AU: Kissy is alive in the chapter 5 ending because I said so!!
You feel like your legs are about to give out. Kissy, despite her size, cowers behind you. Giblet hides near one of the tall servers, his back pressed against them to remain small.
Instead of the backup computer booting up normally, a familiar eye blinks to life.
Harley Sawyer was not supposed to be backup, you think to yourself.
The Doctor chuckles darkly as the three of you stand before him.
“I take it things went swimmingly for you to wake me up,” says Harley, voice amusing.
You inhale sharply, chest stuttering. Sweat clung onto your skin, and grime covered your body. Bits of blood wedged itself under your fingernails. Your hands shake against the GrabPack.
Kissy makes a small whimper. Your body twitches, but you step forward. Your legs throb in response, and you have a feeling your ankles are gonna swell.
Your chapped lips twist bitterly. “Harley Sawyer…”
“Doctor Sawyer,” he clarifies. “I’m surprised you’re still blundering around down here.”
Inhale, exhale.
“We need you to help us defeat the Prototype.”
Harley let out a long, drawn out laugh. “It appears you have a brain, after all.”
Your jaw tightens. “I was the one that put you out of commission.”
Despite just being an eye, he was practically beaming. “And yet, here I am.”
Anger boils inside you. Your grip tightens on the mechanical arm of your GrabPack.
Harley flickers his eye left and right. “It appears you’re missing a party member. Oh my, did the Prototype capture sweet, little Poppy?”
A blur of pink slides through your vision. Kissy collides her fist onto the top of Harley, or the computer inhabiting him. Kissy releases a low, guttural growl.
Harley groans in pain, his screen glitching. “Gh— how charming, 1172…”
You can’t help but smile. Kissy bares her teeth, returning to your side.
You plant your injured hands on the counter. “Insult me all you want, Sawyer, but we have the power here.”
Turning towards Kissy, she limps to one of the levers.
You cock your head. “Either you help us kill the prototype or we shut you down.”
Harley rolls his eye. “No need for theatrics, I didn’t say no.”
You blink dumbly. “Huh?”
He scoffs. “Yes, you’re a blubbering idiot, but we have a common enemy. This arrangement would be in my best interest.”
Giblet, coming out of the shadows, shuffles towards you. “Butcher, is this a good idea? I… I didn’t know he was backup…”
Harley glances over at Giblet, then meets your gaze. You bite the inner side of your cheek.
You gesture to Harley. “He’s only hooked up to this computer, right? He wouldn’t be an actual threat, then…” your voice trails off.
Kissy shrugs, standing beside you.
Harley heaves a long sigh. “I’m your best shot at defeating him. And I’m willing to assist you morons.”
You look between Kissy and Giblet. Giblet fiddles with his staff, his posture uncertain. Kissy's shoulders sag. They look at you like you have the answers.
“It’s like you said, right? We have control here…” Giblet’s voice came out small.
Harley’s eye almost looks smug. “Well, little germ?” drawls Harley.
Kissy takes a step closer to you, positioning herself behind you. Giblet raises his head, ears flat.
You can’t afford to be indecisive.
Releasing a tight breath, your back straightens. “Scour through every file you can, Sawyer. We need to find the Prototype’s weakness.”
Here's another small drabble! If you have any ideas for a fic, feel free to ask me. Have a lovely day/night folks :]
Hazbin Hotel x Reader (platonic)
You heard the familiar sounds of clicking footsteps as you pulled out a tray of freshly baked cookies.
“Isn’t it a little too late to be baking?” asked Angel.
You hummed in response and placed it on the counter to cool down. You tugged the oven mitts off your hands. You leaned your back against the counter.
“You came back rather late," you replied.
Angel nodded and walked towards the cookies. You gently slapped his hands away from the tray. “You’re gonna burn yourself. Wait until the cookies cool off."
He frowned at you with heavy bags under his eyes. “But I’m hungry and I had a long ass shift. Val worked me overtime as punishment from the bar,” whined the spider.
You sighed in response. “One of these days I’m gonna jump him,” you warned. Angel snorted.
“Just by yourself?”
“Nah, I think Husk and Pentious would join me,” you conceded.
“It’s cute you think you can take down an Overlord.”
You shrugged. “Anything’s possible in this shithole we live in.”
You moved the cookies onto a plate and stacked them on top of each other. Angel quickly snatched one when you weren’t paying attention. He happily munched on his stolen treat as you nibbled on your own cookie.
You nudged the spider with your elbow. “You should go to sleep.” He looked at you quizzically.
