#impressive stuff. who wants to bet I’ll be too tired to do anything today due to my lack of sleep

[hana-bobo-finch]

I certainly slept longer than usual which is good, I blame the dream I had, that shit had a full storyline with setup and payoff it wa s intense. It was a culmination of all of my special interests yet somehow it was still a distressing dream as I was in an active war zone the whole time. War zone included people dressed as Mario characters despite being in grave danger. There was also, as I said in a previous post, a stampede of Leifs outside of many different shapes and sizes (WHICH REMINDS ME I REALLY GOTTA DO LEIF’S REQUEST) Highlight of the dream gotta be the very end when I was vi for some reason, and it was like that one battle in defiant root where kabbu is under the control of that cloth lady. But the battle was from the perspective of the one being controlled and you had to choose the options that would do the least harm as possible (there was no do nothing option). After using the items that would do the least harm (said items being something that the first part of the dream was dedicated to inventing, the rule of chekov’s gun even applies to my subconscious) I eventually, with no other choice, chose to use the skill called “learn ABCs” in which I (still Vi) spelled out on a scrabble-type board and letters, “wnuiojenbyuiaiytv finch my beloved”. Doing so won the battle and I woke up. it was so awesome

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

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“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

taglist is closed

[kafka-ish]

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

-

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy). 

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three. 

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home. 

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea. 

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. 

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary. 

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.” 

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart. 

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh. 

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’. 

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?” 

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.” 

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way. 

Taking Stan’s sister home it was. 

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision. 

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. 

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him. 

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.” 

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her. 

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed. 

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together. 

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to. 

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top. 

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it. 

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them. 

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face. 

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road. 

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails. 

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me. 

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.” 

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.” 

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts. 

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her. 

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much. 

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either. 

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.” 

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.” 

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot. 

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him. 

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost. 

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area. 

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game. 

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine. 

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look. 

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek. 

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves- 

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face. 

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses. 

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh. 

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.” 

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events. 

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?” 

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off. 

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister. 

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true. 

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it. 

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.” 

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before. 

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt. 

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.” 

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. 

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).  

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind. 

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher. 

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night. 

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.” 

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another. 

But Richie was impatient. 

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion. 

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him. 

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly. 

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place. 

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.” 

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now. 

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so. 

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly. 

Another knock at the door. 

“Can you please get that?” 

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face. 

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot. 

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke. 

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend. 

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den. 

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten. 

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar. 

Well, not anymore. 

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going. 

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car. 

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris. 

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice. 

But Richie already knew who it was. 

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use. 

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer. 

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.  

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend. 

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel. 

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did. 

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled. 

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there. 

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself. 

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes. 

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.” 

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly. 

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true. 

“And a good kisser.” That was also true. 

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation. 

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look. 

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.” 

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was. 

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it. 

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.” 

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained. 

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t. 

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep. 

Richie had already hung up. 

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter. 

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once. 

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now. 

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them. 

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her. 

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well. 

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more. 

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin. 

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs. 

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question. 

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned. 

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway? 

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response. 

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever. 

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of. 

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone. 

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?” 

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing. 

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined. 

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face. 

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her. 

She was stunning even after sex. 

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?” 

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand. 

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.” 

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt. 

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop.��

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful. 

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be. 

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing. 

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house. 

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

[honey-subs]

so it's the day after you had fainted and despite jinyoung telling you to rest you decide to go to work. as you arrive you watch jinyoung from afar chatting with one of his workers and you're totally enchanted by his strong but kind aura. everyone loved him as a boss and due to his attractiveness and kindness there were a lot of workers crushing on him as well. some workers are just too much though, arriving at work in the shortest skirts and tightest or lowest cut shirts you'd ever seen (pt. 1)

you had fallen for him too just like many did but you were the only one not dressing to impress him each and every day and even though he never knew if you liked him or not, he liked that you weren't trying too hard to be noticed by him. when jinyoung took notice of you he tensed, a frown overtaking his features. "you were supposed to rest." he told you after crossing the room to get to you. "i know that there's a bunch of stuff to do.. how can i not go to work?" you asked softly. (pt. 2)

"you fainted yesterday and today you're coming back to work? you're really trying your best to faint again aren't you? i wouldn't be able to handle it again especially if i could've prevented it" jinyoung told you concern and hurt visible in his eyes and voice. "jinyoung, look i'm fine okay?" you tried to convince him but he wasn't buying it. "you can stay but only if you stay by my side all day and then go on a date with me." "Deal." you said as you flashed a soft smile his way (pt. 3)

like that jinyoung spent all day not being able to focus on his work too busy with worrying about you. you needed a coffee? he'd get it or make someone else get it. you tripped? he caught you asking you dozens of questions to make sure you were okay. there were lots of similar moments throughout the day. when you arrived at the date destination you gasped as he led you to a restaurant with a stunning view. at the end of the night he brought you home and somehow ended up sleeping at your place.

a/n — fluff, ceo au, mentions of injuries, first dates, slight slowburn, etc

ceo - park jinyoung (part two)

it’s another day at the office, and you’re used to what you see everyday you come in — or you should be, but ever since that kiss with jinyoung, all of your coworkers flirting with him just seemed too obvious for your liking.

they always wore the shortest of skirts and tightest of skirts to get his attention, but it never worked. either he was oblivious to all their advances, or he simply didn’t care. you bet it was the latter, though.

from the corner of his eye, jinyoung notices some bandages on someone’s head, but doesn’t pay much attention. he has to do a double take before he realizes it’s you. his eyes meet yours, and you can see he’s a bit panicked at your presence.

he gives a polite smile to the ladies in front of him, nodding his head slightly and making an effort to walk over to you. he reaches where you are, and you realize he’s in a mixture of anger and concern. “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be getting rest at home.” he whisper-yells to you.

you appreciate his concern with your wellbeing, but you do wish he’d stop hovering. “i’m perfectly fine. i have lots of work to do, how could i just skip?” you ask him softly. “oh, i don’t know, maybe becuase you fainted yesterday?” he snaps, but you can see he’s hurt and concerned for you. “why am i so in lo-“ he takes a deep breath and rephrased his sentence. “you fainted yesterday, and right now it seems like you’re trying hard to faint again. look, i wouldn’t be able to handle it if you fainted again, especially if i can prevent it.” he finished, looking at you sharply.

