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kettleworth · 2 days ago

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The Best Thing In Ralsei's Room - Another Ralsusie Fic

I know y'all really liked the last one I wrote, so uhhh here's another! I'll write a more 'in depth' fic soon, I just wanted to get a quickie out there in the meantime! I'm submitting this for a server's fiction contest as well, so hopefully others like it lmao

Description: Ralsei's room is depressingly empty, and Susie wants to remedy that. What do you give to someone who doesn't even think he needs anything? Something personal, Susie imagines...

The Best Thing In Ralsei's Room

'Susie, this is the best damn idea you've ever come up with!' The girl thought to herself as she pushed a stone statuette against the ground. Its smiling visage was that of the infamous ICE-E, the mascot of mediocre 'pezza' and miserable, weird employees. Sure, it wasn't fun having to lug this thing up the stairs, but at least it would be put to good use... for once. After seeing the incredibly depressing void of a bedroom that Ralsei didn't even think he should have in the first place, she knew that putting anything inside would be a pleasant change of scenery.

Even this thing.

Once she reached the green door of Ralsei's bedroom, she threw it open, sliding the statue inside with a triumphant smile. “Alright, furniture piece number one! Feast your eyes on this!” She exclaimed, moving the ICE-E statue so that it was now in the center of the room, facing Kris and Ralsei. Kris, as per usual, expressed the spectrum of human emotion like a still life painting, but even then she could tell that they were looking at her choice with a judgmental gaze.

Ralsei, however, was more audibly and visually shocked, instantly recognizing the piece from Kris' own bedroom. He stared into the unhinged smile of the statue, unsure of how to feel about it. Susie was always so kind and surprisingly generous, but... well, he didn't really like it. Not that he'd say so aloud. “Oh! Th-thanks, Susie..?” He replied, giving a polite, if confused, smile to her.

“Least I can do,” She said, feeling quite accomplished with her good deed. As she turned towards the door, ready to continue on from this depressing encounter, she heard Ralsei whisper something.

“...Kris, can... you take this back?”

Susie paused, sneaking a glance over her shoulder with a somewhat offended expression. She felt moderately annoyed for a brief moment. Did he know how hard it was lifting that piece of junk up the stairs? Why would Ralsei want to refuse such an awesome... such a great... uh... terrificly...

...okay, so the ICE-E statue was a pretty crappy present. Even Kris didn't want it, holding their hands up as if saying 'I'm good'.

“Ah well... perhaps I can use it as a... seat? Maybe if I put a tablecloth on it, it'll make a nice table..!” The kindly prince thought aloud, not wanting to be overly rude. It was very generous of Susie to even think to give him something in the first place! He felt as if he should be more grateful, especially considering that he didn't even need anything. He shouldn't want for anything. He was lucky to even receive such a... 'lovely' statue.

'Way to go, dumbass,' Susie thought to herself, listening to Ralsei try to cope with the pathetic piece of furniture. Of course he'd be way to kind to be upfront about it. It almost made her stomach turn that he'd be forever tainted from receiving gifts because she couldn't be a bit mindful of his own feelings. A part of her wished he had just straight up said 'Wow, Susie! It sucks!' She was never one to give up easily, however, a small determined huff escaping her snout as the gears in her brain turned once again. This time, she'd put effort into making them come up with a good thought.

Realizing that she had been standing at the doorway of the bedroom, obviously eavesdropping, Susie cut the awkward silence she was creating by fully turning her head. Her sharp, toothy smile was just as bright as ever, snapping a finger dramatically. Being around Tenna seemed to rub some of his 'showmanship' onto her, she figured. “Well! If you think that's good! Wait 'til ya see... the second piece I've got for ya!”

“Gosh, a-another one?” Ralsei responded, his eyes wide with surprise. She was far too generous for him to comprehend! “O-oh, Susie, I-I really couldn't-”

“Yet you will!” She insisted loudly, already rushing out of the room. “Don't go anywhere!” She said, slamming the door behind her.

“Uh... okay??” The prince called out, feeling rather embarrassed at this point. Kris couldn't help but compare his stature and expression to that of a nervous kid opening gifts on their birthday, unsure of how to react to so much positive attention. Did Ralsei even have a birthday? They tucked this thought into the back of their mind, wanting to return to it at some point.

For now, as the dumbfounded Darkner waited patiently, Kris decided to take some matters into their own hands. They walked over to the statue and began to slowly slide it towards the wall. Face first, obviously. “Kris? Do you need some help?” He'd ask, being met with a silent shake of the head. Ralsei's done more than enough decorating for all of their rooms, Kris wanted to return the favor somehow. The best way? Moving this eyesore into the corner of the room, facing away from everyone. They flashed a thumbs up to the Prince once their job was done, offering the tiniest smile.

“Er, th-thanks, Kris! Maybe I could put a flower vase or something on it... oh gosh, listen to me, already sounding so demanding!” Ralsei responded, looking away as he quickly grew flustered with his selfish thoughts. The silent human responded to this by bowing deeply, perhaps overly so, as a way to tease the fluffy boy. He was a prince, after all. He was clearly embarrassed by the gesture, but couldn't resist a small laugh. “Kris!”

While all of this was happening, Susie had rushed to her bedroom, sweating as she scoured around for something – anything – to give to Ralsei. “Dammit, c'mon Susie, think! What the hell would a fluffy lil nerd like him enjoy? Books? I don't got any of those!” Looking at her furniture, she realized that practically all of it was catered to her likes. Plus, there was now way she was going to be able to haul something like her refrigerator or her bed up the stairs even if she wanted to.

“Hm... maybe I could give him one of those?” She thought aloud, staring at the decorative axes above her bed. Before she was able to step atop of her bed, however, something else caught her eye. Something that was thankfully a bit easier to pick up. It was the small, goofy plush toy that Kris had gifted to her back in Cyber World. For some reason, it looked like her. “Oh, I forgot I had that.”

She reached down and plucked it from her bed, looking it over as she admired the details. “Heh. Even has the little wristbands and everything. Cool,” She said, her face scowling a bit as she flipped it over, spotting the little tail poking out. She gave a few tugs, tutting quietly. “Damn, did they really have to add this though? Eh, whatever. Still pretty accurate.” Susie liked the plush well enough, even if she didn't really care for things like this. Susie's face flushed a bit as she smiled and gave a decisive nod. She knew someone who could use this more.

“...he seems like the type to like things like this.” She said as she exited her room. Hopefully she hadn't taken too long making a decision. Susie didn't know why, but her heart was starting to beat exceptionally fast. At first, she just thought that it was from running down the stairs, but even now it was still thumping as if her chest were a drum set. It certainly didn't help that her face was growing warmer and warmer as she moved closer to Ralsei's bedroom.

“...I hope he likes this one,” Susie mused, feeling a bit anxious about her choice. She didn't know why this mattered so much to her, but Ralsei needed something good in his room. Not just that, but he needed to know that can receive gifts. He needed to know that Susie liked him.

...not 'like him' like him... probably. The thought lingered around her brain despite how much she tried to shoo it away. She squeezed the mini Susie in her hands as she gritted her teeth. Why was this wreaking havoc on her nerves in such a way? Normally she didn't give a crap about... those sorts of emotions. As far as she knew, she wasn't even capable of feeling them. So she thought, at least.

“...UGH don't make it weird!” The purple girl admonished herself, shaking her head. “You're just giving a gift to your cute fr-” Susie choked a bit, realizing what she had just said, letting out another exasperated yell. “AUUUGH WHATEVER!” Susie picked up the pace, her face glowing brighter at this point as she attempted to steer her thoughts to literally anything else. She didn't have much time to do so, finding herself in front of the green door once again.

Susie paused momentarily, steeling her nerves as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Her hands squished the plush idly, using it as a stress ball. She was careful to not accidentally rip or tear it. Before she could allow the opportunity to second guess herself, she reached forward and opened his door, holding the plushie behind her back.

“YO RAL, THINK FAST!” She shouted, barging in. She watched as Ralsei jumped in surprise, quickly whipping around to face her. Kris also looked her way, but was as stoic as usual. Susie didn't give the goat much time to react before she threw the toy in his direction. She didn't throw it too hard, though it still caught him off guard.

“Wah!” He exclaimed, fumbling the soft projectile a few times before managing to grip it. His confusion quickly turned into curious delight, his eyes widening as he looked down at the mini-Susie. “What- oh! It's you, Susie!” Ralsei's voice brightened up considerably, his pretty pink eyes sparkling as he held the toy with the same delicacy of an egg. Kris recognized the toy as well, tilting their head in Susie's direction. They didn't seem too peeved about the choice to re-gift the prize, however. This was for 'the greater good', after all.