“Says the one who was caught baking before the sun’s even out,” teased Angel.
“I’m sure Nuggets wants to see his dad,” you retorted.
He opened his mouth to argue, but no words left his lips. “I will if you explain why you’re up so damn late.” He crossed his arms.
You pressed your lips together before you threw out the baking sheet and moved the tray into the sink. You pulled out a plastic wrap and rolled it over the plate to keep the treats fresh.
You drew in a deep breath and turned to face Angel. “Just a rough night, I suppose. I needed a distraction, so cookies were a solution.”
“Well, you have a better way to cope than most of Hell’s sinners,” commented Angel. He stretched his arms. He placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. The spider offered you a tired smile.
“Alright, I’m going to bed.”
You waved him off as he headed upstairs. He paused on the first step and turned his head.
“Just make sure you sleep soon, alright?”
Your eyes softened at his words. “Thanks, Dad,” you joked.
Angel flipped you off with a grin before he disappeared to his room.
Tbh I'm not sure König and Krueger would like eachother very much, don't get me wrong I adore art of them together being Austrian bros, but like- Krueger litteraly killed his own people, fellow Austrians... And their personalities would clash so much-
Like at first, when they meet, I think König's Anxiety is immediately set off by Krueger's weird off-putting vibe, he's kind of jokey? And always smirking/grinning, but there this look in his eyes... Like he knows something you don't, and König hates that. And if he gets too curious and gets his hands on Krueger's dossier, or hears from word of mouth what he did? I think König keeps his distance... If König wasn't working alongside Krueger, he'd probably want him dead. And see to that himself.
And Krueger probably gets a kick out of messing with König, he loves that this big intimidating guy is actually so easy to get to. He barely has to try. Its like a game to him. He won't leave König alone, even if König is trying his best to avoid him.
If they do have any kind of relationship, it's probably one sided and mean :(
a/n: This is a story I worked on as writing warmup and (original) character study, but eventually spiraled into a full-on spinoff for my main story, which is based in this. Mind this is probably a really shoddy draft, but I take beta readers!
wc: 754
Suya does not see herself as a sadist. But there is just something about Mina… her gasps when she cried, the way her voice pitched up when Suya told her to do something she didn't want to (though she still did it, always), even how she sniffled in the change rooms after Suya left, as if she wasn't still in earshot. It felt nice. Satisfying, almost, like beating a strong opponent in battle.
Suya remembers the moment she realised she wanted Mina to be hers only as clear as day. One week after she made it to the over-15s sector, she was re-watching the previous days' trials when the girl caught her eye. Wispy blonde hair tied into a bun, glinting, ambitious eyes and a body that moved in ways Suya never considered possible in practice. She was perfect. As she inspected her further through reports, asking around and viewing her first-hand, she realised she was even better than she had hoped for. She was strong, flexible, smart, eager to please, and best of all, pliable. A better partner than she could have ever asked for.
The first time they talk, it goes exactly how she wanted to. Suya carefully bumps into Mina, just enough for the other to spill water on her, and while Mina babbles apologies, she slips in a few well-thought-out compliments to hook her in. Mina is exactly who Suya thinks she is. She watches the emotions in her eyes collide in full time, and since then, neither has looked back.
Now, Suya considers both of them to be much better than the naive children they used to be. Their skin and bodies are thicker, taller, and more refined than ever. In fact, Mina is still getting taller at an alarming rate, almost as tall as her now. Something also developing at an alarming rate is Mina's almost embarrassingly obvious crush on her. Nowadays, she does nothing but orbit around her all day, becoming a nice little sidekick in Suya's success. Mina's affections are nowhere near subtle, constantly gushing about how amazing she is. As if she already doesn't know.
The blonde has also, for better or worse, gotten more emotional. Throwing tantrums and such at anyone who dares badmouth her dearest. It's also quite embarrassing to watch, but Suya supposes it's necessary. She's even started talking back to her, but all she needs to do is throw her an uninterested glance for her to go mope somewhere else, before inevitably coming back with a teary apology (or alternatively, another outburst), usually within the hour.
It's everything or nothing at all with that girl, she supposes.
Sometimes Suya wonders if she went too far with Mina, but every time, she bursts in and interrupts her thoughts, showering her with everything she'd ever want. Why change now? She seems perfectly content being treated like this (given the fact she always comes back anyway), so she's just fulfilling her wishes.
One lazy afternoon, the two were taking a small break from muscle training, Suya hunched over on a bench and sipped slowly at her water bottle.