“mr. park.” he raises an eyebrow at that. “i am fine, okay?” you tell him, which wasn’t the complete truth. your head did hurt a bit, but it was nothing to stop you into coming to work. he simply eyed you suspiciously. the corners of hips lips turn up into a hopeful smile. “fine. but, you have to stay by my side all day, so i can make sure nothing happens to do.” he says. “deal.” you grin.

it was satisfying to watch the faces of everyone who thirsted after jinyoung mold into that of a frown and he gently pulled you through the building and too his office.

jinyoungs office was neat, and just the way you left it yesterday after you cleaned it. he pulls up a chair for you to sit beside him, and sits down himself. “okay, before i start, do you need anything?” he asks, facing you. “no, i’m fine.” you reassure him with a smile.

he gives a small smile back, and begins working. it’s a while before you talk again, sitting in comfortable silence. as it turns out, he wouldn’t get much work done. “here.” he mutters softly as he throws his jacket around your shoulders. “mr. park — jinyoung.” you correct yourself when he raises an eyebrow. “i’m not cold, promise.” you tell him with a small smile. “i’m doing everything in my power to make sure you don’t feel too tired so you won’t faint again. it’s the least i could do.” he says, placing his pen down on his work.

“i have to go get a few things, would you like to come with?” he suggests, standing up from his desk to help you up. “sure.” apparently, he has a lot more errands to run around the office than you thought because you were getting a little tired as you struggled to keep up with him.

you were in the copy room retrieving blank copy paper, when you tripped over a cord. his eyes widened and he immediately moved to catch you and hold you upright, arms wrapped around your shoulders. “are you okay? does your head hurt? are you tired? do you need me to get ice? are your legs fine?” he asks a lot of questions and he pulls away and his hands stay on your upper arms.

“i’m fine, jinyoung! i just tripped on a wire!” you reassured him, laughing as he breathes out a sigh of relief. “it isn’t funny, i was worried!” he says, but you can tell by the smile playing on his lips that he’s holding back the urge to laugh along with you.

it’s late afternoon when the both of you are still in his office goofing off and laughing with eachother. everyone else had left — even those flirty co-workers who worked late to impress him. he’s pouting a bit when you tell him you’re about to leave, looking at you as you stood up, bag in hand, ready to leave. “wait. how would you like to go on a date with me tonight?” he asks before you can close the door behind yourself.

you turn around and face him. you can practically feel the nerves radiating off of him from across his office. “i’d love to, but i need to go change...” you mumbled, looking down at your clothes. “you look perfect.” he breathes, looking you up and down. you’re bashful under his gaze. “but where are we gonna go? we have no reservations for such a sudden time?” you ask, placing your bag down. “i know a place.” he smiles. “then let’s go.”

the ride to the restaurant was very fun. jinyoung played your favorite songs (that your rambled about when you were sitting next to him) and even laughed along with you when you poorly belted out a chorus, and you were just happy you could put a smile on his face.

he clasped you hand with his once you got out of the car, walking at a steady pace to the restaurant. “hi, jinyoung park?” he asks, introducing himself and leading with his name once the both of you were inside the restaurant. the color drains from the waiters face as he paints on a smile and take the both of you to a secluded booth.

“please, take as long as you need. my name is woosik and i’m you’re waiter for the day!” he says before leaving to assist another couple. “jinyoung this place is really fancy, i hope you didn’t spend too much...?’ you mumble softly, looking alejandro the fancy restaurant. “don’t worry, y/n. i only the best for the best.” he says with a small smile.

he doesn’t expect it when you’re moving from your side of the table to come sit with him, giving him a very cheesy smile in the process. “i wanted to be closer to you.” you tell him when he gives you an eyebrow raise. his cheeks heat up at the compliment and you can tell he struggles to keep his composure. “you’re adorable, jinyoung.” you observe, watching as he tries to hide his face.

the rest of the date goes smoothly as well, and the both of you are cracking jokes the whole time and making eachother laugh, telling stories and simply having fun.

after the date is even better, and jinyoung has loosened up a lot since being at the office, being more comfortable to be himself around you, which he was insanely grateful for. he surprised you everytime he did something, and you found out he was actually a huge dork. an adorable dork, that is. the both of you are sitting in the car, no where in particular to go, simply sitting the the packed lot.

“would you like to come over my house?” you ask, and he raises an eyebrow teasingly. “wait- shit- no-, i meant for like its getting late and- not for anything sexual- i’m gonna shut up now.” you mutter, crossing your arms. “yes, i’d love to come over.” he laughs loudly as he watches you pout playfully.

“okay, here are the directions.” you mutter quietly as he gets the car in gear. the car ride back to your house was fun, possibly even more so than the ride to the restaurant. jinyoung was singing out the lyrics with you, but it turns out he’s actually an amazing singer and leaves you shocked when you heard for the first time as you pulled into your driveway.

“wait, wait, wait, why didn’t you tell me you could sing?” you ask, an incredulous smile in your face. “you never asked.” he replied, standing behind you as you unlocked your door. “my roommate is out of town for a while, so we have it to ourselves.” you tell him, throwing your keys on the counter.

“movie?” you suggest as he looks around. “sure.” he shrugs. “i know you’re really uncomfortable, so i have a few things you can change into, just go into my closet and you should find some comfy clothes to wear.” you tell him. “i’ll change in the bathroom and you can change here.”

he does so with no complaint, looking around your room as he did so, admiring your posters and decor. “your room is cool.” he mumbled wondrously when you come out, eyes still searching about. “hey!” he yelps when you pull him back on the bed and press play on the movie.

it was only the beginning of the movie, but you could tell how he wanted to lay with you more, and you didn’t wanna torture him too much so you decided to suggest it. “wanna cuddle while we watch the movie?” you ask, and he looks relieved for a split second, but doesn’t show it. instead he wordlessly leans into your welcoming arms.

