix!” Felix took Bendy’s hand and shook it fiercely. Bendy’s smile twitched before widening. His arm trying to keep pace of the cats shaking.

“Hi, nice ta’ meet you too.” Bendy’s voice wavered and bounced from being shook like a doll. Felix let’s his hand go before digging into his Fanny pack. And pulling out a small notebook—not exactly a big notebook—but one of a size that shouldn’t exactly fit in the Fanny pack.

“I love your show! I find it funny. You know. I watch it from time to time when I’m just lounging around—whenever I get the chance.” As he spoke to Bendy he pulled out a pen from his pack and opened the notebook and passed it to Bendy. “Might I have your autograph if you don’t mind?” He asks.

“I—well—sure.” Bendy didn’t seem to know how to respond. Instead he took the pen and the notebook and wrote it down in the notebook. Felix then looked over and placed his gaze on the three that were staring at the cat.

“I’m assuming you all aren’t from around here?” He asks. Oswald shook his head. “No. Actually. We all aren’t exactly—it’s a long story—“

“We’re on a mission and we’re looking for someone—but we got word they were kidnapped at the last minute and some guy on the streets told us to come to you because you know the people who we are looking for to advance further in our objective. And we didn’t want to really bother you—but we really need to leave town by sunrise because we have a lot to do ahead of us because we’re running from these guys who are out to kill us! And if they find out we’re here—we’re dead a-“ Donald quickly slaps his hand over Panchito’s running mouth. Felix ears perk up—obviously his attention now fully on them.

“Sorry—it’s been a rough day—we..” Donald tried to think of a way to make the group seem less…fugitive-like and…predictable. Y/n could feel herself shrink—she didn’t exactly know what to say. Because either way—with explaining what they needed and who they were looking for a why would result in circling back around to the book—the book that was stolen—and obviously is wanted by various people…for some reason. For all she knows, Felix could potentially be someone that wanted the book like that…man in the trench coat..or. Take them in..either way. There were a lot of options.

Instead of anything hostile. Y/n saw the cat's tail slowly swaying from left to right as a smile appeared on his face.

“Am I glad I ran into you all then.” He said. Oswald lets out a perplexed yet shock noise. “You are..?” He asks slowly. Felix nods. “I’ve been searching for those two for hours. Unfortunately not many people are much help here. But now that I need you and you need me. We can make this easier by finding them. But my question is. What do you need them for? Are they friends?” Y/n knew this question would occur. One way or another. None of them replied. Instead glancing at each other waiting for each other's answer. Donald soon sighed.

“Follow us.”

Thump

Y/n placed the book on the counter. After leaving the bar. Felix led the group to a hotel room he was staying in for the time being. It was small—but comforting and out of reach of anyone else so the group—along with Felix. Can safely discuss amongst each other.

Felix's eyes widened when he saw the book Y/n placed on the counter. His tail wagged quickly as he quickly placed his paws on the book.

“Oh my! How did you all get your hands on this?!” He ran a finger over the embroidery on the leather book. He quickly turned around and looked at the five. He didn’t seem angry, too shocked or scared—but more ecstatic with seeing the book. How on earth did they get it? Y/n held her book bag close to her chest as she watched the cat. Standing next to Panchito, Y/n spoke up—for the first time to Felix.

“Well. It's a long story that we constantly had to repeat—which I’m sure we have to repeat many more times but, we promise we aren’t thieves or anything like that. We’re just doing what the book tells us—damn that sounds bad..” Y/n muttered the last part under her breath. Felix shook his head and smiled.

“No—no. I have so little information and notes on this book. There’s so much to learn about it. I only know the bare minimum.” Felix turned towards the book yet again. He was silent for a moment before he continued speaking.

“It’s a book created eons ago. The story seems like a fairytale. But I assure you. This is all real.” He picked up the book. But didn't try to open it. Instead Felix examined the leather casing on the book. After a few moments of silence. Felix continued talking again.

“This book holds a lot of power. Along with knowledge about life—“ He then turned around and faced the five who were looking at the cat. Felix then pressed a finger in the stitched name on the book.

“Hint the name.” He adds.

“So…it’s about the evolution of life..?” Y/n asks. Felix smiled but shook his head? Y/n was left perplexed. If the book wasn’t about life itself. Then what was the purpose of it?

“No. In fact. I don’t even know the meaning of it! No one does!” He laughs. Which only left Y/n more puzzled. Donald furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?! Aren’t you the guy with the brains? I thought you knew about this thing!” Donald shouts as his hands flew to his head to tug at his feathers. He didn’t take it well knowing how mostly everyone was aimlessly traveling around without a thought in their head. Which Y/n couldn’t blame him.

“Well. All I know is that this book has knowledge of people that it chooses—from my understanding. This book only awakens when great danger is near.” Felix explained. That was something Y/n assumed would be the answer. The book acts as some sort of warning. Hearing Felix say it. Was a relief in an odd way.

“When was the last time the book was awakened?” Y/n asks. Felix lifts a paw. And taps his chin with his claw. A look of contemplation ridden on his face.

“I don’t have a clue. Any sort of information on this book was held from the last holders and—-well they’re not here. All I know is that only the holders of the book are able to access it.” Felix said. He glanced down at the book before glancing back at the group. “Which is you all.”

“The people that were kidnapped. What did they come here for? The book led us to this town.” Bendy asks. Cycling back around to the main reason they all needed Felix. Felix nods firmly before passing the book back to Bendy. Who took it and tucked it under his arm.

“Yes! The brothers. Their names are Cuphead and Mugman. They came here because they were looking for a jewel I believe.” Felix reached into his Fanny pack as he spoke. He quickly pulled out a photo. And showed it to the five. The photo was a picture of a red ruby. Or a jewel. It was perfectly placed on a white pillow for display. Around it seemed to be something reflecting it. Like some sort of glass box was encasing it. Which raised the answer. Was the jewel another artifact?

“They were escaping the Devil—big guy—I don’t know if you all know about him.” Felix adds. Oswald nods as well as Bendy. Panchito, Donald and Y/n only stared at Felix for further information. The Devil? As in..

“Satan?” Y/n asks. Felix furrowed his eyebrows and contemplated yet again. “In a way—yes!” He answered.

“Wha—huh? Wait..are we talking about. Big furry guy? Horns. Yellow eyes? The one that runs a Casino on this small island near the Atlantic? That Devil?” Donald asks. Leaning forward slightly in disbelief. Whoever this guy was. He seemed like someone not to mess with. Felix nods at Donald’s statement.

“I…I apologize. I do not understand who this fellow is.” Panchito pipes up. Y/n looked away from the rooster and over to Felix. “Neither do I. I only know one guy who people referred to as the ‘Devil��. And that’s this weird guy that lives on our street that shaves his back in the morning every Sunday and when he shaves you can see this tattoo of a demon—“ Y/n crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling in thought.

“I think he was a biker…” she looked back at Oswald, Panchito, Donald, Bendy and Felix. Who all gave her a questioning look.

“Every Sunday? Jeez. How fast does that guy's hair grow?” Oswald asks before grimacing at the thought. Y/n rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it…” she muttered. Donald quickly got back on track by placing his gaze back on Felix.

“That doesn't matter. Why would they be running around from the Devil?” He asks. Felix placed the picture back into his Fanny pack and zipped the pack up as he started to speak yet again.

“They never told me. But they seemed to really try and get away. So I helped them. And got them here. Our plan was to find that jewel. That jewel comes from an ancient tomb on this island called Ruby Falls. Though the location doesn't matter. The jewel is here in Idaho. And last I checked in. It was in a convent.” Felix informed. Thank goodness he was a help. A church would be the last thing Y/n suspected to be a part of their journey.

“The jewel works as a shield. Keeping all negative spirits away. Which in all. Means. The Devil wouldn’t be able to touch them as long as they had that jewel with them.” Felix finished. Bendy’s grin wavered before he raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly were they going to get this jewel? Steal it from a bunch of nuns?” He asks.

“That’s something I don’t know! Never got to find that out!” Felix laughs.

“How do we even know these brothers are who we’re lookin’ for?” Donald asks. Turning his direction to his group. “For all we know we would be chasin’ people that we don’t even need.”

“It’s worth a shot. We don’t have much to go off of but this information we have here.” Y/n said.

“In the meantime. You all can stay here tonight?” Felix smiled. But his ears quickly perked up—as if he had just remembered something in the nick of time.

“Oh! I didn’t get your guy’s name! Besides Bendy of course.” Felix walked closer to the group. His attention sets on Y/n first as he lifts a paw and gently takes her hand in his to give a soft shake. “My name is Felix.” He introduces—as if by now Y/n didn’t know his name. The silly gesture caused her to smile. As she felt him shake her hand.

“My name is Y/n. Y/n L/n.” Felix smiled once more. “Nice to meet you, pretty lady.” He said softly. The cat took a moment to take in Y/n features. By surprise Y/n’s smile widened at the action when Felix looked over to Panchito. Who had been standing next to Y/n.

Felix spoke to Panchito, Oswald and Donald. Getting their names and striking an interesting conversation with Panchito and his home in Mexico. Where he explained he lived on a family farm owned by his father. The conversation went before Felix told the group to make themselves at home;

“Sorry for the mess—I didn’t expect guests.” Felix quickly tossed a book bag across the room. Where it landed by a couch. There were only two rooms. The living room. Which was connected to a small walk in the kitchen and bedroom. Which had one bed. Enough room for everyone to sleep for the night. Y/n had wandered over to a window that was by the couch seeing it was pressed against a wall. Peering out the window. She saw they were a few floors up. Maybe the 4th floor or so. But it was a nice view out in the street. The bar was actually across the street from the hotel. Peering down she could see people walking down the street—which begged the question.

“So. What’s up with this town? Weird clothes and stuff..” she asks. Turning around and surprisingly Felix was standing behind her—which she didn’t know. He was holding a blanket and pillow balled in his arms. Hearing the question he leaned over and placed the blankets on the couch.

“Well this town isn’t exactly ordinary to say the least.” He said. Moving to stand next to her he glanced out the window.

“This town likes to keep a tradition—well. If you would call it that. Singing is their passion. Ya’ know. Back then a lot of films had musical numbers and all that jazz. Very happy town I do say so.” That was..some odd information that she didn’t know even existed…

“A real life musical?” She asks. Her eyes glued on him. Felix turned to look at her before nodding. “Yeah! Something like that.”

“How come I haven't seen anyone sing yet?” She asks.

A town that spent their time in joy and ..singing? Certainly that was something she would like to see.

“Oh trust me. You’ll hear it sooner or later. You should head to bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Y/n nods at his statement as Felix turns around to walk off. Still stuck on the fact the town was like a musical film! Certainly she was sure it was down to annoy her friends sooner or later—-mainly hinting towards Donald. But with fatigue now creeping onto her every so slightly. Y/n turned towards the couch. She kicked off her shoes before she placed the book bag down on the floor as well. She sat down on the couch and lifted the blanket and laid it over her shoulders. Looking over she saw Bendy sitting on the floor with a blanket. Along with Oswald, Panchito and Donald. Felix had left his room to give everyone space and quiet.

“What are you guys doing on the floor?” She asks. The four turned their heads away from the TV that was one and held their attention. They looked at Y/n and Bendy spoke up.

“We all can’t fit on the couch.” He said. Y/n glanced at the couch. And he was right. The couch wouldn’t fit five people. Nor was the couch a pullout. But Y/n didn’t want the four to sleep on the floor. Y/n grabbed her blanket and pillow and stood up from the couch before she wandered over to the group and plopped down on the floor as well.

“I guess we’re all sleeping on the floor then.”

“Oh yay! It’s like a slumber party.” Panchito sets his sombrero down away from the group before he nicked Y/n’s blanket and tossed the warm cloth over her and his own form.

“Whatever you all do. Please don’t sleep wild. I don’t need someone’s foot in my face in the mornin’” Donald turned over to lay down. Lifting the blanket to his beak.

And there. They all had their peaceful sleep.

“Now stay ya’ asses quiet, my boss’ll be here soon.” Doug fixed his tie on his blazer. Walking away from the cage Cuphead and Mugman were still seated in.

Cuphead seemed to have run out of energy to shout at the two toons. Moving his eyes from Doug who had his back turned to the cage. Fixing his tie and speaking to another toon—or henchman—what Cuphead was now referring to them to. Soon Doug turned around and looked at Jack who was standing around idly.

“Put the cage on the carrier and take it to the next room.” Doug told Jack who had snapped from out of the dazed expression and nodded quickly

Jack stumbled over to the cage picking it up and putting it on the carrier. “Yes sirrrrr!” Jack drawled. Doug then snapped his fingers impatiently. “Hurry! The lady will pay us handsomely when she sees those two!”

Cuphead and Mugman shuffled slightly at the sudden movement of Jack pushing the cart. Cuphead yelped as he tipped over and crashed into Mugman. Causing Mugman to get stuck between the bars of the cage and Cuphead. Mugman wheezes before shoving Cuphead’s form off him with a heavy groan. Cuphead muttered before he watched Jack pushing the carrier to another room in the warehouse.

“Where are you taking us?” Mugman asks, placing his hands on the bar to look at Jack. Who then sniffed and wiped his nose momentarily.

“The garage area. It’s where all my friends are.” Jack replied. Cuphead punched Mugman’s shoulders. Mugman rammed into the cage at the impact. A painful expression written on his face. “Ow! What was that for?!” Mugman hissed at Cuphead.

“Don’t talk to him.” Cuphead nonchalant in response.

“But you talked to him earlier!” Mugman pouts.

“Correction. I was trying to be condescending, you’re tryin’ to make pal-pal with this idiot.” Cuphead whispered to Mugman. Grabbing Mugman by his shoulder to speak to him more closely.

Mugman gasped softly—rather dramatically—and furrowed his eyebrows. “Cuphead...that’s not nice.” He said. Cuphead gave him a blank expression before looking at Jack.

“What’s 2 plus 4 Jack?”

“Negative 7!”

Cuphead looks at Mugman. Who still had his gaze on him. But he didn’t seem to care about the fact that Jack completely got a math question wrong. The two were interrupted by the sound of metal doors flinging open. The two cup brothers faced forward as the cage entered the new room. The fluorescent lights illuminated the room as the cage was placed down. Cuphead and Mugman’s expression immediately deadpanned at the sight of various figures.

“Well—howdy doo!” Zip cackled. Shooting from behind a man cloaked in a trench coat. Cuphead didn’t pay attention to the shadow like toon. And turned his gaze over to a figure he was very familiar with.

“Ah! Dice. Long time no see—is that a new mustache?” Cuphead smiled. Standing up—more crouching in the cage before he wrapped his hands around the bars in front of him to look at Dice. Dice didn’t respond as he held a stoic expression—before rolling his eyes.

“Out of all people…” he mutters.

Mugman looks away from Dice and the odd man in the trench coat to see a woman. She wore a black dress—flats—a sharp gaze settled on the two—next to her was a duck toon. Raven black hair. Dark eyes—and a black dress..what an odd group…

“Country boys…” the duck’s voice was stained with disdain. She sighed before shaking her head. Cuphead could hear the disgust in the ducks before he placed his gaze back on her and sneered.

“Why are we here?” Cuphead skipped the jokes and introduction as he glowered at the group.

“You two have a pretty simple job.” Dice finally speaks up. Mugman shivered slightly. They were dead they were dead they were dead—they are going to die!

“No.” Cuphead responds. Mugman immediately shoots up from his seated position and covers Cuphead’s mouth.

“I—he means—what—what is the—what’s the offer?” Mugman stammered. But Cuphead didn’t budge. He pushed Mugman’s hand away and pointed at Dice.

“And I said no! We—“

“You—“ Mugman quickly added as he nervously grinned at Dice. Cuphead then points his thumb to his chest harshly—pointing to himself.

“I’ve had enough of these games! Just let us go! We want nothing to do with you nor that crybaby Devil either!” He shouts. Susan smiled before looking at King Dice. “That’s one fiesta cup.” She chuckled. King Dice rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it…” he muttered.

“Well. If you won’t listen to me. Listen to him.” King Dice raised a hand. Placing his middle finger to his thumb in a motion of snapping.

“Crap…” Mugman mutters. And with a snap of his fingers. The two felt the ground leave their shoes and into the dark—hot world.

“AAAAAAAH!!!”

Crash!!

Laying flat on his face. Cuphead lets out a heavy yet pain filled groan. His arms sprawled out and his shoes almost beat touching his head. Mugman on the other hand was caught by his shirt by a long appendage. Mugman had his eyes covered. His body curled into himself as if he were cowering from the ground he thought would be his demise. Cuphead’s gaze slowly left the red dusted colored stone ground—he squints as he gazed around his surroundings—almost familiar to a cave—humid—hot—real hot…

Cuphead’s blurred gaze soon landed on Mugman—who had yet to uncover his eyes. Cuphead heaved himself up as he stared up at Mugman. His blurry eyes soon subsided and his eyes trailed over to what had caught Mugman by his shirt. Tracing the long black appendage which soon landed on the imp that stood still—gleaming down at Cuphead with its bright fierce golden eyes. The Devil.

“You gots to be kiddin’ me…” Cuphead whispered to himself. The Devil’s ear twitched and his tail slowly lowered to the ground. Placing Mugman on his feet. Once Mugman felt the ground beneath his shoes he brought his hands down slowly and glanced over at the Devil with frightened furrowed eyebrows.

“Long time no see you two.” The Devil grins widely. Cuphead sneers before he takes several steps to the Devil. Pointing an index finger up at the imp.

“Now you listen here! I have answers that need questions!” He shouts. The Devil immediately deadpans and rolls his eyes.

“I believe you mean questions that need answers…” he corrects the cup. Cuphead sputters before glaring yet again at the Devil.

“What’s the big idea! What do you need from us? We’ve done what you’ve asked the last time—I told ya! Our deal with you—is off. It’s over!” Cuphead shouts. Mugman rubs his forehead in an anxious manner.

“Cuphead—stop.” Mugman grunts. But Cuphead didn’t listen.

“You two still owe me one more deal. That was our agreement. 3 deals. You’ve done two so far. And this shall be your last objective for me. And it is important.” The Devil explained calmly. Placing his hands behind his back. His golden eyes looked at the two in an attentive manner. The corner of Cuphead’s lip twitched as he gleamed up at the imp.

“No more deals.” He repeats. Though the Devil smiled—he’d expected this from the hardheaded cup. The Devil lifts a hand and points at Mugman—who had yet to speak. Mugman felt himself shrink under the Devil’s gaze. “You’ll do this deal—or you’ll lose him. The choice is yours.” He calmly said. Cuphead glanced over at Mugman. Mugman raised his eyebrows.

“Wait—who me? Huh?” Mugman sputters. Placing a hand on his chest. “Death is inevitable for everyone. But I can and will take something precious away from you Cuphead if you don’t comply. As said this is your last deal and you two won’t have to hear or see from me ever again.” The Devil said. Cuphead sighed through his nose harshly.

“But if you don’t. Mugman will die. I do own you both after all—but on the bright side! Haha! Hey! After you two finish this deal. You two won’t be owned by me anymore! This is a win-win deal here!” The Devil lets out an airy laugh. Mugman shuffled under his feet.

“What do we have to do?” Cuphead asks. The devils ears perked up. “All you have to do. Is take and eliminate.” He answers.

“Wait—no! We can’t—no!” Mugman rushes between the Devil and Cuphead. Spreading his arms to intervene. Mugman then looks at the Devil.

“We can not do that! We can’t kill anyone! I apologize—but this is way out of me and Cuphead’s bargain—“

“We’ll do it.” Cuphead replied. The Devil hummed before looking at Mugman. Mugman sighed before shoving Cuphead away and fully facing The Devil.

“I can’t..I can’t do that—I—I can’t just hurt someone.” Mugman pleads.

“Why Mugman I didn’t even tell you if they were even good or not! For all I know I could be sending you two to take out one of the world's most wanted criminals!” The Devil laughs. Mugman frowns. “I can guarantee you that they more than likely aren’t.” Mugman said. The Devil grins before nodding.

“You’re right. They aren’t.” He chuckled. Cuphead soon spoke up. “Like I said. We’ll do it. What do we need to do.” Cuphead went back to the topic at hand. And the Devil wasted no time.

“A book. You two are off to capture a book. You will retrieve that book and bring it back to me. As for the people that are holding the book. You will take someone by the name of Oswald. And kill one person—she’s a useful source that needs to be stopped.”

“And her name is Y/n L/n.”

Y/n felt her nose twitch. It felt like something was crawling on her nose. The light touch on the tip of her nose felt soft. But caused her nose to twitch yet again. She furrowed her eyebrows and lifted a hand to rub at her nose. But was met with something soft. Her eyes fluttered open. The smell of something sweet wafted in the air. But her focus was more on touching her nose to see what it was that was bothering it.

To Y/n’s surprise; it was Oswald’s ear. The rabbit was asleep. And his ears must have flopped over in her direction. Y/n places a hand on his ear to gently move it away. The sudden feeling over his ear caused him to awaken. His onyx eyes slowly and heavily opened. He must have been awfully tired. He smiled at her softly and Y/n returned the smile.

“I made breakfast.” Y/n flinched at the sound of Felix’s voice. As well as Oswald. The two glancing above them to see Felix hovering over them. Arms behind his back with a smile.

“So. First thing we need to do ask around town if they found any details last night about—“ Y/n ignored Felix and was busy stuffing her mouth with the pancakes he made—she didn’t know if the fluffy pancakes were so delicious because she was yearning for food for the past several hours or if they really were just some really good pancakes. Panchito watched Y/n as he held his fork. A smile stretched on his beak. Boy was she eating fast!

But Felix hadn’t noticed as he was busy going over today’s routine with everyone—which actually mostly consisted of Bendy listening to him. Donald was trying not to drift back off to sleep. As he had the bottle of syrup in his hand. The syrup substance had long over spilt on his plate and was now dripping on the counter. Oswald hadn’t eaten his pancakes—he must not have been hungry. But overall..majority of them were distracted and weren't listening to a damn thing Felix was saying.

“So!” Felix clapped his hands. Causing Donald to jump in his seat and quickly place the syrup bottle upright and put his attention on Felix, Panchito and Y/n to quickly place their attention on Felix and Oswald to snap daydreaming and place his attention on Felix as well. Felix thought he had their attention the whole time. Smiled with glee.

“You all got that? That’s the plan!” He says. Bendy looked at the four. He could tell they didn’t take in a single thing of info.

“Okay. I think it would be best if we all would split up.” Felix said as he looked at his wrist watch. He and the group stood on the pavement. In the early hours. It was around Looking away from his wrist watch he looked at the group. Counting before nodding. “Luckily we have an even group.” He says.

“Oh! Can we pick our partners?” Panchito asks. And Felix nods—“well of course.” He said in the background as Panchito hops over to Y/n and hooked his arm around hers. Y/n smiled as she stood next to Panchito as the others took their partners as well. Bendy went with Felix and Oswald went with Donald. An even group—thankfully.

Leaving out Panchito practically was skipping down the sidewalk in joy. Y/n scrolled through her phone for a mere few minutes before she placed it in her pocket and looked over at Panchito.

“You think we’ll even find them in town?” She asks. Panchito took a moment to think. “Ah—a slim chance. We'd have already run into them by now.” He replies.

“But. I’m more on the optimistic side.” He smiled at her and Y/n smiled back—their characteristics should be too hard to see as the brothers—from what Felix explained—literally had cups for heads. So they would be easy to spot. Rounding the corner. As Panchito and Y/n were in a deep conversation—Y/n accidently ran into someone. Not paying attention. Y/n was gladly able to keep her balance, opening her eyes that she didn’t realize she closed on the impact. She looked in front of her to see who she had accidentally ran into. Not before placing a hand on her forehead after feeling the pain starting to travel on her forehead. She must have run into them pretty hard.

Standing in front of her was a toon. Also holding his forehead—his head was as shaped as a ceramic pale gray cup. He had a red nose and wore a black dress shirt with brown shorts. He held his eyes closed as he muttered under his breath—damn. She must have run into him pretty hard.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.” Y/n sheepishly apologized. Removing her hand from her forehead. The toon slowly opened his eyes and looked at both Panchito and Y/n. He held a sour expression but that was until he took a moment to stare at Y/n.

“Oh—uh—No. I’m sorry—I should have been payin’ attention.” He apologizes, speaking slowly as if he were unsure. As for Y/n it were as if a brick was tossed at her face to bring her back to reality. Wait.

“What’s your name?” They both ask in unison. Both Cuphead and Y/n put on a surprised expression. Cuphead quickly then replied. “My name is Cuphead.” He replied. Y/n felt her heart leap in her throat. Well what do ya know?! Look at how quick they were able to find one of the brothers! How long have they been just wandering around town?

Gasping slightly. Y/n smiled. “Hey! Aren’t we glad we ran into you—me and a couple of friends of mine have been looking for you and your brother.” She explained. And Cuphead couldn’t wipe the look of awe off his face—what is he supposed to do now?! He can’t just kill the poor girl. Not to mention—

“You’re pretty!” He nervously exclaims. Y/n stopped talking slowly as she stared at him before she smiled yet again. “Oh—thank you.”