"Sei-ah, what're you thinking about?" Mina asks, turning her head toward the ravenette.
"Mm. Nothing much." She straightens up her posture, brushing the blonde's hair from her face, "You should wear clips for your bangs. It's messing up your kick pattern."
"R-right. Sorry, I'll get them tonight, then."
"Also, your hair's getting too long anyway. You should get a trim."
"Oh, I was planning to go to the barber this weekend, thanks for noticing!"
"I'll come with you. I need to avoid another sponsor request meeting."
Mina laughs softly before glancing at Suya again. "You can't avoid them forever, you know. You're amazing, everyone wants to invest in you!"
Suya makes a point to stare at her blankly. The prickly sensation of praise pokes at her guts uncomfortably, as always.
"… Oh, we should get back to work. Let's go." she grunts as she gets up from the bench, Mina quickly following after her.
Three days after Mina gets her new haircut, Suya decides that they are going to avoid a sponsor once again.
"Don't bother dressing up. It's a waste of time." she continued, tossing her sweatshirt and sweatpants into Mina's arms, leaving her in just the yoga shorts and black crop-top she always wore under her normal clothes, "Put that in the laundry, yeah? 'm gonna take a shower."
Mina nods as she scurries out of their bathroom, softly closing the door behind her.
one shot | 2k words | warnings: canon-typical suicide mention, suicide ideation, rumination, anxiety & depression, mentions of past divorce, absent parents, money trouble, kind of angsty but with a hopeful lilt
When he goes on walks by himself, he tells his mom he's going to hang out with Jared. He tells the Murphys he knew their son, on a personal level, when he'd barely spoken to him. Or he tells his therapist he wouldn't risk hurting himself, with a cast on his arm from letting go of a tree branch. Evan tells himself these things, too.
Or: Evan goes to the beach immediately after telling the Murphys the truth. He’s tired of pretending.
first time posting my writing here bc… yolo i guess! deh is closing and i’m emo about it so i’m posting this years old one shot i’m still happy with. for the @sincerely-us DEH broadway closing tribute, day five: family.
When Evan was small, five or six years old, he fell in love with the beach.
It wasn’t more than an hour away, so if he had a rough day, or his parents had some free time, they'd take a day trip. At first, the ocean frightened him.
"The water is chasing me!" he yelped as the waves rolled up to lap at his toes, and his mom scooped him up in her arms.
"It can't get you when I've got you." She hugged him tightly to her chest, kissing his mess of curls, gilded in the sunlight.
They spent the day acclimating to the new experience to make it less overwhelming. Running their hands through the sand, wetting it and making elaborate sand castles. Heidi lounged in the sun with a book as he collected seashells, giving him smiles of encouragement whenever he looked her way.
He didn't get too close to the water again that day.
———
A cold draft jolts him out of the memory. It’s summer no longer—the sun is just beginning to go down, and Evan can feel the warmth dissipating. He zips his jacket up as high as he can, pulling the hood over his head and wrapping his arms around himself tight.
The wetness on his face is getting windblown, making his cheeks irritated and chapped, but he doesn't bother to wipe them dry. They wouldn't stay dry long, anyway.
His mind, teeming with thoughts and worries, has come to a deadly calm. It almost scares him how quiet it's become. The sound of the waves is deafening in his ears, a sort of waltz of noise. Hum, two, three. Whoosh, two, three. Crash, two, three. Hum, two, three.
His mom always liked to talk about things she did while she was pregnant. She'd play classical music, combined with wave sounds while she slept. It was supposed to make him smarter or something. He wouldn't go so far as to say that, but sometimes he wonders if it’s the source of the stillness that washes over him in the proximity of the noise.
Evan had none of this repose when he was driving here. He kept rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeves, gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it. Taking the longer route that didn't pass any cliffs, muttering obscenities about himself under his breath. As if saying he's terrible could make what he did any less so.
———
Evan always acclimated. If the situation didn't fit him, he'd learned to fold in all the parts of himself that wouldn't fit.
So the next time, at the beach, he let the sound of the waves drown out the sound of his parents fighting. Floating with the ocean. Eyes shut tight. Removed from the world, removed from his body.
Even as young as six, Evan was good at this. Excellent, even. You learn to be, quite quickly, when the world is far too harsh and you are far too soft. So when the kids yelled on the playground, or pushed him, or said he's weird because he liked trees, he distanced himself. It was effective, numbing. Succumbing to the sound of the waves. The only problem was not getting washed away at sea.
"Evan? Oh god, where did he go—Evan! That's too far out—shit, he can't hear me."