“today was fun. i enjoyed it.” you comment, not really watching the movie since you’d seen it so much. “me too.” he yawns. “sorrry, i’m really tired, i’ve been up since 1AM.” he voices, sighing. “it’s okay, you can go to sleep, here.” you mumble, pushing him down a bit so that his head rested on your chest and your arms were draped around him, and you were leaning your head on his. you could feel his cheeks heat up, but you didn’t comment on it.

“goodnight, jinnie.” you murmur softly, kissing his forehead. “night,” he murmurs back, already close to falling asleep. you bite back a chuckle and cuddle more into him, drifting off to sleep yourself.

[darlingpetao3]

Seducing the Gem (Nash Wells x Reader, Chapter 3/9)

Rating: M (Smut in Chapter 6 only)

Summary: When a mysterious package shows up at your front door, you (a famous Romance novelist) are hurtled from your virtually uneventful life and into one of danger and adventure. In a quest to save your captured friend Caitlin from impending harm, you run into a suave adventurer named Nash who helps you along the way. Or is the charming Nash simply after something in your possession…?

Tag List: @tardis-23​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @the-marvelatic​

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

You’ve been walking tirelessly for hours along the road from which you’d come, and at this very moment, your true enemy is the incline of the path. The Congolese rainforest seems to grow larger around you, and under different circumstances, you would be admiring its beauty. What’s presently stopping you is the tightness in your chest, dry mouth, and screaming feet.

“Tired, Princess?” the adventurer Nash calls over his shoulder.

You readjust the strap of your purse onto your shoulder and breathlessly huff, “No.”

Nash laughs. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I’m not tired,” you insist, then sigh quietly. Maybe you should just relax. It’s all fine. He’s taking you to Kinshasa, you’ll find Caitlin and hand over Ronnie’s device to her captors. It’s going to be okay. You might as well try to get back on the right foot with this guy.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” you ask genuinely. “I feel like I should know something about the person who’s taking me back to civilization.”

Nash slows down his pace until you’re walking next to him. “I’m a Multiversal explorer with expertise in thermic excavation.”

You scrunch up your face a little. “What does that even mean?”

“I’d rather not get into it. Some of it’s top secret.” Nash gives you a flirty eyebrow raise.

“Top secret, eh? Well, now I really want to know.” You feel a wet drop fall onto your nose. Holding out your hand, you test to feel the rain. Of course it’s going to rain.

“You’d have to beat it out of me,” Nash tells you. “But what about yourself? What’s a beautiful lady yet mildly oblivious-as-to-getting-into-vehicles-with-strangers like yourself doing here?”

“Is that a roundabout way of saying I’m stupid?” you check.

Nash gasps. “I would never.”

You shake your head. “I’m a romance novelist. And I’m only here to save my friend. She’s in huge trouble and it’s down to me to get her out of it.”

“Romance novelist?”

“That was your takeaway? Not the friend-in-danger thing?”

“So what, do you write really corny, sappy, cheesy romance or the hardcore, explicit stuff?”

You scoff at the way he said that, as if writing Romance was less than.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an award-winning author!”

“You didn’t answer my question… I bet it’s the corny stuff.”

You make a series of exasperated noises and Nash is back to laughing at how riled up you get at his teasing. The now heavy rain is not helping your mood.

“Let me guess,” he continues, “the handsome leading man swoops in at the last minute and takes the beautiful heroine in his arms.” Nash says all this dramatically with emphatic gestures. “Her bosom heaves and then…”

And then you see a light go off in his eyes when he turns to face you.

“There’s a passionate kiss in the rain?” It’s almost like he’s making a suggestion.

“You wiiii-”

What you hadn’t realized was that you had been walking too close to the edge of the inclined road. And with so much rain, well, the path was bound to give way.

Everything is dirt, and rain, and mud - and it goes everywhere on your horrific slide down the steep hill. Amidst your screams, you hear a distant “Hang on!” from above. After what feels like falling forever, you slide comically on your rear to a halt. Resting back on your forearms, you look up to the sky, which is actually a cover of treetops. The rain doesn’t seem to be able to reach you down here due to the thick canopy.

The sound of “woohoo!”s grow louder from above as Nash confidently slides down the mud trail on his feet you had left behind. Though, when he reaches you the bottom, something goes awry in his landing. It’s an indecent accident - an ungraceful, face-first dive between your legs, stomach in the mud. Your eyes feel like they’re bulging out of your drenched head. Nash lifts his own head up and wears a shit-eating grin.

“Oh man!” he shouts. “That was incredible! This is turning out to be one hell of a day, am I right?!”

You simply stare back at him, still there, hovering with his face so close to your-

“Are you alright? That was one impressive fall,” he says.

You nod with a squeak, still in shock that you continue to breathe and aren’t dead from that “impressive fall.”

“Good! Welcome to Africa, Princess!”

The very second his nickname for you leaves his mouth, a speeding bullet flies past your heads.

“Shit!” Nash yells and scrambles to get both himself and you up out of the mud hole. Squinting up, you spot the familiar face amongst a team of army men.

Wade.

Oh God! Why?! You feel like throwing up. Nash spots the scary bastard as well.

“What the hell do they want? I haven’t done anything… lately, that is!” His hand has a vice grip on yours as he pulls you further into the brush to flee Wade and his apparent reinforcements. You nearly trip over the vines on the ground and have to bat away the gargantuan plant leaves, but Nash’s hand never leaves yours.

“Wait,” the explorer voices, and to your horror stops running and drops your hand, letting you bump into him, “he’s after you! Who the hell are you?”

“I’m just a novelist from Central City!” you stammer. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m here to save my friend, okay?!”

“There they are!” comes an authoritative voice from behind you, getting closer. They’ve made it down the muddy slope.

You grab Nash’s hand once more and yell, “Now let’s get the fuck out of here!”

