#i just like the idea of a giant/tiny following a human out of fascination and being all shy about it

[tiny-brain]

Psst hey g/t writers, I got a prompt for ya

Character A is walking through the woods at night. It's pretty clear they're lost, and they look pretty frustrated. They keep walking anyway, listening to the ambient sounds of the forest around them. Leaves rustling, insects chirping, owls hooting, etc, etc.

Suddenly, they hear a soft snapping noise behind them, and stop in their tracks. They glance behind them briefly, looking more annoyed than scared. Then they continue walking. A moment later they hear more sounds behind them, like something is moving through the bushes. They stop again, looking even more annoyed. They take just a few more steps and hear the loudest set of noises yet, multiple branches cracking in quick succession, followed by a clumsy-sounding thud. Character A finally turns around and shouts:

"WOULD YOU QUIT FOLLOWING ME, ALREADY?!?!"

Silence. Nothing moves. Character A squints into the darkness, locates something, and says:

"You know I can see you, right? You aren't hiding very well."

Silence. Character A groans.

"Look, I know I helped you earlier and stuff, and I'm sure you're just being grateful or curious or whatever, but I'm trying to get home right now. I don't have time to deal with... whatever you are. So..."

The thing in the darkness shifts uncomfortably. Character A sighs.

"Okay, look, could you just at least stop trying to act like you're not there? Either come out and tell me what it is you want or just leave me alone, okay? I'm tired."

There's another moment of silence, before slowly, carefully, Character B comes out of the bushes, looking quite sheepish about themselves.

"Took you long enough..." Character A mutters.

(I'll leave it up to you to decide just what Character B is, what size they are, and why they're fascinated by Character A, as well as everything that happens next! Hope you enjoy!)

#g/t #sfwgt #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t prompts #g/t writing #g/t thoughts #sfw g/t #I left the size of Character B up to interpretation cause the story could go in either direction #In my mind they're some kind of big cryptid thing #but they could also be a fairy or brownie or borrower of some sort #it's up to you #do what you want #i just like the idea of a giant/tiny following a human out of fascination and being all shy about it

[tinyinvadr]

I got bored waiting for my tire to be fixed and wrote a G/t Rui and Mizuki one-shot. The idea came from a conversation we were having in a Discord server I’m in.

TW: suicide attempt

Rui was invisible.

It was a defense mechanism that kept him hidden from society. All giants have this power. They learned to hide in plain sight, otherwise they’d risk being seen as monsters and chased away.

Not a sound is heard from their booming voices and thundering footsteps, and not a single sign of their existence is visible to humanity. It’s a lonely existence, but it keeps them safe.

Of course, there is one way for a giant to be seen by a human: if they touch a human. But it’s not worth the risk. There’s no way to tell how someone would react to such a massive being. So it’s best to remain in hiding.

But Rui was never one to follow the rules. Sure, he didn’t reveal himself to anyone, but he still liked to go out into town and observe the day-to-day lives of the humans. He found them to be rather fascinating little creatures, with such odd and unusual habits.

His favorite place to go was Kamiyama Junior High School. He’d sit himself down outside the building, and watch the students in the courtyard during their lunch break.

It amazed him to see so many people his own age together in one place, all such close friends and having fun together, and though he would never admit it to his family, he wondered what it would be like to spend time with them.

There was one student in particular that caught his attention, though. They never went out to the courtyard with the other kids, and instead spent their lunch breaks alone on the roof. It was hard to ignore, partially because they were right at eye level with Rui, but also because they always seemed so distraught.

Though he didn’t really know them, he felt for this student. Even among the giant community, Rui was considered a weirdo. No one understood his interest in humans, or his passion for inventing. He didn’t have anyone that he could truly call a friend, and seemingly, neither did this human. But he knew he couldn’t risk showing himself.

That is, until one day, when he had no choice.

He was sitting outside the school as he usually did, but when the human came out onto the roof, they were crying.

They wiped their tears on the sleeve of their school uniform, and ripped the cute bow out of their short, light pink hair.

“I… can’t take it anymore.” They said. “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone!?”

Rui watched in horror as they threw the bow down and walked dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Deep down, he knew what they were considering, but he didn’t want to admit it.

The human gazed down at the long drop below them, entranced by it. Rui placed his hand inches away from them, as if to try and stop them from going any further, but he knew they couldn’t see him. There was nothing he could do.

But as the human shut their eyes and started to take a step forward, the giant couldn’t just sit there and watch anymore, and he did the unthinkable.

Rui swiftly grabbed them, hearing a startled yelp from the tiny being in his hand. He looked at them in terror as he saw their eyes widen, it becoming apparent that he was visible to this human now.

Both of them were at a loss for words, and the tension was unbearable as neither of them were sure what to do.

Finally, Rui managed to speak up.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you do that…”

The human continued to stare endlessly at him, each breath they took heavier than the last. They were visibly terrified, but also looked sort of awestruck.

“I’m going to put you down now. Please don’t try to jump again.”

Rui carefully set them back down on the roof, and they continued to look up at him in wonder.

“W-Why did you stop me?” They finally asked.

The giant sighed, his warm breath blowing through the human’s hair. “I did what anyone would do.”

The human glanced down at their feet, avoiding his gaze. “I doubt that.”

Rui startled them once again when he placed his hands on the edge of the roof. “No, don’t say that.”

He noticed how they jumped back in fear as he got closer, and moved his hands away, creating as much of a distance as he could while still remaining close enough to intervene again if necessary.

“I’m sorry… it’s just… I know what it’s like to feel alone. But this isn’t the answer. I think you know that already.”

The human sighed. “Yeah… but I just can’t stand the way they all treat me. Why is it anyone’s business what I like or how I dress? I don’t get it.”

Rui paused. Was there a chance that they might actually understand?

“People… they tend to be against the things they don’t understand. They get scared, but instead of giving you a chance and trying to get to know you, they automatically assume you’re the bad guy and push you away. It’s awful, but you just have to keep up hope that someday, you’ll find someone who likes you for who you really are.”

The human shed another tear, but this time, they had the slightest smile on their face. “Thank you.”

For the first time, they looked at Rui, unafraid. Then, they let out a chuckle.

“I guess I’m no better than anyone else. You really scared me when you just appeared out of thin air and grabbed me like that.”

Rui smiled. “It’s okay. Most humans are afraid of us. But the fact that you didn’t immediately run away proves that you’re a lot more open-minded than the people that other giants have encountered in the past. Oh… You won’t tell anyone about me, right?”

“Heh, of course not. Nobody’d believe me, anyway.”

With a nod, the giant stood up to his full height, the human looking on as he towered above them even more so than before.

“I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you…”

“Akiyama. Mizuki Akiyama.”

They suddenly ran towards the edge of the roof again, Rui getting closer in case he needed to catch them again, but they stopped before getting too close.

“Will I see you again?” They asked.

Rui was… surprised, to say the least. He didn’t know what would happen if he ever revealed himself, but he certainly didn’t expect any human to ever WANT to see him again.

“Of course.” He replied with a smile. “I come here every day.”

Mizuki laughed. “Good, ‘cause I have SO many questions. Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

The giant laughed along. He wasn’t used to seeing the human happy, but he hoped to see more of it. “I’m Rui Kamishiro.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you around, Rui. Oh- I mean, Kamishiro, sorry.”

“Heheh, it’s alright, you can call me Rui if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Mizuki smirked. “Okay then, Rui. Then that means you can call me Mizuki.”

The giant chuckled. “I’ll remember that, Mizuki. See you tomorrow.”

With that, he walked away with pride in his step. He met a human and it actually went well. Not only that, it seemed like they wanted to be friends with him. It felt so wrong, but this was what he’d always wanted. Something impossible finally seemed possible. He’d just have to keep this on the down low. He didn’t want his family to worry about him. But this was so important. He finally made a connection with someone, and it felt amazing.

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t community #sfw g/t #project sekai g/t

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

greetings

your ghost files au,,,,

do you have any hcs for it, or maybe just general g/t ghoul boy thoughts? :0

- brick

Yes!! Thank you for the ask!!

For the uninitiated, my ghost files au is a g/t story wip I'm currently working on in my free time!! The plot is based off the hc that the reason the ghoul boys are never finding anything is because Shane is actually a very powerful supernatural being himself. The story is basically that Shane is a demon and has to go back to his realm of hell every now and again but this time Ryan follows him. Demons are gigantic compared to humans and that's where the g/t comes from :)

disclaimer: I am not christian and all my knowledge of this sort of thing comes from people retelling me stuff

NOW FOR THE HCS

:readmore:

Shane is a chaos boi. Originally as a young demon he did a lot of crazy stuff (that's why he has so much power today) but kinda settled down over time. He took a trip into the human world to get some ideas and became fascinated at the free will of humans and the absolutely ridiculous things they do with it and decides to protect them as best he can.

Then Shane meets Ryan and he starts spending more time in the human world than in hell because by the gods he thinks he's found the most chaotic human and he is in awe of his new best friend!!

(extra lil secret hc, Ryan causes much random shockwaves of chaos that Shane just takes credit for back in hell. Hell thinks Shane is back to how he used to be when he was younger.)

Shane also has to do a good amount of redirecting the demons' hatred of humans. The demons all think they're better than everyone, especially humans, so fraternizing with them would be a sign of weakness and any crack in the armor can let in a weapon.

So back in hell, Shane has to pretend to be this evil human hating guy to control his underlings while also keeping them from doing anything too shitty.

Some world building: Demons have an incredible amount of power in hell, but a lot less in the human world. Their whole deal is trying to cause as much chaos/harm as they can with only tiny amounts of power and without blowing their cover. They also want to trick as many humans into giving themselves to hell as possible, because then they can mess with that human to the full extent of their power.

Bonus angst: Shane is an immortal being that lives in hell and is best friends with a human that he wants to go to heaven when he dies. The demonic nature of Shane's being constantly flares up and tries to convince him to keep Ryan for himself so they can be best friends for all of eternity, but Shane fights it because he wants better for his buddy.

random hc: hell looks like a giant but otherwise normal office building

Demons are born, not made, so Shane is basically a completely different type of being than Ryan. He doesn't need to eat or sleep, it's more of a habit or an indulgence.

A good amount of the time, a shit ton of immortal beings above Shane's level of power have their eye on Ryan. Shane is aware of this but can't do much about it so he just shields Ryan from what he can.

i.e. Shane and Ryan go to Starbucks together before filming and Shane takes one look at the barista ('s holy glow that only he can see) and goes "Hey Ryan, why don't you wait in the car, this might take a sec."

Ryan thinks he's the most normal guy in the world, but he's consistently being tracked by the most powerful demons AND angels because Shane follows him around like a lost puppy

luckily for Shane, the more powerful a demon/angel, the less they care about the specifics of how things are done. Basically, as long as their side comes out on top, they don't give a shit if one of their guys is being incredibly unconventional. They have more important things to worry about. Shane just has to make sure he doesn't get too high up on the importance list.

#froggy speaks #giant/tiny #g/t #ghost files g/t #buzzfeed unsolved g/t

[iviarellereads]

The Neverending Story Chapter 8 - The Wind Giants

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Neverending Story, read this one!)

In which I am fascinated at a distinction.

High(1) in the air rode Atreyu, his red cloak flowing behind him.

Atreyu and Falkor fly so long that Atreyu loses track. He had no idea Fantastica was so big. More than once, they have to swing around a patch of Nothing.

Eventually, Falkor suggests that it might be a mistake to try to cross Fantastica's borders. Atreyu's mission was to find the cure, not retrieve the impossible. The CLE might have power to summon a human to save herself. Atreyu thinks Falkor could be right, but wants to journey just a little further.

Soon, they come to a patch of incredibly concentrated bad weather where the four Wind Giants are fighting to see who's strongest. Atreyu wants to ask them if they know where Fantastica's borders are. Falkor is horrified at the danger, but can't say no to Atreyu.(2)

So, they approach, and Atreyu displays Auryn prominently, and asks if the Wind Giants know where Fantastica's borders are. Each says, not in my direction, doesn't Atreyu know, Fantastica has no borders. Atreyu loses all hope in this moment, and falls from Falkor's back in a gust of wind.

When he wakes, Atreyu is on a white sandy beach. He's lost Auryn, and Falkor, and is nothing more than a little boy alone.(3)

Bastian's clock strikes six. He thinks he hears ghosts, but says loudly there's no such thing, and settles once more.

Atreyu walks a while until he comes to a road, and walks the road until he hears a procession in the distance. He hides until it's passed, afraid. He wonders if he should have made his presence known. He's not sure what to do, but he follows them at a distance. He thinks on how he should have listened to Falkor, and remembers Uyulala's words about how humans can find Fantastica more easily than a Fantastican can leave. He wonders if a human has already started a journey to Fantastica.

Bastian says he really would, but he doesn't know the way.

Atreyu catches up to the procession, and finds that they've all grown silent, staring at a patch of Nothing. Some of them start moving toward it, and eventually, more, and more, until they all disappear.

Without Auryn's protection, Atreyu has to steel his will not to follow them, to walk away from it. He follows the road back until a crooked building looms, and he goes in.

Bastian is growing cold in the attic. He wants his father to come find him… but he'd rather die than go home. He wraps the rest of the army blankets around him, and eventually feels warmer.(4)

=====

(1) The H is on a page with four giant faces in the corners blowing into the middle, and Falkor and a tiny Atreyu floating in the middle. (2) See, this is why promises of service tend to weird me out. You'll always be asked something beyond your comfort level or means in a story. (3) This is the bit that fascinates me. Before, it seemed like the loss of Artax was because of Atreyu's betrayal of his Great Quest's conditions, but then he got an even better mount and friend. Here, it seems more like his loss of Falkor is because he didn't think about the limits of his Quest. What was different between Artax and Falkor except the ability to fly, or in other words, the rule of cool? (4) Warmer, but not warm.

#the neverending story #bastian balthazar bux #atreyu #falkor #the wind giants

[chenziee]

Cool your back.

I have a very cute LawLu prompt

Where Law is still a pirate some how becomes (little doses he know)the Fiance of the Goda kingdom's Cat God of freedom named Luffy(much to the world nobles dismay) and all of the high jinx that come along with it. And Luffy keeps popping up whenever Law doesn't/needs him. Good thing he's cute.

Thank youuu! Glad to be back :D though still super slow I’m sorry

I might have taken some liberties there with Luffy but I hope you like it! :)

----------

A Divine ball of fluff

[Read on AO3 | Request info | Ko-fi]

Law startled awake at the sound of gunfire and cannons somewhere above his head. Stepping over the lamp on the floor, he only briefly wondered just how it had managed to fall from his nightstand before he forced himself to focus. He only grabbed Kikoku, then ran out of his room to join his crew on deck, ready to murder whoever had come to disturb his sorely needed nap.

“Hand over Luffy and I might just let you go alive, Trafalgar Law!”

With the angry shout being the first thing Law had heard upon opening the door leading to the Tang’s deck, Law could only groan. Not again. “I keep telling you, old man—” Law slammed the door shut behind himself maybe more aggressively than strictly necessary before quickly striding over to the side of the ship to glare at Vice Admiral Garp—  “none of this was my choice! And your stupid grandson isn’t even here!”  