“Yup. Pretty sick, right?” Susie boasted, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “Tiny Susie there is definitely the best thing in here, now.”

“I love it! It's so cute!” He giggled, giving his new plush a large hug into his chest. “Oh, thank you thank you Susie!” Watching Ralsei gleefully squeeze his new possession made the butterflies in Susie's stomach return. She felt her own smile grow on her face, unable to look away from the adorable sight. She was certainly not getting jealous over a stupid plushie. No sir. Not her. Not even when he planted the daintiest little kiss atop of its head. Nope.

'Much better...' Susie thought, catching Kris's gaze. They had the smallest smile of their own, flashing a 'thumbs-up'. She returned the gesture as Ralsei stepped forward, still holding the toy close to his chest. His face was blushing brightly as well, though there was no denying the joyous smile on his muzzle.

“It... means a lot for you to give this to me,” He stated, a lump starting to form in his throat as emotional tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “I... I almost think I don't deserve something so wonderful..!”

“The hell are you talkin' about? Of course you do!” She replied, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I don't really have a need for it, anyways. Plus, y'know, you can hold it if you ever get scared or... or lonely.” Susie felt corny saying it, but she knew that the poor guy missed them terribly whenever she or Kris weren't there. Maybe this would help.

In response, Ralsei instantly pushed himself into Susie's body, giving her the largest hug he could muster. She froze up for a second, but soon returned it to the sweet, fluffy prince. She could feel him rubbing his face against her, sniffling lightly. The noises only made her hold him tighter. “Th-thank you...” He said with a muffled voice.

“You're welcome, Rals,” She sighed, ruffling the top of his head affectionately. She loved watching the boy melt into her hands each time she touched him, and this time was no different. As she rubbed his head, he pulled his face away, beaming up at her.

“...though, I think you may be wrong about what you said earlier,” Ralsei hummed, his cheeks starting to glow brighter. An idea was forming in his head. A selfish one, but one he wanted to see through regardless.

“Huh? W-whaddya mean?”

It took the boy a few seconds to answer, growing more and more bashful. Finally, he stood on his tip-toes, meeting with her eyes the best he could. “...I think you're the best thing in my room right now.” Before Susie could retort, Ralsei placed a small, yet undeniable, peck on her cheek. “Chu~”

“Wh?!” Susie exclaimed, freezing up for a lot longer this time. She couldn't even remove her arms from around his waist as her face burned a deep purple by this point. Of all the things she was readying herself for, she was not expecting a kiss! Ralsei couldn't help but giggle somewhat at her reaction, peeking over to a highly amused Kris.

“Hehe... I think I broke her,” Ralsei teased. Susie's grip tightened somewhat, unsure of how to retaliate. In an instant, she did what she did best: playfully bullying the sweet, nerdy goat. Namely by tucking him into a headlock and giving him a noogie. “EEEK! Susie..!” He squealed out, laughing uncontrollably. Kris couldn't help but enjoy the show before him, a small smirk still plastered on their face.

“So that's how you feel, huh toothpaste boy?!” She taunted, visibly and audibly flustered. Try as she might, that large toothy smile of hers refused to go away. Her actions weren't rough, though this didn't stop Ralsei from attempting to squirm out of her grasp. He refused to let go of the mini-Susie all the while. “Y-you'd better not go practicing kisses with my gift, you lil weirdo!”

“I won't, I won't!” He promised, his face now a beet red, equally as embarrassed at the accusation. He wasn't even considering it! At least, not until the rough girl put the idea in his head...

“Good!” Susie huffed, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “...you should be asking the real one for that.” This statement made Ralsei stop wriggling, feeling as if his whole face would light on fire.

“Huh?!” Was all he could exclaim before Susie finally let him go, flipping her hair.

“Anyways,” She coughed, turning to look at the highly amused human. “Let's get back to the tea party, huh? Ralsei's cake isn't gonna eat itself!” With that, she hurried out of the room, pushing back the desire to scoop up the precious fluffy prince and show him what a real kiss was like. Or at least, what she presumed one to be.

As Kris followed, they gave a knowing grin to Ralsei, playfully nudging him with a shoulder. “H-hey, don't give me that look, Kris!” He'd bleat, watching as the human soon left as well. Being left alone for a brief moment, Ralsei turned to the ICE-E statue in the corner of the room and moved toward it.

Before setting the Susie plush atop it, he looked back at the bedroom door, making sure he was by himself. With the affirmation that he was, Ralsei planted a small, caring smooch on the plush's snout, carefully setting it down.

'She's so kind... maybe one day I can find the nerve to k-kiss her again...' The prince thought as he hurried out of his room, smiling happily as he found himself with an extra skip in his step.

'If this is what being selfish feels like, perhaps it's... not such a bad thing!'

#dylan writes #fanfic #deltarune #fanfiction #ralsei #susie deltarune #ralsusie #shipfic #one shot #fluff #deltarune spoilers #just in case y'know #i'll upload this on AO3 as well don't worry #kris deltarune

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oftenwantedafton · 3 days ago

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contact | arnold/dispatch

chapter 3

Explicit content, 4.3k words, new 7/4/25

ao3 link

This might be the last shower Arnie ever takes.

The last time he brushes his teeth or combs his hair or shaves, he muses as he enters the bathroom. And he’s not even in his own home to do it. He’s inside the apartment of a man whose name he still doesn’t know; a man who is only too happy to send him to his death, not once, but twice.

And he’s been foolish enough to agree to go both times.

Normally the technician does a hasty job shaving before work; sometimes he even does it in the van on the way, using the mirror on the sun visor for guidance. Yeah, yeah, he knows that’s kind of dangerous. But he’s a good driver. He’s got a perfect driving record, as a matter of fact, because that van is the means to his livelihood. He really needs to clean it out soon, though. Those discarded food wrappers are starting to pile up.

Not that any of that is going to matter much when I’m six feet under, he thinks bitterly.

The shaving cream he’s been lent lathers nicely. Much nicer than that cheap stuff he sometimes splurges and buys at the local grocery store. It’s not technically in the necessity category, so he doesn’t always have it available. But this is nice, this brand Dispatch has. Just like the sturdy razor clutched in a hand that’s surprisingly steady for a man with a date with the gallows. Nothing but the best products money can buy, of course. He strokes appraisingly over his cheeks and jaw once he’s finished, studying his appearance in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Soft and smooth. Probably the best job of it he’s done in a long while. At least he’ll meet his doom looking halfway decent.

Arnie switches on the shower to allow the hot water to run, more out of habit than necessity, accustomed to the delay in his own living space, the water heater not as efficient. He finishes brushing his teeth, wondering if he should toss out the toothbrush or just leave it in the cup beside the dispatcher’s. Was it a bid for good luck, or just foolish optimism? He's still uncertain when he steps over the lip of the tub and draws the curtain closed, now standing under the spray of water while mulling over his fate, the bar of Old Spice soap already forgotten in his hand, oblivious to the scent of citrus fruits and cinnamon and cedar with a hint of vanilla perfuming the air.

He doesn’t notice the bathroom door open; doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until the vinyl liner and cloth curtain are pulled back and the apartment’s owner steps behind him. Maybe the dispatcher had knocked before he’d entered the room, but he doubts it. He doesn’t need an invitation to a place he owns. It would be beneath him to ask anyway. Arnie is the one that begs.

“What are you doing in here, hmmm? Daydreaming?” Dispatch hums beside his ear as he easily pulls the soap from his nerveless clutches.

The technician remains silent, staring at the pistachio colored tiles lining the wall in front of him. There’s a chip in the grout along one of the seams. He wonders if the other man has ever noticed it.

He briefly considers sharing the morbid thoughts he’d been having. Wondering how Fazbear Entertainment will handle his final affairs. An ex wife and a child living in another state are the only family he can lay claim to, and neither wants anything to do with him. He’d initially put his former spouse down as an emergency contact just for the sake of filling out the job application thoroughly, then had erased it, knowing she’d never come back. Maybe he’ll lie in a potter’s field. No funeral service. No headstone.

And Dispatch will simply doom another candidate. Dozens, if necessary. Until the mission is finally completed.

“I found something for you to wear. Perhaps not as rugged as your work clothes, but they’ll suffice. Save time wasted filling out a requisition form, acquiring a new uniform…” He begins lathering Arnie’s shoulders, and the touch feels wrong somehow. It’s too gentle. Too considerate. He doesn’t want that right now. He wants to hold onto the anger and the fear, as sour tasting as they are.

“You giving me the silent treatment now? Is that it?” His fingertips drag lather across his spine—supple and smooth, not calloused like Arnie’s own blue collar hands—following the curves, over and under and over again, finally resting just above the swelling curve of his buttocks.