“I don’t know if helping you is worth it anymore!” Nash shouts, yet somehow unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Oh, shut up and run!”

Fear and adrenaline propel you forward. Never once do you look back to check to see how far the goons are behind you. Nash busts out a machete attached at his hip and proceeds to slash at the massive plants in your way.

“What, did you wake up this morning and say, ‘today, I’m gonna ruin a man’s life!’?”

“Oh yeah, in fact, that’s my first thought every morning!” you yell sarcastically in reply.

You’re so caught up in your banter with the infuriating explorer that you both nearly fall off a cliff hiding behind the final pieces of plants in your way. Nash grips your forearm so that you don’t topple over down the chasm.

“Shit,” he curses and prepares himself by facing the advancing pursuers. “Just stay right behind me.”

Yeah, like hell. While he switches out his blade for the gun, you survey the area behind you and spot a bridge - if one could even call it a bridge. Keeping away from the cliff’s edge as best you can, you make it to the rickety-looking structure. Good God, am I crazy? At this point, attempting to cross a chasm sounds a lot better than getting shot to death by G.I. Wade and his men.

You set one foot on the swaying bridge. This thing does not look like it can hold the rest of your body’s full weight. It creaks with every bit more you add to the wooden plank. With two feet now, you’re suspended over what feels like a bottomless pit.

Inch by inch, you make your way across, holding onto the rope - string - because your life really did depend on it. So far, so goo-

“Ahhhhhh!”

A plank cracks in half and falls almost in slow motion down until you can’t see it anymore. You never hear an echo of it hitting the bottom. Gripping the rope for dear life, you wheeze in fright.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Nash hollers after finally noticing you’d left his side.

“FLEEING, WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE?!” you shout back, voice cracking atrociously.

Where is that snapping noise coming fro-?

“Nonononooooo!”

You reach for the fraying rope on its last strand and hang tight. The second it snaps, you squeal in terror as the momentum of falling propels you in a forward swoop.

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!

But when massive plant leaves slap your face and your ass hits the glorious ground, you take a second, patting the rainforest floor to see if it’s real.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive!

That’s when the hysterical laughter sets in. This seriously is one hell of a day.

More gunshots ring out from the other side and you scramble to peer through the bushes to find Nash. He’s running towards the bridge, but how will he…?

The charming man pulls out what looks like a gun, but when he fires it in your general direction, it’s apparent that it’s not shooting bullets.

Holy shit, is that a grappling hook gun? The hook catches on a tree branch and Nash swings over to your side effortlessly. His boots clunk onto the ground during his landing.

His highly impressive landing.

The man recalls the hook into his gun and exhales, “Well, that was-”

“-Hey-!” Another bullet whizzes close past his ear and in a split second, he dives forward to dodge the next several shots. Though, in doing so, Nash lands on top of you. Again.

His heavy breath fans your face, and while you are about to yell at him again, he presses a finger to his lips to signal to stay silent. All that hangs in the air are the voices from across the ravine, caws of the foreign birds, and both of you trying not to breathe so hard. The weight of his body on top of yours is all you can think about right now, even when it should be thoughts of survival.

His sparkling blue eyes meet yours.

You swallow hard.

“Let’s move out!” the sound of Wade’s voice echoes across the ravine. They’ll probably try to find a way around to get to you.

Soon, it’s quiet again, and Nash is the first to speak.

“We gotta stop meeting like this.”

You roll your eyes.

“Ugh!” Pushing him off, you get up and brush yourself off. Nash holsters his grappling hook, and in an effort to change the topic, you offer up a tidbit.

“You know, I wrote a character who uses one of those.”

“Is that right?” he says, amused.

“Yes, except he- OW!”

Nash’s face twists in concern. “What is it?” he asks. It was the moment you took a step forward and put pressure on your leg that you realize there’s a gash down it. Nash’s machete has been pressed against you when he fell on you. Blood soaks through your jeans.

“Oh my- shit, Princess, I’m so fucking sorry.”

You grimace again and suck in a breath through your teeth. Tears prick your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“Sit down a second,” he tells you.

“No, I can-”

“(Y/N).” 

Your name, instead of the nickname, makes you stop. He searches your face. “No one is hot on our trail now. We have time. Let me fix this.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. Nash then takes out a pocket knife, a much smaller blade and shows it to you.

“I’m going to have to cut around your jeans to get to the wound, alright?”

You nod. He does as he explained, and executes it expertly as if he’s done this sort of thing countless times before. Then he shucks off his jacket and lifts his shirt up over his head, showing off a sliver of defined midsection until his undershirt falls back down to cover the impressive muscles.

Umm…?

The sound of fabric ripping shakes you back from your daze. Nash crouches down to tie his shirt firmly around your leg wound. You hiss at the contact and bite your lip. After he’s finished, Nash stands up again.

“There,” he says, voice softer than it usually is, “that will help... For now.”

“Thanks.” 

He shrugs on his jacket again and opens his arms as he nears you. You hold out a hand to stop him. “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to carry you?” he asks, now unsure thanks to your tone.

“Um, no you’re not. What you’re going to do is hand me that machete.”

Nash raises his eyebrow at you - something you’re thinking is his signature move.

“Okay, okay. Here.” The explorer relinquishes his weapon, and you grasp the hilt, the thing that hurt you in the first place. You’ll show him how fucking tough you are. Romance writers aren’t prissy princesses. This one sure as hell isn’t.

“Lead the way, Princess,” Nash says with a forward gesture, to which you start limping. “Due west.”

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day Six

Anxious for his upcoming performance, Philip had struggled to get to sleep. Nonetheless, he got up with an unusually early alarm, remembering his promise to Lucien about being on time. He downed two full cups of coffee to fight the lingering drowsiness before grabbing his bag and heading off towards campus.

By the time he reached the academic hall, Philip was bouncing off the walls. Maybe he hadn’t needed quite so much caffeine. The extra energy was sending his anxiety through the roof, and he found himself pacing nervously to kill time before the poetry slam started. Staring intently at the ground as he walked, he was too caught up in his own nerves to notice Lucien walking up behind him. The older man put a hand on Philip’s shoulder, causing the young blond to shriek in surprise.