“Uhm, about that, Captain…” Bepo trailed off, quiet and apologetic.

Law took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes momentarily and praying for patience. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sorry,” Bepo mumbled, dropping his head as if it was somehow his fault their regular ‘guest’ had invited himself over without any warning again.

Shaking his head, Law slowly looked at Garp again. The old man was fuming and not for the first time, Law marveled at the stubbornness of this entire family. No matter how many times he said ‘no’ to either one of them, they just kept coming back like a bad rash. Sometimes, Law couldn’t believe neither of the three brothers or their grandfather were related by blood. Hell, one of them wasn’t even human. But well… when it came down to it, Law couldn’t say he cared.

“Fine, take him,” he said finally, smirking at the loud crash from behind him that immediately followed.

“Torao~” someone whined before arms wrapped around Law’s waist

On reflex, one of Law’s legs shot forward as he braced for the impact of the entire body crashing into him a split second later. Why, just why did this man insist on lunging at people constantly? Law would never understand. He was lucky Law had managed to train his reactions well enough by now to not face plant into the railing anymore. “What?” he asked, smirk still shamelessly in place as he turned to look at the person who was hanging off of him.

The person—or rather, the god—in question was staring back at him with an unhappy frown and a pout on his lips. Law hated to admit he looked outright adorable then, and not just because of the cat ears sitting proudly on top of his head, alert and facing forward in agitation. Ears which were also covered in black, incredibly soft fur that Law would never get tired of petting.

Giving Law something that was probably supposed to be a glare, Luffy finally huffed before continuing, voice sounding incredibly sulky, “How could you just sell me out to gramps like this?”

“Because he could absolute keep you on his ship even if he did take you.      Sure,” Law replied in a tone dripping in sacrasm while he rolled his eyes at the dramatic complaints of the literal embodiement of freedom, the person who could and absolutely did materialize out of nowhere on the Polar Tang whenever he fucking felt like it, without any warning, for the sole purpose of driving Law absolutely crazy with his ideas, only to then disappear into thin air again once he got bored. While on the open sea, with the nearest land two days of sailing away.

“That’s not the point!” Luffy cried, his grip on Law’s waist tightening.

Before Law could say anything back, a canon ball landed a bit too close to the ship, causing a wave of seawater to wash over the both of them. Law cursed loudly at the unexpected and fully unwelcome shower, just as Luffy also hissed loudly; if he was in his full monster cat form, Law could just imagine his fur raising until he looked like a huge, black ball of pure fluff.

…Now Law wanted to see it. He made a mental note to find an opportunity to scare the shit out of him at some point later, when he was in his true form.

“What was that for?!” Luffy demanded when he recovered from the shock.

“A warning shot!” Garp retorted, sounding just as angry as Luffy did. “You get off that pirate ship before I drag you off myself!”

“I’m not going back to Goa! It’s stuffy and tiny and they keep burning down my shrines, I hate it there!”

Garp growled as he grabbed another cannon ball. “As if I care about the idiot king’s orders, I’m not going to give you to those scumbags and I don’t care where you go—” he paused to aim his cannon ball at them threateningly before he continued— “but you’re not becoming a pirate on my watch, you brat!”

Law heard Luffy taking a deep breath behind him, no doubt in preparation to go off on his adoptive grandfather, and he sighed. Before either of these idiots could say anything, Law snapped, “If you’re just going to keep screaming at each other, can I go?”

“No,” Luffy said immediately, digging his claws into Law’s stomach painfully.

At the same time, Garp said, “You stay right where you are, I’m not done with you either!”

Law sighed. Every goddamn time.

“Prepare to submerge,” Law said to Bepo tiredly before raising his hand. “Room. Shambles.”

Appearing back in his room a split second later, Law took a deep breath, giving himself a moment to appreciate the blessed silence—or the alternative of, which meant only muffled rage instead of people screaming right in his ear. Not ideal but he would take it anyway. Honestly, why couldn’t these two ever do anything quietly? This whole thing could be so easily resolved if they had just sat down and talked but no, they just had to go yelling at each other while throwing cannon balls and scratching the other’s face off. And Law never had a say in getting caught in the middle of it every damn time either.

Sometimes, he cursed the day the Tang landed on Dawn Island, the place where all his problems started. But really, he couldn’t with clear conscience say that if he were to relive that day, that he wouldn’t do exactly the same thing; that he wouldn’t stop at the tiny, ancient looking shrine to talk to the young man sitting in front of it. That he wouldn’t answer every question Luffy had about the world beyond his small domain, that he wouldn’t look into those large, excited eyes and invite him to leave with him.

But, as stupid as it was regardless, if he could do it over, at the very least, would now actually know he was accidentally proposing to a literal god; one that was incredibly stuborn, selfish, and bright enough to be the actual sun. A god who also came in a package with a crazy grandfather, two over protective brothers, and the softest, warmest fur Law had ever had the pleasure of touching.

“Thanks for getting me away,” Luffy said after he made himself comfortable on Law’s bed, the anger and raw power that had been radiating off of him only moments ago replaced by his usual happy and carefree attitude.

Law clicked his tongue. “I was getting myself away. Not my fault you were clinging to me like a child.”

“Same thing.” Luffy waved him off.

Law didn’t have the energy to argue. Simply shaking his head at him, he instead bent down to put the lamp he had ignored earlier back on his nightstand.

“Weird how this was on the floor. I distinctly remember it was screwed on tight just yesterday,” Law noted, giving Luffy a pointed stare. Now that he knew this giant, ridiculously strong cat was on the ship, Law had no doubt just how the lamp got knocked off. Briefly, Law wondered whether there was even a point putting it back until Luffy left; he was probably going to knock it off again while staring at it with morbid fascination as it crashed to the floor again and again.

Law watched as Luffy’s eyes veered off to the side, his lips pursing as he mumbled, “Yeah, that’s super weird.”

Huffing out a small laugh, Law crossed the short distance between them, reaching out to ruffle Luffy’s hair. It was almost as soft as his fur was. “I know. A complete mystery,” he said with a smirk before he leaned down, pressing his lips to Luffy’s briefly.

The kiss was easily returned, a wide grin spreading on Luffy’s lips as soon as they separated, and despite himself, Law felt himself smile back. That damn smile would be the death of him. No matter how maddening this man could be, how loud and selfish, the moment he smiled like that, it was like all Law’s problems and frustrations were melting away. Luffy was simply beautiful; adorable and bright, yet absolutely terrifying and Law loved every little bit of it.

It was funny, actually. If someone had told him he would ever say ‘Luffy’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence just half a year ago, Law would have laughed in their face. Back then, Luffy was only some incredibly annoying giant cat who just wouldn’t leave him alone, someone who popped up on the Tang or wherever Law currently was just to ruin any and all of his painstakingly created plans. But now…

Now Law couldn’t remember what life was before him. He had learned to build his plans around Luffy recklessly charging forward, didn’t even bother trying to explain anything to him. He had long since stopped fighting the pull, the warm aura of power and charisma that drew people in and didn’t let go. It took a while but Law had finally accepted that he was not any different from all the other people Luffy had managed to charm without even realizing he was doing it ever since Law had gotten him out of the Goa Kingdom.

There was just something in the stupid divine cat that made people want to join and support him. Maybe it was the sense of absolute freedom that followed him everywhere; be it his own freedom, or the one of whoever Luffy thought deserved it.

“What’s wrong?” Luffy asked after a long while of them just looking at each other.

Law smiled, shaking his head at the cute, worried frown on his face. “Just hoping your grandfather won’t hit us before we sink far enough.”

“He’d never actually hit the ship, he’s a big softie,” Luffy announced, that grin back on his face.

“Good to know.” Law chuckled, finally sitting down on the bed with Luffy. “You know, I was sleeping before you two started fighting,” Law said offhandedly, glancing at Luffy and nearly snorting at the way his ears perked up in excitement.

“Wanna?” the other asked immediately, nearly vibrating in place.

Raising an eyebrow, Law gave Luffy a look. “I was going to say yes but seeing how excited you are, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Luffy decided, nodding to himself as he hopped off the bed, walking two steps towards the door to Law’s cabin before shifting into his monster cat form, then lied down slowly, watchful as to not break anything while he tried to fit his huge body into the tiny room.

Once Luffy looked back at him expectantly and Law was sure he was fully settled, Law went to join his boyfriend on the floor, careful not to step on any of his limbs or either of his two tails on the way. As he leaned back against the giant cat’s chest, he let his eyes slide shut, already feeling the exhaustion from earlier in the day settling back in. It was just so warm and soft and fluffy and Law would sooner die than admit out loud how much he loved it. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know by then anyway. What could he say, Luffy’s fur was impossible to resist. It was worse than Bepo’s in this aspect.

“No licking,” Law reminded, cracking one eye open to shoot Luffy a half-hearted glare when he felt his face come close to his body.

“You’re no fun,” Luffy whined.

Law could only sigh. “I’d just like to keep my skin where it is, thanks.”

“Fine.” Luffy huffed, thankfully keeping his sand-paper tongue where it should be, before he simply nudged Law with his forehead.

A smile pulled on Law’s lips, his hand raising to rest against the side of his little monster’s head. To anyone else, this position would seem incredibly dangerous, yet to Law, it was so very comforting. He had never felt safer than when he lay snuggled into into this god’s side, with the jaw which could fit his entire head inside twice over and then some positioned just inches away from his face.

Right here, Law knew he was home.

And while he gently stroked Luffy’s fur, Law’s eyelids slowly slid shut again.

 ~ Meanwhile ~

“What do we do?!” Shachi cried in panic, staring with wide eyes at the neptunian who looked like it was about to eat the Tang for an afternoon snack.

“We have to call the captain and Luffy, we can’t do this,” Ikkaku shouted back, trying to shoo away another two of these giant sea kings away together with Jean Bart.

A frustrated groan came from Clione in response, “I tried but they won’t answer and the door won’t open!”

“Why do they always have to sleep with Luffy’s giant furry ass blocking the stupid door! How are we supposed to get them out here?!” Shachi whined, mind slowly slipping into despair. Honestly, these lovesick idiots. What use was having a literal god around when he was never there to actually help when they actually needed him to?

This was why Shachi preferred dogs over cats.

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Dedicated to my cat who has the softest fur and also forces me to keep everything on the fucking floor.

[Request info | Ko-fi]

#one piece #lawlu #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #luffy #monkey d luffy #opfanfic #lawlu fanfic #fluff #humor #fluff and humor #tooth rotting fluff #one shot #god!luffy #cat!luffy #heart pirates #monkey d garp #law is suffering #but it's the hearts who are the true victims #katie pretends to fic #drabble requests #i nearly went and did an X hour long research on bakenekos and nekomatas for this #had to physically stop myself because i knew it wouldn't work perfectly either way #garp took luffy in after they burned down one of his main shrines #and then ace and sabo happened #and then law stumbled on him after ace left #couldn't work that into the story without it sounding forced #but yeah

[my-writings-and-musings]

Idea, a group of young human liaisons (late teen/young adult) join the lost light crew and the different crew members essentially adopts them (any bots of your choice)

That's adorable so absolutely yes! I chose the bots I thought most likely to adopt in any capacity.

Tailgate

·Being amongst the tiniest bots on the ship, and having loved human culture whilst never meeting a human, compounds his excitement at their arrival to nearly critical levels. They're so tiny! They can answer all his earth questions! They can go on missions together and he can show them around the galaxy! His first step is to learn how to tell humans apart and to memorize all their names, as well as anything they find important about themselves, so that way they'll feel welcome.

·During this introduction it's revealed these humans are on the younger side, and his reaction immediately becomes one of shock. You're all still little ones?! Not done growing even?! The explanations that human development is quite different fall on deaf audials; he knows what it's like to be small and new in the galaxy, and he won't let anything hurt these protoforms!

·The liaison team now has a permanent guardian, and they quickly learn that his size doesn't tell his full story. Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's still twice the height of the average human, so calling him "tiny" doesn't make much sense to any of them. Being so much taller is something he absolutely adores experiencing for a change, and that combined with his super strength leads to a lot of piggy back rides for the whole crew.

·If anyone, bot or con or whatever, says a mean word to even one of them he's on the warpath. Think you're a big tough guy, huh?! Picking on his little buddies?! Well, he's not gonna give you a chance to pick on somebody your own size! Unless you offer a heartfelt apology, and if the human in question accepts that, then everything is just fine! But he will punch you if he hears this is recurring!

·The various liaisons start referring to him as their "big brother" and once the meaning of that is explained he's absolutely touched. Him? A part of their family? Movie nights henceforth involve him being surrounded by a group of young humans, just chilling around their adoptive older sibling who happens to be six million years old, and should anyone glance at his visor they'll find it absolutely shining in the dim light.

Ratchet

·Having worked with and studied humans of this age group in the past, he's far less upset and far more worried by their arrival, but he pretends he's merely the former. The truth is that he knows their species is especially vulnerable at this age, and getting the rest of the crew to understand that will be an impossible task, even if he asks them to imagine a delicate protoform taking nearly two decades to mature instead of a few hours and to try and comprehend how much trouble that would be.

·His first step is to establish that he's their doctor, one fully capable of handling human medicine, and he quickly catches the rest of his team up to speed. Every medic needs to be able to meet the needs of every crewmember, and these juvenile humans are part of the crew now, as well as their responsibility for the sake of diplomatic relations... Somehow that last part doesn't stress him out in the slightest.

·These humans will quickly find his gruff to be little more than a personality trait. When he's with a patient, specifically one who's a little frightened, his demeanor rapidly softens just as his touch becomes gentle even to a being quite soft and tiny by comparison. For a species not necessarily accustomed to medical care just... whenever they need it, the young liaisons can't help but like him. His reaction to the fact that most humans can't afford medical care is... a very long sigh.

·His attention to these new patients extends well beyond appointment hours, though he does try not to be overbearing. But he just needs to be certain; are they exercising enough? Does the atmosphere of the ship upset their respiratory systems in any way? Is there any chance the modification to the lighting system was ineffective and they're not getting enough vitamin D? Are they eating all their vegetables?!

·It's impossible for the group to ignore the gigantic alien robot very obviously fretting over them like a mother hen, and thus he often gets a "Yes, mom" in response to his queries from them, but in a good natured way. He huffs at first but their genuine appreciation for his efforts is... well, he'd be lying if he said his actions weren't driven by something more than medical duty. Maybe he's the first Cybertronian with a kind of maternal instinct, who knows? What matters is that his "children" are all safe and healthy, and he certainly doesn't start smiling when "Dr. Mom" becomes what he's listed as in their communication contact list.

Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus

·Rodimus agreed to this diplomatic mission despite all his warnings (and pleadings) to say no and find some other way to encourage a good relationship between the species. He has experience with humans, specifically of this exact age range, and while that relationship is one he treasures he's not looking to put any humans in potential danger again. He is, of course, duly ignored and the group is brought on board.