“Qué nombre tan extraño…” Panchito mumbled under his breath. As he stood beside Y/n and gazed upon Cuphead.

Panchito then softly nudges Y/n’s arm.

“No. No sé de él.” Panchito told her before putting his gaze on Y/n. Y/n looks away from Cuphead and to Panchito.

“What’s wrong?” She asks him. Panchito grabs Y/n by her arms softly and directs her to face the opposite direction of Cuphead. “I don’t know about him.” Panchito lowered his voice for only him and Y/n to hear. The sound of various footsteps and murmured voices of people in the town were seemingly muffled to Y/n’s ears.

Cuphead stood behind the two. His eyes found sight of Y/n’s book bag that she had strapped around her shoulders—more than likely he assumed that’s where she kept the book.

“Why?” Y/n asks Panchito. “Do you think it is odd that we spent hours last night searching for him and his brother and no sight? And seemingly we now run into them?” He asks. Which. Y/n agreed. The town wasn’t that big from the looks of it. They should have ran into the brothers hours ago last night—but then again—seemingly they were kidnapped. And Cuphead didn’t show any sign of stress from being taken—then again she knew nothing about Cuphead nor his brother.

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” Y/n muttered.

“Hey—sorry to interrupt—“

Y/n and Panchito both flinched at the sight of Cuphead standing in front of them.

“But. Do you two know Felix? The guy we came to town with.”

DING!

“OH! Look! Oswald! Look!” Donald points at the game stand in front of the two—Oswald looked away from whatever he was gazing at and looked over to Donald and then the stand his friend had been playing at. The two managed to come across a small fair in town. A few stalls held games and unfortunately Donald grew distracted and started to play the silly game—tossing the baseball in a bucket—much to Oswald's mind it didn’t interest him.

“You’ve played this 3 times already Donald.” Oswald told him. Donald looks at the stall and back at Oswald. “You must be the fun guy at parties.” Donald grunts before he walks past Oswald and down the dirt path. A few people walked by to have fun on their own at the fair. Oswald's ears perked up slowly before looks behind him. He then started walking slowly—following after Donald.

“Is it just me. Or do you have this weird feelin?” Oswald asks. Donald opened his eyes after walking with his eyes closed for a few seconds. He had an expression of contemplation on his face. Before he dismissed the thought. “You think always like that.” He grins triumphantly. Maybe in a way to get back at Oswald’s last remark. Oswald blinks before squinting his eyes. “No I don’t.” Oswald quickly reputed.

“I’m joking..” Donald laughs. The two walked down the fair, the sound of murmured voices and games wafts in the background.

“But really. You hadn’t told me anything about what you’ve had going on.” Donald picks up. Oswald looks at Donald. “Well..nothing too exciting happened lately.” He started before looking ahead of the two again. Oswald’s ears slowly flattened. “Just been hangin’ around.” He finished. Donald’s tail feather flickered as he looked away from Oswald. When he knew Oswald the rabbit was very outgoing and straightforward. But he couldn’t find the sense in himself to keep pestering the rabbit.

Trying to think of another topic to push aside the now awkward silence—before Donald could say anything. Oswald turned his gaze back on Donald. “I’m sorry I left suddenly.” He said abruptly. Donald looks at Oswald as the two slowly start to trail off with their walking before standing still.

“I’ve…been meaning to tell you that for years—and the others of course. But more importantly you because well—you were always there.” His voice was quiet but Donald could still understand and hear every word that came from Oswald’s mouth.

“I feel horrible for what I said and—and I didn’t mean it—Especially not towards you—I was angry and sad and at times I can’t really control that because…” Oswald trailed off. His ears felt flat against his head before reaching a hand up to wringe nervously at his ear. “A lot has happened when you and the others were away that I tried to get myself through and I couldn’t..” he trailed off yet again and Donald felt himself frown.

“Oswald. You don’t need to apologize. I’m always here to talk. What ha—“

Pew!

THUD!

A light blue light of energy whizzed between Donald and Oswald. Oswald’s ears quickly shot up. As Donald quaked in fear before jumping away from Oswald.

“Bettigan! Don’t do that!” Shouts a voice. Oswald and Donald quickly shoot their heads over to see 3 figures. A lanky stack of casino chips. In a western get up outfit holding onto the wrist of a cup headed figure. With a blue nose black sweater and blue shorts. Floating in the air was black 8 ball.

“HAHAHA! THat was funny! You almost got em’ Mugs!” Shouts the 8-ball as he cackled.

“That’s not funny. You almost caused a scene you nut!”

“Is that…?” Oswald whispered. Donald slowly nods. “I think.”

“Should we?—“

“Run!” Donald dashed past Oswald and grabbed onto the rabbit's wrist and dragged him down the fair.

“Hey. They’re gettin’ away!” The 8 ball cried out. Mugman looks away from Bettigan—one of the few partners he was assumed to be before looking over at where Donald and Oswald stood.

“Come on your idiots!” Bettigan laughs before he runs after the two in the general direction they headed. Mugman and Mangosteen followed after Bettigan.

“I thought he was on our side!” Donald shouts as the two run out of the fair and back into town. Oswald huffs before throwing his hands in the air. “I did too!”

“Do we find Felix!?” Donald asks.

“We need to find So—OW!” Oswald’s ears dropped low to steer clear from the blue peashooter that whizzed past them yet again. Donald looks behind them to see the three were indeed after them—the town didn’t seem to take heed that the peashooter was a dangerous weapon as it didn’t seem dangerous at all. So they kept on with their day.

Oswald soon ran into someone knocking the two onto the ground. “Ow! Hey!” That voice! Looking down he saw Y/n who had squinted her eyes from the sudden impact.

“Oh. There you two are.” Panchito stops walking as he turns around to see Oswald quickly shooting from the ground dragging Y/n along with him. Cuphead stopped walking as well but didn’t face the group as he saw Bettigan, Mangosteen and Mugman running over. Mostly Bettigan holding Mugman by his handle and Mugman holding a sour expression.

“Run! Go!” Donald shouts as he shoves Panchito with him. “What’s going on?!” Y/n said as Oswald took her wrist and they jogged off with Panchito and Y/n.

“Hey! You didn’t get the girl?! I just saw her!” Bettigan said as he skids to a stop to stand in front of Cuphead. Cuphead sends a glare to the cowboy. “I was going to you idiot!” Not entirely true.

“They’re gettin’ away. The girl has the book.” Cuphead picked up Mugman from Bettigan and placed his brother on the ground.

“Are ya’ sure?” Bettigan asks. Cuphead nods. “Yes! It’s in her book bag. But I wants the girl. You all stay away from er’” he sneers as he eyed Mangosteen and Bettigan.

“What? Why—“

“I said so! Now go catch that rabbit!”

“Aye aye. Capn’” Mangosteen cackles before In a blink of an eye that magical 8 ball vanished in thin air.

The four ran down the sidewalk—that surprisingly didn’t have many people as it was still the early morning.

“Where is Bendy and Felix?!” Y/n shouts as the four rounded the corner. “Don’t know! The town is small, sure we’ll run into them.” Donald shouts.

“Okay! New plan! Forget the last plan! Keep the book safe! And don’t die!” Oswald shouts. Panchito smiled. “Sounds delightful!”

Soon a black dot formed in front of the two. Two eyes rolled around as well as a smile forming an 8 ball with a face?

The 8 ball opened his mouth and a light illuminated within its mouth and a loud vibrating sound hummed as if some sort of weapon was starting up. As the sound got louder the light grew brighter and brighter. The four took wind that they needed to stop running. The four skidded to a stop just as they were about to get too close to the 8 ball. A light of energy soon shot from the 8 balls mouth and landed on the sidewalks creating a small explosion. Unfortunately being too close and not having enough time to react. The impact caused a powerful force and Y/n flew back. Not knowing whenever the others were she felt herself land somewhere soft.

“Hey—I know this is sudden—“ quickly opening her eyes she was face to face with Cuphead who held a nervous grin. Y/n shrieks before swinging her fist and it collides with Cuphead’s temple—unbeknownst of her his cup head was..well actually a cup. And the solid ‘tink!’ Made that known as the pain surged through her hand and through Cuphead’s head. “Ow!” He shouts as his hands fly up to his head. Y/n fell to the ground and immediately scurried away. Tripping over her shoes she ran past Cuphead and across the street where she thankfully didn’t get hit by any passing cars.

“No wait!” Cuphead shouts before groaning heavily in frustration.

Donald quacks in fear as he runs in the opposite direction. Taking Oswald by his ears and Panchito by the collar of his shirt. Dragging the two—more so Oswald. Donald ran the opposite direction to avoid the 8 ball.

“Who are these people?!” Donald shouts. As Panchito ran beside him. “Ow! Let go of my ears!” Oswald cried out as Donald shoved the two in an alleyway—Panchito heaves before turning around.

“Ah! Where is Y/n?!”

Y/n ran down an alleyway. Hopping over forgotten garbage and trash bags. She heard footsteps behind her and she felt her heart leaping in her chest. She was going to die! She was going to DIE!

She skids around a corner and sees a dead end. A garbage dump against the brick wall. If she could hop that she could get to the roof!

“Fuck am I thinking?!” She quickly disputed the thought. She couldn’t do that—she wasn’t in a movie. This was real life! She panicked as she heaved out of breath to try and catch her breath. She paced back and forth until she heard the sounds of the footsteps getting closer. Turning around she spotted Cuphead.

He heaved and tried to catch his breath as he frowned. “Jeez—you’re fast—“ he heaved. Y/n quickly stooped down and picked up a few rocks and pebbles. She quickly yet harshly threw one at the toon and it hit him in his face—some landing on him as some didn’t. Cuphead flinched and raised his hands up.

“Ow! Listen! Ow! Stop! I’m not here to hurt y—ow! I don’t wanna hurt you! I’m just here for the book!” He shouts. The minute he mentioned the book. Y/n felt herself jerk backwards. The familiar tug caused her to drop the rocks in shock. Her shoes slightly lifted from the ground from the book now awakening in her book bag and the dumpster vibrated and echoed at the impact of her shoes.

“No—no-no.” Y/n quickly tried to run past Cuphead—but the book dragged her back over to the toon—undoubtedly running into Cuphead sending the two to the ground.

“Ow!”

“What was that?!”

The two shouts. Y/n quickly got up before turning to face the streets and running off yet again. “HEY!” Cuphead shouts.

Y/n almost tripped over a stroller a mother was pushing. Y/n glanced over her shoulder and shouted a quick apology to the mother. “Sorry!”

Looking back ahead. Y/n tried glancing around the town for her friends but to no sight she didn’t see anyone. Breathing heavily through her nose. Y/n looking over on the porch of a house. There sat. Water gun. Not a weapon but she was sure it would come in handy. Her fight or flight mode was kicking and she was desperate for survival and protection. Grabbing the toy gun she ran down the sidewalk and looking around.

“Guys!” She shouts in spite of catching the attention of her friends—but instead. Catching the attention of a certain cowboy.

“Well looksy here!” Bettigan shouts. Y/n stops jogging before turning around and spotting the toon. Bettigan flicks his hat up and grins at Y/n. “Put em up—cow girl—“ he demands. Y/n blinks as she shuffled on her feet. The sidewalk had little to no one to hide behind but she still felt crowded. She quickly lifts the toy gun up and glares at the opposing opponent. “Stay back!” She shouts!

Bettigan stared at Y/n for a moment before reaching to his side and pulling out a pistol—in fact..it was real. Not ever having a weapon pointed at her. Y/n—like a wimp. Dropped the toy gun and raised her hands up in fear.

“Drop the bag.” The gun motioned for Y/n to turn around. But Y/n felt her mind go foggy. HOW WAS NO ONE SEEING THIS?!

“Come on now..drop it.” Y/n slowly took the book bag off her shoulders before placing it on the ground. Bettigan smiled—but before he could talk. Something whizzed in the air and knocked the pistol from his grip.

“Bettigan! I told ya’ don’t kill her! What are y—“

“You idiot I had her right there she has the bag in the ground!” Y/n saw Cuphead walk over pointing his index finger at Bettigan’s chest out of fits of anger.

“She’s right there!” Bettigan motions over to Y/n. Only to find.

“Where did she go?” Bettigan muttered.

Y/n tripped over her shoes as she rounded yet another corner. She rushes past a street where a quiet neighborhood resides. On the whim she heard two voices! One she was familiar with.

“Hey! Watch the horns!” It was Bendy!

Y/n skids to a stop and looks down the street. Standing on the side of a building was a tall lanky figure. He was furry, dark and…his horns were large and he had Bendy by his tail. Bendy hung upside down as he gazed up at this creature.

“Where’s the rabbit?” The creature asks. Y/n could only see the back of the creature and see Bendy being held. Y/n wasted no time before she ran over. Picking up a rock from the ground and chucking it in the air.

“Put him down!!!” She shouts. The rock hits the creature at the back of its head. It was a hard hit but not enough to deter the creature. But enough to make him turn around and gaze over his shoulder to the girl. It’s yellow eyes pierced into Y/n’s form.

Yellow eyes, black fur, horns.

“Oh shit…” she whispered.

The Devil drops Bendy before turning to Y/n. Bendy soon scurried away from the creature and over to Y/n. His arm looping around Y/n’s waste and picking the girl up to run from the neighborhood.

“What are you nuts?! You just hit the Devil!” Bendy shouts at her. Y/n frowned as she looks over Bendy’s

Shoulder—not seeing the creature anymore.

“I didn’t know that was him!” She cried out in fear. Bendy slowly stops running as he looks around frantically.

“Do you still have the book?” He asks her. Y/n felt him put her down. “Yeah, where’s Felix?” Y/n asked. Bendy looks back at her. “I dunno. The guy wandered off. No wonder he lost the twins!” Bendy sneered. Y/n breathed heavily trying to grasp onto her breathed as she looked around.

“I can’t find the others.” Y/n huffed

“Me ei—“

“a…a…a…a..” a distant scream echoed in the air.

Y/n and Bendy looked at each other as they heard the distant screaming grow closer.

“aaaaaAAAAAAAAHH!!!” Oswald had soon flown into Bendy and Y/n and the three had unfortunately rammed into a glass pane window of a store; the glass shattered into shards as the three fell into the store. A few screams of the pediatricians pierced the air. And Y/n felt wind get knocked from her lungs. Y/n rolled on the ground. The glass shards sticking to her shirt, pants and bag, Bendy groaned in pain as Oswald did as well. The sound of feet slapping the concrete grew closer.

“Guys! Are you okay?!” It was Donald. Y/n felt her eyes go blurry from the sudden impact. She groaned at the feeling of air not being able to properly cycle around her lungs. Soon Panchito and Donald hopped into the store through the broken glass. Donald reached down and helped Y/n up. Y/n groaned as she stood up slowly. Closing her eyes to help regain her balance.

Oswald slowly got up as Panchito looked down at Oswald. A few cackled and laughs echoed in the air—similar to being surrounded by a pack of hyenas. Y/n opened her eyes to see Bettigan, Mangosteen, Cuphead and she assumed his brother Mugman was standing in front of the broken glass pane. A few imp like creatures with different shades of red fur—there had to be at least 8 imp creatures that stood next to the now villainous people that weren’t on their side.

Mangosteen had yet again opened his mouth—like how he did to throw the energy ball at them earlier—but instead. Y/n felt herself slightly lift from the ground and her book bag unzipped and the book soon slipped from the bag leaving Y/n to tumble to the ground. Bendy had caught her and held her by her waist.

“No!” Y/n protested as the book floated over to the group. “Nice running around. I’ll give you all that.” The western cowboy—Bettigan praised. His voice was deep and husky. The book was an arms length away from him as he reached out to grab the book. But instead;

Whip!

A thick lasso rope embraced around the book. With a tug the book was pulled away from the beam of energy that was pulling it closer to the opposing group—being snatched off the go side where it landed in the hands of Felix. Felix stood in the doorway entrance of the store. A couple of customers cowered behind a shelf that stood next to him.

“I don’t think so.” Felix smiled at Bettigan. Bettigan huffed before pointing at the group. “Get em!”

With a blink of an eye. Donald, Y/n, Panchito, Bendy, Oswald and Felix dashed from the store. Almost tripping over her feet. Y/n ran down the sidewalk with her friends to seemingly nowhere—their main objective was to just get away from their opposing team.

“Where are we going?!” Y/n shouts as she and the others found themselves on the main street of the town once again.

“I don’t know!” Felix shouts—but he didn’t seem to sense the danger they were in. Instead enjoying the cat and mouse chase that ensued. He then grunts before looking down at his hands where he held the book.

“Ow! Hey—it’s burning me!” Felix said curiously. He tossed the book over to Y/n and she caught it. “Maybe it—AH!”

Y/n was dragged back, her arms being tugged harshly by the book. It lifted her from the ground with great strength. Y/n shrieks as she feels herself seemingly get tossed backwards and ramming into someone.

“Ow!” Shouts a voice but she couldn’t match the voice to the face as she and the person fell and rolled on the ground—rolling in a few summersaults from the impact. With adrenaline pumping she didn’t take much time to get up as she did the first couple of times. Sitting up and looking over. She was met face to face with an exhausted looking Mugman.

“Ah!” The two scream before backing away from each other. Her back hits the car that was parked off to the side of the street.

“Gotcha! You brat!” Y/n felt someone take ahold of her hood and lift her up yet again. She sunk into her jacket and aimlessly kicked and tossed her legs. “Ah! Let me go!” She protested. Swinging her arms back, try and hit whoever had her hold by her hood. Looking off to the side she saw the book laid aimlessly on the ground in the middle of the street.

“Mugman! Get the book and take it to Mango! I’ll deal wit’ da girl!” An accented voice shouts. Mugman stared at Y/n momentarily before he slowly backed away and scurried off towards the book. Y/n was dropped to the ground. She fell to her knees and before she had the time to get up and run off. She was grabbed by her shoulders and flipped around onto her back. A foot pressed into her torso. She gazed up at the person to see that they were a toon. A fox toon in a red suit. He looked to be some sort of pimp.

“Alright Noid. Heard ya’ve been givin’ my boss problems.” He sneered. Leaning down as his nose pressed against Y/n’s. Y/n glared at the toon. “I dunno who you’re talking about! I don’t even know what you guys are after us for!” She shouts.

“The book! Where’s the rabbit?” He got to the point. Y/n was silent for a moment as she stared up at him. “Oswald?” She asks.

“Yes, him—“

“What makes you think I’ll tell you!” She tried to swing at the fox. But he backed away before her fist could make an impact on his face. He holds his belly and laughs boisterously. “HAHAHAHA! OH man! You’re too good kid!” He laughs. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a pistol.

“Too bad you gotta be put out da’ picture.” He aims the gun at Y/n. Y/n wheezed slowly as she saw the weapon. Her fingertips running cold. She was going to die! She tried to sink into the concrete road away from the barrel. She could see the black hole pointing at her eye. But before the fox could pull the trigger. A loud thud was heard above Y/n. The creaking off a car and the alarm on the car went off—letting her know something heavy must have landed on it. The fox lowers the gun and looks up.

An animalistic growl rumbled the ground and Y/n shivered at only thinking what creature was there to kill her now?! She slowly moves her head to roll her eyes back to glance behind her. She only could see a large silhouette crouching on the alarmed car. She didn’t wasn’t to move too much in fear of having that fox toon wanting to quickly finish the job and shoot her.

“Let. Her. Go.” It was no one she was too familiar with. It couldn’t be any of her toon friends. Y/n cursed under her breath

But instead the fox's ears lowered as he lifted his foot from Y/n’s torso. “Go on. Take the girl.” He retaliated. Or so what Y/n assumed he did. The creature took a step from the car. And Y/n could feel purgatory chanting her names. She was going to die. She should have listened to her mom! Just stay in the house! This was crazy! She didn’t even know what she was doing! Should she just give them the book?!

“Whoa!”

Thud!

Whoever the big and bad creature was must have taken a step too wide and fell off the car. And fell face first into the ground. Deciding to take a look at this mystery hero. Y/n slowly sat up and saw;

“Boris?” She asks slowly. The wolf had landed on his chin, ears dropped low as he looked at her. His body arched over his head as he gave her a flustered smile.

“Ah…hey Y/n—“

“AAHAHAHA! This?! This is supposed to be the big wolf?!” The fox hurled over and laughed, arms curled over his stomach as he laughed hysterically.

“You—YOU HAD ME THERE FOR A SECOND!” He laughs. Boris’s attempts to try and spook the fox clearly almost had the enemy—but with one silly move caused Boris’s plan to fail.

As the fox laughed. Y/n quickly pushed the fox away from her, causing the toon to fall into the car behind him. She scurried off the ground and rushed over to Boris. Grabbing his arm and tugging him up—with how heavy he was her tugs meant nothing—but Boris thankfully was quick as he stood up and towered over her—she never realized how tall the wolf was—but thinking more on that later. She and Boris ran down the street away from the fox who just then got back up and shouted curses at the two.

“Where did you come from?!” Y/n shouts. She smiled at the wolf who ran next to her with a silly grin. Without taking notice. He closed his eyes and started to explain. “Well! Alice decided it would be best if we—“ Boris was cut short by running smack dead into a light pole. He stood stiff as a board. His ear twitched as his two eyes were replaced with X’s

“Didn’t…see that…sign…” he wheezed. Y/n skids to a stop as she looks forward to seeing that wandered into a construction sight. Looking at the sign that Boris inadvertently ran into she saw it had a black photo of a sewer hole. Boris staggered as he held his head.

“Oh my…” he whimpered. He seemed like he was about to fall.

“Hey! You two can’t be over here.” A construction worker warned. Y/n saw Boris falling back. She gasped and tried to stop the wolf from falling but he was far too heavy. She pressed her back into Boris’s but he already seemed to be knocked out unfortunately when turning the opposite direction to hoist Boris up. She noticed the open sewer hole a toe length away the black darkness was calling her name to just fall in.

“NO!” She shouts.

“Yes!” Y/n quickly looks up to see that flying 8-ball again. Gasping she stiffened at the sigh of the creature.

“Boris! WAKE UP!” Y/n legs gave out as she then fell into the sewer hold. With Boris limply falling in after. His foot had kicked an abandoned street sign and it flew in the air before falling into the sewer hole with Y/n’s descending screams. Mangosteen blinks before reaching a hand up to his chin (?)

“Wow—she’d much rather toss herself in a sewer line then be up here with me?” He seemed hurt genuinely as he frowned.

“…”

“OH WELL! Time for some brutal murder!” He cackled before floating over to the sewer hole and falling in as well. The construction worker blinked slowly and furrowed his eyebrow. Before he rolled his eyes

“I don’t get paid enough for this..”

Boris landed on top of the metal street sign shortly Y/n landed between his legs oddly Boris was still sitting up muttering under his breath—eyes closed but he seemed out of it.

“Yes—I’d love to….” He muttered under his breath. Y/n couldn’t see anything in front of her as her shaky breathing echoed in the sewer.

She shakily reached for her phone. Once finishing it she quickly took off her bookbag and placed it in front of her. Mesmerizing where her front zipper was. She unzipped it before turning in the flashlight in her phone and placing the phone in the front zipper. Once the light was on she could see the sewer line. The street sign oddly secures at some sort of boat as in the shallow water kept she and Boris afloat as it floated down the line.

She heard water a few feet ahead but it was so dark she could only see what was really in front of her. She looked over her shoulder and nudged Boris.

“Boris! Wake up—wake up please! We’re—we’re in the sewer and I think we’re lost!” She panicked. She lifts a hand up as she looks infront of her. Her hand softly pats at Boris’s face.

“5 more…minutes…Henry….” He muttered.

Y/n had her focus on the end of the tunnel—where she soon could see that—there was a drop!!

“Nonononono!! No!” She shouts. Pressing herself back into Boris. Boris snores before he snorts and wakes up. He looks around with an alarmed expression.

“What?! What’s going on?! Where am I?! Why is it so dark?!” He cried out. Y/n wrapped her arms around Boris’s arms as if to use them as some sort of restraint.

“Oh my gosh!” Y/n shrieks in fear. Boris shouts as he wraps his arms around Y/n as well. The street sign lurched forward and the two were sent sliding down the steep hill, Y/n felt her stop spinning in circles. Similar to how it felt riding on a rollercoaster. Their screams echoed in the sewer.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

“AAAAAAH!” They both shout in fear yet—excitement.

Suddenly a ball of energy shoots down the tunnel. Lighting the way down the tunnel where Y/n could see for a split second an abrupt turn. Y/n looked over Boris’s shoulder to see the 8 ball had followed them into the sewer line—possibly to make sure they were dead for sure. Y/n hid her face in Boris’s shoulder as she felt the abruptness. The metal street sign that acted as a sled skids the wall. Creating a spark as the tunnel dipped down yet again causing them to go faster.

Another energy ball had been shot and it landed right in front of the two just before the second dip. Y/n shrieks as she flies off the sled—as she deemed it.

Boris yelps and frantically tries to grab onto Y/n but he is separated by going into another direction which is downwards into the sewer. The energy ball had torn off another metal plate which held cables to the sewer lines wall—thankfully with luck on Y/n’s side she lands on the new sled and was separated from Boris when she was led to different tunnel—which was a form as Boris went left and she went right—on the hood side she managed to lose Mangosteen. Y/n had landed in her stomach and was holding onto the metal plate that was curled at the end so she could have something to grasp onto. It really resembles a sled now.