“Fuck! How do you sneak up on people like that?”

Lucien shrugged. “Libraries are quiet. It wouldn’t suit me to be a lumbering oaf. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

Philip sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just nervous to perform. I haven’t actually been in a poetry slam since high school…”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re very animated, I bet your delivery will be excellent.” The lanky brunette rested a hand on Philip’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, I’ll still make you dinner if you bomb.”

“So you think I might bomb?” The younger man asked, wringing his hands together.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “No, that’s not what I said. Stop being so pessimistic.”

Philip groaned. “I’m not trying to! I’m just scared.”

“Most of the people performing are over-dramatic undergrad hipsters that can’t actually write to save their life. I promise, you won’t be nearly the worst act.” Lucien reassured him. “Come on, everyone is gathering.” He led Philip into the lecture hall nudging him towards the front where the other performers were waiting.

The anxious blond fiddled with one of his earrings, bouncing where he stood. Dr. Samuels, the head of the English department, was currently greeting the audience, going off on some long-winded rant about the importance of poetry. When he finally shut up, he stepped aside, calling forth the first student.

About five or six people went ahead of Philip, and he started to relax as he realized most of them were pretty shit. After an absolutely awful love poem finished, he was called up, and he felt his nerves fading a little. He spied Lucien as he scanned the crowd, and shared a brief smile with the older man.

“Hello, everyone. I… I’m Philp Valentine, the new English professor. Here’s a piece I wrote a few years back. It’s… It’s called Late Nights.” He cleared his throat, taking a slow, deep breath before he began.

“There's a monster in my house. He roams the house at night. He screams, he hunts, he breaks things; The house is filled with fright.

No one steps outside their room after the midnight hour. A vicious, violent demon, the monster has the power.

One night, I kept a vigil to face the awful beast. The hour didn't phase me-- I like the dark, to say the least.

I didn't notice anything; I waited till the dawn. The monster always comes at night. Did I do something wrong?

As I went to lie down, I walked by the bedroom mirror. Thinking I saw something odd, I paused to see it clearer.

Menacing and soulless, the piercing eyes glared. Too mortified to look away, I analyzed and stared.

I saw hatred in the face, the scowl angry and bitter. Something seemed to click, so I looked a little deeper.

Somewhere beneath the malice the soul was worn and lonely. A silent plea for what once was: ‘Can't someone find the old me?’

I sank into an epiphany as I rubbed my tired eyes: the demon faced me in the mirror; the monster was inside.”

The audience was silent for a moment. Once the awe faded, a round of applause filled the room. Though Philip was no Robert Frost, it was easily the best piece at the show, and most of the students looked pretty damn impressed. He beamed to the crowd, grinning as he walked offstage. Lucien, however, didn’t seem as happy. His eyes had grown dark a few lines into the poem, and his expression was still dour in its aftermath. As Philip moved to sit down, he saw Lucien’s distaste, and his face quickly fell.

“You didn’t like it…” He sighed, sinking down in the seat Lucien had saved for him.

The older man snapped out of his morose state, turning to Philip and shaking his head. “No, no, it’s not that. It just got me thinking. You’re a good writer. Certainly better than any of the clowns before you.”

“Oh…” Philip perked back up, “It made you think? For real?”

“Of course. It was inspiring. You painted a vivid picture.” Lucien offered a smile.

The younger man blushed, the pink tone highlighting his freckles like a backlight. “Thank you! That means a lot, you know… You’re kind of an expert on literature.”

Lucien laughed, “You hold me too highly.”

“I respect your opinion, you old fart! Don’t brush off my compliment.” Philip stuck his tongue out.

“There you go calling me old again! For god’s sake, I’m maybe ten years your senior!”

“My senior citizen.”

Lucien huffed, rolling his eyes and giving Philip a playful shove. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah,” The younger man grinned, “but you like me anyway.”

“I know.” Lucien chuckled, shaking his head and turning to listen to more mediocre poetry.

The rest of the slam went well, considering the quality of the poetry being read. Everyone seemed proud of their stuff, even the ones that definitely shouldn’t have been, and afterwards, the head of the English department passed out punch and cookies. The kids got to chattering, some asking questions of the teachers as well. Philip made friendly small talk, basking in the praise the students gave him for his poem. Once the kids were bored of him, he got distracted eating, too busy sucking down cookies to notice Lucien slip away. He turned to make a rude joke, only to realize he was alone. Feeling a little rejected, Philip moved to the corner, shoving another cookie in his mouth.

As the students dissipated from the lecture hall, Philip got up, dragging his feet as he reluctantly helped his fellow English professors clean up. He greabbed a trash can, gathering all the stray cups and napkins that assholes had just left on desks. Once the room was actually clean and presentable again, he walked out of the building, headed towards his apartments rather than the library. He assumed Lucien had finally gotten bored of him, and certainly wouldn’t want to see more of him. He trudged along so slowly that his hour-long walk home took a good chunk of the afternoon, and upon returning to his apartment, he simply dropped onto the couch, turning on some mindless Netflix series to distract himself.

Philip ended up passing out on the couch, sleeping through the night and well into the morning. When he finally woke up, sunlight was already pouring in the windows, and he grabbed his phone to check the time. Getting only the black screen of dead battery, he cussed and hurried to his room, plugging it in and looking at the alarm clock.

1:47. 

“Fuck!”

Throwing on a clean shirt and grabbing his bag off the floor, Philip bolted out of his apartment and down the stairs. He had been due at the dodgeball game over an hour ago, and it would take him another hour just to get to the school. He was going to be in so much trouble. Lucien’s warning about tardiness echoed in the back of his mind, and Philip cringed, still feeling shunned after yesterday. By the time he got to campus, the game was long over, the teachers having beat the students 5 - 3. He waved sheepishly at Dr. Samuels, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Heyyyyy….”

“Where were you?” The professor demanded, glaring down at Philip.

The younger man shied away, sheepishly mumbling, “I… I overslept.”