·For the sake of fostering a welcoming and structured environment, he memorizes their names in advance and has them all come to his office for an abridged two hour orientation on the ship and its rules. Knowing they have to be on the move often for neurological development is the only reason he doesn't keep them for a proper five hour orientation. It goes relatively well, but he's less distressed by their lack of attention than he is by how intimidating they seem to find him.

·For some reason this bothers him, no matter how fine he is with bots finding him to be frightening, seeing humans flinch from his presence actually hurts him. So he endeavors to be... friendly! If he earned the nickname "Uncle Magnus" with one human, he can do it again! The best strategy he can think of isn't actually that off base; he'll try to mentor them in their individual pursuits. Dropping down in height whenever he can, typically by getting on a knee to ensure he doesn't tower over them, also proves to be a big help.

·Initially he's determined to keep his Minimus self hidden from them completely, down to the very existence of his split identity. It's less about size, as even his most base form still stands well above the tallest liason, than it is about respect. He wants to be an inspiration to these little ones, and Ultra Magnus is obviously the more impressive of the two. It's only once one particularly affectionate liaison gives him a hug, or more accurately an attempt at one around his offered hand, that he feels compelled to reconsider.

·It makes him nervous for weeks, contemplating the potential fallout of being honest with them, and how it could ruin everything... In the end he blames his own moral compass for forcing him to be honest. He gathers the liaisons together and explains the entirety of his identity in detail, taking all of their questions and praying he won't see any kind of disappointment, before finally removing his armor and "introducing" them to Minimus. The reaction is far from negative. There are exclamations of "botception" and "nesting dolls" in the wild surprise that follows, but nothing that could even be interpreted as dissapoint, and in fact the young humans are only that much more amazed by their "Uncle Minimags". It takes everything he is not to cry.

Swerve

·He knows enough about human culture to have seen that this particular age group tends to party, and is also way more likely to enjoy pop culture, so he's delighted when they join up. Of course he introduces himself, but he doesn't need to mention much more than his bar before he has their full attention and fascination. The Manhattan sized spaceship run by giant alien robots has a bar?! They're all begging to see it and he's so thrilled he forgets he can transform and runs there with them.

·Their amazement only doubles when night comes and they get to see the place in full swing, but he makes sure they're safely seated on the bar itself, to avoid squishing. As always he's able to chat endlessly to these new arrivals, and his knowledge of human culture quite surprises them. Even if there's a fair amount he doesn't know, the fact that he's aware of anything at all shocks them.

·The rush to get him caught up is a shared effort between the liaisons. Does he know what social media is? Would he like to have an account? For once he's the overwhelmed one and he has to work to keep up with everything they give him, but the attention and genuine interest these little humans have in his thoughts and experiences is... it's a good thing he's got some help around the bar to help him stay caught up. Because these little sort of protoforms have convinced him to get Twitter.

·Movie nights become so massive they actually have to consider expanding the bar. Not only are old movies watched, but all the latest releases as well, some as soon as they're in theaters because look they know it's not technically legal but it's promoting good diplomacy so... However, even when he starts serving and mixing human alcohol, he's quite firm on requiring the humans who drink it to be of age. There's still fun drinks for the younger ones though.

·The humans bond with other bots, but as their first contact on the ship and the most fun he's always got a few of them by his side. Maybe he's just better with other species? He doesn't really know or care, but somehow when there's a little moment and they all take a selfie together he just... he just feels not alone. It's something he keeps a little on the down low, but he's a bit too easy to read for the humans not to notice, and since they're good kids they pretend it's a secret that they mean the world to him. On especially rowdy nights they even help clean up, and each human develops their own little nickname for him, making it less like he adopts them and much more like they adopt him.

Whirl

·Humans come in fun size too? Neat! But he's admittedly a tad curious when their age is explained and he realizes that, in their own super weird alien way, these are still protoforms. Something almost akin to worry flashes in his spark for an instant. Still, he plays it cool when they're brought on board, pretending to be no more interested than any other bot they're introduced to.

·Before he meets them, he's told quite firmly that these humans are to be protected at all costs, and that any behavior seen as antagonizing in the slightest will be punished. He ensures the top bots he's no Decepticon and that squishies aren't on his radar. But he's admittedly a little concerned that they'll notice his... peculiarities. His own species recoils at his appearance, and while he can handle that, getting it from aliens would be unpleasant.

·But there's no such reaction. They ask him his name, share theirs, and react with the same enthusiasm they do to every bot and even ask the same questions. It's pleasantly surprising, until they all get excited upon his description of his alt mode, at which point it's freaking fantastic. It's with pride that he confirms he's the only flying bot on the crew, and when he's immediately corrected by a random passerby, he explains that he meant the only one who could fly worth a damn. He's greeted by a chorus of laughter for his amazing joke and he vows that he'd die for each and every one of these little squishies.

·All it takes is one hint of a request and he's offering to take them all for a lift through the hangar. This is just the beginning of an impossibly interesting friendship. Eventually he just carries them all around in his cockpit whenever they're walking anywhere, or on his shoulders if they won't all fit, and either way there's a row of humans sitting across him. This friendship is why he's so mortified when his identity of an Empurata is accidentally revealed and the questions begin.

·He reluctantly answers and braces for the impending disgust or revulsion to realize he's been mutilated. But it never comes. Instead, there's genuine sympathy and anger on his behalf, and their little hands reach out to comfort him. Initially he can only be awed. How are these little, fragile, and oh so very young protoforms better than so many members of his species?! Does it matter? They shall be called; "The Whirl Scouts", trademark pending. They'll all have to be trained in combat for their own safety, and he will be their mom now, because he won't just die for them he'll kill for them. They're his kids and his family.

#requests #anon #my writing #idw #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #tf #transformers #maccadam #my asks #tailgate #ratchet #ultra magnus #minimus ambus #swerve #whirl #human reader #self insert #sort of

[greekgeek21]

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - there is a fight scene included

I am not dead, just extremely busy. My summer lacrosse season just ended, so hopefully I get some inspiration to write some new chapters. In the meantime, I hope this will tide you over for some time.

Keep in mind, this was written weeks ago, so I am not in the mood to answer any weirdly specific questions about my artistic choices. In other words, if you don't like it, you don't have to read it! I know, it's a truly monumental realization.

For my kind & loyal readers, don't forget to comment, like, and follow!

- your author

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Avengers or PJO!

Ω ♆ Ω

By the grace of the gods, the group managed to pass the sirens without an issue. It seemed like the mortals had finally accepted that it was in their best interest to listen to the Seven. So, as soon as Percy warned everyone to fill their ears with wax, they filled their ears with wax. Of course there were a few complaints, but that was expected. Nobody was perfect (no matter what Narcissus insists).

From there on out, the nerves were building. Percy had informed the team that their next stop would be Polyphemus' island, and everybody, mortal and demigod alike, knew what that place was. It was where the most infamous cyclops lived, but most importantly, it was where Annabeth was being held, if Percy's father was to be trusted.

Since it would still be another two hours or so, according to the sea expert, until they reached the island, the group decided to try resting. Some tried to nap, while others sharpened their weapons or hung out on the deck. It was futile, but they were trying to prepare themselves for a situation that they had never before encountered, not even Percy.

It was safe to say that everyone was scared shitless.

Ω ♆ Ω

Leo had decided to go downstairs and tinker with some stuff from his belt as a distraction from their impending doom. It was working too! He was in his own little world that only machines could enter. That is, until Tony Stark walked up to him.

"Whatcha doing, kid?" he asked, peering over Leo's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the boy's creation.

"I'm making a mini automaton to help us find Annabeth when we get to the island," was the answer.

Taking a closer look, Tony started to see it. It was a very small machine, but if you looked closely, it was clear that it was made of metal. The automaton was about the size of a quarter, and looked like a celestial bronze spider. Leo was currently adding the last two legs to it when Tony walked up.

When Leo looked up, he held up his creation with a proud smile. "This baby can be our spy. It's eyes are tiny cameras, and it's made almost completely of celestial bronze. We can send this in, and then know where Annabeth is before we storm the place."

Tony nodded, "Yeah... Pretty good idea, kid."

And ok, so Leo was freaking out a little bit on the inside because one of his idols had just complimented his work. But on the outside, he just smiled a little wider.

"You haven't even seen the best part. You've gotta see it after I turn it on. I added stealth-mode so nobody should even be able to know it's there," Leo said, grabbing the spider and flipping it over to press a button.

As soon as he had, the spider flipped itself over in his hand and started crawling up his arm. Tony was a little creeped out, but it was blocked by the fascination for this new kind of science the demigods had. The spider should have to be controlled by a human, but it was moving like it was almost...thinking on its own. There was no way it had an AI, but that was the only solution his mortal brain could come up with.

"Is it an AI?" he asked.

"Nope. It's a greek automaton. They don't need AIs. I programmed it to listen to a few simple commands when needed, but if we don't order it around, it'll just stick around me waiting for orders. Pretty cool, right?"

"Awesome," Tony whispered, in awe of how smart this seventeen year old kid was.

"Thanks. I think I finished it just in time because I heard Percy calling us back upstairs," Leo said. Before he had even finished he was walking towards the deck, not a care in the world for the metal spider crawling around on him.

"Oh, I'm definitely becoming friends with this kid," Tony muttered to himself before following Leo.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Did you get it done, Leo?" Percy asked as soon as he had seen him.

"Yep. Here it is." Leo held up the automaton-spider.

Percy smirked. "Oh, Annabeth's gonna love that."

Leo shrugged, acting clueless. "I have no idea what you're talking about. The spider was just the first thing I could come up with."

"Sure it was," Piper snorted.

Leo fake-gasped. "Beauty Queen! How could you ever think I would lie?! I would never!"

Clint whispered to Natasha, "The kids clearly have a strong bond that only comes from fighting for their lives with each other."

Frank turned to them, surprising the spies that he had heard them, "No shit, Sherlock."

Before anything else could be said, Percy reclaimed the entire group's attention. "If you look to the right, you can see Polyphemus' island. We're going to dock on the south side of the island because that is the only way to get on without climbing a cliff and facing carnivorous sheep. Hazel should be able to disguise the ship until we invade the base, so don't worry about being seen. Leo will send in his spider to check things out and then we'll follow after we know where Annabeth is. Everybody got that?"

At the noises of affirmation, Percy nodded. "Good. Suit up if you're not already."

Of course, Tony had to break the calm solemnity by saying, "Cap, I thought that was your line?"

Everybody collectively rolled their eyes.

Ω ♆ Ω

After they docked, Leo released his spider with specific orders to find Annabeth Chase while staying hidden. That was working until Polyphemus' stupid super-senses could smell the celestial bronze. Leo hadn't known that a blind cyclops would be able to smell metal, but you learn something new everyday, right?

The spider lasted all of five minutes in the cave before Polyphemus smelled it and crushed it under his giant smelly foot. Percy had thought that the cyclops would take longer to reform, but when had he ever been that lucky? Something that completely baffled him was how the mortals got him to not eat them. The dude had been pretty desperate for food the last time Percy had run into him, so how had the weird boss guy gotten him to hold off?

The only thing he could think of for them to feed him would be...nope! He's not going there right now.

The last thing the spider had transmitted to the group was a picture of a mortal holding a gun to Annabeth's head while she was gagged and chained. It made his blood boil.

"I'm going to kill them," He growled, starting to get off the boat and storm the place.

Jason stepped in front of him before he could, "Easy, Perce. You don't know what you're walking into. They want you to go in half-cocked, so we can't give them that. You know Annabeth can handle herself, so just take a breath and we'll figure out a plan."

Percy took a shaky breath, but it did nothing to cool his anger.

"Jace, if you don't step out of my way in the next two seconds, I will be forced to move you, and trust me, you don't want me to do that."

The son of Jupiter stood his ground, "I'm not moving. I know you Percy. Hurting me would go against your fatal flaw. I'm your best friend; your family. I know you would never intentionally hurt me."

Jason glanced over at the rest of the group, who hadn't dared to move if it upset Percy even more. The guy was a ticking time bomb, and they needed to defuse it before it went off and destroyed any chance of getting Annabeth back safely.

Percy almost looked in pain as he spoke his next words, "Jason, I love you. You're my cousin, but Annabeth is my everything. I will hurt you to get to her."

Jason sighed, expecting that answer. "Then at least let us come with you on your suicide mission. I'm not letting you die without me."

"Fine, but hurry up. I'm leaving now," and Percy shoved past Jason and started the trek up to Polyphemus' cave.

Jason turned to the others, who were all staring after Percy with shocked expressions. "Well you heard him! Move your asses!"

That seemed to startle them awake. Everyone but Bruce started moving.

Ω ♆ Ω

By the time the team had been able to catch up to Percy's fast pace, he had already reached the nearest entrance to the cave. It was a dark, narrow path that had walls of rock on either side reaching up for hundreds of feet.

"This is the part in the horror movies where I start screaming at the tv to not go in there and they still go in there," Piper whispered.

They were all just staring at the darkness, and it was getting awkward. For someone who was so hasty to get to Annabeth, Percy was sure taking a long time to get there.

"Are we gonna go in or..." Tony said.

Percy sighed. "Yeah. We're going in. Just don't separate from the group."

He led the way into the cave with Steve right behind him. Percy appreciated having someone else who could take some of the responsibility off his shoulders. Almost his entire time in the godly world, he had been expected to be the leader because of his father, and he had stepped up, but that doesn't mean it didn't weigh on him. Annabeth was the only one who had been able to help him with the stress, and without her, he was losing it. He had already been barely hanging onto his control over his powers, but now without her, what he was doing could barely be called control. It was more like holding back a rampaging bull with a string.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves hiding behind the wall that led to the room where the gang was waiting. Just as the spider had shown them, Annabeth was kneeling under the gang leader's feet while he held a gun to her head.

She looked murderous, so at least something was still normal in the world.

Steve poked his head around and gave a quick scan of the room before turning back to them, "Ok so we've got at least ten humans, with five monsters. One of the monsters is as tall as a building so I think he's the largest threat. Tony, Clint, Nat, and I will deal with the humans if you guys handle the monsters. The main priority is getting Annabeth to safety. Percy, that's your job."

Saying that last bit was just to clarify for everyone else, though they looked like they didn't need to hear it. Percy had a determined look on his face, one that said he wasn't going to allow anyone else to have his assignment.

"You got it, boss," Tony remarked. "Do you just want to storm in there?"

Before he could get an answer, Percy charged into the room, leaving his friends entirely unshocked, but the Avengers were looking a little mad.

"Don't worry, plans aren't really his thing. Even if we do make them, they never go our way. It's better to go with the flow when fighting with Percy," Hazel reassured, and then turned to follow her godly cousin. The rest of the Seven followed, leaving the Avengers to just stare at each other in confusion.

"I like their style," Tony said before flying into the room.

Natasha sighed. "I'm really starting to regret meeting these kids."

Clint smirked at her before leaving, closely followed by Steve and the Black Widow herself. For all three of them, everything about this mission was against their nature, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They were in unknown territory with a group of newly-allied teens and no backup. It was a shitshow before they had even left.