Y/n felt another dip and her legs lifted from the sled and she flipped forwards mid air. Screaming Y/n felt herself free fall as she lost the metal plate she was on. Boris had made it from the tunnel he was separated from Y/n. And he looked up in the direction of Y/n’s screaming. And right when he looked up. She landed back between his legs.

“AH I THOUGHT I LOST YOU!” He shouts with glee. As he hugged Y/n. Rubbing his cheek on top of her head. Y/n felt herself shivering at the thought of maybe landing in the sewer water and scraping herself up pretty bad. She was thankful that Boris was there. The two looked forward and saw at the end of the tunnel a large pipe that led upwards. The pipe had a valve. And spurts of water were spilling from the crevice of the pipe.

“I think that's the way out!” Y/n shouts and smiles. Boris smiled as well before frowning.

“Why aren’t we slowin’ down.”

Being tossed through a window of a house that was nearby. Bendy groaned as he laid on the floor limply. The debris of the glass shards and dust particles from the wall wafted in the air. The demon's tail twitched as he sighed…tossed through a wall…again. Bendy glared up at the ceiling in irritation.

“This is not my week…” he grumbled.

Hearing the sudden tiny gasp caused Bendy to snap from his trance before sitting up on his elbows. Looking over he saw two children. One boy—no older than maybe the age of 10 holding a bat over his head in fear that Bendy may have been an intruder. And a little girl who had to have been 8 cowering behind her brother. They both held a fearful expression thinking Bendy would harm them. Bendy blinks before having a nervous smile. “Um—-I can explain—“

Donald was caught off by frantic huffing and puffing. Oswald quickly crawled into the apartment. Crawling over the glass shards and wall pieces. His fur was ruffled as he landed on his stomach to breathe.

“They—are Vicious!” Oswald's voice cracks as he shakily points behind him which leads outside. Bendy was surprised that the rabbit crawled up to the second floor to get away from beagle brothers—who had also shortly after decided to make their appearance after Y/n suddenly vanished.

Oswald looks at Bendy before looking over at the kids. His ears dropped once he saw how alarmed the two kids were. Seeing two toons being thrown through the wall into your home? That would frighten any kid.

“Oh man…” he muttered.

The two kids then screamed in fear and the brother dropped the bat to the ground before he grabbed his sibling and scurried off down the hall. Oswald quickly gets up as well as Bendy.

The faucet in the kitchen trembled and the ground vibrated. Oswald and Bendy look down at their feet before looking at each other. Bendy blinked before the sound of water spraying widely outside caught his attention. Two distinct screams were heard and both Oswald and Bendy were yet again tossed to the ground by Boris and Y/n. The two were soaking wet. The mildew smell of water wafted the air. And the sound of a heavy sew lid smashing onto concrete echoed in the streets.

Y/n coughed up water and crawled off of Bendy. She gasped for air and groaned heavily. Bendy yelped as he quickly wiped the water from him as he looked over to Y/n who were on her hands and knees trying to free her lungs of water. Head to two she was drenched and shivering.

Boris stood up quickly and shook his coat of fur. Splashing water everywhere. Bendy wandered over to Y/n and helped her up.

“Boris! What are you doing here?” Bendy was relieved to see his friend. And Boris wagged his tail quickly, happy to see Bendy as well. “Alice led us here! She had something to tell you! That there’s this group of people trying to kill you all!” He explained before he grunted.

“But it seems you all already got the gist of that.” He muttered under his breath shaking his left foot from any water. Y/n gagged and groaned.

“I’m all wet! With sewer water! And—and they took—-The book!” She shouts. Bendy and Oswald both looked at her.

“They took the book?” Oswald repeats. Y/n looks at him and nods, breathing heavily to catch her breath. “Yes! And we need to get it back!” She looked out towards the hole in the wall and ran a hand through her hair.

“Where’s Alice?” Bendy asks as he turns to look at Boris. Boris thought for a moment. “They’re still in town.” He answered.

“They’re?”

“Oh yeah! Charley, Barley and Edgar are with us too!” Boris nods with a bright smile. Y/n didn’t know who they were other than Alice. But Bendy didn’t seem pleased.

“Come on. We need to find Donald and Panchito.”

Rushing down the sidewalk. Y/n could see the water spluttering from the sewer hole that she and Boris had exited from. Water everywhere on the street after busting that pipe they ran into shortly after their victory chase with Mangosteen. Luckily the water damage didn’t floor the street—but surely construction will pull their hair out when they see that.

“How did you two get up there anyway?” Y/n asked Bendy and Oswald before motioning up to the hole in the building on the 2nd floor. The two kids that were in that room peered down at them. Bendy points to himself. “I was tossed.” He then points at Oswald. “He was hiding.” He finished. Oswald looks away down the road to avoid eye contact. Y/n’s clothes felt heavier she sighed and shivered yet again.

“All we need to do is locate that bo—“

“Squeak squeak!!” Two loud echoing squeaks that reminded Y/n of a dog's chew toy echoed in the air. The four turned around and were faced with a spider toon—Edgar. He held the book in his hand and smiled triumphantly.

Bendy smiled.

“Eddie!” He shouts with glee and runs over to the toon. He wrapped his arms around the spider toon and lifted him up to give Edgar a tight crushing hug. Edgar let’s out various squeals of laughter. Y/n didn’t know who the toon was but assumed he was good and that Bendy knew him. She jogged over and once she got closer the spider smiled at her and handed her the book. Y/n smiled before taking ahold of the book. At long last!

“Thank you.” She thanks the toon as Bendy sets Edgar down. Edgar smiled before he looked away with a flustered expression.

“There you guys are!” Y/n glanced up and saw Panchito and Donald running over. Once they were close they skidded to a stop once spotting Boris. His height must have made the two cautious as Donald quacked in a surprised manner before hiding behind Panchito. Boris’s nose twitched before he smiled and waved. “Hi!” He says. Panchito soon smiled and waved at Boris—remembering the face from the studio. As for Donald he cautiously looked at Boris but remained silent.

Bendy took the book from Y/n and smugly grinned.

“And we have the book. You all can thank—“ he then looked at Edgar but—Bendy then points to himself with his thumb as he grinned.

“This guy.” Just as he said that. A black blurry figure ran in between him and Y/n. Snatching the book from Bendy’s grasp. Bendy still held the hand up that was holding the book. He looked at his head before he looked at Y/n whose mouth was agape.

“What the hell Bendy!” She shoved him—for what felt like the 100th time the book was taken from them! Bendy grabbed Y/n’s hands to stop her from shoving him again. “Hey! Hey! Don’t get hostile with me—“

“Hah! Losers!” Everyone looked over to see the shadow like toon that Oswald, Y/n, Panchito and Bendy encountered. The fast shadow toon grinned as he held the book above his head before dashing off reaching behind his back with his free hand. He held a small metal like ball.

“You know out of everyone we’ve encountered—he doesn't make me scared.” Panchito absurdly confessed. Oswald rubbed his eye so that he could start to bruise up. The toon then smashed the ball to the ground like a smoke bomb. Black smoke seeped onto the ground and out popped 4 shadow creatures. All with sharp features their glowing white eyes caused Y/n’s bookbag to fall off her shoulder as everyone stared in awe as the 4 shadows loomed in the air threateningly.

“I take that back.” Panchito said nonchalantly.

“Get them!” Zip shouted before he cackled loudly and rushed away with the book. The four shadows quickly started towards the group and all six of them screamed in fear before scurrying off in different directions.

Edgar tripped over his legs running away as he followed Y/n. With how small he was he sure was fast as he kept up to speed with her. Boris and Bendy had run off into another direction. Boris screams and he tripped over a trash can. But he rolled off the ground and kept running. Oswald, Donald and Panchito found their different paths as well—everyone splitting up yet again.

Y/n held her bookbag as she tripped over her wet and saggy pants that were weighing her down. She had to think big instead of running everywhere! She looks at Edgar hoping he could understand her. “Do you think you can find that book again?!” She asks the spider as the two rounded a corner. Edgar squeaks before he remembered she couldn’t understand him. He nods before he stops running and zips off to another street in hopes of finding the stolen book. Y/n looked behind her and saw that the shadow like creature was quick and series of voices were in her head—she assumed it must have been the effect of the creature she covered her ears and huffed she was running out of breath and her legs urged her to take a rest she was running too much! Y/n ducked under a man's arm as he stood in the way. He almost tripped over and looked at Y/n in confusion but didn’t seem to notice the shadow creature chasing after the girl.

As soon as Y/n thought could outrun the creature. To arms stuck out. And grasped onto her dragging her into an alleyway. Y/n yelps and almost tripped over. Turning around quickly she was met with Cuphead.

“Sh! Quiet! I’m helping you—“ he raised a finger to his mouth to silence her. Y/n huffed and placed her back on the wall opposite of Cuphead. She felt water dripping from her and onto the concrete ground. She tried to contain her hard breathing but she couldn’t as Cuphead peeked from the alleyway. Should she even be standing near him?

As he was busy looking away and out the alley to see if the creature was far off somewhere. Y/n looked over and saw a gate she could hop—would she even be quick enough? She couldn’t even run—her clothes were wet and she felt icky and tired! Y/n looked down at her hands to see the bandage around her hands were loosely coming off.

“Are you okay?” Y/n heard the voice echo in the alleyway. She looks up to see Cuphead had turned around to face Y/n. He was wringing his gloved hands slightly.

Y/n didn’t really know what to respond as she stared at him. “Yeah…” she cautiously said. Cuphead smiled. “Great—“

“So. You’re out to kill me?” She abruptly asked…well she had to know! Cuphead opened his mouth before placing his hands on his chest. “They told me to. But I don’t wa—“

“So you are going to kill me?”

“No! I’m not—I was but until I ran into you today—I made the decision that I wasn’t—“

“So your original plan was to kill me—“

“I don’t think either way I put it—it’ll sound good. Look—let’s start from the beginning.” He wandered over to a trash can and leans his elbow onto it. Before looking at Y/n he then smiled.

“Hey, I’m Cuphead. Cups—whateva’, but you can call me…anytime.” He winks at her. Y/n mouth was agape as she stared at him. Feeling butterflies in her stomach as she saw him lean too far in the trash can and almost fall over. He played it off by reaching a hand out to Y/n to shake.

“And I know you. You’re Y/n—my uh…boss…sorta told me. To kill you.” His words went quieter—as blunt as he was he really didn’t seem like the guy to want to kill anyone. But Y/n couldn’t even form words as she looked at him…what an odd guy..

“Don’t seem too…moved..okay..uh…you're still there?” He moved his hand when he saw Y/n didn’t take the hand shake. He waved his hand in front of her to see if he could snap her from her daze. Y/n blinks before she slowly removes herself off the wall.

“What suddenly made you not want to kill me?” She asks. Cuphead gave her a closed lip smile as he gazed at her with a far off look. “Well…you’re pretty.”

What?

Despite feeling the fluffy feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Y/n didn’t find the reply good enough. She furrowed her eyebrows and Cuphead soon raised his hands.

“I know—that doesn't sound like anything too believable—look. My brother and I aren’t people that go around for fun harmin’ folks. This—our boss—The Devil. He sorta owns our souls for the time being, and he said to release us. We had to take that book from you and your friends and specifically kill you. I don’t know why.” His reply seemed genuine and authentic. Y/n tensed muscles slowly eased as she slowly nodded.

“So you’re not going to kill me?” She asks yet again. Cuphead shook his head. “I’m not. I promise I won’t lay a finger on you..” the two were silent for a moment as Y/n tried to wrap her hand around everything. She doesn't understand.

“I don’t understand…Why would you not kill me if that’s the only way to not be soul bound to the Devil.” Y/n repeats. Cuphead looks off to the side.

“You know Felix..right?” He asks. And Y/n nods.

“Well. Me and Mugs—my brother. Our original plan was to get this jewel that would protect us from the Devil. But as you can see—“ he motions around himself. “We’re here. I was going to let you all go—I hope your friends are still alive.”

“Trust me. They are.”

“Well. If you all can get away safely and find that stone. That can break the string between the Devil and me and my brother.” Cuphead finished. Y/n stared at him for a moment.

“So you want us to help you?”

“If that’s not too much to ask..”

Y/n was silent…the book..something about it from earlier…she ran into both Cuphead and Mugman because of the book. Idaho…wait.

Gasping softly she looks at Cuphead.

“You—you and your brother. The book—okay look. We have this book. And this book is leading us to people that should belong on our team. And you and your brother are two of the few people!” She quickly explains. It all made sense now! Cuphead tilts his head.

“What’s the purpose of it. Everyone on my team—the head honchos as I put it. Want that book. I never really cared to find out why but..what’s so important about it?” He asks. And frankly;

“We don’t have an answer for that yet. It’s—it's a lot to unravel. And we’ll explain that when we get you and your brother out of this mess. All you need to know now. Is that. You need to be on our team. And I’ll make it happen.” She boasts. Y/n gave him a smile and Cuphead then smiled back.

“I like ya’ spunk.” He winks. “Have any boyfriend’s?” He grins. Y/n smiled slowly. “No.”

“Lookin’ for any?”

“We have bigger things to look at right now—“

“Alright, alright. I have a plan for you to get your book back and for your friends to leave town safely.” Cuphead moved on. Y/n nods as the two walks deeper into the alleyway.

“Tell me and let’s put it into action.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #bendyxreader #cuphead x reader #oswald the lucky rabbit #toon quest #jose carioca #panchito pistoles #duck tales x reader #ducktales 2017 #the three caballeros x reader #batim x reader

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ficforthought · 4 years ago

Text

On being SO DONE with M*sha, a rant a decade in the making!

After giving this some thought I'm going to go ahead and give my opinion on Misha and yesterday’s situation in public for the first time ever. I was going to just post on Twitter but since this has been 12 years in the making I have exceeded the number of tweets I can put in one thread! There’s A LOT in here, so my summary is also long. I'm aware that I will lose followers over this, I'm not looking to offend anyone but it will inevitably happen. I wish anyone leaving all the best as fellow human beings.

TL;DR - having kept quiet for so long I’ve finally reached my limit and it’s all come bubbling out. I’ve never been a fan of Misha, I’ve been ambivalent for the most part, but have never criticised him in any hateful way, that's not who I am, but after all these years of putting up with his bullshit, attention seeking and troublemaking I am DONE. Deleting his tweet containing the word Wincest and replacing it with an APOLOGY just to pander to his Minions and save face is the straw that broke the camel's back. He has consistently pushed his ship on not only fans but on other actors (despite Jensen's discomfort, and him having repeatedly made his feelings known on it), he has stood by while his Minions/Hellers have harassed, victimised, doxxed and sent death threats to people based on their FICTIONAL ships. He has pandered to their gatekeeping, constantly demanded attention in obvious and not so obvious ways, and to the best of my knowledge never criticised their actions even though he's aware of it in a very real way. Some of his Minions have now taken their shit into The Boys fandom and created negativity for Jensen before the guy has even got a foot through the set door, and how is that supporting one half of your ship?

Misha has claimed to be a victim of targeted harassment from Wincest/brother fans (not only shippers) yet his fans have said and done the most despicable things on his watch, all in the name of what he must think is entertainment, or even his idea of a ‘joke’.

Any respect I had for the man based on his humanitarian work has gone because I can only take so much hypocrisy. He and his pandering because of a desperate attempt to be woke and wholly inclusive (which is actually impossible, no matter how good intentions are) are beyond pathetic. Whilst I have never seen why people think he’s so great I have friends IRL and online who genuinely adore the man, yet they have been shocked and upset by his contempt for half of the fandom that made him somewhat famous. It's disgusting and I'm not scrolling by any more. Misha, I hope to never see you on anything J2 related in future because none of us need that kind of negativity, *especially* not J2. Be gone, foul fiend!

OK, so to the too long part. Please be aware that these are my opinions as a fan of the show, of Sam and Dean, and J2, not only as a shipper. I can separate canon and fanon, and can view canon from a gen or shippy PoV. Whether you agree or disagree with my opinion let me be clear that I do not condone constant bashing and hate of a person or character so this isn’t the start of a regular thing for me. It's possible to have an opinion and not show the same vitriol that has been following this man around for years, and that’s what I’m doing. I've not posted this to prompt more negativity, it's simply to get it off my chest and make it clear how I feel. I stand by my philosophy of ship who you want to ship, enjoy it, but don't force it on other people and don't be a dick about it…hmm, that kinda sounds like familiar behaviour, though, does it not?!

I have ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUE with other people liking Misha, Cas or Destiel when it’s for the love of the characters and the ship. What I *do* have an issue with is people who are the true definition of a Heller. I don’t see that as a generic term, don't be ignorant and think I do because I know the difference between actual ship fans and the crazies, both ships have ‘em and I want no part of either of their venom. If you are reading this and class yourself as a Heller then you are part of the problem so run along and as you are all so fond of saying, 'get help' and take your bestie king with you.

I’m stating my opinion in what I feel is the most mature way I can, because unlike many people on SM, I am an adult and can act accordingly, with forethought and without resorting to temper tantrums and bullying of other people to get my point across. I am able to tell the difference between reality and fiction, I don't tar everyone with the same shipper brush and I don't expect everyone to agree with my opinion, but as we know opinions are like arseholes, we all have them and sometimes they stink. Unlike some, for the most part in life (online and offline) I *do* stand by what I say and don’t backtrack or delete things to appease the masses. I have spent a lot of time writing this out to be as clear as possible without being intentionally hateful. Bear with me jumping between actor and character where relevant, at this point they're conjoined. I will say this before I go any further, it doesn’t end well for Misha, I don’t mince my words and if you don’t like seeing facts and opinions laid out, this isn't the post for you.

I’ll say right off the bat what most of you have surmised - I’ve never held Misha (or Cas) in high esteem but I have never *hated* on him. I have shared mild criticism of his actions and opinions on Cas over the years but never, I feel, in any way that has made me feel I have something to apologise for. I have said several times I've been unhappy about Misha crashing con panels, taking attention away from J2 when at those cons *most* people paid their hard earned money to see the STARS of the show they love, first and foremost, and anyone else is a very nice bonus. The odd appearance here and there crashing a panel is fine (and Misha isn’t the first or last person to do it), maybe take up a few minutes then leave, but when someone commandeers an entire panel, that's just not on. It's not only selfish, rude and attention seeking but also disrespectful to other actors, fans and to the organisers who work hard to make sure everything ties in to give us the best con experience we can have. Everyone gets their turn on stage, there's no need to try and hog any more of the limelight, Veruca Salt style. Oh, and if you’re reading this and not getting that reference, (a) you shouldn’t be on my blog because you’re far too young, (b) look it up, and if you still don’t get what I’m saying… well then please refer to point (a). Thank you, kindly!

There was a time in Kripke's era where Cas was - I feel - intentionally used as a pawn by the writers to divert *canon* from the ‘questionable’ relationship between Sam and Dean, i.e. Wincest focus. Prior to that people (other fans) lightened up and just accepted the fact that Wincest had been there since day one in terms of the writing of the show and the fandom. All the cast and crew knew - J2, Kripke and JDM in particular - and made light of it, never judging, never shaming and often encouraging it because they understand it’s a fun part of fandom. Wincest was present enough to be part of the not so subtle subtext, as I said people just accepted it. Kink tomato was alive and well, so was ‘don’t like, don’t read’ and we all just scrolled over things we didn’t like without turning everything into a personal vendetta and excuse for bullying others who didn’t share our views. When the angels came into the plot I think most of us Wincest fans gave the Dean/Cas innuendos the small laugh they deserved and then turned back to the focus of the show which was the brothers, as it had always been intended. Misha, however, milked those moments as much as possible which was amusing at the start but got old *very* quickly, not just for fans (shippers and non shippers alike), but for other actors, in particular Jensen who is on record MULTIPLE times showing his dislike for Destiel. He told people outright that's not how he was playing the relationship between the two characters and CATEGORICALLY said "Destiel doesn't exist" but did it end there? No, it did not because neither fans or Misha let it go, in fact Misha only pushed more, goaded fans into flogging the same dead horse as much as possible. He’s never stopped, not even when there was so much discord in the fandom, a huge wedge was driven into it because of ships, which IMO he heavily contributed to.

Fast forward to over a decade later (a decade, seriously man, let it fucking go!) he didn’t even stop when Destiel did partially go canon. I have never doubted that Cas loved Dean (Sam, too) because in SPN lore angels are made to love, even rebellious ones. I, along with many others, liked that about Cas because who doesn't love a rebel, especially one rebelling for very good reasons, and because of those two wonderful men? Sam and Dean allowed him to see beyond what he'd been brainwashed to believe his entire existence. The fact is that although the nature of that love changed for Cas, it never did for Dean and was CANONICALLY UNREQUITED because Dean was incapable of loving anyone else as much as he loved Sam. All that mattered to Dean, even when he saw other characters as "family" was still Sam…ALWAYS Sam, every step of the way. Again for those who have too much Misha shaped wax in their ears, that’s canon. Whether people choose to see that love platonically or romantically is up to them, soulmates don't always have to be romantic, either way, brotherly love won out above all else on the show. No amount of Misha screaming ‘hey look, Destiel!’ changed that, but it sure didn’t stop him trying, did it?

So now that the obvious has been stated, here's something else we all know - never once in all of the years on the show did Misha drop rallying of the troops to his precious, ego stroking ship. Never once (that I am aware of) has he called out his Minions and Hellers on their continued harassment of everyone involved in the show and other fans despite the fact that they have bullied, victimised and wished bodily harm, rape and death on people who don't see their ship and because didn't get the ending to the story that they wanted. Not once has Misha shown any remorse for the trauma his "fans" have caused, and I’m taking REAL trauma, here, not the kind Twitter stans see as ‘triggering’ - people have been driven to close SM accounts, attempted, and in some cases succeeded in taking their own lives. These Minions have openly mocked Jared’s struggles with depression and anxiety, and Misha - who claims to be friends with J2 and be supportive of them in every way - has stood by and let it all play out, knowing full well some of the goings on, if not the full extent of how toxic these people are. We know he sees things being said online, and I have absolutely no doubt he spends time online searching his name for things that are relevant in some way to him in an effort to insert himself into a current conversation, or even start one so that attention is on him. Gotta stay relevant, somehow, right, Mish?

He has actively encouraged bullying by his actions of enabling the behaviours above, both by the flogging of the aforementioned dead horse, AND by not objecting to unacceptable behaviours. Remember when Minions and Hellers were slating J2, particularly Jared, for not posting on SM about BLM and other topics? Yeah, he didn’t ask them to stop doing that, either, even when he was tagged in things along the lines of ‘If Misha can post why can’t J2?’ etc. There have been some token protests, con vids I've seen have show his 'objections' which IMO have been done in a very tongue in cheek way, meaning that those people who needed to be pulled aside and told to change their ways just carried on, because their evil overlord didn’t explicitly explain it in terms a three year old could understand that bullying and forcing your opinion on others is WRONG. Not all of his cult are young and impressionable, not by a long shot, but many of the more vocal and vitriolic ones are.

As a father himself I wonder what Misha would do if he found out that his kids were behaving in ways his Minions are? I’m aware they’re young, but kids are cruel and bullying doesn’t just happen online. Even at whatever age they are, would he laugh it off the way he appears to have done with all of this fandom toxicity? Not bloody likely! I wonder if he’s as desperate to gain the approval of his family, friends and colleagues as he appears to be for that of his Minions/Hellers? I would certainly hope so, but that question can only be answered by Misha, himself, and I can and will not presume to speak on someone else's behalf on things in their personal life. For the record I would never presume I know what J2's answers would be on anything, however I do feel that after 15 years I have an accurate gauge on what kind of people they are so would be confident that any opinion I had on a matter aligns with their morals and ethics. As much as J2 have shared of themselves with us - willingly and under no pressure to do so, I might add - we don't *know* them, but we know enough to have an informed opinion. I can’t say the same for Misha because based on the behaviour he’s repeatedly displayed, things I've heard about from other fans as well as people I know IRL who have had direct dealings with him through cons or GISH (including some very actively in the early days when it was GISHWHES) he just hasn’t seemed like a person I wanted to follow on SM. I’ve never watched any of his solo panels, though I have watched ones with both or one of the J's, mostly being left irritated because of his behaviour. Watching the J’s put up with that shit is painful, and it’s a testament to how good they are as actors that they managed to hide at least some of their disdain for as long as they did. Microexpressions give them away, particularly Jensen, and they certainly have faces I have spent many years watching closely. Beautiful faces to go with beautiful souls, both of them! <3

I have precisely ZERO interest in Destiel as a ship, very little interest in Cas as a character anymore (though I did like him in the early days,and his relationship with Jack in late seasons) so I have absolutely no reason or desire to follow anything Misha does. That said, I've obviously been peripherally aware of some things he's been involved in because of friends, from things I’ve seen on SM and general fandom stuff. Despite the things I've already mentioned about his behaviour, up until now I have been able to maintain a level of respect for him as a person because of the humanitarian and charity work he's done. He seems like someone who really does want to change the world for the better and I am in full support of that fact, so much so that I have supported TWO campaigns relating to him. I bought one of the Super Good t-shirts for the campaign he did with Michael Sheen (a true angel!), the SPN/Good Omens x-over to help homeless charities, and I chose the design with text only and not artwork of Michael and Misha on, basically because I didn’t want to be wearing something with Misha’s face on it and I make absolutely no apology for that, whatsoever. I also bought Alex's #TheEndHasNoEnd shirt, which some of the profits went to Random Acts who do great work, so again, despite not liking Misha I still willingly contributed for a cause bigger than me, and to support Alex, who I absolutely ADORE. I'm aware that Stands aren't popular with some of the fandom, however since most of the cast of SPN are happily affiliated with them then I don't feel it's my place to either judge, or to discuss topics I know next to nothing about. But I digress, as a decent human being I have shown support tangentially to a man who I don't care for out of respect for the work he does outside the fandom. Telling you this isn’t to paint myself in a good light - I don’t need your approval, I’m a big girl, unlike some I don’t need constant validation! - only to provide background on how I’ve actively *not* hated on Misha.