The tubby older man huffed angrily, rolling his eyes. “Don’t let it happen again, Valentine. You’re not making a good first impression.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” Philip cringed, feeling his soul wither. “Can I do anything to help now?”

“Just go to the parade tomorrow, help clean up after the picnic, and don’t make any more of a fool of yourself. Do you think you can handle that?”

Philip nodded. “Yes sir.” He shuffled away before Samuels could dig into him any more; his self-esteem was frail enough already.

Not having any other obligations for the day, Philip simply dragged his sorry ass back home. He checked on his phone, which had barely charged while he was gone. Ugh. His charger was a fraying piece of shit, but he hadn’t had the time or money to get a new one. Oh, well. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere with it right now, anyway. He curled up on the couch, trying to ignore the growing storm of negative thoughts in his mind. He was such an idiot. Not only had he scared off Lucien, but now his boss was pissed at him, too. God, this week was a mess.

Philip was half asleep on the couch when his laptop started beeping. Who was skyping him? It’s not like he had friends that cared enough. He rubbed his eyes, opening up the computer to answer the call.

“Mom?”

“Hi, honey! How are you?”

Philip yawned, brows furrowing in confusion. “Since when do you know how to use skype?”

“Your brother taught me!” She smiled, “I wanted to see you. So does Callie. Come here, Callie!”

A loud bark echoed through the speakers as a long, furry face popped into view. Philip grinned broadly. Callie was a loving Afghan that had been his best friend since late high school, and he had been missing her tremendously. “Hi, Callie! How are you? Are you being good for mom?”

“Woof!” She replied, clearly just as excited to see him.

“I’m gonna come home and visit you as soon as I can, okay?” Callie barked again, bumping her nose against the screen. Philip laughed quietly, his spirits lifted. “I’m glad you called, mom. I’ve been missing you guys. Is something up? Did you need to talk?”

“No, I just thought I should check in on you. Something told me you could use a smile today.”

“You’re not wrong.” Philip smiled ruefully. “It’s been a hell of a day. I overslept and missed the dodgeball game. Dr. Samuels was piiiiissed.”

“Philip!” She rolled her eyes. “You promised me you were going to be better about your alarms this year.”

The young blond pouted. “I have been, I swear! Yesterday was just a bad day, and it threw me off.”

“Is there something you need to talk about, honey?”

Philip shook his head. “Nah, it’s… it’s fine. It’s nothing important. I’ll get over it soon.”

“Are you sure?” His mother sounded worried, “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“I know, I know. I promise, I’ll talk to you if it’s serious. This is just dumb drama.” He reassured her.

“Okay, honey. As long as you’re doing okay.” She paused briefly to sniff the air, recognizing the aroma of slightly burning seasonings. “Oh dear, I need to go check on the chicken. I’ll talk to you later.”

Philip chuckled. His mom was just as scatterbrained as he was, with the tendency to forget about something the second he looked away from it. “Bye, mom.”

“Bye honey!” She hung up, running off to pull her chicken out of the oven.

Stretching back out on the couch, Philip closed his eyes. He was more relaxed than before; just seeing his family and talking to someone that actually cared had taken a huge weight off his chest. Besides, it was hard to be upset with Callie around. A faint smile still on his face, he drifted back off to sleep.

[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 20: Short people are moody or bipolar?

In which Sans behaves like a prick at first.

*Frisk's POV*

I looked over the mirror in my room and smiled. I was wearing a plain purple sweater and a pink skirt, along with my wonderful brown boots and a small pink ribbon in my short hair. I was ready to see them all. To have the day of our lives with them!

I sighed, knowing it will probably won't be that exciting. Everything in my life makes me feel empty and... incomplete. That's why I kept on resetting; so I could finally be able to find the path I wanted. However, I haven't, and...

I can't reset any longer.

It's probable that Sans will throw a party after knowing, but I? I simply don't know how to react. The resets were the best power in my life, the only thing that made me feel special. And now, all of that is gone... because I have stayed in the Surface for too much time. That's why I never did a "Pacifist" route, I always killed at least one monster.

oR sOMEtIMeS i wOUld vAnISh tHEm aLL.

It's... quite funny, you know? It interests me how far someone can get thanks to the curiosity we eventually deal with. Also boredom. The kind of power a simple human girl like me can have due to her personality is also quite impressive. But how does it work? How a single trait is able to determine (get it? because mine's determination? *wink wink*) a whole person? Everyone has a lot of backstory, ideals, dreams, hopes, and problems. How can only a word represent all of it? It's just amazing how souls work and how their power depends on each person individually. I have a theory, though...

I think that the trait is settled only in the Underground thanks to the huge concentration of magic the Surface lacks. In that place, it was able to see the purest and original trait of the person, but in the Surface, thanks to all the experiences, this trait is slightly modified, changing its color into a combination of the first one and others. That would make more sense, and each soul would be different, just like our fingerprints.

That, however, won't explain why all monsters have the same color and, therefore, trait. All of their souls are white and, according to some reading I made, the color means more than a simple word. No. Their souls are made of love, hope, compassion... or so the books say. The whole consistency of a soul is unknown, still. After all, humans' souls have proven to don't need these things to exist. Then what is exactly a soul?

Monsters are... way too attached to their souls. If they are afraid or not willing to fight, then their defenses will grow weaker. If they are mentally unstable, depressed, or with another problem in their personality and mind... their hp will be way too low. That's why I suspect that Sans has problems of this kind and that he has lost all hope in continue living. Hp means "hope", so it makes complete sense. He has only one hp, but also only one of defense, which must mean he is vulnerable.

Mmm...

Vulnerable, huh?

Is he like that because of what I've done these past timelines?

Unfortunately for me, I have not found the way to make a True Reset. For that reason, Sans remembers all the timelines I have created since I fell in the Underground. He also remembers Flowey's timelines, which is quite odd. Where did this guy find the secrets of determination? How has he been able to remember everything if he lacks determination? Sans, in none of the timelines, has been the most determined monster in the Underground. Besides Flowey, Undyne was way too determined. But why she doesn't remember? I must ask Gaster about this...