Ω ♆ Ω

Frank was fighting a dracaena, and it was making it super annoying. The thing would not stop talking about grocery stores. It was quite distracting when trying to kill it.

"Seriously! Can you believe how nobody can see how bad those chains are?!" it exclaimed.

Frank sighed, ready for it to be over. Whenever he would try to stab it, it would just slither away right at the last second, all the while continuing to complain.

He decided to use his shapeshifting abilities to catch the thing off-guard. In reality, he could probably deal with it in seconds, but when he really used his inner son of Mars, it drained him. He needed to save his strength if he was going to fight Polyphemus.

Speaking of, so far, the cyclops had stayed out of the fighting. He was just sitting on his throne made of rock, picking at his teeth with what Frank really hoped wasn't a human bone.

Frank changed into a squirrel for a second, climbing up onto the back of the dracaena with the animal's speed and before the monster could react, he changed back into a human and stabbed it through the back with his spear.

"Huh. I guess you can shut up," he remarked as the monster turned into dust.

After, Frank turned to help Hazel take down an empousa. She had already defeated four before that, so it was a pretty easy fight. He had been keeping an eye on her throughout his fight. Sure, he trusted she could take care of herself, but it was also his job to watch her back.

"Thanks," Hazel told him with a quick peck on the cheek after they finished.

Believe it or not, that kiss on the cheek was a major improvement. It had been a real adjustment for Hazel to learn how couples expressed affection nowadays, and it had taken even longer to start showing it herself. It helped that Frank preferred words over touch, too.

"No problem."

Ω ♆ Ω

"Get some, térata!" Leo screamed, running up to the manticore and sending giant, continuous blasts of fire at it.

He had heard of Dr. Thorn from Nico, Percy, and Annabeth before, and had somehow retained the knowledge that it was extremely durable on the outside. That meant that he had to think smart in order to beat it.

So far, Leo was distracting it and holding it off with his fire while he thought of a plan. However, he could only hold it off for so long. He would eventually tire out.

Come on, Leo, THINK!

Then it hit him.

It was so simple! He had been told the story of how the Nemean lion was defeated at Camp. Now usually, he would totally ignore any schooling he was given, but the stuff they were taught at Camp was much more interesting than algebra. So yeah, he remembered some stuff.

So, he decided that his best shot at beating Dr. Thorn was landing a large enough hit inside of him. That meant he had to figure out a way to get him to open his mouth. That wasn't really the hard part, though. The hard part was figuring out how to not die when he had to get closer to the monster.

"Estoy jodido..." he muttered before taking a step forward, never once stopping his assault on the beast.

The Manticore didn't seem to be moving back from the intensity, but rather reveling in the fact that he hadn't gained one burn from the fight. He was just waiting out Leo.

That was not a fun revelation for the son of Hephaestus to have.

And that was when the thorns started attacking him. He should've been expecting it, really. The guy had a tail of poisonous thorns and he hadn't used it yet? Something should've registered in his mind. But that was past-Leo's mistake. Present-Leo had to deal with the super tall, scary, poisonous, and royally pissed-off greek monster in front of him.

Dr. Thorn let out a war cry and swung his tail around, releasing a line of spikes at Leo, who managed to just barely duck out of the way. He was not keen on becoming swiss cheese!

"Ok. It's time to end this." Leo sighed in annoyance, jumping back up and charging.

He swung his battle hammer up and lit it on fire, deciding that he might as well stick with the common theme of stupid ideas. He managed to keep dodging attacks all the way up until he was within ten feet of the manticore. Then, he threw his weapon at the monster, praying to Apollo for good aim. He had fixed the sun chariot plenty of times, so the god had to owe him at least one favor.

Once again, Leo's stupid demigod luck kicked in and the hammer somehow embedded itself in the monster's mouth, which had been opened in a prideful roar. Honestly, the son of Hephaestus didn't know HOW he did it, just that it worked.

With the distraction of having a flaming hammer in his mouth, Dr. Thorn didn't see Leo running up with his arms raised and prepared to fire. By the time he did, it was too late because long blasts of fire were flying straight towards his open mouth.

The monster was able to mutter a silent curse before he disintegrated into dust, once again sent to Tartarus.

"Take that, bitch."

Ω ♆ Ω

Piper was absolutely sure the Fates were laughing at her. They had to be. There was no way that she just happened to be stuck with the two empousa. It didn't help that Jason was struggling to not drool over the girls. She just had to keep chanting in her head that the monsters were using their charm powers on him, and he was not actually attracted to the disgusting things.

After the two monsters tried to both swipe at her at the same time, she growled and shouted, "Jason! Get your head in the game and come help me!"

He had been blinking and shaking his head for the past two minutes and it was getting quite frustrating to have these donkey-cyborg-vampires ganging up on her with no back-up. Once this was over, she was going to make Jason work to get back in her good graces.

With just a little bit of her charmspeak added into her order, Jason was finally able to break free from the empousai's spell. He quickly willed his gladius to be a javelin and launched it through one of the monsters, which made it explode into a shower of golden dust. A traitorous part of Piper's brain insisted on calling that move hot, but she was able to school her expression back into a scowl before her boyfriend could notice.

The other empousa let out a shriek and said, "You MONSTERS! That was my sister! I'll make you pay for that!"

They only had a second to appreciate the irony before she launched herself at them with even more fervor than before, fueled by the rage of losing her "sister."

Jason couldn't help but notice how she was wearing a cheerleading costume. It was very ripped and destroyed, but it was clearly a cheerleading uniform. And as he was deflecting her claws, the ADHD part of his brain realized that the logo on the uniform was for Goode High School, Percy's old school. He almost wanted to laugh when he remembered the story of Kelli, an empousa acting as a cheerleader during Percy's freshman orientation. Percy had always said the monster had a nasty habit of coming back quickly, but Jason had just thought it was an exaggeration. But no, he and Piper were really fighting Kelli, one of Percy's recurring monsters.

It would be hilarious later, truly. But for now, he had to actually kill the thing.

Kelli had backed off when she realized that attacking out of rage wasn't going to work against two experienced demigods, and that also gave Jason and Piper a chance to make a plan themselves.

"Got any ideas?" he asked Piper.

She grinned with a terrifying amount of murderous glee. "I thought you'd never ask."

And then she told him her plan, which was essentially just using him as bait while she got to do all the killing. The prideful Roman part of him wanted to insist on him killing it, but he managed to reign that in when he saw the look on Piper's face. She was not asking, she was telling. Who was he to say no, especially after he hadn't been able to fully resist the empousai's charm?

A scary thought told him he was turning into Percy. He brushed that off for later nightmares.

"Come get me, bloodsucker!" He shouted, raising his arms up in a taunting manner. If he was acting like Percy, might as well go all the way right?

With yet another shriek, Kelli stormed at Jason, completely disregarding the daughter of Aphrodite that was stepping back and preparing to literally stab the monster in the back with her dagger.

Sometimes Jason wonders how a creature could be so stupid. Their plan was so obvious!

It went off without a hitch, technically. Piper let the empousa get a little too close for comfort before she killed it, but he trusted her to get the job done and she came through. Kelli had been prepped and ready to bite into his neck right before she exploded into dust.

It was one Hades of a trust exercise, that's for sure.

"Please don't let it get that close next time, Pipes," he breathed out while he put away Juno's Gladius.

Piper gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Not a chance, Superman."

Ω ♆ Ω

Considering the circumstances, the Avengers weren't doing half-bad. They were actually fairing pretty well. They knew how to deal with humans, so their job wasn't that hard. The only difficulty was that there were four of them and ten of the bad guys. They were sorely outnumbered.

Currently, Steve was fighting two at once, with a third opponent already knocked out a few feet away. He was blocking one with his shield while punching the other in the face. He then switched roles, instead kicking the first attacker and driving his shield into the gut of the second. The one he gutted gasped and fell to the ground, and was knocked unconscious was a simple hit to the temple. While he was distracted with taking down his partner, the still-conscious bad guy recovered from the kick and was able to land a hit to the back of Steve's head. Clearly, the fighter had been prepared to have achieved some form of disorientation from the Captain, but all he got was a pissed-off Avenger.

"That tickled."

It took less than five seconds for Steve to take him down after that.

Natasha also started with three adversaries. Key word being 'started.' It had taken barely any time to take down the first two. And all she had to do for the third was a scissor kick and hold until he passed out. She had just finished doing that when a call from Clint got her attention.

"Nat!" he shouted.

She turned on instinct and threw a throwing knife at the person running up behind her straight into their chest. They stopped with shocked features before falling to the ground in a heap, dead weight pushing the knife even further in and no doubt killing them faster.

"Getting rusty, Clint?" she teased, throwing a look over at her friend.

"No," he defended. "I'm just making sure you're not getting rusty!"

The archer hadn't realised one of his two attackers had sneaked off to go after the "bigger threat." He would never let Nat know he thought she was the bigger threat, though. That would be fueling an ego he knew was somewhere deep down in her.

Tony had been given two people to fight as well, and he was doing pretty well. He had the obvious advantage of being in the air, so all the gang members he was fighting could do was try to shoot at him with their guns, and his armor was designed to withstand a nuclear bomb. Bullets weren't gonna do much damage.

"Guys, seriously, we should just talk this out. We both KNOW I'm going to be knocking you both out in five seconds, so why don't you surrender instead? It'll be so much easier for the both of us!" he said, raising his hands and readying his repulsors.

As expected, the bad guys didn't show any sign of slowing down their useless attack on him. With a roll of his eyes and an obnoxious sigh, Iron Man shot them both in the chest, knocking them out cold.

"That felt too easy. Did that feel too easy to you?" He asked the other Avengers as they gathered back together.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Tony," Natasha said, "That fight was too good to be true."

Now that the truth had been revealed to them, the Avengers could blame what happened next on the Fates.

Ω ♆ Ω

There it is! I hope you liked it

other chapters :)

#pjo #Percy Jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #avengers #marvel #mcu #heroes #superheroes #fanfic #ff #ao3 #wattpad #inkitt #webnovel

[cherrywoes]

— five

— abaddon

THE JOSTLING OF THE crowd did little to ease your nerves. You were constantly worried that someone would reach into your bag and steal your wallet—the participants looked that seedy to you—or push you so far to the back of the crowd that you’d sustain injuries in the process. You almost regretted standing so close to the fencing when people started throwing confetti and what looked like bras and underwear down into the arena. That was a UTI melting pot just waiting to happen.

A man sidled up to you after a timer started on the tiny bars lining the fence. You would have ignored him, except his features were striking and his hair was one of the more bizarre styles you’d seen—tufts of spikes, each one seemingly held there by gravity alone—and narrowed eyes that were fixed on his phone screen. His name was written on the sleeve of his jacket, but you couldn’t make it out because of the giant wrinkles in the elbow. He didn’t even seem to notice how close he was to you so you subtly edged away, clutching your bag and looking back at the timer which was slowly counting down from ten.

The closer it got to one, the more rowdy the crowd became. You cringed at the loud screams echoing in your ears and the booming music that had started up, likely to drown out the crowd itself for the fighters, and tried to focus on the opening doors in the center of the arena on either side.

An announcer, hidden somewhere in a back room, coughed and tapped a microphone. The speakers squealed and all of the music cut off abruptly, as did the cheering of the crowd, proving your theory about drowning them out wrong.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, devils and angels,” the announcer said after a moment. “How are we doing tonight?”

The resounding responses were loud enough that you almost jumped out of your skin.

“Good, good! As you all know, the betting pool for tonight’s next match is unusually high; but so is the matchup—if you have not placed bets, I would suggest you do so before the end of the three rounds so you can rake in the rewards.” A sly laugh. “Anyway, we have our first contender: Yuriel Bane! Give it up for the human!”

You watched as a man stepped out of the right door. He wore only shorts embroidered with the company name of his sponsor and waved to the crowd cheerfully. You clapped with the rest of them to be polite, but looking around you could tell that no one was rooting for the man—humans never fared well in Eden, you’d heard, at least in places like this.

“What a polite applause,” the announcer noted, a thread of amusement in his voice. “I almost feel bad for him. What do you all think?”

Like you thought, everyone agreed.

“I thought so. Well, of course, he is fighting a devil—a notorious one at that. I’m sure you all know him, or why would you even be here?”

You had no clue who it was but the crowd did. Their shouts and screams were enough to rattle the fence—or maybe that was you just shaking from nerves—and consequently your bones. You’d have a pounding headache after this, you were dead certain.

“Wow, you guys are really excited huh?” The announcer snickered. “Well, there’s no reason to delay the inevitable. Ladies, gentlemen, devils and angels, I give you Abaddon, the destroyer!”

The door opened—but no one was there.

Faster than you could blink, the human man was already on the floor, hit hard enough that he was reeling from the hit. In a few moments he was up and fighting with the seemingly invisible figure—he was hard to keep up with with human vision—and you watched as the man reached back in his pocket and throw a silvery substance in the other fighter’s, Abaddon’s, face. It sparkled in the light as it fluttered to the ground, but the effect it had on him was surprising; he stopped dead in the middle of the ring, right before the human man.

You couldn’t see much or make out a whole lot since his tattooed back was to you, but you could just barely see the blood dripping to the floor so quickly that it was almost like a running faucet.

“Penalty!” the announcer shrieked, panic overtaking his normal voice. “The opponent has used angel dust!”

Angel dust; you knew the name. It was a particularly harmful substance to devils, used to exorcise the weaker ones from the human world and potentially fatally wound a higher ranked one either in Eden or on Earth. Judging by the nosebleed this Abaddon had, you judged he had to be pretty powerful.

Beside you, the man mumbled,”Oh, shit,” but not for the reason you suspected.

“The medic has requested the match to be paused,” the announcer said after a moment. The crowd was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. “Please wait a moment.”

A man in scrubs appeared from the right door and escorted Abaddon to a folding bench in the corner that you hadn’t noticed before. He stepped in front of the devil before you could get a good look at his nose, swiping what looked like an alcohol wipe over the blood to clean it up and examine his nostrils. Whatever he saw clearly wasn’t cutting it and he made exaggerated movements while he was speaking, pointing harshly to the human man and then seemingly getting angry at the devil when he didn’t respond.

After a few tense minutes, the medic packed up and gave the crowd a thumb’s up, indicating that everything was okay. No one said a word.

You watched the medic leave and then looked back to the bench, curious to see what the angel dust had done exactly, when your body rapidly caught up with what your eyes were seeing—your heart dropped to your stomach so fast that nausea hit you square in the gut.

You knew this devil—except he hadn’t been a devil. Had he? Or… was he one all along?

Oikawa Tooru.

Your eyes were fixed upon him like spears of unholy fascination. He sat upon the medic's bench as if it were his throne, legs bent and spread lazily to make room for the growing puddle of blood at his feet. The muscles in his arms flexed, ropes of black ink and skin and brands moving with the sleek subtlety of a panther ready to strike.

He was agitated. Angry. Pissed off.

You could see the smoke curling up from his shoulders and billowing from his nose and mouth. It was a stark contrast to the pale gray of the fog machine, a brilliant white and rolling into the air. You could feel the nervousness and anxiety coming off of the man beside you in waves, his concern trained on the man in the ring.