He could hear perfectly fine, but none of it registered. Floating...
"I'm coming baby, hold on.”
The waves got drowned out by splashing, and the feeling of familiar arms around him. She sounded like she was crying. Her hands clutched him like he was something precious—cupping his head protectively, supporting the rest of his weight with her other arm.
"You can't scare mommy like that ever again, Evan. You hear me? You're too important."
———
He learned, then, that there are some things that should just be for himself. That floating off to sea isn't worth it when it scares your mom that much. She would always do her very best to protect him, to care for him completely; so Evan would do his very best to make it appear to be working.
Because what was there otherwise? A sad, broken boy, walking alone in the cold on a beach. Evan abruptly stops, squeezing his eyes shut, nibbling at his stubby nails. He's already bitten some low enough to bleed. He sits at the edge of the water, a foot or so above where it's lapping at the sand. Running his hands through it, he rolls the granules across his hand with his thumb.
The grit makes his fingertips burn, but it's nice to actually feel something. Is that what he's been so desperate to find—a feeling?
There came a point in pretending where he forgot what real things feel like. Sometimes a lie can feel more real than the truth; especially when reality is empty, painful, without even a thread of truth to hold onto anymore. So he loosened his grip on it.
———
"Come on in, Evan, it's warm," Heidi beckoned from the water, as he hovered at the edge.
It had been a year, and he hadn't been afraid of the waves since the first time. But standing at the edge after a whole year passed, at seven years old, the world felt a whole lot bigger and scarier. Second grade hadn't been easy. His mom would always say he's a big boy now; he'll grow out of it.
He hadn’t. And in the months since his dad left, life felt a whole lot emptier.
"I—I think I'll just watch you?" he says, unsure.
Evan knew he liked the water. He just didn’t like the beach all that much anymore. He kicked his feet through the sand, arms crossed over his chest.
She approached him, hands on his scrawny shoulders. Crouching down to look at his face.
"I know it might not be how you pictured it, but look.” She inhaled, plastering a too-wide smile on her face. “We're here! It took a few weeks for me to nab a day off but I got you here. And you've got me for the whole day."
His mom still looked tired—drained. Like the lights inside her eyes were turned off. Even as young as he was, Evan noticed the change in her when his dad left them. She was exhausted. He needed to carry some of the burden.
So he smiled back at her, running through the waves as she pulled him along. Does it count as pretending when you're doing it together?
———
Has everything he's ever done been one big lie?
Not literally, of course. But his baseline has always been... to act okay, through it all, no matter what. Absorb the shocks to expel later. The day can't count as a failure if he doesn't cry until he's home in his bed, falling asleep to trudge through the next one. And the next one.
He finds a pebble in the sand he's sifting through—holds it up to the light, marveling at its smoothness. It feels nice to roll it between his finger and thumb.
When he goes on walks by himself, he tells his mom he's going to hang out with Jared. He tells the Murphys he knew their son, on a personal level, when he'd barely spoken to him. Or he tells his therapist he wouldn't risk hurting himself, with a cast on his arm from letting go of a tree branch. Evan tells himself these things, too.
Smoothing himself over, like a pebble on a beach; grinding away the imperfections until there's nothing left. Sitting in the sand, with his knees tucked up to his chest, the tears flow freely enough his vision swims with it.
He's not sure what’s left of him. Has he smoothed it all away? Is he nothing more than a single grain of sand, falling through his fingers, blowing in the wind? Falling, falling, falling. Does the sand feel anything when it lands?
They hadn’t made it to the beach in years. He was 14 now, and things were only getting more difficult as high school was fast approaching. Kids got stronger, and meaner, more weirded out by Evan's sensitive nature. He wished he got harsher like they did.
Instead he just got tired—tired of sitting on the couch alone waiting around for his mom to get home from work. Only to rush through a meal once she got there, helping him with his homework half asleep, trying to cram all the love she can muster into the span of a few hours.
He took a bus to the beach, instead. Evan’s not typically an impulsive person, but he just needed something to happen. Anything. He took off his shoes and socks, shoving them in his bag before taking a step at the edge of the water. Toes curling in the squishy sand, the water came up to delicately kiss them like it did when he was much smaller.
He wasn’t cruel enough not to leave a note. She'd see it, and shake her head. Wonder the whole drive if he's okay, if he'd eaten anything yet. He knew the travel time was going to eat up all the time she had to spend with him. Knew she was going to be worried about why he did it, but he just—needed to hear the waves. Breathe the salty air. Sink his feet into something soft and solid and real.