Now though, any respect I had for him has come to an abrupt end, the events of the past 24 hours has seen to that. Whilst I have been annoyed at his behaviour in regards to shipping, I don't feel it's ever gone this far, or at least not that I've seen first hand. This man has, IMO, contributed to so much toxicity in the fandom by way of things I've mentioned before, he's claimed - without actually saying the words - that Wincest fans weren't interested in him as a character when he came onto the show, and hasn’t felt included because of the fans’ love of the brothers. Um, hate to break it to you, love, but when you come onto an established show that is about two people, and you’re a *guest star* you can’t expect everyone to love you. Some characters we as individuals do fall in love with straight away (Bobby, Charlie, Crowley and Rowena are good examples for me), it takes time to establish a dynamic, so if that’s how he felt then it was incredibly naive of him as an actor to expect instant acceptance from anyone. Also, why wait until after the show finished to bring it up AGAIN … oh wait, yeah, that would be to step back into the limelight in a way intended to garner sympathy from Minions and INTENTIONALLY piss off bro fans and Wincest shippers alike? How fucking self centred, desperate and disrespectful do you have to be to shit all over the finale of a show that for the most part accepted you and kept you in paid work for 12 years? Well, Misha Collins levels of all of those things, obviously.

So, on the topics of self centred, desperate to stay relevant, attention seeking and being oh so needy, the tweet yesterday from Amazon mentioned Castiel. He wasn’t tagged in it, so I refer to my earlier comment about searching online, because how else would he have possibly seen that? It’s possible someone sent it to him, I appreciate that, but if we go off past behaviour it’s not any stretch at all to believe that didn’t happen. So, once again, having seen the tweet he took it upon himself to - oh so predictably - turn it into something relating to Destiel. When I saw it I immediately rolled my eyes and thought ‘here we go again’, but then also had a little smile because I really liked the fact that he explicitly mentioned Wincest, therefore seeming to accept that his poor old dead horse wasn’t the only one in the race. I actually mentally tipped my hat to him then because it appeared that he’s matured enough to acknowledge by name the ship that predates his inclusion on the show. Great, I thought, this is a positive thing in a sea of negativity surrounding the man and his sunken ship, because what followed was Wincest trending in the US (it may also have been other countries as well but I had to sleep!) … largely due to the fact that Hellers were responding to it, calling him out on mentioning the dreaded ‘W’ word. I’ll repeat that because it’s been a rare occurrence up to that point… the Minions were actually disappointed with their overlord for mentioning another ship. We all know what they think of it and I for one, don’t give a flying fuck about their opionion. Ship and let ship, it’s all fun (or meant to be) so we have different tastes, that’s life kiddiwinks, deal with it. I mean, you really don’t have much of an example set for you when your king has proven several times over to be one of the biggest obnoxious brats out there, but just give it a try for your own sakes, yeah? Awesome, good on you, besties!

An unexpected development - to my joy and that of other Wincest shippers - them doing that got the topic trending, only *kept* trending by the fact that were all coming online asking why it was trending. Wincest shippers barely lifted a finger, we just flooded each other’s timelines with lovely content and basked in the Hellers - and Misha - shooting themselves in the foot, which was awesome. But did the vitriol stop? No. Did he get the attention he so clearly craves? Yes. Was it in the way he wanted? Fuck no, so poor, emotionally wounded baby backtracked after seeing that his name was trending alongside Wincest because that’s *so* not what someone narcissistic to do it in the first place, wanted.

Now here’s where I could easily have just moved on with an unusually fond chuckle, giving him an ironic pat on the back and a ‘thanks, Misha’ for being the one to instigate hours of fun, but once again his despicable behaviour made that impossible. It’s been more than obvious for many years that he cares more about what his fans think than anything else to do with the show and the fandom in a larger sense, but to delete the tweet and APOLOGISE for daring to be so insensitive to the snowflakes’ delicate sensibilities for mentioning Wincest in the first place was absolutely disgusting. Stating , “I used a term that I had never really given any thought to other than, "that's a thing?! Yuck." is not only complete and utter bullshit, it’s pandering of the highest order.

We all know he has referred to Wincest on multiple occasions, so to say he hadn’t thought about is a flat out lie, which IMO is an insult to everyone, not just Wincest shippers. Does the man have no self respect at all, why would you contradict yourself in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Instead of either ignoring all the people calling him out, or addressing it with another tweet saying ‘yeah, that happened’ or something similar he chose, I repeat, CHOSE the route of claiming he didn’t realise he was being offensive to people who felt ‘triggered’ by him using the word Wincest. He basically shat all over an entire ship and large sector of the fandom in an attempt to appease his own fan base which consists of a lot of children (or those that act like children) who have no idea what RL is like.

Once again, he’s reinforced the idea that if you shout loud enough at someone just because you don’t like something they said, they will back down and apologise for something even when there’s nothing to apologise for. If he wants to be such a role model then he could easily have pointed out that a fictional ship doesn’t condone RL incest, any ACTUAL trauma people have suffered because of RL situations, and made an effort to make sure people understand that. He COULD have used it as an opportunity to do some good in the fandom by encouraging people to build bridges, to accept that people are entitled to their beliefs and that sometimes we see things differently but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat others with BASIC HUMAN DECENCY because of it. Instead he YET AGAIN chose to show that he cares more about what Minions think of him, keeping them onside to constantly stroke his unbelievably fragile ego in everything he does.

It is my understanding that Misha is big on (or claims to be big on) putting positive energy out into the world, treating people with respect, helping others and accepting people for who they are, not who you want them to be… all this after YEARS of consistently practising what he preaches only when it suits him. He sends out a message that it’s perfectly OK to bully, to spread hate, to draw attention to yourself at the cost of others, to throw colleagues and friends under the bus and at the same time use them to further your own agenda and get hits for your YouTube channel. Is this really the legacy he wants to leave? Is this an environment he wants his own kids to grow up in as well as future generations? Is this what he thinks is a valuable contribution as a human being? JFC, the arrogance, hypocrisy and the need for constant validation this man exhibits is nothing short of cringeworthy… actually it’s beyond that. It’s deplorable behaviour, it’s not new, and he will continue to act like this for as long as he’s being enabled and this harmful cycle needs to end.

I have friends IRL and online who are (now, possibly, were) big Misha fans, who have supported him from either the beginning of his run on the show, or since they started watching, and this is how he repays this behaviour? He’s willfully alienating decent people (including multishippers) all to make himself look good by being seen to do everything he can not to offend people. Spoiler alert, you DID offend people, you continue to do so time and again and we’ve had enough. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be such a perpetual people pleaser, but let me say it’s not doing you any favours in any way, shape or form.

Misha, you are *not* a role model, you’re *not* someone to look up to when you can't live up to the ideals you preach. You’re spitting in the face of people who have supported you even after some questionable things in the past, who gave you the benefit of the doubt because we’re all human and we all make mistakes. The key to growing as a person is not to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, understanding *why* what you said and/or did was a mistake and making a concerted effort to make changes. I don’t ever see you doing that, you will continue down this path of only caring about Minions under the guise of caring for people in general. You are transparent, you are sad and despite the fact I’ve never particularly liked you, I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to get involved in the drama. Well now I have spoken up and I’m saying you’re a disgrace, you have no respect for other people and nobody is fooled anymore. If it hadn’t been this tweet it would have been something else, but I for one am glad it happened so soon after the show ended so we can finally be rid of the limpet-like behaviour. It’s over, let it go for the sake of what dignity you might have left, for the sake of your family and friends and for the sake of anyone who isn’t capable of seeing through your ‘it’s a joke’ mentality.

You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Misha.

For anyone who made it to the end of my ramble, thank you. This has been a cathartic exercise and I’m drawing a line under it now, I don’t think I could possibly make my thoughts any clearer. I urge you not to get caught up in any petty squabbles with his Minions, let’s celebrate J2 and other cast and crew members who have shown us all respect and who I am proud to call part of the SPN family. There’s always one member of the family who needs to be frozen out for the good of everyone else.

#ficforthought speaks #sorry not sorry #i spent way too long on this #purging the poison

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sineala · 3 years ago

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A Few Thoughts About Hurt/Comfort

I have been asked this month to make a post about hurt/comfort in Avengers comics. And I love h/c -- I actually have a massive number of WIPs right now that are h/c -- so I am very happy to talk about it! Anyway, this is not really all that planned out and this mostly turned into an excursus on Tony Stark's pain. I'm sure you're all surprised.

Like pretty much everyone else, I'm sure, I have found that everything lately has been... pretty tough. And the coping mechanism that really got me through last year and this year was reading and writing a lot of h/c, on the theory that, however lousy a day I'm having, I can absolutely make sure that Tony Stark has a worse one. And then I can make sure he gets hugs. Wish fulfillment? Why, yes. (Once at Hallmark I was trying to find a "get well soon" card, forgot what it was called, and described it to my wife as "a hurt/comfort card.") I think Marvel Comics -- the Avengers side, in particular -- is an interesting canon for h/c for a lot of reasons. Though, honestly, if you asked me to recommend you, a hurt/comfort fan, a new fandom, I would probably just hand you some Starsky & Hutch DVDs. Go watch "The Fix" and get back to me later. If you like that, there's way more where that came from. But there's still lots to love in Marvel! Superhero comics are really a goldmine as far as the hurt side of h/c. Because superheroes, and you probably have noticed this, get hurt a lot. They get hurt repeatedly, in fantastical ways that are probably impossible in real life both physically and emotionally (at least, I don't think anyone's invented mind control yet), and even the heroes without superhuman healing powers tend to get physically hurt a whole lot worse than actual people can take. Currently in Iron Man comics, Tony has a broken back and is dealing with this by locking himself into the armor as a backboard and injecting himself with massive doses of painkillers. He's busy! He's got stuff to do! He doesn't have time to lie around and heal! So, basically, if you name a kind of pain that you would like to see happen to a character, it's probably happened to superheroes. Multiple times. The downside, though, is that comics do not really deliver that well when it comes to the comfort part of h/c. They could. It's not inherent to the medium that they don't. But because of the serial nature of comics and also the fact the primary audience is dudes who want to read about people in spandex punching each other, a lot of the time they don't really feel the need to provide closure and write about people dealing with any of the hurt. (Raise your hand if you're still annoyed with the end of Hickman's Avengers run.) But at the same time, I think that's a quality that makes Avengers ripe for h/c fanfic. Because, generally speaking, fandom likes to provide the things that canon doesn't, and fandom is more than happy to provide the comfort. If you enjoy canonical h/c in comics, I think you really can't go wrong with Iron Man. One of the big innovations of modern Marvel Comics was the concept that heroes would also suffer from relatable human problems, and in practice what this means is that a lot of heroes start with a fully-loaded angst-ridden backstory and origin story, ripe for h/c. So Tony starts out by incurring a heart injury that he fully expects is going to kill him, which he responds to by vowing he won't get close to anyone so they won't be sad when he dies, and throughout the early Silver Age is constantly on the brink of death as his heart nearly gives out on him practically every issue. And then even after his heart gets (mostly) better, there are various plots involving his armor being detrimental to his health and him choosing to fight on anyway. It's hard for me to think of another superhero hitting that particular variety of h/c in exactly the same way. Sure, superheroes risk their lives constantly, because this is how superhero comics work, but Tony is the only one I can think of who is this constantly this badly off, physically. Like, think of all the other heroes who have had a continual solo presence as fan favorites across Marvel history -- Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man, Wolverine, maybe even Deadpool. You know what those guys all have? Healing factors! For the most part, they are not running around continually on the verge of death, and while there are certainly memorable arcs involving several of them being severely injured and/or dead, you really have to work at it. It's not their constant state of affairs, whereas Tony is the kind of superhero who shows up to a fight already bleeding out under his armor. Yeah, I know Extremis gave him a healing factor. But he didn't have it very long, and also he did some extremely dangerous things while he did have it; I'm pretty sure I've never seen Wolverine saying that he'll just solve a problem by cutting off his own foot. So, anyway, yeah, there are a bunch of good arcs involving h/c for Tony. If you're looking for physical injury, he has a whole bunch of heart problems over the years, gets several new hearts, then ruins his brain, et cetera. That level of hurt is basically the background pain of Tony's life; every so often, his heart will get damaged or he'll have to live in the armor or the armor will be killing him, et cetera. If you're looking for more unusual trauma, I am, as always, going to rec Manhunt, a relatively obscure arc in late v3 (IM v3 #65-69) in which Tony has an extremely bad week. His tech is stolen and used to bomb a building. Then he gets shot in the chest. Then while he's at the hospital a nurse tries and fails to poison him, and she then tries to beat him to death. Then he checks himself out of the hospital and a helicopter shoots missiles at him. Then he becomes a fugitive from justice. And then, oh, yeah, he has to fight the Mandarin. It is... a lot. (Volume 3 of Iron Man is pretty good as far as h/c possibilities. You've got a lot of physical pain, Carol's drinking arc, the Sentient Armor, both DreamVision arcs, and Manhunt. Manhunt is finally supposed to be out in trade this month, by the way.) There are of course the drinking arcs, which probably count as their own type of hurt. But if you haven't read the second drinking arc (IM #160-200), please do. Marvel likes to up the stakes on events (Fear Itself, Secret Empire) by making Tony drink, and it does work, I think. I feel like I've spoken at length about Tony's drinking elsewhere so I don't really want to rehash it all here. And then there's the emotional pain. Angst and drama is something that happens to a whole bunch of characters, yes, especially in comics, but somehow Tony seems to end up with possibly more than his fair share of it. Fandom likes to make a lot of Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, so much so that you might think, if you didn't know canon, that this was just fandom running with a throwaway mention of Tony's terrible childhood and making it worse. But, no, canon really does go there with a reasonable amount of frequency. Howard's actual first appearance is in a flashback where he's ordering teenage Tony to break up with his girlfriend because she's the daughter of one of Howard's business rivals. And then we get into the verbal abuse, and the physical abuse, and the time Howard made Tony take his first drink, and the part where Howard was a demon in hell who Tony fought while he insulted him. And more! Currently, in canon, Howard is alive again and is in league with Mephisto for the express purpose of ruining Tony's life. Also when Tony was a baby, Howard tried to trade him to Dracula. I think you can make an argument that fandom is actually showing restraint when compared to canon. Tony also has a whole lot of Terrible Exes whose presence and/or former presence in Tony's life can be used for a lot of hurt. If you've read any amount of fanfic, you probably know that the exes who get the most play in fandom are Sunset Bain and Tiberius Stone -- not that Tony and Ty were ever canonically a couple, of course, but fandom is definitely enamored of this idea. Ty and Sunset both have relatively similar interactions with Tony in canon, in that they are both liars and emotional abusers, heavy on the gaslighting, with the purpose of becoming more successful than Tony. They both also attempt to murder Tony, although this is after he figures out they're evil, at least. (Yes, I know, this is not how either of them usually appear in AUs.) Tony also has a bunch of exes who also have just straight-up tried to murder or otherwise hurt him, sometimes while they are dating, and sometimes before Tony dates them: Whitney Frost, Indries Moomji, Kathy Dare, and Maya Hansen come to mind. There are probably more I'm not thinking of! But, yes, if you want to write about a guy in a series of terrible relationships, please consider Iron Man comics. If mind control is one of your favorite flavors of hurt, Tony's pretty good for that too. We all know about The Crossing. I suppose when I say "mind control" I mostly mean "armor control" because there are an awful lot of plots where someone else makes Tony's armor do whatever they want it to do and Tony is along for the ride -- Demon in a Bottle, Sentient Armor, and Execute Program are the first things that come to mind. There is also a fairly obscure What If that is What If Iron Man Lost The Armor Wars in which Justin Hammer apparently really wants Tony in a mind control collar to take off all his clothes and lounge around in his underwear. No, really. I think a lot of pain for Tony often revolves around his issues with control, generally -- his alcoholism comes into play here again. The entire aftermath of Civil War is also notable for its propensity to hurt Tony over and over and over. Is he stoically soldiering on through his grief after Steve dies? Hell, no! He cries, like, six separate times. He 100% blames himself for Steve's death. It's great. Everybody loves The Confession and the funeral in Fallen Son, but one of my personal favorites is Avengers/Invaders, in which Tony is confronted with a time-traveling Steve from WWII and in order not to screw up the timeline, he can't tell Steve he knows him. He is clearly not coping well. He shuts himself in a room with a giant wall of pictures of Steve! Also there's a part where he has to try to convince Steve he can trust him and he ends up having to tie Steve to a chair to talk to him, and Steve looks at him and asks, "Who did you kill to get where you are?" and I feel like that is probably one of the worst moments in Tony's life. No wonder he gave himself amnesia. So now we might want to ask, okay, but why is hurting Tony in fanfiction so much fun? I mean, I can tell you why I think it's fun. I can't speak for anyone else. One reason is that he is very emotional and very affected by everything he does. Sometimes you will see people complaining that the heroes of m/m fanfic cry too much and this is not realistic. This is not a problem if you're writing Tony! He can cry as much as you want and it's perfectly in character. I don't think it would be as fun to hurt him if he didn't express so much of his pain. But he does. He also feels guilty, and for me that's a very satisfying character element. If he were well-adjusted and didn't blame himself for so many things, it wouldn't be nearly as fun as watching him blame himself for everyone whose death he thinks he is responsible for, whether or not he is. And then he just keeps going, and it's, y'know, nice to watch him be resilient, too. So, I guess, I think hurting him is interesting because it's easy to hurt him, his weak points are pretty obvious, and he reacts a lot. Steve doesn't hurt quite as much as Tony does, in canon. It's certainly possible to hurt him -- I mean, they did actually kill him after Civil War, after all -- but I don't think the canonical patterns of hurting him are as numerous. Obviously deseruming Steve is a fairly popular go-to in terms of physical hurt; he's been deserumed at least three times that I know of. I think's easy to see the appeal there of taking a character who is fairly physically resilient and making him... much less so. Certainly Marvel seems to see the appeal. But other than that I don't think he has any other really common way to get physically injured. Unlike Tony, whose origin story is basically "oh no, I've acquired a disability," Steve's origin story is "I drank a serum that cured all my disabilities." Which, I mean, great wish fulfillment but there's not really as much there to poke at. Pretty much all of Steve's pain is emotional, but, unlike Tony, his pain isn't often specifically in response to someone directly, purposefully hurting him. Hickman's Avengers run is a big exception, yes. His pain seems to come up most often as a kind of situational angst. He feels like a man out of time. He feels out of touch with the modern era, with people his own age. He feels guilt because he feels responsible for Bucky's death. He feels like he can't trust the government and therefore he can't be Captain America. He worries that he doesn't know how to have a normal life. And, yes, these are deep and important worries but it's different than, like, Indries Moomji dumping Tony with the intent to make him sad enough to start drinking. Very few of Steve's villains want to personally ruin Steve's entire life the way Tony's villains do; mostly they just want to do things like bring back the Nazis. In terms of Steve's potential for h/c, I think Steve is harder to hurt than Tony is. Physically, he is definitely harder to hurt. You can deserum him, sure, but unless you want everything you write to be a deseruming fic you're probably not going to want to do that more than a couple of times. And if you want to hurt him physically while he has the serum, you have to hurt him hard. Usually past the point where a regular human would ever survive it. He's also harder to break, emotionally, than Tony is -- which means it's very satisfying when you can get him to break, but this is a guy who's only cried twice (that I remember) in canon. So if you want to get him to cry, you really, really have to wreck him, and he doesn't have as many obvious weak spots. He also doesn't generally sit around blaming himself for things that aren't his fault, and the whole "stewing in guilt" genre of plots for him basically came down to "he was sad that he thought Bucky's death was his fault," and that's really the biggest regret he seems to have, and also Bucky's not dead anymore. The Steve/Tony relationship itself, I would think, is also appealing to h/c fans because canon provides a lot of ways for them to hurt each other. Some people only ship pairings who would never, y'know, take turns beating each other half to death in major event comics. (And for a lot of Marvel Comics history, that was also Steve & Tony, so if you want them to be BFFs who have never fought, you can just set your fic earlier.) They have definitely hurt each other both physically and emotionally, so if you're looking for something easy and satisfying as a h/c fan, you can just read or write something where they... make up. What about Marvel characters other than Steve and Tony? Surely some of them are angsty, yes? Well, yes, but also it depends on the particular flavor of angst that you like. If you like the way Tony hurts, you may very well enjoy Doctor Strange comics, because they have a very similar attitude towards life -- they are both former alcoholics whose origin stories involve physical disabilities, who routinely make tactical decisions that negatively affect their continued existence and/or happiness a whole lot. It's very much an "I must suffer alone in the dark and no one will ever know what I am doing to save the world but it's the right thing to do" sort of vibe. Like, you can read comics where Strange is lying in hell with two broken legs, hallucinating that Clea has finally come to save him. Strange's biggest fear, akin to Tony's control issues, is basically that one day he's going to be an asshole again, so he's out there trying as hard as he can to do good. Also, if you like tentacles, he has all of them. I mean that. Carol also occasionally hits similar angst spots, and her drinking arc is great. A lot of people like Natasha, too; I have read zero Black Widow comics but I get the impression many people enjoy her brand of angst. The mutant metaphor is a little different in terms of overall vibe, but some people really like it as a source of angst -- the whole "protecting a world who hates and fears them" thing. It may not work for you, but if you like your hurt to include things like systemic oppression, go pick up some X-Men comics. Start with something like God Loves Man Kills. I feel like I liked this sort of thing a lot more as a teenager but that I kind of aged out of liking the mutants quite so much. It's also worth mentioning that not everything that hits the spot in one universe will be the same in the others, and I'm mentioning this because I feel like I have to say something about MCU Bucky. MCU fandom seems to get a lot of mileage out of Bucky's guilt about being the Winter Soldier, everything he was forced to do, et cetera. I have definitely read my share of those fics, and FATWS sure went right for that angst too. But as far as I can tell, he doesn't hit the same way at all in 616. And I like him a lot in 616; I'm always pleased when he shows up on a team. (He was so good in Strikeforce. Everyone was so good in Strikeforce.) But the thing is, 616 Bucky is, basically, phenomenally well-adjusted, given everything he's gone through, and I'm including the time he wrestled a bear in a gulag. He gets over having been the Winter Soldier, and now he's just, y'know, a guy with a cool arm who likes to bring guns to every fight to horrify his teammates, and he snarks at Clint. If you're looking for that angst, that is really not him these days. He's all better. So pretty much all that is canon. So what do we do in fandom for h/c? Well, as far as I can tell, a decent amount of it is canon-based or very canon-close -- there are a whole lot of stories exploring the angst of Civil War or Hickman's Avengers run. Tony's drinking comes up a fair amount, and if one of Tony's Evil Exes comes back to haunt him, it's pretty much only Tiberius Stone. I don't think I've read a lot of fic with Steve getting deserumed; it doesn't seem as popular in fandom as in canon. When Steve gets hurt, he tends to just get physically whumped pretty hard, and there's a fair amount of that for Tony too, but of course Steve can take more. There's also a thriving, uh, subgenre of pain involving Hydra Steve doing terrible things to Tony, presumably the terrible things he would have wanted to do to Tony in canon if Tony had had a flesh body. There's the usual kinds of h/c setups that appear in basically every fandom as well -- sickfic, whump, dub-con/non-con. You get the idea. But since fandom in general likes to take specific inspiration from canon, there's a lot of fic where the hurt tends to resemble things that happen more in canon. Like, I feel like comics fic probably has more tentacle fic and more mind control than canons that don't come pre-stocked with those. Probably everybody has a whole lot of "tied up by bad guys," though. And then, of course, fandom brings the comfort that canon does not. This is true in pretty much every fandom -- I mean, you aren't going to find a lot of actual canons where Character A saves Character B from mortal peril and then there's gay sex -- but, like I was saying, comics don't provide a lot of closure before it's onto the next thing. Usually with a different creative team, who has no interest in wrapping up anything from the last team. Steve and Tony talked about the incursions exactly once after Secret Wars and nobody mentioned the part where Steve spent several months trying to hunt Tony down and kill him. Tony is never going to remember the events of Civil War. Hydra Steve died ignominiously in a fire and no one has ever talked about him again. Honestly, if you're looking for a way to get some comfort in your fanfic, picking an event, any event, and just having the characters talk about it will be way more than any of them get in canon. I feel like honestly that can often be a pretty satisfying to read. And even though comics canon physically hurts characters pretty often and pretty badly, they also often skip right past the recovery. Maybe you'll get one page of a character in a hospital bed at the end of the story arc. Maybe you won't. Demon in a Bottle has one splash page of Tony going through alcohol withdrawal and then he's all better. I think Manhunt skips to Tony getting out of the hospital at the end. That's just not a story that they want to tell very often. The second drinking arc is notable in that it devotes almost as many issues to Tony's recovery as it does to getting him to rock-bottom. Similarly, Steve is done with his Nomad angst way way faster than you probably think he is (though The Captain does go in for a fair number of issues). So one of the things we often want to do in fandom is focus on all the bits that canon skips over, both in the "why did no one ever mention this story arc ever again" way and the "wow, so how long are they in the hospital after that" way. That's really all I can think of about h/c! I'm off to write some more of it!