"Fuck this shit." You could read his mouth from where you stood twenty feet above behind a steel cage. "If he wants to toss the rules, I can toss the goddamn rules."

He was up and off the bench before the medic could finish sewing up the gash on his cheek. His opponent wasn't expecting it--not the blatant disregard for rules or the superhuman strength behind Oikawa's punch.

You heard the crack of a neck snapping before you saw it. His head lolled back and followed his body in a swift motion, hitting the concrete with a solid thump. Blood wept from a wound at the back of his head, creating a horrific halo around his corpse.

Oikawa Tooru emerged the victor.

But when he turned, ready to raise his arms for the victory cheer, he caught your eye. You hadn't wanted him to, had meant to leave before he ever turned around and caught a glimpse of your coat.

His nose flared, muscles bunching tight like live wire. He could smell you now, over the throng of people tossing money into the pit and the blood streamlining down his cheek, and your blood heated in your veins, responding to a painfully familiar call.

You were caught.

Your first instinct was to run. To run far, and fast, and away from this man, who you had no idea was a devil, or even a man who could kill someone so easily. You couldn’t even focus on the dead body in the middle of the ring; your eyes were pulled to Oikawa’s—or Abaddon’s— like magnets, surprised at the familiar color and the unfamiliar emotions in them.

You had no chance to escape.

He was scaling the fence before you could even blink, faster than a bolt of lightning, and was in front of you within a breath, breathing hard and streaked with blood droplets across his chest and neck. You instinctively looked up at his face, red with blood and his own nosebleed, and felt two hands creep up the sides of your neck and face—gentle, soft, as if they hadn’t just battered the life out of a man just seconds before. You felt blood, warm and wet still, smear down your skin with the movements of his fingers against your skin.

It almost felt like those days back at the orphanage.

And then, shattering your innocent thoughts of your past together as children, Oikawa pulled you into a bruising, soul shattering kiss.

                                               MASTERLIST.

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                        taglist: @lucyrocks86 @dancing-in-the-rain54 @earphonekiyouka @lerawynnn (let me know if you want to be added.) 

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyū!!

[gumnut-logic]

Gordon the Octopus

I finished one of the WIPs on my list. Admittedly, this is an older one amd I had a good chunk of it written, but I found an end to it tonight :D

Totally @godsliltippy​ ‘s fault. She sparked the idea back in August last year, I just took a long time to see it through.

Marks & Wings AU, lots of Virgil and Gordon, complete fluff, silliness and self indulgence. The first bit has been posted before, but that was ages ago and it works better as a whole rather than in bits so I’ve reposted the whole thing. 2332 words.

Thank you to all the kind Thunderfam who commented on my WIP list ::hugs you so much:: You guys continue to be amazing.

I hope you enjoy this :D

-o-o-o-

The sun touched the horizon and lit up everything in gold.

Virgil closed his eyes and let its waning warmth soak into his skin.

The breeze was gentle, little more than a tease. It caressed his cheeks, lingered in his hair and tantalised the tracings of his mark across his bare back.

He shivered.

He was wearing only an old pair of cut-off jeans between himself and the warm rock. His feet were bare and dangling in the cool water, his toes teased by the ebb and flow.

His soundscape was filled with that water. The ripples of the lagoon splashing against the rock he was sitting on, the distant surf outside the safety of the caldera.

The squabbles of the petrels on Mateo as they argued about roosts for the night.

It was home.

The day had been a good one. No rescues. A moment to relax and sit back. Each of them had disappeared to their own corners, dabbling in their own pastimes in order to wind down.

Alan had taken to the air in the morning. He hadn’t managed to escape a cautionary word from Scott about staying close to the Island, but that was nothing unusual.

Scott said that to all of them.

Their youngest hadn’t been gone long, choosing only to stretch his golden wings with a few loops of their tiny volcanic rock in the middle of nowhere. Virgil had taken the moment to look up and watch his little brother swoop and dive, golden wings quite a sight in the early morning sun.

Scott and John, of course, were all about catching up on work. Virgil had to intervene at about midday and demand they eat. John was yanked down from orbit with a little extra threat from Grandma.

Virgil had been so happy to see his space brother. A little math and he realised he hadn’t seen him in the flesh for over two weeks.

John indulged him a hug as he knew Virgil craved a physical connection to ground him. Virgil was gentle, knowing that those two weeks in zero gravity would make his brother sensitive to touch.

But he had to.

The spark of connection as their minds reacted was like a tension release. Virgil sighed into his shoulder with relief.

John held him.

But after that, it was all Grandma and eat something, kid. Fortunately, lunch hadn’t relied on her cooking. Virgil had done a supply run on the way back from a minor situation just the day before and the larder was stacked with lazy day goodies.

It was a good meal. For once, everyone was there.

They had spent a good part of the afternoon just lazing about the comms room talking. While they lived most of their lives together, it had become rare being together all at once with no dire emergency needing attention.

There had been sun, conversation and rest.

John. John, of all people, had fallen asleep on the couch.

That had prompted a number of things. Lots of quiet. An interrogation of Eos from the kitchen regarding their brother’s sleep schedule.

This was promptly followed by grounding him for a week to play catch up.

Grandma was not happy.

And no doubt, John would be even less when he woke up.

But hey, the man needed to take better care of himself.

A blanket had appeared.

Virgil may have snuck in a medical monitor and gently clipped it to his shirt to boost the basic vitals his gravity wear provided.

John slept on.

So, they left him there and returned to doing their own things in other parts of the house.

As always, Gordon gravitated towards the sea as late afternoon rolled in. This time Virgil followed him to the water’s edge.

His fish brother’s forays out into the ocean always made Virgil just that touch nervous. There had been times where the aquanaut had gotten himself into trouble…alone, out in that vast wilderness under the surface.

It wasn’t that Gordon didn’t know what he was doing. It was just…Virgil couldn’t reach him.

And he worried.

But Gordy was as much a part of the sea as it was part of him and while the brat respected his concerns, he was still a brat. When he leapt up, morphed into his favourite eagle ray form, and made a splash large enough to soak his engineer brother, it was not unexpected.

There was a reason why sting rays always looked like they were smiling. At least this one thought he was funny.

The smart ass.

A flicker of shadow beneath the surface and Gordon was gone.

Virgil felt him grow distant, only to have a sun shower of mental energy thrown in his direction.

Clearly a ‘cheer up, Virg, I’ll be fine’.

Virgil grunted as he stared out at the water that had swallowed his brother. Gordon would be gone a couple of hours at least. Virgil would occupy himself for the rest of the afternoon, but he knew that come sunset, he would be down by the shore, waiting for him.

And here he was.

Staring out at the sea and the sunset, waiting for that little spark to return.

It wasn’t a chore. It was just something he felt he had to do.

Part of him wished he had brought his sketchbook or his tablet, but the risk was too high. Gordon wouldn’t intentionally soak his stuff, but accidents did happen.

And besides, he didn’t mind taking a moment to just...be.

The sun’s warmth was a caress on his skin and he revelled in it. He let his eyes close and just felt and listened.

Sun.

Water.

Wind.

Birds.

A wet touch on his shoulder.

He couldn’t help it, he flinched. Instinctively he knew what was happening, he knew his brother was being a little shit, but evolution tagged human receptors with flight response for a reason.

Suckers grabbed at his skin.

He stumbled on the rocks as he flung himself to his feet.

The tentacle did not go away.

It had friends.

Virgil suddenly found himself wrapped in several long, wet, suckered appendages.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing?”

But then cephalopods weren’t the greatest of listeners since they didn’t really have ears.

Gordon, fortunately or unfortunately, did have the ability to transmit emotion to his brother, despite the muffle of transmutation, and the laughter sparkled across Virgil’s mindscape like a rain of sunny stars.

The evening was still golden and warm, but just a touch less relaxing. Virgil stood amongst the rocks with a giant Pacific octopus wrapped around his torso.

He idly stared at the flickering colours of laughter strobing across the chromatophores he could see.

“Gordon, you’re a shit.”

That, of course, only increased the mirth.

Virgil settled his mind and came to terms with the fact he was currently wearing a cephalopod and instead turned to problem solving.

The giant molluscs were quite fascinating. If there was one thing Virgil shared with his fish brother, it was a fascination with life in general, and because his brother spent so much time underwater, Virgil had done his fair share of reading on the topic. Unbeknownst to Gordon, Virgil found cephalopods quite fascinating, both in their communication methods and for painting subjects.

But then, this kraken was a whole different kettle of shellfish.

Virgil stood still for a few moments, waiting to see what his brother would do and, if he was honest, see if his brother would simply let him go.

The mental snickering pretty soon negated that response, so Virgil had to look for a more proactive retaliation.

He prodded a tentacle wrapped around his belly. It wriggled back at him.

Virgil was ticklish. He stifled the thought that his brother might take advantage of that while possessing eight arms.

He could lift. That would bring eight metres of black feathers into the equation, but Gordon was physically in contact with his mark, the feathers would likely phase through him like a piece of clothing.

A tentacle caressed his ribcage and he shivered.

He felt Gordon’s outburst of glee and before he knew it, all of those tentacles were moving, suckers puckering along his ribs and belly, a riot of tickle and tease. There was even one in his hair, its tip dangling in front of his eyes.

His brother’s maniacal mental laughter was all consuming.

Swearing, Virgil spun and leapt into the lagoon, the drop-off immediate enough to take the dive.

His world became a rush of bubbles.

Several tentacles came loose in the chaos and Virgil twisted in the water, hoping to dislodge the rest.

But the water was Gordon’s native environment, and the engineer didn’t have a hope.

The giggling was obnoxious.

Breath soon became an urgency and Virgil pushed towards the flickering light above. He surfaced with an octopus head bopping his nose. Somehow Gordon had slithered around to hang off his front instead of his back.

Virgil glared at his brother through the hair dripping in his eyes.

The head tilted and squirted water into his face.

“Gordon!”

Damnit, Kayo needed to show him some self-defence skills against cephalopods.

The thing was octopuses were strong, but their bodies were somewhat fragile and part of Virgil was worried he might hurt his brother.

Knowing Gordon, he knew that and was playing it to his advantage.

“Why are you doing this?”

Because I can.

Virgil didn’t need telepathy to answer that.

But there was a spark of something beyond the humour. Beyond the rain of sunshine sparkles there was a deep red, a welling of emotion his brother was reluctant to share.

A frown and Virgil reached out mentally to his little brother just that little bit more.

The octopus scrambled up his torso, over his face – to Virgil’s muffled protest – and perched on his head like a turban.

Virgil spat into the water and rubbed his face with both hands. “God, Gordon! Why?!”

But the answer wasn’t built with words, it was built with emotion and it suddenly washed over him.

An overwhelming need to touch, to hug and to feel.

But…?

Virgil reached for his cephalopod hat, but Gordon slipped off into the water with a splash and darted away.

Virgil dove to follow.

He didn’t have a hope in catching up, no matter his brother’s form, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

But Gordon had disappeared.

Damnit!

Oxygen became a necessity far too quickly and, yet again, Virgil cursed his inability to follow his fish brother.

Surfacing dragged his hair into his eyes.

How had he missed it? Gordon could be as in need of touch as Virgil was at times. How had Virgil not seen that his brother just needed a hug?

He mentally kicked himself.

“Virg, it’s not a thing. Don’t tie yourself in knots.”

He spun to find his little brother in human form treading water quietly behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a hug? Hell, why didn’t you just give me one?”

Gordon snorted. “Is that a prescription, bro? You dispensing brotherly hugs?”

“I’m dispensing whatever works, Gords.” His head tilted just a little as he stared at his brother. “C’mere?” He held out his arms, his legs doing the best to keep him stable in the water.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Don’t drown yourself.”

“Gordon…”

When his brother didn’t respond, Virgil took matters into his own hands and dove at him. The fact he was successful in grabbing a flailing leg proved that Gordon didn’t really want to escape.

A little manhandling and Virgil had his brother in the biggest hug he could manage. It was complicated by the fact that hugging was not conducive to swimming and if Virgil didn’t surface soon, he was going to start losing brain cells, but it was the best he could do with a wriggling fish brother.

Ultimately, it was Gordon who threw them to the surface with a spark of exasperation.

“Virg, I’m fine! What the hell?”

But the emotion bouncing across their connection told the truth. There was little but fondness and love for his silly brother.

“I’m not silly.” Virgil wrinkled his nose.

“Never said you were. However, you did nearly drown yourself trying to give me a hug.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Gordon!”

“What?”

Virgil glared at him.

Predictably, Gordon just smirked at him.

It was Virgil’s turn to be overwhelmed with fondness and love.

Gordon groaned. “Oh god, you are so soppy.”

“What? You’re my brother. I’m allowed to care.”

Gordon fell silent, and for a moment, those brown eyes just stared at Virgil.

Then he found his arms full of brother again. “Love you, bro.”

Surprised, but touched, Virgil’s arms tightened around Gordon and again they dipped below the surface.

Hugs were really conducive to drowning.

And disturbing to sleeping brothers as John startled awake with a rain of confused midnight stars.

Oops.

Virgil made to kick back up to the surface, but suddenly found his arms full of cephalopod again.

Damnit, Gordon.

The sparkling sunshine giggles were back and it was with resignation that Virgil kicked towards the surface.

Perhaps Gordon had a reason for the change and for the cling because when Virgil walked back to the villa and into the comms room wearing his rather heavy cephalopod brother wrapped around him, it brought Scott’s tirade of lecturing John to a sudden halt.

Both brothers stopped and just stared.

Virgil stared back. “What?”

“Is that Gordon?” Scott pointed with both hope and a little fear at the octopus back-pack headwear combination.

A tentacle poked at Virgil’s nose from his forehead. He ignored it and shrugged. “Gords wanted a hug.” He turned away. “I’m going to go have a shower.” An absent wave of a hand.

If his brothers stared as he walked out, he could only smile to himself.

The rain of sunshine laughter from his hat just turned his smile into a grin.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #marks and wings

[catscraftsandcommentary]

thoughts on tiny!Steve/werewolf!Bucky shrunkyclunky AU

Because I’m too fucking lazy to actually type it into a proper fic and edit it and do all the fancy-ness that it would take to, y’know, make it a properly written story.

SO

Vaguely fantasy/colonial setting, somewhere with lots of forests. Steve lives in a small town called - of course - Brooklyn, with best friend Peggy (local beauty and hell on heels.) Also with various non-friends Rumlow (sheriff), Rumlow’s minions, Alexander Pierce (mayor/governor of the area), and various townsfolk. Who often don’t like Steve because he’s constantly poor, constantly sick, constantly fighting and/or preaching about how their normal behavior is terrible.

Peggy thinks he’s great. Rumlow, who wants Peggy, despises him.

So at some point, Steve does something to piss Rumlow off more than usual. For a while, I thought about “stopping Rumlow when he won’t take ‘no’ from a girl at the local tavern and Steve reads him the riot act/starts a fight with him (these are pretty much the same thing, lbr.) BUT, sudden better idea, Rumlow comes up with some new, ridiculous plot to get Peggy to change her mind about him (never gonna happen, bro), but Steve ruins it somehow.