Arnie bites his tongue. He wants to turn around and yell at the man. How dare he be so calm? So languid, as if they have all the time in the world? Of course he doesn’t care; he’s not the one going back in there. He’ll be safe and cozy in the office while the technician is forced to navigate a treacherous building and confront that metal monster once again.

When his coworker’s fingers abruptly abandon his body it’s almost a relief, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Now there is cool liquid being applied to his scalp, an arm snaking around his waist to tug him backward, away from the direct pulsing needles of water, so that his hair can be lathered properly. As Dispatch begin working near the nape of his neck Arnie sucks in a sharp breath. Sensitive there. His body is responding even though he doesn’t want it to. Betraying him.

“Does that feel good?” Somehow the man manages to speak in a low, sultry tone, the competition of the noise of the shower negligible. He nudges his subordinate forward again, bidding him to keep his eyes closed, guiding the water over his tresses. He obeys, listening to the sound of the suds splatting against the floor of the shower. For someone that had implied there was a limited amount of time, the dispatcher certainly seems to be dallying, combing his fingers through Arnie’s thick strands over and over, letting his nails scrape his scalp. Something warm presses against the back of his neck now, insistent, sucking, the realization that it’s his new lover’s mouth making his gut flutter, his cock twitch.

He whimpers when the other man touches him there, stroking over the hardening flesh. He rests a hand against the tiles, his head bowing, pulling his neck out of reach. The cut on his arm is beginning to throb again, a dull beat that mirrors the rhythm set by his heart.

“Arnie…”

“No.” He clamps down on his superior’s wrist, jerking his hand away and twisting around to face him. The water spills over the other man’s cheeks and nose and lips, his lashes half lowered in damp clusters over eyes gone dark with desire, the pupils blown wide. He looks like some Adonis sculpted into a fountain, wet and handsome and perfect. Too perfect.

“No?” Dispatch’s mouth twitches, seemingly unperturbed by his guest’s reluctance, his hands now firmly cupping his face. Arnie struggles to remain unresponsive when his mouth is captured, but it’s a lost cause. He tastes the shower water, faintly chlorine saturated, and the lingering mint of mouthwash. Their tongues wrestle and the technician feels himself grow lightheaded. He would have staggered, crumpled if not for the man keeping him upright, bracing the side of his neck and supporting the curve of one hip. Lips press hungrily against the divot of his suprasternal notch, filling the hollow, following the branch of collar bone, licking at the droplets of water scattered there.

Arnie struggles to swallow past the fingers now squeezing the column of his throat, an ever tightening constriction, the rings of cartilage compressed, narrowing his airway. He thinks for a split second that this will be his end after all; that his superior is so eager for him to meet his demise that he’s seeking it early. Then the vise around his throat abruptly loosens and he gasps, sucking in as much water as air, the scalding heat of the dispatcher’s cock grinding firmly against his abdomen.

“Arnie.” The name drags across his skin, needy, making him painfully aroused. Flushed and aching, the technician pulls at the other man’s bottom lip with his teeth. He wants to devour him, as poisonous and corrupt as he is; swallow every flavor lurking in every precipice and valley. He wants his bitter taste to be the final one he carries with him back into that factory; the final one that lingers on his lips and tongue and is pressed onto his teeth and gums and palate before he breathes his last, the ultimate sacrifice made for this wicked creature.

He feels the arousal spilling from the crown of his cock, a thicker type of wetness than the water cascading over it. It makes fucking into the loose circle of fingers offered even easier. He huffs his pleasure against Dispatch’s shoulder, his nipples pebbling as they brush the other man’s.

“Turn around.” The instructions confuse Arnie but he complies, surprised to feel something creamy and cool and almost greasy being spread between his thighs. Conditioner, maybe? But why—

“Oh, fuck.” A cock slides between them, rubbing against his perineum and nudging his balls.

“Put your legs together a little more. Yes, like that,” he croons into his ear. The sensation intensifies as he begins to have his thighs properly fucked from behind, the wet slap of skin punctuating their collective gasps and moans. It feels amazing; Arnie hasn’t done much in the way of stimulating anything aside from his cock and occasionally his scrotum. He doesn’t think he can cum from this, but judging from the hoarse rasping from his partner, the other man certainly is going to.

Once again the technician braces himself against the shower wall, the harsh, rapid thrusts jostling his body, making his hands squeak against the tiles.

“Arnie. Cum with me.”

He lets a hand drop, his fingers curling over his throbbing cock, trying to match the other man’s rhythm. There’s a roaring sound in his ears that might be his own pulse, like a freight train barreling forward over the rails. Fingers dig more firmly into his hips. His own grind back to meet the dispatcher’s, then thrust forward, guiding his cock through the narrow circle of his fist. Back and forth, until he feels the man behind him stop and stiffen and shudder, the sight of that splatter of cum making his own spew forth.

He braces his forearm against the wall, using it to cradle his forehead while he recovers. Dispatch kisses the back of his neck as he slides free from the tight clutch between his legs, now slipping an arm around his chest to hold him. It feels deceptively tender again; affectionate when it shouldn’t be, but he’ll allow it this time. One last little bit of comfort to enjoy.

All too soon it ends, his partner releasing him and Arnie moans in disappointment, confused until he realizes that the other man’s blindly reaching for the lever to shut the water off. He succeeds, swiping now at the shower curtain and liner, opening a pathway for them. It’s the fastest he’s ever toweled off, after exiting that tub; in truth, he’s still fairly damp, but at that moment he’s not overly concerned about a lecture that might ensue regarding dripping all over the sparkling linoleum or tidy shag carpeting. He watches his guide open the door to the adjoining bedroom, noting the bed linens still haven’t been changed, the ruby stains already faded to rust now that his blood has dried. The injury on his arm has stopped bleeding again, the discomfort lessened now that it’s no longer under the stinging spray of water.

“Come here, Arnie.”

He obeys, like he always does when instructed by the dispatcher, moving forward until he reaches the other man.

“Your outfit’s on the dresser. I need to strip the bed. I have leftovers in the fridge if you want them before we leave.”

The technician reaches for the undershirt and briefs folded neatly on top of the pile. “So that’s it, then,” he says softly, stroking a thumb over the fabric. Always the finest things money can buy, like the hygiene products and towels in the bathroom, earned from the labor of poor wretches like himself.

“What?”

“How do you do it?” He shakes his head, unfolding the shirt and shaking it open before pulling it over his head. “How do you sleep at night, knowing you’re condemning innocent lives?”

The dispatcher sighs. An annoyed sound. “We’ve discussed this already. Do I really need to repeat it?”

“Nope. I got the message the first time. You want me to risk my neck so you can buy more of your fancy conditioner and your whatever thread count sheets. I copy that loud and clear.”

“You make it sound as if I’m enjoying seeing our coworkers perish. As if that’s the ultimate goal. Things would be a lot simpler if your predecessors had succeeded. The company would have been spared a lot of resources and time wouldn’t have been wasted.” The other man begins pulling the pillows and comforter off of the bed, piling them on the floor beside it.

“Yet somehow you still manage to enjoy the benefits you reap from it, so it’s really all the same, isn’t it?” He steps into the boxer briefs next, wondering for a moment what he would’ve done if they weren’t roughly the same build. Probably made him wear his clothing anyway, most likely.

“Working to earn money is what motivates every employee, no matter what the job is. It’s what drives the economy and allows civilization to flourish.”

“I know that.” Arnie scowls. “I just wish…”

“What?” The elastic of the fitted sheet snaps as it’s lifted over one corner of the mattress, the man pausing to regard the technician.

“Just wished you cared a little more, is all. About the people you send on these missions,” he adds gruffly, thumbing the front of the long sleeve shirt closed.

“About you,” Dispatch clarifies.

“Not what I said,” the partially dressed man mutters, already regretting his words. He doesn’t need a reprimand or a lecture. He knows what this is and what it isn’t. It doesn’t matter what he wants. What he secretly aches for.

“I told you I was glad you made it out okay.”

“Yeah.”

“I meant that.”

Arnie shrugs, zipping the fly of his loaned pants. “Hard to tell when you’re talking to someone who openly admits they lie.”

“What is it you want from me, Arnie?”

“Nothing. Not a God damn thing.” He jerks on the leather strap of the belt, securing the buckle before threading it through the belt loops, the process interrupted when Dispatch suddenly drops the sheet and moves closer, wrapping his arms around him.

Arnie stiffens in surprise. He has to struggle to free his arms from the embrace of the other man, cautiously returning the gesture. “Why?” He whispers.

“You still don’t get it, do you? You think I’ve ever brought anyone else from work into my home? Into my bed?”

“I don’t…”

“I wanted you, Arnie. I want you,” he corrects gruffly against his cheek.