"Evan?" Her voice was gentle. Barely audible above the ocean, a few paces behind him.
"Mom," he said, turning around and accepting her protective hug. Her lips pressed firmly against his hair.
"What are you doing, sweetheart?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I think maybe there's something wrong with me."
For a moment, all they could hear was the waves.
"What do you mean?" She pulled away from the hug so she could look at his face, cupping his cheeks. "What's wrong, Evan?"
"Everything." The word came out choked, like his body was trying to hold onto it.
She hugged him tighter.
———
They worked out a plan to get him help, on this beach. As he told her what school had been like, and about the worry weighing on his shoulders, it sunk in. She made sure he knew she loves him no matter what, and that he can always come to her whenever he feels like this.
But when he saw her trying to work through the financial part, he realized that he might see even less of her because of this. That doctors and medications are expensive. And she already worked so hard just to make sure he's okay.
Evan decided, then, that this plan had to succeed. Her sacrifices for him have to be worth it.
She dropped school for a year, so she had more time to check up on him without missing work. That was a good year for them, actually. They ate a whole meal together most days, and she wasn't half asleep giving him advice on his history paper. They had regular taco nights. And movie nights, where they watched a handful of films until they ended up passed out on the couch, Netflix still running. He was going to therapy, and he seemed to be getting better. Things were better.
Evan’s not sure where they lost that. He had it, once, not all that long ago.
How could he let it slip through his fingers? Why didn't he hold on to it tighter?
After that, he wanted so desperately to be okay for her, that he stopped being okay again. Maybe that's been his problem all along. Too busy working on polishing the outside to see the inside crumbling to pieces.
The wind whips at him brutally, the air becoming colder, and it's starting to get dark. His hands shake as he sifts through more sand, moving to get up.
Evan knows if he's not home when his mom gets off work she'll be worried—he didn't leave a note this time. He should call, maybe, let her know he's okay. Or well. Whatever he is. He's... alive. That should probably count for something, at this point.
He digs through his backpack for his phone, opening it to a handful of texts, and a missed call from her asking where he is. It's a lot later than he realized. She's probably been pacing the house trying to figure out where he might be.
Evan takes one last, long breath of the comforting salty air, and dials her contact. She picks up on the first ring.
SUMMARY — you sit alone in a restaurant, hopeful that jimin, jungkook and taehyung will show up.
PAIRING — eventual yoongi x fem!reader
WORD COUNT — 1,673
WARNINGS — crying, hoseok yelling, reader feeling sad, swearing and lying.
NOTES — felt like givin’ an extra surprise update :) hope y’all are enjoyin’ the story so far :)
POSTED — 08/16/21
CHAPTER THREE: flakey friends
Febuary, 1st 2014
—IT'S BEEN ABOUT A month since you began training with the boys, and you're beginning to realize how much easier training was compared to preparations for an actual comeback. that being said, things were progressively getting better. jungkook and taehyung are speaking to you, but only when jimin’s out of ear shot. jimin’s nose ended up being fine, and after ten minutes of yoongi grilling him, jimin admitted it might have been his fault and not yours. a truly small amount of progress, but progress nonetheless which leaves you hopeful. you’re slowly getting a handle on your schedules too, and you’re nearly a master at avoiding jimin. dance practice his the most difficult place to avoid him, especially considering jungho has you and jimin in a two foot bubble together for almost the entirety of the choreography.
"stop, stop!" jungho shouts, staring daggers at jimin and you. "i understand that the two of you are having a hard time getting along, but in order for this to work you two need to at least act like you tolerate each other." he sighs, rubbing his temples, "grab a drink, then we'll run through it again,"
chest heaving, you twist on the balls of your feet, and walk over to the far wall to pick up your water bottle. you take a few mouthfuls, and silently watch the way the others interact. jungkook, jimin and taehyung joke around, splashing water at each other, and yoongi leans against a wall closing his eyes. hoseok and namjoon are discussing the choreography, and jin is pouring water on a bandanna to tie around his neck. while it's apparent that the older members hold no ill-will towards you, and actually are trying really hard to make you feel accepted, it's also quite obvious, that for whatever reason jimin has it out for you, and jungkook and taehyung care about what he thinks too much to stand up for you themselves. understandable, when you were their age you did just about anything to fit in. that lead to a lot of regrettable words and actions, however now, you’re at peace with those decisions, going as far as to apologize to many of the people you hurt in the past.
screwing the cap back onto your water bottle, you walk across the room to where the younger members are sitting, and they immediately stop talking, their joking manner and smiles dropping. you rub the back of your neck, "i think we got off on the wrong foot, i was wondering if i could treat you guys to supper after practice today?" you look up, meeting jimin's eyes. he studies you hard for a few seconds.