Like Rumlow commissions something for Peggy (clothing? art? jewelry?), but then extorts the artist to get out of paying, and Steve, who is PISSED, tells Peggy, who refuses the gift very publicly AND calls Rumlow a thief, extortionist, etc.

Hell. On. Heels.

So Rumlow immediately blames all his problems on Steve, and sentences him to banishment, permanent, on penalty of death. If he’s not out of town by sunrise, Rumlow will be glad to skip the wait.

Except oh yeah, Rumlow and the bros are going hunting tomorrow, leaving at dawn, so they’ll have to check in that Steve’s gone - and that Peggy isn’t hiding him - before dawn, so, y’know, he might want to get moving. 

Cutscene to Peggy’s house, where she’s trying to talk Steve out of a suicidal second confrontation with Rumlow, or a more political confrontation through Pierce (who did, after all, appoint the bastard), or whatever other dumbass, noble idea he comes up with. She makes him pack a bag (or more likely, packs one for him), and tells him to go straight into the spooky old-growth forest a ways from town. Not the nice, civilized woods where Rumlow et al usually hunt, or along one of the roads to one of the other towns, but 

“You head straight into the heart of that forest, Steve, because so help me, that is the only way you’ll be safe from him. And if you see any wolves - hell, if you hear any wolves - you say that Margaret Elizabeth sent you with a message for Natalia of the White Wolf’s pack. And that message is pay your debt.”

And no, she does not explain any of that to Steve before she bundles him out of her house and on the path to the forest road.

Oh, did I mention that, according to general knowledge in this AU, magic isn’t real, except for maybe small good luck charms and similar. Which plenty of people still scoff at. So telling Steve to talk to wolves is...suspicious.

Second aside, a while back, Peggy saved Natalia from an angry mob, took her family’s home, let her recover in her own bed, and then accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. Before, of course, Natalia had to return to her own pack. Now they have a secret on-again, off-again romance. (I haven’t thought about WHY Peggy didn’t just run away with Natalia immediately, other than it wouldn’t work for my story. Shh.) And of course, Natalia promised to someday do the same for Peggy.

Cutscene to forest, next morning!

Bucky and his wolf buddies are out cruising the forest, as you do, when they sense a Disturbance In the Forest *cough force cough* and decide to check it out. Upon smelling some humans they’ve collectively termed “those fuckers,” they decide to fulfill the threat they issued at their last meeting and be done with the problem.

Namely, they gave Rumlow and his crew the same ultimatum that he’d given Steve, except that Rumlow had a history of terrorizing and killing everything (and everyone) in the forest, whereas Steve just wanted to protect people.

They herd the horses and hunting dogs to the edge of the forest near the town, leave the bodies in a pile, and are ready to continue on, except...there’s still one human somewhere in the forest. And these shitty scumbags had been following their trail. Time to figure out what’s up.

They reach the edge of a clearing, and all the wolves sort of melt out of the undergrowth at the edges, while Bucky, in his big fucking white wolf form walks out to the edge, transforms, and then stalks out in his best Murder Strut (TM).

And yes, this is “built like a brick shithouse” Bucky from Civil War, and yes, he is entirely naked, and still covered in blood, so Steve’s brain goes immediately offline.

Steve backs up until his back hits a large tree, waving a large knife at this seriously threatening (but hot) impossible fucking being, because werewolves do not exist. Right?

Right?!?

Bucky just casually pins Steve’s arms over his head, disarms Steve and tosses the knife away (without even looking where he tosses it, which Steve finds inexplicably really hot), and leans in to smell him.

Now, when Bucky reached the clearing, he recognized from the scent that this was a potential mate for him - and possibly a very strong mate too. Mates, in their world, are more “you are compatible with this person” than “this is the only person you can ever love EVER” and the strength of the potential bond can vary as well. (Just like some relationships are stronger than others.) But basically, Bucky realizes that whoever’s in the clearing, they could be good together. They could be goddamn AMAZING. And yeah, he wants to smell some more of that.

Steve is...more than a little overwhelmed by suddenly having a giant wolf turn into the hottest man he’s ever seen, who’s now pinning him to a tree and huffing him, but he does manage “Natalia.”

At which Bucky choke-grunts. The fuck?

“I have a message for Natalia. In the white wolf’s pack. From Peg-from Margaret Elizabeth.”

Vaguely grumpy at not getting to nose up his mate, but also very curious as to where this is going, (because how does this tiny gorgeous human know his second or her mate? Yes, Natalia is Bucky’s second-in-command), Bucky finally lifts his head. “I am the White Wolf, and I speak for Natalia. What is her message?”

Steve stares up the man towering over him and snarls, “Pay. Your. Debt.”

Bucky grins, slow and wicked. “Gladly. But not here.” He steps back, lowing Steve’s arms, and then...somehow, suddenly, Steve’s arms are around his shoulders, his legs are lifted around his waist, and Bucky is cradling Steve to his chest while telling his pack “bring his things.”

And then everyone is racing through the forest, faster than Steve has ever seen anyone move before and what the fuck did Peggy get him into?

After an hour or two of running (being carried) through the forest, Steve finally puts his head down on White Wolf’s shoulder, tucks his face into his neck, and tries to rest. He didn’t get any sleep, he spent the whole night hiking through dark, unfamiliar forest, he’s pretty sure he can stop worrying about Rumlow hunting him down - in the most literal sense, yikes - he’s tired.

Also, being carried is kind of soothing. There’s a rhythm to it. And wolfman smells nice. Mm...

Bucky is perfectly happy to have his newly-found mate fall asleep in his arms, and he’s very loathe to put him down once the pack reaches their den. (I still can’t decide what I want the den complex to look like. A castle? A big house? A fort? Maybe it’s a cave system that has been smoothed out and built into like hobbit holes. Or the Holds and Weyrs from Pern.)

But he finally decides to lay Steve down, feather-soft, into his own bed and tuck him in warmly. After all, Natalia vowed to repay Margaret in kind for what she’d done to help her, and part of that had been sharing her bed. There are guest rooms, but they’re so far away. This is closer. Warmer. More convenient. Better for his mate. And he’ll explain everything as soon as he wakes.

Steve does wake up and demand all the details EVER, as well as actually meeting Natalia and hearing how she knows Peggy (to make sure that this “white wolf” isn’t making shit up). Bucky gladly complies. Natalia is more salty about it, but she deals.

Then Bucky commences doting on his new mate. While trying not to come on too strong. Mostly failing. He...may have left out the bit about being able to smell that they’re mates. So he’s just trying to keep Steve interested enough in werewolf life/forest life to stay there and not, say, ask to go back to the human world (or back to his town even) since Rumlow and his men are dead.

Steve finds everything fascinating, and since Bucky always responds immediately to his cues - verbal and nonverbal! - he doesn’t have a problem being wooed. He might even, actually, like to be wooed a bit faster. Or more carnally. Not that he knows how to hint that.

Peggy eventually shows up sometime and is cute with Natalia, aka Natasha.

Steve slowly settles into life as the Kept Human Boy of the most badass werewolf alpha ever, who loves his tiny feral little mate and WILL tear your throat out if you even look at him funny.

#stucky #steve/bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #shrinkyclinks #my writing #original post #fanfic #catscraftsandcommentary writes

[floatingpetals]

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 6

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin, a little bit of language

Word Count: 3100+ 

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Yaaaa! I started this during my move and just now finished lol. The move went smoothly and my roommates are actually really sweet. Now the fun part of emailing and begging for a job lol. The plan is to have a job by mid-March. I’m tired of hoping and dreaming. I’m going to get a job by mid-March. Just like how I was going to move to New York. This isn’t the year of hope and maybe. Its the year shits gonna happen. But back to the story, I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! ❤

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Series Masterlist

After Steve’s hasty retreat, Bucky and Y/N finished their dinner in relative silence. Bucky tried not to show how annoyed he truly was, but Y/N could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that the interaction bothered him more than he let on. It also could have been how he was aggressively stabbing at his meatballs with his fork.

The sun was beginning to set when he led her out the back door. He was explaining something to her about his house, she wasn’t paying attention when a strange feeling washed over her. Y/N froze on the steps down when she felt a pulse, the hairs on her arms standing on end. She sucked in a sharp breath when a strange wave of blue light came from under the wooden steps and passed along the tips of the blades of the grass in front of her. Y/N watched in alarm as the thin glowing line moved at a leisurely pace, breaking around Bucky’s feet before connecting once passed by. She watched with morbid fascination as the light did the same with the trees, rocks, and houses before it disappeared out of her line of sight. It was pretty, she thought distantly, if not completely unnatural and in every way terrifying.

Bucky hadn’t noticed her stop, too busy talking about Natasha and her antics. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he turned back to Y/N where she still stood on the stairs, her eyes wide in terror. Frowning, Bucky walked back the short distance.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked gently. Y/N’s tried to open her mouth to reply, but she found it hard to find the right set of words. It only caused Bucky’s worry to grow the longer her silence went on. “Y/N?”

Gently, he placed his hand on top of hers. She jumped and her eyes drifted to his in a haze.

“I-.” She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell him about the light, to badger him until she got the answers she wanted. Every fiber in her being was screaming for answers to whatever the hell this place was. Completely reasonable in her opinion. Clearly, this place wasn’t exactly human. But so far, she hasn’t managed a straight answer from any of them. The uneasiness settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t tell him. She was alone in this. Clearing her throat, Y/N finally replied. “Nothing.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side and eyed her curiously. He knew she was hiding something from him. He could smell the change in her emotions, sharp and bitter like burnt cinnamon. She was nervous, a touch scared and incredibly uncertain. It made the wolf inside him restless. He had to bite back the whine ready to burst from his chest, startling himself with its reaction. His wolf never did that, always letting him take the lead. Bucky immediately dropped his hand back to his side, needing to let sever that contact between them.

“If you sure.” He said slowly and took a step back. Y/N hesitated to step on the grass, her thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind. Bucky watched her inner turmoil, his scowl growing the longer she hesitated and the heavier her scent grew. Bucky was ready to step in, but whatever hesitancy Y/N was stuck in, she shook it off and pushed forward.

Forcing a shaky smile at Bucky, Y/N stepped down onto the grass. If he noticed the shake in her fingers and the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, he didn’t mention it. He waited for her to follow, and the two fell in line as he led her to his house along the dirt road.

“I hope you like the room. We don’t usually have guests, but it’s always set up in case my parents come in to visit.” Bucky said to fill the quiet.

“Oh, you’re parents live someplace else?” Y/N perked up at the topic change, willing to take anything to get her mind off things.

“Yep. They used to live here, but they moved to Arizona a few years back. Somethin’ about needing a warmer climate.” Bucky chuckled and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Steve’s ma still lives here, but she’s got her own place further up the mountain. She’ll come up every Sunday to have breakfast with us before she goes off to shop in the town though. So really the guest rooms are just used as big storage rooms.”

“Well at least you have someplace for them to stay.”

Bucky snorted. “It makes it harder to get rid of them when they do come to visit. What about you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re living in a suburb right outside the city. Not too far from where I live so, I can go visit whenever I want. Not that I get much of a chance with my job.” She rolled her eyes. Bucky raised a brow.

“Oh? Don’t like your job?”

“It’s not that, entirely.” Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She noticed the road they walked down led away from the clearing and into the thicker forest. Despite not knowing the slightest idea where she was, she didn’t feel an ounce of unease being with Bucky. It was just the forest that freaked her out. “I like it well enough, but it’s just… A lot. It’s actually why I decided to come out here for the week. To relax and get away from the hustle and bustle. Doin’ a bang-up job of that.” She remarked dryly and glared at her wrist. Bucky laughed softly and shook his head, his pretty grey eyes dancing with mirth.

“Has it been everything you’ve hoped and dream?”

“Oh yeah.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

Bucky nudged her with his shoulder, smiling widely at her. It was nice to see her joking in such a short amount of time, all things considered. He turned right on a road and led them up a steep hill. The further they went up the mountain the thicker the tree line grew and the steeper the incline became. She also noticed the way the road cut through the trees but didn’t take more room than necessary to make way for the road. It was clear to her they wanted to blend in the environment. Almost as if they were hiding.

Eventually, after Y/N realized without a shadow of a doubt she was not in shape enough to be traipsing up the side of a mountain, the road lead them to what she assumed was Bucky’s and Steve’s house. Y/N stopped at the top of the road and hunch over with a wheeze, bracing her good hand on her knee. While she struggled to breathe, she caught sight of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look slightly fazed by their climb, not a single hair looked out of place.

“You all good?” Bucky teased. She glared at him and stuck out her tongue.

“You shush. Mountain boy.” She grumbled. Now that she wasn’t gasping for air and her side stopped cramping, Y/N looked over to the house.

It was smaller in size than the main building, but not tiny by any stretch of the word. It was a magnificent two-story wood cabin with a balcony and a wraparound porch perched near the cliffside, the back of the house overlooking the clearing below. There were a couple rocking chairs sitting out on the porch, and a few wooden tables between them. It looked straight out of a travel magazine. The house was adorable, quaint and screamed ‘lumberjacks in the woods.’ 

“It’s nothin’ fancy but it gets the job done,” Bucky said sheepishly. Y/N shot him a baffled look.

“What are you talking about? I love it!” She exclaimed.

Bucky’s ears went pink and he grunted in response, kicking the dirt with the toe of his boot. Her praise made his heart skip and the wolf inside him practically purred in response. An echoing rumble behind them made him pause and glance up at the darkening sky. The clouds off in the distance looked threatening and dark. It made Y/N’s stomach drop.

“Huh.” Bucky clicked his tongue. “Wasn’t supposed to rain for the rest of the week. Let’s get inside and I’ll show you your room.”

Y/N sent the clouds one last concerned glance before following him inside. She was surprised to see the inside was actually decorated tastefully, if not on the simple side. The front entryway led straight into the living room and she could see the kitchen and dining room off the left. There was a large black couch with a few blankets tossed on the back, a love seat and a giant flat screen tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace to the right. Dark shades covered the wall of windows, similarly like the main house. She wondered if the view was as breathtaking as she thought it would be.

“Kitchens there on the left, feel free to anything in the fridge. The TV has full satellite, so you're welcomed to use it and watch whatever you want. I just warn you not to delete Steve’s recordings of Chopped. He might have a meltdown again.” He chuckled unabashedly. “Steve’s room is upstairs to the left with the second spare room and mine is on the first floor here down this hall. Yours is right across from mine. Don’t worry. You’ll have your own bathroom down the hall so you don’t have to share with little old me.”

Y/N giggled at the wink he sent her way and followed him down the hall. He showed her the bathroom before leading her to her room.

“If I assume right,” Bucky began as he opened the door. “Ah, yeah, she grabbed it.”

Sitting on the floor next to a desk against a window was the backpack Y/N hadn’t realized she had been missing. She had other more important things to worry about than the pack, not like it contained anything valuable anyway.