#posts i actually wrote

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minminnie-shii · 4 years ago

Text

Giving SF9 Cuddles

Hai hai!! I know i’ve been gone for a while

lets just act like that never happened

Buttt, I’m back and recently I’ve been watching the new series of Kingdom and I am so hype to see my babies sf9

currently sobbing

also my mom was very upset when they came in last place

anyways they’re all working so hard and I’m so proud of them so I decided to write this for all the Fantasy and new Fantasy who are getting into my babies.

so here is sf9 wanting cuddles, enjoy

~Kim Youngbin~

this man

uggghhh

i love him so much i might cry

moving on

being a father of eight children is hard work

but my best baby does everything he can and is the best leader he can be for those boys

butttt

being a little is hard work and he needs to be taken care of as much as they do

insert the love of his life

thats you

youre good at telling when hes stressed and do everything you can to help him

so when he looks at you with doe eyes asking for cuddles you don’t hesitate to say yes

so now your laying on your bed youngbins head on your chest

youre running your hand through his hair softly and humming to him

he lets out a peaceful sigh and lifts hiss head looking up at you

“i love you so much”

he looks so sleepy and you couldn’t stop yourself from cooing at him

he eventually falls asleep and you just lay there quietly admiring him

he’s the love of your life and you’ll never understand how you got so lucky to have someone like him in your life

#toptiercouple

~Kim Inseong~

this man

DORK ALERT

he will ask for cuddles in the most dramatic way

you’re at the dorm visiting him before he starts filming for his new show

you know that you wont be able to see him for a while and youre a little sad

inseong of course knows this

so he wants to make today extra special

he surprised you with flowers and your favorite snacks

he even bought you a penguin plushie that was almost the size of you

so now youre sitting on the couch waiting for him to come back so you could start the movie you wanted to watch

inseong was watching you from the kitchen

you were playing with the sleeves of his sweater that you were wearing staring blankly at the screen in front of you

he smiled softly to himself before skipping into the livingroom

“____, dont look so sad, cuddle me instead!”

his loud voice nearly made you jump out of your skin

he plopped onto the couch next to you and wrapped his arms tightly around you

he pulled you into his chest and slowly rocked you back and forth

a smile came to your face as you rested your head on his chest

“it wont be long, i promise ill call you everyday, okay?”

he assured you that he’ll come see you as soon as filming was over

you knew that he would and you were more than willing to wait for him

because you love him and there was nothing that would ever change your mind

even if he is a major dork that makes you cringe more often than not

~Lee Jaeyoon~

bias wrecker number 1

did you guys see how hard he practiced for the jealous stage on kingdom

i might cry

i hope he got enough time to rest after hurting his knee

you were at your apartment when youngbin called you letting you know that jaeyoon was on his way to the hospital

of course you were worried but he assured you that he was okay he just hurt his knee

sObBiNg

of course you told him that you would meet him there and quickly got dressed

once you finally reached the hospital your boyfriend was staying at you found youngbin who was waiting for your outside

“is he okay? hes not too hurt is he?”

“he’ll be okay, he just has to rest for a while, i told him you were coming”

as quickly as he could he led you into the room where jaeyoon was lying restlessly

when he heard the door open his head shot over to you and he smiled sadly

you quickly composed yourself and smiled, walking over to him

you sat in the chair next to him and the two of you talked for a while

he told you about coming in last place, feeling like he didn’t work hard enough

it hurt you to see him like that and you did everything you could to reassure him that you were proud of him and he did the best that he could

he began to grow sleepy while talking to you and you could tell

“can you spend the night here with me?”

you almost squealed out loud as he sleepy state but you just nodded and agreed

he scooted as far as he could to the side of the bed to make room for you

you laid down next to him and he immediately wrapped his body around yours hugging you as closely as he could

he easily fell asleep to you petting his hair and whispering sweet nothings to him

i squealed

~Lee Sanghyuk~

bEaNnnnN

hes so adorable i cant handle it

he also may be my moms favorite she doesnt know yet

although he is a dork he is very serious when it comes to his relationship with you

you are the light of his life and he will treat you as such

but youre still not safe from his pranks and constant jokes

he came to your apartment in his next attempt to bug you

but when he noticed that you weren’t your normal bubbly self he placed himself next to you on the couch

you immediately reacted and rested your body against his

he leaned back into the cushions and pulled you into his lap

he would occasionally kiss your forehead letting out small hums

he would listen intensely as you tell him about you day

you explained why you were sad and he acted as if it happened to him

giving you advice on how to deal with the situation

it was rare for you to see him so serious but you loved that he was willing to help you with whatever problem that you had

even if it was something small a small trivial matter that didnt have any meaning

once he was sure that you were okay and they two of you would joke around

being the little shit that he is he would pin you down on the couch and began to tickle you

“yah, knock it off!”

you tried your best to push him off of you

but our man is swole and was not letting you off that easy

once he finally decides youve had enough flops down and lays on top of you

“youre lucky youre cute”

you couldn’t stop the growing smile on your face as the two of you continued to joke around

~Baek Ju Ho~

bias wrecker number 2

hes so precious and i cant handle the cuteness

aaaahhhhh

excuse me ill calm myself

the boy

whether he admits it or not

he will drop anything and run the minute you call his name

and if youre sad or if you pout

lord you better believe hes right there plotting the death of whoever made you sad

one day you and zuho are out walking around doing couple things

you know, being adorable

when all of a sudden you see a group of girls pointing and laughing

you werent sure what they found funny but you began to grow self concious

it didnt even have to be you that they were laughing at, but your mind got the best of you

zuho noticed the sudden change in behavior and immediately took your hand

he pulled you into a hug and rocked you back and forth slightly

he caressed the back of your head and whispered to you about how much he loves you and how beautiful you are

you looked up at him and smiled softly

he chuckled to himself before placing a soft kiss to your lips

he continued to press light kisses all over your face as he hugged you tighter

you giggled and hid your face in his chest

the people that surrounded you couldn’t help but smile as they watched the two of you

even the girls who you thought were laughing at you they had large smiles on their faces as they all talked about wishing to have a boyfriend like him

~Kim Seok Woo~

i swear i feel like he would be the best boyfriend ever

i know im not the only one who sees it

C U D D L E B U G

he won’t be able to live if he doesnt touch you at least once every ten minutes

ten seconds

he loves your touches

lets be honest he loves everything about you

i am not kidding

after a stressful day of filming schedules and whatever other plans he has

his favorite thing is to come home and have you waiting for him

there were a lit of times where you would fall asleep waiting for him

he knew that it was late and you wouldnt be awake so he didnt bother to call you

he walked into his dorm tired from the long day that he had

after getting a bottle of water he walked into his room and a large smile came to his face

you were lying on his bed bundled up in his blankets sleeping peacefully

he got ready for bed as fast as he could wanted to lie next to you as fast as he could

once he was ready he carefully and quietly lifted up the blanket covering up your body

he laid down next to you and slipped one arm underneath your body

he slowly rolled you over so your body was lying on top of his

once the two of you were cozy he covered your body back up with the blanket

letting out a peaceful sigh he relaxed his body against yours closing his eyes and letting your quiet breathing quickly lulling him to sleep

you woke up a little later noticing that you werent lying in the same position you fell asleep in

your eyes fluttered open and a smile came to your face as you stared at your sleeping boyfriend

you placed a small kiss on his nose before settling back down and once again falling into your slumber

~Yoo Taeyang~

baby

i love him so much

literally no words can explain it

uggghhh

anyway

his favorite thing to do outside of his idol life

iiisss

*YOU*

so when he FINALLY gets a day off

guess what hes doing

hanging out with the love of his life of course

duh

he spent the night at your apartment the day before and now the two of you are lying in bed

youre both lying on your sides just staring at each other with cute smiles on your faces

the aura around the two of you is peaceful, quiet, and intimate

to anyone looking in you could see the love pouring off of the two of you just by looking

you lifted your hand and brought it closer to taeyangs face, trailing your fingers up his jaw

you brought your hand up to his hairline and gently caressed his hair

“i love you”

a red hue came to taeyangs cheeks as he buried his face in your neck

“yah, you cant say stuff like that out of no where”

you giggle as his breath tickled your neck

you draped your arms loosely around his neck as he shifted to hover above you

“but its true”

“i love you”

he buried his face in your neck again and attacked you with kisses

you squealed loudly and the two of you spent the rest of your day just like this

and neither of you would have it any other way

~Kim Youngkyun~

this dood

A W K W A R D

seriously please help him

no one really knows how the two of you got together

youre both so awkward that people dont understand your relationship

but lets be honest the two of you are perfect for each other

hwiyoung is a sensitive lil gentleman and he totally understands you

buttt sometimes it doesnt come out how he wants it to

you know, him being awkward and all

he does love your affection but he just has a hard time showing it

so a lot of the time youre the one that has to initiate it

“youngie come here”

his head shot over to look at you the minute that he heard you whine

he stood on his feet and walked over to his bed where you were sitting

“are you okay? whats wrong?”

you just smiled and grabbed his hand pulling him onto the bed

he let out an exclaim of surprise as he landed with an oof on the bed

you acted quickly and wrapped your arms around his waist

you laid half of your body on top of his and stared down at him

his face was red as he stared up at you

“i hate it when you do that”

you laughed again as you rested your chin on his chest

“you love it and you know it”

he just rolled his eyes and the two of you continued to talk to each other while lying like that

hwiyoung locked his hands around your waist while you talked about your idea of getting a new puppy

“will you name it after me?”

you gushed at his pout and squished his cheeks together

“youre too cute”

you loved how adorable he was and you hoped that he stayed this adorable forever

~Kang Chanhee~

fluffy fluff boy

deserves all the love in the world

supes awk

but tries to act confident around you because well

the boys make fun of him about you

our lil actor boy will be super chill about it as long as youre in the room

but the minute you leave

will whine and complain to his members

so one day when you randomly walked into the dorm and they were all there

you didnt hesitate to walk over to chani on the couch and plop down next to him

you wrapped one arm around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder

you let out a small sigh and relaxed yourself into his body

the boys didnt say anything but they all had smiles on their faces as the two of you were in your own little world

chani slipped his hand into yours as the two of you continued to talk about your days

“when are you going to teach me your new routine?”

chani laughed and kissed the top of your head

“whenever youre ready”

he smiled when you let out a little yawn

“come on, lets go to bed”

you sat up and stood on your feet following him into his room

you plopped onto his bed and he laid down next to you

“will you sing for me?”

he let out a tiny giggle before nodding

once the two of you were comfortable he began to sing quietly until your head lulled to the side

once he knew you were sleeping he hugged you closer loving the fact that you were so close to him

#sf9 #kingdom #legendary war #hwiyoung #chani #youngbin #rowoon #zuho #inseong #jaeyoon #dawon #taeyang #kpop #kpop fluff #fluff #cute #squealed

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {17}*

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Plot, Heavy cursing, HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST, Mild Time Jumps, MILD NSFW, LOTS OF WORDS, Triggering Sexual Assault Content

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY STRESSED!!

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY TEXTBOOK SEXUAL ASSAULT CONTENT BY DUBIOUS MEANS ON A MENTALLY INCAPACITATED INDIVIDUAL!!

Word Count: 6K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

NOTE: DO NOT COME FOR ME.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

In the last two weeks, he’d become a shell of himself. His life drastically changed. What was him working and traveling almost nonstop turned into him having a lot of time on his hands. Instead of traveling and having no time to be the husband he needed to be, he now had all the time in the world. He found it ironic now. Every time he stepped into your shared bedroom, he saw you everywhere. You were in the décor, the scents that still lingered around, and your items strewn around the room.

Every time he looked behind him or around a corner, he expected to see your smiling face. When he closed his eyes, he expected to feel your soft caress against his jaw or your full lips pressed onto his skin. He expected it, but the expectation was not reality. His reality was far different. His days now consisted of doing his best to keep on top of work obligations even though mostly everyone understood his need to take a step back from anything work-related. If he wasn’t distracting himself with work, he roamed around the house, being haunted by happier times. If he wasn’t glued to the bed staring out at your side of the bed, he was beating himself up over the fact that he’d caused his current reality and wishing he’d done so many things differently.

His mother stayed in town to be his moral support and moved in with Scott. They said it was just to be there for him, but he knew they didn’t think he was in any state to take care of himself. They were right. He barely ate, didn’t sleep, kept to himself, and found the sustenance he needed in beer and Whiskey. He didn’t care if they had no nutritional value; it was all he cared to ingest to his mother’s dismay. She cooked all his favorites from childhood, but none of it enticed him. What was the point, he wondered. He didn’t want lasagna or beef stew or meatballs marinara. He only wanted you.

When he pulled himself out of his internal turmoil, he was sitting outside of Christiano’s house and twisting the knife in his heart deeper. He wondered what was going on inside, wondered if you were laughing with him, or letting him hold you at nights. He couldn’t get the image of you kissing him in your hospital room or the elevator out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, it was what he saw, and from there, his imagination went rampant until he was filled with fear that turned to rage.

He’d stay in front of Christiano’s house for hours just staring at it. He didn’t trust Christiano as far as he could spit. He knew he was up to something, and he felt that somehow if he kept an eye on things, he couldn’t pull anything. At least six times, he found himself speaking to a police officer who was given an anonymous tip that he was sitting outside the house. He knew it was Christiano who’d called them to report it, and he did it to fuck with him. The first two times, he was given leeway, but the others he was told to move or else they’d fine him. He now had more than eight violation tickets because he refused to move.

If it wasn’t the cops that told him to leave or threatened fines, it was Christiano’s security who always seemed to come out like clockwork every hour threatening him to leave or else. He wasn’t afraid, and his refusal to move showed it. He knew the asshole was somewhere inside either peeping through a window or watching on the video feed like the Lord Farquaad he really was. Every chance he got, he made sure to give the house a middle finger.

Every time he called you, the majority of the time, you didn’t answer. Instead, it was Christiano who did. He always sounded like the cocky fuck he was. Every chance he got, he goaded him into losing his temper, and when he was irate and fired up, he’d end the call. When he called, and Christiano didn’t answer, it rang endlessly. On a few occasions, you answered, but he was so surprised by it that he never found the right thing to say. What did you say to your wife that didn’t remember you in any shape or form? He could say he loved you or missed you. He couldn’t apologize. He couldn’t talk to you like you were old friends. All he could do was sit in silence with the knife twisting deeper until you hung up.

The doorbell snapped him out of another hour of aimless staring into space. He was alone tonight. Scott and his mom were at Scott’s house after he blew up at them, telling them to leave him alone. It wasn’t his finest moment. Slowly, he trudged to the door with a bottle in his hand; it was his normal accessory now. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Ana’s smiling face. He couldn’t help but sigh out. He’d hoped it was you.

“Hi, Ana.”

She gave him a once over then frowned. “You look horrible.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said before he turned to walk away. The clink of her heels on the marble was the indication she was following him. A few moments later, he dropped onto the couch and brought the bottle back to his lips.

“How many of these have you had?”

“Lost count. What’re you doing here? I’ve told you that you don’t have to keep coming here.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I thought we were friends.”

He didn’t answer; he just studied her trying to access her motives.

“Friends don’t let friends go through a tough time alone. I come bearing a home-cooked meal and company.”

He sighed again while taking another swig.

“I have plenty of food, and I don’t need the company.” It was rude, but it was honest.

Ana frowned before she sat beside him on the couch. “Look, I know you’re going through something really tough. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I don’t think you should lock away and—wallow. You have to keep going.”

“Ana, I appreciate you coming by these last two weeks with food and checking on me. You’re kind to do it, but it’s unnecessary. I wish everyone would just give me some space. Everyone hovers and tiptoes, not wanting to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing as if them avoiding the huge elephant in the room makes it so I don’t see it. I see the fucking elephant. My fucking wife is not here! My wife has no fucking memory of me. As far as she’s concerned, I’m some stranger from the street!” His frustrations were bubbling to the surface.

She didn’t speak for several moments after that. He was glad for it. Lately, he’d been looking at her with a new suspicious eye. He had all the time in the world to see things that either didn’t add up or just came off strange. He never thought Ana’s behavior was suspicious before, but now everything had a hint of awkwardness. He’d begun to wonder if you’d been right all along, and she was harboring some crush on him. Before, he saw her friendliness and willingness to help and be around him as a kindred spirit situation, but now, it was possible he might have had been wrong.

“Chris–,” Ana began before he cut her off.

“It’s not a good idea for you to here like this. The paps are camped out a block down and have constant eyes on the house. The last thing either of us needs is for you to be snapped coming in or out of here. Honestly, I think it’s best that we stay clear of each other by giving each other some space.”

Her jaw dropped for a split second, and along with it, he saw the anger flash through her eyes. As quickly as it happened, it disappeared. She took a deep breath and brushed her slick ponytail back as if there was a hair that was misplaced from the perfectly done style.

“Chris, we’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s not what it looks like to the public and the fans. Twitter is on fire over this. My name, your name, and Uriah’s name has been trending for two weeks. This is all anyone can talk about. They all think we’re having an affair.”

“It’s not true, though. We’re not fucking each other, so who cares!”

Her shout was loud and shrill. This was the first time he’d seen her lose her temper, the first time he’d seen a crack in the perfect demeanor she always displayed. Again, Ana brushed her hair back as she cleared her throat. In seconds that perfect façade was back.

“I’m sorry. This is stressful for all of us,” Ana offered.

“Then, space is definitely needed. I’ll walk you out.” With that, he stood and walked out of the family room toward the door. Ana didn’t immediately follow; several moments passed before she even entered the hallway. As she approached, he could see her disappointment and annoyance.

“Chris–,” she began.

“I know Ana. I just—I’m angry and frustrated and honestly at my wit’s end. I don’t want to live in this reality anymore.”

She must have sensed there was nothing else to say, so she nodded. He opened the door for her to walk through, and once she did, he promptly closed it. It hadn’t even been a month, and he was already falling apart at the seams. He had no idea how much longer he could go on in this new reality.

The alert for his phone sounded in the eerily quiet house. As he approached it, he expected it to be another update from the private investigator he was paying to look into everything or even his mother or Scott checking in for the umpteenth time today. When he saw the ID as “Jackass,” his eyes nearly got stuck in the back of his head from how hard he rolled them. As he opened the message, his heart dropped.

MSG Jackass: I thought it was a good idea to get Uriah out of town so she could properly heal.

“Son of a bitch!”

He was in his car in seconds though he knew he’d been drinking that day. As he sped to Christiano’s house, he didn’t feel impaired. That text sobered his ass up in record time. He was in such a sobering mind-frame that he obeyed every light and traffic sigh though his instincts said to run every light he came across. As he drove, he used the audio recognition in his car to call Christiano back to back. Each call he placed was ignored, and he knew it was him ignoring it rather than missing the call.

When he pulled up outside of his palatial home, he pounded on the gate.

“Christiano! Open this fucking gate!”

He didn’t feel the wrought iron underneath his hand, or much of anything besides anger and fear.

“Open the gate! Uriah!”

He saw two burly security guards approaching the gate as if they had all the time in the world.

“Where is my wife!?”

“You again? Look, man, we’ve told you that you’re not welcome here,” the one with the goatee croaked.

“I don’t give a fuck if I’m welcomed or not. My wife is in there! Do you hear me? She’s my wife. Where is Christiano? Tell him to bring his pathetic ass out here!”

“If you don’t stop banging on the gate, we’re going to have to call the police again.”

“Call the police! Where is the son of a bitch!”

“He’s not here.”

The two guards looked back, revealing a slender woman dropping in designer everything. Her strawberry blonde locks were framing her face that looked sad.

“What do you mean he’s not here? Where is my wife?!”

She approached the gate nodding to the guards silently telling them to back off.

“I’m Christina. I’m a friend to Uriah.”

“Christina—White?”

She nodded.

“Where is my wife?”

“She’s not here. Her and Christiano left an hour ago,” Christina informed.

“What! Where did they go?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Look, I told him it was a bad idea. I told him that he should keep her here because, at the end of the day, she’s your wife. He didn’t listen. He never listens. He’s always been a fool when it comes to her,” Christina divulged.

“So you’re telling me he has my wife somewhere in this world, and no one knows where she is or going?”

His panic quickly raised. He’d never felt this out of control in his life. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears as he turned his back to the house.

“He won’t hurt her if you’re worried about that. He loves her too much for that.”