"you know what? we'd love that," jimin says, a smile spreading across his lips. baffled looks spreading across both taehyung and jungkook's faces. you try really hard to push down your own surprise, and smile.
"really? awesome! i know this really good restaurant just down the block that we could go to. you guys are really going to like it,"
"sounds great," jimin says sweetly, "how about after practice we all shower get changed, and we'll all meet there, sound good?"
"yeah, sounds perfect. i’ll text you the adress," you grin, as jungho claps his hands. you all get into position, and run through the dance flawlessly twice before jungho dismisses you.
"remember, rehearsals start at one, no exceptions. now go get some sleep." everyone begins packing up their things, and jungho calls for you to stay back. once all the boys file out, he crosses his arms over his chest. "what's up with you and jimin?"
"i honestly don't know, i think he's upset that i'm throwing off the balance of the group. throwing off what was a 'perfect' thing in his eyes." you sigh, taking a sip from your water bottle.
"i think he feels threatened," jungho says slowly, studying your face. "by training, jimin isn't a 'kpop/hiphop' dancer. he's a contemporary dancer. learning a whole new style of dance is hard, and lately it's been really hard for him, because he works himself so hard, and he's not giving himself time to rest. he's threatened because you picked it all up so easily," he sighs, uncrossing his arms. "all i'm saying is that he will come around, you're just going to have to be patient, and when he comes around the other two will follow closely behind if not the other way around. just don't try and force something that's not there right now, okay?" you nod, "now go get a shower before the boys use all the hot water on you."
"thanks jungho," you smile, grabbing your bag and heading out to the hallway. you walk along the narrow hallway, towards the stairs, and take them two at a time up to the main floor. you turn to your left, walking into the girls locker room, and begin to get ready for your shower. you can hear the boys giggling and shouting across the hall in the boys locker room. you turn on the tap, and grab your shampoo, and conditioner, and body wash from your bag and step into the stall, closing the door behind you.
you shower quickly, and once you're done, you change into a clean pair of jeans, snug fluffy thermal sweatshirt, and pull your sneakers back on. you head out back the way you came, pulling your phone out of your pocket and calling your dad. it being really early where he is in the states right now, you don't expect him to pick up, so you leave him a voicemail.
"hey dad, it's y/n... just called to let you know that i'm doing good, i'm actually headed out for dinner with the boys, which is super surprising, but i'm glad. i really hope that maybe we can get whatever problems there are out of the way, and we can at least tolerate each other... maybe even become friends, hehe. call me when you get the time, and i'll to let you know how it all goes. i love you! tell sam i say hi. okay, bye!" you hang up and then shoot your sister a goodnight text.
you walk towards the restaurant, and find that you're the first to arrive. you slide into a table for four, and order just a water, asking for three more menus. you scroll through your instagram feed, looking at all the photos of your classmates enjoying university and starting families. instead you're a world away, chasing a dream that's within reach, yet feels so far away. you sit there for an hour, before realizing that they never planned on coming. your phone buzzes in your hands, a notification from hoseok.
[ hoseok | 10:55pm ]
hoseok:
hoseok: super sad you couldn’t make it to dinner!jimin told is you weren’t feeling well!
hoseok: feel better!! there’s chicken noodle soup in the pantry, as well as ginger ale you can help your self too!
you stare at your phone for a few minutes, your blood boiling, and at a loss for words. you should've seen that coming, you feel embarrassed, and really really stupid. then waitress comes by again, asking if you want to order, and you nod this time.
"can i get an order of tteokbokki to go please? i'm really sorry for wasting your time." the girl brushes your apology aside.
"it's okay, flaky friends are awful." you nod, forcing a smile, though your eyes burn. the girl takes your silence as an end for the conversation, and leaves you alone.
the girl returns a bit later, handing you your order, you hand her more than enough for the meal, "keep the change," you mutter, rushing out of the restaurant, just as you begin crying. you feel stupid crying about it, you knew deep down that this was a possibility, yet your hope for things to work out, out weighed your rationality. pulling your phone back out you send hoseok a reply.