“Natasha had taken it while you were unconscious and tried to dry what she could.” Bucky leaned against the door frame and glanced around. Y/N stepped in and headed towards the backpack. “You said you were camping near here?”

“Huh?” Y/N paused her shuffling through the pack. Her books, while crinkled, had been dried and the bookmark returned in place. “Oh, yeah on the nature reserve. I don’t remember the campsite number, but it was the closest to the waterfall. Hopefully, no one steals my stuff, or well, my dad’s stuff.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his brow creasing in thought. He shook his head after a moment and nodded to the stack of clothes on the desk. “Well, Natasha’s made herself at home and grabbed you some of my shirts and pants for you. There’s towels in the bathroom closet and I think there’s some conditioner and shampoo from when Becca stayed over.”

“Becca?”

“My sister.” Bucky sighed, sounding annoyed but the small upturn of the corner of his lips told Y/N he really wasn’t as bothered as he sounded. “She likes to drop in from time to time, unannounced of course.”

Y/N turned to ask more about his family, however, Bucky’s head snapped up and spun to glare down the hall. He wiped the emotions on his face, his features shifting into irritation. Y/N heard a door open and slam closed, the force rattling the house. She sent a worried look down the hall. She didn’t have to see who walked into know just who it could be. Bucky let out a slow calming breath and sent Y/N a strained smile over his shoulder.

“Make yourself comfortable. I need to go… handle something.” Bucky muttered before spinning at heel and stalked off towards the sound. Y/N was fully aware he meant he had to handle a certain someone. Letting out her own heavy sigh and went to pull a shirt and pair of pants from the neatly folded stack.

Now that all the excitement was over, Y/N wanted nothing more than to get out of her river water dried clothes and wash whatever dirt and grime was left in her hair. She stopped and stared at her splint with a scowl. She couldn’t get it wet, nor did she want to take it off and risk injuring herself further. It be would be easier if she could wrap it up but didn’t see anything in the room. She was already picturing the gymnastic routine she’d have to perform to make this work.

Groaning, Y/N grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom. She stopped short when she noticed the box of trash bags sitting on the counter along with tape, body wash, a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste, and a shower cap. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth. Natasha really did think of everything. Chuckling to herself, Y/N shut the door to start her shower, effectively cutting her off from the storm happening in the living room.

Bucky didn’t mean to leave her so abruptly. But when Steve walked up stinking of rage followed by slamming the door, he needed to say something. He might not like the situation, but he wasn’t going to take it out on her.

“What the fuck is your issue?” Bucky snarled, cornering Steve in the kitchen. Steve turned from where he was searching in the fridge and glared at Bucky. He growled low in his throat, baring his teeth at the other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve snapped back and grabbed a beer before he slammed the fridge door shut.

“Would you quit doing that?” Bucky hissed, his face twisting into a snarl. “And the hell you don’t. I could smell you before you even walked in the door. You’re pissed and taking it out on the house cause you know I’ll skin you alive if you take it out on her.”

“So you think,” Steve grumbled and downed half the bottle.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve and stalked around the island to stand toe to toe with Steve. Steve glare never wavered as he lowered the bottle from his lips. There wasn’t much of height difference, maybe an inch or two, but Steve still managed to accomplish looking down his nose at Bucky.

“The thing is, I do.” He growled. “You aren’t that fucking subtle Rogers. Especially since your doin’ a bang-up job at keeping your alpha macho on low. Just because you don’t like having a human here doesn’t mean you need to be a little shit. Thought you’re Ma raised you better.”

Steve snarled and shoved Bucky back, or at least attempted to. Bucky didn’t budge, his hackles rising and teeth snapping in retaliation.  Anyone else might have buckled under the strength and secretly Bucky was surprised by how much force behind the shove, but he wasn’t an alpha for nothing.

Bucky was right once again. Steve was really hating hearing that phrase in his inner monologue. He was losing control of his power, could taste it in the air around him. Steve usually always had better control of himself, the rage, power, and everything. The loss made him even angrier. All because he couldn’t figure out the woman and what she was doing to him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Steve huffed and stepped around Bucky. He sank onto a barstool and took another drink from his beer. Bucky glared and leaned against the counter, glowering as he did.

“Then why are you acting like this? Why?” Bucky pressed. “Cause it sure as shit doesn’t make any sense to me why you can’t at least be cordial. It’s not like she intended on potentially drowning and getting hurt. If you’re worried about the pack and how they’d handle her being here, don’t. Nat’s already on that. She likes the girl and is our beta for a reason.”

“I’m not worried about the pack,” Steve bit back.

“Then what’s your issue?”

Steve fell silent, glaring at the bottle. To be completely honest, he didn’t know. True, he wasn’t completely jazzed about her being here in their territory. Except he could handle the few ruffled furs and angry snaps from the members. There was something about her that stood out to him. He might have only said a few words to her, but it was still there. That’s what was bothering him. Why did his wolf raise it’s head for the first time in years? It’s never shown interest. Not since-

“Um.”

A soft voice behind him caused him to jump, his eyes going wide. Bucky even seemed startled by her quiet approach. They weren’t that deep in conversation to miss hearing her walk up, were they?

“Sorry.” Y/N said sheepishly when both men turned to stare at her in shock. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But could one of you help?”

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the back and tape in her hand, blinking in confusion. Steve frowned and tried to figure out what she meant.

“I can’t get my splint wet and don’t want to risk taking it off and well… Slipping in the shower.” Y/N chuckled, ducking her chin to her chest. A slow grin spread on Bucky’s face before he pushed off the counter to help.

“Can’t have that can we?” Bucky teased.

“I figured we all had enough excitement for today.”

Steve watched quietly as Bucky helped tape the bag on her hand, his brows creasing in thought. She giggled at something Bucky said and Steve felt his breath hitch at the sound. Biting back a growl, he shook his head and glared at the bottle once again.

“There,” Bucky said looking down at the finished product. “Let me know if you need help taking it off.”

Y/N thanked him and Steve heard her soft footsteps retreat back down the hall. Bucky let out a sigh and slid in next to Steve.

“I just…” Bucky began slowly. “I just need you to not treat her like you wanted her to drown in the river. She’s actually really sweet and I know if you gave her a chance, you’d actually like her.”

Steve grumbled and finished what was left of the beer. He let out a deep sigh and sent Bucky a halfhearted glare.

“Fine.” He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to keep my attitude in check.”

“That’s all I ask pal.”

The two fell silent, listening to the distant sound of the shower running and the dark rumble of the clouds above them.

“You know I don’t like you sometimes, punk,” Steve muttered. Bucky snorted and nodded.

“Right back at you jerk.”

The two exchanged lopsided smirks, whatever cloud hanging over them both gone. They’d be fine, that they knew at least. If only they knew of the other clouds that hung heavy and dark above their home.

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#stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fic #reader insert #marvel au #stucky au #werewolf au #wer!steve rogers x reader x wer!bucky barnes #wer!steve x reader #wer!bucky x reader #call of the mountains chapter 6

[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen—have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—”

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

#songfell

[ouat-rare-pair]

Hi, I had some rare pair ideas and I was just wondering what you'd think of them, Hope it's alright. : ) How do you feel about the idea of August/Lilly, Ariel/Anton (Tiny the giant) and Graham/Maid Marian?

It’s more than alright, it’s absolutely WONDERFUL! I adore it when people come to me to discuss ships, everyone in the rare-pair fandom is so creative :)

Let’s go through these ships one by one, shall we?

1. August and Lily. Could be very interesting. They have certain things in common: both from the magic world, but grew up here... in a rough way. We don’t know Lily’s full history, but we know she was a foster kid, like August. They could be an interesting parallel to Swanfire. August sort of haunts Neal in the same way Lily haunts Emma (not exactly, but you know... kinda?) They both have a chip on their shoulder, and a definite dark side, but underneath it, they just want a little love. They’re both sort of predisposed to their dark side and constantly struggling to fight against it: August gives into temptation, and Lily doesn’t have a handle on her anger. Neither of them are fully human... Yeah. There’s definitely a lot about the other they can understand.

2. Ariel/ Anton. SO CUTE!!!! They’re both absolutely soft cinnamon rolls and ridiculously sweet.... also a bit naive, lol. Both of them have a fascination with humans, and both have been warned against it by their respective families. I think Anton would fall for Ariel the second he saw her, and Ariel would think he was so sweet, but be oblivious to the fact that he likes her in that way until someone like Snow or Belle pointed it out. And then, she'd be a mess of giggles, and from there....cuteness follows. Ridiculously cute.

3. Graham/ Marian. This is a head scratcher. On the one hand, they’re both woodsy folk, sort of mistrust the civilized world...but Marian is closer to it than Graham. I think he would have a hard time trusting her. At the same time, I think she has a gentle nature that would draw him in. Graham is overcome by his own compassion at times: it is both his greatest strength and weakness. He can’t always find a balance between his fierce/ ruthless side (that other humans see) and the loving respect (for animals and nature). Marian would be good for him, because she embodies that balance and proves that not all humans are untrustworthy.

I do love these asks!!! Very good thoughts, anon!

#zoe replies #graham humbert #the huntsman #maid marian #ariel #anton #tiny #august booth #pinocchio #lily page

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 24

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

"This is a bad idea," Loki voiced his thoughts. 

"You make it sound like that’s new information." 

"Well, at first I thought it all might work out and make the day interesting, but right now I'm a hundred percent sure today's going to be as terrible as the entirety of last week." 

You gasped dramatically. "Terrible? But you had a good laugh with me!"

"What else was I supposed to do when my life was being ruined and my dignity trampled? File a complaint? To whom could I address it?" he asked, words sharp. 

"Why are you asking me? That sounds like your problem." 

"You don't see it as your problem only because you're the problem." 

"Nah. You're overthinking it." 

"Well, I suppose one of us has to balance out your lack of—" 

You cut him off with a sudden glint in your eyes. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, right in front of him, forcing people to walk around the two of you with annoyed grimaces.

"Did you just say 'us'? Could it be that I've finally grown on you?" 

Loki sighed a very resigned sigh. "Yeah. Like a tumor." 

Your smile was blinding nonetheless and caused him to turn his head the other way. It was the only reason he turned his head, obviously. Your joy was unreasonable. It wasn’t not like the word slipped off his tongue on accident and he tried to brush it off… 

He only listened to your following babbling with one ear, focusing just enough to know when to nod and grunt some confirmation at the right moment. It wasn't on purpose, at least not entirely. It just so happened that his mind was occupied by different matters at the moment. 

The path you decided on took you through what you described as quite a nice part of the city. Loki had his doubts about sanity and taste of whoever was behind the design of some of the buildings. The architecture was outrageously bland and plain and no matter how hard he tried, Loki could not find any reason behind such a fascination with squares and rectangles. Involuntarily, he thought back to the elegant arches and ethereal facades of Asgard's places of culture. The rich gold and vibrant colors that brought up all of the beauty of the city and homes of its people clashed violently with what he was seeing now. And why was everything so dull? 

You crossed the street, following the mass of people rushing in the same direction. The fumes in the air brought a grimace to Loki's face. You noticed, and forgot about whatever you were just talking about. 

"You okay?" 

Loki's attention snapped back to you, surprised with how much genuine concern could be heard in your voice. 

Well, you had already proven a few times that you meant him no harm, which was nice coming from someone on this savage, disgusting realm, but Loki was not yet used to it. He was trying, though, which he found surprising. 

You frowned at his lack of response and took one of his hands in yours, warming it up. "Are you cold? I told you to bring gloves. We could warm up in one of the shops right there if you want?" 

If you didn't know him any better, you'd say Loki looked flustered, but since it would be very out of character, you decided he must have just been overwhelmed with a world that must be so different from his. Your suspicions were confirmed when he insisted on walking. The hint of color on his cheeks must've been a figment of your imagination. 

"I'm a Frost Giant, after all," he explained, very interested in the display of one of the bakeries. "The cold doesn't bother me as much as others, regardless of my clothing." 

"Damn, wish I could say the same. It must come in real handy in weather like this," you gestured to the white blankets of snow covering every surface around. It was still fresh and clean, changing the world into something a little prettier than it usually was. Or maybe it was because it covered the trash littering the streets. 

Loki followed your gaze to the few tiny flakes of snow flying loosely in the air. The sky was clear, indicating fine weather for the near future. People didn't seem to pay much attention to the weather, if only to watch out on particularly slippery parts of the pavements. 

It was a shame, though, Loki thought. The snow was the only reason the city wasn't completely hideous to his eyes. It might have been caused by the Frost Giant blood in his veins, but he had to admit he enjoyed the walk through the whitened streets more than he anticipated, even putting the architecture aside. 

The air, despite the disgusting fumes the cars around restlessly continued to produce, had the bite and frost in it that he'd always enjoyed. He remembered the days spent outside from dawn till dusk with Thor, running around the palace's grounds, building their own fortresses from snow and branches and then attacking one another until their hands were sore and their runny noses frozen. Those were the few memories Loki didn't mind his brother in. He was a terrible fortress architect. 

They often ventured far, and made Frigga worry with how late they finally made it home. Even Loki's hands were cold by then, and his clothes damp and wet, but he was happy nonetheless, innocent and unaware of what his future would throw him into. 

Loki looked down at his hands. Those days were gone, and not much could bring them back. Even winter felt different in this world, more polluted and tamed. The frost was more of a suggestion rather than a sharp bite to his skin. His heritage would always protect him from damage, but he felt the cold anyway. 

The sad truth was, the past had to stay in the past, no matter how tempting it was to recollect and dwell upon old memories. Lessons had to be learnt from it, but one can never move forward if they drag their past with them. Despite his greatest efforts, Loki didn't remember who wrote that. Still, the words felt right to him. 

With a silent nod to himself, he got back to the present. You were still standing by the bakery he randomly chose to buy some time. He had been conflicted, but things seemed clearer now. 

Once again confident in himself, Loki straightened his back and turned to face you - only to find you already staring at him. 

"How about we marry?" you proposed. 

All air left him. 

"I beg your pardon…?" was all he managed to stutter out, his voice taking a high pitch at the end, despite his efforts to keep it casual. 

You didn't seem to notice the chaos raging in his chest. You only knocked softly on one of the posters at the display. With his heart in his throat, Loki read it with more difficulty than it would usually take him. 

"It says… Some free samples are offered to everyone who proposes there? Is that a joke?" he asked finally. 

"Not according to those photos." You pointed to some low-quality pictures printed and glued under the poster. 

His frown only deepened along with his confusion. "You want us to fake a proposal for some free cake?" 

"Why not?" you shrugged. "It's not like anyone's going to check up on us to see if we actually get married later on." 

Loki blinked slowly. His heart did not slow down, but at least he was starting to hear his own thoughts over the blood pounding through his veins. "Could you please explain to me, why can't we just buy it like normal people?" 

"Do you have any money? Like, human money?" 

"No." 

"Well, all I've got on me will go for our breakfast, especially since Peter will be joining us shortly, and he always devours a double portion like he's been starving for the past year and a half. So, how about a quick proposal?" you nudged him with a wicked smile, ready to march in. 