“Son of a bitch!”

~~~~~~~~

-Uriah-

You walked through the airport toward the gate to board the waiting private jet with your hand planted in Christiano’s and your shades on. You could feel the eyes on you, and you even felt as if those who watched you were whispering about you. It shouldn’t have been anything alarming you’d been in the public eye for a few years and knew how this felt. The only thing was this felt different somehow.

“Is it me, or is it like they’re whispering more than usual?”

Christiano quickly looked around before he shrugged and squeezed your hand.

“Nah, they’re just blown away by the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You smiled widely and allowed him to press a kiss to your forehead. Once you got to the gate, Christiano greeted his flight crew and did all the talking. You liked how he always took control of a situation. It meant you didn’t have to worry about a thing when you were with him. Over the last two weeks, the two of you had been wrapped in a bubble at his house. You didn’t go out or even make an attempt to do anything but spend time with him. For some reason, you felt as if you hadn’t been together in months. Almost immediately from your release from the hospital, you began to feel sick as if something was off with you.

On a whim, you had a security guard bring you a pregnancy test which came out positive. You had no idea what to think or how to feel. You knew you’d always wanted kids, and the thought of kids with Christiano was something you’d thought about over the years you’d been together. You knew you and the baby would be well taken care of. When you told Christiano, he looked speechless, and for a few minutes, you feared he didn’t want the baby, but he assured you he did. From there, you were in this elated bubble at the thought of impending parenthood with the man you loved.

It had become apparent to you that you were missing some time in your memory. The therapy sessions that Dr. Diallo suggested was more than therapy for people involved in traumatic accidents. You’d pieced together that there were holes in your memory. When you asked Christiano about it, he filled in what he could, always stressing how much he loved you and how happy you were together. You didn’t doubt it. You knew he loved you. You remembered that there were a few times you’d suggested a break from each other because of the intensity of that love. It was always ion the back of your mind, but he was the perfect man toward you.

“Ready beautiful?” Christiano spun you to him, pressing his palms against your ass, pulling you flush against him. The touch felt familiar but also foreign as if somehow it wasn’t right.

“Of course.”

“I can’t wait to get you on that beach.” You smiled and allowed him to kiss you. This kiss wasn’t quick or timid as the once from the last two weeks. Christiano’s tongue delved into your mouth, tangling with yours unexpectedly. Though it felt strange, it also felt normal. You couldn’t wrap your head around the competing feelings and senses.

When he pulled back, he retook your hand and led you through the gate to board the jet. In a few short minutes, you were rolling down the tarmac and wheels up, gliding through the air to some surprise tropical island. You allowed yourself to mellow out drift to sleep. As you slept, your dreams were strange. You were in places you’d never been before, seeing faces you’d never seen before and having conversations you had no recollection of until you were sucked into a black hole. The darkness clung to you, but your hearing was that much more in tune. As you began to panic, the sound of a familiar but unfamiliar voice comforted you and spoke the sweetest words.

“I love you, Riah.”

“I don’t think anything could have stopped me from marrying her. It was inevitable.”

Whose voice was it, you didn’t know. The only thing you knew was you liked it.

When the jet landed, and the chauffeured car pulled up outside a beach house, you were exhausted and in need of a bath and a nap. Your nap on the jet wasn’t enough, especially since it left you highly on edge and confused. Christiano’s beach house was gorgeous. According to him, it was a new addition to his collection of properties, one he said he didn’t visit much but knew you’d like. He gave you a quick house tour before you finally got to take your bath.

As you sat in the tub, the sound of the breeze rustling the palm trees, and the chips of the birds mixed with the soft crash of the waves onto the sand outside lulled your senses into a mellow state that had your mind completely blank. This was a first. Since you woke up from your accident, your head always felt as if it was reaching for something. You didn’t know what it was, but it never stopped, not even when you slept. When you slept, it only seemed to intensify its search. This usually meant you awoke feeling as if you’d never slept.

With your brain quiet and your muscles melting inside the water, you finally felt yourself beginning to enjoy your surroundings. Time stood still but flew at the same time. Before you knew it, Christiano was standing over you holding a towel.

“You’ve been in here for a while. Are you okay?”

“I’m great. I think I dozed off.”

“Are you ready to come out?”

You nodded and stood in the tub. Christiano’s eyes widened as they slowly roamed over your naked, dripping body. He didn’t move, and the look on his face was one you didn’t recognize. You worried you’d already gained weight from the pregnancy, and he didn’t like it.

“I know I look—different—the baby–,” you began before Christiano quickly wrapped the towel around your body, holding you against him.

“You’ve always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life, and you will always be that woman,” he whispered while staring in your eyes before he pressed his lips to yours to scoop you into his arms.

Christiano intensified the kiss as he carried you through the house. When he placed you to sit on the bed, your heart lurched, and it felt like panic or fear. Christiano pulled back, but before he could speak again, a phone rang. He sighed out and assured you he’d be back before he walked out. Relief filled you, and that was strange to you. You didn’t understand why you felt relieved the moment had been interrupted or felt panic or fear once he put you on the bed.

Pushing it to the side, you went through your after-shower routine and dressed. When you reemerged from the bedroom, Christiano was placing plates on the table on the balcony that overlooked the beach. The two of you had a quiet dinner.

As the days ticked by, the two of you enjoyed everything the island had to offer. You went sailing, snorkeling, sunbathed on the beach, ate, and enjoyed each other’s company. There were several times you caught Christiano’s eyes on your body and even a few times where you placed his hand on your belly that was beginning to make its appearance. When he touched your belly, his eyes always looked sad, but it was a look that was quickly gone to be replaced with his smile. When you brought it up, he assured you he was just worried he wouldn’t be a good father. His admission made melt. He always came off so self-assured and confident in everything he did. It was your turn to assure him he would be an amazing dad because of how he took care of you.

Every morning he prepared your breakfast. A breakfast that always consisted of a part of the food groups from the food pyramid and four pills he identified as a prenatal vitamin, Iron, Vitamin E, and Vitamin C. You found it sweet that he wanted to take such good care of you. It was a side you’d loved about him since meeting him. Every time you kissed, they got longer and longer and more intense than the last. No matter who initiated the kiss, you were always the one to pull away from it.

Something always felt off. Something inside of you wouldn’t let you get there with him, and you didn’t understand it. He’d been nothing but good to you. He hadn’t mistreated you or done anything hurtful that would give you right for the pause. Still, every time Christiano’s lips touched yours, your psyche fought back. Excruciating pain usually always followed with an echoing scream in your head. By the time a week had passed on the island, you could tell Christiano was beginning to get frustrated with the constant back and forth though he swore he was fine and wanted you to move at your pace.

You found your hands always on your burgeoning stomach, just tracing along it, envisioning the baby inside of you. You’d thought about kids in passing, but never as if it would actually happen. You felt as if you should have been terrified, but you didn’t feel any fear. You felt content, ready. You now loved to spend mornings just lying in bed, feeling your stomach, and envisioning life as a mom. You couldn’t believe this was life now, but you wanted it more than anything.

“Ready for bed?”

You turned around from the vanity you sat and saw Christiano toward you. He wore no shirt and sweat shorts that were low on his hips. He looked good.

“Yeah.”

Christiano took your hand, kissed it, and led you out of the vanity room to the bedroom. Once inside, the two of you slinked underneath the covers. When Christiano slid to your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, you hesitated but only for a few seconds. With your hesitation, Christiano brought his lips to your temple to trail kisses down the side of your face to your jaw and down to your neck. Once there, he capitalized on knowing your spot and teased it with soft kisses. As he continued, you both remained frozen, unable to move. Nothing was preventing you from moving, but you felt as if you couldn’t.

When Christiano’s lips dropped to your cleavage at the swell of your breast, you clutched the sheets in your hand for dear life.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding vigorously, you did your best to keep the panic out of your eyes. Cristiano kissed you gently, coxing your tongue to play with his. When you allowed him in, Christiano’s tongue wrapped around yours as he sucked it. In a matter of seconds, he was on top of you using his hands to caress your exposed thigh. The hand you envisioned was not his, though. In your mind’s eye, you saw a large hand gripping your thigh before it pushed along your skin up to your hip to pull down your underwear.

As quickly as you envisioned it, it disappeared, and you were underneath a hardening Christiano. That fact was what had you pulling away from him. When he looked at your face, he must have seen everything you felt. The disappointment in his eyes couldn’t be hidden. Christiano sighed, dropped his head, then nodded as he rolled off of you to lie on his back while staring at the ceiling. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small, a whisper.

Christiano didn’t respond right away. You weren’t sure he would. A full minute ticked by before he spoke.

“It’s okay, little dove.”

You sighed, hearing his nickname for you. Relief flooded you.

“Let’s get some rest,” Christiano suggested ending any conversation.

You knew he was frustrated with you. How could he not be? Glancing over to him, you saw he still laid there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The look on his face was unreadable. Slowly you rubbed your belly and closed your eyes. It was quickly becoming a comforting mechanism for you, one you found yourself doing more and more since your arrival on the island.

The next morning you woke up alone with Christiano nowhere to be found. You didn’t know what to think, but you didn’t feel any panic. You felt relief. It was yet another thing that you didn’t understand. Why did you feel relief knowing he wasn’t there but panic when he was close? As you ate breakfast, your thoughts drifted. You thought about life before waking up in the hospital, this new life you found yourself in, and the one that was waiting in the future. While you felt as if you were getting back to normal, you always felt like none of this was normal. You didn’t feel normal. The ringing of a phone brought you back to reality and sent you on the hunt for where it came from.

You found the phone in Christiano’s bedside table.

“Hello?

The line was silent, but you just knew someone was there. You repeated your greeting, but your voice was lower than before.

“Riah.”

You didn’t know if it was the name or the way the voice sounded, but your heart raced, and your belly fluttered. You felt something familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew you’d heard it before. You knew this was not the first time you’d had this reaction.

“Who is this?” Your voice was even shakier.

“Me,” he whispered.

Everything in you was fighting, but you didn’t know what it was fighting for? Was it against something or for something? His name was at the tip of your tongue.

“Ch—Chris?”

“You know me?” He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears. For some reason, you wanted to ease his pain, but you didn’t know how.

“No.”

He sighed out and sniffled. The realization he was crying weighed heavily on you, so heavy you had to drop to the bed to sit.

“I miss you so much.”

The words meant something to you, but what? The words made you feel, but what? As you were opening your mouth to speak, you heard a door close.

“Little dove?”

Quickly you ended the car and put the phone back into the nightstand then hurried out to greet Christiano, hoping he didn’t suspect anything. You felt as if you were a cheating wife.

Christiano made all your favorites for dinner that night, and the two of you ate surrounded by a sea of candlelight and flowers. You worked hard to keep your head in the present and not on the way Chris’s voice sounded or the effect it had on you. You were curious, but you also knew that curiosity was like opening Pandora’s Box. What if you’d cheated on Christiano and he didn’t know? That was your biggest worry right now. You wanted to bring it up to him, but the ramifications were what stopped you.

After dinner, you sat on the beach watching a movie from the projector and sipping apple cider. Without warning, Christiano stood, allowing your feet that were in his lap to drop to the sand. He turned to you and held his hands out for you.

“What’re you doing?”

“Take my hand.” Slowly you slipped your hands into his. Christiano lowered his head to your hands and kissed the backs then dropped to one knee in front of you.

“Oh my god,” you began. You wanted to leap out of your skin and run down the beach. That was your true first instinct.

“I love you, little dove. I’ve loved you from the minute I laid eyes on you. We’ve been through so much together. There was a time that we didn’t know what was next, a time both of us went through a lot. I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you. You’re my everything, Uriah. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—with our—baby.”

Your tears rolled down your cheek, and you couldn’t help but slide closer to him.

“I don’t want to know what it’s like to live a day without you. I don’t want to do it. Will you marry me and spend the rest of your life with me?”

You remembered a time where you wanted him to ask you more than anything. You remembered a time where you’d even planned the kind of wedding you’d want and imagined your name with his last name. Though you knew all of that for a fact, you hesitated with your response. You also remembered another voice asking the same question. A voice you’d heard before. Both voices echoed in your head one over the other until you heard nothing but the words. It was deafening. After a minute the silence returned and you were finally able to breath. You saw Christiano’s panic, and from his panic you tried to calm your own.

“Yes.”

It took him a few moments to move, but when he did, he threw his arms around you and hugged you so tightly. The two of you giggled together like lovestruck idiots who’d just taken the biggest leap for mankind.

“I love you so much.”

His lips were soft and tasted like the Bourbon he’d been drinking. This kiss wasn’t a timid one, it was one that spoke of his love and passion for you, but you also felt his possessiveness. It was stronger than usual. When he pulled his lips back, he sat you down and held out papers.

“What’s this?”

“Remember when we began dating, and you found out that Christina and I would have a prenup for any future spouses?”

You nodded.

“That’s where I was today. I wanted to get them taken care of. This is my love for you. I want to forgo the prenup. I want us to move forward with nothing between us. All you have to do is sign this, and what’s mine is yours.”

You studied him half in disbelief he’d do this and the other half in awe that he’d go against his family and do this. You took the papers, opened them, and began to read them. Almost instantly, Christiano dropped onto his knees again and kissed you.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife—Mrs. White.”

Hearing the name, you giggled on his lips and returned his kisses as fervently as he gave them. The two of you got lost in kisses for a few minutes.

“Hurry up and sign them so we can be the three little Whites.”

You smiled widely and took the pen he offered. Without reading the documents any further, you signed your name without even looking. Instead, you stared into his eyes. Once you’d finished, you threw your arms around his neck. Christiano lifted you and spun you around, making you giggle like a little girl. You walked along the beach hand in hand, admiring the colossal diamond ring he’d planted on you and just imagining the life you had before you.

A few hours later, once you returned to the house to shower and climb into bed with Christiano beside you with his arms wrapped around you. You don’t know why you woke, but when you did, you were alone in the bed. You looked around and found the room empty. Slowly you walked through the house looking for Christiano. You were sure he wouldn’t leave you alone this late at night, especially since he’d already taken care of the business of couriering the paperwork off the island.

When you turned the corner leading to the living room, the lights were off, but you heard whispers. Your footsteps slowed, and you pressed your back to the wall and listened.

“That wasn’t part of the plan. You’re fucking crazy. you could have—still, it was not the plan.” He sounded angry and spoke as if he wanted to yell but was keeping it down. “It’s been handled. I sent him a little surprise or a present. It is your move.”

You had no idea who he was talking to or what he was talking about. You stepped out of the shadows and into the glow of the moonlight.

“Tino?”

Christiano quickly spun around with his hands behind his back.

“What’re you doing up, little dove?

“You weren’t beside me, and I heard voices. Is everything okay?”

Christiano scoffed and smiled as he approached you.

“Yes, perfect. I was just making plans to start our beautiful life together. You and me.” He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You, me, and the baby,” you corrected. Christiano’s jaw clenched, but it was a quick movement before he smiled again.

“Of course. The three of us. Everything I’ve ever wanted in life.”

You smiled and let him lead you to the bedroom. Once inside, you slipped under the covers again and allowed him to kiss you. as he kissed you, you felt the urgency of his kisses and the need coursing through him. His moans echoed in the room as your fingers danced across his bare back. When he rolled onto you, you didn’t freeze this time, and you didn’t hesitate when you felt his need.

From there, Christiano’s movements were deliberate. He kissed where he knew you liked, but it didn’t feel quite right. As he sucked your skin and undressed you, you ignored the strange feeling you had. It was a feeling you assumed cheaters felt. You felt like you were somehow cheating. It made no sense. The man you loved was above you kissing you, licking your skin, and pleasing you the way he knew how. This was the man you were going to marry, the man you were going to make a father. Because it made no sense, you pressed forward.

After a while, both of you were naked. Christiano kissed your temple, then went to your ear.

“I love you, Uriah. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

You smiled and caressed his jaw and brought his face to yours. You wanted to stare into his eyes. They were filled with so much emotion, but there were things there that you didn’t recognize. Christiano dropped his lips to yours and kissed you passionately before he thrust his hips forward, joining your bodies.

You clung to him and shook as you heard your name panted in your ear, only it wasn’t Christiano’s voice you heard. As he moved inside of you, your moans and pants melded together, but your head was fogged with images of things that couldn’t have happened. The faster Christiano plunged in and out of your heat, the quicker the images flashed in your head. The louder his grunts got, the louder your moans became. Soon you felt as if you were close, but no matter how close you were, something was holding you back. This felt right but oh so wrong. He felt like yours, but you didn’t feel like his.

“Chris,” you panted without a thought. You said it again and again like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

Christiano’s thrusts became sloppier, and his grunts rougher.

“Yes, Uriah, you’re mine. Yes!”

“Chrissss!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee’s Afternote: Yikes. Are you guys okay? It’s okay to be pissed at me. I understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#rumor has it fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc uriah #chris evans x uriah #angst fanfic #black fanfiction #chris evans smut

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theyearoftheking · 3 years ago

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Book Eighty-One: Billy Summers

“Maybe a chilly story needs a chilly writing room, he thinks. It’s as good an explanation as any, since the whole process is a mystery to him, anyway.”

Well hello there, Constant Readers! Have you missed me and my half-assed reviews of Steve books?

Crickets.

I know I’ve promised book reviews, television recaps... all the things. But I’m kind of busy living and enjoying life at the moment, without the need to take notes or screen grabs. That being said, I really did enjoy Billy Summers, and it took me almost a hundred pages to remember how this blogging thing worked. I was supposed to take notes? Dark Tower references? DePere, Wisconsin? Should I remember that for some reason? But don’t worry, it was like riding a bike. This blog is full of all the stuff you’ve come to know and love, as well as SPOILERS!!! So, if you have not finished the book yet, stop reading and come back once you’ve turned the last page.

SPOILERS!!! Consider yourselves adequately warned.

Billy Summers doesn’t really include anything supernatural, and it’s more suspenseful and plot driven than some of Steve’s other books. In other words, it’s another great recommendation for people who don’t claim they don’t like Stephen King.

Billy is an assassin who has mastered the art of “dumb like a fox”.

He’s hired for a new assignment, but something seems off. Billy has been in the assassin game long enough to know when something is foul in the state of Denmark. He doesn’t trust the people who hired him, and he has the distinct impression he’s going to end up as the patsy in the end. But, he plays along as Dave Lockridge, single man and writer. He moves onto a charming street in Midwood (I kept reading this as Midworld... thanks, Steve), makes friends with all the neighbors, and beats all the neighborhood kids at Monopoly on the weekends. This part of the book was so tender, it reminded me a lot of Ted Brautigan and the kids from Hearts in Atlantis. Of all the things Billy later regrets, it’s letting these kids down, and having them trust him when he was obviously so untrustworthy.

During the day, Billy writes at his office in Gerald Tower. There’s always a tower, isn’t there? And this tower takes on more significance, because it’s the spot from which Billy is supposed to shoot Joel Allen. Joel is due to be transferred to Midwood, and marched up the steps of the courthouse just like in The Outsider. Constant Readers remember how well that worked out...

Billy has an assassins creed: he only shoots bad guys. On the scale of bad guys, Joel Allen isn’t quite Ted Bundy, but he’s not Mr. Rodgers either. He had something of a “me too” moment when he accidentally mistook a feminist writer for a sex worker; and there was a gun fight outside of a poker game. It’s enough for Billy to work with.

Billy is waiting for Joel to be transferred to the Midworld Midwood county lock-up; and he bides his time by actually doing some writing. He covers his tragic childhood (his mom worked in a laundry facility, just like Steve’s mom), and his time in the military. This is where Steve really shines. Billy’s book is written in a childish tone that just WORKS. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a simple-minded assassin. But still waters, friends. As the story goes on, Billy’s voice grows and improves. Well done, Steve, it’s like two books for the price of one.

In between writing, Billy assumes another fake identity (Dalton Smith), and secures a bolt hole to hide out in once his job is complete. Believe it or not, the murder of Joel Allen is such an insignificant part of the book. Billy successfully takes him out, and makes it to his bolt hole undetected. And this is really where the second part of the book starts.

One rainy night, Billy hears random noises outside his apartment. He looks out the window in time to see a van full of guys dump a female body into a gutter. Billy should have just anonymously called the police... but if he had done that, we wouldn’t have a story. Instead, Billy goes full on Captain Save A Ho, and pulls the young woman from the gutter. It’s clear she had been drugged and assaulted, and she manages to puke all over Billy’s place.

Neat.

When Alice wakes up in the morning, she recognizes Billy from the police sketches, but promises not to rat him out for the Joel Allen murder. They form an unlikely friendship that includes watering the neighbor’s plants, watching Blacklist, and Alice reading Billy’s book. Basically, they were sheltering in place before that was even a thing; something Steve jokes about. Eventually, Billy knows he needs to get the rest of his money for the Joel Allen hit, and punish the guys who raped Alice.

Y’all. I’m still having nightmares over the most creative use of a hand mixer I have ever read. I thought the can-opener in Lisey’s Story was bad... this was worse. But the kind of worse you feel good about, if that makes sense.

After finding out the name of the guy behind the Joel Allen hit, killing a few bad dudes, and pissing off a bitch named Marge (fucking Marge if you’re nasty), Billy and Alice hunker down in Colorado with Billy’s assassin booking agent, Bucky.

As soon as Billy and Alice entered Colorado and the town of Sidewinder was mentioned, I knew where we were headed. Yeah buddy, Overlook time!

Billy takes to writing in a little shack behind Bucky’s house, and inside the shack is a Polaroid picture of the topiary animals at the Overlook. Every time Billy looks at the picture, the animals seem to have shifted. It gives him a cold sense of dread.

There’s a certain parallel I picked up on in Colorado: Jack Torrance and Billy Summers are both haunted men running away from things. The Overlook was where Jack went to dry out, and work on his writing. He wanted to work on his marriage, and become a better father to Danny. We all know he failed spectacularly. Then, we’ve got Billy. Billy actually gets writing accomplished, and becomes an unlikely father-figure to Alice. Despite having just as much, if not more baggage than Jack, Billy doesn’t let it define him. He acknowledges it, and moves past it. It’s almost like Billy accomplishes what Jack couldn’t. And it took the Overlook burning to the ground for that to happen.

While we’re on the topic of Billy and Alice, one of the things I love about Steve’s characters is he never forces romance where there doesn’t need to be any. While Billy acknowledges the age gap between him and Alice, nothing untoward ever happens between them. There’s obvious love, but never the romantic kind. Steve is one of the few contemporary writers to get this right.

The story ends with Billy killing the guy behind Joel’s hit, getting shot by Marge as he leaves the crime scene (fucking Marge), Alice nursing him back to health, and getting him back to Colorado where they all live happily ever after.

I wish.

I wish I had stopped reading twenty-three pages before the book ended, because the actual end was more realistic, but heartbreaking. In reality, fucking Marge shot Billy in the stomach, and he died of an infection in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Fucking Marge indeed. But this was the way the book should have ended. Needed to end. Anything else would have been unrealistic. But damn, I hated to see Billy go out like that.

There was one Wisconsin reference: after Billy kills Joel Allen, he’s supposed to be transferred to a safe house in De Pere. You know... where Steve lived when he was in a kid.

Other than Gerald Tower, we were also graced with “the world has moved on-” just to remind us that we all follow The Beam.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 49

Total Dark Tower References: 78

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

Billy Summers: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

If It Bleeds: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Later: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

I’m not going to end this with any promises of upcoming posts. That way when I do randomly stumble on here one afternoon, it will be a delight for us all.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

#constant reader #stephen king #the dark tower #the shining #billy summers #hearts in atlantis #lisey's story #the overlook #jack torrance

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august-anon · 4 years ago

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Tickletober Day 13 - Wake up!

Fun fact: this is the very first fic I wrote when prepping for tickletober and that's why it's so plot-heavy lol. It's also one of my favorite fics I've written for tickletober, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, sorry for the bit of angst lol

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Ship(s): platonic Pines fam

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Dipper, Lee!Mabel, Ler!Stan (also Ford is here briefly)

Word Count: 1691 words

Summary: Stan may have difficulty recalling anything now, but at least he knows the kids will be a constant.

[ao3 link]

-----------------------------------

Stan sat at the kitchen table, staring down at Mabel’s scrapbook and flipping through pages. He hadn’t been able to stop since she’d given it to him a few days ago, after they all realized how much it had started helping his memory.

The thing was, Stan couldn’t remember much beyond this past summer, and even that was fractured at best. Ford told him stories, of course. Their mom, their dad, their brother. He’d told Stan about the Stan ‘O War, about how they’d always been there for each other, about shenanigans the two of them had gotten into. Stories from Ford’s perspective could only do so much, though. And Stan wasn’t as clueless as Ford thought he was, he could clearly see that Ford was holding a lot back.

Something had happened between the two of them. Possibly multiple somethings. And not good somethings, seeing as Ford wouldn’t crack.

It was disorienting and uncomfortable, to have so much of his life blank. He forgot names, faces, places. He had lapses, even with memories they thought he’d recovered permanently. Sometimes, on bad nights, Stan forgot who he was entirely again, and where he was, and why this strange man that looked like him was trying to tell him to calm down.

He didn’t know why he gave it all up. Stan’s family said, repeatedly, that what he did saved them, all of them. Even people he didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Stan wished that it brought him peace, knowing that, but it never did. He did know, though, that if it came down to it, he would probably make the same choice again in a heartbeat.

No one was hurting those kids, or his brother, ever again. Not if he could help it.

“Stanley?” Someone called from nearby. Stan got the notion that it wasn’t the first time they’d tried to get his attention.

He glanced up, seeing Ford in the doorway to the kitchen. He chuckled, slipping into a nonchalant persona that felt comfortably familiar, even if he hardly remembered it.

“Sorry, lost in thought, I guess,” he said, knocking a fist against his forehead. “Didja need something?”

Ford’s smile was tight around his eyes, like he knew exactly what Stan had been lost in thought about. “No, not at all.”

An awkward silence spread through the room again and an anxious feeling rose up in Stan’s chest. Was he supposed to be remembering something? Was this another routine he forgot, and now he was messing up the steps?

“Why don’t you go wake the kids?” Ford offered, cutting through the silence. “I can make us all breakfast. It’s starting to get late, anyway.”

Stan snorted. “Eight thirty is hardly late, Poindexter,” he said, but he was already rising from the table even as he said it, closing the scrapbook as he went.

Sure, the kids would probably be a bit grumpy. He would too, being woken up so early during a day off, especially in summer, but it gave Stan a task. Something to do that would (hopefully) be hard to mess up, memory or not.