Something tightens painfully in the technician’s chest. Too much. It’s too close to what he craves.

“You don’t have to lie,” he admonishes. “I already agreed to go back.”

“I’m not lying.” He combs through Arnie’s damp tresses, drawing back to study his features.

“Oh…” He exhales a shuddering breath, his grip on the other man tightening. You’re killing me, he thinks. Killing me with kindness before you lead me back to the slaughterhouse. And it makes everything so much worse…

“We should get going,” Dispatch finally murmurs, releasing him and stepping back.

“Yeah, okay.” Arnie nods, watching as the other man stuffs the ball of sheets into a laundry hamper, then begins selecting clothes from his closet and dresser drawers. He rubs a hand against his recently shaven jaw, realizing he might’ve nicked himself in a couple of places after all. Hardly the worst of the injuries he’s likely to sustain, he thinks, following the apartment owner into the kitchen. He eats what’s set before him more out of necessity than appetite, his stomach more and more uneasy as the time to depart draws closer.

He sets his soiled dishes in the sink as directed, then steps into his work boots, dropping to one knee to lace them up properly. Dispatch sits on the couch to slide his Oxfords on, frowning over a scuff mark on the toe of one shoe before unfolding his legs and rising to his feet.

“Ready to leave?”

He’s not. He never will be. But he nods anyway.

***

They ride back to Fazbear Entertainment in silence.

Instead of parking closer to the entrance, the driver pulls into a vacant spot beside Arnie’s van. He withdraws the keys from the ignition, keeping them tucked into his fist as the pair continue to sit without speaking, the only sound the ticks as the engine block cools off.

Finally the dispatcher clears his throat. “Nervous, Arnie?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never led you astray before, have I?” The cheerfulness sounds forced.

“You know all bets are off once I set foot inside that building. That thing will be imitating you again. If it even decides to talk to me at all. It may just kill me as soon as I—”

“—No, it won’t,” the other man interrupts harshly.

“It killed those other men,” he reminds him. “We’re not trained for this. We’re technicians, not soldiers. We didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t sign up for this,” he adds softly. “When I don’t come back—”

“—You will,” Dispatch interrupts again, his voice a low growl.

“Will you immediately send another unsuspecting soul? Will you at least warn them first? Or will you just keep sending them…”

The dispatcher squirms in his seat. “Arnie, I told you, it’s not me making these decisions.”

“Will you?”

“Will I what?” He massages the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Will I follow my superior’s commands? Yes. Just like you need to obey yours.”

“Alright. I’m going.” Arnie begins reaching for the door handle, then hesitates. “What’s your name?”

His coworker blinks, looking surprised by this query. “If I tell you, you can’t use it over the radio,” he cautions.

“I won’t,” he promises.

“It’s Andrew.”

“Andrew,” he repeats, trying the sound of the name out loud. Yes, that suits him. He wonders if he goes by Andy or Drew; what one has to do to earn the privilege of addressing him so informally; what it would be like to gasp any version of it out during moments of intimacy. He’ll never know, will he? He should have asked sooner. Now it’s too late.

“Arnie, wait.” A hand curls around his sleeve, halting his progress again. “Good luck.” He sees the man’s throat working. Maybe it’s not what he really wanted to say. Maybe the real words are still trapped inside, piling up, waiting for a release that will never come.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He attempts to push the door open but the other man’s voice stops him yet again.

“Come back safe to me.”

Or perhaps those words have found their release after all. A lump is forming in Arnie’s throat as well, but he merely nods, hurriedly exiting the car.

The dispatcher’s gaze avoids his as he locks his sedan’s door. He begins walking towards the building with brisk strides. Arnie watches his departure, his hand resting on the handle of the van’s door. He thinks he hears a soft sound at one point, a little sorrowful groan that is distorted by the space of the parking garage, but he can’t be certain. Then Andrew vanishes from view and Arnie’s greeted with a creak of hinges as he pulls the door open and hoists himself behind the wheel, the Spring Bonnie bobble head jiggling a welcome. He’s immediately assaulted by the scent of garlic from the empty pizza box on the passenger seat beside him.

Seriously, if he somehow manages to survive this, he has to clean out this vehicle.

***

“Why did you come back here?”

The voice echoes in the showroom as soon as Arnie enters. Dispatch’s voice; or rather, the thing pretending to be him.

“You don’t have to bother with the charade anymore. I know you’re not him.”

Silence. He steps off the circular platform decorated with the image of a smiling sun, regarding the first security door tucked into a recess beside an octopus animatronic. He no longer has the Data Diver to grant him access, which means he’ll have to pry it open manually. If it’s even possible. If that entity will let him.

“Why did you come back here?” It’s still imitating Andrew’s voice. Funny, it doesn’t seem quite as convincing as it once did. Maybe because he’s just spent so much time talking with the dispatcher in person. The illusion can’t compare to the reality.

Arnie sighs resignedly. “I have a job to finish.”

“You finished it. I released you.”

“Yes, you did. But you deceived me. You stole the Data Diver that had the endo schematics downloaded onto it. I need those back.”

“I didn’t steal them. You can’t steal what already belongs to you.”

“They’re not yours.”

“They’re not yours, either.” He doesn’t know why he’s arguing with artificial intelligence. He’s honestly a little surprised nothing’s tried to attack him yet. “I’m not interested in anything else here. I just need to retrieve those things for Fazbear Entertainment, and then I’ll leave. For good.”

“I can’t allow you to leave with them.”

“Why not? What use are they to you?” He’s managed to remove the outer casing for the door control, but there’s another shield underneath.

A lengthy pause. “I need them for repairs.”

“Repairs?” Arnie rests his arm a moment, frowning. It’s beginning to throb again. He hopes it won’t start bleeding. He should have let Dispatch put another dressing on it. “What kind of repairs?”

“The M2 is…faulty.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your confusion isn’t surprising. You didn’t read all of the logs nor listen to all of the audio recordings.”

“A little busy trying to keep my head attached to my shoulders,” he mutters, sighing when he sees there’s yet a third barrier to his goal once the shield is removed.

“I am what came before: the first prototype, M1, my consciousness now stored in a super computer. It is M2 that attacked you. It has…adapted according to the violence it endured. But I can repair it. You can help me,” the disembodied voice remarks, sounding thoughtful.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks warily, straightening after rummaging for a different tool in the case.

“Then the M2 would no longer pose a threat. I would surrender the Data Diver back to you, then.”

“And the schematics.”

“And the schematics,” the dispatcher’s cloned voice smoothly agrees.

“If you’re just a computer, why do you care what the M2 does?”

“Because I wasn’t always a computer. I was a wife, and a mother.” The voice evolves from the familiar mellow purr of Andrew’s to a woman’s, surprisingly warm and gentle. “And M2 was once my son. Are you a parent, Arnie?”

“Yeah.” He scuffs the toe of his work boot against the floor. “I don’t get to see my kid. My ex wife…” His voice trails off.

“So you understand, then. What it means to have a child. And to lose one.”

“Yes,” he agrees, feeling a wave of guilt and regret wash over him. The child had been a mistake; the result of a one night stand that he’d tried to make up for by marrying the girl. But they were never right for each other, and their differences were only the beginning of what had become a bitter relationship. He worked too much. He was too tired when he was home. He wasn’t present enough. He’d known his wife was right; just like it was right to get a divorce. He should have fought a little harder to see his kid, though. He just didn’t know how to balance those needs with the demands of work. How does anyone do it? Some people don’t even have the luxury of a partner and still manage to make it work.

He still thinks sometimes he should have tried a little harder, instead of just signing away his custody rights. Even if a complete separation was ultimately in everyone’s best interests. It was, wasn’t it? He has to believe it was.

“Will you help me, Arnie? Help me save my son?”

He sets the pliers down, sighing. He’s not entirely sure he trusts this computer since it’s already deceived him before, but it also let him escape, making him think it might not intend to harm him after all. Any ally might be better than none at all.

He toys briefly with the idea of scooping up the Data Diver and booking it for the exit, but he’s fairly certain the AI won’t be so benevolent once it realizes he’s double crossing it. He’s going to have to go along with the computer’s wishes if he wants any chance of getting out of here again.

“Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

“Door’s open,” the voice chimes pleasantly. Now that he thinks about it, he has heard this voice before—Mrs. Helpful, the little bear animatronic that had assisted him with various tasks throughout the facility. “Head to the security office.”

Arnie straightens, watching the door slide open, granting him access. He inhales deeply, then steps forward.

#arnold x dispatch #fnaf arnold #fnaf dispatch #fnaf sotm #distress signal #divider @thecutestgrotto

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ampheenix · 15 hours ago

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Wake up world, it's time to go

Spamtenna // 2.6k

SUMMARY

A few shots in, Tenna was feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol flowing through his veins, going straight to his monitor. He slapped a hand on the small coffee table between them, laughing his head off at some hilarious anecdote of Spamton’s.