Loki knew that stupid look on your face. You were not faking it. He sighed into the ridiculous, although nicely smelling scarf around his face. "Do you even have a ring?"

That seemed to pop your happy bubble. Your shoulders slumped and for a very brief, quickly shushed moment, Loki felt bad about it. "Damn it…" 

"Besides, how would you conceal, you know, my identity? It would be suspicious if I had to hide my whole face during all of this madness."

"That's the least of our problems, there's no way anyone would recognize you anyway. Look, we've made it pretty far already and no one's even looked at you twice—" 

You gestured around. 

A skinny, blond man was staring at Loki with a look of utter concentration and confusion of his face, no more than three paces away. 

You froze, and so did Loki. But only for a moment. 

You burst into a broad, jovial smile before approaching the man like a good friend. "What a beautiful morning, isn't it, my dear? Would you like to have a little chat with us about global warming? We've been sent out to make a quick survey about people's opinions and predictions—Where are you going, sir? It will only take a few minutes!" 

You looked after the man that would  choose to flee rather than continue the conversation. He didn't look back. 

You puffed out your chest with pride and turned to Loki. "Okay, I might've been a little bit wrong."

Loki was already casting quick glances around, fixing that stupid excuse of a cover around his face. He knew he would be recognizable. Too little time had passed since he was forced to attack the city, and people would still be bitter about it. Maybe after a few generations had passed and the memory of that disaster got lost in time… 

You joined your arms and shouldered him away from the spot and into a less crowded side-street. The snow crumbled underneath your feet, not yet turned into a muddy pulp. 

"Loki, listen, I know it might not seem like it, but I'm pretty sure everything's fine. The man didn't even recognize you, or he would’ve started screaming or talking in that very aggressive way some people love to use. And he didn't— which means he failed to connect the dots and probably thought you reminded him of some weird relative that he hasn't seen in years and just got confused… "

"You don't even believe that yourself," Loki cut you off. "You tend to babble when you get nervous."

"I… Well, you seem to know an awful lot about me for someone who hates my whole race." 

"It's not—" Loki opened his mouth but stopped. The words didn't seem important anymore. 

You paused too, still linked with him by the arm. Loki sensed the tension in your muscles and the change in your breath. 

Someone was waiting for you. 

The person wasn't tall, but the face obscured by a deep hood didn't seem the most trustworthy. A mugger wouldn't show up right in front of you, standing in the middle of the pavement. Surprisingly, no people seemed to be on your side of the street at all. 

Your fingers clenched on Loki's arm, as if you were preparing to haul him behind you. That brought a ghost of a smile on his face. As if he would let you. 

The man pointed a finger at Loki. "You should NOT be here." 

And that was when you recognized his voice. "Wong??" 

Loki frowned. "You know each other?" 

Before you managed to answer him, Wong approached you with anger loud in his every step. And snapped his fingers. 

Your stomach jumped high into your throat as the ground rolled under your feet without a warning. Loki's didn't feel much better, but he overcame the wave of nausea quickly—he knew what happened. It was a simple transportation spell he had used thousands of times. 

It didn't take you far—only to a small park, far from prying eyes. Some children were busy building a rather disfigured snowman at the far end of it, behind a line of trees, their naked branches heavy with snow. No one else seemed to occupy the place. 

Wong uncovered his face. You were right—he was pissed. 

"What is wrong with you, people? And I mean both of you. You were supposed to be the responsible one!" he jabbed you with a finger. "Don't you think he's a little too recognizable to be wandering around like that?" 

"He's got my scarf on!" 

Wong didn't bother with a response. Loki, despite his personal feelings towards the monk, couldn't blame him. 

Wong sighed, giving up trying to reason with either of you. He was aware of the god's current situation, because a big part of Sanctum Santorum's job was monitoring any threats to the realms and interdimensional peace—and Loki was very high on that list. 

On the other hand, despite the ice-cold looks he was being cast by said threat, Wong had to admit no major disaster happened yet—which was surprisingly nice (having the realm's continued peace in mind) but not ideal in Wong's personal interest (and the bet he lost to the Sorcerer Supreme). 

"I have a feeling nothing I say will make you go back to the Tower?" he asked. 

"Nope," you admitted. Loki only huffed with indifference, raising his chin high despite the thick scarf. 

Wong nodded to himself, as if he (rightly so) didn't anticipate any other answer. "Alright, then I'll at least cast a small glamor spell onto him, so you don't—" 

"Absolutely not!" 

The mere thought of the barbaric, bland magic of this realm being thrown upon him, boiled Loki's blood. If only he could reach out to his own magic, he'd show this pathetic excuse of a sorcerer what it really meant to wield such force… 

You nudged him in the ribs, hard. "He's kinda right, you know? You said it yourself—you're too recognizable." 

Loki was at a loss for words, and Wong used that moment to cast the glamor with a quick invocation and trained move of his hands. It tickled, like a wet, slippery mist blown into Loki's face. He snapped his attention back to the sorcerer, baring his teeth, but Wong was already departing. 

"It won't work on anyone who already knows you, but it should do fine against strangers. You two better not mess anything up," he said and disappeared into a portal before Loki could grab him by the throat. His hand closed on air where the sorcerer stood only seconds ago. 

"I hate this world," he growled out, clenching his fist. 

You patted his back soothingly. "I know, it's not the best sequence of events before a proper breakfast, but how about we finally go grab some? The place isn’t far." 

Loki brushed his face with a hand, the wet feeling not gone, but there was nothing he could do about it without his magic. He once again looked at the damned bracelet fixed around his wrist with pure, unfiltered hatred. 

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki/reader #loki/you #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki marvel #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson/reader #loki laufeyson/you #marvel #loki imagine

[sleepy-baby-puppycat]

This may or may not have been done after I binged multiple Portal and Portal 2 videos lol

The brothers with an MC that’s a roboticist... but their robots are all very creepy and annoying

Lucifer

This old man has no idea what that is but once MC explains it he’s quite impressed that his human is in such a skilled field

He takes that back after he sees some of their bots

“MC, WHY DOES THIS THING HAVE SIX LEGS AND WHY IS IT IN MY ROOM”

“She’s friendly, just don’t give her any coffee!”

He’s terrified, why the everloving FUCK would MC build stuff like this

Lucifer gets teased by his brothers a lot

Of all the things in the world, this is what scares the mighty first born Avatar of Pride

If any of MC’s bots get too annoying, too destructive, or they just flat out bother him, Luci will not hesitate to destroy it and scold MC for their actions

Ok boomer

Mammon

He thinks that’s freaking awesome

He convinces MC to make a bunch of tiny bots that have no purpose but to make screaming sounds and follow Lucifer everywhere

Cut to Mammon and MC running with their arms full of the screaming bots whilst Luci chases them

Mammon likes to try and help MC whenever they’re building a new bot by doing all the math calculations for them

He loves when MC praises how smart he is and thanks him for assisting them

“So, is there a reason you don’t give them full intelligence?”

“If I did that they’d kill everyone and then steal a rocket so they could take the moon hostage,”

“... lol ok”

Leviathan

“You build ROBOTS?!”

MC has to listen to him ramble about literally every anime he’s seen that has robots or androids or mecha bots that fight aliens for almost an hour

Levi gets a tad disappointed when he sees the bots don’t look like the badass superheros or the cute android girls from his animes

But he gets immediately excited again when MC makes a lil robot core that talks with Ruri’s voice

“MC, why does she kept talking about the mass destruction of the universe—?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,”

Satan

He hasn’t read many books on robotics but he is very interested in MC’s skills

Satan observes them as they build a bot, fascinated with their process and focus. He thinks it’s amazing MC is able to program their bots with free speech.

Until the end result

“Why won’t it shut up about going to space to eat moon rocks?!”

“Leave him alone he’s doing his best!”

Whenever he can, Satan attempts to educate MC’s bots so they’re less... well stupid.

And he fails

Asmodeus

Asmo actually doesn’t care about the bots at first

And then he’s constantly finding the abominations in his room and his bathroom literally just staring at him

“MC!! Why do your infernal robots keep watching me?!”

“They think you’re pretty,”

Well now he likes them

Asmo uses the bots as an audience for when he’s trying on a bunch of clothes he just bought, like a mini fashion show!

He assumes their beeping and garbled speech is praise

MC doesn’t tell him the bots have cameras in their eyes

Beelzebub

“Can you build a chef robot?”

“I dunno, let’s find out!”

Beel is SO HAPPY when MC makes a bot that specializes in cooking, he doesn’t even question why it has so many arms

The excitement is short lived when the bot goes crazy and destroys half the kitchen before tossing itself into that giant soup pot don’t worry the stove wasn’t on and it was empty

Beel and MC both get a very long scolding from Lucifer

He doesn’t mind though. The only chef Beel needs is his sweet human.

Belphegor

The first time he sees a robot, it’s just sitting by his face waiting for him when he wakes up from a nap, staring right at him

“WCWGJSBEHSJWWJDJDJID WHAT THE FUCK—“

He calms down once MC explains

Belphie remembers seeing the start of robot technology at some point when he used to visit the human realm so he thinks it’s cool MC is smart enough to build their own bots

Oh, and the fact they freak Lucifer out so much?

Belphie lives for it

Sometimes he likes to snatch one or two of MC’s crazy scrapped bots and hide them in Lucifer’s bedroom or his study

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me prompts #obey me headcanons

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

Of Magic and Mistakes ch 2

chapter 1 (chapter 2) chapter 3 AO3

Warnings: Blood, head injuries, fear (tell me if I missed anything!)

Words: 1089

Summary:  In proving Virgil wrong, Logan ends up in another universe. In Patton’s universe to be precise. So how does Logan get home, and why is he a giant here?

Logan guessed he must have hit his head pretty hard. Hopefully not hard enough to need medical help, goodness knows he didn’t have the money. But he felt different. The warm Florida air felt cold and drafty. He shivered. A possible concussion, then? He opened his eyes carefully to test them. It was too dark to tell if his eyes could stand light.

“Virgil?” He muttered into the darkness. His voice seemed to echo.  He let his eyes adjust as he stared up to the ceiling. It was a very un-ceiling like ceiling. It looked as if it were a gently glowing painting of the night sky. But as Logan admired it, he noticed a few discrepancies. Those stars were supposed to be over there, and that cluster was long gone. Logan’s arm rose on its own to trace them. It was so far away…

He sat up quickly, which made it feel like his brain swam. While his ears rang, he swore he heard another, smaller sound.

"Are you- you okay?" A small voice whispered. It trembled with fear, but it was asking him if he was okay. A strange contradiction.  He touched his forehead gingerly and winced when his finger came off red.

"I'm fine," Logan lied. "Who are you?" He looked around but could see no one else.

"I'm just um, me. Patton." Patton stuttered.

Following the voice, Logan looked down. A small blue something stood in a tense stance, ready to flee. And with it being so small, it being on guard made sense. What didn’t make sense was it staying near him. Logan bit his lip, considered the pros and cons for a moment, then scooped up the tiny thing. Patton squeaked, making Logan halt suddenly.

“Patton?” Logan squinted down at the form so small in his hand. Where were his glasses when he needed them?

“Y-yeah?” Patton sounded on the edge of hyperventilation. When Logan carefully brought his hands to his eye level, he found himself face to face with a tiny human.

“What are you?” Logan murmured, almost to himself.

“Um, I’m pretty sure I’m h-human.” Patton glanced down at the ground, so far away for him. He took a deep breath and looked up towards Logan’s gigantic eyes.

“You’re quite small to be human.” Logan mused, practically not noticing Patton’s stress.

Out of the blue, Patton gasped. Logan jumped, careful to keep a hold of Patton.

"I'm in a forest in the middle of nowhere?" Logan sighed. Great way to make this already confusing day better. And that means he's a giant or something.

“Sorry, I-I just, um. Your head.” Patton said apologetically. He pointed to where Logan had hit the ground. “Do you want me to fix it for you?” Patton asked.

"I suppose that would be adequate. I just need to stop the bleeding." Logan said.

"With what?" Patton asked.

Logan gave Patton a confused look. Something to cover a small head wound should be easy to find. He looks up to find something to answer only to realize he has no idea where he is. He's surrounded by strange sticks that only barely pass his head while he sits. If it's to Patton's size, he thought...

"So what, um, can I do for your head?" Patton asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure." Logan did not like those words.

"W-well I could uhh," Patton sticks his tongue out to think, Logan notes. Then, Patton looked cartoonishly excited. "I could probably cover it with my sweater!" He pulls it off his back and held it up like a gold medal.

"I am not sure about that, Patton. It would be completely soaked in blood quickly." Logan said.

"It's fine. Um, but could you lie down so I could reach it?" Patton shakily grinned.

Logan could use some relief from the dizziness that threatened to overtake him, so he nodded. With calculated precision, he set Patton back on the ground and put his head near him. He watched as Patton trekked up to his face, fascinated by the tiny being that shouldn't possibly exist. A sudden pressure on his wound made a sharp pain sting Logan, but he stayed still. It did feel slightly better after a moment.

"Wait," Logan said.

"I can hold it," Logan assured Patton. Logan felt like sitting up, but it would be a pain, and it was interesting to be at the same level as Patton.

"So um, what's your n-name?" Patton asked with a fake cheery smile. Logan had to go cross-eyed to see him.

"Logan Tudor." He held his hand out to shake.

Patton flinched, then walked to Logan's hand. His whole hand barely covered Logan's fingertip, but he shook it anyway.

"I'm um, Patton Hirsch. Nice to meet you." His voice was still slightly shaky, but he sounded much more confident.

"I've um, got to go..." Patton trailed off.

Logan nodded. "Goodbye, then Patton. Your help is greatly appreciated."

"See you later, then." Patton waved shyly.

"Okay? Um, why?" Patton asked.

"You said 'see you later'." Logan pointed out.

"Yeah?" Patton fidgeted with his hands.

"Why?" Logan watched Patton's face carefully.

"I don't um, understand?" Patton tilted his head like a confused puppy.

"You are clearly anxious around me, why would you come back? Why did you help me in the first place?"

"You were just lying there bleeding! I couldn't just run away." Patton said as if it were obvious.

"But you physically could," Logan replied.

"No! I wouldn't just let you stay there hurt. I needed to help." Patton shook his head adamantly.

"Well, I am not bleeding anymore. You can leave now and be fine by your logic." Logan noted.

"Um, but..." Patton shifted slightly to avoid looking directly in Logan's eyes. "I think you're cool, and I want to be friends." He said as fast as possible, turning tomato red.

Logan had to take a minute after that. The shock of someone wanting to be his friend right away certainly took him off guard.

Long after Patton had skipped out of Logan's line of sight, Logan laid on his back admiring what he now knew to be the night sky. There was a lot to take in. Being a giant, being in Hell-knows forest, even Patton himself. It was all so new and peculiar. What had Logan gotten himself into?

"By the very definition of the word friend, I'd say we already were." Logan kept his composure as best as possible.

"Really?" Patton lit up like the sun.

Logan nodded.

#froggy writes #tiny!patton #human!patton #giant!logan #giant/tiny #magic au #of magic and mistakes #infinitesimal!sides #g/t #logicality