After all, he is the one who experimented with Sans...

The mere thought of someone using their own son as a lab rat makes me sick but thrilled at the same time. That's I've always found a fascination for how Sans still lives, after all the experiments he has suffered. Of course, he must be enduring some psychological trauma, but that doesn't erase my fascination at all. In fact, thinking that Sans's hope and defense are down because he may have some mental disorder at this point is... is just amazing! Think of the possibilities! Sans is like an experiment himself, all modified in soul and powers. He is the only one with the ability to make artificial magic invented by a monster mind. The Gaster Blasters are a creation of his father, but Gaster himself doesn't have them. He only implemented them on Sans, and amazingly, that unnatural project can be popped up with the same effort as regular magic requires.

Oh, c' mon. You can't tell me it isn't intriguing!

I've... I've been fucking up Sans's mind for oh so long...

But that's a funny sight.

The face he made when he realized I knew everything was priceless. After that encountering, Flowey and I laughed our asses off. He is so... alive! Unnaturally alive! Most of his magic and abilities are artificial (not all of them, don't get me wrong), and still... he is alive! I mean, he was born naturally, but... his strength? His strength wasn't normally developed. His ability, "Karma", is artificial. No other monster has it...

Do you know what's the best of it?

Gaster didn't create "Karma".

Sans did.

He is a living being, and thanks to that, his feelings of dread, revenge, and displeasure created that ability. He... he can even KILL  his father in the blink of an eye! However, Sans is totally unstable in his mind. I can even say he is way too mad and crazy at this point. He's probably waiting for the next reset. Poor thing.

Maybe, and just maybe, Sans has an artificial determination created by that ability of his... that thought is more exciting! He may have a strong determination, but since it's artificial, he has never possessed the powers over time and space. That's funny! He looks so frustrated about me being able to do so!

Or well, when I was able.

I noticed myself being daydreaming about Sans's incredible aura again, and I immediately went up from my bed. Sans is a nice pal, yes, but his power is way better than what his personality could even reach with the maximum of effort. Since he never efforts at anything, I know that his mind will never surpass the amazing magic he has been blessed with.

The possibility of having artificial power is endearing. Just imagine it! If we open our research with human advanced technology, we'll be able to create a new form of life that is COMPLETELY not made by a god or nature.

Oh Jesus! Imagine when that happens!

My life won't be boring anymore!

It'll be like a sci-fi novel!

And I will never have the urge to reset again!

I'll finally... finally-!

I'll finally feel complete...!

"My child!" My mom screamed, her being downstairs of our huge house "Undyne and Alphys have arrived!"

"Gimme a minute!" I answered, and enthusiastically went out of my room. There are high probabilities that the skeleton family will come today, and I'm super excited about it! Gaster is super nice when he's around me, Arial is a sweetheart, Papyrus is a cute cinnamon role and Sans... well, his power!

My OTP, Alphys and Undyne, greeted me at the moment they saw me. They looked... a bit tired. Nothing I can't understand, of course. The house changes and the new step of their relationship can surely make someone feel devastated. That feeling of dread... what I've been feeling since two years ago...

Maybe the hormones are responsible for that.

But I don't care.

I don't deserve to feel empty and without a purpose. How can someone feel like this and not die? Two years have been enough. I bet no one has passed over five.

It's stupid.

Really stupid.

People who feel like this for five years have killed themselves by now.

After some minutes, the rest of our guests arrived. (Y/N) was quite punctual...

Oh, (Y/N)...

She is... interesting.

That strange glimpse of DETERMINATION I saw on her eyes the day she met us has caught my attention. I... I don't think I could define her with a single trait. She is too diverse, too deep of a person. I bet she hides things. I can see it in her desperate look, like if she's trying to escape. Is she bored like I am of regular life? Oh, I bet we'll be pretty good friends if that's the case! She's really smart... she'll understand the concept of time and space manipulation. And when she hears it, she'll be as fascinated as I am. No doubt about it.

I should investigate her more.

When I saw the skeleton family arriving, my heart skipped a beat. But... I think Sans wasn't that well. Did he tire himself? His own powerful existence tires him up a lot.

"SANS! BEHAVE!" Papyrus scolded him after the short skeleton punched Mettaton on the arm... quite roughly.

"fuck this robot" Ok, this isn't like him at all. He's normally pretty laid-back and with an "i don't give a shit" attitude. But now? He looks like cares! This isn't the Sans I know! "actually, fuck everyone"

"SANS!"

"papyrus"

"STOP IT! I KNOW YOU ARE ANGRY AND ALL THAT STUFF, BUT PLEASE! DON'T ACT LIKE A BABYBONES! YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS!"

Sansy groaned loudly which worried everyone in the room. Something bad must have happened...

Hope it doesn't involve his magic.

We started our evening by playing an old board game that Sans surprisingly loves: Yahtzee. Minute by minute, the madness of the short skeleton started to go away until he said the first pun in that evening. Everyone knew then that Sans was back.  

Honestly, he is the perfect definition of "messed up teenager". He is pretty... bipolar, and sometimes he is just too... childish. Too mature and, at the same time, too stupid. How can someone like that exist?

How?

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

*Papyrus's POV*

Thanks to a bit of effort, Sans was back to his usual, punny self. And well, I also have to thank Yahtzee. He loves that game with an unhealthy passion. And I say unhealthy because he mostly played it on the bar of Grillby...

Talking about bars...

Remember when Sans left the house all angry? Well, guess what?! He went to a freaking bar!

I was so disappointed when I found him there, unconscious and on top of a table. He had a small glass on his side, which I think it's for smaller beings than him (which it's weird since he is pretty small. He is only 5'1 feet tall!). Anyways, he was just there, obviously passed out thanks to that horrible thing called alcohol. Seriously, the life of my brother would be way better if that thing didn't exist in the first place. That's something that messes up with him as well. He just doesn't want to admit it.

After finding and scolding him when he woke up, he became really mad at us. No, I don't think mad... more like moody. It is said that short people are moody! That must explain it...!