“I know! Insanity, really, what is the world coming to?!” Spamton snickered, before taking another puff of his cigar. As he exhaled, he continued to talk, gesturing with his hands in the air. “399? For that?! Some of these Addisons have no idea what they’re doing, I swear.”

Tenna shook his head, grinning, a pleasant flush dusting his monitor from the shots. “I don’t know a single Darkner who’d take that deal, let alone you.” Then, he paused, grin widening. “Well, actually, some of the Pippins…”

“HA!” Spamton chortled. “It wouldn’t surprise me."

“Ay, Mister Ant-Tenna! Want a new coat? Now in XXXL!” From the left.

“Mister Tenna, nice tie! Want to bulk out your collection for just 12.99?” From the right.

See, this was why he loved visiting Cyber City. That and, well, one other reason.

“Jeez, look at all these knockoffs. That’s hardly how you make a sale.” Spamton smiled brightly over at the Addisons, raising a hand off the wheel in greeting. “Sure am glad I’ve managed to rise from those ranks, ha!”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on them now, I’m sure they’re trying their best!” Tenna laughed as he leaned back against the leather seat, a bright grin adorning his face, and a pleasant fizzing in his head from all the attention.

Granted, Spamton’s Cungadero wasn’t exactly made, ahem, for his size, but they made it work. When you put the seat down and crouch across the two seats, it’s surprisingly comfortable.

“Oh, careful Ant- we’re reaching an overpass, wouldn’t want those pretty antennae of yours to get scratched.” Spamton said airily, eyes on the road, enjoying the feel of the sweet breeze across his face. “Y’know, do you ever think of shrinking down for these trips?”

Tenna coughed, feeling oddly flattered after that comment about his antennae. He lowered them down over his face as they drove through the underpass, grateful for the warning- maintenance was a pain as it was. “Well, I don’t know. I like to present a certain image when out in public, I suppose, and part of my image is the height.”

He paused, considering. “Wouldn’t want to… let the viewers down, if they saw me out in the city. Supposed to be ‘larger than life,’ right?” Tenna laughed again, lightly, hoping Spamton took the bait, because though the viewers were important to him, that wasn’t the actual reason.

Really, strangely enough, he enjoyed towering over Spamton the way he did. Or maybe it wasn’t that strange.

After all, Spamton was always so… so charismatic, so put-together, so perfectly charming, a natural leader. And he was so knowledgeable about technology, too, so ahead of the times- whilst Tenna still had no clue what an e-mail was.

Sometimes, the height almost felt like the only thing keeping things equal in their partnership, even though Tenna knew that wasn’t true. He frowned, adjusting his tie- what did he know, anyway.

Tenna brought plenty of things to the table, his popular show and highly capable studio for one. He should just try and brush off these feelings of insecurity, really, as he was one of the brightest stars in the city. People loved him!

Tenna’s bright smile returned as he was reminded of the fact, seeing Darkners point and gasp with their friends and cameras flash in their direction. Small groups clustered together, yelling out excitedly as they zoomed past.

“MISTER TENNA, I LOVE YOU!!!”

“MISTER TENNA, PLEASE SHOW THE HOLIDAY SPECIALS TONIGHT!”

“MISTER TENNA, IS IT TRUE THE WEATHERMAN AND WOMAN ARE DATING THE FAMED ORIGINAL STARWALKER?”

Tenna resisted the urge to glare over in the direction of the last one, instead resorting to a tight smile. His crew’s social lives weren’t supposed to be accessible to the media- they were entitled to privacy, after all. He was going to have to have a firm word with the studio about that.

“Huh, you normally enjoy the attention. Something wrong with the crazed declarations of love tonight?” Spamton grinned over at him, with a tinge of genuine interest.

“No, just the dating rumour.” Tenna allowed himself to frown as they finally passed the last of them, furrowing his brows. “That’s not supposed to be information privy to the public, is all.”

“Ah, so it’s true then?” Spamton’s grin widened just a tick at the news. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the gossip, obviously, but it was fun seeing how easy Tenna was to trick sometimes.

“Ha! You scoundrel. Not a word of that to the media, if you don’t mind.” Tenna sent him a conspiratorial smile, nudging him gently with his elbow. Partners in business and in crime, as it were.

Eventually, the automobile began to slow down, as Spamton pulled into a neon blue parking lot. “Now, you wouldn’t believe it from the outside, but this is one of the best bars in the city.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Tenna queried as he carefully unfolded himself, straightening up and stepping off of the car. It creaked under his weight as he did so. “I think it looks quite nice. Modern, you know.”

It was humble, sure, but didn’t look sketchy, even if it was a bit hole-in-the-wall.

Spamton stared at him for a second, looking from him to the entrance, before he slowly began to snicker, heading up the stairs. “Ant, you’re a riot, you know that?”

Tenna followed Spamton through the door with a puzzled smile, stooping to not hit his head as he did so, straightening up once he was inside. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’, I just forget that your standards of Cyber City must be very different since you don’t come here that often. This bar is fine, sure, but it doesn’t exactly compare to the one in the centre made entirely of glittering windows, you know?” Spamton grinned ruefully, hands on his hips as he looked up at him.

“Oh, well.” Tenna paused. “That doesn’t sound very nice, anyway. All windows, no privacy.”

“You’ll love it here then, plenty of privacy. No better place to celebrate our recent success, right?” Spamton’s smile brightened at the reminder, gesturing for him to follow. The bar was pretty quiet, jazz music playing over the speakers, so they wouldn’t have trouble finding a spot at least. “Feel free to shrink down if you want to, by the way. No fans round here.”

The comment reminded Tenna of his thoughts from earlier. With a small sigh, he nodded to himself, shrinking down a foot or two. It would mean he wouldn’t have to worry about his antennae scraping the ceilings, after all.

“Thanks, Spamton, don’t mind if I do.” Tenna shrugged off his suit jacket, loosening his tie as he settled into an armchair. “I won’t have too much to drink though, likely- I can be a bit of a lightweight.” He delivered the last line in a jokingly hushed whisper, leaning forward in his chair, and Spamton let out a bark of a laugh.

“Oh jeez, get tipsy, black out, you’ve earned it! The others can rerun the specials tonight, you’ve earned a night or two off hosting, wouldn’t you say?” A grin played on Spamton’s lips as he pulled out his cigar, cutting off the cap before rooting around for something else in his pocket. “Hey, got a light?”

“Ah, sorry, I’m not much of a smoker.” Tenna said apologetically. Then, an idea occurred to him, and he leaned forward in his seat. “But wait, let me try something. You just have to warm the tobacco, right? Not burn it directly?”

Spamton nodded, holding out his cigar obligingly, watching with interest as Tenna’s antennae stretched forward, rubbed against eachother, and- zap! With a small, sustained electric buzz, his cigar began to glow red.

Spamton rotated it under the white-blue heat until the edges were evenly charred, letting out a sound of appreciation.

He then glanced up at Tenna, their heads close together now. “Thanks for that, partner. ‘Preciate it.” He said lowly, tilting his head to the side with a wolfish grin.

Spamton then took a gentle puff of the cigar, eyes briefly closing as he did so, and Tenna swallowed, unable to take his eyes off him.

Then, Tenna slowly drew away, back to his perch on the armchair, despite not really wanting to. How… odd. “Mm, yes, no problem.” He coughed.

Spamton then also drew back, exhaling smoke into the air, eyes low-lidded and still trained on Tenna. Then, after a brief pause, he smiled again, and the tension in the air seemed to ease as he hailed down the bartender.

Soon, a few shots had been delivered to their cozy spot in the corner.

Tenna loosened his tie some more, feeling a bit hot around the collar- ha! He hadn’t had anything to drink yet and he was already feeling tipsy, what a lightweight he must be. He voiced this to Spamton, who seemed to find it even funnier than he did, for some reason.

“Something in the air, perhaps, you know how it is…” Tenna hand-waved it with good-natured amusement and Spamton nodded along, with a knowing grin playing on his lips.

“HA!” Spamton chortled. “It wouldn’t surprise me. You know, that’s not even the most insane deal I’ve been offered, either.”

“Oh really?” Tenna’s eyebrows raised, interest caught.

“Really.” Spamton surveyed him with a grin, looking him up and down. “It’s crazy, but this big TV head guy asked me to collaborate with him once, you might have heard of him, his theme goes- Mr. Ant-Tenna’s… TV TIME!” He sang out the theme tune obnoxiously loud, and Tenna buried his head in his hands, laughing from pure embarrassment as he attempted to shush him.