So Stan dragged himself up the stairs to the attic and quietly pushed open the door to the kids’ room. He sighed when he saw the two of them curled up together in Dipper’s bed. He wasn’t surprised that they were having nightmares. He couldn’t fall asleep either, most nights, but instead of a face or voice haunting him, he had no name to put to his tormentor. Stan didn’t know if that made it easier or harder.

He heard them shuffling around at night when he couldn’t sleep, whispers carrying down through the old wooden house. Never enough for the words to travel, though, just the tone: angry, scared, tired, resigned. These kids acted far too old for their age.

Stan was rather tempted to just leave them and let them sleep. They clearly weren’t sleeping any better than him or Ford, the dark bruises under their eyes only accentuated by the shadows from the window. Really, Stan doubted anyone had been sleeping well, ever since what the town had dubbed “Weirdmaggedon.”

Maybe the kids would benefit from some time outside their realms of nightmares. He could already see Mabel’s face scrunching up in fear.

But how did he wake them? How did one wake an almost-teenager? Shake them? Poke them until they got annoyed enough to open their eyes? Talk really loud until it drew them out of dreamland? None of that seemed like it would lead to very happy children.

Stan sighed again and quietly entered the room, moving to stand next to the bed. Mabel made a distressed sound in her sleep and Stan couldn’t help but let out a sympathetic hum, tucking some of her tangled hair behind her ear. Mabel scrunched up her shoulder weird and a smile briefly tugged at her lips.

Now there was an idea.

Stan may not have had much memory left, but he knew a ticklish kid when he saw them. It felt a little rude to just tickle them right awake, though. Stan figured that would be pretty startling, while coming out of a nightmare. Instead he gently grabbed each of their shoulders and carefully shook them.

“Kids,” Stan said, voice low but not quite a whisper. “Kids, it’s time to wake up.”

Mabel’s face scrunched up, this time in annoyance and not fear. “Grunkle Stan, no,” she moaned, slurring her words in her half-asleep state and rolling over to bury her face in a pillow.

“Too early,” Dipper grumbled, and pulled the blanket over both of their heads.

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, maybe it is a bit early for grumpy pre-teens. But you know who it’s not too early for?”

Twins gasps sounded from under the blanket, and Stan got the distinct feeling that they’d gone through this song and dance before. Well, at least it was reassuring that his personality didn’t seem to have changed much, despite the gaps in memory.

“Grunkle Stan, wait!” Mabel cried, and it already sounded like she was laughing.

“No, no!” Dipper yelled, but his voice was giddy and excited.

“There’s no Grunkle Stan, here,” Stan growled, ripping the blanket off the two of them. “There’s only… the Tickle Monster!”

Dipper and Mabel shrieked as Stan lunged.

Even if Stan himself didn’t remember, it seemed like his fingers did. One hand clawed into Dipper’s stomach, making him squawk and cackle, while the other quickly buried itself up under Mabel’s arm, making her shriek and squeal. Stan couldn’t help but laugh along with the two of them, their laughter being painfully contagious.

“Hey,” Stan said, a goofy grin spreading across his lips. “Did you know, my ex-wife still misses me--”

Dipper and Mabel both groaned through their laughter.

“But her aim is getting better!”

Stan laughed, and he was certain that if the kids weren’t laughing too hard to talk, they would be making the usual assortment of annoyed comments.

“Wow, kids, I know I’m funny, but I didn’t know my jokes were that good.”

Mabel’s legs had started kicking, trying to propel her away from the tickling fingers, while Dipper seemed to curl in on himself as he snorted and cackled. It was an interesting dichotomy, with them being twins, and reminded Stan a lot of him and Ford when they were younger--

Well well, looks like goofing off did some good for Stan, after all.

But Stan decided that he had plenty of time to focus on that, later. For now, he needed to finish these kids off and get them down to breakfast. Preferably soon, because the realization that Ford could not cook and would likely burn the Shack down had also just hit him.

Stan leaned down, deciding to do his big finish on Dipper first. He pushed Dipper’s legs back down and pulled up his sleep shirt just enough to see his belly. Then, he took a deep breath and blew the biggest raspberry he could in the center of Dipper’s stomach, making sure to shake his head and rub his stubble in on it, and almost breaking to laugh at the near-scream that left Dipper’s lips. He blew a handful of smaller raspberries in a few random places before pulling back and letting Dipper breathe.

Turning toward Mabel, she had already tilted her head back like she knew what to expect. And now that he thought about it, Stan did seem to be getting a weird sense of deja-vu, so maybe this had been routine, before. Stan darted forward to blow a big raspberry against the side of her neck, hoping he didn’t go deaf from her shrill laughter right next to his ear, and blew a handful of smaller raspberries as he moved to the other side of it. There, he blew one last big raspberry before pulling back.

Stan sat on the edge of the bed as the kids caught their breath. They recovered faster than he expected, and Stan suddenly found himself tackled backwards to the bed, the kids laughing as they piled on top of him. Stan laughed, too.

“Good morning, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel yelled, far too loudly for having been asleep just moments before.

“Good morning!” Dipper echoed at a much lower volume.

“Come on,” he said. “We’d better get down to the kitchen before Ford blows the whole place up. I’m sure you two could convince him to step away from the stove long enough for me to make something.”

Dipper and Mabel both gave him incredibly mischievous looks before rushing out of the room without another word. Stan huffed out a breath, watching them go. Then, he quickly rose to follow them. Either his brother was about to get absolutely wrecked by two 12-year-olds, or those kids were about to have quite the round two (six fingers did wonders for tickling skills, based on what was coming back to Stan) and he didn’t want to miss a moment of either scenario.

After all, he knew more than anyone, now, that the memories he made with his family were beyond precious.

#tickle fic #My writing #tickletober2020 #gravity falls tickling #lee!dipper #lee!mabel #ler!grunkle stan #ticklish!dipper #ticklish!mabel #gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #grunkle stan #grunkle ford

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spatort · 4 years ago

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I’m at my parents’ house and I have too much time on my hands apparently, so it’s time for a trip down memory lane! More specifically, a trip into the weird world of 1990s for-profit teen idol RPF, such as this beauty:

No, I did not find this at my parents’ house, I bought it second-hand specifically in order to make this post because I’m a person who enjoys studying fan culture in her free time. So, if you’re wondering what the hell the monstrosity pictured above is, and why it exists, don’t worry, I’m about to answer that question extensively.

LONG (AND HOPEFULLY FUN & INTERESTING) POST UNDER THE CUT

Let’s start with a bit of history: In the pre-internet era, fan culture differed from today in a few key regards. Although fanfiction existed, without the internet it was much harder for fans to share their stories with each other. Large fandoms such as Star Trek did have fanzines where fanfic could be printed, but all in all it was a much more niche thing than it is today with millions of fics accessible on AO3.

Fan culture in general, however, was a big thing in the 90s – particularly when it came to pop acts that appealed to teen (and tween) audiences, such as the Backstreet Boys, the Spice Girls, or (mostly in Europe) the Kelly Family. When I was in elementary school, you basically had to pick whether you were a BSB or an NSYNC fan – and god forbid you were a Kelly fan like me, then you were the lowest rung on the social ladder and the target of relentless mockery. Like many German kids in the 90s, me and my sister would religiously read teen magazine BRAVO, cut out every single bit of material about our faves and collect them in folders and self-made fanzines. We created fan art and fanfiction without having words for these things. Without the internet and social media, fans did not have a constant stream of content about their idols, and were left with no other choice but to cling to every bit of information they could find in magazines, on TV shows, or on the radio.

Enter a savvy businessperson who comes up with the perfect merchandise product to sell to these popstar-obsessed teens: fan novels! These books, featuring taglines such as ‘The novel for all Backstreet Boys fans’, typically revolved around a relatable female teenage protagonist who is a fan of the celebrity or music group in question, and usually ends up meeting their idol or, gasp, even becoming romantically involved with them. As far as themes go, they look pretty much exactly like your classic self-insert RPF. Except there is a big difference setting these books apart from ‘actual’ fanfiction: Rather than being written by real fans to express their ‘fannish’ feelings about the subject, fan novels were most likely commissioned works created by professional romance authors purely to profit off of actual fans. There is very little background information available about this ‘genre’, but I did stumble across an academic work on Google Books which featured a passage about these fan novels (translated into English by me):

There are several commissioned works by professional authors, which could be mistaken for fanfiction. Especially in the 1990s, when lots of boy bands were on the market, many books of this kind were published. […] These are fictional stories for fans [redacted].

Jennie Hermann: Backstreet Girl. Projektionsfläche Popstar - Wenn der Fan zum Schriftsteller wird (2009) [Popstar as Projection Surface – When fans become writers]

One of the things I find most intriguing about this type of commercially published fanfiction is the question of personal rights. Obviously, the celebs in question or their management must have consented to using their names in the story, their pictures on the cover and so on – because a profit could be made with this. Especially with the fan debate around RPF allegely being unethical, I wonder if the celebrities themselves were aware someone was writing these stories about them, putting words in their mouth, and if they had any clue what exactly happened in these novels. Now, I’ve read a couple of them in my own youth. Some of them deal mostly with the state of being a fan, e.g. I recall a novel about a girl who is so obsessed with Leonardo Di Caprio that she doesn’t pay attention to real life guys at all, only to learn that her actual dream boy has been in her life all along! This story did not feature Di Caprio himself as a character, it was more about the protagonist’s arc of realizing your idols are not all that matters in life. Others do describe fan encounters with teen idols, and some even feature (hints at) romance with a celebrity. When I decided to purchase a vintage copy of one of these books, I opted for one of the latter category, precisely because of the popular argument that writing romance stories featuring real people is somehow ‘wrong’. For only a couple of euros, I was able to get my hands on a weird and wonderful relic of fan culture: Mein Frühling mit Nick (My spring with Nick) by the likely pseudonymous Maxi Keller, heralded on the book cover as ‘the novel for all fans of the Backstreet Boys’.

The story revolves around 16-year-old musical prodigy and designated wallflower Katharina, who lives in a German small town and cares about nothing else than playing the organ – certainly not about boys, let alone ones that are super-famous American pop stars. This means she is not initially a fan of the Backstreet Boys, which I guess is something of a trope itself – the protagonist meeting a celebrity by chance without knowing who they are and the celeb being thrilled that someone doesn’t just like them for their fame. Anyway, the boys visit Katharina’s hometown while on tour in Germany because band member AJ is doing some research on his German ancestors who happened to live in this very town. Katharina runs into them, she and Nick (who was only 17 himself when this was published in 1997, so it’s legal) fall in love at first sight, she helps them dig up information on AJ’s ancestors and finds out the two of them are related, the boys invite Katharina and her friend Saskia backstage after their show and … nothing happens. The book is 200 pages long and Katharina doesn’t even get one kiss with her boy band sweetheart, even though they mutually crush on each other right away. Perhaps that’s as far as the band or their management agreed for the novel to go – a hint at romance, but no trace of any on-page action, no matter how innocent.

That said, the book is so hilariously poorly written that it was still very entertaining to read. Although I could not find out anything about the author Maxi Keller, and therefore assume this might be a pseudonym, their writing style very much suggests that their are a professional romance author who usually writes for an older audience (plus, the book was published by Bastei Lübbe, who also publish a range of cheap romance novels known as ‘Romanhefte’). The language is extremely flowery at times, and even teenage characters speak with an eloquence that is hardly age-appropriate, with some 90s teen slang peppered in at unfitting times (such as the overuse of the English word ‘girl’). Often the novel loses itself in pointless detail that does nothing to move the plot forward (such as an extensive description of a house party hosted by Saskia’s rich parents, with minute details of their luxurious lifestyle and assets, even though Saskia is only a supporting character in the overall plot). It appears as if the author is desperately trying to fill the pages with meaningless drivel so they don’t need to write too many scenes featuring the presumed main attraction, the boys themselves.

If Keller was indeed merely hired to write this, and is not a fan themselves, one must still admit that the author did their research when it comes to the band. Whereas fanfiction typically assumes that the audience is already familiar with the characters and often skips any introductory descriptions of their appearance or personality, Keller makes sure that even a reader who is completely unfamiliar with the Backstreet Boys can keep up. The author delivers extensive descriptions of the boys’ appearance and demeanor, even spelling out their full names repeatedly, and frequently peppers in ‘fun facts’ such as ‘Kevin was raised on a farm in Kentucky’. While an actual fan might do so to prove how knowledgeable they are, and earning their status as a ‘true fan’, in this case it only seems like Keller really wants to show off how much research they did – as if not a single piece of information they took in must go to waste by not being used in the novel.

When it comes to the question how realistically the non-fannish author replicates the way the boys act and speak, there are two barriers to delivering a well-founded answer: Firstly, I was personally very young when BSB were popular and I really don’t remember too well what each member was like. Secondly, the elephant in the room: the language barrier. All of the aforementioned fan novels were written in German, and the problems posed by writing about an English-speaking band interacting with German OCs (and teenage ones at that) are addressed poorly, if at all. Pretty much all dialogue is written in German, and the audience is left to assume that everyone is actually speaking English whenever the boys are involved – except the novel does nothing to explain why two 16-year-old German girls would be able to express themselves so effortlessly in a foreign language. (Remember, the internet was not a thing, so German kids were not exposed to the same amount of English in everyday life as they are these days.) It would have been easy to make one of them a language nerd who gets straight A’s in English class, and give the other a British parent and make them bilingual. Instead, Katharina initially even worries about the prospect of having to talk to boys at all, and in English on top of that! But when she actually does, the language barrier never comes up again. The suspension of disbelief expected from the reader is therefore immense. The language barrier also gives the author an easy way out when it comes to imitating the way the boys speak in real life – there is no need to take into account idiolects or regional differences (such as ‘you guys’ vs. ‘y’all’) if the boys’ speech is essentially translated into a foreign language. However, I wanted to give you guys (or y’all, if you will) a taste of how Keller attempts to write a scene where AJ and Nick discuss the latter’s crush on Katharina:

I would argue that this sounds realistic enough for what it’s worth, if a little cheesy, which is excusable in this genre. Perhaps a true 90s BSB fan would beg to differ, so if you happen to be one, feel free to drop me a message. But in my semi-professional opinion, this most likely holds up for readers.

So, to answer the initial question that drove me to purchase this book: Do fan novels like Mein Frühling mit Nick count as fanfiction?

If we assume that something is only a fanfic if the author themselves is a fan of the subject matter, then I would argue no, Maxi Keller is probably not a fan themselves and therefore this work of for-profit real-person fiction does not qualify as fanfic. However, fan novels definitely have a (however small) place in the history of fan culture and fan-adjacent works, and I personally found reading this relic both entertaining and insightful!

#fanfiction #fanfic #backstreet boys #nick carter #german stuff

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goldenhemmings · 5 years ago

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In Your Atmosphere

Shawn Mendes x reader | 9,005 words

Whew. Hi guys. It’s been a while, I know, but actually having freetime again has made me realize just how much I miss writing. This piece is sort of a rollercoaster and I didn’t really edit it or anything, so please excuse any errors or if it just sucks in general. It’s based on In Your Atmosphere by John Mayer, and I’m pretty sure it’s also the first and only thing I’ve written that isn’t an AU. I hope you enjoy it, and I always love hearing what you guys think!!

There was a reason why the majority of Shawn’s songwriting and recording happened in Los Angeles. The city had always possessed a certain spark that inspired him, and the only way he knew how to describe the feeling it gave him was through the music that he wrote there. Its atmosphere was incomparable to that of any other city in the world, even his hometown. Toronto would always be special to Shawn, but Los Angeles was a different kind of special. It was magic.

It was no surprise, then, to find Shawn once again back in L.A. making music even though it had only been a few months since he’d released an entire album. He had a love affair with the city, and he just couldn’t seem to stay away from the beckoning of the lights, the sunsets, the ocean. To him it was all music waiting to be created, and he wouldn’t dare deny himself the opportunity.

Since his first visit, he’d always described the city as being full of magic; so full to the point where he didn’t think it possible to get any better. That, however, was before Y/N walked--well, tripped--into his life; once she happened, L.A. came to mean something else to Shawn entirely. Something more.

He remembered it clearly, the first time he met her. Cliché as it was, he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He was sitting on the beach, facing the ocean as he hummed melodies in his head and scribbled lyric after potential lyric into the leather-bound notebook that rested on his outstretched legs. She was walking through the sand, a tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye clutched between her delicate fingertips as her eyes were glued to the yellowed pages. Neither person was aware of their surroundings, and it was inevitable, really, that she would trip and fall over his legs, belly-flopping into the sand as her book went flying.

Shawn was up immediately, his music disregarded as he offered a hand to help her back on her feet. “I’m so sorry,” he gushed, gently lifting her to sit up. He handed her book back to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she sighed, brushing the sand off of her faded t-shirt. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who apparently never learned to watch where I’m going.”

He laughed lightly, and it was a sound she could get used to hearing. “Must be some book you’re reading.”

“The Catcher in the Rye,” she stated, smiling as she flashed him the cover. “It’s not exactly a typical beach-read, but it’s one of my favorites. I’ve probably read it, like, seven times by now.”

“Never heard of it,” he admitted, and her eyes blew wide. Shawn was immediately taken with her, physically evidenced by the fact that he couldn’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off of his mouth though he’d yet to even learn her name.

“Never?” she quipped, sitting down in the sand across from him as though she were preparing to recite the entire plot of the book.

He grinned, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not a big book-reader, I guess.”

“Well what do you like, then?” she pressed, absentmindedly shaking the sand out from between the worn pages of her beloved novel. “If it’s not books?”

“Music,” he admitted, leaning back onto his hands as a wave reached shore. The tide had been steadily creeping closer to him as his hours spent on the beach increased. He’d figured that he’d have to move soon, but as this girl’s expectant eyes bore into his he found himself wishing that a wave would come swallow him whole and carry him out to sea. He almost couldn’t bear to be in the vicinity of the aura she was casting over him; she was overwhelming in a way he’d never known before.

“Everyone likes music, though,” she answered, studying his face carefully.

Shawn laughed, staring down at the sand underneath him. “True, but not everyone plays music for a living.”

“A musician,” she drawled, in a tone that made it hard for Shawn to tell if she was intrigued or mocking. He quite quickly learned it was the former.

He talked with her until well after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the impending darkness and creeping tide the only forces strong enough to tear him away from her. She’d recently graduated college and moved to L.A. upon receiving the internship of a lifetime, and though she’d only been living in the city for a year, she seemed to be just as enraptured with it as Shawn was. He let her scribble her phone number on a page of his notebook after a promise to call her the next day, and the two went their separate ways as they tried to race home before the moon could reach its peak in the sky.

The thought of someone else's writing in his precious music journal would usually make Shawn’s skin crawl; his team was constantly teasing him about how protective he was over it. But Y/N, however, could have up and run off with the thing and he’d have been powerless to stop it. It wouldn’t have been the only piece of him she’d run off with that night, anyways.

Since that day, whether Shawn consciously recognized it or not, Los Angeles was no longer his city, with its entire atmosphere at his disposal. It was her atmosphere now. She was city lights and sunsets and the ocean and music all rolled into one; every bit of inspiration he’d ever needed. She was a million songs waiting to be written, all for him to discover and create.

Any time he went to L.A. after that, Y/N was the first thing on his mind. It was almost routine; his plane would land, he’d collect his things, and he’d race to her door. She’d greet him with the same brilliant smile and mind-numbing kiss as always, and they’d spend every waking second in each others’ presence. Even doing nothing at all meant everything to them; each was intoxicated by the other in the best, most addicting way.

It stayed like this for a while: effortless, constant. Shawn always made sure to clear time in his schedule at least once a month to go see her, and she was in Toronto any chance she got. But then a cloud began looming over the two of them, casting a fast-approaching shadow that would soon coat them in darkness: tour. A nearly nine month long tour, the weight of which pressed down on the couple more intensely with each passing day until, finally, Shawn couldn’t stand to live in a state of denial anymore. Tour was happening, which meant he would have to leave Y/N for longer than he ever had before.

It was a lazy Sunday morning lying in bed when he decided to bring up the subject for real--no more dancing around it. They needed to talk about it. Y/N had her head on his bare chest and one of her legs slotted between both of his, gently toying with the pendant that seemed to never leave its home around his neck. Shawn sighed, and Y/N immediately knew he had something to say.

“What’s up, love?”

Shawn shook his head, prepared to back out of the conversation and continue living in his state of blissful ignorance for a little while longer. “Nothing.”

But Y/N knew him better than that. She lifted her head and tilted her jaw back to look at him, immediately met with worried brown eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Hey,” she coaxed, reaching a gentle hand up to turn his face towards hers. “There’s something on your mind.”

Shawn laughed halfheartedly. “There’s always something on my mind.” Y/N was silent, beginning to gently trace light patterns on his chest as she awaited his inevitable continuation. “It’s just...tour.”

Y/N frowned. “What about it?”

He looked at her, hesitating, nervousness clear in his eyes. “Come with me.”

“On tour?” she queried with a small smile, convinced he was just beginning to make up some whimsical daydream for the two of them to live in until reality eventually hit.

His eyes searched her face for any sign of what she might be thinking. “Yes.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he defended, and when Y/N looked up at him, she knew he was.

“I can’t just up and leave my job,” she answered, but the look on Shawn’s face seemed to insist that she could. “I can’t,” she repeated, more firmly this time. But how was she supposed to adequately explain that to someone whose job was quite literally packing up and leaving a million times over?

“But you’re my inspiration,” he whined, teasingly, and she smiled softly as she reached up to lightly scratch her fingers along his scalp. “I need you there.”

“Everything inspires you, Shawn. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he admitted quietly, the true vulnerability he’d been feeling about the situation finally coming to the surface. Y/N sighed, burying her head into the warmth of his neck.

“We’ve made the distance work so far,” she reassured, but she was mostly trying to convince herself. “It’ll be okay. I’ll come see you when you play here.”

He groaned. “But that’s so far from the start of tour.” He looked at her once again, melancholy brown eyes half-lidded. “Come with me,” he repeated once more, but it was a weak plea; he knew the answer was no.

“I want to,” she breathed out, and Shawn’s grip on her tightened like he was worried she’d be stolen away from him right in that moment. “But I can’t. It isn’t practical for me.”

“I know,” he sighed, reluctance evident even in the way the breath left his chest. “I just wish you could.”

“Stop doing that,” she responded sternly. “It’s not fair to me. You know I’d go with you in a heartbeat if the circumstances were right.”

He let out a heavy exhale. “I know,” he repeated. “‘M sorry.”

“You love touring,” she continued. “The time will fly and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“And the second it is, I’ll get on a plane to LAX and race to your door like I always do. You just have to promise me you’ll be here.”

“I’ll always be here,” she affirmed, her voice not above a whisper. “It’s up to you to come back.” And in that moment, she was certain that he would.

--------------------

The day of the first show, Y/N was physically unable to focus on anything other than Shawn. Her rockstar boyfriend was about to play to thousands of screaming people in a city so far away from her that it made her heart ache, and as much as she wanted to hear his voice, she knew he was too busy to spare the time to talk to her. So she didn’t call, because she knew he’d answer regardless of whether or not he had time, and she waited with painful anticipation to hear from him later that afternoon.

When her phone finally lit up with a FaceTime call just after 1 p.m. (around 11 at night in Amsterdam, she’d memorized the time difference), Y/N surged to pick it up with cat-like reflexes.

“Hey,” she beamed, taking in the way Shawn’s cheeks were still red from the high of his performance. “How was the show?”

He stared back at her with a goofy, love-drunk smile on his face. “Amazing. Best way to start the tour.” At this she smiled, but Shawn’s lingering pause caused her upturned lips to waver. “Would be even better if you were here.”

Y/N’s sighed. “You’re still the Shawn Mendes people are dying to see whether I’m there or not. You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Still want you here, though.”

“I want to be there, too,” she admitted. “But--”

“But you can’t be, I know,” he interjected. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

Desperate to change the subject, Y/N went fumbling for something lighter to bring up. “So where do you play tomorrow?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Another night in Amsterdam, then Belgium in a few days.”

She smiled. She’d never even been out of the United States until she went to visit Shawn in Toronto, and here he was getting to experience all of Europe in the most amazing way. “That sounds incredible,” she answered, and she meant it. Her eyes lit up at the thought of getting to hear about all of Shawn’s adventures around the world.

“I miss you like crazy, Y/N.”

“You’d better toughen up,” she teased, ignoring the way his words made her heart twist. “You haven’t even been gone a week.”

“So?” he laughed. “I already can’t wait for the L.A. show.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled. “It’s on you to come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you, sweetheart.”

And Y/N believed him, as she always did. But as Shawn got further into his tour and time began to pass, her certainty started to fade. At first, things were fine. They spoke every single night without fail, and usually more during the day. He’d share stories and make her guess what he’d bought her that day, promising to bring back a souvenir from every city he stopped in despite her insistence that she didn’t want him to bring her anything except himself and stories of the things he’d done and seen.

But as days faded into weeks and weeks into months, Y/N and Shawn’s consistency began to fade as well. With increasing frequency, she saw videos on his friends’ social media accounts of him out partying in seemingly every major city in the world. It wasn’t that she was opposed to him having fun, but nights that he had sworn to call were now being spent having drunken adventures without her while she sat at home finding any excuse to absolve him from all of his broken promises. But it only got harder, because he eventually stopped making time to call her altogether. The perspective Y/N lacked, however, was that the less Shawn heard her voice, the easier it was for him to be apart from her.

It was stupid, he knew. But it was a temporary fix, and it worked for him.

But Y/N didn’t want easy; she never had. She didn’t want someone who would avoid the challenge when it came to distance. She wanted Shawn to fight for her, and after all they’d been through together, she didn’t think that was too much to ask. Shawn’s lack of communication led Y/N to an immense confusion and worry as to why he was suddenly being so distant. It didn’t make sense. Does he not miss me?

The one thing Y/N had to look forward to through all of the tumult was Shawn’s fast-approaching tour stop in Los Angeles; when she would finally get to see her rockstar after months of being apart. She bought a new outfit specifically for the concert and had her best friend come to do her hair on the night of the show, not caring that she was acting like an over-excited teenager getting ready for prom. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of Shawn and all of the memories they had made under countless cotton-candy L.A. sunsets, ready to begin adding to the collection in only a few hours. Y/N thanked her friend for the help and hugged her goodbye before ducking into her small car, ready to begin the drive to the venue. Before pulling out of the driveway she fired off a quick text to Shawn: Leaving home now. I can’t wait to see you.

As she drove she had to constantly remind herself to slow down, that there was no need to race to the arena; Shawn wasn’t going anywhere. But as much as Y/N was excited, she was equally as nervous. She hadn’t really had a solid conversation with Shawn in weeks, and even then he had seemed detached and preoccupied. She pushed the thoughts from her head as the miles went by. Relax. Everything will be fine.