[ hoseok | 10:59 pm ]
you: thanks hobi! i hope you guys have fun 🙃
you walk slowly toward the group's dorm, and dread the idea of them beating you back. however, at the same time you don't have the energy to walk any faster. being upset about jimin, taehyung and jungkook not telling you about the group dinner, mixed with how hard you practiced today has you feeling drained. luckily, one of you prayers is answered. when you get to the dorm, no ones there yet. you settle in, kicking your shoes to the side and sliding on your slippers. you drop your practice bag, and head straight for the kitchen.
you wolf down your order of tteobokki, and then grab your practice bag and slip into your room just as you hear the front door open and the boys enter. you change quickly, sliding into bed as fast as possible, grabbing a random book from your nightstand, as foot steps approach your door.
"—hobi hyung, just leave her alone," you hears jimin's muffled whine, followed by hoseok telling him to shut up.
there's a soft knock at the door, "come in," you call, not particularly in the mood to have any conversation with anyone, but as to not tip off hoseok, you suffer. hoseok pokes his head in.
"how ya feelin'?" he asks softly, slipping into the room, closing the door behind him. "i figured you'd be asleep already," he leans against the door, waiting for an answer.
"i'm trying, figured reading would help..." you trail off, and avoiding his eyes by staring at his forehead.
hoseok scoffs, "why are you covering for him? we already yelled at him."
you feel ice hot panic shoot through you, you feel your eyes begin to burn, "i- i don't know what you're talking ab—"
"really? this is the way you want things to go?" hoseok deadpans.
"i'm trying really hard here not to add to the stress you, jin, yoongi and namjoon are under..."
his expression softens, "y/n, you're apart of this team now, and nothing jimin of all people can do or say that's going to change that."
"i know, but—"
"no y/n! no but's. if he pulls something like this again you tell us, got it?" you nod, unable to speak. hoseok nods back, "now goodnight, i hope you sleep well. and i'm sorry for yelling." without waiting for any sort of reply or acknowledgement, hoseok turns around and leaves.
you sit there, unsure of what to do, then you close your book place it on your night stand, and flick off the light. you pull your comforter up over your head, and try to keep your crying to a minimum. this is exactly what you didn't want. you can already tell that things are going to be worse from here on out.
Keith stabbed through the heart of a bot, nearly tucking and rolling to dodge any laser fire to slice through the legs of another bot.
His team's war cries echoed around him, slowly overtaking the flight hanger they were holed up in. In the corner of his eye he spotted Allura using her whip to fling the Galra droids into each other, herding them into groups to take them out faster.
Behind her the disembodied torso of one of the bots she cut through with her whip aimed, the sound of the blaster melting into the background.
His luxite sword hit its mark just as the blaster was shot out of its hand.
His heart stumbled as he heard the loud whoop in his ear.
"Keith! Babe! We are so in sync. Go grab your blade, I got you."
Keith didn't bother to respond, his heated cheeks saying enough as it is. And if there's literally no way for Lance to see how much he's affected... It's not his problem.
He could hear the sounds of droids dropping around him, could practically hear the sound of Lance's smile from his sniper perch. Stupidly proud to have his back.
Never mind that Keith's stupidly proud to have him at his back.
He grabbed his second sword and swiped his way through to Pidge to give her some cover. Duel-wielding his two swords with practiced ease, leaving behind mangled robots in his wake, their circuits and wires spilled out of them like blood.
Pidge made a small sound of victory as the last of her code infiltrated the Galra ship, infecting it like a virus. Their ships shutting down and overloading, sparks flying through the air.
The ship wouldn't be able to produce any more droids so they just had whatever was left to deal with. Simple enough to defeat the rest and take out the rest of the supplies, the sole captain already in the hands of the BOM.
He lets Pidge and Allura take out the last of them, turning around to see if he could spot Lance only to find him right behind him, smile blinding, hands reaching and—
Oh
Lance was still smiling when he broke the kiss, Keith's helmet somewhere on the floor along with Lance's.
His hands were in his hair, stroking and gentle on his scalp. Keith couldn't help but lean into the touch, the barest smile on his lips as Lance grinned at him like a fool.
"You're beautiful," he said, "marry me."
Keith snorted. "Let's get back to the castle. I'm not marrying you on a Galra ship."
"Ah! But you will marry me!" Lance crowed, smug. Ignoring their friends' groans and complaints to hurry.
Keith could only roll his eyes and tug him along.
-
Keith was used to Lance's pranks and jokes. Some were received with a few good laughs. A much-needed break from the Herculean task of saving the universe. A lifting of spirits.
Most were met with rolled eyes and groans and a "really, Lance? Really?" But still as needed and valued along with the others if not more so. Less of a release of tension and more of a gentle reminder that they're young. Barely adults and still cringey in the way only youth can be.