“Oh, stop it, you. Everyone loves a jingle, but I do wonder if that one was a bit too much, sometimes.” Tenna snickered, swatting at Spamton’s shoulder, feeling free as a bird. Yeah, the alcohol was definitely in his system now.

“Nah, it’s perfect. Sometimes a ‘bit too much’ is what people wanna see, you know?” Spamton leaned forward in his chair, throwing back another shot with vigour. “Ah, man, that stuff is strong. Good, though.” He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, letting out a pleasant sigh.

“Mmm...” Tenna swirled the shot around in his hand, wondering if he should really go full throttle, have fun and black out like Spamton suggested- but then, his core suddenly seized with pain, his whole body stiffening. His arm jolted, and the remainder of the shot spilled across the floor.

“Ah, shoot.” Spamton said ruefully, but Tenna was more focused on the problem going on inside him. It, agh, it was aching for some reason- had he overdone it on the alcohol? No way, he’d only head a drink or two, or maybe-

Oh no. Oh dear, he knew what was going on.

This was his busy schedule catching up to him, wasn’t it.

“Somethin’ wrong? Your, uh… monitor is glitching out a little there.” Spamton lifted the glass in his hand to point at his screen, and Tenna quickly got a hold of himself. His monitor returned to normal almost instantly- how embarrassing.

“Sorry…” Tenna winced, a hand squeezing at his mid-section like it would do anything. “It ahem, seems I’m a bit overdue on maintenance. Think I must’ve overlooked it, what with all the shows we’ve been doing lately.” He let out a slightly self-deprecating laugh.

Spamton’s eyes narrowed for a moment, as if considering something, before he smiled. “Huh. Do you normally, y’know, see a guy about it, or do it yourself?”

Tenna blinked, not expecting the question. “Oh! Uh, I suppose it depends… it’s, er…” He laughed awkwardly again, rubbing the back of his neck. “A bit of a sensitive area? So doing it myself can be difficult. It’s not all that complicated, though.”

“You don’t say.” Spamton’s eyes glinted, and he placed his empty glass on the table with a soft clink. “You know, Ant, I could help you out with it, if you’d like. You could say I’m… familiar with the CRT instruction manual.”

Tenna stiffened completely, hand frozen on the back of his neck. There was- there was no way Spamton was really suggesting that, was he? He must’ve misheard him.

“Hey, what’s with that look?” Spamton leaned forward in his chair, resting his head on his hand, smiling with satisfaction- like a cat with the cream, Tenna thought dazedly. “What’s a little maintenance between partners, right?”

“Right! Right, of course.” Tenna coughed, adjusting his tie. After a tense pause, he finally met his eyes, uncertainty colouring his tone. God, this was ridiculous, there was surely no way Spamton actually knew what he was offering, but... the pleasant buzz of alcohol still warming his veins made that easy to ignore. “Spamton, you really don’t mind?”

Slowly, taking his sweet time to respond, Spamton took one last puff of his cigar. Tenna’s gaze couldn’t help but catch on the way his lips wrapped around it, and his eyes quickly flitted away, as he swallowed again.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grab him by the tie, pulling him in. His monitor whirled back around just in time to feel Spamton exhaling the hot smoke into his mouth, tasting like toasted sandalwood and freshly turned soil.

Tenna gaped at him as he sank back into his chair, heart pounding in his ears. His fingers came up to touch his lips, warmed from the smoke, and completely wordless.

“Oh, Ant. I’d like nothing more.” Spamton drawled, laying his finished cigar down on the ashtray, before grinning at him like he’d made his day. “Your place or mine?”

Tenna’s thoughts went haywire, monitor glitching out despite himself. “Um, well, that is…” He wet his lips, wondering if he could get away with bringing things back to the studio.

“Relax, I’m just kidding.” Spamton laughed, and Tenna felt something wilt inside of him, antennae drooping.

“You… you were?”

“’Course.” Spamton said airily, hopping up from his seat. “We’ll just get a hotel, yeah? Nothing two successful business partners can’t afford.” He sent Tenna a wink- ha, he’d looked so disappointed for a second there.

Relieved, Tenna perked up instantly, a bright smile returning to his face. “Ah, yes, of course! Our recent success all but guarantees that, after all.”

He continued to bluster on as he pulled on his suit jacket, standing up from his seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without you, Spamton! Your skill with e-mail has brought our show to so many new audiences, and we receive so much fan-mail from viewers now, too…”

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to lay it on so thick, Ant.” Spamton’s grin widened, enjoying the praise despite himself. He tossed a couple of bills on the table, before turning towards the door. “Come on, let’s go blow this joint and find ourselves a nice hotel room, yeah?”

Tenna beamed in response, taking his offered arm and allowing himself to be led back out to the car, feeling excitement buzz through his veins.

He glanced down at Spamton, unable to believe he’d gotten so lucky- that smooth, pale skin, slicked back hair, dazzling smile… it was almost enough to ignore the thrumming ache still seizing his mid-section.

Soon, they were flying down the highway again, blue and white lights blurring by them as Spamton pushed the Cungadero’s engine to its limits. “’AY, SEE, THIS IS WHY I SELL THESE STARTING AT 299.50!” Spamton yelled over the wind, grinning at him from behind the wheel.

Tenna pulled his suit jacket around him for fear of it flying away, laughing. “I CAN SEE THAT!”

And so they drove into the night, the blazing lights of the Cyber City whirling and smudging around them like water being sucked down a drain.

#spamtenna #mr ant tenna #tenna deltarune #ant tenna #spamton g spamton #spamton deltarune #mr tenna #deltarune #deltarune fanfic #my writing #writers on ao3 #deltarune chapter 3 #fluff #spamtenna glory days #mlm #mlm yearning #fanfic on tumblr

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eviemonroeer · 23 hours ago

Text

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 27

Set during Season 6, Episode 10 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings:

WC:

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, @snowflames-world, @guiltypleassure243, and @omgbrianab

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

“Oh my gosh! Deb?!”

I couldn’t believe my eyes as I walked into the admit area from the lounge and saw the familiar woman standing with Carter at curtain two. She left County five years ago and I hadn’t heard anything from her since, which really did stink since she was one of a few women around my age that worked here. I waddled over and she thankfully met me halfway.

“Evie!” I hugged her as best as my belly would allow. “Would you look at you? Congrats! When are you due?”

“A month, thank God. I’m ready for this baby to be out of me.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“That would be me.” Carter quickly walked by, giving me a kiss, before walking away. The other woman’s mouth opened in shock.

“Carter? Really?” I nodded in confirmation and a ran a hand over my bump. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You two were pretty flirty back in the day.”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Everyone likes to tell me that.” I turned heading back for the admit desk so I could sit down.

“What are you having?”

“A girl. We’ve kind of had a baby boom around here recently. Carol Hathaway had twin girls at Thanksgiving.”

“Seems like you guys are just trying to restock nurses.”

I laughed as I sat. “I guess you could say that. Whatever she becomes, I hope she comes soon. I’m stuck helping at the admit desk until I go on maternity leave. I’m so glad you’re back. Means there will be someone here to keep Carter in line while I’m gone.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can defiantly do that. Speaking of, I should probably go find him now.”

“Have fun.”

Around lunch time, Carter came and got me to go grab something at the Roach Coach. I was happy for the walk on the way there, the fresh air nice after being stuck in the stuffy and over sterile air of the ER. But my feet were screaming at me as we came back across the street. “You okay?” Carter asked, noticing my struggle.

“Just walking around with a bowling ball here. Just need to get back inside and to sit down.” Carter put his fork back in the ramen cup and put a hand on my back as we walked in the cross walk.

“Hey Dave, what are you doing?” He called out when he noticed the doctor in the familiar green vehicle. “Stealing Weaver’s car?”

“Just taking a look.” He said, getting out. “Couldn’t get it started.” Dave walked around the hood, which was open and exposing the engine. “So, uh.... Carter did you know this new resident Jing something-or-other?”

“That’s great Dave.” I said sarcastically. “Screw up her name. That’ll impress her.”

“I heard she was a medical student here. Is that right?”

“Yes, she was.” Carter confirmed, taking another bite of his ramen. “Yes, I knew her.”

“And?”

“And? Nothing.”

“Ah, it didn’t work out, huh? Well, I guess it’s for the best considering Carter Jr.” He pointed at my belly.

“Dave, I did not try and go through every medical student.”

“Just the nurses.” Dave joked, winking at me. I rolled my eyes, partly at Dave and partly at Carter, knowing full well his history. “Why not?” He paused and smirked. “I’m just kidding, my friend. If you want me to back off, you just say so.”

“No, I think you guys would be great together.” I scoffed at Carter's encouragement, the two men looking at me as I turned and went to go back inside. “Go for it.” I heard Carter say.