She eventually pulled into the closest parking lot she could find, and she rolled her car into a spot and made her way up to the arena, shooting Shawn a quick, excited text. I’m here!! See you soon. She quickly found the side door of the venue, met with a burly security guard. She smiled, but the guard didn’t seem to warm up to her. “Main entrances are around the front.”

“Oh, I...This is actually the door I’m looking for. Shawn or someone from his team should have given you my name, I think.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and Y/N couldn’t tell whether he was amused or frustrated. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, sweetheart. You can’t get in this way.”

Y/N stumbled over her words a bit, taken aback by the trouble she was being given. “I-I’m serious. I’m his girlfriend, I have pictures I can show you.” She flashed her lockscreen at him, a photo clearly depicting Shawn and Y/N lighting up the display. “Don’t you have a boss, or something?” she pleaded. “A person you can call that can get ahold of someone from Shawn’s team? I promise they’ll recognize me. I don’t mean to inconvenience you, and I’m sorry for being pushy, it’s just that I’m really looking forward to this and they’re expecting me and I don’t have another way into the arena.” She knew she was rambling, as she often did when she could sense that something was wrong, and she was powerless to stop the slight shake in her hands as she waited for the security guard to respond.

The guard sighed, and Y/N felt her heart drop as she realized the answer would still be no. “Look, kid. As convincing as that all is, and as much as I personally would like to open this door for you, I can’t. I have a job to do. I wasn’t given your name, which means I can’t let you in unless someone comes to get you. I’m sorry.”

Heartbroken, she backed away, fighting the weight that came with knowing that Shawn had forgotten about her, had forgotten to tell security she was coming. Had he really not remembered? She shook the thoughts out of her head, convincing herself that maybe he’d just gotten distracted. She reached for her phone to dial Shawn’s number, but her shoulders fell when the call went straight to voicemail. She tried Andrew this time, but again...nothing. After frantic calls to Cez, Josiah, Mike, anyone whose number was saved in Y/N’s phone, all went to voicemail, Y/N finally gave up. By now, it was surely too close to showtime for her to reach anyone.

With no ticket, no security clearance, and no way of reaching anyone inside the stadium, the only thing for Y/N to do was go home. She felt pathetic as she walked down the sidewalk in her new outfit, mascara-stained tears streaming down the face she’d spent hours putting makeup on. Hundreds of fans passed her as they walked in the opposite direction towards the venue, and with each smiling girl she saw, Y/N’s distress heightened. How could he forget about me?

As she ducked into her car she hoped with all the strength she had that her phone would ring before she got home. She’d accept the rushed apologies and speed back to the arena, caring about nothing except finally seeing Shawn. He’d smile so brightly upon seeing her again that it’d make her heart skip a beat, and she’d bounce along to the songs she loved so much from the side of the stage, counting down the seconds until she could hug him again. She wished for that; willed it to happen.

But she was sorely disappointed.

It wasn’t until nearly 11 p.m. that her phone finally rang, and despite her current state, Y/N’s heart still jumped upon seeing Shawn’s name lighting up the display. She lunged for it, taking a deep, steadying breath before tapping the button to answer the call. “Hey,” she mumbled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“Hey,” came Shawn’s breathy voice through the speaker. “Where are you?”

She scoffed, pressing a hand to the forehead that ached from crying. “I’m at home.”

A pause. She could easily visualize the furrow in his brow. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t get into the venue.”

“What? What do you mean?”

She laughed, but she wasn’t amused. “You really don’t know?”

“I…”

“No one gave my name to security, Shawn,” she snapped. “I drove all the way there and I couldn’t get in, so I left.”

The other line was silent as Shawn realized his mistake. “I--Fuck. Oh my God, baby, I’m so sorry. I was so distracted, and the Q&A went over time, and--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut in, surprising even herself. “The bottom line is that you forgot, and it took you this long to call me. Your show has been over for more than an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call someone else to let you in?” he demanded, accusation lacing his words.

“I did!” Y/N cried out, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “God, do you really think I didn’t try that?”

He sighed, and Y/N could picture his defeated expression in her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing you can do to fix it now. I just--.” She sighed. It wasn’t worth it. “Nevermind.”

“You just what?”

“Nothing. You should go to sleep, you’re probably tired.”

“Y/N,” he pressed, and it was clear that he was frustrated.

“Okay, fine,” she burst, all of her frustration bubbling right back up to the surface. “I was going to say that I was so excited to see you tonight, but I don’t even know why.”

Shawn sucked in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N tried to relax, knowing that she’d reached the point of no return; she was finally going to confront him. “I just can’t help but wonder if you ever actually cared that I was coming. I’ve hardly heard from you in months, but I still got all dressed up and was so happy I couldn’t breathe just to see someone who won’t even talk to me. I’m done making excuses to justify why you never call anymore.” She laughed dryly, realizing how pathetic that sounded; he wouldn’t even speak to her to make the excuses for himself. “You act like I don’t even exist half the time. I don’t know why I thought tonight would be different.”

There was some shuffling from the other end of the phone, and Y/N heard a voice--probably Brian’s--asking Shawn where he was going. A few more seconds passed and suddenly the background noise was gone. “Look, I’m with the whole team right now. Can we please talk about this later?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now, Shawn? I’m sick of being avoided. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“I’ll call you later, alright?”

“No, you won’t,” she burst, sadness quickly dissolving into anger. “If you hang up the phone right now you will never talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Don’t even try to make me feel like it’s ridiculous that all I want is an explanation.”

She could hear him exhale into the receiver, and her heart pounded with anticipation as she waited for him to finally speak. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

“What’s hard?”

“Finding time for this, I don’t know. It sucks being away from you. Hearing your voice--I just can’t do it.”

While she appreciated that Shawn was finally beginning to open up to her, Y/N didn’t fully buy what he was saying. “It wasn’t too hard when you first left,” she rebutted. “You didn’t seem to find it hard when you were forcing yourself to stay awake at night just because you wanted to talk to me.”

“It’s not that easy, alright? You don’t know what it’s like. You aren’t here.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Wow.”

“What?” Shawn asked, but it was flat.

“I just hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are.” She was not about to put up with him spitting her absence back in her face as though her staying behind was unreasonable.

“It’s just that—” he stumbled, trying to keep his frustration in check. “I tried countless times to get you to come with me. You know you could’ve.”

“So now the way you’ve been treating me is my own fault?”

“No, it’s just that if you were here--”

“Well I’m not, Shawn, and you need to get over it. You aren’t the only important thing in my life. I wasn’t about to give up my job—the job that I love—to have some nine-month, fairy tale vacation across the world. Don’t you dare put this on me.”

“I’m not trying to--” His voice stopped as someone talking to him became clear through the line. He was quickly back on the receiver, but it wasn’t to pick up where he left off. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I have to.”

“Shawn.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not doing this with you. If you hang up right now, this is over.”

There was a pause long enough to give Y/N the slightest bit of hope, but as quickly as it had come, it was shattered. “I’m sorry,” Shawn said. Then the line went dead.

--------------------

March. It had been three months since the end of Shawn’s tour, and nearly six since things had ended with Y/N. Not a day went by in those six months, though, that he hadn’t fallen asleep thinking of her and woken up wishing she were there. It was excruciating, and worsened in knowing that it was entirely his fault.

Shawn was nursing a small glass of whiskey and staring blankly into a television screen when he felt his phone buzz from the arm of the couch beside him. He figured it was just Brian wondering where he’d been; he hadn’t been in the mood to go out with his friends even though he was home in Toronto, and he knew they were wondering about him. He set his cup on the coffee table and reached for the device, sighing when he instead saw a message from Andrew.

I need you to verify that you’re good with the dates for LA so that I can confirm our jet.

While tour had only been over for three months, it was time for Shawn, unwaveringly hardworking as he was, to get back to the studio and begin working on new music. But, for once in his life, Shawn wanted nothing less than to go to L.A. and pretend like it hadn’t been six months since he’d last spoken to Y/N. The text from his manager sent a sinking feeling reverberating through his chest, and he was instantly averse to the idea of following through with the plans he’d made months before.

He immediately dialed Andrew’s number, who answered after the first ring. “Shawn?”

“I don’t think I want to go to L.A. anymore,” he blurted, and he could envision the way his poor manager’s eyes had probably gone wide in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“I just don’t,” he said flatly, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he lied, but his manager knew better.

“You love Los Angeles. I know you do.”

“I don’t,” he mumbled.

“Be honest with me, man. What’s wrong?”

Shawn groaned, tugging tired hands through tufts of unruly brown hair. “I don’t know what it’s like to land at the airport and not go right to her. I can’t be in the same city as her. I’d die if I saw her.”

“Y/N, you mean,” Andrew mused, but of course he knew that was exactly who Shawn was talking about. “So don’t see her.”

“But I’d die if I didn’t see her, either,” Shawn admitted. “Especially knowing I was only a car ride away. So I just don’t want to go.”

His manager sighed. “We already booked the house, Shawn. The whole team is coming.”

“So tell them not to.”

Andrew laughed lightly at this, and as much as Shawn was frustrated by it, it also grounded him in the realization that he was being a bit ridiculous. “The way you feel right now will make for some incredible music, Shawn. I know you, and I know that you'll kick yourself for not taking advantage of that.”

“The last thing I want to do right now is write music.”

“How many times have you said you can’t wait to have your heart broken so that you can write an album about it?”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“Use that.”

“I can’t. It fuckin’ hurts.”

“Then go see her.”

Shawn paused to ponder whether or not he’d heard Andrew correctly. “I already told you, I can’t do that.”

“I’m serious,” Andrew replied, his tone still as even as it always was. “I think you clearly need to have a conversation with her. You haven’t seen each other in person since you left for tour.”

“She won’t want to see me,” Shawn mumbled.

Andrew let out a heavy breath. “You’re right, she probably won’t. But I think that for both of your sakes, you need to talk face-to-face. You need closure, and I’m sure she does too.”

“God, I’m such an idiot,” Shawn mumbled, and Andrew did well not to comment on it.

“Just relax. You’re going to Los Angeles and we will all be there with you to support you like always. Whether or not you see Y/N is up to you, but I think you need to go.”

Shawn let out a heavy breath, but it didn’t relieve the tension in his shoulders. “Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll go.”

“The original dates still work for you? Two weeks from now?”

“Yeah,” Shawn assented, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “I’ll see you there.”

--------------------

The first thing Shawn did after dropping his bags off at the house his team would be staying at in Los Angeles was take the keys to one of the rental cars and drive straight to Y/N’s house.

He had a box filled with souvenirs he’d bought for her at various tour cities tucked into the passenger seat--a box that he’d been dying to give to her. It drove him crazy to see it lying around his condo, and he jumped at the opportunity to finally hand it off to her.

As he drove, every bone in his body screamed at him to stop. Even the world around him seemed to be mocking him. The sunset laughed at his foolishness for thinking that his relationship was different from the thousands of others it had seen come to an end under its golden touch. The streetlights, beginning to flicker on as the sun set further, told him to never mind, forget her. Even the mountains ridiculed him, their deep-set lines seeming to smirk back at him as they awaited a surely inevitable disaster.

He stared at his hands, clenched at ten and two on the steering wheel. It made him feel lonelier, if possible, knowing the hand that usually rested in Y/N’s as he drove was now forced to join its companion on the wheel. Her voice wasn’t coming from beside him directing him where to go because, no matter how many times he swore he knew his way around the city, he was lost without her guidance. He felt empty being in her city without her. It was wrong.

He finally managed to find his way to her quaint house, parking on the street parallel to it. He immediately felt his heart jump into his throat upon realizing that he actually had no plan for what to say or do. He was worried she didn’t love him anymore the way he still loved her, even though she had every reason not to. But he didn’t care; he still needed to see her. If it meant that he could hear her voice, he’d let her tell him every day that she didn’t love him. He craved her that badly.

Shawn hesitated as he raised his knuckles to the front door, eyeing the broken doorbell and wondering if she’d gotten it fixed in the time he was gone. He finally decided to just knock as he’d always done, and it wasn’t long before the familiar beige door was opening in front of him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her after nine excruciating months. Her hair was longer and she was clad in one of the shirts he’d left behind for her, but he couldn’t ignore how tired she looked.

Y/N’s face fell the second she saw him, and her immediate instinct was to slam the door in his face. But her mind and her body were at a disconnect--her thoughts racing, but her limbs frozen. She didn’t know what to do, so she just stood there, wide-eyed, staring back at him.

“Nice shirt,” was the first thing he could say, and Y/N looked down at herself like she’d forgotten what she was wearing.

“Sorry, I, um, I need to do laundry really badly,” she answered sheepishly, folding her arms over her chest and knowing that it was a blatant lie. She was surprised she remembered how to talk. “You can have it back.”

He cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t apologize. Looks right on you. You look beautiful.”

Y/N’s expression remained stiff and cold. “I didn’t apologize.”

“Yes, you did,” he pushed back, a semblance of a smile playing on his mouth.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, eyeing the box under his arm and already feeling drained of energy. “What did you come here for, Shawn?”

“I, uh--” he stammered, searching for words that wouldn’t sound as childish as he felt right then. Hearing her say his name didn’t feel as right as it always had. “I wanted to give you this.” He thrust the box out at her, but she didn’t take it.

“What is it?”

“I got you something from all the cities we stopped at on tour up until, uh, you know,” he trailed off, reaching a hand up to scrub sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any use for this stuff and I was in town so I figured I should just give it all to you.”

She skeptically took the box, reaching inside and gingerly pulling out a small metal cactus that sprouted from a base that read Arizona, the Grand Canyon State. She sighed and dropped it back inside the box, turning behind her to set it on the floor of her entryway.

“There’s no way that you came all the way here just to give me this stuff. What is it really?”

Shawn let out a huff of breath, running a hand down his face. She knew him so well that it drove him crazy. “I don’t know,” he answered, and it was the truth. “Just missed you, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, looking to the side so as to avoid eye contact. She never swore, and it tugged at a separate piece of Shawn’s heart knowing that he was the one to make her.

“I did,” he pressed, floored at the accusation that he hadn’t when, in reality, he’d missed her so intensely that even his bones ached.

“You cut me off and then gave me six months of radio silence,” she bit back, her words accusatory. “So I don’t believe you.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on finding any words that could possibly make this better. He finally looked up, coming to terms with the fact that the damage he’d inflicted was certainly irrevocable. “I messed up, okay? And there will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you could say to make me forgive you, anyway.”

He swallowed, hard. He had no plan for what to say to her, and the longer she stared at him the more his body felt like it was on fire. “Will you at least let me apologize? Even if you don’t forgive me.”

Y/N was quiet, her incriminating stare unwavering. “Fine,” she reluctantly assented, not missing the way Shawn let out a heavy breath of relief.

“Can I come in?”

“No. You can apologize just the same out here.”

“It’s just that--,” he paused, sighing. “Okay.” He’d wanted to remind Y/N that she’d probably start yelling at him at some point, because he knew her and he knew how she was sometimes unable to fight back her emotions, but he refrained. He was lucky she hadn’t slammed the door in his face by now.

He took a deep breath, and Y/N tapped her foot in impatience. On the inside, however, her heart had begun to beat just a tiny bit faster. She wasn’t happy to see Shawn, but, much to her dismay, she wasn’t exactly mad about it either. She was mad at him, that much was clear, but he was still Shawn. Seeing him here, in front of her, made her realize that her feelings weren’t as far-gone as she’d convinced herself they were.

A nervous laugh slipped from his mouth. “I wasn’t expecting you to let me get this far, I don’t really have much of a plan.” But Y/N was silent, and Shawn cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry I ghosted you. I’m sorry I forgot to get you into the stadium when we planned for you to come. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t stronger, just in general.”

“Me too.”

He took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “It just...it got to a point where I couldn’t stand to listen to you say you missed me anymore. I know my lifestyle isn’t necessarily conducive to a good relationship and it was just hard knowing what I was putting you through. Hearing your voice was hard for me, too. I thought distancing myself from you would make it easier to cope with being away from you, I never--,” he broke off, running an anguished hand through his hair. “I never wanted this to happen to us. I just needed space. There were times when I was completely ready to just up and fly to L.A. not caring what the consequences would be, and that terrified me. I wasn’t focusing on my shows because all I could think about was you.”

She frowned, her face clearly expressing disbelief. “You were willing to abandon your tour to get on a plane to come see me, but then you didn’t have it in you to talk to me on the phone? On nights you knew I was waiting up for you to call?” She shook her head, and Shawn wished he could unsee the tears brimming in her eyes. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

“I know that it probably doesn’t make sense,” he admitted. He clenched his hands together as he physically fought the urge to reach over and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I wasn’t strong enough to be away from you, so I did everything I could to get rid of the thought of missing you. Worse, of you sitting here missing me.”

“If you loved me as much as you said you did, you shouldn’t have been able to just ignore me like that. I went crazy trying to convince myself that there was a time where I even mattered to you at all.”

“You do matter to me!” Shawn insisted, his words jumping in volume until he remembered he was still standing outside on the porch. “You always have. You’re everything.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” she demanded, pretending like her voice hadn’t just broken. “I just--None of this makes any sense to me! We’re here because you couldn’t even make it through the first half of your tour without abandoning all the promises you made to me before you left. You swore you would come back.”

“I did come back,” he replied, weakly. “I’m here now.”

“No,” she spat, pressing her wrists over her eyes as though it would hold in the tears. “You showing up at my door after all this time and blindsiding me like this is not the promise you made to me to come back. Do you have any idea what it feels like to spend months waiting for someone to come home to you, knowing deep inside yourself the entire time that he isn’t actually coming home? Do you have a single fucking clue what you put me through?” He was silent. “I stayed awake night after night for hours waiting for calls that weren’t coming. I started to actually feel guilty for not putting my life on hold to follow you around the world, which is fucking ridiculous, Shawn! I hate that you made me feel that way.”

“I do too,” he responded, tugging an agitated hand through curls that were already messy from his five-hour flight earlier that day. “And it’s clear that you’re not going to forgive me, and I don’t blame you for that. I just--I don’t know what to do. I have never loved someone the way I love you.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted meekly, pretending to be less affected by his words than she actually was. “But that doesn’t change what you did.”

“I know.”

They were silent for a few moments, Y/N’s eyes looking at the floor even though she could feel Shawn’s stare glued to her face. The quiet eventually came to be too much for Shawn to take, and he was the first to speak again. “So now what?”

Y/N finally looked up at him. “I don’t know. I guess you leave.”

“Leave?” he interrogated, taken aback.

She arched a brow. “What?”

“There’s just so much else to talk about.”

“I don’t have anything left to say to you,” she sassed, folding her arms over her chest.

“Tell me you actually want me to leave,” Shawn demanded. At this point, he was grasping for straws to keep her talking to him. Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open but no words coming out. “Tell me you want me to leave,” he repeated, “and I will.”

“I--”

“I know you want me to stay.”

“You have no idea what I want, you arrogant asshole.”

Shawn huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve said I’m sorry, okay? I want to start over.”

But Y/N wasn’t willing to give in. “Is that what you think?” she scoffed. “You come here uninvited and give me some spur-of-the-moment apology and then suddenly everything is normal again?” She stepped forward, so furious that steam may as well have been radiating off of her skin. “I am so sorry that you’re frustrated,” she continued, sarcasm practically stinging her lips as the words came out, “but I don’t care what you want, Shawn. You are not going to show up at my doorstep and start feeding me all this crap about how you missed me and how beautiful I am and how sorry you are!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, hot tears betraying her as they finally began to roll down her cheeks. “I waited for you. I knew you weren’t going to call, I knew you weren’t coming, and I still waited for you like an idiot.”

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. It took everything in him to resist the urge to wipe her tears away, or hug her, or to touch her at all and offer any small form of comfort that he could.

“It’s a little late for that,” she bit back, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her left hand. “I’ve spent the past six months crying over you. You don’t get to make me all worked up like this and then tell me to stop crying like you’re not the reason why I’m like this in the first place.”

“Then we don’t have to talk about this right now, let’s find something else.” Y/N looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her mind equally as confused as her heart. “We can go get coffee, or--”

“I really don’t think--”

“Just trust me,” he said softly, finally finding the courage to gingerly place his hands on her shoulders. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I have coffee here,” Y/N answered after a silence long enough to make Shawn even more nervous, and he wasn’t sure what she meant until she moved aside to allow him room to come through the doorway.

She stepped over to the kitchen and reached for her Keurig, Shawn hot on her heels. “Let me do it,” he said, gently reaching to take the supplies from her hands.

“Fine,” she sighed. She didn’t have the energy left to fight him. “The mugs are in the same place as always.”

He nodded as Y/N made her way over to the couch, her brain screaming what are you doing at her as though it would weaken its disconnect from the rest of her body. Logic reminded Y/N that she didn’t owe Shawn her kindness, her time, or her forgiveness for what he had done to her. Logic told her Shawn shouldn’t be there. Her heart didn’t care.

“How’s your internship?” he asked with an outstretched arm, offering Y/N a coffee cup and effectively tearing her from her thoughts. She eyed him carefully as he moved to sit clear on the other side of the couch, an awkward distance between the two.

Y/N pretended to ignore the almost palpable awkwardness in the room. Am I really about to sit here and make small talk with him? “It ended a few months ago. The company gave me a full-time job, though.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, and he meant it. “How is it?”

There was a slight upturn in her lips. “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted and my coworkers are all awesome.”

He smiled. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Seriously.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee and fighting off the voice in her head reminding her of how painfully uncomfortable this all was. “Um, how was the rest of tour?”

He shrugged, knowingly avoiding a rerun of the conversation they’d already had. “It was really great. I’m lucky.”

“Good,” she replied. It took everything she had to keep her voice level and dry of emotion. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“Are you, like, seeing anyone?” he blurted, no longer able to refrain from asking it.

She looked up, a smile nudging at her lips as she found herself suddenly amused. “Why do you ask that?”

“I dunno,” he responded sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. “I’ve just, y’know, seen pictures and stuff.”

“So you’re stalking me on social media now?” she asked, but it didn’t sound like a question--more like an observation.

“No,” he rushed out, wide-eyed. “Not at all stalking you, no. Your photos just come up in my feed sometimes and I see...things.”

She hummed, deciding not to dwell on the motivation behind his question any longer. “If you really want to know, I’ve tried,” she admitted bitterly. “But no one that I meet really compares to you, so it’s sort of hard.”

“I get it.”

She looked at him, her expression perplexed but challenging. “You’re constantly surrounded by celebrities and girls from all over the world. It’s different for you.”

“So what? None of them compare to you, either. I thought about you all the time on tour. No one else.”

She quirked an eyebrow, silently prompting him to continue, which he did after a deep breath. “Being in a different time zone almost every night starts to make me feel like I’m kind of just floating. Having the routine of playing shows helps, don’t get me wrong, and I love touring. You know that. But the only thing that anchored me through all that was knowing what time it was in L.A. and imagining what you were doing.”

Y/N was silent, her lips slightly parted as she tried to digest his words, but the discomfort that came with the silence caused Shawn to begin rambling. “I didn’t really care what time it was where I was, because that changed constantly. It didn’t matter. I only cared what time it was in relation to where you were because it was steadying, or something, I don’t know. Basically, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I always had you in the back of my mind.”

“Did you still do that even after we…?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I mean...no matter what happens, I’ll always care about you and think about what you’re doing. We’ll always be tied to each other somehow.”

“I wish I could’ve gone with you,” Y/N blurted out suddenly, surprising even herself. They stared at each other, the wide-eyed expression plastered on Shawn’s face essentially a reflection of Y/N’s. “Things would be so different now if I could’ve gone.”

“Different how?” Shawn stammered, though he already knew the answer. He was just desperate to hear her next words.

“Don’t know,” she muttered, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on one of the couch cushions. “Like it was before you left and all this happened.”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t get back to that point, though.”

“No, but it’s certainly gonna be a hell of a lot more difficult if I even…” She trailed off, and Shawn swallowed hard. If I even want this. “Nevermind. I just wish I could’ve gone on tour with you because then I wouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now.” It was a harsher-sounding reality than was the truth of her feelings, but she couldn’t take the words back. And, to be fair, Shawn deserved nothing but harsh words from her, though it wasn’t what she wanted to give him. The more time she spent with him, the harder it was for her to fight the feelings that she’d known were still very much there for the past six months.

“But then you wouldn’t have had your internship.”

“Yeah, I know, Shawn,” she snapped. “That’s why I didn’t go and that’s why we’re here. God forbid I choose my career.”

“That’s not what I--”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m just--I don’t even know. That was unnecessary.”

“It’s okay,” Shawn answered, but only because he didn’t know what else to say. She was in no position to be apologizing to him, and he knew that. He deserved every harsh thing she had to say to him.

“Can I be honest with you?” he continued, suddenly more nervous than he had been the entire time. Y/N nodded.

“The real reason I came here is because I can’t lose you forever. Six months was hard enough. I just wanted to apologize and tell you how I feel. How I still feel.”

She scrubbed a hand over her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to process the whirlwind of thoughts littering her brain. “You never lost me, Shawn,” she whispered, eyes still closed because she was too nervous to look at him. “Just distanced yourself.”

“And I’m sorry for that, truly,” he said quietly. “I wish I could take it all back.”

Y/N looked at him, trying to decipher her own feelings. “I’m glad you came,” she finally admitted. “I needed this. Even though I yelled at you, like, basically the entire time.”

He let out a quiet laugh, not taking his eyes off of her. “I deserved it,” he admitted. “I probably deserved worse, if anything.”

She grinned. She knew how she could be when her emotions took over. “How long are you here for?”

“We’ve got a house booked for a few weeks to work on new music, but my schedule’s free for a bit after that. No reason why I couldn’t stay here a little longer if, you know...”

“It depends,” she cut in. She wasn’t one to sugar coat things. “If these first few weeks go okay, then I’d like that. But it depends on that.”

Shawn nodded and became painfully aware of his heart suddenly pounding out of his chest, grateful to be given any chance at all to win Y/N back, though he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how anxious the thought of messing up again made him.

“Can we just take things one day at a time?” she continued, looking up at him with an almost nervous expression. “Is that okay? I’m gonna need a little more time than you, probably.”

He smiled. Anything she’d give him, he would gladly take. “Of course,” he echoed, moving next to her and carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He swore he’d faint when he felt her head softly lean to rest on his shoulder. “One day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

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