Sans has been pretty bipolar these last days. He is at first happy and then he's angry. Sans wasn't this moody when we were younger. I have the theory that all these sudden changes and how often does he see our parents now are the major causes of this problem. This is becoming so overwhelming for him that he needed to feel at home again... and that's why he went to a bar.

I don't pity him, but I know he's been through a lot. He doesn't even know how to express or even call his own feelings, something that interests me. I'm quite good at expressing myself, but him? Maybe he never was good at this, but I recall those days that he used to interact with a lot of people. Now he's closing his world and he's not letting new people come in. Not even the ones he used to care about are allowed to enter there anymore. When we were younger, I practically knew everything about my brother. I can't confirm that now. He's been pushing everyone away, including me. I don't know his thoughts, I don't know how he sees life. I only know his likings, and there's where I'm trying to base myself on my research.

After a few of board games later, my favorite star (Mettaton) caught everyone's attention with his marvelous and robotic voice. Sans seemed a little annoyed, but he quickly joked about it...

I'm worried.

I think Sans has been using these jokes to despise us and make us think he is fine when he clearly isn't. Thinking about it, (Y/N) smiles a lot and tries to show a positive image when she may be struggling with her problems. She shows a bit of confidence and clear kindness, but is that all she wants to let us know? According to what I've seen with my brother, he hides his feelings until he is on the edge. Is she the same? Is she trying to hide her mind from us? Why in the world do they think it's a good idea?

...

I don't think I'll ever understand them.

"Beauties!" Mettaton exclaimed glamorously, like always! "My creative and artistic mind has settled the next activity: A KARAOKE CONTEST!"

"OH MY GOD!" I gasped happily, with the hope that my brother would sing again "THIS IS GOING TO BE AMAZING!"

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

*Your POV*

Yeah, now I was really regretting this.

A lot of the people present thought it would be a wonderful idea. Some were more hesitant about it, and a certain someone was... scared?

"oh hell no. i'm not doing this"

"C' MON SANS! YOU SING REALLY GOOD! I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU DON'T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE!"

Wait, so he sings? Or well, sang?

Papyrus kept on complaining that his brother had a real talent for singing. I was not the only one dumbfounded at this statement. In fact, the only one who was not surprised was Mettaton, confirming what the tall skeleton was saying.

For destiny reasons, I had to agree with joining the competition. Mostly because everyone was going to join (except Flowey). It was about to get awful, I knew it. Thank God that Sans wasn't angry anymore. He was more like... anxious and having a panic attack. He...

ohmygodheisnotdoingfinehelookslikeheisgoingtocollapseohgodaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Em pal...?" I tried to sound as confident as possible. I failed. "Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost?"

"i... i'm fine, kid" I sighed in relief when he seemed to be more relaxed. "by the way, what do ghosts have to do with all of this? i just saw napstablook and i was pretty much okay"

Oh right, ghosts are indeed a thing...

I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

"So... is it true that you used to sing?" I asked, trying not to fall into the dark hole of awkwardness.

He remained silent for a moment, and his expression was pretty... shocked. I thought I may have touched a complicated topic, but when I was about to apologize, he answered.

"i used to. i just don't have the guts to do it anymore"

...

Oh my God, I'm going to kill this guy.

He remarkably smirked while I rolled my eyes, feeling like a complete idiot. At least I was sure of something: I didn't hurt his feelings at all. That made me feel peaceful and sort of... angry? More like pissed off, actually. After all, I was the only one worrying, and Sans? Oh, he never gave a shit.

So...

Mettaton went first on this stupid contest. Said he had to "make the beginners feel confident". He sang REALLY good, yes, but...

"INSIDE MY HEART IS BREAKING! MY MAKE-UP MAY BE FLAKING BUT MY SMILE... STILL, STAYS ON!" Aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnndddddd he struck a dramatic pose on top of a table. Again.

I couldn't help but cringe at every time he did so. A wonderful Queen song, ruined by dramatic actions between lyrics. I kept my cool and hummed the song silently, trying not to punch the robot on the face. I don't hate the guy, but Jesus, he was starting to flirt with everyone! The song is not even flirty!

"MY SOUL IS PAINTED LIKE THE WINGS OF BUTTERFLIES! FAIRYTALES OF YESTERDAY, WILL GROW BUT NEVER DIE! I CAN FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY MY FRIIEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" And he jumped from the table and fell on his metallic butt...

Before I could tell myself what was wrong and what was right I laughed loudly. He gasped in fake horror, and soon more people started to laugh as well. He finished the song more dramatic than ever, and after that, he punched me lightly on the arm.

"Dude, what the-"

"You don't have the right to offend me, darling!" He laughed mischievously " And, as a consequence, now is your turn!"

Oh no.

I felt how my heart stopped for a moment, and then, how fast it started to beat.

I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it.

...

Yes, I can.

I took a deep breath and let the song picker choose. You bet I was shaking, but... I somehow felt sure about myself in that place. They have shown nothing but kindness and support, so I went along with it. What a silly song would change?

And so I sang "Dream" by Imagine Dragons. It's such a powerful song, and I let myself get lost on it. They applauded me, just like they did with everyone else, and it was really good actually. I was having fun, I felt really welcomed. My singing wasn't spectacular, but still, I received a couple of compliments.

How can they be so nice?

Everything went well, the rounds started to pass by and more applauses came in the end. That, until it was Sans's turn.

"do i really need to do it?"

"SANS! JUST FREAKING DO IT!"

Sans sighed and stood in front of all of us. It doesn't matter how hard he tried to hide it- panic was still visible in his eyes. His posture was normal, his smile as well, but his eyes said everything. He was scared of people not liking his voice. He felt overwhelmed because he was overrated. He had our expectations high...

He just didn't want to disappoint anyone.

It's kind of scary how relatable I see Sans. He shows a smile and a laid-back personality, but in reality, he cares. His look says it all.

And just when things were not bad enough, the song picker chose "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns N' Roses. And oh, that's a hell of a song. However, he didn't complain. In fact, he was looking pretty dead at that point.

And before he was ready, the music started.