“Consider it done.”

I shook my head as Carter ran back up to me, putting his hand back on my lower back. “You know if he does go after her, she’ll eat him alive, right?”

“That’s exactly why I told him too.”

The rest of the day was surprisingly calm in consideration with how the ER normally was. Aside from a constant flow of teenagers coming in asking if I was a doctor or taking pictures with Andrew, I’d say it was pretty tame. After work, Carter and I met up with Jing-Mei. I wanted to be updated on how her first day back was as we walked outside, but instead we met up with Dave on the street.

“Hey! So, how was your first day?” He asked her, forgetting Carter and I were even there. “Everyone treat you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, feels like I never left.” She offered up, not really wanting to talk to him.

“You guys want to go get something to eat?”

"No thanks.”

“No.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you working tomorrow?”

“Me?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, what a coincidence. So am I. See you, Carter. Evie.” He yelled out before going back inside.

I hip checked Chen. “Do we have to warn you about him?”

“Oh please.” She scoffed.

“So how was your first day?” Carter asked.

“Uh, well, I wish I could have done more for Alyssa.”

“At least you did somethin’.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I told you. Uh, my program in New York closed.” We stopped at the news stand so Carter could grab a paper.

“No, no, I mean, uh, I mean to medicine.”

“Oh well, four months after I quit, I was on the subway and this guy, pretty young, in his 40s, went into cardiac arrest. He was dying and everyone was just standing there, staring at him.” We started walking away. “So, I suddenly realized, hey, I know what to do. Jumped in, saved his life. It’s a great feeling.”

“Yeah, it can be.”

“And then I figured, I’m pretty good at this. Why waste it?”

Carter smiled. “Deb, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“It’s Jing-Mei.”

He nodded. “Well goodnight, Jing-Mei.” He said and put a hand on my back to lead me to the car.

“Goodnight, John. Evie.”

“Goodnight.” I waved.

“Oh, and Deb,” Carter added, a smirk on his face as he looked over his shoulder. “Welcome back.”

#er #john carter #john carter er #original character #noah wyle #dr john carter #john carter x female character #john truman carter #john truman carter iii #john carter x reader #er nbc #er 1994 #er tv show

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 21 hours ago

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I Love You Pt. 2

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 15 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Chapter

You settled into a nice routine, which often included messaging the group chat to see if any of the boys were home or available every morning. This particular day, you found yourself heading up to the maknae’s dorm in search of Seungmin, who promised you he had a few hours to watch a movie with you. It wasn’t until you got there that you realized he wasn’t the only one there.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen when you arrived. You didn’t realize until you were walking down the hall and passed by the doorway, freezing your body when you caught sight of the dancer as if you had just been caught sneaking out. He also froze, a cup halfway up to his mouth, blinking at you in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gunna watch a movie with Seungmin. What are you doing here?”

He looked down at his cup. “… nothing.”

“Is that Minho’s special tea?”

“Please don’t tell him,” Hyunjin pleaded, dropping the cup to the counter with a loud clack. “He’ll kill me.”

“Fine. But only if you make me a cup.”

“Deal.”

Seungmin showed up a few minutes later when you didn’t answer his text, taking in the two of you and the guilty looks you sported.

He smirked. “Hyung’s tea? Really?”

“Don’t tell him,” You pleaded. “He’ll kill us.”

With a smile that sent shivers up your spine, the young singer reached for his phone. You let out a laugh as you lunged for him, trying to block his sight, and he playfully grabbed you with one arm, using the other to hold his phone away from your reach. Seungmin was surprisingly strong, and you found yourself unable to do anything as the photo app was pulled up.

“Hyunjin, help!”

Things quickly went to chaos after that. The two of you managed to get the phone out of Seungmin’s hands, but Hyunjin wasn’t expecting the other boy to tackle him against the counter, both of them laughing and screaming as they wrestled for the phone. You tried to grab it out of their hands yourself, but you miscalculated.

Your socks slipped against the floor, and with a yelp, you reached out to grab onto the boys for stability. Hyunjin was pulled to the ground by Seungmin, his arms flailing as he went down. You hit the side of the counter just as one of the cups of tea was flung in your direction, and you let out a shout as hot liquid hit your chest, neck, and the left side of your face.

“Shit!” You swiped your hand across your face, and the other two grew quiet as they realized what had happened.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Seungmin was the first to react, pulling you towards the sink. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You assured him, letting him use a wet towel to wipe away the liquid from your skin. While the tea had been hot and definitely uncomfortable, it wasn’t hot enough to cause any burns. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It didn’t burn you?” Hyunjin pressed his fingers to the skin, but immediately pulled away when he realized he was leaving marks. “It looks red.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t hot enough for that. Really.”

“Aish. You should have been more careful,” Seungmin muttered, gently pulling at the collar of your shirt to wipe at your collarbones and shoulder.

You gaped at him. “Me?! You were the one who spilled the tea!”

“Actually, I think that was me,” Hyunjin admitted with a grimace, rubbing his hand.

You pulled at your shirt. “Ugh, I need a shower. Why is it sticky?”

Hyunjin let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and it took you a second to realize why. You slapped him on the arm. Seungmin rolled his eyes at his team member, throwing the wet towel at the dancer’s face, and gently guiding you down the hall.

“Clean up the mess!” He yelled to Hyunjin, turning to you with softer eyes. “You can use my shower.”

You didn’t take a long shower, not even washing your hair since you were just rinsing the tea off. Seungmin had offered you one of his shirts to wear while yours went through the laundry, so you stopped by the laundry room to load up some clothes (you figured you might as well wash the rest of the dirty laundry at the same time) and emerged into the living room to spot both boys now calmly sitting on the couch. The tv show you had been planning to watch was loaded up on the screen, and Seungmin looked up when you entered.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” You told him, motioning to the shirt he had lent you.

Seungmin looked you up and down in a way that had goosebumps breaking out along your skin. He looked back down to his phone nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it.” You pretended not to see him smile down at his phone.

“Man, now I want you to wear my clothes,” Hyunjin whined from his spot on the couch.

You sighed, sitting down in between both of them. “Boys.”

“What! You look hot wearing our clothes.” He pouted. “Just wish it was my clothes.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Seungmin said, looking up at you with his brows raised. From the other side, Hyunjin perked his head up like a puppy who just hear the word ‘treats’ being mentioned.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Even as the show started up and you settled back to get comfy, you couldn’t help but notice Hyunjin’s pout from the corner of your eye. He only pouted harder when you turned towards him, making a point to look as dejected as possible, curling up on his side of the couch by himself. You let out a sigh, and he peeked at you with a hopeful look.

You sat up straight. “Wow. It’s really cold in here.”

“Do you want me to turn the AC down?” Seungmin offered, already reaching for the remote.

You slapped his shoulder gently, now exaggerating your voice at him. “I could really use a sweater!”

He snorted, settling back down once he realized what you were up to. It took Hyunjin a few seconds, but the dancer finally caught on once you both turned to him with expectant looks, his entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh!” He grabbed the ends of his sweater, struggling to get it off. “I got it! Wait- hold on .. Ash.”

He almost threw the thing across the room when he finally got it off, hair sticking up from the static electricity. Seungmin let out a cackle of laughter.

Hyunjin didn’t even seem bothered as he offered you his sweater. “Here.”

Now wrapped up in clothes from both boys, you were finally able to settle down to watch the show in peace. You didn’t want to admit it to them, but you actually did enjoy wearing their clothes. You found yourself pulling the ends of Hyunjin’s sweater past your hands, pressing the fabric to your nose and softly inhaling the scent that was a mix of laundry detergent and just … him. You smiled softly.

Halfway through the show, Seungmin reached out and grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face and into his lap. Without even having to be asked, you reached out with your other hand and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand so that the three of you were connected. The soundtrack picked up, a beautiful melody that had you feeling sentimental.

“I love you guys,” You whispered.

Seungmin’s lips twitched up, and Hyunjin squeezed your hand.

“I love you more,” the dancer said, leaning his body against you.

Seungmin side eyed him. “No.”

“Eh?”

He pulled you away from the older boy, pulling you half into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, effectively blocking you from Hyunjin with his own body. Said member gaped at the change in seating.

“Yah, puppy. Give them back.”

“No.”

“You little-“

The show was practically forgotten as you were suddenly caught up in another wrestling match. Thankfully, this time, nobody got anything spilled on them, although Hyunjin did once again end up on the ground with Seungmin sitting on top of him by the time the show ended. It was only then that he shot you a bashful smile, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

“I love you more.”

“No, I-!”