Lance asking to marry him was no exception.
Except, the more Keith heard it the more he wished it was.
-
The first time he said it it was during training.
It was the exercise where they had to cover each other’s backs. All grouped up back to back in a semi-circle as little droids surrounded them from all sides. For the most part, they’ve all been through so much together that developing that sixth sense of where your teammates were became second nature. Some otherworldly instinct far beyond his capacity to explain the gut feeling of diving in-between your friend and laser before it even left the bot.
Even with the lion switch and Allura’s more prominent presence out in the field didn’t hold them back for long. War didn’t allow for such luxuries.
While that instinct was there for everyone on his team, strong and stable and solid as steel from the constant drills, it had nothing on the synchronization he had with Lance.
If he was grasping at straws to try to explain the strange connection he had with the rest of the team then it was completely hopeless trying to describe the link he had with Lance.
Maybe it was because of Lance being his right-hand man or some mystical magical Altean magic. Maybe the lions or how often they were in those mind meld things but somehow whenever they were on the battlefield they just slotted into place. Their bond, forged by circumstance and fine-tuned and beaten by understanding, friendship, and eventually love, made whatever they had come naturally as if they were an extension of the other.
It was because of that connection that he was able to tackle Lance out of the way of a laser, leaving him on the floor winded while Keith was crouched above him shield up and ready.
Because of that one instance that Lance looked up at Keith with something indescribable on his face. That he— almost subconsciously, breathed,
“Marry me.”
-
He obviously said no.
Well…. Not no. Just not a yes. They were still kids, and had an entire war yawning off into the distance in front of them. It wasn’t the time or the place.
Though, for a while, he worried if he just threw away his only chance at saying yes.
-
He didn’t have to worry.
There were so many countless times Lance asked him to marry him. He would need the entire coalition’s various appendages to count them all.
He asked during training, when they were eating, after a nap, before a mission, after a mission, whispered before bed, loud and dramatic relaxing with the team. Really, any time it suited him. Random and spontaneous. Every time it was a little different but there were still patterns.
Keith noticed he would get more proposals during mundane activities. He could just be hanging out with the team or eating leftover food goo from the fridge and there would eventually be a “Keith, marry me” coming a second later.
He noticed that Lance would be louder and more dramatic when they came during team bonding time. Loudly declaring his love and proposals when it best suited him or whenever Keith agreed with him, drawing out laughs and eye rolls alike-
His favorite proposals were then they were by themselves. When the night was quiet and Lance looked at him with an intensity in his eyes that Keith almost forgets they’re jokes. Whispered, declared, reverent, demanding, each time silencing the voice in Keith’s head telling him not yet not yet not yet.
He desperately asks back, when?
-
The last time he said it it’s like this.
He was kneeling on one knee and had a ring.
That’s all he’s got. He can’t remember much else besides that Lance was kneeling. And that there was a ring. Just those two bits sent him into information overload, the rest of the details filter in later.
“Keith,” he said, with a little laugh, tears already budding in his eyes. “Babe, please, look at me.”
He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes. He could still see him clear as day in the center of his mind. And there’s the rest of the details. Something in his mind doing its job, some vague order registering where they were and what it felt like because it was somehow important so he remembered everything that was happening.
The desert sun purpling around them, stars slowly winking into existence, right in front of his run down and falling apart shack. Lance in the center of it all with a teary grin and a diamond ring. His heart beating out of his check and up into his throat.
He squeezed his eyes tighter, refusing to let any tears escape. He relented when a gentle hand grasped him and two drops slipped out, the rest threatening to follow when he saw Lance’s eyes overflowing. He tried to glare. “This better not be a joke, McClain.”
Lance laughed again, eyes spilling again and mopping them up with a sleeve. “It was never a joke. Not with you. Ever since the first time I meant it, every single one.”
Keith could barely say his name, choking around the syllable, cracking in the middle, a mangled version of his favorite word. ”La—ance.”
He got up, hand cupping his cheek, thumb wiping away the tears. Keith’s breath hitched at the gentle pressure of Lance’s forehead against his, at the warm breath fanning over his lips, at the revered words whispered into the space between only for him. “You are it for me. You got that, Kogane? You are it and I knew that years ago. And ever since I asked you to marry me, so one last time, yeah?” His breath was shaky but his voice was steady like it always had been. “Keith, will you marry me?”
Swallowing hard, he nodded, almost like he was nuzzling his head against Lance’s. “Yes.”