You surged forward, nearly tackling the singer to the ground, but he managed to catch himself on his elbows as you pressed your lips to his. While he wasn’t the one being actively silenced, Hyunjin let out a wheeze that clued you in to exactly why he had suddenly gone quiet, and you quickly lifted yourself up to check up on him. At your questioning, he gave you a weak thumbs up, curled up in a fetal position.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

He would later tell you that the kiss you gave him more than made up for the pain.

-0-0-

The first time you ever ventured your way to a new part of the company building was on a very special day. At least, it was to you. It just so happened that the first person who answered your text was Felix, letting you know he was in one of the practice rooms waiting for the other members to show up for their practice. Granted, he also let you know he was half an hour early and was just goofing around while he waited, so you figured since you wanted to see the other boys as well, you might as well wait around with him. The dancer met you out in the hall, and you couldn’t help but run towards him the moment you saw him, jumping into his arms.

Felix almost didn’t catch you.

“Whoa, you’re in a good mood,” He said, pulling you into a warm hug.

You pulled away with a fake frown. “Don’t tell me you didn’t remember.”

He froze. “Oh no. Did I forget something?”

At his genuinely distressed look, you took pity on him, letting out a giggle and cluing Felix in that the situation was not that serious.

“Its okay, it’s not that big a deal,” You assured him, biting your lip. “It’s just … it’s officially been 6 months since we’ve met.”

The blonde blinked. “Oh, really? Wait, it’s already been 6 months?!”

“Half a year! Happy anniversary,” You joked.

He let out a laugh, pulling you back in.

“Happy anniversary.” He buried his face into your shoulder. “I’m so glad Innie found you.”

“Hey! I found him,” You corrected, brushing hair behind his ear. “I found all of you.”

“Hmm, you did.”

You shivered as he pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, pushing him away by his shoulders with a quick look around the hallway. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anyone around, You gently hit him on the chest in warning.

“Careful. I’m already on the shit list of one of your managers, I don’t need to be lectured by another.”

“It’s fine. The only people who use these rooms are artists, and half of them are also in secret relationships. They won’t care.”

“That’s not the poINT!”

The end of your sentence was cut off into a squeal as Felix spun you around with a chuckle, lifting you off your feet with his hands on your thighs, pulling you in close to him until your bodies were flush. The sudden change of balance had him stumbling forward, your body hitting the wall a little too hard, and he let out a soft curse.

“Sorry.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. What has gotten into you?”

“I love you,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What?”

“I-“ another kiss to your lips. “Love-“ a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You.”

He blew a raspberry to your cheeks, and you let out a laugh, kicking your legs in glee. You wrapped your arms around his neck, soft hair tickling the tips of your fingers as you laced them together, head tilting to the side as you took in the man in front of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” You sighed, giving him a smile.

His eyes lit up like you had just told him the meaning of life. “Yeah?”

You nodded your head, licking your lips. “Yeah. I love you so much.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

-0-0-

Dad

Hey. Just checking in on you. How’s school going? I hope you’re having fun.

School’s fine, same as always.

Been seeing all kinds of places.

Went hiking with two of my soulmates the other day

It was … fun.

I thought you liked hiking?

The hiking was fine. Waking up at 5 in the morning was not.

Wow. They managed to get you up before 9?

That’s a miracle. You must really love them.

They wanted to see the sunrise.

I have to admit, it was worth it.

[IMG.JPG]

Looks beautiful. I’m glad you’re doing okay.

What about you? Everything all right back home?

Everything’s fine. You know how your mom is. She misses you.

I miss you guys too.

I gtg. Love you.

Love you more.

-0-0-

“Here, try this.”

You looked up, startling back at the sudden appearance of a spoon in front of your face. Minho held a hand under the spoon to prevent the substance from falling, and you smiled at his thoughtfulness. You really shouldn’t have been surprised to get a spoonful of soy sauce.

“Oh, ew. That’s gross.”

Minho giggled, shirking away from the hit you aimed at his shoulder. “That’s for drinking my tea.”

“Who snitched! Was it Seungmin? I swear to god, I’m gunna kill him.”

Minho just laughed as he made his way back to the kitchen where he was preparing actual food for dinner. Deciding to take a break from your work, you stretched in your seat and let out a groan. The dorm was uncharacteristically quiet considering that at least 5 members were home.

Minho was, as previously mentioned, cooking dinner in the kitchen. Felix and Seungmin were playing a game in the elder’s room, and you were pretty sure Hyunjin was taking a nap in Jeongin’s room. You weren’t sure if the youngest was with the gaming boys or taking a nap with Hyunjin, but you were sure he was home. 3Racha had just sent a text that they were leaving the studio.

You sneaked into the kitchen, making sure Minho wasn’t currently doing anything at the stove before you wrapped your arms around him, effectively trapping his arms to his body. He paused from where he had been chopping, letting out a soft sigh.

“Gotcha,” You murmured, pressing your forehead against his back.

It wasn’t hard for him to slip an arm out of your grasp, turning around so that he could pull you into his chest. You went along willingly, letting his warmth embrace you. The two of you stayed there for a few seconds, softly breathing against each other, the kitchen filling up with the delicious aroma of whatever was starting to boil on the stove. It was only because you didn’t want the food to burn that you let him go.

“Hey, can you play some music?” He asked you.

“Sure.”

You randomized your playlist, not even embarrassed when it was a Stray Kids song that came up first. Minho smiled to himself, giving you a side glance, but you just bopped your head along and attempted the dance to the best of your abilities, even though you were sure you looked like a wiggling worm who suddenly gained a pair of legs. You were either doing better or worse than you thought because Minho actually stopped stirring to stare at you.

Suddenly you were embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” He told you, turning back around.

“Somehow that doesn’t give me much confidence,” You joked.

“Pass me the carrots?”

You grabbed the recently chopped carrots, leaning up against the counter as you watched him pour them into the soup. This time, when he offered you up a spoonful, you could actually trust it wasn’t going to be a prank.

It tasted amazing. You had never expected anything less.

“Good?”

“Hmm.” You licked your lips with a nod, and his eyes darted down. You couldn’t help but smile. “Hungry?”

“Watch it,” He warned you, turning the stove off with a flick of his wrist.

“Or what?”

You pouted when all you got in turn was a tap to your nose, your playlist switching to a slower ballad. The pout disappeared as Minho grabbed one of your hands, the other pressing up against your waist and swaying you side to side. When he pulled you back and began to spin the two of you around the room, you laughed.

“You are so cheesy,” You breathed, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re a terrible dancer.”

You weren’t sure if he kissed you as an apology, or to keep you from complaining, but you found yourself melting against him nonetheless. You didn’t usually kiss Minho often, usually getting pecks as a hello or a goodbye, but you appreciated the slow passionate way he was kissing you now. It wasn’t until the music began to change and his hands dropped yours in favor of pulling you closer by the back of your neck that you began to wonder if this was different somehow.

You eventually had to pull yourself away to breathe. “Wow.”

“If you want, I can teach you some moves,” He whispered, and you raised your brows.

“Dance moves?”

“If you want,” He said with a smirk.

He grabbed your hand when you tried to hit him on the chest, trapping your hand between the two of you. His thumb gently swiped across your knuckles, his head tilting as he took you in. You beamed up at him.

“You’re cute,” You told him, leaning up to try and kiss him again. He tried to hide his smile, looking away from you, but his red ears gave him away. “Is this your way of telling me you love me?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled you in for another kiss. It was only a soft chime echoing from your phone that pulled the two of you apart this time, Minho patting your ass.

“Go tell the kids dinner’s ready.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you grabbed your phone. Your phone chimed again as you made your way down the hall, and you pulled up your messages. One text was from Jisung, letting you know that they were on their way up, but the other was from Sophie. You pulled up the chat the same time you knocked on Felix’s door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You called out to them.

Sophie.

Oh my god, is this you!???

For a split second, you found yourself thinking about the photo you had seen of you and Seungmin together and wondered if she had somehow seen it.

The reality was much, much worse.

You nearly dropped your phone when you got to the images she had sent. They looked like photos taken from a security camera, which was already a shock to your system, but it was the content that had your back hitting the wall in shock.

One photo of what was clearly Felix. There was no denying that it was him. Your face was also visible in the photo, although a little grainier. The second photo, wearing the same clothing as the first photo and obviously in the same location, was a familiar scene. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pressed up against the wall, lips pressed together.

A million thoughts began to race through your head.

Sophie

I can’t believe it!

Why didn’t you tell me!?

Girl, you are TRENDING!

There was a commotion from the entrance, and you could hear Chan calling out your name. Felix’s door opened, and he nearly ran into you. He was laughing, the youngest two yelling something at him about their game. He met your panicked eyes, and his smile immediately dropped.

Chan appeared at the end of the hall, looking as worried as you felt. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked.

All your thoughts converged on one very simple word.

Fuck.

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